Disaster strikes at last! Having prepared for my early start on the horse I packed all my stuff carefully and left things for the van by the van and other stuff by the trailer. An hour or so into the journey I started looking for my camera case and it was nowhere to be found. It contained my long lens, spare memory cards and spare battery. And here we are heading to Monument Valley with a memory card nearly full and a battery which has already had a day’s use. We contacted the Ranch who confirmed that they had picked up the case; god knows how it got moved. They agreed to mail to our hotel in Las Vegas so now the only problem is keeping the camera going. Thank God I took it with me to go horse riding or I’d be cameraless as well.
The horse riding was a fabulous. Kiowa did all the things my last horse didn’t and responded to all the controls. We spent two hours riding up gulches, along spurs, across scrub and through rivers. Wade, a typically lean Texan cowboy had an interesting background. Only 27, he retired after 12 years of competitive bull riding in rodeos. Then a friend got him a job as a drilling supervisor on an oil field that involved high pressure, long hours and a huge salary. He quit that after 3 years and is now filling in time until he goes back to look after his father’s properties in Texas. He worked for his father since the age of eight as the family owned two large ranches as well as other properties. All his winnings from the rodeo were spent on cattle and farm equipment, all sold at a profit. Even now he runs some of his father’s business from a distance and sells 1000s of cattle a year and employs some two dozen cowboys. However, you calculate it, Wade must be a millionaire. His dog Bonnie, an Australian Blue Heeler kept up with us all the time but seemed to have a problem with her left leg. I asked about this to find out that the leg had been badly broken and that Wade spent $4000 having the leg repaired as she was such a good dog. Before we started there was the inevitable paperwork to complete. The first absolved the Ranch from anything that might happen to me whilst on their horses whilst the second was the helmet waiver. I asked for his advice on this and he replied, “Well, the ground’s pretty soft around here!” At one point I commented that the early settlers must have been incredibly tough to contemplate crossing such rugged and dry country. Apparently 25 miles a day was all that could be accomplished on horseback and anyone travelling like this would have used two horses. So much for the cowboy films that seem to suggest horses could gallop all day in pursuit of the bad guys! I also found out that the many leylandii type bushes with blue berries that grow everywhere in this area, are in fact juniper bushes.
Riding finished, I joined the others and we set off for Monument Valley. Returning via Page I was struck by the incongruity of the golf course, verdant green in a setting of bare rock and redness. Given the stringent measures taken to conserve water in all other aspects of life around here it seems strange that there is enough water available to spray on the fairways.
Lunch was taken at the Navajo National Monument where we overlooked the site of a pueblo settlement and checked out the information in the Information Centre.
As we neared Monument Valley a sense of expectation built as every small mesa and butte formation seemed to be a precursor to the real thing. Eventually I could see what appeared to be familiar forms but they looked too small. It was only as we drew close to the Park that it became clear that we were on an elevated plateau and the famous features were actually based at a lower level.
Here we met our guide, Fareson, a Navajo Indian and transferred our gear into his truck. From here we were taken into the real Monument Valley: the famous landforms are found at the end of the valley but we were headed into the Navajo Land wher most tourists don’t get to go. For three hours we toured many caves, arches and strange looking features as well as contributing to the echo properties of the area.
The best thing was a cave called the Big Hogan which has a hole in the roof. (A Hogan is a Navajo dwelling). Lying on our backs looking up at the sky while one of the guides sang a Navajo song to the accompaniment of a drum was quite an experience.
Once the sun had set we were transported to a camp and dined on Navajo taco; I’m not convinced this was entirely authentic but we can call it fusion food to be kind. Next followed story telling by the camp fire; wish I had wood that burned so well at home and Indian dancing. Thoroughly exhausted by now, we were taken to a campsite that was sheltered from the wind that had stayed with us all afternoon. The girls set up under the stars but I opted for the security of my tent and was soon asleep.
Here we met our guide, Fareson, a Navajo Indian and transferred our gear into his truck. From here we were taken into the real Monument Valley: the famous landforms are found at the end of the valley but we were headed into the Navajo Land wher most tourists don’t get to go. For three hours we toured many caves, arches and strange looking features as well as contributing to the echo properties of the area.
The best thing was a cave called the Big Hogan which has a hole in the roof. (A Hogan is a Navajo dwelling). Lying on our backs looking up at the sky while one of the guides sang a Navajo song to the accompaniment of a drum was quite an experience.
Once the sun had set we were transported to a camp and dined on Navajo taco; I’m not convinced this was entirely authentic but we can call it fusion food to be kind. Next followed story telling by the camp fire; wish I had wood that burned so well at home and Indian dancing. Thoroughly exhausted by now, we were taken to a campsite that was sheltered from the wind that had stayed with us all afternoon. The girls set up under the stars but I opted for the security of my tent and was soon asleep.
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