The Grand Canyon is closed.
That’s right. 27 years waiting to see the big bowl in the ground and the government gone done shut it down.
But aside from that, there have been UFO sightings, Amarillo Texans inviting us into their homes, and expanses that this Pennsyl-Tucky girl has never laid eyes on. It looks just like in books. Just like on postcards. Gloss and all. I cried my way through half of New Mexico for all the beauty sitting at the tip of my nose. Fortunately, Scott was driving. He can cry through Ohio, if he wants.
Butter is faring well. Her supply of water and treats never seems to run low, and this North Carolina-born bullmastiff seems to take to the road as well as we do.
We played a bar in the hills of Tijeras last night, and will push on (sans Grand Canyon viewing) toward Phoenix from here. Maybe the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon will be open in a few weeks down the road.