Summer of Cal/Nev – Day 49
Packing things up again as I’m leaving Las Vegas for the final time this summer. For many people, coming to Las Vegas for three nights is a big thing. The planning, the food, the entertainment, the gambling are just of a few things people look forward to enjoying on their once-a-year getaway. There’s no question that I am spoiled—spoiled! My three nights here at the Orleans just shot by without as much as a second thought. I’m here—and now I’m gone. This is what happens to the mind-set when I take these extended vacations, though admittedly it can sometimes feel like a job. But I have to remember to never take it for granted. I know how lucky I am and as I read the many comments of these reports each day and how many wish they could do something like this; then I do feel fortunate and glad I have the time and the resources to these kinds of trips.
I stopped to fill up one more time at the Rebel gas station on Decatur before I hopped on Hwy 95 North. Now I realize this is not what I had planned. I was supposed to go back by way of Barstow, then head north, but as I was toying around the Google GPS last night on my phone, I saw a different route that would not only save me an hour of driving but would be a more interesting drive than 400 miles of desert. So it was off to some uncharted territory.
I had been on Hwy 95 many times when Reno was my destination and there were a couple of stops along the way. First was the Indian Springs Casino, which is located next to the Creech Air Force Base. This part of Nevada is where the Nevada Military Testing Grounds are located, which is used for target training for military aircraft. I will assume that’s the point of the Air Force Base. I say this because I was in the Air Force and this sprawling base is the only one I’m aware of that has NO airplanes.
The casino is very small and I played one clock game and found out that all the machines are attendant paid only—felt odd having the lady come over to hand me $11.34.
Indian Springs Casino
My Saturn sits all alone in the Indian Springs Casino parking lot. Not their busiest time of the day.
As I drove on, Hwy 95 is a very long stretch of desert nothing. I lost a photo opportunity when I passed a large billboard that said BROTHEL just before I passed the Area 51 General Store. Behind it was the whore house with a large sign, Adults Only past this point, no photos please. I would break that rule had I stopped—regret.
Many miles later, (and singing along to many tunes—I listen to the Broadway channel on my Sirius satellite radio) I come to the small town of Beatty, NV. This is a popular truck stop along the highway and there’s a small casino more than happy to relieve the truckers of their excess cash. There’s also the famous (just ask them) Death Valley Candy and Nut store.
The Death Valley Candy and Nut store--required stopping for all tourists
The Stagecoach Casino in Beatty, NV
I was back on the road after donating $5 to a Keno game and restroom break. I soon came to the road that I had not been on before—Hwy 266.
The innocent looking Hwy 266 will soon become the ominous 168--tread lightly
I should have thought about just why I was the ONLY car on this road for as far as the eye could see. Things started out just fine. A long, long straight drive with only sage brush and sand on each side of the road. Then, the 266 becomes the 168 (I’ve just entered into California, which I had to learn later because there was never the usual signs of Leaving Nevada or Welcome to California). Now things began to dramatically change. I began to climb, and climb, and climb and climb until I reached a peak where the sign said Elevation 7532 feet.
At the peak (7532 ft) of Black Mountain in the Sierras
This isn’t too bad. The scenery is beautiful and before I knew it, I was beginning the decent down the other side of the mountain. I wasn’t done. As soon as I got back to the desert floor, I began climbing again. The road began to get a little less maintained and the turns were becoming sharper and the climb steeper. As my engine roared at climbing this fast (it had to maintain about 4000 RPM), I thought about just how happy I was to have a new radiator as this was really pushing my tired old Saturn. Thankfully, I reached the next peak (about the same elevation) but then a few feet later, the sign said, deep 9% grade with bending curves—use caution. What in hell have I gotten myself into? I slowly began going down the side of the mountain—keep in mind I have yet to have even one car behind me or any car coming the other way. On the other hand, the views were amazing. If I were a motorcyclist, this would be the place to drive because motorcycles LOVE steep, winding curves.
When I reached the bottom of the mountain, I was in a valley that had a couple of farms and ranches. I thought I was finally out of the woods—so to speak. I was wrong. Before me was yet another mountain and another very steep climb. I made it to the top (this time 7820 feet high) but the worst part of this drive was to come. This time the road down would put the Wild Toad ride at Disneyland to shame. The turns were many times 90 degrees and at times wedged between two sides of rock—beautiful but nerve racking. Imagine my thoughts when I approached the next caution sign: Single lane ahead. Yield to uphill traffic. Now, I’ve come across small bridges with this situation and that’s not a big deal, but here the roads were so curvy, you couldn’t see if another car was coming around the bend or not. How am I supposed to yield to a car coming at me that I won’t see until it’s right there? Needless to say, I drove through this area at about 3 miles per hour stretching my neck as much as possible to see around the curve.
Fortunately, no cars approached me. I’ve driven the Maui Highway, which is famous for its curves but Maui’s got nothing on this mountain. I was beginning to feel a little car sick, and that never happens when I drive. I’m glad I had no passengers—there’s no chance they’d not have me be pulling over. When I had looked at the Google map before making this trip, I had no idea I was crossing over the Sierra Mountains—on the map, it just shows green (yes, I know—I’m an idiot). I think I’ll be a little more careful next time I decide to take a new route.
