Denver Bookends: A Vacation for the Ages
This entry was originally posted in 2013, as part of my blog "The Grateful Dead Theology Project." That blog, however, was eaten by monsters. Luckily, it is all "backed up," and I will post that here in its entirely soon. But, I defintely wanted to respost this portion ASAP, as I believe it is one of my best written pieces in my post-seminary life.
Denver Bookends: A Vacation for the Ages
“a written account of a really cool 2-week trip out west that came at just the right time when i most needed it in my life”
by c. david bryan
c. david bryan run.
run, david bryan! run!
prologue
flying sucks. we all know this. there isn’t one single redeeming factor to the entire experience, as far as i’m concerned: the long commute to the airport; the ridiculous lines; having to withstand the poking and prodding of the TSA (i ALWAYS “opt out,” as i don’t believe those machines have really been fully studied; anyway, why give them a free peep show??); the cramped seating; the PA systems installed and abused with no forethought to volume (i imagine the inventor of earplugs first conceived the idea after being acoustically assaulted and jolted awake mid-nap by a boisterous captain announcing what altitude we’re flying at—only the important info here, folks); the turbulence—well, need i go on? we’ve all “been there, done that,” right? and we all despise it. (except for that handful of very bizarre people who seem to relish the experience, down even to the point of knowing the intricacies of different airports and types of planes. “oh hey! how was your flight? what were you on? an airbus a-319? embraer 145?” um . . . what?? i was on a plane, dude. it gets me from A to B. that’s all.)
personally, i’ll take driving over flying any day of the week.
or rather, let me state it more positively, and say: i love to drive! which is why i planned this vacation the way i did. i have always been a fan of the open road. perhaps i was influenced by jack kerouac’s inimitable novel “on the road” at an impressionable age. and, as a professed lover of all things grateful dead, i obviously was quite taken with the traveling circus sideshow subculture that sprang up around this band, following from city to city to catch as many shows as possible. to date, i have driven through 47 of the 48 continental states, and have found the topographical diversity of our nation to be absolutely mesmerizing.
on a previous road trip two years ago, some friends and i logged some ridiculous mileage as we hit nine different states in just under two weeks. during one stint of that trip, we traveled from zion national park, in southwestern utah, to moab—which is in the middle of the state as far east as you can go before hitting colorado. my friends in moab strongly suggested we not take I-15 then I-70, informing us of the “insider’s drive,” the scenic route that cuts through the backroads of the southern part of the state. unfortunately, we missed the turnoff by some 40 miles before realizing, and were thus wedded to this soon-to-be-terribly-boring drive.
some five hours later, after barely avoiding careening off countless cliffs due to all four of us being transfixed by the jaw-dropping beauty of our surroundings, we arrived in moab, and i asked my friends there: “so . . . that was the boring route??”
ever since that adventure, i have craved returning, to follow the map of mormon country, to travel the route my friends had suggested.
let me go ahead and tell you: my friends were absolutely right.
DAY 1 (friday): vacation begins
i bid china cat and salvador goodbye, reassuring them they will be in good hands. i never know if they understand what’s going on when i leave for vacation, but it always seems so. after many such departures, i think they have stopped assuming that i have died every time i leave for an extended period of time, and they have instead cultivated a feline faith that father will, indeed, return.
after a 4-hour flight, i exit the denver airport both hungry and thirsty. my awesome former (new york) roommate rachel picks me up. i’m already a bit travel weary but excited about this trip. i inquire about comestibles and frothy beverages. however, my flight got in at midnight, and the denver airport is apparently so far out of the city limits that it’s in wyoming. so, by the time we arrive in her little suburb, everything is all but closed. i settle for a mcchicken sandwich and fries, and we retire to her apartment and drink port wine. mmmmm. early communion, since i’ll miss it this sunday. (not that i always take it. sometimes. do you? why? how much have you really thought about it?) i am so thankful to be here, and enjoy my time catching up with rachel, as my stomach works overtime on the former sandwich, ostensibly drawing the energy from my eyelids which are increasing in heaviness. no surprise, i guess; it’s close to 3 am EST. time for bed. rachel has a comfy air mattress which fits snug at the foot of her bed. i’ve never been one for air mattresses, but dayum if i didn’t sleep like a champ that night!
DAY 2 (saturday): REAL vacation begins
rachel does a great job of showing me around, including a brunch spot which is relatively quiet, reasonably priced, rivals anything in NYC, and lacks the attitude. we eat and laugh leisurely, as we continue to catch up. we later drive around as i get “the sell”—which she does magnificently, as i posted on facebook that day that i could possibly live in denver.
so, i have this little roadtrip through the land of latter day saints coming up soon, but i forgot to mention: another reason for this particular trip was to see furthur, my favorite band, which consists of bob weir and phil lesh from grateful dead, plus some incredible musicians they found along the way since the death of jerry garcia in 1995. i have tickets to 2 nights in colorado and 2 nights in vegas—with the seven day driving journey in between. (i should also mention that this vacation planned around furthur proved to be a startling instance of accidental prescience, as they have announced they are taking a temporary hiatus in 2014. so, this could potentially be the last time i see these guys.)
anyway, done with the afternoon with rachel, and on to the show! we start with a passenger transfer, as rachel drops me off at a gas station where i am picked up by my friend steve hurlburt, a member of the online grateful dead academic group of which i am a part. but wait, an unexpected surprise! also present is rebecca adams, a wonderful woman who teaches in UNCG’s (my alma mater) sociology department, and who is really the “grandmother of grateful dead academic studies.” i’m very excited to see her, and to be able to share tonight’s concert with two fabulous people. and, as you hopefully know, fabulous people usually beget other fabulous people. so, we end up with incredible seats thanks to friends of steve who waited in line starting around 7 am. i am welcomed with open arms. and then one of the first people i meet is the fairy godmother! who swiftly tells me that she grants wishes. what a way to start this trip! i follow her instructions, and make my wish—one which produces tears in front of this stranger. we end up talking more, and from that moment, we are connected, which even she states after the show.
speaking of the show: WOW. i’ll post a more formal review of that later on, but just WOW. my friend steve has seen furthur 100+ times, and i quote his assessment (with permission) of the show here, which he shared with rebecca and me the next day:
“Well, without getting all teary and blubbery about it (and I’m always distrustful about the objectivity of stuff like I’m going to say, but . . .): fURTHUR, at the Rocks last night (perfect weather, perfect seats, perfect sound) reinvented the musical language. Seriously. I’ve seen 100+ fURTHUR shows and last night was one of those. The second set operated on some other level: mind-altering. I have never been further out there/totally conscious than last night. Seemed they were playing passages that were beyond music. I don’t know how, but beyond music. The nuance and spaciness in the jams and connecting passages was a completely other language. Noise and space like I’ve never heard them do. Just mind warping. Really. A perfect . . . storm. Immediately in the top five shows of my life. Best fURTHUR ever. Astonishing. Jesus . . . I hope the recording will bear me out. And pull me back in from the ledge if I’m too far out there . . .”
‘nuff said. by the way, i had never been to red rocks, but have heard that the dead (and furthur) have long considered this one of their spiritual home bases. i can now see why. what an amazing venue! if you don’t like furthur, that’s fine. but do yourself a favor and go see your favorite band here before you die. what a night.
post show passenger swap, then rachel and i go out for a couple of beers before bed. after which i was more sold on denver. the bar was AWESOME—putting just about EVERY nyc bar to shame: friendly people, welcoming atmosphere, and great acoustics. (as many of you know, i constantly comment [and sometimes complain] on the intensely loud volume levels in public places, especially in nyc; not only bars, but restaurants—even stores! it is an assault on the senses. this place, however, is absolutely perfect. maybe i could move here!)
DAY 3 (sunday): wash, rinse, repeat
as i said, i have tickets to 2 consecutive nights. for those of you unfamiliar with furthur (or the dead), no songs are ever repeated on consecutive nights. in fact, when furthur did a recent 9-night run in portchester, ny, they did not repeat a song during the first 8 shows. this is one of many reasons why fans would go see multiple consecutive shows. (the most i ever saw consecutively was 9 in a row, when i followed the dead on their final west coast tour in the summer of 1995, mere months before jerry died.)
after yet another fabulous brunch with rachel at another fabulous spot, we do yet another exchange, as she this time drops me off with my friend jessie abell, who i have known SINCE NINTH GRADE. jessie is definitely one of my strongest spiritual connections on this earth, and i am pleased as punch to be able to hang out with her—but even more excited that i get to take her to her first furthur show! apparently, this show falls on the anniversary of her late father’s birthday, and she said she always finds a special way to celebrate it. we celebrate him together, and enjoy yet another magical evening of grateful dead music, this one with a surprise guest musician: BRANFORD MARSALIS! and i thought last night’s show was spectacular?? i also loved introducing jessie to the fairy godmother. i had a feeling they might hit it off, and hit it off they did. they ended up talking for near a good solid hour at set break.
rest of the show was amazing, of course, as these guys have definitively honed the craft they helped create. anyway, afterwards jessie and i score some vegan burritos in the parking lot. i wash mine down with a tasty IPA. (another interesting factoid for those unfamiliar with the dead/furthur is the vending scene that takes place in the parking lot before and after the show, deadheads selling just about anything you could possibly need or want—well, except for blenders. no blenders.)
back to jessie’s apartment, with a detour by her friend’s house who is lending some cooking gear just in case i decide to camp. after 2 nights of furthur, then this detour, i’m pretty exhausted. off to sleep.
DAY 4 (monday): destination grand junction
jessie, in addition to being one of my strongest spiritual connections, is one of the best hosts i have ever met. anything you need, she has. i awake from slumber, stumble to the shower, then finally emerge in her living room. coffee is waiting! we have breakfast, i repack for the road trip on which i depart in 2 hours. she is lending me camping gear as well: tent, sleeping bag, camping pad, etc.; however, she also fills three handbags full of just about every random item one could possibly need on a road trip. you name it, it’s in there: electronic cables for gadgets, plastic bags, matches, vitamins, cutlery, towels, hand soap, dish soap, laundry detergent, hand sanitizer, even a sewing kit! and lots more. (no blender, unfortunately.) initially, it seems like a lot of stuff to me, but in the end it was very well thought out—and greatly appreciated, as i found myself utilizing most everything. she also cooks some pasta with homemade pesto and tofu that morning which she sends with me in a tupperware container. and even a small cooler with yet another tupperware that contains frozen leftovers from a few days ago. (these will thaw at just the perfect time, as we shall see.) what a gem this woman is.
by the way, anyone who has EVER been on my facebook page knows that technology and i don’t get along too well. recently, my phone has been on the fritz, i can barely take any pictures, so jessie even sends me off with her digital camera. “you have to get some pictures, dave!” well, i’ll jump ahead and say that i mostly didn’t, unfortunately. i probably took some 40 or 50 pictures before i finally learned how to properly use the camera.
duh.
and by that point, the battery was all but dead. so, i think i got about 10 pictures, all mostly from one day? (maybe jessie will post these on my facebook page soon! i’ll create an album and name it “just one day from my 16-day vacation.” that would have to be a facebook first.)
after loading up at a local hippie grocery store, we get to the airport car rental agency. through the sleek sales pitch of the rental agent, bolstered by jessie’s infinite wisdom, i upgrade to a toyota rav-4 SUV. i don’t know what the hell a rav is, or why i need 4 of them, but in the final analysis, this upgrade was a really great idea, as i ultimately had to negotiate difficult terrain and sleek surfaces at various points. let it be said that cheapest is not always bestest.
i take leave of my dear friend and head west on I-70, for what will be a 12-day solo trek. now is probably a good time to say, i was a bit concerned about traveling solo for so long. not for any kind of fear or nervousness, mind you. i just thought it might get a little lonely, that’s all. as an unmarried man with no children, i’ve had really good luck over the years of enticing friends to join me for various vacations. in the planning process for this trip, i probably assumed somebody would end up joining me as usual. not this time.
however, the flapping wings of that solo butterfly beating in my stomach quickly dissipate as soon as i am on the interstate. i’m free, i think to myself. i answer to no one but me.
I drive as far west as I can, hoping to hit grand junction by dusk. i figured the day’s drive would be pretty, but it was nothing short of spectacular. as a result of all the inaudible oooohing and aaaahing (if a dave falls in a forest, and there is nobody around to hear him, does he make a sound?) as i crane my neck in every conceivable direction trying to glimpse the various vistas for hours on end, my eyelids start to get heavy. i fall about 20 miles short of my goal, and end up at the mesa view motel in palisade, colorado. a decent establishment. pesto pasta for dinner!
DAY 5 (tuesday): designated driving day
i wake up refreshed, and emerge from the room to a view that will be more or less repeated every morning of the trip: mountains or mesas. (hey! if i make that an acronym, i’m waking up every morning to MOM. how comforting!) i brew some free-trade columbian coffee, slap some peanut butter on a bagel (all procured at said grocery store) and hop in the car. a goal for the trip is to allow plenty of time to get out of the car and explore, so my intent for each day is to keep the driving to a minimum. however, just as one must usually spend the better part of a day just getting to their vacation destination, i will also have to suck it up for a day and push deep into mormon territory if i am to ever make it to the national parks i am hoping to hit.
i bid farewell to I-70, which will be the last interstate i drive on for 5 days. yes, the speed limit has dropped, but that doesn’t slow me down. grand junction does! first i have to stop and buy a flashlight for camping (the one thing jessie didn’t have for me), but then i aimlessly drive around following dubious directions from some dude who, i guess, doesn’t understand why someone would not just take I-70. i have to stop for directions yet again.
i just . . . can’t . . . seem . . . to . . . get . . . left!
look, kids!
big ben!
parliament!
finally breaking free of grand junction, i recommit to the idea that nothing else is going to slow me down.
however, the view does.
crap. i don’t remember what was so damned spectacular, looking out the window for the last few hours, but it must have been something. cause it’s approaching sunset, and i’ve made it a total of only like 185 miles. i now sit in front of a sign that reads “canyonlands national park 34 miles.”
[by the way, for those who want to reenact this magical trip sometime: depart denver, take I-70 to grand junction; then US-50 east towards orchard mesa for a short bit, then CO-141 to CO-90, which then turns into UT-46. left onto US 191 south to UT-211. (you could also just take I-70 west to crescent junction and get on 191 south there; but don’t forget: I-70 is boring!)]
canyonlands: 34 miles. my original plan was to hit this park much earlier in the day, then to spend the night in monticello, about 20 miles south. so i have to make a decision. (this being one of the aspects about this trip that is so spectacular: i make the decisions. i can’t even ask my cats what they think.) let it be known i made some reservations along the way. the rest i figured would be on the fly. this is one such instance: do i forge ahead to monticello to find lodging, then come back to canyonlands for sunset, or even wait until tomorrow? 34 miles ain’t that far! i don’t know what forces were at work around me at that moment, but it’s close to 5 pm, and i get on UT-211 toward canyonlands with no real plan. i’m just driving. (i also know that if i had reservations in monticello, then much of the following may have never happened. maybe on the fly isn’t so bad sometimes?)
i don’t know who or how or why these park boundaries are set, but that 34-mile drive to the national park is scenic enough to make this entire portion of the trip worth it, even if i were to immediately turn around at the park entrance and drive back. (for instance, if one were to drive up to said entrance and see a sign that read “park closed due to incompetent government.”) so, wait . . . it gets better than this??
i am surrounded by monstrous mesas, and immediately remember that i have a tent and sleeping bag. hmmm. pushing closer to canyonlands, i turn to that age old decision maker which has served me quite well throughout my life: intuition. i pass several campgrounds, fighting back the urge: not here. must get closer to the park. why? i don’t know. but, the upshot of all this is that i end up passing a place called “needles outpost” right before i hit the park entrance. i drive up to the park gate; it is open and unstaffed. again, i don’t know why, but i turn around and drive back to the outpost, which offers camping. “do you have any spots left?” “yes sir, and they’re real nice! why don’t you drive down and check out #17? it’s one of our best.” i do exactly as she says.
it takes me about 10 seconds to make up my mind: SOLD.
as some of you may know, i am an eagle scout, so i have done my fair share of camping over the course of my life. honestly, i’m not a huge fan of it anymore. (maybe from doing it too much as a kid; maybe cause i’m a high maintenance sleeper now, WHATEVER.) but, when i saw this site, i knew i was going to spend the night here. most of their campsites are adjacent to a medium-sized mesa, a brilliant reddish rock formation both tall and deep, with many levels to explore in between (and explore i did, even deep into the night). i rent the site for the night, set up the tent, and go back into canyonlands for about an hour—timing to make it back to see sunset over the park, as well as to see the bright hues reflecting off MOM behind the campsite. (since i rented this site, i guess that makes it MY MOM for the night?)
even though i have cooking equipment, i don’t have to use it, as i can now enjoy the fully thawed leftovers from jessie’s freezer, as well a few near-IPA beers procured at the general store; who says NYC is the only place you can buy single beers? way to go, needles. it’s all about moderation. now enveloped in the darkness of dusk, i light a fire, and relish the view of brilliant campfire colors bouncing off the red clay of this magnificent mesa—my new friend. i am absolutely communing with nature. it is chilly, but not too cold; mostly windy. the wind beats against the side of the tent at a steady pace throughout the night; i am awakened intervallically by the baying of a lone coyote. edward abbey would be proud of me tonight.
