Day 11: 6/12/24 From: Las Vegas, NV To: Sequoia National Park (Potwisha Campground) Distance: 391 miles
We leave Las Vegas by 8:30 and head to Goodsprings, NV to see The Pioneer Saloon. Last time Nate and I were here, we captured a video we weren’t expecting. That video is what made the kids want to come.
We reach the place an hour before they open and almost decide to skip it and just get on the road. But we’re hungry and there’s a new(er) enormous gas station/convenience store/beer distributor/casino with a White Castle where we can get breakfast.
By the time we finish with breakfast and restock our cooler with ice, the saloon is open and we can go back. 6 miles down the road again, we reach The Pioneer Saloon and the kids finally get to see the bullet holes in the wall. We show the bartender the creepy video and she says there’s still lots of recorded paranormal activity in the saloon including the presence of miners. She tells us about how Goodsprings was Vegas before Las Vegas was Vegas. It was the “it” destination. Which we knew since a plane carrying Carole Lombard and some crew members crashed into the mountains and Clark Gable drank at that very bar, hoping to hear better news than that of her death. A recovered piece of the plane is mounted to the dining room wall, but the majority of it remains in the hills, unrecoverable due to the difficult terrain.
But wait, there’s so much more than bullet holes! We didn’t know The Pioneer Saloon was featured in Fallout, and that Easy Pete from the game was inspired by a real person. We get the chance to meet Pete and he tells us all about the saloon, showing us the cool features of the saloon we knew nothing about. The original bar from 1860 is still in use and if you run your hand along the underside of the bar, you’ll feel a large hole where one could stash a gun if one were so inclined.
The parking lot? Well, people find gold there. Easy Pete dumped a few tiny nuggets from a shot glass into Younger Child’s hand, and proclaimed, “A gift, from me to you!” The kids stood in disbelief and thanked him. So we snap a few pictures and thank Pete again for sharing his experiences and knowledge of the saloon with us.
By the way, the 3rd Annual Fallout fest is coming up in November. The first year brought about 3,000 people to the town of 176 people. The second year? 7,000. And the reason they moved it to November? People couldn’t take the heat and were passing out left and right. So anyway, it shouldn’t be 110 degrees if you want to visit in November and Easy Pete will be there to greet you.
We prepare for a long drive through the Mojave National Preserve and onward into California. Joshua trees stand out amongst the scrub and sand, like bizarre sentries from the pages of a Dr. Seuss book. And then we hit full-on “you will die if you try to cross me” desert. It’s 108 degrees and not even noon. The desolation here is intense, the mountainous terrain in the distance mean and angry-looking. The last time we drove through, these mirror solar farms didn’t exist. There’s something very creepy about glowing towers in the middle of the desert.
Most of our drive through California is much the same. But the mountains slowly change to golden hills that look like they’ve been covered in a velvet blanket. When we’re about an hour from Sequoia National Park, the family begins to wonder if I put the correct destination into the GPS. How can we be close to Sequoia when it’s still 104 degrees outside with citrus groves and vineyards on either side of us?
But the directions are correct. Our campground is at the base of the park, before the Giant Forest. After seeing our military park pass, the park ranger at the entrance salutes Husband and thanks him for his service, almost bringing Husband to tears. Once again, we arrive when the sun is directly on our campsite. So instead of setting up in 95 degrees (it’s dropped a little), we opt to take a drive to see General Sherman. It’s 13 miles up the General’s Highway, a windy road that’s almost as bad as Independence Pass in Colorado.
But when we finally start to see the Sequoias, the kids are astonished. They almost don’t believe us when we tell them the trees they’re looking at are small compared to some of the others. So when they finally see General Sherman, their mouths drop. A walk through the Giant Forest gives us all an appreciation for the massive towering trees and how many hundreds to thousands of years they took to reach that size.
Unfortunately, we’ve also finally hit the part of the trip where mosquitoes abound. Meh. Back to the campsite by 8, we set up our tent just in time for dusk to the sound of chirping crickets and distant fellow campers. Remember those cooler temps AccuWeather told me we’d have? Lies. These temps were for the Giant Forest about 4500 ft above where we are. Instead, it’s 88 degrees with zero wind. It’s going to be a long, hot night.
