We're in Wyoming!

It seems like we've been here a long time. This is a big state!

We left Loveland, Colorado yesterday morning early, and pulled into Pinedale, Wyoming, at about 4 pm. It was mostly a driving day, but we did manage to get off the freeway a few times to wander around.

Wyoming is just beautiful. It has a bit of everything: weird rock formations in the eastern part of the state (my pictures can't do it justice--the panorama is so huge!), and then, as you go west, the land rises and flattens out. They call this area the High Plains: it's flat for miles and miles, with nothing but cattle in sight. Lots of freeway exits lead right to dirt roads (Bar-X Road, Red Rock Road, Black Bluff Road) that go off beyond the horizon somewhere and you wonder what's over there for a road to go to. Then, as you get further west, the land starts to rise into mountains again, with pine trees mixed in with the same kind of striped-layer desert erosion we saw in Arizona and New Mexico. Very cool!

Now, just let me say a word about trucks in Wyoming. They go FAST! The speed limit here on the freeways is 75; 65 for trucks. The speed limit on smaller roads is generally 65; 55 for trucks. The trucks pay no attention to this whatsoever. I went the speed limit and nearly got smooshed several times by trucks riding my bumper, demanding to be let past. I didn't see a single cop the whole day. It's a free-for-all out there! I guess this is where the truckers make up for all the lost time in the cities.

Outside every large town, you see signs warning that, when the lights are flashing, the freeway is closed, and there are gates that come down just like for a train crossing. This is mainly for winter snow. Freeway closures, according to some people I talked to, happen a couple of times every year, and some years (like last year) more. One woman I spoke to said she went 30 miles down the freeway to work in the morning and then couldn't get home that night because the road had been closed. It was reopened the next day. I asked her if that happened a lot, and she casually said, "Yeah." She just takes a change of clothes with her when it looks like "bad snow."



We also passed, in the eastern part of the state, the "Smallest Town in the World": Buford, Wyoming. The sign says "Population: 2" but really, there's only one now: an old man who lives in the house next to the sign. (I guess someone died or left, but I didn't like to ask).



A few miles down the road (and in Wyoming, "a few miles" is a long way!) at a rest area east of Laramie is the Lincoln monument. This huge statue of Lincoln looks out over the freeway, and was erected to honor Lincoln's 150th birthday in 1959.



In Rawlins, we stopped for lunch and drove through the town and stumbled upon this beautiful Victorian, dated 1903. The house was built by George Ferris, a local businessman, and is now a B&B.

At Rock Springs, we left I-80 and headed north on a small two-lane road, coming to Pinedale after about 100 miles.

Tomorrow: the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone at last!

Amarillo to Loveland, CO

Where's Loveland, you ask? About 40 miles north of Denver. About 500 miles northwest of Amarillo. It was a long drive today.

We started early. Lulu and I dropped Barry off at the airport at 6 am, then went back to the hotel, ate breakfast, and hit the road. We traveled on some of the back roads out of Texas, then cut through the northeast corner of New Mexico and crossed into Colorado. As we climbed up into the mountains, we saw some beautiful scenery, and at one point, we stopped to gawk at a field full of deer. We couldn't get a picture, though: as soon as I got out of the car with the camera, they took off.

From the freeway, we saw The Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs; that was close enough for me. And I tried, but I couldn't figure out which of the mountains is hollowed out for NORAD.

Just south of Denver, we ran into a violent thunderstorm. It was raining so hard, you couldn't see the road, but you could see the lightning striking the ground all around and sending up spouts of mud. Everyone pulled off to the side of the freeway to wait for it to pass, even the truckers!

We had a great view of Invesco Field from the freeway, and Lulu said, "Daddy would like that!"

Finally, we found a hotel here in Loveland and called it a day.

Tomorrow, Wyoming. The distances out here make me appreciate the pioneers all over again. And those outlaws who rode hundred of miles on horses--where did they get the energy to rob trains?!

Amarillo, Day 2

This, Saturday, was the Jewish sabbath -- a day of rest and reflection.

So who are we to argue with this ancient tradition?

This was an utterly uneventful day. We followed Route 66 through Amarillo, and there was nothing left of the establishments that had existed, so far as we could tell. Nothing even to photograph.

And anyway, Lulu was on strike: "NO MORE PICTURES WITH ME IN THEM!"

