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Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Ancient Pueblos and Natural Wonders

I venture south of Sedona, AZ through magnificent Red Rock country to Montezuma’s Well and Castle. Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” sets the mood as I motor toward ancient cliff dwellings and pueblo ruins. Montezuma’s Well is the most enchanting site situated on a deep pool, fed by a natural spring. A shady glen of grasses and giant sycamore trees with their mottled bark hugging an ancient hand-dug irrigation ditch is inviting in this harsh dry environment.


I wander the remains of this ancient community, made up of cozy apartments protected by natural overhangs. I encounter lizards, grasshoppers, hedionella shrubs (meaning “little stinkers”), cliff roses and snakeweed. I almost hear the children from years past splashing in the fresh cool water and chasing the water birds.





Cliff Dwellings over Montezuma's Well





 







No connection with Aztec Leader
It’s no surprise when I arrive at the turn off to Montezuma’s Castle and find the glitzy Cliff Castle Casino. The archaeological site itself is quite impressive in its high-rise condo style architecture set into the side of a vertical limestone wall. Gila Woodpees and Yellow-rumped Warblers flit about in the dappled light of shade trees, and the feminine limestone formations keep centuries-old secrets.  













East of Flagstaff, AZ is the extensive and sophisticated Walnut Canyon community of cliff dwellings overlooking forested limestone formations and deep chasms. Each family space is like a cozy, cool dwelling, built just as it should be with consideration to sun angle and wind direction. The trail loop and overlooks give views of remains of a once thriving community. It’s a bit eerie, and feels as if I’m a trespassing voyeur.













Next, I pull in at “Meteor Crater!” and take a gander at the really old and really big divot. I stroll through the all-things-meteor exhibits before l motor on.










Winslow, AZ is next and proves to be another casualty of the Route 66 bypass. Most of the town is boarded up and abandoned. I find “The Corner” of the Eagles’ Winslow Arizona song, with the red flatbed truck parked for photo opportunities. I find the still-elegant and thriving La Posada Hotel, founded in 1930 by Fred Harvey of Sante Fe Railway fame. It’s the one attraction still alive in Winslow, and in-the-know travelers congregate here. La Posada is a gem, with a classic curved staircase, rustic tiled floors, beautiful wood beams, stucco archways and Southwest art everywhere. In The Turquoise
Room restaurant I enjoy the little naked quail with prickly pear chutney and elk medallion with wild mushroom ragout, with a glass of Meritage.

As I leave the poor depressed town of Winslow, I put Poncho Sanchez on the stereo to perk me up, and hold the wheel tight as I navigate long stretches of nothingness, through the dusty, wind-blown Hopi lands. Now on the Purple Heart Trail, billboards line the highway toting Geronimo’s Discount Moccasins, Navajo Blankets, Petrified Wood Art Center and Kachina Dolls. I’m blown sideways and the Astro van lists to the north, as truckers struggle to keep their rigs in their lane. A giant dinosaur poses for pictures as weary travelers pull over at the Petrified Forest in Holbrook.

I leave Arizona behind and cross into New Mexico, where the terrain becomes a bit more green and inviting. The famous El Rancho Hotel in Gallup has been an attraction since the 1930s when Hollywood movie stars first began stopping in. Now days, autographed headshots line the mezzanine walls.

The Astro van pushes through sandy headwinds to Grants, AZ. Visibility is literally zero as dust storms blow across the road to El Malpais National Monument, but subside enough to comfortably hike the short distance to volcanic subterranean cave entrances. I learn about bat colony behavior from the enthusiastic Ranger.




In Albuquerque I visit Old Town and have a refreshing margarita in the High Noon bar, then do a hike out to impressive petroglyphs, left by the ancestors of Pueblo Indians who lived in the Rio Grande Valley between 1300 and 1600. I forge through the hot sandy paths to black volcanic rubble, having my own scavenger hunt for each delightful etching from days gone by.
In town I have a pleasant stay with Ann (the mom of Seattle friends), Gordon and Mac the dog, then head north to Sante Fe.