Driving away from the Las Vegas Strip , dotted with many luxurious hotels and grand casinos, I felt thrilled as I was going to the Nevada Desert. I was looking forward to the enchanted moment of tasting natural wonder with much anticipation and a little restlessness. The further away from the city, the less traffic I encountered. Finally I became a lonely king on the free way with only rocks, mountains, cactus and occasionally birds in my company. What a wonderful experience!
Along zigzag mountain roads, stand rocks of every color and shape. Due to different mineral depositions, rows upon rows of rocks look red, Verde green, gray and black.. Under sunlight, the rough and colorful mountains extend as far as your eyes can see, giving a spectacular view of grandeur and toughness. Some rocks seem to come from nowhere. On the foot of mountains, there are piles upon piles and drifts upon drifts of grits among which cactus of every description grow survivingly and thrivingly. Owing to my limited botanical knowledge, I can not name many types of cactus even in my mother tongue. Some giant cactus sticks are taller than I am, spearing right into the sky. I was marveled by their awesome vitality. There is a special kind of cactus. One can cut them by half and drink their juice. This cactus has saved many travelers who crossed this dry and barren land.On some seemingly flying rocks, there are signs saying “ Watch Falling Rock “. According to my American friend, the Legend has this: There used to be a chief in a nearby Indian tribe who is called Moonrise. He had a son by the name of Fallingrock. The old chief loved his son very much and spared no efforts in training his son to be a new chief. But one day for no reason at all his son disappeared without trace. The old chief searched every corner of the desert for his beloved son but in vain. In every place he went, he put on a sign “ Watch Falling Rock “ in hope he might find his son…
On the way I came across a ghost town where there are mamy deserted and rusty mining equipment as well as shabby huts. I accidentally turned a wheel of a rusty wagon as if I had turned a page of American history. All of sudden, I found a brand new trailer which was quite at odds with the surroundings. I knocked at the door and an old gentleman came out. From our brief and lively conversation, I knew his forebears used be miners in this area. He felt great, satisfying his nostalgic feeling by spending overweek at the very place his forefathers fought for American dream. I wished him a very good day and went on with my journey.
About one hour drive, I came to the end of the road on the top of a mountain . In front of me down several hundreds of feet lies the great Colorado River. The limpid water runs smoothly in between deep canyons. The river is so clear that the reflection of rocks and mountains swing vividly on its mirror surface. It was very quite there and in fact I was the only living soul in the surroundings. When I tried to listen, my ears rang. At that very moment, I had an urge to take off all my clothes and run wildly in the open wildness to integrate into the Mother Nature. On the opposite side of the river is the State of Arizona, which has one hour time difference from Nevada. Looking around me, I was surrounded by mountains, canyons and deserts. I was just sitting on a rock enjoying this wild America and eternal peace.
Time passed so swiftly without my knowing it. Soon the desert turned so hot that I had to go. How reluctant I was to leave this peaceful land of paradise. In my heart, this desert is a mental oasis . While cities crowded with people and plagued with hustle and bustle are actually burning deserts that sadly I have to conquer.
