Confession: almost titled this blog post: “Nevada: Nothing to See Here Folks…Almost”
WOW. I have to admit that I don’t get why anyone would live in the state of Nevada. Sorry, I admit that I’m a Cali snob. There’s nothing out here for miles sometimes. Seriously, NOTHING. Lots of dirt and desert-like plants, but I think that most other deserts would be a lot more aesthetically pleasing than this dry armpit of a state.
The best part about Nevada: the constant state signs warning people to report “suspicious odors” and that “METH, CRACK, COKE, SPEED = DEATH”. Joy loved it all because she loves watching Breaking Bad.
Ok, so I’m being a bit harsh and am exaggerating a bit.
Nevada’s nothingness along Highway 50
Sometimes it’s great to be driving out in the open with nothing to watch or oogle at for as far as the eyes can see (I took many photos of the “nothingness” because it’s actually quite impressive). There’s a bunch of quaint little towns with populations of 250 or below that look like a throwback to old Western times. There’s some gorgeous sunsets due to the constant atmospheric haze across Nevada’s wide dirt plains. And there’s a cute little place called Cave Lake State Park just outside of Great Basin National Park that I really liked (the landscape is kinda interesting and the campsites allow you to camp on the land sometimes, but the lake that people fish at looks tiny. Like the boats look like toys in a baby bathtub kind of tiny. Plus all the people out here are really nice and courteous, even though (or maybe because) we’re two little Asian girls traveling across the country in one car. Okay, so I’m not that little, but Joy is.
Our My Little Pony travel mascot at Cave Lakes State Park
After leaving Cave Lakes State Park (more nice people over there, esp. the rangers) we drove over to Great Basin National Park nearby. At first it didn’t look like much. It looked like yet another dry mountain with some trees on it? NOT impressed at all. And the glacier that we had heard about before was a “rock glacier” (what the hell is that?). But as we drove up the mountain, rising 7,000…8,000…9,000…10,000 feet – all the way to the top campground near Wheeler Peak, I was in for a pretty pleasant surprise.