Back to the U.S.A.

The return trip up to the border was uneventful, marred only by the seemingly interminable wait at the border. Did the border folk care whether we were terrorists? . . . or whether we were drug smugglers? . . . or whether we were contraband liquor importers? . . . What they asked us about was whether we were bringing in eggs or lunchmeat . . . oh, my . . . how dangerous . . .

We were too late to camp at Buckskin Mountain State Park on the Colorado River, as we had planned, so we went down the road a bit to Sandbar Resort . . . can you spell "P-a-r-k-i-n-g L-o-t?" Too tough? Well, how about "D-u-m-p?"

Anyway the scenery was great, but watch out that you don't hit your head on the nearby neighbor's slideout as you leave your camper . . .






















By the way, the "flowers" on that agave are plastic . . . someone has a nice sense of humor . . .






On to Las Vegas the next day, and to . . . guess what? . . . a big dinner on Sunday . . . is it that all the folks we visit are extremely social? . . . or is it . . . US?