Wednesday, March 11 (continued)
We make another stop along the way.
The cloud cover is heavy.
The entry fee is $10.00 per vehicle. The campground fee is $30 with hook-ups/$20 without hook-ups. As I drive through, my interest wanes as does the sunlight. It’s late afternoon. I take some photos which don’t do justice to this unusual and beautiful place. As strange as it may seem, my eyes glaze over from “spectacular scenery overload.”
To do Valley of Fire Park right, one needs to camp either inside the park or near the entrance in order to hike to see such features as petrified wood and 3,000 year-old Indian petroglyphs. And do that on days that aren’t dark.
Valley of Fire cannot be fully appreciated in a quick visit.
You can see why I say that by clicking on this link, Valley of Fire, and scrolling down to look at the slideshow. Rather than force myself to make frequent stops, I cruise through the park and commit to camping here when in the area again.
The sky brightens as we drift homeward.
Northshore Road is the kind of road that is like two different roads, depending upon your direction.
Thursday, March 12
“Today we’re going to the dam!” Reggie and Bridget jump around excitedly as I leash them up. I toss them into the Perfect Tow Vehicle and we drive out of Las Vegas Bay Campground.
We drive by Lake Mead on Lakeshore Road.
Bridget immediately becomes restless, whining urgently.
Something about riding in the PTV triggers her bowels!
“Okay, sweetie. Hang on. We’re almost there.”
Poop bags in my pocket, I walk the crew around the desert garden.
“Feel better, Bridge?”
I give the crew a drink and put them into the PTV while I run inside to see the exhibit. Typical visitor center . . . books, hats, tee-shirts, Native American blankets and jewelry, stuffed wildlife, push a button and watch a video, a model of what the lake once was . . . .
We’re off to Hoover Dam!
One cannot camp a few miles from Hoover Dam without taking a look!
We approach the security checkpoint. The agent tells me to move out of line and park over to the side. He asks me to step out.
“Would you open up the doors please?”
Bridget and Reggie bark frantically.
“Be careful with the dogs,” the agent says. “Lots of coyotes around here.” Not to mention a gorge right over there that goes to the center of the earth . . .
I open up the side doors behind the driver’s door.
“What do you have in there?” the agent asks, peering into the landfill behind the bench seat.
“Practically everything I own,” I respond, explaining that I live full-time in a small travel trailer.
He looks things over, voicing what he sees.
“Clothes, a table, chair, shovel . . . okay.” Bridget and Reggie yap in our faces.
“I can open up the other doors for you, if you’d like,” I offer.
“No, that’s not necessary. You can go. Enjoy your visit.”
Signs are posted in the parking lot, “Do not leave pets in vehicles.”
It’s a long walk to reach the walkway going across the dam. It’s cool enough that I could go there without the crew becoming uncomfortable. If I leave them, someone will hear Bridget barking and assume she’s having heatstroke and I don’t want to deal with that.
I content myself with photos from the parking lot which offers a good view.
Driving through the gorge and crossing the dam triggered some anxiety. It’s just as well I’m not on the walkway looking down the other side . . .
Satisfied with what I’ve seen of Hoover Dam, I join the crew and again we go across the dam.
I relax once we’re on Route 93 again. We take a short detour to buy gas at $2.99 a gallon (owee) and return to camp.
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