1785 : 2
I've always had a dilemma with Utah: it's one of the most physically beautiful states but its inhabitants sufficiently pulverize the experience for any traveler. A few years ago, I found myself in Ogden, Utah, preparing for something work related. Driving through canyons and finding massive lakes is a breathtaking experience, but the caustic hotel clerks, snarling residents, and short tempered waitresses made it more of a hassle than a pleasure being there. Not to mention a disconcerting lack of coffee0. There is no racial component to it; even if you're white they'll dislike you if you're an outsider. A friend I knew told me about going on a trip to Bryce Canyon and along the way being sharply asked to leave a gas station. She was Asian.
I'd made my mind to skip Utah on my first leg and enjoy the beauty of Colorado during the day instead. It wasn't too dark for me to miss the silhouettes of mountains and canyons, and now in hindsight I could have probably dealt with some small minds in exchange for seeing it all in the light of the day.
In looking at the maps, I'd made a severe error of judgment; I thought that my ascent over the Rocky mountains would be confined to Colorado, but from the turn to the east on I-70 in Utah, it was mountain driving. Even beyond that, the driving is in Fish Lake National Forest, so there are no gas stations or towns for a long stretch. Not that I wanted to see anyone in Utah, but gas, which I had tried not to replenish in Utah, became a dire issue. I had to make that one stop, and left as fast as I could. I only saw snow once on this trip, and it was on the drive east to get out of there.
I woke up early on Sunday with the goal of getting over the Rocky mountains as quickly as I could; I'd heard on the forecast that 1 to 3 inches of snow was expected that day and in the lunar module, my 1992 Toyota Previa, I knew that would spell disaster.
Not too far into the trip, I realized that it was unlikely to snow. I stopped in Beaver Creek, a small resort town, to stretch my legs, buy coffee, and look for WiFi. The Starbucks clerk said "What?" when I asked so I assumed T-mobile had yet to connect a hotspot.
A thousand miles from downtown Fullerton, exactly, I went through a tunnel. My stomach curdled with the feeling of being alone.
Driving the mountains was beautiful, but I finally understood something that my South Dakotan friends baffled me with when I first went there. They would say that they missed the openness of the sky out in cities or among mountains, with something always obstructing the view. Too true, I thought, since it took about 4 hours for me to get through the mountain ranges on my way eastward. I love mountains, but perhaps the open, unending sky has gotten to me.
I found out yesterday that I was fortunate. All those falling rocks signs were true; yesterday there was a rock slide on I-70 that would have diverted me more than 200 miles on my way toward South Dakota.
Colorado must make for an interesting political mix. On the drive through the mountains one can see cattle ranches and American pickup trucks. Up in the resorts, it's Toyota 4Runners with Thule car racks, Audis, VWs, and my favorite form of conspicuous consumption, Saabs1. In the eastern portions of the state, it may as well be Nebraska: open prairie and farmland. Denver is a piece of the puzzle too - it might be vomiting out exurbs2 at an even faster rate than the outskirts of Las Vegas. Distinct personae: the toughest of mountain people, the highest crust of bourgeois, the urban malcontents, exurban mall-shoppers, and the calm, contented farmer, all in one mix. Even though there is some discomfort in different people so close, it makes for forced understanding and compromise which, in my opinion, is better than simple isolation.
The ugliest piece of the trip was on the outskirts of Denver, heading out to the prairie. Factories and industrial waste that the city probably couldn't tolerate live here. From there it was out to western Colorado, Nebraska, and finally South Dakota. I don't have anything to say about Nebraska except that it was boring. I listened to audio books to try and speed up the process. Everything in Nebraska can be summed up in one picture:
On Monday morning I was in South Dakota. Back for good this time, and on my own volition. What a strange feeling. "So where does the newborn go from here?"
0Mormons had a "revelation" prohibiting "hot drinks" from a "prophet" as a general health precaution.
1Someone should write about the psychology of the Saab owner.
2"Exurb" is defined here.
12:48:57 PM 
|
|
