Woke up my usual one hour before the rooster. Can't help myself when on a ride. I'm like a kid ready to get up and start my day. Forced myself back under the covers, cursing the Nightingales and the "dry." It is so dry here your nasal passages dry up and feel like a bad cold. But that's not a complaint. The daily high temperature has been around 87-89 degrees and, with the low humidity, and cool desert air, it's so pleasant you almost can't stand it.
We got breakfast and bought tickets on the 1/2 day "shake 'n bake." That's what the natives call the open air 6-wheel drive canyon tour vehicles. We were right to take the 1/2 day, the full day tour would have been too much. When contemplating the two options I remembered what Rita Rudner said about being in (maternity) labor: she didn't want to do anything that was fun for 30 hours.
Our guide was a 58-year-old Navajo who'd been leading tours in the canyon for 28 years. Obviously knew his stuff, but, unlike so many, wasn't overly wordy and answered all questions, even the stupid ones well. My favorite was when we stopped for one of the 15-minute (sell 'em a necklace/bracelet/flute) rest period. We pulled up in the shade (very cool shade) and a lady asked, "Can you show me a cottonwood?" He, just pointed straight up immediately and didn't say a word. He was cool about it.
Picked up a couple of trinkets for the grandkids during one of the stops. Bob bought a great, hand-carved Indian flute. The guy who made them plays the livin' crap out o' them too. Gave Bob two or three CDs of his too. Bob plays guitar and harmonica. He'll be bending notes on the flute by late this evening, I'm sure.
Lots of sandy river bottom dirt here. Reminded me of all the soft-sand orange groves I'd driven in as a kid in Florida. Like dirt bike riders, you learn how to move through it with minimum effort and expenditure of energy. Our guy had it down flat.
(Click on any picture to enlarge)
Most of the time you are looking at ruins and/or pictoglyphs. All the ruins are Anasazi. Many of the pictures and pictoglyphs are as well, but some are Navajo, or perhaps Hopi who really used to own this canyon. (A fact our guide wasn't sharing with anyone...it's sort of like Navajo by possession.)
Closer view.
Picasso's cubist training ground?
I don't like how tall I am and get nosebleed just thinking about climbing up to bed at night if I'd lived here during this period. (Most of the ruins date between 350AD and 1250AD.)
Look closely and you'll see small holes for hand and feet used for traversing this canyon wall. Takes a whole lot more guts than I have.
I just love all the cottonwoods in this canyon, a sure sign of water.
Nice Kiva in front.
After half a day (and enough) on the canyon floor we returned to the motel. Bob and I had lunch then tackled the Harley kickstand. The bad news is we were unable to reattach the spring. The good news is we were able to jury-rig a bungee cord situation which holds it up while moving and allows him to lower it to park. Had a bit of a shock when we first tried it because we went over a couple of speed bumps and Bob must have hit them a little hard because the bike came down on one and hung the kickstand up on a bolt on the side of the gearbox. We couldn't kick it loose it was wedged so tight. Luckily, I had a big screwdriver and Bob was able to pry it off the bolt. I gave him the screwdriver in case it happens again. A friend of mine used to say there's nothing which can't be fixed with a big screwdriver, a pair of channel locks, and duct tape. I think he's right.
After rigging up the kickstand we took a ride along the rim of the canyon. Our primary goal was the Spider Rock,
More scenery
The very famous Spider Lady rock formation. According to Navajo tradition, the Spider Lady came down from this rock and taught the women to weave.
The place just begs for that old b/w photo look to me.
Lots of nice "smaller world" stuff in the canyon too.
Cactus blossom
Pinon Pine blooming.
Well....th...th...that's all folks. Tomorrow morning I head for Texas. Not all that enthused because, frankly, there's not much scenery along the way and it's going to just get hotter and more humid as I move east. Hopefully, I'll at least round up a few new courthouses on the trip.
Last contact with Bob tonight was a call to tell him to give me and the neighbors a break and put up the flute. He was sounding pretty good, but.... I was right, he was just starting to bend notes.
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