DAY 6 (wednesday): time to test my friends’ theory
i wake up, shower, duck into canyonlands briefly—for only another hour or so, as this park wasn’t really high priority anyway. after that camping experience on the heels of the 34-mile drive in, i don’t see how this park can offer anything more.
of course i’m absolutely wrong, but i’m already behind on my itinerary, and need to get moving. regardless, i get out of the car, and hike a little ways in. after passing signs that warn of proper hiking gear and ample amounts of water, i must look pretty funny climbing up a moderate trail wearing sneakers and carrying a stainless steel starbucks tumbler full of coffee. boy, am i ready to take nature on!
here’s the catch, though: nobody stops to “laugh at the silly new yorker,” cause there is nobody. i sit down in the late summer sun and admire a view nonpareil, surrounded only by rocks, trees—and MOM, of course. everywhere. how is it possible that i am in a national park, and i can’t see a single other human being????
i wish i had budgeted more time, cause this “not high priority” park is rife with exploration possibilities. maybe next time. it’s also rife with photo ops, but this is the day the camera battery dies. (i hope it was just the battery, and that the camera didn’t break! whoever you are reading this, for the record, you’re probably better off not letting me ever touch your gizmos. we have a contentious history.)
as suggested in today’s title, i am making a peregrinating push through the backroads of southern utah. what an amazing adventure this turns out to be, each geographic backdrop bested by the next: manti-la sal national forest, fry canyon, glen canyon, capitol reef national park, circle cliffs, escalante national monument, dixie national forest. i’m not even near bryce canyon yet, and am already blown away by my surroundings. as i said, my friends were right. stay the hell off of I-70. what a bore.
now, you would think that experience is the best teacher, but unfortunately this is not always the case. i pull into the town of escalante at dusk, and to my dismay, every single room is sold out in the entire town. i become slightly frantic, haunted by memories of sleeping in the car two years ago when my friend and i came out of yosemite national forest only to find the entire state was sold out due to some stupid convention. however, this time i have a tent, if it comes to that. but, i tend to not sleep well anyway, so after last night’s copious coyote calls, beautiful as they were, i would like a quiet room with a bed tonight—as driving all day on minimal sleep has me quite fatigued by this point. of course, when one realizes one might not get a bed, fatigue increases exponentially. perhaps i should have planned better? but, perhaps i was right to just wing it, at least on certain portions of this trip. after all, if you always know what you’re going to get, then life loses some luster, does it not? maybe i thrive on curve balls. so let me know if you know of any MLB teams looking for a pinch hitter. anyway, i drive to the next town—probably with a little more haste than i should, but i know the folks behind me, just now learning of the entire town being sold out, have the leg up on me: they probably have working smart phones. well, the pen is mightier than the sword, right? maybe my car can outrun their cell phone signals! (by the way, this is a good point to say that my phone being on the fritz was a complete blessing: i didn’t waste any valuable time futzing with the camera, checking facebook or surfing the web. half of the places i stayed did not have wireless internet. i was probably looking for a bona fide reason to unplug on this vacation, and unplug i did for most of it. i highly recommend you do the same for your next vacation.)
argh! the next town is sold out too!! am i doomed to repeat history? alas, thanks to a convenience store clerk very generous of his time who researches rooms online and even calls ahead on my behalf (really, NYC, please take some lessons), i finally nab a motel room in panguitch. it’s a little more than an hour away, but the fact that i know i have a bed for the night calms me down. there is no scenery at this point, of course, as it is past dusk, but i can now drive more measuredly. once in panguitch, on the way to the hotel, i stop at a gas station to pick up a sandwich and some beer. lo and behold, i forgot briefly that i was in utah! in the beer cooler is a brand called “polygamy porter,” with the tagline “why have just one?” all i can say to that is: LOL.
[UT-211 back to US 191 S; UT-95 N, which becomes UT-24 (towards Caineville); turn on UT-12 S, then US-89 N.]
DAY 7 (thursday): the main course begins
i wake up, excited to start the 3-day adventure which will encompass bryce canyon and both rims of the grand canyon. the driving to get to this point has been spectacular, but this is truly the main reason i came out here (other than furthur, of course), and i am definitely ready to get out of the car and stretch my legs.
while i’m loading the car, the cleaning lady starts up a conversation with me. she is very nice and jolly. we share some laughs. living in new york, i forget how friendly people can be in general. i ask her about a place to buy jeans, as the hole in the seat of my pants has finally outgrown the seat of my pants. my cadre of fashion consultants thousands of miles away, i corral my courage and head to the suggested retailer. this being utah, however, they are playing by a different set of rules altogether—the place is open every day of the week, even on sundays (the lord’s day!) but not on thursdays.
you’ve got to be kidding me.
what make of mormon mischief is this, anyway??
i say a prayer to joseph smith and brigham young, then immediately spot a thrift store across the street. i’ve never done well at thrift stores; either they never have anything my size, everything is horribly out of fashion (i do have some basic fashion sense by this point in my life!), or the place is so overrun with hipsters that there is a 290% markup. i actually make out pretty decently, though, and find not one but two decent pairs of pants. “do you take credit cards?” “we sure do, hon. that’ll be $4.” GASP! what?? i guess the hipsters haven’t invaded this city yet. and it just so happens i have exactly $4 cash in my wallet. finance charges, kiss my ***!
i drive about an hour, again through some pretty spectacular canyons, en route to bryce canyon. once near the entrance, the signs recommend you leave your car and utilize their shuttle system, which i opt to do. i fill up my tumbler with water, pack layers of clothing and trail food, and set out.
after three days of mostly solitude, i’m not crazy about all the people. they are nice enough, but, well, they are acting like a bunch of tourists. i’m not a tourist. i’m a traveler. an explorer. i suck it up and take the shuttle to the farthest stop, and exit the shuttle with about thirty others. and of course there are already about a hundred other folks nearby, all swarming around with cameras, pointing, talking, making noise. i need to get out of here. and fast.
so this next portion of the trip was an eye-opening experience, in several ways. i wanted to get as far away from tourists as possible, so i simply started walking. in the distance, i notice a curve on the rim of the canyon, around which i see several folks sauntering. hmmm. there seems to be a trail. i decide to head that direction. the temperature is a bit frigid, so i stop to layer up, accepting immediately that i won’t be on one of those warm shuttle buses again for quite some time. i start walking.
i have only recently, through the wonders of physical therapy, overcome a knee injury; thus, i opt for the “rim trail,” described as “easy to moderate” in the free guidebook. the walking distance between each shuttle stop probably averages 1.5 miles.
now, anyone who has read just about anything that i have ever posted publicly knows that most of my writing tends to contain at least a modicum of slightly scathing social commentary. that being said, IF SUCH COMMENTARY IS NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA, THIS IS YOUR “OPT OUT” POINT for a bit. as i said, i always opt out at the airport screening area, so i won’t be offended if you do the same here. life does not consist of only puppy dogs, rainbows, unicorns and cotton candy. however, if you are someone who prefers these and only these, then no harm, no foul. so, here are YOUR instructions: simply skip the next bit, and scroll down until you see the words END COMMENTARY. then, you can pick right back up on my wonderful adventure, and i’ll be none the wiser as to whether or not you partake of this portion.
for those brave souls willing to wade into the deep dark depths of davedom, carry on now, and happy spelunkering!
so, at this point, i should say i was absolutely amazed at the utter lack of people hiking the rim trails. with this in mind, this absolutely needs to be said: we have become a terribly lazy culture of instant-gratification. so, you flew across the country to visit bryce canyon, one of the most amazing geological formations in existence, and you’re going to settle for a 10-minute walk from the shuttle to the fenced-in viewing area and snap a few photos, only to turn back and board the shuttle for the next stop? what a waste.
listen: like i said, my knee has been on the mend, and i found this hike to be extraordinarily easy. and with shuttle stops sprinkled around the circumference of the canyon, you have the option of doing a single short hike, then riding around the rest of the day to the other stops. actually, now that i think about it, the last leg i did was .9 miles. LESS THAN A MILE.
so, a few things to consider:
so, in a certain way, it makes me sad to see such beauty under-appreciated. however, i wouldn’t trade this for anything, as i would not have had my incredible experiences of solitude if everyone hiked the trails. so, more for me! of course i did run into a number of folks on the trails; and we all knew that we experienced something special that day. i’m now among a minority of those who might think: this canyon is alive.
at one point i was even literally caught in a wind tunnel. i closed my eyes, raised my arms and simply felt the awesome power of whatever it was taking place around me.
yes, indeed, this canyon is alive. that is to say, there is something incredibly spiritual going on here. an act of being. a very buddhist, childlike fascination can occur as one hikes around a place of such astonishing natural beauty. (remembering that hiking is not the walking, but the points of stopping.) how do you respond to beauty? for me, i think it’s kind of like being at a zoo. do you go to a zoo just to take pictures of the animals? or do you ever stop and look into the eyes of those animals? you know how they say you can hear the ocean if you hold a seashell to your ear? well, maybe you can see the universe if you look into an animal’s eyes—a living, breathing, sentient being. (why am i not yet a vegetarian?)
have you been to bryce canyon, or some such place of wonder? did you just hop shuttle stops, snapping photos and immediately uploading them to facebook? (have you ever stuck a camera out the window of a moving vehicle??) i guess i probably sound judgmental, and perhaps i am. but as i said, i’m more sad than anything—saddened by the fact that america seems to have deteriorated into a culture of dilettantes. (hell, it seems like our entire government consists of such persons. how did these people get themselves elected??) taxonomically, we are the ME genus; the NOW species. a “fast food nation,” hell bent on keeping up with the joneses—and now also the kardashians. quick! the I-phone 50 is just around the corner, so better place your order!
am i talking to you right now? that is for you to decide. here’s a good indicator that i am talking to you: if you ever find yourself talking into a sandwich while you take a bite out of your cellphone. if that’s happening, then there is some disconnect which needs to be addressed. i am by no means Über-enlightened. i tend to think i am on the right path. i just wish i were always aware of that path.
maybe you interact with your pets the same way? maybe even your children? i’ve never had kids, so maybe i simply don’t understand, but it seems to me that so many people in this country have been brainwashed to just go out and buy as much stuff as possible. with the sole purpose of having as much stuff as possible. we have become a consumer culture. so, if this is our modus operandi, how can we not—eventually, at least—end up viewing our pets and children in the same fashion—as stuff? they become things that are there for our enjoyment. but if they start screaming, we stop enjoying them, pass them on to someone else, and pine for those days of quietude, before the storm. some of us may then find ourselves yelling at them. hell, some of us even beat them! what better proves my point??
so here is my request, which i feel i’ve made in just about every piece of writing i’ve ever attempted: live as if this will be the last moment you are alive!! don’t forget, folks, that 9-11 happened. remember that fateful day? remember how, at least for a short while after, we were intentional about telling our loved ones that they are loved? why does it have to take a national tragedy to remind us to tell our loved ones that they are loved?
almost every other day on facebook i read of some person who has died. if i’m not actively losing someone, then someone i know is losing someone; or at the very least, someone i know is commenting on someone else losing someone. but that’s the thing: someone is always losing someone. what if we learned to live each waking moment as if we might lose it all, without warning, at the drop of a hat?
to be fair to all the folks who stick cameras out the windows of moving vehicles, this is all very much learned behavior. it is part of a cultural sickness handed down to each generation, one that has traversed possibly hundreds of years; a passing of some unconscious or subconscious cultural torch we are mostly unaware of. children raised by parents who never really “see” them are most likely going to suffer from some kind of disconnect. and by this point in our history, i believe we are all severely disconnected from each other. how can we not be? we seem to be even disconnected from ourselves.
i can’t personally fix this cultural disconnect. to be sure, i am often quite disconnected myself. however, i do often recognize it exists. hell, half the time i know it’s there and still can’t even do anything about it. so, my advice to all of you is this: simply know that such disconnect exists, that it is a cultural condition.
were you ever, at an impressionable age, told, “all you have to do is tell jesus you’re a sinner, and that you ask for forgiveness”? or did you ever come across some religious tract in the subway, or the mall, that had a prayer written on the back of it? “if you just say these words, it will change your life.” well, as any person with an ounce of spiritual maturity knows, piety is not a magic pill. it takes YEARS of cultivation, repetition, failure, struggle, anguish, passion, and perseverance. just as saying that printed prayer isn’t going to guarantee that god gets giddy over you, likewise following my advice will not—even cannot—save you vis-à-vis this cultural malaise from which we all seem to suffer. but it is a good starting point. once you know that you are disconnected, you can start to learn the ways in which to reconnect.
if you want a good jumping off point, go to bryce canyon, take the shuttle to the farthest stop, get out and HIKE for an afternoon. stop and view every vista that the canyon presents. let the canyon do the work for you. i assure you, it knows what it’s doing. it has been doing it for what? millions of years? and for those who can’t get to bryce canyon for some reason, well, bring bryce canyon to you. it’s all part of the same fluid batch of molecules anyway, isn’t it?
be sure to stock up on water, though. LOTS of water.
(by the way, every time i play my mandolin, i embrace it afterwards, and thank it. sometimes i almost forget and have to make myself do it. you might try doing this with something—anything—that brings you joy. [an instrument? a chair? a book? a stuffed animal?] even if it’s a so-called “inanimate object.” become acquainted with it. really acquainted. befriend it. love it. if you can condition yourself to do this, it will then come naturally. and you [and it] will be all the better for it. you might then start to understand what i’m talking about.)
(by the way, if you try this, and are ever successful, then immediately afterwards—or even during this process of transformative thought—check out two books and read them IN TANDEM: “skinny legs and all” by tom robbins, and the second essay in “thought of the heart and soul of the world” by james hillman. fasten your seatbelt, and prepare to have you mind blown.)
[END COMMENTARY]
after bryce, back in the car on the way to kanab, ut, for the night’s accommodations. i’m passing through what seems like a dilapidated desert town, sparsely populated by establishments seemingly hit by economic hardship. this place looks one step away from becoming an authentic ghost town. so again going with the flow, i end up at some random restaurant reminiscent of a rodeo—which looks like it could use some tourist dollars. (or some traveler dollars?) after settling for a subway sandwich the previous night in panguitch, preceded by two nights of jessie’s leftovers, i’m ready for a fresh, hot meal. since i appear to be in cow country (they are EVERYWHERE) i opt of course for a cheeseburger. they don’t even make ‘em this good in new york. most notable about this establishment, however, is how quiet it is. there is no music; there are a number of other diners, some obviously from much farther away than me, but everyone’s conversations are calm and quiet. maybe everyone in this place is in transit from bryce—maybe they all hiked today, and are all thinking the same thing: did i really just see that today? i got the feeling this particular dinner crowd was a bit overwhelmed from whatever nature they were nurtured by that day. eating in the solace of silence, i enjoy my meal then venture southward.
[by the way, i’m not giving any more driving directions. i think the rest will be self-explanatory. or, better yet, get yourself a road atlas (EFF the GPS!) and choose your own adventure! go off the grid for a while! (i do recommend securing lodging or at least traveling with a tent the entire trip, though!]
DAY 8 (friday): north rim
after spending the night in a phat suite in a clean place (aiken’s lodge: mom [lower case] would totally approve of this place, unlike the last-minute i’ll-take-whatever-you-have the night before in panguitch), i head south on US alt-89 for the north rim of the grand canyon. i’ll go ahead and tell you that i did not end up visiting the “would-be west rim”—that bastard stepchild of the grand canyon near meadview, az, that apparently has an $80 tourist trap skywalk worthy of competition for cheese with times square or las vegas. but if that is the bastard stepchild, then apparently the north rim is like that crazy senile grandparent that nobody wants to be around. obviously, only someone who actually experiences the north rim can say, with confidence, that every one else is missing out. i am now one such person, and proud to say.
the weather? COLD! but after bryce, i am better prepared: i have thermal underwear on, as well as numerous layers in my backpack. the hike is more or less a carbon copy of bryce, just in a different universe altogether. (the two can’t even be compared.) (and, that is to say, i did lots of walking, lots of stopping, basically wore the same clothes [hippie!], ate the same food, and drank the same water. but it’s a different place, a different day, and i’m a different dave.) i again take the relatively easy rim hike, which is again relatively free of human beings; every vista boasts better than the last, etc.
one of my few struggles these three days: the sun is always there when you don’t want it, and noticeably lacking when you most need it.
this particular day, i desire to enroll in a meteorology class, so that i can understand just what the hell is going on with those damn clouds (actually, i think it would probably end up requiring a Ph.D.). so, there is one—count em, one—cloud in the sky. and the sun is hanging barely behind the bottom of it; so, the sun is constantly poking out, peeking out, heating the hemisphere and lighting the land. and the wind is blowing. there is not a single other cloud in the sky. as soon as that one cloud blows past, we’ve got sunlight on the sand, we’ve got moonlight in the trees; we’ve got mangoes and bananas you can . . . oh wait . . . sorry! (got a little sidetracked there!)
what was i saying? so, anyway, with the sun barely peeking from under this ONE cloud, as soon as it blows past, there is another cloud! where the hell did that come from?? one after the other after the other. all afternoon. how is that even possible? see what i’m talking about? there is no rational explanation for how clouds can just magically appear out of nowhere, one at a time, and always just barely be hiding the sun. at least no explanation the common person can understand. this is why i want to study meteorology now. (or at least i did that one day.)
all of that is simply a long-winded dave way (surprise!) of saying, man that day was cold!
we’ll get back to that shortly. by way of actually trying to finish this ______________ (essay? journal? memoir? reflection with brief social commentary?), i’ll just say that my reaction to the north rim is to bryce canyon what the furthur vegas shows were to those at red rocks: same band, completely different shows. equally stellar, singularly superb. all i can muster in the face of such luster is WOW. just wow. (i remember posting something like that on facebook—and thinking “come on dave. can’t you do any better than that? hence, this ____________ for your reading pleasure. i now consider myself redeemed.)
after several hours of hiking, chilled to the bone and finally out of water, i proceed back to my car. there was a tradeoff, i guess, as there is no shuttle for the north rim as far as i could tell, so i was able to drive and mostly avoid people altogether (except at the stop which was my starting point, point imperial, far away from the lodge and most of the tourists). however, the trails around both rims, north and south, are much closer to the roads: so it was damn near impossible to reach that place of complete isolation which bryce afforded so easily. but, as a new yorker, i’ll take what i can get. and of course the north rim is amazing in its own particular ways.
