We’re on the road again, headed back to Michigan. I told you in the last e-mail that we’d be stopping in Reno the first night, and we did. We stayed at The Peppermill, a fairly upscale hotel. The casino part wasn’t any larger than a couple of the ones I’ve been to in Michigan, but is much more opulent. There are so many lights and mirrors in that place, it’s hard to find your way around. We checked in at around 7:15 (10:15 in Michigan), went to our rooms and freshened up (the guys would say “hit the john” but I’m trying to be polite), and went to one of the six restaurants embedded in the glitz. I had a lobster bisque and a Caesar salad. Matt and Heather had sushi. Then it was off to the games.
Matt and Heather played cards for about four hours, took a fifteen minute turn at the roulette table, and cashed in for the night. I didn’t write down all the details, but suffice it to say that The Peppermill did not come out ahead. I broke even. I walked around the gaming floor twice, got lost each time, then packed it in and went to bed by 10:00. Since I didn’t bet, I didn’t lose. Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against gambling. I just don’t get the “charge” out of it (no pun intended) that some people do.
We got up yesterday morning, checked out of the hotel, and headed across Nevada. The only other time I was in Nevada was when I was discharged from the Air Force in 1970. On that trip, we took a quick trip through Las Vegas (three hours or so…I was poor so “risked” a roll of nickels), then angled up toward Utah. So I had never been across the northern part of Nevada. What a desolate place. I usually like to get an hour or two of driving in before stopping for breakfast. Matt and Heather had cereal in their room, so they were fine with that. At around 8:00 we came to the first place available and it was a tad bit early, so we went on. As I passed by the exit, I saw a sign that said “NEXT SERVICES 57 MILES”. For the next 57 miles there was nothing.
We went by one spot that had what I thought was smoke coming up from behind a hill. As we passed by the hill, I realized that it was steam and we were going through an area of hot springs. Unlike Arkansas and Yellowstone, the people of Nevada had not exploited the hot springs to gather in tourists. Other than a few pipes stuck in the ground to capture the steam, there was nothing else there. I’m not sure why they did that, because there wasn’t anything within 20 miles to use the steam for. And it’s my guess that if they’re saving the steam in case the place ever turns into a tourist trap, it will have cooled off by then…just a thought.
We stopped at the next town that had anything at all, and went to the local diner. It had a sign that said something like “MEXICAN RESTAURANT” followed in smaller letters, “WE SERVE AMERICAN FOOD TOO!”. It looked like any other small town restaurant with five or six of the local retired guys lined up at the counter, telling stories and laughing. I noticed one of the booths by the front door hadn’t been cleaned up yet. It had two empty beer bottles and glasses, and it was 9:00 AM. We took a booth against the wall and it was obvious that we were the only strangers in there. The food was good, relatively cheap, and the coffee tolerable.
As we left, I was getting into the car when I noticed a spent shotgun shell on the ground. We made a couple of comments about it and were on our way. We weren’t very far down the road when I noticed a sign that said “REPORT ALL SHOOTING FROM ROADWAY”. It started the wheels turning in my head (there are actually wheels in there…an MRI confirmed that when I had the bike wreck of ’03). I guess we were in the Old West where people actually do carry guns in their pickups and, it appears, aren’t afraid to use them.
After driving through five more hours of nothingness, we entered Utah. If Nevada had nothing, that part of Utah had less. We dropped out of the high desert, with nothing but scrawny sagebrush, to the Bonneville Salt Flats where there was nothing but salt. No trees, no sagebrush, no grass…nothing. This went on for thirty or forty miles of exactly, and I mean exactly, straight, flat road. The only things to look at were where truckers had gotten into a highway trance, drove off the edge of the road into salt sludge, and were dragged back to solid ground by a wrecker.
At around dusk, we drove along the south end of the Great Salt Lake, into Salt Lake City (I wonder how it got its name) and up into the mountains. We spent the night in Park City. I can’t wait for the sun to come up ‘cuz I think it’s going to be spectacular. We went to the “historic downtown” for dinner, played some cards in the joint we chose, and came back and crashed. Well, I crashed. Matt borrowed my workout shorts and he and Heather headed for the pool/spa/sauna. I’m not asking what Heather wore. Their business! I spent a fitful night, suffering from my bi-annual sinus crud.
Just (Feeling Like I Was Dragged Through A Knothole Backwards) Jack