We considered going out to Shamrock, where there is some cool architecture that inspired a key building in Cars -- the movie that led us to embark on this journey.

But it was hot and we had no ambition to drive two hours there and two hours back. So we hung out at the hotel, enjoying the indoor pool and adjoining hot tub, and watching bad TV (isn't that redundant?).

Tomorrow, Barry flies home to L.A. to go back to work. Lulu and Ann will head north, bound for Spokane by way of the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone. Lulu has her heart set on seeing a real, live wild bear. If that actually happens, you can be sure you'll see a picture of it, if Lulu can use her wiles to get the bear to pose nicely.

Aimin' for Amarillo

We said adios to Albuquerque this morning, rolling out of the New Mexico metropolis en route to Lulu’s cherished destination: Texas.

Lulu’s been clamoring to see the Lone Star State ever since seeing a Sponge Bob episode earlier this year in which Sandy Cheeks gets homesick for her home state and is mocked by both Sponge Bob and Patrick.

For more details on that episode, please contact Lulu directly.

We wheeled down Route 66 in Albuquerque, where the Mother Road is called Central Avenue, and soon found that the beloved route from mid-New Mexico all the way to Texas is pretty flat and, topographically speaking, mostly uninspiring.

But the towns and the sights along the way! Although for time reasons we skipped the Santa Fe Loop, we were not hurting for swell stuff to see.



Like the American tradition you can’t enjoy in California – Stuckey’s.

Yep, that roadside candy/sundries chain is alive and well in the south and southwest. Barry couldn’t resist buying a box of Stuckey’s $2.99 Peanut Brittle, as he waxed nostalgic over his dad’s best road trip one-liner, uttered more than 40 years ago:

“You be the Stuckee, I’ll be the Stuckor.”





The bustling little town of Tucumcari (pronounced too-come-CAR-ee) offered up a mixed bag of thrills and sadness: we found the Club Café had bitten the dust, a victim of soul-sucking Interstate 40; the vintage Buckaroo Motel was still chooglin’ along after all these years (we’d have killed to see the neon sign glowing after nightfall); our hats were off to the ageless La Cita café; and Lulu graciously offered to pose before the eternal Blue Swallow Motel, where we learned the beloved proprietress, former Harvey Girl Lillian Redman, was 11 years gone – but a new owner had restored the entire place to 1940s roadside elegance and is booked solid, with a long waiting list! (There is a God.)

Tucumcari also offered us the atmospheric, totally restored Tepee Curios shop. Just like stepping into postwar America, without having to think about Thomas Dewey.

Then, sadness: the ghost town of Glenrio, at the very edge of the state. The abandoned service station you see is typical of the ruins there. To see the remnants of peoples’ hopes and dreams, left like husks for the elements to pick at, is just heartbreaking.


Ann very much wanted to dine at the Midpoint Café, just over the Texas line and located precisely halfway between Route 66’s start in Chicago and its terminus at Santa Monica Pier. But the café was closed when we arrived, since the owners freely admit they open and close as they see fit. Ah bien!



As we approached Amarillo, we couldn’t resist stopping at the world-famous Cadillac Ranch. That’s where Amarillo native Stanley Marsh, a graduate of Penn and the Wharton School of Finance, in 1974 half-buried a series of big-finned Cadillacs as a monument to Route 66 and its promise of the open road. The Caddies have been tagged in all colors by admiring travelers, and it’s a bewilderingly beautiful sight.

We finally arrived at the Country Inn and Suites in Amarillo, finishing our ride on an original stretch of the Mother Road.

Lulu swaggered into the lobby, cowboy hat planted firmly atop those blonde curls, and announced to anyone within earshot, “Howdy, y’all!”

Absolutely true, and completely unexpected.

Tomorrow, we’ll explore Amarillo, and maybe even –gasp! -- just relax.

Albuquerque: Day Three

It was a quiet day. After two days of going full speed in the heat, we all needed a rest.

We started the day by returning to the Farm at the Botanical Gardens. Lulu just had to pet the pigs once more, and all the other animals, too. The pigs came trotting out right away, eager to investigate and get some affection. Lulu loved petting them, until they started fighting over her. (A harbinger of things to come?)

We made the rounds, and then Lulu said goodbye to all the animals. What a cool place! She'll certainly miss it.