the goal for the rest of the day is to make it to cameron, az, where i have a rather expensive room reserved at the cameron trading post (but by far the nicest place i’ve stayed thus far). before i get to cameron, i am once again traveling in awe of topography. these particular points in time each day were rather incredible, as to see the magnificence of MOM at sunset against any of these backdrops is truly a sight to behold.
other than the usual splendor of sunset—this time somewhere near vermillion cliffs—i also happen to pass something strange, near marble canyon; some kind of landmark? historic? point of interest? i don’t know. but it was simply called “cliff dwellers”, and there was absolutely nobody else there. i got out to explore this whatever all by myself for about 20 minutes. from what i remember, the marker spoke of some woman who was making her way west in like 1840 or something, her horse died or cart wheel broke or some such incident, which forced her to basically construct a dwelling out of the land. it was really cool—like actual little rock houses, built up using only nature. but i guess a little community then soon formed? (take note, OWS folks!) it was pretty eerie, though, that’s all i can say. i didn’t feel unsafe like i thought someone might jump out and attack me. but . . . i guess i didn’t really feel alone while i was there. slight shivers.
back in the car, and the remaining vestiges of daylight bathe the colorful cliffs in every imaginable hue known to creation. i am honestly amazed i am still alive, considering the canyons, cliffs, and crevices one could easily barrel into while staring out the window in wonder, in every direction. as i said, the north rim is apparently less popular, so the traffic towards the south rim is minimal. at one point, i pull over and get out of the car simply to appreciate yet another moment of meditation free from the noise pollution i am used to living with in new york. absolute stillness and silence.
a bit later, the sky is dark, and i’m still driving—part of my daily routine. now, by this point in the trip, i have fully realized that i’m not in new york, and there is not a deli on every corner. so, as i pull into cameron, i am overtaken simultaneously by pangs of hunger and fear that there will be no food available—because i didn’t even have a clue what time it actually was.
for a bit, jump ahead 2 days: i have wifi, and i’m checking my facebook account from a hotel—sans clocks—in kingman, az. my computer says 1:43, which is obviously EST, to which my computer is set. however, at that point the car, rented in denver, reads 11:43. yet my fritzy phone says it is 10:43. however, parts of arizona apparently don’t participate in daylight savings?
some of you have seen previous facebook posts where i comment on the clocks in my apartment. at the very moment i am writing this portion, my apartment time-keeping devices read the following times: 12:09, 9:09, 11:06, 3:20, 9:36. (oh, and according to this last source, it is may 17th.) some things never change. my friends who stayed here last year when i went on vacation will attest to the fact that they set EVERY clock to the proper time. however, time is just a fluid concept around me. always has been.
this is why i am anxious pulling into cameron, since it is after 9 pm, as best i can tell. well, lucky for me that i live in a time-malleable vortex, cause it is, in fact, only after 8 pm, and the restaurant closes at 9. so, i sneak in under the gun for dinner, and can only say, what an interesting meal! i opt for their “best seller” which is some sort of taco salad (with pinto bean base) on a “shell” that can only be described as a southwestern version of the beignets you get at cafe du monde in new orleans. yum!
late night tv: a really interesting old western. what a rich entertainment history we have in this country. it’s a shame that it is being destroyed by absolute crap.
DAY 9 (saturday): south rim
initially, my plan was to mostly do a drive-by of the south rim (introduce the great state of arizona to my gansta roots!), in hopes of getting close enough that night to that unknown-at-that-point-tourist-trap near meadview. SO glad i didn’t. this day was basically a repeat of friday—only, the sun was absolutely kicking my butt! every time i stop to enjoy a view, i am forced to find a tree and stand/sit in his/her/its shadow. i haven’t felt sun this intense since i was close to the equator. so, weather wise it is the exact opposite of the north rim; otherwise, my day is a repeat of the last two days. there is sometimes something wonderful about consistency, isn’t there? and with the amount of walking i’ve done over the last two months in new york, i have been fully capable of pulling this off without a hitch. the only reason i didn’t go further each day was either the weather, lack of water, the time, or that the distance to the next shuttle stop was WAY too far for me to hike, on top of all the hiking i have done during these three days.
all in all, another incredible spiritual day.
i see coming back here again. and soon.
MANY of my days on this trip contained spiritual insight of some sort. what a blessed vacation this was. i am in awe and supremely thankful for the opportunity, the means, the destinations, the variety, the connections with old friends, the kindling of new ones, and especially the moments of absolute solitude. (are you kidding me? i had bryce canyon and both rims of the grand canyon entirely to myself for at least a good 10-15 minutes???????????????????)
i live in new york city.
think about that for a bit.
just a bit.
no really.
slight rewind: on my way to the south rim from cameron, there was actually a moment, driving, drinking coffee and listening to music, where i just started laughing uncontrollably for a solid 5 minutes.
i’ll write this in a vernacular that is probably easiest to understand, reaches the widest audience, and has the biggest impact—and doesn’t necessarily contradict my personal belief system, although it uses language i think is outdated [more on this later]: if that wasn’t god i felt, then god doesn’t exist.
come to think of it, there was a lot of god on this trip.
whatever that means.
HIGHLIGHTS OF THE SOUTH RIM:
this even provided a point of teaching for me. after all, i am a teacher. of sorts, or have been, at least.
at one point, when i discovered a nice pregnant pause between the sporadic patches of other hikers, i happened upon a rather young rabbit hiding in the shade of lowhanging brush. simply feeding. and being. and i simply observed. we were both being, and in each other’s company. and i stayed there and we interacted for a good 5-6 minutes—before a boisterous family of five approached.
i left my furry new friend, giving implied space and safety, and moved toward the oncoming commotion. as they turned the bend, i grabbed the attention of the little ones first, raised my finger to my pursed lips and said, “shhhh.” damn if they didn’t go for it. they are trying, aren’t they? of course oftentimes it takes the little children to set the pace. didn’t jesus suggest some such wisdom??
they got my signal and inched closer. i pointed. whispered: “little bunny rabbit.”
sometimes simplicity is the best instructor.
wide eyed, exhibiting a sense of wonder, they loved it. the parents even thanked me!
(i mean, in new york, a brother will get shot for shhhing someone!)
overall, what an experience.
oh, and then back to the birds, later on. i swear—i swear—those little buggers even did an aerial acrobatic dance for me. that one bird? he went and got all his little birdie friends, and they circled up, or triangled up, above me, and they put on a show for me.
not so far fetched, if you think that the average person won’t be paying that much attention? (and no, i’m not saying i’m above average. i just aspire to that.) again: did they take note of my observation of them? i mean, we already determined that like 95-98% of the people visiting as a whole aren’t anywhere near this moment anyway, right? for the rest of us: maybe nature is trying to say something! so maybe it rewards those who come looking? (a point at which i definitely diverge from my atheist friends [more on this later]; there is something out there. no doubt. i may not know what it is, but there is something else. i was already pretty convinced before this trip. i’m now almost positive. i’m always searching, though, and am going to do this at my own pace—and go in my own direction. so, please. just let it be.)
so that show? there were like 4 or 5 of them. and they were flying high in the sky playing with one another, making shapes, drawing designs; figuring out figures; cutting corners. passing planes. rhymin and stealin!
anyway, again, so glad i opted to skip the tourist trap skywalk, which apparently even has glam shots you can buy—after paying the $80 entry fee. now there is some $15 photo op, where you can have a faux-framed picture of yourself on this wannabe space mountain ride? disneyland has its place, folks. it’s not here.
so, over the last three days, i have given equal time to bryce, north rim and south rim.
three days well spent. overall, money well spent. i remember posting on facebook the 2nd day of this trip that it was already worth the cost. you just can’t put a pricetag on everything.
after another incredibly spiritual scenic drive to close the day, i end up on route 66, approaching my accommodations, and eventually roll up to the roadkill cafe in seligman, az, with grateful dead soaring through the speakers. (deadheads: 5/8/77, row jimmy, if i remember correctly.) how appropriate, this seems; i don’t know of any solid connection between the dead and this historic highway, but even if there is none, these two belong together. neal cassady sure as hell does, if that’s the closest they get. maybe ken kesey as well, based on the overall general weirdness of what little is alight in the dark of night. my kind of slice of american pie. so at the roadkill, i get a southwest equivalent of a philly cheese steak, only with chicken. and homemade ranch dressing. and homemade potato salad. such a great meal! i do NOT miss the new york tourist trap factory food, i can tell you that—as i’ve now had three consecutive days of delectable dinners. by the way, this place looks like a williamsburg hipster haven, only this stuff is authentic, not ironic. (how do hipsters react if they pass through this place?) (why do i hate hipsters so much?)
the end of the week approacheth, the “meat and potatoes” of the trip have past, and this day may be better served in simply summarizing the remaining highlights.
speed limit 75: THANK YOU ARIZONA! but wait! cars bottlenecking going 30 miles under the speed limit? you will literally get run over going that slow in new york. (oh, and watch out for biker gangs while you’re at it.) [editor’s note: this is a reference to a headline at the time about NYC bikers and commuters road raging, and “getting into it.”]
(by the way, many of you have commented over the last few years, and it’s becoming more abundantly clear to me as well: it may really be approaching the point where it’s time for me to leave new york! [wait. how many years have i been saying this?? {interesting time to experience such a cool city like denver, no?}])
for the night: el trovatore hotel, an authentic looking route 66 establishment. very friendly—and highly eccentric—talkative owners. this guy should have his own late night tv show. his wife plays entirely into the act. they seem to really love each other. that’s rare in this culture. taco the dog chilling on the couch. the rooms are themed, based on hollywood stars. i land marlon brando for the night.
late night tv: “life with riley.” wtf?? this looks like something that hasn’t aired since tvs with rabbit ears were first rolled out in front of the dinner tables half a century ago. (BIG mistake, by the way.) i love it! . . . . i feel like i’m in a time warp, though. whatever station is playing this classic tv show, they are also playing the commercials from the same era! am i still in 2013, or has my absurd relationship with time finally gotten the best of me? i feel a bit like marty mcfly right now.
DAYS 10—14 (sunday-thursday morning): all roads lead to vegas—going further with furthur
after the first “big breakfast” i’ve had all week (i’ve been mostly breaking the fast with cashews, almonds, apples, prunes, dried apricots, kale chips and coffee), i decide to visit the powerhouse route 66 museum—which by the way has an amazing library and book collection devoted to this historic stretch of road, scholars take note! such an interesting avenue of americana. and, again, the scenery on the drive afterwards is first rate. i know i posted on the book of face at one point (in early utah) that i didn’t think i could take much more of this . . . beauty.
of course, after an amazing, spiritual week of blissful driving, transcendent-at-times hiking (i stopped to do tai chi during each hike; i also did tai chi at all four furthur shows, even devising a little tai chi hippie deadhead dance?) and frequent solitude and peace, leave it to vegas to present the polar opposite. of course i knew this would happen: i’ve been to vegas before and knew exactly what to expect. but DAMN if it hasn’t been one road block after another since i pulled into town. first off, the sun was BEATING down on me for the better part of the day (the contradistinction of the frigid north rim experience still fresh in mind, and probably still even on my skin, dirty hippie)—no matter which direction i was driving: north, west, northwest, WHATEVER. probably even a bit south at one point. and yet that scorching sun was overly omnipresent. i actually had to jimmy up a sunblock with my windbreaker, tying one sleeve to that “oh shit!” handle on the driver’s side, and wrapping the rest of it around the driver’s side head rest. this provided momentary relief, only for my brilliant plan to be thwarted again by that ever-shifting sun. (i even think the ipod shuffle at one point this day delivered up a jerry garcia band cover of an old dylan tune, so i get to hear jerry sing: “and that lucky old sun, with nothing left to do, but roll . . . roll around heaven all day.” thanks, jer. as if i hadn’t noticed.)
now in vegas, after navigating crowds, construction and confusion centered around the flamingo hotel where i’m staying, i get to the room—which is a mile and a half from the elevator—and realize: there is no coffee maker! in order to save money, i brought my own coffee—as well as some instant soup, beans, and oatmeal that i could prepare in the room using a coffee maker. (without coffee, of course. ew.) so i call downstairs to ask about a “go room,” their version of a slight upgrade which is fairly cheap. none left. check with us in the morning. fools! i’ll be SLEEPING in the morning! oh well. i’ve been on a pretty early schedule overall this trip, so one more day of waking early (okay, ish) before i can enjoy at least one full day of just sleeping, eating, resting, watching some tv, playing some slots, napping, etc., as i await the furthur shows which begin in 2 nights. okay, fine.
it’s time to get my mid-trip laundry done anyway, as i’m on my last pair of just about everything. so tonight and tomorrow morning are awash. as will soon be the clothes, i snicker to myself. ;-) i’m a bit perturbed, though, as previous to the trip, i checked online and read that the flamingo offers laundry service. however, once you get there you realize what that means is, they’ll ship it off for you same-day—at the low cost of something like $2 per pair of socks and underwear, $5 for a shirt, etc. so i have to get BACK in the car—which has been my trusty companion and new friend (inanimate object?) for the last week but which i had been very excited to park and leave behind for a stretch of days.
back in the car, and finally, after driving around western las vegas for a good 45 minutes (looking for the laundromat where the concierge described, stopping to ask in numerous stores where nobody spoke english and they didn’t have any phone books, technology be damned), i can now wash my clothes. i should stick my head in for the last spin cycle to calm me down. i’m supposed to be relaxing in a bed watching tv, seeing vegas showgirls or playing blackjack. i knew laundry needed to be done, it’s just that i planned it for tonight because i assumed they had coin-operated machines in the hotel. sin city it is. not so spin (cycle) city.
ha!
but lo and behold! the laundromat has several of those automatic massage chairs, the ones in which you insert a dollar and receive a 3-minute massage. after a week of driving, this is just what i need. this offers a welcome way to pass the time as my clothes dry. i swear, if i win big here in vegas, i’m going to get one of these machines for my apartment. at times it actually feels like there is a real person on the other side of the fabric, as she slowly kneads the tension out of my neck. (in my mind, it’s a “she”. afterwards, i ask for her number, but she doesn’t respond. so, without hesitation, i insert another dollar. more money well spent.)
what else to say about vegas? if you’ve been, you know. if you haven’t, well, what happens in vegas stays in vegas! no, i didn’t win the jackpot, but i didn’t lose my shirt either. or get married. although at my age i don’t know if my mother would even object if i had! i did spend an obscene amount of time decompressing in the room transfixed by the TV, though, as i watched our nation’s governing bodies pitch hissy fits like little children. it’s so easy to get sucked up into the media frenzies that those conniving calculating capitalist cronies over at cable television have created. since i so rarely watch cable tv, i guess i took to these histrionic shenanigans pretty easily. but, after a week of being in the car, it was nice to relax in a king-sized bed for hours on end, zoning out on soporific politics. soprilitics! and it was surely time better spent than blowing money downstairs at a roulette table.
i also got to see two more furthur shows—the reason i came to vegas—and let me just say: well, i think my reaction is pretty much the same as the red rocks shows: WOW. i’m scratching my head that these guys are planning to take a hiatus in 2014, but the way they have been playing lately, i think a hiatus might well be in order; cause i think if they come back in 2015, they may just end up going strong for another ten years. an absolutely brilliant display of mellifluousness, musicianship, and magic. if you want to read reviews of all four shows i saw on this trip, just bookmark “the grateful dead theology project” where this trip journal is housed, and look for them later. (of course, since i have yet to post reviews of most of the shows i have seen over the last year, including vegas and LA from last fall tour, don’t hold your breath that they will be posted any time soon! but there is plenty to read besides this post, if you have enjoyed what you are currently reading and/or care anything about the grateful dead. lots of good social commentary! ;-) )
DAY 14 1/2 ?? (thursday afternoon and evening): the long drive back to denver begins
after such an intense spiritual journey over the last 2 weeks, thursday has one thing, and one thing only, on the agenda: DRIVE. my goal once again is to get as close as possible to grand junction. you see, some website on some computer may tell you how long something takes out here. i say, take it with a grain of salt. that’s why i left a few nights of the trip open to improv; i don’t know how long any of this is going to take. mileage wise, based on what the computer says, this drive in a day is feasible. there’s just always a chance you’re going to drive into a ditch gawking at images your eyes haven’t been privy to previously. if you’re lucky enough to avoid the ditch, though . . . well, just count on that return drive to denver taking almost as long as the backroads to bryce.
however, if you’re going to blame someone, blame god(ess)(s)(esses). you can’t blame eisenhower, or the regional bureaucrats who control the speed limit on his brilliant interstate system. I-15: 80 MPH. nevada wins!!
so, the first part of the day dwells in the usual splendor of sights which have spoiled for me for the better part of two weeks. cause when you take this “boring” drive, you constantly spot signs that say “scenic view, 1 mile.” what the hell is the rest of all this, then?? maybe that is one refrain for this trip, and pursuant to the social commentary above: “beauty ahead! get ready to see it!” while you’re getting ready for it, you are passing by it.
but, just then, somewhere in the middle of the mormon mesas, it starts snowing. now, i think i had come close to snow somewhere in dixie national forest between canyonlands and panguitch; the elevation, temperature, and nip in the air nearly converged to create that familiar feel. but that was before i hit the intense heat of the south rim, followed by vegas, so only now am i fully aware, as i cross into a colder climate again: i’ve experienced three distinctly different seasons on this trip. summer, fall and winter in two weeks. i’d say that’s a pretty amazing climatological event for any person. i give thanks to the universe for variety. (come to think of it, it was more like summer, fall, summer, winter, fall, winter, summer, winter. variety indeed.)
as i drive through this slight snowfall, it reminds me of the harsh reality of the upcoming winter. whatever. i’m ready for it. anyway, thanks to global warming, new york winters have been bizarrely bearable for a number of years. still, it’s amazing—after having just been in near 100 degree heat—to now be in the midst of this highly contrasting winter weather.
whoa! scratch that. this snowfall became a snowstorm!
the canyons—and MOMs, as i seem to be surrounded by all three—present themselves as possibly even more pristine in the snow, freckled under an overcast sky by trees bearing the colorful coats of early autumn. i have seen this stretch of road before—remember that boring route my friends spoke of? this is it. and this is a day on which i have only one goal: to log as much mileage as manageable.
can’t . . .
stop . . .
looking . . .
still . . .
so . . .
beautiful . . . .
as i drive through fishlake national forest, i at times feel like i’m trapped in a science fiction hollywood timewarp. my viewing radius radiates topographies reminiscent of tatooine, mordor and dune all rolled into one. i swear to god(ess) i saw a jawa. ooo tee dee!
i do make it to grand junction by dinnertime, dark as it is at this point in the season. as i age, i become less of a good driver at night or in bad weather, so my eyes are pretty tired by this point, after driving through both rain and snow. i’m done driving for the day. i stop at the first motel i see off the interstate. $55 for a room? fine. listen, i know i’m not always financially savvy. and i’m sure there was a cheaper place further in town. but, you know what? i don’t care. i’m not the type to drive all over town looking for the absolute best deal. or the “perfect” place.
actually, come to think of it, that was precisely my mistake in escalante. i passed several places that didn’t “look” like the “kind” of place suited to my tastes. now, i’ll be the first to admit that i’m a high maintenance sleeper. i think i’m generally pretty easy going regarding most other things, but i really love a bed. and a big one at that. but in escalante, i did pass several places searching for that “rustric retreat” more in line with my style. (by the way, i found it, and if you’re ever in escalante, you should totally stay there [editor’s note: contact me for the link if you desire]—just be sure to book beforehand.) however, as i didn’t plan ahead, these were sold out, so i then drove to every other place in town, finally to end up back at the first place i had passed, only to be standing in line behind some european woman renting the last available room. lesson learned.
my point being, after 8-9 hours of driving, some through dangerous conditions, i’m not looking for the perfect place. i’m looking for a bed. i want a room, and i want it now. me me me! i mean, we live in the “me” era, don’t we? well, right now me wants to be off the road and in the bed with a full belly. unfortunately, the only food available is pizza in the bar, which i had more than enough of in vegas. (my table and slot play didn’t merit madcap meal comps, and i was sick of sipping soup in the room, but couldn’t justify a $45 filet mignon dinner. although they did give me some comp dollars for my birthday, as well as some free slot play. thanks, flamingo. you’re my new favorite bird! at least until thanksgiving. ;-) )
pizza it is, and so my quest is successful. after the za, a couple of beers and then a hot shower, i sink into the big snug bed and zone out again on CNN. what a bunch of babies!
