"On the floor of Canyon de Chelly, what pops up in three dimensions of desert light are the remains of 900-year-old stone apartments, the graveyard of peach trees cut down by Kit Carson’s Indian killers, and sandstone walls that drew the cameras of Edward Curtis and Ansel Adams. But it’s much more than a still life. Here is a Navajo farmer, tilling corn and squash in red dirt next to a home in the shape of the traditional hogan, door facing the rising sun. There is the sound of sheep bells bouncing off spires the size of the Washington Monument. And just now comes a runner in braids, grinding up vertical feet under the midday sun. This federal monument, where the past is not dead or even past, is alive like no other unit of the National Park Service. People live in the Canyon de Chelly (pronounced d’SHAY), and they are much more than props for all those visitors from France and Germany. As the national parks try to reinvent themselves in an age when people are bored by anything that can’t be delivered by smart phone, one model is the Indian way. For Canyon de Chelly is a fascinating hybrid: it’s administered by the Park Service, but is entirely within the confines of the Navajo Nation, which is bigger in size than 10 of the states. It feels authentic, beloved, haunting. And because you are smack dab inside of Indian Country, things are different here: alcohol is prohibited (no beer gardens at canyon’s edge), a Navajo guide is required for most trips to the floor, and they have their own time zone, choosing daylight savings while the rest of Arizona stays on standard." Get the Story:
Timothy Egan: The Best Unknown Park in America (The New York Times 6/16)
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