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Lakeside, Calif.
Las Vegas is selling itself as sexy Sin City again. Take a tour of the new Indian casinos along Interstate 15 in and near San Diego County, and you begin to see why. Slots? You bet. Golf and spas? Check. Luxury accommodations? Surprisingly, yes.
My wife, Alison, and I took in four of them — Pechanga, Harrah's Rincon, Barona Valley Ranch and the newly expanded Pala, the last two of which barely escaped October wildfires that burned much of the county. We found the rooms above par, the amenities respectable, the staffs friendly and, above all, the gambling floors teeming with people. On a Saturday night, you may have to wait your turn for a seat at the blackjack table.
Even so, don't expect Vegas. The shows, the shopping, the spectacle — those things aren't here on nearly the same scale. California's tribal gambling palaces are still more a threat to Nevada's budget destinations such as Laughlin and Primm than they are to the Strip's mega-resorts, and games are mostly limited to slots and blackjack.
Yet there is little doubt that by adding spas, fancy restaurants and plush hotel rooms, the Indian resorts are hoping to pull off the same trick Vegas did: providing something for people to do when they get weary of losing money or for tag-alongs who didn't come to gamble. Though the Cedar wildfire forced the temporary closure of the Rincon and Barona Valley casinos, both are again open for business.
We began our trip one September weekend at Barona Valley Ranch in San Diego County. You may have seen its billboards — the ones with Kenny Rogers beckoning gamblers in all his white-bearded glory.
"I think they're trying to attract old people," my 16-year-old son had said one day as we drove past a Kenny sign on the freeway. No, I thought, just people with enough years to appreciate the wisdom of his signature song: "You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em ..."
Naturally, I asked the friendly women at Barona's front desk where I could find the Gambler.
"Oh, he isn't here — but he has been on the property," one said. Her colleague figured me for slow. "He has been here," she said. "But he is not actually here. This is not where he lives."
Cash crop
The $260-million resort, which opened in January, does have something very Vegas: outlandish architecture. The theme, however, is very un-Vegas: a 1930s farm. Giant silo, barn, the works. Maybe my son had a point.
The surprise, however, is that unlike the other Indian casinos in the region, Barona allows people to gamble at age 18, not 21. The other surprise: no alcohol, not even in the hotel or restaurants. That may change, but so far San Diego County officials aren't keen on having booze at a place that can be reached only by a winding two-lane road.
We had a late supper on the patio of the upscale coffee shop, the Branding Iron. Nice, but every few minutes there would be a loud, breathless announcement over the speakers, something like: "Bingo is about to begin!" or "The Smith group — your poker table is ready!" So much for conversation.
Our room was big and furnished like guest quarters at a rich uncle's house. We booked it for $189, but the desk clerk (unaware I work for The Times) slashed it to $159 on arrival, saying there had been cancellations and this was the current rate. Smart.
Perhaps the best surprise of Barona is the golf course. Golf magazine put it on its top-10 list of new U.S. courses last year. We didn't have time to play but got an excellent hour of instruction with a golf pro who charged $50 for us both.
After our lesson, we headed back to Interstate 15 and north to Pechanga, opened in June 2002. For location, it can't be beat — just two miles off the interstate in Temecula. At noon the place was already packed. Pechanga doesn't seem to need many amenities to draw crowds — no spa or golf course, for example, although it does have four lounges and a 1,200-seat showroom with the kind of acts you might find headlining the county fair.
We asked for a peek at one of the 522 rooms but were told the place was booked and none was available. We did take advantage of Pechanga's outsize buffet. Like the three other resorts we visited, this one also boasted a high-tech ventilation system and nonsmoking gambling areas, which are a plus.
We had reservations for Saturday night at Pala, which opened in 2001 as a casino and added a 507-room luxury hotel and spa in August. Set amid green hills and avocado ranches on Highway 76 in north San Diego County, Pala is the most scenic of the resorts.
We arrived at 2 p.m., an hour ahead of check-in time, and found a traffic jam. Valet parking was full. We self-parked, then waited in line for about 30 minutes to register.
Our room was similar to the one we had at Barona, with an oversize tub and separate shower, a comfortable sitting area and desk. We moved on to the Olympic-length pool to enjoy a swim and strawberry daiquiris.
