Early-Mid October, 2009 - As the wind chased us out of the Valley of Fire,

we took a brief detour to Lake Mead.  When we were here two years

earlier, we were told the lake was 105 feet below normal (three years

before that, in 2004, it had been 85 feet below normal).  We were curious

how the lake level was doing now.  At Stewart Point we found a lovely

beach.  We were tempted to stay for a few days, but the high winds were

expected to continue and this is a very exposed area.

When we got to Overton Beach, we were in for quite a shock.  Back in

2007, the lakefront community and facilities had been closed permanently

just before our visit because the lake level was so low.  When we saw it

then, the boat ramp ended above the lake level, but the lake was still there.

Ducks and seagulls had paddled around the water's edge about 100 feet

below the end of the boat ramp.  Now there was no lake in sight.

As far as the eye could see, for miles in

every direction, what had once been

water was now grass.  What a travesty.

The beautiful, brand new visitors center

was closed; the enormous new boat ramp

that could support dozens of large boats

and trailers lay unused; the vast parking

lots were vacant; the RV park that had

been home to many RVers was

abandoned.

We heard later that all these National

Recreation Area facilities were built just a few years before the whole area was closed due to lack of water.  It was hard to shake

the frustration of seeing such waste, and bewildering to think of how best to fix the problem from here.  The mighty Colorado River,

unhappily harnessed to provide water and recreation for millions, now shows terrible signs of strain.

Downstream, however, Laughlin, Nevada is a

bustling riverside town.  Sitting below the dam, it

receives regular flows of water released from

Lake Mead.  Over the last forty-odd years,

Laughlin has grown out of a desert wasteland.

In high school, Don Laughlin discovered he

made more money from getting friends to play

his slot machine than he did working.  A few slot

machines later, he made more money than his

teachers.  After getting proper casino training in

Las Vegas, he bought a run-down motel on a

dusty road along the Colorado River in 1966.  He introduced his

trusty slot machines to his motel business, and laid the foundation

for a mini Las Vegas, giving the burgeoning town his own name.

We planned to stay just a night or two, but before we knew it 16

days had passed.  When we got there, we were one of just a

handful of RVs in town taking advantage of the free overnight

parking offered by several of the casinos.  Gradually, snowbirds

began arriving from the northern states and Canada and the

parking lots filled up.

These crazy RVers happily set up their camp chairs in the parking

lots and cheerily compared notes on just how cold it was when they

left home a few days earlier.  "Alberta is 100 degrees colder than

here right now," one fellow said brightly.  Knowing that made the

unexpected mid-October 100-degree heat wave in Laughlin a little

more bearable.  Soon the northern freeway floodgates opened, and

the flocks of snowbirds in Laughlin swelled.

Laughlin's casinos line the river front,

and a delightful boardwalk runs the

whole length of the casino strip.  The

evenings were balmy and we lazily

strolled the boardwalk with the other

tourists.

Laughlin resembles the "old" Las

Vegas strip before its mega-casino

glamor days.  As we walked the

boardwalk towards Joe's Crab Shack

one night, we saw lots of people

hanging over the railing taking photos

of something on the rocks below.

We looked down and saw seven raccoons waddling over the rocks.  Every so often one would stop

and peer up at everyone with a hopeful expression.  Just then a skunk appeared at the other end of

the beach and made his way towards the raccoon family.  I don't think these guys scored any

scraps, but I have a hunch this little

restaurant stop is part of their regular

routine.  None of the ducks or gulls in

the water seemed particularly surprised

to see them.

I had noticed the word "petroglyphs" nearby Laughlin on our atlas and wanted to check

them out.  A few miles west of town there is a short hike into Grapevine Canyon, and this is where the petroglyphs are.  A spring

flows in the back of the canyon, which has allowed some thick vegetation to take route in this otherwise barren landscape.

A deep wash used to run like a river out of the canyon much of the

time, but it has been dry for several years now.  Walking along its

sandy banks towards the mouth of the canyon we discovered the

rocks at the entrance are covered with petroglyphs that have been

dated to 150-800 years ago.  The rocks are is easy to spot and

most images are geometric patterns.

