The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

North Coast explorations, Astoria, Fort Clatsop, and Seaside

February 22nd

The wind blew all night and the rain came down in buckets but we were happily camped on asphalt, not a bad thing in the Oregon Coastal climate. After a cozy breakfast in the MoHo, we jumped into the Tracker and headed north to explore Astoria. Costco is conveniently located right in Warrenton on 101, between the entrance road to Camp Rilea and the road to Fort Stevens. Even with our 10c discount at Freddy’s just up the road, Costco gas was still a lot cheaper, and we paid 3.65 per gallon/regular to fill up both rigs. I suppose that will be considered cheap by the end of the coming summer according to the news pundits.

We did as we often do, seeking out the local Visitor Information Center for Astoria before beginning our tour of the town. Of course, the most famous attraction is the Astoria Column, an impressive sight with equally impressive views on a clear day. Mo and I paid our dollars and climbed the steps back in 2004 when we visited Astoria on our first cruise together, so didn’t feel the need to go up there again.

Instead we purchased an auto tour CD for a buck to tell us some of the stories about the historic sites around town. It took a bit of doing to figure out how to get to the sites on the map while trying to listen to the CD. The numbers weren’t in order on the map and it made it hard to appreciate what we were hearing while Mo was attempting to navigate the narrow hilly streets. Too late in the process, I figured out that we should have simply driven to the spot and then fast forwarded the CD to the correct track. Hindsight!

In spite of the technical difficulties, we did have a good time listening to the stories of the early maritime history of Astoria, founded in 1811 as the first white community on the west coast. There are many beautiful historic homes, including the Flavel House, considered one of the finest examples of Victorian architecture in Oregon. Our CD tour guide told many stories about the folks who were influential in Astoria history, and the biggest surprise for me was the strong influence of the Finnish population that dominated the fishing and canning industry here in the early part of the century.

Being a Wednesday, during the winter season, we were disappointed to see that many of the cute little shops we remembered from 2004 were closed for the day, and the main street just didn’t have enough zing to get us out of the car to stroll and shop. I think I may have been a bit shop worn from the previous quilt run anyway. Instead, we wandered around some of the side roads, attempting to get a feel for the folks who live here, and found that the north facing very steep slope that is so visible along the river and from the highway is just a taste of the winding back streets that lead to charming neighborhoods filled with 20’s style Craftsman homes and less charming subdivisions filled with 70’s ranch style houses. Astoria is bigger than it looks!

Our trip out of town led us back toward Business 101 instead of the main freeway, and we wandered among wetlands and idle agricultural land for a few miles to discover we were right on the road to Fort Clatsop. In our Lewis and Clark National and State Historic Park brochure, Fort Clatsop was among the main park sites, scattered on both sides of the Columbia in Oregon and Washington, so we were delighted to have found it without any effort at all.

The visitor center was lovely, with a great movie about Capt. Meriwether Lewis and Capt. William Clark, who were only 29 and 33 years old when they departed from St Louis at the order of President Thomas Jefferson to find the most direct water route to the Pacific, making scientific and geographic observations along the way. Even though a Lewis and Clark fan for many years, I newly discovered that Sacagawea was NOT along on the trip for any kind of guidance, but was more an emissary to the various tribes the Corps encountered, proving that they were coming in peace since they had a woman in their party.

I also learned the the Corps of Discovery, and the Lewis and Clark expedition, was the forerunner to our present day Army Corps of Engineers. I have two distinct impressions of the COE. The best impression is of the wonderful campgrounds that we enjoy thanks to the COE. The other impression is one held a long time by university earth scientist types who hold up really horrendous examples of COE projects that didn’t take into account any kind of common sense. My favorite geology prof in college always showed dramatic slide shows of landslides precipitated by COE projects cutting of the toe slope of some great mountain along the Salmon River and then wondering why the road kept getting buried.

The Fort Clatsop site is fascinating and lovely, and as I stood at the spot where the explorers set their canoes for the home trip back to St Louis, it was easy to imagine it was 1806. The expedition wintered at this fort, of course now a replica stands here, but the stories of their winter and their interactions with the Clatsop people was fascinating. I was curious, though, as to why we hear so much about their trip to the Pacific, and very little about the trip home. Interpreters at the center got into a lively discussion about this, and one of them thought it was probably because the fun was over and they were basically really bored on the trip home. Sound like RV bloggers maybe?

