FROM PIOCHE TO LAS VEGAS

Holy cow I took a lot of pictures in less than four days. Actually I could have spent several more days just further exploring the places I did get to, but this was more or less a hit-and-run trip. Anyway, let's go back to Vegas and then go home.

The railroad depot in Caliente is on the National Register of Historic Places. It dates back to the turn of the last century. I imagine it looks much the same as it did back then.
The Las Vegas Motor Speedway is just north of town.
After checking in here at the Gold Coast and relaxing a little bit, I headed out to the Las Vegas Strip which is on the other side of I-15 from this hotel.
O sole mio! In The Venetian there are gondoliers who guide their little vessels through the canals.
The Venetian and Mirage.
Treasure Island is now calling itself TI for some reason.
A white tiger at The Mirage. I doubt this is the one that mauled Roy.
From a pedestrian walkway over Las Vegas Boulevard at Flamingo Road looking south.
The same intersection looking north.
There's a giant woman's butt. Actually the woman isn't giant. She looks to be a normal height. And the butt isn't giant either. It's quite nice sized. But the sign is giant.
I had time to kill on Monday morning before I had to be at the airport and the Hoover Dam is not that far away, so I drove out.
This is what it looks like on the Lake Mead side.
It's dam big.
That's a long way down. I wouldn't want to ride my bike down this slope.
When I took this photo, by left elbow was an hour behind my right.
I think Lake Mead is a little low. That may be why the white marks are there. Or it could be for some completely different reason.
Red Bull gives you wings!!!
Several men died in the construction of the dam. At least one dog died too. This is the grave of Nig, the Boulder Dam mascot. Nig used to walk around the construction site as if he were supervising the men at work. His presence picked up the workers' spirits. Sadly like so many other construction workers, Nig died on the job. Nig was crushed while sleeping under a truck when the truck moved. The workers honored him by burying him at the dam and placing a memorial in his name.
Beneath the winged guys was this tiled floor. It is typical of the style of the day and just screams WPA. I couldn't possibly get the whole thing in one photo, but I noticed that the shields for the four states I visited on this trip were all together. Okay, so I didn't go very far into Arizona but I was there.
They seem to be building a road and bridges that will eventually eliminate the traffic over the dam. This is the Arizona part of it.
Back on the strip heading to the airport. Here are a bail bonds business, a wedding chapel and and a cheap motel all in a row.
There's our old friend from the long-gone Hacienda Hotel. He looks to be waving us goodbye.
Chicago was playing at the Stardust the previous week. The guy is taking down the sign of the famous logo.
The newest construction on the strip is for Steve Wynn's new resort. It's called Wynn. Clever, eh?
I don't know that I'll be coming back soon, but thanks anyway.
McCarren Airport is very close to the resorts at the south end of The Strip. In this photo from the plane it looks like they are on the tarmac.
I'm flying! I'm flying!

About the trip: The whole purpose of this trip was to use a credit with Southwest Airline that I had when I could not go on a cruise last year because of my colon trouble. I was unsure where to go until I remembered that I had once thought about visiting ghost towns in the west. After some research about which ones were better than others and which were accessible, I arranged the flight, made a car reservation, booked the hotel rooms and I was on my way. I just want to say right here and now that Southwest Airlines sucks. The whole concept of open seating is a joke. I don't know how they go about assigning who gets on the plane first, but I got screwed both coming and going. As far as the rental car is concerned, I had a Buick that I just drove the hell out of. Over 1300 miles in four days over paved highways and muddy trails. The amount of caked mud on the underside of the car and in the wheel wells could build a small mud house. But by the end of the trip I was ready to go home with my photos and my one souvenir, a big swollen ankle.

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