I wake up in the winter wonderland of northern Arizona. The roads are clear for the most part, which initially took me by surprise, but then Holbrook is 4,000 ft higher up than Phoenix, so perhaps they’re a bit more acclimatised to it. I head out to the Petrified Forest National Park to hang out in the reception building while the National Park rangers decide whether the weather will prevent the park from opening.
I start the day in the south of New Mexico, with one simple mission: Tucson or Bust. (Side mission: stop spelling “Tucson” Tuscon). It’s early morning, it’s still winter, it’s scorchingly hot. I end the day with surprisingly bad sunburn on my left arm and scattered patches on my face making me look like the most unconvincing trucker in recent memory. It’s a straight run, though, nothing should delay me. Unless of course, there’s tantalising treats every couple of miles:
One thing I hadn’t realised about Colourado (I prefer the British spelling) is that, geographically, it’s two main things: one half is the Rocky Mountains, the other is flat-as-we’ve-already-used-my-flat-ass-as-a-comparison. And the dividing line is pretty stark. From what I can tell, the majority of the urban sprawl is in a north-south line which divides them.
Wyoming is a starkly beautiful place. At this time of year, it’s covered in snow, which is a vital source of water for the state which is, effectively, a desert. Being the least populous of all states, there are the odd jokes about there being more animal stock than people, etc. Fortunately Wyoming does much to fight this image: