Part 8: The Clown Motel, Las Vegas, & Pinche Plumas

 This is part 8 of my Road Trip Across America.

 

After leaving Virginia City, I found a hotel in Carson City for the night. When I woke up, I found a breakfast place and ate there. After that I went to a railroad museum. 

 

         The museum had several working engines and intact cars. The two neatest pieces for me were an old wood fired steam engine (the stereotypical train you think of when you think train) and a turn of the century car. The windows on the car reminded me of a boat because of the windows. They were round and opened inward where you could lock them in the up position. It was very much styled in the way of the earlier 20^th century: wood paneling, green leather, and gold rimmed metal. I think that is called “traveling in class.” It’s truly a shame that we went away from that style. To truly make it work, you’d probably have to wear a monocle, smoke a cigar, and sip on a glass of whiskey on the rocks. My grandpa would’ve loved the museum.

 

         After the museum, I need to make my way towards Las Vegas to meet some friends. It’s about a 7-hour drive from here, so I stopped about halfway in a little town called Tonopah. There were a few hotels around here. I saw a sign that advertised a clown motel. Initially, I didn’t want that, but after stopping at one hotel where all the rooms were booked, fate intervened. “Alex would stay at The World Famous Clown Motel,” the devious writer of my life determined. Plus, it would give me some amount of shock factor when I told my friends. Clowns, here I come.

 

         I parked my car in the parking lot and walked to the hotel lobby. Inside there were a bunch of clown figurines sitting on shelves, thousands of them probably. Even more creepy were the life-size clowns. Some looked evil indeed. One looked like a rip-off Ronald McDonald. The lobby also sold souvenirs. I got a shirt, because who wouldn’t want to tell any and every one that they stayed at this spot of envy? Oh, you stayed in the Bahamas? Pfft. I stayed at a clown motel in Nevada. After getting my key, I went to my room. The color scheme was, well, clownlike. None of the walls matched in color. There was also a picture of Spock in caricature as a clown. After I got settled in, I texted Randee asking her to guess where I’m staying for the night. “Clown motel,” she immediately responded.

 

         The next morning, after not getting killed in my sleep by some clown, I woke up a little early to make the drive the Las Vegas. My friend Shawn was flying in and I had to pick him up. After he got in, we immediately went to In-N-Out. For you East Coasters, In-N-Out is a must try. The burgers are great, as are their fries. Plus, you should get them animal style. Don’t ask me, just do it.

 

         After that, we wanted to shoot some machine guns, so we Googled a place that we could do that. My friend likes modern guns, so he rented a M249 SAW which is a modern, light, belt-fed machine gun. I wanted something more historical, so I rented an MG34 which is a machine gun that the Germans used in WW2 (sorry, Allies). I think we got 20 rounds a piece which isn’t much at all for a machine gun. All 20 are gone in just a few seconds. I also took pride in being the only one at the range who wasn’t shooting modern guns, because, well, I’m classy.

 

         For the rest of the day, we went to some casinos. I’m not much into gambling, but Shawn won about $400 at a slot machine. (For what it’s worth, I lost all $100 that I put in.) Later that night we went to the Penn & Teller theater. Unfortunately we weren’t able to see them because they betrayed America and were currently in Australia (those rat bastards). Instead, we saw Michael Carbonaro. If you’ve ever watched “The Carbonaro Effect” on TV, you’d know that he is the magician who hosts that show. It was really good.

 

         I don’t remember what else we did that night. Shawn probably played blackjack.

 

The next day another of our friends, Jesus, flew in. But before he flew in, me and Shawn wanted to shoot more machine guns. Of course, Shawn wanted more modern guns. He got a G36, MP5, and UMP45. I, being the classy one, monocle and all, got more WW2 guns: a BAR, an MP40, and an M3 Grease gun. Surprisingly, I liked the grease gun the best. During WW2, the US needed to mass produce cheap guns; this is what the grease gun is. It’s two stamped halves welded together around a heavy bolt and it shoots slow, real slow. The sights are really huge and crude. The gun goes “CHUG-CHUG-CHUG.” The others were fun too.

 

When Jesus landed we went and picked him up, and knowing us, we again went to In-N-Out. Reliving the day over again.

 

At night we went walking around the new strip and the casinos. In Vegas there are a lot of half-naked girls who walk around and want to take pictures with you, for money of course. Many dress in large feathers which you can see from far away. It can be aggravating. Eventually Jesus got irritated with them. Every time we would spot them, he would call out “pinche plumas.” This means “fucking feathers” in Spanish.

