Tuesday was always going to be a day of travel, but we managed to squeeze in a bit of site seeing along the way. The drive itself was eyepopping in its dramatic changes in terrain and elevation. We'd be looking out across vast plains, driving across them as straight as a die, and then be dropping 6,000ft in twisty mountain roads cut through solid rock faces of reds, oranges and browns. We'd pass through a small town and then have to climb thousands of feet again, our ears popping and breaths thinning all the while.

Our first stop of the day was to take in Horshoe Bend - a mind blowing oxbow at the start of the Colorado River. Horesehoe Bend is not well sign posted and sits a quarter mile from a small sandy roadside car park. There certainly doesn't appear to be anything significant on the horizon. The car park is the same one that appears in the film "127 Hours" where James Franco (and I suppose, by extension, Aron Ralston) parks his car before heading off into the canyons. Looking at the surrounding landscape it's easy to see how someone can very quickly become detached from civilisation, which certainly enhances his impressive survival in my eyes!

The short walk to the edge of Horseshoe Bend was made all the more difficult by the sun beating down, sand underfoot, and Largs gale blowing from the South. Oh, and we'd left water in the car as the signage indicated a child level walk. Yes, on a flat paved surface, on a clement day ... I could see that. As we approached the Bend we were still oblivious to the view, even although there were a dozen of so eager tourists a few tens of meters ahead excitedly taking photos. It's only when you are right upon the edge of the canyon that the Horseshoe opens up revealing sheer rock faces a few thousand feet high, with tiny dotted boats day tripping far below in the Colorado.

After some photos and some awe filled silence we readied ourselves for the (uphill) hike back to the car. I advised Ailsa to take it easy, with our heads down to stop the sand blowing in our faces. We hadn't long started and I looked up to see Ailsa was off like a shot, putting significant distance between us. About half way up I feigned stopping to take a photo of a butterfly - but it was really to catch my breath. I arrived at the summit to find Ailsa all rested whilst she'd waited on me. Apparently it's better just to get it over with I'm told?!

For lunch we headed down to the Wahweap Marina on the shores of Lake Powell. It was a beautiful view of the lake from our restaurant table for two ... and I promise I wasn't in the least bit put out by the tendancy to over tax: there's a resort tax, a restoration tax, an environmental tax, a reservation tax, service tax, lighting and heating tax, water tax, and why not throw in some clean air tax for good measure. I'm sure I paid an admittance fee when I drove in. Not quite sure what that was for now? (it was probably taxed though)

Whilst having lunch we heard a call go out from a boat tour that was just leaving. I asked one of the reps what other tours were leaving today and was giving a leaflet descirbing two that were leaving in about three hours. No bother, I thought. We can easily waste a few hours on the shore - but Ailsa was hesitant, much as she loves a good boat tour, that was quite a strong Southerly wind that had been blowing all morning.

The night before we left the Californian coast Ailsa had noticed a weather report warning of significant conditions which seemed to almost exactly replicate our drive inland and then North. But it wasn't going to hit until the day after we left, so who's worrying about that? Well, we always seemed to be on the fringes of something and it finally caught up with us that afternoon at Lake Powell. We were taking it easy along the shoreline shortly after lunch when we noticed the black clouds pouring in from the South, engulfing some of the huge rock pillars surrounding the lake. We sprinted to the car and headed for the park exit, stopping very briefly to take a photo of the "Utah State" boundary. A few hefty raindrops ushered us back into the car and we hit the road heading for our next destination, and home for three nights (three nights in one place was starting to sound like a novelty).

The road into Zion National Park is an incredible journey carved through dramatic rock surfaces. Before entering the main canyon of the park, we drove through an almost 2km long tunnel carved betwen 1927 and 1930. Obviously when is was built there was no thought to oversized RV's and coaches, so there are a number of restrictions for passing through the tight tunnel which include the traffic being stopped to allow 'special people' to be escorted through (for nervous drivers as much as oversized vehicles I think!). The far end of the tunnel opens up into what looks like Jurassic Park - especially topped with the white clouds which had followed us from Lake Powell.

We checked into the Desert Pearl Inn and were both delighted with the fantastic room we'd be staying in. I knew from my pre-trip research that this place was nice and well situated - but it really surpassed expectation. The size and 'plushness' (a word??) was complemented with a balcony view over the Virgin River, surrounded by the red/orange rock faces (and was that a little corner of blue sky I could see?).

At check-in the reception folk were very welcoming and took me through a list of the restaurants and shops in the area, all broken down by price and with personal recommendations by the staff. We went for the highly recommended Thai Sapa Viatnamese restaurant in town and were not disappointed. In particular the coconut shrimp starter went down a treat ... oh, you do take-away you say? Well you might just be seeing us again then!