California? California? Does that really say California up there? Weren't they just in Utah? But...but that's not possible. No one gets out of Utah and across Nevada that fast. Nobody. Not even Brigham Young on a three-day blow to Vegas and back. It just doesn't happen.
It happened. I know, 'cause I was there. Sure, we took advantage of a little time-zone action, but six hundred miles is six hundred miles, as they say down at the Philips 66 in Caliente, Nevada. Six hundred miles is a fair spell of driving, as they like to discuss at length at the Gas-N-Go in Tonopah, Nevada. We don't know what they like to say anywhere else in Nevada, because we didn't stop anyplace else. We had a California to get to, after all.
There's an awful lot of Nevada around to contain what little is in it. As full of forsaken acres as it is, the government seems to just love Nevada -- tons of land perfect for bombing ranges and airbases. Tales of bored Air Force fighter-jocks acquiring target lock on RVs making the trek across the Loneliest Road in America (U.S. 50) are legend in these parts. Sensing that the Air Force might be in cahoots with whatever mysterious forces were meddling with our cell phone access (see yesterday's episode), we opted for what seemed like the more sensible route -- the Extra Terrestrial Highway.
Apparently, there is some mandate that highways in Nevada feature hucksterish nicknames to attract seekers of cheap thrills (who no doubt abound in a state renowned for gambling, prostitution, and David Copperfield). Travelers looking for a hint of danger in interstate travel long vanished from the American road need look no further than Nevada. Why take the Interstate and revel in its multilane comforts when you can match wits with aliens on the Extra Terrestrial Highway? Who needs strip malls and Denny's when you can delve deep to confront the demons in the darkest corners of your twisted soul on the Loneliest Road In America? You didn't just drive across Nevada -- you conquered it, emerging triumphant at the opposite stateline where a waiting vendor was only too happy to sell you a t-shirt with matching visor bearing the slogan, "I Survived the Extra Terrestrial Highway." Way to go, man. You should be proud.
So, anyway, after we bought our t-shirts (hey, I'm a sucker for that stuff, too),
we still had miles to go before we slept. Nevada was a memory, but we wanted
to make it up near the Mammoth Lakes area on the East slope of the Sierra
Nevada before we made camp. Dodging kamikaze jackrabbits and evil open
range cattle, Otto bored through the night, cutting a hole for us to follow.
We stayed awake by rehashing the little four mile hike with which we started our day in lovely Bryce Canyon National Park. Home of hoodoos and a whole lot of German tourists, Bryce Canyon packs a lot of scenic punch into its relatively small perimeter. The hike down and partially around the amphitheater floor was just wonderful -- both Today's Scenic Shot and the shot at the top of this page are from Bryce.
But Bryce Canyon and a leisurely drive to California weren't enough for us. Nope, not with the storied Golden Eagle pass at our sides. We also did a quick drive through Zion National Park, enjoying some of the sights and smells of the Virgin River Canyon and ten thousand RVs idling in the sun as they waited for ingress to an incredibly long tunnel under a mountain that can only admit RVs in one direction at a time. It was great. So great, in fact, that one fellow got out to videotape 15 minutes of his RV idling in line for the tunnel. Good god, but I pity the folks to whom that fellow tries to show his vacation videos. "Yup, that's Volume I of the RV sitting stationary on a road. Wanna check out Volume II where it's parked on an incline? It's a real cliffhanger."
We kept moving, out of Zion and into St. George, Utah, a town plagued by a
mysterious malady on its outskirts. It seems that someone (or something)
is planting cul-de-sacs out there. Nobody knows why. No houses. No infrastructure. Just
miles and miles of....cul-de-sacs. Conspiracy theories abound, with most positing
a direct link between these cul-de-sacs and the crop circles that occasionally
pop up in Great Britain. And, yes -- Geraldo has been notified.
St. George also featured the world's largest, least-crowded Kinko's. Although there were no computers on the internet and the courtesy phones didn't have jacks we could plug in to, Kristanne did manage to locate an unobtrusive (and unconnected) phone plug over by the kiddie-play area. Knocking aside a few pesky toddlers, we proceeded to get connected and get the site up to you in record time -- 11 minutes and 53 seconds. Phone lines are clear on a sunny Saturday, I reckon. Anyway, it's the Extreme Shot of the Day. And, by the way -- for those of you at home practicing your Extreme Gestures, that big X has yet to be sanctioned by the Extreme Telecommuting Advisory Board -- you might want to wait before trying to learn it.
After the longest day driving on record for this Odyssey, we finally set up camp at Convict Lake in California. Ahh, sweet success.
Total Miles for 6/21 = Six Hundred and Thirty One Big Ones! It's a New Odyssey Record! And, hopefully, one that won't be broken.