PHOTOGENIC CANYON DE CHELLY

From Our Archives: ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN OCTOBER 1965 PHOTOGENIC CANYON DE CHELLY STORY AND PHOTOGRAPHS BY RAY MANLEY

Sitting on the floor - Japanese style - jotting down some notes about the most photogenic place in the world - Arizona - is hardly compatible with the view out of my window. Instead of buttes and mesas I see the swayback roofs of Shinto temples. In place of Navajos on horseback I see the local people in buses and taxicabs. No rugged mountain range cuts across the far horizon. Instead, I view the shapely, snow-covered pinnacle that is Fuji.

I dream of my home in Arizona. But I am writing from a room in Hakone, Japan. Discussing my favorite photographic subject while separated from it by nearly seven thousand miles may seem a bit unusual. However, the perspective only serves to strengthen my feelings toward the beauty that is Arizona.

To visit Japan, Bangkok, or Istanbul - as I have done many times - is a wonderful experience, to be sure. But I am convenced there is no place like Arizona for a photographer. The lensman's life is lived on the move. He is constantly seeking the new scene, the unusual view, the unique face, the exotic effect. And, generally, each of those is to be found in Europe and Asia to a greater extent than in my own United States. Why? I suppose it is because America is so new, Europe and Asia are so very, very old. Perhaps it is because the very way of life of the peoples in that older part of the world is fraught with contrast, while in America, newness has a sameness about it that does not seem to offer the photographer so many opportunities. Yet every time I frame the Taj Mahal with my lens, or climb the pyramids of Giza to try for a new view of the shimmering Sahara, I find my mind wandering over the miles to Arizona. For in Arizona lies the exception to the rule of sameness in America.

Every time I hear someone say there is no adventure left in the West ("everything has been discovered!"), I think of some of the areas in Arizona where to this day only a few men have carried a camera. The Tonto Basin, the Mazatzal Mountains, Altar Valley, Supai, the Arizona Strip, and the more remote regions of Monument Valley and Canyon de Chelly - to name only a few. There is no place in the world that contains variety of terrain, remoteness, and scenery like that of Arizona. And, especially for the photographer, adventure is everywhere. For me, personally, it is most apparent in that great gaping gorge that is Canyon de Chelly.

It IS DIFFICULT TO SELECT a scenic area as "favorite." Usually when I admit a special fondness for a particular sector of Arizona someone will say, "You mean it is more beautiful than the Grand Canyon or Oak Creek?" And I cannot answer. To me, appreciation of natural scenic beauty is not a matter of comparison. One does not say, "I like Canyon de Chelly best because it is more beautiful than the Apache Trail." What then is the basis for a photographer's preference? Even that is a difficult question to answer, for I happen to have a very soft spot in my heart for many Arizona places. Born in Cottonwood, I just naturally have a special feeling for the beauty of Oak Creek Canyon. A resident of Tucson for many years, I must admit to a special fondness for the stately Santa Catalina Mountains and the Saguaro National Monument. A great admirer of Indians - and especially the colorful Navajos - I always feel at home in Monument Valley. But when I weigh all these places on the basis of their photogenic merit, I always choose the same two special favorites - Monument Valley and Canyon de Chelly. I have come to the conclusion that the great variety of textured stone, the profusion of verdure, the ever-changing weather, and the Navajo population within the deep red walls of Canyon de Chelly combine to offer scenic photographic possibilities unsurpassed by any other area of the world.

I HAVE PHOTOGRAPHED Canyon de Chelly and its sister gorge, Canyon del Muerto, more than a dozen different times, driving more than a thousand miles (round-trip) from my Tucson home to do so. I have never started out for Chinle without maintaining excitement all the way; and I have never left the canyon without eagerness to return to my lab to see what I had on film. I continue to feel that the visitor to Canyon de Chelly can see and photograph more impressive scenes there in a twoor three-day stay than in any other place in Arizona. And I see no reason why he need ever snap the exact same picture twice. The nature of the canyon and its ever-changing sky all but eliminates such a possibility.

I wish I knew more about the history of Canyon de Chelly. I only know that the big red gorge has been occupied by Indians since long before the Spanish invasion of North America. I know that after that invasion the canyon became a hiding place to which the Indians retreated after continual raids against white men. I know that many Indians were massacred by vengeful whites in the caves of the area. I know that the Navajos' last stand was made in Canyon de Chelly and that the famed frontier scout Kit Carson mercifully starved them out rather than decimate them. And I know that archaeologists consider the ruins, the artifacts and the bones of Canyon de Chelly to be especially significant in tracing the background of the Anasazi culture, forerunners of today's Northern Arizona Indians.

