AUGUST 11: Flagstaff to Amarillo

[Todd writing] The 605 mile drive to Amarillo would be the second longest driving day of the trip, and Julia was still sunburned from day one. Also, since Arizona does not participate in Daylight Savings Time (they have so much they don't need to save it), we would lose two hours en route. Still, we didn't want to miss Walnut Canyon, which is one of the less known gems of the National Park System. The site is on a U-shaped turn in a deep river canyon, which left what is now called an Island behind. As the softer layers of stone eroded out, and the firmer layers above remained, a sort of covered porch was created that allowed as many as 300 Native Americans to build shelters, and a village thrived for several hundred years. Sadly, the path to the "island" was crushed by a boulder last winter, and remains closed. Still, on a summer morning following a rain, it was a lovely place to start our morning, and allowed us another stamp in our National Park Service Passport.

Petrified Forest National Park has entrances at the west and east ends, so we figured that we wouldn't lose much time taking this scenic detour. It turns out the road within the park mostly runs north-south, so it was quite a long detour. We planned to do a sort of jump-out/jump-in sort of a visit, taking a quick snap of the iconic "Old Faithful" petrified log and then jumping back in the cars.
Just as we arrived at the visitor center, the once-a-day Ranger Program began, so what could we do? We were allowed off of the official paths and afforded a much better understanding of the site. We were allowed to pick up objects from the out of bounds areas, as long as we returned them to exactly the same spot. (2000 lbs of minerals are stolen from the park every day, and $1000's of fines are levied on thieves who are caught).
This program allowed Christopher to earn another Junior Ranger Badge. It was a great visit, and we agreed that it was well worth the time spent, even though our arrival into Amarillo would be pushed back well into the night, and Olympic viewing would be out of the question. The park road finally returned us to I-40, and we sprinted eastward toward New Mexico, which we honored with little more than a gas stop on a Navajo Reservation and an over the shoulder glance at a gorgeous desert sunset.

By the time we reached Texas, there was litte light to see my second-favorite welcome sign, which reads: "Drive Friendly, the Texas Way!" (My favorite, on a small county road entering Wyoming from Colorado reads: "Somehow, nothing seems to satisfy quite like Beef." The driver is left to infer that his welcome to the Great State of Wyoming is conditioned upon his consumption of large quantities of the same. But I digress.)

It was after 11 p.m. when we reached the Lights of Amarillo and the home of Megan, my sister-in-law's little sister, and one of our nephew Dexter's two Auntie Megans.

AUGUST 10: The Grand Canyon

[Todd writing] There was a reason to drive those 756 miles in one grueling day. We didn't want to have to do any distance driving on the day we visited the Grand Canyon. We started our day in Hog's Family Restaurant. On a street of national chain restaurants, our Travel Lodge was serendipitously attached to an authentic, American, local joint, with a pig-themed decor (the pig in the Harley-Davidson jacket tipped us off that owners are as interested in riding a Harley down Route 66 as as they are in cooking pork products) and photos of local servicemen and women who are serving in Iraq. One table is perpetually reserved for return veterans. Our table was right over a half-wall from the kitchen, so close that the dishwasher splashed water on our table over the wall. That's the kind of authentic American experience you don't get at Appleby's.
After a filling breakfast we drove scenic Hwy 180 up to Grand Canyon National Park. We walked the length of the Southern Rim from Mather Point to Grand Canyon Village, an awesome 2 1/2 mile stretch. A hiker from Canada had fallen to his death the previous day, but we made the
walk without incident.

The rim echoed with foreign voices, with French at times more common than English. It did us proud to know that people come from all over the world to admire our Canyon. Part way along the Rim Trail, we joined a Ranger-guided tour, which was the last of Christopher's requirements for the Junior Ranger Program-Coyote Level. He was sworn in by a Ranger with the unlikely name of Jennifer Onufer. (I assume it rhymes, though I didn't ask.)
The plan for the day was to see both the Grand Canyon and Walnut Canyon National Monument, which Julia had "discovered" during her first cross-country drive in the White Cheetah in 1996. But Walnut Canyon closes early, so we headed back to the Travel Lodge for another fortifying Hog's meal. Julia and Christopher then swam in the "Pool & Jacuzzi surrounded by lush, tropical grounds", while I got caught up on e-mail, and we all cheered as Jason Lezek took the 4 x 100m relay away from the Frenchman Bernard by 7/100ths of a second. We wish the French no ill will, and are very happy to share our Canyon with them at any time, but it's hard not to be jingoistic during the Olympics.

AUGUST 9: Oakland to Flagstaff

[Todd writing] When we decided to say goodbye to Russia and hello to America with an epic surface-transport-only trip from Moscow to Oakland, we expected to be landing in California long term. When no opportunities appeared in California, and we decided to sign up for the "Lake Hart STINT" furlough/re-entry program in Orlando, we realized that we would have to make a final drive across the country in the heat of August. I drove our mini-van, the "Silver Bullet", while Julia drove her 1991 Mazda Miata, the "White Cheetah," which had been brought out of storage after 10 years.

DAY 1 was to be the longest day, a 12-hour push over Altamont Pass, down the San Joaquin Valley, over Tehachapi Pass, across the Mohave Desert, over the Colorado River, and then up onto the Colorado Plateau of Northern Arizona. We rolled out of Oakland at 9:00 a.m., on a morning so foggy that the tree drip was like rain. But at the first gas stop at the turnoff from I-5 to Bakersfield, Julia put down the top on the Cheetah and announced that the air conditioning wasn't working on the Miata. It had been too cold in California to notice. She drove on through the 100+ degree heat with the top down, stopping in Barstow for Gatorade, to fend off heat stroke. Not long after we crossed into Arizona,

a massive lightning storm hit, and she had to pull over right on I-40 as the clouds opened. That added stress to a very nerve-wracking and exhausting day. Well after sunset, racing past the most scenic part of the day's drive, we finally reached Flagstaff and checked in to the Travel Lodge just in time to see Michael Phelps receive the first of his Gold Medals.