Las Vegas is selling itself as sexy Sin City again. Take a tour of the new Indian casinos along Interstate 15 in and near San Diego County, and you begin to see why. Slots? You bet. Golf and spas? Check. Luxury accommodations? Surprisingly, yes.
My wife, Alison, and I took in four of them — Pechanga, Harrah's Rincon, Barona Valley Ranch and the newly expanded Pala, the last two of which barely escaped October wildfires that burned much of the county. We found the rooms above par, the amenities respectable, the staffs friendly and, above all, the gambling floors teeming with people. On a Saturday night, you may have to wait your turn for a seat at the blackjack table.
Even so, don't expect Vegas. The shows, the shopping, the spectacle — those things aren't here on nearly the same scale. California's tribal gambling palaces are still more a threat to Nevada's budget destinations such as Laughlin and Primm than they are to the Strip's mega-resorts, and games are mostly limited to slots and blackjack.
Yet there is little doubt that by adding spas, fancy restaurants and plush hotel rooms, the Indian resorts are hoping to pull off the same trick Vegas did: providing something for people to do when they get weary of losing money or for tag-alongs who didn't come to gamble. Though the Cedar wildfire forced the temporary closure of the Rincon and Barona Valley casinos, both are again open for business.
We began our trip one September weekend at Barona Valley Ranch in San Diego County. You may have seen its billboards — the ones with Kenny Rogers beckoning gamblers in all his white-bearded glory.
"I think they're trying to attract old people," my 16-year-old son had said one day as we drove past a Kenny sign on the freeway. No, I thought, just people with enough years to appreciate the wisdom of his signature song: "You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em ..."
Naturally, I asked the friendly women at Barona's front desk where I could find the Gambler.
"Oh, he isn't here — but he has been on the property," one said. Her colleague figured me for slow. "He has been here," she said. "But he is not actually here. This is not where he lives."
Cash crop
The $260-million resort, which opened in January, does have something very Vegas: outlandish architecture. The theme, however, is very un-Vegas: a 1930s farm. Giant silo, barn, the works. Maybe my son had a point.
The surprise, however, is that unlike the other Indian casinos in the region, Barona allows people to gamble at age 18, not 21. The other surprise: no alcohol, not even in the hotel or restaurants. That may change, but so far San Diego County officials aren't keen on having booze at a place that can be reached only by a winding two-lane road.
We had a late supper on the patio of the upscale coffee shop, the Branding Iron. Nice, but every few minutes there would be a loud, breathless announcement over the speakers, something like: "Bingo is about to begin!" or "The Smith group — your poker table is ready!" So much for conversation.
Our room was big and furnished like guest quarters at a rich uncle's house. We booked it for $189, but the desk clerk (unaware I work for The Times) slashed it to $159 on arrival, saying there had been cancellations and this was the current rate. Smart.
Perhaps the best surprise of Barona is the golf course. Golf magazine put it on its top-10 list of new U.S. courses last year. We didn't have time to play but got an excellent hour of instruction with a golf pro who charged $50 for us both.
After our lesson, we headed back to Interstate 15 and north to Pechanga, opened in June 2002. For location, it can't be beat — just two miles off the interstate in Temecula. At noon the place was already packed. Pechanga doesn't seem to need many amenities to draw crowds — no spa or golf course, for example, although it does have four lounges and a 1,200-seat showroom with the kind of acts you might find headlining the county fair.
We asked for a peek at one of the 522 rooms but were told the place was booked and none was available. We did take advantage of Pechanga's outsize buffet. Like the three other resorts we visited, this one also boasted a high-tech ventilation system and nonsmoking gambling areas, which are a plus.
We had reservations for Saturday night at Pala, which opened in 2001 as a casino and added a 507-room luxury hotel and spa in August. Set amid green hills and avocado ranches on Highway 76 in north San Diego County, Pala is the most scenic of the resorts.
We arrived at 2 p.m., an hour ahead of check-in time, and found a traffic jam. Valet parking was full. We self-parked, then waited in line for about 30 minutes to register.
Our room was similar to the one we had at Barona, with an oversize tub and separate shower, a comfortable sitting area and desk. We moved on to the Olympic-length pool to enjoy a swim and strawberry daiquiris.
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