Larry Joe & Crazy Mike

They’re not the wild horses of Monument Valley, but they sure are beautiful ones. I could’ve watched them for days.

I've been holding onto this one for a while. It's one of my favorite shots from my last Arizona adventure. I snapped it just a second before both of those horses moved in opposite directions.

It was October, and my father and I were touring Monument Valley with a Navajo man named Larry Joe. He was the uncle of Sabrina, a lovely woman who booked the tour for me just a day before we arrived in Navajo Nation. A surprise snowstorm almost held us captive at the Grand Canyon, but we made it out just in time for Navajo Guided Tours to give us the experience of a lifetime. I really can't recommend them or this place enough. Our one-and-a-half-hour excursion was extended to over three hours, free of charge, and our time flew by as we took in the spectacular scenery and learned about the land, its legends, and its inhabitants.

At our first stopping point, Larry Joe parked his pick-up alongside the unpaved scenic loop that circles the Navajo Tribal Park. Unmanned, handmade souvenir stands lined the area we stood in, and a big, American flag featuring the face of the fearless leader, Geronimo, flew proudly in the breeze. It seemed almost intuitive that my dad and Larry Joe would walk towards the flag and talk history, and that I'd bounce out of that truck and hop from rock to rock, framing shots, wandering around alone, taking in the sights of the wondrous place I just can't seem to stay away from.

I overheard my dad ask Larry Joe, a grown man who's lived his whole life in the Valley, if the views still amaze him. Without hesitation, Larry Joe replied, "Every single day. I appreciate this land every single day." It was refreshing and inspiring to hear.

When we piled back into the truck, Larry Joe went on to tell us more about the Navajo Nation, how the Native American Nations are governed, how they live, how they operate under Indian laws and they have their own President, and how most prefer the term "nation" to "tribe." For the life of me, I can't remember whether each nation has its own President, or if there's one President for all 50 nations, and I can't believe how challenging this information is to find on the internet. I will investigate this further, but back to Larry Joe…

He shared more of what life in the Valley was like; without electricity, without running water, living on an alcohol-free Indian Reservation. My dad asked if some of the elders weren't happy about The View hotel being built at the top of the Valley. He admitted that some weren't happy at all and did all that they could to prevent it from happening.

We learned about male and female hogans and the sacred ceremonies that take place in them. Larry Joe explained the meaning behind every color, every symbol, every number of symbols on the Navajo flag. Everything has meaning and significance. He shared some of the ancient teachings that have been passed down verbally through the generations, and how their language is still taught to their children in schools today.

My father being the U.S. history buff and Native American-enthusiast that he is, was in his glory on this tour. As was I. Before this particular day, I'd taken two tours through the Valley with incredible Navajo guides, but each time I visit, I learn more and more, and I just can't get enough. The cultural experience is completely unparalleled, much like the 360-degree views of the rich, red sandstone that sweeps this part of the Colorado Plateau.

Around three hours into our one-and-a-half-hour tour, our magnificent guide took us through a part of the Valley I'd never seen before. I couldn't help but marvel over how this man knew his way around the desolate, desert wilderness better than I know the way from my bedroom to my bathroom.

We pulled into a clearing where another touring truck was pulling out. We walked around, admiring every angle of the views. Three horseback riders rounded the corner of the butte behind us and approached. One of the riders was a man who seemed to know Larry Joe. They spoke in their native language while my father and I admired the beautiful horses that were trying their best to stand in place. They moved around quite a bit without going anywhere. They were fidgety, like eighth-grade me in math class.

One of the riders, a slender, slightly cranky-looking man, seemed uneasy and uncomfortable on his horse. Perhaps even a bit agitated. While the woman on the horse next to him giggled, glanced at him occasionally, navigating her horse effortlessly. She seemed right at home on the horse. An avid rider; horseback riding was her thing. But her boyfriend was another story.

We learned that he was a first-timer who pretty much just woke up and decided he'd take the tour to be a good sport. "You see, I had initially planned the tour just for me, but then he decided to come along…didn't feel like exploring on his own or something…" she gestured in his direction. He mumbled and grunted in response. "I told you it was a five-hour ride, but you insisted on coming along," she yelled back at him playfully, but also slightly annoyed. "He just wanted to do what I was doing, which is sweet, I suppose, but…just look at him…" her boyfriend fussed on the horse the way a cat in a waterfall would. Even though he was annoyed, he was still able to banter with his girlfriend. "It's just a long time to be on a horse…five hours??" he said to me. "Oh, I hear you. I wouldn't want to be on a horse for that long for the first time ever."

