We have
to check out of the Stratosphere by 11 am. While I get ready, Reg takes the car to find
the nearest Hertz garage – because of the flat tyre yesterday, the
car has a temporary wheel fitted (with no spare) so we need to change
our vehicle before driving to Barstow, a journey of about 150 miles.
From there we will take the overnight train to Flagstaff – Grand
Canyon country.
Reg
returns with the new car, we check out, load up all our luggage, and
return to the hotel for “brunch” - it's now 12.00 noon. We're
not leaving Las Vegas straight after “brunch” however, as England
are playing Italy in the world cup today, and it's on at 3.00 pm at
our hotel. Our train is not until nearly 10.00 pm tonight, so there
is ample time.
While
Reg watches the football in the bar/lounge,
I settle down in the computer area of the hotel – the only quiet
area with seating, as far as I can tell – and write a couple of
emails, plus a few postcards. While I'm doing this I receive a text
from Rose, my sister in law, telling me much-awaited news - that
there's a new baby in the family! Our niece Sarah has given birth to
a lovely baby boy – Liam Joshua - a brother for Joe! Sarah is a
little poorly, but both Mum and baby are ok. Congratulations to
Sarah, Ade and Joe!
I'm
just writing the last postcard when Reg comes to tell me that the
game is over; unfortunately England lost (“ I thought
they played ok, but Italy had that bit of extra nouse” comments
Reg). I bet he wishes he had someone he could discuss the game with
properly.
We're
soon on our way to Barstow, leaving behind glitzy, glamorous Las
Vegas, the city without a soul. On a street corner, a man is wielding
an arrow-shaped placard announcing:
“Cash
America Super Pawn – We've moved! Plus free cold water”
I
think about what the man behind me in the cash machine queue in the
Stratosphere said to me this morning:
“Don't
worry gal, take as long as you like. Every extra minute you're at
that cash machine is one less minute that I'm losing my money.”
Most
people come to Las Vegas just for a bit of fun, with a limit on what
they are prepared to lose; there is a definite addictive thrill
element to gambling. There's no doubt though that some people come
here because they hope they're going to get rich on big winnings –
but end up much poorer than when they arrived.
I
can't say goodbye to Las Vegas without mentioning the numerous
wedding chapels that abound on “ The Strip” - and I read
on Wikipedia that there's a lot more older wedding chapels in
“downtown” Las Vegas. Las Vegas is America's Gretna Green on a
bigger scale, and every year there are over 90,000 weddings here.
You can get married any day of the year, and as long as you are 18
(or 16 with parent's consent) you can get a marriage licence within
minutes between the hours of 8 am and midnight, again every day of
the year, for $60 ($65 if you're paying by credit card). Your
wedding can be a 5 minute drive through, a “walk-in wedding in a
chapel”, or you can have the works, such as a wedding on the top
floor of the Stratosphere, advertised as “The Chapel in the
Clouds”.
It's
surprising, once you're on the freeway, how quickly you're in the
desert; beyond Las Vegas, that's all there is. There are mountains in
the background, and as the freeway climbs to higher ground, there's a
few more trees, cacti and scrubland; but really little else.
As
we near Barstow, we call in at “Peggy Sue's 50's diner” (where
we stopped on our outward journey to Las Vegas), as we'll be too late
for food on the train. Reg leaves me with the luggage at Barstow
station at about 9.00 pm, and goes to return the hire car; he'll have
a 15 walk back to the station from the Hertz garage.
Barstow
is a well-lit, but unstaffed station, and there are no other
passengers around; it's pleasant sitting on the platform in the cool
evening air, watching several very long goods trains chunter through
on railway lines on the other side of the station. The station
building is huge, ornately beautiful and has been refurbished –
there's obviously a wedding going on there, as I catch a glimpse of a
bridge and groom. We find out later that many Amtrak station
buildings are of historical interest, have been done up in this
way, and are used as venues for weddings and parties.
For those
interested, this particular building was originally built in 1911 for
the Santa Fe railway, and was called the Casa del Desierto station
and hotel. It was designed by the renowned Fred Harvey Company, and
is now called the Harvey House Railway Depot. The architectural
style is Spanish Renaissance and Classic Revival; Wikipedia states
that “This historic structure is an elegant presence in the
Mojave Desert.”
The
building was closed by the Sante Fe railway in 1973, but designated a
Californian historic landmark in 1976. The City of Barstow obtained
ownership of the station in1990, and began restoring it. They
apparently ran out of money, but an earthquake which damaged it,
enabled them to apply for government funds to complete the
restoration. The top floor is offices and 2 museums; the ground
floor is, as I've mentioned, let out for parties and weddings. An
interesting history.
While
I'm waiting for Reg, a fellow passenger arrives; after a few minutes
he ventures:
“You
must be going on a long journey with all that luggage.”
He's
an engine driver, and we chat amiably; Reg is soon back, and joins
in the conversation about trains, politics, and English weather,
until the train arrives. We're soon ensconced in our little sleeping
cabin; the train is late and it's 10.30 pm. We're due in Flagstaff
at around 5 am; I set the alarm for 4.30 am. Reg clambers up to the
top bunk and we settle down for (hopefully) a few hours sleep amidst
the rocking movement of the train, the rattling cabin door, and the
tooting of the train each time it approaches a built up area.
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