We've been way to busy to keep this blog up-to-date, and I have many things to show and tell you so be sure to check back regularly.
Our trip from Lassen to Reno was easy, and the landscape changed from forest to desert.
But I know you are all wondering whether the open-window noise-reduction module worked. The answer is, yes. It reduces the noise by about 50%. Note that we have functioning air conditioning, but sometimes it's nice to have air coming in the window.
Although we were worried about the heat in the desert, the real problem turned out to be rain. More specifically, thunderstorms.
The forecast was for intermittent thunderstorms. We actually pulled
into the parking lot of a motel, considering staying there, but then decided to
continue on and camp at Lahonton Reservoir, southeast of Reno. After some
Gunilla mixups (Gunilla is our GPS), and poor-sign-related mishaps we finally
got to the site, and set up in gale-force winds. Fortuneately, Lena was
heavy strong enough to hold the tent down while I staked it in.
The winds then died, and this picture was taken in the calm before the storm.
The heavens opened up, so we had to cook in the thunderstorm. We got the Pepsi-can stove going, put some Nathan's famous hot dogs in a frying pan and then went in to the car to wait for them to cook. We ran out, scooped them up, and ate in the car.
I can honestly say that they were the best hot dogs I've ever tasted.
During a lull between the thunderstorm cells, we finished putting things in the tent, and slept well, serenaded by coyotes and owls.
Our tent is 20 years old. To give you an idea of how it has changed over those years, when we first bought it, I could hardly stuff it into it's sack. Now it fills less than half of the sack. Although the fly is still waterproof (helped by some waterproofing spray put on two years ago when in Wyoming),
the bottom of the tent is water-challenged. Recently, we've started using a ground cloth, but I made the beginner's mistake of not folding the ground cloth under the tent, so water coming off the fly and onto the cloth was simply funneled under the tent.
It wasn't a total disaster, and in the morning we were able to dry out the tent and its contents.
I did a little housecleaning, and we were ready to go.
The forecast continued to call for isolated thunderstorms, and in the next chapter, I'll tell you of the funny-named place at which we stayed in Tonopah, Nevada. Other adventures will follow.
We were now into standard desert, with large sweeping valleys and distant mountains.
Thunderstorms were still forecast, and our destination campsite near Nevada was a long way away, so we started considering motels in Tonopah, Nevada. Gunilla gave us motel names and phone numbers, so we called a few, and found that all but one were booked solid. The only one with rooms available was the clown motel, and it was only $36.50/night. It sounded too cheap, and had a weird name. What, was "cockroach hotel" already taken?
But when we got there, it seemed like it was worth the risk, and it was simple, but clean and comfortable.
The significance of this next photo is that 10 minutes after we checked in, someone backed over a motorcycle. The bike was damaged such that it couldn't shift out of second gear, so the owner was going to ride it to Reno at around 40 MPH.
The hotel was right next to the Tonopah Cemetery.
Of course there were no thunderstorms that night, but we were glad we didn't have to drive any further.
We headed out early for our campsite near Las Vegas, and stopped for a scrounge meal at a rest stop.
Around noon, as we climbed into the mountains near Vegas, toward our 8400 ft elevation campground, the rain was coming down steadily. We had a site reserved, and got there during a brief intermission in the rain. The neighboring site belonged to the camp host, and he had this generator running.
It was loud enough that we had to yell to be heard, but I assumed that he would soon turn it off, and we set up our tent in our reserved site.
When I asked him, nicely, when he thought he might turn if off, his reply was
"Not until 10 PM, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. Everybody complains about this, but nobody can get me to turn it off. You're just camping here, but we have to live up here, so we have to run our generator."
We had a satisfying shouting match, and I let him know what a jerk he was. Then we broke down our tent and moved to another site far away from the noise. One of those things that makes me want to give up camping.
We had another eight rainy hours until bedtime, so we drove down the mountain for some firewood. We came across the very fancy Resort on Mount Charleston, and stopped for coffee. They graciously allowed me to play their well-maintained Hamilton grand piano for about an hour.
Back to the campsite for a late, drizzly dinner.