My dad was so taken with the horses, I'm not sure he heard our conversation. Horses are his favorite animal, but if you asked him what his favorite animal was, he'd probably say, "Favorite animal? I don't know if I have a favorite animal… favorite animal for what? To eat? To look at? To take care of?" If you asked him what his favorite food was, he'd tell you it would depend on what he was in the mood for that day. He has a favorite baseball team; the Yankees, an all-time favorite baseball player; Thurman Munson, a favorite car; a red 1967 Pontiac Tempest, but other than those, he doesn't easily define "favorites." I, on the other hand, have a favorite everything. Favorite state: Arizona. Favorite animal: cat. Favorite drink: ice water with exactly three wedges of lemon squeezed in, so it's essentially lemon juice on the rocks. Favorite brand of water: Poland Spring or SmartWater. Favorite historical figures: Teddy Roosevelt & Nikola Tesla. Favorite car: Mercedes-Benz G-Class Off-Road SUV in matte black. I could go on and on for days. But anyway, I know, even if he doesn't, that horses are his favorite animal, and dogs are probably his least favorite.

"How you guys doing?" the man who'd been speaking to our guide rode a few horse steps over to us. "Well, Brian's…you know…" he laughed as Brian's horse trotted around in a circle while Brian pulled the reins up and back in the opposite direction like a blind puppeteer.

Larry Joe introduced the other guide as Crazy Mike. I was tempted, but afraid to ask why he was Crazy Mike. He was dressed in khaki green cargo pants and a matching safari-like, button-down shirt that complimented his chestnut-brown skin. Black curls wrapped around the bottom of his beige, fisherman's hat and flecks of gold shimmered in his mouth as the light hit his teeth just right. I detected just a hint of crazy in him. Nothing major, at first. He asked where we were from, if we'd ever been in the Valley before, if we'd ever ridden horses before, and if we wanted to. He asked how old I was with a wicked smile on his face. "Much older than I look," I recited my standard reply.

And then came the really big question no one was expecting to hear. Crazy Mike asked my dad, "How's about we make a trade?" My dad replied, "Ok, what are we trading?" "Your daughter, in exchange for this here horse," he said, patting his horse on the backside. My eyes bugged out of my head as I looked away awkwardly. "Crazy Mike, you've got yourself a deal!" Everyone laughed, but Crazy Mike hopped down off the horse pronto, ready to make good on his deal. He handed over the reins, "Here you go, she's all yours." We laughed it off, and lucky for us, Larry Joe was quick and knew just what to do, "Ok, everybody back in the truck!" he announced, patting the back of his truck a few times, "See ya 'round, Crazy Mike." "Nice meeting you guys!" we said to the couple and their looney instructor who stared with a smile until I was out of sight. "Come on, let's get out of here before Crazy Mike says something stupid again," said cool, calm, collected, and gentlemanly Larry Joe, as we hopped back in his truck. "He's harmless, but they don't call him Crazy for nothin'."

We drove through water that puddled in pits of the rutted, red-sand floor. Apparently, it was monsoon season in Arizona, but we didn't know until Larry Joe told us so. "The state gets about 11 inches of rain per year, and eight or nine of those inches fall this time of year." He took us to a few other spectacular spots I'd never seen before. My dad and I were both in awe. The red desert expanse seemed to stretch on forever. Massive mesas and big, tall buttes carved by centuries of wind and rain. I love that the landscape you might see today could change years or even months or weeks down the road.

Our extra-special, extended tour ended where all tours end: John Ford's Point. Named for the man who directed dozens of Western films, and many, right there in the Valley, this picture-perfect panorama is one of the most breathtaking viewpoints you'll ever see.

At John Ford's Point, you'll also find a collection of stands selling all kinds of keepsakes handmade by local Navajo families. From dreamcatchers and Kachina dolls to tomahawks and turquoise trinkets and jewels, don't leave this place without a special souvenir to remember your trip. While you're there, you can also try an authentic Navajo delicacy: fry bread. Not fried bread, though I do believe it is fried; fry bread. Have it savory as a Navajo taco shell or on the sweet side, with a little honey butter, cinnamon, and powdered sugar. I can't recommend this place or this tour company enough. Navajo Guided Tours of Monument Valley. Ask for Larry Joe.