Death Valley Explored

We awoke early, as usual, rising from bed at Stovepipe Wells to a clear desert sky and reasonable temperature. 

I Febreezed the non-smoking room to within an inch of its non-life as we packed and loaded the van, sneezing at the smell of wood smoke coming through our open door. Our packing included all evidence of cigarette smoking, not wanting to pay the $250 “cleaning fee” that would have entailed the same Febreezing. We saw that I was fed before heading out to explore the valley while enroute to Las Vegas. I have to thank Maureen for her patience along the way as I braked hard over and over again to take advantage of photo ops. 

Maureen largely occupied herself rustling around with maps and trying, over and over again, to get enough cell “dots” to be able to view Saturday’s Santa Anita Derby on her iPhone. Not getting that and failing to know if the great race horse Zenyatta had thrown her third foal yet frustrated her to no end. When the guides to Death Valley indicate that cellular coverage is spotty, believe them. Most of the time, it is non-existent.

I couldn’t get enough of the color contrast, the vastness, the formations. On the Borax Twenty Mule Team loop of a couple of miles, I was also taken by evidence of rain runoff. The structural photos are of the Harmony Borax Works. Although I found some evidence of glass bottles broken long ago, I was impressed by the lack of trash and grateful to our fellow visitors for their respect of this National Park.

Telescope Peak from Death Valley

We stopped near the Furnace Creek resort to take a break. Dad and Pat stayed there when they ventured to and explored Death Valley. Hard to believe but it is true:  there is a golf course, of all things, in the hottest, driest part of the U.S.

I discovered, with my there's-an-app-for-that iPhone, that we were merely 73 feet short of the lowest point in North America.

Maureen was anxious to end the photo journey and begin our Las Vegas adventure so we motored from the emptiness to the outskirts of the city, marveling at the thousands of acres covered by houses, all painted in the same desert dirt color. More map rustling ensued as we neared downtown. At one point, I thought we needed to be six lanes across to the right of Highway 95 when we actually needed to be six lanes to the left. By the time we got to Caesar’s Palace, I was exhausted and very grumpy (which tend to go hand-in-hand for me). The solution? Feed me, of course.

As I stomped through the lobby and Maureen wandered around behind me, we entered the small restaurant just off the registration area of Caesars and heard a familiar voice call to Maureen. It was Pat, who’d just stayed at our house to attend the Napa memorial service for the husband of another of Maureen’s high school classmates. She was seated with Nancy at the outside restaurant bar area. Hugs, of course, followed by tales of travels between them as I slurped my French onion soup.

Feeling somewhat restored, we parted ways with Pat and Nancy to settle in to our room. It turns out that we had the best room, complete with view and jacuzzi. 

Relieved to be rid of the smoking Nazis, as we call them, and in a smoking room, I left Maureen to unpack to retrieve the van from valet parking to retrieve our six-pack of wine and bottled water. Nothing is free in Las Vegas, as we discovered when I called to inquire about the coffee pods that would fit the in-room coffee maker.

The time came to join the whole group of high school buddies in Gerry’s suite. She got it specifically for this gathering of dear (we won’t use the “old” word here) friends, and put on a feast of food and beverages for us. I took video when Diane, the last to arrive, finally got there.