A Beach of a Life

Feb 24-25, 2006
We veered off Highway 15 onto Box Canyon Road, which runs south to the Salton Sea. What a lovely surprise this fifteen mile stretch of road was. At first, the desert was vivid with blooms, yellow and red. The tall ocatillos had no leaves but flame-red plumes at the top of each stalk. I expected by the curves and switchbacks shown on the map that we would be climbing through a mountain pass but the road followed the bottom of a canyon, which would be impassable in the rain. It was very scenic in a lunar landscape sort of way. The high cliffs had eroded into brick red ‘Hoo-Doos’. Luckily there wasn’t much traffic and we meandered through it very slowly.

We pulled into a California State campground on the banks of the Salton Sea. It was called a ‘primitive’ site because it had no services, just a couple of Johnny-on-the-Spots and a few garbage cans. Well we don’t need any service; we’re totally self-contained and we had this Corvina Beach site to ourselves. We pulled in right beside the beach – only about 20 feet from the water and it was beautiful and only $5 a night (for seniors – that’s us). It was only about noon when we arrived and it was hot – so what else could we do, but get out our lounge chairs, pull out our awning, and pour a couple of mohitos. The water glistened and a myriad of birds flew and walked by. I love the desert but being by water is so soothing for the spirit.

The Salton Sea is over 200 feet below sea level and has a very high salinity – more salt than the ocean (even I should be able to swim in it). Millions of years ago, the Gulf of California extended right up this valley – hence the salt in the soil. It dried out and only a hundred years ago, after major flooding from the Colorado River was the Salton Sea formed. It’s a fairly big lake – 35 miles long by 15 miles wide but we didn’t see any motorboats on it just canoes gliding by. I suppose that’s because there are wildlife refuges and bird nesting grounds around the lake.

More later……………………

A Touch of Nostalgia

Feb 20, 2006
About twenty miles south east of Laughlin, Nevada, in the crook of a mountain pass, lies Oatman, Arizona where the glitz of Nevada seems hundreds of miles and years away. A gold mining colony from a hundred years ago, Oatman doesn’t seem to have progressed. The miners used burros to haul their gear and the progeny of those original donkeys still live in the hills surrounding Oatman, coming down every day into the town. They are given free rein and cars driving through the main street are expected to give way to the burros.

When we arrived in Oatman, we parked behind some rickety old clapboard buildings and strolled back in a bit having noticed a couple of ancient rusting fire engines beside a weathered fire bell. That was a mistake; some sort of ‘pit bull-like’ dog charged down at us as fast as a gazelle, growling and snapping frenziedly. (To B&B who own and love a part pit bull - please don’t accuse me of breedism). We made a hasty retreat while Caesar wanted to linger and socialize. Luckily, the monster dog stopped – I guess we’d invaded his territory.

So we stuck to the main street busy with tourists on this Presidents’ Day holiday. The road was lined with souvenir shops, cafes and saloons in the original buildings – very quaint, very touristy. The burros strolled everywhere looking for handouts. Someone was selling carrots and everyone was feeding them. “Do not feed the baby burros,” the signs said, “they only need their mother’s milk and might choke”. I do hope it was paid attention to.

The burros were varied in colour, some white, some grey, some brown, some dappled and the babies (colts?) with spiky hair up their necks to the top of their heads would nuzzle their noses into my leg not wanting to be ignored. They loved to be petted and tickled and clouds of dust would erupt if you gave a good pat on the back.

As we approached a small ‘herd’ (?), Caesar was enthralled and dragged at his leash hard to get closer. One burro seemed just as interested in Caesar and the little white dog and the dusty brown burro snuffled noses together, Caesar’s tail wagging frantically. This went on for quite a while – a love story in the making.

I wandered into a shop that sold rocks among its unruly display of Oatman t-shirts, gaudy suspenders, and wind chimes made from beer cans. I picked up a few random rocks from a box on the floor but they were not priced. An elderly gentleman was alone at the desk. He was wearing his pants held high by a pair of those giant suspenders and his glasses were perched at the end of his bulbous nose.
“How much?” I asked
“Dunno” he answered
“Who does know?” I fired back
“She ain’t here” he said mildly
“When’ll she be back?”
“Wednesday”
“That’s two days from now”
“Yup”
“How do I know how much then” I pursued
“Oh heck!” he twinkled at me “three for a dollar”
I had six pieces that I figured would be about a dollar or more each.
“That’s a deal” I replied – kindly now.
“That’ll teach her to put prices on in future” he said as he entered the prices into an old cash register with a handle at the side that he’d crank after each item.
“That’ll be $2.14” he said
I handed him a $5 bill, a dime and a nickel.
“Damn thing won’t open” he said exasperatedly, as he banged on the side of the register.
“Did you push the total key?” I offered. I could see the machine quite clearly as I was at the side counter.
“Damnation” he spit “everything’s going wrong today” but he hit ‘Total’ and out popped the drawer.
He started counting out change and pulled some bills and handed me a total of $6.75 – now terribly flustered and confused. I gave it back and patiently explained that he just owed me three $1 bills and one penny and I had to point to the slot in the drawer where the $1 bills lay.


