It’s been two months since my last post from my summer travels in the American West. Having finished a separate spat of travels between then and now, and seeing how I left off previously in Montana, I’ll pick back up in Glacier National Park.

Jackie appears to have spent some time frolicking before buckling down for Fashion Week this past month.

My first weekend in Southeast Kansas coincided with the annual festival known as Little Balkans Days, held in Pittsburg to commemorate the region’s history as a melting pot of European immigrants back at the start of coal mining in the 1860s.

Across the road from our house is a fried chicken restaurant and a church. So it’s not so much that I wondered why the city of Pittsburg, Kansas — roughly 25 miles from Joplin, Missouri — has only one mosque.

I’m in the small town of Girard, in the southeast corner of Kansas, not too far from the Missouri border. I’ve been documenting the surrounding areas since driving here from San Diego a week ago, but with a ton of photos in my backlog I thought I’d share a teaser.

It was lucky that we ran into Jan, because otherwise we wouldn’t have backtracked and spent the afternoon crawling through stalagmites hundreds of feet under Montana.

I think any more weight from so many tourists might force the Yellowstone caldera down into the magma that powers all those geysers.

Capitol Reef is like a mini Zion. Not as tall, not as wide, but also fewer people to muck up the scenery.

The 1500-year-old Bristlecone Pine trees tumble into the slowly eroding limestone breaks at a pace measured in centuries.

It takes most people five hours to complete the five mile journey to the top of Angel’s Landing and back. I did it in half that and still took a bit of video now and then, while sucking in much-needed oxygen.