No Sweat

A 5-mile side trip to the ruins at Betatakin thrown in for good measure. Both Keet Seel and Betatakin lie protected within the vast Navajo National Monument. Nomadic tribes settled in Keet Seel's 160 rooms and six ceremonial houses, known as kivas, beginning in A.D. 950, about 300 years before the first stones were laid in the 135room Betatakin. The early houses at Keet Seel are completely gone, but timbers were reused in a second village, constructed on the same site in A.D. 1250the same time Betatakin housed its first settlers. Betatakin and Keet Seel saw constant arrivals and departures of family groups, but the larger village reflects a more transient culture in its diverse architectural styles. However, 50 years later the water table dropped drastically, and by A.D. 1300, both villages lay deserted. Today, visitors can walk the stony streets of Keet Seel on a guided tour, but Betatakin may be viewed only from a distance to help preserve the crumbling ruins. Early one morning, Theresa and I joined a group of hikers headed for Betatakin. We noticed we were the only ones registered for both hikes. Ha! Wimps. The rangers warned that the marked trails rate as moderately strenuous. Undaunted, we piled into my little car and followed park ranger Anna Gray's jeep down the dirt road to the trailhead for both treks. As we hiked downhill toward Betatakin, Gray, a Navajo, pointed out plants such as scarlet penstemon, cliff-rose, sage, yucca and buffalo berry, and told stories about cooking, weaving and healing passed down from her grandfather. Once we arrived at Betatakin - the name means "ledge house" in Navajo - Gray talked of the people who inhabited the buildings long before the Navajos came to the Southwest. By A.D. 1286, when the last building was erected on the 370-foot-wide ledge, more than 100 people lived, worked and played under its perfectly arched, 452foot-high sandstone roof. Today Betatakin's only occupants are echoing winds and wandering spirits. "The Navajos don't bother these ruins. We leave them as they are," explained Gray. We believe the Anasazi are still walking around up there. Going inside the ruins is forbidden. The spirits will hunt you down.

We stood at the edge of the aspen forest near the base of the great alcove housing the cliff dwelling. The rippling sandstone caught our voices and threw them back to us. I wondered what it must have sounded like when the Anasazi lived here, with the shouts of children bouncing off the soaring sedimentary structure.

After about a half-hour, people began to head back up the path a trip equivalentto climbing the stairs of a 70-story building. Theresa and I lingered to the very last, reluctant to walk away from such beauty. We also felt faintly smug, having weathered the shakedown cruise hardly breaking a sweat. Besides, men sweat - women glow. That night we opted for the luxury of staying at a hotel in nearby Kayenta before tackling the Keet Seel trail. Knowing that we'd be sleeping on the ground the next night was enough for me. We woke to the sound of our alarm while it was still dark, loaded up our bulging packs, and made our way back to the trailhead just in time to see the sun rise.

We stood at the edge of the aspen forest near the base of the great alcove housing the cliff dwelling. The rippling sandstone caught our voices and threw them back to us.

As the pack, laden with jugs of water, settled on my shoulders, I felt a twinge of concern. Heavy packs. No men. No mules. Oh well, nothing ventured... The salmon-colored Navajo sandstone glowed a burnt umber under the early morning sun, and a layer of magenta clay added its line of color, so the Kayenta formation radiated reds like an Arizona sunset. Theresa and I agreed that women are perfect for adventures; we have ahighly developed appreciation for beauty. We stared at the spectacle before tightening our pack straps and heading toward the empty houses of the Puebloans, or Anasazi, which means the "ancient ones" in the Navajo tongue. The uphill trail to Keet Seel branches off the Betatakin trail after the first three-quarters of a mile and leads into the extensive Tsegi Canyon system. Theresa and I skittered down the sand dune at the base of the mesa as though skiing, then turned and stared dubiously back up the slope, dreading the return trip.

[OPPOSITE PAGE] Summer rains inspire transitory streams and a short-lived profusion of greenery in Tsegi Canyon. Deep in the heart of the canyon, Keet Seel and Betatakin hold close the mystery of the long-departed Puebloan people.

[TOP] This black-on-white olla from the period A.D. 1070-1150 immortalizes the residents' creativity.

BOTH BY GEORGE H.H. HUEY [ABOVE] Slightly smaller and somewhat less showy than its Tsegi Canyon companion, Betatakin occupies a long ledge in a massive sandstone alcove large enough to shelter a 50-story building.

I had a sinking feeling about the climb ahead of us. Before descending the last slope to the narrow valley, we nervously eyed the cliffs towering overhead and then prudently stashed under a straggly piñon tree two liters of water each for the return trip. No one else was in sight, although four other hikers had signed up for an overnight trip. We appeared to be the first group on the trail which meant at least someone ought to find our bodies. The trail travels down to Laguna Creek, where white posts mark the route from the main canyon into the tributary canyon leading to the Keet Seel ruins. At the orientation, the ranger had told us that the primitive trail crosses the stream several times in the next 6 miles. After the first few crossings, Theresa and I decided to keep our boots dry and our feet cool by changing into hiking sandals. Bad idea. We soon discovered why no one drinks the water. Cattle wander through the canyon and wallow in the stream, which creates green, brackish pockets of still water and squishy green-black mud that made us wince at every step.

