Serendipity

The thought crossed my mind yesterday morning that maybe going into Las Vegas wasn't so important after all because it was going to be cold (45°)—and windy (10-15 mph)—which it was. I reminded myself, however, that this was primarily the reason I arranged to come to Lake Mead as part of our trip. I originally had looked into RV parks within Las Vegas, but, because of my aversion to crowds and street noise, decided to find a more quiet place in the vicinity so that we may venture into Las Vegas proper without being in the middle of it. I wanted to see the hotels with all their grandeur and we were running out of days. Looking at the weather forecasts it was evident that yesterday was the day, although today the temperature was supposed to be higher by a degree or two, the wind was supposed to be worse with gusts up to 30 mph.

We really didn't know which hotel would be the best place to park. We just knew we wanted to be at a hotel with a monorail stop. Being that we know The Flamingo we chose to make that our starting point. It also allowed us to see the completed renovations that they were in the midst of when we stayed there a year ago this past October for our daughter's wedding. We could have done without seeing it being that the renovation was simply to add another restaurant. 

Although there are many amazing hotels, I knew I wanted to see Grand Canal at The Venetian. We bought our day tickets for the monorail and rode one stop north to Harrah's. When we arrived and managed to walk through the casino to Las Vegas Boulevard, our thought was that we could've walked faster, but the trade off was that we were out of the cold and wind. The distance walked through Harrah's did nothing to save my feet and Rob's knee and hip, though.

We finally arrived at The Venetian and wandered inside to find ourselves at the beginning of a long avenue of shops. We craned our necks to study the frescoed ceilings and promptly descended a floor so I could photograph one particularly large piece that could barely fit in the frame even from the lower vantage point. We ascended again and began our walk along the avenue. I kept searching for the beginning of the interior canal, not looking too intently at the shops when Rob said, "Hey, look, a photography gallery." My head swiveled quickly and there, to my utter amazement as I had no clue whatsoever that this place existed, was the gallery of my most favorite photographer, Peter Lik. His landscapes are, to me, the most beautiful and I aspire to produce work that can even remotely compare. We entered. With my mouth agape and after several gasps, a salesman approached us. He was very kind and spent quite a bit of time discussing where certain photos were taken, the type of paper on which they were printed and the printer that was used. Rob and I both thought the photographs were on transparencies and back lit but, no, that wasn't the case. It had to do with the paper and printer, of which we hastily made a note for future reference. I pointed to the photograph that had originally caught my notice some time back and the salesman said, no, that that wasn't the one as it had only come out a few months ago. He brought over a book and showed me the print of the one he was sure I meant. It was, but both were of the same tree. I'm sure they were taken the same day. I will go there, come hell or high water, and try to replicate the shot as part of my photography education. The Japanese Garden in Portland, Oregon. Its now on the bucket list.

On we went to follow the canal, have some lunch, and absorb the sights and ambiance of the place. The rest was somewhat anticlimactic after Peter Lik's gallery. We wandered into The Palazzo by happenstance as it is connected to The Venetian. We found they had decorated for the Chinese New Year. It was lovely. By then we were ready to move on, however, and after making a wrong turn, finally made our way out to where we first entered. Rob needed to sit to rest his hip and knee but there were no chairs or benches. Outside, and mostly out of the wind, were some steps. Some folks had the same thought, apparently, and were sitting there. Rob said something about this being the place for old guys to rest and the fellow sitting there heartily agreed. We sat next to them and began to chat. It turns out that these folks are from Gridley, California. My grandmother grew up in Gridley. My great grandfather and grandmother Panecaldo's house (forgive me if I've misspelled), is part of the historic register. They recognized the name and as I was trying to remember the street on which the house is located, one of the women said 'Hazel." Yes, that is it! 360 Hazel Street. Why I remember the street number I don't know, but they also knew the name of the present owner, whom Rob and I met several years ago after stopping and knocking on the door, as well as the unique turn-of-the-century fountain still in the front yard.

If I had caved to my initial whim to cancel our day trip into Las Vegas, or had left it to another day, this meeting would never had taken place. I may have still seen the Peter Lik Gallery, but neither may I have had the pleasure of that particular salesman's generosity of time and information, nor the chance meeting of strangers from a place in my family's history that is near and dear to my heart. Nothing is ever coincidental. If only my dad were still alive to tell of this serendipitous occasion. 

The impressive frescoed ceiling.

Outside the Peter Lik Gallery.

Rob getting fresh with a living statue.

