Tuesday, November 3 (continued)
Before pulling out of the campground, we stop at the water pump to fill water jugs.
I’ve learned to take on water whenever I have the opportunity and the ambition. I take two jugs over to the pump and proceed to remove the hose. I don’t want to use the hose. I don’t know where it’s been.
Dang it! Someone left the hose so tight I can’t remove it. Well, I’m not going to fool with a wrench. I give up on the water and we head out.
Going through the southern end of Virgin River Gorge is a new experience for us.
It does not disappoint!
The Perfect Tow Vehicle with the Best Little Trailer behind clings to the highway in a race with the river through the gorge. Big trucks and low-slung cars are all in a hurry to Somewhere and zip by us.
We whip between immense, tan sandstone cliffs, so high I can’t see their tops out the windshield. The further we descend on curves through the gorge, the more the cliffs squeeze in on both sides, and then they disappear! Suddenly the gorge ejects us and we fly out onto a broad, flat expanse of desert for miles and miles all around.
What a fun ride!
The next part? Not so much.
Interstate 15 is a thoroughfare of thundering trucks and snowbirds. We pass the casinos of Mesquite, Nevada, traverse another 60 miles or so of desert, and turn onto Route 169. A pretty routine drive, except for one diversion.
Somewhere between the gorge and Mesquite . . .
A cute, little Burro fiberglass trailer passes us, giving a honk and a wave. There go some happy campers! I wonder if that’s the woman I met at Dome Rock a few years ago. We follow the Burro for several miles.
After turning onto Route 169, I stop and let the crew out for a potty break and a walk-around. I open up the BLT, make myself a PB & J, and grab the last slab of white meat left from the rotisserie chicken.
Inside the PTV, I eat my sandwich and dole out chicken pieces to Bridget and Reggie.
Thus fortified and with Bridget and Reggie settled into their beds, I pull out onto the two-lane road and we head toward Lake Mead and Las Vegas.
We zigzag through the little town of Overton.
On the south side of town, Route 169 finds its way to the top of a mesa. On both sides of the road RVs are scattered about . . . lots of RVs, many more than the next photo shows!
People camp here for long periods during the winter at no charge.
It’s Bureau of Land Management public land. (To see more photos, do a search for Poverty Flats, Overton, NV.)
Although I’ve been happy to camp in areas like this in the past, I consider the brown, rocky ground with sparse vegetation, the high mesa prone to wind and the coming cold, and the somewhat communal environment . . . Nope, I’m not interested in this right now . . . .
We push on.
My plan is to take one of the roads that goes from Route 169 to Lake Mead — or what used to be Lake Mead before it shrank to Mead Pond — and boondock for a night or two, just for the heck of it.
We pass the entrance to Valley of Fire State Park.
A few more miles and I turn on the road going to Stewart Point.
Hmm . . . This is a puzzling contradiction. Does this mean no camping alongside the road or does this mean no camping at all at Stewart Point even though the other sign implies you can camp here for up to 15 days?
I hate ambiguity, especially when the nice, paved road in the above photo turns into sand and . . . .
No Camping – Meadow Restoration. Oh, now I get it! Here’s a thought for you, sign people: Switch this sign with the one a mile back. Thank you very much.
The road splits giving me enough room to make a several-point turn, being careful to avoid the deep sand, and we return to the main road.
Okay, enough with the creative camping. That little detour has the crew restless and I’m tired.
To be continued . . . .
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