Further West on 66

Lake Mead National Recreation Area, Nevada

We took our RV into Kingman Ford to get the dash air-conditioner looked at before heading to Death Valley. The Service adviser has good news and bad news. The bad news is that the failed compressor hose is a Fleetwood part, so he can't help me. The good news is that there is no charge for the diagnosis.



We pull out of Kingman, heading West on I-40, and pull over on an Interstate exit to Google Fleetwood dealers. Eventually we find one in Las Vegas and make an appointment for today.


After a series of wrong turns in the desert, we find ourselves again on Historic Route 66 heading for Bullhead City, a lucky break.


The route begins with 20 miles of desert valley. We come to a mountain range and stop at "Cool Springs" to get cold drinks and ask about the sign that warns us not to take a vehicle over 40 feet in length though the mountain passes.


The proprietor of "Cool Springs" has an incredible collection of photos of wrecked semis and motor homes that failed to negotiate the hairpin turns leading to Oatman. He says we should be ok if we take the hairpins wide. He tells us about a man who stopped for advice but didn't know how to drive an RV. He tried to stay in his own lane an dropped his rear wheels and towed jeep into a gulley, blocking the highway completely for days.

It's a really lovely drive with grand vistas and lots of chollo cactus. Hard to believe that this was once the main route west and east from Chicago to Los Angeles. There are many working and abandoned mines along the drive. We pull off at a the 3,500 foot pass to take some pictures.


Oatman is a surprise. As we pull into town, the road is completely blocked by the High Noon gunfight. Jackasses and people fill the street. I can't back up so I turn off the RV in the middle of the street and send Mrs. Phred up to take pictures. Eventually, the crowd breaks up and we ease though town at one mph, waiting patiently for the feral jackasses to amble off the dusty road.


We pull into a Lake Mead campground about 4PM. The main slide won't extend. I review the documentation that came with the RV, but the part about the slides is missing. Eventually I find the relays. The slide that works clicks and has a green light that comes on when you push the button. The other relay is dead. I try replacing the fuse, but no luck. Mrs. Phred points out that the relay cannon plug is cock-eyed.. When I push it in the slide goes out.



The right turn signal on the towed Toyota stopped working. I put the voltmeter on the wires going back from the RV jack and see no signal. Probably there is a break in the wire. They get a lot of abuse.


This is a lovely place with multi-colored sandstone mountains and islands coming down to a huge blue lake. I'm saving the pictures for another day. We'll probably drop off the RV early and wander Las Vegas today.

Wendover, Nevada

The Bonneville Salt Flats is one of the few places where you can see the curvature of the Earth. They're setting up on six foot poles six miles away for the motorcycle runs tomorrow and they are below the horizon...they expect to challenge 400 MPH in the morning....

It's good to see my brother once again.....he deals Texas Hold 'Em at the Nugget starting at 2AM...I ask him to teach me but the game doesn't seem to do much for me....My camera roll still has a few plant pictures from the morning walks in Red Deer, Alberta.

The B-29s of  the 509th composite bomb group trained here prior to the Hiroshima mission. The barracks have seen better days.

More Red Deer pictures.

This is the site of the beginning of the Atomic Age.

Red Deer morning walk....

Phred in Idaho Falls, Idaho....I saw the falls at dawn, but forgot my camera...so use your imagination...

On the road to Wendover...

Wendover at dawn....

The Enola Gay...

Mr. & Mrs. Phred at the salt flats...

Wendover at dawn...We have breakfast in the Red Garter....

Little City, Big History

Wendover, Nevada

The Great Salt Lake and Bonneville Salt Flats are part of the 110 mile drive from Salt Lake City, Utah, to the little border town of Wendover.

My brother works here dealing Texas Holdem at the "Nugget" from 1 AM to sometime after dawn. Colonel Paul Tibbets trained here in 1945 with one of the 15 specially modified "silverplate" B-29s that could carry the "little boy" or "fatman" atomic bombs.

You have to wonder at the black humor or wartime insanity that would lead the Colonel to name such an instrument of death after his mother, Enola Gay.

They spent a lot of time dropping 10,000 pound "pumpkins" around the wilds of Wendover and on Japan in single plane missions before dropping the "little boy" on Hiroshima". The picture below shows a "fatman" being loaded into the bomb bay of a modified B-29 (Modified bomb bay, no armor, no defensive machine guns).

