Above Photo: Agathla Peak, Kayenta, Arizona I enjoy television series. Some I follow from the beginning, tuning in each week. Some I stream or binge-watch on DVD; some are a little of both. After cramming the first couple of seasons while the shows were still airing, I blame “The Sopranos” for my HBO subscription, and “Dexter” for Showtime. One thing I’ve noticed about ongoing serials – they really hit their strides in their third seasons. Most of my favorite episodes occur in Season Three. By then the basic story and premise are rooted, characters are fleshed out, players are comfortable in their own skins, and it’s time for a little fun and experimentation. You could say I am in Season Three of my adventure. (Well, technically, October 2018 is the fourth October I’ve spent on the road, but go with me on this – I’ve been thinking a lot about it!) The novelty has faded, but not the joy of discovery. Large chunks of the “To See” list have check marks in the margins, but the scribbles at the bottom mean the list is still getting longer. I have a comfortable routine that has not devolved into a rut. Combine this easy and fulfilling way of being with myself and in the world with the month of October, and, well, you end up with a fabulous month like the one I just experienced. It started off in Albuquerque at Balloon Fiesta, and there were plenty of metro city experiences to be had in both Albuquerque and Santa Fe, but the unifying, undeniable theme for October 2018 was Rocks. Lots of ‘em. Really old Rocks. ALBUQUERQUE On an afternoon off from hot air balloon activities, Marsha and I ventured to Petroglyph National Monument, which, since 1990, protects one of the largest petroglyph sites in North America, featuring designs and symbols carved onto volcanic rocks by Native Americans and Spanish settlers 400 to 700 years ago. The petroglyphs are right smack dab in the middle of the city, with housing developments on all sides. There are four dispersed trails from which to choose, but none leave from the visitor center, which has ranger talks and maps. We left my car at Jiffy Lube at the Boca Negra trailhead and I had the oil changed while we walked. We saw over 100 petroglyphs in that short hour. DAYTRIPS FROM SANTA FE Tent Rocks Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument is an easy drive from either Albuquerque (52 miles) or Santa Fe (35 miles). Kasha-Katuwe means “White Cliffs” in the Keresan language of the nearby Cochiti Pueblo. The area was designated a national monument by the Clinton administration in 2001. The cone shaped tent rock formations were produced by volcanic eruptions over six to seven million years ago. Some of the hoodoos (I love that word!) have boulder caps, and the formations range in height from a few feet to 90 feet. The Canyon Trail is a 1.5 mile trek up a narrow canyon with a 630 foot climb to the Mesa top for views of the Sangre de Cristo, Jemez, and Sandia Mountains and the Rio Grande Valley. Now, you know me. The ice falls out of my cocktail when I do strenuous physical activity. A hike in my college years was disastrous – be sure to remind me to tell you about that sometime. I think the last time I hiked was in the 1990s, with my friend Jamie in the Santa Barbara hills, and I bitched about it the whole way. When I heard the hike at Tent Rocks included narrow passageways through canyons, I have never experienced anything like that, and I couldn’t resist. I strapped on my Nike tennis shoes, which I had only because they were part of a Tru Blood/Sookie Stackhouse Halloween costume, and I kept them when I moved into the RV “just in case.” There were some very narrow places, which made for beautiful photos, but I really wasn’t prepared for the vertical climbs on rocks and sand. Pitying passersby literally gave me a hand, pulling me up the steepest parts. While it was certainly lovely at the top, my