Lots of Gamboling Going on in Vegas!

Nope, that's not a typo in the title.  To gambol means to skip about in play, to romp, rollick, frolic, revel.  We're at Red Rock Canyon just a very few minutes outside of Las Vegas.  This would be my kinda gambling if I were 10 or 15 years younger.  It's free, and no one is smoking.  And, at least while they're on the rocks, no one is drinking.  We've seen entire families with kids probably 6 years old and up, out here gamboling around learning to rock climb.

Seriously, it is incredibly beautiful all around Las Vegas.  This is the road out to Red Springs and to Red Rock.

You can study clouds or geology or fresh air and sunshine. 




Red Springs is a quick stop just before Red Rock Canyon.  It's basically on the back side of the climbing wall in the first photo.  Amazingly, the ground is too soggy to walk on - and besides, wandering tourists would quickly trample the oasis of grass and other flora - so they have built a wonderful boardwalk.

What's this I see lurking in the bushes?  One has to have a sharp eye to pick out God's critters!

It's easy to see why they call them cottontails!

Isn't he precious!  Love the eyebrow treatment.  Yup, if I was a wabbit I'd live at Red Springs!

Flying to Texas

Okay.  So Granpa has decided that we are going to rent a car, leave it at the airport in Vegas, fly to DFW, rent a car and drive to Tyler.  We're going to babysit the livestock while our son and his family go to a graduation in Florida, then we'll drive Granpa's old pickup-with-a-new-engine back to Arizona so that when the contract is up we can load the loveseat we bought into it and get it back to Texas.  Whew!

I'm a strong believer in the 6 P's - previous precise planning prevents poor production.  So, we agree to do a test run to find the Vegas airport and discover where to turn the rent car in.  (Granpa has a secret scheme to go to a Fry's Electronic store and Best Buy, too.)

We input what we believe to be the correct address for the rental place, and off we go.  Lovely drive up, beautiful Black Canyon, Hoover Dam and lake, mid-morning on a Thursday very little traffic in Vegas ... and that was the end of the good day.

The freeway splits in two but continues to run parallel.  We discover that we should be on the other side of the barrier - and miss our exit.  No worries, we'll just take the next available one.  We find we need to be on the freeway side of the barrier not the expressway side.  Ultimately we find our way to the freeway side while listening to Lil' Miss GPS freak out the whole time.  She regains her bearings, and we begin to backtrack.

She says, "You have arrived," only there is no sign of any rent car place.  Round and round the blocks we go, but she refuses to change her mind as to the location of our destination.  Granpa pulls into a hotel parking lot, I get on the phone to the rental agency and discover that I had been given the wrong address in the first place.  Entering new data we head out again, and are VERY glad that we chose to do a test run!

She says, "You have arrived," and there is a huge sign that says "Rental Car Return."  Success!

Now, surprise, surprise, we have passed a Fry's during our roundy-rounds.  We attempt to relocate it. Easy peasy.  But -- we can't get there from where we are.  In our attempts to, we end up back on the expressway side of the barrier!  At least we know where the exit is this time...

I get on the phone, get an address, puts it into Lil' Miss GPS and ... miss the turn into Fry's.  Around another block we go.  (Can you believe that Granpa has not lost his patience yet?!)  (But he is beginning to twitch.)  Somehow he finds the right curb-cut and in we go.

Granpa has a grand time shopping, and he comes out with a DVD burner for half the price he expected to pay.  Perhaps the day is looking up.

While all is calm and satisfied, I decide it's the right time for lunch.  Granpa, as usual, has researched restaurants he'd like to try out, and once again Lil' Miss GPS is put to the test.  This time there were no interstates, freeways or expressways involved.  Hallelujah!  The meal was wonderful and nerves are smooth as silk.

Next GPS challenge is to find a Best Buy.  She puts us back on the Interstate - and we end up on the wrong side of the barrier again.  Aargh!  You know, they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results...  I suppose that that means we are now, by definition, insane.

We do prevail though, and she is once again saying, "You have arrived."  Granpa does his shopping, and it's nearly 3 p.m.  Close enough for us to throw in the towel and GPS our hotel as Granpa has decided we will spend the night and mosey around Red Rock Canyon on the way home tomorrow.

The good Lord must have known we needed a special place after this harrowing day of GPS SNAFU's, because Granpa has found a special price at a really, really nice place - Embassy Suites by Marriott.  Check in is easy - and then we discover this from our fourth-floor room:

See the two swans in the water?  That's Elvis and Priscilla.  Later on, Elvis goes into stealth mode:

Look!  There he goes again!

