Counselor, New Mexico

After our dusty trek through Chaco Canyon, we headed off the grid—literally—to our overnight destination: a traditional Navajo hogan. This wasn’t your average VRBO! Sitting on the land of the Christ of All Nations Mission, the hogan sat somewhere between the sovereign territories of the Apache and Navajo Nations—remote and peaceful.

A hogan isn’t just a place to crash—it’s sacred architecture. Rooted in Navajo culture, hogans were designed to embody balance with the natural world. There are two types: male (cone-shaped and rustic) and female (round or octagonal). Ours was clearly identified as a “she”—octagonal, earthy, and dignified. 

Once used for ceremonies and family life, hogans now coexist with modern homes. Ours had clearly embraced the 21st century. Inside, it felt like a cozy, round studio apartment—even equipped with a full kitchen, which was a lifesaver in what can only be described as a culinary ghost town. (Dinner? A frozen pizza scavenged from the lone convenience store and baked like pioneers—if pioneers had convection ovens!)

But the real show came at 2:00 AM. At nearly 8,000 feet elevation and miles from city lights, we stepped outside to a sky that stopped us in our tracks. The Milky Way blazed above us like a celestial river, and every constellation sparkled with brilliance. It was, without exaggeration, the most spectacular night sky we’ve ever seen. Our phone cameras, sadly, could not do it justice—but come September, with our fancy new phone/camera upgrades, we’ll hopefully be more ready. But this time, we have no pictures….but my mind will always remember this evening of star-gazing!

This stay was more than just a night’s rest. It was a little retreat wrapped in cultural reverence and just enough modern comfort to make us feel at home. A perfect blend of past and present, nestled under the most ancient roof of all—the stars.  Our most unique lodging since staying in the Mongolian yurts in the Gobi Desert!!

Driving the next day to Albuquerque…

As we traveled through the San Juan Basin, we saw numerous small oil rigs and stations supporting natural gas pipeline infrastructure scattered across the landscape. While reading more about what we were observing, I came across the term “Energy Sacrifice Zone.” This phrase refers to geographic areas that have been heavily industrialized for energy production, where the environmental and social costs of extracting oil, gas, and other resources are concentrated. These costs often fall disproportionately on local communities—particularly Indigenous and rural populations that are economically disadvantaged or politically marginalized.

Having already learned about the historical injustices inflicted on these communities by the Spanish and U.S. governments, discovering yet another layer of exploitation was profoundly disheartening.

We are experiencing the beauty of the southwest, while at the same time observing its painful truths.  Awed by the beauty but haunted by the history of how much was taken from them.  Lands seized. Families torn apart. Languages suppressed. Children forced into boarding schools. Sacred sites desecrated. Treaties broken. Cultures dismissed or erased.  But, these aren’t just sad stories from the past. The injustices still ripple through generations, and many communities still face neglect, poverty, and environmental harm—especially in areas like this, labeled “sacrifice zones”.  This trip has opened my eyes, not only to incredible landscapes but to a deeper story.