To Vegas and Beyond

Travel Isn’t Always as Easy as It Should Be!

4:45 AM heading to the airport for a 7:00 flight to Las Vegas. Notice the prominent bag with two sets of clubs in it.

Leaving Portland and...

Arriving in Las Vegas.

We plan and plan and prepare and over prepare, but there are times when things just don’t go the way we plan or prepare for. The latest trip to Las Vegas proves the point. We usually take a Vegas trip in early February to get out of the cold and wet of Oregon’s winter, to play some golf, see some sights, and, yes, play the machines. We know we might face a little inclement weather at that time of year, but overall it’s a good time to visit the area. This year we planned a nine day trip with three days in St George, Utah, and Zion National Park. That plan, though, was only one of the things that went wrong.

One of the two courses we played was the Revere Concord Course. Sunny day, but at 41º with 18 mile an hour wind the wind chill was 21º--that's COLD golf.

To start, we discovered soon that we had forgotten important items, and considering how organized Anne is, this was really unusual. First, I forgot my heart rate monitor. I knew that I could always buy another one at any pharmacy for under $50, but it would still be an inconvenience. Luckily, I never needed to buy one. Anne discovered she forgot her Tide Stick (spot remover) the first time I splattered spaghetti sauce on my shirt. We found shortly that we had also left a folder of maps on the table at home and our travel binoculars in the drawer.  All these items are normal for our travel equipment and it was disconcerting to not have them. 

Next, I lost my new Tilley hat, the one Anne got me for Christmas in Canada. 

Me at Badwater wearing the hat that was lost and found.

One morning in our timeshare unit I went to put the hat on and it wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the car either. We backtracked where I might have left it the day before and came up with two possibilities. The first, Starbucks, where we’d stop to write after golf, didn’t have the hat. The Oyster Bar in Orleans Casino, where we’d had dinner that night, did. Bad to lose it; good to find it. It was interesting that the hat had my name and cell phone number printed clearly in the top, but they had never called—I personally believe someone at the restaurant was hoping nobody would ever ask for it, but then I’m very partial to the hat.

The next major consternation was the changeable weather. We were worried about our new travel trailer left at home to face weather for which it hadn’t been prepared. We were having a mild winter in Oregon and so thought the trailer would be fine, but as soon as we got to Vegas we started hearing stories about snow and low temperatures in the Portland area. 

Zabriskie Point

Two images of Salt Creek. It was an easy walk to here.

The forecasts kept changing—better to worst to better to really terrible. Along with that pressure came the realization that our plans to spend three days in St George and Zion needed to be reconsidered. We were going to St George for golf, but it was raining/snowing and Zion was out of the question with temperatures of 9º at night and 25º during the day—we weren’t prepared for those kind of conditions. Again we had some good luck.

Mom's Diner in Pahrump is a great place for breakfast or lunch about half way to Death Valley from Vegas.

Anne at our room in Stovepipe Wells.

I was able to book one of the last two rooms available for two nights at the Stovepipe Wells Hotel in Death Valley where the temperature would be in the 60s during the day and only near freezing at night. It cost us to lose our lodging in St George, but at least we’d have plenty to do in Death Valley including golf.

Our last major problem one we always try to avoid, but accidents do happen. In Death Valley Junction I was photographing around the Amargosa Opera House when I stepped off a sidewalk and slipped on a spot of clay mud. After two stumbling steps trying to catch myself I crashed to the ground trying to protect my camera and my face from the gravel. 

Amargosa Opera House in Deatrh Valley Junction. It's here where the accident happened.

I tried to get up but my right leg gave way under me and crashed down again. Not having learned my lesson, I tried to get up again with the same crashing results. Anne was blissfully across the road a hundred yards away and looking the wrong way. To my rescue came two guys—one a local and the other a passing motor coach driver—who had seen my plight. Heroes that they were they helped me to my feet, helped scrape mud off me, made sure I was lucid and not dizzy, and got my assurances that I ways able to get around. They really, really were there when I needed them. Thank you so much! Anne walked me to the car where I could assess the damages and clean my camera and glasses. At that point, except for a sore knee and elbow, a few scrapes and scratches, and a bruised ego, everything seemed fine (or at least okay). 

The view on Northshore Drive on Lake Mead. We're on our way to Valley of Fire State Park.

In Valley of Fire one of our stops was the CCC cabins. A panel of petroglyphs is above the cabins.

The rest of the day we limited hikes to very short ones and moved rather slowly. It was really the next day that I realized I was done with golf for this trip, and though I could drive, getting out of the car and moving about was going to be in super slow motion for a while. 

A week on from the fall I still move carefully and my elbow is completely black and blue, but it seems that I did no permanent damage (except to that damned ego which is getting used being slapped around).