Then we met Kat and the boys at the Museum of Natural History, where we checked out the dinosaur exhibit and went to a demonstration at the planetarium. Lulu liked the interplanetary tour, but then she'd had enough.

So we all went back to the hotel. We wanted to swim, but there were thunderstorms. So we just stayed in the room and talked. The kids watched Happy Feet and drew pictures. Kat and Ann made wild, unrealistic plans for next year's vacation, while Barry listened in horror.

In the evening, we went to dinner with Kat's mother-in-law, Colleen, and then went back to her house to meet her dogs, Skidmore and Chevy. Skidmore is a Great Dane. He's huge, and the gentlest dog I've ever met. Lulu adored him and followed him around petting him. He didn't mind that! Chevy is a Shepherd mix that Colleen rescued recently, and he's a bit shy, but after a while, the kids and dogs were playing and running around all over the house and the yard.

At the end of the evening, Ian didn't want us to go. He tried to block the door so we couldn't get out. Then he suggested that we leave Lulu with him and pick her up on our way back. We were all sad to say goodbye, but Ian was the saddest of all. We told him we'd see him soon, but he was inconsolable. He was still sobbing as we drove away. Poor kid.

Back at the hotel, we packed up. Tomorrow, the drive to Amarillo. Lulu says we all have to get cowboy hats so we'll fit in in Texas.

Albuquerque: Day Two

If you're looking for a great buffet breakfast -- the kind you'd have at home, if you'd bought Apple in 1984, thus enabling you to maintain a full-time kitchen staff devoted to your every whim -- it would in no way resemble the buffet at the Club House Suites in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Two words tell the story: powdered eggs.

You need no more details.

After breaking our overnight fast in less than heroic fashion, Ann and Lulu set off for the Albuquerque Zoo, accompanied by sister Kat and her two boys, Dietrich and Ian. Barry worked out for exactly 41 minutes on an elliptical machine located at a nearby fitness center that welcomes Club House guests.

The zoo was amazing: beautifully built, laid out in a way that makes it easy to find your way around. Lulu loved the big cats the best, as well as the meerkats, and Ann could have watched the polar bears all day. Not that they were doing anything except lounging in the water. But since it was in the high 90s, that pool sure looked good, even with bears in it!



After the train ride from the zoo to the Aquarium/Arboretum complex, we revisited the farm -- Lulu was desperate to pet the pig. The farm holds a special allure for Lulu; she's an animal lover of the first order, expressing a love for all earthly creatures -- usually out loud. "I love you, Mrs. Cow," she said as we were leaving. And at the zoo, there was one jaguar that didn't look well, and she told it, "Just remember, I take care of all sick or lost animals until they get well and find their families."

We also went to the Butterfly Pavilion at the Arboretum. Lulu loved it! All the butterflies fluttering around her, and so beautiful -- she couldn't get enough.

By the end of the day, we were melting from the heat, so we went swimming at the hotel, and took a dip in the hot tub.

At the pool, Ian was typically rambunctious; the more cerebral and serious Dietrich looked on with bemused detachment -- his most endearing quality.

After the pool/hot tub excursion, Kat and the boys bade us goodbye, and we went to dinner in Albuquerque's Old Town. As a jazz band played to a sizable sit-down crowd in the town square, we checked out a few of the restaurants. At last we settled on La Placita, situated in a restored 1706 structure that, over its many years, has been a private home, a fort and since the 1930s, a restaurant.

The food was terrific and sure seemed authentic. Meantime, Lulu was impressed by the mature tree situated smack in the middle of our dining room, which originally had been an open-air courtyard before being enclosed.

Tomorrow is our last day in Albuquerque before Friday's very, very long drive down Route 66 to Amarillo.

Gallup to Albuquerque

Lulu and Barry began the day with a workout in the exercise Room at the El Rancho. This was John Wayne's special suite when he visited. As you can see, Lulu wakes up slowly, and takes a while to warm up to the idea of exercising.

After breakfast in the El Rancho's cool restaurant, we got on the road. There are lots of original stretches of Route 66 left in New Mexico, thank goodness. We spent most of our time traveling through the Northwest New Mexico desert. The scenery is not to be believed: mesas and bluffs of striped reds and yellows towering overhead; huge boulders and slabs of rocks looking as if they'd been tossed around by giants and left in piles; tall wind-carved red rock towers...The scope of it is so huge, we knew it wouldn't show up on our little digital camera, so we didn't even try to take pictures. But there's a cool site you can check out which will give you an idea -- although you really have to see it in person to get the full impact: Northwest New Mexico Pictures.