Uber helicopter wasn’t coming, and descending was even harder. Going down was also particularly challenging because I had just gone up, and I rarely get that much physical activity, so my legs felt like Jell-O. I was thankful the trail was crowded, because the person in front of me served as my human braking system. One area was nothing but a large, slick rock formation at a steep incline with no footholds or handholds. I was prepared to sit on my butt and scoot down, but a nice young man took my hand and helped me through that part. I used to think people with hiking sticks were a bunch of pretentious asses, but I picked some up after my Tent Rocks experience. I have no intention of becoming an avid hiker, but I’ll store the sticks with my Nikes just in case another opportunity arises. (All levity aside, I am so relieved and thankful that I had no urgent bowel problems on the trail. Eating nothing and taking prescription strength Lomotil at the trailhead kept my symptoms at bay.) Ghost Ranch The town of Abiquiu, New Mexico (pronounced “Abby-Cue”) is about an hour northwest of Santa Fe, and the drive on Highway 84 is one of the most picturesque I have ever driven, through giant rocks along the Rio Chama. There is a brand-new Georgia O’Keeffe Welcome Center in Abiquiu, and you can tour her house in town there, but the heart and soul of her time in the area is at Ghost Ranch, another 14 miles northwest. Ghost Ranch has seen its fair share of history and has reinvented itself many times. Home first to indigenous people, in the 1800s it was a haven for cattle rustlers, murder and buried gold. By the 1930s it was a dude ranch, but rarefied; The Johnson and Johnsons and Cary Grant frequented, and Charles Lindbergh had a personal landing strip out front. Georgia O’Keeffe visited for the first time in the 1930s and fell in love. This is the casita she rented at Ghost Ranch, until she bought a house and acreage on the property, where she painted some of her most iconic landscapes. (You can see the house from a distance but are not able to tour it like the one in Abiquiu.) Ghost Ranch is now owned by the Presbyterian Church, but don’t let that deter you if you are a nonbeliever like me. Both secular and religious workshops are held all year long, from painting and writing to self-help and the healing arts. There is a cafeteria on site serving three meals a day, tours and trails, and a small, rocky RV park. “Pedernal is my private mountain. God told me if I painted it often enough I could have it.” So said O’Keeffe of her obsession, which dominates the landscape at Ghost Ranch. On a driving tour the guide led us to other iconic landmarks painted by her, and I was in heaven. Ghost Ranch has also been a filming location for several movies. That cabin and corral as you enter the ranch may look old, but it’s just leftover Hollywood set design. Still, it makes for a lovely photo. MONUMENT VALLEY I am no encyclopedia; I often come upon information on places to visit on the fly, through word-of-mouth, reading, and media. I must admit, I had never even heard of Monument Valley until my friend Izzy recently loaned me his copy of the John Ford and John Wayne movie, “The Searchers.” I’ve never been much of a fan of westerns, but I am a big fan of John Ford, who directed the Steinbeck classic, “The Grapes of Wrath.” As I sat in the rig watching my borrowed movie in Crater Lake in September, I was blown away by the scenery. Even though the movie was set in Texas, I could tell it wasn’t filmed there; the credits revealed it was shot in Monument Valley, Utah. I pulled out the altas, finding it on the northern Arizona border. I texted Izzy:

“Thanks for loaning me ‘The Searchers.’ I watched the extra features last night and after that beautiful cinematography by Ford, I’m going to go to Monument Valley after Albuquerque as long as the weather holds out.”

