Guests of the Navajo Nation

Thursday, April 7, 2011

CHINLE, AZ – When we stopped in at the local grocery store of this small town for a barbequed chicken for supper, we felt very conspicuous. Nearly everyone but us had jet black hair and brown skin! And I was wearing my bright yellow jacket, too. We did not blend.

We entered Navajo country today on our way to see the Canyon de Chelly (which the locals pronounce “d’shay”), located near the northeastern corner of Arizona. There was only one campground listed in our Woodall’s directory and it didn’t take reservations. But the park ranger I spoke to this morning said finding a spot shouldn’t be a problem. And if the camp was full, there was also a private campground in the park we could try. So we weren’t too worried.

Lots of puffy clouds filled the sky as we headed east from Holbrook, and in the distance we could see some of the clouds dissolving into showers. It was windy, too, and cool – about 60 degrees was as warm as it got all day.

We turned north onto State Highway 191, which took us through wide, flat prairies scattered with low sagebrush, tumbleweed and stubby evergreens. Our first stop was at the Hubble Trading Post, which has existed as a commercial enterprise ever since 1870! It is part of John Hubbell’s homestead, and he encouraged the native people to sell their wares in his trading post. Even today there are beautifully woven blankets and hand-crafted jewelry for sale.

The floorboards creaked as we went inside, and wooden counters displayed chocolate bars, potato chips, and other modern-day supplies. The second and third rooms looked more like museum rooms, with old rifles, woven baskets hanging from the ceiling, and pictures of proud Navajo women and chiefs on the walls.

On we went toward Chinle, where the canyon is located. The town has a depressed look that is reminiscent of many Aboriginal communities we have driven through in Canada and Alaska; lots of old trailers, dusty pickup trucks, stray dogs and, in this case, stray horses that were grazing right next to the road.

The road into the park looked newly paved, as well as the one leading into the Cottonwood Campground. Val made several brave attempts to fit into the sites; however, it became clear that our rig was just too big to manoeuver into place, so we had to opt for Plan B, the private campground deeper into the park.

No one was at the office trailer when we arrived, but a friendly sign told us to find a spot on our own. We knew there would be no hookups here (or at the Cottonwood sites), so we were prepared for a night of dry camping. We eventually found a site we could get into and that has an easy exit route, so we set up and unhitched the truck.

We had passed several lookout points on our way in, to which we returned now that we weren’t dragging our rig behind us. After miles of flat prairie terrain, the land simply falls away into a deep canyon with a small river at the bottom – about 700 feet down. The sides of the canyon are red rock, scooped out in places by the wind and cut into crevices in other places. Each vista was different from the next and they were all breathtaking.

The other thing that took our breath away was the wind! It ripped at our clothing, grabbed the truck doors when we opened them, and whistled in the twisted juniper trees by the lookout paths. In the town, great brown gusts swept the streets and filled the air with fine sand.

We had an interesting chat with Andrew Henry, a Navajo artist who was selling handmade necklaces, earrings and bracelets from the back of his van at one lookout point. He told us he is funding his kids’ education by doing this. He lives at the bottom of the canyon as his grandparents did before him. His hope is that his children will return when their schooling is done to help keep the community alive.