Yes, it was hot enough for me

I've started my journey across America, and it began with a new low point in my life -- the lowest point in North America, in fact.  I left LA yesterday and headed for Death Valley, one of the few major sites in California I hadn't seen.  I'm fascinated by extremes, and Death Valley has two of them -- heat and (a lack of) elevation.  As I descended into the valley, my car thermometer kept rising.  I drove down, down, down until I felt like I was going under the earth.  But I kept driving down, down, down until I reached Badwater Basin, 283 feet below sea level, where the temperature was 117 degrees.

In the South, people say the heat feels like an oven.  Here it's more like a blast furnace.  In Hell.  You actually have to pass through Hell's Gate to get into the national park. The photo on the left is the Devil's Golf Course, where if you played even 9 holes, you'd probably be dead.  Down here, it really feels like you're at the bottom of the world with the weight of the planet (and the sun) pressing down on you.  What a super fun national park!

I walked out on the salt flat which covers the basin, but I only stayed long enough to get a French tourist to snap a photo.  This isn't a park for dilly-dallying, unless you've always wanted to be a raisin.  I saw one woman who looked like she had rubbed her face with Crisco and laid down on the salt flat for an hour.  Scary!  I quickly bolted for the comfort of an air-conditioned car and made my way to Rhyolite, Nevada -- population zero.

Once upon a time, Rhyolite was a booming mining town.  Today, there isn't much, except rattlesnakes and ghosts.  I imagined what it must've been like back in the day as I strolled through the ruins of the bank, the general store and other buildings.  This part of Nevada is extremely desolate.  What am I saying?  The entire state of Nevada is extremely desolate except for Reno and Vegas.  The driving gets pretty painful when the only sights on the roadside are prisons.

I eventually made it to Vegas, where I stayed at the Imperial Palace.  Back in the day, this place might've been dope, but now it's just for people who like to kick it truly old-school or unemployed people traveling across America who want to pay $28 a night.  It's kind of a dump, but it's also right across from Caesar's Palace.

Vegas is the only place I know where you need a GPS system to navigate indoors.  I mean, have you ever tried to get out of Caesar's Palace?  This is the 2nd time I've gotten lost in the bowels of that casino, despite my determination this time to avoid such a fate.  What else can I say about Vegas?  It's the best people-watching in the world.  The elevator doors opened to reveal three gentlemen speaking Danish, I believe.  The scrawniest one of them was wearing:  A straw cowboy hat, cowboy boots, shorts and a cut-off t-shirt that said MUSCLE BEACH.  Take a moment to imagine that.  When the doors closed, everyone giggled.  Poor guy.  He probably thought he was being a cool American.

I left Vegas this morning after playing a few spins of Russian Roulette. Hey, I like to live on the edge. I guess more accurately, I sat at a Roulette table where all the other players were people from Russia.  And come to think of it, there were guns involved.  The dealer kept bragging about his collection of Russian firearms and wanted to know the intricate details of weapons regulations in Russia.  The Russians just nodded and put their chips on black.

Today, I drove though Utah to Salt Lake City.  Utah is gorgeous.  The expansive sky and prairies and the ever-changing mountains create a state of melancholy exhilaration in which you can legally drive 80 mph.  When you come over the crest of highway 15 into Provo, the Rockies soar into view.  Awesome.  Three names I always enjoy -- Marvin, Thelma and Provo.

I'm sure somebody will get that movie reference.  I passed a lot of people with motorcycles.  I imagine they're heading up to Sturgis, South Dakota for the insane motorcycle rally they have every year.  It kind of put a crimp in my plans.  I was going to stay in Rapid City, SD, but thanks to Sturgis, the cheapest motels in Rapid City, SD are going for $300 a night!  I can stay four stars in Beverly Hill for less than that.  I'm sure thousands and thousands of Harleys would be a sight to behold, but I'm planning to skip that whole traffic nightmare.

Tomorrow, off to Bozeman, MT.  In case you're interested, the official soundtrack to my journey across American includes:  Hayes Carll, Son Volt, Wilco, Ryan Adams, Griffith House, Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan.  Songs available on Itunes.