I love the serendipity and spontaneity of my life. Monument Valley is part of the vast Navajo Nation, and in the 1920’s Harry Goulding and his wife “Mike” opened a little trading post there, with living quarters above. In the 1930s, hearing that Hollywood was scouting for western movie locations, Goulding packed up a passel of photographs and barged his way into John Ford’s office in California, convincing him that Monument Valley should be the site of his next film. Ford ended up filming the John Wayne classic “Stagecoach” there, as well as many other films, including “The Searchers,” “Fort Apache,” “Rio Grande,” and “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.” Ford always put a Medicine Man on the payroll to guarantee good weather, putting in his order for “Big, white, fluffy clouds.” Goulding’s has evolved into quite the operation, including campground, lodge, restaurant and gift shop, grocery store, gas station and convenience store, and tours. Even the campground is picturesque, set among red rocks with hiking trails and a beautiful arch. Each night in the Earth Spirit Theatre at 8:00 p.m., a Ford/Wayne movie filmed in the Valley is screened. The original trading post and little upstairs apartment are still next door, now a museum. Mike’s root cellar, which doubled as John Wayne‘s quarters in “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon,” also still stands. It is said that when John Ford first introduced John Wayne to Monument Valley, Wayne said, “So this is where God put The West.” I am never one to let the truth get in the way of a good story, and at the Navajo Tribal Park Visitor Center you can take in John Wayne’s purported favorite view. The HBO series “West World” has also filmed in Monument Valley, but this truly is West World. With names like King on the Throne, Bear and Rabbit, Big Indian Chief, East Mitten, and West Mitten – made of Oregon Rock, De Chelley Sandstone, and Navajo Sandstone – the formations welcome you like long-lost friends. You get the eerie feeling that you have stood here before, though you may not have been aware of it at the time. The vistas are so iconic, so ingrained in our collective memory, they calm and feel like home. I channeled The Marlboro Man at John Ford Point atop a horse, atop a butte, overlooking the vast landscape. (Yes, that’s really me up there!) Ya’at Eeh – Welcome Like so many other tourists, I went to Monument Valley because of the movie history and the scenery. I stayed because of the Navajo people. You can pay your $20 admission fee to drive the rough and rutted 17-mile Valley Drive on your own in one day, and you should, but if you can, stay longer. Take some tours with local Navajo guides. Not only will you see backcountry that is off-limits to regular traffic, but you will spend three or four unadulterated hours with a Navajo person and get to know a little about that individual and his or her culture. I spent almost eight hours with my tour guide Tony, the first day in the Tribal Park in Utah in the backcountry for sunset and moonrise, and the second day in nearby Mystery Valley in Arizona, full of ancient Anasazi pueblos and petroglyphs. Tony is laconic like so many Navajo, with a dry and wry sense of humor I took to immediately. I was mesmerized by his formidable wrist cuff, and I asked to photograph it after he sang me a traditional Navajo song, accompanied by drum. In the final moments of the last tour on the last day, Tony sped back toward the Tribal Park, doggedly eyeing the sinking sun, delivering us to the perfect view at the perfect moment to witness the majesty of the rays illuminating the ancient stones. I met a woman in Albuquerque who found Monument Valley boring, advising I should not book a very long stay. Well, as my mama used to say, “Only boring people get bored.” Goosenecks State Park Just 30 miles from Goulding’s is Goosenecks State Park, with an astonishing view of the meandering canyon carved by the San Juan River 1,000 feet below the Overlook. At this point the river flows a distance of over six miles, but advances only 1.5 miles west. Valley Of The Gods Also nearby is the Valley of the Gods, which to me seemed more like Moving Day of the Gods – the rock formations looked like large boxes stacked on top of each other. Many had toppled, promoting me to drive a little faster. Valley of the Gods also has a 17-mile dirt road for sightseeing, but there is no admission fee and fewer tourists, and the road is in much better condition. On the way back to Gouldings I stopped at the spot where Forrest Gump finally stopped running. PAGE, ARIZONA – ANTELOPE CANYON About two hours west of Monument Valley is Page, Arizona, home to the Glen Canyon Dam and Lake Powell. Nearby is Antelope Canyon, on the Navajo Reservation. Only 20 years ago, few people visited Antelope Canyon to see the beautiful upper and lower canyons. Hell, 20 years ago the only way into the lower canyon was by rope. Thanks largely to the Internet, especially sites like Instagram, people flock, in droves, to Antelope Canyon now. Page itself