USA Road Trip

May - June 2016
A 17-day adventure by Nick
  • 18footprints
  • 2countries
  • 17days
  • 51photos
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  • 12.5kkilometers
  • 9.0kkilometers
  • Day 2

    Day Zero : Railroad Pass Hotel & Casino

    May 28, 2016 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 24 °C

    In the early hours of Friday 27th May 2016, the USA Road Trip Croo (as we shall henceforth be known) were having a beer/cider and watching the end of The Hangover Part 2; an experience we'd begun late on the preceding evening following a watch of the superior and more contextually-relevant (given our travel plans) original.
    Slightly later on Friday 27th May 2016, having each gotten a few hours' kip, we assembled and made the short journey to Manchester Airport. Second-breakfasts were consumed, Toblerones were purchased and pints of IPA/cider/bitter were poured, served, held aloft and clinked together before being slowly sipped away, the time of day not lending itself well to rapid glugging, in honour of the trip that laid before us.
    Late-morning on Friday 27th May 2016 we embarked upon what was from my perspective, considering my personal phobia of air-travel, a notably un-terrifying flight across the Atlantic. Being an American-Airlines flight, they took their cultural leanings seriously and proceeded to feed us admittedly-delicious food with such frequency that we were bordering on obese by our disembarkation eight hours later in Philadelphia.
    Early-afternoon on Friday May 27th 2016 we had to go through US immigration, and whilst I wasn't wearing a watch and couldn't check my phone for fear of being shot, I estimate that this took around a day and a half. We proceeded to the carousel to collect our bags (something that the bloody BA-rep on the customer 'care' line I'd contacted only four bloody days ago had unequivocally assured me we wouldn't have to do), but it was here that our luck changed. Noticing a wet-patch on the outside of my bag I opened it to find that my Lynx shower gel had somehow opened in mid-flight and leaked into the surrounding area, making several of my t-shirts smell rather nice but caking them in green stickiness. We considered cancelling the trip, but after looking at return-fares to Manchester determined it would be cheaper to purchase a new shower-gel so re-checked our baggage for the connecting domestic flight to Las Vegas.
    Mid-afternoon on Friday May 27th we boarded the AA flight to Vegas only to find we'd been imbued with important responsibility. We would all be sitting in an 'Exit row', requiring us to confirm that should an emergency occur we would be willing and able to assist in whatever the hell an individual can possibly do to mitigate the dangerous consequences of an aircraft in distress. We considered the proposition; were we ready for such responsibility? Could we stay calm and effective in a crisis? Isn't this something they should be paying people to do instead of foisting it onto randomly-assigned volunteers? Given that sitting in an exit row meant there was no seat-in-front under which to safely stow my carry-on luggage during landing and take-off and I would therefore have to stand-up(!) and put it in the overhead lockers, shouldn't I be entitled to compensation for inconvenience?
    After balancing the pros and cons and inevitable fuss it would cause to decline such a request, we each accepted the charge to become heroes-in-waiting and took our seats. Throughout a slightly bumpier but still moderately-pleasant flight we took our duties seriously, only each trying to get some sleep when we were absolutely certain an emergency wasn't about to occur.
    We landed in Las Vegas 6 hours later on Friday May 27th 2016. After having admirably walked past the first bank of slot-machines, it was my decision to stop for a Starbucks coffee that permitted Luke the few moments necessary to double-back and try his luck on, like, literally the first one-armed bandit it is possible to find at Las Vegas airport.
    After passing, seriously, three other Starbucks coffee places in the airport we collected our luggage and took the various trains/travellators/shuttle-buses necessary to reach the car-hire place. As I was the most caffeine-fuelled and also because the booking was in my name so fuck you I was to be the first driver of the beast of a car we'd booked. As a notorious petrol-head I can tell you that it's black and shiny and has seven seats, air-conditioning and a trunk big enough for all our bags and probably a couple of corpses should things turn awry. It's got a logo on the front, but that could be anything.
    Early-evening on Friday May 27th we reached Railroad Pass Hotel & Casino, the longest-running casino in America. Interestingly, the border between Boulder City and Henderson apparently runs right through the casino-floor itself - which is especially interesting as casinos are illegal in Boulder City but perfectly legal in Henderson. That sounded more interesting in my head.
    On the evening of Friday May 27th, the Croo sat at the casino bar and drank a round of Samuel Adams' Boston Lager. Time-zone fluctuations had made this a stupidly long day and we were all ready for some serious shut-eye. Still, we were in the longest-running casino in America so gambling was obviously on the cards (ha-geddit!). Luke and I plonked down some of our hard-earned on some $5 blackjack. We lost.
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  • Day 3