 

We went to some more casinos that night. Shawn liked playing blackjack. It’s fun to watch. Shawn tended to win some money, but every time I played I lost almost immediately. The nice thing about playing though is that anyone playing gets free drinks. The drinks at the bars are expensive, so that’s the way the casinos get you to gamble.

 

When you are walking around Vegas you’ll find cards on the ground. If you pick them up, you’ll realize these are business cards for prostitutes willing to come back to your hotel for a small fee. They show you the naked woman with the price covering up their most sensual parts. Usually, the price is around $150. When me and Shawn were walking around, we saw one on the ground that said $50, the woman staring back. I was like, “Hmm, that’s strange,” and picked it up. I immediately figured out why it was so low and handed it to Shawn. He didn’t see it. Above the price, breasts were staring back, but below, well, let’s just say that it wasn’t a woman. That would be one hell of a surprise. 

 

The next day we went hiking in the Red Rocks Canyon National Conservation Area just outside of Vegas. It was a little bit windy and I had my cowboy hat that I bought in Oklahoma. At one point we were standing on this slanted rock when the wind tugging my hat off my head. I felt it coming off, so I tried to push it back down on my head. But as I did this it came off and I hit the brim. The hat was now in full flying mode, with the hat exactly taking on the full force of the wind like a sail. It went about 15 feet in the air. Luckily it landed on a tree just on the edge of the slanted rock we were standing on so I could grab it. Out there we also saw some of those burrowing spiders. They were fast as hell.

Clown Motel Sign

Clown Motel Lobby

Shawn in front of a fun truck

Me, Shawn, & Jesus in Red Rocks

Part 7: Virginia City and the Lady who Showed me her Butthole

 This is part 7 of my Road Trip Across America.

 

            I found a hotel the night I left Sequoia. The next morning I started the drive to Nevada and found a hotel in Reno that evening. Reno is kind of like a rundown Vegas, or, if you prefer, the Fayetteville Las Vegas (my NC fellows will get that joke).

 

            In Reno, the hotels are pretty cheap. I got a room in a skyrise hotel for maybe $80. I relaxed a little bit before venturing out to find food. I eventually found a Vietnamese place. After eating, I was walking around and saw some dudes riding a Onewheel. This is an electric skateboard, but it only has one huge wheel in the center. I asked them if it was hard to ride. They told me it takes a little getting used to, but otherwise said it wasn’t hard. We chatted for a bit. They were 18 and grew up in Reno. After finding out that this was my first time in Nevada, they mentioned that I should go visit Virginia City. This is about 30 minutes from Reno. I planned to go there the next day.

 

            Virginia City is an old Wild West town known for gold and silver mining. It is also, supposedly, haunted. Because of the mining, it was one of the richest cities in the world at one time. But it also has a dark side. The mining companies paid workers far better than most other places, however, many people died inside the mines. As it was part of the Wild West, there were also shootouts. So yeah, haunted. Oh, and Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) started his writing here too.

 

            Virginia City still has many of the old buildings, saloons, and hotels from the 1800s. Many burnt down at one point in time, but the main street is still intact. I parked my car at the end at a small museum and looked around. After leaving, I made my way up the street. At one point, these two people dressed in cowboy clothes told me that there would be a gunfight at 1PM. 

 

            A little before 1PM, I made my way over to the gunfight. The ticket gets you $1 off at the saloon across the street. More on that in a bit. The gunfight is a comedy reenactment of a bank robbery. There are three characters: The Sheriff and two outlaw bank robbers. The outlaws were from The Dirty Underwear Gang. One of the outlaws was named Percy and he (or she if the actor is played by a woman that day) is a dad-burned fool. The show lasts about 40 minutes and is funny and entertaining. If you ever go to Virginia City, you shouldn’t miss it. They’re called The Virginia City Outlaws. I made friends with these outlaws. One of the actors was a knock off Robin Williams named Spencer (sorry, Spencer) and the other was a fiery, spunky redheaded lady named Randee. More on them in a bit.

