Cowboys are cool. There, I said it. I like the hats, I like the horses, and I like the shooty tooty cowboy bootey demeanour in which they mosey around the ole’ West. When you visit Arizona, it’s near impossible to not come across cowboy culture. The place is the pinnacle of rootin’ tootin’, and while we did originally visit Arizona as part of a herpetological expedition, it soon became heavily intertwined with the coolest culture of the West.
See, before I’d even arrived, the rest of the crew had visited Tombstone, Arizona – a real-life cowboy town. In total, 4 trips were made to Tombstone. Everybody loved the place. We dined and drank in Big Nose Kate’s, explored the Bird Cage, bought Stetson hats, and, in my case, a real-life lasso.
Just look how fucking cool I look.
Anyway, stop distracting me. Let’s focus.
We’d been hunting rattlesnakes for weeks (See? I even sound cool!), and in the last little stretch of the trip, we decided to head north, right up to the Utah border. Right up to Monument Valley.
The land of cowboys, and dreams, and cowboys. It took a 5-hour drive to get there from Phoenix, because America is very big, and as we got increasingly closer, the landscape grew from a desert, to a forest, to another desert.
As we entered the Navajo Nation, more and more trading posts dotted the side of the road. They sell handmade goods, jewelry, foodstuffs, dreamcatchers, and many other handmade crafts, all authentically made by the native peoples. Then, we pass through some of their towns, where RVs and trailer houses on stilts dot the landscape, and mountains with beautiful red streaks criss-cross through the backdrop.
It’s exciting, and after driving for most of the afternoon, 15 miles north of Kayenta, something iconic slips into view.
It’s there, and it’s real – not propped up by stilts or built in some VFX studio in Vancouver, exactly like the movies, and the pictures, and the photos, and the paintings. Every cowboy movie you’ve ever seen in your entire life has been based on this one spot.
Everybody else was exhausted after the drive, but I was giddy like a toddler who spotted a trampoline at a funeral – so, we sailed on through, my beaming face pressed up against the window as we headed for Mexican Hat Lodge, just across the Utah border, where we met my favourite man on the entire trip – a jittery redneck who excitedly tells us that we’ll be staying in the trailer that we used to live in. Pure Bliss. The vibe was impeccable, outstanding steaks, a “will-they/won’t-they” dynamic between the hospitality staff, and a beautiful sunset highlighting the beautiful surroundings and 17 barking dogs in the distance.
The next morning, we wake up early and head out past Forest Gump Point to a quiet part of the road, where we watch the sun rise behind a formation known as Stagecoach.
Just look at how amazing that looks. Behind us, the mountains lit up in the morning sun, turning a stark red against the iron oxide exposed in the silstone.
Look, I’ve got to split these articles off now. Because Kymberley and I took a little detour to go horse riding through Monument Valley, and let me tell you. The views are more amazing than you could ever possibly imagine. I’m going to entice you with a nice picture of my hot fiancée on a horse. I’ll stick the link at the end, or you can read the article here, and then come back if you want. Or don’t. I’m a blog post, not your Dad.
Anyway, after horse riding, we meet back up with Matt and Stuart, the last two travellers on this expedition, and we head into Monument Valley – the touristy bit.
Monument Valley visitor centre is hidden behind a toll booth, and behind the visitor centre is the sprawling desert landscape we’ve come to know as the place where the cowboys live. The first thing I learn is that I’ve seen more Looney Tunes in my life than classic westerns, because all I can see is Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner. The colours, the shape of the rocks, even the abundance of wrecked ACME products littering the landscape.
After filling up on water and fridge magnets, we make a move and start heading to the loop road that travels around the Rain God Mesa, a towering block nearly half a mile across. There’s a sign near the entrance that proudly proclaims “4×4 only”, and I want you to look at this footage and understand why:
The road is bumpy beyond belief, and it’s good fun to be jostled around, but I feel really bad for the poor Tesla Model S that we saw starting the route. There’s a weird feeling at Monument Valley, I won’t lie. It’s a commercialised spot, partly down to Hollywood, and partly down to the influence of Hollywood. As you drive around, guided tours in safari vehicles move up and down the hillside on “Navajo-only” roads. Little shops line the major stopping points, serving coffee and selling the same trading post goodies as outside the route.
John Ford Point, a particularly famous point where you can pay to take a picture with a horse, is met with a lengthy queue of tourists, all excited to get their cowboy photo. That’s right, the Navajo people have got it figured out – people are going to pay to see this place, and they know it.
Ever since my visit to the Autry Museum of the West, where I learnt about the treatment of indigenous peoples and about the desecration of their land, it’s impossible to view anything like this without seeing it through the lens of suffering. So, now that I’ve already been there, and this suggestion won’t affect me, I think they should double their entrance fees.
I grew up in a little town in Spain called Benidorm, you may have heard of it. ITV made a very good documentary about the place in 2007, which lasted for 10 seasons and made Ryanair millions. That means that I grew up in a spot that was heavily reliant on tourism, and while it was a delightful upbringing, I get a funny taste in my mouth when I think of theme parks. Monument Valley has theme park energy.
Doesn’t mean I didn’t adore it, I loved it there. Felt like a dream, wish I could’ve stayed there for days, and I’d’ve loved to fly over and through it, but there’s no denying it – it felt as much like a safari or a theme park than it did as a trip out of the wild west. And I want to be clear, that’s the Navajo people taking what Hollywood did to their land, and monetising that, and I admire them for doing it. Hollywood painted this place as cowboy country, but it’s Navajo land first and foremost. The cowboy dream is a lens laid over it.
I’m chuffed to bits that I had the opportunity to go to Monument Valley. If you’re a fan of the old westerns, or Americana in any fashion, I urge you to go, but remember – this isn’t just a film set. It’s sacred Navajo land, with deep history well beyond John Wayne. Do some research about the place before you get there. Look up the Uranium mines and feel sick to the back of your teeth like I did.
Anyway, stick around, because after Monument Valley, we’re headed somewhere bigger. Much bigger.
Grander.
It rhymes with Brand Planyon.
It’s the Grand Canyon we’re going to the Grand Canyon come with me.
You can read about the other adventures that took place during our time in Arizona at any of the links below. Get ready for cowboys, Navajo, tarantulas, horse riding, and secret paintings in the Grand Canyon!
- Herpetological Study in Arizona ✓ – Herping through Arizona meant snakes, scorpions, acid toads, tarantulas, and a very special Gila Monster – and I loved every second.
- Hold a tarantula ✓ – I’d avoided spiders my whole life, until the Arizona desert and a wise old traveller talked me into letting a tarantula crawl across my hand.
- Ride a Horse ✓ – First time on a horse, and I picked Monument Valley at sunrise. Epic mesas, wild dogs, and a guide who hunts drones for fun. The Wild Wild West!
- See a Cave Painting ✓ – The Grand Canyon? Try the “Holy Fuck Canyon”. A brutal hike, six ancient reindeer, and an encounter with art that left me floored.