This is the story of Day Six of the Grand Road Trip. The plan for today was simply to return to San Diego. As such, this part of the story will be rather anticlimactic. After breakfast, the car was loaded and a course set for home. Onto the open road!

… Or not. Three lanes of highway traffic were merged into one due to construction. It was a long, long wait to get past. But then, the open road!

Clearly, the lesson for today is to always check for traffic reports along your intended route, especially for known conditions such as construction work. (Now we know! And knowing is half the battle! Ba-na-na na na!)

Anyway…

Though I’d driven Highway 15 to Las Vegas before, that was in the dark. This time, I got to see what I had missed. And that was, apparently, sand and yucca trees, with the occasional giant thermometer to break the monotony.

Eventually, we reached Barstow, where we stopped for burgers. After that point, though, the desert soon became a memory as civilization surrounded us once again: gas stations, supermarkets, Carl’s Juniors, Starbuckses, and not another yucca in sight. As the scenery grew more and more familiar, I kept one hopeful fact in mind— I still had one more day off.

I find that it’s always nice to have one extra day to rest when returning home, just to ease the shock of transition back to the daily grind. Is there a name for such a day? If not, there should be. How about “Epilogue Day?”

This is the story of Day Five of the Grand Road Trip. Because of fortunate timing yesterday, today had no more specific goals than to see a show later. And I anticipate the question you may even now be asking, “So, in what pleasurable manner did you spend the day? Did you lounge by the pool, with book and umbrella drink? Did you indulge in mud and cucumber slices in the spa? Did you stay in your palatial suite and eat bonbons?”

No, no, and no.

Instead, my usual accomplice and I decided to visit the other resorts on the strip. We’d explored the Venetian somewhat last night, wandering into a shopping mall that was designed to simulate a perpetual early morning in Venice, complete with singing gondoliers.

Today, we visited Treasure Island (but missed seeing the pirate show), we visited the Mirage (and their lovely tropical atrium), and the Mardi Gras themed Harrah’s before boarding a monorail bound for the Sahara, at the end of the Strip. From there, we walked a rather seedy few blocks to reach the Stratosphere. This resort features an 844 foot observation tower, which we ascended. At the top is an observation gallery, and also some amusement park rides.

I was under the impression that there was a roller coaster up there. This was the closest thing they had, and pretty much embodies all the things I don’t like about roller coasters. (Which is not to say that I categorically dislike roller coasters, but rather, certain schools of thought in roller coaster design.)

When we returned to the ground, we cashed in the Starbucks coupons that came with the tower admission. This may have been a mistake, as it could have been the cause of a grumpiness attack that struck later in the day. At present, however, I was full of sugar and caffeine and ready to see more, more more! So we boarded the monorail once again, bound for the other end of the Strip.

Here we saw the MGM Grand, which had a sort of Art Deco, sort of Gotham City, sort of Golden Age of Film theme that I just adored. Next, we visited New York New York, which had a different sort of Gotham vibe (of course,) and finally the Luxor, where we enjoyed drinks and snacks at a Mexican restaurant. By now quite tired, we set a course for the Venetian, but got lost trying to shortcut through the Excalibur.

I think we learned our lesson, however: that it’s important to know when to call it a day. Returning to your hotel room in a pleasantly “funned out” state is fine. Returning in an exhausted, unhappy state shows that you’ve overdone it.

Fortunately, the day didn’t end on a sour note. After a well needed rest, we went back downstairs to catch a performance by the Blue Man Group. It was really quite interesting, with very creative sets and lighting. I think one of my favorite scenes involved a lot of electroluminescent wire meant to represent a landscape of neon lights, some of which detached from the scenery and began to dance around.

And so I think that in visiting Las Vegas in the future, I may well make my choice of hotel based on which show I want to see, and pretty much stay there all day.

This is the story of Day Four of the Grand Road Trip. The plan for today was to travel directly to Las Vegas and check in to the hotel. Though Hoover Dam lay along the route, it seemed likely that we would pass by just a bit too late to take a tour. So we planned on driving back out to the dam tomorrow afternoon. As it happened, though, we arrived at the Hoover Dam at about two in the afternoon— plenty of time to take a tour today and have a full day to hang out in Las Vegas tomorrow.