As I approached the final valley and the connecting Hwy 395 that would take me to my next stop, Bishop, CA, I was surprised by the smoke. There have been a lot of fires in California and the smoke from them seems to have settled in this valley. It was like a fog and the burnt smell was everywhere. I drove into Bishop, which is a small town of 4000.
I decided to stop overnight in Bishop because it was the half-way point to Reno and there was a casino here to check out. I stayed at a place called the Vagabond Inn. It’s been a long time since I’ve pulled my car up to the front door of my motel room. There is a Holiday Inn Express here, but for whatever reason, they wanted $149 per night here—not a chance; and the Vagabond a more reasonable $49. The room was a typical motel room. It was clean, had a refrigerator and microwave and the Wi-Fi is free. In my book, that’s a no-brainer.
Though the Internet search claims this is a town famous for hiking, everything around here seems to be about fishing. Most the cars here at the motel have boats attached, and many of the neighboring businesses seem to cater to fishermen. I’ll assume there are plenty of lakes around. I don’t hike and I don’t fish—I picked the right town to stay.
After checking in (free popcorn in the lobby—I like this place), I was glad to see a laundry room. So, I fished (ha!) around for quarters and managed to get a badly needed wash of the clothes (yes, I’m not buying new ones this trip—actually saving some money). After the clothes were done, I drove over to the one casino in town, called the Paiute Palace Casino. It’s a small place with a couple hundred machines and some blackjack tables. They do have a slot club, so I signed up and was given $10 in free play, which I used playing Keno (all the VP had the usual Indian casino lousy pay schedules) and lost.
The Paiute Palace Casino in Bishop, CA
Next to the casino was the Paiute Gas Station, so I filled up the tank ($3.83 per gallon, 20-cents cheaper than the other stations in town but 30-cents more than Las Vegas). It was late so I headed back to the room after picking up some chicken nuggets from McDonald’s and a large coleslaw from KFC (I don’t know what it is about KFC’s coleslaw, but I like it). I watched some TV (the show Wipeout is completely stupid—but the announcers crack me up—how are those people not in traction after filming?), and finally went to sleep. There’s another long drive ahead of me tomorrow. A final note on my mountain drive: I would never do it again, but I’m glad I drove it at least this once. It was a bit nerve racking, but the scenery was beautiful and the experience unforgettable.
More tomorrow.
Packing things up again as I’m leaving Las Vegas for the final time this summer. For many people, coming to Las Vegas for three nights is a big thing. The planning, the food, the entertainment, the gambling are just of a few things people look forward to enjoying on their once-a-year getaway. There’s no question that I am spoiled—spoiled! My three nights here at the Orleans just shot by without as much as a second thought. I’m here—and now I’m gone. This is what happens to the mind-set when I take these extended vacations, though admittedly it can sometimes feel like a job. But I have to remember to never take it for granted. I know how lucky I am and as I read the many comments of these reports each day and how many wish they could do something like this; then I do feel fortunate and glad I have the time and the resources to these kinds of trips.
I stopped to fill up one more time at the Rebel gas station on Decatur before I hopped on Hwy 95 North. Now I realize this is not what I had planned. I was supposed to go back by way of Barstow, then head north, but as I was toying around the Google GPS last night on my phone, I saw a different route that would not only save me an hour of driving but would be a more interesting drive than 400 miles of desert. So it was off to some uncharted territory.
I had been on Hwy 95 many times when Reno was my destination and there were a couple of stops along the way. First was the Indian Springs Casino, which is located next to the Creech Air Force Base. This part of Nevada is where the Nevada Military Testing Grounds are located, which is used for target training for military aircraft. I will assume that’s the point of the Air Force Base. I say this because I was in the Air Force and this sprawling base is the only one I’m aware of that has NO airplanes.
The casino is very small and I played one clock game and found out that all the machines are attendant paid only—felt odd having the lady come over to hand me $11.34.
Indian Springs Casino
My Saturn sits all alone in the Indian Springs Casino parking lot. Not their busiest time of the day.
As I drove on, Hwy 95 is a very long stretch of desert nothing. I lost a photo opportunity when I passed a large billboard that said BROTHEL just before I passed the Area 51 General Store. Behind it was the whore house with a large sign, Adults Only past this point, no photos please. I would break that rule had I stopped—regret.
Many miles later, (and singing along to many tunes—I listen to the Broadway channel on my Sirius satellite radio) I come to the small town of Beatty, NV. This is a popular truck stop along the highway and there’s a small casino more than happy to relieve the truckers of their excess cash. There’s also the famous (just ask them) Death Valley Candy and Nut store.
The Death Valley Candy and Nut store--required stopping for all tourists
The Stagecoach Casino in Beatty, NV
I was back on the road after donating $5 to a Keno game and restroom break. I soon came to the road that I had not been on before—Hwy 266.