But I know little else about its fascinating history. What I am most interested in is the Canyon de Chelly of today. For I cannot photograph history. I can only train my lens on what history has left. When it comes to describing the canyon I am in a little better position. I have driven, hiked, climbed, waded, crawled and otherwise traversed just about every inch of Canyon de Chelly in every possible kind of weather. I have sought out its innermost secrets in the hope that I could find a new revelation to challenge my lens. I have waited in the cold dawn for a spectacular sunrise to splash the canyon with new color. I have sweated through the hottest sun in hopes of witnessing the opening of peach blossoms that grow in tiny orchards in the canyon's deepest meadows. And I have steadied my tripod against the bitterest winds in an effort to catch the very last flicker of the evening sun on the rocks of the canyon's rim. And I'll do it all again and again and will love every minute of it.

There was a time when a trip to Canyon de Chelly involved a lot of preparation. Special vehicles were needed to traverse the landscape between the main highway and the canyon's mouth. Supplies were necessary because only a tiny trading post existed near the great gorge. Roads were terrible. Water was scarce. Even people who could speak English were not easy to find, for Canyon de Chelly is carved out of the vast plateau that is the eastern corner of the Navajo Indian Reservation, largest in the United States. Today, things are different. The most naive tenderfoot can drive easily and comfortably to the canyon. He can park his car on the rim and gaze into the gorge. He can picnic in pleasant areas set aside for the purpose. He can hike to the bottom of the canyon and back in about three hours on easy and fascinating trails. He can sleep in a good bed in a fine room, eat meals like mother used to cook, buy just about any item he could possibly want, and, if he is particularly adventurous, he can drive through the entire series of canyons in a four-wheel-drive vehicle piloted by a handsome Indian guide who knows more about the home of his ancestors than most people know about their own town.

All of these things have been made possible by a tremendous decade of Navajo Indian progress. Today the Navajo Reservation and its environs are teeming with activity. New roads known as Navajo Routes offer easy access to some of the most scenic places in Arizona. And new capital - from within the Navajo tribe and from without - is being invested in facilities that allow your stay in the region to be a pleasant one.

Canyon de Chelly can be reached from most places by driving to Holbrook, then turning north on State Route 77 to its junction with Navajo Route 3 (264). The latter road is fully paved and in good condition. It leads directly to Navajo Route 8 and to the quaint but buzzing town of Chinle, gateway to the canyons. There, at the mouth of Canyon de Chelly, is a new park visitors center where general information relating to the canyon and its history, its ruins, and its Indians may be found. Maps, dioramas and other displays are a feature of the center, which makes a great effort to enlighten the visitor on how the canyon was formed, what purpose it has served, how it has been used by

man, and how it can best be seen and enjoyed. The center provides an important service to visitors. But, again, my interest in photography prompts me to simply sign my name in the visitor's book and hurry on to enjoy the thrill of being in the canyon's depths.

HAVING VISITED

Having visited Canyon de Chelly so many times, and having seen so many other photogenic places on the face of the old earth, I might appear to have become inured to awe. But when I approach this natural wonder I always tingle to that tickle on the spine that accompanies the first exhilaration of exploration. No matter how often I visit Canyon de Chelly I think I will never fail to marvel at the weird and beautiful shadows created by the late evening sun. I think I will never tire of looking at Spider Rock and pondering on how it came to be. I will never round a corner to be confronted by the glistening patina that has created the canyon's great wall tapestries without feeling the pangs of real discovery.

Perhaps no other single feature of Canyon de Chelly impresses me more than those great stains on the canyon's walls, dropping almost a thousand feet from the rim above. Any man who appreciates the imaginative beauty of design can revel in those unique stains produced by nature. Thousands of years of alternately dripping and running water have created superb desert varnish frescos on the shining walls. So rich is the color applied to the rock that moving sunbeams cause it to take on a kaleidoscopic glitter, making it impossible to name the hue of any given moment. Black, you say? The stains of Canyon de Chelly may be blue, purple, silver, or a thousand other shades according to the whim of the sun that shimmers on the canyon's face. See for yourself. Take a trip to this place. You'll never forget the experience.