As we drove out of town, a sign proclaimed “Old Highway – Route 66” and we decided to follow it. It’s obviously not well used as the plants and mosses grew across the shoulder edging on to the road. It was very picturesque curling through the mountains and weaving through the foothills and roller-coastering through the plains. I flashed back mentally to my teenage years (this is happening more and more often – is it a sign of old age?) when I had a crush on the blonde Martin Milner and the dark George Maharis, the stars of the TV series ‘Route 66’. Of course, they didn’t travel this remote 23-mile stretch from Oatman to Needles but it still made me reminisce.

Feb 22 –24, 2006
Back to Quartzsite and what a change. The rock and gem shows over, the big RV show finished, the streets were empty, shops in tents closed down for the season and our desert camping spot wasn’t deserted but mighty quiet. We wanted to see ‘the Satellite Guys’ about installing a TV dish on Maggie’s roof as we’d heard that the prices here were the best. However we found that they only supply ‘high-end’ equipment – not in our price bracket. I guess we’ll go with Camping World.

The temperature (one month later) is much warmer – middle 70’s I’d guess but it still got really cold overnight – I’m still wearing my red flannel pyjamas with the little white polar bears frolicking across.

We did a three day ‘veg-out’ again – we need one every so often. Relaxing in the sun, reading, writing, snoozing, cocktails, marvelling at the bright warm sun and blue sky and that this is our 47th day without rain. I don’t think I ever want to be in Vancouver in January and February again – not if I can help it anyway. The large desert hummingbirds hover near, the absence of insects puzzles us (must be the cold nights) and as the sun sinks in the sky, two ultra lights put-putt by just over our heads. They are like large U-shaped parachutes in yellow and orange, the lines holding the pilots as if in easy chairs. I would love to try one - what a thrill to soar over the desert and spy on all below. They fly very slowly and at such a low altitude – not at all frightening. I wonder why they fly at sunset each day.

The Forgotten!

Feb 13, 2006
We’ve been to Las Vegas so many times in recent years that the strip has lost its lustre. We kept feeling ‘been there – done that’ and so the off the beaten track casinos provided more entertainment. I think the opulence of Caesars, Wynn, Bellagio, etc. gets a bit ‘ho-hum’.

We did get a kick out of the Chinese New Year’s exhibit in the conservatory of the Bellagio. A wonderful but ailing banyan tree was removed from Florida in pieces and reassembled at the Bellagio. It provided the background for the colourful display. Beautiful red lanterns hung profusely from the branches. Large smiling Chinese characters including a huge dog (must be the year of the dog) were located here and there in the exhibit and walkways wound through and around the magnificent tree and they created archways from fountains of shooting water. I, obviously still a child or approaching second childhood, stuck my finger into the shooting stream and soaked the man behind me. He took it in good spirits but I was a bit embarrassed.

I never tire of the dancing waters at the Bellagio. The music is different every time we’ve stopped to watch. But there’s another ‘laser and dancing water show’ that doesn’t get much press but is worth a visit. I guess the best words I could use to describe it are ‘cute’ and ‘hokey’. It’s the water show at Sam’s Town. The hotel surrounds a large glass-enclosed quadrangle – about 10 or 12 stories high. This conservatory is filled with trees, replicas of mountains and a gushing waterfall. Birds (not real ones) chirp from above. It’s very dense and green and so relaxing. We viewed a nighttime show - 10 pm. The lights dimmed and we could hear wolves howling in the distance; a spotlight picked out an amber-eyed wolf who threw back his head and howled menacingly above the waterfall. An eagle high on a rocky outcropping spread his wings and cocked his head as if reacting to the cry. A massive grizzly bear rose on his haunches and answered with a guttural roar. I swear that the wolf and the grizzly made eye contact with me (guess I am still a child). With that, the waters started to a hillbilly tune; lasers drew ancient characters on the rock walls in turquoise, pink and yellow. The waters glowed with the colours and the laser beams glistened as if millions of diamonds floated in the air. The music morphed into a classical piece and as it reached a crescendo, the waters shot high in the air. Wolf, bear, eagle, and owl watched intently.

The music changed to a country song – Clint Black maybe (I really don’t know country singers) and the lasers drew more modern images on the stones. The colours changed to red, white and blue and the lasers depicted the US flag and the music changed to a haunting rendition of ‘America the Beautiful’. A bit over the top for us ‘less patriotic’ Canadians but we respect the American way even if it does make us smile.

I Digress!

Feb 20, 2006
The sad thing about all this is that I had myself convinced that we’d be partaking of healthy eating and lots of exercise – and just maybe I’d lose a few pounds. Yeah sure! We do get lots of exercise but if you’ve been reading my journals you’ll know that we’ve done our share of unhealthy eating – casino buffets are a curse and I don’t even like buffets really but can’t say no to a bargain. And then we discovered Jose Cuervo ready-made margaritas and Smirnoff ready-made appletinis and Martis Autentico mohitos – sure to be loaded with calories. I guess I should just be happy I’m not an alcoholic.

