Trip Date: March 23, 2018
Find this SpotJust outside Vegas, within an hour to the North, East, and West (and South probably too) is some spectacular country. I assume people know about it, certainly the locals, but of course that is not the Vegas you hear about from people going to Vegas. So, yes, I do understand I didn’t camp in Vegas, but we should have and more people should.
We were going to Las Vegas to test our ability to say “No”, which is a very difficult place to test your fortitude. I had finally been able to make a reservation at The Hacienda in Fort Hunter Liggett that was built by Randolph Hearst and designed by Julia Morgan in the 1920’s. I believe the place was built for Hearst and his workers as they harvested materials from the area to build Hearst Castle. In making the reservation, I instantly won a membership to International Hotel Group (IHG), and with that, I was awarded a free trip to Las Vegas, as long as I went to the brief promotional event at the Holiday Inn with my wife and had a valid driver’s license and credit card. What could possibly go wrong?
The last time Kristen and I went to a brief sales pitch for discounted vacation packages, we gave total and complete strangers we had never met a check on the spot for $3,000, and despite getting absolutely nothing (fake news: we did get a rather stylish black zippered folder with many glossy colorful brochures) in return for a year, we gave them another $300 to renew the benefit. When we decided not to renew the next year, we had a terrible time cancelling, and were bombarded with threatening and aggressive phone calls. With that as our only experience, we felt ready to run the gauntlet again.
We had received a ton of rain early in the week and it definitely was snow up top, so I had succumbed to the idea of driving South on 99, East over 58, and then hopping on Interstate 15, The Mojave freeway into Vegas. I had been on this route some 4 or so times in the past couple years back and forth to the Mojave National Preserve, so I wasn’t looking forward to doing it again, but it appeared to be the safe, rational option with all the snow that was expected.
However, safe and sane is vastly overrated. I began checking the road conditions on Highway 80 and 50 over the summit for Friday morning and it didn’t look too bad. I really did not want to get into traffic and follow a string of slow-moving rigs kicking up snow and slush for hours to begin the trip, however, I really didn’t want to go 99 and 58 again. For some reason I was jonesin for see Walker Lake and Highway 95 which drops you right into Las Vegas. As of Thursday night, I had pretty much decided on one more quick peek before we left in the morning, but it really looked like clear sailing; no chain restrictions, no signs of trouble ahead.
We were on the road about 8:00 and heading East up Highway 50 into the glistening white mass in our midst. I was a bit apprehensive, but really happy to get into the Great Basin and see some new country, or at least country I had not seen in a long time. I am not a big reader, but if you have any interest in the Great Basin, in California/western history, geology, geography, or cultural anthropology, read “Exploring the Great Basin” by Gloria Griffin Cline. It was a great read and easy too, but just packed dense with information, historical and scientific. With some of it remaining in my brain, I was excited to get into that country again.
Up and over the summit with no problem and little traffic, the scenery was spectacular. It was a cold beautiful, clear, windy day, and I wished I had stopped earlier, but we were into Myers, over Luther Pass, and almost to Picketts Junction before I had to pee. Once out of the vehicle, I wanted to stay and explore, but had to settle for a few quick pics. We had 8 or so hours ahead of us. Once on the East side, weather and road conditions were no longer an issue. The route, although quite circuitous, was known and marked, so Kristen just had to navigate us from road to road.
50, 89, 88, Mottsville, Waterloo, Centerville; through the expanding glob of Minden/Gardnerville. A big “U” of 395, 208, 339 around Smith Valley, and of course, 95Alt before technically getting to Highway 95 at Schurz to lead us the rest of the way to our destination. I was so confused from all the roads and all the crazy directions we had travelled in, especially the not insignificant time we had spent heading North at various times. Finally though, we were heading South on 95 and we could relax, put the pedal to the metal, and cruise. But first, Walker Lake and the Billy Goats. Ovis Canadensis is on the short list of creatures I have yet to see in the wild.
I would love to see Orca’s. I would love to see a Grizzly up close, although certainly under certain specified conditions, and I have yet to see Bighorn sheep in a really cool natural setting. Now I may be splitting hairs a tad because Kristen and I did see a group of young females in Montana, but it was right along a busy road and they were gathered on a huge pile of road base, so it wasn’t the Nat Geo moment I was hoping for, so they remain on my list.