If you think Canyon de Chelly is in a remote area of Arizona you are right. But if you think it is so remote that it lacks facilities for the comfort of tourists you are wrong. Excellent camping facilities are available at the canyon's mouth. To make use of them affords the visitor one of the most impres-sive experiences that can be had in Arizona. Imagine having deep, colorful Canyon de Chelly for a front yard; prepar-ing an evening meal to the accompaniment of bird calls emanating from nests on the high ledges of the canyon. Imagine awakening to open a tent flap and watch the dawn sunlight break over the rugged Chuska Mountains, then flood the great Defiance Plateau and, finally, descend into the depths of the canyon at your doorstep. Visitors in trailers and pickup campers will also find parking loca-tions near the canyon.

you are right. But if you think it is so remote that it lacks facilities for the comfort of tourists you are wrong. Excellent camping facilities are available at the canyon's mouth. To make use of them affords the visitor one of the most impressive experiences that can be had in Arizona. Imagine having deep, colorful Canyon de Chelly for a front yard; preparing an evening meal to the accompaniment of bird calls emanating from nests on the high ledges of the canyon. Imagine awakening to open a tent flap and watch the dawn sunlight break over the rugged Chuska Mountains, then flood the great Defiance Plateau and, finally, descend into the depths of the canyon at your doorstep. Visitors in trailers and pickup campers will also find parking locations near the canyon.

At Chinle, the quaint but expanding Navajo town near Canyon de Chelly's mouth, is the old Thunderbird Lodge. Its owners retain an air of the old style Western hospitality, serve excellent home-cooked meals, and have thirty-seven rooms available to the visitor who does not wish to camp out. Adjacent to the lodge is one of the oldest trading posts on the Navajo Indian Reservation. Every conceivable kind of merchandise is on display here, including Navajo rugs of outstanding quality. An old pawn vault contains Navajo jewelry, some of which can be purchased out of pawn from time to time. With its collection of all manner of hardware and dry goods, as well as counters and shelves stacked with items of food, the trading post at Chinle will amuse old-timers and amaze members of the younger generation. For it is a mercantile establishment that harks back to frontier days. They just don't make 'em like that anymore.

While access to the rim of Canyon de Chelly is easy and safe by automobile, special four-wheel-drive vehicles are necessary to travel in the canyon's depths. Drivers from Thunderbird Lodge will take visitors up the canyon for half a day or for a more complete full-day trip if desired. Visitors may hike into the canyon without preliminary preparations. But only autho-rized vehicles with a guide are given Park Service permission to enter. All who penetrate the canyon in any manner must register at the Park Service office. The canyons are patrolled regularly by members of the Service and, if the rules are obeyed, there is little danger from such a journey. Normally dry, the canyon often fills with several feet of water resulting from storms or the normal spring runoff. During those times it is usually impossible for even the most intrepid vehicle to enter the canyon. Sands become shifty and dangerous, and traction is virtually impossible. Hiking may be accomplished when the stream is high, but only if the hiker is willing to splash along in his bare feet. The stream must be crossed dozens of times between the mouth and the end of the canyon.

the canyon without preliminary preparations. But only authorized vehicles with a guide are given Park Service permission to enter. All who penetrate the canyon in any manner must register at the Park Service office. The canyons are patrolled regularly by members of the Service and, if the rules are obeyed, there is little danger from such a journey. Normally dry, the canyon often fills with several feet of water resulting from storms or the normal spring runoff. During those times it is usually impossible for even the most intrepid vehicle to enter the canyon. Sands become shifty and dangerous, and traction is virtually impossible. Hiking may be accomplished when the stream is high, but only if the hiker is willing to splash along in his bare feet. The stream must be crossed dozens of times between the mouth and the end of the canyon.I continue to refer to "the canyon." But actually, the Defiance Plateau is cut by three separate canyons. The southernmost and largest is Canyon de Chelly. To the north is the smaller but no less fascinating Canyon del Muerto. From the former, to the east and south, extends Monument Canyon. For photographic purposes it is best to scout del Muerto in the early morning, leaving de Chelly for the afternoon. This kind of reconnais-sance is necessary to become acquainted with the many pho-tographic features of each canyon. After the initial scouting trips you will have an understanding of the light conditions that make it possible to plan your return armed with camera and film - plenty of film. Because of the nature of Canyon de Chelly National Monument and the unusual light conditions that prevail there you cannot hope to get the best light for every picture during one day's journey into any of the canyons. But it is my opinion that no other place in Arizona will offer as many varied scenes and light conditions in a single day. So how can you lose?

