One place I had to visit on my trip to the Four Corners was Shiprock in northwest New Mexico. It had resided in my imagination for decades. I’d seen many images. It had been in several books—including the Joe Leaphorn/Jim Chee series by Tony Hillerman. (There’s an excellent adaptation on AMC right now called Dark Winds.)

The ancient volcanic plug is a holy site for the Navajo. I first saw it probably 50 miles away as a ghost on the horizon when I camped in Colorado at Hovenweep National Monument, and wrote about the view that day. When I eventually drove to it, there was a long route that would get me closer, but I chose a shorter, dirt roadway by GPS. I passed many reservation residences and hogans. Eventually, the route came to a wash that I was not willing to try to get across. So I settled for a more distant view.

I first heard of Shiprock through the stories of Murray Bodo, OFM. He was a high school English teacher in Cincinnati of my friend and college roommate. I had the pleasure to meet him several times. As the Navajo find sacredness in the presence of Shiprock, so I found it in his presence. Fr. Bodo follows the tradition of his order’s founder and is an extraordinary poet and writer.

From the Lukachukai Mountains you can see the land. The desert stretches below you on all four sides and to the north Shiprock stands at anchor in the still brown sea. When I was a boy, my father and his fishing buddies and I would speed past Shiprock almost every weekend on our way to the cool Colorado trout streams. I had never seen the ocean or a sailing vessel, so Shiprock became my frigate on the high seas and I would fire a volley past her bow from the back seat of our Chevy while my father and his friends talked of fishing.

When we returned to Gallup every Sunday night, I would wait excitedly for Shiprock to come into view once again. I would adjust my spyglass and scan the emptiness for her. And then she would suddenly emerge like a submarine surfacing on the horizon. I would prepare the men for the attack and caution them to wait until we were as close as possible before we commenced firing. It was great fun always, and Shiprock became my private pirate ship on countless voyages across dry, waveless seas of sand.

Murray Bobo, OFM, Walk in Beauty, 1974

Today, as I drive slowly, meditatively on Route 666, looking at Shiprock, I realize my whole life has been a movement away from and, paradoxically, toward this rock that rises out of the desert like the ship that it’s named for. It sails fixed in place and time, the water now turned to desert sand. It endures, anchored where I find it over and again on the interminable voyages I take to and from the mother ship. Our origins are like that. We leave them and travel in ever-widening circles away from them. They continue to hold us in their circumference like the hub of the wheel we spin circles around. We break the circle from time to time and turn, return, to the hub that is there unchanged though we have changed and continue to change.

Murray Bodo, OFM, The Road to Mt. Subasio, 2011

About the time that book was published, Fr. Bodo spoke nearby, and I got to see and hear him again, and simply be in the presence of a holy man. If of interest, you can find his works here: MurrayBodo.com

On the Navajo Nation along the Arizona-Utah border lies Monument Valley. Its iconic Southwest movie backgrounds have places names such as John Ford and Forest Gump points. Just north, is a smaller version of red sandstone monoliths and buttes named Valley of the Gods.

The area is now the southwest corner of Bears Ears National Monument. We arrived in the late afternoon with the mist silhouetting the buttes rising to Cedar Mesa in the west. The next morning we drove up a bizarre, twisting road called the Moki Dugway to get to the top of the Mesa. The next image is from that road looking back down into the Valley again backlit by the sun.

We camped below a feature named Sitting Hen Butte. It’s hard to appreciate the size of it in the first drone image below, but in the second you can compare the white boulders to the size of my car in our campsite.

In the next image, the drone is above Sitting Hen and looking toward its companion Rooster Butte. As a drone novice, I flew the drone behind Sitting Hen and lost the signal. Fortunately, the drone is smarter than I, and after a few minutes of worry, returned to the nest.

I’d chosen the site below the buttes in hopes of a foreground for a night sky image with the chickens on their roosts.

In the early morning, more clouds were forming as the sky began to brighten.

We got back on the seventeen mile road that winds through the valley to get some images in the early morning light.

Though Monument Valley has served as a backdrop of many movies, Valley of the Gods seems to have much fewer scenes. Apparently, a couple Doctor Who episodes were filmed here. In one of the most bizarre movies ever, John Malkovich starred as the world’s richest man in the 2020 movie Valley of the Gods in which he buys the place for mineral exploitation. You can watch it on Amazon Prime—or at least the first 5 minutes which has some nice images of the Waterfold Pocket and Cathedral of the Sun in Capitol Reef, the Moki Dugway, Valley of the Gods, Shiprock Butte (on which Malkovich’s character builds his estate), and the Goosenecks which is just on the other side of Cedar Mesa. The next picture is just where the actor stands, and I could tell how their drone flew to avoid showing the railing I stood behind to take this shot.

The meanders of the San Juan River provide a dramatic site at Goosenecks State Park, just a short way upstream is the Muley Point overlook of the San Juan in Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. Within a thirty mile drive are a remarkable collection of sites — Valley of the Gods and Cedar Mesa, Bears Ears National Monument, Moki Dugway, Muley Point, Glen Canyon, Goosenecks State Park and in the distant view—Monument Valley.

Shiprock, Navajo Nation

Valley of the Gods

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