Coming to Walker Lake from the North, it really is a sparkling blue beauty, particularly in contrast to the rocky, arid, vegetation-less environment in which it sits. Fortunately, we noticed the “Bighorn Sheep Crossing” signs alongside the road (again not the Nat Geo moment, but hey, if they really are going to hang out near the sign,,,) and sure enough, big as life, here were 3 or 4 that were in plain sight, just above a perfect place to pull off the road, and I had to pee so it was win win.
Two were pretty high up above us on a ledge perhaps 200 feet away. The third though was lower, basically on our level but up on a jumble of rocks that had long since tumbled off the mountain side. He (I don’t believe he was a she) posed on top of the highest rock for quite some time as we fumbled with the binoculars and the camera and tried to minimize our noise and commotion. As perfectly posed as she was, she was well camouflaged against the equally brown mountain, so she did not stand out at all. Despite the less than ideal photo shoot, it was real exciting to see some totally legitimate Bighorn in classic Billy goat territory; basically how us city kids would see them in a museum (one step above mounted on a barroom wall) . We got our fill, picked up a few sparkly rocks, and headed on down the road.
Now the South end of the lake is a bit rougher for human existence. The burg of Walker Lake is fairly post-apocalyptic. It reminded me of very rural/poor areas of Baja with the rocky desert juxtaposed with the blue waters. Babbitt has spread (or oozed) into Northern Hawthorne, that is to say, it is all one sprawling mass. I will say, the Army Surplus store is worth going to, but other than that, I have not found reason to stop, and I have tried several times.
Before long we were in Tonopah, another town I have tried to love. Although we did “discover” another side of town on this drive through, it remained a dreary, dusty, kinda of a “lots of buildings but still nothing in town” kind of place. Tonopah is known to train buffs, as numerous railroads were built in numerous directions to haul silver, gold, and other precious minerals over the years. It may best be known now for the “Clown Motel”, which as if it isn’t scary enough, is located next to the cemetery. Look luck! However, I did stop at the Tonopah Brewing Company, for some great beers. The place was clean and new, but decorated as you’d expect, with a historical, mining, trains, and the old west feel. The people were real nice and the price was reasonable. I wish we had eaten there, but we had places to go.
In our haste, we also missed the International Car Forest, a mistake I will not make again, even though it apparently has some religious aspect also. We were headed to one of several hot springs in the area called Alkali Hot Springs. I was excited because it appeared Kristen was into it which surprised me. I still doubt she would have gotten in with me, but we shall never know. As Kristen capably navigates us to the spring, we saw we had been beaten to it. A real old desert rat was already parked right up next to it, violating proper hot spring etiquette.
We felt the water in a larger cemented rectangular pond, but it was barely warm, maybe just above cool. The old timer motioned me over to where he was, and then motioned up to the pools. I could see now he was alone, heavily grey bearded, hobbling about with cane, and could barely make audible sounds. I got the impression he wouldn’t have minded us soaking in the tub next to his, as there are 2 side by side pools, but I also got the impression he wasn’t willing to take a hike for an hour while we did our thing.
He hobbled back and forth from his old Toyota 4Runner, once using his camp chair to lean on as he brought that over by the tub. We shared a laugh, and then I had to give up on the idea of being able to soak. It wasn’t worth waiting for him to be done, and quite frankly, I would have needed it to rinse out a bit longer. If time permitted, I would have gone up to Silver peak to try to find a hot spring up there. We could even have come down the other side of the mountain and gone to Fish Lake Valley Hot Spring, which we have been to several times, but Las Vegas was calling.
On our way back out to 95, a big herd of antelope crossed the road and split up, some staying on the side of the road they had come from. This was very cool to be surrounded by so many animals in such close proximity. We got some good pictures while they waited for us waiting for them. We passed the roads to Lida and Gold Point, the site of one of our most epic adventures. We passed through Beatty and Amargosa Valley which were familiar from some of our trips to Death Valley. We saw a sign for Pahrump where Jordan got a stitch in his nose when he was about 6 years old. He had been scrambling up and down rocks and canyon walls like a little Billy goat and he slipped on his face and split his nose. The rangers suggested a stitch, so Howard drove him all the way from Death Valley to Pahrump.
