We’re leaving Las Vegas Bay campground just after most of our neighbors have left, oddly. You know those neighbors.
The single lady living/traveling in her minivan with her little reactive dog; the mom and disabled daughter in their camper with their much bigger reactive dog (we all would walk at strategic times of the day).
The small elderly group living in one tent with different dramas each day: their truck broke down, their cat may or may not have gotten eaten by a coyote, their relative showed up in the middle of a life crisis and yakked about her husband being wanted in three states and her covid so loudly that I think that got them kicked out. Their most annoying (to me) drama was their car breaking down again at 11:30 pm as they were finally pulling out, right in front of our trailer, so the tow truck created a fine loud party feet from our trying-to-sleep selves. Now I know people in Nevada call each other “Hoss.”
Who hasn’t left is the couple I’ve started thinking of as the reformed nudists. She began the day yesterday with what I would call an unsightly gap between her jeans and her tank top, showing her lower, lower back (ahem), but sometime during the day she gave up on her jeans and decided to walk around the campsite in her tank top and underwear. This is a maybe 50-year-old person looking as casual as she can be. So, I prefer to think of them as reformed nudists, trying their best.
More Debbie and Paul, yay!
That most excellent photo up top was taken by the multitalented Paul, who, with his equally (or more so, what do I know) talented wife Debbie, visited our campsite for a grand time. Seriously, we really loved the company this time even more than last.
Paul performed magic in exchange for our nebulous advice about picking a rig for fulltime nomadic life. We even brought our the fire pit for the first time in ages. Nothing beats sitting around a fire with friends, staring into the flames and telling stories.
They then gave us a copy of their latest book: four horror stories by Victorian women writers, each adapted in comic form. Brilliant!
Once comic cons start again and these guy hit the road, I’m looking forward to hearing about their adventures and for sure meeting again, and this time they’ll have their own stories about fulltime life.
Desert Critters
MEEP MEEP! I had no idea road runners actually run on the road. Of course they do!
Banjo gets very excited when she startles jack rabbits, too, since they run even faster along the desert, and she lunges and leaps and wants to run after so badly.
She did fiercely go after a lone coyote one night while walking with Tracy; good thing we keep her leashed all the time. Now we know who will defend us when we’re surrounded by hungry critters in the desert this winter. 🙂
Finally, a Daily Hike
I finally went on the one marked trail that leaves from the campsite—why didn’t I do that sooner? It runs alongside the Las Vegas Wash from Lake Las Vegas to Lake Mead. Here’s how it looks toward Las Vegas.
And, below, that’s Lake Mead way off in the distance on the right a bit. The campground is in the wooded strip to the left. That’s how far away this trail takes you!
And this is the now-defunct boat ramp to Lake Mead here by the campground. It’s a huge, dry concrete runway.
That leads down to nothing! Except where the travel-size section of CVS poops, sometimes.
Sunrises and Sunsets
I took these shots from the trailer, seriously. Our neighbors may be weird, but our view is even more amazing.
Next stop: Death Valley. Bring it.
