The hotel in Henderson operates an "Express Checkout Service", which is to say they bung the receipt under the door and you can leave the keys in the room and bugger off. They didn't mention that along with the receipt there would be a half-eaten choc-chip cookie, but perhaps that's a Special Service they only offer to Gold Rewards members. Anyway, what could be lurking behind this door?
|Who lives in a house like theeees?|
So the morning was not as stinking hot as yesterday, though just as windy, and I was blown to the Lake Mead National Recreation Area where, chiz curses, there was someone on the gate to take my money, unlike 2014. Karma, or something. And I didn't even want to go there but the alternative was to go back towards Las Vegas, which was full of traffic and wind. Off the Lake Mead NRA, y'see, lies the Valley of Fire State Park, past whose entrance I had foolishly driven on the way to the
Also this feathered ruffian who, mercifully, was too intent on scoffing an apple core to try robbing my bag like his cousins in Canyonlands did that time.
|Nom nom nom!|
They almost got into the ASBO by accident. At least I think it was an accident. Better timing might have seen me heading off into the distance with a new and elegant blonde companion on whom to practice my French, while her swarthy companion remained behind to rail at the Perfidy of Albion. That's twice on this trip that poor timing has seen the ASBO's passenger seat not graced by an elegant blonde. Bah!
I could have gotten to Flagstaff much quicker had I retraced my path and gone down US-93 past the
|Somewhere behind those trees is a The Grand Canyon|
|Cloud shadow on the Vermilion Cliffs|
|Two bridges, actually; the pillars of the new one can be seen under the deck of the old one|
Wind. I hope it is leaving the Tandem Things well alone.