Monday: We pulled stakes early this morning, and headed towards Lake Havasu.
We hit the road with high expectations.
Holland had been to Lake Havasu several times (8 yo, 27 yo, & 28 yo); his mother lived there 1993 and he spent a few weeks her and her husband, and his younger siblings - and he went back to visit again, the following year.
He had memories to revisit.
I had never been there … but I had friends who had been there and raved about it as being "the place to be!"
I was curious.
And I wanted to see the famous London Bridge, which had been purchased, shipped from London, and erected in a desert portion of Arizona State ;-)
How London Bridge Came to Lake Havasu-AZ: https://travelthruhistory.com/london-bridge-lake-havasu-arizona/
As we got closer to Lake Havasu, we crossed a river that had palm trees and what looked to be reeds growing along the banks. The further we drove, the thicker the reeds got - and the thinner the water course became.
I was curious, so Holland pulled over so I could get a closer look.
Cattails: the river was being choked off by acres of cattails! I was surprised because I did not know that cattails grew in the desert.
That was an interesting learning curve ;-)
Bill Williams River-AZ: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Williams_River
Cattails/Southren Cattail-AZ: https://cabezaprieta.org/plant_page.php?id=2449
When we finally got to Lake Havasu, it was nothing as we imagined :-(
NO WHERE did see even a sign advertising any type of RV Park: nada.
Everywhere are high-rise condos, sprawling summer homes for the rich and famous, and hotel resorts everywhere you looked: it was a claustrophobic atmosphere of hollywood proportions.
Lake Havasu City is now a tourist trap oozing classless society rank: money reigns.
Not at all what I was looking for, for relaxation.
Not at all what Holland remembered.
Holland remembered swimming in the lake, and he wanted to show it to me. We drove down towards the lake, not knowing that it was a State Park - Holland remembers being able to just walk down to the beach and enjoy a swim without fanfare: today, we encountered a Park Entrance with a snarky Park Attendant. Once you enter the Park you cannot get back out again without going through a Pay Station (that's okay - I have a State Park waiver card), and the attendant lunged at the truck, barking, "Do you need to dump your RV?" Holland said, "No, but we are looking for a place to stay …" She didn't even let him finish talking before barking, "We're full." Holland calmly said, "I read the sign - what I was going to ask you is, 'do you know of any other RV Parks to recommend?'" She said she didn't.
We were both surprised at her tone, stance, and total blow off; it was still early in the day (10:30 A.M.) - her work day couldn't have been {a rough day} already to put her in such a sour-puss mood.
So, we drove through the Park to the exit, saying in unison: "Wow."
With no signs at all advertising RV Parks, and no useful tips from snarky inhabitants, we decided to check out the bridge … and head to Yuma.
And that was perfectly fine with me.
I didn't see - hear - or feel a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g. in, or about Lake Havasu, that made me want to stick around.
About an hour later, coming into Yuma, the saraguo cactus were very tall and plentiful: in places they were as thick as a forest.
The ground was so hard-baked by the sun's heat, that at times - when the sun rays hit just right … that furnace-heat-baked patina made the rocks look like broken, shiny, glass shards spread across the desert landscape.
When Holland spotted the huge military tanks heralding the YPG, he gave me a rundown on how the Ford Company uses the grounds to test their vehicles for strength and endurance.
The Yuma Proving Grounds was first used by the military in 1942 for training desert troops. The mission changed in 1943, when the site began to be used as a testing ground for bridges and river crossing equipment, boats, vehicles and well drilling equipment under the designation of Yuma Test Branch, Army Corps of Engineers; it's purpose is to the determine the durability and probable life of a piece of equipment.
YPG is approximately 830,000 acres (1,300 square miles) and is hemmed in on the west by the Colorado River, and on the south by the Gila River.
I was hyped up to see Yuma. Yuma is an old west town.
It was a little after 3 P.M. when we made Yuma. We had been up very early in the day; we started looking for a place to park our 5th wheel for the night. Holland had done some research the night before and we had settled on three possibilities ... so, we started calling around.
The 'Del Pueblo RV Resort' was our 1st pick, so we called; and then drove over there. The layout was nice - but the host was not. After taking down Holland's entire life history before telling him the monthly rate (and watching him count the $$$ out in front of her), she told him, "We don't accept cash." So, Holland picked up the $$$, and came back to the pickup frustrated and pissed. He got in Betsy and said, "They wouldn't take cash - they want a Card; we'll go to Wal*Mart and get one … but we won't be coming back here; the lady's attitude sucks."
We called the other two places, but Offices had closed for the day :-(
So, we started looking for a Casino parking lot; and found one.
We hunkered down in their sandy back lot, and enjoyed a peaceful rest: Holland just kicked back and relaxed until we turned in, Bleu ran all over the place until we turned in, and I started a new Clive Cussler novel - and read 200 pages before turning in (I'm a speed reader & Clive adventures keep you turning the pages) ;-)
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