if landscapes were interior...

day 9 is articulated thus I need to divide it into chapters. Wireless at this motel is not very stable, I will post the pictures later on

Chapter One: Navajo Land.
Crossed the San Juan river I am back in Navajoland going south on the 163 passing again through Monument Valley. John Ford's point is off the road, four miles east. You pay 5$ and you can make a tour on a dirt road and visit the local indian centre. Today I am ready for the "authentic". The view is spectacular, grandiose, you can enjoy it from the restaurant and from the hotel, would you decide to sleep here. Here a typical tourist picture of me.

At the indian centre there are plaids, John Wayne postcards and the infinite population of gadgets. Here is a nice picture of a window at theMonument Valley Indian Centre, for you, picture reading people.

This one is instead the usual been there picture. Notice I've put on my raincoat, as if in Once Upon a Time in the West.

As I tour briefly on the dirt road and go back to the 163 I play a cd of indian music I made the lady at the counter chose for me. This is the best, she said. As I discover is a series of litanies sung on drum music. Their settlements are never on the road, you can spot them some miles away, under the shadow of the monuments of red rock and sand. Like the white spots in the picture below. They have their store on the road but retreat away from it.

So this is what remains of them... they are here, they live here, with their pickup and their trailers. I am shocked. White people arrived, killed the buffalo, defeated the tribes, destroyed the basis of their way of life. And then did not do anything with the land. They moved on towards greener lands. What a waste. Why did the US army was sent here? They must have realized quite soon that this lands was useless to the pioneers. Greed pushed the white people? but of what? Economic drive is clearly not the answer. Power? the sheer pleasure of domination? geography? Are these the effects of monotheism?

As I travel south, and the cd makes its way to its end, snow make its reappearance, and it started to snow. This time very heavily, visibility is down to 100 metres and the road is covered in snow. I proceed slowly, I imagine it will change further down the road.

This reminds me we are high. Between 1200 and 2000 metres of altitude. I keep forgetting it. And at this heights weather changes rapidly. I remember from my mountain experience. A high plain is a very unfamiliar experience for an Furopean. If we travel flat, we mentally position roughly at sea leavel. At 1500 metres the road is either going up or down, and if it goes steady is curved and you look one side and there is the slope.


Chapter two Grand Canyon.

I leave the 163 for the 64 going towards the Grand Canyon National Park. Approaching it from the South. This is not an Indian Reservation, but they have their stores on the side. As I navigate towards it on the side of the road there are this huge canyons, going down for hundreds of metres.

The natural scenery is impressive and mighty. The entrance to the national park is 25$ and gives you a weekly pass. The first viewpoint is only half a mile inside the park, it is called Desert View. Photos, mine certainly, cannot render it. Words, mine, neither.

How can I express it? It is like you have reached the end of your world. A crack has opened in the planet. Another universe starts. It goes down and down, vertically. It is not just a break but an articulated abyss, made of many ravines, one deeped than the other. Another world is there, like yours, on the other side, you guess it, but cannot be sure, as you cannot guess if the other side that you see is encircled by one of the wings of the canyon. How can I describe it? for those of you who know the alps, it is like when you see the Dolomites. It could be the place where god casted the dolomites and took them out from. Then forgot to fill the hole. The same expression of mighty timeless nature, but this doesn't climbs up to the skies but digs down in the skin of the planet.

Tourist pictures looks incredibly pointless here, but here is one.

The road takes you to other equally stunning view points, people have climbed down from Grand View, and opened hotels, an airline offer tours of the Canyon.

It is a pity, one reasons. it can only excavate down at sea level, no matter the millions of years. Where would otherwise end?

I wonder if they have statistics of how many people faints or have some sort of attack in front such spectacle.
I feel my day is over, where else could I go today? Emotionally, I am exhausted. after this. Yet I know I still have to get a couple of hours driving down my way.

Chapter 3 in search of Route 66.

I see on the map that south of Grand Canyon and along the I 40 there is Route 66, not any route 66 like the one I took a picture of, in Virginia I think, but the Historic Route 66, as they label it here. Thus at the first exit I go for it.

Motels, bars, guitars, signposts are there, but there is not road, just a half a mile stretch. After going up and down a couple of times I ask at a gas station, I should proceed 15 miles on the motorway and use exit 139. At mile 149 there is another exit route 66, I take it, It intrigues me, what is the matter with this Route 66 that appears and disappears? Again 400 metres of road, an inn, a visitor center and then nothing, A little word under the sign suggests a solution, it says Route 66 loop. I decide (decide?) I will follow the advice. Evidently route 66 is historic also in the sense that it does not exists in its entirety anymore and has been eaten up by highways. At exit 139 there is however the old road. It is Saturday afternoon, a beautiful day, I expect it to be picturesque. Not at all! No hitch-hikers, no guitars, no VW vans, they have remained forever in the loops. How appropriate!! Route 66 is correctly just a yellow desert and a very deserted road. Very beautiful. And the car must be very happy to be on Route 66...

The road runs along a railway with long trains proceeding slowly. I drive into the sunset. Mistakenly I pass Seligman, where some motels are located, I will not find another one till Kingman 70 miles down the 66 at a new junction with the I 40.