Grand Canyon’s South Rim made a convenient detour as we traveled north from Kingman to Monument Valley, and the view there was completely different to the North Rim. While North Rim is rustic and less visited, South Rim is iconic for a reason. Wider, more colorful, and much more approachable.
Simon had been to the South Rim before, but my first view of it was shocking, in a good way. It struck me as a grand amphitheater with a story to tell in each of its folds and crevices, and its sloping sides are so enormous no binoculars are necessary to see them, though we used ours anyway and were treated to intricate views of the canyon’s smaller details.
There was a little interpretive center not far from where we parked, with a panoramic view through its windows. Sitting right on the edge of the canyon, it offered an exceptional sight line right down to the bottom.
Among the displays were two panels that hit smack at the heart of what bothers those of us with a fear of heights. We’re thinkin’ it, Grand Canyon, we’re thinkin’ it!
Fear 1
Fear 2
South Rim has three main areas that look into the widest part of the canyon, and we checked each of them out.
When we had our fill of the main overlooks, we continued along the spectacular East Rim drive, where several more turnouts provided views over the canyon’s less-visited eastern arm.
Obligatory Selfie.
If you read our blog about Monument Valley, you know we had begun using a “points” system when it comes to things that challenge us as we travel, but we do them anyway. Simon cashed in some of his points to avoid driving the valley’s rough road, and I cashed in some of my points by asking to skip an overlook accessed via a steep, narrow road along the East Rim.
This is what a thousand points looks like.
Standing on this wall earned me a billion points, but I can’t post the photo of that moment because you can see my mouth and it’s really obvious what word is coming out of it. Look at these happy people instead.
The rest of East Rim was spectacular, and it was also a convenient shortcut toward the road to Monument Valley, so the decision to head that way rather than backtrack to I-40 was a double win.
We saw quite a few people just hanging out on rocks near the edge of the canyon.
The main area only allows tiny glimpses of the Colorado River, but it’s much more visible from the East Rim.
Skipping the steep road also led to our first wildlife sighting in a long time when we came upon five or six elk grazing along the East Rim road, which made for a happy sign-off to our visit.
We didn’t get a photo of the many people who were foraging for something in the forested area, but it looked like they were picking up small pine cones. During one of our turnout stops, my guess was confirmed; they were harvesting pine nuts from the mini pine cones. How cool is that?
As we continued north after leaving the park, we came across one of the furthest reaches of the canyon, near where the Colorado River and the Little Colorado River meet. A huge fissure runs along the highway, and we stopped to have a look at a big parking area set up just for that purpose.
Etc? What the living hell could “etc” be?!
That night we stayed in Navajo Land Hotel in Tuba City, having driven into dusk through scenery lit by the fading sun. The name is an odd side-step meant to honor Hopi Chief Tuva, but the Mormons who were guided through the land by Tuva apparently had trouble pronouncing the letter “v” (but did they, really?) and simply replaced it with “b.” We’ll leave our comments at that, and instead revel in the glorious hillsides.
We were glad to have seen both sides of the Grand Canyon, with their distinct personalities that earn the National Park its place as one of the United States’ most iconic destinations.
Having just hit the 5-month mark on our grand RV adventure, it is especially illuminating to see that we had by FAR our lowest month for mileage in Fati, with just 474 miles covered from Fillmore in Utah to Kingman here in Arizona.
Month 5 – picking up in Fillmore, Utah, and traveling to Kingman, Arizona
Showing more detail of our Month 5 route from Utah, through Nevada, to Arizona
The main reason for such a low total for the full month (as opposed to the 868 miles in Month 4 and the mind-boggling 2,504 we travelled in the first month!) was because we spent two full weeks in one location (Laughlin, Nevada) , and used our tow car, Nippy, for our more extensive travelling once we were settled.
We haven’t been sluggards, though. Our mileage in Nippy was a whopping 3,718 for this month, which included trips from Cedar City to the Grand Canyon (North Rim) and Palm Springs from Laughlin, as well as our just-completed 779-mile 3-day round-trip from Kingman to the Grand Canyon (South Rim), Monument Valley and Flagstaff.
Fati and Nippy in our current campground, the Blake Ranch RV Resort in Kingman, AZ
Highlights of the last month include Las Vegas, the Mojave Desert, both North and South visitor centers of the Grand Canyon, the Colorado River, Monument Valley, and the city of Flagstaff, which really caught our attention, in addition to a fascinating section of Route 66.
When all added up, we have travelled 6,403 miles from home in Florida in Fati, and another 13,339 sight-seeing in Nippy from our various RV campgrounds.
