Day Eleven: Pahrump - Las Vegas

After waking up and relaxing at Hank’s for a couple of hours, we deemed our muscles “out of commission.” Our next stop, Las Vegas, was so close yet so far—about 80 miles away from Pahrump. Hank offered a hitch up the mountain to help us out, and we were reluctant to take him up on the offer………….. okay, okay, no we weren’t. We hopped in that truck like there was no tomorrow and headed up to Mountain Springs with our bikes in the bed. Hank sent us on our way with stories of his cycling days and dropped us off to coast down the East side of the mountain. We couldn’t thank him enough for his hospitality and for saving our weak legs from a half a day’s climb!

Down, down, down to Las Vegas we coasted, and stopped first at a gas station to give our butts a rest. While munching on granola bars, we heard a loud, “SPLAT!” and looked over to see a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest from the roof of the building. Depressing, isn’t it? I cried. We couldn’t help but think it was a bad omen, but so far we haven’t encountered any bad mojo. Before continuing on, we named the poor baby Splat accordingly and said “Adios” to that weird experience.

When we got into the city, we stopped on the side of the road to call the nearby KOA to make sure there was a camping spot available. The woman told me unapologetically that “pitching a tent is not allowed within Las Vegas city limits” and the closest campsite was over 40 miles away. Ahem, excuse me? We consulted website after website, and even a couple Bass Pro Shops employees to verify that indeed, one may not camp in Las Vegas. We called my dad for consolation, and a few minutes later, he had booked us a room at Planet Hollywood to enjoy a little bit of fun on the strip. Hallelujah, thank you Dad! We rode over at lightning speed to make sure we had time to eat a Walgreens lunch (classy) before heading to the pool and people watching over a crowd that was, let’s just say, much less tired than we were. We made some mix drinks and soaked in hours of sun before realizing that our alcohol tolerance has lowered substantially since college graduation, which wasn’t that long ago. The buzz led to ordering a three-course meal from PF Chang’s, which actually might have been the best decision we’ve made yet. Egg drop soup, chicken lettuce wraps, Mongolian beef, spicy chicken, chocolate raspberry wontons—what else could one want?! We rationalized our gluttonous behavior and headed back to the hotel room, where Slater fell asleep in the Jacuzzi but insisted that he was “resting his eyes”—classic.

We woke up at 3 a.m. to turn off the lights that we had left on, and peered out the window to see hundreds of club-goers partying on. We nostalgically remembered Spring Break in Vegas just two short months ago and wondered if we should revisit the clubs once more… then recalled that “club attire” does not consist of tennis shoes, athletic shorts, and sweaty tank tops. Back to bed we went for a night of lovely, uninterrupted sleep.