E'RE the first to admit there is one destination about which we are almost obsessive. When my brother Jim recently commented, "I'd be happy to visit there once a month", he wasn't kidding.

We do get there at least once a year, sometimes twice . . . so much so that staff at the property we especially enjoy staying at recognise us the minute we enter its lobby.

There's actually no need to describe the impressive landscape in great detail. Director John Ford did an Academy Award-winning job of doing that with the help of John Wayne and Henry Fonda in such films as and .

The drama of Monument Valley, with its sheer red spires reaching up into the sky like eroded fingers, is deservedly one of the world's most photographed locations.

What is there about deserts, especially those with scenery as spellbinding as the Navajo Reservation's Four Corners Country, that so entrances certain travellers?

Public Television recently examined that question with a series , leading viewers to remote desert sites from ancient Mesopotamia to Sinai's St. Catherine's Monastery.

Its conclusion was, "Desert landscapes are places to refresh one's soul", or as we say, to recharge one's battery, to escape if only briefly from and often chaotic world and stop to re-evaluate what really matters and put life in perspective.

We'd like to offer some unsolicited advice to Hilton Hotel executives who should have benefited from an encounter with both a different culture and changed perspective. What they learned should have helped their bottom line more than some of the high-priced marketing research projects which often seem to be conducted by "experts" who know little about their subject.

the years we've stayed just about everywhere in Navajo land, that remarkable slice of geography sprawling across over 27,000 square miles. From Cameron Trading Post to Gouldings Lodge, once favoured by film stars before it became grossly overdeveloped . . . and just about everything in between this sparsely populated landscape with a limited number of accommodations ? Canyon de Chelly's Thunderbird Lodge, Window Rock's tribally-owned lodge, and on and on.

But more recently, the most unusual Hampton Inn in that Hilton family chain has been our home away from home for one-week stays at Kayenta, Arizona in the heart of the "Res".

Jim keeps insisting I should call it the Navajo Nation, which, of course, it is. But locals call it "The Res", as does Tony Hillerman in his popular mystery novels now on PBS as films.

Whatever travellers call this other-world location, they haven't come all this way to discover uniform sameness of the usual chain. In fact, we were stunned when we first pulled into this very small town we've visited since childhood and discovered a Hampton Inn had arrived on the scene. A most unlikely location.

The imaginative owner of this franchise location has expended considerable effort to make his Hampton Inn different than any other. Staff are dressed in the long velvet skirts and velveteen tops remembered from our youthful travels there, embellished with a collection of classic turquoise jewellery for which the area is noted.

The lobby great room's decor is exceptional . . . its dramatic ceiling has set-in varnished lodge poles, a two-sided fireplace decorated with traditional Navajo crafts . . . furniture, lamps, hand-painted parchment shades, antique chests, wagon wheels, an outdoor fireplace . . . everything about the setting is the very thing that has lured us back so often.

There is a unique sense of peace enhanced by relaxed rhythms of soft tribal chants over a subdued sound system. And the gift shop is an exceptional model of imaginative display and quality merchandise.

Sounds just about perfect for its location, a reminder of the Navajo culture as it existed before the 21st century began intruding. You get a sense of place the moment your foot crosses the threshold.

Outside, north of the Inn are various log and soil hogan dwellings constructed to remind visitors of the way life here used to be (and in some areas of the reservation still is). Displays are well defined and described, remnants of a unique culture easing into another century.

And because the owner's father was one of the famous Navajo Code Talkers of World War Two, the Burger King he owns nearby is also a museum devoted to mementoes of that heroic chapter of the tribe's history.

Any time we've been there, French, German, British and Italian travel enthusiasts have almost outnumbered Americans. Indian culture fascinates them and this property fulfils all their fantasies of what it should be like.

Sounds great doesn't it . . . but not to Hampton Inn, the child . . . or is it "stepchild" of Hilton Hotels? On our last trip in late November 2005, word had come down from on high that individuality must go. It was time for conformity. All Hampton Inns were to be the same. If that isn't a recipe for monotonous boredom, what is?

blue and red and white geometrically patterned bedspreads inspired by a vintage tribal chieftain's blanket displayed in the hallway, would be first on the list to go. Taking their place would be Hampton's new all-white sleeping on "cloud nine bed experience". There would be "a down-like comforter, crisp white duvet".

High on Jim's discomfort level are duvets. Too hot when on, too cold when off. He immediately asks for a "French bed", preferably one triple-sheeted like home.

Help! Every hotel chain and cruise line in the world has been jumping on the new mattress, sheet and pillow bandwagon. It's now so common it's become pass?.

Have you ever had the pleasure of staying at the Nile Hilton or Istanbul Hilton, two marvellous properties with a true sense of place? Both are designed and decorated to reflect the mood of each country. And they're very special. When you wake up in the morning in either of them, you know exactly where you are.

There are so many bland chain hotels world-wide that have no sense of place or personality reflecting their location. You wake up, rub your eyes and could be anywhere from the Bronx to a space station or hospital intensive care unit. Some minimalist properties seem to have been designed by moonlighting prison cell designers.

It's a wonder that the Nile Hilton has managed to maintain its marvellous sense of place on all my stays there, utilising the best of traditional local craftsmen. Why is this situation different?

Stevie Wonder used to say he chose Holiday Inn as a place to stay since its uniformity of design and decoration made him feel comfortable in his sightless world. And that's very understandable.

But how can one understand the short-sighted stupidity of Hilton's Hampton chain to try to destroy the individuality that makes Kayenta's Arizona property a place travellers gravitate to like a magnet?

, there are no Utopias. It would be nice to have a microwave in the room there, since we're even more health conscious since Jim's quadruple open-heart surgery. But they have a very atmospheric restaurant and apparently consider that competition.

Television availability leaves a lot to be desired, with lack of any good movie channel (like AMC or TMC) but you can't have everything.

We find staff very personable, even the breakfast buffet employee who announced, "We accept tips", as her greeting the first time we met.

We've never met the Navajo owner, or his partner, daughter of a locally noted Indian trader. We arrive anonymously, pay the going rate, usually stay at least one week and driving off exploring in all directions.

We have talked to the bellagonna (which translates as non-Navajo) manager who says they're still working towards a waiver to avoid changes.

"If they want you to change the very reason we come here, why don't you go totally independent and drop them?" we asked him.

But isn't this something we've all witnessed first-hand so often? Someone who doesn't understand what the public really wants . . . or care . . . comes in and destroys an area so attractive in the name of "progress". Okay, so this may sound like a rant, but there are times the hotel and resort industry does go "beyond the pale" grasping defeat from the jaws of victory.

Just over a year ago we arrived in Phoenix from Navajo country and stumbled into a grand opening of a Hampton Inn newly turned into a suite property with a surgically sterile lobby. A genuine "dragon lady" type had flown in from Hampton's home office to supervise the project and gave the impression she'd taken lessons in how to crack the whip from a senior Gestapo officer.

From all directions, it sounds like she's the one who arrived to dismantle Kayenta-Hampton and make it toe the line of conformity. If they persist in changing the lobby and gift shop setting which is already perfect, we will be history, discovering somewhere else to stay . . . even if it has to be a rented recreational vehicle driven to the rim of Monument Valley Tribal Park where the tribe maintains a campground.

There are guests all over the world who treasure Bermuda properties in exactly the same way and when their favourite changes beyond recognition are tempted to go elsewhere. Even now, Hilton is probably tearing up our Gold Member's card and deleting our name from its preferred guest list!

l Some sights you won't want to miss in Navajoland