“And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days….”—J.R. Lowell
“Eons ago, the limestone hills surrounding the Valley of Fire were the floor of a mighty ocean. They were lifted and twisted by tectonics and volcanic action, and the ocean receded. During the Jurassic period about 150 million years ago, a vast desert developed. Great sand dunes grew. Through time and compaction, these dunes became sandstone. During this process, the groundwater flowed through and carried iron oxide as well as various other minerals. As the water passed these petrified dunes, the iron oxide, lime, silica and other minerals painted the stones various shades of red, white, yellow, purple and more. The water also caused fractures in weak areas of the rock, which helped mold the unusual shapes and patterns. All this took forever but the result was spectacular and a startling contrast to the gray hills nearby.
Sandstone is a relatively fragile rock and as the groundwater continues to flow through the rocks they are constantly changing and eroding. The wind carves sculptures from old rocks. Small new sand dunes form downwind as the rocks erode. With each breeze, the sand forms a new page that records the ongoing drama of desert animal life. Following the tracks of roadrunners, lizards, ring-tail cats and others becomes as fascinating as viewing the red rocks and studying the geological story.
As interesting as the geological history is, the human history of the Valley of Fire is just as fascinating. Early Americans recorded their lives at many places in the park. Atlatl Rock is a pictorial record of migrations, hunts, early tools and weapons carved in the black patina of a large sandstone formation by Native American artists as many as 2000 years ago. The rock is named for the pictograph of an atlatl, a notched stick used to add speed and distance to a thrown spear. It was a predecessor to the bow and arrow. Many more are found along the Petroglyph Canyon Self-Guiding Trail, which is a half-mile round-trip walk to Mouse’s Tank through a sandy canyon. Trail markers are in place to point out interesting features which include numerous prehistoric Indian rock writings.” (Wilcox)
The Valley of Fire State Park, dedicated in 1935, is Nevada’s oldest and largest state park. VOF is located in the Mojave Desert, approximately 58 miles northeast of the Las Vegas strip and covers an area of about 35,000 acres. The Valley was named for the spectacular red sandstone formations which can appear to be on fire when reflecting the sun’s rays. The Valley of Fire Road, a small, two-lane strip extending 10.5 miles, connects the east and west entrances to the park. Daily temperatures in the summer often exceed 100 degrees but plunge at night. Average annual rainfall is four inches. It was here that Bill Killeen and Siobhan Ellison decided to go in their warm wedding costumes to get a few photos. There’s just no explaining some people’s predilections.
If the wedding is at one p.m. and dinner is at 6:30, there might be a need for noshing along the way. Alice (the Republican) was funded and dispatched to round up food and drink for the trek. Unfortunately, Alice seems to have inherited the notorious Killeen misdirection gene which causes members of the family to travel in the wrong direction whenever in Las Vegas. She wound up somewhere near Henderson and scrapped the trip, now laden with vittles enough to feed a salvation army. The bride and groom, closely followed by Jack and Barbara Gordon, marched on. Our group was to meet Las Vegas photographess Dawn Sims at the Valley welcome station somewhere in the neighborhood of three p.m., spend about an hour scurrying about the red rocks getting pictures, then hightail it back to the Venetian Hotel for the wedding dinner at 6:30. We were a little late and the telephone opportunities were spotty but Dawn is as pleasant and unflappable a photographer as you’re likely to meet--at least as long as there are no snakes lingering about—so all went well. The results, if they made it in time, are scattered through this week’s exciting episode. If there are several photos of Pinky Lee on a unicycle instead, well, you’ll know what happened.
Dinner At Canaletto’s
One of the many benefits of using a wedding venue like Chapel of the Flowers is that most aspects of the pre- and post-wedding foofaraw can be attended to in one place. The Glam Squad girl is delegated by the Chapel, the restaurant of your choice is contacted, the cake is shipped over from the bakery, etc. We decided to have the dinner at Canaletto’s, overlooking the festive St. Mark’s Square inside the colossal Venetian Hotel, which is connected to the Palazzo, where we were staying. For wedding parties or other large groups, Canaletto’s offers a private room looking down onto a busy street scene, ala Venice, where wandering minstrels ply their trade and charming gondoliers hustle nervous customers. For a couple bucks extra to the boatsmen, you might get a stirring rendition of O Sole Mio, but there’s no guarantee you’ll get Pavarotti.
The dinner went swimmingly, my sisters resisting the No Gifts embargo to present the happy couple with extra-large glass champagne flutes which were put to use immediately. The lemon wedding cake, all 15,000 calories of it, arrived in due time and was properly demolished with not a crumb left over. Hugs were administered, goodbyes were spoken and the long weekend, which began with a rousing performance of Cirque du Soleil’s “O” at the Bellagio on Friday, was finally over. For better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, Bill and Siobhan were finally a legal unit. What therefore God has joined together, let no man put asunder. Jesus said that (Matthew 19: 1-12). Check it out.
