A Fish Out of Water

My travels out west really wore me out.  My body is definitely not suited for the high desert plains.  I spent the last week resting and recovering in Lowell, and even had an emergency room trip Thursday night.  I ended up there because I had a reaction to a new medication and I couldn't breathe.  I'm very thankful Tommy was around to drive me and pick me up at 2 a.m., he may have saved my life.  I had a few finals stories to tell that I thought time had run out on, but my buddy Faherty texted me and suggested he needed some type of closure.  How could I say no to a man with such poor fantasy football skills, it'll probably be his only highlight of the next six months.

Leaving Deadwood was a bit nostalgic because even though I stayed for two nights, which is actually a long time for me, I felt like I knew the town from the TV show, as absurd as that may sound.  I knew how it began, it's essence made sense to me, and I had a feel for it.

I managed to recover the Black Hills time lapse video, after the laptop fiasco, so here's what driving from Wind Cave National Park to Mt. Rushmore looks like:

I left Deadwood and I had to drive through the open range throughout Wyoming and Utah to get back to Vegas.  I had a long ways to go and I wasn't really looking forward to it.  I had seen the elephant.  The mountain air had dried me out and the the altitude had me worn out from using so much energy to breathe.  Someone with a normal lung capacity may use 2% of their energy to breathe, and at sea level my body uses about 20%, but up in the thin air of the mountains I might need half my energy just to breathe.  I took the Spearfish road and began a 581 mile journey through Wyoming.

It was fun for a while, then it wasn't.  Driving became the opposite of fun as I approached Green River in southwest Wyoming near the Utah border.  The elevation was near 9,000 feet and the narrow two lane road was unguarded.  Only a foot or two from the edge of the road the canyons dropped thousands of feet and there was nothing to stop me.  The danger made me nervous and kept me focused on the road.

The light of the day faded rapidly and evening turned to night.  The open spaces I could look down three or four thousand feet turned into a vast empty darkness that surrounded me and terrified me.  If a car went off the road there it could be weeks or months until they were found, if ever.  I was on the outer lane and each time a car would approach from the opposite direction I hoped the temporary blinding from the oncoming headlights would be quick, I locked in on the edge of the road to be sure to stay on it.

I descended to Flaming Gorge, but the treacherous conditions remained.  Warning signs for animals popped up everywhere and I knew I would I would meet some wildlife.  There were a lot of rabbits crossing the road.  Coming down and around a bend I sensed life nearby and slowed - then hit the brakes.  Three pronghorn crossing right in front of me.  Pronghorn look like deer.  I would have hit them if I wasn't ready.  Then as I pulled around around turn there was two rabbits in my lane.  One ran, the other didn't, and never will again.  I didn't feel good about it, and I didn't feel bad about it, but I was sickened by the sound.

I drove on into an amazing lightning storm that thankfully kept it's distance.  I arrived in Naples, UT ready for bed having just completed the most terrifying drive of my life.

The next morning I was eating cheerios at a breakfast counter in the hotel lobby and a guy approached me.  What happened? he said.  I told him I had to wear oxygen because the air was too thin.  Then he says, "do you believe in god?"  Whether he was going to bless me or curse me I didn't need it, so I said "can I have some privacy to eat these cheerios, man?"

That night I ended up in Bicknell, UT, population 325.  The dinner options were limited, and by that I mean there was a pizza place open that didn't look good.  I drove to the next town over, Torrey, and found a gem of a spot.  The Saddlery Cowboy Bar and Steakhouse was huge, and empty.  I saddled up to the bar and ordered the buffalo meatloaf dinner.

The next morning I dropped my keys in the bin and waved good bye to Granny.

When I'm at home the gas warning light in the car always seems a little premature.  But, when you're in the middle of nowhere Utah seventy miles may not always be enough.  That morning I didn't pass one gas station on my way to the I-15 that would take me south to Vegas.  I had fourteen miles to empty when I approached the I-15.  It was an interstate highway so I figured I'd be fine, all I had to do was make it there.  As I got closer to I-15 I didn't see gas stations either way, so I headed south.  I saw a sign for Parowan, UT, and I had 13 miles to empty.  Parowan was 16 miles away, I figured I could make it.  I didn't want to use any excess gas so I turned off the A/C and accelerated slowly onto the highway.  I was going 55 in a 70 to be as efficient as possible, but I don't know anything about cars, so maybe I was just being foolish.

At two miles to empty I took the exit for Paragonah.  There was absolutely nothing there except a local checking their mail.  I shut the car off and asked for a gas station.  They said there was one in Parowan about six miles down the road.  I said, "ok great".  Not great at all, I was out of gas.  The car wouldn't start.  The sun was burning me and the car wouldn't start.  I pressed the ignition again, nothing.  Then I realized I was still in DRIVE, so I put the car in PARK and turned it on.  I had 2 miles of gas for 6 miles to Parowan.

I had 0 miles to empty and four miles to Parowan.  I covered the dash with my hands on the wheel so I couldn't see it and hoped for the best.  In the distance I could see a gas station right off the exit, if I could only make it there.  If it wasn't for the merciful spirit of Brigham Young, I may not have made it.  I rolled into the gas station not on fumes, on blessings.  Blessings only.

Then a idiot Giants fan heckled me about my Patriots hat in the gas station.  He says, "c'mon did Brady do it?"  I replied, "of course he did! And he's gonna play!".  Then as I was eating a 3 Musketeers in the car he walked by and gave me the loser sign, finger L on forehead.  I just shook my head.  Then I realized he was the only friend I made on the trip.

When I arrived in Vegas the heat was astounding.  The car said 116, but it was more like 110, which was little relief.  Sitting at McCarron airport at midnight the heat was still 105.

I ate dinner at the airport and was glad to be heading home.  I was exhausted.  I had driven 3,300 miles over a week.  I drove through the canyons of the southwest, the great plains, the magical Black Hills, the open range, and the high mountain desert.  Aside from the desert storm early on the sun warmed the plains to 90-100 degrees everyday.  I decided in 2012 that I wanted to see all fifty states and now I've been to 49.  Alaska is the last frontier.

This trip was a lot harder than I thought it would be, and I had already failed to navigate the west two years ago.  This place is rough, it's high and dry, has endless open space, and there's danger lurking around every corner.  It definitely pushed my body to the limit.  The last three days out there, from Deadwood to Vegas, it was all about getting home.  When I hit North Dakota I felt like I had accomplished something, but there was still a long way to go, so I didn't really think about it.  There were a few things I wanted to see on the route back to Vegas, but I didn't have enough left in the tank, so I skipped them and just focused on getting home in one piece.

I've been to 49 states, and I want to go to Alaska to complete my journey.  If I don't make it to Alaska, somebody please burn me and spread my ashes in the Kenai River, between May and October.  I want be eaten by Alaskan salmon, and it's during those months that they begin their exodus upriver to spawn.  Salmon is my favorite fish, so the circle of life would be complete.