DAY 15 (friday): a short stint simply to get the car back to the denver airport. really, after everything i’ve seen over the course of this trip, and considering the fact that i already drove this exact stretch of highway 11 days ago, what could this drive be worth? absolutely nothing, i think to myself. kind of like a wasted day, right? an afterthought? i mean, hell, my vacation is almost over. this is just part of the long trek home.
WRONG.
i don’t know how the universe or deities or awareness or beauty or love or whatever does it, but sometimes amazing exists where and when you least expect it. how many of you saw the movie “american beauty”? remember the scene with the bag flying in the air? same idea. beauty is everywhere, would that we could just get past ourselves.
i depart grand junction for the drive to denver. the snow i drove through much of yesterday gave way to a cold rain by the time i went to bed. but the morning sky is crystal clear as i start my last leg, an easy 4-hour journey. easy, that is, until the snow starts up again. by the time i reach no name, colorado (a small, unincorporated town with a population of 123 according to the 2010 census) near glenwood springs, a light snowfall has begun. i pull into a rest stop for a bathroom break. the toyota rav-4 is due at 2 pm, but for some reason my pace this morning is measured—and calm. as i’m pulling into the rest stop, i am actually moved to tears by the stark contrast of crisp autumn colors flanked by a background of snow-covered mountains. that is, i should clarify, two-thirds of each mountain seems snow-covered—the majority of the trees sleeping peacefully under the first blanket of the incipient blizzard season. “what about us?” clamor some colorful trees covering the lower third tier of each mountain. don’t worry. your time will soon come, my fir-covered friends.
other than black, the color and cover of night, all other colors on the spectrum seem to be present on this drive, as even a good 30% of the trees still cling to their summer sheen of healthy green. i’m guessing it isn’t just the kaleidoscope of colors on this particularly poignant day stirring my emotions. i think this vacation worked—whatever that means. i am just in a place of pure joy right now. while at the rest stop, i read about my geographical surroundings—those of the white river national forest, hailed as “the most celebrated stretch of the interstate highway system.” i can see why, although i can hardly claim this drive the highlight of my trip. i guess, just as i have experienced three different seasons in such a condensed time, i have likewise encountered an amazing array of topographical diversity. none of it can be compared to the rest. each stands out all on its own. i am so blessed for having experienced all that i have these last two weeks—which, as such realizations are want to do, have spilled over into my life in general. i really am blessed. in so many ways.
as intimated earlier, i have been feeling rather reflective overall, as this realization continues to sink in. i don’t remember where on I-70 this took place, but i experienced tears of joy yet again through this short stint.
twice in one day?? remember, this leg was only supposed to be utilitarian in scope. the trip is near over, i’ve seen incomparable beauty. all i’m doing today is returning the car.
[BEGIN (SLIGHTLY MORE SCATHING) COMMENTARY #2. feel free to skip ahead again. seriously, if you’re easily offended, i suggest you ignore this part.]
now, don’t take any of this to mean that i have had some sort of religious conversion; or that i am arguing for the existence of anything. i guess if i haven’t already done so publicly over the course of my life, that i should now come out of the theological closet—and i am not trying to convert anyone, neither my christian nor atheist friends, but i feel this needs to be said.
to my staunchly fundamentalist christian friends, i will now claim, finally and fully, that i don’t believe in your deity, the one espoused by your self-proclaimed standard-bearing christian forebears. i simply can’t believe in the big guy up in the sky doling out pie. this argument for the existence of god falls short in so many ways that i can’t even begin to address them here. (if you want to address some of these yourself, go to seminary. actually study the history behind what you think is your religion. [you might be surprised.] start thinking for yourself. stop simply parroting what your pastor preached this past sunday. and for the love of all that’s holy: stop trusting fox news as a credible source for ANYTHING.)
in lieu of such address, all i can offer is this: to claim, standing in the face of the likes of the grand canyon, that you—and only you—truly have all the answers to absolutely everything, is supremely egocentric and sanctimonious. how are you, pronouncing such sweeping judgments, not guilty of your own religion’s definition of idolatry? i mean, if you really know absolutely everything, then you must be god. right?
suffice it to say, although this trip has not been transformational in some big theological way for me, more than anything, it has me deeply reconnecting to the divine in ways i have absolutely experienced many, many times over the course of my ridiculously short lifespan. but, it does also have me wondering—through my recent wandering—about the genesis of all of this. of everything.
thus, to my atheist friends, i would simply say: if the best you have to offer is that so-called big bang, beyond which your ilk can’t conceive any further, well, your argument also falls short. clinging to that celestial event many millions of years removed is tantamount to starting a book on chapter one. you have ostensibly skipped the prologue, and have missed the title page altogether. who is the author? or, better yet, who are the authors? no scientist seems capable thus far of satisfactorily answering this question, at least none that i have encountered in print or in person.
so, to claim, standing in the face of the likes of the grand canyon, that there is absolutely no order to anything, and that we’re just a bunch of electrons, protons and neutrons bumping into each other, is supremely self-centered and solipsistic. how are you, pronouncing such sweeping judgments, any different from the fundamentalist christian i address above—at whom you would typically take offense? to make such a claim shortchanges beauty and robs existence of meaning. you are welcome to live such a meaningless life if you so choose. if you wish, with your copy of ayn rand’s “fountainhead” tucked under your arm, to proclaim there is no purpose other than your own self-fulfillment, to proclaim that we are all just a bunch of meandering molecules, then i wish you luck enjoying your pointless personhood.
i, myself, am now fully convinced that there is meaning; that there is purpose; that there is a wealth of wonder to discover—both internally and externally.
so, to both schools of thought possibly pervading my potential audience, i simply say: rethink your position. honor the existence of claims counter to your own. in short, just recognize that YOU DO NOT HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS. no one does. period. if we are to progress as a species, we need to learn to appreciate diversity of thought, of existence, of experience. it has been a long road for me to adulthood, and as i celebrate my forty-first year on this tiny little blue ball vis-a-vis the entire universe (parts both seen and yet undiscovered), i am comforted by the thought that i have once again encountered a brush with enlightenment. with a very gnostic sensibility, i proudly proclaim: I KNOW NOTHING.
to ultimately let go of my ego, my truth, my clinging, my grasping, and my way is an incredibly liberating experience. and i am absolutely humbled by what this trip has provided. of course there is endless natural beauty, diversity and wonder throughout the world and not just in the southwestern united states. and i’d love to hear from those of you who have had similar experiences of enlightenment elsewhere through your own travels. i merely offer my own meanderings on the map as one possible pilgrimage, and only to those who are deeply in need and can’t find their own way. so, if for any reason you think me wise and worthy of pointing the way for you, all that i’ll offer is an invitation to shared experience: purchase a plane ticket to denver, rent an SUV, get out your rand mcnally atlas, follow the physical directions, itinerary and lodging advice posted hereto, and just go for it. please let me know what you experience. let all your friends and family know! if you experience anything approaching the sense of fulfillment, diversity, divinity, awe, awareness, being, wonder, humility and love that i have experienced, then you will surely feel as blessed as i do right now.
[END COMMENTARY]
while on my final bathroom break at the georgetown rest stop, i see a church or school group of children playing “red light, green light.” i seem to have shed my slightly misanthropic curmudgeonly new york attitude somewhere on this trip, and i take pause to appreciate the beauty of this simple observation—children being children. with nary a care in the world, children make some of the best buddhists. i guess i have had a childlike attitude for most of this trip—although of course i’m of the age where i can rent a car, travel alone, and enjoy adult beverages along the way! it is possibly such childlike fascination and wonder at the world, though, that has encroached on this journey to make it so transformative. again, for this, i am thankful.
with less than an hour to go, i’m now driving through a straight-up blizzard. wow. welcome, winter! wiper fluid is running low, though, so i’m finally ready for this drive to end. and yet, somewhere in the midst of all this, my tear ducts take over yet again. for, in addition to this heavy snow that constrains my driving, dropping me 20 miles below the speed limit as i negotiate the last steep downward grade of the mountain, windswept autumn leaves blow across my path, as they make the fall towards their final resting place. thus they die, detach, descend, and are delivered to the earth, where they will decay and become one with the life-giving ground that shall transform then resurrect them once again, in some other form, come spring.
as with the leaves, so, too, shall it be with me. not yet, though. if i am lucky, i will have many more years of experiences such as this jubilant 2-week journey which has elicited such a wonderful wealth of emotions.
i finally pull into the car rental at the denver airport and bid farewell to my trusty SUV. if it weren’t covered from the elements of the entire trip—from the dust of the canyonlands to the snow of fishlake national forest, i probably would have hugged this vehicle. alas, only a “crazy” person would hug a car. and i’m not “crazy.” (it’s different with mandolins, mind you. ;-) )
my friend jessie picks me up again, back to her house for a much-needed nap. then one last dinner out (she takes me to city ‘o city, the same place rachel took me. [and, by the way, it feels very strange to be saying this, but denver hipsters are really friendly]). followed by a stop at a grateful dead themed bar. a perfect end to a near-perfect trip!
DAY 16 (saturday): fly home
please see the prologue at the top. ‘nuff said.
epilogue:
overall, this has been a wonderful windfall of self-discovery, an amazing solo adventure about which i was slightly apprehensive prior to, for fear of feeling alone at times. but, truth be told, for this particular prodigal adventure, i wouldn’t change a thing. and, honestly, i wasn’t alone.
as i passed through lawson, colorado, i thought of my childhood friend neal lawson, who i last saw when i sang for his wedding a few years ago—and who i was able to join in vegas for his bachelor party beforehand, with another long time friend, damien. so they were both with me momentarily.
several times i passed del taco fast food chains along the highway, and thought of a high school friend, ahmad mangum—who used to call me “del taco.” when i asked him why he insisted on this nickname for me, his response was, “cause white people eat tacos!” (as some of you know, i went to a 92% black high school.) in typical high school “scold” fashion, i probably responded, “your mom eats tacos!” of course i didn’t then tell him that almost every tuesday, the bryan household dinner consisted of the family taco meal deal from the local del taco!! damn it. maybe ahmad was right! oh well, what he doesn’t know won’t kill him. and kill him it did not.
a heart attack did, though, about three years ago. it’s so funny the things that linger in our memories. well, ahmad, you linger a bit longer. i didn’t stop to eat tacos on this trip, but i did stop to remember you and the joy your silly sense of humor brought to those around you.
and these were just three of many friends i thought of along the way. i imagine some of my friends believe that i only listen to grateful dead and furthur. as it informs my research—and my own playing—yes, i do listen to what most people would probably consider an obscene amount of their music. however, one thing i realized over the course of my travels is that i have an incredibly diverse music library. i plugged my ipod in as soon as i first picked up my rental, and set it to shuffle for the entire trip. what an amazing array of music!
the list of artists to accompany this trip of a lifetime:
air, alison krauss, alison graham, anugama, autour de lucie, bach, beautiful south, ben folds, bill & gloria gaither, blood sweat & tears, bob marley, bon iver, cat power, chet baker, chickenstand throwdown band, chico hamilton, chopin, constance demby, david bryan, david darling, dead can dance, dire straits, django reinhardt, eddie vedder, elizabeth & the catapult, elliot smith, empire brass, engelbert humperdink, enigma, enya, fiona apple, fleet foxes, folksmen, fran mckendree, funky static, george nooks, gillian welch, govinda, grateful dead, great lake swimmers, harry belafonte, herbie hancock, iron & wine, jenny lewis, jerry garcia & david grisman, jerry garcia band, john mayer, joni mitchell, joshua redman, matt sharp, mazzy star, michael hedges, miles davis, mindy jostyn, miranda sex garden, mitch & mickey, moody blues, mr. bungle, my bloody valentine, nanci griffith, new main street singers, nick drake, old & in the way, oliver nelson, patty griffin, paul schwartz, paula larke, peter bradley adams, peter gabriel, phil collins, pink martini, portishead, punch brothers, quincy jones, rachel portman, radiohead, regina spektor, rhett miller, sarah mclachlan, schumann, secret garden, simon & garfunkel, stan getz, steely dan, sufjan stevens, tallis scholars, t-bone burnett, teresa buchholz, teru’ah, tori amos, u2, vangelis, ween, and william ackerman. (suck on that, hipsters! [not the denver ones, mind you.]) (OH, and, of course, the damn christmas music kept popping in there continuously! even though i was driving through snow at several points, i skipped past these. all in good time, bing. all in good time.)
but, you see, my music collection doesn’t stop there. my awesome father, who is much more tech-savvy than me, converted multiple mixed tapes of mine to CD several years ago, which i then downloaded to my computer and ipod, so that i will always have them. among those were tapes for and from friends; tapes with music from the episcopal church youth conferences that were so highly formative in my adolescence; tapes containing music straight off the radio from the summer when i sprained my ankle and was laid up in bed, thus producing authentic 80’s mixes (unlike the nostalgic crap they try to sell you on late night tv); and, of course, tapes for girlfriends. i always made a copy for myself of any mixed tape i made for someone else; cause, let’s face it, the mix means more to the person making it than to the person who receives it. on the ipod, each 45-minute side of a mixed tape translates to one continuous track. (i found myself saying “bonus!” every time one of these tracks surfaced.) and i have probably some 20-25 such 45-minute tracks on my ipod. these mixed tapes were mostly made between 1985 and 1995, so there is an incredible array of diversity, personal history and nostalgia packed into that tiny little computerized device. okay, fine. not all machines are evil. or out to get me.
and with each song, an affixed memory. so, you see, i didn’t take this trip alone. many of you were there with me. yet again i give thanks: for the diversity of my friends, for the breadth and depth of the self-defining experiences you helped cultivate, and for the memories i now have as a result of this cultivation. i wish i could have psychically tweeted each of you whenever you popped into my head as a result of some song. just know that, if you were ever important to me at any point in my life, chances are you were there with me on this trip.
i guess a lot of people end up taking trips with other people, but ultimately really want to go and have some alone time. i, on the other hand, took a trip alone, so that i could be with all of you. thanks for your care, compassion, comfort, and camaraderie. i will never forget it, or any of you.
Denver Bookends: A Vacation for the Ages
“a written account of a really cool 2-week trip out west that came at just the right time when i most needed it in my life”
by c. david bryan
c. david bryan run.
run, david bryan! run!
prologue
flying sucks. we all know this. there isn’t one single redeeming factor to the entire experience, as far as i’m concerned: the long commute to the airport; the ridiculous lines; having to withstand the poking and prodding of the TSA (i ALWAYS “opt out,” as i don’t believe those machines have really been fully studied; anyway, why give them a free peep show??); the cramped seating; the PA systems installed and abused with no forethought to volume (i imagine the inventor of earplugs first conceived the idea after being acoustically assaulted and jolted awake mid-nap by a boisterous captain announcing what altitude we’re flying at—only the important info here, folks); the turbulence—well, need i go on? we’ve all “been there, done that,” right? and we all despise it. (except for that handful of very bizarre people who seem to relish the experience, down even to the point of knowing the intricacies of different airports and types of planes. “oh hey! how was your flight? what were you on? an airbus a-319? embraer 145?” um . . . what?? i was on a plane, dude. it gets me from A to B. that’s all.)
personally, i’ll take driving over flying any day of the week.
or rather, let me state it more positively, and say: i love to drive! which is why i planned this vacation the way i did. i have always been a fan of the open road. perhaps i was influenced by jack kerouac’s inimitable novel “on the road” at an impressionable age. and, as a professed lover of all things grateful dead, i obviously was quite taken with the traveling circus sideshow subculture that sprang up around this band, following from city to city to catch as many shows as possible. to date, i have driven through 47 of the 48 continental states, and have found the topographical diversity of our nation to be absolutely mesmerizing.
on a previous road trip two years ago, some friends and i logged some ridiculous mileage as we hit nine different states in just under two weeks. during one stint of that trip, we traveled from zion national park, in southwestern utah, to moab—which is in the middle of the state as far east as you can go before hitting colorado. my friends in moab strongly suggested we not take I-15 then I-70, informing us of the “insider’s drive,” the scenic route that cuts through the backroads of the southern part of the state. unfortunately, we missed the turnoff by some 40 miles before realizing, and were thus wedded to this soon-to-be-terribly-boring drive.
some five hours later, after barely avoiding careening off countless cliffs due to all four of us being transfixed by the jaw-dropping beauty of our surroundings, we arrived in moab, and i asked my friends there: “so . . . that was the boring route??”
ever since that adventure, i have craved returning, to follow the map of mormon country, to travel the route my friends had suggested.
let me go ahead and tell you: my friends were absolutely right.
