Salt Lake City

There always seems to be with me a desire to extensively document my travels, being the result of a hundreds of years of Irish migration across the face of the planet. Of course, the concepts as imagined are always more grand than the results. Perhaps, it is because I lack the desire as such to ensure that it happens. I mean that technology grows fast, even now you can see it in comparison with what once were high water marks. Technology grows faster than the people can evolve these days. Think of the Victorians looking back on the backwards ways of the caveman, the beatniks looking back on the Victorians, the Hippies looking back at thier parents, and I think for the first time were are looking back within a generation without the ability to understand the conceptual ideas between the extreme ends of the same generation. Perhaos we are living within the singularity event. It was seventy years before Wellsian idea of trips to the moon could be realized and now only a couple of decades between the word processors that Asimov could foresee and the existence of a complete editing suit available to create satisfactory results at 10000 feet.

Yet still the drive to make this happen missed the mark for me. I write at the electronic page and still I can't help but feel the need to be on, to entertain like a comedian desperately seeking approval. I am 2 miles high and jetting to Salt Lake City, and I can't help but be reminded of my first trip there. 1990 and the onset of another desperate attempt. This time an adventure of self discovery in a time when one could still hear the electronic thunder of arcades. I was riding a Greyhound bus across the country, quenching my wonder lust and forging a line across this country seeking simply what is. Not what I am told. It's is important that you never believe what you are told. Only religion and governments put forward th proposition that you should not only believe what you are told but do so without the ability to seek independent results.

4 Days in a Greyhound bus, 4 days that resulted in my PhD in yoga, and sleep deprivation. Some of those hours planted me squarely in Salt Lake City. In a bus station. Waiting for a bus. I was with a traveling companion by this point in the journey. He was a young man recently released from the Army, heading home to Napa Valley to his parents winery. We had noted each other in Ohio and by the time we got to Michigan we had agreed to watch each others back. Greyhound is the proper mode of transportation for desperate times. By Salt Lake City, we were tight enough to have some rudimentary trust and ate some lunch in a bus station cafe. In this cafe a homeless man had come in. He was a junkie, but wanted to gt clean. A POW veteran and voluntarily showed the battle scars to prove it. He passes the scrutiny of Chris's line o questioning. The cafe waitress called the cops on him and he was shown the way not to a rehab facility, not to a VA, not to any sort of place that could help, but to the bowels of Salt Lake City under the threat of arrest. Ain't that America?

The mode of travel is so different now in comparison. Can't imagine making the Greyhound trip, ah, it is the thing to be young. Now I travel in the thin sarcophagus of titanium, 450 mph and 10000 ft high, passing over New York. . . Ohio. . .Michigan. . .And able to watch the journey in real time. 6X8 screens are fabricated into the headrests, displaying a bevy of useful information as well as presenting an opportunity to clip a traveler of excess coin. I can see some of the rows boot up Red Hat Linux. The in flight meals for sale. I guess the airline did not get the public memo concerning airline food and comparisons thereof, often times drawing the inference of a Sumo wrestler, a burning tire and the defecation process. I can see the old and wizened digits of my elders reach toward the screen and cycle through menus, often finding the games menu. Big Money, Bejeweled, Trivia, the paper thin liver spotted skin sheathing the delicate blue veins as this imperfect input device makes several selections until the correct choice is made. For some reason, this made me think of my mother, as she is not a regular flight traveler, but has been in the last several years, taking flights to Utah and Massachusetts to see her sons, ore often than her boys have logged air miles to see her. Often this is a matter of mental pain for me and I guess there would not me the right amount of air miles to log to correct this situation. The wife is resistant to air travel and I have foolishly thrown myself into the gears of corporate work instead of tending the local matters. Did not want to relive that quality of life later. A job s a job and should always be seen as such unless it is your own. You can't fall into the cheer leading and the slogans and the office propaganda. Keep yourself in mind and free yourself. I fell so guilty that I put so much of myself into my work, the extra hours and the mental tax of creative thinking to make new actions occur in the same old stolid framework, what a fool I have been.

Flying over Bushnell, South Dakota, heading towards West Dakota at 465 mph, 37997 feet. The prodding of the 6x8 touchscreen continues. I watch the games, poker most recently, and It made e realize the major flaw of this set up, these screens should be networked for an interactive experience. I have seen the screens reboot several times, they seem to be a balanced network, rebooting at separate times. It uses red-hat Linux, and it is some sort of small computer version. Delta uses Linux and it shows. Anyway, I know the screens are networked together, so it wouldn;t be that much of a change to get the screens to interact and make common game rooms, chat, and the like, allowing an interactive experience in the air between passengers. “Seat 22D would like to join this hand.” etc.

