The Meteor Crater and Hualapai

We’re doing some trips out while the motorhome is in the repair shop, and the first of these is right on the doorstep: the world’s most perfectly preserved meteorite crater.

50,000 years ago a chunk of metal 150 feet across and travelling at 26,000 miles per hour hit the Arizona desert. This is the kind of terrain it impacted, almost flat and barren.

A piece of the metal meteorite survives. Not much to look at, but the whole lump created an explosive force equal to a 20 million tonnes of TNT.

It made a crater nearly a mile in diameter and 700 feet deep, created in less than 10 seconds.

I took lots of photos of the crater, but essentially they all look the same, a huge hole from slightly different angles. Highly impressive, but one picture tells it all.

Next destination, Hualapai. This small mountain range takes its name from a Native American tribe. The tribe fought a war with the settlers in the 1860’s but surrendered in 1870 under their chief Levi Levi. This is his photo much later as an old man, not looking at all imposing in western dress – he might even be wearing Levis.

The mountain, however, is not part of the Indian reservation and is managed as a recreation area. It has a maximum elevation of 8,500 feet, so its green and tree-lined slopes make a change from the arid desert at the base.

We were disappointed not to see more wildlife, but were told by one of the rangers that sometimes elk gathered at a nearby privately owned lake. Not much chance there, then, but we had some pretty walks through the woods.

We finished with an ice-cream from the store at a rather run-down small residential area nearby. Ironically, at the side of the store we saw a life-size model of an elk.

Just a minute: it’s walking!

Now we spot several elk are moving through the trees. It’s a small herd.

These are the second larges deer species after the moose, some standing about 6 feet at the shoulder. Not showing fear of humans (i.e.us), they seem quite relaxed and gentle, reminding us of camels. One even sat down.

So the day redeemed itself, but it was a lovely area anyway.

Route 66

Route 66 was the first motor road to run from the American east to west, 2,500 miles from Chicago to Los Angeles. It opened in 1926 and was decommissioned in 1985, at which time it had long been surpassed by interstate highways.

But the legend lives on, fuelled by songs like “Route 66”, and much of the original route still remains as local or secondary road. It’s been seized on in a big way by towns on the old route as a tourist attraction, generally with a 1950’s or 60’s theme.

Seligman, Arizona, is a good example of a small town totally given over to the image.

Cars from the 1950/60’s are a must, even rusty ones that I presume are meant to enhance the time-warp atmosphere.

All the shops sell fairly grim Route 66 souvenirs, and fairly grim fast food. We ate hotdogs here, in keeping with the era: the store and the food seemed a cut above the others.

Winslow, where our motorhome is being repaired and also where we are staying to wait for it, is also on Route 66. But it also has another even more lightweight claim to fame. There was a 1970’s hit song written about Winslow called “Standing on the Corner” by The Eagles.

We had apparently just missed the “Standing on the Corner” festival, but the corner itself is preserved for posterity, that is, for the tourist trade. Standing on the corner might put you at risk of being picked up by the cops these days.

This is where “Standing on the Corner” and “Route 66” meet, in Winslow old town centre.

Sprinkle around some 1950’s cars- these are beautifully presented, and roadworthy- and you have a real focal point for visitors.

Some of the town architecture is pleasing anyway, like this building, originally a bank, built in 1904.

There are dozens of towns like Seligman and Winslow that have successfully adopted the Route 66 marketing approach. One could be cynical and label it as superficial tackiness, but it’s all lighthearted fun and some of the towns have other features worth seeing, as we will find out from our enforced but pleasant stay in Winslow. 

Cortez, Colorado

We had an interesting journey to Cortez. We’ve seen so many fabulous rock formations that another one might seem one too many. But here it is, like it’s been squeezed out of a tube and dried in the sun.

The population is sparse. Most of our journey is through Indian Reservation territory. The land is dry, covered in mainly scrub sage bushes that support a few horses and cows. This is a typical isolated ranch.

This arid region of several thousand square miles, is known as the “Four Corners Area” because it’s where four states join. There is an actual survey point where Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah meet in a square. It’s in Indian Territory and they charge $10 to look at it. Most tourists passing by ante-up, as we did. Ticked the box. It reminded me more of a skate park.

We arrive at the campsite in Cortez and are allocated a prime, big pitch overlooking open countryside.

 Looking over the bushes in front of our motorhome into the lower camping area we often observe mule deer browsing.

