THE RED ROCKS OF NAVAJOLAND

Red Rock

RED ROCK VALLEY ON THE NAVAJO INDIAN Reservation is one of those places that is hard to get to from here no matter where "here" is. Entering from the Arizona side takes dedication, determination, and a truck with a good suspension system.

Angling along the New Mexico border, the valley sprawls directly south of the Four Corners area. Access from Arizona is via the Navajo town of Lukachukai, over Buffalo Pass in the Chuska Mountains, on a rough dirt road. Driving conditions depend on whether it's rained or snowed recently and when the road grader last went through. But the rewards of magnificent scenery and ancient ruins are worth the effort.

The view from the top of the Chuskas should be on a postcard. Sheer red cliffs, pinnacles, arches, canyons, and unlimited vistas shout "This is Navajoland!" Look closely, though, and the red rocks, pines, piñons, and junipers remind you of Sedona. The sculptured rock formations resemble Monument Valley, and the natural arch at the end of Cove Mesa rivals those in Arches National Park.

Few visitors venture this far off the beatenpath, though, and even many Arizona residents don't know Red Rock Valley exists. Some of the local Navajos live in Cove,

Valley The Navajos' Land of Many Faces

a small community of fenced orchards and irrigated fields, their bright green contrasting sharply against the red earth. Outlying hogans are scattered the length of the valley, and sheep herds graze on the new grass. Red Rock Trading Post, built in the early 1900s, provides necessities

And, along with the nearby Navajo chapter house, is the center of community life. When photographer Bernadette Heath and I first chanced on Red Rock Valley, we decided we had to make a return visit. This place was just too beautiful to pass up. From the Navajo Nation Historic Preservation Department we obtained the necessary permits for hiking, camping, and exploring the Anasazi ruins.

A guide also was required either an employee of the Navajo Nation or a local resident. We contacted Paul Reed, an archaeologist with the Navajo Nation, who had just completed a project in the area. We met at the Red Rock Trading Post, then he led us on a confusing maze of roads and trails along the powdery red-dirt floor of Red Rock Valley.

Many washes cut through the valley, and an occasional soaring monolith punctuates the landscape. From a distance, one of the buttes looked like a soft red sand dune. Closer inspection revealed it was hard Wingate sandstone, the wind pattern of the ancient dune still visible in the rock formation. The names of these spires seem more descriptive than romantic: Prayer Rock looks like two gnarled hands clasped in supplication; Skinny Rock can barely be seen from the side; Black Rock broods dark and volScenic. Mesas and tablelands border the valley. The caves and canyons in their steep sides hold the cliff dwellings of the Anasazi, who built their villages then moved on. Blue-green sage grows thick there, its smell reminiscent of a roasting Thanksgiving turkey and dressing. We parked our trucks at the end of a dirt track. Even our four-wheel drives wouldn't take us where we were going. From there on, we climbed on foot.

About 30 minutes into the hike, we passed

Red Rock Valley

two forked-post hogans. Reed told us the older one dates to the 1790s. Conical-shaped with the support poles converging to a point in the center, the hogan's entrance as in modern versions faced east. The Historic Preservation Department guards these Navajo hogans as jealously as they do the Anasazi ruins. Emphasis today is less on excavating and more on preserving.

In the 1930s, archaeologist Earl Morris explored Red Rock Valley and the nearby Lukachukai Mountains. A photo of him on the cover of Robert Lister's biography Earl Morris & Southwestern Archaeology is supposed to be the inspiration for the movie archaeologist Indiana Jones, although Morris' personality was much milder than that of his Hollywood alter ego.

Morris didn't lack sites to explore there. From before the time of Christ until around A.D. 1250, Red Rock Valley teemed with people. Like other Anasazi villages throughout the Southwest, the area was abandoned by A.D. 1300 and remained vacant until the arrival of the Navajos, most likely in the early 1500s.

We trudged up the loose dirt slopes until we reached the slickrock, sandstone worn smooth by wind and water. The walking was easier there, but we clambered in and out of so many small canyons and washes the going was slow. Storm clouds rose gray and heavy on the horizon, their shade and a breeze welcome in the hot sun. From that height, Red Rock Valley below

The cave was immense, larger than it appeared from below and much deeper. There were few masonry walls. This was an enormous pit house ruin.

appeared to flow with a river of sagebrush. Arches and window holes winked at us from the buttes across the valley. The white blossoms of mountain mahogany softened the look of the harsh rock walls. There was no sign of civilization: no roads, no smoke, or noise. The silence added to the surrealistic beauty.

Reed stopped at a place he called "a good spot to go up," and up it was. We slowly climbed the steep cliff to a small cave containing the outline of several rooms and an intact two-story granary. The curved back wall of the cave offered an ancient art gallery. Pictographs of animals and shamans paraded in faded colors of red, black, white, and blue, their meaning lost in the 2,000 years since they were painted.

