01Apr10 – Thurs – Valley of Fire, NV – Seligman, AZ (on Route 66)

Having missed the sunrise, we puttered around the camp cooking eggs and toast for breakfast, and brewing some delicious tea (thank you Emily for the tea shop recommendation!). There was something very cool and peaceful and inspiring about sitting at our campsite, bundled up against the cold, hands wrapped around my metal mug, sipping freshly brewed tea in the early hours of the morning. Derek and I shared a moment of silence and just watching the sun play over the red rocks, feeling a temporary communion with nature. Anyone who has camped and liked it will probably understand what I mean. I know others who think they couldn’t or wouldn’t want to ‘rough’ it, but that’s just because they’ve never had a moment like that. It is those moments that make any discomfort worth it (including trying to scrape crusted egg gunk off of our folding pot with a baby wipe because we forgot to bring soap and a sponge with us.)

We packed up camp, then stopped at a few places in the Valley of Fire before leaving. The first stop was to check out Fire Canyon, the place we originally planned on heading for sunrise. We both agreed it would have been an amazing sunrise. Oh well. The other was Seven Sisters, so named because there are seven large red rocks all in a row. We hiked out a ways to get a photo of them all lined up, only to realize once we were far enough out that they completely blended into the rocks behind them, and looked like nothing more than the other 500 photos we had taken the day before. We noticed lots of animal footprint. Aside from two spiders, some insects, and some fire ants, it was the first sign of life we had seen, and we looked excitedly around for their owners, but saw only desert, shrub and of course those big red rocks. Then we saw a line of black ants and tracked them to their ant hole. I couldn’t look too long, because the teeming mass of swarming tiny bodies sent a shiver through me and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I’ve always had a fear of ants, ever since an incident of being swarmed and bitten by several of them when I was younger. Derek, on the other hand, kneeled dangerously close to take pictures, and I saw several ants potentially crawl up his sleeve. I couldn’t take it anymore, and comforted myself by following the ants away from their hole to see where they were all headed. At the end of the line was a green caterpillar, swarmed by dozens of the black bodies. Worse, he/she was still alive. What a way to die, ant bite by ant bite. I felt pity, but not enough to interfere with nature. I tried that once, with my cat and a baby bird, and all I ended up with was a dead bird and a really pissed off cat. Lesson learned.

We left the Valley of Fire and will give it high recommendations to anyone who asks. We were within spitting distance to Lake Mead, so we turned off to check it out. Apparently the water levels are very low, which I imagine is a concern to the entire West. There was only desert swampland where we turned off. Sounds like an oxy moron, but there you have it, grassy, soggy areas amongst an otherwise unaffected desert.

We continued on to Hoover Dam, stopping twice more on Lake Mead where there was actually flowing water. The one place had a sign posted that warned us not to touch the water, since it’s polluted by both human sewage and urban runoff. The stench rising from the water confirmed that. I felt bad for the lone duck floating on the surface of the contaminated water. Humans are so good to the environment!

And then, after four miles of bumper to bumper traffic, we arrived at one of the 7 modern wonders of the world – the Hoover Dam. This concrete giant stands over 700 feet tall and tames the wild Colorado River, so that the West could be properly irrigated and settled. I’m always amazed by how man can create such a great feat as the Hoover Dam, thereby changing the course of American history, and I wonder why we can’t use such genius to stem the tide of human’s destruction of nature. But such musings are for a different blog.

After taking pictures of the dam from every angle we could find (including a dizzying one looking directly down the 700 feet of it), and straddling the line between Nevada and Arizona (our 3rd state of the trip!) we decided to eat lunch at the café overlooking the dam. The food choices weren’t very healthy, but I finally settled on a chicken salad, and Derek on a fried chicken wrap.

And then back on the road, because we had several hours of driving ahead of us. There were some interesting road side attractions, and the one that finally drew us both in was an old, abandoned building with a “Santa’s Office” sign. The buildings were trashed and graffitied. ‘This is it!’ one sign proclaimed above a torn stocking hung from barbed wire strung with tinsel, which protected a splintery sunken sleigh covered in faded, peeling paintings of Santa’s and his elves. An amusing example of the warm and fuzzy gone wrong. As Derek says, it just shows that Santa can’t survive in the desert. The elves couldn’t take the heat.

