I took this picture a few evenings ago. This mountain looks different every day. Whether you think the mountain is “sacred” or not, or whether you have your own version of what “sacred” is, everyone in and around Flagstaff has a relationship with this mountain, whether they awknowledge it or not. Every single person cannot help but look at this moutain at some point through out their day. It rains up there when it is sunny in town. When the Aspens change, the mountain is checkered bright yellow. There is usually snow somewhere up there. It is the highest point on the Colorado Plateau and the entire state of Arizona. It is a mountain that not only demands your attention, but your respect as well.

Dook’o'oosłííd is the Diné (Navajo) word for the San Fransisco Peaks. It is just one name, one intimate relationship with that mountain that is specific to a separate culture, a separate cosmology wrapped around this majestic mountain range.

The Hopi’s call it “Nuva’tuk-iya-ovi.” The Kachinas live there.
The Apache’s call it “Dził Tso—Dilzhe’e.”
The Havasupai call it “Hvehasahpatch” or “Huassapatch”
The Hualapai, “Wik’hanbaja—Hwal`bay.” The Yavapai, “Wimonagaw’a.” And there are many many more tribes that have built their identity on this mountain. (Wikipedia, as lame as it can be sometimes, actually has a pretty good list).

Skiers call it “Snowbowl.” The Forest Service and the City of Flagstaff call it “Ching Ching!”