One day we spent a fall morning driving and hiking (at a slow walk with a walking stick) around Red Rocks Canyon National conservation Area---at least until it started snowing, then we headed to the casino.

This was the first time we've seen wild burros in the park.

Even though we hoped (like always) the Vegas trip would be easy, trouble free, and fun, it wasn’t. It was, though, manageable, interesting, and fun—and I hope the photos that I’ve includes will show that it was a beautiful trip, as well.

Trailer Update

Why would I expect that getting into the travel trailer lifestyle would be easy. Is it because I never learn? The first thing I learned is that tongue weight is important and that a Subaru Outback with a tow package still won’t safely pull the Mini Max we bought—even though the trailer dealer (R Young RVs in Milwaukie) said it would with no problem. Tongue weight capacity for the Subaru is 200 lbs. and the tongue weight of the trailer is 280 lbs. So, where to next? Sell the trailer and give it up, sell the Subaru (which we really love) or…Yes, we bought a truck capable of pulling the Mini Max—my super special Lamborghini orange 2007 VW Fahrenheit GTI with only 47,000 miles on it is on the market. 

My lovingly cared for GTI will be starting a new adventure as soon as we find a buyer.

We got a good deal on a 2017 Ford F150 with less than 4000 miles on it—owner bought it, died, and it took time to go through probate. 

Our new tow vehicle. It's been a long time since we've had a pickup--last one was an early 1990s Ford Ranger.

We’ve already put mats in it, a Line-X bed liner, and a new canopy is on order. The trailer dealer did help us switch the electric braking system from the Subaru to the F150 without charge. With our other travels, the weather, and getting everything set up, we still haven’t used it. That means there’re more stories to come. 

Stories & Photos from Ireland

Anne on the west coast of Achill Island, Ireland's largest island.

One of many "castles in the middle of a field" in Ireland. No information about it available.

Killamery Cross and Church--we drove by, saw a sign on the wall of a pub, took a short walk, and this is what we found.

The road around the Ring of Kerry at Moll's Gap between Kenmare and Killarney.

Happy New Year, everyone! I’ll start this year with a couple of old stories. The Rambling Adventures of a Traveler and Golfer (2015) has sold out. I’ve pulled two stories out of that book from our trips to Ireland to share. Selecting stories from Ireland also forces me to search through old photo files of those trip—always a fun occupation—and even though the photos don’t directly relate to the stories, it’s fun to show a little bit of Ireland.

The Saturday congregation.

 Kells Celtic High Cross and Round Tower in Kilkenny County.  

Special Note about the Photos: Some of the photos are old and were probably converted from film or poor slides Often my early travel cameras were not the best. With post processing I’ve tried to make the photos at least presentable.

The colorful village of Sneem is on the south arm of the Ring of Kerry.

The Midleton Distillery (owned by Jameson) is now called the Jameson Midleton Experience and is a few miles east of Cork.

Anne was selected as one of the special tasters at the Bushmills Distillery in Northern Ireland. She earned her Master Taster's Award by liking the Bushmills Whiskey the best. In Ireland, like the US, whiskey is spelled with an "e"--in Scotland it's whisky, no "e."

Very typical Irish view of rock fences dividing fields. This is on the Dingle Peninsula.

Warning to Photographers: In the processes of trying to access old photos and slide shows saved on CDs, I’ve run into a couple of problems. First, some of my CDs with photos from the early 2000s have become corrupted and can’t be played—not all of them, but a few. Second, although my iMac has converted most of my slide show on discs to a usable format, some of the shows were saved on programs that my computer now can’t or won’t read, play, or convert. For the past few years I haven’t been using CDs to save photos, but since I’m not a fan of any cloud system, after backing up photos to an external hard drive I simply save all my original memory cards (they’ve become so cheap) in a fireproof safe. It was a wake-up call, though, to lose some of those old photo discs.

A local's pub in Ballyferriter, a very small village on the Dingle Peninsula.

Ua Flatbeartais (O'Flaherty's Pub) in Dingle--the IRA leaning is very evident in the decor.

Not far from Galway is the Quite Man Bridge, featured in the 1952 Academy Award winning (Best Director, John Ford) film which featured John Wayne, Maureen O'Hara, Victor McLaglin, among others. The film, although quite dated, is still worth a watch for the glimpse of old Ireland and the fantastic cinematography.  

On to the stories:

The road to the Cruit Island GC in the north of Co. Donegal.

A typically lovely major highway in Ireland.

Cliffs of Moher and the Stupid People

One of the prime natural tourist attractions in the Republic of Ireland is the Cliffs of Moher (Aillte an Mhorthair in Irish Gaelic). The cliffs are seven hundred foot sea cliffs above the Atlantic Ocean at Hag’s Head north of Lahinch in County Claire. The site draws more than a million visitors annually, and many of them are really, really stupid.