We bought tickets for the Dam Tour, which would visit the power plant as well as some lesser known tunnels running through the dam. The tour began in the dam’s new visitor center, which was built in the 1990′s. A high capacity elevator lowered the tour group seven hundred feet to the base of the dam. We were led through a tunnel through rough volcanic rock into a large room, which vibrated with the roar of rushing water. One of the water intake tubes to the hydro plant was directly beneath our feet.

The next stop on the tour was the generator room. From there, the Dam Tour group followed the original tour tunnel. It was smartly tiled and floored with terrazzo, making me feel almost as though we were about to visit a secret See’s Candy factory. Up a much older and smaller elevator we went, and arrived in a less glamorous version of the same tunnel. We followed the bare concrete to a ventilation grate about halfway up the dam, where we had the opportunity to peer curiously outside.

We were able to view a few more interesting subterranean features, then returned to the surface. I was pleased to have had the opportunity to view this monument of engineering. I was also pleased to learn that the new visitor’s center featured a snack bar. Breakfast was receding rapidly into the past by this point. After our snack, my usual accomplice and I hit the road again, and eventually arrived in Las Vegas.

We checked into the Venetian. After our full day of traveling, we were ready to sit back and take it easy.

This is the story of Day Three of the Grand Road Trip. Today’s itinerary held only one entry: the Grand Canyon. With that in mind, my usual accomplice and I arose early, dressed, and awaited the arrival of room service. And awaited. And awaited. Finally, we looked outside and found the little order form dangling from the doorknob, exactly where we were supposed to have left it (and exactly where we had left it) the night before.

The last time I tried placing an order that way (at a different hotel) it didn’t work either, so I wasn’t counting on it working this time, but I was beginning to think that perhaps the one time it did work was due more to luck than anything else. However, today we were on something of a schedule. We had tickets for the Grand Canyon Railway, and the train would be departing at 9:30, with or without us.

So we left without breakfast. I wasn’t really all that concerned with the skipped meal, since I knew that pastries and coffee served would be served aboard the train. What I didn’t know was how comfortable and stylish the ride up would be. Our car, the Grand View, was a domed observation car dating back to 1948, and was originally used on the California Zephyr line. It was in beautiful condition.

So once the train got underway, there was nothing to do but sit back in the plush seats with a cup of coffee and a danish and enjoy the ride. Two hours, four cups of coffee, three danishes, and a performance by a country-western singer later, we finally arrived at the Grand Canyon.

Well, it was big. Much wider than I ever imagined, and much deeper. I could look down and see tiny trees and a tiny river and could assume that I was looking at the bottom. Then I could follow the tiny river into the distance and see that it did, in fact, spill over a cliff into an even deeper part of the canyon. I could look into the distance and faintly see the north rim of the canyon. Then I could recall that the canyon actually ran east to west, and realize that I was actually looking across its narrow dimension.

Unfortunately, we only had three hours to take in the sights. Fortunately, there were shuttle buses to get folks out to the various vistas and back again. So we figured we’d do that. Unfortunately, the bus stop was mobbed with people, so much so that when a bus stopped, loaded up, and drove off, the crowd didn’t seem to have shrunk much.

I consulted our map and saw that the first view spot was only 0.7 miles from the bus stop, along a paved trail. Perhaps we could just walk there and catch a bus either to another stop or even back again if we started to run out of time. So we did that. What I did not realize was that the trail went uphill, somewhat steeply in places, and what I failed to account for was the high altitude: 7,000 feet.

So, while we did make it to the next shuttle stop, by that point, we didn’t want to do much more than to ride around to a few other stops, there to look around for a bit before getting on the next bus. So that’s what we did.

Eventually, we returned to the train depot in order to make the trip back to the town of Williams. As exhausted as we were, having to drive back would have been a chore to say the least. I was quite grateful for the opportunity to simply recline my seat, shut my eyes, and daydream of burritos.