The first 4 months – from home in Florida to Fillmore, Utah, a total of 5,929 miles
That’s a total of 19,742 miles in and around the US since we left home. And we’re still hungry for more! We do still have another 7 months to explore this half (or two-thirds) of the country, though, and the next month will include more iconic stop-overs, notably Lake Havasu and London Bridge, the RV Mecca of Quartzite, Phoenix, Sedona and Tucson. Stay tuned…
Simon is a huge fan of old cowboy movies and Sergio Leone’s “spaghetti Westerns.” So much so that we decided to leave Fati for two days and make the 790-mile round trip from Kingman, Arizona to the Navajo Nation to see Monument Valley’s iconic red-rock formations.
Leone only shot scenes for one movie in Monument Valley – Once Upon A Time In The West – as a tribute to filmmaker John Ford, who helped make the area famous through his classic Westerns. Nearly 30 movies feature scenes shot in the red-earth valley, including Thelma and Louise, 2001: A Space Odyssey, National Lampoon’s Vacation, and Back to the Future III, but none captured the magnificence of the place the way the Westerns did.
The back side of Monument Valley.
In reality, we paid a visit to Grand Canyon’s South Rim on the way to Monument Valley, but we’ll share that with you in our next blog.
While researching our trip to Arizona’s north-eastern corner, we read several times that the scenic loop through what is properly called Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park is a rugged dirt road, and only recommended for those with a high-clearance vehicle. One of us (whose name begins with the letter Simon) could not accept that as fact, and a few websites also insisted small cars were fine. Both of us agreed we’d check it out and decide for ourselves.
When we reached Monument Valley’s toll booth, Simon asked the question. The woman in the booth took one look at Nippy and said, “The road is really rough. I wouldn’t try it in that.”
Most of the terrain looked like this.
We had begun using a “points” system when it comes to things that challenge us as we travel but we do them anyway. To be fair, we give each other anywhere from a thousand up to a billion points for any given challenge, so it’s a bit of a skewed system, and it was here that Simon cashed in some of his points. The decision was made.
But not to worry; we’d noticed two things as we were driving toward the park. One was that you can see all of the valley’s rock formations from Route 163, which parallels the park, and the other was that Route 163 is entirely paved.
Each formation can be viewed up close from inside the park, but we were perfectly happy with our grand overview, and we stopped at every turnout, marveling at the magnificence.
The movie Forrest Gump, starring Tom Hanks, was also partly shot on location in the Navajo Nation, and Route 163 was the setting in which Forrest stops running during his three-years crisscrossing the U.S.
The road looks abandoned in this photo, but really it’s quite busy.
Today, the road draws visitors who want to recreate that memorable scene. It does involve standing stock-still in the middle of a relatively busy road, but that doesn’t deter fans, some of whom have been injured or killed in the process. We chose to stand along the side of the road rather than in it, because it would take a long time for Emergency Services to reach us if we got run over by a truck.
What a wonderful afternoon it had been! For Simon, it was the fulfilment of a movie fascination dating back to his childhood, when he watched John Ford’s The Searchers, and again in Once Upon A Time In The West.
“It opened up a magnificent real-life panorama that far surpassed the two-dimensional qualities of the cinema screen, in a landscape that was both breathtaking and awe-inspiring,” he gushed as we drove to Williams for an overnight to break up the long drive back to Fati.
Happy husband!
We have thoroughly enjoyed our time in Arizona so far, but there was something quite special about Monument Valley that gave me (Susan) a deeper understanding of why my parents, especially my beloved mother, loved the Southwest so much. And in that moment of acknowledgement as we were leaving the Navajo Nation, I looked to my right and saw the only cloud in the sky, which, to me, looked ethereal and angelic.
It was one of those moments people who have lost a loved one recognize, and I smiled, silently thanking my Mom for showing up.
Today marks five months since we locked the door to our house in Florida and set off for a year-long adventure in an RV. Here’s what we learned during the past month:
Simon loves driving through mountain passes in Fati. Susan does not love that. Following behind in the car while he hoots and hollers and is pumped full of adrenalin works for both of us. Praying “Keep him safe,” over and over, out loud, in the car, is much better than having Susan constantly say, “Please be careful. Watch that edge. Slow down. Do you think you should downshift? There’s a big hill coming up. Are you good? I think there’s a downward slope around this bend…” and on and on and on…. Split up if you need to, to save everyone’s sanity.
Ninety-nine percent of the time, the coolest room in the rig is the bathroom. You might be tempted to keep the dog in there on super-hot days, since he or she is wearing a fur coat all the time, but this idea is both stupid and not at all practical. Think it if you must, but don’t do it. No one will end up happy.
Having seen about a billion mountains and rocky outcroppings, you’re now able to immediately identify A) What kind of rock any given mountain is made of and B) How it was made. Aztec Sandstone? Easy. Area that was once an ancient sea? Childs play! Debris field from an exploding volcano back when dinosaurs were a thing? No problem at all, with bonus points for identifying the volcano itself, and any cinder cones it produced. You rock, you self-taught geologist, you!
