|A ramp for launching boats...|
|... or launching campaigns|
The first indication I was in the right place came at the ramp; the sloped launchway is easily discernible in FNV, although the water table seems to have dropped a bit.
|Latin is a language, |
dead as dead can be
|First it killed the Romans, |
and now it's killing me.
In reality, much of the area is concreted over, but the general shape of the bay, jetties, and strollways fits.
|I'm seeing cover, sniper points, |
|I'm seeing blind alleys, dead ends, |
places to die a horrible death...
|Always trust a brown sign|
|Especially if it's wood|
On my trip they were a constant presence, a bit like the NCR, and always keen to help out.
|I came, I saw, I conked out|
So here's the cove itself: drier in the game, but both pontoons are there. I tried to cadge a lift to the Fort, but couldn't find a boatman to take me there.
|Misty eyed as the trip nears its end|
It was at Cottonwood Cove that I sensed my strange journey was nearing its end. There was only one place left on the list: Hoover Dam.