We then backtracked past Camp Rilea to explore Seaside, a town that is definitely NOT the answer to Carmel. Seaside is more funky and down to earth, with a very long beach and a lot of touristy shops and souvenirs. Again, on this windy, cold, midweek winter day, it was quiet, with many shops closed, but I did slip into the Carousel Mall to see the famous carousel, one of the big attractions in the summer. Interestingly, the carousel is inside rather out in a park, so that is a testament to the possible windy, cold conditions of this part of the Oregon coast, no matter what time of year you visit.

Tomorrow we leave Camp Rilea and travel north across the famous bridge at Astoria, to cross the Columbia and explore more of the National Park sites on our way to Long Beach, Washington.

The Mighty Columbia

(This post is from February 21 and 22 )

After two days of quilt shopping all along the Oregon Coast, it was time for us to relax back into our original plan to explore places yet unseen by both of us. Fort Stevens, Fort Clatsop, Astoria, and Long Beach on the Oregon Coast all have one thing in common. The incredible history of Lewis and Clark and their journey to the Pacific is the thread that ran through the rest of our time during our coastal road trip. Being winter, the beaches were beautiful, but cold and windy, and lazy beachcombing explorations were cut short when we would look at each other and say, “OK, Enough!”

Mo’s family, originally from North Dakota, relocated to the small mill town of Columbia City on the Columbia River north of Portland when she was just a toddler. She grew up with that truly mighty river in her backyard, a playground for homemade wooden rafts and watching the passing freighters. In spite of this, she doesn’t remember thinking much about the passage of Lewis and Clark down that same river.

I relocated to Idaho in my late 20’s and spent the next 25 years or so mapping soils throughout Lewis and Clark territory, sometimes actually walking on the trails they walked north of the Lochsa River and over Lolo Pass, and having lunch at Canoe Camp along the Clearwater. I mapped Nez Perce lands and in the process learned much about their interaction with the Corps of Discovery. I was fascinated then by their story, and for me this trip to the final destination of that amazing journey was extra special.

Our campsite at Fort Stevens was cloaked in mist when we woke on Tuesday morning. Our plan was to explore a bit and then move south to Camp Rilea, a Military Family Camp with full hookups and good television for a mere $20 per day. I can see why Fort Stevens is such a popular camp in the summer, with more than 500 spacious sites, lots of history and long stretches of open beach. For us, on this windy and cloudy morning, we decided to first check out the wreck of the Peter Iredale, one of the more than 2,000 ships claimed by the treacherous Columbia River bar since 1792, earning the bar the name “Graveyard of the Pacific”.

We had the beach to ourselves, and I worked very hard to get my photos to show something other than a seriously gray landscape. Even Abby wasn’t too interested in running on the cold, wet beach. The sands on this part of the Oregon coast are much finer as well, and darker in color, so with all the storms, the water was thick and muddy as the waves crashed inland.

Following our map of things to see at Fort Stevens, we drove north to the South Jetty and the ocean and wildlife viewing platforms at Clatsop Spit. As we approached the jetty, huge waves were crashing over the rocks and we were glad for the viewing platform to at least get a glimpse of the wild ocean.

The north and south jetties at the mouth of the river were built between 1885 and 1895 and served to keep beach sand from clogging the river. The sands have built up over time and the shoreline is now actually a full mile farther west than it was when Lewis and Clark arrived in 1805.

We drove through the State Historic Site portion of the park, with it’s tiny museum, but chose to continue to one of the historic batteries to get out and explore. Fort Stevens was actually constructed in 1862 during the Civil War and remained active until shortly after World War II. Although the guns have been removed, the concrete batteries remain.

We climbed the moss covered steps of Battery Russel and walked alone among what was left of our nation’s defense against a Japanese invasion. In fact, Fort Stevens was the only military installation on the continental United States to have been fired upon since the war of 1812. If you enlarge the photo on the left, (by clicking on it) you can read the information on the sign we found at the site. There is so much to see at Fort Stevens, and I can see how lovely it might be on a summer day, but because of the season, we had it almost all to ourselves. I know the weather here can be iffy any time of year, however, so even a summer trip would require plans for rain and wind and fog.

