Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam, & Las Vegas

After two nights at the “Take It Easy RV Park” (see how the entire town simply lives off that one song?)...

 For a lament, the song appears to have a happy ending, judging by the girl from the flatbed Ford in the upstairs window with him, 2^nd from the Eagle (get it?).

...we move on Tusayan, AZ.  That's the first town from the south entrance to the Grand Canyon National Park. We're just up Forest Service Road 302, then left on FSR 2713. Tall Ponderosa Pines everywhere. The nearest other unit on this relatively unregulated public land is nicely “dispersed,” almost out of

sight; there probably weren't half a dozen occupied camp sites, including one tent with a mountain bike next to a tree, in the first half mile of dirt road.  We have drop-in visits twice from a trio of handsome horses that look well-groomed, lusting after whatever's growing near us.  We have our five o'clock appetizers on the carpet of fallen pine needles each evening.

There's a riding stable a mile or so away and they must know their way around the fences.  Unlike the person(s) in the tent, we didn't even pee on the forest floor, having our own water, electric generator, and sanitation on-board Bry RV.  So quiet at night that we can hear the elk scream over the next hill.  We're sure it wasn't a wolf or coyotes, and if it were a human...?  Well, we lock the door and try to pretend we are safe.  And ya know what?  We are.  John loves being outdoors.  Even if we're a mile not quite off the end of runway 03/15 at KGCN with several sightseeing helicopters flying over our heads during the day and the occasional rich-tourist private jet on final approach.

Oh– did we mention we're up high? 6,600 feet MSL means we have very livable temperatures for six days; a couple times we even fire up the (diesel) furnace with the approaching dawn.  John loves being outdoors –with technology.

We had been to the Grand Canyon with the kids in a popup tent camper behind a GMC van, both north and south rims, 30+ years ago.  Back in the 1990s, the kids had their heads buried as we traveled and would look up briefly if either parent were to announce, “Scenery Alert!”  Their replies always came in smart-alecky unison: “Ooooh! Ahhh!” before going back to their books, games, squabbling, etc.  

Even John is glad we returned; the vista is much more grand than his memory. 

After spending a day in the geological museum, the next day Debbie hikes the Hermit's Rest Trail on the extreme west end of the park.  It features a stone inn to which early 1900s tourists would ride horses/wagons.  

Another day, she hikes 760 feet down the canyon wall on the east end because of Ooh Aah Point that we'd noticed at the visitor's center.  This is far above the bottom of the Kaibab Trail.  Her hike is a mile each way, a grueling 14% grade on average!

 Debbie admits to using all four limbs on occasion.  And then she says that the Hermit Trail actually is rougher with more elevation gain!

The Kaibab "trail" is very steep

Someday huge boulders will
crash onto the Kaibab Trail below

We take a day to do a scenic drive on San Francisco Peaks Scenic Drive (no relation to California), which includes driving up a mountain to the Snowbowl Ski Resort, a more than 2,000 foot climb in the car's first gear (with no snow near the end of May).  Debbie calls congratulations to the solo twenty-something blonde who'd pumped her bicycle right to the resort's closed gate, touched it, then drifted off to stare out and down at the scenery.  We liked biking ourselves back in the day (and Debbie still exhorts her friends to accompany her on long rides each summer), but never would consider a 2,000' elevation change!  We pass more than half a dozen other (young) people on bikes our way down.

This drive took us to Flagstaff, where we find some real stores and we also do lunch. Debbie finds a small, unremarkable shopfront eatery.  

 We would pass it in any other circumstance, but she had seen good reviews.  The guy next to whom we park out front agrees with that and names every item on the menu with high praise, despite the paper plates and foam drink cups.  He's waiting for the fried bread pudding.  The restaurant had run out and, since making more is a lengthy process and the stuff must be really, really good, he remains patiently in his pickup truck when we leave.  We specify “eating in” at the takeout desk and John eats the shrimp gumbo; Debbie has jambalaya with blackened catfish and declares, “The best stuff I ever tasted in my life!”  Try as we might, we really can't justify another 2½ hour round trip for seconds, even if Debbie allows a to-go order of pulled pork sliders for a reheated lunch the next day –without even batting an eye!  If you ever find yourself within a hundred miles of Flagstaff, Go There!! And thank us later.

(And Debbie's new Creole seasoning that she searched out and ordered to an Amazon Locker remains untried on the pantry shelf.  Boo.  She says she'll try recreating a Satchmo's meal after we return home.)

The next day, Debbie reprises her Ooh Ahh hike and we start planning for Las Vegas.  That is a major sea change in every aspect, except that we sleep in the same tent with wheels.   “Las Vegas RV Resort” shares a five-lane road with several grocery and other stores, the full square block of Sam's Town Casino, and hordes of cars.  Long traffic lights, very poorly planned road layouts, and signage abound in this town.  John speculates the entire Planning Department was drunk. “Well– yeah!” is Debbie's reply, considering context.  We don't utilize lawyers for every little stumble in the Road of Life, however, in Las Vegas we see so many advertisements for sue-ers on every other billboard and every bus side that John swears there must be more lawsuits filed here than in the entire sue-happy State of California.**  Not wasting money entitles us to be critical.   And to have money for the RV.  Put up with it.