isn’t much to look at, land of mobile homes and churches. The three big stacks of the coal-fired Navajo Generating Station dominate the landscape. Page is where I had myself a little RV haunting a few days before Halloween. There is no escaping it; you will feel like a herded lemming in Antelope Canyon. Pickup trucks with benches bolted in the back, ensconced in transparent plastic covers coated in red dust, scurry to and fro, from town to the Upper Canyon, packed with people bouncing along the washboard roads. Groups pass through the Upper Canyon with a Navajo guide at timed intervals, which includes exiting on the other side and re-entering, which causes a pretty substantial traffic jam. Narrow passageways create the ultimate bottleneck, but the guides do their best to stagger groups so you can at least get a few photos inside. Thankfully most of the views are up. You drive yourself to the Lower Canyon, directly across from the power plant. You’re herded in a barren and forlorn red desert, shoved together with strangers and stragglers, told to walk briskly on uneven, sandy ground, descending metal staircase after metal staircase, some no wider than you, some steep as a ladder, and then you are finally there. Ahhhh. Forget all those people around you; you’re shooting straight up anyway. The colors are spectacular! The photos practically jump into your camera, and then you push forth from underground to the surface again. Obviously, the scenery in Antelope Canyon is breathtaking. I wish I knew what to do about the crowds, and crowd control. The tribe really is trying to let as many people see it as they can, and spaces are narrow. If you go, prepare yourself for a fairly unpleasant experience right up to and until you enter the canyons. If you have the time and resources for only one tour, I felt the lower canyon was more picturesque and colorful, although the length of the visit is shorter, and you get only one pass-through. Horseshoe Bend A 10-minute drive from Page is Horseshoe Bend, the famous and terribly photogenic Colorado River entrenched meander, with the perfect overlook for picture-taking about a 15 or 20-minute walk from the parking lot. NORTH RIM, GRAND CANYON Over three years ago, my first year on the road, I took my first trip to the Grand Canyon, to the South Rim. It was magnificent, and awe-inspiring. Leaving Page headed south, I decided it was time to visit the North Rim as long as the weather held out; the North Rim is 1,000 feet higher, it was the end of October, and many of the park’s amenities were already shut down for the season. The lodge (1927) closed on October 15. My reservations for the North Rim Campground were for October 28 and 29, and the Campground was closing on October 31. North Rim Campground is the only campground on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. The Transept Trail edges the campground and provides terrific vistas. The Bright Angel Point Trail is directly behind the lodge and an easy walk on a paved path. We saw our first Kaibab Squirrels at North Rim – big and black and resembling a rabbit in the face and ears, but with huge, bushy white tails. They can only be found on the North Rim. They drove the dogs crazy. I never seemed to have my camera at the ready when we saw one. We virtually had the place to ourselves, but even in high season there are fewer visitors to the North Rim. The South Rim has more amenities and is more conducive for sightseeing by car. But, there is something extra special about the North Rim. It is more rugged, more tranquil, and the terrain is more diverse. On the second day I drove 23 miles to Cape Royal from the campground, stopping at Roosevelt Point and Vista Encantada along the way. The trail to Cape Royal takes you to Angel’s Window. After viewing it from the afar I sat on top and had my sack lunch all by myself. It was heavenly, and probably about as close to heaven as I’ll ever get! At Cape Royal there were amazing views of Vishnu Temple and Wotan’s Throne. THE VERMILLION CLIFFS AND NAVAJO BRIDGE The only decent route south from the Grand Canyon is Highway 89A, which takes you through the Vermillion Cliffs and across the Colorado River on the Navajo Bridge. The original bridge, built in the 1920s, is closed to vehicle traffic, open to pedestrians. The new bridge, erected immediately adjacent to the old one, was constructed in the 1990s. Views of the Colorado River and the Vermillion Cliffs are outstanding. EPILOGUE I considered for a moment turning the rig around and exploring southern Utah before the snows came. But then again, I knew I would be pushing my luck weather-wise. Besides, my tour of the Rocks of Ages had burned me out for a little bit, both on old rocks and on The Great Outdoors. It reminded me of the time I toured Egypt. After two weeks in the country, on a cruise ship on the Nile I stayed on board because the temple on the shore excursion was Roman and “only” 2,000 years old. I am looking forward to visiting all the amazing national parks in Utah, but it will have to wait for another time.