    Day the First ; Route 66 Motel

    May 29, 2016 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 17 °C

    Taking consideration of the very long Friday May 27th 2016, we'd all set our respective alarms for a very reasonable 9am start. Our body-clocks however, demonstrating their utter disdain for the very long Friday May 27th 2016, betrayed this intent and woke each of us far earlier than was necessary or indeed 'appropriate' for a Saturday morning on holiday...
    Still, we had ambitious plans for the day so made an early start on them. We found a quaint little restaurant for breakfast; we didn't meet the owner but from the signage we presume they were immigrants of Scottish descent; the McGriddle with hash brown I ordered representative of the distinct culinary finesse of the nation that brought us the deep-fried Mars bar.
    From there, it was off to Hoover Damn, which was conveniently just down the road. It's no Lymn Damn, but it seems to get the job done, albeit the job it is now doing is far less strenuous than it once was ; due to ongoing, long-term drought the Colorado river and Lake Mead have water levels far beneath what they used to be, as is visible from the markings on the rocks. Mark, in full-on geologist mode, told me something about the rock formations but I wasn't really listening.
    Next up was the Grand Canyon. We stopped en route for lunch in someone's front-room, outside which they'd put a sign saying 'Hot Diggity Dog Hot Dogs'. Operated with the apparent expertise of a young enterprise project, the 'dogs' they churned out exceeded expectations and I'd definitely go again, though quite patently won't.
    What to say about the canyon itself; it's very grand and exceedingly canyon-y. It's saying something that I came and saw it last year from precisely the same place but it can still instill utter awe. Mark told us how it was formed, but I suspect witchcraft. He furthermore showed us some fossils that indicated the top of the canyon used to be the seabed, but presume this ridiculous delusion to be an early sign of heatstroke.
    From the Canyon we travelled to Kingsman, taking us onto the first stretch of Historic Route 66. From our perspective anyway; this is neither end of Route 66 so I guess isn't technically the 'first' stretch. Unless they started building it from somewhere in the middle...which this also isn't, but it is most definitely 'somewhere'. After a little difficulty we found a motel with two vacant rooms; the imaginatively named 'Route 66 Motel'.
    We had dinner across the road at JB's Restaurant, an awesomely 'typical' American place with booths and massive portions. I had fries steaks with mash, veggies and 'country gravy', a weird but delicious creamy, white sauce with hints of pepper and sausage. I don't know if it's a cultural thing or of they ran out of Bisto and had to whip something together, but kudos to the chef.
    Afterwards we tried to find a bar, but failed. I said I was surprised as with all the motels around here you'd think a bar would do gangbusters. Everyone said they'd never heard the term gangbusters before and questioned whether it was a 'thing', and since I couldn't strictly define the term myself I too am questioning it's validity. I'll Google it later and if I used it correctly will pretend I knew all along, but otherwise quietly pretend I never said it.
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  • Day 3

    Dennys Brekkie

    May 29, 2016 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 24 °C
  • Day 4

    Day 2 : Day Harder - Farmington

    May 30, 2016 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 16 °C

    As our body-clocks continued to wage war against us, we once again woke on our second day here at an hour that would make milkmen cry. Are milkmen still a thing...or are they one of those things relegated to our childhood memories? Like Thundercats - remember Thundercats? Thundercats were cool.

    Having just discovered these early hours of the day actually exist, Luke is demonstrating a particular passion for breakfast and today directed us to sample a selection of Denny's 'Grand Slams', which were so damn good I forgot to take a picture until we were all done gorging.

    From breakfast we drove toward Flagstaff to peruse some more geology porn; a meteor impact crater. I drove, with Luke looking up the route on Google Maps and determining I should aim to arrive half an hour ahead of its ETA; a target time I ultimately missed by a mere three minutes but is still representative of significant ignorance of the locsl speed limit laws.

    The crater was, as in hindsight I should have expected, basically a big hole in the ground. It was impressive, albeit not quite as stunning as yesterday's big hole in the ground. There was a small museum to wander round, a Subway where we had lunch and a gift shop where I nearly bought a Route 66 keychain but then in a shocking twist didn't.

    In honour of the bravery and sacrifice of valleys everywhere, the inter-state forces of Arizona and Utah commissioned the creation of a 'Monument Valley'. This was to be our next destination, and was a helluva long way North of where we were in a totally different state. Mark drove us there at breakneck pace and we eventually arrived around an hour before sunset.

    It....was....stunning. Arriving late in the day, the 'park' was exceedingly quiet as we rumbled through on the dirt path in 4x4 mode, stopping every thirty seconds or so to take in the view and take an immense volume of pictures. I don't believe I've ever been in such awe of a landscape ; I would quite happily make this sight my screensaver, my living room wallpaper and even a replacement for that general featureless blackness I see when I close my eyes.