The innocent looking Hwy 266 will soon become the ominous 168--tread lightly
I should have thought about just why I was the ONLY car on this road for as far as the eye could see. Things started out just fine. A long, long straight drive with only sage brush and sand on each side of the road. Then, the 266 becomes the 168 (I’ve just entered into California, which I had to learn later because there was never the usual signs of Leaving Nevada or Welcome to California). Now things began to dramatically change. I began to climb, and climb, and climb and climb until I reached a peak where the sign said Elevation 7532 feet.
At the peak (7532 ft) of Black Mountain in the Sierras
This isn’t too bad. The scenery is beautiful and before I knew it, I was beginning the decent down the other side of the mountain. I wasn’t done. As soon as I got back to the desert floor, I began climbing again. The road began to get a little less maintained and the turns were becoming sharper and the climb steeper. As my engine roared at climbing this fast (it had to maintain about 4000 RPM), I thought about just how happy I was to have a new radiator as this was really pushing my tired old Saturn. Thankfully, I reached the next peak (about the same elevation) but then a few feet later, the sign said, deep 9% grade with bending curves—use caution. What in hell have I gotten myself into? I slowly began going down the side of the mountain—keep in mind I have yet to have even one car behind me or any car coming the other way. On the other hand, the views were amazing. If I were a motorcyclist, this would be the place to drive because motorcycles LOVE steep, winding curves.
When I reached the bottom of the mountain, I was in a valley that had a couple of farms and ranches. I thought I was finally out of the woods—so to speak. I was wrong. Before me was yet another mountain and another very steep climb. I made it to the top (this time 7820 feet high) but the worst part of this drive was to come. This time the road down would put the Wild Toad ride at Disneyland to shame. The turns were many times 90 degrees and at times wedged between two sides of rock—beautiful but nerve racking. Imagine my thoughts when I approached the next caution sign: Single lane ahead. Yield to uphill traffic. Now, I’ve come across small bridges with this situation and that’s not a big deal, but here the roads were so curvy, you couldn’t see if another car was coming around the bend or not. How am I supposed to yield to a car coming at me that I won’t see until it’s right there? Needless to say, I drove through this area at about 3 miles per hour stretching my neck as much as possible to see around the curve.
Fortunately, no cars approached me. I’ve driven the Maui Highway, which is famous for its curves but Maui’s got nothing on this mountain. I was beginning to feel a little car sick, and that never happens when I drive. I’m glad I had no passengers—there’s no chance they’d not have me be pulling over. When I had looked at the Google map before making this trip, I had no idea I was crossing over the Sierra Mountains—on the map, it just shows green (yes, I know—I’m an idiot). I think I’ll be a little more careful next time I decide to take a new route.
As I approached the final valley and the connecting Hwy 395 that would take me to my next stop, Bishop, CA, I was surprised by the smoke. There have been a lot of fires in California and the smoke from them seems to have settled in this valley. It was like a fog and the burnt smell was everywhere. I drove into Bishop, which is a small town of 4000.
I decided to stop overnight in Bishop because it was the half-way point to Reno and there was a casino here to check out. I stayed at a place called the Vagabond Inn. It’s been a long time since I’ve pulled my car up to the front door of my motel room. There is a Holiday Inn Express here, but for whatever reason, they wanted $149 per night here—not a chance; and the Vagabond a more reasonable $49. The room was a typical motel room. It was clean, had a refrigerator and microwave and the Wi-Fi is free. In my book, that’s a no-brainer.
Though the Internet search claims this is a town famous for hiking, everything around here seems to be about fishing. Most the cars here at the motel have boats attached, and many of the neighboring businesses seem to cater to fishermen. I’ll assume there are plenty of lakes around. I don’t hike and I don’t fish—I picked the right town to stay.
After checking in (free popcorn in the lobby—I like this place), I was glad to see a laundry room. So, I fished (ha!) around for quarters and managed to get a badly needed wash of the clothes (yes, I’m not buying new ones this trip—actually saving some money). After the clothes were done, I drove over to the one casino in town, called the Paiute Palace Casino. It’s a small place with a couple hundred machines and some blackjack tables. They do have a slot club, so I signed up and was given $10 in free play, which I used playing Keno (all the VP had the usual Indian casino lousy pay schedules) and lost.
The Paiute Palace Casino in Bishop, CA
Next to the casino was the Paiute Gas Station, so I filled up the tank ($3.83 per gallon, 20-cents cheaper than the other stations in town but 30-cents more than Las Vegas). It was late so I headed back to the room after picking up some chicken nuggets from McDonald’s and a large coleslaw from KFC (I don’t know what it is about KFC’s coleslaw, but I like it). I watched some TV (the show Wipeout is completely stupid—but the announcers crack me up—how are those people not in traction after filming?), and finally went to sleep. There’s another long drive ahead of me tomorrow. A final note on my mountain drive: I would never do it again, but I’m glad I drove it at least this once. It was a bit nerve racking, but the scenery was beautiful and the experience unforgettable.
More tomorrow.
