Camp America... Grand Canyon to San Francisco: The End of the Road

I can't really describe the feeling that welled up inside me (apart from an overwhelming urge to visit the loo after the standard few hours of bus journey) when I first saw the Grand Canyon. It was utterly incredible and pretty overwhelming - the literal definition of 'awesome'. It's so vast and so beautiful, it looks like a mocked up backdrop for a fantasy epic film. The photos I got don't do it any justice at all.

As keener members of the group, Julieanne and I wandered along the South Rim of the Canyon to see if we could find a walking track. We came across the trailhead for the Bright Angel track and walked down for about 3/4 of a mile (which doesn't sound much but we had walked for a fair few miles to find the flipping trailhead in the first place). As we were meant to be meeting the others at 6.30 or so to watch the sunset over the Canyon, it seemed prudent to start heading back uphill as soon as possible. Puffed out and sweaty at the top, we rather enjoyed the exercise after all the sitting in a van and pizza eating. Ironically, we were to have pizza (again) for dinner that night, which actually suited us fine as we didn't fancy doing the washing up in our pretty basic campsite. During dinner, Brandon asked us who wanted to join him for a 4.45am start in order to watch the sunrise. Everyone looked at him blankly. Who was he kidding? We had all been getting up at ungodly hours in the morning for about four days on the trot, and fancied a lie in. He looked at us like we were all mad.

'I do this every year. You have to come, it's a once in a lifetime experience!'

Well, I'll give the man his due, he sure knows how to sell a sunrise. So Julie and I decided we would appease him. What was one more early start, eh?

At 4.45am the next day, my alarm went off and I woke with a groan. The tent was wet (as was customary) inside, it was cold outside my extreme 5000 tog nylon sleeping bag and, more to the point, it was still pitch black outside. I heard Julie call for me outside the tent, and with about as much enthusiasm as Droopy, hauled myself out of bed and hustled myself into the van, where Brandon was awake, fresh and bizarrely chipper. Urgh.

I didn't regret my decision. The sunrise really was impressive, even if the cloud cover did spoil the effect slightly. We took a few photos with Julie's 'Stafford's Bar Navan' Irish flag and I got a cheeky shot of our Mormon friend John-Paul, who creepily just happened to turn up at the same time (again).

Brandon took us for breakfast at a nearby restaurant and I experienced biscuits and gravy for the first time. It's a bit like eating undercooked floury scones with creamy meat and herb-flavoured gravy. I wasn't convinced, and consuming it made me feel like an obese trucker, but I was glad for the experience.

After a few of the others did their flight across the Grand Canyon in a helicopter, Brandon picked me, Scott and Kirsty up - it was time for VEGAS. 'Bright lights... big city...' etc.

We had a fair slog of a drive ahead of us, but took in a stop at Delgadillo's Snow Cap along Route 66, one of my favourite snack stops ever. With 'humorous' service involving rubber chickens and fake mustard amongst many other classics, and pretty good burgers to boot, it's worth a visit if you're ever that way with time to spare:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Delgadillo%27s_Snow_Cap_Drive-In

We passed a couple of other un-noteworthy stops, including the world's worst merchandise shop, complete with a snake chalice that was so bad I was tempted to buy it. We had a quick look at the Hoover Dam, but everyone was more interested in what lay ahead. We hurried on to Vegas, all of us (especially those who had never been before) keen to see what it was really like, and wondering what crazy antics were in store that evening.

Well, what a place... hot, desert surround with a giant adult theme park plonked in the middle. A billboard called out 'E-Z Snip - speedy vasectomy service', amongst others which advertised bail bonds, casinos (natch) and online gambling. It wasn't pretty, but it was magnificent.

We arrived at our home for two nights, the Stratosphere, and bought some 'supplies' for the limo, which mainly involved copious amounts of alcohol. Once we'd applied enough makeup to keep Lily Savage in showbiz for a about a decade, we hit the town. As we were busy taking pictures of ourselves before we ended up in a gutter somewhere, someone called out 'Oh my God, that's Too Short!'. I am ashamed to say I think I was the only person who knew who that was (a pretty Z list rapper, in case you were wondering).

We toured around in the limo, which was possibly the most fun ever. Music pounded and lights twinkled in the ceiling - the only downside was that we weren't allowed to stick our heads out of the top like they do in the movies. We consumed large quantities of dodgy fizzy wine, vodka and rum (I think), which resulted in me having to dash off from the 'Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas' sign to pee behind a bush at a busy intersection. Dignified, me.

A slight schoolboy error on my behalf occurred, which involved thinking a UK driver's license would be sufficient enough I.D. for alcohol. It wasn't, and there were no exceptions, they only accepted passports. This probably saved my liver a few cells, so I decided not to worry too much about it, and after seeing the fountains at the Belagio, went off to have a nose at the other hotels and generally marvel at the crassness of it all.

At about 2.30am I found myself back at the Stratosphere with no idea where anyone was, but managed to ascertain that Camilla was on her way back. At about 3am, we decided to hit the local IHOP (International House of Pancakes) which was next to our hotel. It was happily open for the traditional American opening hours of 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, so I wolfed down blueberry pancakes as an early breakfast.

The post-IHOP sleep was long and satisfying, and I woke at 9.30am with a mysterious lack of hangover. This is me though, and as I arrive at all things a bit more slowly than most people, by 2pm I was feeling like death. I also had an unfortunate situation with my left eye - an apparent allergy to American sun cream meant it was swollen to tomato-sized proportions and was pouring with tears. Still, this didn't diminish my visit to Hooters, which is something I have always wanted to do. Thanks to the eye incident, I didn't get a photo with any of the waitresses, which is something I regret, but I do have a natty top from there and a memory of a very reasonable Caesar salad. I then decided to call it all a day and hit the sack, hoping my eye would reduce in size, which it thankfully did.