Kit Carson sent smoke signals from Pilot Mountain in 1846 to assure pioneers that there was safe passage. The Salt Flats can turn to mush after heavy rain. Perhaps that's what bogged down the Donner Party before they turned to cannibalism 400 miles further west in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

The distances in Nevada are deceiving. There are these endless valleys between mountain ranges that appear to be short distances but are miles further than the eye leads you to believe.

Once (about 1980) my brother had a farm 30 miles down a dirt road in one such endless valley. A Mormon settler had somehow built a wooden aqueduct from Pilot Mountain down to the farm that ended in a big pond full of trout. My brother would open a valve and flood his alfalfa fields (sometimes picking up a rainbow trout on an alfalfa row). He had to move out and move his house trailer to some acres he bought near the farm. Vandals knocked out all his windows and burned it all to the ground. They didn't burn his old van, but they did break all the windows.

Ever Had An Epiphany?

Carson City, Nevada




We’re parked across the street from a little casino. This morning we had breakfast there and looked at the slots and early morning players. One of our cable channels is very X-rated. You’d think they would let you ride a motorcycle here without a helmet, but they don’t.

We had our mail Fed-exed here for $54 (overnight guaranteed delivery from Florida). I paid a few doctor bills that have been following us since last winter and signed up for a new health care insurance policy to supplement our Medicare insurance. They gave us 13 choices. It’s all very complex. I’m glad I’m a sharp CPA and still have a few of my wits about me.

We dropped off the RV for an oil change and to repair the dash air-conditioner again. We had it fixed by a Fleetwood dealer in Las Vegas two weeks ago and the fix didn’t last until our taillights lost sight of Vegas.

After changing the oil on the Toyota and getting it washed, we got a call that the RV was ready. They found a solder joint with a hole that allowed the A/C coolant to leak out. The last repair was free under warranty, but we had to wait for two days and pay for a hotel. Sometimes it’s best to just pay someone who actually has an expertise on a specific problem. Free is not always best. It doesn’t help at all that Fleetwood is undergoing bankruptcy.

Because of taxes, cigarettes and gasoline are much cheaper in Nevada than California, so we are filling the RV tank again (the first time in three weeks) and stocking up on smokes before heading to the Lassen Volcanic National Park and Redwood Parks in California.

We met Steve last week in Bishop. He pays $850 to license his RV in California. We only pay $40 in Florida, but California is bankrupt again. Arnold Swartzenhegger, the Governator, is directing the State Controller to begin issuing IOUs instead of checks starting tomorrow. Once again the State is the bleeding edge, establishing trends that others will follow.

We lucked out and booked a reservation in Trinidad, California for the 4th of July weekend. It’s on the coast near the Redwood National Park. Maybe we’ll stay a little longer and revisit San Francisco. We haven’t been there since the Summer of Love. I bet it has changed a little in the last 42 years.

I remember walking on the Sausalito beach in the sunshine with Mrs. Phred and holding her hand. We had just driven over the Golden Gate bridge in my green TR4-A. I had a epiphany that life was never going to get any better than being 23, in San Francisco, in love. I was right.

It’s 3,500 miles from here to Anchorage. Will Mrs. Phred give the OK?

Shadow Mountain Scenic RV Resort

Pahrump, Nevada

We really like the atmosphere here. This will be our third night. It feels like home. It's a small park with some landscaping and free laundry. George is the manager and gave us permission to wash the crud off the RV. He is a nice guy, a former California aerospace graphic designer.


There is a little patch of lush green grass for our lawn chairs and end table. Rabbits and road-runners frequent the park. Shadow Mountain is behind us. There are good services for shopping about five miles away in Pahrump. Charlie's bar has live music tonight.


It's been a maintenance day. Here's what we've done:

• Shopping in Walmart for groceries and two new radials for the Toyota.
• Rebuild the tow wires and test with the voltmeter.
• Wash Clothes
• Wash the RV
• Use Elmer's wood glue and clamps to fix some loose woodwork.
• Pay bills online and file papers.
• Drink some Guiness stout.

Time to move on to the Sequoia National Park in the morning.

Sam's Hotel, Gambling Hall, Multiplex Theatre and Bowling Alley

Las Vegas, Nevada



The sunrise over our campground in Lake Mead is nice. We are dry camping so we sleep with the windows open and no covers.



I left the Brake Buddy turned on all night so the Toyota battery is dead. I clean the crud off the positive battery terminal with the gas grill wire brush and start the RV generator. At first the battery charger gives off a fault reading, so I fool with it until it starts to work properly.