Daddy John and the CCC

Daddy John (Granpa's father) was born in East Texas in 1915.  He had a brother, Ruben, and two sisters, Maybelle and Helen.  (He had more siblings, but they didn't live long.  Daddy John was the oldest of those that did survive.)  His dad was a hard man - but those born in the late 1800's almost had to be.  By the time Daddy John was a teenager, he'd had a whole lot too much of his dad's mean spirit. (Lots of teenagers think that their daddys are mean spirited.)  Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal had put in place the Civilian Conservation Corp, and Daddy John signed up.

It was 1933.  The government didn't do welfare then; welfare wasn't passed by Congress until 1935. Americans believed that one should work for their money.  Congress believed the CCC would "build good citizens through vigorous, disciplined outdoor labor," that this civilian "tree army" would relieve the rural unemployed and keep youth "off the city street corners.'"  Work provided self-esteem which would translate into money, and the work that CCC crews did brought pride to themselves and to all of America to this day.

Managed by the Army, nearly 3 million men went through the CCC during it's nine year existence, and came out quite prepared for an unexpected World War II.

The first CCC to arrive at the Grand Canyon was Company 819 on May 29, 1933.  Daddy John was assigned to the bottom of the Canyon at Phantom Ranch where the Bright Angel Campground now sits.

The supplies came in on the backs of mules or burros; the men walked in and out - unless, of course, there was an accident or health issue.  Then they got to ride out.

Though I can't say that I would appreciate the ride up, flat on my back, wobbling left and right, trusting a stubborn mule ...

(Hey!  Wait a minute!  Isn't that a female sitting on the lead horse??) (Maybe it's an Army nurse?)

Do you see how high this suspension bridge is?


























Well, Daddy John was no shrinking violet.  If he isn't careful, he'll be the next one transported out by a mule!

After the back-breaking work these guys put in,

they needed nourishment.  The Army has always been pretty good at that.

This is the view from the inside - really not much difference between this and the FEMA tents we were fed in during our Disaster Relief deployments to New Orleans.

Now the day is done and there's a few minutes for R & R.

Phantom Ranch, 1930's style!

Daddy John was paid $15 a month for his service, of which he kept a couple of dollars, and the rest was sent home to his parents.  Now, $15 a month may not seem like a lot to you, but A) average pay for unskilled workers in 1933 was ony about $40 a month, B) the CCC provided room and board, too, and C) there were no jobs to be had for any amount of pay no matter how small.  Besides, look at what food cost back then:

Apples (per lb) $.03 Bacon (per lb) $.22 Bananas (per lb.) $.15 Beef, Rib Roast (per lb) $.22 Beef, Round steak (per lb) $.26 Beef, Sirloin steak (per lb) $.29 Bread (20 oz loaf) $.05 Butter (per lb) $.28 Cheese (per lb) $.24 Chicken (per lb) $.22 Coffee (per lb) $.26 Cornflakes (8oz package) $.08 Eggs (per dozen) $.29 Ham (per lb) $.31 Hamburger (per lb) $.10 Hershey chocolate bar $.04

Leg of lamb (per lb) $.22 Meal, breakfast $.25 Meal, lunch $.50 Meal, dinner $.75 Meal, Waldorf Astoria (NYC) Morse Grill $2 Milk (per qt) $.10 Onions (per lb.) $.03 Oranges (per dozen) $.27 Pork chops (per lb) $.20 Potatoes (per lb.) $.01 Rice (per lb.) $.06 Salmon (16 oz can) $.19 Sugar (per lb.) $.05 Tomatoes (16 oz can) $.09 Whiskey (per qt) $1.50 (after 1932) Wrigley's Spearmint or Doublemint gum $.03

Seriously, a meal at the fanciest hotel restaurant in New York City cost a whoppin' $2.00!  Potatoes were a penny a pound.  A package of 5 sticks of chewing gum was only three cents.  Gasoline was ten cents a gallon.  You could buy a set of four tires for $6.35.   You could get an 8-piece set of dining room furniture for $46.50.  So, $15 a month guaranteed wasn't so bad after all.

The CCC program was closed down in July, 1942 because the availability of jobs mushroomed with the need for armaments world-wide.

Nationwide the CCC managed to plant more than 3 billion trees, constructed 28,000 miles of trail, and built 63,000 buildings.  Not bad for a bunch of 16+ year olds, eh!