Across the canyon awaited the site Reed wanted to show us. It was close, as the crow flies, but if a trail once connected the two villages, it was no longer visible. We descended the canyon side, then scrambled up the other steep wall. We picked our way around cactuses, trees, and rocks, inching up the slippery talus slope. The site nestled in a south-facing alcove in a high cliff of Wingate sandstone. Centuries of rainwater cascading over high cliffs have painted black streaks on the smooth red walls as if with a giant brush.

Stopping in a shady spot to huff and puff, I debated whether I wanted to finish the climb. Then Bernadette reached the ruin, and I heard, "Wow! Janet, get up here!"

I struggled on up, and I was astounded. The cave was immense, larger than it appeared from below and much deeper. There were few masonry walls. This was an enormous pit house ruin from the Basketmaker III era, A.D. 450 to A.D. 700. I had never seen so many large pit houses. We counted 17 of them, some as wide as 20 feet. The pit houses, dug about Three feet into the floor of the cave, rose about three feet above the ground. In some of the structures, supporting beams protruded from the sides, holding sections of roof made from river reeds, juniper bark, and mud.

Reed explained this was one of the sites Earl Morris explored. One-third of the cave was occupied from about A.D. 470 to A.D. 510 with six of the pit houses dating from that era. For some unknown reason, the cave saw little use between A.D. 520 and A.D. 620. Then the Anasazi returned, building 11 more pit houses and some kivas, and filling the cave with 70 to 100 residents. By A.D. 650, the occupants left again and, this time, the cave remained vacant.

Hundreds of corncobs littered the cave floor. This was a major agricultural site with farming done on the flats below, Reed said. The giant alcove contained 65 storage chambers, some up to six feet across and six feet deep. Scattered throughout the ruin lay metates and manos used to grind the corn and other grains. Wandering among the artifacts, I noticed a hard mud surface, once the floor of a room. An indentation caught my eye, and I squatted and found a child's footprint about four inches long.

Suddenly, I was filled with emotion. The small footprint made the people who lived there real to me. The metates weren't just worn grinding stones but a major part of some woman's kitchen equipment. Many hundreds of years ago, this giant amphitheater echoed with women's laughter, children's giggles, and the voices of men talking. I stood at the edge of the cave, gazing out at the dramatic view, and wondered why the Anasazi chose this site. Earl Morris probably had the same thought. The view was spectacular, but surely they wouldn't make the steep ascent, hauling all their supplies up the nearly inaccessible approach, just for the scenery. Some of the caves had small springs in them, but at others water had to be carried up from the base of the cliff. The people must have feared for their lives to build in this cave, but who were they afraid of? An invading enemy or maybe other Puebloan peoples? The sun began to go down, darkening the cave and turning the canyon walls a deeper shade of red. The pinnacles in the valley below glowed as the thunderheads above the Chuskas took on a fiery hue. Red walls, red rock, red dirt, and now a red sky. No wonder this was called Red Rock Valley. I was reluctant to leave and even as I hurried off the mesa, I couldn't resist stopping to gaze at the majestic scene spread out before me. The darkness was nearly total when we reached our vehicles, and my bedroll was a welcome sight. Tomorrow we would explore the other side of Red Rock Valley and a different Anasazi culture. After the Anasazi abandoned their high caves around A.D. 650, they moved down to the valley floor. Classified as the Basketmaker II, Basketmaker III, and Pueblo II cultures, their occupation peaked circa A.D. 1000-1150. They built pit houses and single-story dwellings in small clusters throughout the valley. At its peak, the population numbered around 1,500, more inhabitants than live in Red Rock Valley now. Reed wanted to show us a site he discovered. It was a Basketmaker III community on top of a knoll he christened Kiva Mesa. We climbed to the top of a rocky hill

Red Rock Valley

covered with piñon and scrub cedar and came upon nine pit houses and three kivas. These were not the usual small round kivas found at many sites, but Great Kivas, the largest more than 60 feet across. Surrounded by skeletons of dead piñon trees, the Great Kivas gave me an eerie feeling. The view of Red Rock Valley from the top was 360 degrees, and I wondered if the site had been a ceremonial gathering spot. A fire from there would be visible for miles. Perhaps dancers performed on this high flat-topped hill on long-ago summer nights. We might never know what occurred in these Great Kivas. The Anasazi abandoned Red Rock Valley centuries ago, leaving behind their mysteries. Their culture and villages, especially those hidden away in high, inaccessible caves deep in slickrock canyons, continue to intrigue and mystify. Red Rock Valley holds its secrets sacred. Access to its archaeological treasures is restricted, but its beauty awaits anyone willing to take the trouble to get there.

Janet Farnsworth lives in Snowflake and hadn't realized the beauty of this far northeastern corner of the state. She wishes she could spend a month or two just exploring the region. Bernadette Heath of Queen Creek left Red Rock Valley with fond memories of the majestic rocks and two flat tires.

WHEN YOU GO

The Navajo Nation actively protects the cultural history of its lands. If interested in visiting the cultural sites of Red Rock Valley, proper permission and a guide must be procured from the Navajo Nation Backcountry Permit Office, Window Rock, AZ 86515, (520) 871-6645, and the Navajo Nation Historic Preservation Department, P.O. Box 4950, Window Rock, AZ 86515, (520) 871-7145.