At one place -- Cubero, maybe? -- road work forced us to detour through a small town. We came around a bend in the tiny narrow road to find a cow meandering casually down the middle of the road.

Lulu said, "You don't see that every day!"





We got into Albuquerque a bit after noon and met Ann's sister, Kat, and her two boys, Dietrich and Ian, and headed off to the Aquarium. The kids had a ball watching the sharks, and Lulu kept going back to the seahorses, anemones and clownfish. The restaurant in the Aquarium is right next to the shark tank, so the kids got to watch the sharks and sea turtles swim around while we all ate. There's also an outdoor area with a ship, and the kids enjoyed clowning for the camera out there, too.


Then came the biggest surprise of the day. We finished at the Aquarium and wandered over to the Botanical Gardens, expecting a few flowerbeds and boring signs. But instead, we found a kids' area with a giant stone dragon guarding a castle, a maze, a sand pit and lots of cool fake giant bugs and vegetables. This gave Lulu another opportunity to pose with a giant creature (see earlier shots of Lulu with a jack rabbit and a dinosaur). Then came a lily pond; a farm with animals to pet, a farmhouse, and a barn; a greenhouse with a Mediterranean and a Desert garden, then a rose garden, followed by a memorial garden with beautiful tile benches and fountains, an outdoor concert shell...the list goes on, and there was too much to see, so we're going back today. Lulu wants to pet the pigs again. Who wouldn't?

Williams, AZ to Gallup, NM

And so our intrepid family braves the harsh elements to resume the eastward trek, in search of knowledge, meaning, and America's best t-shirts and tchotchkes...

Day Four of the adventure began with a critical question: do we cheat on their diets and sample the Sugar Corn Pops available at the Grand Canyon Railway Hotel's all-you-can-stand breakfast buffet?

Common sense prevailed.

Meantime, the lovely, oblivious Lulu wolfed down her daily constitutional of Cookie Crisp cereal.

We checked out, piled into Ann's trunk the six tons of Travel Essentials and quite suddenly, we were New Mexico bound.

Slicing through stormy weather on a route that sadly relied heavily on Interstate 40 -- because huge sections of Route 66 in Arizona no longer exist -- our first major stop was the majestic Meteor Crater, six miles off the highway near Winslow. This
is one big hole. Almost as big a hole as a member of Barry's family.

Lulu was impressed with the giant, wind-sucking crater created by a meteor 50,000 years ago. Ann had visited once before, many years before her life was transformed by marriage, but it was Barry's first view of the pit.

No one had warned him how much the wind gusts would muss up his careful coif. It was touch-and-go for awhile.

From there it was on to the only great disappointment of the trip so far: Winslow, AZ. Despite advertised promises from the locals, there was no girl in a flat bed Ford, slowing down to take a look at us. In fact, there was pretty much nothing in Winslow. No charming establishments, no picturesque old town, no babe beckoning from a pickup, no nothing.

We've already called our lawyer, who is busy drafting a suit against Jackson Browne and Glenn Frey. In short, we didn't take it easy.




We cheered up in Jack Rabbit, where our quest to pose Lulu with the most ridiculous giant animal re-creations hit another high. As you can see, Jack Rabbit is home to one big jack rabbit. Best of all: as we pulled into town, what song was playing in the car:

Yeah, that's right: White Rabbit. You can't make this stuff up.

As disappointing as Winslow was, Holbrook was terrific. Picturesque downtown, highlighted by another wigwam-themed motel. Lulu kindly allowed us to pose her with both the classic Route 66 hotel office, and then with a junker truck that seemed right out of The Last Picture Show.







Across the Painted Desert we drove, swerving between the raindrops and gasping at the red/orange clay mesas on the Navajo Reservation.

And finally, the piece de resistance: the inexpressibly beautiful El Rancho Hotel/Motel, our destination in Gallup. Built in 1937 by the brother of D.W. Griffith, this western-themed palace is in the midst of restoration -- and is awesomely beautiful.

Across the El Rancho's facade is the slogan "The Charm of Yesterday, the Convenience of Tomorrow."

