Into the Desert

{{By the way, the scenic drive thru the Redwoods is aptly named "Avenue of the Giants"; how cool is that?}}

Sunday evening, we finally escaped California and tootled our way to Tonopah, Nevada.  By tootled, I mean we repeatedly sang, "This Land Is Your Land {this land is my land" and "America, the Beautiful".  If anyone had been with us, they would have been nauseated by our overly dramatically acted out, sweeping arms, loud, off key renditions as we bellowed different ad libbed versions {including a really Really REALLY bad attempt to scat in jazz style; jazz hands I've got, scat I have not}.

Tonopah's accommodations were outstanding; we had a cabin and were able to take long hot steamy showers.  It was my first desert town that I spent any time in and we ventured forth to find a restaurant.  Several places that had been advertised in the office and in our cabin were actually closed.  As in, out of business, not just for the day.  We also passed lots of hotels that were deserted and many other buildings that had not very creative graffiti.  Tonopah had been a mining town and I think when the resources were depleted, the booming economy sounded a sour note and withered into a deflated company condom that was discarded and left behind when the investors moved on.

Monday, Labor Day, Sept 4th, we headed east on Hwy 6 and turned south on Nevada State Route 375, also known as the "Extraterrestrial Highway".  There were signs along the road that warned that cattle may cross the road and that you should watch for this.  There were at least three, possibly even four, ways of phrasing these notices; just to cover all their bases so there was no misunderstanding that yes, the cows roam freely and yes, they may cross the road, and yes, it  is YOUR responsibility to avoid hitting them.  We did pass several herds of cattle, including one exceedingly frisky calf that was feeling his oats and romping about the desert, amongst the sage brush as tho it were on an obstacle course and in training.  It was a rather quiet moment, when we were NOT listening to any audio books and I was watching this energetic calf when Jerry ad libbed, "first we zig, then we zag; then we zigzag quickly".  I'm not sure why I found it absolutely hilarious but I laughed until I suddenly said, "I have to pee."  We'd already left the incredibly kitschy, yet adorable, A'le'Inn Restaurant and there was nothing on the map that I could recall for quite some time.  So after awhile, with the pee urge passing into a more painful territory of "do it!  do it now!", we pulled off the road and I did what I have not done since I was a small child.  I relieved myself behind the passenger door, as tho it were a shield of privacy that would protect me from the gaze of those passers by in the big white extended cab pick up that was crammed full of people.  No traffic for the entire morning, for hours, nothing.  In mid squat, mid stream, a truckful of folks.   The truck actually slowed down, as tho they were going to offer assistance and then rethought that when they clearly saw a rather large white woman squatting next to a small yaris with Mississippi tags.

*sigh*  so much for the "avoid anything unduly embarrassing" pact with myself.

That afternoon, we pulled up to a small ranger's booth standing in the middle of the desert.  I had a flash of the Phantom Tollbooth set up and so missed much of her spiel, catching only "you have a good day now" as we pulled off.  I looked down at the brochure that Jerry handed me and it was for Lake Mead, which I did not realize was a National Recreation Area.  Google maps did not show that to me when I was writing down directions the night before, altho we were on the right road.  So it was really odd for us to have been in the desert for most of the afternoon before and most of that day, then to see this huge body of water nestled down into the rather barren and dry landscape.  It was very beautiful to see the mountains on the other side, which were either dark grey and black or purple and beige.  In a few places, we saw some of the reddish pink layers that were lower to the water level.

Even tho I knew that we were coming up on the Hoover Dam, I mistakenly thought that the actual highway crossed over the dam into Arizona.  So it was a bit of a surprise that there was a new, taller, broader bridge built for traffic, turning the Hoover Dam into a closed loop only approachable at this time from the Nevada side and depositing you back on the Nevada side.  Being that it was Labor Day, it was tremendously crowded, altho I still saw a fair amount of the remarkable features, including the Winged Figures of the Republic, the art deco inspired statues that guard the Hoover Dam.  Also of note were the clocks, one on each side of the bridge, one which announced Nevada time and the other, Arizona time.  Arizona, it should be said, does NOT observe Daylight Savings Time, which I think is an absolutely smart thing to do.  Kudos to them.

That night, we stayed in Kingman, Arizona, in a beautiful cabin and had a great night's sleep in this more than adequately airconditioned place.  The next stop?  Grand Canyon, south rim!