Chill Outs: Hiking Red Rock Canyon On Drugs

Dave's Not Here, Man.

Posted by Miss Monkay

Back in late March of 2004, Chuckmonster and I took a weekend trip to case out Harrahs. We rolled out on a Thursday night, our preferred day of travel, in a shiny new SUV, thanks to our good buddy Bill at the Burbank Airport Hertz (high-five, Bill). Now normally, we are not fond of the SUVs but it was the only car they had which suited our needs. Plus, the thought of not having to guess what was in front of the Chevy Behemoth in front of us was very appealing. Deal.

After a very comfortable ride up the I-15, we pulled up to Harrah's around 1 am. After checking in and chilling out, we partook in some party snacks and then rolled around the casino floor some. We played some slots, but really spent most of the time sipping our tasty, ice-cold drinks while chatting. We definetly felt like we were on vacation.

Once we finally pulled ourselves away from the conversation, we took a venture outside. The sun was just beginning to rise and the Strip was lit up, not by the the marvel of the Hoover Dam, but by nature in her most raw form. The gold of Ceasers reflected the pink of the desert sunrise and it hit me. It was time to take a drive.

Chuckmonster was game. We hopped in that big-ass Urban Assault Vehicle and hit the road. He asked me where we were going and I simply pointed west. I did not know where we were going, but I did know that I wanted to see the desert while it the sun was still rising. It was Pink out there, and I wanted to be in the middle of it.

After a several random turns, 3 closed-community home things, 2 zealously obeyed 15 mph school zones, and full Damnation by Opeth (Hey guys- call us, let's have ice cream) we found a sign for Red Rock Canyon. Jackpot!

After about 5 minutes, we found ourselves at the bottom of the mountain and got to fulfill the birthright of the SUV. We hit the dirt roads for a bit 'till we came across a picnic area. The picnic area was small but pleasant and had a stream and a non-explorable cave nearby. The stream facinated me to no end. It was so small and the thought that at one time, that little stream was a river that cut this canyon in which we were standing overtook me.

We walked up the mountain. I wanted to see the Vegas from a higher perspective. We got to the top and stood there. The vastness of the desert went on and on (well, until the mountains anyhow, but you get the point.) I sat down and looked at the canyon wall. It was by no means the Grand Canyon, but it was the same to me. I wondered what story the strata told. I imagined the little stream in it's prime, a rapid river cutting a path in the rock. The Canyon had eons on me. I wondered about all the stories the canyon held. It was beautiful out there and still pink, but fading fast. We suddenly realized that we were getting to the end of our journey here. Chuckmonster sat down next to me. We stared out ahead of us and suddenly we see it; The letters D-A-V-E carved midway up the canyon wall. That's what we were looking for. I thought of our good friend across the Atlantic, DaveSidious.

Chuckmonster looked at me and said "Dave's not here, man". Yep.

We miss you, Dave! Call us! Let's have ice cream.

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