Hello again, dear dames and barons –

I’m back again, and rather promptly. It seems I had more catching up to do than I realized, so I’ll get straight to the point.

From Mesa Verde, Colorado, Jonny and I whipped through the Four Corners area to do that dorky thing where people sit and take photos atop a large metal seal that says they’ve simultaneously been in four states: CO, NM, AZ, and UT. We knew it would be a big tourist trap, and yet we embraced it, taking the same awkward photos everyone else takes.

What seemed to be different about our experience, though, was the sentiment that the Four Corners area evoked. Because the Four Corners region is maintained by the Navajo Nation, all the food and souvenir stands are run by Navajos who have hand-made the wares or foods they sell. After walking the park a bit, I found myself sliding into a place of nagging sadness. I realized it grew increasingly difficult to walk from stand to stand, seeing the Native American population struggling to make bank by selling over-the-top “Indian” goods to wealthy white Americans and Europeans. Some of the sales people grunted weary hellos, some scrambled to make a sale, and others smelled faintly of alcohol although it was still early morning. There I was, overly enthusiastic about having my first exchange with the native population that has so enthralled me since childhood, and I was seeing a people relegated to a tiny swath of land on which to make its living by being gawked at and selling goods that more privileged peoples can brag about back home.

Of course, I read my social studies and history readings on the decimation and marginalization of the Native American population, the Trail of Tears, and so forth; yet, it’s very different to see the outcome in person. I realize this is the way of the world – there are salespeople and customers, providers and consumers, haves and have-nots. There is a disparity between different groups of people, and it is the most natural order for the world. Yet, I can’t help but be weighed down by the fact that this once glorious Navajo society has now been forced to entertain a people who took so much from them (and I’m certainly included in that grouping, based on my heritage and upbringing).

Enough of that already? I know, I’ve probably worn you out with my trite observations. However, I thought I’d share the impression that such a seemingly happy-go-lucky place actually gave me in the end. On to the rest of the trip…

From Four Corners, Jonny and I made our way to Moab, Utah, encountering a wild change of scenery once more. Utah is a land of deepest reds and gold, the desert unfurling infinitely before you and the sand forever shifting with the winds. Mesas and plateaus suddenly appear in otherwise bare stretches of earth, and arches of orange sandstone tower above the roadside like watchful eyes.

In Moab, Jon and I met up with a guy named Dharma, who showed us a fabulous few days. And yes, his name is really Dharma. And his brother’s name is Zen. Believe it or not, this guy actually hesitated when I asked him if his parents had been huge hippies. Anyway, Dharma took us out for food and coffee, and on hikes through canyons to watering holes complete with Eden-esque waterfalls and people cliff diving. Because Jon and I had missed the Mesa Verde petroglyphs, Dharma took us to see Native American rock art painted high on rock walls above the Colorado River, afterwards introducing us to some of his rock-climber friends as they mapped several “first ascents” up steep rock faces down the road. Since Dharma works at a rafting company, he even got us a FREE full-day white-water rafting adventure. He and his friends brought us along on a 6-hour trip down the river, where we kayaked white-water, swam, sat mouths agape at the John Wayne territory surrounding, and ate fresh avocado on the banks of the Colorado.

Later that night, we joined the raft guides for dinner, thereafter making a midnight trip to the top of a mesa to better see the stars. Straight ahead, an electrical storm fractured the sky with bright white light, bolts crossing one another, piercing the sky horizontally as well as vertically, and forming vast root systems between earth and the heavens. Jupiter glowed ardently just to our right, and the black ocean above us housed more stars than I can remember having seeing before. I saw four shooting stars within about a minute of our arrival, satellites blinked across the void, and the moon leapt fully from the dark horizon in under three minutes.

The following day, we visited both Arches National Park and Canyonlands National Park, two stunning expanses of land wherein lie endless arches and rock formations to explore. If ever you have the chance to visit Canyonlands, I beg you to visit Islands in the Sky, a relatively small elliptical arch overlooking gaping canyons and stray batches of mesas. We arrived there just after a rainstorm, so other hikers had fled the park, leaving a fresh and gleaming paradise all to us.

I suppose I’ll stop here for today. But let me add one more thing: if my words or photographs haven’t yet inspired you to see Utah, I’ve done the state a terrible injustice. It’s a wonderland of unearthly landscapes and innumerable activities – a place where sunflowers run rampant and are considered weeds. Sunflowers. Considered weeds. What a wonderful state.

Eyes reflecting plateaus and deep gold petals, I depart.

Rachel


P.S. To track my journey:
http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&msa=0&msid=108615724721649217631.00045208d5352931b9e50&ll=37.020098,-107.753906&spn=17.164462,28.78418&z=5