Fly Away, Money! Fly Away!

The wind has been blowing here - really hard - for a couple of days.  This morning I needed to buy a bag of ice from Wal-Mart, and I decided I'd get some cash, too.

I was rushing myself so as to get home before the ice melted too much.  It's no fun having a bunch of ice cubes frozen together into a block of ice.  I took my receipt and my cash and folded it into my billford, but didn't zip the billford shut.  Major mistake.  When you're in a hurry, slow down.

When I reached the car, I was juggling with the bag of ice trying to reach the keyfob and open the door.  In the process, I dropped my billfold.  It popped open, and my cash went flying.

I began trying to step on the closest bill and simultaneously tried to keep an eye on the other bills flying across the parking lot.

Suddenly everyone was chasing my money.  I don't for an instant believe they said anything out loud, but I could certainly imagine them shouting, "Fat lady running!  Fat lady chasing money!"

One by one the bills were captured by other people, many of them laughing and enjoying the chase, but all of them returning the money to me.

At last there was only one $20 bill taking flight in the wind.  Two men were doing their best to chase it down, stomping here, missing, running there - with me right behind them.  Just before we were all about to dash into a four-lane street full of heavy traffic, the lead man captured it.

Those two precious men were smiling and seemingly delighted to be of help.  The people of Kingman are good and gracious.

I was embarrassed, out of breath, and humble by everyone's kindness.  The receipts I had in the billfold were still in the wind, but my money was back.  The ice?  Well, who cares!

It's All Downhill From Sitgreaves Pass

The view from the top is worth a stop!  Getting to Sam's Club has never been so much fun!

Before we get to Oatman, we come across another of Arizona's mysteries:

I wrote about this once before:  http://www.thetravelerstwo.net/2014/01/oatman-arizona-second-time-around.html  It truly is interesting reading.

Just before we arrive in Oatman there is yet another burro - only this one is invasive!

That'll teach me to crusie with the windows down.  Granpa of course, the man who stopped and let this guy in, is laughing his head off.  I personally think the Mayor hired this fella as the offical first-greeter for the town of Oatman, because, when we got into town, there were more burros than residents!  Maybe the mayor IS a burro!

This is it:  the town of Oatman.  There are no suburbs, there is no modern downtown, there is absolutely nothing here but a collection of old, old buildings.  The sidewalks are wooden - and raised - and the flooring in all of the shops is wood plank.  It's one of the last places you could move to and be on the ground floor of, say, an Aspen, Colorado.

We even had to move the burros out of the doorways in order to walk into a shop.  The owner of the store was very serious about not messing them.  She almost behaved as if they were her pet doggies - just like I treat our Mordacai (only I have never let him on the porch much less in the house!)

The Road to Sam's Club

What does your drive to Sam's Wholesale Warehouse Club look like?  This is ours:

Want a closer look?

Admittedly this is the long way around, up old Route 66, but I personally think it's the best way! This twisty, turny road takes us all the way to the top of Sitgreaves Pass.

Why, looky here.  Is this the stairway to heaven?  What is it doing out here in the middle of nowhere, apparently going to nowhere?

Alas, I must know what is at the top of these abandoned steps.

Granpa's first thoughts are of rattlesnakes.  I believe that snakes don't want a bite of me any more than I want a bite of them, so up I go.  Besides, the rule is, pay attention to where you put your feet and where you put your hands.  Then you'll be just fine.

And this is what I find.

I have no clue why it is here.  The view is fabulous, but there's no spot flat enough to build a shack much less a house.

but there's no spot flat enough to build a shack much less a house.  Granpa opines that it may be a shrine of some sort.  Maybe newlyweds were driving through here and had a traffic accident, went over the edge.  Maybe it's just something someone built for wildlife to have a spot of water between rainfalls.  But really, no clue.

If you're paying attention you know by now that Arizona is overflowing with mysteries.  Except for these guys.

We know that these burros (donkeys to us Texans) were left behind by goldminers from the 1800's. The one in the center of the photo has a white blaze face.  Pretty unusual.  If it's a jenny, I'd like to take her home to our jack, Mordacai.

A bit farther down the road is another bunch.  Two whites, a dusky brown, and your typical grey Crucifix donkey (idential to our Mordacai).

This area around Oatman is swarming with descendants on those abandoned lil' critters.  But we're still climbing the mountains in search of Sitgreaves Pass.  Gotta run!  Sam's Club awaits.

Weather Extremes

Granpa got to play in his tall trees once more.