And beyond that, we can see the San Juan mountains. At over 13,000 feet, these are snowy peaks.

So, a lovely pitch and great things to see in Cortez, already blogged under Durango and Mesa Verde headings. It’s now time to move on to Holbrook. Problem is, we don’t quite get there. This is the reason.

It’s a block of wood; 25 miles from our destination, it appeared in the road and, although swerving, the inner rear wheel hit it. There was an immediate grinding noise and I pulled onto the hard shoulder. Nothing for it but to ring the rental company, the breakdown number we had in the info pack, and the police. Fortunately, we had a phone signal, which is unusual in open country. After several hours of organising and phone calls, the breakdown truck arrived and off we go on a two hour journey to the garage at Winslow. Winslow is 50 miles from where we were heading.

The news from the garage is not good: about a week to repair, as the wood has damaged not only the wheel but part of the brake mechanism. We book into a hotel in Winslow, and start to replan. Watch this space. 

Mesa Verde

All of the American south-west was part of the Spanish empire for centuries, and then became Mexican when that country gained independence from Spain in 1821. In 1845 the USA and Mexico fought a war over the sovereignty of Texas that Mexico lost. The peace treaty of 1848 gave the USA the disputed territory of Texas,  and also the bargain purchase of what are now the states of California, Arizona, Nevada, part of Colorado, and New Mexico. Not a bad haul.

However, the USA inherited the Spanish speaking inhabitants and place names. Both survive to this day, somewhat watered down by the English speaking occupation of the last 150 years.

Mesa Verde is one such original Spanish name. It means green table, that is, a fertile, high plateau. It’s a picturesque climb to the tabletop level especially in autumn when the leaves are just starting to turn.

But Mesa Verde is much more than a pretty upland: it hold the remains of an area once occupied by the Puebloans, a sophisticated civilisation that disappeared by 1300 AD.

Archaeologists determine that the Peubloans first appeared around 550 AD on the Mesa Verde plateau, farming, weaving baskets and living in pit houses like the one excavated below. The walls were made of wattle and mud daub.

The mainstay crop was maize, which keeps for years. These ears are at least 1500 years old. Anyone for prehistoric popcorn?

Between 550 and 1100 the civilisation progressed to living in villages of multi story large dwellings built from stone with mud mortar.

The circular design of the old pit houses is still retained as living and communal quarters. The archaeologists call these kivas. The kiva layout is quite complicated with shelves, fresh-air ducts and tunnels leading to other parts of the complex.

Bows and arrows were, used for hunting and stone and bone tools refined for manual work like felling trees, trimming building stone and scraping hides. By 1100 pottery had developed into a vast range of items, many with highly artistic decoration. 

Dogs and turkeys were domesticated, and turkey feathers were even used in weaving. This is a woven turkey-feather boot. Take note, Clarks, this could be the next big fashion trend.

In about the year 1200, an amazing thing happened; the Puebloans moved from their elaborate and convenient villages built on land to equally elaborate cliff dwellings. Not so convenient, though.

 To give a better idea of where this is perched, I’ll step back with the camera, but not too far as it’s 700 feet to the bottom.

They still worked the fields and hunted, so access to and from the cliff dwellings was frequent, and was by a combination of wooden ladder, stone staircase  or precipitous hand-holds cut into the rock. But this next dwelling is something else- how did they manage to build and then safely use it?

The above picture doesn’t tell the full story. The houses are at the tip of the arrow in the next photo. Imagine- you’re stood on the clifftop, it’s dark, maybe icy, you’re tired from hunting all day, and you have to scramble down a sheer rockface.  Perhaps the turkey-feather boots had flying properties.

Even the visitor’s paths can be difficult, especially with the high altitude. Some sections of Mesa Verde reach 8,500 feet, so it’s not that flat.

The big question is why was all this abandonned around 1300 AD, and where did they go? Modern archaeologicals can give some indications. Tree ring data reveals a 25 year drought from 1274 onwards, and this coupled with soil depletion perhaps caused the Puebloans to move away. Their descendants can be traced to 24 tribes living in New Mexico and Arizona. Also, why did they previously move from their land villages to the cliffs? We can only guess that it was for defensive purposes.

One thing is clear, that they progressed far ahead of equivalent tribes of the time in the quality and range of their lifestyle. We might be even more surprised at their achievements had they been able to leave a written record.