All bride & groom photos by Dawn Sims, Yellow Dandelion Photography, Las Vegas
Canyon Bound
The trip to the Grand Canyon from Vegas is a 4 1/2 to 5-hour glide past Hoover Dam, around Kingman, take a left at Williams, Arizona and head straight north. Siobhan started the driving so we made sure not to go the wrong way. We pulled in to the South Rim area in mid-afternoon, dropped by the Visitor Center, took a few pictures and headed for the mule ride headquarters, tucked in a corner of the Bright Angel Lodge.
As mentioned in previous articles, the mule trips to the Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the canyon must be reserved and paid for one year in advance of the descent. Riders are requested to confirm two-to-four days before the event and check in the day prior to be weighed, given instructions for the trip and provided with drinking canteens and yellow rain slickers. No one over 200 pounds is allowed on a mule, even if his name is Sancho Panza. Our new possessions in tow, we headed for our one-night digs at the El Tovar Lodge,
The El Tovar is the premier housing facility at the Grand Canyon, located directly on the South Rim. Designed by Charles Whittlesey, chief architect for the Atchison, Topeka, & Santa Fe Railway, the place opened its doors in 1905 and has not changed much since. Whittlesey envisioned the hotel as a cross between a Swiss chalet and a Norwegian villa, attempting to appeal to the tastes of the elite from that era, who at the time considered European culture the epitome of refinement. The hotel was built with local limestone and Oregon pine, cost $250,000 to construct and for many years was generally considered the most elegant hotel west of the Mississippi. In 1987, the El Tovar was designated a National Historic Landmark. Such a diverse cast of characters as Theodore Roosevelt, Albert Einstein, Zane Grey, Bill Clinton and Paul McCartney have spent time there. That doesn’t mean they were all comfortable. The air-conditioning is uneven and a little loud, and a fat man will have trouble squeezing into the tiny bathrooms. We made do with a fan and opened the windows. Whatever amenities it might lack, you can say one thing for the old El Tovar: nobody is beating the view.
The ET’s restaurant, allegedly a four-star dining room, was having problems that night. A water pipe in the canyon had fractured and H2O was scarce. Rather than waste water on dishwashing, the El Tovar served meals on paper plates, which made for an expensive picnic. But what do we care about fancy food—we’re hardy mule riders, right? “Yo-ho, yo-ho, it’s off to the canyon bottom we go! Give us some water and a fistful of jerky; we’ll get to the bottom and we’ll still be perky!” We hoped so, anyway. The next day’s high temperatures were expected to be over 100.
The Big Day Begins
We were up bright and early the next morning, earlier in fact than the mule wranglers who struggled in twenty minutes late, enough time for a couple of mule riders to chug down a hearty trip-sustaining breakfast instead of orange juice and a sugary pastry had they only known. The guides were Noah and Alicia, the former an affable cowboy-lite type, the latter a formidable farm girl, terse and tough. If you were choosing up sides for a bar fight, Alicia would be the first person picked. When the mules were saddled and ready to go, the trail boss appeared to give final instructions. He looked just like Wilford Brimley, but in reality it was Wilford’s evil twin, Hardboil. Just in case you thought this trip might be one big happy lark through the meadows, Hardboil was here to tell you different.
“You will NOT get off your mules,” he said, “no matter WHAT happens! If your mule stumbles to its knees, you WILL stay on your mule! If your mule puts one foot over the edge of the cliff and knocks some rocks loose, you will STAY on that mule! If your mule wants to lay down in the creek, prepare to get wet! If your mule jumps off the cliff, you will STAY on that mule because the mule is valuable and has a parachute and last time I looked, YOU don’t!” In case you haven’t figured it out, Hardboil would prefer you remain on your mule.
Wilford’s evil twin would also have you experience “The Cowboy Way.” He has his own religious beliefs, after all, and one of them is that nothing that was not at one time alive should be a part of your saddle. No pads, no foam-filled cushions to soften the rocky ride. And you WILL drink water every time the mules stop and sometimes when they don’t. “You will drink water until it’s coming out your EYES!” says Hardboil. Are those tears of which you speak, mi amigo? We were thinking that everyone on this ride was from the East Coast and they might prefer the Spa Treatment to the Cowboy Way. I mean, everyone likes repeat business, right?
“Okay, is everybody ready?” Hardboil wanted to know. “Then mount up, riders! Good luck to every one of you! And don’t forget your little song!” And so, off we went, a brave band of brothers, bold and unafraid of the perils which lie ahead, the rocky trails, the narrow switchbacks, the blinding heat, the scorching sun. For, in emergencies, we had our song and we sang it loud and proud: “Yo-ho, yo-ho, it’s off to the canyon bottom we go! Give us some grits and a tin full of snuff; we’ll prove to the world that we’ve got the stuff! They talk about heatstroke and hyponatremia but we’ve conquered gallstones and hyper-bulimia!”
To be continued. Hopefully.