The lobby is all hand-carved wood, original flagstone floors, player piano, huge stone fireplace (where Lulu posed for us), Native American artifacts, movie memorabilia, cowboy crap -- everything from a bygone era. We loved it!

Every major star -- and quite a few minor ones -- from Hollywood's Golden Era has stayed at the El Rancho. Every room has the name above the door of the star that stayed there. The exercise room was once Duke Wayne's private room. The desk clerk showed us the Presidential Suite, Ronald Reagan's favorite during his acting career.

However... we are staying in a room once occupied by the immortal William Bennett.

William Bennett? The gambling-addicted, crackpot former Education Secretary?

We can't be sure if it's him (why? why? why?), or if there was some obscure actor with that name from 60 years ago.

It's a swell room. But William Bennett? If somebody would check that name on imdb, maybe there will be a happy ending to this part of the story.

And so it's on to Albuquerque.

Until then...

The Grand Canyon

Well pardner, we began the day with a gunfight.

Yep, a real old-fashioned gunfight at the Grand Canyon Railway Corral. Before the train ride to the Grand Canyon, the company treats you to a show. Four cowboys, three horses, and a marshal shoot it out. It’s actually a fun show. The performers do cowboy schtick, snag victims…uh…volunteers from the audience and, when the marshal shows up, try to blame all their bad deeds on them. It was really funny.



Then we got on the train. It’s two and a half hours to the Grand Canyon, and it was fun. There was a continental breakfast, a singing Navajo musician who told jokes and sang some beautiful songs in four languages -- English, Navajo, German and French -- and a conductor who told jokes and offered all sorts of stories and trivia. There are, for example, telegraph poles running along the rails. But they’re short -- which made Barry so happy -- so that if there was a break in the line, it could be repaired by a cowboy standing on his horse.



The Grand Canyon itself is indescribable. You see pictures of it (and in fact, you’ll see our pictures), but they can’t begin to capture the scope of it. It’s…well, it’s big. When she first saw it, Lulu said simply, “This is incredible!” and that pretty much sums it up.



Among the first things we saw there was The Most Dangerous Animal in the Park: a rock squirrel. We were warned on the train: they’re cute, so lots of people feed them, but they can’t tell where the food ends and your fingers begin, so there are lots of squirrel bites. The clinic there treats at least eight bites a day. It’s illegal to feed them, but of course they have those big eyes…







The other thing they told us on the train was Rule Number 1: DON”T FALL IN THE CANYON!! This sounds pretty simple, so you wouldn’t think you’d need to be told that. But people can be incredibly stupid. We saw lots of people climbing out onto the very edges of rocks and cliffs -— with their kids! -- to get that perfect shot. Like it’s not still a mile deep if you’re standing two feet from the edge!

The two buildings you see are the world-famous El Tovar Hotel, a sublime example of Craftsman architecture. It opened in 1905 after two years of construction, and has hosted presidents, movie stars and other Really Important People who came to gawk at the Grand Canyon. This five-star facility has to be seen in person to be appreciated. The Indian-inspired structure you see is next door to the El Tovar; it's Hopi House, designed by some chick with four names and inspired by Hopi Indian desert structures. It, too, is an amazing building and was constructed in conjunction with the El Tovar. These two buildings are among the first things you see when you get off the train.




We took a bus tour of the South Rim while we were there, and the guide gave us tons of historical and scientific info about the Canyon. At one point, he showed us fish fossils in the rocks, left over from six million years ago, when the canyon was formed by ocean waves washing in and out. This fossil was at 7,000 feet, which means the ocean actually covered this entire area; the North Rim of the Canyon is 9,000 feet in altitude. Amazing!

We got back to the train, very tired. Besides the altitude, it’s just hard work being awed all day! We expected the train ride back to be boring, but it was even more fun than the ride up. A fiddler named Barry ("Don't call me Barely") got everyone moving, and then Evan, our conductor, passed around champagne, which livened the mood even more. And passengers began chatting and sharing more, too. Have you noticed how people are reluctant to talk to each other at the beginning of a trip? They’re worried about being stuck with a bore the whole time. But when the trip is almost over, they open up, because they know they won’t be stuck very long. Same thing on the train. Turns out the people across from us were two pairs of mothers and daughters on a month-long trip around the country to celebrate the two mothers’ 80th birthdays. What a cool group they were. And while we were talking to them, Ann mentioned she taught at Harbor College. A girl in the back of the car piped up to say she attends the Teacher Prep Academy at Harbor, and her father said he’d coached basketball there years before. Small world! Anyway, it was a party all the way home.