Day 10: 6/11/24 From: Grand Canyon National Park, AZ To: Las Vegas, NV Distance: 272 miles
It worked! Husband sleeping in car and rest of family sleeping in tent resulted in sleep for everyone. Husband has some DayQuil and has been feeling significantly better even before taking it, but now even more so.
We spend a lazy morning making eggs and pancakes and doing dishes before breaking down camp and heading out a little after 9 am. We reach Las Vegas around 2 p.m. and the heat and crowds are both insane. It’s 111 degrees when we pull in, but people are everywhere. Since we have an hour to kill before checking in, we hit up the one place we missed the last time we came to this city. Husband is a happy camper. We get to visit the shop from History Channel’s Pawn Stars. Husband buys a few “souvenirs,” and then we head to the Luxor to check in.
I booked this hotel because I thought the kids would get a kick out of staying in a pyramid. I’m not wrong. They love it. Of course, they love almost everything here. It’s insane. We get to the hotel at 3 and figure we’re perfectly on time, not realizing the check-in process would take almost an hour since the line is so long, it looks like an airport ticket counter. While waiting, we discuss plans for the evening. Since it’s so hot, we scrap the idea of walking the strip, and on a whim, we buy Blue Man tickets while standing in line for check-in.
The Luxor from outsideThe inside view from our floor looking down.The inside view from below, looking to our floor. That tiny light on the 27th floor is Husband waving his cell phone at us.
When we finally get to the rooms, we collapse into beds, nap, take showers, watch tv, and generally exist before heading to the food court for dinner, which is a $50 extra-large pizza that would be $18 at home. Ah, Vegas prices. Finished with dinner, it’s time for the show, which is conveniently in the same hotel. (Why do you think we really booked it? I don’t want to go anywhere today. We’ve done enough.) We get to our seats about 15 minutes early, and are asked almost immediately if we want an upgrade. Free? Yes! Of course, yes! We’re led to seats 4 rows from the front and we marvel at our good luck. What a treat! So glad for the folks who work this show. These seats are incredible.
The show? Even more incredible. The kids were smiling from ear to ear for the entire hour and a half. I swear I’ve never heard such laughter in my life. But Husband and I were doing the same. It’s impossible not to. We always knew the kids would love this show. They haven’t stopped talking about it since we left the theater. The Blue Man Group is the perfect mix of art, music, athleticism, and comedy. So much talent, it’s insane.
Afterwards, we figure we’ll walk the strip for a bit, but it’s still 99 degrees out. The breeze makes it bearable, but not by much. We get about a mile down the road when Younger Child and I call it quits and head back to the hotel so they can text with friends and I can catch up on the blog I haven’t been able to post because we’ve had no reception for days. Older Child and Husband decide they need to ride The Big Apple rollercoaster. That’s a hard pass from me, so an escape to the room is perfect. They come back proclaiming the ride more “intense” than they expected.
We each claim a bed of our own and for one night, everyone enjoys the comfort of a queen-sized bed.
We headed out on Day 10, eager to be leaving Las Vegas. (Hey, isn’t that a movie?) A “quick” stop at McDonald’s for breakfast, but oh, that’s right. That’s where we discovered, yet again, that nothing in Vegas is as quick as the reputation. We got to the drive-through lane at 10:15, to be told when we got to the speaker at 10:30 to order that they were out of breakfast. What? How is this remotely possible at a McDonald’s? Now, we were stuck in the drive through, boxed in by curbs they have absurdly placed to lock you in. It was after 10:45 by the time we were finally able to leave the McDonald’s parking lot…without food. Nate, to say the very least, was in a foul mood. (It was already bad enough that they don’t offer bagel breakfast sandwiches at McDonald’s after you cross the Mississippi River, but to have to wait a half hour, get no breakfast, and no real apology, well that was a whole new level of aggravation.)
