Here we are at one of those strange junctures in time where events happened long ago. We’re talking early 2008 in this case, but this blog entry does not actually date that far back. You see, it’s January 2022 when I finally got to prepping photos or writing anything at all about this quick adventure. The backstory goes like this: when Jutta, my mother-in-law, was visiting us, I hardly had enough time between managing our vacations within a vacation, and on this particular visit, I kept Jutta busy with an incredible number of activities. Blogging duties fell by the wayside.

But there we were on a beautiful mid-March day. Jutta had already been with us for nearly a couple of months and she still had a month remaining before she’d return to Germany. As I write this post, I’d like to point out that over the past few weeks, as others have learned of our travel plans for 2022, I get the impression that people find it hard to believe a vacation can be experienced on a weekend as this particular quick getaway was certainly just that.

Leisurely leaving Phoenix, we drove north, detouring through Sedona (top pic) and Oak Creek Canyon (photo below that), and as you might understand from this photo, we are approaching Flagstaff.

We need to drive past Cameron, Arizona, and as we reach Highway 160, we’ll turn off towards Tuba City. Our destination is out past Kayenta. Along the way, we are offered incredible views of the Painted Desert.

Reaching Tonolea, I asked Jutta to get out of the car and go pose with the Elephant Feet.

Just eight more miles further up the road are the ruins of the Cow Springs Trading Post and former Standard Oil filling station. Nope, this is not our destination yet.

This looks more like the place we wanted to end up: in the shadow of the West Mitten Butte. Back in 1997, during Jutta’s first-ever visit to the United States, we brought her to Gouldings Lodge here at Monument Valley. Now, eleven years later, we’ve brought her back to Monument Valley for an altogether different experience.

That experience I’m referring to will open a window and take us out of this world and into a moment drawn out of the Navajo universe. You see, a decade ago, when we stayed in the area, we slept in a hotel, but tonight, things might not be considered by others to be quite that luxurious. I assure you this was 1,000 times better.

You are looking at our lodging for this Saturday night. We are deep in Monument Valley, where we’ll be sleeping in that hogan on your left. If you don’t know, a hogan is the traditional dwelling and ceremonial structure of the Navajo people.

We were not simply driving up to a hogan and settling in; we were driven out by a guide, one that brought friends. Our next stop in Monument Valley was a locals-only spot off-limits to those without a guide. In a beautiful little corner under towering sandstone, we left the jeep to explore by foot. These were just a few of the petroglyphs that were shared with us.

With the Sun’s Eye looking down on us in such a solemn setting, the sound of a flute started to gently fill the air, letting us become lost in time where the Diné (Navajo people) know this part of the world better than we can ever hope to. Sharing this sense of being somewhere special wasn’t lost on us.

All these years later, I can admit to an arrogance of ignorance where when we were brought to this lady’s hogan, I felt that it was too staged, artificial, and an attempt to grab money from a position of hoped-for sympathy. In retrospect, I fully understand that while there might be an element of staging, the money that comes into these lands from outsiders is incredibly important. I was a fool. This was Susie Yazzie, who passed away five years after our visit.

Flickr user Rusty Childress wrote: Susie’s given name is Adzani’bah, meaning woman warrior; a befitting name for this strong, resilient woman. The Matriarch of the Todicheenie Clan, Susie was blessed with five children, 24 grandchildren, 28 great-grandchildren, and 16 great-great-grandchildren. During the ’40s, ’50s, and ’60s, she worked in bit parts in some of John Ford’s films including My Darling Clementine and Cheyenne Autumn.

We continued to explore areas of Monument Valley none of us had ever visited before this Saturday in March 2008, and seeing these images again, I called Simpson’s Trailhandler today, who organized all of this for us, to enquire about a repeat visit where I’d hope we can spend two nights in a hogan and join them for one of their longer guided hikes.

After the petroglyphs, beautiful sights, music, and conversation along the way, we were brought back to the hogan, where a couple of ladies had set up dinner and sleeping bags for us. The meal was supposed to be a Navajo taco, which I felt might better appeal to blander palates, but we already knew that we loved mutton stew, so I’d requested it, and that’s exactly what we got. With our mutton and fry bread, we sat outside under the darkening sky and couldn’t have been any further away from where we were just 12 hours before as we left Phoenix.

Flames danced upon the surface of the old gnarled wood that had been collected for our campfire.

On the right is Harold Simpson, a man who calls Monument Valley home and is the organizer of this amazing life encounter that will leave memories with us to last an eternity. While he beat the drum and sang us powwow songs, his brother Richard led Caroline and Jutta to join him around the fire in dance, bringing the ladies into participation with an experience that will never be had in any of America’s big or small cities.

Dancing in the blazing firelight under the stars with Harold’s singing continued. I sat in awe, imagining that these sights and sounds were echoes offered by these men from their ancestors. I can only wonder how many others might clamber for such an experience when your bed is in the dirt and electricity is nowhere to be found.

But here we are, moving deeper into night and history. Before the fire extinguishes itself, our hosts take leave promising to return in the morning with breakfast. We are touched by the extraordinary nature of our visit.

And then the fire goes out, and it’s dark. Do not think this image I share is one of blackness. There are stars and a butte that might not at first appear on your screen, but I assure you that this is only a problem with your monitor; brighten it, and you too will see the view you gazed upon as more and more stars came into view. We were surely out of this world by this time.