Day 10: Grand Canyon to LA

"A new day, a new bloggity blog," as they say in the Old Country. Indeed, today was a new day, and this is a new bloggity blog. Old Country wisdom never fails.

But after nine days of The Ocho talking about the Old Country and attributing random statements to that Country's wisdom, finally we were within range of seeing it for ourselves. Oh yes -- today, we entered California. Today was another Day of the Ocho.

After an early bedtime last night, all of us being tired from a day of hiking, we woke up early, packed up camp, and hit the road by 8:30AM. The three passengers promptly went to sleep, leaving the driver to ponder the big problems of the universe, which he did indeed successfully ponder. After a driver change in mid-Arizona -- but really, who knew where we were in that massive state? -- we approached the Californian border. And so began the countdown.

The Old Country in sight, The Ocho fired off her first requests for Cali-themed playlists on the iPod, and LT2 responded promptly, as a good officer of the Army should. The Colorado River came into view. The Ocho became belligerently happy. She was a danger to us all. Only thanks to The Captain's skillful driving did she not send us straight into the river. When we landed safely on the other side of the river, the party started. We had arrived in the Old Country, land of the Kennifers and other mythical creatures. We were headed to Tustin, where The Ocho's cousins lived, and -- maybe more importantly to the Ocho -- where the cousin's doggies lived as well.

Ruby and Bozeman are two of the sweetest dogs you will ever meet, and their owners, Karen and Jake, are even sweeter. They kindly let us into their home for the night, fed us, and even let us shower -- a welcome relief after getting painted red for two days with Grand Canyon dust. After hanging for the night with Karen, Jake, and four more of the The Ocho's relations, including the Scott, the Denise, the Nicholas, and the Alyssa -- the last two of whom were under five-years of age and were hilarious -- the four Amigos were ready for bed. We collapsed, well-fed and well-taken care of, home at last in the Old Country. Tomorrow, we're off to The Ocho's hometown, Monterey, which is the true heartland, but we couldn't have asked for a better welcome to this sacred ground. "There's a bird," as they say in the Old Country. Well said, Ocho. Well said, indeed.