It’s been a long and very, very eventful past week. As I headed into New Mexico, I was joined by one of my dear old friends, David Goldman, He came in on a Tuesday. Our goal? Las Vegas on Sunday.

DJ Gold getting off the smallest plane I have ever seen. Notice the full barf bag. Can't blame him.

The first stop for us was the Carlsbad Caverns National Park. The place is really difficult to put into words. The following statement can summarize my experiences in the caverns: I was reminded of Batman everywhere. Bad jokes aside, the caverns are beyond incredible. One night, we waited until sundown to watch tens of thousands of bats spew from the entrance of one of the caves to start their hunt for insects, and the next day we hiked the 750+ feet underground into the bats’ home. It was a cool 56 degrees inside, and stretched for miles and miles.  My shitty camera’s photos simply cannot do the experience justice, but here is a taste of what it was like:

Imagine running around this for a few hours, except not being able to touch anything.

We also encountered this on the inside and found it hilarious:

Our next adventure took us to Roswell, New Mexico on Wednesday. Yes, that Roswell. No, no, NO!! Not the crap WB teen show. The place with all the alien lore from back in the day. With the guys in suits. Yeah, now you got it.

By sheer luck, we were passing through for the start of the annual International UFO Festival. David and I were curious enough, so we stayed for the first day of the festival. We passed through the International UFO Museum, much of which appeared to be made by a sixth grader the night before a project deadline.

Can you spot the typo within this paragraph? No? Well, take confidence in the Dave Grohl reference instead.

The entire town, which was primarily one main street (incidentally enough named Main Street), was dedicated to alien culture. Even McDonald’s and, for the audacious, Arby’s.

No one enjoys Roswell more than Ronald. No one. Go ahead- challenge him. You'll lose.

Some sort of alien abduction/ejaculation hybrid technique.

After all the hullabaloo, we got snow cones. They were out-of-this-world.

I will go castrate myself for that one.

Bearing Las Vegas in mind, we had to either head west or north. We chose north, driving through Santa Fe to end up in Taos, New Mexico on Thursday.

Since November 2009, I have been carrying a picture of the Rio Grande in my pocket. One of my biggest goals for this trip was to camp next to the majestic river. In Taos, I got my wish.

We set up our tent, cooked burgers and s’mores, and drank some classic Jack Daniels. We spent the nigh under a blanket of thousands of stars, nestled deep within the river valley between two giant mountain ranges, and conversed for hours. The night was far too short. My first time camping went well, with big thanks to David for quelling my nerves and being quite proficient with sticks and lighters.

Let's try one more once.

After camping, we realized we had only a few days to get to Vegas. We had to head west. So, we hopped on Route 66 and had our kicks. Yes, I said it.

This was a nice welcome for us.

We posted up the first night in Holbrook, Arizona. Pizza Hut was eaten. Plans were discussed. The plan unfolded. Saturday’s first stop: Petrified Forest National Park. This was really quite a treat. It is the best-preserved natural prehistoric site on the planet. And it just happens to be in our backyard. We hiked into a canyon under a blue sky and looked at all the petrified wood, which was much heavier now. Sadly, all that remains of these trees are in their petrified form: they are now extinct. The colors in the park were amazing. Here’s a sample:

Here's my best attempt at being the Captain. It did not go well, as immediately after this photo my hat was blown into the valley below by a mighty gust of wind.

Bacon? No. That's petrified wood, silly.

As we continued westward down I-40/Route 66, with our new goal being the Grand Canyon, we just so happened to pass by the largest, and also best preserved, meteor crater in the world.

It's huge. Oh, and there was the meteor crater.

We continued on and made the Grand Canyon by sundown. Check it:

Aww.

On Sunday, we woke up on a ranch next to some horses.

The white one was a jerk.

We ventured back to the canyon for a short hike into the depths of the canyon. Feeling sad about my wind-blown Jimi Hendrix hat, I donned something new.

On the way down, I rolled my ankle and busted my shit. Behold:

We pushed our way through to Las Vegas on the 4th of July and made it. I will share the details of that stay in the following post. But for now, here is proof that I am genuine: