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Published by klump04, 2018-10-07 10:11:08

JUST AROUNG THE BEND EIPIODE V TX, NM, AZ, CA, MEXICO

JUST AROUND THE BEND

Episode V



8 NEVADA: PARTY TIME



Viva Las Vegas

Toward Death Valley









































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Viva Las Vegas
Most of the eastern side of California, is desert
and many roads that either go up or down for
such long distances, 15 -16 miles can lead you
from 600 feet to over 4000 through a pass and
10-12 miles down the other side. With the
tachometer below 3000 we could and did climb
each mountain in the truck lane below 40 mph,
without AC. It takes a while to do it and
everyone whizzed past us going up. Coming
down we raised our feet off the running board
and let fly. That’s a 7% grade up at 40 mph, and
a 7% grade down at 70 mph.

Creosote bushes sparingly cover the sandy
hillsides. Some trees, Ironwood and Palo Verde
tree dot the roadside, where they can occasionally
get enough water runoff to survive. They are
wiry and pathetic trees. I’ve given up on trying to
make hiking sticks out of them. In the desert
valleys very little grew. In the future they may be
filled with solar panel farms. Above 3000 feet
the Joshua Trees grow.

We crossed the Mojave once again and drove
down into the Vegas Valley. The traffic built as
we crawled for miles to Sahara Boulevard, then it
eased as we circled around into Circus Circus’s
RV park.

The park has a desert flair. No ruffles or frills,
it’s a large flat asphalt parking lot with electric,
water and sewer ( EWS), hookups every 25 feet.

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We have never seen it when it’s not full, 500
RV’s, Trailers and Campers. It is of course the
spot; right on ‘THE STRIP’.
As I set up the rig, lowering stabilizers,
unhitching, and connecting the EWS. Arlene
reorganized things inside. Often our cupboard
doors open as we bounce around, things fall out,
cushions end up on the floor. They need to be
picked up, and meals set up. She does it all, then
digs into the magazines and pamphlets
advertising everything in Vegas.

At dinner we discuss what’s happening. There’s
the usual magician, comedians, girly shows, and
circus acts. We’ve done a lot of them and learned
the hard way. Let us say it’s better to see the
tigers in a zoo than on stage.
Then there’s the price of these shows. Penn and
Teller were entertaining, but not worth the cost.
Cher is in town, for $300 each. We could see her
fantastic show, but at the same time we could see
‘The Jersey Boys’, the Fankie Valli’s story, and
Spandalot, a Monty Python spinoff. We chose
the latter two. Spandalot stunk, and The Jersey
Boys were really good. What a voice.

Theater seats are one of those things we never
give a thought. Why would the cheap seats be
different than orchestra seats? Well, maybe in
the old days all the seats were the same, but in
Vegas they’re different. $150 buys you nose
bleed seats that may be so narrow that … well

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the fat fellow in front of us was sitting on the
arm rests.
Money is put into splashy areas, not back stage.
The lousy seats at Wynn’s are nothing like the
public promenade where the Chichuly master
pieces lie imbedded in the floor with flowers and
plants. Outside there is a beautiful wall of water
in a jungle environment. Down the street
Treasure Island’s Pirates plunder ships in an
outside extravaganza.

Each night we got back to camp around 11. Our
eyes tired and strained by the long days, bright
sunlight, auto exhaust, and dusty construction
sites. The new Frontier, Encore, Wynn and
Trump hotel and casinos are going up. America
is known for it’s replacement of buildings,
especially like Las Vegas. It’s always replacing
their hotels and casinos.

The people that visit Vegas are ready for a good
time, and from what we see it seldom disappoints
them. Outside Wynn several Jersey visitors with
strong accents, were debating jumping into the
water-wall pool. They obviously were high on
the Vali show, and ready for some action.

Hoofing it up and down the strip has been a daily
endeavor. First, 1½ miles down to The Palazzo
and back; total 3 miles. Then to Wynn and back,
same distance. Today we’re going to The Mirage
about 5 miles around.



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It’s impossible to make these trips without
observing what happens to our bodies and
specifically our feet. When feet are over used and
poorly treated they react. Being reasonable
st
people we changed our shoes after the 1 outing.
We’ve gone from around-the-house sandals, to
more accommodating hiking sandals. After our
first day our feet were a little tender and puffy,
while our joints creaked. Following each outing
we put our feet up and rested them. They
rejoiced from the relief of the heat, concrete and
our weight. Soon they stopped pulsating. We
continued to change shoes with new strategies.

We had to give up on the sandals, as our feet
would get so hot and sweaty they would slip in
them. Our last ditch effort was our hiking shoes,
with stiff souls, and air breathing uppers. We
wore heavy sweat sucking, wicking socks with
them.
Mirage is a great place to visit, walk around and if
you can afford it go to the top line shows. We
however were on a mission. Several years ago we
had found a Stage Deli in Caesars Palace. The
pastrami and blinzes were so good we were sure
they had been flown in from New York. We had
the Deli high on our to do list. Except, Arlene
had seen that the Carnegie Deli, not the Stage
Deli was new in town, and that’s where we were
headed.




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We got half way before taking a break at the
Fashion Mall. After that we started taking short
cuts, escalators lifted us up to highway cross
over, instead of walking up 200 stairs. Waiting
in the shade of light poles for a light to change,
and choosing concrete over asphalt black top,
and wood over everything.
I was sure Caesars was the place not the Mirage,
and as soon as we entered the garden like foyer a
sign pointed to Carnegie’s It was up scale, Vegas
with separate tables, not family style, no abrupt
New York waiters, friendly patient ones with
smiles and foreign accents.

We were prepared to order before being seated.
Actually, despite the hot weather our mouths
were watering while we made the long trek.
Arlene wanted Blintzes with sour cream and
water. Woody Allen pastrami on rye with a side
of coleslaw and horseradish. And a lemonade for
me, no eggcream.

It was to die for. 14oz’s of hot pastrami piled 5”
high between hearty rye with seeds. Coleslaw
with red and green cabbage and sliced carrots,
with a mayonnaise dressing. Deli mustard and
fresh ground horseradish. The lemonade and
water came in huge glasses and the ½ sour dills,
crunchy as they should be; aged in garlic and
spices.
The pastrami is piled so high that it takes the
experience of eating several sandwiches before

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you know how to eat one. It’s impossible to get
your mouth around something so large. I’ve
concluded that the best approach is to remove
the top slice of rye, shovel off half the pastrami
adding mustard and fresh horseradish then
replacing the rye. The sandwich is still very large,
but manageable.
If you would indulge us here’s another tip. While
waiting on your order, munch on a couple of the
½ sour tomatoes. It improves your palate and
appetite. Also do a few jaw exercises as it’s
embarrassing to get lock jaw during your meal.
Now take your time the meat will melt in your
mouth. The lemonade will help your digestion.
Enjoy! Mazel Tov!

Arlene’s Blintzes, ricotta and spices were rolled
and crisp to the bite. She ordered additional sour
cream, all of it was gone in a flash. She eats fast
and doesn’t talk too much.

Beside us were a couple of business suits. One
was Korean who spoke little English. His friend
asked about our sandwich. ‘Are they all that size?’
Arlene told him ‘Of course Not.’ He ordered a
BLT, which was a ½ pound of bacon, and an
entire tomato. Not the small tasty ones, but a
large cardboard one. These guys had never been
to a New York Deli and they needed help. The
Korean was in shock, he ordered a ham and
noodle soup. Arlene suggested they use a
napkin to keep it off his suit. Meanwhile they

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couldn’t take their eyes off my pastrami. Maybe
they didn’t eat meat, but I motioned for his fork.
He passed it over and I lifted part of the rest of
the pastrami onto his plate. He laughed, ate it,
and thanked us. Then he tried some of his
buddies ½ pound of bacon.
We left Carnegie, full with a bag for the other ½
of the sandwich, heading toward Caesars Palace.
I had loosened my shoe laces before we sat down
to let my feet breath, then tightened them before
leaving.

Caesars Palace is a dream, marble everywhere,
and benches with cushions. We grabbed a seat
and for an hour watched people go by.
Many women, 20’s, 30’s, 40’s wear very short
tight skirts and low ‘V’ line blouses. One of
these visual treats was a lady with a silky, stretchy
outfit with black pumps that must have been 8”
high.

These people were interesting, but best of all
were the shoes everyone wore. This is what the
women’s shoes looked like: Platforms 2”- 4”
high, Strapped heels 4”- 6”. The worst, Thongs
or flip flops, sandals, strapped or hiking, Rubber
Crocs, lower heels 1”-2”, and Lace ups with stiff
soles and supports.
It doesn’t take long to realize that women’s feet
are abused. Children don’t care what they have
on. They just dance and hop around everywhere


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they go. The guys were better off, but they tend
to have more weight and after age 40 or 50 they
tend to have a prehistoric tilt. Over weight folks
have a special stroll, rolling from side to side like
ice skating.
After a long rest we left for the RV. Home again
shoes off, feet up high, AC blasting. It was the
walk, the sun, the concrete. We survived because
of the water we drank, the rest stops and our
good planning. And was the Deli worth it…Yes
Sireeee!

It’s easy to understand why a crazy man built this
place in the desert. The heat starts early, 7:00 am
and builds quietly. Into the day with no wind, or
clouds, autos, planes and life saving air
conditioners, blasting. All generating more heat.
Concrete and asphalt gathering, and reflecting
even more. Creating sweltering afternoons and
rising blistering winds into the night.

We always save up for shows when we come.
Once our favorite was…. .

Mamma Mia!
What a high octane show. The story of three
happy fellows, and one lovely unmarried woman
during a summer frolic. Then, years later all
trying to find out who was the father of the
young vivacious daughter and bride. All brought
together again on an Isle in Greece, saluting the
singing group ABBA and their wonderful songs


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from Sweden.
The set was simple the music awesome. The cast
was terrific. And at the end, after the show was
over. The cast came on stage and in an
electrifying finale, dancing and singing yet more
ABBA songs. We left the theater humming and
singing in an emotional high. Ole’

Mamma Mia…That was good!
Our daily schedule has changed since we’ve been
here in Las Vegas. Usually days begin late in the
morning, and slowly grow in activity until they
peak around midnight. For us it may be a little
earlier. We are sleeping until 5 am, turn off the
Air Conditioner, sleep in the quiet until the sun
begins to warm the side of the RV around 8 am.
We lounge from then until noon and start the
day.

If we leave the RV we find ourselves moving
from one hotel to another, drinking lots of water
and trying not to get over exposed, red faced or
an upset stomach.
Today Arlene and I have spent the day reading,
dozing and relishing the little Coleman AC in our
ceiling. It keeps chugging along, picking up
steam when the fan blows, and slowing when the
compressor kicks in. We’re experiencing the
desert at 100 degrees, and in a fit of insanity we
will go tomorrow to the oven-on-earth. Where




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for the past few days the sun has mercilessly
marked it’s floor at 105 to 110.
Arlene looks over at me, the hottest moment of
the day 4:00 pm with dull glazed blue eyes. I
can’t look back, or tell her what I’m writing. If I
do we’ll not go further. We’ll not go to Death
Valley, even for a day.

Arlene says I’ve got ginger and you need some.
So I’ve eaten ginger all afternoon and evening.
After 5 we went out for a last walk and ended up
at the Fashion Show Mall, where we had dinner.
It was at California Pizza Kitchen. It was good.
Her’s was crispy and mine cheesy. It’s her
favorite pizza joint; Wolfgang Puck doesn’t cut it
any more. The best part was the thin crust.


Toward Death Valley


We didn’t blast out of Las Vegas early this
morning. Several things came into play; loving, a
good breakfast, a nap before hooking up the
Nova, and stopping at the Dump station. Slowly
we pulled out onto Las Vegas Blvd, to Sahara and
north to a Flying J. At $2.20 a gallon we wanted
to fill everything.
We drove some of Las Vegas’ back roads, 4 to 6
lanes, did a little shopping at Wal Mart and K
Mart before getting back out into the great
Nevada desert.

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Everywhere has at least 4 lanes. Route 95,
headed north right up the valley. The mountains
on both sides were bare. We can see miles of
Creosote bushes, a small splash of ‘canned pea’
green amongst the sand-tan rocks and dust. Yet,
off on the horizon above the highest mountains
these funny looking hammer heads had formed.
A plane would fly over them, they are flatter than
an anvil signifying a bit of damp air.
At Fort Armargosa; the RV Park we choose had
180 sites. Winter must be the season, because we
were among 4 other rigs.

Thirty miles west of us over the Funeral
Mountains lies Death Valley. And above the
dark purple-brown mountains grows the
cumulus. The wind picked up, it blew the door
out of my hand as I tried to close the Nova’s
windows.

This weather calls for a firm hold. A couple of
bushes, top heavy from spring flowers sway
almost to the ground. The mountains are
disappearing. There must be something
happening, strong winds but no rain. It can’t
reach the ground, drying out hundreds of feet
above.

It passed in 30 minutes; and again I could see the
silhouette of the mountains. The Funerals were
reappearing.



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9 CALIFORNIA: #3 Death Valley


Death Valley

Bad Water 1933
Bad Water 2013

Golden Canyon 2012

Sand Dunes
Golden Canyon 2013

Creek
Twenty Mule Team Borax






















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Death Valley


























Today’s weather map shows red across the
United States. It will be hot everywhere. In
Florida with its humidity at 90 degrees it’s
unbearable. Here if it’s only 90 it’s dry as a bone.
The key to the heat in Death Valley the paper
says, as it crinkles and cracks under my hands, is
the depth of the valley. One of the worlds
hottest locations. It’s a long, 100 mile narrow
basin surrounded by steep mountains on each
side. When we wash our hands, and walk away,
in a moment they are chapped, and dry.

The height and weight of the air compress,
forcing it downward, heating it more. Below the
valley surface sucks it up, and radiates it, while
the dark rocks absorb and intensify it. Cooler air


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above pushes it all downward trapping and
compressing it even further.
Recordings at Furnace Creek show that July 10,
1913 was the hottest ever at 134 degrees. That’s
held up over the years. I suppose weather
forecasters haven’t changed that much over the
years. Or have they?




























What a nice greeting. But, what’s that over there
on the side? A sign says:

‘ SEE YOU IN NOVEMBER!!!’
Are they kidding. What are we doing? Isn’t there
anyone here? We descended into the valley
drove past the empty Visitors Center at Furnace
Creek and on 35 miles to Immigrant




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Campground at Stovepipe Wells. It was 120
degrees.
We didn’t stop.

At Stovepipe wells we turned around and headed
back toward the Visitor’s Center, but didn’t see
anyone. No one, on the roads. They must be
serious. They say its at least 109 degrees during
June. That couldn’t be night and day, or could it?
The Visitors Center had a sign that they will be
open from 8 to 11 tomorrow. We turned and
headed right back the way we came, straight up
10 miles, 4,000 feet, air conditioner blasting.
Over the Funeral Mountains to Beatty, and back
to our camp at Fort Armargosa.