Dinner that night was courtesy of Buca Di Beppo, which isn't a character from Eastenders' Di Marco family sadly, rather a semi decent chain of Italian restaurants, where they serve you giant bowls on a Lazy Susan. We sat at the best place table in the house, upon which was a large wax bust of the Pope. You can't get more 'Vegas' than that.

After a long and half arsed effort to find Camilla, who had disappeared to the 'New York, New York' hotel to ride the rollercoaster, we gratefully slept one more night in a big double bed each, and then packed up and were off to Death Valley, CA.

Death Valley was very hot, and very dusty. We ponced about on salt flats and took lots of pictures, and I went to the worst long drop in the world, ever (except for the one I was about to experience in Yosemite). The heat had stirred up smells in there that I find it hard to believe could have come from any human being.

Anyway, let's press on. We stayed overnight in 'Brown's Town' campsite in Bishop, where we visited some natural springs after we'd had dinner. The water was lovely, and when a local fireman called Charlie turned up to get in with us, it only got slightly awkward. Daddy B sensed it was time to drag us away, so we went.

This was really only an interim stop before Yosemite, which was as magnificent as we had hoped. Gorgeous redwoods, giant rock formations and twinkling waterfalls met us as we set up camp for the last time(!). We relaxed at the campsite for the night, but got up early to drive across to the Mariposa Grove (giant redwoods), Glacier Point (highest point in Yosemite), and then were left to our own devices for an hour or so. Julieanne decided to keep our energetic reputation intact, and we headed over to Lower Yosemite Fall to climb the rocks and take some pictures.

And then, it was our last night's camping. And what a night. To celebrate our release from the wonderful world of moist tents, smelly rollmats and tripping over rogue guy ropes, we got horrendously drunk on our remaining booze and did iPhone karaoke for the evening. This involves putting an iPhone (or any mp3 player device really, we're not fussy) into a plastic cup and singing along to whatever comes out of it. There was a rap off between myself and Daddy B which was hugely fun and embarrassing, and a general round of high-jinks and merriment.

The next morning, I had promised to provide a fry up, which I only slightly regretted when I crawled out of my sleeping bag at about 7am. As promised, a full English was delivered, and as we were now fully versed with the realities of camp life, nobody really minded when it was served on slightly greasy plastic plates, with crusty cutlery and plastic cups that probably ought to have been incinerated a few days ago. As this was our last day using the equipment, Daddy B set us to washing it all thoroughly. This would have been fine, had our washing facilities been a little less rudimentary than a cold tap set at a height ideal for a small dog to drink from.

However, we soldiered on, hardened against this sort of obstacle, and with much hungover laughing and groaning in equal measure, we managed to wash and dry everything to an adequate standard.

Anyway, enough dull anecdotes about washing, we're headed to San Francisco!

I managed to snag the front seat for the journey, which was an excellent place from which to view Daddy B spilling his entire litre of root beer all over his lap while driving. To his credit, he didn't veer from the road once. This was fortunate, as we were travelling down winding mountain roads with steep crevasses on one side for most of the way. I managed to lose Caitlin's phone down a crack between the dashboard of the car and a plinth in the middle designed for holding miscellaneous items, and only when we took the plinth away from the dashboard did I find it. Luckily it didn't slip any further, or we'd have had to take the entire car apart.

We drove on for a while, I showed everyone some 'hilarious' YouTube videos to keep the spirits up (or to keep myself from feeling quietly nauseous) and soon enough, we were driving over the Bay Bridge into sunny San Francisco. What a sight - I have literally waited years to see it for real. Afternoon sunlight twinkled invitingly over the bay, and I could see all the things I had heard of from Gordon and other friends who had been here before: Alcatraz Island, home of the notorious prison, the Golden Gate bridge (magnificent), the gorgeous, European style buildings lining each street, the trams... I took it in and drank it all up. We drove on to the Golden Gate, and got a few snaps from a hill up the top, including that rather lovely one of me and Ellen pratting about.

There was an air of melancholy about this part - we had come to the end of our journey together - 22 pretty intense days of driving and visiting, all packed together in a baking hot tour van with no choice but to get on. What was nice about the end of the trip was that we did all get on. As we sat in House of Nanking (an excellent Chinese if you're ever in Chinatown by the way) eating our last meal together, laughing at the Jamie Oliver snap that was placed ostentatiously on the wall, we reminisced about the last few weeks with our rose-tinted spectacles on; forgetting all the rancid camping mats, the long drops, the showers with weeks of forgotten hair clogging up the plugholes. It really was sad to say goodbye. We gathered in the lobby of our last hotel, the dodgily-located America's Best Value Inn in the Tenderloin, and took a few pictures with Daddy B. A couple of us agreed to go to breakfast the next day, but this was the moment when we had to say goodbye to the group as a whole, to Dad and Ellen and Camilla, who all had to be off early the next day on the next part of their adventure, which is always rubbish when you've really got on and you know you have to move on somewhere else and start all over again. We tried not to drag it out, and after a few of us took a small interlude at a Shisha lounge, we went to bed. As was traditional, I roomed with Brianna, and fortunately as we had both booked into the same hostel we still had a few days in each other's company.

And seeing as I liked San Francisco so much, I'm going to give it it's own blog post...