We woke at seven a.m. in three different locations. Trey was in Papa Jack's Condo at 96th. S.Chris Vincent woke on the second floor of the Vincent Manor next to Frasier, a white-medium sized dog with a large head, who just looked up from the floor. I woke to the tuba's boh-boh-boh-boh I receive from the Windsor Mexicans.
Chris gets into his Hyundai, drives to Papa Jack's, Trey gets in and they head north for 30 mins to the 851 Riviera where I await their arrival.
We go to our local Maverick and load up on food stuffs and water.
The West Desert of Utah is a very interesting place. A vast amount of nothing on top of a vast amount of nowhere. We went to find ourselves.
109 miles west of Salt Lake City there is the edge of the state and a city on the border of lame and boring. Our destination is not that far west.
We depart with food and drink. Listening to the music stylings of Thom Yorke, Fear Before the March of Flames, Rouge Wave, Crystal Skulls, and many other choices of good music. Trey had slept only two hours the night before. Chris had gotten a solid ten. I only four, laundry had to be done because of the plans I had after the trip, and I was having a good time with the long board design. Trey, sitting in front, falls in to a semi-deep sleep. He twitches a bit while we drive for dreams he must be having.
We drive far, keeping at a speed that will give us the best gas mileage. 65mph. Yeah, Chris loves to drive under the speed limit. We enter "Dragon Country", the sun is high but not at its highest. The clouds are thin but grey with storm. The road mirages away at somewhere near 11 a.m. It is like the road will never end and it never began, we are just driving on a floating treadmill of road.
A Metaphor pops out of the ground at our right. We stop , as if in emergency, to survey the area. The Tree is large but three of its leaves have fallen to the ground. I doesn't need water to grow, but it can never grow anymore. It is dead, but it is Our tree, as in the people of Utah, it is their tree.
We decide that the tree will not provide us with the Spice-melange of Utah's Arrakis.
Fifteen minutes later we fill on our petrol and continue driving. We have to head east for a while more if we want to reach the middle of nowhere, since we were already nowhere at all.
We reach the middle and get out. It is a lake of salt water. The shores are white. if you were to drown in this lake you would be preserved. We decide to walk on the outer edge of the salt and head north to the mountain range. We didn't have any hallucinatory drugs to help us in our journey to become men.
We walk at a normal pace toward the distant mountain range. The earth curves at the horizon, the mountains seem to never get any closer, the car doesn't look like we have really left it. We walked some more. The sun is twice as deadly as it is in normal conditions. the salty beaches reflect the sun at almost twice what it beats down on you at. We find many holes of standing water. The ground feels as if we are walking on a frozen lake, it even looks as if we are on a frozen lake, but the physical properties and temperature prove that it is not.
Imagine a Killer Whale, a Giant Squid, or a Great White Salt Lake Shark pushing through the thin layer of salt in the middle of nowhere. We all had one or the other on our mind. We didn't even know how far we had travelled, we would have been dead out there, the glistening red of fresh blood soaking into the bright digital white of the salt flats.
We decide that we should turn around before Trey gets naked and has a heat stroke. The clouds have cleared for the most part, but off in the distance we can see a dark gray of a storm cloud. We find the car and drive up an asphalt road into the mountains which we have never seen. 23 miles till the next location. up up up. I put my upper half out of the sun roof for the down hill. we reach speeds of 65 mph no petrol at all. I stayed out the top for the way back up after we stopped coasting. 80 mph. the wind almost stole my glasses.
Back at the highest point of the road Trey and I grab the long boards to head down the hill back to the flats. no beef cows for us. the hill got us going at speeds near 40 mph but halfway down you were neither connected to the board or coming off of it, you just couldn't move at all. magnetized.
Chris Vincent picked us up at the bottom, we needed more food and Wendover was the closest place for foodery. Shittiest town ever. They don't have a Taco Bell. You can't even call it a city because it doesn't have a Taco Bell.
We decided that having no food tax is nice but we should head home. We stop 3o miles out side of S.L.C. at a place called Molly's Nipple. The wildlife and Gravity tried to kill us once we reached the top of the rock, which juts out of the desert.
The trip home make us happy. "It is nice to have something to comeback to," says Vincent, "I like that going somewhere else makes me like the place I just came from. We three men returned to the Valley of Salt unscathed, bearded and tan. Men.
There will be pictures once I develop them.