Would our first night repeat itself? With another
blustery storm without any rain. We’ve been
sailing on the sea when it was clear as a bell, yet
the wind blew a strong Gale and the waves
reached three feet in Long Island Sound. Yet
foolish sailors and yatchsmen weren’t phased by
it.
Another night another terrific storm. The storm
blew strong winds across our camp.
Tumbleweeds flew past, bushes were wrenched
from the ground and our RV rocked and strained
under the strong gusts. Lightning bolts as wide
as the rig split the sky with each stroke. Rain
splat upon the roof top and window’s sounding




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louder than cannon fire. It passed again quickly.
We survived, but let’s hope it doesn’t come again.
Out across the valley below Dante’s View is a
great salt flat. Down there is a spot called ‘Bad
Water’. It’s designated as the lowest point in
North America, 282 feet below sea level.

























We tried to find that lowest spot, but it’s
impossible. It’s near for sure, yet we’re told the
valley breaths and sometimes spots are lower
than others. From 6,000 feet above we thought
we could pick it out. Below us that salt bed had
to be ‘badwater’. Maybe the darkest, thickest
salts would be the deepest, and the lowest point.

It was a good thought , and from our perch atop
Dante’s View it was purely our imagination
running wild. We needed to go down and find
the spot called Badwater Basin.

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Bad Water 1933




































Here’s Badwater in January 1933, with my father
standing like a conqueror beside the small pond.
Indeed a conqueror is just what they were as they
made it down the old west side, crusty, salty road
which was far from passable back then.



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They had tried climbing over the Permanent
Mountains from the west, but it was impossible.
Instead they drove around the southern end of
the valley. Of course it was before Las Vegas
existed, and the Hoover Dam was still a trench
with hundreds of workers climbing the walls.
Notice how he is dressed. A sport coat, vest and
tie. It seemed to be the fashion 80 years ago. He
holds a hammer in his hand because there were
many geodes that promised riches inside them.
He was in hopes that he would pop one open
and find a bowl full of garnets.

























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My mother has a ‘flapper’ hat, sweater and long
skirt. Her shoes are ankle high lace ups. She’s
carrying a geode, on her way to tap it open.
Despite her legendary skills, at almost everything,
the geodes were deceptively light.


Bad Water 2013















This is Badwater today, 2014. It’s much easier to
get to along a hard top road. In fact during the
winter it’s difficult to get near it because of all the
tourists.
This is a photo looking away from Badwater
across the salty floor of the valley showing the
Panament Mountains in the background. The
white salty crust has been battered and pounded
into a flat walk; packed down like concrete. To
it’s side is a more rugged landscape caused by the
erosion and crystallization of dirt, and salt. Look

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at my mother’s photo to see how rugged it was.
Few tourist walk across it as they could easily
twist an ankle.





























Despite the heat we returned to the Valley. At
Furnace Creek the only Ranger told us to be very
careful, carry lots of water, and don’t stay too
long. He was a friendly guy, and when I
mentioned we’d been looking for a pin like his
for years. ‘Bearacks’ our pin collecting Vermont
Teddy Bear didn’t have one. He took off his
National Park Service pin and gave it to us.
Wow! How thoughtful, It must be the sun and
the Valley heat that makes folks so friendly.





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We drove out of the Visitors Center down to
Devils Golf Course. The road, salt, dirt and
rocks today is plowed regularly. Its easy to see
how its in such good shape driving on it would



























be no problem, except for the few rocks and
boulders that the plow missed. Near the bottom,
about 4 miles along we stopped. We had the air
conditioner on, and when we stepped out it was
like hitting a wall.

