Sunday, February 12th, 2012
Like this weekend, my next move was predictable. An equipment move from Sparks to Salt Lake. (is “City” really necessary? It isn't like there's a “Salt Lake State” attached to it). The drive today certainly rang of Deja Vu in so many ways, yet it was completely distinct in others.
Getting up to go to the bathroom proved to be an enlightening experience. For the first time in a few weeks, I actually looked at my truck. It was incredibly filthy from almost 5 weeks on the road, never mind how dirty it was when I got it. This had to be rectified. So I went into the terminal and inquired about the process of getting the company to pay for a truck wash. Apparently, we get one a month. Nice! A short while later, I come out of the nearby wash, all sparkly and clean, I hardly recognize the vehicle. Time to roll.
For the longest while, it is the same scenery in the same format, little had changed so I kinda space out for a while, reflecting upon the life I've created for myself and considering what I would like to change it to in the future. This is one of the many fun parts of driving. I've stopped along the way already, grabbed some lunch so at this point, I'm content to space and drive for a while. Out of the blue, I hear this urgent beeping. I sit up, pay more attention, and it turns out to be one of my gauges. The fuel is alarmingly low. This made no sense to me, since I had enough fuel to get form Sparks to SLC, but hey, why take the chance. As fortune would have it, I am in Battle Mountain when this happens. Again. What are the odds? So I stop at the Flying J once more, and again, the clerks have no idea what kind of battle happened here. Back to the road!
This is where things changed a bit. I was driving through the same landscape, but this time it was created in a different medium. There were still some dull greys in the sky, but mottled with blue. Sun beams poured between the clouds. Ahead in the distance, some of the clouds showed signs of rain. In the light, the wispy filaments trailed toward the cold, dry earth below. In more than a few instances, the wind sculpted the delicate rain strands into what looked like a double helix. Perhaps a trick of the sunbeams, or maybe it was just so. There was one patch of rain in particular that looked as if the Earth itself were on fire, emitting a rainy flame into the clouds above. The sun was too high in the sky for rainbows, but none were needed for this amazing scene.
Some while later, I crossed into Utah (again). The same panoramic view appeared as I crossed into Wendover. Still breathtaking. This time, however, things would be a little different. I pulled over some nine miles down the road at a rest area. I got out and stretched, used the rest room and saw the sign “FOOT WASH” Apparently, this is a beach of some sort, at least when there's water in the basin I imagine. I strolled to the basin, spying some trace of water. Nothing to swim in this time of year to be sure, or even wade in, as may be supposed by the foot washing station.. I was surprised to find that the ground was a very solid white clay. The rest area and highway are laid upon cinders which totally stick to your boots after walking around in clay. There are also all sorts of salt deposits one the ground (go figure). Being of curious mind, I tasted them in the tradition of Marie Curie. Except I'm not going to die from tasting this stuff. The salt formed little slivers, like tiny ice crystals. As expected, they tasted salty. Just had to be sure.
As before, my load is picking up west of SLC, so there really isn't much point in going to the terminal, aside from the fact that this is where I have been routed to. SO I drive past where I want to stop for the night and get close to the terminal. I hit my arrive at final macro somewhere outside the gate, and turn right around. Sweet. Nothing like not having to stop. And now I'm down for the night again, at the same truck stop as I was before. Lots of similarities, but just enough difference to be worthwhile.
<3 :) Cool that you tasted the salt.
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