Neon graveyard in Death Valley presages Mojave campout
I realized that it would be hard to top this bit of excitement, but I still wanted to do something memorable. So..
“Death Valley, Dan?” Nazy replied. “You want to take me to Death Valley for my birthday?”
“I know that it doesn’t sound …”
“ .. lively, Dan. It doesn’t sound lively.”
“It is the biggest, the lowest and the hottest national park in the USA.”
“This is not getting better.”
“But we have to leave early; it’s a bit of a drive.”
“Early? Is this some kind of penalty?”
We left somewhat early and I set the navigation system for our initial destination.
“Furnace, California?” Nazy asked as she consulted with the weather App on her iPhone. “It’s going to be 100℉ there today.”
“We’ll actually turn off to Dante’s view before we get there.” I replied.
“Dante, Dan? As in The Inferno?”
“It may be a little warm, but that’s part of the charm. And we’ll see sand dunes and salt flats.”
“Great.” Nazy replied. “Salt and Sand?” Nazy thought.
After Dante’s view, we drove to Furnace for a buffet lunch. It was April 2nd which is..
“… seezdeh bedar!” Nazy exclaimed. “We have to make wishes and tie grass together to complete our celebration of the Persian New Year.”
“What grass?” I thought as I looked over the (salt and sand) dessert.
“Why are you looking so hard at the dessert buffet?” Nazy asked.
“I was looking at the desert, my dear.” I replied, one ’s’-less. “There is no grass to tie.”
As regular readers know, Nazy is not easily swayed and she is never thwarted. We found an irrigated garden nearby and a buff Nazy tied the grass. It was only 98℉ and..
“.. it’s not so bad. It’s very dry.” I asserted.
“So is the inside of an oven,” Nazy replied.
We continued our exploration visiting Zabriskie Point, Badwater, Artist’s Drive and the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes.
Nazy agreed that the Death Valley trip was fun and a ‘good idea’. The drive back to the Wynn was smooth and uneventful. Melika had a recommendation for our final day in Vegas.
“She recommended the Neon graveyard, Dan.” Nazy explained. “Is she crazy?” Nazy thought.
“I think that’s a great idea.” I replied.
“You do?” Nazy sounded skeptical. “Only Las Vegas would have a cemetery with tacky neon lighting around the gravestones.” Nazy thought.
“But it’s called the Neon Boneyard.”
“You’re not making this better, Dan.”
“And we have to get up very early. The only available tickets were for the first tour.”
“We have to get up early? Nazy replied. “Early? To see neon-lights in a cemetery?” Nazy thought.
It took a while to find the place because Heidi, the navigation computer, was confused. It turns out that there is a difference between Las Vegas Boulevard South and South Las Vegas Boulevard. But, because (presciently) I had left time to get lost, we arrived at..
“It’s a museum, Dan.” Nazy exclaimed.
“Of course,” I replied. “It’s got a huge collection of old Neon signs that had been used in Las Vegas.”
“Oh.” Nazy replied.
“What did you think it was?” I asked.
“I thought you were taking me to a cemetery.”
“A cemetery?”
“You said it was a graveyard and you took me to Death Valley. So I just..”
The boneyard had a huge collection of signs from defunct Las Vegas hotels and casinos. Seven had been restored (restoration is very difficult and expensive). It was a fun stop.
Google maps assured me that the drive home would be smooth and quick. Heidi, in-vehicle navigation computer concurred — initially. We were on the I-15, near Primm, Nevada, when Heidi changed our arrival time.
“Heidi says we won’t get home until 11:54PM!” I shouted.
“Your route is being recalculated because of traffic conditions,” Heidi interjected. “Take the next exit.”
“The next exit?” I thought. “I’m going 81 miles/hour, there is no traffic and now Heidi wants me to take a detour that adds 75 miles to the trip.”
“Is Heidi crazy?” Nazy asked as we sped past the Ivanpah Solar Power Facility - and the recommended exit.
“The road, my dear, is clear,” I replied — accelerating to 95 to pass a slow-moving SUV. And then, as we topped the hill crest I slammed on the brakes.
“Maybe Heidi was right.” Nazy opined as we slowed to a complete stop. In the next two hours we moved 1.3 miles. I wisely ignored Nazy’s suggestion that we get off and take a dirt road detour (we saw a couple of jeeps that had tried that option get stuck in the sand). Eventually the cause of the problem, a burned out 18-wheeler, came into view. It was surrounded by fire trucks and various police cars.
“There is good news.” I noted, grasping for straws.
“Really?” Nazy replied. “I have to go to the bathroom,” Nazy thought.
“Good news: because of the delay, we’ll miss the rush hour traffic in Los Angeles.”
We stopped at Barstow, a former railroad junction, for a quick lunch (well, late lunch/early dinner). They had recreated a Route 66 Rest Stop using old train cars.
We made it home a couple of hours earlier than Heidi’s estimate. (And a couple of hours later than Google’s prediction.)
Nazy and I had a great time. Now we’re back to being grand parents — which is equally fun.
For more pictures from our trip, click here.
For last week's letter, click here
More Grandchildren updates next week
Nazy and Dan at Neon Boneyard