Once Ingrid and I got back from our days adventure and got the news, we flew out to Pahrump medical clinic in the Mercedes 450 SLC. Along the way a large A-hole CHP gave us a speeding ticket. When we got to the clinic, they were waiting for us to do the stitch, parental permission, I suppose. The doctor asked Jordan if he wanted to just get one sting of the needle without a shot of Novocain or if he wanted the sting of the shot and probably not feel the needle. He told the doctor he would just take the needle. A foreshadowing of the boy to come.
Soon we had come to an area that was still vaguely clinging to my memory, getting hazier and mistier and less sure to ever have really existed at all. When Ingrid and I went on our cross-country trip in the mid-1980’s, we crossed over Highway 299 from Eureka to see Marty in Cedarville to start the trip. From there, we headed down Highway 395 to Reno, and then picked up 95 South. My recollection was we camped in some high mountains just outside Vegas, and sure enough here they were.
Just after passing Creech Air Force Base in Indian Springs on the North side of the road, you have these spectacular mountains to the South. I imagine it was near Mt. Charleston, and possibly even Fletcher View Campground where we stayed on the first night of our trip, but even then, it was so strange to camp at 7200’ elevation and be minutes outside of fabulous Las Vegas. It was a precursor for the juxtaposition of all things Vegas and all the natural beauty surrounding it that we would experience on this trip.
We dropped into Vegas just about 5:00 PM prepared for horrific traffic, but were quite relieved that even with the crazy construction, detours, closures, and rush hour traffic, we merged, changed lanes like a champ, and although exiting prematurely, we arrived at our destination relatively unscathed, even though the gas light came on as soon as we got on the bumper to bumper freeway. As K hunted for our room, I hunted for gas, and we were all settled in no time.
The Tuscany Suites is about 3 blocks East of the strip on Flamingo which offers a nice cushion from the madness. It also offers everything one could want on-site; great pool, bars, restaurants, casino, little store. It really turned out to be a decent place. The NCAA Elite8 men’s college basketball games were on TV so we ate in the little burger joint in the casino and watched some games and then strolled up to the strip to wander around up there. On the corner of Flamingo and the strip is Bally’s, Flamingo, Bellagio, and Caesars, so we walked up and down, in and out, and watched some people and watched some basketball.
I was super excited for Saturday as it was our day to head out to Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. Red Rock Canyon is only about 15 miles West of the Vegas strip, but could not be a more different reality. The red sandstone formations and multi-colored layering, and wildflowers are gorgeous. The 13 mile Scenic Drive allows visitors to explore the highs and lows of the canyon from their vehicle or bicycle, with many scenic stops and trailheads along the way. Unfortunately, by the time we got going, we only had time to drive the loop and snap some shots, but the hiking is really where it’s at here. Red Rock Canyon is a maze of canyons and peaks, ledges and chimneys, chutes and gullies leading to surprises around every wall. There are 26 different hikes and trails that take you from the deep canyons to the highest points. It is also a popular rock climbing area.
We were able to scramble up on the sandstone and check out the old limestone quarry. We took a short hike into a sweet valley and sat atop a jumble of fallen chunks of spectacular sandstone to catch the last rays of sun. It was a sweet little spot, but left me with more of a sensation of missing out on spending some real time exploring the area, than having felt like we saw it or experienced it. Oh well, another place we must return and camp at and spend some serious time getting to know. The rock colors and the lighting, even in the brief time we were here, made it clear this was a very special place.
The next day we walked the strip a bit and had a fantabulous lunch on a second story roof top bar called the Beer Park. It was a sports bar themed outdoor patio set up. The night before it appeared you needed a pass or to be someone special to get up there, or maybe it was a private party, but we didn’t try too hard. Today, we walked right up the stairs and the waitress gave us the perfect spot at the counter overlooking the street and the Bellagio pool/water show across the street. The weather was perfect to be sitting out in the sun and we had a blast.
