LAUGHLIN, NEVADA: Where a Small Town Desperately Desires to Be the Next Las Vegas

March 4, 2018

I don't think of the desert as a "Waste Land," but I know other people do. I see it as an exceedingly beautiful land. Harsh, perhaps, and probably not immediately striking to the eye, but the desert has untold layers of complexity and diversity and beauty. Someday I will write a poem called The Complex, Diverse, and Beautiful Land. If I ever get around to writing it, I know it will be a major literary masterpiece.

I waited until the 10:00 a.m. check-out time again before riding The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong today. I'm feeling better, but not so much better that I wanted to start biking when it was still under 40-degrees. And I still want to keep my days fairly short so I don't overtax my recovery process.

When I finally got going, the air was still chilly, but the sun was bright and the wind was in my favor. I have to say, my sure bet on the desert sun has been moderately successful. I've gotten enough of it to produce a nice, rich tan on my face. However, that's the only part of me that's tanned because, aside from an afternoon at Cottonwood Cove, I've had the rest of my body covered in layers the entire time.

Before I start displaying some photos, I thought I would discuss distances. They are so deceptive out here. There are no rolling hills to limit your view--just long uphills, long downhills, and long flats. Therefore you can see incredibly long distances, and that can be very disorienting. This morning, for example, I noticed a big, long hill coming up ahead. I braced myself for the climb. And I braced and braced and braced . . . FOR ELEVEN MILES! The hill looked like it was only a half-mile away at first, yet it took forever before it seemed to get any closer.

I wasted all that time worrying for nothing. Time wasted. I hate that. Maybe THAT'S why they call it a waste land.

. . . except where there really IS waste.

The pictures above were taken at a spot where I practiced one of my "Church of the Great Outdoors" urination rituals. Let's review the rules:

Find a place to stop where you can expect a little privacy.
Focus on some living object (a plant, a bug, a squirrel, etc.) that you wouldn't ordinarily notice. In this case it was a vulture. I watched it fly across the desert until it became a tiny speck and then disappeared.
Let it flow!

The hill that I had been worrying about for 11 miles turned out to be an easy eight mile incline. At the top I turned eastward on the scenic NV Highway 163. The first couple miles climbed a little more, then came the big signs warning truckers of 7% grades and dangerous curves. I pulled my bandana up over my nose and prepared to go nuts.

This section of Highway 163 reminded me of parts of Utah.

Good road, cool clouds, great desert mountains.

Laughlin, Nevada dead ahead. Just down the hill. Tricked you! Laughlin is still five miles away.

I had some time to kill so I cruised the Laughlin strip. Most of the major players in the Nevada gambling scene were represented: Tropicana, Harrah's, Golden Nugget, etc. Also represented were a few tackier hotel/casinos.

I like to poke fun at the gambling culture here but, man, can you get some good deals on hotel rooms. I splurged for another night of recovery at the Riverside Hotel and Casino. $64 for a big, well-equipped room. (That includes a $10 upgrade for a room with a river view.)

Today's ride: 39 miles (63 km)
Total: 176 miles (283 km)

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