Never been to Chaco
But my night in the canyon on the reservation was one I'll never forget. We pitched our tents between ancient adobe walls. The firelight danced on sandstone walls adorned with petroglyphs.
Wish I could describe that weird night. There is a feeling in those canyons that cannot be expressed, unless it is a chant, in a lost language, born there, under the stars framed by cross-bedded walls bathed in desert moonlight. A language designed to echo, to resonate in empty spaces.
Gawd, I need to go back to the desert. Do me good.