We drive to Las Vegas and drop off the RV to get the dash air-conditioner compressor hose replaced. It seems like a good time to visit downtown Las Vegas once again, while we wait. We have breakfast in the Venetian. It's a strange feeling to have a good breakfast in a luxurious setting at 11 AM on a workday. The feeling of really being seriously retired sweeps over me.



We pause for a rum and coke and I pay $8.50 for a small drink at a casino bar. The shopping in the hotel corridors is very high end. Vegas is a little like Disneyland. The foreclosure rate on homes in Las Vegas is second only to Lee County in Florida near Fort Myers. We see a number of shuttered businesses as we drive around the city.



The Fleetwood RV dealer wants to keep the RV overnight so we cruise out to look at the Valley of Fire State Park NE of Las Vegas. I've always wanted to see it and now we have extra time on our hands.



We return to Las Vegas in the evening and check into a sprawling casino complex away from the center of town, near the Fleetwood dealer. I study the thousands of slot machines but I can't understand how any of them work. None of them accept coins anymore or pay off in coins. You have to insert bills or vouchers to play. They all have electronic displays and seem to be variations on card games or have other confusing electronic icons in place of the once familiar mechanical dial with bars and cherries. There is one antique machine, under glass, that I think I could play. I feel like a fossil.


The Casino has a number of restaurants, an arcade, bowling alleys, numerous restaurants and a Duncan Donuts. We have the buffet for dinner and are disappointed with the food quality and preparation.


This morning we'll kill some time with breakfast and maybe find a car wash and shop for some new radials for the Toyota...then on to Death Valley.

The Donner Party and Sentinel Chickens

nner Wendover, Nevada

We've covered some territory in the last few days. The RV is back in Moab, Utah. We drove the Toyota 100 miles over the Great Salt Lake desert to Wendover, Nevada to see my brother. He took us out into the desert to see a little lake or spring that percolates up at the base of a mountain range.


You can tell a poison spring in the desert by the lack of insects and other life. Many of them are full of arsenic or selenium. This one was full of little fish and mosquitoes. They put "sentinel chickens" near some of the springs so they can test them for West Nile virus.


Later we walked out onto the Bonneville Salt Flats. The Bureau of Land Management (BLM) prepares a strip 80 feet wide by ten miles long for world land speed record attempts every year after the salt dries. When the salt is wet, it's like driving on porridge.

We found a place 25 miles out in the desert on an empty gravel road where the Donner party crossed the salt flats and drove their wagons up over a low pass. That's the party that got stranded in the mountains for the winter (because they got stuck in the salt and delayed) and revived the practice of cannibalism.





After we left Wendover we went in to Salt Lake City. We went to Temple Square and saw a two-hour movie about Joseph Smith, who founded the Mormon religion. The movie showed Smith finding a loose-leaf binder filled with gold pages. The binder was full of revelations. It was in a language that only Smith could understand. Smith established the Mormon religion and moved his congregation around the country (New York, Illinois, Missouri). Apparently the Mormons were persecuted everywhere and Smith was killed by intolerant neighbors in Carthage, Missouri. Then Brigham Young took over the church leadership and moved the Mormons to Salt Lake City. Mormons have reputation as hard-working people who shun alcohol, gambling and tobacco. They have a strong evangelical tradition.

Then we caught a plane and flew here (North Carolina) to visit our six grandchildren.

Fear and Loathing in Wendover

Wendover, Nevada - 30 April, 2006

We drive 300 miles north in Nevada though some of the most lonely country in America. Wendover is a tiny town on the Nevada/Utah border on the edge of the Great Salt Lake.

My brother works here as a dealer. He used to be a pit boss peering down though security cameras at the action. He is sensitive, like me, and I imagine he tired of breaking fingers and burying dishonest dealers in the desert.

Mrs Phred and I are immediately pulled over by a Wendover policeman who informs us that Nevada has a helmet law. He calls in my license and registration and lets me go with a warning. He seems faintly amused by meeting grandpa and grandma on a cycle with Florida plates.

My brother works the graveyard shift, so I get up at 4 AM and wander though all the casinos looking for him. A Nevada casino at this time of day is populated by very strange people. You have to study the vacant stare of the slot users with neon glare reflecting from their faces. All the slots take bills now, but they have programmed in the sound of coins dropping.

Most customers here are Mormons from Utah who drive 110 miles over the salt lake to play. We go to the Bonneville Salt Flats in the afternoon and visit the old B-29 base where Paul Tibbits trained with the Enola Gay. There is an abandoned rail line called the Tokyo Trolley where they ran mock-ups of tanks and trucks for target practice.