2023 Summer Road Trip: Boulder City, Nevada: A Shower and a Sigh

Two owls and a clan of coyotes awakened me at 5 o'clock this morning. 

Yesterday I learned there is no place in the Lake Mead Recreation Area to take a shower. Well, at least no place for the likes of us who stay (at all but one?) the campgrounds. 

As an aside, there is no electricity in the bathroom. I'd thought perhaps the lighting was just impaired - bulbs out or the motion sensor or something - but no, I tested the outlet next to the sink - no power. 

 I learned at the visitor center that the Boulder City swimming pool allows day passes and thus shower use, so I availed myself of that facility. 

But first I visited the Boulder City Library. 

I teared up a bit when I saw this sign in the library: 

Social Justice Club at Boulder City Library, Nevada. September 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

In these reactionary times, when noble principles that one would think are above political partisanship, such as diversity, equality, and inclusion, have been hijacked into a New Racism and an internal Isolationism -  it wears on the spirit. 

So this sign? Out in the open like this? So unabashed? Yes, it gladdened my heart.

As did this sign! 

Period supplies at Boulder City Library, Nevada. September 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

These signs of generosity to humankind, they made me sigh. And smile.

2023 Summer Road Trip: Las Vegas Bay, Nevada: Rain

 

 

Rainy day at McDonald's. Henderson, Nevada. September 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.

It rained yesterday late afternoon. It began while I was in the McDonald's parking lot readying for a lesson with one of my students. I'm a succubus of McDonald's wifi. 

I wondered if it also rained at the campground. 

Yes, it did. 

And the shower seemed to have drawn out a delicious aroma from one of the prolific plants at the campground. The creosote bushes, best I can tell. 

I believe these are said creosote bushes in the foreground of the photo below. I trust that someone will inform me if I'm incorrect. 

Creosote bushes in foreground. View from Las Vegas Bay Campground after rain. Nevada. September 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

One camper family had, like me, not known rain was coming, and they'd foregone their tent's rainfly. 

I might have done the same - both here and at a previous campground - but my tent almost demands the installation of its rainfly, else one side of the tent would be virtually backless - all screen. 

So the little family returned to rain-sodden sleeping bags and mattress. 

Other than puddles on my tent foyer, I was in good shape. 

My rainy tent foyer in Las Vegas Bay Campground, Nevada. September 2023. Credit: Mzuri.

I am reminded of my camping experience at Lake Catherine in Arkansas, when I dug a water-diversion trench around my tent's perimeter. 

 

 

2023 Summer Road Trip: Las Vegas Bay, Nevada: New Phone Blues

 

Las Vegas Bay Campground, Nevada. September 2023. Credit: Mzuriana

It remains so interesting that so few of us are camping in Las Vegas Bay Campground this week. Maybe it will fill up over the weekend? 

The stillness is nice, though. 

Today I've got to get some wireless earbuds. 

My new phone needs new gear, which adds to the financial cost of the phone. Which said phone was, I thought, in my mid-range price zone. I hadn't considered the collateral costs. Grrr. 

When choosing my new phone, and being budget-minded, I didn't fully appreciate the impact of no round port for my plug-in earbuds - I had to buy an adapter to insert them into the phone's sole orifice. Which means I can't charge the phone while I listen to a podcast. Which brings me to my thoughtless thought that paying more for a phone with wireless charging was unnecessary. Well. 

Hence the search for wireless earbuds. Which I didn't want because that would have meant yet another device to charge and yet another device to have to keep track of like a wee toddler. 

The new phone also boasts "super fast" charging, which means, yes, the need to buy new charging implements that charge super fast (or even just "fast"), as sticking with what I've already got = wackingly slow charging - like four hours instead of one hour, or even less. 

I think I may wish I'd gone with the Google Pixel instead of this A54 Samsung instead.

 

2023 Summer Road Trip: Cold Cooler in a Hot World

 

Not what you want in a cooler. July 2023. Flagstaff, Arizona. Credit: Mzuriana.A

This here, 9 Mistakes EVERY New Camper Makes With Their Cooler, by Playing With Sticks, is the best video on the subject I've seen thus far, in all of my searches for same, on how to keep cooler innards cold. If only I'd had this before I embarked on my road trip through the Hotlands this summer.

Almost every rule that Drew presents is gold, although some are common sense, like: Do not put your cooler out in the sun.

I'm especially entranced - and can't wait to experiment with - these hacks: 

• Place a wet towel atop the cooler contents. Whoa! I hear angels singing. Not only is this a good hack, it has so much more utility for me than the blue-ice packs, which, as I've sniped about before, spend a lot of their life squatting rent-free in my limited packing space while I'm on the road. 
• The 2:1 ratio of ice to food is sobering, but I guess, necessary, if I want to eke out all the blessed coldness I can. 
• Employ a two-cooler system: One cooler for food. A second, smaller cooler for drinks. Reason: Protect the food cooler from the more-frequent hot-air invasions to grab cold beverages throughout a day.
  

I did, in the past, make the mistake of draining the ice-melt from my cooler. Yeah, in a moment of illumination back then, I realized that was kinda crazy. I stopped doing that. Better to protect my food in water-impermeable bags or containers to prevent unpleasant sogginess than to let go of precious cold melt. 

2023 Summer Road Trip: Oliver Lee Memorial State Park: A Morning Visitor

 

2023.0805 Lizard visitor at my Oliver Lee Memorial State Park campsite. Alamogordo, New Mexico. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

I surely do love lizards. 

They are always welcome at my campsite.

The book, by the way, sucked. My God, 'twas a murderous bore. I cannot fathom why I read it to the end. I warned the campground host, to whom I offered it, that he cannot give it back to me no matter what. I warned him: It's no good. I made an ethical disclosure, in other words, respecting his right to self-determination in making a decision he might regret.

Other lizards I have loved: 

 

 

#30

 

2023 Summer Road Trip: Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, New Mexico: A Reintroduction

 

 

2012 not 2023 - My Oliver Lee Memorial State Park campsite. Near Alamogordo, New Mexico. Credit: Mzuriana.

I landed at Oliver Lee Memorial State Park the last day of July. Feeling sentimental about being here.

Twelve years ago, I lived at the campground for two weeks while waiting for the appointed date to move in to my Alamogordo apartment. 

Indeed, upon my arrival the other day, I put up the very same tent and laid out the very same tablecloth that I did in 2012. I still have the folding table and the green-lidded bin. And the coffee mug. The Playmate cooler with its handle is released somewhere in the universe. 

This go-round, I got all red and sweaty putting up my tent in the dog-day, 95-degree heat. Had to pace myself.

Before I get into some other sweaty details, I will share the glorious joy of the ever-changing drama that the park performs on its massive 360-degree living stage. 

The slide show below showcases how the light moves across the lines of the terrain, and the sunsets, the sunrises, the moonrise, the vastness of the Tularosa Basin, the folds of the mountains. 

 

It feels good to be here.