My nose crinkled when I breathed. There was a
scent of burning flesh; like the top of a stove.
The hair on my legs curled. It’s 120 degrees on
this ragged dirt road. We’re standing too close
to an open fire. The heat is so intense it
penetrates our hiking boots, scorches our bare
skin, cuts through our hat and shirt. Above all it
stifles our breath, shortening it, causing us to
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gasp. I kept asking what’s burning. It’s me, of
course, and everything around me.
Hiking is out of the question. In this heat no one
could protect themselves or drink enough water.
It just wouldn’t do. So we drove around, mostly
with the air conditioner running. Not a good
idea. The salt flat was a bumpy drive along the
rocky desert floor, which had buckled under the
heat. Not a bad wash board, but enough to keep
st
us in 1 gear driving slowly. Waves of heat
shimmered above the salt.


Golden Canyon 2012


Never-the-less we did just what the Ranger had
advised us not to do. After all when were we
ever going to return to Death Valley. So like
idiots we stopped at Golden Canyon for a short
hike. I found the Nova’s emergency brake was
soft, so we parked sideways to the hill against a
boulder.

















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Arlene looks game here at the entrance to the
canyon. Once inside we didn’t find any
protection from the sun. In this heat, actually
when any temperature goes over 80 degrees my
attitude, and demeanor changes. I get a little
restless, lose my temper quicker, and make a lot
of poor decisions. I’d say I just can’t stand it.
Arlene, doesn’t seem to have the same heat
‘stroke’ response. However, we both lose a lot of
energy quickly.

That’s what happened to us in the Golden
Canyon. We walked up it for a ½ mile or so,
with the sun beating down on us, found no shade
and polished off the two water bottles we had
with us. We retired back to the Nova tired and
turned on the air conditioning.




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We began the long haul up the 10 mile hill out of
the valley, back to our camp. A short way up I
noticed the thermostat was edging up on the red
line. We pulled over and realized the huge
mistake we’d made running the air conditioner. I
turned it off and we opened the windows.
We started up again as the needle lowered, only
to have it rise again in a few more miles. This
time I turned the heater on as we sat. The
temperature dropped slowly, before we started
up again, with the heater and fan running. One
more time we had to stop and rest.

For sure we probably would never have had a
problem if we never turned on the air
conditioner, and ran the heater with the windows
open.
After our escape from the sun we would return
to the Valley. Crossing it into California, along
the Sierra Nevada to Yosemite and Reno.

On our final crossing we were reminded of my
parents visit in January and how different it was
from ours. It was cold and freezing every night.
They stayed at the Furnace Creek Campground,
which was run by the Borax Company and
welcomed anyone who would visit with free
accommodations. Each evening my parents
would drain their old Pontiac’s radiator so it
wouldn’t freeze the motor. Each morning they
heated water to fill it up again so they could start
it.

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WE’RE BACK: NOVEMBER 2013
















We returned to Death Valley late in November of
2013 with reservations at Stove Pipe Wells. It was
luxurious. Electricity, rocks, sand, a fire pit, and
neighbors 8 feet from us on both sides.

















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Off in the distance you could see other RV’s.
Only 15 of us had electricity. Hopefully they had
a generator and heater as it was pretty cold at
night. There are other campgrounds, near the
Visitors Center, an Oasis for Campers with palms
and oaks, yet no electricity.

Sand Dunes
Being down in the valley you can see in every
direction for miles. To our north were sand
dunes. After setting up the rig, and plugging in
the electric we headed over to them.

The hiking rule applied each ¼ mile we walked
over them the further we got from any visitors.
The sand was packed making walking easy, on
the top side. Down each slope was a little bit
looser


























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The afternoon sun was setting on us as we
walked around. It was beautiful. We stopped on
one ledge and I sketched while Arlene talked
about tomorrow’s events.

















































We had to return to ‘Bad Water’ then over to


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Golden Canyon. There are also those mysterious
moving rocks that no one knows how they creep
along the canyon floor. We wanted to see them,
but discovered that our Honda Odyssey wasn’t
equipped to make it over the rough terrain.
We had followed this long desert from Gulf de
California over the Salton Sea to Death Valley.
Time and again we were below sea level. Here of
course at ‘Bad Water’ its 282 feet below, the
lowest. From this picture you can see the
skimpy pool, and the trampled path leading deep
into the salt flats. The Panament Mountains are
in the background. The Salton Sea was 237 feet
below sea level.































