Vegas Vacation

Since wrapping up my two-year stint working at the Department of Education, I’ve been busy enjoying the summer outside of Boston. The day after I jumped ship—about the same time the reality of my decision to leave a job with an all access pass to the government cheese, tater tots, and sloppy joes you fondly remember from grade school was sinking in—I jumped jet to Vegas. Spending 5 days with my family was the bomb, but the time passed by too quickly.


On Friday, my dad and I got up at dawn’s crack, drove an hour NW of Vegas to the Spring Mountains. It was an eleven hour hike to the summit of Charleston Peak and back with stunning desert and then alpine views.





At around 7,000 feet of elevation, the bag of chips in my bag burst open from the pressure. Over 10,000 feet, a seam that started at the top of my forehead and ran down below my eye socket began to split open. But the headache was no match for the beauty at the top.




At the summit, just under 12,000 feet, we stayed long enough to rest our limbs for the haul down the mountain, munch on some jerky, and appreciate the scale of our ascent.




Two days later and still enjoying the ache in my legs, we walked into Slot Canyon near Lake Mead, a much less ambitious hike with equally stunning scenery.














Meanwhile, back at the ranch we entertained ourselves with stimulating conversation, impromtu dance performances by Miss Sofia, Vegas variety shows, a few trips to get gelato, and not a penny gambled. Sounds strange to go to Vegas and not drop money in the slots or at the Blackjack table, but then I never claimed I wasn't strange.