The only picture I have of the Cliffs of Moher; the rest are on an unopenable CD.

I’ll start with a couple of tourist notes about the cliffs before I get to the Stupid People. The best time of day to photograph the cliffs is in the late afternoon when the setting sun highlights both the rocks and the breathtaking crashing waves at their base. Late afternoon, after five PM, is also the best time for the budget minded to visit. Earlier in the day the tourist shop is open and there is a charge to visit the cliff’s lookout and to park. After five PM both are free. We were lucky enough to take advantage of both of these hints on our first visit to the cliffs. We drove out to the cliffs after a round of golf at Lahinch GC a few miles away. It had been squally all day, but the sun was out now and the wind was up significantly. We hiked up the trail to the cliff lookout for photos. It was then we saw the Stupid People.

The Poulnabrone Portal Tomb (a dolmen or megalithic tomb) in The Burren, an area of northwest Co. Claire southeast of Galway. The stark limestone area prompted Cromwell to say about The Burren, "There isn't a tree to hang a man, water to drown a man not soil to bury a man." 

"The Milestone" in front of one of our favorite Irish B&Bs (Milestone House in Dingle) is a path marker more than 4000 years old.

Peat (turf) drying--once dried it is used by many as fuel for heat and cooking.

Across from the observation area we could see a flat plateau on top of the nearest edge of the cliffs (which run in both directions for several miles). Although there were steel fences and massive signs warning of the dangers of the cliffs, a number of Stupid People (mostly teens and young adults of both sexes) were on top of the plateau. It was dumb enough that they were out on the rock with 30 to 40 mile per hour gusts and a drop of 700 feet a few feet away. But then the dumb showed they were dumber by crawling out to the edge and hanging a leg or arm or both over the edge. The really Stupid People would hang an arm and head over the edge and wave to their friends. One of the Stupid People’s hat flew off and the person made a jerking grab for it as it sailed down toward the sea. We thought for sure we were going to witness a tragic fall. No more! We headed back down the trail to our car and left the Stupid People to their madness. We figured that if anyone did fall that they probably weren’t meant to breed.

Don't let anyone tell you that Galway doesn't get crowded on weekends.

One of our favorite villages, Dingle, at night.

Sheep, dolmen, and croft--it's an Irish thing.

Statue of St Patrick with Croagh Patrick Mountain in the background.

A Mushy Bowl in Ireland

After a day out in Dublin we came back to the coastal village of Brae via DART (Dublin Area Rapid Transit) to find dinner. On the seafront we went into Jim Doyle and Sons Pub to check out the music scene. It was still early, about eight, and the music listed for nine  probably wouldn’t start until nine-thirty (the Irish would say half-nine) or ten. An item on the evening’s menu caught our attention—it was called a Mushy Bowl. After a few sips of our Guinnesses I went up to the bar and ordered two Mushy Bowls. In a few minutes (the Irish are faster with the food than they are with the music) our meals came. A Mushy Bowl is a large bowl of chips (thick fries) topped with onions, mushrooms, Irish bacon (more like Canadian bacon than our bacon which is known as streaky bacon), and covered with melted Irish cheddar cheese. Outrageously sinful and delicious and when the music started it was great as well. The group was very lively, except for one older gentleman (significantly older than us) sitting with his small drum and a glass of Guinness under a “Reserved for Musicians” sign. His glasses down on his nose, his baseball cap askew, he appeared to be soundly asleep when he wasn’t playing. One sign of life was that occasionally he’d sit up and sip his Guinness. After some session tunes we still had to take a walk on the promenade to work off some of the Mushy Bowl before returning to our B&B.

With intersections like this in Doolin how can people say they get lost in Ireland.

Anne can tell you that shopping is great in Ireland.

We have since found out that a Mushy Bowl is the Irish variant of the Canadian poutine (French fries, meat, cheese curds, covered with gravy). At home we’ve made our version of a Mushy Bowl several times—it’s wonderfully adaptable to whatever you have on hand.

A par 3 hole on Westport GC with Croagh Patrick as a backdrop.

Here I am taking a rest at the Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland.

Pub Sessions are easy to find in most villages in Ireland.

Newgrange (Si an Bhru) is a Neolithic passage burial tomb build about 3200 BC. The one acre tomb is only about an hour out of Dublin in Co. Meath.

"Lizzie" was brought home on our first trip to Ireland in 2002. She now has a herd of 20 to 30 other darlings from our trips to hang out with.

NEXT: A surprise--it will be a surprise to me as well since I haven't figured out what's next..