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They say there wasn’t really anything so bad
about the water, only that the mules didn’t like it
because it was brackish. We didn’t taste it
ourselves.

Golden Canyon 2013

We moved on, this time to make our own
conquest; The Golden Canyon, at 75 degrees, not
120. Just look at how much happier Arlene is as
we started climbing up.




























Further up the canyon we came to a number of
smaller off shoots. Arlene followed one until the
pathway closed in on her. It was about 2 feet
wide, when she turned back.




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Returning to a place we’ve been before usually
helps us get around. This was true here, if only
for the temperature difference. We felt
comfortable climbing into every nook and cranny
of the Golden Canyon, and going out onto the
desert floor roads, the Corn Field, and Devils
Golf Course. It was like an oven last time, not
now. It was mostly rough roads, but passable.
We also drove and hiked on side roads along the
Funnal Mountains. Here on Artist Drive we
rolled up and down between washes before
coming to a hill side that was a blast of colors,
green, pink , and white, from minerals draining
down the mountain side.






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Salt Creek

This had been a quick two days. It was very
interesting and we even found a little stream
hidden between rolling hills on the floor.
This is Salt Creek we’re not sure where it started,


























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or where it ended. We did however hike from
one end of it to the other. There are these little
fish that live here. Their called Popfish, pretty
small, and colorful. We searched in every pool
for them, but never saw one.


Twenty Mule Team Borax



Ronald Regan made ‘The Death Valley Days’ a
popular western TV show in the 1950’s. It’s
stories were never a brutal as the reality of the
Chinese workers that dug the Borax in the
blistering heat, for 10 years. It was begun in 1881
and ended in 1889. The wagons were so heavy
that it took 20 mules to pull them across the
desert 165 miles to the railroad. Here is a plaque
that shows the mules.



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Another tells the short history.


































Several other photos show the wagons and water
tank with the Borax mines in the background.




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Finally Richard stands beside the 6’ wheel
showing how large these wagons were.






























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On our way out we stopped for one last glimpse
of this magnificent valley. This place is so
amazing. It’s heat and desolation has captured
our imagination.
















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Goodbye Death Valley.





























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10 Happy Trails



Each time we come to the end of an Episode we
wonder if it’s really over. There are so many
things and places that we’ve not seen or enjoyed.
Places we would like to return. In the years that
have passed, between 2000 and 2014 both Dan,
and Pam, Alyx and Jim have moved to Las
Vegas. Doug and Irene and their families are still
in San Diego and Mexico. So it would be
difficult to say we won’t be back.
In the mean time we have been able to recant a
few of our stories and travels around the Great
Southwest and its alluring deserts. We set out to
describe these deserts, to see if we could capture
the feeling we get while there. The expanse, the
solitude, and the glory of the deserts. It’s been a
fun chore putting this Episode together.

Of course before we left Las Vegas for Death
Valley we realized that we hadn’t finished our
stories of the great deserts. North of Arizona
and East of Nevada lies The Great Basin Desert.
Possibly the most interesting of all.

Also after traveling the deserts of the Southwest;
wading and swimming in the few rivers that serve
the area. Seeing how the water is used and
abused, and how the long drought is effecting
everyone. How our underground aquatic lakes

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are being diminished. We could hardly stop
without an Episode on the origin of these
streams that mean so much to us.
We need to look further at our experiences in the
Great Basin Desert, to tell a few stories about the
marvelous State of Utah, and the single source of
water across more than half of our country. The
magnificent mountains and water in the State of
Colorado.

Until then we’ll be Just Around The Bend.



























