Chicanonautica: Beyond the Fourth of July in Aztlán

by Ernest Hogan

My wife, Emily Devenport, had to work on July 4th, which scientists are saying was the hottest day on this planet since people started keeping records. I was alone that night, expecting political shenanigans to break out under the full, Buck supermoon since the Supreme Court and Moms for Liberty started running amok. That didn’t happen, just some forgettable rants by some of the usual suspects and a few shootings, mass and otherwise. (Yargh! Did I just write that? What’s the world coming to?)

What we did have were actual fireworks making my neighborhood seem like a war zone. Illegal rockets  exploded overhead, rattling roofs, sidewalks, and skeletons. They were more powerful than what we’ve had in the past. Wonder what would happen if one of them bullseye’d someone’s living room? It was just dumb luck that my picture of the spectacular moon didn’t include showers of multicolored sparks.

Anyway, Emily had Thursday off, so we did a road trip.

It was hot, so we decided on Walnut Canyon, hoping it would be cooler. Didn’t matter where we went, the point was to get away, see what the hell’s going on in Arizona, Aztlán, America . . . Gas prices were plummeting, which is mondo weird for the summer tourist season. The homeless, or rather, unhoused were zombie-staggering or ranting at invisible listeners. Did I mention that it was hot?

We did a spontaneous stop at Montezuma Castle, where Montezuma never set foot. It was mostly blocked off since the recent flooding. Trees had been vandalized. Rattlesnakes and sacred datura were lurking about. There also was a delicious spicy, deserty smell.

Back on the road, I got inspired for the story I was working on. Scribbled sloppy notes in the car. Yo-ho, yo-ho, the writer’s life for me . . .

And despite the heat–we did have water bottles–we did the Walnut Canyon Island Trail with all those stairs, down into the cliff dwellings. It never gets old. We see new things every time we’re there. And the whole place is going through constant transformation.

This time, I did some checking, reading signs, and watching the film in the visitor’s center, fact-checking my theory about the Sinagua going to Mexico and becoming the Mexica. Turns out the eruption of Sunset Crater in 1085 CE marked the beginning of the cliff dwelling culture, not its end. The Sinagua left there around 1250 CE, leaving the dwellings to become the Hopi,Yavapai, and six other affiliated tribes. Their reasons were drought, the dwindling population of game animals–you know, climate change–and fear of surrounding tribes. The Mexica, AKA the Aztecs, arrived in the valley of Mexico, after a talking statue told them to go on a quest for a vision of an eagle fighting a snake on an island, probably encountering the Apache, Comanche, Yaqui, Huichol, and Chichimec along the way, (uh-oh, there’s an idea for a novel, just what I need . . .)  around 1250 CE.

Hmm. Could Walnut Canyon be Aztlán?

Has anyone thought of doing DNA testing?

We took Route 66 to Flagstaff where we had lunch at the Galaxy Diner. There we saw the only sign of politics on this road trip. Really, there were no demonstrations, bumper stickers, signs, flags, or any other indications that we are hurtling toward an apocalyptic election year, just an old white man with a white ponytail, and a white beard. He wore a TRUMP 2024 cap.

Meanwhile, the Washington Post reports that: “In Phoenix, every day for the foreseeable future should reach at least 110 degrees.”

Ernest Hogan writes sci-fi while being Chicano when he's not playing crackpot archaeo/anthropologist.