    We had Burger King for dinner and decided to head toward our next stop, Albequeque/Albequerque/Alberquerque/that-place-I-can't-spell. Knowing we might not find a motel given the lateness, Woody begun the first driving 'shift' in knowledge that we might have to rotate and drive through the night but we didn't as we found one and it was fine.
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  • Day 5

    Day 3 : The Mighty Ducks

    May 31, 2016 in the United States ⋅ ⛅ 21 °C

    My head hurts.

    Being a moderately organised bunch, before coming over here we held a series of planning meetings to determine a rough outline of the distance/activities we hoped to achieve each day. These meetings, much like most occasions the four of us meet up, commonly began with structured conversation, examining of maps and Googling of ideas until we all decided we deserved a beer or ten, at which point they evolved into the standard fun drinky-times to which we've become habitually accustomed. It is likely a result of this that the plan for Day 3, on which we were to reach Albe-quack-e, read simply 'get wankered'.

    I love it when a plan comes together.

    First, however, there was the journey. From Farmington to Albyqerkey we took a combination of highways and Route 66, stopping only once at a place for which there'd been circa twenty-odd billboards, each extolling and proclaiming the place to be on par with the second coming of Christ, if the big JC were to confound religious scholars around the world and make his comeback in the form of a roadside attraction. It turned out to be a gift shop.

    I bought some fridge magnets for the metallic side of my fridge and we continued onwards and Eastwards. Arriving in central Albeequirky at a sensible hour we went for a stroll and had a rest for a few hours. At around 7pm, the evening began.

    From this point onwards, events will be presented to the best of my recollection. There will be inaccuracies, half-truths and massive, gaping holes comparable with albeit only metaphorically analogous with those described in Days One and Two.

    Before leaving our rooms, we each indulged in a few fingers of moonshine. We'd never had moonshine before and likely wouldn't again had we not purchased an enormous jar of the deadly, 100% proof, 50% ABV chemicular concoction from Walmart that our commitment to value and aversion to waste precludes us from pouring away. It was cherry flavour, but you wouldn't have known by tasting it.

    From there we decided to go eat, but intelligently decided to have a drink on the way. We stopped at a restaurant and sat at the bar where a lone US army veteran was celebrating Memorial Day sipping a non-alcoholic lager. He offered to buy us all a drink; we declined in that polite, English, 'Hugh Grant' way Americans like to comment on, but bought our own drinks and sat down for a chat with the guy. He told us stories that were interesting and I thought would later be memorable, but are unfortunate victims of the aforementioned memory leakage.

    We went to a Pizza place and shared a massive pizza. Woody and Luke met a nice guy in the toilets and after brief three-way intercourse invited him back to our table. He turned out to be a stand-up comic and a stand-up guy; a pun I shared with him, to which he responded that I should be the one doing stand-up. I agreed, and told him I'd do his stand-up and he could do my 'sit-down'. He totally ROTFLOL-d at this and said I should have my own Seinfeld-type show.

    After food we went next door and watched the guy and several other comics perform at an open-mic night. They varied in quality but we're mostly pretty good, partially as we'd opted to sit at a table right at the very front and loudly announced our Englishness, enabling the performers to chuck out 'British' jokes at our expense. When the show was over the M/C told us the afterparty was heading to another bar a couple of blocks away.

    En route to the afterparty we went to another bar called 'The Library'. It was here that the booze began to most significantly floweth. We chatted to folk, drank alien-themed beer, had a photo taken with some dude for reasons I don't recall (see attached) and the barmaid was wearing a rather fetching (very short) tartan skirt.

    We left as the place was closing, or the place closed because we left, and headed to the comedy afterparty. We resumed our roles as the token British and chatted with some of the comics whilst continuing to consume significant quantities of beer/spirits/drain-cleaner. Somebody tried to explain the different way Americans calculate alcohol content which means their produce is stronger than it looks, but I wasn't in a state to comprehend and I'm sure Woody can explain it better. I'm not sure when we left, but since we're no-longer there I can accurately state that we did.

    ERROR: Next memory not found.

    Sometime later we were in a different bar and met some Mexicans. As that bar closed they told us they knew another place that wasn't closing. They did and we went there.

    The remainder of the night is like a sickly, swirly montage. There was beer, ATM withdrawals, cigarettes, jumper cables, disco lights under a bridge, shots, but a notable lack of looking at watches. We departed for the ten minute walk back to the motel at what we figured was probably 1am, but got back at just gone 4. Luke ran back for some stupid reason and had a brief kip on the concrete like, literally, three feet from his bed.

    So concludeth Day 3/early Day 4. Does it say something that the longest 'travel blog' entry so far is basically describing a night out that could have happened anywhere? Maybe...I can't really think about that at the moment since, per the above, my head hurts.
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