We got back tired but happy, ate dinner, and fell into bed. We have to leave here tomorrow, and we’ll be sorry to go — there’s so much more we didn’t see. It's reassuring we have another 40 years to see the place again, until Global Warming retakes the Grand Canyon.

Until next time…

Needles to Williams

Nothing says Needles, California like a hearty breakfast at the Wagon Wheel, a local western-themed greasy spoon across the street from the palatial Best Western Colorado River Inn. The Wagon Wheel is especially popular with the parents of famous Hollywood celebrities. The proof is on the wall -- an autographed headshot of George Clooney, happily sent by his adoring mother in thanks to an especially attentive waitress who made the senior Clooneys happy one dinner shift when they stopped in during a cross-country trip to visit their lovin' son in La La Land.

We sped out of Needles on the Mother Road, bound for adventure in Old Arizona. After Ann's cursing fit during an especially annoying gas-up at an Arco on the Arizona side of the border, we wound our way into classic Route 66 territory. Working our way into a curvy mountain section of America's Highway, we marveled at an especially beautiful crag jutting into the sky, and asked Lulu to pose with the sexy tor. The resulting shot doesn't do justice to the majesty of this natural wonder -- the mountain, that is -- although the other natural wonder in the shot looks pretty good. But we're prejudiced.

A local had warned us to be careful driving through the mountains, and boy was he right. There are plenty of makeshift memorials along the roadway, honoring the foolish travelers who didn't heed the posted speed limits.

At times, the magnificent vistas -- green and tan valleys surrounded by amazing, seemingly carved mountains reminiscent of Monument Valley -- were the most impressive natural sights we'd seen since our honeymoon in the Scottish Highlands, ten years ago this week.



We soon rolled into the quaint former mining town of Oatman, greeted by the wild burros who literally poke their noses into open car windows as you approach the town, as they try to freeload any food from tourist suckers.




We laughed manically as these plucky asses stepped up to our stopped car and let us pet their snouts while expecting food in return.

Later, we bought a $1 bag of carrots in the town and fed them properly. They were incredibly sweet, so of course Lulu wanted to bring some home for the imaginary orphanage she's running out of our house.

Oatman is a town to be admired. The local mines closed in 1942, and the city has managed to stay alive on tourism. The shops are tacky yet charming and everyone is friendly and unpretentious.

The burros, one local explained, are overseen by the Bureau of Land Management, and the town is allowed to have 14 burros; however, three newborns are now among the herd, and we wondered what happens when the donkey population exceeds the strict limits imposed by the bureaucrats.

We shudder to think about what might happen to the poor surplus asses caught in the cross-hairs of government regulation (although there seems to be plenty of room for surplus asses in Washington, D.C, so maybe...).

The trip resumed after about an hour, and we snaked our way through Kingman and Peach Springs, to the Grand Canyon Caverns. But we decided to skip the trip underground; we only stopped there so Lulu could pose with the big green dinosaur outside the coffee shop.



We think he was winking at our daughter. The dirty dog.

On to the nice little town of Seligman, which Ann says once made the cover of Life magazine about 1,000 years ago. This town must've made a real impression on the filmmakers of "Cars," because Lulu spotted a tow truck that clearly inspired the character of Mader, and we grabbed a shot of it. Sadly, the Copper Cart cafe, which we'd chosen for lunch, was closed. Out of business? Temporarily out of service? It was a sad mystery, and we wound up at another local joint where the food was great and reasonable.





And finally we arrived at our destination: the town of Williams. We'd traveled about 200 miles all told today, and were stunned at Williams' coolness factor. This classic western town seems to be thriving, despite the overall sad demise of "decertified" Route 66, which bisects Williams.

We think this latter-day success is mostly because of the very reason we're in Williams -- to take a train trip tomorrow into the Grand Canyon.

The town is alive with bars, restaurants, night life, live bands, curio shops, nostalgic photographic studios and much more.

The photo shop we passed had a window display of shots of the town 100 years ago, and we found ourselves gawking at a picture of the very spot we were standing in, taken in 1907.

Can't wait for tomorrow's day-long trek into the giant Maw of America. No, not an outlet mall! I'm talking about the Grand Canyon!

Until then...