leahgallo: March 31 - Wed - Vegas, NV

March 31, 2010

By the time I rolled my tired, sick butt out of bed, it was already 8:30am and Derek had been up for hours. Adding to that the time to write this blog and edit photos, responding to Visa emails, taking a shower, and just my general morning slowness and abhorrence of early hours, we didn’t leave the hotel until 11:30, and a very impatient Derek was trying hard to pretend patience for my sake.

We stopped to buy food since we knew we’d be camping today, about 65 miles outside of Vegas in a State Park called Valley of Fire that was recommended to us by our friend Emily’s parents. The first place we saw that seemed like an actual supermarket was a place called Food4Less. It turned out to be similar to a Cosco, which made our shopping quite difficult (trying to buy in small quantities so it doesn’t go to waste). Even the aisles between racks were extra large. If an apocalypse went down, this would be the place to raid. Large racks of spam and canned goods, all wrapped together for the taking. We managed though, and set ourselves up for some hotdogs that night and eggs the next morning.

We drove on an ugly stretch of road for a bit, passing a series of flat topped, industrial buildings. We were even so lucky as to pass a prison area, complete with slit windows and barbed wire, and posted signs that warned us that hitchhiking in the area was forbidden. I wondered about the people inside, if they were watching us drive by, what crimes they might have committed, and if they were innocent or guilty. I also wondered if anyone had dared to hitchhike around there in defiance of the sign. Of course, if you get caught, the slammer was pretty conveniently located.

It was another blustery day, and when we stopped for gas (which automatically means potty break for me, because any and all stops become that whether I need to or not, for safety’s sake) I was nearly blown into the market. “My my my, look what the wind blew in,” said the guy behind the counter. Okay, he didn’t actually say that, it was only in my head, but it seemed entirely appropriate.

We bought some maps (for the grand canyon, Arizona, and Utah though after opening them, it is dubious whether the latter two are any better than our Atlas). I now carry a pile of maps on my lap when riding shotgun (which so far, has been the whole trip, because Derek wants to drive, and who am I to deny him the pleasure?)

We also passed a huge tractor trailer. “It’s like a moving house,” I said disparagingly. Derek gave me a look and said “I can understand it – have you looked in the back of our car recently?” He might be referring to the pile of junk we’ve got back there, always struggling to keep free a line of sight for the rear view window. Touche. Though I question how much of it we actually need (like the kit that gives you bags to poop in – really? Where exactly are we planning to go?!) but it’s all Derek’s equipment, so I can’t complain that much, because without him there wouldn’t be any camping.

We passed some rock formations which had lots of caves in them. I asked Derek if they were Yeti caves, and he told me definitely not, that in this area they probably belonged to the Chupacabra. This was a wildlife viewing area (or so the sign told us), so I strained to see something, and I thought I might have seen something furry, but it also could have been a rock on a rock. Oh well.

The latest camping checkout in the Valley of Fire State Park is 2pm, so we aimed to be there around then. Driving into the park, we were amazed by the beautiful scenery. It reminds me a bit of parts of southern utah, with the red rock faces (from which the park derives its name). We arrived at the one campsite at 2:10pm, and we were the second to last people to get a camping spot. There were about three people rolling in right after us, so we were L-u-u-c-k-y, and we kept patting each other on the back with self congratulations, looking at the woeful people who came in after us and couldn't get a spot, thinking "suckers!"

The ranger found out we were tent camping, and he questioned whether we would be able to pitch our tent and keep it standing in the wind, regaling us with stories of other would be tent campers who had no luck. Knowledgeable people’s warnings be damned, we were determined. We started unpacking our stuff, and the wind seemed determined to rip the lid of our cooler off, so finally I piled a bunch of rocks on it. Anything loose kept flying away, sometimes followed by me in a mad dash to snag it. I tried to weight everything down, but it made accomplishing anything a bit difficult. We finally found the tent, but I couldn’t find the directions. Derek said we would just wing it, and though I’ve camped many times before, I couldn’t for the life of me remember how this tent went together. I finally realized, after staring at it for about ten minutes, that it was a brand new tent. Derek fessed up that he couldn’t find the old one we’d used a few times before (somewhere lost in storage and soon to head to PA), so he bought a new one. He thought maybe the directions had been accidentally discarded with the box. At which point I was ready to throw up my hands and admit defeat. Trying to put up a new tent without directions in 50mph gusts of winds just sounded like a bad chapter in a Griswold movie. But Derek was determined, and he cajoled me back to the tent, and with my basic knowledge of how a tent goes up, and the actual user friendliness of the new tent, and Derek’s smarts, we somehow pieced it together and stood it up. We hammered stakes into every rope we could find, and then I went around and found heavy rocks to weigh each of them down. Only after doing all of that, did Derek say – hey, what’s this under the picnic table? And there, where the wind had happily blown them, lay the directions.

We admired our work, and then I set about arranging the inside of the tent while Derek took care of the car stuff. I always love doing that with camping, rolling out the sleeping pads, and bags, and blankets, making a comfy little bed. Makes me wonder if there isn’t a bit of a homemaker in me. Like, 1%. Only one gust of wind threatened our tent, pushing in the side of it until I feared it would collapse with me in it, but the stakes held, and the tent snapped back into position, the rods only slightly bent for their efforts.

For lunch, I made us a couple of PB & J sandwiches (one of the best, easiest foods when camping) and since it was after 4, we decided to explore the Valley of Fire.

