Chapter 9 – Sandstone and Stardust
Cortez, Co, to Oljata Monument Valley, AZ, UT.
The morning in Cortez broke softly. The clean desert sun spilled into the cloudless cerulean sky with a motivating warmth. However, my enthusiasm had not infected the rest of the party, and whispers of descent were beginning to fill the air. I’d like to say we woke up like the protagonists in some grand adventure novel, ready to leap into action, but the reality was far grimmer. Squashing the mutiny for now, we loaded the van and pushed south out of Cortez on US-491. Shortly out of Cortez, we entered the Ute Mountain reservation, our general destination for the day.
Today would be an exciting exploration of multiple states, and Maggie realized Colorado would soon be left behind. It was the state she most looked forward to when we left for our journey over a week ago. So, she requested we find a place to buy her a Colorado hoodie. Knowing Colorado was not long for our time, I found a few shops in the area to fulfill such a request. It did not go well. Two stores had nothing with Colorado on them, and I resorted to gas stations, hoping for a last-minute save. It looked like a fruitless search until we encountered a large facility just northeast of the border containing the Ute Mountain Casino.
The casino had the tell-tell signs of a modern palace of debauchery. Full bars serving patrons in this bright early morning, retail stores loaded with tax-free cigarettes joined by the smoky air of the floor filled with silver-haired septuagenarians hell-bent on burning through their retirement. The carnival-like sounds of slot machines ringing through their lines. It was a sight I’d seen before, not one I was intent on lingering in. We found what we were looking for and made way with haste. Hoodie in hand, we continued to a curious intersection of nothing and something.
The Four Corners monument serves as a geographical enigma, a cartesian nexus where the linear confines of human thought intersect with the boundlessness of the natural world. Nestled at the confluence of Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona, it is a solitary point where one can straddle the conceptual divisions of four states in the US. While the concrete slab may appear simplistic, even trivial to some, it is a microcosm that calls into question the essence of borders, divisions, and the compartmentalization of existence. A single point that is arbitrary, ultimately fleeting, and currently absolute.
It makes one ponder what it means to be anywhere—particularly the notion of both here and there. As Native American artisans ply their crafts in the vicinity, a rich tapestry of history unfurls, hinting at the deeper layers of cultural and existential demarcations. The Four Corners area becomes not merely a curiosity of cartography but a spiritual waypoint, inviting us to reevaluate the intricate matrix of visible and invisible, metaphysical and spiritual, that intersect our lives.
We found a parking space in the rocky, unfinished lot down the dusty dirt path that leads to the monument. Exiting the van in the mid-day sun, we discovered a heat and intensity of light that was arresting compared to previous days. We were officially in the desert. The surrounding view of endless dusty scrub-covered land bounded by khaki sandstone mountains was striking against the deep blue, almost cloudless sky. The plaza that housed the marker was bordered on three sides by rows of long open market stalls where local Navajo sold art pieces, jewelry, shirts, and various other crafts.
As we approached the seal set in the concrete plaza, a crowd had already gathered to take pictures of this rare boundary. We waited our turn and took a few pictures for other visitors, who in turn took a few pictures for us. On the ground at the monument’s center sits a granite circle cut into four slices dividing the four states. At its center, a metal disc marks the intersection and the date and the surveyors that established the spot. Inside each granite slice are words split between the section that reads “Four States Here Meet In Freedom Under God.” Each state’s official seal, pressed in bronze, marks their corner.
After exploring the plaza, we hit the perimeter to browse the offerings of the local tribes: earrings, bracelets and necklaces, wood crafts, t-shirts, and die-cut stickers. The monument offered an abundance of anything one might expect to find at a tourist trap. Not to say this was precisely that, but there was nothing in the way of a museum or cultural center to display the tradition and history of the local tribes. At least nothing that wasn’t for sale. As a lover of everything for sale, Diem browsed the baubles with the girls while I searched for my own vice.