With most of the morning gone, it was time to get back to the rig and move our camp south to Camp Rilea. Just a couple miles south of Fort Stevens, Camp Rilea is an armed forces training camp first established for the National Guard in 1927. Even though there were only ten sites, all on pavement, I think we enjoyed it more than any other MFC we have visited. Once settled into our spot at the end of the line, we had wide open view of the pristine white buildings and red roofs surrounded by acres and acres of perfectly mowed grass, occasionally dotted with a large herd of Roosevelt elk that casually wandered through the grounds.

Once again settled in, we decided to return via Highway 101 to Cannon Beach, where I hoped to get a view and a photo of the famous Haystack Rock, the oft photographed icon of the Oregon Coast. By the time we got there, it was late afternoon, but in spite of the rain and wind, there were a few hardy souls walking on the beach and exploring the town that calls itself the Oregon coast answer to California’s Carmel. With some effort, we found beach access and walked down to the famous sea stack.

Cannon Beach was delightful, even in the rain, but Mo waited in the misted up car with Abby while I explored beautiful galleries and colorful candy shops. We then found the historic Driftwood Inn just in time for a happy hour Irish Coffee before going back north in the waning evening light.

Tomorrow: Astoria, Fort Clatsop, and Seaside

Raining on the Oregon Coast–Really!?

It is exactly what we expected when we planned a trip north from Brookings for this week in mid February. Why north when the possibilities for good weather were probably much better if we went south? The MoHo is in Brookings, and for the last few trips our route has been south, heading for the California beaches, the California deserts, warm days, sunny skies. But that is the key word, California, and we decided it might be nice to skip the traffic and people and explore our own magnificent coastline farther north than we have been together in the MoHo.

The plan was for a leisurely amble north toward Astoria, fully expecting rain and storms. There are huge groups of people who migrate to this coast specifically at this time of year to storm watch, and it is also time for the migrating gray whales to be moving north. Imagine our surprise on Saturday afternoon when we arrived in Brookings to sunny skies and temperatures as high as 60 degrees! There wasn’t a bit of fog except for a low bank on the horizon far west of the shoreline, and the bluebird skies were wonderful.

When we left Rocky Point, the sun was shining on the freshly fallen skiff of snow and over the pass we passed through some serious winter conditions with a bit of whiteout here and there. In Medford it was cloudy and raining, in Grants Pass the hail and sleet were pounding hard on the roof and then we passed through intermittent rain and squalls and sunshine all the way to Hiouchi, where we habitually check to see if our “spot” is empty. Usually it is taken, and we smiled remembering camping there along the little creek. It is a great little campground just inland from Crescent City.

With the MoHo stored in Brookings just a few minutes from Harris Beach, we have no need to stay anywhere else. Harris Beach has become our first and last night destination of choice. This time when we opened up the storage shed, all was perfect, no bad smells, no vandals cutting holes in the walls to ransack our rig, no mice shredding anything at all. Even though we assume the MoHo is safe, we have learned the hard way that when she is away from us for a few weeks at a time, who knows what surprises might await us when we open that door.

We drove immediately to the park where we scored another front row site with electric, water, and cable. Other sites in this row were completely full since most of them have a tremendous view of the ocean. Our view was not quite as dramatic, but we still could see the wide open sea from our back window. In spite of the sun, the wind was chilly and even though we picked up some local firewood bundles, the wet grass and cold breezes kept us cozy and warm inside.

We set up the rig, and then ran back to town to buy enough groceries at Freddy’s to be sure that we would qualify for our ten cent off fuel cost the next morning when we planned to fill the empty MoHo. Just down the street from Freddy’s (Fred Meyer Stores for those who aren’t Northwesterners), is the delightful little quilt shop I found our last time in Brookings. I thought it might be nice to check in there that afternoon since the next day was Sunday and of course quilt shops probably wouldn’t be open. Big surprise!

