We still had to drop a significant altitude between Zion National Park and Las Vegas, which sits in a valley in the Mojave Desert. Zion NP is part of the Grand Staircase which starts on the Colorado Plateau at an altitude of 10,000-12,000 feet and includes Bryce Canyon, Zion and the Grand Canyon. Dropping from around 5,000-6,000 feet at Zion to around 2,000 feet in Vegas seemed to return our lungs (and ears) to propper function once more.

On our way to Vegas we had a pre-arranged stop to make. Steve, Pam, Thomas, Hannah and Claire were already partying in Vegas and we intended to meet up with them in the desert after their Hoover Dam tour. Okay, so it wasn't exactly the middle of the desert. It was a crossroads leading to the Valley of Fire State Park.

Ailsa and I stopped at a gas station a few miles before the crossroads. It was a random small town place, the kind where people are never seen again ... but their fuel prices were cheaper than what the rental car folk were gonna charge if we handed the car back running on empty. So we stopped to fill up and grab some snacks. Now, for a gas station in the middle of nowhere, I'm sure you'll be surprised to hear they served up one of the best pizzas I've ever tasted in America! And it came in a small cardboard box under a heat lamp. It'd probably been there for days, but still tasted fantastic. How is that even possible?!

We got to the crossroads ahead of the other UK crew and set up camp at a siding which led to St Thomas' Cove on Lake Mead. It was intereting to see a vast array of RV vans passing by, and thrilling to wave to the heavily leather clad old-timers roaring past on their Harley Davidsons with Elvis blaring out of side pods as they headed for Vegas.

Shortly afterwards the gang all turned up - Steve driving a top down flashy Ford Mustang, Thomas in an entirely sensible Chevy Impala. We stopped for photos and a quick catch-up in the desert sun before heading into the Valley of Fire State Park. The park itself had a self-policed entry system. It was up to us to fill in a piece of paper with our contact details and vehicle registration, and then pop it into a postbox along with ten dollars.

The pay station was a short walk from the first highlight of the park: Elephant Rock. After dragging ourselves over an admittedly short rocky section we found ourselves back on the road, a couple of hundred yards from where we'd parked the cars, looking at an orange rock that looked nothing like an elephant. We were all getting the sensation that Valley of Fire might not be all the advertising had promised. We walked back down the road to the car and headed for Rainbow Vista. Granted the scenery was lovely, and the scenic drive was nice. But that is as exciting as the adjectives get. After Rainbow Vista (so called because the rocks are orange and red - just like everywhere else in the park) we decided to skip the Beehives and hit the road into Las Vegas.

After some superb navigating on Ailsa's part we pulled up outisde Trump Tower without being even remotely held up in rush hour traffic around The Strip. The only problem was Trump Tower insist on valet parking and we hadn't 'prepared' our car after driving a few thousand miles across canyonlands, filling the backseat with assorted snacks and souvenirs.

No matter, we handed over the keys and dragged our dusty-selves into the palacial lobby of the hotel, checked-in and were directed to the express elevator. Anyone on or above the 42nd floor (isn't that the meaning of life?) was whisked past the first 41 floors.

The room was exactly as we were expecting of our five star luxury pad. The highlight being the olympic sized jacuzzi bath ... or the view of Las Vegas from our 45th floor vantage point ... or the plasma screen in the bathroom mirror.

That evening we headed out to meet the UK crew in Hard Rock Cafe. Ailsa and I got there first and the bar staff insisted on making us extravagent cocktails while we waited (they really were terrible arm twisters!). Once we were all gathered and Lovely Margarita'd we went a few doors up to the Smith and Wollensky Steakhouse. Vegetarians be warned, this establishment don't do much beyond churning out high quality steaks in an assortment of cuts and marinades.

After everyone was well and truly stuffed we all headed back to Hard Rock to sample a few more cocktails in a cosy booth which featured a game of "try and stop Hannah selecting cheesy 80's on the jukebox". It turned violent on occasions ...

Las Vegas may run all night, but we certainly don't so we headed back to Trump Tower before our taxi turned into a pumpkin, aiming to get a good nights rest before attacking the full length of the strip the following day.