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.
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.
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.
However, I also made the decision to move out of Las Vegas via its city streets instead of jumping on the highway. The idea was that I'd get a passing view of the city as I departed.
Although it exacted a time toll that I paid for on the last leg of my trip, I'm glad for this choice. As I left the strip and its environs, the streetscape of Las-Vegas-the-Star! transformed into the near-city and suburban streetscape of just about any desert city in the Southwest. The view right-sized Las Vegas for me, letting me see, in a sense, what a showgirl looks like when she's got a day off, sans costume and make-up, buying Q-tips and frozen chicken breasts at Walmart.
Boulder City
Charming. I want to return, twirl around in its cubbyholes for a few hours, while basing myself for a weekend at one of the Lake Mead Recreation Area campgrounds.
Entrance to Lake Mead Recreation Area from Boulder City, Nevada. December 2019.
I lost my way to Hoover Dam while in Boulder City, which one would think is almost impossible to do, but the sort of thing that happens to me regularly. Fortunately, a visitor center was at the precise intersection in the historic center of town where I paused, unsure about which way to turn. So I turned into that, and the docent inside helpfully pointed toward the very same intersection, at a smallish sign on one corner, that said "Hoover Dam." OK, then. So, while I'm here, "where is your restroom"? (Across the street, by the way, in a different building.)
Hoover Dam
On one end of the dam is Nevada and on the other end is Arizona. The Arizona side terminates in a dead end, but it offers tiers of parking lots, which overlook the dam and the river, which are all free.
Hoover Dam, Nevada and Arizona. December 2019.
There's a tour (or more) on and in and around the dam, but I didn't have time to do any of those.
Hoover Dam, Nevada and Arizona. December 2019.
But below is a driving tour over the dam, with impressive power concrete structures and towering power tower skeletons, and people, lots of people:
The loveliest view is the lapiz lazuli river that swings slowly between cinnamon-toast outcrops.
Before landing in Tucson, I never had the desire to visit Las Vegas (Nevada, not New Mexico.) But shortly after I arrived here, I kinda got hit in the head with the gobsmacking news that Las Vegas is not a far drive away. It got suddenly put on my list of places called "It'd-be-a-shame-not-to-check-out-if-I'm-so-close."
Then not long ago, it got pushed to the list called "I will go next month."
This is because one of my students, who lives in Vietnam, was coming to the US for a business trip, and then visiting a friend outside of LA, who had promised my student a look-see over in Vegas, and I allowed as how Las Vegas wasn't all that far from Tucson, and we sealed the deal: He and his friend would come to Vegas from LA, and I'd come to Vegas from Tucson.
I'll call my student "Sinh," which really is a Vietnamese name, because it seems fitting for the Las Vegas milieu.
On my way to Las Vegas, I saw some stuff.
Sacaton Rest Area, I-10, Arizona. December 2019.
Sacaton Rest Area on I-10, between Tucson and Phoenix
I am fond of trees with smooth, muscular trunks, so I felt immediately attracted to a particularly handsome palo verde tree standing along the entry path to the restrooms.
Sacaton Rest Area, I-10, Arizona. December 2019.
I am not alone in my admiration, as evidenced by this blogger's 2015 post on the trees at the rest area.
The refurbished restrooms are nice, but I feel disappointed when accessible stalls fall short of the spirit of the Americans with Disabilities Act, and perhaps even the letter of the law.
In the case of the Sacaton rest area, there seemed to be ample room within the stall for a person to enter and maneuver in a wheelchair. Unfortunately, the door latch on the inside was difficult for me to turn to lock or unlock, so anyone with mobility issues in their hands, wrists, or arms might have a hell of a time getting out of the stall. This may appear trivial to those without a disability, but if you can't lock or unlock your own toilet stall, then you are denied independence that other users take for granted.
As I wonder when on tiptoes for restroom mirrors hung inexplicably high, why don't installers (or Arizona Department of Transportation, who paid for and had administrative oversight of the completed work) think to invite someone with a wheelchair (and those with arthritic hands) to test out these spaces?
But moving on!
Hassayampa Rest Area, on Highways 60/93, between Surprise and Wickenburg, Arizona
My bladder and I next stopped at Arizona's Hassayampa Rest Area.
Hassayampa Rest Area, Hwy 60/93, Arizona. December 2019.
Since my return home, I've learned that the rest area is a sweet spot for birders. From this article's author:
There are many riparian corridors in Arizona, and many roadside rest areas, but this is the only roadside rest area in a riparian corridor where I would stop and expect to see Vermilion Flycatchers in the parking lot. The Hassayampa River riparian corridor is a migration route for birds crossing the desert that can be a good place for a quick stop along the highway. Some 230 species of birds have been recorded in the area.
What enchanted me was the idea of an "upside down river," in which much of stream's water flow is under the sand. This blog offers a still-photo tour along much of the Hassayampa River's length.
The lush ground cover at one side of the rest area's parking lot reminded me of Louisiana's lushness.
Hassayampa Rest Area, Hwy 60/93, Arizona. December 2019.
