Some places on earth have to be experienced in person.  The Petrified Forest National Park in Arizona is a collection of natural anomalies and geological eccentricities jumbled together into one postalcode.  It is a big park, bisected by an internal road running North/South for 26 miles/ 54 km.  

The main show is the titular petrified trees, but the preamble is about 18 miles of erosion canyons crafted from colourfully stratified mineral layers, leaving a Dr. Seuse style fantasy landscape of colour and shapes.  Add to this vivid petroglyphs and archeological discoveries, and you have quite a warm up act.

But we are here to see something really unique and, luckily, the park is also home to the remnants of ancient Jasper groves that lived, died, fell and were transformed by time and mineral deposition into solid crystal recreations.  It is like geology’s 3D printer with rock and crystal.

All would have been perfect, but that wind from yesterday returned to torment us and slow our progress. Matt made the best use of the extra time by driving to Winslow, Arizona to find the very street corner that The Eagles immortalized in music history.  He returned as a happy camper.

We retreat to our retreat in the forested hills that guard Phoenix and environs from the high plateau.  We are just days away now from completing a long journey.  For the first time in a long time I am thinking of life beyond our daily cycling ritual.  I am missing home.  I am eager to see my friends on the West Coast and Utah teams.  I want to see our friend Steve Squires and see how his recovery is progressing.  I miss my wife and boys, and want to tell them all the funny or odd things that happened to me that I dare not put in print.  I want to get to the conference and hear some news – good or bad – about therapies that are showing promise. And I want to see the look of pride and accomplishment on the faces of my teammates as they ride the final miles of this long road.