DAY 1 (friday): vacation begins
i bid china cat and salvador goodbye, reassuring them they will be in good hands. i never know if they understand what’s going on when i leave for vacation, but it always seems so. after many such departures, i think they have stopped assuming that i have died every time i leave for an extended period of time, and they have instead cultivated a feline faith that father will, indeed, return.
after a 4-hour flight, i exit the denver airport both hungry and thirsty. my awesome former (new york) roommate rachel picks me up. i’m already a bit travel weary but excited about this trip. i inquire about comestibles and frothy beverages. however, my flight got in at midnight, and the denver airport is apparently so far out of the city limits that it’s in wyoming. so, by the time we arrive in her little suburb, everything is all but closed. i settle for a mcchicken sandwich and fries, and we retire to her apartment and drink port wine. mmmmm. early communion, since i’ll miss it this sunday. (not that i always take it. sometimes. do you? why? how much have you really thought about it?) i am so thankful to be here, and enjoy my time catching up with rachel, as my stomach works overtime on the former sandwich, ostensibly drawing the energy from my eyelids which are increasing in heaviness. no surprise, i guess; it’s close to 3 am EST. time for bed. rachel has a comfy air mattress which fits snug at the foot of her bed. i’ve never been one for air mattresses, but dayum if i didn’t sleep like a champ that night!
DAY 2 (saturday): REAL vacation begins
rachel does a great job of showing me around, including a brunch spot which is relatively quiet, reasonably priced, rivals anything in NYC, and lacks the attitude. we eat and laugh leisurely, as we continue to catch up. we later drive around as i get “the sell”—which she does magnificently, as i posted on facebook that day that i could possibly live in denver.
so, i have this little roadtrip through the land of latter day saints coming up soon, but i forgot to mention: another reason for this particular trip was to see furthur, my favorite band, which consists of bob weir and phil lesh from grateful dead, plus some incredible musicians they found along the way since the death of jerry garcia in 1995. i have tickets to 2 nights in colorado and 2 nights in vegas—with the seven day driving journey in between. (i should also mention that this vacation planned around furthur proved to be a startling instance of accidental prescience, as they have announced they are taking a temporary hiatus in 2014. so, this could potentially be the last time i see these guys.)
anyway, done with the afternoon with rachel, and on to the show! we start with a passenger transfer, as rachel drops me off at a gas station where i am picked up by my friend steve hurlburt, a member of the online grateful dead academic group of which i am a part. but wait, an unexpected surprise! also present is rebecca adams, a wonderful woman who teaches in UNCG’s (my alma mater) sociology department, and who is really the “grandmother of grateful dead academic studies.” i’m very excited to see her, and to be able to share tonight’s concert with two fabulous people. and, as you hopefully know, fabulous people usually beget other fabulous people. so, we end up with incredible seats thanks to friends of steve who waited in line starting around 7 am. i am welcomed with open arms. and then one of the first people i meet is the fairy godmother! who swiftly tells me that she grants wishes. what a way to start this trip! i follow her instructions, and make my wish—one which produces tears in front of this stranger. we end up talking more, and from that moment, we are connected, which even she states after the show.
speaking of the show: WOW. i’ll post a more formal review of that later on, but just WOW. my friend steve has seen furthur 100+ times, and i quote his assessment (with permission) of the show here, which he shared with rebecca and me the next day:
“Well, without getting all teary and blubbery about it (and I’m always distrustful about the objectivity of stuff like I’m going to say, but . . .): fURTHUR, at the Rocks last night (perfect weather, perfect seats, perfect sound) reinvented the musical language. Seriously. I’ve seen 100+ fURTHUR shows and last night was one of those. The second set operated on some other level: mind-altering. I have never been further out there/totally conscious than last night. Seemed they were playing passages that were beyond music. I don’t know how, but beyond music. The nuance and spaciness in the jams and connecting passages was a completely other language. Noise and space like I’ve never heard them do. Just mind warping. Really. A perfect . . . storm. Immediately in the top five shows of my life. Best fURTHUR ever. Astonishing. Jesus . . . I hope the recording will bear me out. And pull me back in from the ledge if I’m too far out there . . .”
‘nuff said. by the way, i had never been to red rocks, but have heard that the dead (and furthur) have long considered this one of their spiritual home bases. i can now see why. what an amazing venue! if you don’t like furthur, that’s fine. but do yourself a favor and go see your favorite band here before you die. what a night.
post show passenger swap, then rachel and i go out for a couple of beers before bed. after which i was more sold on denver. the bar was AWESOME—putting just about EVERY nyc bar to shame: friendly people, welcoming atmosphere, and great acoustics. (as many of you know, i constantly comment [and sometimes complain] on the intensely loud volume levels in public places, especially in nyc; not only bars, but restaurants—even stores! it is an assault on the senses. this place, however, is absolutely perfect. maybe i could move here!)
DAY 3 (sunday): wash, rinse, repeat
as i said, i have tickets to 2 consecutive nights. for those of you unfamiliar with furthur (or the dead), no songs are ever repeated on consecutive nights. in fact, when furthur did a recent 9-night run in portchester, ny, they did not repeat a song during the first 8 shows. this is one of many reasons why fans would go see multiple consecutive shows. (the most i ever saw consecutively was 9 in a row, when i followed the dead on their final west coast tour in the summer of 1995, mere months before jerry died.)
after yet another fabulous brunch with rachel at another fabulous spot, we do yet another exchange, as she this time drops me off with my friend jessie abell, who i have known SINCE NINTH GRADE. jessie is definitely one of my strongest spiritual connections on this earth, and i am pleased as punch to be able to hang out with her—but even more excited that i get to take her to her first furthur show! apparently, this show falls on the anniversary of her late father’s birthday, and she said she always finds a special way to celebrate it. we celebrate him together, and enjoy yet another magical evening of grateful dead music, this one with a surprise guest musician: BRANFORD MARSALIS! and i thought last night’s show was spectacular?? i also loved introducing jessie to the fairy godmother. i had a feeling they might hit it off, and hit it off they did. they ended up talking for near a good solid hour at set break.
rest of the show was amazing, of course, as these guys have definitively honed the craft they helped create. anyway, afterwards jessie and i score some vegan burritos in the parking lot. i wash mine down with a tasty IPA. (another interesting factoid for those unfamiliar with the dead/furthur is the vending scene that takes place in the parking lot before and after the show, deadheads selling just about anything you could possibly need or want—well, except for blenders. no blenders.)
back to jessie’s apartment, with a detour by her friend’s house who is lending some cooking gear just in case i decide to camp. after 2 nights of furthur, then this detour, i’m pretty exhausted. off to sleep.
DAY 4 (monday): destination grand junction
jessie, in addition to being one of my strongest spiritual connections, is one of the best hosts i have ever met. anything you need, she has. i awake from slumber, stumble to the shower, then finally emerge in her living room. coffee is waiting! we have breakfast, i repack for the road trip on which i depart in 2 hours. she is lending me camping gear as well: tent, sleeping bag, camping pad, etc.; however, she also fills three handbags full of just about every random item one could possibly need on a road trip. you name it, it’s in there: electronic cables for gadgets, plastic bags, matches, vitamins, cutlery, towels, hand soap, dish soap, laundry detergent, hand sanitizer, even a sewing kit! and lots more. (no blender, unfortunately.) initially, it seems like a lot of stuff to me, but in the end it was very well thought out—and greatly appreciated, as i found myself utilizing most everything. she also cooks some pasta with homemade pesto and tofu that morning which she sends with me in a tupperware container. and even a small cooler with yet another tupperware that contains frozen leftovers from a few days ago. (these will thaw at just the perfect time, as we shall see.) what a gem this woman is.
by the way, anyone who has EVER been on my facebook page knows that technology and i don’t get along too well. recently, my phone has been on the fritz, i can barely take any pictures, so jessie even sends me off with her digital camera. “you have to get some pictures, dave!” well, i’ll jump ahead and say that i mostly didn’t, unfortunately. i probably took some 40 or 50 pictures before i finally learned how to properly use the camera.
duh.
and by that point, the battery was all but dead. so, i think i got about 10 pictures, all mostly from one day? (maybe jessie will post these on my facebook page soon! i’ll create an album and name it “just one day from my 16-day vacation.” that would have to be a facebook first.)
after loading up at a local hippie grocery store, we get to the airport car rental agency. through the sleek sales pitch of the rental agent, bolstered by jessie’s infinite wisdom, i upgrade to a toyota rav-4 SUV. i don’t know what the hell a rav is, or why i need 4 of them, but in the final analysis, this upgrade was a really great idea, as i ultimately had to negotiate difficult terrain and sleek surfaces at various points. let it be said that cheapest is not always bestest.
i take leave of my dear friend and head west on I-70, for what will be a 12-day solo trek. now is probably a good time to say, i was a bit concerned about traveling solo for so long. not for any kind of fear or nervousness, mind you. i just thought it might get a little lonely, that’s all. as an unmarried man with no children, i’ve had really good luck over the years of enticing friends to join me for various vacations. in the planning process for this trip, i probably assumed somebody would end up joining me as usual. not this time.
however, the flapping wings of that solo butterfly beating in my stomach quickly dissipate as soon as i am on the interstate. i’m free, i think to myself. i answer to no one but me.
I drive as far west as I can, hoping to hit grand junction by dusk. i figured the day’s drive would be pretty, but it was nothing short of spectacular. as a result of all the inaudible oooohing and aaaahing (if a dave falls in a forest, and there is nobody around to hear him, does he make a sound?) as i crane my neck in every conceivable direction trying to glimpse the various vistas for hours on end, my eyelids start to get heavy. i fall about 20 miles short of my goal, and end up at the mesa view motel in palisade, colorado. a decent establishment. pesto pasta for dinner!
DAY 5 (tuesday): designated driving day
i wake up refreshed, and emerge from the room to a view that will be more or less repeated every morning of the trip: mountains or mesas. (hey! if i make that an acronym, i’m waking up every morning to MOM. how comforting!) i brew some free-trade columbian coffee, slap some peanut butter on a bagel (all procured at said grocery store) and hop in the car. a goal for the trip is to allow plenty of time to get out of the car and explore, so my intent for each day is to keep the driving to a minimum. however, just as one must usually spend the better part of a day just getting to their vacation destination, i will also have to suck it up for a day and push deep into mormon territory if i am to ever make it to the national parks i am hoping to hit.
i bid farewell to I-70, which will be the last interstate i drive on for 5 days. yes, the speed limit has dropped, but that doesn’t slow me down. grand junction does! first i have to stop and buy a flashlight for camping (the one thing jessie didn’t have for me), but then i aimlessly drive around following dubious directions from some dude who, i guess, doesn’t understand why someone would not just take I-70. i have to stop for directions yet again.
i just . . . can’t . . . seem . . . to . . . get . . . left!
look, kids!
big ben!
parliament!
finally breaking free of grand junction, i recommit to the idea that nothing else is going to slow me down.
however, the view does.
crap. i don’t remember what was so damned spectacular, looking out the window for the last few hours, but it must have been something. cause it’s approaching sunset, and i’ve made it a total of only like 185 miles. i now sit in front of a sign that reads “canyonlands national park 34 miles.”
[by the way, for those who want to reenact this magical trip sometime: depart denver, take I-70 to grand junction; then US-50 east towards orchard mesa for a short bit, then CO-141 to CO-90, which then turns into UT-46. left onto US 191 south to UT-211. (you could also just take I-70 west to crescent junction and get on 191 south there; but don’t forget: I-70 is boring!)]
canyonlands: 34 miles. my original plan was to hit this park much earlier in the day, then to spend the night in monticello, about 20 miles south. so i have to make a decision. (this being one of the aspects about this trip that is so spectacular: i make the decisions. i can’t even ask my cats what they think.) let it be known i made some reservations along the way. the rest i figured would be on the fly. this is one such instance: do i forge ahead to monticello to find lodging, then come back to canyonlands for sunset, or even wait until tomorrow? 34 miles ain’t that far! i don’t know what forces were at work around me at that moment, but it’s close to 5 pm, and i get on UT-211 toward canyonlands with no real plan. i’m just driving. (i also know that if i had reservations in monticello, then much of the following may have never happened. maybe on the fly isn’t so bad sometimes?)
i don’t know who or how or why these park boundaries are set, but that 34-mile drive to the national park is scenic enough to make this entire portion of the trip worth it, even if i were to immediately turn around at the park entrance and drive back. (for instance, if one were to drive up to said entrance and see a sign that read “park closed due to incompetent government.”) so, wait . . . it gets better than this??
i am surrounded by monstrous mesas, and immediately remember that i have a tent and sleeping bag. hmmm. pushing closer to canyonlands, i turn to that age old decision maker which has served me quite well throughout my life: intuition. i pass several campgrounds, fighting back the urge: not here. must get closer to the park. why? i don’t know. but, the upshot of all this is that i end up passing a place called “needles outpost” right before i hit the park entrance. i drive up to the park gate; it is open and unstaffed. again, i don’t know why, but i turn around and drive back to the outpost, which offers camping. “do you have any spots left?” “yes sir, and they’re real nice! why don’t you drive down and check out #17? it’s one of our best.” i do exactly as she says.
it takes me about 10 seconds to make up my mind: SOLD.
as some of you may know, i am an eagle scout, so i have done my fair share of camping over the course of my life. honestly, i’m not a huge fan of it anymore. (maybe from doing it too much as a kid; maybe cause i’m a high maintenance sleeper now, WHATEVER.) but, when i saw this site, i knew i was going to spend the night here. most of their campsites are adjacent to a medium-sized mesa, a brilliant reddish rock formation both tall and deep, with many levels to explore in between (and explore i did, even deep into the night). i rent the site for the night, set up the tent, and go back into canyonlands for about an hour—timing to make it back to see sunset over the park, as well as to see the bright hues reflecting off MOM behind the campsite. (since i rented this site, i guess that makes it MY MOM for the night?)
even though i have cooking equipment, i don’t have to use it, as i can now enjoy the fully thawed leftovers from jessie’s freezer, as well a few near-IPA beers procured at the general store; who says NYC is the only place you can buy single beers? way to go, needles. it’s all about moderation. now enveloped in the darkness of dusk, i light a fire, and relish the view of brilliant campfire colors bouncing off the red clay of this magnificent mesa—my new friend. i am absolutely communing with nature. it is chilly, but not too cold; mostly windy. the wind beats against the side of the tent at a steady pace throughout the night; i am awakened intervallically by the baying of a lone coyote. edward abbey would be proud of me tonight.
DAY 6 (wednesday): time to test my friends’ theory
i wake up, shower, duck into canyonlands briefly—for only another hour or so, as this park wasn’t really high priority anyway. after that camping experience on the heels of the 34-mile drive in, i don’t see how this park can offer anything more.
of course i’m absolutely wrong, but i’m already behind on my itinerary, and need to get moving. regardless, i get out of the car, and hike a little ways in. after passing signs that warn of proper hiking gear and ample amounts of water, i must look pretty funny climbing up a moderate trail wearing sneakers and carrying a stainless steel starbucks tumbler full of coffee. boy, am i ready to take nature on!
here’s the catch, though: nobody stops to “laugh at the silly new yorker,” cause there is nobody. i sit down in the late summer sun and admire a view nonpareil, surrounded only by rocks, trees—and MOM, of course. everywhere. how is it possible that i am in a national park, and i can’t see a single other human being????
i wish i had budgeted more time, cause this “not high priority” park is rife with exploration possibilities. maybe next time. it’s also rife with photo ops, but this is the day the camera battery dies. (i hope it was just the battery, and that the camera didn’t break! whoever you are reading this, for the record, you’re probably better off not letting me ever touch your gizmos. we have a contentious history.)
as suggested in today’s title, i am making a peregrinating push through the backroads of southern utah. what an amazing adventure this turns out to be, each geographic backdrop bested by the next: manti-la sal national forest, fry canyon, glen canyon, capitol reef national park, circle cliffs, escalante national monument, dixie national forest. i’m not even near bryce canyon yet, and am already blown away by my surroundings. as i said, my friends were right. stay the hell off of I-70. what a bore.
now, you would think that experience is the best teacher, but unfortunately this is not always the case. i pull into the town of escalante at dusk, and to my dismay, every single room is sold out in the entire town. i become slightly frantic, haunted by memories of sleeping in the car two years ago when my friend and i came out of yosemite national forest only to find the entire state was sold out due to some stupid convention. however, this time i have a tent, if it comes to that. but, i tend to not sleep well anyway, so after last night’s copious coyote calls, beautiful as they were, i would like a quiet room with a bed tonight—as driving all day on minimal sleep has me quite fatigued by this point. of course, when one realizes one might not get a bed, fatigue increases exponentially. perhaps i should have planned better? but, perhaps i was right to just wing it, at least on certain portions of this trip. after all, if you always know what you’re going to get, then life loses some luster, does it not? maybe i thrive on curve balls. so let me know if you know of any MLB teams looking for a pinch hitter. anyway, i drive to the next town—probably with a little more haste than i should, but i know the folks behind me, just now learning of the entire town being sold out, have the leg up on me: they probably have working smart phones. well, the pen is mightier than the sword, right? maybe my car can outrun their cell phone signals! (by the way, this is a good point to say that my phone being on the fritz was a complete blessing: i didn’t waste any valuable time futzing with the camera, checking facebook or surfing the web. half of the places i stayed did not have wireless internet. i was probably looking for a bona fide reason to unplug on this vacation, and unplug i did for most of it. i highly recommend you do the same for your next vacation.)
argh! the next town is sold out too!! am i doomed to repeat history? alas, thanks to a convenience store clerk very generous of his time who researches rooms online and even calls ahead on my behalf (really, NYC, please take some lessons), i finally nab a motel room in panguitch. it’s a little more than an hour away, but the fact that i know i have a bed for the night calms me down. there is no scenery at this point, of course, as it is past dusk, but i can now drive more measuredly. once in panguitch, on the way to the hotel, i stop at a gas station to pick up a sandwich and some beer. lo and behold, i forgot briefly that i was in utah! in the beer cooler is a brand called “polygamy porter,” with the tagline “why have just one?” all i can say to that is: LOL.
