Strange things happen to people when left alone in the desert. Many venture out on a journey of self discovery. Some don’t find what they’re looking for. Others don’t like what they find. Some just don’t come back at all. I was determined my parents wouldn’t get a grim phone call that a body, brimming with peyote and possibly their son, was found curled up under a joshua tree. No, I was going to have to play this one by the book and be the consummate professional.
On an empty stretch of desert highway, I pulled over to evaluate the situation. After taking stock of my supplies & turning up the ZZ Top, I started my desert road trip the only way that made sense: a burnout from the unpaved shoulder, spitting dirt and leaving a smokescreen of dust behind me.
As I tore through the Mojave Desert, the roar of the rented Mustang’s engine must’ve echoed for miles like a wild, frothing beast. I had a rough idea of where I was going, which was enough for me. The Valley of Fire.
Valley of Fire State Park is just 45 minutes from the front entrance of where I stayed, The Signature at MGM Grand in Las Vegas. Ancient red sandstone rock formations that are strewn across Nevada’s oldest & largest state park leave no question as to why it’s called the Valley of Fire. As I paid the $10 park entry fee I was given a small hand-drawn pocket map and unleashed to roam the desert alone. In the desert, alone means alone.
Lonely rest stops and picnic areas are scattered throughout the park, giving touring families a chance to air out their cars and burn some of the bottled up energy of their kids by exploring the marked trails. Those who plan ahead can take advantage of the built-in barbecues by bringing their own charcoal & food for a good lunch on the grill, unlike the half-eaten egg salad sandwich I had sweating in the front seat with me.
After spending the entire day exploring the park, I reached into my bag for another bottle of water but quickly realized what I’d feared the most: I was fresh out of water. Running out of water in the desert is the catalyst for a full mental breakdown. I had been hiking for what must’ve been 30 minutes, climbing rocks and getting myself off track. Under normal circumstances this would be, well, normal. But in 45 degree (115 degree Fahrenheit) heat under a scorching sun, this could get scary quick.
Knowing that panic in a place like this is the cousin of death, I returned to the car in hopes that I hadn’t lost the hand drawn pocket map I received hours earlier.
The rudimentary map wasn’t detail rich, but did feature some much needed bounty: a clearly marked Visitor’s Centre. I immediately switched from cowboy adventurer to pirate mode, following my treasure map on a conquest to the x that hopefully marked the spot.
Pulling up to the Visitor’s Centre, it was disconcerting to see the large parking lot empty. “Is it closed?” I wondered. Visions of breaking down the door of a closed/abandoned Visitor’s Centre in search of water began playing in my head. It wasn’t until I snaked my way through the various turns of the parking lot entrance that I finally saw a couple other cars. The door would be safe, for now.
Stepping into the building with a fistful of cash in search of the nearest vending machine, I was actually shocked to see a free water fountain right at the front door. Making sure I wasn’t hallucinating a desert oasis, I turned it on and let the cool water flow through my fingers. Salvation.
The Valley of Fire is a definite must-see for anybody going anywhere near Las Vegas. Click here to plan your own unforgettable trip to the Las Vegas desert. Oh, and bring plenty of water.