Caught up watching the flycatchers' antics, I failed to notice an inquisitive bee until it had nearly landed on the button of my shirt. I fled, the bee in hot pursuit. I dropped my pack and tried to outrun it until I realized my shirt was the same color as the bee weed, so I stripped it off and tossed it to the ground. The inquisitive bee happily investigated the buttons for a while. Then it decided that Theresa's buttons had more potential, offer-ing me the satisfaction of seeing her strip down as well. After that episode, we avoided the dangerous bee weeds and stuck to the streambed - better stuck than stung. When it seemed we'd never see anything but muddy, meandering waters and flat strips of sand, we came upon an 80-foot waterfall. Realizing we had to climb to the top through ankle-deep sand, we donned our boots and trudged up the slope. Finding no sign of the trail there, we pulled out the map and even-tually decided we'd missed the upper trail. No sweat the ranger had said we could always follow the streambed. But after hiking another hour, the lack of mile markers made us nervous. When a pair of scrub jays took notice and began following us deeper into the canyon, real worry settled in. I could swear they were laughing at us. Finally we spotted a sign announcing the campground that sits a half-mile from Keet Seel. We collapsed gratefully under the nearest tree for a short break before setting up camp. After a quick lunch, we headed back across the stream for the last leg to the ranger's cabin, where we would rendezvous with our guide.

More than 150 rooms display the master stonework and construction techniques of these early people. The rooms, about 4 feet by 5 feet, clustered like apartments, make up the largest ruin in the United States.

After chatting briefly with ranger Geneve Meyers, we then walked the last quarter of a mile to the ruins. At the base of the towering cliff, Meyers showed us a collection of artifacts from the site broken pottery, corncobs, fragments of yucca fiber rope, squash rinds and stone scraps from toolmaking.

Theresa didn't pay much attention to the stuff on the ground. She was instead fixated on the 70-foot ladder rising dizzily upward. "Oh my," she said in horror. "I'm afraid of heights." Meyers shook her head.Oh, perfect. The Iron Man Society would get a laugh out of that.

Theresa gulped and stared wordlessly at the bottom of the ladder. "You go first," I said. "Don't look down I'll be right behind you."

She started the climb, faltering at first, but then gaining courage. I followed. The ladder creaked. The wind blew. A cold sweat I mean glow broke out on my forehead as I rapidly discovered my own fear of heights, which I'd evidently misplaced all of my life only to discover it at this particularly awkward moment. I looked down and clutched the rungs with whitened knuckles. Was it possible testosterone makes you immune to heights?

When we finally reached the top, we both devoted a few minutes to locating our composure. Breathing exercises from childbirth classes found a new purpose.

We peered into soot-darkened rooms and examined the stone masonry, marveling at the view stretching out below. Meyers told us that a marsh and aspen forest once lined the valley floor. But the wetlands withered and died when the water table dropped due to deforestation caused by the Puebloan people's demand for timbers and firewood. She also discussed the lifestyles of ancient families and pointed out the petroglyphs and pictographs bird and human figures, handprints and geometric designs high above on the rippled sandstone walls.

The diversity of Keet Seel's population is reflected in the construction styles used to build the four distinctly different kivas, three common streets and a retaining wall that stretches 180 feet along the eastern half of the village.

reflected in the construction styles used to build the four distinctly different kivas, three common streets and a retaining wall that stretches 180 feet along the eastern half of the village.

The more than 150 rooms display the master stonework and construction techniques of these early people. The rooms, about 4 feet by 5 feet, clustered like apartments, make up the largest ruin in the United States.

As we readied ourselves for the climb down, we looked over the cliff edge, savoring the view and the climb and the adventure of it all.

I'm not saying a man couldn't have done it. But he would have been sweating.

We were definitely glowing. AH Upon making it home alive from this trip, Carrie M. Miner of Glendale vowed never to borrow a man's backpack again, and went out and purchased her own outdoor equipment.

LOCATION: 245 miles northeast of Phoenix; 50 miles northeast of Tuba City; 20 miles southwest of Kayenta. GETTING THERE: From Kayenta take U.S. Route 160 southwest to State Route 564. Turn right and follow the paved road 9 miles to the park.

LODGING: Thirty camping spaces with water and rest rooms. No hookups. Wood fires are not allowed. ATTRACTIONS: Visitor Center, an arts and crafts shop featuring Native American works and two overlook trails (both under a mile round-trip). Betatakin and Keet Seel tours are conducted daily from Memorial Day weekend through Labor Day weekend. Free tickets for the Betatakin hike are handed out at 8 A.M. daily on a first-come, first-served basis for 25 hikers. Free permits are available for the Keet Seel tour with a limit of 20 people per day. Reservations can be made up to two months in advance for Keet Seel. The Navajo Nation observes daylight-saving time and during summer months is one hour ahead of other Arizona locations.

TRAVEL ADVISORY: Beware of rockfall hazards, watch for flash floods and stay on trails to avoid quicksand. Livestock pollute the stream, so all water must be carried in. Take a minimum of 2 liters of water per person for the Betatakin hike and 4 liters per person for the Keet Seel hike. No pets are allowed. Carry out all trash, do not burn or bury it. All natural, historic and prehistoric features are protected by federal and tribal law.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: Navajo National Monument, HC-71 Box 3, Tonalea, AZ 86044-9704; (520) 672-2366.

Tucson musicians touch hearts and souls

mariachis

text by Kathleen Walker photographs by Jack Dykinga