NEVADA
It was about an hours’ drive south to the Idaho/Nevada border. Beans wasn’t into traveling this morning and she let me know about it. I stopped twice along the way but neither spot fit her needs. Too noisy I guess. We crossed the border and immediately passed through the small gambling town of Jackpot. The last time I had been through Jackpot was in the late seventies and there wasn’t much there−it’s a middle of nowhere town. I was now surprised to see how developed it had become with five big casinos and hotels and even a golf course. Yet there was nothing of interest there for me so we slowly motored on through and into the vast sagebrush wasteland of the Great Basin Desert. I was happy to be back. I like the starkness of the desert. It distances me away from all the nastiness elsewhere. Soon there was a rest stop. I wheeled on down into it, the Salmon Falls Creek rest area. Here was a place Beans approved of. She enjoyed smelling around, looking at the water, bird watching and just lounging. She was now fine for the rest of the drive.
After a hundred seventeen miles of driving for the day we arrived in Wells, Nevada at the junction of Interstate 80 and Highway 93 that we had come down on. Across from the Alamo Casino was a large gravel lot big rig truck drivers use. There we parked far away from the semis for the evening. Later for dinner I walked over to the nearby Burger King and ordered the wrong burger. I said cheeseburger instead of a Whopper with cheese. My error wasn’t discovered until I pulled the hockey puck size burger out from the bag. This Burger King had two large clear Plexiglas COVID-proof panels installed between the customer and cashier which made it next to impossible to communicate. I could see the sticky residue where once there was a wide band of duct tape holding the two panels together to form one complete barrier. The tape had been removed leaving a narrow v-slot to talk through. When it came time to pass money back and forth both customer and cashier had to step to the side and do so around the edge of the panels. The whole set-up was ridiculous and defeated the purpose it was intended for. While waiting for my order I walked through the dining area and peered through the door into the neighboring Subway sandwich store. On my way back I noticed a sandwich sitting on a table by itself. I picked up my order, went over to peel the paper from the straws for my shake, walked back and saw the cashier guy sitting there wolfing down the Subway sandwich. The poor guy had to eat in between customers−fortunately I was the only one. They don’t even get a thirty minute break for a lunch or dinner with just two workers, the cook and the cashier, running the place. Like every other fast food place I visited this year, a help wanted sign was taped on the windows.
We had a nice night there in the large gravel lot, the trucks keeping to one end and the travelers to the other. In the morning several emergency vehicles passed by heading north with sirens blaring. I had a good idea why−there must be a traffic accident on the highway we had come down on the day before. It was sixty-eight miles of two-lane highway and although the traffic wasn’t that heavy people were passing one another most of the way. I looked up online later in the day and sure enough, there was a head-on crash twenty-seven miles north of Wells. For some reason a person driving a U-haul truck had crossed over the centerline and crashed into a large semi. Both drivers had died. With that in mind we had a nice to drive the first half of this day’s one hundred and thirty-eight mile venture without seeing a single vehicle ahead or behind us traveling in the same direction as we were. We stopped at the halfway point at an abandoned traveler’s rest stop. At one time there was once a small motel, bar and café but now only ruins. A lone gas pump showed the price of gas at thirty-three cents a gallon the last time it pumped gas. There was no place on the gauge to display dollars for the price, it was that old. We parked in the shade of some large cottonwoods with a nice green grassy lawn underneath. Chickens were grazing in the grass. Off in the back there were a couple old trailers−someone must live here. Beans and I stepped out and a cacophony of dog barking ensued. Somewhere back there was a nest of little ankle biters judging by the sound of their yapping. One of the little bastards was loose and came out charging across the grass, all hair teeth and eyeballs barking and yapping. Beans totally ignored him. So did the chickens. I eventually threw a rock at the mongrel for his own good for if he came any closer to Beans he would soon regret it after she ripped into him. The dog took off and that was the end of that. Beans explored around the ruins searching for lizards and rodents then we returned to the RV unmolested. I fixed lunch before we continued on down the highway. Twelve miles later was a formal rest area which had some informational signs about the Pony Express route coming through this point long ago. While reading the history signboard a woman came up and began reading out loud. Some people cannot read using their inside voice. I left without finishing my history lesson. We ended our drive in Ely parking in a large lot behind the Nevada Hotel, a historical six-story hotel that was built during the prohibition years and was at the time the tallest building in Nevada.