Casinos have evolved into one-stop entertainment destinations. You are likely to find a bowling alley, multiple movie theatres, even an ice arena (the Orleans, LV) or an equestrian centre (South Coast in LV (see photo above)). The old are making way for the new in Las Vegas. While we were there, the Bourbon Street Casino was reduced to rubble; the Boardwalk is closed and fenced off waiting for the wrecking ball while construction has already started between the Bellagio and the Monte Carlo; the South Coast Casino at the far south end of the ‘strip’ with a Moroccan ‘come to the Casbah’ design just opened up in January; Donald Trump is in partnership with the Frontier and will be building a Trump Tower.

At the California border with Nevada, the Primm Resorts are more than an evolution, perhaps a ‘devolution’. It’s an example of where Disney meets Nevada. Three casino/hotels make up the group. Buffalo Bill’s unattractive hotel is a monstrous ‘prairie grain elevator’ surrounded by rocky mountains through and around which snakes a gigantic roller coaster. Families roll out of their cars to spend the President’s Day long weekend in this alternate reality funhouse. While kiddies go on the rides and play the arcade games, Mom and Dad throw money in the slots.

The movie theatre addition works well for a couple when one is a gambler and the other is not. In Laughlin at the Riverside, I went to a couple of matinees ($5) while Fernie joined the Texas Holdem poker tables. With the Academy Awards approaching, I was happy to catch a couple of nominated films.


Brokeback Mountain has been highly touted but I thought it over-rated. However, it was a gay breakout movie. It started in the 1960’s and depicted a couple of masculine young men who met when they took jobs in a stereotypical testosterone-filled environment, as sheepherders (shepherds?) in the Wyoming mountains. Supposedly heterosexual, they gradually engaged in a relationship over the summer and fell in love – though the word ‘love’ was never mentioned (is it a woman’s word?). They insisted that they weren’t “queer” and carried on with their lives, getting married, having children but met up for a fishing trip every year. We followed their lives and the resultant tragedies for the next twenty years. It showed us how our not-too-long-ago society forced gays into the closet, into heterosexual marriages causing such pain and heartbreak for all involved. It is therefore an important message film but not ‘best’ film.

‘Walk the Line’ is a biopic of Johnny Cash’s early life and his developing relationship and eventual marriage to June Carter. I knew very little about their lives other than I loved Johnny when I was a teenager and remembered his Folsom Prison concert and his problem with booze and drugs. Not a country music fan, I knew nothing at all about June Carter. Joaquin Phoenix played Cash and at first I was uncomfortable with his portrayal. He sang the songs himself which I thought strange but he performed so well that I forgot it wasn’t Cash’s voice. I hadn’t realized before that Phoenix had a cleft palate but the scar was so obvious in the many close-ups that it distracted me. Reese Witherspoon as June Carter was a dynamo and she also sang all her own songs and wonderfully. The Cash/Carter duets were spellbinding, almost making a fan out of me. Good acting by both but Reese is the standout – perhaps an Academy Award for her?

And as far as best actor goes, neither Heath Ledger for Brokeback Mountain nor Joaquin Phoenix for Walk the Line come anywhere near Philip Seymour Hoffman’s portrayal of Truman Capote in Capote. Of course, that’s just my humble opinion.

Vegging Out!

Lake Mead – Government Wash
February 14–15, 2006
We’d had enough of the city life so we headed out of Las Vegas towards Lake Mead. About an hour later, we entered the Lake Mead Federal Recreation Area and drove down to the lake on Government Wash road. They say that on weekends it’s really hectic because it has a boat ramp but it was Tuesday and only the occasional RV was to be seen dotted around the vast desert area. There is no charge to pull in to one of the many campsites but you can only stay for fifteen days – two days is fine for us. Some of the roads are a bit steep and narrow for our big Maggie, but we found a perfect spot overlooking the lake and surrounding mountains. We set up quickly and put out our awning, mats and lounge chairs and the rest of the day, I vegged out in the sun, reading my book and writing this blog. Fernie, in the meantime, partook in his favourite hobby – polishing the motorhome (Different strokes………..). This rustic campsite made me think of our camping weekends back home and our camping buddies (J&C) and I wished they would have pulled in beside us – the martinis would have been flowing………oh, they were anyway!

The desert was hilly and rocky with low-lying shrubs, some green, some flowering and some dormant. The stark mountains were grey, orange and clay red as the sun dropped in the West and ringed the blue-green lake below while the deeply etched crevices made them jump out as in a 3D movie.
Hares – or were they jackrabbits – hopped through the sage brush, their long legs and ears making them very tall; we also spied marmots and plenty of birds, even seagulls and at sunset the howls of the coyotes echoed spine-chillingly through the valleys.

A seaplane glided in for a landing on the calm waters but soon took off again leaving the lake very quiet, as only an occasional boat would speed by. As I lay in my lounge chair in the warm sun a light breeze wafted across my face cooling me. There was no unnatural noise – I listened to the birds and the rustle of the wind. My spirits soared - there is no better feeling in life.

A full moon rose in the eastern sky and its bright white light over the lake and mountains made for the most wondrous sight spread out below us. We sat out in our lounges to take it all in. The forecast had mentioned wind and we figured we’d better retract our awning before we went to bed but the wind caught us unaware coming up suddenly in huge gusts. We wrestled with the awning as the blasts of air would get under the canvas and flap it violently but we finally managed to secure it, thank goodness. The wind really blew hard all night long and through most of the next day. Maggie creaked and groaned and swayed as the huge gusts hit her broadside – it made for a fitful night’s sleep.