I had somehow managed to hit the first quilt shop in a list of 14 in the last weekend of the ongoing Quilt Run 101, stretching from Brookings all the way to Astoria. I had Sunday and Monday to get my passport card stamped at each of the 14 shops to qualify for a fancy Janome quilting machine or one of many gift certificates. Whoopie! We had already decided that we would move fairly quickly through the southern and mid coast where we have traveled before and slow down to explore the north coast, so the two day run wasn’t really much different than our original plan.

We woke on Sunday morning once again to brilliant sunshine and no fog. Winds coming from the north were cold, but I guess that is what keeps the fog away this time of year. Before we got back on the road, we enjoyed walking in the morning sunlight down toward the beach and were aghast at the level of the high tide. The entire beach was almost completely inundated, something we haven’t seen before. Texting back and forth with my daughter, I mentioned it and she immediately sent the following text message to me:

“When the Moon, earth, and Sun are positioned in a straight line at new or full Moon, the tide producing forces of the Sun and Moon are added together giving extra low tides called “spring tides”. These are the best tides for beach combing, clamming or visiting tidepools. During the Moon’s first and last quarters, the Sun and Moon act at right angles to each other, and the result is a much reduced tidal range called a “neap tide”. Mom, you are seeing mixed tides and the highest high tide is in the morning in the spring”

So did she touch type that whole thing into her phone or copy it over from somewhere else?!!

I can’t remember when we have driven this part of the coast in sunshine, and it felt like we were in a completely new world. The quilt shop run was great fun, especially for Mo doing the driving, since almost all the shops were right on the main highway and parking on this lovely Sunday was easy, many times we pulled the MoHo and Toad right up to the front of the shop.

As a brand new quilter, I had so much fun seeing all the different styles of quilting and the different focus of each shop reflecting the owner’s artistic bent. We made it all the way to Newport on that first day, visiting 8 of the 14 shops, and Mo had a nice day while I shopped, walking Abby in the sunshine in all the little towns. In Florence, Mo was walking down the street and met a little girl who loved Abby and said, “Do you want me to go home and get my dog?” Mo said no, but within minutes the little girl was back with her dog, a sweet little beagle, who loved Abby as well. Too bad Mo doesn’t carry the camera!

South Beach State Park, just south of Newport, is familiar to us, a place where the beach is some distance from the campground, but roomy and we knew there wouldn’t be a problem getting a site. By the time we reached Newport, the sunny skies were just a memory and the normal gray clouds of the coast settled in around us. Again, in spite of the lovely campsite with a great fire pit, our wood went unused. The soup I had thawed went unused as well, since we thought it would be fun to go down to old town Newport for some obligatory coastal fish and chips. It was surprisingly busy in spite of the rain, but we found a table at the Rogue (used to be brewery but they moved the brewing part across the river) and had halibut fish and chips for 13.95 market price. It was a great little place, with fun people watching and a cozy vibe. I topped off the perfect halibut with a Dead Guy Ale. Gotta love those crafted brew names.

We left on Monday morning with only 135 miles and six shops to visit between Newport and Astoria. As we drove north through the rain, the landscape looked much more familiar, with mist and fog shrouding the green mountains around us. Sometimes the ocean was visible through the fog, and other times we couldn’t see much. I filled up the day with color, however, and Mo enjoyed hanging in the MoHo reading while I shopped. A couple of times I was asked if I had a husband waiting in the car. Nope! There were a few guys shopping with their wives, but others just rolled their eyes at the thought of a patient person waiting while they shopped for fabric. I couldn’t help thinking of Rick and Paulette and all her shopping trips.

We gassed up the rig at Costco near Warrenton and unhooked the tracker for the ten mile run to Astoria, where I visited the last two shops and turned in my completed card with just minutes to spare. We will slow down and visit Astoria again in the next few days, since I was worn out with shopping and was definitely ready to settle in for the night.

The rain intensified as we backtracked to pick up the MoHo and drive to Fort Stevens State Park it was raining hard. Paul and Nina had recommended loop N for nice open sites, but when we arrived, the only loops open in the huge campground were H and I. H had two rigs and I had two rigs, so we picked a spot on the I loop right next to the showers, something we often avoid, but it didn’t matter since no one was there. Worked out perfect for me and I made use of the shower at 3AM just steps from the door, but you already know that part of the story.

