We took Rt. 15 back to Las Vegas. Turned on Charleston Ave. which is Rt. 159, marked down from $2.39. This took us through West Las Vegas. Everything here was new or being constructed. Another tumor of growth on the festering cancer that is Vegas, or, if you prefer, another beautiful flower on the wild rose bush that is Las Vegas. Depends on your perspective, I guess. Which do you prefer. Rocks, sparse vegetation, and wild critters or beautiful condos, fast food joints, gambling dens, bars and parking lots? Choose only one please. Are you sure that's your choice? Certain? Final Answer? OK. You got it, you got it.

     It was going on 3:00 PM when we entered Red Rock Canyon, visited the visitors center like visitors do, paid our $5. admission and drove the loop road checking out the red rocks. These red rocks were vastly different from the red rocks at the Ring, er, Valley of Fire. First off, they weren't all red. Some were brown. A nice integration of colors. And secondly, upon close examination we discovered that these rocks were infested with some kind of uh, well, infestation. There were things crawling all over the rocks. Climbing up and down and all around. An even closer examination with the binoculars revealed the nature of the pests. Homo Erectus, homo sapien, humans. Apparently this is some kind of rock climbing Mecca. There were hundreds of people all around in various stages of ascent or descent. I guess because it's there. Seal is now on the CD telling us about some kinda Future Love Paradise in a voice like no other.

     I scanned the hills looking for any climbers going toe to toe with the rock, you know, free climbers. Unencumbered by any rope or harness. The ultimate challenge. Man vs. nature. Mono a rocko. No such luck. It seems that on this particular afternoon, the manos were playing with an edge. Keeping firmly attached to the rocks by some kind of device. Not risking an unexpected encounter with that ol' nemesis, gravity. Man, that Seal can sing as good as he wants. We meandered along, taking pictures from time to time and fairly tired, after watching all those climbers, we drove just up the road a piece and bought a room for the night at Bonnie Springs Old Nevada. A sort of throwback to the older, more genteel days of rustlin', bank robbin', and lynchin'. You know the old wild, wild west converted into a motel, restaurant, and horseback riding ranch.

     The place was very nice actually and it being Thursday, fairly quiet. On the weekends though they stage holdups, gunfights and hangings for the people stuck in the beginning of the 21st century but hankerin' for some good old fashioned fun! I think they rob the train but we won't be here to see, dag nab it. It's 4:30 and we're unwinding. The room is decorated with a nice western flair and a good view of the red rocks on the side of the canyon we just visited. It really is the old west. The TV doesn't have a remote. After puttering around checking things out we get it together to go to dinner. The menu from Bonnie Springs' Restaurant looks a little pricey so we decide to try the next town down the road Blue Diamond.

     On the map the town looks as big as Vegas, on the map. We get in the car, leave ol' Bonnie. Make a right on 159. Go a couple of miles and see a sign BLUE DIAMOND with an arrow pointing right. We make the right drive into a rather small community and are greeted with this sign:

     Seems like the people who made the map we were using were having a good time with us. We drove to the end of the road that we drove in on, made a left and took our time discovering the wonders of Blue Diamond. Five minutes later after completing our tour we were back on 159 going to 160 with the hopes that our next destination, Mountain Spring, might offer a little more in the eating establishment purview. Our short but extensive tour of Blue Diamond had revealed just a library, a post office, a general store, playground and homes, homes and more homes. We missed the cactus shop. Didn't see any burros, either.

     Mountain Spring. What can I say. There is NO town there. Just another US Natural Area. We spent about 20 minutes climbing the mountain on 160. Passed a rustic looking bar at the top started down the other side with no signs of a community, let alone a town in sight. After about 5 minutes of this I turned around and went back to the bar. At this point I needed a drink and if there is a God maybe they would serve us a meal. Looks like God has a sense of humor all right.

     We pulled into the self proclaimed "World Famous Mountain Springs Saloon." Parked, walked passed a couple of guys playing horseshoes on the side, walked in the front door and recognized the place immediately. "World Famous," you bet. Everybody's been in this place. Maybe not at this location but somewhere in America. It's repeated in state after state all over this great nation. A place you can sit down take off your hat and relax. Maybe even shout YAAAAHOOOO if you want and not draw any attention to yourself. The definition of rustic. We were greeted by a six foot drunken black cowboy. "What's happinin'?" I asked. "You are, you are!" he replied. I knew I was home. We sat down. The bartender came over. I asked what kinds of beer they had. He pointed to a sign. It said "We have both kinds of beer, bottled beer AND canned beer." We got a coupla bottles. Some kinda pale American lager. I asked about the grub. God started tittering. All they had were big hot dogs. I finished my beer, steeled myself and ordered a couple o' dogs. By the time they found my digestive tract, God had worked his way from snickering, to chuckling, laughing then outright guffawing.

     A few beers later I forgot about the commotion in my gut. Aahhh, a five course meal. Two hot dogs and three beers. The place had settled down to Marylou (who had had the good sense to eat only one dog) and I, the guys tossing shoes (a drunk guy and his son from Pahrump, the next town down 160, a good 25 miles), a couple at the end of the bar who had been there making out all evening, the bartender, George, and his wife Sandy. Talking to George we found out this was only a part time gig for him. He was killing time till the summer when he works his real job, a National Park Service fireman. We listened to many stories of heroism and despair from a job that takes the winter off then comes back with a vengeance each summer. He had a real busy time this summer. Keep up the good work and stay alive, George!

     On our ride back down the mountain to Bonnie Springs we were treated to a light show. The whole valley was aglow.  The valley o' Vegas lay sprawled before us resplendent in neon with the huge laser at the apex of Luxor, the cherry on top, shining a path to the stars. Shine on, you crazy diamond. Adios, Pink.

Red Rock Canyon

just visiting Blue Diamond

Famous saloon
 

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