Tucked away behind the stalls were several food trailers selling local specialties. As we approached the trailer, the mouth-watering aroma of Navajo fry bread filled the air, beckoning me closer. I spoke briefly with the nice lady running the trailer and ultimately decided on loaded tacos for the Diem, Maggie, and Myself, none of the garden goodies for the two youngest. It was a phenomenal price for the five tacos. The lady apologized as she rang it up. Not that I had said anything. Apparently, the tribe had to pay sales tax in all four states while operating inside the monument. What a racket.
I made my way to the plaza to collect everyone to eat lunch. The girls had purchased a few souvenirs, and we headed to the van to eat in the cooler temperature of the AC. The tacos had so much potential but were horribly underwhelming. It was clear that no seasoning of any kind was used in the fillings or beans. The lettuce and tomatoes were incredibly sad, and it was overall a disappointing $80 lunch. Chocking it up to adventure, we pressed on into Arizona.
Almost immediately, we crossed a less-defined boundary as the earth transformed from beige earth tones to deep brick and rusty hues. As we cruised down US-160 towards Kayenta, we pulled off at a lesser monument called Baby Rocks. The landscape was becoming dynamic, filled with the work of eons. We viewed these small wonders before retreating from the growing heat and pressing further on.
In the early afternoon, we connected with the famous US-163 in Kayenta and turned north towards today’s destination, Monument Valley. It was a beautiful ride north. We crossed into Utah just before two and entered the park.
You can read the brochures, read the Wikipedia page, and look at pictures from countless sites, but no words can truly prepare you for the awe you feel when you finally face the towering giants of Monument Valley. Something was humbling about their grandeur, as if they served as a marker on a geological clock, reminding us of our tiny existence in a world far more significant than ourselves. These weren’t just rocks; they were magnificent landmarks that had stood the relentless march of time, shaped by the unstoppable forces of wind and weather. Each monumental structure seemed like a chronicle of the Earth’s own life story, layered with tales of ancient seas, tectonic shifts, and eons of erosion.
We took in the view from the parking lot, then entered the visitor center to discover a little culture and browse gifts for our return home. The center offered an impressively sweeping view of the park. It gave the entire scene a presence that bordered on the divine. As the girls purchased a few items, I got some information from a staff member. The valley had an unpaved loop road that circled all the monuments. You could see it wind into the valley from the vantage point of the center. It was rough, often completely covered in sand, and could take a few hours to traverse. It had adventure written all over it. I collected our crew, piled in the van, and pressed into the valley.
To say the road was rough is an understatement. Less than a mile in, Diem and the girls had to hold the table and rack in place as we violently jostled our way along. At our first pull-off, I considered aborting the adventure. But it seemed criminal to do so. We took in the view here and continued. The park was filled with pull-off after pull-off in the shadow of another monument. They seemed to go on forever.
The striking landscape gave me pause to reflect on our fleeting place in the vast universe. The soil and sand beneath felt like an archive of a distant past, each grain carrying within it a piece of history that predated us by millennia. It wasn’t just about the breathtaking views; the valley seemed to whisper untold stories of creation and transformation, offering a poignant backdrop for our own evolving journey. As we tracked across the sandy trail, It seemed almost comical. This contrast between the monumental and the minute, yet there was something profound about it. Even a grain of sand can carry with it memories, lessons, and connections that make it invaluable in its own right.
So there we were, amid these geological giants, each absorbed in our own small but meaningful ways with the landscape. As we explored and pondered, it felt as if the wind lifted our collective thoughts and curiosities, mingling with the ancient whispers of the valley. Our presence was momentary, a blip in the timeline of this age-old land, but the impact of that experience would be etched in our hearts and minds, as enduring as the monuments themselves.
It was a slow, methodical trudge through the valley. At times, it seemed as if it would never end. The pots and pans rattled incessantly, and our gear’s rock and sway were often worrying. Eventually, we cleared the dusty trail and returned to the pavement in the parking lot of the visitor’s center. From here, it was to our home for the night. A quiet, remote farmhouse in the shadow of the monuments. Far from cell service and pavement. We would spend one night under the impressive stars of the Southern Utah desert. As the house owners suggested, I had a hard copy of our instructions, as everything would cease to work as we inched closer. The instructions read like this:
Screenshot these directions BEFORE you travel towards Monument Valley as your mobile phone and data service will be VERY spotty and you CANNOT rely on accessing these needed directions once you leave the Gouldings area.