We were now facing over two hundred and fifty miles to Las Vegas with little in between. Just to be safe I topped off the fuel tank in town before heading south on the Great Basin Scenic Highway. I had a few spots set up that we could camp at hoping we would miss the cold front coming down from the north. After an hour of driving we came upon the first, Patterson Pass BLM Campground. It had several sites with only tables and fire rings, one long drop and was free. Two large fifth wheels were there already but we were able to get a spot far away from them. That’s one of the nice things of having a small RV; we can back into small spots whereas those monsters including large class A motor homes have to park in drive through sites. This place was quiet and looked good where we could stay a couple days, relax and not drive so much day after day. We wound up staying six days at Patterson Pass. I was amazed that in our little circle of seven sites around the long drop no one came to camp. About four other campers did arrive during that time but as mentioned before, they were larger rigs or towing trailers and had to camp further away in the open. I made mention of this in the final blog post before leaving and within that afternoon all six remaining spots in our circle filled. Good I was planning on leaving.
I had a city operated traveler’s park lined up in the little town of Pioche less an hour to the south. I like these small town parks and being that Pioche was in the middle of nowhere Nevada I was looking forward to a couple day stay. Was I ever surprised when pulling up to the park that every space was occupied except for one. I pulled in to that last spot in the line of RVs where everyone was parked side by side a bit too close to each other for my comfort. Okay, I can do this. It is only for one night. Each site had water faucet and a sewage connection but no electricity. And it was free−donations gladly accepted. Next to us was a guy in a motor home with his Dingo dog tied up outside. The dog was lying on his mat never raising his head when we pulled in. He could not care less that is until I brought Beans out for a walk. The dog got up and began barking at her. Beans stood her ground, arched her back, fur sticking up and tail all fluffed out. So you want a piece of me? Bring it on. The dog got yelled at by its owner and put inside. Beans walked away to explore. She spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the table looking out the window at the dog, mocking it. Go ahead and bark. I dare you. Ha! The dog just looked up at her submissively. All in all considering close to ten travelers packed in together like that, the day and evening was quiet and peaceful.
We left in the morning attempting to find the small market in Pioche and resupply some fresh produce. I was unable to find the store but that was okay. I would hit up the market in the next town, Panaca, which looked to be a larger town and thus perhaps have a larger market. I found that store. Inside the bags of salad were at their premush stage date or past. The bananas looked worse than the two I had tossed out back at Patterson before leaving. There were no little baskets of cherry tomatoes to be had. Well I wasn’t going to just buy one head of lettuce so I left. I would stop at the next town down the line, Caliente. That town looked the same size as Panaca if not larger. At least it had a Family Dollar. There I was faced with the same situation−produce past its prime. My goodness! I hit up Family Dollar before leaving town. I knew they would not have produce but at least I could get some milk and oh yes, I needed some bagels which I had forgotten to look for at the other two stores. In Family Dollar I picked up the milk and a large bottle of lemonade but could not find bread. At the checkout the guy asked if I found everything okay. I mentioned the bread. He seemed surprised and took off down the aisle. I chased after him. “Well honestly it is bagels I am after.” He pointed out what they had. “We only have these three left.” They were cinnamon raisin which is what I like. I checked the date on the tab holder−Sept. 28, a week past today’s date. I took it anyway. I beat myself up afterward for making a poor decision of buying these dated bagels. They turned out to be okay days later.
Leaving town it was a few miles to Kershaw-Ryan State Park. I thought we might stay there especially since they had showers. Pulling up to the entrance we were faced with a ten dollar extortion fee for being a nonresident of Nevada on top of the inflated campground fee of twenty dollars that again for being a nonresident. Maybe the two were separate but I didn’t care. I lost cell service in the canyon and really only wanted that shower. The shower building was nice with several individual shower rooms with pay slots at twenty-five cents for four minutes. This was good. I got in and got out then left the park confines before setting up Claire for our next town and the continuing quest for produce.
