Arizona (part 2)

Reservation land is a lot like I imagined it would be hot, bright, and a little desolate. It does hold enough surprises to be considered beautiful, even breathtaking at times, but it did not make for the most comfortable road trip conditions.

The day was a total scorcher inside our car. We made the mistake of trying a traditional Navajo breakfast, a corned beef and hash brown burrito. After a few hours of driving everyone was a little sick and really tired, tired of traveling, tired of being hot, just tired of being tired. The car had become our undersized home on wheels for the last few weeks and we were all beyond ready to vacate the premises.

By the time we pulled up to the Ranger's station I was half asleep, my eyelids so heavy after spending the past four hours squinting behind my sunglasses. To say the day was sunny would be a vast understatement. The Ranger took our toll handing us our week pass and we were off to see one of the great wonders of our continent, The Painted Desert. 

We pulled the car into the first stop, planning on taking the hiking trail that was marked on the map. We should have known from the general bear-like grumpiness of everyone in the car that the hike would not be happening. 

From the moment our feet touched the pavement someone was either yelling or crying, parents included. That fact only made more miserable by the outstanding, awe-inspiring beauty of our surroundings. The Desert was filled with gorgeous tri-colored red sand dunes. The vastness of the sky made me want to plop down on my back and stare for hours. 

I have never had the sky give me chills before until I saw the sky over the desert. It is a unique kind of beauty that always seems to steal your ability to breathe for a moment. Vistas like this should be sacred spaces where talking full voiced is not encouraged so everyone can worship in their own way. 

The people visiting on September 14th sadly did not get any type of a sacred experience. Instead they were (un)lucky enough to partake in a symphony of whaling children, grumbling dad, yapping dogs and a mom who's menacing words, although directed at my children, stopped more than a few gaped mouth pedestrians in their tracks. Needless to say, we soon packed back up into the car and headed down the road. . 

Being the stubborn people we tend to be, Brent and I are both the babies of our families, we decided to fit in a few more stops. The second place we parked the car went a lot like the first stop, at first. Then, like the flip of a light switch, the girls decided to be happy. Kids.

They grabbed each other's hands and skipped to the overlook climbing on the side step and gazing out like mini explorers. By about the third "they are just the cutest things" from random passerbys my bad attitude finally faded away. I gabbed onto Brent's hand and I swear we began channeling the Brady Bunch.

Brent and I try to pretend that we control the family but it is an obvious lie, if the kids ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. We were all sitting on the ledge trying to decide if we wanted to get a hotel and come again the next day or just go home when Brent spotted a sand funnel.

It was far enough away for us to be safe but close enough to be totally awesome. We watched until it fizzled out, then I grabbed my phone to make a reservation, the decision had been made. We hopped back into the car and decided to cash in on the high spirits of everyone by trying a walking trail. There was a path to some ruins at Puerco Pueblo that fit the bill so we headed that way. 

The ruins were well, ruins. To be honest, they paled in comparison having seen the White House Ruins the day before.They just didn't capture our attention as much as they might have. We did see our first petroglyphs at this stop and they were beyond cool

They were so great that we decided that we had to add one more stop to the day to visit Newspaper Rock.

The name really gives the look of the location away. It has several large boulders covered in petroglyphs. One of our first reactions after the initial amazement was humor over the rudimentary drawings.

I realize I probably would not draw much better if my tools were rock on stone, but it is funny to consider what the original artist would have thought if they knew their stick figures would one day end up a National Monument.

It is interesting that in our world anything very old immediately becomes prized, whether it is beautiful or not. We seem to be innately fascinated by anything that survives the test of time, maybe hoping it will give up it's secret for survival. 

On that note I will leave you for now until day two, where we visited the most ancient and resilient artifacts I have ever laid hands on in the Petrified Forest. 

Much love <3