On the Grand Canal.

The look of Venice.

Celebrating the Chinese New Year at The Palazzo

Lake Mead

We have one of the best sites here at Lake Mead RV Village. The view through our windshield is of mountains and lake. No obstructions. We've seen quail, grackles, sparrows, hummingbirds, jack rabbits, and we've heard coyotes. We've had warm enough nights to be outside to enjoy a few campfires and that's when we'd hear coyotes far in the distance; however, just yesterday afternoon we heard them very close by indeed. Rob was up on the ladder getting a puddle of rainwater off the slide's awning and could see the coyotes about 100 yards away. We wondered if they may have been celebrating the catch of a jack rabbit or some other unfortunate critter. Their yip yip yipping and howling was eerie but oddly exciting. I wish I could've seen them from my lower proximity, although it wasn't from a lack of trying. I think my neck stretched a good inch or two from my effort!

We visited the Hoover Dam the other day. We paid $7.00 to park and headed over to the Visitor's Center. We were dismayed to find that they wanted an additional $8.00 to enter, and you had to go through screening identical to TSA airport screening—right down to having to remove your shoes. I looked at that and decided it wasn't worth the $8.00 to have to pull my sneakers off. They also wanted $30 per person for an internal tour of the dam. It just seemed too pricey to me, and the nearby casino is charging only $29 per person for a helicopter ride over the entire area, which is probably way more fun. So, off we went to walk along the sidewalk over the dam. That's really what I came to see anyway. It is an impressive structure and beautiful with all of its art deco finishes.

Lake Mead had a bit of rain over the last few days. Because of it, we discovered that we hadn't really solved a leak problem in our bedroom slide that became apparent while we were at Dockweiler in Los Angeles; and, because of it, we now really do have the problem solved. This is especially good news for me as the leak was over my side of the bed! Friday evening we were enjoying a roaring campfire with our neighbors, Ken and Gail, who are from just north of Calgary, Alberta, Canada, when at about 9:30 we had to say goodnight and go inside because the raindrops were getting larger and more frequent. I'm just glad all the wood had burned down and what was left was mostly glowing coals, which always give them the appearance of inhaling and exhaling as though sentient. It rained furiously that night (the bedroom remained dry). In the morning, you could barely see the lake through the low clouds and mist.

The view has been impressive. Being that it is basically high desert with rather barren, jagged mountains and low-lying brush, I thought the sun would accentuate the harshness of the land with severe contrast. Instead, the diversity of color with it's reds, greys and tans in concert with the blue of the sky and the lake invite a muted, pastel softness, especially in early morning and late afternoon.

Rob's sister-in-law, Chris, had given us a travel hummingbird feeder as a motorhome-warming gift and this location gave us the opportunity to use it. I think it was about an hour after hanging it that a healthy, male Anna's hummingbird began to guard it and make it his own. Yesterday, however, we were gifted with the arrival of a Costa's hummingbird. The fellow was fearless. At one moment, Rob was less than a foot away from him and he sipped nectar in an entirely nonchalant fashion. That kind of thing gets us ridiculously excited! It wasn't long, though, when the Anna's came home from wherever he'd been and chased the Costa's off. My camera was working at high speed and I captured a few clear shots of these swift, little birds.

Tomorrow, the plan is to go into Las Vegas for a look-see at some of the visual treats those hotels have to offer.

Toasting to our first afternoon at Lake Mead

A close up of Art Deco framing around an elevator door

Even the dam wall was built with aesthetics in mind.

I was so enamored with the statue's beauty that I failed to find out its meaning.

I think people made wishes with their coins at the feet of this towering statue, much like with a wishing well.

If the wind comes up, hold on to your hat or you'll never get it back!

In honor of the lives lost in the construction of the dam.

  

A desert rose, perhaps?

A photo of Rob. Not unusual.

A photo of me. Unusual.

I photographed all 12 signs.

Pastel Lake Mead

After raining all night.

Rob and our little Costa's Hummingbird.

Our Anna's Hummingbird.

A sweet, little female Anna's Hummingbird.

Anna's Hummingbird.

Costa's Hummingbird.

A Good Time at Lake Havasu

One of the most exciting things that happened to us since leaving Quartzsite happened the morning we were leaving Cattail Cove State Park. First, though, let me say that Cattail Cove, which is located on Lake Havasu about 15 miles south of Lake Havasu City, was singularly the nicest state park to which I've been thus far. The sites were spacious and staggered in such a way that you didn't feel you were walking into your neighbor's space just by stepping out your door. They had electric and water, but no sewer hook-ups; however, they do have a dump station conveniently situated as you enter or exit the grounds. The restrooms were very clean, the showers generously sized and with plenty of hot water. Cattail Cove also has wonderful walking trails that overlook the lake and a boat launch, which is a must-have for any campground along the lake.

