Heading West: 4th Sept

The Washington to Las Vegas flight left at 6:30pm, so we chased the setting sun, landing at 8:30 local time. 5 hours flying in 4 time zones. On the plane it was noticeable how few lights indicated towns of any size until we were lining up for touch-down. Then suddenly, an explosion of light from The Strip made it seem we were landing in the middle of a giant funfair. In a way, I suppose we were.

We came to Vegas to pick up the camper, staying a few days to provision it and get used to the tail end of summer temperatures. Still too hot at max 115F (45C). Here’s our camper, all set to leave for the cooler mountains of Utah.

There is one main road from Vegas to Utah, so it’s busy. The speed limit is 80 mph, the highest we’ve so far seen in America, and the lorries mostly all travel at that speed. This kind of rig would often zoom past intimidatingly. The phrase, “not taking any prisoners”, comes to mind.

 It’s scrub desert with a background of stark mountains most of the way. Mile after mile.

The route cuts across the top corner of Arizona and then through the mountains into Utah. Literally, carved through the mountains.

Into Utah, the other side, the scenery is more dramatic still with the different colour rock formations.

Another hour now to Cedar City, our destination. The campsite is a few miles outside in an Indian reservation. However, we don’t see any Indians as the campsite is run by a few of the residents. They tell us that the Indians don’t take much interest in the campsite, which was built for them by the Government. There’s a lot of guilt about how the Indians were treated and dispossessed, so maybe sometimes they get given things they don’t really want. The site is in a pleasant location, but somewhat run-down. We’re the camper on the front left.

The walking is good at the back of the site. The tarmac road peters out into a dirt track which carries on indefinitely. The hills show tinges of red from iron ore deposits.

We walked for a long time this day and reached the edge of the reservation. We knew that from the sign below. We expected, at the very least, for an arrow or tomahawk to embed itself in a nearby tree whilst we were quickly surrounded by Paiute tribesmen wearing feather plumes. Disappointingly, nothing. Just as well, perhaps, as my knowledge of Indians is limited to John Wayne films, and the Lone Ranger and Tonto.