Let’s Hit the Slots!

After Helen and I enjoyed a fantastic week with our kids and grandkids, it was time to turn around and head home. We had a delightful journey on this trip to the West Coast and spent over two months camping on beaches in temperatures that never exceeded 75°. We had a few more adventures planned for the days ahead, but leaving our family was still difficult.

We drove to Fort Irwin near Barstow, CA, from El Capitan for a one-nighter. We were thankful we were only there for one night because the heat was stifling. But we didn’t know what stifling was until we reached Las Vegas and 118° degrees. Poor Mortimer! We had to feed him ice and lots of ice water until we could drop the temperature in our trailer with both air conditioners blasting away.

While there, Helen and I visited the strip several times but remained indoors. We usually park in the large outdoor lot behind Harrah’s because our long-bed truck is difficult to park in the garage. Hot weather made the garage a bit more attractive on this trip, and we went in the early afternoon when the garages were less crowded. Regardless of the eventual outcome, we enjoy playing the penny slots in the casinos—people-watching adds to the fun. Elvis (several of them) was in the building.

From Vegas, we drove to Page, Arizona, on Lake Powell, near the border with Utah, for slots of a different stripe. Helen and I visited Page several years ago to hike and take a boat ride through the Canyon on Lake Powell. Because we had visited the area, we only scheduled two nights on this trip. However, the Page area has a lot to offer, and  FOMO (fear of missing out) took over, so we read up on what was available. Most prominent on the to-do list was a tour of the Antelope Canyons on the outskirts of town.

I remembered a post by my bloggy friend, Ingrid, about her visit to the slot canyons several years ago and sent her a message asking for a recommendation. She had toured Canyon X on her trip, but we couldn’t get tickets. Helen suggested we drive to the tour offices and beg. Sure enough, two spaces were available for the 4:00 pm tour of Lower Antelope Canyon. A Military Discount made the tickets affordable, and we booked the tour. We went back to the campground and took a nap.

When we returned to the Canyon, the parking lot was full of cars and tour buses. Helen checked us in, and the tour operator directed us to a shelter for Group “E,” where we joined about 25 other canyon-goers. Helen and I were the only Americans in the group. After a few minutes, the leader called the roll and led us about a half-mile away to the Canyon entrance. The steps down to Lower Antelope were steep, but there were no more steps after that.

Once inside the Canyon, I marveled at the color and the formations. Our guide, a college-age member of the Navaho Tribe, explained that we were amid layers of petrified sand that had formed over millions of years. The bright orange sand and sweeping turns made great photo ops, and I snapped away. Occasionally, we could look upward and see a bright blue sky that offered a lovely contrast to the orange sand spiraling toward it. Once again, I experimented with black & white and placed the result next to the same photo in color here.

We made friends with a family from Poland who were hiking ahead of us during the tour. The family included the group’s grandfather, who had never visited America. Their trip aimed to show Granddad the wide open spaces of the American West. They were very charming, and Grandad often helped Helen over a large rock or two.

In addition to the bright orange sand, many formations along the path offered some interesting viewing. The residents had names for most of the formations, and I wish I could remember them all, but senior moments prevented me from doing that. I remember the names of two formations: The Lady In the Wind and the Singing Sandstone–appropriate names for both.

The trail was just over a quarter of a mile, and we climbed upward to the end long before I was ready to leave. Climbing out of Lower Antelope Canyon brought a fun-filled afternoon excursion to a close.

Thank goodness for FOMO. We’re Easin’ Along (ahead of a storm in the desert).