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APENDEX 1 MAPS

TEXAS






















































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NEW MEXICO



















































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ARIZONA




































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CALIFORNIA , NEVADA AND MEXICO





































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APENDEX 2


Traveling Expenses


Over the years we’ve kept close tabs on our
expenses, and from time to time matched them
with Richard’s brother Joe’s travel expenses. He
and Mary Ann traveled for a couple of months of
each year staying at mom and pop motels. They
preferred them to chain motels.

We found in the comparison that their expenses
for meals, travel, sightseeing, and
accommodations were a bit less than ours.
To rationalize the difference we always believed
that when we stayed within a park, we were
getting the best out of our trips. That’s probably
true, yet they surly enjoyed how and where they
traveled.

We once calculated and compared our expenses
to the western migrants. Their information came
from several places along the trails. Put together
they made up a more in-depth appraisal.
Several visits across the country allowed us to
calculate the settlers travel costs. One such visit
was to The Tallgrass National Preserve in
Kansas.



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They are growing grasses that are 8 feet tall
believed covered the entire plains one hundred
and seventy years ago; before Buffalo Bill’s time.
Traveling over that kind of plains would be pretty
difficult.
Another, in Great Falls, Montana we came across
an exhibit of wagons (Ford’s wagon Models.)
th
used in the 19 Century. Among them was this
wagon which was not like the Prairie Schooner in
the movies, the Conestoga wagon, but a much
smaller one. It’s an emigrant wagon and is both
characteristic, and more manageable for tall grass
prairies.

















Another at Massacre Rock, Idaho we found an
estimate compiled by folks in California about
emigrants that crossed the country between 1849




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to 1859. It tells quite a story, and gives us an idea
of the expenses those travelers incurred.
From these documents we were able to add an
approximate cost of what their westward
expansion might have been.




















































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In addition to the Emigrants Guide we wanted to
include Richard’s parents journey around the U.S.
in 1932 and ’33. They camped for an entire year
during the Great Depression and kept penny by
penny account of their expenses.


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For our comparison it will be a lot easier to use
articles that were used along the way, food,
entertainment, feed or gas. We’ll not include the
cost of their wagon, oxen, or our vehicles.
We’ll include all of the emigrants $225.00 worth
of provisions during their three month trip across
the country. That trip was probably from St
Louis to California.

Richard’s father kept meticulous notes about
their expenses, including 4 tires, grease and oil for
the car, all their food and even a 10 cent chicken
which they caught, killed, plucked and ate. But,
we’ll exclude their old car. They spent about
$650.00 for the entire year.
For us we’ll eliminate the cost of our RV, the car
and our fun stuff like fishing, golf, and kayak
equipment. We will include bed and breakfast,
food, all our entertainment including Las Vegas.
We’ll use our last month on the road which was a
little light but, cost $1,500.00.

We actually estimate more like $65.00 a day or
$2,000.
Okay so to create a level playing field we’ll use a
standard value for the dollar. The dollar value
we’ll use is year 2000. It will be worth $1.00.
The others will be compared to it.
The 1849 dollar is now worth $20.62.
The 1932 dollar is now worth $12.61.




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Here’s how the total comparative dollars comes
out. It’s unequal because of the length of the
trips, a month, several months, and over a year.
Emigrants $225 X $20.632 = $4,642.20
Parents $650 X $12.611 = $8,197.15
ARRZ $1,500 X 1.00 = $1,500.00

If we added our trip of 3 months to the total it
would look pretty good; 3 x $1,500 = $4,500 for
over all expenses.
If we dwell on these expenses just a little longer
by looking at the cost of a single month. It looks
different.

Emigrants $4,642.20 \ 3 = $1,547.40
Parents $8,197.15 \ 12 = $ 683.10
ARRZ $1,500.00 \ 1 = $1,500.00
Even though we’ve had one inexpensive month
we’ll still come out looking pretty good. You
could say we’ve got a good deal for our dollar.

We’re not doing to bad. Considering we think
we’re living in the lap of luxury.













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