The sky cleared, and was lit up by the city of Las Vegas. We were lucky to see a very slow-moving, red and green meteor falling through the sky as we sat in front of the fire.
We needed to wake up at 5 AM to drive to the airport, but at 3:45 the neighbor's car alarm sounded. The "honk honk" went on for about three minutes, then stopped for about five minutes and started again. This was repeated five times, at which point we gave up and packed up the tent. Over the next five days, I would hear car alarms go off about 30 times, and heard several hundred of the honks that sound when someone turns their alarm on or off. I guess more and more cars have alarms, and most people don't know how to use them.
We got to the airport in time, and waited outside it for Jenny's call.
Stay tuned for the near disaster which caused me to have to back up in the left lane of the six lane highway!
We headed down the mountain towards Las Vegas pre-dawn. At one point we saw two three-hundred pound burritos at the edge of the road. And by "burritos" I mean small, wild burros.
The sunrise with the Las Vegas streets was dramatic; unfortunately, the lens of the camera had some condensation on it.
With our bikes, our car is 8' 6" tall. I Googled info on the Las Vegas airport before we left and found that the parking structure had a clearance of less than eight feet. That's why we needed to pick up Jenny at the curb.
But in driving up to the airport, we came to a 8' 2" low clearance warning. This "warning" consisted of some hanging rubber blocks, and 10 feet later an 8' 2" iron bridge-like structure that would withstand an onslaught by a truck. In other words, it was a trial-by-fire type of warning. The low-clearance exit was three lanes away, and about 50 feet back. We were stuck.
So I figured I had three options. Take the bikes off and lock them to a light pole, and find a way to get them later, call 911 and ask for a traffic block, or back up until I could get to the escape lane. I started removing the bikes, but then went for option 3. Lena walked back along the shoulder, and waved drivers out of my lane while I backed up. She then jumped in the car, and we shot over to the escape exit. It actually worked quite well.
We looped back, but there was still no way for us to get to the arriving-passengers curb. So, I dropped off Lena in a limo/bus area, and had her go meet Jenny and return while I waited outside the airport.
I headed back in when I got the call, and Jenny squeezed into the car, Homeland Security chased us away, and we were off to Zion National Park. Jenny and Lena set up the tent.
At this point, thunderstorm cells were still rolling through. We had to decide whether to attempt a ride up Zion canyon or retreat to a wifi coffee shop. The majority decision was to ride, so we suited up.
and took off
We were lucky to have no rain during the ride, and made it to the top to find a large tarantula waiting for us. Fearless Jenny petted its back legs,
and I tried to coax it into my mouth for a great photo.
Back at the campsite we had to deal with the fact that there was a ban on all fires, and we needed to cook our ribeye steaks in the frying pan.
We doubled up the Pepsi-can stoves (Jenny's and ours), and both steaks were cooked to perfection.
Dessert was flax seed meal banana bread, which we brought from home, and it was my turn to make the whipped cream.
After dinner we relaxed in our scenic campsite, got tired of having pictures taken, and stretched.
Next, Jenny prepared the hammock for sleeping. The plan is for her to sleep in it in her bivouac sack, and if the thunderstorms return, she will retreat into the tent with us.
That plan worked -- no rain, and here she is, sound asleep at 6 AM:
I prepared the flaxseed meal pancakes,
It was very blustery, so a windbreak was needed around the stove.
Next it was time to wake Jenny.
The pancakes were great.
and were complemented by coffee with cream:
Fortunately I had previously learned the lesson of the Confucius saying "Man who heats coffee in Sierra cup, burns lips."
Jenny noticed that we were generally busy planning or worrying about the next activity rather than enjoying the current one. For example, at breakfast we were discussing the planned bike and hike for later in the morning. This fit with one of my favorite sayings: "Life is something that happens while you are making other plans," so we resolved to work more on savoring the current activity.
Jenny and Lena headed off to see if we could get a campsite for this Saturday night, and the answer was yes. We didn't even need to move from one campground to the next, so we could just pick up our house and walk a few sites over.
The even better news was that the ban on fires was lifted! Yay!