IF COMING FROM THE SOUTH, WEST, or EAST: follow your map/GPS to Kayenta Arizona, and then make a turn at the stoplight onto US 163 north towards Mexican Hat Utah.
You go about 22 miles and just as you cross the AZ/UT border you come to a traffic circle intersection. Navigate the circle and take the third right towards Gouldings (you know you are at the right place when you see the large high school on the left side of the highway with a big football field, etc.).
If coming from the NORTH you will take the first right at the traffic circle mentioned above.
After about 1 mile there is a small airport on the right, a gas station on the left, and a grocery store up the hill on the right. Here is where you want to make a turn to the RIGHT (signs should say Oljato) – the road is the only paved road to turn onto.
NOTE the mileage on your odometer at this point
Follow this road (noting that there are often horses, cows, goats, and sheep standing or sleeping on the road) for about 6.2 miles, where you will see a left curve yellow highway sign (it is the second such sign since you make the right turn above (the first is at about 0.5 miles).
When you actually complete the curve that the highway sign warns you about (at about 6.5 miles from the turn by their airstrip), you will note two dirt roads that branch off to the right. The first (that you do not want to take) has the road sign that says San Juan County 427.
You should take the very next road – there is a small pole with green and yellow stripes with two tires on the bottom of it.
Do not turn at the 0.2 miles down this road, but go 0.9 miles (passing under power lines at about 0.6 miles) and make a right. There is a green gate (which is almost always already opened)
Our road is quite sandy – do not stop until you get to our place.
The home was remote, as promised, and it looked into the distance at the monuments scattered on the horizon. We parked in front and quickly unloaded. An argument broke out over sleeping arrangements, and its consequences would echo through the night. But I was in no mood to allow my mood to be deterred. It was another full kitchen, so a fabulous meal was coming. I set up in the kitchen, popped open a beer, and began to work my magic. Sticky pork belly, chargrilled wings, fried pork cake, Caesar salad, rice, and fresh corn from Colorado. It was awesome cooking with the monuments outside the kitchen window.
It was a quiet dinner, as everyone seemed to be upset but me. I enjoyed my dinner, said my peace, and went to the porch to bask in the beautiful view. The wind was significant, and the endless desert sand often made the outdoors unpleasant. Random chunks of cardboard, sand, and various vegetation would often float by in the wind, getting stuck in the perimeter fence or irritating the skin. If not for the beautiful little farmhouse, it would be a landscape harsh and formidable.
In the distance, the monuments faded from the deep rust colors of high noon to rose, violet, and copper hues. Eventually, the fading sun transformed the sky into cotton candy colors of a cowboy cliche. The sun set behind us, fiery yellow framed in orange. I sat on the porch for the better part of two hours, relaxing in the spectacle of one of God’s greatest creations, a desert sunset. Just before twilight was too gone, the sky transformed into the deepest Prussian blue I had ever seen, and then darkness consumed the light. It was a miraculous sight.
The house had a campfire ring out front, and I lit a fire as the night advanced and the girls gathered around. Even in the ambient light of the fire, it was clear the stars were exceptionally bright here. We sat around looking at constellations and keeping an eye out for any nocturnal desert inhabitants. At one point, a snake, presumably a rattler, slithered by the front of the van, eyes glowing in the beam of Maggie’s phone light. It made no indications it was aggressive and quietly moved along at a safe distance.
I played with my camera in the pitch moonless night and was amazed at some pictures I could capture of the stars. Usually, I can’t get my phone to focus on them. We talked about the adventure up to now and what everyone’s favorite thing had been so far. Everyone agreed that it was too hard to say. Everything had been so amazing. There was still so much to see. The fire crackled, the wind whispered, and the cool desert night accented another incredible day beneath an endless sky.
To explore some of the Parks and Monuments we’ve explored and more, click here for the National Park Services.
