Our guide, Celia, all of 5 feet tall (maybe), handles the hefty Denali GMC like a pro. We jolt and fishtail along the sandy, terracotta-colored floor of Canyon de Chelly, marveling at the steep sandstone walls. In some places, they are as high as 1,000 feet.
“Sometimes after a rain,” Celia says, “you’ll have waterfalls coming down the cliffs.”
In semi-arid northeastern Arizona, I think, that would call for a miracle and a whole lot of rain.
In just a few minutes, that miracle occurs.
A cloudburst deposits fat droplets on our vehicle, and within another few minutes, waterfalls — at least a dozen — are cascading over the canyon walls. It is a majestic sight, but I can’t figure out how such a small amount of rain can create such a phenomenon and so quickly.
Our SUV is now pushing through a shallow stream, slip-slidin’ away. As the tires spin, they push up a wall of muddy water, which comes pouring in through the window. My fault; I left it open trying to get a better look at the waterfalls. As I scream and laugh simultaneously, Celia coaxes the Denali out of the ravine, and we are on our way again.
I’m a bit damp and definitely muddy, but the mishap is worth it.
This is a unique place, and had we not booked this tour with a Navajo guide, we wouldn’t have seen all that is Canyon de Chelly National Monument.
Pronounced d’SHAY, the canyon’s 84,000 acres are fully within the territory of the Navajo Nation, and archeologists say that it has been inhabited for 5,000 years. There is much discussion with other area Native Americans about which nations are descended from the Anasazi, the “ancient peoples” who made their homes on the canyon floor and ledges. The Hopi and Pueblo Indians claim descendance, but some Navajo say that recent DNA tests prove they are the descendants of the Anasazi.
Canyon de Chelly received national monument designation in 1931, and the U.S. National Park Service and the Navajo Nation cooperate to preserve the many ruins and magnificent natural features of the canyon.
On this early-May afternoon, the thousands of cottonwood trees, planted by President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps during the Depression, wear their finest spring green.
Our timing is good, says Celia. Buds burst forth only two weeks ago, the air is still cool (summers here can be scorchers), and the light is perfect for viewing the many sites with eons-old pictographs. These are drawings on the cliff walls created with natural pigments. (Petroglyphs are drawings etched into the stone, and these are less numerous.) As best as archeologists can tell, the artwork depicts local animals, historical events and ceremonial rituals, but some mystery remains.
Possibly more amazing is that some of the Anasazi cliff-dwellings still stand.
Some were once closer to the ground, but over the centuries, the canyon floor has sunk. As we stand with Celia looking up at these structures, some up to 4,000 years old, it is incredible that we can see every handmade brick. These buildings served as homes, facilities where the agrarian inhabitants stored food, and places where they held their ceremonies and conducted business. Corn and peach trees once flourished on the canyon floor.
Close encounters with ancient structures are possible only with a park ranger or Navajo guide, but visitors can drive the length of the canyon’s north and south rims. We chose the south rim because there are more overlooks with a bird’s eye view of this awe-inspiring landscape, shaped over millennia by earthquakes, wind and rain.
It is hard to reconcile this ferocious beauty with the tragic events that occurred repeatedly during the 19th century. Perhaps the worst was the 1863-1864 attacks on Navajos by Col. Kit Carson. His troops captured or killed those living in the canyon, then destroyed remaining houses, crops and sheep. Survivors were forced to march 300 miles (the Long Walk) to New Mexico; more died. In 1868, after brutal internment at Fort Sumner, prisoners were allowed to walk back to the canyon, where some Navajo, beyond all odds, survived.
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