Don’t choose a white or cream-colored throw rug for use in your rig. I don’t care if it’s the old one you had in your house and would have thrown away if you didn’t put it in your RV. You’ll spend all of your time looking at a filthy rug, starting 20 minutes after you freshly launder it. Get a black one or a brown one, because that’s what color it’s going to be anyway.
The American Southwest may be best known as cowboy country, but it’s the dust that leaves a lasting impression on you. Any allergies you had back at home will subside, but those burning eyes and scratchy throat, with a heaping helping of sneezing, remain your constant companions. Get tissue. We’ll wait.
They may say, “Yeah, but it’s a dry heat” when the temperatures top out at 105, but 105 is 105, dry or not. Coming from Florida, we understand the sopping-wet of summertime. In Arizona, we’re bewildered by what’s happening to our bodies when sweat evaporates so fast you don’t even know it was there, or it pools under your hair and rains down like a salty waterfall.
Comments from other RVers like, “Our site was next to some bushes, but we were told it’s illegal to kill the Black Widow spiders that live in them,” never leave you. Shaking out all your towels and flipping your bedsheets up so you can see under them before you get in are your new habits.
If you live in the Southwest, it’s apparently a law that you have to have an RV in your yard. Doesn’t matter if it’s a million-dollar Prevost or an abandoned hulk that’s been rusting through to its substructure ever since Hector was a pup. Ideally, it’s the latter, and even better, there should be at least two.
Wow. We’d heard about the friendships that form between RVers, we’ve had nothing but kindness from the people we’ve met, and we’ve added new friends on FB to keep up with each other’s travels. Even after all of that, we had no idea how much you care about these new friends when they’re facing a sudden challenge. There is something very special about this community. How wonderful it is to have your heart expand this way.
Simon wanted to see Palm Springs because “it has a reputation as an iconic destination, like Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills, and Manhattan, and it’s right in the middle of the desert.” Plus, it has a golf course that was featured in Walt Disney World’s former Soarin’ attraction at Epcot.
Susan had been before, in what feels like another lifetime. At that time, the experience was all about wealth and what it could buy. Staying in a home in swanky Rancho Las Palmas in Rancho Mirage, enjoying the finest dining, and having a BMW to drive around in. Would the city tucked into a valley with the San Jacinto Mountains as its backdrop live up to that glittering yesteryear now that self-indulgence was no longer on the menu?
Just 36 miles from the town of Joshua Tree, Palm Springs and our two-night stay at the pet-friendly Inn at Palm Springs was an easy drive. The Inn is a comfy boutique hotel on Palm Canyon Drive, the main artery that connects the north side of town with pretty much everything.
We totally switched off, professionally, during this trip, and didn’t get a photo of the outside of the hotel. Frankly, we didn’t get a photo of a lot of things, which is probably a good sign even if it’s not very helpful for a blog.
But let’s get straight to the food. Real food. Food that makes sense, wasn’t prepared in an Instant Pot or an air fryer, and had so much flavor we almost wept with happiness and appreciation.
Having spent the day in Joshua Tree National Park, we freshened up before heading to Trio for dinner. Their outdoor seating was perfect for bringing Ruthie along, with the added benefit of being right on Palm Canyon Drive so we could enjoy the evening ambiance.
Our kind of outdoor dining!
We started with a perky Cucumber Gin Fizz for Susan and vodka-based Triotini for Simon, then moved on to the Sticky Pork Riblets appetizer, light-as-air Triangoli pasta with summery veggies and parmesan cheese for Susan, succulent Scottish Salmon for Simon, and the earthy deliciousness of Japanese Eggplant with White Miso Sauce to share. (Apologies for the dark photos; it was dim, which is romantic, and we didn’t want to disturb other diners with camera flash.)
Sticky rib appetizer and luxurious cocktails. Like real adults would have!
How luscious is this?
It is a rare day when Susan orders pasta, but this light, lemony version was a worthwhile exception.
We could have made a meal of the Japanese Eggplant on its own. Delicious!
After a good night’s sleep, we refilled our half-empty stomachs with breakfast at Grand Central Palm Springs, which came highly recommended. Common sense won out over greediness, and we split a Morning BLT (bacon, tomato, baby arugula, poached eggs, and avocado dressing, served open-faced on sourdough, with house potatoes) and a Chocolate Hazelnut croissant, with tea and coffee.
Half of the large Morning BLT.
Our visit wasn’t just about eating (although we did a lot of eating!), so after breakfast we poodled over to the Palm Springs Air Museum, one of the city’s major non-golfing/non-eating/non-shopping attractions.
