Issue link: http://digital.canadawide.com/i/566324
d. hurst/all canada photos f a l l 2 0 1 5 | w e s t w o r l d 37 As I take in the guide's monologue, it strikes me how the Hoover is one of those human endeavours that provokes conflicted feelings. e first impression is awe; the sheer scale of the structure spanning the canyon walls is jaw-dropping. Following this is alarm, at how much America has tampered with the natural cycles of a river that is the lifeblood of more than 25 million Americans and a half- million hectares of farmland. e white line on the cliffs along Lake Mead, the manmade res- ervoir behind the dam, marks the lake's long- abandoned high-water mark – particularly ominous today as California faces a critical water shortage (how will the people of the American southwest fill swimming pools, irri- gate golf courses and irrigate the crops that end up in grocery stores around North Amer- ica?). But this afternoon it's all about feats of engineering and patriotic chest thumping as we tour the innards of this fantastic structure. I emerge from the depths of the dam through copper elevator doors and onto pol- ished marble floors. e sudden blast of sun- light makes me squint. From the summit of this monolith, I gaze out at another manmade Colorado River monument, the steel and con- crete arc of the Mike O'Callaghan-Pat Tillman Memorial Bridge, which opened in October 2010. Everything is big in Nevada – dreams, landscape and human ingenuity. It all begins and ends on the Las Vegas Strip, a place that brims with cocksure Nevada atti- tude. Once again I'm swept along in a current of tourists, past the Bellagio fountains, and am soon standing inside the Flamingo. An off-duty Elvis impersonator flirts with a pretty cocktail waitress as I wait in line for the Donny and Marie Osmond show. It seems fitting to wrap up this tour with an evening of Las Vegas kitsch. I'm ushered to my seat, surrounded by eager middle-aged women and their sheepish husbands. Honestly, I'm expecting a sad spec- tacle of washed-up former child stars, so I shrink with Canuck modesty into my seat, try- ing to blend into the decor. e band strikes up, the curtain draws and out dances the iconic brother-and-sister team looking suspiciously youthful and well-preserved. But surprisingly, instead of feeling smug pity, I am mesmerized by the duo's timeless energy and plucky perfor- mance, a mix of self-satirizing humour and sea- soned professionalism. ey laugh, we laugh. I tap my foot. When Marie implores the crowd to clap in time to A Little Bit Country, A Little Bit Rock and Roll, to my embarrassment I do as I'm told. is is Las Vegas after all, that glittering metropolis in frontier Nevada. Subtle isn't part of the vernacular. W Tourists in Las Vegas gather to watch the Bellagio fountains dance.