In geological realms, the Monument valley is an epic saga of ancient sandstone, siltstone and shale that was uplifted along with rest of the Colorado plateau. Now, in ultimate phases of erosion, it displays stunning buttes and towers – last remnants of the sedimentary rock layers that once covered the entire region. In realms of human history, this area has been inhabited by many: ice-age Paleo-Indians, Archaic hunter gatherers, Anasazi farmers, San Juan Band Paiutes, and more recently, the Navajo and Hollywood fantasies. Depending on who you ask among onlookers, this land evokes disgust and delight in equal measure. The first U.S. soldiers to explore the area, war torn as they were, described it as ‘desolate and repulsive’, whereas John Wayne, the yesteryear Hollywood hunk who featured in several Westerns filmed in the valley, proclaimed, “This is where God put the West.” An American quintessential icon in every sense, this valley has been awe-inspiring on the silver screen for more than three quarters of a century. It is even better in person, as I found out recently.
After a five hour drive from the nearest metropolis, we reached the valley about an hour before sunset. Under a ferocious left-handed wind that howled across Dinetah, the chilly afternoon barely inspired exploration. However, the view from the View hotel parking lot was truly tranquil and warmly welcoming, its invitation personified in the form of a narrow unpaved road that meandered into the valley lazily. The ride on this valley road was… hmmm… let’s say, quite queasy interesting! Emphasizing the treacherous nature of this unpaved and ill-maintained 'Billygoat' highway, our AWD bounced around in certain places like an unruly kid. As the sun dipped down, mesmerizing monoliths in front of us mimicked chameleons; their colors shifted from orange to salmon to red to crimson to dark-purple before fading away into tar of the night. We watched this show from a roadside pullout that overlooked a turn in the road where vehicles slowed down to almost a halt to maneuver the pothole-filled sharp hairpin turn. Rishabh, my eight year old in-house critic, did not like car light trails in the image; he thought they distracted from the grandeur. I agreed, but to his utter dismay, ignored the sage advice and included those trails (from other longer exposures) in the final cut. Why? After that wild ride, that’s my hat doffing to untamed spirit of the wild West.
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