Las Vegas boiled and froze, stormed and was perfect, but as we exited the Red Rocks Casino breakfast buffet it threatened to rain once more. After receiving a blue slip for overstaying our welcome of 14 days (the sheet read something like - to prevent homelessness please kindly fucking vacate). I dropped James off at the Sin City Hostel (for his flight to Chile March 5th) on Las Vegas Boulevard and headed North on the 95. The mountains faded into low lying cloud as I pass through multiply storm fronts. After passing the highest point in Nevada, Boundary Peak, which I couldn't see due to low cloud. I went through California State line, where upon I was interrogated by a pleasant old man who stated he felt good for his age. Bishop was wet but stars shown by bed time and the magnificent peaks to the west began to reveal themselves to me.
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