Now it's home to Kingman.  Coming down this part of the Sierras is just as tight and twisty as the going up was.  Just before we reach Kernville Granpa sees a large turn out - with a potty.  You know how he's always attracted to those! (LOL!) So he pulls in, and we take a few extra minutes to stretch our legs.  The sights abound.

And the flowers (well, thistles) are warmed by the sunshine.




We stop in Kernville for some lunch.  By golly, it was the biggest meal I believe that we have ever been served.  For a hole-in-the-wall diner we were treated like royalty! The people of Kernville have a generous spirit, and we love to come here.








Then it's time to get serious and move on home. We pass Lake Isabella and move out to the southern tip of the Sierras, out into the open.  We are once again greeted with those howling winds that brought us into California a few days ago. Only this time those winds are accompanied by sand!  It's a regular haboob!

There are times that Granpa can hardly see the car fifteen feet in front of us, and the wind seems determined to blow us off of the road!  Granpa is taking it all in stride and, other than getting a bit road-weary, not bothered at all.  He's such a good traveler!




Finally, we come out of the sand storm.  But what's this?

Oh, my.  It rained.  It rained HARD!  Amazing lightening all across the skies.  Eventually, on our last turn homeward, we came out of it with God's grace.  Do you see it?  The rainbow coming all the way down to the valley floor.  And the strange light on the desert?

And then God's crowning glory for the end of our long and weather-eventful day: snow, wind, haboob, thunderstorms, lightening, rainbows, and sunshine.  What a day, what a day!  Thank you, Lord!

Searching for the Trail of the Giants

We wake up with getting home to Kingman by nightfall on our minds.  We could drop down to the interstate and hustle home - but that's no fun!!  Granpa decides he wants to go back into the Sierras and follow the Trail of the Giants (see our earlier post:  http://www.thetravelerstwo.net/2013/10/the-trail-of-100-giants.html) back through Kernville, past Lake Isabella and then on home to Kingman by nightfall.  Besides the wind on the way up to Three Rivers the other day was a pain.

We say goodbye to the beautiful views of Sequoia National Park, zip down south into California's Central Valley, and past the orange groves.

Just to show you how my mind is always calculating, while Granpa is taking this shot I'm thinkin', "I pay, what? $7 for a bag of oranges at Sam's Club that has maybe a dozen oranges in it.  How many dozens of oranges are on that single tree?  Just off of that one tree, the owners are making a fortune! Seriously!"  That's how my mind works.  It took less time for me to think those things than it took for Granpa to take that picture.

But soon enough we were back in the Sierras and those thoughts were put on hold until I could get back home to Kingman.

Is this not gorgeous?!  When I see something like this I wish I was an American Indian in the long-ago times.  I would be so guilty of sneaking away to sit beside this waterfall and dream up wonderful stories of life.  No newspapers, radio, TV or internet to bring worldwide problems to my doorstep.  Just me and mine living our lives.






As we climb up into the Sierras the air gets cooler and cooler.  The waterfalls, however, continue around every corner.

And we wonder why it takes us so very long to get from point A to point B off of the interstates.




As we get higher still, the mist grows heavier and the air is getting colder.  We begin to wonder if snow is in the offing!

This is one of the tightest twisting roads that we have been on.  Suddenly, around one sharp turn, we find ourselves in a mountain town.  And around another, bunched up on a front lawn we find this!

Granpa takes a dozen or so pictures, and we are both reluctant to move on.  The house is actually up for sale, so there may or may not be homeowners being bothered by us.  The deer certainly don't seem to be bothered, but we move on anyway.  It is so quiet and so still, getting mistier and colder. Suddenly we are back in the middle of winter.

The next few turns do, in fact, bring us snowflakes quietly tumbling out of the heavens.  They get thicker and bigger, but not faster.  They just seem to be a presence around us, gently closing in.

John is pleased to be getting back into the tall trees, too.

It's a wet snow and sticking to the trees in Christmas-like images.

We're beginning to wonder if we should put on the snow chains that we now carry with us everywhere.  Granpa's not excited about that idea, and besides it looks like we're now headed downhill into warmer weather - maybe.  I'm thinkin', uh, yeah, downhill !  It's a whole lot easier to slide off the side of a mountain when you're already headed downhill.  But, then again, there are some mighty big trees ready to catch us in their boughs...

From high winds blowing us all over the road on the way to Three Rivers, to the snowfall we're dealing with now, we move on to yet another weather extreme that I'll post about tomorrow.