One image showed a group of big horned sheep, or other horned

animals.  Looking closely, it seemed to me that four were original, looking

crisp, uniform, and neatly chiseled.  It seemed to me the one farthest to

the left and the one underneath might have been added later by an

imitator with less skill.

Since the surrounding desert is hopelessly dry and barren, I would

imagine that some of these very congested drawings say something

about the presence of water.

Or is it just

doodling?

Certainly kids

draw strange

beings like this all

the time and no

one ever assigns

any deep

meaning to it.

The canyon is a nice rock

scramble along coarse

granite.  We crawled up

and over and jumped down

and around.  Then

suddenly we found

ourselves surrounded by

thick vegetation --

grapevines.  As we

followed the

trail through

these vines, we

were shoulder-

high in

greenery.

The rock in the deepest

parts of the canyon is

very smooth from water

flowing over it.  Most of

the rock is granite rather

than sandstone, so the

smooth stones don't

provide much traction.

There were even some cat tails growing

under a balanced rock.  Just beyond, we

saw a huge, proud cottonwood.

Grapevines clung to its lower branches.

The view leading out of the canyon was

impressive, with dense plant life filling the

base of the canyon.  The indians who once

walked these lands must have been very

grateful for this little patch of cool greenery and water.

Back in town we kept getting drawn back to the pretty boardwalk.

The days kind of melted into one another as we paused to reflect,

saying a last goodbye to our summer adventures while we began

to plan our winter ones.

The river gives this area it's rhythm and its life.  Before the dams, the

river had a mind of its own, rushing and halting as the seasons in

Colorado cycled.  Now, however, the water level in the river is

deliberately raised on weekends so the boaters can have some fun.

Jet skis appeared out of nowhere, flying at top speed towards

somewhere.

Watching the river rise and fall gives it a tidal feeling.  However, we

learned that "units" of water are released on schedule depending on

demands downstream as well as recreational boating demands in

Laughlin.  One morning a boat pilot told us three units were being

released at 8:00 a.m. and another two at 9:00 a.m.  Sure enough, the

current swirled and the water rose, right on schedule.

We aren't gamblers, but we met quite a few.  Legend has it that some

snowbirds are able to pay for their entire winter vacation in Arizona with a

well-played hand in Laughlin in October.

One day we

stopped by the

Riverside Casino

where there is an

ongoing indoor antique car

show.  There are cars of all

types, from muscle cars to hot

rods to funny little buggies built

at the dawn of the auto age.

Most fascinating for me was

the motorcycle ridden around

the world by Emilio Scotto.

Leaving his home in Argentina

in April, 1985, he rode a 1980

Gold Wing 1100 on a journey

around the world through 280

countries covering 460,000

miles.  He left with $300 in his

pocket and returned ten years later to enter the Guinness Book of World

Records.  Not only was he named "King of the Road," but he was included

on an international list of the 40 greatest explorers in human history (along

with Columbus, Magellan and the rest).  His bike, the Black Princess, is on

permanent display in this car show.  Now that's a traveler!!  His experiences

ranged from seeing some of the greatest beauty on this planet to being

imprisoned six times, witnessing a public beheading, being shot at in the

war in Somalia and almost dying of malaria in the Congo.  Hmmm... now that's adventure!

As rare mid-October heat wave baked the area, we sweltered in 100+ degree heat.  We were able to get temporary relief at the

hotel swimming pools around town, but our air conditioner sure gave the little generator a good workout every day.  Finally, the

wind piped up and the heat broke and we headed a little further south to Havasu Springs Resort.

Late September, 2009 - We continued down I-15 from Utah and traveled to

Las Vegas, Nevada for the annual Interbike bicycle trade show, a week long

testosterone-filled bicycle love-fest for crazed bike junkies.  The largest show of

its kind on this continent, I have attended enough times over the years that I

opted out this year.  I chose instead to spend a quiet week alone just outside

Sin City at peaceful Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area while Mark

and his son lived it up at the Imperial Palace on the Strip.  They brought back

endless stories and photos, the highlights of which I'll share here (my  Red

Rock Canyon notes are further down the page).

