Stopping by the outlets on Black Friday (the day we left) for some crazy sales. Showing off two pairs that should put some more Puma pep in my step.

Making a stop at Alice Cooperstown, a restaurant in Phoenix, to eat a Big Unit: a 24-inch all beef sausage. Twenty minutes later, it was all gone. Two hours later, I was in trouble.

On our way to Flagstaff, where life imitates cactus.

The weather in Flagstaff was not as warm as we expected.

Part of historic Route 66 went through Flagstaff.

I followed a duck for awhile.

The next morning outside our hotel.

Back on the road, at yet another roadside souvenir shop. I look good.

Finally reaching the Grand Canyon.

The standard Grand Canyon shot. Photos really don't do it justice.

Our hotel, the El Tovar, the premier hotel at the Grand Canyon. Premier facilities, lousy hospitality.

Wait, where is the Grand Canyon? Over there.

Inside our hotel lounge in the evening, drinking our bottle of wine.

Another view of the canyon.

The morning of our hike, a helicopter flew in to the canyon to retrieve a car that had been driven off the edge a few months back.

The guy died (duh) but his car remained in the canyon, so now it was time to get the car out.

There were only 15 of these helicopters in the world, which is why it took so long for this day to happen.

Off he goes with the burned and deformed car.

Starting on our 6-mile hike down the canyon.

Ricky guarding the passageway in the rocks.

I think this pose is called Sea of Tranquility. Or is it Downward Dog? Or maybe it's Feathered Peacock.

Ricky on the rocks.

The temperature at the bottom of our hike.

Amir on the rocks.

More Grand Canyon. Still big and dry.

Ricky doing a good job hauling herself at the very end of our hike.

A deer walking on the canyon rim at sunset.

Moon over Grand Canyon.