When the music came on for the water show at the Bellagio, they played Por Ti Volare, a song that Will Farrell sang while John C. Reilly played the drums in the movie Step Brothers. As Farrell sings, Reilly periodically yells “Boats and Hoes”, the name of their aspiring company. It is merely one of the many outstanding scenes in the movie. So, as we are sitting in this outstanding setting, in Las Vegas, having drinks and food on this rooftop patio, watching the people and the water show, one of the gals next to me yells, “Boats and Hoes”, and most of my beer goes up my nose.
I cough, gagged, snorted, and laughed out loud and she immediately turned to me and we all had a good laugh over the movie reference. She and her partner were health and fitness trainers for the air force in Texas and were out here for a wedding. We told them about our timeshare tour and the challenge we faced saying no. They coached us up like we were on the threshold of achieving some workout milestone. They were really fun and we had a good time together.
This morning had also gotten away from us, so we were leaving for Valley of Fire State Park a bit later than I had wanted, but again, I was really excited to be getting away and seeing this country. After talking about all this country with my cousin Chris, I had wanted to take a loop drive to the Park but going out near Lake Mead, which is only about 15 miles East of the strip. It still amazes me how many spectacular natural features are so close to Vegas. Kristen navigated our way through town to pick up Lamb and then Lake Mead Blvd. which got us out of town.
In just a few miles, we came to a “Blazing Saddles” like toll crossing. Out in the middle of bloody nowhere, we had to stop and pay $20 just to drive through. It was an outrage. I was anxious to get to Valley of Fire, but here we were right next to Lake Mead. We had given up trying to get to Hoover dam on this trip, and I had never been to the lake, but it was still pretty far down rough dirt roads, so although we drove down one dirt road towards the water, we didn’t go too far, pretty much just a pee stop and a chance to gather a few rocks.
I would like to camp at Echo Bay or Stewarts Point some day. I didn’t know it at the time, but when we turned off to go to the Valley of Fire, we were only about 50 miles from St. George Utah and maybe only 30 miles West of Grand Canyon – Parashant National Monument. So many places…
I don’t know what to say about Valley of Fire, but that it is easily one of the most beautiful and spectacular places on earth. The colors, geology, landscapes, wildflowers, cultural history, and wildlife are equal to any. This is another place that demands more time, but we had allotted very little. Right off the bat, we were treated to some early color and a group of Bighorn just hanging out. With as little time as we had to explore, this trip was already well worth it. The visitor center was closed, but Chris had told me where to go for a good taste of the park, and by golly, was it ever.
I could only think of the slot-canyons Chris had mentioned up by the White Domes, so were heading up there to get in as much of a hike as we could. However, all along the way was one spectacular spot, vista, pullout after another. It was ridiculous. I wanted to stop everywhere and as soon as I got out I saw more and more. Long distances, incredible vistas, valleys with domes and spires and walls of all colors and consistency. Fine sandy washes covered in animal tracks, and vertical spines and circular gills of hardened sandstone of one color protruding out of multi-colored smooth sandstone ridges yet to be carved by the forces of erosion. The place is a mind bender.
This is another place, like Red Rock, where hiking is king. The vegetation is scarce so you can see everywhere, making navigation and the lack of trails not such a big deal. You can keep an eye or shoot a bearing with a compass on a formation or a spire or an outcropping of a specific unique color for miles. We stopped at many pullouts, and at several other places along the way to take pictures, but we were headed to the end of the road to White Domes, and I am so happy we had as much time as we did. The timing was perfect really.
This hike is literally at the end of the road. The White Dome is the first thing you see from the parking lot, but the name belies the infinite color spectrum you see on this short loop trail. Much like the majesty of the Grand Canyon, this place defies words. We ended up on the West side of the loop just as we were losing sunlight giving us a spectacular show. As we got back in the car, the sun was giving us the last of our daily allotment, spreading shadows everywhere. As short a stay as it was, we were filled to the brim.