Simon loves this kind of place; Susan thought she’d be bored stiff. But, like the GE Aviation Learning Center in Evandale, Ohio, where jet engines are the stars of the show, something unforgettable happened.
This isn’t the unforgettable thing. Ruthie just loves statues. She thinks this one is trying to hand her a treat.
In Evandale, it was the cute little PR girl who said to Susan, “You’re bored, aren’t you? Well, I’m going to tell you, in just four words, something that will help you remember how every single engine works, and you’ll never forget it. Ready? Suck, squeeze, bang, blow. That’s how engines work.”*
A representation of my reaction. I never did forget how engines work.
The Air Museum wasn’t nearly as X-rated, but it was no less astonishing. They have an actual Stealth Bomber on display, and while aircraft and war are not Susan’s thing at all, being in its presence was hugely impressive. Discovering how something that big can be “hidden” from radar was truly fascinating.
Talking to the docents as we walked through each hanger, arranged by the wars each planes served in, made the whole experience come alive. Many of the docents are veterans, and we spent far more time at the museum than we thought we would because they were so eloquent in sharing their stories, both triumphant and heartrending.
There was even a fabulous tribute to Walt Disney and the Disney Company’s role in WWII. It’s far more extensive than this one photo.
All that patriotic fervor was thirsty work, so we made a stop at Shields Date Garden for sustenance. From the moment Palm Springs became a possibility for our trip, Susan had insisted Simon had to try a Date Shake. He needed no second urging, and was rewarded with a 21-ounce cup of culinary delight that starts with a subtle mocha flavor, although there is no mocha in it, then evolves into a deep, rich date flavor, with just a pleasing hint of grit from the dates’ rough skin.
Simon’s first Date Shake. Click on photo for video
The day was hot, so a visit to the cool breezes of the Salton Sea were in order as we brought our internal temperature down with our Date Shakes. It was a 120-mile journey, round trip, but we had no real plans and it’s an iconic part of the desert experience.
Susan remembered it as a place that absolutely reeked of dead fish, but that was 40 years ago. Things change, and by this time all the inland sea’s fish were probably long gone.
That part was true. If there were any fish left, we never saw them. What we did see was desolation, and a lot of Border Patrol cars. Once upon a time, the landlocked salty sea was an oasis that drew tourists from far and wide. Now, it’s a dying lake riddled with heavy metals, agricultural toxins, pesticides, and no cooling breezes. The small communities around it are dying, too.
This was as close as we could get.
Salton Sea City wasn’t looking its best.
Those who remain here deserve to have basic services. We wondered what had happened.
Like Utah’s Great Salt Lake, Salton Sea is drying up. It’s a sobering reminder of what’s happening with the climate, and a warning bell that rings loudly when you’re standing shoreside.
Dinner outdoors at LuLu California Bistro that evening helped restore our mood. Simon ordered a Santa Fe Panini (the California version of a Cuban Sandwich) and Susan had the lettuce wrap appetizer, with a beer each to adjust our attitudes quickly.
If there’s one thing that isn’t in short supply, it’s great food.
On the way back to our hotel, we were on the lookout for Bob Hope’s house, high on a hill overlooking the city, which made a huge impression on Susan during her first visit, for it’s astounding roofline architecture that curves gracefully downward, practically covering the 24,000-square-foot residence within. (Click HERE for an insightful story—with interior photos! – about this building, describing its restoration and why its famous architect felt the original project was an “ugly, tough job.”)
We also detoured into an area called The Movie Colony, where many famous people live or lived, including Frank Sinatra, Leonardo DeCaprio, Marilyn Monroe, Cary Grant, the Kardashians, and a list of other celebrities as long as your arm.
The houses are all low-rise and tucked away behind walls, fences, and/or high bushes. This was once Frank Sinatra’s house.
This is the home of an artist, and the entire yard is full of metal sculptures he’s made.
But it was the next day’s adventure that would prove to be the ultimate highlight of a trip that had many highlights. Simon had arranged to meet up with his childhood tennis buddy, Juan Carlos, during their time living in Botswana in the 1970s. They hadn’t seen each other in 48 years, but Simon still has a photo of the two of them, taken after the 1974 Botswana Boys Singles Final, which Juan Carlos won in three sets.
And what a reunion it was. Juan Carlos was accompanied by his lovely lady, Adrianna, and over the course of two hours, lively conversation closed the gap on those 48 years. Upon parting, the two recreated Simon’s photo from long ago, and we were left with the promise of a place to stay should we find ourselves in San Diego, while they have a room waiting for them if they visit Orlando.
Did our detour into Palm Springs live up to that opulent, cash-fueled visit all those years ago? It exceeded it by far, because this time it was all about the joy of being together, the simplicity of a full belly, and the bond of friendship that lasts a lifetime. Priceless.