[UT-211 back to US 191 S; UT-95 N, which becomes UT-24 (towards Caineville); turn on UT-12 S, then US-89 N.]
DAY 7 (thursday): the main course begins
i wake up, excited to start the 3-day adventure which will encompass bryce canyon and both rims of the grand canyon. the driving to get to this point has been spectacular, but this is truly the main reason i came out here (other than furthur, of course), and i am definitely ready to get out of the car and stretch my legs.
while i’m loading the car, the cleaning lady starts up a conversation with me. she is very nice and jolly. we share some laughs. living in new york, i forget how friendly people can be in general. i ask her about a place to buy jeans, as the hole in the seat of my pants has finally outgrown the seat of my pants. my cadre of fashion consultants thousands of miles away, i corral my courage and head to the suggested retailer. this being utah, however, they are playing by a different set of rules altogether—the place is open every day of the week, even on sundays (the lord’s day!) but not on thursdays.
you’ve got to be kidding me.
what make of mormon mischief is this, anyway??
i say a prayer to joseph smith and brigham young, then immediately spot a thrift store across the street. i’ve never done well at thrift stores; either they never have anything my size, everything is horribly out of fashion (i do have some basic fashion sense by this point in my life!), or the place is so overrun with hipsters that there is a 290% markup. i actually make out pretty decently, though, and find not one but two decent pairs of pants. “do you take credit cards?” “we sure do, hon. that’ll be $4.” GASP! what?? i guess the hipsters haven’t invaded this city yet. and it just so happens i have exactly $4 cash in my wallet. finance charges, kiss my ***!
i drive about an hour, again through some pretty spectacular canyons, en route to bryce canyon. once near the entrance, the signs recommend you leave your car and utilize their shuttle system, which i opt to do. i fill up my tumbler with water, pack layers of clothing and trail food, and set out.
after three days of mostly solitude, i’m not crazy about all the people. they are nice enough, but, well, they are acting like a bunch of tourists. i’m not a tourist. i’m a traveler. an explorer. i suck it up and take the shuttle to the farthest stop, and exit the shuttle with about thirty others. and of course there are already about a hundred other folks nearby, all swarming around with cameras, pointing, talking, making noise. i need to get out of here. and fast.
so this next portion of the trip was an eye-opening experience, in several ways. i wanted to get as far away from tourists as possible, so i simply started walking. in the distance, i notice a curve on the rim of the canyon, around which i see several folks sauntering. hmmm. there seems to be a trail. i decide to head that direction. the temperature is a bit frigid, so i stop to layer up, accepting immediately that i won’t be on one of those warm shuttle buses again for quite some time. i start walking.
i have only recently, through the wonders of physical therapy, overcome a knee injury; thus, i opt for the “rim trail,” described as “easy to moderate” in the free guidebook. the walking distance between each shuttle stop probably averages 1.5 miles.
now, anyone who has read just about anything that i have ever posted publicly knows that most of my writing tends to contain at least a modicum of slightly scathing social commentary. that being said, IF SUCH COMMENTARY IS NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA, THIS IS YOUR “OPT OUT” POINT for a bit. as i said, i always opt out at the airport screening area, so i won’t be offended if you do the same here. life does not consist of only puppy dogs, rainbows, unicorns and cotton candy. however, if you are someone who prefers these and only these, then no harm, no foul. so, here are YOUR instructions: simply skip the next bit, and scroll down until you see the words END COMMENTARY. then, you can pick right back up on my wonderful adventure, and i’ll be none the wiser as to whether or not you partake of this portion.
for those brave souls willing to wade into the deep dark depths of davedom, carry on now, and happy spelunkering!
so, at this point, i should say i was absolutely amazed at the utter lack of people hiking the rim trails. with this in mind, this absolutely needs to be said: we have become a terribly lazy culture of instant-gratification. so, you flew across the country to visit bryce canyon, one of the most amazing geological formations in existence, and you’re going to settle for a 10-minute walk from the shuttle to the fenced-in viewing area and snap a few photos, only to turn back and board the shuttle for the next stop? what a waste.
listen: like i said, my knee has been on the mend, and i found this hike to be extraordinarily easy. and with shuttle stops sprinkled around the circumference of the canyon, you have the option of doing a single short hike, then riding around the rest of the day to the other stops. actually, now that i think about it, the last leg i did was .9 miles. LESS THAN A MILE.
so, a few things to consider:
- as a nation, we talk about how much of a collective weight problem we have. riding around in shuttle vans in national parks is definitively not going to correct this problem.
- there are probably literally thousands of visitors per year who wish they could do a .9 mile hike, but can’t for whatever reason(s). please don’t take the ability to use your legs for granted.
- that being said, there are also billions of people who will never make it to bryce canyon, period. (those in other countries, those without the financial means, the invalid and infirm, etc.) wake up and realize how lucky you are to be here to witness this amazing natural phenomenon!
- and, finally, hiking is not about walking; it’s about what you witness when you stop walking. think of it this way: if you don’t do any of the hikes, you are settling for four views at four viewing stations (surrounded by four hundred people), so you aren’t even getting your money’s worth, if you want to put it in purely financial terms. if you take just one leg of the rim hike (keeping in mind there are stalwart people who have hiked all the way to the bottom of the canyon looking up at you), you are opening yourself up to literally hundreds of vistas, each unique in its own perspective.
so, in a certain way, it makes me sad to see such beauty under-appreciated. however, i wouldn’t trade this for anything, as i would not have had my incredible experiences of solitude if everyone hiked the trails. so, more for me! of course i did run into a number of folks on the trails; and we all knew that we experienced something special that day. i’m now among a minority of those who might think: this canyon is alive.
at one point i was even literally caught in a wind tunnel. i closed my eyes, raised my arms and simply felt the awesome power of whatever it was taking place around me.
yes, indeed, this canyon is alive. that is to say, there is something incredibly spiritual going on here. an act of being. a very buddhist, childlike fascination can occur as one hikes around a place of such astonishing natural beauty. (remembering that hiking is not the walking, but the points of stopping.) how do you respond to beauty? for me, i think it’s kind of like being at a zoo. do you go to a zoo just to take pictures of the animals? or do you ever stop and look into the eyes of those animals? you know how they say you can hear the ocean if you hold a seashell to your ear? well, maybe you can see the universe if you look into an animal’s eyes—a living, breathing, sentient being. (why am i not yet a vegetarian?)
have you been to bryce canyon, or some such place of wonder? did you just hop shuttle stops, snapping photos and immediately uploading them to facebook? (have you ever stuck a camera out the window of a moving vehicle??) i guess i probably sound judgmental, and perhaps i am. but as i said, i’m more sad than anything—saddened by the fact that america seems to have deteriorated into a culture of dilettantes. (hell, it seems like our entire government consists of such persons. how did these people get themselves elected??) taxonomically, we are the ME genus; the NOW species. a “fast food nation,” hell bent on keeping up with the joneses—and now also the kardashians. quick! the I-phone 50 is just around the corner, so better place your order!
am i talking to you right now? that is for you to decide. here’s a good indicator that i am talking to you: if you ever find yourself talking into a sandwich while you take a bite out of your cellphone. if that’s happening, then there is some disconnect which needs to be addressed. i am by no means Über-enlightened. i tend to think i am on the right path. i just wish i were always aware of that path.
maybe you interact with your pets the same way? maybe even your children? i’ve never had kids, so maybe i simply don’t understand, but it seems to me that so many people in this country have been brainwashed to just go out and buy as much stuff as possible. with the sole purpose of having as much stuff as possible. we have become a consumer culture. so, if this is our modus operandi, how can we not—eventually, at least—end up viewing our pets and children in the same fashion—as stuff? they become things that are there for our enjoyment. but if they start screaming, we stop enjoying them, pass them on to someone else, and pine for those days of quietude, before the storm. some of us may then find ourselves yelling at them. hell, some of us even beat them! what better proves my point??
so here is my request, which i feel i’ve made in just about every piece of writing i’ve ever attempted: live as if this will be the last moment you are alive!! don’t forget, folks, that 9-11 happened. remember that fateful day? remember how, at least for a short while after, we were intentional about telling our loved ones that they are loved? why does it have to take a national tragedy to remind us to tell our loved ones that they are loved?
almost every other day on facebook i read of some person who has died. if i’m not actively losing someone, then someone i know is losing someone; or at the very least, someone i know is commenting on someone else losing someone. but that’s the thing: someone is always losing someone. what if we learned to live each waking moment as if we might lose it all, without warning, at the drop of a hat?
to be fair to all the folks who stick cameras out the windows of moving vehicles, this is all very much learned behavior. it is part of a cultural sickness handed down to each generation, one that has traversed possibly hundreds of years; a passing of some unconscious or subconscious cultural torch we are mostly unaware of. children raised by parents who never really “see” them are most likely going to suffer from some kind of disconnect. and by this point in our history, i believe we are all severely disconnected from each other. how can we not be? we seem to be even disconnected from ourselves.
i can’t personally fix this cultural disconnect. to be sure, i am often quite disconnected myself. however, i do often recognize it exists. hell, half the time i know it’s there and still can’t even do anything about it. so, my advice to all of you is this: simply know that such disconnect exists, that it is a cultural condition.
were you ever, at an impressionable age, told, “all you have to do is tell jesus you’re a sinner, and that you ask for forgiveness”? or did you ever come across some religious tract in the subway, or the mall, that had a prayer written on the back of it? “if you just say these words, it will change your life.” well, as any person with an ounce of spiritual maturity knows, piety is not a magic pill. it takes YEARS of cultivation, repetition, failure, struggle, anguish, passion, and perseverance. just as saying that printed prayer isn’t going to guarantee that god gets giddy over you, likewise following my advice will not—even cannot—save you vis-à-vis this cultural malaise from which we all seem to suffer. but it is a good starting point. once you know that you are disconnected, you can start to learn the ways in which to reconnect.
if you want a good jumping off point, go to bryce canyon, take the shuttle to the farthest stop, get out and HIKE for an afternoon. stop and view every vista that the canyon presents. let the canyon do the work for you. i assure you, it knows what it’s doing. it has been doing it for what? millions of years? and for those who can’t get to bryce canyon for some reason, well, bring bryce canyon to you. it’s all part of the same fluid batch of molecules anyway, isn’t it?
be sure to stock up on water, though. LOTS of water.
(by the way, every time i play my mandolin, i embrace it afterwards, and thank it. sometimes i almost forget and have to make myself do it. you might try doing this with something—anything—that brings you joy. [an instrument? a chair? a book? a stuffed animal?] even if it’s a so-called “inanimate object.” become acquainted with it. really acquainted. befriend it. love it. if you can condition yourself to do this, it will then come naturally. and you [and it] will be all the better for it. you might then start to understand what i’m talking about.)
(by the way, if you try this, and are ever successful, then immediately afterwards—or even during this process of transformative thought—check out two books and read them IN TANDEM: “skinny legs and all” by tom robbins, and the second essay in “thought of the heart and soul of the world” by james hillman. fasten your seatbelt, and prepare to have you mind blown.)
[END COMMENTARY]
after bryce, back in the car on the way to kanab, ut, for the night’s accommodations. i’m passing through what seems like a dilapidated desert town, sparsely populated by establishments seemingly hit by economic hardship. this place looks one step away from becoming an authentic ghost town. so again going with the flow, i end up at some random restaurant reminiscent of a rodeo—which looks like it could use some tourist dollars. (or some traveler dollars?) after settling for a subway sandwich the previous night in panguitch, preceded by two nights of jessie’s leftovers, i’m ready for a fresh, hot meal. since i appear to be in cow country (they are EVERYWHERE) i opt of course for a cheeseburger. they don’t even make ‘em this good in new york. most notable about this establishment, however, is how quiet it is. there is no music; there are a number of other diners, some obviously from much farther away than me, but everyone’s conversations are calm and quiet. maybe everyone in this place is in transit from bryce—maybe they all hiked today, and are all thinking the same thing: did i really just see that today? i got the feeling this particular dinner crowd was a bit overwhelmed from whatever nature they were nurtured by that day. eating in the solace of silence, i enjoy my meal then venture southward.
[by the way, i’m not giving any more driving directions. i think the rest will be self-explanatory. or, better yet, get yourself a road atlas (EFF the GPS!) and choose your own adventure! go off the grid for a while! (i do recommend securing lodging or at least traveling with a tent the entire trip, though!]
DAY 8 (friday): north rim
after spending the night in a phat suite in a clean place (aiken’s lodge: mom [lower case] would totally approve of this place, unlike the last-minute i’ll-take-whatever-you-have the night before in panguitch), i head south on US alt-89 for the north rim of the grand canyon. i’ll go ahead and tell you that i did not end up visiting the “would-be west rim”—that bastard stepchild of the grand canyon near meadview, az, that apparently has an $80 tourist trap skywalk worthy of competition for cheese with times square or las vegas. but if that is the bastard stepchild, then apparently the north rim is like that crazy senile grandparent that nobody wants to be around. obviously, only someone who actually experiences the north rim can say, with confidence, that every one else is missing out. i am now one such person, and proud to say.
the weather? COLD! but after bryce, i am better prepared: i have thermal underwear on, as well as numerous layers in my backpack. the hike is more or less a carbon copy of bryce, just in a different universe altogether. (the two can’t even be compared.) (and, that is to say, i did lots of walking, lots of stopping, basically wore the same clothes [hippie!], ate the same food, and drank the same water. but it’s a different place, a different day, and i’m a different dave.) i again take the relatively easy rim hike, which is again relatively free of human beings; every vista boasts better than the last, etc.
one of my few struggles these three days: the sun is always there when you don’t want it, and noticeably lacking when you most need it.
this particular day, i desire to enroll in a meteorology class, so that i can understand just what the hell is going on with those damn clouds (actually, i think it would probably end up requiring a Ph.D.). so, there is one—count em, one—cloud in the sky. and the sun is hanging barely behind the bottom of it; so, the sun is constantly poking out, peeking out, heating the hemisphere and lighting the land. and the wind is blowing. there is not a single other cloud in the sky. as soon as that one cloud blows past, we’ve got sunlight on the sand, we’ve got moonlight in the trees; we’ve got mangoes and bananas you can . . . oh wait . . . sorry! (got a little sidetracked there!)
what was i saying? so, anyway, with the sun barely peeking from under this ONE cloud, as soon as it blows past, there is another cloud! where the hell did that come from?? one after the other after the other. all afternoon. how is that even possible? see what i’m talking about? there is no rational explanation for how clouds can just magically appear out of nowhere, one at a time, and always just barely be hiding the sun. at least no explanation the common person can understand. this is why i want to study meteorology now. (or at least i did that one day.)
all of that is simply a long-winded dave way (surprise!) of saying, man that day was cold!
we’ll get back to that shortly. by way of actually trying to finish this ______________ (essay? journal? memoir? reflection with brief social commentary?), i’ll just say that my reaction to the north rim is to bryce canyon what the furthur vegas shows were to those at red rocks: same band, completely different shows. equally stellar, singularly superb. all i can muster in the face of such luster is WOW. just wow. (i remember posting something like that on facebook—and thinking “come on dave. can’t you do any better than that? hence, this ____________ for your reading pleasure. i now consider myself redeemed.)
after several hours of hiking, chilled to the bone and finally out of water, i proceed back to my car. there was a tradeoff, i guess, as there is no shuttle for the north rim as far as i could tell, so i was able to drive and mostly avoid people altogether (except at the stop which was my starting point, point imperial, far away from the lodge and most of the tourists). however, the trails around both rims, north and south, are much closer to the roads: so it was damn near impossible to reach that place of complete isolation which bryce afforded so easily. but, as a new yorker, i’ll take what i can get. and of course the north rim is amazing in its own particular ways.
the goal for the rest of the day is to make it to cameron, az, where i have a rather expensive room reserved at the cameron trading post (but by far the nicest place i’ve stayed thus far). before i get to cameron, i am once again traveling in awe of topography. these particular points in time each day were rather incredible, as to see the magnificence of MOM at sunset against any of these backdrops is truly a sight to behold.
other than the usual splendor of sunset—this time somewhere near vermillion cliffs—i also happen to pass something strange, near marble canyon; some kind of landmark? historic? point of interest? i don’t know. but it was simply called “cliff dwellers”, and there was absolutely nobody else there. i got out to explore this whatever all by myself for about 20 minutes. from what i remember, the marker spoke of some woman who was making her way west in like 1840 or something, her horse died or cart wheel broke or some such incident, which forced her to basically construct a dwelling out of the land. it was really cool—like actual little rock houses, built up using only nature. but i guess a little community then soon formed? (take note, OWS folks!) it was pretty eerie, though, that’s all i can say. i didn’t feel unsafe like i thought someone might jump out and attack me. but . . . i guess i didn’t really feel alone while i was there. slight shivers.
back in the car, and the remaining vestiges of daylight bathe the colorful cliffs in every imaginable hue known to creation. i am honestly amazed i am still alive, considering the canyons, cliffs, and crevices one could easily barrel into while staring out the window in wonder, in every direction. as i said, the north rim is apparently less popular, so the traffic towards the south rim is minimal. at one point, i pull over and get out of the car simply to appreciate yet another moment of meditation free from the noise pollution i am used to living with in new york. absolute stillness and silence.
a bit later, the sky is dark, and i’m still driving—part of my daily routine. now, by this point in the trip, i have fully realized that i’m not in new york, and there is not a deli on every corner. so, as i pull into cameron, i am overtaken simultaneously by pangs of hunger and fear that there will be no food available—because i didn’t even have a clue what time it actually was.
for a bit, jump ahead 2 days: i have wifi, and i’m checking my facebook account from a hotel—sans clocks—in kingman, az. my computer says 1:43, which is obviously EST, to which my computer is set. however, at that point the car, rented in denver, reads 11:43. yet my fritzy phone says it is 10:43. however, parts of arizona apparently don’t participate in daylight savings?
some of you have seen previous facebook posts where i comment on the clocks in my apartment. at the very moment i am writing this portion, my apartment time-keeping devices read the following times: 12:09, 9:09, 11:06, 3:20, 9:36. (oh, and according to this last source, it is may 17th.) some things never change. my friends who stayed here last year when i went on vacation will attest to the fact that they set EVERY clock to the proper time. however, time is just a fluid concept around me. always has been.
this is why i am anxious pulling into cameron, since it is after 9 pm, as best i can tell. well, lucky for me that i live in a time-malleable vortex, cause it is, in fact, only after 8 pm, and the restaurant closes at 9. so, i sneak in under the gun for dinner, and can only say, what an interesting meal! i opt for their “best seller” which is some sort of taco salad (with pinto bean base) on a “shell” that can only be described as a southwestern version of the beignets you get at cafe du monde in new orleans. yum!
late night tv: a really interesting old western. what a rich entertainment history we have in this country. it’s a shame that it is being destroyed by absolute crap.