The Red Piano

$115 buys you a ticket for a cheap seat to the Elton John concert at the Caesars Colosseum. Three long escalator rides up to the top of the theatre and I was happy to find my seat was in the centre and not right at the back. It’s amazing though that the view is spectacular from this high perch. Being alone, I watched the other patrons more intently. The other cheapos! Hmmm – lots of blue jeans, a couple of Stetsons (they’d better take them off before the show starts) but no baseball caps. Varied ages – lots in their twenties and thirties – not too many over 60. Are all the older ones in the ‘good’ seats? An aging usher, half glasses perched on the end of his roman nose, performed his job officiously, feeling his power as he barked ‘wait just a minute’ to a clumsy-footed woman, obviously fearful of the precipitous height and eager to sit down.

There’s obviously no dress code – a trio (1 man/2 women) of neon tshirt clad, extremely overweight, unsophisticates, their tshirts sporting ‘Margaritaville’ with huge pictures of parrots (I guess we know where they’ve been) across the fronts and backs clumped down the stairs and plopped heavily into their seats overflowing to the next seats – I was so glad that they weren’t beside me. They carried huge glasses of what looked like beer.

A man sat down beside me and struck up a conversation (or was it me that started it?). His wife elected to miss the show as she wasn’t a huge Elton fan (didn’t know such people existed) and she’d rather see a Cirque de Soleil show. We chatted about shows we’d seen. He’d seen EJ three times, Neil Diamond twice, & Cher’s everlasting retirement show. He was an agreeable nerdish looking guy – 45ish I’d guess but he knew his stuff about the stars and LV. Having him to talk to, the wait for the show to start seemed to pass quickly.

The house lights dimmed, an army of white-overalled attendants stripped the huge cover from the Red Piano to a rumble of ‘awwwwwws’ emanating from the audience. The piano stood atop a huge red-rimmed star and gigantic (about 30 foot high, I’d estimate) illuminated and flashing multi-coloured letters drifted down from the ceiling E L T O N. Almost anti-climactic, a roly-poly little figure sauntered out from the wings, waving double peace signs to the entire audience even those in the rafters. He was clad in his usual long-jacketed black suit embroidered with huge yellow and lime green aspidistras (I don’t really know what an aspidistra looks like) and twining pink petunias down the legs of the trousers as well as the jacket. A red ruffly shirt beneath topped with his signature cross around his neck. How can this portly little man command the attention of such a huge audience – pure talent, that’s how.

He started with Benny and the Jets and I waited for the big screen to show an up-close view of him but the screen showed a wild video of the sixties and seventies, full of female nudity…..lots of bare breasts, which I found strange. I guess it was just portraying the lifestyle of the times and the freeing of women…….I dunno!

His voice was rich and resonating but I found myself wishing that it were just him and his red piano in a smaller venue and none of the folderol to take attention away from his incredible talent.
His stubby fingers flew across the keyboard and his gap-toothed smile was totally captivating. He only performed 15 songs and was on stage only a little over an hour and a half. I guess there’s no such thing as encores anymore.

He quipped about Celine Dion and her rail thin figure. “For someone who’s always had a struggle with weight……I ‘fucking’ hate her” – “put her behind a piano for 30 years and see how big her ass gets” he spit out emphatically.

As the show went on, the background video got raunchier with a dancing couple in a seedy bedroom portraying a sexual incident coupled with violence – what’s love got to do with that? Another song was backed up by a video of a row of five Pamela Andersons doing a pole dance. Then they pulled out all the plugs and started blowing up massive apples and bananas with strange erotic protuberances that were overt sexual symbols and a gigantic pair of breasts from one side of the stage and a pair of nylon stockinged legs complete with garters and high heels at the back of the stage. They couldn’t stop with the giant blowups – a cigarette, a lipstick, an ice cream cone, a hot dog. Then large balloons started falling from the ceiling landing on the ground floor audience who batted them about. Confetti was the next thing to fall as about 30 audience members were invited onstage to bop along to the music. They were obviously told to keep back about 8 feet from the star as they swayed and clicked their fingers in a stiff and embarrassed manner. When Elton sang ‘Candle in the Wind’, the video showed an actress playing Marilyn Monroe – if they couldn’t use real Monroe film, I wish they’d not bothered. He sang a couple of love songs beautifully “How Wonderful Life is now You’re in the World” and “I Believe in Love”.

“The red piano is a symbol for love and my show is dedicated to love” he explained. I wanted to ask him what all the bare breasts, erotic blow-ups and dirty dancing had to do with love. I particularly don’t understand the fascination with the female body when he’s gay – you’d think that he would have some input into the production.

So I guess you’re wondering “did she enjoy the show?” – “did she feel it was worth $115?” Well I am really glad that I went and I really enjoyed his singing when I could ignore all the elaboration. Hmmm the $115 – no, I don’t think it was worth that much. And was I offended by the content? No, of course not – just puzzled. And when I compare it to the Celine Dion show in the same theatre – it doesn’t fare well. But I love Elton and always will in spite of his bitchy side.