*For those who also wish to never forget how engines work, they Suck fuel and air in, they Squeeze it down tight, it creates a big Bang as it burns, and finally it will Blow exhaust out. You’re welcome!
Signs pleading “Do Not Die Today” served as a grim introduction to Joshua Tree National Park, but, like most visitors, we made a mental note to avoid death and joyfully headed into the desert where succulents beseeching God and the un-huggable “Teddybear” cactus both live.
Joshua Tree National Park’s star attractions – named by 19th-century Mormon settlers who decided they looked like the Old Testament’s tribal leader, Joshua, with his arms raised toward his Heavenly Father – aren’t trees. They’re a type of Agave, the genus responsible for tequila, which, when imbibed in quantity, can also make you see God.
Other agave.
Joshua Tree National Park contains the greatest number of its namesake specimens in the world, and their importance to the ecosystem has earned them well-deserved protection by law. Visitors are allowed to walk the sandy trails between the plants, and a quick touch of their spiky appendages is all the incentive needed to leave them alone.
Having driven in via the West Entrance (located on the north side of the park), we had at least two hours of good scenic driving, with plenty of stops to enjoy each elevations’ unique topography.
Every time I turned around he was poking his finger on a plant.
Among the highlights were an unexpected view of Palm Springs (our next destination) from the 5,185-foot-high Keys View overlooking the Coachella Valley, and the shocking realization we were also looking at the infamous 750-mile-long San Andreas Fault Line, an unsettling uprising where the Pacific and North American tectonic plates collide, with dramatic results (earthquakes).
The long, thin, dark mound stretching across the valley just below the furthest mountain range is the San Andreas Fault Line. Who knew?
Also visible from Keys View are the Salton Sea, which we’d visit the next day, Signal Mountains on the U.S./Mexico border, and Mount San Jacinto, rising 10,831 feet above the valley.
Obligatory Selfie.
Returning to a lower elevation, we paid a visit to Hall of Horrors and its freaky rock mounds before taking a detour south to Cholla Cactus Garden.
How artsy are we!
Some shots look so real in your mind, but maybe not quite as real when you take them,
As much as we enjoyed the delightfully wonky Joshua Trees, we were even more taken by the ten-acre grove of Teddybear Cholla cactuses that only grow between 600 and 3,300 feet above sea level. Their name is misleading. This isn’t the sort of thing you’d want your toddler to snuggle down with for a good night’s sleep.
They look so cute and fuzzy, don’t they? They’re not.
Adorable as they are, they also have a super-power that allows their needles to readily attach to anything that brushes by them, and not in a good way. Simon was tempted to give them a poke, but, somehow, he resisted. We have special tweezers in the car for just such emergencies (tick tweezers for dogs, really, but they’ll pull needles, too), but thankfully we didn’t have to use them.
We returned to Joshua Tree after our visit to Palm Springs, but in the interest of efficiency I’m going to include that visit here and cover Palm Springs separately. We ate a lot of real food while experiencing the tucked-away haven for celebrities, wealthy second-homers, and the hard-working people who keep the whole place going, and that deserves its own blog.
On our way through California from Nevada we took the northern route to Joshua Tree, traveling along roads that were not only desolate, they also featured tiny towns that were mostly abandoned, and a single gas station/café that we thought would have a restroom for bursting bladders, but didn’t.
This, but for three hours.
There may have been about 50 buildings here, but only a handful were occupied.
Need a bathroom with a flushable toilet? Too bad. Not doin’ it here!
Not wanting a repeat of that crushing emptiness and full bladders, and also wanting to see the southern side of Joshua Tree National Park, we opted for Highway 10 east, blissfully unaware of what the northern leg of the journey along connecting Highway 177 would bring.
We only needed a moderate detour into the park for Cottonwood Spring, a literal oasis in the desert. Instead of the shimmering mirage that promised a palm tree-line water hole to movie and cartoon characters who didn’t pay attention to the Do Not Die Today signs and pack enough water and their own shade, this oasis did exist, and provided cooling cover, though all of its water had dried up.
A real live oasis. I’m not even sure I knew these existed.
Tiny Simon.
With so much dense foliage around, and this being a desert, we did wonder what might be lurking in the underbrush or clinging to tree branches, but we set that aside and had a nice little wander, admiring the dry wash that ran through it while also bearing all the Flash Flood Danger signs in mind.
As pretty as the oasis was, it must be even more spectacular when this wash is flowing.
Fascinating signs along the oasis’ pathway described how the Cahuilla Indians who lived here used desert plants for food and medicine, and evidence of their daily lives remains, through mortar holes ground into granite rocks. The holes are so deep we could put our hands into them, nearly up to the elbow. Imagine how long it would take to form a hole that deep when grinding seeds for food.