Yes, the day’s light breakfast had indeed caught up with me, and all I’d had to eat up at the Canyon was a candy bar and some Vitamin Water. When we finally arrived in town, we spotted Pancho Mc Gillicuddy’s, a Mexican restaurant, and made plans to head over, after returning to the hotel to change clothes. We were both really pleased by the chimichangas (or were just really hungry) and the live music created a fun atmosphere.

Afterward, we explored the shops along the main street. Among the shops was a Gas Station Museum, and one of the items on display was somewhat enlightening.

Now I understand why a prank caller would ever have asked for Prince Albert in a can in the first place.

This is the story of Day Two of the Grand Road Trip. Today’s itinerary included seeing the London Bridge, taking a detour along Route 66, and arriving in the town of Williams by nightfall. After yesterday, by far the longest leg of the journey, we were pretty sure it would be smooth sailing.

The first stop of the day was to the breakfast buffet. It was a little disappointing after the the downhomey stick-to-your-ribsiness of yesterday’s breakfast. Why, I even forgot to stop for lunch yesterday. But, the buffet was complimentary, so I can’t argue much.

After that, we ventured out into the unrelenting desert sun for a glimpse of the London Bridge.

I found it to be an interesting sight, though my usual accomplice seemed a bit disappointed. It seemed that he remembered the English-themed tourist trap surrounding the bridge as being a bit more grand. It was true, a number of the village’s shops appeared to be vacant. One even bore a note that it would be closed for the summer. I suppose that’s just the economy at work.

After driving across the bridge once or twice, we set out on the day’s journey. We would travel north to the city of Kingman, but rather than taking Highway 40 directly to Williams from there, we would instead detour along a section of old Route 66. I was soon glad that we did. Not necessarily from any sense of history, but mainly for the fact that this road was fairly empty. I did not have to worry (often) about some impatient jerk getting upset with my (completely reasonable) speed of travel. As the road climbed in altitude, the terrain became less of a desert and more of a grassland. As the shadows of the handful of clouds in the sky passed over the plains, I began to realize the attraction that this land could have for people.

Unfortunately, there weren’t an awful lot of places to stop along this stretch of the highway. We did stop, briefly, in Peach Springs. This gave one of us the opportunity to misplace his sunglasses somewhere along the way. After an unsuccessful bit of searching, we drove off in a sulky huff. Fortunately, the funk didn’t last too long. We spotted a sign at the side of the road for the Grand Canyon Caverns. Could this truly be an opportunity to go spelunking? There was only one way to find out.

At the end of a long gravel road lay what looked like a diner guarded by a plaster dinosaur. The hostess, also, was a mannequin, and so couldn’t answer any questions. We did spot a few people milling around in the gift shop, and that was where we discovered that there was indeed an underground cavern system, and that we could take a guided tour in fifteen minutes. After riding an elevator two hundred feet into the ground, we entered into a huge chamber, crusted in places with fine white crystals.

The structure in the center of the chamber is a hotel suite for the exceptionally adventurous. But I don’t think it’s quite right for someone like me. Yes, the tour guide assured us that nothing lived, or for that matter, could live in the caverns (for long,) due to the incredibly low humidity. He also told us that the caverns were utterly dark and silent after the lights go out. It sounds perfectly safe and relaxing, right? Well, I can assure you that some part of my brain would insist to the other parts that something else was creeping around down in the deep unexplored tunnels. “Well, I suppose it’s possible,” the other parts of the brain would murmur. “We’ll be eaten by a nameless horror from below!” the first part of the brain would cry. And the night would end with my fleeing the elevator building in my underpants, only to be eaten by a pack of wolves. Or crocodiles. Or something.

Anyway, the cavern was a magnificent unplanned diversion and just the sort of thing we’d hoped to run across. We continued on, and finally arrived in the legendary town of Williams. (Well, it seemed legendary by that point.) Because of the altitude, the surrounding hills were covered with pine trees, and the weather was cool and pleasant. With the sun sinking into the mountains, it reminded me a bit of Tahoe. We were pleased to discover that tonight’s hotel was a bit nicer than the previous one, and that the hotel’s restaurant was quite a bit nicer than the previous one. I ordered a simple chicken-fried-chicken, expecting no more than a processed patty topped with gravy from powder. However, it was a true chicken fillet, breaded and fried.

