Lost in space. That best describes how one feels in Monument Valley. It took us less than two hours to travel from Canyon de Chelley’s deep canyons to Monument Valley’s buttes and spires. John Wayne country, indeed. From memories of Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, to The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, we felt as though we were entering a giant movie set. Amazing.

Monument Valley is really not a valley. It is a flat, that’s interrupted by towering formations formed though the endless erosion by water, wind and ice. Did I just mention wind? The day we visited, was really windy, with gusts clocking in at 30-40 mph. 

The best way to see the area is to drive the 17-mile dirt road that loops around Rain God Mesa. A four-wheel drive is recommended, but Steve took the challenge (and won) with his SUV. There were no crowds or lines. Just wind. My understanding is that this road gets quite backed-up in the spring (a sea of cars) and that flash floods can occur from June-August. We really got lucky with our weather, as the offseason is often unpredictable.

The color and light was in Monument Valley is something to behold. Strong winds kicked up a lot of sand, creating a painterly effect on many of the photos we took. No enhancements needed. We stopped along the many pull-outs to take photos and marveled at the vast beauty of the Navajo nation.

John Ford’s Point is a well-known and aptly named. He used this particular location in many of his films. Post adventure, Dave and I watched Stagecoach, where Ford used the iconic vista at the beginning and the end of the film. To us, there was a bit of an issue with that decision. The stagecoach was making the journey from Tanto, Arizona to Lordsburg, New Mexico. Seems like they didn’t make much progress. Just saying…

The drive took up most of the afternoon. Our evening was spent dining on more frybread at The View motel. We awoke to a spectacular sunrise, courtesy of our room’s balcony. What a view! The steady click of cameras made it abundantly clear that we were not alone in this endeavor.

Before departing, Julie suggested a quick hike along the Wild Cat Trail that ambles towards Mitten Butte. It was chilly, but also crisp, clear and blessedly still. The sand along the trail was pristine, and untouched, like the beach of an ocean, just washed by the tide.

By 3pm, we were back in Phoenix. All of us felt strangely disoriented, as if we had been gone for much longer than two days. In hindsight, I’m thinking that our adventure was a great form of time travel, simplified.