For our honeymoon girl and I chose to visit Colorado, exploring the southwestern corner of the state. We used Cortez, Colorado as our homebase and fanned out from there to explore the region. We saw lots of scenery, visited a small handful of sights, but we did not camp, staying in a fairly decent hotel for the duration. The trip was a whirlwind of activity, and we ventured out as far away as The Monument Valley, saving that back for the next to last day of our trip.
I have a serious love affair with the southwest anyway, so I was absolutely entranced by the time we hit Colorado’s Front Range. They can say the Arch in St.Louis is the Gateway to the West, but in my heart I know its the Front Range, so the trip was getting better and better from there. The views were truly spectacular, (btw – so was the medical marijuana,) as were all of the Indian ruins we visited. I don’t know about you, but the American Southwest is truly inspiring to me, it is the landscape I dream about when I sleep.
Easily the most spectacular area we visited was The Monument Valley. So you know, I’m adding the unnecessary “The” along with “Monument Valley” much as athletes say they went to “The Ohio State University”, because the area demands that kind of respect. It is sacred to the Navajo, and it should probably be sacred to the white man too. Not in the sense of cultural appropriation, but in the sense of all the awe and wonder of the feelings and sights found there.
Because of the itinerary I created, Monument Valley was a day trip for us. I hoped for more time there, and for time to gaze at some of the other nearby attractions too. To say I was overly optimistic is probably an understatement, a big understatement. It’s at least a two-and-a half-hour trip from Cortez to Monument Valley, and that’s not a little task. I don’t drive, and girl simply could not tolerate the driving of either of the couple who accompanied us. It’s not that they are terrible drivers or anything, girl just doesn’t do especially well riding with others, so that put everything (transportation wise) on her shoulders.

I should say up front that my wife is a marvel, she battles rheumatoid arthritis so I normally try to limit her driving to three hours per day. This day was essentially three hours each way, once you’ve stopped for gas and bathroom breaks, so I knew I was asking a lot from girl. Turns out, I almost asked for too much.
I had hoped to hire a Navajo guide for our day at The Monument Valley, but the cost of that luxury exceeded the budget of the friends who were travelling with us. That led to girl acting as chauffeur on what essentially became her first four-wheel driving experience. She drove with very good ability, not even bothering to switch to full time four-wheel drive or gear down, instead using our RAV4’s on demand 4WD like a champ. Had I not know better, I would have thought she had driven off-road for many years. Good job, you go girl!

O vast and ancient land of Monument’s grace, Where nature’s artistry finds its dwelling place, In Arizona’s heart, a timeless stage, The Monument Valley, where wonders engage.
Oh, the red-rock towers that touch the sky, Like fingers of earth reaching far and high, Carved by wind and water’s tender hand, The Monument Valley’s beauty, forever grand.
Amidst the desert’s embrace, they stand tall, Monuments of time, witness to all, Endless horizons, a painter’s delight, Colors that dance in the sun’s golden light.
Canyons and buttes, a symphony profound, Whispering tales of ages gone by, unbound, Where Navajo spirits linger and roam, Amongst sacred arches and ancient stone.
The wind, a troubadour, strums its tune, Through valleys and gorges, beneath the moon, Echoes of legends, in every breeze, Whispering secrets among the sagebrush trees.
O Walt Whitman, were you here to see, The Monument Valley’s grandeur, wild and free, Your poetic soul would surely take flight, In the heart of this land, day and night.
So I sing of The Monument Valley’s grace, A sacred haven, a timeless space, Where nature and spirit intertwine, In Arizona’s embrace, divine.

Man, man, I tell you man, The Monument Valley is where the heart of the earth beats. It’s like the pulse of a forgotten realm, ancient and raw, out here in the midst of nowhere.
You see those red rock cathedrals, man? They ain’t just rocks. They’re history, they’re defiance. Standing tall against the relentless wind, like warriors guarding the secrets of time.
And that wind, it’s like a storyteller, whispering tales of forgotten tribes and lost legends. It dances with the sagebrush, creating a melody only the desert can comprehend.
The sun, oh man, the sunsets here could make the gods jealous. It sets the sky ablaze, casting shadows that stretch for miles. It’s a masterpiece painted with fire and passion.
You want to talk about scale? Look out there, where the land meets the sky. It’s as if the universe decided to open up right in front of you. Makes you realize how small we are, how temporary our existence is.
You might think it’s just rocks and sand, but no, man, it’s a cathedral of nature. A place where you can find solitude and connection all at once. You can feel the spirits of the past, hear the echoes of time.
Every photograph you take here is a piece of your soul captured on film. The artist in me, man, he’s in his element here. It’s like a fever, an obsession to freeze this wild beauty in a frame.
So, next time you’re out there, on the edge of that vast expanse, remember, man, you’re in the heart of The Monument Valley. Let it seep into your bones, into your very being. It’s a place that stays with you, forever reminding you of the wild, untamed spirit of the earth.

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