Movin' on

Feb 6 to 13, 2006
It’s Monday and it’s time for our generator repair. Sean and Missy seem to run “The Service Depot” and a strange couple they are. Missy’s smile is painted on and she simpers “Like, I got you mixed up with another dude” when we complained that she phoned us to bring the broken part in when they already had it – Duhhhhh!

When it was finally time to pull Maggie up to the door, just after Sean finished his lunch, out slides his big red tool chest and on goes his boom box – the music very loud but rhythmic and appealing. It reminded me of the scene in the film, Apocalypse Now, when the music was cranked up in the helicopter in preparation to soar over the beaches and villages. We really were unsure what was coming next. The music was something by the B52’s. Sean looked tough but simple; a single hoop earring in his left ear, beard, overalls and cap but strangely, beautiful straight glistening white teeth. I really hoped he knew his stuff.

It was surreal as I watched out the motorhome window – ear-splitting B52’s and Fernie engaged in conversation with Sean who, once he started, talked on and on interminably, his arms waving, the music drowning him out. It seems he collects and sells pieces of meteorites. He showed us a small (2 inches) piece and said he’ll get $40 for it on Ebay. Guess he’s not so dumb.

Well, I guess I was right the first time, Sean was not really ‘switched on’. He had ordered the part without the necessary glue and so he found some ‘shoe glue’ that another customer had left behind and used that. While waiting for it to dry, he suddenly realized he’d glued it together backwards. So, he took it apart and glued it again, this time the right way – we were not feeling good about his ability at this point. Another long wait ensued for the glue to dry; a visit to the shop from the vague Missy “How you guys doin’?”; finally, the part was installed and we were on our way, hoping that the glue would hold when we started the generator. (It did!)

It was late in the afternoon by then, so we pulled into the Paradise Casino in Yuma. It was easy to find the RV area, as there were plenty of units clustered together to the side. We found a place right at the end with nobody near us with a clear view over the fields adjoining and settled in for the night. Well, we did venture out for a while…….

The following day, we travelled north on Highway 95 through Quartzsite, Parker and Lake Havasu City ending up at the AVI native Indian casino, 12 miles south of Laughlin, Nevada. Several people had warned us that a ‘City Ordinance’ had stopped the casinos right in Laughlin from allowing free dry camping in their parking lots. Funny thing though – while the Ramada Express told us emphatically “definitely no overnight parking – you’ll be moved along in the middle of the night”, the Riverside had dozens of rigs in their parking lot right beside the river. We spoke to a couple of women who told us they’d been there for three days and no one seemed to mind.

The Avi is a great casino with three dry camping areas at no charge and a full service RV park. There’s a hotel, a sandy beach on the Colorado River, a spa and plenty of low-stakes tables and it’s only a 15-minute drive to ‘Casino Row’ in Laughlin. We stayed two nights and discovered what ‘folk’ love about this gambling Mecca. It’s a flash back to Nevada’s early days – cheap meals and shows and low stakes tables – i.e. at the Flamingo, we had a wonderful buffet lunch for a total of $5 using a 2 for 1 coupon and our player’s cards and it included unlimited wine (which was pretty good) and beer.

Thursday – Onwards to Las Vegas – 90 miles north of Laughlin. There is no dry camping to be found in LV, so we booked in at Sam’s Town RV Park for five days. They advertise prices from $12 to $15 but when we phoned, we were told they weren’t available and it would be $27, with no explanation. I’ll have to read the small print next time I see an ad. However, it comes with all the perks – all hook-ups, with cable and phone outlets at every site, cheap laundry, pool and hot tub and a fun book with 2 for 1’s.

We have friends (L&J) living in LV, who we always look forward to seeing when we’re visiting. They invited us to park Maggie outside their house, but we felt it would be an imposition to pull the big hunk of metal in, put out the slides and plug in to their electricity and we don’t want to be remembered as nuisances. However, we spent many nights with them – they’re teaching us how to be ‘locals’. We all had dinner together at the Palace Station, in their Mexican restaurant. ‘L’ said to ‘J’ and me to go ahead to our table while he and Fernie got the drinks. The casino prices for cocktails are $2 while they’re $5 or more in the restaurant. Then we emulated L&J and ordered one entrée – Gigantic Chimichangas – between the two of us. Even then, we were hard-pressed to finish. The next night, we all had dinner at the Gold Coast Cortez Room. Same routine with the cocktails; wonderful meal and very reasonable for a high-end restaurant with an aura of ‘old Las Vegas’.

We didn’t feel like we were on vacation in LV this visit – we felt as if we temporarily lived there and so had none of the usual panic to go everywhere and do everything. We decided to visit one of the lesser sites in LV – the Liberace Museum, something I’d always thought would be fun to see. Many years ago with my mother (and for my mother) I saw Liberace in concert at the Orpheum Theatre in Vancouver. He was an amazing showman and made a convert out of me that night. Well….his museum is a bit pathetic and run down. It’s a strip mall a couple of miles off the strip. It used to be filled with restaurants and shops - ‘everything Liberace and his love of pianos’. Now vacant storefronts with dirty windows prevail.