But some mishaps are blessings in disguise. Once on the highway to California, we passed more than one sign for the Ghost Town Cafe – “Serving Breakfast All Day.” Seeing as it was nearly noon by this point, we figured ‘why the hell not?’ and followed the signs to the exit. But, the cafe was actually located six miles from the exit and Nate, in his mood of Hangry Desperation, was ready to turn right back on the highway and forget it all. I managed to convince him that breakfast was worth it, and off we went, down a dusty, close-enough-to-dirt road for six miles. And aren’t we glad we did?
We arrived at The Pioneer Saloon and Ghost Town Cafe in Goodsprings, Nevada, and it looked every bit what you would think. There was a single car out front and Nate made a half-hearted comment as we entered that no one would ever find our bodies. Once seated at the bar in the Ghost Town Cafe, we ordered a delicious, if greasy, breakfast and while we waited, the manager began to chat with us. He asked how we’d heard of the place and we had to confess that we really hadn’t. Signs on the highway had led us in desperation.
He seemed somewhat surprised and cued up the 3 televisions on the wall to play a recorded segment of Ghost Hunters. It appears The Pioneer Saloon, established 1913, had a handful of ghosts and a dicey history. Who knew? (A few million people who watch Ghost Hunters, surely, but not me.)
After our breakfast, and our educational update on The Pioneer Saloon, we perused into the saloon to take a good look around. Sure enough, three bullet holes still remain in the original tin wall where a man was killed after cheating at poker. The floor and tables are original to the building and there’s definitely a creepy ambience despite the friendly bartender and the patrons that were now wandering through the door for lunch.
Before we got back on the road, we used the restrooms, one of which was reputed to be haunted. Guess which one? The ladies, naturally. So, yes, I peed in a haunted bathroom. If I had any ghostly audience, they thankfully remained silent, but I still booked it out of there as fast as I could while still trying to maintain my “cool.”
Back down the dusty road, we encountered the biggest dust devil we’d seen to date, right before getting on the highway. Truly fascinating and, well, just plain weird. I wonder if that sight ever gets old to those who live in the desert area.
It was 108 degrees when we got back to the highway and I was incredibly relieved that by the end of the day our “Desert Tour” would be fairly well over and we would enjoy the coastal breeze. But both Nate and I started to get a bit nervous when the temp was steadily rising. In fact, the car registered that it was 115 degrees F around the time we passed the world’s largest digital thermometer (why is that even a thing?), reading 111 degrees. And about five minutes after that, Nate noticed the radiator temp was beginning to climb. Enough to make me nervous.
And ding!
There goes the alarm, letting us know that the car is close to overheating. We pulled over, opened the windows and shut off the car for five minutes. Being stuck in the Mojave Desert was not my idea of fun and I hoped it wouldn’t happen. Thankfully, once we started the car and got on the road again, the decision to drive with the windows down and no a/c proved to be a wise one. We managed to keep the car from coming close to overheating. A half hour later, we rolled up the windows and turned the air back on, but not near full-blast, and that seemed to be okay. Whew. If there was ever a time that I’d felt I’d dodged a bullet, this was it. To the dozen people we passed on the side of the road in the next hour, I am sorry you did not think to do the same… Yikes!
Aside from Independence Pass in the Rockies, this ranks as one of the scariest roads I’ve driven on. The sheer vastness of the surrounding desert and the inescapable heat is terrifying. To this day, I am very relieved we were able to keep from breaking down!
When we finally arrived at South Carlsbad State Park in California at 6 pm, we knew that we had to set up camp quickly. I had managed to secure the very last spot (physically) in the camp about a year prior, so that we were on the end, facing the beach, with only one campsite near ours. At the time I had booked it, it seemed ideal. But, as we navigated through the seemingly endless line of campsites, with oblivious children riding bikes and skateboards right in front of the car without even a glance, it was an excruciatingly slow drive to the end site. Seriously, what was with these kids? And why didn’t their parents seem to care?