DURING THE PAST few years I have made seven trips of two days or more into the canyons to get photos. Added up, those trips come to at least fourteen days in the canyons of the Defi-ance Plateau. You may think that such coverage would make me feel that I had exhausted every possibility. Not on your life! I know there will be new pictures to be had from every subse-quent trip and I will go back again and again. I know that the sun and the sky and the shadows still have performances to put on; performances that may not have played for centuries; special performances with special lighting and special effects. And I want to be there at curtain call. I want to get that special picture that all photographers dream about - and worry about missing.

When you visit Canyon de Chelly I would suggest that, if it is at all possible, you take the guided tour. There is nothing to compare with it. Leaving the lodge, your four-wheel-drive vehicle will plunge into shallow water and enter the deep canyon before your face feels the rays of the morning sun. Or, if your trip is during the dry season, you will grind your way through powdery sand until you gain the ancient little trail that commuting Indians have worn into the meadows with the wheels of their one-horse wagons. Because you have a reliable Navajo guide at the wheel, you can give your full attention to the beauties of the canyon. And those beauties lie on every side. Look straight ahead and you will see pinnacles and caves that beckon you to explore the canyon's farthest recesses. Look to the right and left and you will see the canyon's sheer walls rising almost a thousand feet to the rim. Look above and you will see a blue sky that is unmatched. Several miles from the canyon's mouth you will enter the branch that signifies the beginning of Canyon del Muerto. Cliff dwellings abound here as do petroglyphs, Moqui steps and patina draperies on the cliff walls.

Perhaps your first noteworthy stop will be at Antelope House, with its square tower rising starkly beneath a great overhanging cliff. Here morning light serves best for photographs if you prefer direct sun rays. Antelope House is one of several significant ruins in the region which account for the fact that Canyon de Chelly National Monument is the largest of all national archaeological monuments. Although the ruin has stood for many centuries, it was only about one hundred and fifty years ago when a Navajo painted a colorful series of antelope pictures on the canyon wall immediately behind the ruin. Pictographs etched into the rock by prehistoric men also appear on the wall here. The square shape of the ruin contrasts sharply with the rounded character of the canyon's walls and enhances good photography.

Farther up Canyon del Muerto is an Indian "art gallery" of incomparable beauty; a wall filled with magnificent carvings and paintings depicting the coming of Spanish missionaries followed by armor-laden Conquistadores, dogs and cattle. Near this site is an alfalfa field where it is common in the spring to see a handsome elderly Navajo plowing. When the light strikes his face with the same intensity as it bathes the walls of the canyon you would swear that face had been carved from the same rock. During later seasons this man's wife may be observed in the field swinging a scythe, harvesting alfalfa. After cutting, the grain will be stacked in rows to dry.

There was a time when Standing Cow Ruins would have offered the photographer one of his biggest canyon thrills. But that was long ago. Once the largest dwelling in all the can-yons, Standing Cow stands no more. It is almost completely fallen. But the blue and white painting of a cow - for which the ruins were named - still stares down from the canyon walls. A Navajo artist is responsible for that cow. Nearby pic-tographs may have been cut into the walls by that same artist's great-great-grandfather. Much of the art work on the walls at Standing Cow is lighted by the sun during most of the daylight hours. It faces south and therefore is exposed to bright light longer during the fall and spring than in summer when the sun is farther north and is obscured by the rim of the canyon.

During the next ten miles of the journey up Canyon del Muerto the works of nature, rather than of man, are featured.