Along the way we passed a sign noting the Oak Springs Trilobite Site. Wow! I slowed down as fast as I could and made a U-turn on the narrow highway. It was a few hundred yards long dirt road down to the parking area. There I fixed lunch and of course had to take Beans for a walk (new place, new place!) before I could even begin to think about hiking into the search area. Fortunately some more people pulled in and Beans wanted nothing to do with them. She wanted back inside the RV. Now I was free to take the quarter mile hike to an outcropping of shale where one could find trilobite fossils. There was an acre of exposed shale all which looked as it had been well gone through. Plus I read back at the information boards that most of the fossils were only parts of a trilobite. “Whole trilobite bodies are rare to be found.” I ended up looking for maybe a half an hour all the while thinking that this is something I would need to spend most of a day at, sitting down and really get into it. I wasn’t feeling it and so went back to the camper. We had miles to go to our next stay. Back on the road I wasn’t disappointed−at least I stopped and I saw.
We were climbing back up in altitude, something I didn’t really want to be doing. Topping out at over six thousand feet the road mercifully fell back down into Dry Lake Valley. It veered left from the junction of the Extraterrestrial Highway that skirts around Area 51. We finally arrived at the still larger town of Alamo. I would try their store. The bananas looked better. That’s about all I could say for it. I thought at least I could get that head of lettuce. One lonely wilted head lay there in the bin hoping someone would buy him. “This is pathetic.” I should have bought a head at that first store. I put the bananas back. That was a hundred mile stretch of three towns all with pitiful produce in their markets. I felt sorry for the poor residents that lived around here and had no other choice.
Just outside town was Pahranagat Wildlife Refuge with free camping. I missed the turnoff due to the coordinates input had Claire directed me beyond. As I drove on I could look down onto the dirt road that went along the shoreline of the lake. Every camp spot appeared occupied. Not good Beans. What are we going to do? There were no listed sites ahead for the next seventy some miles then we’d be in Las Vegas. I turned around and went back to the entrance hoping we’d find something. Just across the road from the entrance I saw a large gravel lot. Someone had mentioned a wide open space on the other side of the highway in case the campground was full. I pulled off onto the gravel. Well this is okay; in fact it is pretty nice. It was too. We were further from the highway than the campground and further away from people. We had a nice view being up on higher ground.
I wasn’t looking forward to the next day driving through Las Vegas. There was no other option. There are a lot of Walmarts in Las Vegas but all prohibit overnight parking−a city ordinance. It would be a hundred twenty mile drive to the next available overnight site. Then there was the weather to consider too. We would be getting too close to our winter home where it was still too warm. Here outside of Alamo was to be pleasant until Friday, four days away then scheduled to become twenty degrees cooler. At the same time in Quartzsite, Arizona it too would become twenty degrees cooler right down to a comfortable setting of the thermometer. And so it was decided for us. We’d stay north a little bit longer. I decided we’d stay at gravel lot for two nights.
The next day I went off for a short hike to see what there was to see. I came across the broken shell of a desert tortoise. I thought it would be nice to find an intact shell. Well on my way back I did just that finding a complete shell upside down at the base of a creosote bush. I turned it over and saw several of the plates were missing. I thought about it some more. I didn’t have the room for something so large (nearly a foot in diameter) in the RV so I left it there with its spirit.
We left the following day in no great hurry. Twenty-six miles down the highway was another one of those Roadside America oddities, RyanHenge. This was supposedly a recreation of Stonehenge in England like several I have seen in my travels. It sat within the massive Western Elite Landfill complex. We pulled in. We had to sign in at the weigh station before visiting. There the stone structure sat off in the distance. I parked realizing this wasn’t what I expected. It was larger with many more columns than the real Stonehenge, each pillar of perfectly poured concrete thirteen feet high. Inside the circle was a poured slab of concrete with a distorted map (because it spread out on a flat plane; visible proof for the flat-earthers) of the world engraved and painted on the surface depicting every country. I had to admit that would have been difficult to do in itself. The owner, Ryan Williams was fascinated with the stars, the summer and winter solstice and the two equinoxes that occur each year. His creation was based upon these events. There were other things to see supposedly−exotic animals (I only saw a camel), a garden to walk through, and some old railroad cars. I probably could have enjoyed it all more had I not been agonizing over having to drive through Las Vegas in an hour. Off in the distance I could see huge truck trailers dumping trash into a meteor crater size hole. I was fascinated by that more than the henge.