At one end a big neon (not working) sign commands “Enter Here”. Elderly gentlemen, snoozing in his chair behind the counter, startled awake as we slid through the door. I gave him my 2 for 1 coupon (I know by now you’re all thinking – ‘Is there no end to her thrifty [cheap] ways?’ but we’re new to this fixed income pension thing and we don’t want to run out of money). “Well then” he said with a wink “that’ll be $12.50 for you sir and nothing for the lady” He gestured to a large stamp and stamp pad “Make sure you stamp your hands now” and take a brochure. The brochure was requesting donations to the Liberace Foundation. I guess they’re not making enough with the museum. Only a handful of people were inside.

Liberace’s life story with pictures and awards lined the walls. Six or seven of his cars were on display; one rhinestone encrusted, another like the US flag – red, white and blue - all of them extremely gaudy and kitschy. And that’s all there was……until we noticed a sign “More displays at the other end of the mall” so we had to go out across the parking lot, past the empty storefronts, past the tacky wedding chapel and into the ‘costume and piano’ display. That’s why the hand stamp!

An elderly lady with a raucous New York accent (maybe the wife of the doorman?) craned her head to see my hand but finally had to ask “May I see your stamp?” She then welcomed me in and gave me a non-stop commentary on the life and loves of Liberace. “Of course, he didn’t want anyone to find out he was ‘homosexual’ right ‘til the end” she said, emphasizing the ‘homosexual’ as if I didn’t know he was gay. “He wouldn’t even go into hospital when he was dying because he saw what happened to Rock Hudson’s privacy – only a year before”

“He didn’t have Aids” she continued “he had HIV, but that doesn’t kill you – it was the emphysema that got him from smoking three packs a day”. “But he didn’t do drugs, he didn’t drink, he had no vices – he was a real straight-shooter” – that brought a real smile to my face and I had to fight the urge to remark on the pun. She trotted around behind me telling anecdotes about the miniature pianos in his collection, many made by fans.
One was made out of 20,000 toothpicks; another from nickels “and he prized them” she carried on. She was a delightful little lady and loved that I was interested in her stories. I wonder what will happen to the museum when all those who remember him are dead.

At the opposite end of the spectrum was our visit to the Hard Rock Hotel. I don’t usually feel my age, but I felt absolutely ancient there, mingling with the ultra-cool-looking swaggering twenty year olds. But I really enjoyed the huge array of rock memorabilia and photos.

Of course, we made the obligatory visit to the Wynn as we hadn’t seen it yet. It’s a beautifully designed, opulently draped venue with a sumptuous poker room and lots of appealing bars especially the one overlooking the waterfall but it seemed to be missing something – it had no real signature beyond luxury. The $15 martinis put me off.

Between our home at Sam’s and L&J’s home near Summerlin, travelling along Hwy 95, is the ‘Spaghetti Bowl’ a twisted chaos of freeway interchanges where traffic comes to a total stop. We encountered it on our way to L&J’s for dinner but lucked out and whizzed through it at 70mph. L&J cooked us a mouth-watering fried shrimp dinner finishing with key lime pie and we spent the day sipping wine and swapping travel tales. We were fortunate on the way home to sail through the Spaghetti bowl again getting back home to Sam’s in twenty minutes.

There aren’t too many celebrities left that I’d want to see live, but Elton John was at the top my list, so I picked up a single ticket for his Sunday night performance at Caesars Colosseum. Fernie said that $115 was too much for his blood and it wasn’t worth it for him (who’s the cheapie now?) but he’d go for me. I said not to bother – I was quite happy to go alone. You can’t talk during the performance anyway.

More on Elton later……………..

Observations

For those that can’t imagine the pleasure of Rving, let me describe the gratification. When I awake in the morning, I have that pleasant disorientation of not knowing where I am but I savour the plush comfort of the feather bed below, the warm duvet on top and the cool breeze from the open window. The desert gets quite cold overnight. As reality clarifies, I realize that the day is to be spent purely on pleasure with none of the responsibilities and worries that creep in at home. Housework is minimal; cooking is simple. We’ve found ourselves fairly tired of restaurant meals and delight that we can easily prepare our favourites in the tiny but efficient galley. A fresh fruit bowl is always brimming with our favourites. On a travelling day, we stop for lunch at a scenic spot, put the kettle on, make a deli sandwich or salad and glory in our freedom. Each day, we discuss whether we should stay put another day or so, or move along. We pull out the maps and decide where to head. Nothing is mundane; every day is unique. And all this is experienced from our home with our little dog beside us. We still dream of travel to exotic destinations but that will be our holidays; this is our life.

When the wind blows in the desert, it whips up sheets of sand that suddenly bombard you. You end up with grit in your eyes, ears, hair, and teeth and inside your clothes. At night, it howls mysteriously and the sand creeps in the vents and any open windows, leaving a coat of grit over every surface. It is like walking on sandpaper. Luckily, the days we were there were mostly calm.

The Mexican Connection!

Feb 1 -5, 2006
Only a five minutes drive from our site at Pilot Knob is the Mexican border and the border town of Algodones. There was lots of free parking along the road but the majority of people pay $3 to park in the Indian tribe’s parking lot. There were no immigration officials checking the walk-in crowd – only the car lanes.