We checked out some petrified logs (lame) and then Mouse’s Tank, named for a renegade Native American who used to give his fellow Native Americans and Western settlers hell, but would hide in this one spot in the Valley of Fire where water actually collects and stays around in a basin for months. It was remote and no one could find him, at least not until they did…or I’m guessing there wouldn’t be a trail leading to the spot. The trail passes some ancient petroglyphs, which I always find interesting to look at and wonder why the person carved it, and what their concerns were 4000 years ago. It was a nice walk, and we off-trailed it for a bit when Derek saw an interesting rock (that looked like a dinosaur head) that he wanted to photograph. It’s always nice to find the quiet spaces where you know few people have been or will go, and we tried to absorb the peace of it. Derek thinks there are better photos off the path, but sometimes I think its as much the idea that less people have taken a photograph of something that makes it appealing. Everytime we turned around there was something worth documenting. I even saw a rock with pimples, and felt bad for it. The cruelty of that particular erosion. Imagine being frozen in adolescence for thousands of years.

We took another hike through Rainbow Vista so named for the different colored rocks clustered in the area, ranging from red to tan to yellow to streaks of purple. I loved watching the sand change from orange to yellow depending on which rocks you were standing near. All of the beauty was leaving me visually fatigued. I kept seeing something amazing and thinking, oh no, not again, do I HAVE to take a picture? Of course I didn't, but being a photographer, I must, or you know that the one time you don't take the picture, you will regret it for the rest of your life.

The sun was almost setting and we decided we were going to make one last stop at White Domes. I was busy photographing out of my window (facing the east) when I felt Derek suddenly swerve the car miles early into what turned out to be a scenic overlook parking lot. “Leah,” he said excitedly. “Do you trust me?! Follow me!” Now, when Derek uses the ‘do you trust me’ line, there is about a 50/50 chance that it’s going to be something totally awesome, or something totally disastrous. I admit, my chest was sore, my cough was acting up, and when I stepped out of the car, the pelting rains and gale force winds stirred up a little uncertainty in me. However, there was really nothing to do but follow Derek, who had taken off and was far ahead. We climbed a steep slope to a hilltop, which is between a mountain range to our west, where the sun was setting behind some clouds, and red rock formations to our east. I was at the top of the hill, trying to maintain my balance with a wide legged stance, and still getting blown around, and I was looking at Derek like he’s crazy, but he said– “I just have a feeling. Watch, watch, it’s going to come out from behind the clouds!” And as if it heard him, the clouds parted and the sun shone minutes before it was about to disappear, throwing rays of light that dissolved the shadows on the tips of the eastern red rocks. So I grudgingly admitted to myself that Derek’s intuition (and also him being observant while I was completely oblivious) had led us to some pretty sunset photos. And THEN, with the a chorus of angels singing the aaaah of alleluja music (in my mind)…a rainbow appeared. Not just a dinky half thing, but an entire rainbow that streaked over the red rock faces lit by the sun, conveniently located directly in front of us and just screaming for a photo. It was a photographers wet dream, and Derek and I clicked away like maniacs, knowing we only had a minute or so before the perfect vision disappeared. It was mind blowing, one of those confluence of circumstances that led to a truly unique, calendar worthy photograph. Derek’s gut steered us right, and we were both elated, despite the rain, and the wind trying to throw us off the hilltop.

After that, I was exhausted. The pulled muscle in my chest started to really bother me (from all the hiking and climbing) and I’d already overdosed on Aleve and didn’t think it safe to pop more. We returned to the campside in twilight, around 7:15 pm, and I climbed straight into the tent, and burrowed into the sleeping bag, with the intention of just resting for maybe 15 minutes. But then it felt so good, I wondered if it wouldn’t be better to eat something quickly and go to bed, since we were supposed to be up for sunrise. Derek had other plans, that included starting a fire, cooking some marshmallows, and painting with light (which essentially means timed exposures where you draw things on the landscape with lights or, in Derek’s case, a host of colored flashlights, lasers and glow sticks. It’s lots of fun if you’re up for it). He joined me in the ten to discuss the night. It turned into a dialogue about our different energy levels (him - high, me - low), and how he needed less sleep than me (him – 6.5 hours, me – 8 to 9, or I am a grumpy biatch). The logical conclusion of all of this was how it might make certain things difficult between us on the trip, for example, if he went to bed as early as I wanted to, he’d be up at 2 and not be able to get back to sleep, and that he wasn’t sure we were getting the most out of our day. And I explained, “if I don’t go to bed soon, I probably won’t be up for our sunrise shoot.” We had a good talk, and decided we would have to try and not get too mad at each other, or disappointed if someone (me) didn’t always want to do as much as someone else (Derek). So I said, “I’ll come out and have dinner with you, and then we’ll see how I feel, if I’m up to the fire and painting. But first, do you want to snuggle in the sleeping bag for 15 minutes to get warm?” So Derek hopped in (it’s one of those doubles). Within two minutes he was snoring softly. So I lay there, thinking about the day, not wanting to go to sleep so that I could wake him up and we could have dinner. And finally I thought, ‘it’s been time’, and I shook him and said: “Derek, wake up, time for dinner.” He mumbled something that sounded like “5 more minutes.” So I lay there for another 10 minutes, and was starting to get a little sleepy, so I shook him again, and I receive another “5 more minutes.” So I extricated myself from the sleeping bag, changed into my pajamas, and went outside to use nature as my toilet (the actual pit toilets were too far away and too scary). When I re-entered the tent, I tried to wake Derek up one last time, saying ‘but you don’t want to wake up early do you?” and this time I didn’t even receive a coherent response. So, tired as I was, I easily slipped in next to him and fell asleep until about 1am when we both woke up. Derek, who had been awoken thinking a tractor trailer was shining its light into our tent, suddenly realized the glow was from the full moon. He decided he needed to take pictures, and lame-o photographer that I am, I decided it was way too warm in the tent to even think about going outside. He joined me a half hour later and fell right back to sleep.