We left the site with sixty three miles to go to the huge sin-filled metropolis of gambling and vice. Along the way we met dozens upon dozens of truck/trailer rigs hauling tons of rubbish out from Las Vegas to the landfill. It boggled my mind trying to comprehend all that trash coming from the city and being hauled up into the desert day after day endlessly. Las Vegas garbage had created RyanHenge which was designed to last a thousand years. The trash would last longer.
As much as I didn’t want to, I would have to make a stop at a Walmart in Vegas. There are twenty-three of them (think about that for a moment) so I tried to select one on the outer fringes of the east side hopefully avoiding as much of the mess as possible. It was coming up on time to do an oil change in the RV. I could get the ten quarts of special oil I needed at Walmart saving me about ten dollars. Nevertheless Claire directed us down a boulevard for thirteen miles (I’m sure we could have stayed on the freeway longer somehow). I worked hard to ‘just relax’. We came upon a smaller Walmart Neighborhood Market. I’ll try that. I parked way out and observed. People all were wearing masks. I brought mine along in case I was accosted at the door. Sure enough at the door masks were mandatory. After seeing some of the individuals milling about, wearing a mask seemed like a good idea, all COVID concerns aside. This store was apparently situated in the black community of Las Vegas. Oh my God! These people were in terrible condition. I have never seen so many large (obese) people all together at once in one place. Their quality of life appeared awful. I truly felt bad for them. I worked my way back to the corner of the stone in the automotive section and found the particular oil I needed was not available. I left the cart there and high-tailed it back to the front. I passed one woman whose arms were nearly as big as my waist. It seemed as if it was a major effort for her to walk, which she did very slowly. A trip to Walmart (she was just tagging along with family who had long since left her behind) had to have worn her out for the day. Dear reader, I am not making fun of her nor any of the other oversized people there. I feel sorry for them. It is just I don’t see life like that often.
We continued the few miles more to a Supercenter size store. I found the oil, taking two of the last three five quart containers available. I really thought I would have to settle for one jug and go to yet another store to find the other. Happy I was with my find, I pressed myself to pick up a few other items for there would be no more Walmarts from here on to our winter home. Back at the RV I started to put things away and felt I better eat something before moving on. One of those loud boom-boom cars was parked nearby so I moved to the other end of the lot to put things away and eat. What does that loud thumping sound do to a person’s hearing over time? It is like taking a toilet plunger to your ears. Ready to leave I pulled out of the parking lot nearly getting side-swiped by some young hoodlum racing by. Oh Lord, just get us out of here in one piece please. Las Vegas was a fabulous place to leave.
About fifteen miles out of town near Boulder City was a place we stayed at last year when traveling with Tracy. Thankfully we didn’t have to drive any great length away from Las Vegas. This time we stayed closer to the highway for last year there was a lot of off road activity going on stirring up dust and noise. This year all I could hear was the distant sound of gunfire. We had a nice afternoon looking off into the valley filled with solar panels creating energy for Las Vegas which in turn created endless truckloads of rubbish that would be hauled sixty miles north to a huge pit in the earth next to RyanHenge.
The next day we drove a half an hour to Searchlight where I filled with diesel, again diesel being cheaper than regular gasoline. That left me shaking my head every time I saw it. Never in my life would I have imagined. Another half hour drive brought us to a nice rest area outside of Cal-Nev-Ari (that really is the name of this collection of trailers in the desert) and called it a day. We had had a series of long days of driving. No more. The rest stop was large and seemed to be fairly new. Half was the restroom area with the usual bunch of lined parking slots for regular cars and big rig trucks. The other half was equal in size, one huge rough surfaced blacktop open lot which was the designated pet area. Can you imagine how hot that asphalt would be in the summer? Nevada Department of Transportation expected you to walk your cat or dog on that? It would blister their feet. Whoever designed the pet area definitely wasn’t a pet owner. The “pet area” was where most of the travelers parked to spend the night which was far away from the truckers so that turned out to be nice. The next day was forecast for rain so we stayed a second night, as did a few others.