A Western Wonderland

Leaving Las Vegas was like being able to breathe again. There are some extraordinary cities in America - good, bad and ugly - but I'm just not enjoying them as much as the wide open spaces that abound here. Compared to places like Vermont, the Olympic Peninsula and the rugged western coast, the cities seem stale and not as distinctively 'American.' Our next destination was Monument Valley, near the border between Arizona and Utah, and it is hard to think of a more iconic and recognisable landscape.

We left Vegas well before sunrise and our first stop along the way was the Hoover Dam, which straddles Nevada and Arizona across the Colorado River. A perk of travelling at this time of year is that we often find ourselves alone at tourist attractions and able to enjoy them without interruption. We had the entire Hoover Dam to ourselves. The road that crosses the Dam itself is now only a tourist route - a large bridge has been built next to it as a traffic bypass. You can walk along the edge, and it affords an wonderful view of the Dam.

Hoover Dam

Driving through the Arizona desert yielded a surprise - snow. It was naive of us, but this wasn't something we were expecting. Even though signs by the road told us our elevation was more than 5000 feet above sea level, it was so jarring to see snow-covered red rock.


If there exists a generic road-trip checklist, we ticked something off it today. We were just outside of Tuba City, Arizona, i.e. the middle of nowhere, when a warning light appeared on the dashboard. We pulled into an empty car park to investigate further, but the problem was not hard to find. The moment we opened the door our hearts sunk with a whoosh. Well, actually, our hearts sunk but the whoosh came from elsewhere. Years ago, when I got my first car, Dad insisted on teaching me how to change a flat tyre. As usual, I paid no attention, and so it was lucky that Danny happened to have been at that lesson too. And that the car came with an instruction manual. Less fortunate was it that our spare tyre happened to be a space saver.

Flat tire

Real man stuff

For some reason Danny didn't appear to relish this golden opportunity to exercise his man skills. Perhaps it didn't help that I stood there watching, laughing and taking photos. It wasn't long before we were back on the road, albeit limping along at a maximum fifty miles per hour. Have I mentioned how fast they drive over here? Out on the Interstates the speed limit is eighty miles per hour and everyone does the obligatory five to ten over - you do the math.

It was near sunset when we reached The View Hotel, Monument Valley. It's the only hotel in the Valley itself, on the Navajo Nation. This was the view from our balcony:

If you don't know the Valley from countless Western classics featuring John Wayne, you may well have seen it in Forrest Gump. The Mittens, as they're called, were bathed in the sunset light. We got up early the next morning to watch the sun rise behind them, casting them as silhouettes as the sky yellowed. It was spectacular but so cold.

The hotel, restaurant and store (where I bought some gorgeous turquoise earrings) are all obviously run by Navajo people, and the restaurant serves an array of local specialties. Our favourite was the frybread:

Navajo frybread with honey

I can't remember the exact details, but it's a fried, leavened bread that was, in this instance at least, made with blue corn. The light in the photo doesn't do the colour justice - it was the most delicious shade of smalt blue. You eat it drizzled with honey and it's just to die for. I might try and find a recipe when I get home.