Day 9 - Baker to Lake Havasu City
From a usefully large thermometer to tell what you probably already realised to another desert and then to an experience that confirmed what I may had suspected
Rolling out of bed and checking out we headed for Baker which has the world's largest thermometer (reading 102F when we passed) and then on to the Mohave Desert. Once again, we were met with a desert that was presenting a landscape in defiance of its reputation; an intermittent green covering of grass-like plants and more Joshua trees than Joshua Tree National Park displayed in an almost forested scenery.
About two thirds of the way across our route through the Mohave we stumbled across Kelso and a sign that pointed to an 'island' sand dune. The naming suggested a pioneering Scotsman with a sense of humour or a final gesture in conceding that, if this was to be his last resting place, then at least name it after the much cooler border town back home. The sand dune turned out to be 45 square miles worth and, of course, had a tarmacked car park and public toilet in case needed before you started the ascent via the handy footpath trail provided. The sand dune stood before us with an impressive height and, with the severe heat, we immediately knew that our attempt to reach the summit was only ever going to be a token gesture. Around five minutes in and we were barely at the ascent phase. We agreed not to succumb to a 'because it's there' moment of mountaineering motivation and turned back to the car.
Then on to Lake Havasu City and our evening stopover. I noticed that city is a term applied very loosely to many American places that would not be considered anything like as such in the UK. It seems that the founding fathers of any settlement had ambition - maybe that is just a part of the American Dream. In this case, Lake Havasu City isn't a lake either as it nestles on one side of a wide part of the Colorado River but if we corrected those inaccuracies a place just called Havasu just wouldn't sound so grand would it? But it has tried and I think successfully become very grand since it was founded in 1963 by Robert McCulloch, a businessman who originally made his fortune in oil. Not content with that, he moved into manufacturing and gave his name to a range of hand tools including chainsaws, lawnmowers and strimmers which you may have seen at your local B and Q.
McCulloch bought around 16,000 acres of this desert landscape and set about turning it into a resort. Searching for a major attraction for the project, he heard about the sale of the old London Bridge in 1968, bid for it and won, although allegedly there was little competition. Over the next three years, the bridge was dismantled, shipped across to California and each piece carried the three hundred miles by road from Long Beach to Lake Havasu City to be re-assembled. McCulloch also offered over 2,700 free flights over the next five years to encourage prospective buyers to his resort. The man had foresight though as London Bridge has now become the second biggest tourist attraction in Arizona after the Grand Canyon.
We actually crossed over London Bridge to get to our hotel, and it felt like we were just beginning a summer holiday when we walked into the reception area: A light and airy all glass construction, open plan staircase, sight of a swimming pool through one of the panels and somehow a slight feeling that the hotel was only newly finished in a throwback to one of those old Spanish resort jokes. That feeling was strengthened when I gave my name and was then quizzed about who had I booked through and when, and if any other booking site had been involved in the transaction. The receptionist began to grapple with the booking system on his PC when a man arrived on the other side of the L-shaped reception area and complained that he had been given the key to someone else's room. Our fears about my analogy of booking into a partially-built Spanish hotel increased significantly and I chose at that point to make light of the situation and quipped, "Maybe that man has got our room!". To be fair, the manager did smile (did you spot that Adam?) however the complainant, who had seemed slightly agitated when delivering his grievance, very quickly moved to being demanding and issuing profanities from what he took as the delay in responding to the error.
I occasionally think about how I would react in certain hypothetical situations, such as a hold up in my local post office for example. Would I be the 'have a go' hero or, drowned in fear, simply be rooted to the spot? The guy was not exceptionally big, but I could see obviously muscular when framed by the sleeveless top he was wearing. I decided that my efforts to defuse the tension with my light-hearted comment were as brave an interjection as I would offer and there was little need to ponder my theoretical question any further. Thankfully the manager must have attended the relevant employee training course, or had experience of this situation before, as he calmly dealt with the matter by telling the man that if he did not stop his behaviour, he would eject him from the hotel on the basis of trespass, and call the police to enforce his action. Further expletives were hurled from the other side of the reception counter and the hero that I could not in that moment be, picked up the phone, dialled 911 and began to explain the "threat" he was facing and describing the man.
The impact of this action had an immediate effect and, while the verbal abuse continued although in a more mumbled manner, the complainant decided he would walk out of the hotel and keep on going through the car park. We collectively took breath and, almost in that way we perceive we Brits 'keep calm and carry on', the staff returned to booking in the guests in front of them.
No complaint here
The situation with our reservation was resolved and we were handed our room key cards. We went out to our car to collect our suitcases (admittedly with some sly, nonchalant movements of the head to make sure our former guest had actually continued on the course we had seen earlier) and walking back to the entrance a police car drew up, which I estimated was only some four or five minutes from when the alert had been notified. There is something to be said about this American service ethic but I wondered if the manager would feel obliged to tip the officers?
We went upstairs to our first-floor room and our key card did not work. I returned to the reception where the two policemen were surveying the crime scene and then asked to go and see the room the man had been given. Their thoroughness raised my admiration for the Arizona state police yet further. I was given another key card and ran back up the stairs where again it refused to open the door to our room. Back at reception, I was advised to lift the door handle at the same time as inserting the key. But that didn't work either. I returned downstairs and a member of the reception team came back upstairs with me to determine, I'm guessing, if I was simply technically inept or there was a genuine problem with the lock. It turned out to be the latter and a solution was found by moving us to another room. You will appreciate that there was never going to be any complaint from me about this delay.
I decided to wander down to the lake's edge and went down the staircase once more towards reception. The manager was there. I thanked him for the way he had handled the earlier events and shook his hand; grateful once more, that when he was tested in the reality of my hypothetical situation, he had come through.
I left the hotel through the back exit from the reception area. That wasn't in shame you understand, just the most direct route. I walked through the pool area where a couple of children were splashing and playing in the water. I wondered, as the full effect of the oven-like temperatures enveloped me and given this was August and supposedly peak summer weeks, who would come to this resort at this time of year? Mr McCulloch supposedly made a return on his total investment within four years of the opening of London Bridge. He was some visionary businessman and highly persuasive character I thought.
Thankfully it was a short walk to the water's edge and I began to see the charm of the place: Between neatly manicured palm trees there were offered glimpses of the lake beyond on which rows of jet skis and pleasure craft were moored with some ducks curiously ambling beside them, a dark grey ridge of mountains providing a distant stark contrast and the whole scene bathed with an increasingly softening orange light as the sun began to set. Okay I'm starting to lean towards the McCulloch camp on this one.