TeamReedblog: Go West, they said.

If you are my Facebook Friend, you already know that our normal extravagant Spring Break trip was interrupted this year when my father-in-law was grounded by his doctors. He's recovering (thank goodness) from a heart attack but isn't yet up to flying. Much as we love our Turks & Caicos getaway, no one wanted to go without him.

The final word came down four days before we were to leave. Ali and I were up for making a short trip somewhere fun, but it wasn't until two days before our originally planned departure that the Captain dove into the spontaneous travel pool with us. He and I have talked often about a Grand Canyon trip, and he was still talking about photos shared by Eric, Tracy, Susan and Jeff last year from their trip out west.

About 3 a.m. that morning, he plopped into bed to say he had a plan, plane tickets and lodging for some of the trip. I'm sure I mumbled something supportive and went back to sleep. It's possible that I could have helped more than just agreeing to go -- my offering had been day trips to Chicago and St. Louis and maybe Kentucky to hike -- but I couldn't have improved on what was to come.

We covered about 850 miles, starting by flying into Vegas where we picked up a small SUV and drove to the Hoover Dam. It would have been fun there even without the ice cream and Jeff and my shared background. (Doesn't everyone find love amongst water, sewer, natural gas, telecom and electric utility regulation?)

We got to our hotel late and I totally missed the hot tub outside our door. I did not miss picking up a bottle of wine when we stopped for snacks, all of which proved essential to our trek. We had packed water bottles, but there was a case of water for $2.69 at the grocery where we stopped, and it proved as essential as the wine. Plus, a bargain!

Still thinking of that hot tub, and after a day of hiking in Zion National Park where we could have died about 18 different times by falling into the rocky abyss, I tried to talk Jeff out of the Airbnb he'd booked in a place called Panquitch, Utah. It was an old sheriff's house and I was certain it would not have a hot tub.

I was right, but it did have a clawfoot bathtub, which I quickly claimed and had a glass or two of my wine. That was followed up by a great meal in the tiny town and an even better breakfast. I asked our waitress how to pronounce the name of the town. "I just call it Hell," she said.

Because we'd survived our trip to Angel's Landing in Zion -- there's a sign that warns you that 6 people have fallen to their deaths on the climb -- we thought we deserved to try the Flying M's $5 cinnamon roll that claimed to be the biggest you'd ever see. It was. We shared some of it with strangers, had some ourselves and then added the leftovers to our provisions. Jeff had some for a midnight snack and I had the rest for breakfast. It was that good and that big.

I'd never spent so much time on the ground out west, and the change in topography was amazing. At one point, we were at an elevation of 7700 feet. Indiana is 1,000 feet at its height and Phoenix is about the same.

It was near 80 degrees at the Hoover Dam and we worked up a sweat at Zion. We we woke up to 19 degrees in Utah. We drove through the Red Canyon, which was a barren wasteland of beautiful rocks to get to Bryce Canyon, which had part of its rim closed due to snowfall and then it was back to desert for Horseshoe Bend. I think my socks are stained forever with red rock dust.

The Grand Canyon is, well, grand. It's hard to describe it or to get the full effect from photos. If you go, find Shoshone Trail. It's not well-traveled and we were alone for the mile or so walk to a rocky finger poking out over the canyon. Jeff was freaking out a little bit as Ali and I got to the edge to look over into the miles and miles of space. There was a family of four there before us who were packing up, and a couple who didn't stay long. We'd said goodbye to the other family and the three of us were gazing out into the miles of space and just enjoying the quiet.

After a while of searching the landscape, I remarked that it was odd that we couldn't spy some sort of movement out there. "You'd think there'd be some evidence of wildlife," I said.

Just then, I hear the mom of the other family. They hadn't left after all. Because a herd of elk were coming out onto the peninsula with us. By this time, I was sitting out on the point alone. Jeff and Ali were standing closer to the family. The elk just kept coming until there were about 13 of them feeding off to one side of the path.

They weren't moose-sized, but they weren't small and they were totally blocking the path. Thinking there was safety in numbers and worried that they'd come out to where I was surrounded by stone and air, he made me come close to the group. We stayed there about 20 minutes before they ambled back on their way.

Alison was more than a little freaked and I kept telling her that elks are vegans. We weren't in danger. She reminded me that she'd seen a Cougar Crossing sign. "I'm not worried about them eating us," she said. "I'm worried about what eats them."

Jeff was worried about us annoying them to the point that they'd rush or kick us. I was pretty sure we'd be fine. When we finally got back off the point, we found a bunch of other elk in the forest. Apparently the lunch rush is on at the Shoshone Trail shortly after noon.

We decided we weren't going to have a more memorable experience at the Grand Canyon and set off for Prescott, Arizona, where Jeff planned to meet a baseball buddy. Ali and I had planned to do our own thing, but we all went out together and had a great time with Ted, who has to be Prescott's best ambassador.

We had just enough time to pop in for a bit to Frank Lloyd Wright's winter home before Ali and I were rewarded with spa treatment and a night at the Biltmore Arizona.

You probably deserve a trip there before you die. If you plan it right, you could just end things there and have had a fulfilling life. It was at the Biltmore where Jeff may have had his best moment -- and he wasn't even there for it.

Ali, who had tested each of the eight pools, spent part of the morning at the deepest one where she was doing laps. While she was there, the staff started setting up for a water aerobics class for a group of ladies who had probably been at the Biltmore when it was opened in 1929. Rather than interrupt them, she left to visit the spa hot tub. As she was leaving there, she ran across one of the ladies, who was making her way back to her room wearing her hotel robe and swimming cap.

"Oh, dear, your skin is like a porcelain doll," the lady exclaimed.

Ali smiled and thanked her and then asked if the class were over. The lady said it was and then said the thing that make the Captain preen. "You must have been raised right," she said and thanked Ali for graciously giving the ladies their space.