The next day we planned to explore Fort Stevens, and decide whether we want to stay here or move a short distance south to the Camp Rilea Family Camp. Tune in to find out!

3 AM thoughts…and back to the Valley of Fire

I am listening to the sound of rain on the roof at the moment, around 3:30 am I think, and with sleep deciding to take a holiday around 2, I decided it might be a good time to catch up on things. We are parked at the lovely Fort Stevens State Park, on the far north Oregon coast near Astoria, in one of only two open loops, and our rig is just steps from the showers. To spare the sleeping Mo, I slipped over to the unlimited hot water for a very long shower before settling in with computer and tea to remember how it felt back in Nevada just 8 days ago.

While we were traveling in Las Vegas, I didn’t have my computer or camera with me, and of course, didn’t take time to read all the blogs I try to follow. Sometimes when I let the reading slip, I get a little bit worried about folks. What if I miss something truly earth shattering that has happened to someone I care about, even though I may have never met them? I know this is a bit silly, but then it happened again. A distant blog friend experienced a life changing moment and I missed it. It is their life and their story, so I won’t link to it here, but if you know Sherry and David you might want to be sure to check in and send good thoughts.

Blogging is a personal hobby, reading blogs has been a diversion that I enjoy, but we all know it doesn’t require the kind of commitment that up front, real life friendships require. It is somehow ephemeral, and when we slip away for a time, the world doesn’t end. At least not usually.

So when I slip away from writing, I have learned to at least try my best to catch up on my reading. I would hate to jabber away on some stupidity, all lalala about whatever is going on at the moment, completely ignoring that someone is seriously ill, or has lost their life-time pet, or worst of all, their life. Yeah, this blog is all about me, but somehow things shift a bit, and it is also about my interaction with readers as well. After all, all those comments and all those hits mean I am no longer in this thing alone. Just one of those 3am thoughts, I guess.

Now, here in the darkness of a rainy night, I will slip back into the photos of our day at the Valley of Fire more than a week ago, and remember.

Our second night at the Main Street Station was fabulous. We were moved down to the 4th floor, without the expansive views of our first night, but with only the tolerable white noise of the big fans on the casino roof just below us. We were also blessedly on a non smoking floor. To bed by 2am or so, we slept on the perfectly firm bed with a cushy top, snuggled up by a great comforter and several different kinds of pillows, soft to very fat. Take your pick.

Sunday morning we ambled down around 10 to enjoy one of the best Sunday brunches in Las Vegas, or so it said. It was wonderful, 8.95 each for an amazing spread, including unlimited pourings of champagne, with or without the orange juice. Our waitress was diligent in keeping our coffee and our champagne glasses full. The choices were just about limitless, but we did manage to keep our meal somewhat reasonable in size, picking and choosing among our favorites. Everything was scrumptious.

After that leisurely breakfast, it was time to get out of town and see the desert. The last time we were in the area, we went to Laughlin, and we also have been west of town in the Red Rocks area, and thought it might be nice to try something different. A quick check of Google maps on the phone showed the route east to Valley of Fire was a simple turn north from our Main Street location to I-15, and another simple 20 miles or so to the turn toward Lake Mead.

The desert was incredibly gorgeous on that Sunday, with brilliant skies made even more beautiful with wild clouds that threatened rain, although it never actually fell. Our first view of the Valley of Fire was lovely, but if you only pass by on the highway and maybe stop in at the visitor center, you could miss the full effect of this remnant of the Colorado Plateau. I am a red rock canyon country junkie, and had no idea there was a piece of red heaven this far south.

The visitor center was a great stop, with wonderful displays explaining the complex geology and faulting of the area. I saw familiar names that I carry in my heart, Chinle, Moenkopi, Navajo, names of the sandstone formations I am so familiar with farther north. Here, the Apache sandstone overlies Chinle, pink and yellow as well as red, a rainbow of hues that seemed especially surreal in the late afternoon light.

We drove north into the park toward the White Dome area, where I found a trail leading down a canyon and across slickrock that looked like pastel watercolors. Again, only the iPhone to try to capture that color, but Mo had her Fuji mini camera as well, and took a few shots while I was running around oohing and aahing at the amazing color and formations.