DAY 9 (saturday): south rim
initially, my plan was to mostly do a drive-by of the south rim (introduce the great state of arizona to my gansta roots!), in hopes of getting close enough that night to that unknown-at-that-point-tourist-trap near meadview. SO glad i didn’t. this day was basically a repeat of friday—only, the sun was absolutely kicking my butt! every time i stop to enjoy a view, i am forced to find a tree and stand/sit in his/her/its shadow. i haven’t felt sun this intense since i was close to the equator. so, weather wise it is the exact opposite of the north rim; otherwise, my day is a repeat of the last two days. there is sometimes something wonderful about consistency, isn’t there? and with the amount of walking i’ve done over the last two months in new york, i have been fully capable of pulling this off without a hitch. the only reason i didn’t go further each day was either the weather, lack of water, the time, or that the distance to the next shuttle stop was WAY too far for me to hike, on top of all the hiking i have done during these three days.
all in all, another incredible spiritual day.
i see coming back here again. and soon.
MANY of my days on this trip contained spiritual insight of some sort. what a blessed vacation this was. i am in awe and supremely thankful for the opportunity, the means, the destinations, the variety, the connections with old friends, the kindling of new ones, and especially the moments of absolute solitude. (are you kidding me? i had bryce canyon and both rims of the grand canyon entirely to myself for at least a good 10-15 minutes???????????????????)
i live in new york city.
think about that for a bit.
just a bit.
no really.
slight rewind: on my way to the south rim from cameron, there was actually a moment, driving, drinking coffee and listening to music, where i just started laughing uncontrollably for a solid 5 minutes.
i’ll write this in a vernacular that is probably easiest to understand, reaches the widest audience, and has the biggest impact—and doesn’t necessarily contradict my personal belief system, although it uses language i think is outdated [more on this later]: if that wasn’t god i felt, then god doesn’t exist.
come to think of it, there was a lot of god on this trip.
whatever that means.
HIGHLIGHTS OF THE SOUTH RIM:
- although a touristy spot, and the first stop you come to approaching from the east, the desert view watchtower is pretty cool. a fellow i met on the north rim hike said “be sure to visit and climb to the top.” other than the people, it was a great staring point to the day, giving a wonderful first glimpse of the south rim, as you climb many levels to the top for an elevated view over this majestic canyon. it also makes you realize: absolutely no picture can do the grand canyon justice. it’s simply too grand. the view from this east end is completely different from those i experienced on my hike the rest of the afternoon. how can one attempt to encapsulate this experience through digital means? it is impossible.
- still traveling by car, i also stop at some indian ruins. a touristy spot to be sure, replete with bathrooms, lunch tables and museum/gift shop, but still cool nonetheless, and with only a moderate number of other humans—probably less an attraction since there is no view of the canyon. but people around nonetheless. i guess i can’t completely escape that culture which i loathe at times but likely can’t live without. anyway, i have to warm up, right? this is what leads to that solo hike in the sun, where i even get to encounter, love, appreciate, relish and bond with nature.
- the wildlife. so many birds! ravens, i think i heard a fellow hiker say? (do the tourists stopping only at the shuttle stops get to experience this?) call me some crazy franciscan spiritual seeker, but i swear this one bird was interacting with me all afternoon. there were several especially poignant moments where, in the still of silence, it swooped so closely over my head that i could actually hear the wind resistance beating against its wings. so much so, that i actually wrapped my slightly sunburnt arm up in my blue hoodie, held it out, and encouraged the bird to land. (i even squawked at it a bit, truth be told. as some of you may know, i’m a bit . . . nutty?) it never landed, but left me wondering: did this one bird actually really notice me? (*squawk* hey! that one down there! *squawk* he seems to be trying to communicate with me!) did we just not have enough time to warm up to one another? did the bird, as it slowly reached a point of confidence and comfort, consider actually dropping in to commune with me? (perhaps a bit nutty, indeed. but, do we not communicate with our pets on a daily basis? [some more than others, to be sure. {see social commentary above.}] do not professional animal caretakers/handlers/trainers establish bonds of communication with every possible species?) or did the oncoming commotion of careless tourists frighten it off right beforehand? cause let’s just say that not everyone hiking the rim is entirely “in touch”. but, i’ll give them this: at least they are trying.
this even provided a point of teaching for me. after all, i am a teacher. of sorts, or have been, at least.
at one point, when i discovered a nice pregnant pause between the sporadic patches of other hikers, i happened upon a rather young rabbit hiding in the shade of lowhanging brush. simply feeding. and being. and i simply observed. we were both being, and in each other’s company. and i stayed there and we interacted for a good 5-6 minutes—before a boisterous family of five approached.
i left my furry new friend, giving implied space and safety, and moved toward the oncoming commotion. as they turned the bend, i grabbed the attention of the little ones first, raised my finger to my pursed lips and said, “shhhh.” damn if they didn’t go for it. they are trying, aren’t they? of course oftentimes it takes the little children to set the pace. didn’t jesus suggest some such wisdom??
they got my signal and inched closer. i pointed. whispered: “little bunny rabbit.”
sometimes simplicity is the best instructor.
wide eyed, exhibiting a sense of wonder, they loved it. the parents even thanked me!
(i mean, in new york, a brother will get shot for shhhing someone!)
overall, what an experience.
oh, and then back to the birds, later on. i swear—i swear—those little buggers even did an aerial acrobatic dance for me. that one bird? he went and got all his little birdie friends, and they circled up, or triangled up, above me, and they put on a show for me.
not so far fetched, if you think that the average person won’t be paying that much attention? (and no, i’m not saying i’m above average. i just aspire to that.) again: did they take note of my observation of them? i mean, we already determined that like 95-98% of the people visiting as a whole aren’t anywhere near this moment anyway, right? for the rest of us: maybe nature is trying to say something! so maybe it rewards those who come looking? (a point at which i definitely diverge from my atheist friends [more on this later]; there is something out there. no doubt. i may not know what it is, but there is something else. i was already pretty convinced before this trip. i’m now almost positive. i’m always searching, though, and am going to do this at my own pace—and go in my own direction. so, please. just let it be.)
so that show? there were like 4 or 5 of them. and they were flying high in the sky playing with one another, making shapes, drawing designs; figuring out figures; cutting corners. passing planes. rhymin and stealin!
anyway, again, so glad i opted to skip the tourist trap skywalk, which apparently even has glam shots you can buy—after paying the $80 entry fee. now there is some $15 photo op, where you can have a faux-framed picture of yourself on this wannabe space mountain ride? disneyland has its place, folks. it’s not here.
so, over the last three days, i have given equal time to bryce, north rim and south rim.
three days well spent. overall, money well spent. i remember posting on facebook the 2nd day of this trip that it was already worth the cost. you just can’t put a pricetag on everything.
after another incredibly spiritual scenic drive to close the day, i end up on route 66, approaching my accommodations, and eventually roll up to the roadkill cafe in seligman, az, with grateful dead soaring through the speakers. (deadheads: 5/8/77, row jimmy, if i remember correctly.) how appropriate, this seems; i don’t know of any solid connection between the dead and this historic highway, but even if there is none, these two belong together. neal cassady sure as hell does, if that’s the closest they get. maybe ken kesey as well, based on the overall general weirdness of what little is alight in the dark of night. my kind of slice of american pie. so at the roadkill, i get a southwest equivalent of a philly cheese steak, only with chicken. and homemade ranch dressing. and homemade potato salad. such a great meal! i do NOT miss the new york tourist trap factory food, i can tell you that—as i’ve now had three consecutive days of delectable dinners. by the way, this place looks like a williamsburg hipster haven, only this stuff is authentic, not ironic. (how do hipsters react if they pass through this place?) (why do i hate hipsters so much?)
the end of the week approacheth, the “meat and potatoes” of the trip have past, and this day may be better served in simply summarizing the remaining highlights.
speed limit 75: THANK YOU ARIZONA! but wait! cars bottlenecking going 30 miles under the speed limit? you will literally get run over going that slow in new york. (oh, and watch out for biker gangs while you’re at it.) [editor’s note: this is a reference to a headline at the time about NYC bikers and commuters road raging, and “getting into it.”]
(by the way, many of you have commented over the last few years, and it’s becoming more abundantly clear to me as well: it may really be approaching the point where it’s time for me to leave new york! [wait. how many years have i been saying this?? {interesting time to experience such a cool city like denver, no?}])
for the night: el trovatore hotel, an authentic looking route 66 establishment. very friendly—and highly eccentric—talkative owners. this guy should have his own late night tv show. his wife plays entirely into the act. they seem to really love each other. that’s rare in this culture. taco the dog chilling on the couch. the rooms are themed, based on hollywood stars. i land marlon brando for the night.
late night tv: “life with riley.” wtf?? this looks like something that hasn’t aired since tvs with rabbit ears were first rolled out in front of the dinner tables half a century ago. (BIG mistake, by the way.) i love it! . . . . i feel like i’m in a time warp, though. whatever station is playing this classic tv show, they are also playing the commercials from the same era! am i still in 2013, or has my absurd relationship with time finally gotten the best of me? i feel a bit like marty mcfly right now.
DAYS 10—14 (sunday-thursday morning): all roads lead to vegas—going further with furthur
after the first “big breakfast” i’ve had all week (i’ve been mostly breaking the fast with cashews, almonds, apples, prunes, dried apricots, kale chips and coffee), i decide to visit the powerhouse route 66 museum—which by the way has an amazing library and book collection devoted to this historic stretch of road, scholars take note! such an interesting avenue of americana. and, again, the scenery on the drive afterwards is first rate. i know i posted on the book of face at one point (in early utah) that i didn’t think i could take much more of this . . . beauty.
of course, after an amazing, spiritual week of blissful driving, transcendent-at-times hiking (i stopped to do tai chi during each hike; i also did tai chi at all four furthur shows, even devising a little tai chi hippie deadhead dance?) and frequent solitude and peace, leave it to vegas to present the polar opposite. of course i knew this would happen: i’ve been to vegas before and knew exactly what to expect. but DAMN if it hasn’t been one road block after another since i pulled into town. first off, the sun was BEATING down on me for the better part of the day (the contradistinction of the frigid north rim experience still fresh in mind, and probably still even on my skin, dirty hippie)—no matter which direction i was driving: north, west, northwest, WHATEVER. probably even a bit south at one point. and yet that scorching sun was overly omnipresent. i actually had to jimmy up a sunblock with my windbreaker, tying one sleeve to that “oh shit!” handle on the driver’s side, and wrapping the rest of it around the driver’s side head rest. this provided momentary relief, only for my brilliant plan to be thwarted again by that ever-shifting sun. (i even think the ipod shuffle at one point this day delivered up a jerry garcia band cover of an old dylan tune, so i get to hear jerry sing: “and that lucky old sun, with nothing left to do, but roll . . . roll around heaven all day.” thanks, jer. as if i hadn’t noticed.)
now in vegas, after navigating crowds, construction and confusion centered around the flamingo hotel where i’m staying, i get to the room—which is a mile and a half from the elevator—and realize: there is no coffee maker! in order to save money, i brought my own coffee—as well as some instant soup, beans, and oatmeal that i could prepare in the room using a coffee maker. (without coffee, of course. ew.) so i call downstairs to ask about a “go room,” their version of a slight upgrade which is fairly cheap. none left. check with us in the morning. fools! i’ll be SLEEPING in the morning! oh well. i’ve been on a pretty early schedule overall this trip, so one more day of waking early (okay, ish) before i can enjoy at least one full day of just sleeping, eating, resting, watching some tv, playing some slots, napping, etc., as i await the furthur shows which begin in 2 nights. okay, fine.
it’s time to get my mid-trip laundry done anyway, as i’m on my last pair of just about everything. so tonight and tomorrow morning are awash. as will soon be the clothes, i snicker to myself. ;-) i’m a bit perturbed, though, as previous to the trip, i checked online and read that the flamingo offers laundry service. however, once you get there you realize what that means is, they’ll ship it off for you same-day—at the low cost of something like $2 per pair of socks and underwear, $5 for a shirt, etc. so i have to get BACK in the car—which has been my trusty companion and new friend (inanimate object?) for the last week but which i had been very excited to park and leave behind for a stretch of days.
back in the car, and finally, after driving around western las vegas for a good 45 minutes (looking for the laundromat where the concierge described, stopping to ask in numerous stores where nobody spoke english and they didn’t have any phone books, technology be damned), i can now wash my clothes. i should stick my head in for the last spin cycle to calm me down. i’m supposed to be relaxing in a bed watching tv, seeing vegas showgirls or playing blackjack. i knew laundry needed to be done, it’s just that i planned it for tonight because i assumed they had coin-operated machines in the hotel. sin city it is. not so spin (cycle) city.
ha!
but lo and behold! the laundromat has several of those automatic massage chairs, the ones in which you insert a dollar and receive a 3-minute massage. after a week of driving, this is just what i need. this offers a welcome way to pass the time as my clothes dry. i swear, if i win big here in vegas, i’m going to get one of these machines for my apartment. at times it actually feels like there is a real person on the other side of the fabric, as she slowly kneads the tension out of my neck. (in my mind, it’s a “she”. afterwards, i ask for her number, but she doesn’t respond. so, without hesitation, i insert another dollar. more money well spent.)
what else to say about vegas? if you’ve been, you know. if you haven’t, well, what happens in vegas stays in vegas! no, i didn’t win the jackpot, but i didn’t lose my shirt either. or get married. although at my age i don’t know if my mother would even object if i had! i did spend an obscene amount of time decompressing in the room transfixed by the TV, though, as i watched our nation’s governing bodies pitch hissy fits like little children. it’s so easy to get sucked up into the media frenzies that those conniving calculating capitalist cronies over at cable television have created. since i so rarely watch cable tv, i guess i took to these histrionic shenanigans pretty easily. but, after a week of being in the car, it was nice to relax in a king-sized bed for hours on end, zoning out on soporific politics. soprilitics! and it was surely time better spent than blowing money downstairs at a roulette table.
i also got to see two more furthur shows—the reason i came to vegas—and let me just say: well, i think my reaction is pretty much the same as the red rocks shows: WOW. i’m scratching my head that these guys are planning to take a hiatus in 2014, but the way they have been playing lately, i think a hiatus might well be in order; cause i think if they come back in 2015, they may just end up going strong for another ten years. an absolutely brilliant display of mellifluousness, musicianship, and magic. if you want to read reviews of all four shows i saw on this trip, just bookmark “the grateful dead theology project” where this trip journal is housed, and look for them later. (of course, since i have yet to post reviews of most of the shows i have seen over the last year, including vegas and LA from last fall tour, don’t hold your breath that they will be posted any time soon! but there is plenty to read besides this post, if you have enjoyed what you are currently reading and/or care anything about the grateful dead. lots of good social commentary! ;-) )
DAY 14 1/2 ?? (thursday afternoon and evening): the long drive back to denver begins
after such an intense spiritual journey over the last 2 weeks, thursday has one thing, and one thing only, on the agenda: DRIVE. my goal once again is to get as close as possible to grand junction. you see, some website on some computer may tell you how long something takes out here. i say, take it with a grain of salt. that’s why i left a few nights of the trip open to improv; i don’t know how long any of this is going to take. mileage wise, based on what the computer says, this drive in a day is feasible. there’s just always a chance you’re going to drive into a ditch gawking at images your eyes haven’t been privy to previously. if you’re lucky enough to avoid the ditch, though . . . well, just count on that return drive to denver taking almost as long as the backroads to bryce.
however, if you’re going to blame someone, blame god(ess)(s)(esses). you can’t blame eisenhower, or the regional bureaucrats who control the speed limit on his brilliant interstate system. I-15: 80 MPH. nevada wins!!