The second night we were in Quartzsite, Rob and I went to a mexican restaurant. When I slipped into the booth I noticed a newspaper on the seat, which turned out to be the local classifieds. I thought it would be good to bring it back to the Beast with us to use as fire starter for our charcoal chimney. That evening I decided to take a look at what people around Quartzsite were trying to sell and I found an ad for the 3rd Annual Havasu Balloon Festival, which was due to begin the day after we intended to leave Cattail Cove and Lake Havasu. The festival coordinators set up RV parking/camping on a lot at an adjacent marina that is normally used for summer boaters to park their boat trailers. We chose to cut short our stay at the next destination, Lake Mead, by a few days and reserved a space at the festival. We are so glad we did, too!

The morning we left Cattail Cove, I found I had an email from folks who posted a comment on one of my blogs the night before. It explained that they had been at Cattail and, as they were leaving, took a photo of my blog address, which is on the side of the Beast. They said they were going on to the balloon festival. I responded and let them know that we, too, were leaving just that morning to go to the festival. I suggested that they make contact since they knew how to identify our motorhome. That night at about 9:00pm, there was a knock on our door. Rob answered, was handed a note and the fellow said they were parked right behind us just across the 'roadway'. We went and knocked on their door the next morning, met Judith and David. We intended to stay just a few minutes but it turned into a couple of hours. In that time we found we have some preternatural things in common. To our delight, they agreed to join us that evening for a campfire. We thoroughly enjoyed their company, their sense of humor and outlook on life, and we look forward to seeing them again in the future.

Also there were our friends from the sand dunes. Mark and Jeannine live in Lake Havasu City and drove their motorhome down to the festival, parked next to us and we shared as much time as we could with them. They are raising their granddaughter, who is 14 months old, and as any parent knows, the kid's schedule tends to rule. With them was a friend, Eric, who came down from Washington to look for a house to buy. Eric makes his living as an Alaskan fisherman. It was interesting to hear him talk about that kind of life. And around the campfire, we learned that both Mark and David also had something in common: They both hailed from Washington and both had worked for Boeing—at the same time! But, David spent 34 years with Boeing, and Mark about 15, if I remember correctly. We all experienced a few woo-woo moments over those few days.

The festival was set up at the golf course, so there was an abundance of space for the multitude of food vendors as well as the typical clothes, jewelry, art and souvenir vendors. In the center was the balloon field, of which the vendors and other activities surrounded. They had shows where you could watch dogs display their prowess at frisbee catching, a radio-controlled aircraft area, a carnival area with a ferris wheel and an assortment of other rides, as well as boat and travel trailer brokers and a few old cars to view. 

Of course, the most fun was seeing all the grand and colorful balloons. We suffered with some wind during the festival, so the balloons flew mostly in the early morning. Most flew over the RV area and over the channel that flows under the London Bridge and they often landed wherever they could. One morning, Rob helped one land right in our roadway in the RV area. How fun is that? In the evening with weather permitting, they had what they called 'Night Glow,' where the balloonists filled their balloons so they were illuminated against the night sky. It was quite a sight.

In our travels, Rob and I want to note the cities or towns that interest us as possible places to settle once we are finished with RVing. Lake Havasu City has made it on the list so far.

A view of the beach and boat ramp at Cattail Cove State Park.

Our motorhome is center right with the silver CR-V parked in front.

Feeding the locals at Cattail Cove.

A view of Lake Havasu from the hiking trail. That's California over on the other side.

Rob pretending to be Edith Ann in Mark's oversized camp chair.

Here come the balloons.

A look inside.

Deflating the balloon.

Rob after helping land the balloon.

Volunteers helping to bag the balloon.  

A close up of the beautiful stitching on the bottom of the balloon basket.

Aerial entertainment. 

Night Glow.

Filling the balloon.

An inside look at Night Glow.

The view toward the RV park from the Ferris Wheel.

This balloon proved to be very photogenic.

Above the London Bridge

Just a bridge reflection.

An American balloon and my favorite photo.

Getting its feet wet.

Through our windshield.

The same balloon that Rob helped land.

The goldfish was my favorite balloon.

Judith and David