Monument Valley, Utah

Monument Valley is one of the most iconic and majestic landmarks in the American West.  Huge red monoliths, deep in colour and immense in stature, tower over the otherwise sparse sandy plains of the Navajo Tribal Park between Arizona and Utah.

It's been immortalised countless times on film, from classic John Wayne movies like "Stagecoach" and more modern favourites like "Forrest Gump", to small screen ventures like "Doctor Who", and a whole host of TV commercials.

Our journey started about four hours south-west as we departed the Grand Canyon and began ploughing our way through the heart of the Old West.  In searing heat I bravely led our group as we carved a pathway through the punishing desert terrain of Arizona (by which I mean I switched on the air-con and followed US-160 East for a while, admiring the scenery).

It was my Dad's turn to get into the swing of "trailer trash" life today.  We stopped at a gas station and after I'd re-fuelled I found him wandering the forecourt, halfway through his first Budweiser of the day.  If the cops had driven past, he probably would have just raised the can to them and said "Cheers!", before crushing it on his head or something.  That's the spirit!

Back on the road, it wasn't long before we started to see some dramatic figures permeating the hitherto relatively smooth landscape.  We weren't there yet but you could be forgiven for thinking that you were:  The mesas that interrupt the terrain at this point resemble unfinished, but nonetheless impressive, prototypes of the final article.

There's no mistaking it when you do eventually see it though.  Huge, rusty red pinnacles of rock fill your field of vision all the way up the short road leading from the main highway to the valley.  I say "rusty" literally, as the glowing red colour comes from iron oxide deposits.

It's not really a valley in the most common sense of the word.  It's a vast, flat basin from where the red siltstone buttes protrude, some standing 1000 feet, casting long shadows on the basin floor.

The whole Navajo Tribal Park belongs to the Navajo Nation.  The area is effectively the Native American equivalent of a National Park.  The legend states that a fierce debate took place under a tree to decide whether outsiders should be allowed to visit the area.  On the one hand, designating the area as a Tribal Park would offer the land some protection from being developed on, and bring much needed funds to the population. On the other hand, it is seen as sacred land that shouldn't be interfered with or trampled by tourists.

Obviously the proponents of establishing the park won the argument in the end.  The land is still viewed as sacrosanct though; in fact the Navajo Nation website includes an unusual warning on its front page:

"DO NOT desecrate Navajo lands and violate the trust of Navajo people by discarding cremated human remains on tribal property."

We paid our $5 to enter the park and, after a quick check to make sure no-one was carrying any unauthorised urns, headed for the viewpoint at the visitor centre for some incredible panoramic vistas.

The Arizona / Utah border runs right down the middle of the valley and from the lookout you can see several dirt tracks meandering between the rock formations.  Some of these can be driven by the public (although no chance in our RV!).  Others are not accessible to the public without a guide.  

The Navajo offer jeep tours along the Valley Drive to see the areas that can't be seen from the lookout point.  After a bit of negotiation, we managed to get on one of these tours for a reasonable price.

We bundled into a big modified truck and set off down the dirt road.

I could already sense that this was going to be an experience to remember.  This thing clunked and creaked like the bed springs at a pay-by-the-hour motel as we sped over the rocks and potholes along the trail.  I remember wondering how the hell it managed to keep going when ours seems to have a nervous breakdown at the mere sight of a speed bump.

To be honest, the white-knuckle ride was worth the price of the tour on its own.  The amazing scenery was a bonus!

"West Mitten Butte", on the right:

"Elephant Butte", which I think is the one they put a Jeep on top of (as in, actually air-lifted it and dropped it on top!) for a commercial:

"Three Sisters", eroded remnants of a narrow ridge extending south from "Mitchell Mesa":

"Camel  Butte":

No sign of Phillip Schofield at this one:

"Yei Bi Chei" and "Totem Pole":

They definitely missed an opportunity by naming this one "The Thumb":

We were about half way around the fifteen mile loop of the valley when the truck started stalling and spluttering.  Our driver, who turned out to be a bit of a character, said "I'm not surprised, there's no fuel or oil in it!".  Excellent, seven miles to cover on vapour!

"Don't worry, it's mostly downhill on the way back, just rock back and forth - that usually gets it going!". 

Now, two words in that sentence bothered me immediately:  Firstly the word "mostly", with reference to how much downhill there was; and secondly the word "usually", implying that this is a regular occurrence.

Nevertheless, the four of us, plus two random German women who had ended up on the same tour as us, did as instructed and sure enough the cantankerous Jeep started up again.  This process was repeated several times over the next couple of miles.  As the sun started to disappear behind the horizon, the driver said: "Well at least if we have to spend the night out here, we'll get a great view of the stars".  We all laughed in the back, but his laughter was conspicuously absent.

On one of our increasingly infrequent bursts of engine power, we managed to get enough speed up to cruise a few miles to the base of the hill leading back to the visitor centre.  This was where our "mostly downhill" ended and there was about as much chance of us driving up there as there is of me turning vegan.  We jumped out and started walking and luckily our driver managed to get word back to his boss via another driver that we needed picking up.

When we eventually got back, our poor driver looked slightly confused as we handed him a generous tip, but we all agreed it was the best laugh we'd had in ages so well worth it.

On the way in, we'd spotted a small and very basic "RV park" just down the road from the visitor centre, also owned by the Navajo.  It was in a prime location just on the edge of the valley so we stayed there for the night under the watchful eye of the stone towers.  And we had a slightly more comfortable view of the stars than we would have if we'd been stuck out in the desert, each hugging a wheel of that truck for warmth.  Those of us who are able to get up at silly o'clock in the morning also had an amazing view of the sunrise over the valley the next day.

Funnily enough, our driver showed up at the camp the following morning to say hello, looking quite merry.  He made it clear that he'd put our tips to good use at the pub the night before - fair play to him!  Although by the look of him, he'd managed to stretch his bar tab well into the morning.  As we said goodbye to him, I wasn't sure whether to be glad that he had the day off and wouldn't be driving anyone around the valley trail, or concerned that he'd just jumped into the driving seat of his own truck and headed off in the direction of the nearest town...