On the return journey back to Laughlin, we had the same mind-numbing emptiness along Highway 177 as we’d had on Highway 62 on our way out, with two major exceptions. Out in the middle of absolutely nowhere were two roadside curiosities. Hundreds of shoes, most tied together in pairs by their laces, some just singles, and some nothing more than the sole of a shoe, were thrown over a metal structure and a fence, or strewn across the ground as if blown down by the wind or left by a careless owner.
There’s no way you can drive by something like this without stopping.
Fledgling shoe tree.
One side of the big shoe fence.
Other travelers had stopped, too, and we all wondered what it could mean. The trash and broken glass scattered around the place suggested a festival of some sort had taken place, but signs and signed objects indicated grief. Many shoes were signed with, presumably, their owner’s name, but other objects included comments such as “Rest easy,” or “R.I.P., Forever in our hearts” or the grief-ridden, “I love you, my boy, my son.”
It began to dawn on us that these could be memorials to young people who had passed during their school years, or shortly after, and the shoes were a way to show respect for their memory.
There were no schools nearby, and no town, nor even any buildings. Was the road a hazard? Did local teens dare each other to take on the desert the way only those who feel they have lots of time and are somewhat invincible could do? What happened here?
When we returned to our dear Fati we looked it up, and it turns out these shoe memorials are mainly just due to people passing by who throw their footwear over the metal “tree” or fence, presumably to combat the utter boredom of driving along that vacuous road. No one perished along the highway, though some deaths were remembered there.
We could see how people might die in Mojave, however, if they’re ill-informed or careless. At the same time, the desert held a quiet beauty for us; a beauty that was subtle and odd and blistering. We left thankful that we did not die that day in that fierce and wonderful place.
At the start of our journey, we had five California national parks on our itinerary. Once we were within striking distance of The Golden State after modifying our route, only two of those parks remained viable.
Yosemite, Sequoia, Death Valley, Mojave Desert, and Joshua Tree were high on our list of parks we were most excited to see, but from our base in Laughlin, Nevada, the logistics – and Hurricane Hilary – came into play.
We had spent the last several weeks working on a plan that would allow us to make two overnight trips into California in Nippy, first to Yosemite and Sequoia, then to Joshua Tree and Palm Springs, along with a day trip to Death Valley and a day trip to Mojave Desert.
We won’t put you through the mental gymnastics we performed, but will only say it just wasn’t feasible. With various road closures, Sequoia and Yosemite were too far for a single overnight, and Death Valley was closed completely due to damage from Hurricane Hilary.
This isn’t a national park. It’s our lunch in the Mojave Desert. We are (and by “We are,” I mean “Susan is”) posting it only to prove we do sometimes eat real food whose ingredients go together. I’m also posting it because I don’t have any other photos that would be appropriate, and I’m tired of posting photos of rocks.
When our year on the road ends, it doesn’t mean we’ll never travel again, we decided, and we would put Oregon, Washington, and California on the menu for a later date, to enjoy them fully and at leisure. Problem solved.
Mojave Desert National Preserve was only 51 miles from Laughlin, barely time to get Nippy’s engine warmed up. Neither of us had any real idea of what to expect, but we did hope we’d come across another roadrunner, a bird Simon was eager to see. We’d spotted one at Davis Dam in Laughlin but, as everyone knows, one roadrunner sighting isn’t enough.
There was still evidence of water damage from Hurricane Hilary when we entered Mojave Desert National Preserve at Hole-in-the-Wall, named for the rocky hillsides that look like Swiss cheese.
Messy, but passable.
Swiss-cheesy rocks
There were also no-go areas that were under construction or prohibitive due to a fire, and many roads were only accessible to four-wheel-drive vehicles, so our options were limited. But our goal had really been to see the desert, and we’d certainly get a flavor of it with the driving we could do.
This goes on for 1.6 million acres, and spills out to a whole lot more of southern California.
We thought the desert would be nearly all sand, but it was surprisingly vibrant.
Those brown cactus kept fooling us into thinking there was a large mammal grazing in the distance. They sort of look like baby Wookie penguins up close.
This little fellow greeted us at the Visitor Center, and wasn’t at all shy about posing for the camera.
We didn’t see any roadrunners, but we did have a wonderful wildlife sighting, which capped off the trip perfectly. The Desert Tortoise is a threatened species, so it felt quite special to see one, especially at such close proximity.
Click on photo to view video
One of the most popular reasons for visiting Mojave Desert is the Rings Loop, a hike which includes an ascent through the tight Banshee Canyon using metal rings embedded into each side of the narrow rockway, but Ruthie couldn’t do that because she doesn’t have opposable thumbs.
