Strange to see a school bus picking up children where John Wayne caught that stagecoach

So apologies to those who do not like travelogues, but I will reflect back over some of the highlights of our last visit to the USA. There we returned to Monument Valley and spent a night in a hotel, watching the sun go down and come up the next morning: superb moments in a truly magical place on the Arizona- Utah border I mentioned in a previous column how Ellie became reacquainted with a Navajo lady by the name of Eloise. Talking to her, she recalled when Monument Valley was green in her youth. Even two years ago they had 30 inches of snow across the Valley, which is hard to imagine, in such an arid area.

Green is the word another Navajo lady used when recalling her childhood in the Valley.

The Navajo Nation is 25,000 square miles, and there is a Hopi Reservation in the centre. It is semi-autonomous as a country within a country but US laws do apply.

It is also dry, a decision taken by the Navajos because native Indians cannot hold their liquor. The tribe’s big claim to fame is the code-talkers. Navajos did exemplary work during WW2 talking in codes and relaying important tactical information, because the Japanese and Germans were unable to break the code, as there is no logical pattern to a language, which, in 1942, was known to only 28 people (all accounted for) outside the tribe, whereas other codes follow a logical pattern that can be broken.

Some Navajos consider television is alienating the younger ones from the reservation, but they tend to come back after years away.

We spent a day in Monument Valley, sped back to nearby Bluff for a steak and suspension ale and then returned to stay the night actually in the valley – something Ellie has wanted to do for years.

It was great seeing the sunshine playing on the rocks from our balcony as we ate strawberries, and watching the rain fall some 30 miles away. Unfortunately it clouded over in the afternoon, and rained but it was interesting to see it in a different light. The sun came through just before sunset to provide more colours and we were up at 7 in the morning, watching it rise.

It was strange seeing the early morning school bus, stopping to pick up Navajo kids and all the traffic stopping in both directions, as is the law, while the pick-up was concluded against a backdrop we have all seen in John Wayne movies.

We do find it an amazing place and surrounded as it is, by other canyons and state parks competing for tourists, their dollars and their vote , it still has that unique, spiritual property.

Also, it is partly in Arizona but mainly in Utah, with the main bit (including our hotel) owned by the Navajos, so there is not any alcohol available. Wisely I had purchased a bottle of rioja and was able to toast sundown.

So, having risen so early, we were set to leave by 9.0 and headed out to Mexican Hat on the road to Bluff, only this time we headed north to Hanksville. If any of you plan on taking in some of the things we have seen, follow our route. It is priceless and, in effect, we chose the route, looping north across the canyon-lands, because we did not intend visiting the Grand Canyon which we have seen twice.

We were warned that a “switchback” was ahead and a 20mph speed limit imposed. We were heading towards extremely high bluffs, and this meant that the road went back and forth up the face of them, without any barrier on the open side.

I do not like heights, so it was crush-the-steering-wheel-time with your hand grip, as we gradually climbed up, not being able to guess where the road is likely to go next. It was tarmac but weathered by rock falls, heat, cold, snow and wind and who the hell would want to be on a repair detail anyway.

Eventually we got to the top. Ellie took some pictures of what I did not look at – the drop. By the time you get to the top, you will know if you need a carpel tunnel operation having put your wrists under so much pressure.

We headed on across a good road, seeing just eight vehicles in 30 miles, while marvelling at the countryside.

Then we turned left towards Hanksville, and alongside the White Canyon, which is a 150-metre deep fissure in the valley floor, containing a meandering river. Each side of us were cliffs, buttes and distant mountains. It was stunning but then we hit the north of Glen Canyon, and I just pulled up as I rounded the corner. I could n’t believe the scenery.

We just sat and stared in wonder. That view was worth my vertigo-challenged meandering up the rock face with a sheer drop on one side.

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