 

            After watching the show, I went to a saloon to grab a drink and some hotdogs. Inside the saloon is an entrance to one of the mines. You might be wondering why the entrance to a mine is inside a saloon. Well, my friend, the answer is simple. When the miners were tired after a very hard day’s work, they could come right out of the mine and into the warm embrace of whisky, liquor, and good times. You can do a short tour of the mine. A guy named Spencer (different from aforementioned VC Outlaw Spencer) guided us. He told us of the miners, how hard the work was, and how many people died. He also reminded us that there was no electricity at this time, so the miners had to work by candlelight. He gave us an example of the danger of the miners work by way of the candle. 

 

Picture this. You have your candle lit deep inside the mine. One miner is holding the hammer and you the spike. To instruct your hammer mate to stop hammering, you place your thumb over the end of the spike. A candle being only so bright, your hammerer misses the signal and whacks the shit out of your thumb. And this is only so bad. Imagine, instead, that your candle light goes out. Spencer blows out the candle. It goes out, not because the wind has blown it out or the wick has gone short, but rather because the oxygen has escaped the mine. Everything is enveloped in darkness. You cannot see anything, not even the hand in front of your face. This isn’t the worst of it. You only have so much air to breathe and you are terrified. Your last moments of life have arrived. Enjoy them. That saloon is sounding pretty good right about now, isn’t it?

 

Back to my story. 

 

In the saloon, they told me that there were some haunted tours. I found one nearby. I did the 5PM tour of the Washoe Club. I didn’t know it beforehand, but this was where the show “Ghost Adventures” got its start. The Washoe Club was an old club and hotel back in the day. Many famous people stayed there including General Grant and Thomas Edison. Some people died there as well. I was the only one at the 5PM tour. The tour guide was about 20. We went upstairs and he began the tour. Being the only guest, I thought he would forget the spiel and tell me about the place in normal conversation, but he did not. That was a little awkward, but about 5 minutes after we started, we heard the door to the steps open up. It was none other than The Virginia City Outlaws. They wanted to do the tour too. During the tour, our guide showed us some pictures that people had taken of the rooms. Some people capture weird images that seem to show ghosts, so each of us took pictures to review later. Who knows, maybe we’d capture a ghost manifesting out of our smartphones. The guide told us of a guy who committed suicide in one of the rooms. He also told us of this little girl that might tug on our clothes. The ghosts weren’t very accommodating to us as none of us experienced any contact with the otherworld. 

 

At the end of the tour, Randee invited me to join them for a drink downstairs. We sat around a round table and ordered a round of drinks (three points for three different uses of a round). I had my phone sitting face down on the table. At one point I got up to use the bathroom. When I got back, Randee asked if I looked at my pictures to see if I got a picture of any ghosts. I said I hadn’t looked yet and proceeded to scroll through my phone. As I scrolled, something startled me. In my head, I was thinking “What the fuck?” Then I understood it. As I went to the bathroom, Randee took my phone and took some selfies with the VC Outlaws. They made some goofy faces. Randee was and is quite the jokester.

 

At another point in our talking, Randee said, “Want to see some butthole?”  I looked left. I looked right. I sat forward, elbows on table, looked her in the eyes, and said those oh so delicate words, “Yes, I would quite like to see some butthole, please.” She turned her phone around and showed me a dog’s butthole. I don’t know why, but Randee likes the backside of most every animal. She even makes knitted drink coasters of cat buttholes. So, this fiery, spunky redhead is also the worlds’ finest connoisseur of buttholes. When we got up to bid adieu, Randee told me that I should stay at the Silver Queen hotel. It is supposed to be haunted. And, well, that intrigued me. I would be staying in a haunted hotel for the night.

 

The next day I hung around to go hang out with my Outlaws. They had their show again and I watched a second time. This time Randee played Percy. She, too, was a dad-burned idiot. I chatted with them for a bit before the show started. I walked up to Randee, got real close, scratched my neck, looked from side to side, and whispered, “You know where I can get some butthole pics around here?” I watched the show a second time, and it was just as good, if not better, than the first time. We hung out again afterwards. They also do a walking tour around Virginia City, but I was the only one so they just told it to me at the saloon. Spencer told me the whole thing. We were there about an hour before Randee had to leave. Spencer wanted to go visit a friend at another bar. We walked over there. But before making it there, one of his friends was outside. He was dressed up per the period and had one of those bikes with the big tire. In his tire spokes, he had a leek. Get it? He had a leek in his tire. There was a girl around us and I pointed to it and said that there was a leek in his tire. She didn’t get it. 

 

    I went to the bar with Spencer. He had to leave soon after. And, well, that was my story of Virginia City and the Lady who Showed me her Butthole.