Algodones starts right at the ‘line’, as the Mexicans referred to the border.
As the hordes of Americans / Canadians flocked through, the first sight was of hundreds of ‘dentist’ signs, up in the air, up on the walls, all along the street – everywhere you looked. You can get dental work done there for one quarter the cost in the US or Canada. We’ve had personal recommendations for a specific dentist. Apparently the conditions are sterile – all needles are still in plastic vacuum-sealed bags and are opened in front of you. I wonder where they train. Every few feet, we were bombarded with “wanna get some dental work? – come here.”

Almost as prevalent are the pharmacies selling prescription and non-prescription drugs and the optical stores with prices on prescription glasses one quarter of those at home. I had two pairs of computer/reading glasses done in designer frames for $120 total. There are glasses as cheap as $20 including an eye exam. I brought my own prescription with me so didn’t need the exam. And they’ll have them ready in three hours – how miraculous.

The usual array of goods were displayed in stalls lining the streets – jewellery, ceramics, glass ware, ornamental iron, blankets, hats, leather goods, clothing, etc. The vendors were well dressed and didn’t look at all hungry. I sensed they do a good business with the walk-in tourists.


We strolled the spotlessly clean streets of Algodones, dodging the aggressive merchants and noticed many sidewalk cafes selling ‘fish & shrimp tacos’. As we passed through the Café Pareira, I asked a couple of diners “so, are they good?” I guess I was a bit presumptuous because they mumbled hostilely what I think was a ‘yeah’, but at the next table “Betty and Howard” from northern California cheerfully voiced “They’re wonderful – why don’t you pull up a couple of chairs and join us” ----- So, we did! And we had a memorably pleasant lunch getting to know these two friendly strangers. The fish tacos are 75 cents each and the shrimp $1 each, so we had one of each and with a diet Pepsi each, out total bill was $5.
The tacos were ‘to die for’ to use a clichéd expression – a piece of deep fried white fish or three crispy fried shrimp on a soft taco shell with a covered Tupperware tray of condiments – chopped cabbage, red onion, tomato and jalapenos, cucumber, key limes quartered, a spicy salsa and a liquidy mayo in a squeeze bottle. Served with a bowl of crispy taco chips – Mmmmmmmmmm………..We decided to pick up my glasses the next day instead of hanging around, so returned for another feast of fish tacos.

Next year, I’m gonna’ get my teeth cleaned, my progressive and transitional lenses done and feast on the fish tacos.

It was the middle of the night when a sudden frightening roar shocked us awake. I stuck my head out of the little window beside the headboard of our bed to see a spotlight swiping over us – back and forth eerily with it’s intense white light casting a ghostly glow. A large helicopter hovered very low over our campsite ‘Thwack, Thwack, Thwack” the blades violently sliced through the still night air and the otherworldly light swung away, the copter shifted sideways and the elongated shadows of our chairs and tables appeared to move like cartoon silhouettes across the desert. Border Patrol! I felt so sorry for the poor little Mexicans who perpetually brave the heavily guarded and fortified frontier only looking for a better life and work in the US. The border is only about one mile from us at Pilot Knob and we were warned that we might see some wayward Mexicans sneaking past our motorhome in the middle of the night.

A ritual among the new Yuma-ites, is the ‘potluck’ meal. We participated two days in a row and it was thoroughly enjoyable. Social life is the essential part of a snowbirds retirement life and the, potluck’ means get-togethers are spontaneous, non-stressful, shared responsibility events. The first dinner was with a couple of other ex-CF employees, so it seemed a bit of a reunion with lots of reminiscences shared. The second was with our Pilot Knob compatriots – 12 of us altogether on a Sunday afternoon before Superbowl. One couple (K&J) originally from Denmark, made Frygedella a traditional Danish meat ball made with ground pork and onion. Fabuloso! We two relatively anti-social folk must be changing.

So, it’s been 10 days now in one spot and I think that’s as long as we can stay put in one place. We need to move along – back to the nomadic lifestyle. I don’t know that we will ever be content to just stay for a long period. It’s just not us. Maybe that will change with age. Who knows? So it’s off to Las Vegas tomorrow.

Transformation

Jan 26 to Feb 1/06
We stopped for the usual practice – dump station and watering hole – in Holtville, California enroute to Yuma. It was manned by a volunteer, a Canadian from Quebec (or is that an oxymoron?). He made sure we paid our $5 fee and told us about the Holtville Hot Springs which are on BLM (Bureau of Land Mgmt) lands. According to him, we can park Maggie for 2 weeks for $30 or the whole season for $140. Fernie, who absolutely loves hot springs, perked up and told me to “note that down for the future”. I of course saluted and obliged him.

Our desert spot just outside Yuma is near “Pilot Knob” a lone craggy mountain. The land is very sandy and we had to be sure not to go off the beaten path as one could quickly get stuck. You can see the deep ruts where others have faltered. No cacti around us but an occasional ocotillo, which I guess is classified as a cactus. Some low growing shrubs (I don’t know if they’re sage brush, but they look a lot like them) dot the landscape and south about a half mile away, there are low-lying sand dunes. When we walked Caesar there each morning, he delighted in the soft sinking and moving sand, after the more gritty sand of the flats. One morning, we’re going to pack a thermos of coffee and one of tea, some fresh fruit and cinnamon buns and have a picnic breakfast in the dunes, just after the sun rises.

