Based on the photos shared yesterday, some of you may have figured out that we escaped the snow/slop of Kanab with a three-and-a-half-hour drive west to Las Vegas. It’s an enjoyable drive. We dipped into flat northern Arizona, an hour north of the Grand Canyon, cut across the state, into St. George, Utah, and back down into the last corner of Arizona. The stretch of highway was new to us, and the decrease in elevation from Arizona into Nevada was like driving through a canyon with the steepest walls. Wow! It was one of the most spectacular roads we’ve ever been on.
Once in Nevada, we drove across a flat landscape littered with the occasional Joshua Tree or roadside gas station/casino. Then, the Vegas Strip could be seen from an hour away.
We are now in the Mojave Desert, and I fall in love with its dramatic rise and fall, the colors and the cliffs, the greenery of the cacti, and the Joshua Trees.
We are staying in Hilton’s new Spark hotel, near the airport. It opened the day before we arrived and is brand-spanking new and shiny clean. Spark is Hilton’s latest member of the family. They take over old hotels, refurbish them, and make them sparkly and modern. Like Hilton Tru, they don’t have microwaves in the rooms, but you can use the one in the lobby.
The rooms—at least this one—do not have a chair. Instead, I’m sitting on an ottoman at the desk as I click away on the keys, writing to you. We are booked through tomorrow morning, and from there… Well, we’ll see. Kanab friends Donna and Gordon Huntsman (along with their dog Annie) promise to keep us updated on the trail conditions and let us know when it is safe to “come home.”
I’m not sure I’d feel the same way if I lived here, but we love Las Vegas because nature is never far away. We don’t do the “glitz” thing, so a clean hotel room and trails within twenty minutes is nirvana.
Yesterday, we returned to one of our favorite trails. Since we begin ten minutes before dawn, we rarely see others. But yesterday, about two miles from the car, we encountered Lydia, a solo hiker who was moving along at a quick pace. She had long dark hair under her ski cap, gloves, tights, and sunglasses, was lean and lithe, and spoke easily and clearly. She could easily have passed for a member of your local PTA.
Turns out Lydia has lived here for a dozen years and is originally from Connecticut. So, we compared New England roots, notes, and stories.
Lydia loves the Vegas area, but not as much since the pandemic. This is a common refrain during our travels. Population growth was already a problem here, but since the work-from-home crowd has been unleashed to settle in Zoomtowns, both big and small, she notices a difference and a lack of love for nature and the landscape.
“People just take it for granted, like it was put there only for pleasure. They don’t respect what we have,” she said.
We spoke of how rural New England was changing similarly and how newcomers often don’t embrace what they’ve moved to but instead want to transform it into where they came from.
We talked of gambling and the booming sex worker industry in Vegas, and I told her about how I read a New York Times article in the 1990s where that stated there were 20,000 sex workers in Vegas.
“That stunned me. And then I met an off-duty cop on a hiking trail not too far from here,” I said. “He estimated the number was closer to 100,000 sex workers now.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Lydia said.
“So, what brought you out here twelve years ago,” I asked. “Love, job, a change of scenery?”
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