The first 2 days

It is now... I don't know which day of the week. The computer tells me it's 4/23, and thinks I'm posting this at 12:09, when it's actually 10:09 mountain time. I do believe it's Thursday. Which makes sense because Friday it's supposed to rain, which is why I toured about yesterday and am planning to today. But first, back to Tuesday...

I got to UK's house full of wonderment and delight and disbelief, as described previously. Trying to figure out how to turn the Pen's game on proved too difficult through the sea of remotes, so I called Uncle Keith and he got me going. A can of soup for dinner from the near-bare pantry, and glorious victory on the ice. Pens lead the series 3-1! Next the car had to be unloaded (considerably easier than loading it), and empty I took it to the Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market, to return home full of groceries.

I'll spare you the details, and say only that I was quite pleased with my shopping trip. It was a triumph of thrift and health. I unloaded my $89.60 load and set up the kitchen with glee, armed for every food need for a week. I finished the night writing my blog, and retired to the couch in the living room, leveling out the shades so the twinkling sea of lights could join me in my repose.

I spent the first half of Wednesday out shopping. I had located several thrift stores on google maps, and headed north up State St, scanning every storefront I passed to learn what was available to me here. I pulled into a pawn shop on the way, and came back out with a guitar! A perfect, cheap-but-good Harmony sunburst acoustic with that open, un-slick sound that I need for this album. Then to other pawn shops where I salivated over the plethora of subs, and to a giant thrift store where I got a white button-up shirt for hiking. My last stops were Wal-Mart for a hat and sunscreen, B&D's Burgers for a delicious avocado burger, and Best Buy to look over their Digital SLR's and decide I didn't want to buy one new.

Thus was spent the first half of a perfect, warm, sunny day in paradise. With the forecast of rain looming, I didn't want to spend the rest of the day inside. So into my old Guardian bag went Dr.Pepper, a sandwich, two bottles of water, the Utah atlas, rough cuts and an apple. 2 gallons of water in the car, more than 3/4ths a tank of gas, hiking boots, cowboy hat, and off I went. I set out to explore the Oquirrh Mountains, which I have gazed at across the SLC valley, but never been to. I transversed the flat, wide valley, and met with little success in the canyons on the other side, which are all closed till the summer melts enough snow up in the mountains. Then was the first of many visits to the Atlas, by which I chose a route that went north along the mountains and wrapped around them to the West, along the shore of the Great Salt Lake, across salt flats, and then down south through the valley on the other side of the mountains, till I could wrap around them and come back home.

I munched buffalo jerky from a roadside peddler and cruised, till the full wonder of the great lake became apparent. Turns out the Great Salt Lake is really, really, colossaly huge. If the desert seems to stretch out in the valleys flat and vast, how much more does the mirror-flat plane of the lake soar to the horizon, broken only by islands (mountains, actually) jutting from its surface. I the highway passer got passed incessantly as I tried to keep my speed up on I-80 while still marvelling at the lake, and the salt flats extending from its shores. At one point the two directions of the highway were nothing but two piles of dirt, carrying the roads atop them and venturing out with nothing but water on either side.

After miles of such driving, deserted except for a couple evaporator plants, I got to the interchange with 138, which would take me south down the new valley. But on the right side, jutting up massive and mysterious and as enticing as any pirate cove, lay Stansbury Island - a mountain rising up from the lake, with enough solid land between the salt flats to carry a road out to it. The map showed most of the island was BLM land, which is Bureau of Land Management, which means you can freely camp and hike there. I turned right and headed out, but soon a few realities set in: (A) It was 5:30pm, and the only cars I saw were ones leaving the island. (B) Turns out even though you can see a mountain right in front of you, it can still be six miles away, and (C) the road was unpaved, and I could only do 20 at best, laboring over the washboard surface and bemoaning my already-dying front struts and skinny sport tires. So I stopped, beaten by the reality of nature, hiked along the shore for awhile, and headed back, champing on a rough cut like Clint Eastwood and opening all 4 windows of the car so the roaring onslaught of wind could blow through.

I'll write just one more part of my day. As I worked my way along state routes down through the Tooele valley, on the other side of the Oquirrhs from SLC, I came to the twon of Tooele and took a road that headed up into the foothills. Most of the time you see little hills and dream about climbing them and how cool that would be, and keep driving. But these had ATV trails running up them, so I knew they were accessible, and a sign at a pull-in forbade only vehicular trespassing. So I put on my boots and started walking, reduced to gasping pants almost immediately by the steep grade and thin air. At last, picking my way among the rocks and stubbly brush, I neared the top of a large hill overlooking the whole valley. It was like a movie scene - the last few steps unfolded the valley below in breathtaking grandeur. Angled sunlight swept across the fertile green plains, growing misty in the distance before the mountains rose up to meet the setting sun. Tooele laid peacefully below me, neat streets and clean houses in orderly array, ready for the coming of night. The grassy foothills on which I stood looked like green felt, and to my right a reservoir lay tucked in the canyon like a jewel. My gaze stretched far across the valley, and when it got to the north, stretched out to infinity as the great salt lake swallowed up the horizon, lying like a majestic lion at the head of the valley, watching over the scene from its stately immensity. I fought mosquitos and talked to Uncle Keith for awhile, till the sun dropped below the last bar of clouds and headed for the mountain peaks. Every minute the view got better and I wished I could take new pictures. The light, sharper and sharper, lifted off the plains and cut the foothills out in dramatic contrast. At last the sun slipped below the peaks, and the chilling wind from the mountains behind me hastened me back to the car. I enjoyed the lights show in the sky from behind the mountains as I continued south. Civilization petered out rapidly, and left me alone on the strip of highway, marveling afresh at the desolate Rush Valley, great gaping vastness to my left and right, dark and peaceful beneath the still-light sky.

Such were my adventures yesterday, and maybe my poetic language sounds cheesy, but it's my best attempt at capturing what I saw and how it affected me. My only sadness was that there was no one to share it with. How I would like for Pittsburgh and Ohio friends to see these things with me! I believe these great, dramatic sights make God's glory easier to imagine and anticipate, and human self-absorption harder to sink into.

Now it is nearing noon, high time to head out on today's adventures. I'm going south west, to the BLM desert and the old pony express trail. Blanket, food, extra clothes, lots of water, tank up on gas, guitar... yep, I'm ready!