As we were moving about the gutted building, taking pictures, Derek suddenly stood up straighter with an alarmed look on his face. “Uh oh.” He said. Derek went on to express his need to go #2, though in more vehement words. I suggested we hop back in the car, since the next town was about 20 miles from here, but as he grows whiter, he said “this can’t wait”. Well hell. I told him, hey we have that shit in a bag kit, lets go find that (who knew!) but there were about a hundred places in the car it could be, and as I rooted around for it, it was becoming clearer Derek couldn’t wait. He grabbed the toilet paper roll and hopped the barbed wire, disappearing around the corner of the house. I gave up on finding the kit, and settled on a shovel to bury the remains and a plastic bag (for TP). Gross, I know, but this was an emergency. I walked around the building, calling out for Derek. He didn’t answer. It was only desert behind the building, and birds that flew up and startled me. There are no other buildings in site, only the occasional car passing on the highway hundreds of feet away. I had a Deliverance moment, where I imagined those ‘crazy people’ who decided Santa’s shack would make a good home, catching Derek with his pants down and – I stopped the thought in its track, because it was too disturbing and gross to go any further down that path. I called out a few more times, then walked back around the front, feeling uneasy. I called out again and finally he answered. “I found the bathroom,” he said. “Where?” I asked. I saw a toilet paper roll peer out from behind the frame in one of the main buildings of Santa’s shithole (which we later renamed it, since it seemed oh so appropriate). I could see in because there’s no door reaming. Broken wood and signs litter the floor in a pile, and I could only imagine the state of the bathroom. “Is it a pit toilet?” I asked. “No, just your regular porcelain variety, but there’s stains in here that suggest other people have had a similar fate to mine,” he answered. “This is the strangest place I’ve ever gone to the bathroom,” he added. To commemorate the event, I took a picture, which I am posting on the blog, with Derek’s complete consent (he reads all of my posts before I put them up, lest you think me cruel). After long minutes he finally emerged, and I immediately handed him the wipes. “I need a hug,” he whimpered. I patted him on the back, feeling bad for him but thinking, dear lord, I’m glad that wasn’t me. Later, as Derek was looking over his pictures of Santa’s shithole, he said, “Oh my god, I just realized it’s a subliminal message. Look at the sign: “This is it.” All you have to do is add an h and it reads: This I shit!” Santa’s shithole indeed.

The rest of the drive was less eventful. We turned off the main highway to drive the longest remaining stretch of Route 66, which was littered with the remains of roadside attractions from the 40’s and 50’s, some that still operate. It’s a fun stretch of road to drive, and I wish we’d been there a little earlier, because I would have loved to stop in the gift shop of Hackberry’s, whose outside showcased of old cars, gas pumps, signs, and just about every interesting memorabilia one could think of, including the paint chipped mannequin of a Native American just hanging out on the porch.

We stopped at the final town on 66 – Seligman, where we stayed at the Historic Route 66 Motel. It was Derek’s second time in a motel since senior week in high school! It was a cute place, and had WiFi, which was a big plus (for this blog.)

We ate at the nearby Roadkill Café that used to be an old saloon (10% discount because we’re staying at this motel!). We discussed the day, the main topics being Santa’s shithole and the Hoover Dam. Derek started talking about Superman, and how he couldn’t save the Dam. “When you think of the Dam, that’s what you think of, you know?” he said sentimentally. “Why is that?” I asked, because clearly it’s not what I think of. “You know, Lex Luther triggers the San Adreas fault which causes the earthquake that kills Lois Lane and destroys the Hoover Dam and there’s nothing Superman can do about it because he’s chained by kryptonite in a pool. Until he turns back the hands of time for love.” In case you’re wondering, this is a pretty typical conversation between us. Derek’s always teaching me things.

And then it was time to head back to the motel, so Derek could catch up on work, and me on this blog. And now we are off to the Grand Canyon (South Rim, since the North is closed to camping and apparently in the midst of winter storms) so it may be a couple of days before I have internet and the chance to post again.

Captions:

1. Derek stops to check his pics safely away from the smell away from Lake Mead.

2. Hoover Dam workers eternally at work.

3.The Hoover Dam

4.Derek's misfortune at Santa's shithouse.

5. Hackberry's Route 66 gift shop.