The amazing thing I noticed about Las

Vegas ages ago, while on a plane flying

away from the city, is that it is entirely lit

up with colorful lights at night.  No

ordinary urban night sky, every

building is outlined in red or

yellow, green or blue.

Huge neon signs blast the

names of the casinos into the

night air, and spot lights

transform each building's

facade into a colorful canvas.

Mark took a few shots from the

window of his room at the

Imperial Palace, showing

Harrah's and the Venetian in

their evening finery.

Entering the Sands Convention Center for Interbike is like opening the door to

the most massive bike shop you can imagine.  Acres and acres of vendors fill

the entire hall, showing off bikes, clothing, gear, and everything else that is

even remotely related to the bicycling industry.  Vendors are situated in

international groupings, with China and Taiwan occupying a large piece of turf

at one end of the hall while the Italians dominate another.  English is in short

supply when you enter these regions.  Mark has a soft spot for classic Italian

bikes, and he made a beeline for the Pinarello booth where their new Dogma

was on display.  This little puppy would set you back a mere $17,900.  And that

doesn't include pedals.  What a ride!

Ernesto Colnago is a

legendary Italian bike builder,

and he posed for a quick

photo.  He has never owned a

car and routinely turns out

some of the most beautifully

crafted bicycles in the world.

His company has teamed up

with race car manufacturer

Ferarri recently, and their

collaborative effort was on

display.

Over at the Trek booth Mark found the bike ridden by 2009 Tour de

France champion, Alberto Contador, on his winning laps around the

Champs-Elysee in Paris this past July.  The ultimate overall yellow jersey

winner usually has a pretty good hunch he'll be the champion when he

arrives for the final stage in Paris, so his team goes all out with the yellow

trim paint job on the bike (and the yellow clothes, helmet and gloves as

well) for that stage.

Eddie Mercx of Belgium was arguably

the finest cyclist that ever lived.

Although he won just five Tours, as

compared with Lance Armstrong's

seven, he also entered every race

offered all year long, winning most of

those as well.

In contrast, Lance raced only a few races each

year, and those not to win but simply in

preparation for his Tour de France campaign.

What a thrill to catch the great Eddie himself

signing autographs.

Interbike causes extreme bike overload, and it is

nice to get out into the regular world of Las Vegas

tourism.  The Venetian casino and hotel is a glitzy

recreation of elements of Venice with a strong

American materialistic accent.

The ceilings are adorned with

elaborate, glittering artwork, and

outside the gondolas drift across

a languid pool.

The gondolas are authentic,

made in Venice.  The gondoliers

are hired actors with good singing

voices.

Vegas never sleeps, and when

Mark staggered out for breakfast

at 7 a.m., he found himself face to

face with Alice Cooper.  Mark's

sister had just seen Alice in concert in Michigan a

week earlier.  And here he was again, in Vegas of

all places!

Not quite as dressed up in the early hours of the

morning, but showing every bit as much support

for the classic era of Rock on his T-shirt, Bob Roll

stood chatting with passersby at the show.

Famous as a great cyclist, but even more

infamous for bringing a distinctly low-brow

American slant to the brilliantly high-brow race

commentary of Brits Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin,

Bob is both loved and hated for his televised and

blogged analysis of The Tour.

Nearby, Lance Armstrong's legendary lieutenant,

George Hincapie, was hawking his line of clothes

and signing autographs as well.

Back to the bikes, Calfee had a phenomenal 21-

pound wonderbike for two.  Made of carbon fiber

and intended for all-out tandem racing, you can

only wonder how it would support two full grown

men pounding on the pedals in a sprint finish.

Interbike is as much about innovation and

weirdness as it is about fast, sleek racing

machines.  Bikes made of bamboo, odd cycles

involving more than two wheels and more than

one drive-train were on display all over the place.

The wooden bike made of hexagonally cut birch

caught Mark's eye.  It looks to me like it is made

of pencils.

One more icon of the biking

world wound up in Mark's

camera lens: Chris

Carmichael.  We turned to

his books for training tips

many times in years past.