Damn! I mean good!

Theyy already have it, but only for trivia as far as I can tell, which is hardly fair, as grandma doesn't stand a chance in pop music trivia.

The arrival was good, and immediately as I stood in the Sal Lake City airport, the feel of the west hit me. This feeling may be unique to me, but as best I can tell, in addition to the general atosphere, humidity, quality of the air, it is the way information is posted as well. The airport looks like a western airport. It's the way things are laid out and how things are displayed.

I picked up the hummer. The choices are red, white and blue. I went red. It seeemed appropriate. The machine drives well, solid, ad self assured. I am hoping to get a chance to put it through its paces somewhere out here. I brought a GPS with me. It's an oder Garmin 2600, but it still holds up just fine. The feature that keeps it as y main line destination informant is that it lets me know if it is located on the left or on the right side of the street. A simple feature, but from what I understand, a feature that hasn't entirely caught on.

Monday comes as we decide to go to Antelope Island. The baby's car seat does not fit well in the Hummer and my mother, my brother and his wife and myself transfer to the Toyota Tundra. At this point the baby breaks down, it cannot take this much bustle and my brother's wife and the baby stay home. We fire up the Hummer and head out.

Antelope Island costs $9.00 to access the park, but it's a great drive. The island has a visitor center that informs you about the salt lake and th sea monkeys therein. From there we traveled and saw some buffalo and tried to hit a cafe that has closed for the season. Then we went to Garr

Ranch. This was good to see, a ranch that was a working ranch until some time in the 1970's. It must have been a great place to ranch as the Lake came right up on the back 40. It was beautiful in is way and somewhat preserved, reminiscent of the way of life I have seem amongst my relatives in West Virginia.

By this point we are into mid afternoon and head to get something to eat. I haven't eaten since breakfast on Sunday. We stop at a Sonic. Mmmmm. Sonic.

My brother works tomorrow and the next day is quiet. It is a chance to regather the thoughts and plan another outing. Tomorrow I take my mother out to see Promontory point and the Golden Spike.

We head out early and make a northerly route. No traffic and the town of Roy, Utah gives way to the great expanse of the west, bordered on the horizon line by mountain ranges. Beautiful. The GPS guides us into the park and we are the sole people here. The ranger gives us a detailed and I am sure a historically accurate portrayal of the events surrounding the driving of the golden spike and the union of the east and West rail lines. We watch a movie that would not be out of place in my 1978 history class. Then we survey the sight. Not much to see, just 2 diffent rail lines coming together, 2 types of manufacture. Photographically hard to detail. I take a short video.

We see a sign coming into the park that leads us towards the Spiral Jetty. This is the sign I have been searching for. I saw a documentary on this work of art and really wanted to see it in person. The smooth gravel road gave way to a packed dirt cowpath after a mile. I couldn't have been more enthusiastic about this, and as a courtesy gave Mom the chance to bail out at this point, which she did not, which was wise because it wouldn't have happened anyway.

Looking back at it, renting the Hummer was a gamble. I figured that having a large vehicle, roomy would be nice for the whole famn damily, but we never did get that opportunity. The pay off was two fold though, and I highly recommend that you rent a vehicle like this if you have the chance when travelling out west. I was constantly on the edge with this thing. By that, I mean the edge of a total Hunter S. Thompson adventure, they depth and scope of which is beyond contemporary comprehension, and definably outlawed by homeland security. I hadn't planned on being over whelmed at my age for this level of wanderlust, and I know that I began to create a pharmaceutical shopping list that was copious and multifaceted in it's utility. My God, man, a rental Hummer? What are they thinking? I am well aware from my experience as a corporate traveler that rental cars have indestructible suspensions and there is practically no need for the brakes except to test the limit of your bravery. I reiterate: My God.

Somehow, after I leave the rental desk, I regain my composure and put the temptation in check. It's about the family this week. And despite the gonzo siren call of Dr. Thompson, I still think the the behemoth vehicle is correct for 2 reasons: First of all, the Hummer was right for this journey as anything less than 4WD will be a mistake in the snow and the mountains and the plains as I have envisioned it. Second, it had the room to accommodate any situation I could for see and the balls to accommodate any situation I could not.

