Is this some kind of hip music that I don't understand? (Las Vegas Pt 3)

Published on Thu 6 May 2010

I can't believe it's taken me so long to finish this off. To be fair I did write a (much funnier) version of this post the other day but somehow it managed to get lost just as I was putting the finishing touches to it. Well annoying. Especially as 5 days of carousing and wallpaper stripping (7 hours I spent on Thursday removing woodchip inch by inch, only to realise today that the builder left a steamer, which makes things really easy) has left me sightly befuddled tonight.

So. On the Monday we got up at what, really? o'clock to get on a minibus to the Grand Canyon, via the Hoover Dam. On the way we watched an interesting video about the construction of the dam, and I got an excellent pastrami sub from a wild west store. The dam blocks off the Colorado River, forming a huge lake called Lake Mead (I think after the guy who thought of it - it really is massive, I saw it from the plane home and it took ages to fly over it) which I think supplies water to a lot of Nevada and California. It's a lot less full than it used to be, as you can tell by the height that the white residue is above the waterline.

The drive to the bit of the Grand Canyon we were going to (the West Rim I think it was) was another few hours, and our entertaining tour guide gave us some fun background information about the canyon (it's 4000 feet deep where we went, and there's no handrail, but not that many people fall off) and the areas we drove through (land is very cheap, there is a big argument going on about who should pay for the road to the canyon - the Indians who own the land, the businessman who's bringing in all the tourists or the council, if it rains the roads often get flooded and people get stuck in the middle of nowhere). There were a lot of joshua trees, so-called because they look like they're praising God apparently (the first guys that came across them were super-religious). The whole drive looked like it was straight out of a road movie.

The weather was starting to turn a bit cold and cloudy by the time we got to the canyon. I'd been fooled by the heat of the other few days and hadn't brought a jacket. Nevertheless I resisted buying a hoody proclaiming that I was part of the Hualapai Nation (the Indian tribe whose reservation the part of the canyon we were going to is in). The first stop after the gift shop was Eagle Point, so called because, well, it looks like this:

As I may have already mentioned, you can go right up to a sheer drop, though it's surprisingly hard to actually make yourself do so. I'd back myself to walk up to the edge of a pavement without falling off but despite essentially picking my legs up with my arms and moving them, this was as close as I managed.

The other attraction of Eagle Point is The Skywalk - a glass bottomed walkway extending out over the edge of the canyon, much like the bit of glass floor in the CN Tower (what is it about the CN Tower lately?) that I failed utterly to walk across. I managed to do The Skywalk though, accompanied by a not terribly bright Kiwi girl from our tour, while Andy and her even less terribly bright mate, perhaps more sensibly given how much it cost, waited in another gift shop. They wouldn't let you take cameras onto the walkway (they even had a metal detector on the way in, though it went off whether or not you had a camera so I'm not sure how it helped) ostensibly to avoid damage to the glass by people dropping them (you had to wear paper overshoes too), but blatantly so they can take pictures of you themselves and then make you pay through the nose for them. It looks pretty weird from the side though eh?

The next stop was Guano Point, the highest point in the area. It's called that because people used to mine guano (bat shit) from caves in the side of the canyon for use in mascara (it makes Bat For Lashes make more sense, though I think Shit For Lashes might have been better on a couple of levels). The building you can see in the background is part of a pulley system for doing that. I think someone said they had pulleys going right across the canyon. Impressive.

We walked to the top, despite the deteriorating weather, and the views were absolutely incredible. Here's me stood on top of it. 150 takes and that was the best one. The reason I look a little bit uncomfortable is that it was blowing a gale and I was trying quite hard not to get blown away.

I look a bit happier in this one from on the way down, even if it does look like a backdrop in a photographer's studio. I don't know what it is about standing next to huge drops that makes me feel the need to stick my arms out.

I left that cap (which you may remember I got at Way Out West in Gothenburg last year because it was pissing it down) on the bus when it dropped us off at the hotel. Pretty annoying.

It actually started snowing while we were waiting for the bus back. Unbelievable. The Grand Canyon really is as awe inspiring as they say though - if you ever get a chance, go and see it. I'm not sure photos convey just how huge it is. 

We watched Rat Race on the way back which is a terrible film despite an all semi-star cast, but fair enough I guess given that it was set pretty much on the roads we were driving down.

We stopped off at the Hoover Dam again and got our fortunes told by an old miner version of one of those machines from Big, who said something along the lines of "have a bit of a flutter, go on, you know you want to" before giving me a card that said "Say farewell to those blues you have been nursing. Get into the habit of looking at the brighter side of life." So far so good. "A dark haired person who is trying to harm you will soon disappear from your life and you will be extremely happy." Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

After a rest and a shower back at the hotel, and an abortive attempt to go to In and Out Burger, which turns out to be slightly harder to get to on foot than the bottom of the Grand Canyon, and neither of us was prepared to get a cab to get a burger, however nice a burger it might have been, we went to Fremont Street, which is the original gambling bit of the city.

We got the burgers we'd been craving, then I lost another $60 with some outrageously bad cards, though Andy won on a roulette table by betting on red when black had come up 11 times in a row. After that I restricted myself to video poker and getting really quite wasted with the aid of some stronger than expected margaritas. I'm not sure Andy was entirely sober either.

We had to wait for a good couple of hours for the bus back for no obvious reason. There was some good banter with other passengers. Andy was in his element, though I did feel a bit sorry for Jennifer the roaming ticket inspector who was also waiting to inspect the next bus.

I remembered the other film I saw on the way out - I Love You Philip Morris - not a good film. On the way back I watched A Serious Man, Men Who Stare at Goats, (neither of which were good films either, and I normally like any old film that's put in front of me. Sort it out Virgin) and Crazy Heart which was actually pretty good if a bit obvious.

All in all it was a genius weekend. Las Vegas, despite the ubiquitous annoying Paris Hilton accents, guys clicking fliers at you, and inevitable several hundred dollar gambling losses, is an amazing place, especially for the first couple of days before you become accustomed to the ridiculousness. Anyone want to go with me next year?