Rings Loop Photo credit U.S. National Park Service
The Lava Tubes are another major draw, but due to damage they are now accessible only by four-wheel-drive, so the man at the Visitor Center suggested a side trip to Kelso Dunes, further west along Highway 40. The loss was softened a bit by having been in the lava tubes at Craters of the Moon while we were in Idaho.
We forgot to take the obligatory selfie at Mojave Desert, so here’s one from Craters of the Moon.
The dunes are massive. Much more extensive than Bruneau Dunes, but also much harder to access. There are plenty of warnings not to enter any road that’s not paved if you aren’t in a 4WD, so again, that particular road was off limits to us.
Roads often start out looking all benign, but can quickly devolve into bone-jarring terrain.
The day had still been worthwhile, and we were glad to have made the trip. To make up for any small frustrations, we had a rockin’ surprise in store when we returned home to Fati.
One of the casinos in Laughlin had been advertising a concert featuring REO Speedwagon and Styx (for those born after the turn of the century, these were popular rock bands from the ancient days of the 1980s). What we hadn’t realized was, it would be an outdoor concert just up the road from our campground, and we’d be able to hear every single note from our living room.
It occurred to us we might have an even better view if we drove over, parked nearby, and walked up to the venue, but the police were out in full force at barricades to the road the stadium was on, so that was a big “No.”
We sat in a parking lot just across the street, but it quickly dawned on us the wind was blowing in a direction that favored us returning to Fati, where we could hear each song clearly, have our own clean bathroom, and enjoy a beer for less than $15 a pop. Rock on, Team Veness!
“Go to Oatman and see the wild burros, but don’t take your dog out of the car or they’ll bite its head and rip its scalp off,” the tourism representative in Laughlin, Nevada told us. How could we pass up something that local and unique? We might never get the chance to meet murder donkeys again, so, with the agreement Ruthie would stay safely in Nippy, off we went.
The burro’s face in the upper left-hand corner represents what’s to come.
Oatman, Arizona, 30 miles from our campground in Laughlin, Nevada, has two claims to fame. First, it was the place where Clark Gable and his bride, Carole Lombard, spent their honeymoon night. Second are its wild burros, who wander through the tiny town at will, entering stores, begging tourists for snacks, and weighing up your dog’s potential as their next hearty meal.
There are signs everywhere warning tourists about this penchant for bloodshed, but that didn’t stop some people from walking their tiny canines right down the town’s only street, like sadists waving tasty cakes under the noses of starving insane asylum inmates. And it was clear the burros weren’t shy about partaking, should the opportunity present itself. You could see it in their eyes.
The first burros we met before reaching town were friendly. A mama and her baby gave us passing glances, while their companion had no problem at all coming straight up to the car to see if anything other than raw dog meat was on offer.
The specimens in town were pushy bastards, happy to pose for photos but even happier to kick each other, bite each other, and act in all manner of unsociable ways if they thought it would get them to the front of the line with tourists who were handing out hay pellets the size of a human fist, which could be purchased by the bagful in several of the stores.
Tourist does not like pushing!
With Ruthie and her fuzzy scalp locked securely in the car (with all the windows cracked to let the breeze in and a promise we’d be back in just a few minutes), we headed to the Saloon, which the visitor center lady said was a “must see,” but stopped short of telling us why. “I don’t want to spoil it for you,” she said.
It didn’t help that there were three saloons, and we didn’t know which one she meant. The first one we popped our heads into was quirky, but reasonably so.
The second one, however, was the most outrageous example we’d ever seen of bars that encourage their patrons to staple dollar bills to the walls. This place was literally covered in money; nearly $400K, in total, we were told.
What the actual…!
Dollar bills were hanging in their thousands from the rafters, stapled to the doors and the walls, and crammed onto every available surface, not just in the bar, but in what appeared to be four or five rooms, a stairway, and probably upstairs too, though we didn’t make it that far.
We’re pretty sure this was the saloon the visitor center lady meant.
If there was a freakier bar in town than this one, we probably didn’t want to see it.
There is a room covered in dollar bills beyond this one. Maybe there are two. It was hard to tell.
The new Mr. and Mrs. Gable’s fame didn’t hold a candle to all that cash, but their names were immortalized on a hand-painted plank nailed above the doorway leading to the hotel rooms, which created an uncomfortable mental image of them climbing the stairs on the way to celebrating their wedding night.
We took some photos, made all the appropriate “Oh, my God” noises, purchased two ice cream cones, and headed back to Ruthie, whose fur was all intact, even if her attitude wasn’t. She hates being left, we hate leaving her, but there are times when it’s for her own good, and we felt virtuous as we enjoyed our cones, congratulating ourselves for having saved her life, even though she’ll never know it.
She did get the bottom of each of our cones, so life was good!
You’re tired of reading about canyons, we’re tired of writing about canyons, so it’s time for some Vegas, baby! Almost.