Every bend in the canyon reveals a patina tapestry that glitters in the sun, defying you to name its color. Every rock formation, every new bend, every splash of desert varnish offers ideal picture possibilities. And, if you are particularly lucky, you may catch sight of a Navajo woman seemingly scaling the sheer walls high above the canyon floor. Navajos have lived and farmed in these canyons for more than 200 years and they know every nook and cranny. Often it is much easier to climb over the rim to visit nearby relatives than it is to traverse the canyons to the mouth, then double back to reach a point on the rim. Many years ago the wise mileconscious Indians chiseled hand and toe holes into the sheer cliffs so that the easier routes might be taken. To this day those "Moqui steps" are used. It is not uncommon to see a woman in velveteen skirts, with a child or a bundle of belongings on her back, climbing out over the canyon's rim. The hand and toe holds are so small that they usually cannot be seen from below. Thus, the woman appears to be scaling the wall like a human fly. The illusion has been known to cause certain tourists to react rather violently.The Navajo is so conscious of the "shorter way" that a man may dismantle his old wagon on the rim and lower it, piece by piece, hundreds of feet into the canyon, using a stout rope. Such a sight is rare, indeed, but it does happen. And if you are there with your camera you can snap pictures of inestimable value.SPEAKING OF RARE SIGHTS, I had a bit of luck during my last visit to the canyons. It was in April and the runoff was greater than usual. Canyon de Chelly had more water flowing through it than I had ever seen before. It was impossible for vehicles or wagons to enter through the usual route from the mouth. Yet it was time for the Navajos to return to the canyons to begin planting their small plots in the meadows. From my vantage point on the rim near White House Trail I could see a few tiny figures moving in the canyons below. I knew that some of the Indians had already preceded me by way of that trail. Spring was in the air and I was certain that if I got to the bottom in time for the noon sun I could get pictures of blooming peach trees. Two Navajo women, one a young mother, the other an old grandmother, had walked ahead of me down the White House Trail. The younger carried a papoose on her back; the older woman held the hand of a young girl, perhaps seven years old. It was inevitable that I catch up to them as I descended the trail and, although I had taken pictures of women and children many times before, I could not resist spending some more film to record their descent at various scenic places along the path. Then, at the bottom, I went in search of blooming peach trees and paid no more attention to the little Navajo group.

I had just set up my camera under a beautiful pink tree and was ready to snap the shutter when my companion, writer Stanley Jones, emitted a war whoop and pointed to the river several hundred yards away. The Indian women and children had plunged into the knee-deep water, modestly lifting skirts to just above the knees. They were bent on crossing to the other side! It was a picture that I wanted badly and wegathered up our gear and ran to the stream. The next half hour was a hectic one. The river proved to be deeper than it had appeared and faster. The women, now in the middle and sinking into the soft sand with every step, were actually in danger. One upset could mean that the children would be spilled into the rapid water. Stan waded into the river, shouting that he would move downstream to protect the women, urging me to go ahead and concentrate on making pictures. I guess I was a hilarious sight as I splashed through the water to get set for the best view. I quickly noticed that the White House Ruin was immediately behind where the women were crossing. What a picture, I thought! Stan - by gestures - indicated to the women that he would stand by to assist if necessary and would they please continue to make their crossing in as unassuming a manner as possible. The women grinned and giggled, completely unaware of any danger to themselves or the children. I fumbled with my tripod and finally got it set up in two feet of water. It promptly began to sink into the soft sand. The water began to rise and the women found the going tougher with every minute. So did I. Four hands would have been an asset. I needed two just to keep the tripod from tipping as it sank into the bed of the river.But, in the end, and without any real casualties, we got the pictures. They turned out to be my favorite scenes of Canyon de Chelly. Later that same day we made the trip back to the rim for more film, descended again and got photos of the peach blossoms in bloom. It may have been the first time anyone ever had the opportunity to photograph women crossing the river and blooming peach blossoms all in one day. With that thought it was a wonderful fatigue that we experienced as we made the last painful step up the trail and went on to the Thunderbird Lodge for a late dinner.

GETTING BACK TO THE TOUR of Canyon del Muerto, there are corn fields there and it is possible to come upon Navajos shucking ears. One November I had the good fortune to find a seventy-year-old blind man sitting among the cobs doing the only thing he could do to contribute to the family of his son and daughter who cared for him. There sat the bronzed old man amid piles of multicolored corn, stacking usable husks on one side and edible ears on another. The Indian's sense of humor had not diminished with the tragedy of his blindness and he could smile at the photographer who asked that he be allowed to take his picture. One always asks permission to take a picture of an Indian. And one usually offers a small gratuity for the privilege. The old man was most cooperative and the setting was an inspiring one. Resulting pictures were unique and are among my favorites.

