Psychedelic volcanic ash

Under the summer sun, our northward drive from Bakersfield to the Lassen Volcanic National Park is almost unbearably warm. However, when we arrive at the park, which is located near on the Californian side of the California-Oregon border, we see snow.


It's just after 6pm when we enter the park, so the grocery store and ranger stations have already closed for the day. Compared to the Grand Canyon National Park, Lassen is eerily desolate.

It's also cold -- frighteningly so. I hurriedly pull a jacket over my singlet top, as we leave the car to investigate the Manzanita Lake campgrounds.

The few occupied campsites are already gushing smoke, and we soon realise that without an open grocery store from which to buy firewood, camping may not be the best idea.

So we rent a $60, bare-bones cabin in the nearby town of Shingletown for the night. The cabin lacks bedside tables, lamps, curtains, clean bedding, and its own bathroom, but we bring in our own quilt from the car and sleep the sleep of the dead.

In the light of day, Lassen is far less formidable. We encounter a deer on its afternoon stroll as we make our way to the campgrounds, as well as a very brave, inquisitive squirrel under whose watchful eye Jim chats to the elderly campgrounds host about hiking, National Park attractions, Australia, the downfalls of the military...


At the host's recommendation, we hike up the nearby Cinder Cone volcano the next day. The cone rises some 230 metres above the surrounding area, which is covered in a mixture of grey ash and colourful sediments from a 1650s eruption.

We also visit Bathtub Lake but find it far less appealing than its name suggests, due to the cold and an infestation of mosquitos. Dinner is cheese and salami sandwiches and toasted marshmallows, as it was the night before.

On June 17th, we reluctantly leave the (relative) wilderness for the city of San Francisco. And a fitting greeting we receive, with heavy traffic all along our last 25 kilometre stretch from Richmond to San Francisco, and absolutely no street parking within four blocks of our new home!

Car trouble

Saturday, June 13 doesn't quite go as planned.

First, our tent set-up proves itself a little too comfortable. We sleep in, barely making the 11am check-out time.


We have our hearts set on hot showers before the day's long drive to Bakersfield, California. Sadly, we arrive at the shower blocks just minutes after it is shut for cleaning, and spend the next hour at the cafeteria while we wait for the showers to be available.

Hot showers are fantastic.

We finally leave the national park just after 1pm. An hour into the drive, a light flashes on our dashboard. The engine is way too hot. We're only two miles from Williams, and don't know what to do.

We decide to keep going, and make it to a gas station/mechanics called Malone's, just outside Williams. A man named Randy tells us that our radiator needs to be replaced, and we may have also ruined our engine by driving with a messed up radiator.

Randy orders the requisite part from the nearby city of Flagstaff. It will take three hours for our car to be fixed, so he has his colleague drop us off at the Williams town centre.


Williams is a tiny town whose economy seems to be largely driven by Grand Canyon tourism. We burn some time at a restaurant, and visit the visitor centre, where we mess around with some puzzles and Jim quizzes me on U.S. geography.

The mechanics finally call at 5pm, saying our car is ready to go. We're lucky to not have caused any engine damage, they tell us gruffly, and I feel just a little silly for my lack of automotive knowledge.

Despite my worries about late night driving, Jim cowboys up and decides to drive straight to Bakersfield. We arrive at our motel at 2am, exhausted, but a little too pepped up on caffeine.

Camping in the Grand Canyon National Park

At 10.30am on Wednesday, we leave the Las Vegas strip.

Following directions from Google Maps on our iPhone, we head East on the I-515 toward the Arizona border.

The first hour and a half of our drive is pleasant and uneventful. The road takes us out of the city and into the flat, lonely desert. We contemplate stopping for morning tea, but decide against the few small, run down diners that we encounter.

We reach the Hoover Dam at about noon. The Hoover Dam is a hydroelectric generating station on the Nevada-Arizona boarder that was constructed in the 1930s. Located on the Colorado River, the dam creates a 35-cubic-kilometre reservoir known as Lake Mead, which provides water to communities in Southern California and Nevada.

After having spent so many months inland, the sight of Lake Mead’s sparkling waters is breathtaking.


Thanks to security checkpoints and photo-happy tourists, there is somewhat of a traffic build-up as we cross the Hoover Dam. Fortunately, we can access the Internet via 3G so Jim is able to meet his 1pm appointment while we wait.

Traffic subsides and the road opens up once we cross the state border. We make an afternoon food stop at Kingman, and take the I-40 from there to Williams, where we spend the night.

We travel against a gradually transforming backdrop that shifts from a yellow, shrubby desert to a lush shade of green. Trees line our hour-long drive to the Grand Canyon National Park the next morning.

Arriving at noon, we set up camp in the Mather Campgrounds immediately. The campgrounds are well laid out, with each campsite providing a picnic table, firepit, carspace, and ample space for a tent.


I have never really enjoyed camping, thanks to my few experiences with too many insects, too much walking, cold (or no) showers and the foulest of foul drop toilets.

Camping in the Grand Canyon National Park is a different story altogether.

Within 100 metres of our campsite there is a ‘comfort station’ (toilet block) with clean, modern facilities. Further away, there is a shower block with laundry facilities, coin-operated hot showers complete with hairdryers. A nearby general store sells all sorts of groceries, camping equipment and firewood, while a reasonably priced cafeteria makes cooking largely unnecessary.

Our two-night stay is superbly enjoyable. We dine once with canyon views at the upmarket El Torvar, and stroll briefly along the south rim on the Bright Angel Trail. Otherwise, most of our time is spent reading, playing cards and animal-spotting at the campgrounds, perusing the store and eating at the café.

There seems to be a great fuss made about the Grand Canyon, which is, according to Theodore Roosevelt, ‘the one great sight which every American should see’.

Really, it’s a giant hole in the ground. Cool, aesthetically pleasing, yes -- but hardly a spiritual experience.

Hard Rocking

For a themed venue in Las Vegas, the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino comes across as surprisingly genuine. Hotel and bar staff sport just about as many tattoos as guests, and waitresses somehow manage to appear cool -- and not just tacky -- when addressing customers as 'baby' instead of the usual 'sir' or 'madam'.

Decor is typical of Hard Rock joints: paraphernalia such as clothing, instruments and photographs adorn the walls. Music from all subgenres of rock is blasted just a little too loudly in all areas except the hotel rooms.


I'm a little surprised at having to yell ever so slightly in order to be heard at the check in desk. But that's nothing compared to my surprise at being greeted by life-sized photo of a rockstar dressed in nothing but leather underpants and nipple tassels, when the elevator doors open at our floor of the hotel.

No, the Hard Rock is most certainly not child-friendly. Instead of the customary bedtime chocolate on my pillow, I find a menu of sex toys and lingerie that can be delivered to the room at all hours.


The pool complex, usually the domain of gamblers' wives, girlfriends and families, hosts instead a dance party complete with a comprehensive bar and swim-up blackjack table.

Since we are both adults who enjoy a little gambling and loud music, our two-night stay is spent comfortably and with little complaint. We have little luck at an extraordinarily tight late night poker table, but are more than appeased by some long sunbathing sessions on the Hard Rock's artificial beach.

Thus ends our four-month-long stay in Sin City!