Highway 163 to Monument Valley

Out west, it is hard to gauge the speed at which you drive.  Hardly any other cars and hundreds of miles till  the next city, the next intersection, the next traffic light.  Just vast landscapes and long stretches of road as far as the distant horizon that you never quite reach.  I love it.
This was on Highway 163, on our way to Monument Valley, deep into the Navajo Nation Reservation.
In the distance, Monument Valley, or what the Navajos call wTsé Biiʼ Ndzisgaii, (The Valley of the Rocks), rise hundreds of feet toward the heavens; the last remnants of red sandstone that, over the centuries, had been eroded by the forces of water and wind.