Did we learn anything today? Yes, as trite as it sounds, sometimes you should go off the beaten path to smell the roses.

How long has it been since I last went on a real vacation? Was it this spring, when I made the arduous two hour drive to Disneyland? No, that was barely a three-day weekend. Was it last summer? No, I entertained house guests. That does not really count. Was it the summer previous? I actually flew somewhere that time, but that was only to attend a wedding as a guest. And it was barely a day and a half. That should not count. It must have been that spring. That was the time that I went to the Bay Area and briefly experimented with Twitter. That was also, if you don’t care to follow the links, the year 2008. A long time ago.

According to Spo-Tips to a healthy and happy life, “It is important to your mental and physical health to take time off from work. Remember, if you don’t, Nature will find some piss-poor way to make you go off work.”

Well, that sounds vaguely ominous. But as I’d much rather take a rest in a place of my choosing than have the place chosen for me, I made a few arrangements. Well, mainly I packed a few bags and gassed up my car. My usual accomplice volunteered to accompany me as well as to plan out the itinerary: the old Plank Road, a Ghost Town, the London Bridge, Route 66, the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam and Las Vegas.

And so began Day One of the Grand Road Trip. (Believe me, I tried to come up with a clever acronym for my road trip, but it just Did Not Compute.)

Anyway, the usual accomplice and I hit the Original Pancake House for breakfast before hitting the road. Nothing like a good old truck stop diner meal to set the mood. We drove east on Highway 8, up into the mounains, and then back down again. Eventually, the land began to look… unfinished.

I had been out this way before, many years ago, to see the Salton Sea. It was formed when the Colorado River flooded many years ago. Eventually, someone had the idea of turning it into a tourist destination, with fishing, boating, and swimming. Resorts were built… and then abandoned. Now, there’s not much there but cracked roads, looted buildings, and a lake full of increasingly concentrated agricultural runoff.

But that wasn’t where we went today. No, we passed through El Centro, a bit to the south, before entering a vast expanse of sand: the Imperial sand dunes.

It was here that I ran over a rather large dust devil that had the misfortune to choose the wrong moment to cross the road. Hopefully, the marks it left on the car will buff out.

It was also here that we made our first stop of the day. I was assured that there was a relic of historical importance in the area that we must view. A wooden road was once built across the dunes, and a short section still existed. And we found it.

According to the official plaque, “This unique plank road seven miles long was the only means early motorists had for crossing the treacherous Imperial sand dunes. The eight by twelve foot sections were moved with a team of horses whenever the shifting sands covered portions of the road. Double sections were placed at intervals to permit vehicles to pass.”

Well, a few moments of gazing at history was enough for me. A few more unprotected moments in the desert sun and I’d have been a crème brûlée. So we continued eastward, but then took a detour down a country road in order to find a real live ghost town.

Our next stop was the ruins of Ogilby. Like many ghost towns, Ogilby was simply a place for miners to live and a place for a train to stop. Nothing remains of the town now, except for the concrete foundations of the schoolhouse, and a small graveyard. A handful of small wooden crosses in a land of gravel and silence.

We followed the little highway north up to Highway 78, which vaguely shadowed the Colorado river. The roads were still fairly vacant, but they fortunately passed through farmland often, rather than desert wilderness. Eventually, we crossed the state line. And when we did, it definitely looked like we’d entered another land.

We reached Lake Havasu City just before sunset. I was really pleased that we’d already decided to stop there, rather than trying to make it all the way to the town of Williams in the dark. The bad news was that it seemed that it was even hotter here than out at the old plank road. Fortunately, the motel had not only an air conditioner, but an on-site restaurant, so going back outside could be kept to a minimum.

Did we learn anything today? Yes. Sometimes, it’s better to take your time and not go as far as possible in one day.