The ultimate goal of tours of Canyon del Muerto is usually the two huge caverns called Mummy Cave and Massacre Cave. The first is named for findings in its burial ground. The National Park Service declares Mummy Cave to be the most valuable and perhaps the most spectacular of prehistoric sites in Northern Arizona. Archaeologists tell us that the cave is the oldest continuously occupied place in North America. It had been lived in for more than a thousand years, first by

Basketmakers who dug pit houses in its floor, later by Pueblos who constructed the rock dwellings that still stand in ruins there today. The odd, almost banana-shaped contour of Mummy Cave makes it react uniquely to the various positions of the overhead sun, and some good photos may be taken there at certain times of the day. The ruins of Mummy Cave are centered atop a little rock hill, making them most picturesque. Fromthe cave's rim, fingers of black-red patina flow downward as if pointing to this historic place. Above and around Mummy Cave are some of Canyon del Muerto's most unusual and rugged rock formations. The whole scene offers the photographer a myriad of camera settings. Massacre Cave is a short distance beyond Mummy Cave. It contains no ruins of archaeological significance for it was used primarily as a retreat for Indians pursued by enemies. Many such caves dot the region; caves in which women and children were hidden while braves pursued the policy of harassing nearby invaders. Driven back into the canyons, the Indian men often disappeared into some of those caves where they joined families who maintained absolute silence while invaders searched everywhere to no avail. Massacre Cave was not to be kept secret, and that is how it was named. Following Coronado's establishment of Spanish headquarters at Zuni, New Mexico, in 1540, much of the Northern Arizona sector was explored by the soldiers and priests of Spain. Canyon de Chelly was known to the Spanish almost as soon as they arrived in the area. Indian resistance to the invaders began in Coronado's time and extended down through the years until as late as 1864 when Colonel Kit Carson finally subdued the last of the warring Navajos in the canyons. Carson's victory was a merciful one. He burned the Indians' fields and starved them out of their canyon caves rather than use his superior forces to decimate the tribes. So it was not, as many the cave's rim, fingers of black-red patina flow downward as if pointing to this historic place. Above and around Mummy Cave are some of Canyon del Muerto's most unusual and rugged rock formations. The whole scene offers the photographer a myriad of camera settings. Massacre Cave is a short distance beyond Mummy Cave. It contains no ruins of archaeological significance for it was used primarily as a retreat for Indians pursued by enemies. Many such caves dot the region; caves in which women and children were hidden while braves pursued the policy of harassing nearby invaders. Driven back into the canyons, the Indian men often disappeared into some of those caves where they joined families who maintained absolute silence while invaders searched everywhere to no avail. Massacre Cave was not to be kept secret, and that is how it was named. Following Coronado's establishment of Spanish headquarters at Zuni, New Mexico, in 1540, much of the Northern Arizona sector was explored by the soldiers and priests of Spain. Canyon de Chelly was known to the Spanish almost as soon as they arrived in the area. Indian resistance to the invaders began in Coronado's time and extended down through the years until as late as 1864 when Colonel Kit Carson finally subdued the last of the warring Navajos in the canyons. Carson's victory was a merciful one. He burned the Indians' fields and starved them out of their canyon caves rather than use his superior forces to decimate the tribes. So it was not, as many people suppose, Carson's invasion of Canyon del Muerto that gave Massacre Cave its name. It was the action of a not so merciful Spanish invader, Lt. Antonio Narbona, that earned the bloody name for the big cavern. In 1805 Narbona was sent into the canyons to punish Navajos who had committed raids against Spanish settlements. The fleeing Indians holed up in Canyon del Muerto, seeking shelter in the big cave. Not content with bringing the braves to their knees, Narbona proceeded to fire harquebus blasts into the cave. On his return to his headquarters, he proudly reported that his force had killed more than one hundred Indians during the episode. Ninety were braves. The terms "Canyon del Muerto" (canyon of death) and "Massacre Cave" both evolved from that incident. Narbona later became the governor of Spanish New Mexico Province. As you train your camera on Massacre Cave, perhaps the ghosts of those ninety Navajo braves will look down at you and wonder what kind of missile will be shot from the oddlooking box on legs. Massacre Cave is the end of the wheeled journey in Canyon del Muerto. It is possible to proceed farther on foot, but since the return trip offers new variety and new lighting conditions, it may be well to turn back at once. If you are particularly fortunate as you retrace your route (especially if you are there in the fall), you may meet a Navajo family leaving the area to spend the winter elsewhere. To my knowledge, no Indians stay in the canyons the year around. Winters are cold in the depths of the canyon and there is little to occupy men there when farming has ceased. The Navajo exodus from the canyons is a sight to behold. Usually an old wagon with one horse is employed to move family and possessions down the trail. The wagon will be loaded high, for the trip must include hay for the horse. Behind the wagon you may see children driving a flock of sheep and goats, and other Indians whose wealth does not include wagons and horses. The latter will be carrying big bundles on their backs, leading small children by the hand. If you come upon such a sight, hurry ahead to set up your camera. For from a distance ahead, such groups can be photographed from selected vantage points where the view is breathtaking and where the relationship of little men to the huge canyon is pronounced. The great, sheer canyon walls will dwarf the largest group of Navajos, wagons, horses and all, truly scaling the setting to its unbelievable size. Many times I have been lucky enough to discover such an exodus and I have spent most of the day traveling with or ahead of the Navajos, fascinated by their every turn, photographing them continually until they emerge from the canyon's mouth. But if you are in the canyons for only a day, I suggest you grab what pictures you can, then have a bite of lunch in one of the many cool, shady spots, and prepare to enter the main canyon, Canyon de Chelly.