Deriving his fame from

creating Lance's workout

plans, he is the master of

periodic and interval training

techniques and was here

promoting his latest book.

While the boys were nourishing their bike lust in

Las Vegas, I settled into a quiet routine of reading,

writing and bicycling in nearby Red Rock Canyon.

This spectacular National Conservation Area,

administered by the BLM, boasts a huge range of

red rock mountains.  Revered the world over for its

top notch rock climbing, we hiked the easy Calico

Hills route together before Interbike began.  This is

a simple hike along a gravel trail flanked on one

side by enormous red rock cliffs.

Once a vast land of sand dunes, not unlike the

Sahara today, the sand's massive weight caused it

gradually to solidify into rock while underground

streams oozed mineral deposits through the sand

and stained it many shades of red.

The desert vegetation clings on for dear life,

subsisting on rare sips of water in baking sun.

In places, using a bit of imagination, the mounded

domes of rock almost resemble sand dunes.

Clearly visible stripes show the shifting direction of

the winds over millennia, as the sand piled up one

way and then another.

Humans have been here for a mere blip in

geological time, a few thousand years as compared

to hundreds of millions of years.  Along the Willow

Loop trail there is a rock wall with a few pictographs

of human hands.  The hands were child-size by

today's standards, but they are clear and distinct.

What an unusual mark to leave for the ages.  And

what kind of pigment did they use to stain the rock

for the next few thousand years, lasting through

rains, winds and desert sun?  What did it do to their

hands??  Isn't ironic that for all our technical

sophistication, modern house paint needs to be

replaced every few years while these pictographs

have been here for eons.

A few miles from Red Rock Canyon is Spring Mountain Ranch State

Park.  This ranch has been built and added on to by many owners over

the last 150 years.  Starting with a "mountain man" and most recently

owned by Howard Hughes, the history is downright quirky.

Before getting

started on the ranch

house tour, I got a

glimpse of some wild

burros in the grass.

There were all kinds

of signs on the

scenic roads in the

area warning drivers

about the wild burros.  I thought at first I was

looking at domestic donkeys, but I soon learned

that these guys aren't just wild, they are also

wily and smart.  This was the only green grass

anywhere around for many miles.  After the

burros' persistence succeeded in several

break-ins through the fence, the park rangers had

finally given up and let them come and go on the ranch

property at will.  These wild burros had it all figured out.

Afterall, who wants to eat cactus and brown prickly

shrubs when manicured grass is right there for the

munching?

A little roadrunner greeted me too as I pulled up to the

ranch house.  He checked me out for a while before

running away.

The house at Spring Mountain

Ranch is humble.  Various owners

have added wings and features to

it over the years, but it remains

essentially a small home.  The

kitchen featured stainless steel

appliances, but I learned these

were from the most recent

owner, Howard Hughes, who

never lived here (and possibly

never even came out here!).  He

removed the original copper

appliances and had his hotel

guys do a lot of renovating with

plain, hotel quality materials.

The previous owner, Vera Krupp, a pre-World War II German movie

star, added a dressing room to the bedroom suite.  She is known for

having owned the 33 carat diamond that Richard Burton ultimately

purchased (at auction) for Elizabeth Taylor.  That diamond seems to

have been a bit of a curse, as some armed robbers stormed into this

remote ranch and ripped the ring from her finger while she was

wearing it!  She got it back six weeks later, however, and forever after

wore it pinned to her underwear.

Vera also had an ultra-private room built for herself, with a secret

access through the second "closet" door to the right of her vanity.

She was not to be disturbed when she retired to this room.  It was a

tiny room with floor to ceiling windows on either side, a perfect

sanctuary for her quiet pleasure.

I had enjoyed my week of sanctuary too.  When it came to an end, we escaped a 100+ degree heat wave that baked Las Vegas for

a few days by scrambling back to Cedar City, Utah, to cool off.  When a cold front stormed across the west a few days later, we

ventured south again to the other side of Las Vegas.  By then the temperatures at Valley of Fire were perfect.