Valley of Fire

Jill's Journal: About 50 miles north of Las Vegas is a truly stunning place. It’s easy to see why Valley of Fire State Park is Nevada’s oldest state park, dedicated in 1935. The name is derived from the red sandstone formations which rise out of the ground in striking fashion at nearly every turn.

The girls preferred to think the name “Valley of Fire” came from the heat and they had a point. It was mighty hot during our visit and our planned hikes quickly wilted into much shorter little walks at various stops as we braved what felt like a furnace.

Victoria had the cutest comment, “I like it when the car does the hiking for us.”

And on this day, in this heat, most of us agreed with her. Sometimes it is nicer to drive than walk, particularly when one is in a Valley of Fire. :)

These unusual formations are called beehives.

With the girls in the photo for perspective, you can see the beehives are clearly bigger than they look.

Arch Rock.

At Atlatl Rock, a great variety of petroglyphs can be seen. This art on the rock is believed to have been here for 4,000 years, left by ancient Indians. Although the meaning of these drawings has died with history, that notched stick near the top of this first one is known to be an “atlatl,” which was used to thrown primitive spears. An atlatl is considered to be the ancestor to the bow and arrow.

Beautiful, beautiful, just beautiful all over. No wonder the ancient Indians spent time here and left their mark.

What a lovely, lovely place.

And Today It’s “Rome”

Jill's Journal: Today’s public air-conditioning experience was brought to us courtesy of Caesars Palace, where the girls absolutely loved the Forum Shops. The indoor, high-end mall with the painted ceilings, Roman statues, elaborate fountains, and circular escalator (one of only a handful in the world and the only one in the U.S.) was a huge hit with them. I’m just wondering how we ended up in Las Vegas during what is being called record heat.

WSOP update: Gary is still in it and grinding away. Like in horse racing, poker requires a bit of luck which seems to have eluded Gary today. But he’s hanging tough. Go Gary!

Hot, Hot, Hot

Jill's Journal: With the heat wave sweeping the country right now, I know Las Vegas isn’t the only place suffering in triple-digit temperatures. And the weatherman today said it was “only” 114 degrees, not the 122 we registered. But either way, it’s hot, evidenced by a phenomenon that I don’t recall having anywhere else. To explain…

In an RV, one has to plan ahead to use hot water. Whether it’s showers, laundry, dishes, or simply washing your hands, if you want hot water, you’d have better turned on the hot water heater some time prior.

Not so in Vegas, apparently. It’s so hot here that the water coming out of our tap is always hot, never cool. Our showers have been taken with only the cold spigot turned on and that’s plenty hot. In fact, water coming out of the “cold” tap would be way too warm for a comfortable swim.

Crazy town.

Memories

Jill's Journal: Look at this picture: six ponies interspersed through daily camp life (apologies to the random people also in the image). I mean, really, how cool is that? It’s like that every single day here. We even awaken in the middle of the night to whinnies and hoofbeats on the road.

In spite of the miserable heat and humidity (and mosquitoes!), I think we’re going to try and stick it out here until the end of the week. And really, it’s for one important reason: this is a once-in-a-lifetime place. The girls are making some awesome memories here that will stay with them their whole lives. The immediate discomfort is only temporary, right?

I saw a quote on one of the Simple Mom-affiliated websites yesterday that spoke to me: "The thought of travelling with young children can be daunting. But it can also be a great adventure with your children helping to open your eyes to new experiences…Children are experts at being joyful and living in the moment, so follow their lead."

We’re trying to do just that.

Hot, Hot, Hot

Jill's Journal: It’s a good thing this place is wonderful, because, my goodness, it is hot. And I don’t mind heat, so I guess I should correct myself and say the humidity is overwhelming. We’re hot and sticky 24 hours a day. I can’t express how miserable it is to be that sticky every minute. We’re all starting to get a little irritable, especially Victoria, who naturally runs hotter than any of us.

Rob made a comment the other day, something along the lines of, “Who would have thought paradise would make you sweat so much?”

I don’t know if we’re going to get used to it or if we’re going to throw in the towel and leave a little early.

This humidity has certainly helped with one thing…part of this RV adventure involves us looking for our next place to live, a place that will hopefully be a permanent home for us. Rob has been adamant in that he wanted someplace with little or no humidity. I didn’t think I minded humidity that much. But guess what? I do! Winters in Montana are looking really, really good!!

Wild Ponies!

**I wrote this soon after arriving on Saturday night -- it's still spectacular all these hours later!**

Jill's Journal: We made it! It was a long trek over multiple bridges, in three ocean-floor tunnels (but who’s counting?), and up the Eastern Shore of Virginia, but when we pulled into Assateague State Park on Assateague Island in Maryland, it was all worth it. Immediately greeting us was the stunningly beautiful sight of wild ponies grazing. And it just got better.