FROM ITS VERY BEGINNING, de Chelly is fascinating as you proceed east through the maze. In the spring you will pass several large stands of peach trees that seem to burst with blossoms. When these old trees were planted no one seems to know. They receive little or no care, yet they bloom and bear small peaches every season. The Indian harvests the fruit for his own kind of jams and jellies but he seemingly makes no effort to prolong the life of the trees by cultivating the soil under them. Be that as it may, the trees grow and bloom and bear, providing a special kind of beauty. For several miles as you proceed into the canyons you will come upon groves of peach trees large and small. Each is a thrill, especially if you are using color film in your camera. And I would advise you to use plenty in this pink and red world of light and shadow where bronze men and women walk in red, green and gold velveteen and the blue sky provides a backdrop for pure white clouds.

Your first stop in Canyon de Chelly will be at White House Ruin, most photogenic of all the canyon's old buildings. One long wall in the upper part of White House has been clothed in white mud and is responsible for its name. Because the ruin sits on a ledge deep within a cave in an otherwise sheer and unbroken canyon wall, the white of its façade against the black shadow of the cave's depth makes an especially effective contrast that gives the old ruin a third dimension, making it appear to be a part of the infinite. If a museum director had designed a showcase to give the ruin all possible enhancement, he could not possibly have improved on the job that nature has accomplished here.

At the base of White House Ruin stand the melting vestiges of another part of the village which once existed here. Originally built in 1066 A.D., White House was expanded during various periods of pre-history until it probably contained a population of fair size. What the visitor photographs here today is only a small part of what once existed. The lower ruin has been washed by floods for centuries until only one-third of the original dwelling - which seems to have contained several kivas - exists today. Archaeologists tell us the villagers once occupied 175 rooms and performed religious ceremonies in at least four big kivas at the White House site.

One of the things that makes White House such a joy to behold is its setting. Groves of huge old cottonwood trees abound in this area of Canyon de Chelly and they change color with the seasons, adding to the charm and contrast provided by the old ruin with the white clay walls. In spring the trees are green and their leaves are shiny with the moisture of new life. In the fall those leaves turn to orange, then to gold. During these later months the sun's position allows its rays to penetrate deep into the cave and splash White House with regal light. The whole scene then becomes one of gold and red, seemingly set on a stage beneath huge patina draperies that stream down from the canyon rim in greater profusion than in any other part of the great gorge. Have your camera ready when you visit White House Ruin. You'll never regret the effort or the expenditure of film.

As you continue up Canyon de Chelly, the next point of interest will be The Window, a natural hole in the rock some thirty feet high. A steep but easy climb will take you to an old corn storage cave high up on the canyon wall. Visible below is a Navajo hogan which often is surrounded by grazing sheep. Sometimes a veil of gray smoke rises from a fire in the hogan. Light in this part of the canyon is critical and I have found that midday is about the best time to set up for pictures. A cave silhouette is possible just after noon. Just before noon is the best time to obtain a grazing light that enhances the layered sandstone face of the canyon walls. Some really spectacular scenes may be had from this point in Canyon de Chelly. The window can be used to frame certain sections of the valley which are then seen in their true relationship to the depth of the canyon and the vastness of the rims that wander back into forests of piñon and pine.