We checked out the campground as well, 30 bucks a night for hookups, with several spaces big enough for two or three rigs with unobstructed views of the desert beyond. There were plenty of vacancies, and we added this spot to our list of places that we might like to camp someday. It would be great to just hang out here and have time to wander among the rock formations.

We took a circular route back, traveling east toward Lake Mead and then along the North Shore road into North Las Vegas. The drive was so much fun in the little Fiat, and the gorgeous sunset over the lights of Las Vegas as we dropped back into the valley was the perfect finale.

The next morning, Monday, we explored our own casino a bit more. The one thing we didn’t like about Main Street Station was the lack of simple restaurants. We only had the big buffet and the fancy restaurant and brewery, but no place to get a morning cup of coffee, not even a pot in the room to brew tea! As we were leaving, we discovered that the Main Street Station is linked with a closed skywalk to the California casino across the street, and there were half a dozen different venues, just steps away from our room that included espresso and bakeries, little coffee shops, and lots of other goodies. We were really happy with our choice to stay Downtown at Main Street rather than on the strip and would choose it again. Especially since it is so easy to get out of town entirely from this area.

Once again, we did the cattle call seating option for Allegiant, with a bit less success this time. Our number was too high to get seats together, and I ended up in the very back of the plane, in an aisle seat across from the big exit door with no window at all. A bit claustrophobic to say the least. We arrived home a bit late to rain and snow in Medford and snow on the pass. Gotta love winter coming finally in February, I guess. Overall, the trip turned out to be a delightful little winter escape.

Sinning in Sin City

It sounds good, but really, at this stage in life, sinning amounts to little more than eating way too much good food and dropping a few bucks into the slot machines. But there is nothing quite like a trip to Vegas to get a taste of all the excesses available to anyone who has the time and money. The most excessive part of this short little whirlwind trip for us was popping for tickets to Elton John’s concert at Caesar’s Palace, The Million Dollar Piano.

For years the music of Elton John was part of the background of my life. I enjoyed it, but never paid much attention. As years went by, however, I would hear something amazingly melodic and rich and sure enough, it was Elton John. I also heard that he put on a concert rivaled by few that was worth seeing. I think the first time I tried to get tickets was back in the early 90’s, in the days when phones would do automatic redial trying to get through that busy signal. By the time I got through, the tickets were sold out. That story was repeated a few times, more recently when he was playing in Portland and other venues in the northwest. Always long gone by the time I got through.

Now, however, he is playing in Vegas. Maybe that is a sign of the times, when all the old stars finally make there way to the Vegas stages. Motley Crue and Chicago are even there right now. The nice thing about this, though, is that there are enough shows scheduled that getting tickets is not an impossible dream. Hence the four day trip to Las Vegas. Allegiant Airlines flies out of Medford, direct, for a very reasonable price. The airline tickets were cheaper than the concert tickets at least. Cut rate airlines are an experience of themselves. Buying online, we discovered that if we wanted an assigned seat, it was an extra 8.95 for each leg of the flight, if we wanted water in flight, it was 2 bucks a bottle. If we wanted to check in prior to boarding, we had to pop for the assigned seat. Mo and I were reeling from the concert tickets and decided to skip the seat assignments. No big deal, right? It was only an hour and a half flight anyway.

The reality was funny, though, like the old days with Southwest airlines cattle calls, we had to get to the airport early enough to hopefully get a low number for the lineup. Once on the plane, we could take whatever seats were left by the time we got there. We checked no baggage and brought peanuts for sustenance.

Arriving in Vegas after ten pm, we caught the rental car shuttle to the state of the art new rental car facility about 7 miles south of McCarren field. I was impressed. The whole car rental experience was simple and straightforward, at least until we attempted to open the windows of our tiny compact car, a neon yellow Fiat 500. It also took Mo a few miles to discover that the reason the engine kept winding up was because shifting was required. No clutch, just shift by hitting the joy stick on the console. Sirius radio and heated seats added to the delight of a tiny car that somehow felt pretty darn roomy inside and had lots of zip on the road.