Time and time again, we spotted small herds of wild ponies, some so close we could have touched them. The tiny foals, surely no more than a month or two old, earned particular “oohs and aahs” from the girls (and if I must admit it, from me too!). We quickly noticed deer as well and unlike usual deer, these creatures have no fear of people. One small one with five points on his antlers walked so nonchalantly through our campsite that I swear he nodded hello as he passed.

And if that weren’t enough points in the amazing factor, we are literally camping on the beach. Only a small sand dune stands between us and the Atlantic Ocean. This place is spectacular. We’d heard it was – this is why we had to make these reservations a year ago and why we pushed so hard to get here. I’m so thankful we did. This is an experience the girls are going to remember for the rest of their lives.

Like with anything in life, there are a few drawbacks – first, it’s hotter than blazes (where’s that ocean breeze?) and there are no hook-ups. We’re “dry camping,” which means no power, no water, no air conditioning, no nothing. Rob planned for this, so we do have our own limited power (lights and fans and refrigerator) from battery and generator and we do have a full 95-gallon tank of fresh water to use. But this is roughing it. The old me thought staying in anything less than a five-star hotel was roughing it, so I’ve come a long way. But I’m definitely still not a camper in the traditional sense and have no desire to become one. At the moment I’m enamored by the whole thing…there’s wild ponies, after all…but seven nights of “roughing it” may wear on me!

But right now, there’s wild ponies!

Tired, Crabby, and Maymont House

Jill's Journal: Oh, did we have tired girls today! Those who know me well know I’ve always been religious about routine and especially bedtimes with the kids. RE-LI-GI-OUS. I never wavered. The girls were in bed between 7 and 7:30 during the summers and 6:30 and 7 during the winter. Always. They might have gotten an extra hour on Christmas Day, but that was about it. Call me the Sleep Nazi, it’s okay. Not only did they thrive on routine, but I needed that quiet time without kids in the evenings.

With our new lifestyle, Rob and I agreed that we’d try a later bedtime. We’ve pushed it back to 8 or 8:30, sometimes even 9, and the girls love staying up, but they are not sleeping any later in the morning. The older two still wake up between 6 and 6:30 every morning (Victoria, to her credit, sleeps longer if I can keep her sisters quiet), just like they did with the earlier bedtime. I thought the big girls would start sleeping later once they got used to the later bedtime, but it hasn’t happened yet, much to my dismay.

Last night, they weren’t in bed until 10:30pm. Ridiculous. And when those little faces still greeted me at 6:30 this morning, I couldn’t help but dread the day because Mommy in all her wisdom knew tempers would be short.

I was right.

When the tight confines of a fifth wheel proved to be more than their crabbiness could bear, I loaded them up and headed to downtown Richmond and Maymont House per a friend’s recommendation (thanks, Mary!). It’s a Gilded Age mansion originally on 100 acres in what seems to be the middle of the city. I didn’t think the girls would be interested in the mansion adorned with original Tiffany stained glass, but a “Children’s Farm,” live otters, and wildlife exhibits including bears, elk, and bison sounded right up their alley.

I was wrong.

It was a trek from the parking lot into the main grounds and the girls were hot and sweaty by the time we reached the mansion. We decided to take a break from the hike and take a mansion tour to take advantage of their air conditioning. Much to my amazement, the girls were absolutely riveted by the opulence of the house (which contains almost all of its original furnishings). Built in 1893, the 33 rooms included five bathrooms with indoor plumbing and full electricity (both incredible rarities at the time). Each room was more lavish than the last and by the time we got to an ostentatious swan bedroom, the girls were completely won over and imagining what it would have been like to attend a tea party in the house.

We left the house with the tour guide complimenting me on my beautifully-behaved children (score one for Mom!) and headed toward the animals. On the way, Madelyn, who never simply walks (but absolutely must skip or run or bounce), fell and skinned her knee badly. She saw the blood and threw in the towel, wanting to skip the animals and go home “to show Daddy.” Victoria, who is always hot anyway and was melting in the heat, jumped on the bandwagon. Poor Erika had no desire to miss what we’d come for and I felt terrible for her, but if I’ve learned one thing about traveling with kids in these early weeks, it’s that I’ve got to be flexible. So, we called it a day and headed home for an early dinner and an early bedtime.

Now that’s my kind of luxury.