Mesa Verde is a World Heritage Site, and the National Park Service has a fine line to tread in showing visitors this remarkable area and at the same time preventing them from wrecking it. Environmental events don’t help either as the region is prone to forest fires caused by lightning strike, the aftermath of which is much in evidence.

Although known to the Native American Indians, the white settlers only set eyes on Mesa Verde in 1888 when two ranchers went searching for stray cows. America actually does have a bit more history that is generally realised. We were most impressed by the well presented archaeology and by the fascinating story that it told. 

Durango

Durango is an hour’s drive from our campsite in Cortez, Colorado. It was founded in 1880 as a railhead and smelting base for the ore mined at Silverton, 45 miles away. Silverton, at 9,300 feet, is one of the highest towns in the USA. The clue is in the name: Silverton. It produced mainly silver, but some gold too.  The mining prospered and Durango grew. The General Palmer hotel was built in 1898 and has a frontier look.

General Palmer ran the company that built the narrow gauge railroad from Durango to Silverton in the years 1881/82. In 1921 the price of metals fell and mining contracted, so Silverton and Durango went into a gradual decline. Mining ceased altogether in 1991, but the railroad continued as a tourist attraction. Fortunately, it’s a very scenic route and the town has rejuvenated year on year from the visitors who come to ride the railroad.

The railroad company complex houses a museum with railway memorabilia including some old engines similar to those it actually operates.

There’s a fine coach called General Palmer after the railroad boss. I suppose that’s the same as naming Trump Tower after Donald Trump. 

Some of the locomotives have risen to wider fame. This one appeared in “Around the World in 80 Days”. The caption tells more of the story.

The open coaches await the next journey to Silverton. Arriving at 9,300 feet has to be a chilly passenger experience most times of the year. 

We parked near the long, straight track heading out of the town, so I thought we would wait and capture the arrival of the last train, the 5:15 pm from Silverton. We’d see it coming a mile away, I thought.

But the train came from the other direction and appeared unexpectedly at the station. I just got a quick snap on before it shunted off behind some engine sheds.

Durango retains a friendly, small town atmosphere and, although we didn’t ride the train, we felt that we’d experienced something of its railroad history and heritage.

The Navajo Indians

Monument Valley is now a Navajo Tribal Park, part of the Navajo reservations that extend across Arizona, Utah and New Mexico. The Navajo is the equal largest tribe, the other being the Cherokee, but the Navajo hold the greatest reservation area, 27,000 square miles, larger than each of the 10 smallest States.

We take the Monument Valley tour with a Navajo guide, who is keen to point out the cultural aspects of their homeland as well as to flesh out the film making history.

Just after we set off, she points out a hogan. This is a traditional Navajo dwelling used these days for ceremonial purposes only. We know it’s not a current home as there’s no satellite dish on the roof.

 The Valley contains many sacred Indian sites. This is the Totem Pole, the really tall one.

We passed several stacks of wood, some distant, some near the track, looking like bonfire preparations. The guide explained that these were traditional burial sites.

The Navajo have a great weaving tradition, particularly rugs, and these became a marketable product from 100 years or so ago. So the Gouldings tapped into a demand that was already in existence. This is a photo of a Navajo weaving trading post in 1913.

This is an example of an individual rug.

As our rickety vehicle rattled around Monument Valley, the guide explained that, in their folk tales, the tribe had migrated into North America via the Bering Strait when it was frozen over some 10,000 plus years ago. Part of the tribe stayed in Canada, but the others settled in the Utah, Arizona, New Mexico area. This is borne out by current research into historical migration patterns.

The guide said that they may originally have been a Japanese people as they have some words in common with the Japanese language. This is ironic as the Navajos were used in the World War 2 as “code talkers” in the Pacific theatre fighting the Japanese. Because their language is so complicated and spoken only by the tribe itself, the Navajo “code talkers” sent and received classified military messages much more quickly than using code machines. It was highly successful and the language was never unscrambled. Clearly there weren’t that many words in common with Japanese.

But back to the tour bus, a modern day version of the bone-jarring covered wagon. Our guide is the short lady at the rear of the bus. This was taken at one of several trinket stops, but we weren’t tempted.

There were some dramatic views interspersed with the Navajo commentary. You can see why these two buttes are called the left and right mittens.

Final stop, final photo, this time of us against the full scenic panorama. She sang us a Navajo lullaby on the return journey to the campsite. Wouldn’t want to risk it it personally, it might set the kids on the warpath.

Just two most interesting days in Monument Valley, and now on to Cortez in Colorado.