When we finally reached the end, there was a truck parked in our spot. The neighbors next to us (you know, the ONE site next to us) had parked their truck there since no one was there. They were thankfully kind enough to move it quickly once approached, but it was obvious later why they had no room at their site. Aside from their 30 foot RV and the truck they used to tow it, they had a tent (for the kids), two full 6 ft fold-out tables with pop up canopies, the picnic table provided by the campground, and about fifteen bicycles. Okay, it was more like four. But, still. I can’t imagine traveling with that much junk!
We had the tent set up in ten minutes and, even though Nate didn’t want to get back in the car, even though it was the very epitome of what he dreaded the most, he got in anyway, and drove us to Scripp’s Pier in San Diego so I could get the photos I’d hoped for in Southern California. I was certain that it wasn’t the right time of year where the sun lines up perfectly at the end of the pier, but I couldn’t wait to see the sunset from beneath the pier anyway.
As an east-coaster, there’s something almost magical about watching the sun set over the ocean, like I’m in a fantasy world on another planet or something. Where I come from, that just doesn’t happen. The sun doesn’t set over the ocean. It rises over it. Everyone knows that.
So, off we went, and got to the pier in time to illegally park in a 20-minute only parking zone at the institute… Heh. This was, perhaps, maybe the one time I didn’t yell at Nate for doing something we weren’t supposed to do. I wanted my photos and I was game for whatever it took to get them. Including gimping my way through the sand to get to the pier.
To my dismay, there was already a photographer onsite. I had heard that this would happen. I had read that photographers flock to the pier and that on any given evening, there could be a half dozen sitting beneath the pier, waiting for the sun to set.
I guess I should have been happy that there was just one. I was also disappointed that it appeared to be a higher tide, so I was going to get wet and there wasn’t much way around it. The bandage around my ankle didn’t stay dry for long. And for the nearly 100 shots I took, I got a handful that proved to be decent.
I was just glad that the sun was visible at all, since it looked like this when we’d first reached the west coast:
It was a good way to spend my birthday. Yep, my birthday. On the beach at sunset, breathing in the salty air and enjoying the sound of the waves. The culmination of many years wanting, and a whole year planning, the vacation of a lifetime. Had it not been for the foreign photographer who was slowly and steadily creeping closer toward me and encroaching on my space, it would have been positively perfect. To add insult to injury, his camera and his lens were both bigger than mine. Jerk.
And where was Nate during this adventure? While he had started by my side, he disappeared at some point to check on the car, and I began to wonder if he’d been arrested and had his car towed away. When I texted him, I received no immediate response. Hmmm.
After I’d put my camera away and dumped as much sand from my tripod as I could, I found Nate a while later, chatting with two guys who maintain the aquarium at Scripp’s Institute. It figured. If there was a way to talk about fish, Nate would find it. If there was a person alive who would want to discuss it, Nate would manage to locate him.
We headed back to car, to a (non-candlelit) dinner at Subway, and for a little grocery shopping. Then, back to the campsite. For Nate, a walk in the sand to hunt for anything cool in the dark on the beach. For me, bed. Plain and simple. Bed.
Well. Sleeping bag.
Pure exhaustion had finally caught up with me after so many days on the road and hiking, pushing ourselves to the limit every day. I passed out to the sound of the surf, a fabulous end to a fabulous day.
The sun isn’t supposed to set over the ocean. Everyone knows that!
Hauntings, Indeed Day 10, part 2
Original Post: August 10, 2015
No, I don’t usually add to the blog once I have it all written and published, but this was one video that needed to be shared. Nate and I finally sat down to look at some of the video we had taken along the trip. Of all of the hours of video we captured, there was only one video that had a problem. This one.
So much so that I had to record the computer playing it just to put it on the web. YouTube wouldn’t load the original. The file claims to be 0.4 seconds long, but it continuously loops and the blue progress bar on the bottom of the window jumps all over. Nate tried to film The Pioneer Saloon starting at the bullet holes and panning around to the bar. But, all we have are bullet holes. And jumpy ones at that. Creepy! (And now you might have to share it with someone so you don’t die a horrible death. No? Not that movie?)
Artistic Earth Photography 