Lost River Valley and Cave…and Waterslide of Death

Jill's Journal: It is hot. Really hot. The massive heat wave on the East Coast must have spread this way, because triple-digit temperatures in Kentucky just don’t happen very often. It was 104 degrees today, confirmed on both our car’s thermometer and the local bank temperature sign we drove by. I grew up in the California desert and then spent four years in Phoenix, so 104 normally wouldn’t phase me (that would be a cool summer day in Phoenix!)…but when that 104 degrees has what feels like 5,000% humidity attached, it’s a whole ‘nother level of brutality. Even the pool offers no relief – the water is so hot it feels like you’ve just jumped into a giant boiling pot of water while simultaneously being baked under the sun.

Being the savvy traveler that I am or maybe just lucky, I scheduled a cave visit for today (since we are in cave country and caves are generally pretty cool in temperature year-round). We made the trek to the Lost River Cave, which one can only enter by boat. I’m not a big cave fan, although I’ve been to probably a half-dozen in my life, but thought the girls might get a kick out of both the cave and the boat.

The beautiful valley surrounding the cave was originally part of the cave itself, but many, many moons ago, a massive cave collapse turned the area into a valley of lush vegetation and four spectacular blue holes (where the underground river escapes to the top). We hiked to a butterfly habitat and the girls absolutely loved chasing butterflies. One landed on Madelyn (see it on her shoulder in the picture?), much to her sisters’ envy, and we spent five minutes “oohing” and “aahing” over the fancy insect.

One of the blue holes in particular was a source of great mystery. As Confederates were marching through during the Civil War, a horse carrying a supply wagon spooked and tumbled into the blue hole. Within seconds, the wagon, horse, and driver completely disappeared and fellow soldiers found no sign of them after diving in. Shortly after, Union troops had a similar experience – several soldiers jumped in for a refreshing swim and one by one started disappearing. The spot began to be known as the bottomless blue hole and it was thought a Native American curse covered the place.

As other people were lost over the years to the bottomless blue hole, yet no bodies were ever recovered from the outwardly peaceful water, an engineer eventually decided to get to the bottom of things. He threw in a rope with a rock on the end to find the bottom. He kept having to tie on more and more ropes, but finally measured the depth as an astounding 437 feet. The length of the blue hole is only 400 feet. The notoriety of the place grew and Ripley’s Believe It or Not came to validate the measurements, pronouncing it the “shortest and deepest river in the world.”

As technology advanced, the place became a novelty and was studied extensively. Eventually, it was discovered the serene blue hole with no outwardly visible hint of moving water was not 437 feet deep, but a mere 15 feet deep! However, it was finally learned that a treacherous underwater current lies near the bottom and sweeps anything in its path into an underground cave river.

We left the mysterious blue hole and hiked to the cave entrance, one of the largest cave entrances east of the Mississippi River. The entrance is so big that it was turned into the very unique “Cavern Nite Club” in 1934 and existed as a big band nightclub into the 1960s. The original bar, dance floor, and stage all still exist and are of course naturally air-conditioned by the cave. I wonder how many dancers took one wrong step or how many patrons had one too many drinks and plummeted down into one of the cave crevices or into the cave river?

A boat was waiting to take us into the cave itself and the cave roof at some points is so low that the boat riders have to crouch down in the boat. Erika and Victoria thought that was pretty neat, but Madelyn was highly unimpressed. “I do not like this, Mommy!” Luckily, she hung tough and later enjoyed seeing the wall/rock formations. Part of the underground river was dammed off for a water-powered mill before the days of electricity and that was neat to see too.

Jesse James seems to be a recurring theme this week and we saw where he hid out in 1868 after robbing a local bank. Law enforcement waited outside for three days to capture him and never succeeded. He also kidnapped a local physician to care for a wounded comrade in the cave and still avoided capture!

After our cave experience, we headed back to the campground where Rob happily joined us on the 300-foot waterslide, which we have now dubbed the “waterslide of death.” Erika went another three times and still loves it. Madelyn went again, got turned around backward, and even though Rob caught her at the bottom, she was scared enough to renounce the whole thing. Victoria was ready to go, was literally sitting on the mat at the top of the slide, when she changed her mind. Rob and I were so delighted with this – in spite of reassurances from the park staff, we felt she was just too young and although she may rule the world someday with that attitude, she isn’t a daredevil. Rob gave it a try himself and nearly drowned – small kids float down, but adults with their bigger body frames get plunged into abuse. He insisted I try and I did, against my better judgment. As I got flung around from side to side with my feet and lower legs being tossed over the top edges of the slide, I was certain I was going to die! I later heard only one person has ever been thrown from the slide. I’m still thanking my lucky stars I wasn’t the second!

Rob made it up to me by making us all a fabulous dinner on his new grill for the second night in a row. He does such a good job that I believe he should permanently take over cooking duties…he would have had to anyway if he’d lost his wife on that miserable slide!