USA 1998
Day 15 - May 20
Las Vegas, Nevada (Death Valley)
As the parking at St Joan of Arc was on street, which was not too bad in the evening, but would not have been so good in the morning, I went down to the Cathedral for morning Mass. In the literature available for visitors, they made the point that about 10 percent of the weekly offerings were made in the form of casino chips, and they thought that the priest who made the weekly ‘casino run’ to cash them in was probably the only person to go into the casinos every week, and come out with more ready cash than when he went in.
We then had breakfast in the hotel (this one was supposed to have a restaurant, but it was currently closed, except for breakfast). After breakfast, we departed for Death Valley, with me taking the morning spell behind the wheel as usual. The Interstate through Vegas seemed to be under repair, with lane closures and speed limits, but once we left it, our only hold up was a level crossing, where we had to wait for one of the interminable trains. After that the road climbed through the pass at Mountain Springs, then ran dead straight towards Pahrump, a two way two lane road, with a notice requiring daylight headlights in the interest of safety, although it was quite crowded for an American road - so much so that despite being straight for miles, overtaking was virtually impossible.
At Pahrump we ignored the invitations to partake of Japanese baths and massage at Madam Butterfly’s establishment, and turned towards the California border and Shoshone. This latter town (?) seemed to comprise two shops and a gas station, with gas at a price 50 percent higher than we had seen anywhere else. Leaving the place, there was a choice of two roads. The one we took had a sign saying ‘No gas for 57 miles’. The other one had a sign saying ‘No gas for 75 miles’, so I can understand how they could charge the prices they did.
After our 57 miles, we found that the gas in Death Valley, at Furnace Creek, where we were required to pay our Park fees, was at an even more extortionate price than at Shoshone. (Not that we needed any, having started with a full tank). We drove towards Scotty’s Castle, stopping for something to eat (actually leftover pizzas from the previous evening, washed down with some of the coke I had stocked up with in Page). After a brief look at the outside of Scotty’s castle (once more, Veronica stayed in the car), we headed for the crater of an old volcano not far away, with Peter in the driving seat now. This crater was quite deep, and the rim was a fair height above the valley floor, and we had not realised just how windy it was, until both Peter and I opened doors together. Oops - Peter went running after the pizza wrapping which had blown out.
I used the camcorder to take pictures of the crater, and the wind was such that I found it difficult to stand. Then when I went to put the camcorder back in the car, whosh - although I only had one door open, an eddy of the wind took the wrapping out once more, and Peter was off in pursuit again! We then returned to the ranger station and visitor information center at Furnace Creek, where we got out the wheelchair, so that Veronica could have a look round the museum and gift shop there.
For our route out of the Valley, we took the Badwater road through the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere, over 280 feet below sea level. This was actually the other road out of Shoshone, the one with no gas for 75 miles, but we had no doubt that we would make it. A few miles after the lowest point, still alongside the badwater salt beds and lake, we came across a New York registered car, at first glance parked very badly on the pavement. As we got closer, we discovered that it had a puncture in the front wheel, and the driver was digging through the luggage in the trunk to find the spare, and the tools. I got Peter to stop with the hazard warning lights going to protect our rear, and with the help of her male companion, persuaded the young lady from the car to get into the air conditioned van, then helped the other driver to change the wheel. Once all that was left to do was to put away the tools etc., I returned to the van, and despatched the young lady back to her own car, and we left them to it. I learned from Peter and Veronica, that the young lady was actually German, on her first visit to the US, and they had rented the car in New York six days earlier. I have to say that I was under the impression that the young man was American, maybe a serviceman on leave from his posting in Germany. The rest of the drive to Shoshone proceded without incident, and we considered the fuel guage, and the less than 30 miles to Pahrump, so did not pay the outlandish gas prices at Shoshone.
At the gas station in Pahrump, I took the opportunity to wash my hands which I had got dirty while helping with the wheel change, then on we went, once more declining the delights of Japanese mixed bathing and massage, along the straight daylight headlamp road and over the mountains towards Las Vegas. Although it was not yet dark, the light was fading, and some of the lights of the city stood out on the plains in the distance as we came over the hills.
Back to Vegas, and the road works on the Interstate. It was Peter’s turn this time, to indulge in Vegas driving, in order to get across to the exit ramp through the traffic entering from the previous on ramp. Once at the hotel, I made a booking for the hotel in Three Rivers, as we reckoned the snow should have cleared by this time. When we asked him to make this booking, the man on the desk would not believe that the we had the correct town name for the hotel.
Peter and I being despatched for the food again, we thought we would try our luck in North Vegas this time, and we were driving slowly along when we spotted a fish and chip shop to the left, so I swung across to the left turn lane, and then into the parking lot. Despite there being no other traffic to impede the manouver, Peter accused me of ‘Vegas driving’ again. The fish and chip shop was run by Koreans, who claimed to provide English style chips - well, they may have thought they did, they actually produced what my mother would have called scallops, slices of potato, about a quarter of an inch thick, fried like English chips (American French fries). The problem was getting back to the hotel. I had not noticed, until I came to turn out of the parking lot, that the road was divided, and there was no crossing of the central reservation, so I had to turn right. Thinking of the ‘block’ principle, I started making right turns, and finished up in a no through road. I don’t remember too well how I finally got back, I think I abandoned right turns, and started on left turns instead.
Day 16
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Last updated 24th August 2000