Not that this has any deep meaning, but Google Translate tells us that Las Vegas is "the bottoms" or "the pie" in Spanish.  John supposes you could pick either, given this modern city's development as America's pre-eminent city of Sinful Vice.  Less prosaically, however, DealingLasVegas tells the story of a man who discovered a fertile valley in the desert in 1829 and, struck by the lush grasses, named it "The Meadows."  Whatever water may have been there then is long since gone with the huge demand of an overpopulation demanding to satisfy more prurient urges.  Ninety percent of the city drinks from the Colorado River these days.

For lack of water, this desert resort has no overhead shade although there are some palm trees maybe 20 feet high between the RV sites which are very close together, also like Grand Haven's state park although much more classy looking with concrete curbs and crushed gravel filling the non-driving spaces.  We even have a follow-me golf cart show us right into our parking pad amid the hundreds of tightly spaced slots and a few more services, including a gate guard and nice showers. Debbie's found us a reasonable rate –and she just had a week for free in the woods!  After Vegas, we're heading toward another few boondocking days at the Valley of Fire state park which will be just as hot as it sounds and, contrarily, a lot more expensive.

Dam turbines

Dam

But before we leave Vegas, Debbie educates John to a memory she claims he must have forgotten.  She says we took the Hoover Dam tour years ago.  John swears he would remember a Dam tour if he had taken the Dam tour, but she says No, he obviously does not.  So she takes the Dam tour again while John sees the turbines and the unique construction for what was, at the time, the world's largest Dam project –for the first time in his cognitive life.

Oh, and the armed guards at the metal detectors who relieve John of his weapon, the empty cellphone holster, and belt(!) say, “This is a federal facility, sir,” in an astounded tone of voice.   Yeah, well-- this was America once upon a time, too.  With one hand holding his shorts up, John thanks them for not taking his shoes off and volunteers Debbie to return the offensive item to the car so as to avoid having to replace another Swiss Army Tool.   Hah! John keeps his ballpoint pen in his pocket.

Another day in Vegas, we leave the town to visit Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. Years, ago we had come to a Radio convention and stayed a couple more days (on our own dime) to see Death Valley and this Red Rock Canyon.  The slow drive through is very stunning and and is every bit as impressive as we remember. Aside from the unusual coloring, the geologic oddity here is that the red rock is more recent than the white rock.  Normally it would be on top, but the unimaginable subterranean forces that molded these rocks, actually folded the lower layer over the upper one.

Geologists say the layers are normal sedimentary rock, but the pressures and temperatures made them malleable.   We guess if you were a rock scientist, you'd be quivering with excitement at the thought.

Debbie, however, is excited for the real reason we came to this Nevada desert area: our number one son. John IV manages the computer systems at the McDonald's stores in Alaska's Kenai Peninsula.  His new owner brought all his store managers (and John) to a few days in Las Vegas as part of a larger McDonald's Corporate convention. The new Franchise Owner also is a John –McDonald, as a matter of fact. (No relation.)   Our John had hoped to break for a dinner with us one night, but his boss invites us to join himself and his five managers at

Fongo de Chão, which features a Brazilian feast, so we do that instead.  We are excited to know the administrative team that works with our son.  Also, the food is wonderful and far too plentiful.  The coffee is the best John III ever had tasted; well... it's Brazilian, after all!  Earlier, John McDonald also had taken his administrative crew to an In 'n' Out Burger.   It was a first for John IV and he loved it.

Mentioning food, Debbie's SoCal brother Ken had introduced us to In 'n' Out Burger three years earlier and Debbie's husband, John, insists that we return.  She caves in and even follows her brother's advice to order the secret menu item that isn't really a secret.  Double Double Animal Style is not on the menu but is a double-beef/double-cheese burger with special sauce and caramelized onions.   Debbie likes it very much.  John takes advantage of her unexpected appreciation to exact a promise to visit In 'n' Out one more time before leaving this part of the country. (He has a faint hope, anyway.)

One more restaurant to mention: we brunch at Mister Mamas.   The name has nothing to do with maternity and John has a breakfast burrito that tastes simply fantastic.  Debbie agreed the sauce was very, very good!  Being a former Radio announcer, it's important for John to know how to pronounce the name, even if Debbie doesn't.  Our low-key waiter suddenly comes alive on that question and quite animatedly explains that the owner, Mister mah-MAHSS is Greek.  The food there is not, therefore he never made an issue of his name and many local people pronounce it as Mister Mama's anyway.  So, if you go –and John encourages you– feel free to say the name any way you prefer.  Or not all.  Your call.

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** Did you ever think that hotels were such dangerous places as to require specialty litigation? InjuredinaHotel.com has two huge billboards within half a block of our resort!