Virginia City, Nevada

Inside a mine

Randee and her selfie

Randee and Spencer

Around the round table

The Virginia City Outlaws and I

Part 6: Sequoia: Hiking the High Sierra

 This is part 6 of my Road Trip Across America.          

 

Sequoia National Park is about four hours from Monterey. I woke up, had breakfast, and set off.

 

            After spending two days in Monterey, this day was the last day of the non-quota season of backcountry hiking in Sequoia. This doesn’t mean much other than that the hike is free during this season and they don’t limit the amount of people on each trail. Around noon I stopped for lunch at a restaurant about an hour from the park. I arrived to the park around 2PM.

 

            To hike in the backcountry, you need to fill out a permit. There is a desk where the Park Rangers will explain the rules and regulations of the hike. They will also answer any questions that you may have. I asked them quite a bit. They probably got tired of me asking. I asked where the campsites were and if the water along the trail was safe to drink. They told me that I need a bear canister. This is a somewhat bulky can that you put your food into which prevents bears from getting into it. I had to rent one from the park. Enough about these details, on to the hike.

 

            The High Sierra Trail begins at Crescent Meadow. You can leave your car at this parking lot, but they tell you not to leave any food items (or anything that has a scent) in your car so that bears won’t try to break into your car. They have bear boxes that you can leave things in. I had a ton of stuff that bears might be interested in; I made several trips to the bear box. I got my backpack all situated and set out. Around 3PM, I started out.

 

            My goal was to make it six miles in before sundown. This would bring me to the first major campsite along the trail. From Crescent Meadow, you pass many of the huge sequoia trees. All of them are huge, but some are incredibly huge, or “big boys” as my friend would say. Early on in the trail there are some smaller sequoias that have fallen across the trail. Some you have to walk around and others you have to straddle and get over. Luckily, these particular trees were not the “big boys” that my friend describes.

 

The High Sierra Trail isn’t incredibly difficult at this stage, but it is a gradual incline up. With a backpack on this is pretty tiring though. I took many small breaks to rest. Eventually I made it to the campsite. This campsite is on a creek. I can’t remember exactly which creek this is, but Panther Creek seems right. There is a laminated map as you get to the creek that points out where the bear box and campsites are, but, as the vast majority of most park maps are, it falls short of actually being useful. I saw a few people setting up camp and asked if they knew where the box and campsites were and they didn’t know either. I climbed up to a viewpoint to see if I could see anything obvious; I could not. Eventually I saw someone further up the slope and made my way over to them. They pointed me to the bear box. I found a hiking group that was sitting around it eating. As I was making my way back to my stuff, I saw some marmots scurrying around. They aren’t exactly afraid of people, but will run away if you make big movements.

 

I found a place by the creek to set up camp and eat. The view was great, but I chose possibly the worst place of all to camp. My tent was on a slight incline and the grass was a little wet. Nothing seems out of the ordinary until you try to sleep. My sleeping bag kept sliding down to the bottom of my tent. To say that I slept like a rock that night would be true only if that rock was forever tumbling down the side of mountain.

 

Eventually morning came and my misery of failing to sleep was over. I made my breakfast and sat in my chair. This site was great for anything other than sleeping. I faced the bottom of the creek and ate. I heard something behind me. Right behind me was a small ledge. On top of the ledge was a marmot. It was probably three feet from me. I looked at it for a bit. It was unmoved. We were pals until I tried to walk over and grab my camera, but the marmot had had enough. Off it went. I never did get any pictures of a marmot. I packed my things and headed out. I needed to hike nine miles that day.

 

About five miles further in is Bearpaw Meadow. There are some cabins here that you could book if you wanted to camp the fancy way. There are also some regular campsites as well. I just stopped here to have a break and eat lunch. At Bearpaw, the scenery starts to open up. There is a good vista that is just beginning at this point. At some point, I heard a plane overhead and looked up. I saw the plane, but saw something even stranger. There was a rainbow around the sun. I could only catch glimpses of it because the sun was so bright. My eyes watered for a few minutes after trying to catch brief glimpses. As best I could, I took a picture with my phone. After eating, I started out again. I needed to hike another four miles to get to Hamilton Lake.