I haven’t been lucky finding free WIFI, so had to use MacDonald’s but it’s not the best sitting in the car, laptop on my knees.

Another couple of friends (L&I) stay in Yuma for two to three months in the Foothills area, east of the city. They rent space, sharing a lot in a fairly built-up area and have all services. It’s ideal if you plan on staying put for a while. We visited them and just down the street, Fernie found an ‘RV Wash’. He was so excited and plans to get his Maggie done ASAP. I personally think that it will just get dirty again – as long as the inside is clean, I’m happy.

Yuma is booming, new shopping centres, restaurants, golf courses and everything that seniors want. Of course, there are RV’s and mobile homes everywhere, from posh resorts to desert dwellers. There is an apparent lack of rush hour here – almost everyone’s retired and it’s rare to see children. The area is surprisingly green. It’s amazing how a little irrigation can turn arid desert into lush farmland. Busloads of Mexicans in grimy old school buses, towing porta-potties, pull into the fields and get to work. They wear long pants and sleeves and cover their heads against the sun. Lettuce is cut, vacuum packed and boxed right out in the fields. According to our friends (L&I), the Imperial Valley produces more vegetables than anywhere else in the USA.

We spent a day with L&I touring the area surrounding Yuma. I, as driver, relegated the men to the back seat to reverse the trend of the traditional snowbirdin’ seniors. Surprisingly, they were quite content back there. We started with breakfast at the Happy Chef’s diner in the historical core of the city. Cushy booths enveloped our derrieres in an antique tramcar, while we feasted on the 2/2/2 special for $2.95. A choice of two x three from eggs, pancakes, French toast, bacon, sausages, hash browns, toast. The bill came to just over $8. Our server was a carbon copy of every diner waitress I’ve ever seen – long stringy hair pulled back at the neck, big smile in spite of her bad teeth, wearing a nylon acetate uniform in a turquoise hue, not too brainy but mighty friendly.

Date palm groves proliferate and we stopped at a kiosk for some ‘date ice cream’ – not for me, but for my ice cream addicted partner. He gave it a big ‘Thumbs up’. Only about twenty miles north of Yuma, the US Army has based the Yuma Proving Grounds where paratroopers display their skills in thrilling aerial manoeuvres. A couple of enlisted men checked our photo ID and vehicle registration and issued us a pass to enter the base. They quipped with the usual jokes about the men in the back seat and a blond driving – I wisecracked back while hiding my grimace of “I’ve heard all this before”.

We toted our blankets and a couple of cushions out onto the lush green fields. “I” (not me but my friend "I") brought an extra visor for me to wear and I didn’t immediately understand why. In order to see the jumpers, we lied flat on our backs looking into the bright sunshine and so I slipped the visor on transforming myself into an Arizona golden-ager. But it worked marvelously. Too bad that I didn’t get a photo – I know a couple of family members would guffaw relentlessly.

Tuesday was our RV maintenance day. We took Maggie to a Ford-recommended service centre to have our battery checked – they said it’s ok, which contradicts what another mechanic told us but we can’t argue – it’s a warranty item. While waiting, I lucked into free WIFI and was able to email some of my photos to my enlisted blog assistant. Fernie had been wailing non-stop about his dirty motorhome, so this was the day Maggie was treated to the ultra supreme RV wash, wax and detail. At $2.50 a foot and thirty foot long, it came to $75.
I argued for the $1 a foot basic but F won because he paid out of his gambling winnings. Our final stop was at an Onan generator service centre, for a repair to our on-board generator – the air filter cover had broken away. But they had to order the part, so now we have to wait and take her back again.

It’s apparent to me now that seniors on a fixed income can live down here quite cheaply. Some park their RV for 14 days in the desert then move along to a casino for a few days and return to the desert for another 14 days – all free. Or they pay $140 for a six-month pass to stay on BLM lands. Clothing is very reasonable, particularly casual clothes, which is what everyone lives in. Flea markets prevail – new items as well as used and they open Thursday to Sunday every week.

Today – Wednesday, we were introduced to a ‘routine’ that gets you a ‘free lunch’. Only a couple of weeks ago, I would have scorned such behaviour, now I’m part of this grey mafia. The Cocopah Casino, just on the outskirts of Yuma, has ‘Over 55’ day every Wednesday.

This is the routine:
- Line up for a player’s card and coupon book
- Go to the cashier with your coupon book and buy $10 of coins (I chose quarters) They give you five $1 tokens
- Put the tokens into a slot machine and immediately push the ‘cash out’ button (of course, this only works for those that can resist the lure of slot machines). A ticket for $5 pops out the top of the machine.
- Take the ticket to the cashier and convert to cash and the roll of quarters too if you don’t need them for laundry.
- You are now $5 ahead but if you’re hungry, there’s a $3 coupon in the booklet for the buffet, which is normally $7.50 – now $4.50 so you come out 50 cents ahead unless you use the coupon for a 50-cent beer and then you break even.

Who said “There’s no such thing as a free lunch?”