We busted up that road good! In the end, the shield that protects the oil pan came off, a repair I would have to make at my brother's garage later.

In the end we finally arrive at the Spiral Jetty, and it is well worth the trip. The Jetty will not be preserved as the artist, Robert Smithson, had an affinity towards entropy and believed that this should be a feature of his art. I am glad I had a chance to see it , to walk it, and in a small way, but virtue of my footsteps, be come part of the artwork. It is an inspiring piece to see. It was great timing to see it as well. We spend 2 hours in time and we are the only ones here. Nice.

We bust up the road heading back as well. It is a 25 mile long rock encrusted, mud-hole infested 4WD dream, running the mountainside skirting the Great Salt Lake. We bounce along at 40 MPH. A Rental Hummer? Are you kidding me? For a third time: My God! At one point the OnStar system starts ringing, but I don't answer. I am sure that GPS has reported me as missing somewhere ind the Great Salt Lake, as the lake was way down and there was an opportunity to run that Salt Flat. In the end I have reached a compromise with Dr. Thompson that neither of us would have been satisfied with, but was better than the alternative.

Near the main drag to town, we are road blocked by a herd of cattle. 2 Cowboys are working them, a horse mount and an ATV mount. I gave them a gracious amount of time to get them going across. Tired of waiting I see an opening and take it. I am shy of causing a stampede, but just barely. Knowing there is nothing I can do, I proceed until I am clear then I gun it. I don't know if the cowboys would enforce a penalty for running the herd, but if they did I imagine it would probably be pretty steep. Mom laughs gleefully through all this. I keep an eye in the rearview mirror in case I have transgressed further tham I have sensed. Why oh why didn;t I pick up a concealed weapons permit while I was here? The handgun conceal carry laws are very casual, friendly and beckoning, and recognized by 28 states.

We stop and grab a meal at a local restaurant and head back to my brother's place. He is home, he got off work a little early for the holiday.

We decide to go out for a meal at a Barbecue place. Alexander doesnt want any part of it and the baby and the wife stay home. My brother and I dig into a Carolina pulled pork samdwich, andMom picks up the rhythm wth a Rib-eye. Good stuff.

When we return from the meal, we begin to play with the Wii. The Wii is seductive and misleading. The wii constantly lies to you when you begin to play it, inferring that you need to make all th movements with all the force as you would in real life. We played Wii Sports for 2 days, bowling and tennis, and some others, and it is great fun. Thanks giving is coming tomorrow.

We get up and go to Wal*Mart to pick up the peanut oil. Yes, we are going to deep fry the turkey. Or at least that is our intention, as we soon discover that the kettle for the turkey fryer has frozen with the oil in it and the round bottom spells disaster. We will have a traditionally roasted turkey.

The Turkey is most and delicious and there is green beans and home made rolls, cranberry sauce and ashed potatoes and turkey gravy and stuffing. We ash it down with sparkling cranberry and apple juice. Nice. Then we make time for the Video and Photography session with Alexander. He is in a good mood and wide awake. Good photo opportunities abounded. Afterwards, I make repairs to the Hummers, fixing the Oil pan shield back in place. Remember to check all nuts and bolts for tightness before ragging out a rental Hummer. Apparently this was loosely fixed to the frame for ease of oil changing.

Friday we visit and rest, and play Wii some more, this time exploring Resident Evil 4. I am handed the controls, and I run with it. It was a lot of fun and I play for a couple of hours, taking the observation team of my family a little farther than they had advanced. I never playd it before but have seen the guide for it on G4 TV like 4 times, enough to make a dent into the story line. I keep this part to myself.

I wrap it out and begin to pack up for the day ahead. My mother and I have early flights out of SLC and plan to ride in together.

My sister stay up later than the rest talking. The morning comes early.

The coffee is ready when my mother and I awake and we hit the airport. I kinda hate dropping off the Hummer and think of the adventure I could have if I would just point the thing East and gun it. It's a great idea, but only an idea. I hand in the keys and feel like Superman would putting on the Clark Kent disguise. I go inside and get in line with the rest of the schmucks.

As the plane ascends, I get my last few views of the salt lake before we hit the cloud ceiling. The water is flat and glassy, looking like it is convecting, reflecting the mountains, and I search the image it portrays, seeking the future and wondering what it will hold. In those few moments I see the road oft described in classic rock songs. There was definitely 2 paths I could go by and I swear to God that just for a moment the warm smell of Colitas were in the air.