Mo and I haven’t been to Vegas since 2004 when we flew down and spent a day in town before driving for a week or so around Death Valley. We decided it might be fun to stay downtown near Fremont street and the Main Street Station turned out to be a great choice. On the first night we had a room on the 14th floor facing north, right over the freeway and the railroad tracks. No earl plugs? ahh. I had no idea I would need them inside a big hotel. Somehow we ended up on a smoking floor as well, but a phone call to the desk was worthwhile since the next morning we were moved down to the non smoking, much quieter 4th floor for the rest of our stay.

We enjoyed a slow Saturday morning walking Fremont street before we boarded the sleek and efficient SDX bus to the strip. We spent the rest of the day walking the strip, in and out of all those incredible casinos that are like a huge Disneyland for grown-ups. Grown ups with more money than we had, for sure, but I still really loved strolling through Neiman Marcus fingering Oscar de la Renta gowns, Jimmy Choo shoes, and Prada bags. I like a good bag. Two hundred bucks is a big deal, but when I picked up that 2,800 Prada bag I wondered about my daughters and how one purse could pay a couple of big mortgage payments, or a pair of shoes could pay for some badly needed dental work. Vegas is definitely a place to feel the ridiculous imbalance that is part of our culture now. There were lots of homeless folks in our end of town as well.

After miles and miles and hours and hours of walking, we settled in for the “sin” part, a great Italian supper at Trevi’s in the Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace. I had some kind of succulent drink that should have been on a cruise ship with red italian wine, peach liqueur and who knows what else. It was decadent and delicious. We just sat there a long time enjoying our meal and the changing (fake) skies that turned from dawn to dusk several times as we sat there in the courtyard. I don’t think there is any place better than Vegas for people watching, either, and we were fabulously entertained by the shifting crowd passing by on the mall.

Finally it was time for the show, and we filed in with several thousand other excited folks, dressed in everything from jeans to spandex to sequins. I knew I had been sequestered too long in the back woods when I realized I was gawking at the gorgeous young girls wearing what must be the latest “thing”. Their dresses were stretchy like a girdle, covered the part from the breasts (barely) to the panty line (barely), with platform shoes that had heels with more inches then their skirts. It was great fun, but sure did remind me that I am in my sixties and fashion is completely irrelevant at this stage.

Once inside the theater, we could feel the excitement building. I was surprised that the crowd was so diverse, all ages, all styles, and all seemingly thrilled to be there. When EJ came on stage, the roar was huge. He was dressed tastefully in a sparkly black tuxedo, with a nod to his old self expressed in some crazy bright red tennis shoes and a subdued pair of barely colored glasses. He started with “Benny and the Jets”, not one of my favorites, but the lights and the music and the sound built throughout the show in a way that kept me alternately in goose bumps and tears. You have no idea how much this music is in the background of our lives till you hear the melodies and find yourself singing the words.

His voice is deeper and richer, and while he doesn’t hit the high notes the way he once did, there is a strength and quality in his singing that is breathtaking. Two young men from Croatia on electric cellos, (appropriately called the Two Cellos) expanded the richness of the music and his percussionist took my heart away, even his tambourine sounded like a full scale orchestra. And yes. The Piano. The Million Dollar Piano. I never heard anyone play a piano like this, truly. Rachmaninoff maybe. I know, apples and oranges, but still. Goosebumps and tears. It was not just a rock-n-roll concert. It was incredible. Of course, I wanted it to never end.

We left with the crowd with our eyes filled with lights and our ears with sound, enough that the lights and sounds of Vegas seemed almost irrelevant. Caesar’s Palace is right next to the famous Bellagio Fountains, which obligingly started up their musical water dance in time for us to enjoy. On our way south along the strip, I saw many of those girls in those skinny dresses and high shoes, tugging at the dresses and carrying their shoes! Another reason to maybe skip this particular fashion trend!

We found our SDX stop and climbed up to the upper deck for the slow ride back downtown, thoroughly enjoying the street shows below us at each stop. It was a great day, but we both agreed that the next day was going to be our chance to get out of town and away from all that glitz and craziness. Vegas is great but the desert calls.

Just a quick note here as well, I didn’t pack a computer or even a camera for this trip. Managed to get these photos with my iPhone. It is rather amazing what a telephone can do, but of course, it ain’t the Nikon.