 

After leaving Bearpaw, the trail is on the side of a cliff. Don’t worry. It’s not that kind of cliff; you won’t fall off. It is a valley below you, and, on the opposite side, the mountain is a rocky face. The vistas and scenery are incredible. There are five waterfalls in one direction. Two are side by side and feed another pair below them. To the right of these is a really tall waterfall. I’d guess this water fall was 300 feet tall. It was hard to press onward because you want to take in all of the scenery. Eventually you start to go down. You have to cross a river. But at least there is a bridge well above it so you aren’t climbing from the very bottom.

 

After this point, the hike gets difficult. It is about two more miles to Hamilton Lake, and it is almost entirely steep switchbacks. I was not loving life here. How in the hell can hiking be relaxing if it is so difficult? But, man, is it oh so worth it.

 

At some point the trail disappears into the top of the upper pair of waterfalls. You can see what looks like the trail to the left of a log just before the water, but it dead ends. I didn’t understand what was going on, and none of the maps I had showed this. There was only one thing to do; I laid my things down, took my shoes off, and stepped into the water fall. The water was icier than your ex’s heart. Luckily, it was only ankle deep. I still had trouble finding the trail. I looked all around. I started making my way back to my stuff and found the trail. It was somewhat overgrown, but there it was. I crossed back over to my stuff, and crossed the waterfall one more time to get to the trail. Everyone I met on my way back, I would tell how to find the trail through the waterfall so they wouldn’t struggle as I did.

 

It was probably yet another mile to Hamilton Lake from here. I was getting really damn tired of these switchbacks. At one point there is a smaller lake. I thought this was Hamilton Lake, but it was only one of those lakes full of false hope. It was pretty though. But it didn’t compare to Hamilton Lake itself. Hamilton Lake is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen in my life.

 

Hamilton Lake is a high mountain lake. Surrounding it like a bowl are mountains with rocky faces that reach down and cradle the lake. Packs of snow linger on these faces. A few waterfalls feed the lake from these mountains. The lake itself reflects a mirror image of this beauty.

 

As much as my eyes told me that this was real, I still couldn’t believe it. As much as my eyes told me that this was real, it didn’t seem like this should be a real place. It didn’t seem like this could be on planet Earth, much less California. It seemed like something ripped straight from Valhalla or some painter’s depiction of what a place on Earth could be. The sun began to set just after I arrived. The stony faces were given a golden hue by the sun’s touch.

 

There were a few people fishing in the lake. We all talked together for a bit. Each of us agreed that this was just incredible. I set my chair down, refilled some water, cooked my food, and admired the scenery. I had to go to sleep soon. I would reverse my hike the next day and make my way back.

 

The scenery was just as incredible the next day. When I set off, I saw some deer. I’m not sure what breed they were, but they weren’t whitetail deer. Their fur was thicker and light brown. They looked right at me with no concern at all. 

 

My goal was to make it to my original campsite that day. I also wanted to stop on a river just past Bearpaw to have lunch. This would be a great spot to take a break. When I got there, a couple had taken my spot. In life it seems like you make plans, and inevitably it always turns out that people crush your dreams and ruin them. I had to take the less good spot about twenty yards from them. They were over there relaxing like they have never relaxed so. I could tell that they were basking in the enjoyment of depriving me of my desire. They waved at me as if they were totally ignorant of what they did. I waved back. It was like a diplomatic meeting of foreign heads of state; I hate you and you hate me, but we’ll shake on this to make everything seem just as perfect as can be. I had my lunch. They left before me, leaving open that spot to anyone who wanted to waltz in. But they were leaving just as I, and I would catch up to them eventually

 

They were an older couple; I think in their 70s. They were going slower than me. I passed them and made my way to Panther Creek. I was the first one there. I ended up finding the actual campsites this time and set up camp. I wouldn’t be sliding around all night. The campsites were a little way above the bear box. After some time, I looked down and saw that couple setting up camp below me near the bear box. When I took my items to the box, I talked to them for a bit. I made sure to mention their misdeed of taking my lunch spot. They were pretty cool people. He showed me a picture of a Grizzly Bear that they saw while hiking. It was literally 15 feet below the bear box that we were standing at. The bear didn’t care about them at all. I believe they were from San Diego. I think he said he did the Pacific Crest Trail in the ‘80s.

 

The next day I made it the last six miles back to my car. This was four days and three nights of backpacking and about thirty-three miles of hiking. I was wiped out. 

 

Next stop: Nevada.

Hamilton Lake

Hamilton Lake at sunset

The vista after Bearpaw Meadow

Deer

Scenery after leaving Hamilton Lake

The lake just before Hamilton Lake