So many wonderful sights exist in Canyon de Chelly that it is almost too much to expect a grand climax at the end of your tour. But grand climax there is! Turn a corner about seventeen miles from the canyon's mouth and you meet face to face with a giant shaft that rises from the canyon floor to a height approximating the rim. Here, at the junction of de Chelly with Monument Canyon, is Spider Rock, a sandstone monolith that reaches 800 feet toward the sky. It is difficult to believe that such a slim shaft of porous stone could withstand the ravages of time. It is almost impossible to believe that this narrow, symmetrical monument has stood sentry at that junction for hundreds of thousands of years without being visibly disturbed by the elements that have ravaged the wall of the canyon. It is beyond human comprehension to determine the number of eons that will be required to slowly wear away Spider Rock until it disintegrates. Yet, as you grab for your camera, you may have the uneasy feeling that the shaft might topple while you set up your tripod, depriving you of the rare privilege of making a portrait of one of the world's great stone wonders.

From the rim of Canyon de Chelly, Spider Rock is equally impressive, to be sure. To stand there and gaze out on the tiny stained surface of its crown is a tremendous experience. To look into the canyon's depths and realize that the great monolith rises independently from the floor almost one thousand feet below is awe inspiring. It is so tall and so slim that it can be seen from as far west as the White House overlook - eight miles from Spider Rock as the crow flies. Yet, the tremendous size of the monolith can best be appreciated from inside the canyon where one can look up and gasp at the sheer beauty and ponderous bulk of the sandstone shaft. For the photographer, Spider Rock may be the turning point in a tour of Canyon de Chelly. Perhaps by the time the man with a camera reaches the monolith he will be unable to anticipate any further scenic morsel that might tempt his photographic appetite. It is time to return to the lodge.

ON THE WAY OUT, you may have some experiences that offer no photographic possibilities, but will make your memories of Canyon de Chelly indelible. Voices of children or the bleating of lambs might echo from the canyon's depths. If your tour is in winter, the stream may be alive in the canyon, but it may be a ribbon of ice winding among the rocks and sand bars. If in autumn, your visit will be made the more memorable by great yellow cottonwoods that cast purple shadows on the canyon's wall. In the spring or summer the right combination of moisture, clouds and sunshine could produce a rainbow to give the illusion of shafts of color zooming from the canyon's deep. Another side of the canyon's personality - a potentially dangerous one - could allow you to witness a flash flood and see a roaring stream churn through the canyon bearing all manner of driftwood. Just this summer such a flood poured out of the region and took the lives of an Indian family as it passed near Chinle. In winter, snow seldom falls all the way to the canyon floor, although it may blanket the land surrounding the rim. But there are exceptions to any rule. And the exception is what the photographer looks for. If you ever enter Canyon de Chelly and find snow on its bottom you will see a rare sight worth all the film in your pack. It is a scene that will never be forgotten. Clear blue sky overhead, blood-red canyon walls all around, and pure white snow at your feet. Not a sound will you hear, for snow has that rare acoustical quality that man has never been able to fully duplicate. The only signs of life will be tiny rabbit tracks or the wiggling evidence of some other canyon deni-zen. You'll wish you had come in a helicopter for it seems almost sacrile-gious to plant a footprint amid such beauty. There are other beauties that you might encounter in the great canyon. A violent windstorm sometimes creates dust conditions that result in photos of magnificent sunsets or seemingly out-of-focus canyon views. Rain often hangs in curtains at one end of the canyon, providing a gray backdrop for the red walls. Sometimes lightning stabs its electric fingers into the canyon as if to try to light eternally dark corners and caves. A moody sprinkle might bring fog to hang so low that canyon walls and monoliths appear to float on the haze. Some of these scenes I have witnessed and photographed. Others remain for me - and you - to discover. And that is why I will go back to Canyon de Chelly again and again. That is why I think Canyon de Chelly offers the photographer more variety of scenic beauty than any other place in the world. I say this after seeing many scenic places in the world. I wish I were there right now. Instead, I am still sitting crosslegged on the floor of a hotel room in Hakone, Japan. My legs are cramped and I cannot seem to get up to walk to the window. But if I were to peer out I would see again the sway-backed roofs of Shinto temples beneath my sill. In the streets I envision the people moving slowly along among the traffic. And on the horizon, snow-covered Mount Fuji will still be there in all its serenity. But I would see none of those sights. And I would be unaware of the babble from below. For I am dreaming of my home in Ari-zona. And of colorful Canyon de Chelly.