so, the first part of the day dwells in the usual splendor of sights which have spoiled for me for the better part of two weeks. cause when you take this “boring” drive, you constantly spot signs that say “scenic view, 1 mile.” what the hell is the rest of all this, then?? maybe that is one refrain for this trip, and pursuant to the social commentary above: “beauty ahead! get ready to see it!” while you’re getting ready for it, you are passing by it.
but, just then, somewhere in the middle of the mormon mesas, it starts snowing. now, i think i had come close to snow somewhere in dixie national forest between canyonlands and panguitch; the elevation, temperature, and nip in the air nearly converged to create that familiar feel. but that was before i hit the intense heat of the south rim, followed by vegas, so only now am i fully aware, as i cross into a colder climate again: i’ve experienced three distinctly different seasons on this trip. summer, fall and winter in two weeks. i’d say that’s a pretty amazing climatological event for any person. i give thanks to the universe for variety. (come to think of it, it was more like summer, fall, summer, winter, fall, winter, summer, winter. variety indeed.)
as i drive through this slight snowfall, it reminds me of the harsh reality of the upcoming winter. whatever. i’m ready for it. anyway, thanks to global warming, new york winters have been bizarrely bearable for a number of years. still, it’s amazing—after having just been in near 100 degree heat—to now be in the midst of this highly contrasting winter weather.
whoa! scratch that. this snowfall became a snowstorm!
the canyons—and MOMs, as i seem to be surrounded by all three—present themselves as possibly even more pristine in the snow, freckled under an overcast sky by trees bearing the colorful coats of early autumn. i have seen this stretch of road before—remember that boring route my friends spoke of? this is it. and this is a day on which i have only one goal: to log as much mileage as manageable.
can’t . . .
stop . . .
looking . . .
still . . .
so . . .
beautiful . . . .
as i drive through fishlake national forest, i at times feel like i’m trapped in a science fiction hollywood timewarp. my viewing radius radiates topographies reminiscent of tatooine, mordor and dune all rolled into one. i swear to god(ess) i saw a jawa. ooo tee dee!
i do make it to grand junction by dinnertime, dark as it is at this point in the season. as i age, i become less of a good driver at night or in bad weather, so my eyes are pretty tired by this point, after driving through both rain and snow. i’m done driving for the day. i stop at the first motel i see off the interstate. $55 for a room? fine. listen, i know i’m not always financially savvy. and i’m sure there was a cheaper place further in town. but, you know what? i don’t care. i’m not the type to drive all over town looking for the absolute best deal. or the “perfect” place.
actually, come to think of it, that was precisely my mistake in escalante. i passed several places that didn’t “look” like the “kind” of place suited to my tastes. now, i’ll be the first to admit that i’m a high maintenance sleeper. i think i’m generally pretty easy going regarding most other things, but i really love a bed. and a big one at that. but in escalante, i did pass several places searching for that “rustric retreat” more in line with my style. (by the way, i found it, and if you’re ever in escalante, you should totally stay there [editor’s note: contact me for the link if you desire]—just be sure to book beforehand.) however, as i didn’t plan ahead, these were sold out, so i then drove to every other place in town, finally to end up back at the first place i had passed, only to be standing in line behind some european woman renting the last available room. lesson learned.
my point being, after 8-9 hours of driving, some through dangerous conditions, i’m not looking for the perfect place. i’m looking for a bed. i want a room, and i want it now. me me me! i mean, we live in the “me” era, don’t we? well, right now me wants to be off the road and in the bed with a full belly. unfortunately, the only food available is pizza in the bar, which i had more than enough of in vegas. (my table and slot play didn’t merit madcap meal comps, and i was sick of sipping soup in the room, but couldn’t justify a $45 filet mignon dinner. although they did give me some comp dollars for my birthday, as well as some free slot play. thanks, flamingo. you’re my new favorite bird! at least until thanksgiving. ;-) )
pizza it is, and so my quest is successful. after the za, a couple of beers and then a hot shower, i sink into the big snug bed and zone out again on CNN. what a bunch of babies!
DAY 15 (friday): a short stint simply to get the car back to the denver airport. really, after everything i’ve seen over the course of this trip, and considering the fact that i already drove this exact stretch of highway 11 days ago, what could this drive be worth? absolutely nothing, i think to myself. kind of like a wasted day, right? an afterthought? i mean, hell, my vacation is almost over. this is just part of the long trek home.
WRONG.
i don’t know how the universe or deities or awareness or beauty or love or whatever does it, but sometimes amazing exists where and when you least expect it. how many of you saw the movie “american beauty”? remember the scene with the bag flying in the air? same idea. beauty is everywhere, would that we could just get past ourselves.
i depart grand junction for the drive to denver. the snow i drove through much of yesterday gave way to a cold rain by the time i went to bed. but the morning sky is crystal clear as i start my last leg, an easy 4-hour journey. easy, that is, until the snow starts up again. by the time i reach no name, colorado (a small, unincorporated town with a population of 123 according to the 2010 census) near glenwood springs, a light snowfall has begun. i pull into a rest stop for a bathroom break. the toyota rav-4 is due at 2 pm, but for some reason my pace this morning is measured—and calm. as i’m pulling into the rest stop, i am actually moved to tears by the stark contrast of crisp autumn colors flanked by a background of snow-covered mountains. that is, i should clarify, two-thirds of each mountain seems snow-covered—the majority of the trees sleeping peacefully under the first blanket of the incipient blizzard season. “what about us?” clamor some colorful trees covering the lower third tier of each mountain. don’t worry. your time will soon come, my fir-covered friends.
other than black, the color and cover of night, all other colors on the spectrum seem to be present on this drive, as even a good 30% of the trees still cling to their summer sheen of healthy green. i’m guessing it isn’t just the kaleidoscope of colors on this particularly poignant day stirring my emotions. i think this vacation worked—whatever that means. i am just in a place of pure joy right now. while at the rest stop, i read about my geographical surroundings—those of the white river national forest, hailed as “the most celebrated stretch of the interstate highway system.” i can see why, although i can hardly claim this drive the highlight of my trip. i guess, just as i have experienced three different seasons in such a condensed time, i have likewise encountered an amazing array of topographical diversity. none of it can be compared to the rest. each stands out all on its own. i am so blessed for having experienced all that i have these last two weeks—which, as such realizations are want to do, have spilled over into my life in general. i really am blessed. in so many ways.
as intimated earlier, i have been feeling rather reflective overall, as this realization continues to sink in. i don’t remember where on I-70 this took place, but i experienced tears of joy yet again through this short stint.
twice in one day?? remember, this leg was only supposed to be utilitarian in scope. the trip is near over, i’ve seen incomparable beauty. all i’m doing today is returning the car.
[BEGIN (SLIGHTLY MORE SCATHING) COMMENTARY #2. feel free to skip ahead again. seriously, if you’re easily offended, i suggest you ignore this part.]
now, don’t take any of this to mean that i have had some sort of religious conversion; or that i am arguing for the existence of anything. i guess if i haven’t already done so publicly over the course of my life, that i should now come out of the theological closet—and i am not trying to convert anyone, neither my christian nor atheist friends, but i feel this needs to be said.
to my staunchly fundamentalist christian friends, i will now claim, finally and fully, that i don’t believe in your deity, the one espoused by your self-proclaimed standard-bearing christian forebears. i simply can’t believe in the big guy up in the sky doling out pie. this argument for the existence of god falls short in so many ways that i can’t even begin to address them here. (if you want to address some of these yourself, go to seminary. actually study the history behind what you think is your religion. [you might be surprised.] start thinking for yourself. stop simply parroting what your pastor preached this past sunday. and for the love of all that’s holy: stop trusting fox news as a credible source for ANYTHING.)
in lieu of such address, all i can offer is this: to claim, standing in the face of the likes of the grand canyon, that you—and only you—truly have all the answers to absolutely everything, is supremely egocentric and sanctimonious. how are you, pronouncing such sweeping judgments, not guilty of your own religion’s definition of idolatry? i mean, if you really know absolutely everything, then you must be god. right?
suffice it to say, although this trip has not been transformational in some big theological way for me, more than anything, it has me deeply reconnecting to the divine in ways i have absolutely experienced many, many times over the course of my ridiculously short lifespan. but, it does also have me wondering—through my recent wandering—about the genesis of all of this. of everything.
thus, to my atheist friends, i would simply say: if the best you have to offer is that so-called big bang, beyond which your ilk can’t conceive any further, well, your argument also falls short. clinging to that celestial event many millions of years removed is tantamount to starting a book on chapter one. you have ostensibly skipped the prologue, and have missed the title page altogether. who is the author? or, better yet, who are the authors? no scientist seems capable thus far of satisfactorily answering this question, at least none that i have encountered in print or in person.
so, to claim, standing in the face of the likes of the grand canyon, that there is absolutely no order to anything, and that we’re just a bunch of electrons, protons and neutrons bumping into each other, is supremely self-centered and solipsistic. how are you, pronouncing such sweeping judgments, any different from the fundamentalist christian i address above—at whom you would typically take offense? to make such a claim shortchanges beauty and robs existence of meaning. you are welcome to live such a meaningless life if you so choose. if you wish, with your copy of ayn rand’s “fountainhead” tucked under your arm, to proclaim there is no purpose other than your own self-fulfillment, to proclaim that we are all just a bunch of meandering molecules, then i wish you luck enjoying your pointless personhood.
i, myself, am now fully convinced that there is meaning; that there is purpose; that there is a wealth of wonder to discover—both internally and externally.
so, to both schools of thought possibly pervading my potential audience, i simply say: rethink your position. honor the existence of claims counter to your own. in short, just recognize that YOU DO NOT HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS. no one does. period. if we are to progress as a species, we need to learn to appreciate diversity of thought, of existence, of experience. it has been a long road for me to adulthood, and as i celebrate my forty-first year on this tiny little blue ball vis-a-vis the entire universe (parts both seen and yet undiscovered), i am comforted by the thought that i have once again encountered a brush with enlightenment. with a very gnostic sensibility, i proudly proclaim: I KNOW NOTHING.
to ultimately let go of my ego, my truth, my clinging, my grasping, and my way is an incredibly liberating experience. and i am absolutely humbled by what this trip has provided. of course there is endless natural beauty, diversity and wonder throughout the world and not just in the southwestern united states. and i’d love to hear from those of you who have had similar experiences of enlightenment elsewhere through your own travels. i merely offer my own meanderings on the map as one possible pilgrimage, and only to those who are deeply in need and can’t find their own way. so, if for any reason you think me wise and worthy of pointing the way for you, all that i’ll offer is an invitation to shared experience: purchase a plane ticket to denver, rent an SUV, get out your rand mcnally atlas, follow the physical directions, itinerary and lodging advice posted hereto, and just go for it. please let me know what you experience. let all your friends and family know! if you experience anything approaching the sense of fulfillment, diversity, divinity, awe, awareness, being, wonder, humility and love that i have experienced, then you will surely feel as blessed as i do right now.
[END COMMENTARY]
while on my final bathroom break at the georgetown rest stop, i see a church or school group of children playing “red light, green light.” i seem to have shed my slightly misanthropic curmudgeonly new york attitude somewhere on this trip, and i take pause to appreciate the beauty of this simple observation—children being children. with nary a care in the world, children make some of the best buddhists. i guess i have had a childlike attitude for most of this trip—although of course i’m of the age where i can rent a car, travel alone, and enjoy adult beverages along the way! it is possibly such childlike fascination and wonder at the world, though, that has encroached on this journey to make it so transformative. again, for this, i am thankful.
with less than an hour to go, i’m now driving through a straight-up blizzard. wow. welcome, winter! wiper fluid is running low, though, so i’m finally ready for this drive to end. and yet, somewhere in the midst of all this, my tear ducts take over yet again. for, in addition to this heavy snow that constrains my driving, dropping me 20 miles below the speed limit as i negotiate the last steep downward grade of the mountain, windswept autumn leaves blow across my path, as they make the fall towards their final resting place. thus they die, detach, descend, and are delivered to the earth, where they will decay and become one with the life-giving ground that shall transform then resurrect them once again, in some other form, come spring.
as with the leaves, so, too, shall it be with me. not yet, though. if i am lucky, i will have many more years of experiences such as this jubilant 2-week journey which has elicited such a wonderful wealth of emotions.
i finally pull into the car rental at the denver airport and bid farewell to my trusty SUV. if it weren’t covered from the elements of the entire trip—from the dust of the canyonlands to the snow of fishlake national forest, i probably would have hugged this vehicle. alas, only a “crazy” person would hug a car. and i’m not “crazy.” (it’s different with mandolins, mind you. ;-) )
my friend jessie picks me up again, back to her house for a much-needed nap. then one last dinner out (she takes me to city ‘o city, the same place rachel took me. [and, by the way, it feels very strange to be saying this, but denver hipsters are really friendly]). followed by a stop at a grateful dead themed bar. a perfect end to a near-perfect trip!
DAY 16 (saturday): fly home
please see the prologue at the top. ‘nuff said.
epilogue:
overall, this has been a wonderful windfall of self-discovery, an amazing solo adventure about which i was slightly apprehensive prior to, for fear of feeling alone at times. but, truth be told, for this particular prodigal adventure, i wouldn’t change a thing. and, honestly, i wasn’t alone.
as i passed through lawson, colorado, i thought of my childhood friend neal lawson, who i last saw when i sang for his wedding a few years ago—and who i was able to join in vegas for his bachelor party beforehand, with another long time friend, damien. so they were both with me momentarily.
several times i passed del taco fast food chains along the highway, and thought of a high school friend, ahmad mangum—who used to call me “del taco.” when i asked him why he insisted on this nickname for me, his response was, “cause white people eat tacos!” (as some of you know, i went to a 92% black high school.) in typical high school “scold” fashion, i probably responded, “your mom eats tacos!” of course i didn’t then tell him that almost every tuesday, the bryan household dinner consisted of the family taco meal deal from the local del taco!! damn it. maybe ahmad was right! oh well, what he doesn’t know won’t kill him. and kill him it did not.
a heart attack did, though, about three years ago. it’s so funny the things that linger in our memories. well, ahmad, you linger a bit longer. i didn’t stop to eat tacos on this trip, but i did stop to remember you and the joy your silly sense of humor brought to those around you.
and these were just three of many friends i thought of along the way. i imagine some of my friends believe that i only listen to grateful dead and furthur. as it informs my research—and my own playing—yes, i do listen to what most people would probably consider an obscene amount of their music. however, one thing i realized over the course of my travels is that i have an incredibly diverse music library. i plugged my ipod in as soon as i first picked up my rental, and set it to shuffle for the entire trip. what an amazing array of music!
the list of artists to accompany this trip of a lifetime:
air, alison krauss, alison graham, anugama, autour de lucie, bach, beautiful south, ben folds, bill & gloria gaither, blood sweat & tears, bob marley, bon iver, cat power, chet baker, chickenstand throwdown band, chico hamilton, chopin, constance demby, david bryan, david darling, dead can dance, dire straits, django reinhardt, eddie vedder, elizabeth & the catapult, elliot smith, empire brass, engelbert humperdink, enigma, enya, fiona apple, fleet foxes, folksmen, fran mckendree, funky static, george nooks, gillian welch, govinda, grateful dead, great lake swimmers, harry belafonte, herbie hancock, iron & wine, jenny lewis, jerry garcia & david grisman, jerry garcia band, john mayer, joni mitchell, joshua redman, matt sharp, mazzy star, michael hedges, miles davis, mindy jostyn, miranda sex garden, mitch & mickey, moody blues, mr. bungle, my bloody valentine, nanci griffith, new main street singers, nick drake, old & in the way, oliver nelson, patty griffin, paul schwartz, paula larke, peter bradley adams, peter gabriel, phil collins, pink martini, portishead, punch brothers, quincy jones, rachel portman, radiohead, regina spektor, rhett miller, sarah mclachlan, schumann, secret garden, simon & garfunkel, stan getz, steely dan, sufjan stevens, tallis scholars, t-bone burnett, teresa buchholz, teru’ah, tori amos, u2, vangelis, ween, and william ackerman. (suck on that, hipsters! [not the denver ones, mind you.]) (OH, and, of course, the damn christmas music kept popping in there continuously! even though i was driving through snow at several points, i skipped past these. all in good time, bing. all in good time.)
but, you see, my music collection doesn’t stop there. my awesome father, who is much more tech-savvy than me, converted multiple mixed tapes of mine to CD several years ago, which i then downloaded to my computer and ipod, so that i will always have them. among those were tapes for and from friends; tapes with music from the episcopal church youth conferences that were so highly formative in my adolescence; tapes containing music straight off the radio from the summer when i sprained my ankle and was laid up in bed, thus producing authentic 80’s mixes (unlike the nostalgic crap they try to sell you on late night tv); and, of course, tapes for girlfriends. i always made a copy for myself of any mixed tape i made for someone else; cause, let’s face it, the mix means more to the person making it than to the person who receives it. on the ipod, each 45-minute side of a mixed tape translates to one continuous track. (i found myself saying “bonus!” every time one of these tracks surfaced.) and i have probably some 20-25 such 45-minute tracks on my ipod. these mixed tapes were mostly made between 1985 and 1995, so there is an incredible array of diversity, personal history and nostalgia packed into that tiny little computerized device. okay, fine. not all machines are evil. or out to get me.
and with each song, an affixed memory. so, you see, i didn’t take this trip alone. many of you were there with me. yet again i give thanks: for the diversity of my friends, for the breadth and depth of the self-defining experiences you helped cultivate, and for the memories i now have as a result of this cultivation. i wish i could have psychically tweeted each of you whenever you popped into my head as a result of some song. just know that, if you were ever important to me at any point in my life, chances are you were there with me on this trip.
i guess a lot of people end up taking trips with other people, but ultimately really want to go and have some alone time. i, on the other hand, took a trip alone, so that i could be with all of you. thanks for your care, compassion, comfort, and camaraderie. i will never forget it, or any of you.
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