On our way out of the park, we saw many other pullouts for features and hikes. I had to fight to not be sad that we were missing so much; leaving so much unseen behind us, but it will have to be for another time. By the time we were coming off the mountain and heading back into Vegas, the city lights were blasting away. Kristen had thought she saw the lights of the city at one point, but I knew it was not nearly enough and I joked it was merely a truck stop. As we got our first sight of Vegas from the mountainside, she could see how ginormous and spread out it was. We had gotten a taste by driving West to red Rock and East to towards Lake Mead, but seeing Vegas at night is quite a spectacle unto itself. As we got down to I-15 to head back to town, we saw that the lights Kristen had seen actually was a truck stop. Everything is over the top in Vegas.
That night we wanted to have a little more upscale dinner, so we went to the Italian restaurant in the hotel. Seeing as it was the Tuscany Resort, we may have inflated our expectations a bit, but I think even low to mild expectations would have been too much. Although the place was near empty, the service was mediocre. I’m pretty sure our waiter was an imposter, stoned, and or new, but at least he tried. The bread was good, but my red sauce kept me up all night and K’s pasta was nothing special. Oh well, it was convenient.
We walked to our timeshare tour the next morning and we survived. Our guy was an older dude and he was pretty nice. I have to say, what they sell you makes sense, but fortunately, K stayed strong and we left the place with our coupon and barely a shred of dignity. We walked the strip a bit and got some special bakery treats from Carlo’s bakery in the Venetian. I made a game of collecting every handout all the street people and barkers had so I had a little stack after a while. There were quite a few homeless people all along the strip, many with signs or receptacles of some type asking for help. One young guy’s sign said “Go fuck yourself”, so he was the one I decided to help, if you call giving him all my stupid handouts “help”. I do believe there was a coupon for a free pretzel at least.
We didn’t want to spend a lot of money or be too disappointed in another dinner, so we decided not to eat on the strip. I really wanted to get my hotdog and a Michelob for $3 that we passed all the time, but K wasn’t having it. We walked back towards the hotel and wandered across the street to Bandito Latin Cantina. It too was near empty, not usually a good sign for a restaurant, but a harbinger of good service, which indeed it was.
The waiter was great, the cocktails were great, the food was really good and we essentially had our entire side of the place to ourselves. It was a really good dinner. We were able to watch the highlights of the NCAA games we missed and get set up for the Final Four. It was our last night in Vegas, but we couldn’t muster the energy to go out with a bang, so we settled for our bakery treats in bed. It was perfect.
We had gassed up on our way back from Valley of Fire, so we just needed to put some air in the tires, load up, get coffee and blow. The weather over the weekend was still fairly unsettled, and there had been talk of more snow in the mountains, so we decided to take the safe, allegedly faster route home. It was not to be. Before we even got out of town, I-15 South was all snarled up with traffic. It remained heavy and periodically slow all the way to Barstow. This really was a drag because I would have much preferred to go back to much more scenic and interesting Highway 95 route, but this is where we were.
I have gotten to know the “Old Highway 58” that skirts the North side of Barstow and picks up Highway 58 well after the split from 15 is a ginormous timesaver, so we had that going for us. But traffic was again all backed up at the stupid 395 intersection at Kramer Junction. It looks like they are expanding that stretch of 58 to extend the freeway portion, but they really need to go over or around 395 somehow.
We needed a break and gas and some grub, so we gave Murray Family Farms a shot. Maybe the best part was the Chevron gas, as the fried, greasy food was very disappointing. We passed on some good looking pies, and of course the farm produce is the main event, but we were full and ready for the final leg of the journey.
Traffic up Highway 99 was unusually light, especially for passing through during commute time on a Monday evening, but we cruised right through without incident and were home by 9:00 or so. This turned out to be a couple hours longer than the 95 route, which I will go next time.
They say travelling together is a great way to get to know each other and to see if they are relationship material, to really get to know someone. I must say, that after 9 years of marriage or however many years it has been, I feel like K and I are well matched. However, I must also admit that I learned a great deal about my wife, many things I never knew before because this was the first time I had heard many of these tales. I think desert travel naturally loosens one’s mind and frees ones spirit. People are more likely to be themselves in the desert. It is naturally an uninhibited, liberating kind of place. I feel like I know my wife much better now because of it.
Find this SpotValley of Fire State Park Photo Gallery
