We drove out from Steamboat in a windstorm, shaking and swirving the Tacoma for 9 hrs straight, but with mostly empty highway under bright blue skies until we got to Fishlake National Forest, with Monroe, an 11,000 beast with plenty of snow on it still. It rained for about 10 minutes until we drove out of it southward.
We turned south on 15 to Vegas and stopped just north of St. George and the Nevada border in Hurricane.
And it soon became no wonder how this town got it got its name. 45mile an hour gusts burst between a constant 15mile an hour annoyance.
But our friendly neighbor Chuck, a retired Sgt. in full camo, and his family cooked our ready-meal (seasoned raw burger, potatoes and green beans in tin foil) on their beefy coleman for us and when the wind finally slowed for an hour around nine, we built a fire.
We awoke to this view, surrounded by rabbits, quail of course, and a plethora of other birds.
Gotta go eat my lumberjack breakfast, eggs, potatoes, and bacon, cooked to perfection on the fire in a brown paper bag.
Off to Vegas next, to assess the Sure Hands lift at the Wynn!