Interstate 15 made for a very long day’s journey from Cedar City to North Las Vegas, with the added “thrill” of the Virgin River Gorge, a pass through the mountains that was so intense Susan had to drive Nippy through it while Simon hooted and hollered and had a hellofa great time taking the gorge’s grades in Fati. Sometimes you have to split up to keep everyone’s sanity intact.
There are no photos of this pass, of course, since Simon’s full focus had to be on the road and Susan’s was on praying for Simon’s safety. He was perfectly safe, as he knew he would be, and we made camp for four days in Vegas once we put the gorge behind us.
Our view of the Strip out Fati’s living room window.
The sunsets were spectacular!
Valley of Fire State Park had been our goal for this leg of the trip, and we originally intended to spend three nights in a campground inside the park. Unbeknownst to us, Valley of Fire began a reservation system two days prior to our visit (it had been first-come), and we missed our window of opportunity. In the end, it did us a favor. It would have been a challenge getting Fati into the campground.
Instead, we visited in Nippy and spent a lovely afternoon enjoying the outstanding crimson Aztec Sandstone hills and pale limestone cliffs that were laid down and risen up during the Jurassic and Paleozoic eras, respectively. During the Mesozoic Era, 20 million years ago, this area was a sea.
We’ll only show you a small snapshot, since you’ve already seen more rocks than any blog should make its readers endure.
The color of that sand!“Yikes!”
Petroglyphs in Valley of Fire were more recognizable as human than most we’d seen.
Hoover Dam was sort of on the way back to Vegas, so we took a little detour to see this human-made marvel of engineering. To say the guard at the security gate was “unhelpful” when we asked if there was a parking area before the dam would be an understatement. “It’s too complicated,” he said, and waved us through.
The answer to our question is “Yes.” The Mike O’Callaghan-Pat Tillman Memorial Bridge just beyond the security gates not only had a parking lot, it had the premier view of the Hoover Dam for those who enjoy high places suspended over an 890-foot drop to the Colorado River.
Dam that’s big!
The next day offered perfect blue-sky weather for a trip out to Red Rock Canyon, which featured the best Visitor Center we’d seen so far, and a feature-packed scenic drive that hit every high note. But I’m going to run screaming from the room if I have to post many more photos of rocks, so here are three, and we can only highly encourage you to put this superb park on your itinerary next time you’re in Nevada. It’s lovely.
This isn’t a mural, it’s a wall of windows in the Visitor Center that looks out onto the park. How fabulous is that?
This isn’t a rock, but this lady rocks! We got the impression she’s a dog walker who’s taking her charges on a field trip.
Climbers (smack in the middle of this photo) who are much more adventurous than us. We watched them scale what seemed to be a flat wall.
Our third full day was intended to be a work day “at home,” but the lure of the Strip was too strong. We decided to check it out during the day, then return for its famous after-dark personality in the evening.
Simon had the brilliant idea of booking Ruthie for a grooming at PetSmart, which would buy us about two hours of free time to go into a few casinos for the atmosphere, and give her some spa time for a bath, tooth brushing, and nail trim. Bellagio was our goal, and we’d fit in Cesar’s Palace and the Venetian if we could.
Bellagio’s lobby.
Simon risking it all on one pull of the handle (not really; we didn’t actually gamble at all, though Simon probably would have had he not been offered the choice between this, or buying $6 coffees nearly every day. Susan’s no fun when she goes all financially practical).
In the end, we only had time for Bellagio, but we did get to see the fountain show, which was probably worth our time. It only does two musical numbers, the first of which was the National Anthem, and the second was the hauntingly beautiful Con te partirò (Time to Say Goodbye), sung by Andrea Bocelli and Sara Brightman.
We kept trying to time our Selfie for the biggest water bursts, but never knew when they would happen.
The Sphere opened on September 29, 2023, but they were doing “rehearsals” while we were there.
The black “arm” sticking up is the X-Scream thrill ride at the top of the Strat. It rocks forward and backward, dangling riders 866 feet above the Strip and suspending them there until they pass out cold. No, wait, that would just be me (Susan). Other people seem to love it.
New York, New York hotel and casino
Outside MGM Grand. So many lights and video ads!
Ruthie often lays down in the back seat while we’re touring, but she was riveted along the Strip.
The famous pawn shop from television’sPawn Stars.
Even more captivating than the casinos were the bizarre sights we kept seeing, so we’ll share a few of them with you and hope they brighten your day, as they did ours.
Is that a selling point?
His mother must be so proud!
Mattresses with no credit check? The promise you didn’t know you needed.
Mickey, NOOOOOOOO!!!
Ummmm…well….okay, then!
We were ready to leave Las Vegas when the time came. Little did we know we’d have an even more bizarre town waiting for us at our next stop.
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