Another trip down, was able to see some things I’ve wanted to for a while. Salvation Mountain, Salton Sea, my possible future. Salvation mountain was interesting, this man Lenard started building it in the late 80’s/early 90’s. I think the feller watching over it said it was over a 20 year project for Lenard. By looking at it you can tell he really believed in Jesus and the possibility of salvation. It would have been interesting to meet the man that created such a monument. He painted petrified tree’s and earth with bright colors, painted passages from the bible, some old clunker cars have also been transformed into his testimony of Jesus, into his belief of Jesus’ power to save, to deliver man from sin and its consequences.
I wonder if Lenard was the sinner seeking or the saint saving. The mountain is part of Slab City, if you’re not sure what that is, it’s a little town of rubber tramps and the likes that have made a home for themselves in the middle of the desert. I’m sure the availability of meth is quite prominent there, most likely made within some of the disheveled motorhomes that no longer motor anywhere. I didn’t go deep into the city, I saw no need to gawk at another’s pain, misery and misfortune. It’s like the videos I see that get passed around on social media, where the person is so fucked off that there wiggle’n like a worm on a hook or hallucinating or goued out to the point of a contorted statuesque pose. Yeah, I see no need to share those videos for another’s amusement. All I see in them video’s, all I see in Slab City - is myself had I not found NA..
Salvation Mountain was cool, it was devotion and belief, someone’s heart and soul on display. Slab City was heartbreaking.
As I drove up the highway into Salton Sea I was on the phone with my father, when he was a kid my grandfather used to take the family out there. He and his business partner bought a chunk of salty dirt near the water, put a cabana on it and a tow-behind trailer. My dad didn’t care for the place, but my grandfather loved it, I guess my grandparents were avid waterskiers? Whatever, the Salton Sea is just that, salty, possibly saltier than the ocean. The town – if you want to give it that big of a label is small, it’s also possible that the residents of Slab City might sell their product there in bulk.
In my personal evaluation Salton Sea was small, suuuuper small. I didn’t even make it down to the sea. They have one stop light, 5 fast food chains, a gas station, coffee chain and I can’t really recall what else is at the stop light. You can buy a lot for building a house starting at $2995 and acquire a bigger lot for $4995, the billboards were prevalent.
Either way I am glad to have seen both, I got to find salvation and I got to see a piece of my family’s history here in California. I’m grateful I didn’t drive all the way out to the Anza-Borrego Desert just for that though, that would’a been a let down. Although I’m sure my expectations would’a been quite low and I would have met them. As for seeing my possible future, well that’s a whole ‘nother story.
As much of an adventure as it is, new and exciting, every bend I round there is the solemn loneliness about it all. There is me, alone, hours on end - upon multiple days, trying to survive myself. My last trip was 30 days. I was stressed beyond belief prior to leaving, coupled with regular anxiety attacks and a broken heart. I ran from that, I ran to the quiet, the aloneness. I needed that for myself, to be away from the smiles and questions and responsibilities. I needed to ride my bike and write, I needed to be alone. Everything in me was so broken. I had worked the steps, I was going to meetings, I used my sponsor, had a therapist, friends – I did everything humanly possible to move beyond the state of mind I was in, but it was to no avail. I’d had nothing left to do but leave, my last ditch effort to move on, to find my self, to be free of what killed me. Hours upon days I twisted in that insanity and I took a leap of faith and left.
A week or so into the trip a light came back on inside me. I was at the Red Canyon NF (national forest) Campground, on the road to Bryce Canyon in Utah. I had just riden the Thunder Mountain trail, it was about 20 miles round trip. Sitting there at my campsite all the anxiety seemed to wash away, I felt peace, a peace I hadn’t felt in years. But I had just left and knowing what I just left I wanted to live in this new found happiness. My soul was lit again, my heart still sad but the bulk of what was killing me had vanished, I had to stay the course. That’s when I understood why people take vacations, as much as it’s intended to see new places and have new adventures, it’s rejuvenating qualities are remarkable; it would be nice if here in the U.S. we vacationed like the Australians or Europeans. So being that I was just over a week into my trip, relishing in this calm, my sister in Texas expecting me, my business shut down, I ventured on.
2 weeks later I found myself in Grand Junction Colorado, I found myself feeling lonely and longing for home. I pushed through that feeling and headed up into Oregon to see an old friend, but that lonely feeling didn’t leave, I needed to go home. I made it back exactly 30 days after I left. That trip saved my life, had I stayed on the path I was on I woulda made some real poor choices. I will do whatever it takes to stay clean, no matter fucking what and I had to leave. I can say I am glad I pushed through and did stay the course for the whole trip, the lonely times taught me much. One of the biggest lessons I learned was I need to lead an arduous life, this easy peasy float through life is not for me. I need hardships, challenges, fears, mountains to climb (and ride) – I need to work for my happiness.
I had cell service this whole 4 days now. Internet, texting, phone calls – it’s nothing of what it was like on that 30 day trip. I’ve been staying at a swanky campground, hot showers and free drinking water - hella bougie for my camping standards. Again, this resembles nothing of living on the road. I spent money, bought souvenirs, ate apple pie, drove aimlessly, hung out with friends – again, nothing like that 30 day trip. Living on the road is slow and lonely. It is saving your pennies. It is no cell reception, no hugs, no hot showers. It is a struggle, it is persevering, it is life changing. I will never grow and change in a world of fancy cars and diamond rings, of filet mignon and jumbo shrimp. I need crappy coffee and top roman, empty forest service roads and bird baths, long drawn out days and lonely nights.
I don’t necessarily want to live this way, to leave the lap of my luxury behind – I have to. It’s what calls me, it’s what makes sense to me at times in my life. It’s like writing, it’s not only something I want to do, it’s something I have to do. All these things that make me up, the forgiving, the compassion, the patients, the wandering, the writing – these are not things I consciously choose to do, it’s what I have to do, it’s who I am 🙏🏻
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