This is the Hoover Dam with Lake Mead behind it. If you look at the white band above the lake you can see how low the water level has dropped with years of drought. The original Boulder Dam was built in the 30s during the Depression. Thousands of workers flocked to the site for work. The Dam was renamed after President Hoover – it provides hydroelectricity and water.
This photograph shows the scale of construction with the original road. There is now a bypass which makes it safer for tourists to look at the dam. Although it is a miracle of modern engineering, there is always an ecological cost to pay when you divert a river (the Colorado River). We waste so much of our most precious resource on the planet – water.
When you visit or live in arid places you become very aware of how much we need water. I wish we could send a little of our excess water in Houston to our dry neighbors. After a 10 year drought we are now in the throes of a wet decade. There is moss in my garden!!! I left that behind in Scotland…
I am standing in Arizona looking at the impossibly blue sky of Nevada. None of my photographs have been altered. The light is fantastic.
This is my first glimpse of the Grand Canyon through the bus window. More on the trip from hell next time.
Silhouetted crow on the Western Rim of the Grand Canyon
…that grand. To be fair, the canyon was a really Grand natural spectacle, it was the arduous trip to get there that took the gleam off the visit. Air travel has never been more popular, especially to tourist destinations. The flight to Vegas was completely full and my heart sank as I walked towards my aisle seat. Two rather large people completely filled the THREE seats. They managed to squish up a bit and I had a little sliver of seat. My airline should have dealt with the situation but I didn’t complain knowing it was pointless.
Finally we arrived at Las Vegas and even the airport seemed a little shabbier than it did a decade ago, on my last visit. Still, I laughed at the slot machines right beside the gates. My ‘I work at an airport’ aura followed me west and I helped a party of French people communicate with their Serbian Uber driver. My Uber arrived and I drove off, shouting “Au revoir!” while thinking, ‘good luck finding someone else who speaks French…and enjoy our Freedom Fries!’
My hotel lived up to all its recommendations, just off the Strip but incredibly quiet. Each room was a little suite and I could have happily lived there. Perhaps some of the very elderly residents did? I felt like the young groovy chick that I am. After I unpacked, I went off to see the sights of Vegas before my long trip to the canyon the following day. Waiting at the crosswalk, I got talking to an older man (my age) who had his even older mother in a wheelchair. I wasn’t sure she was alive…mummified? Was his name Bates? I kept bumping into them at the Mall across the street and she didn’t seem to move. Welcome to Vegas!
As I was trying, with thousands of other people, to negotiate the Strip’s overhead walkways, I noticed that there were many homeless people; some drunk and some mentally ill. One poor guy got in the large elevators with 15 or so other tourists. He was shouting at nothing, terrifying the other occupants. My ‘I worked in mental health’ aura was about to appear when the doors opened and he stumbled out. It is really hard to enjoy visiting a place when you can see the underside right in front of you.
What mortified me even more were the British tourists behaving crassly. I really tried to manage my Trans-Atlantic twang so I could travel incognito. There was a really loud English couple, from up north like Jon Stark, in Victoria’s Secret who were trying to find something classy for her mother (presumably my age or less). They eventually found a sexy little something in leopard
silk polyester. I struggled to contain my mirth… Later I came across some Scots men in a hotel bar and every second word was a loud cuss word. Sigh.
I took some shots close to my hotel as night was falling. It was as though the night added some dark glamour to the previously tawdry street.
Do you see the truck at the bottom? Sin City Indeed.
Do you ever wonder why you started following someone or vice-versa? My taste in blogs is very varied and my friend Chad’s blog is all about sailing – Live Free 2 Sail Fast
I think what triggered my interest was a shared experience of mental ill health. In Chad’s case it is PTSD and he finds sailing to be very therapeutic. Not only that, he actively helps other veterans with PTSD to find some relief with sailing. His post on this subject is inspiring – PTSD and sailing.
I would rather go to the moon in spaceship than sail on a small boat because I have a phobic fear of deep water…🌊 Despite that, I am drawn to the water like a lemming and am truly envious of Chad’s ability to be soothed by sailing. He is about to start on a new adventure – see this post Saturday Morning Boat Musings and I want to wish him all the luck in the world. Here is a link to a post about his adorable Great Dane Quincy.
The Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Puerto Vallarta
There is something about this photograph that summons up the feeling I get when I am inside a church. Sometimes I enjoy going to a service but mostly I like the silence of an almost empty sanctuary. On this hot day in Puerto Vallarta, it truly was refuge from the busy resort. The Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe is not a cathedral although it is often called such. Perhaps it is because of the beautiful baroque crown that is said to be a replica of Empress Carlota of Mexico’s crown.
I was utterly fascinated by Empress Carlota whose existence was unknown to me. Napoleon wanted a figurehead for Mexico – Archduke Maximilian of Austria. Emperor Maximilian married Empress Carlota (Charlotte of Belgium) in Mexico City 1864. This is a link to the Wikipedia page about the Empress which is an almost fantastical tale of the brief influence of France on Mexico.
church side door
Mexico has held me fascinated since I discovered that many generations of my Ortega family lived in various states of Mexico. Until recently I didn’t think I had any connection to the state of Jalisco (in which Puerto Vallarta is) until I found an ancestor on Familysearch, Felipe de Jesús Quintero Rosas who was born in Poncitlàn in the late 1600s. Don’t Spanish names sound so romantic? I now regret my haste to get rid of mine when I married. I so longed for an ordinary Scottish name so I could blend in. Only as you mature, do you realize how important your uniqueness is.
When I moved back to the USA over a decade ago, I was slightly surprised that there were so many Spanish speaking Protestant/Evangelical churches in Texas. Somehow I thought they would all be Roman Catholic. This car in Puerto Vallarta amused me…😇
Isn’t he handsome – a perfect choice for Khaleesi! He was a few feet long and gorging on the Tamarind fruits that you can see next to him (and falling out of his mouth). If we turned up the hill leaving Hacienda Escondida, we headed towards a more local area with the river dissecting the two areas. It was a haven for wildlife – and they were all new to us!!!
Rivera del Rio
There is a bathing area and we saw local children having fun swimming in the river. The bridge across was the major route from the hillside down to the south side of the Old Town of Puerto Vallarta. If you stay at a resort, you will miss all of this, including a wonderful fresh market. I was told that despite the cobbled streets, the water from the taps was safe to drink. I drank it and it tasted good.
I think this is just a plain old Grackle, above, but I love his silhouette against the trees and hills. I don’t know the name of this little yellow bird, also enjoying tamarind fruit, but he was as little as the iguana was big.
Tiny little yellow bird
Simple Mural at Rivera del Rio
After Thanksgiving we went on a short trip to Puerto Vallarta in the state of Jalisco, Mexico. We have been scouting out possible retirement locations. I wanted to stay in the old town and we chose a very well recommended bed and breakfast situated in an original Hacienda. Oscar picked us up at the airport and whisked us back to the Hacienda. Escondida means hidden and it really is. It is on a cobbled street that leads from the beach up to the mountains and there is just a beautiful arched door leading into this wonderful oasis. I loved the horse sculpture that was above the small swimming pool, right outside our patio doors.
Our suite was beautifully appointed with local ceramic tiles in the bathroom, a small kitchen and seating area, right by the pool. The property has a huge Banyan tree and there is a fun tree-house with seating, a TV and bar.
The gardens in the Hacienda were amazing, full of delicately tended flowers and bushes. These attracted quite a variety of butterflies. More lovely photographs to come. Click on the red link for the Hacienda Escondida website.