Impulse control is for the weak-minded, and timid souls who can’t come to grips with the concept of their own mortality.
If you’ve ever found yourself wondering, “what this RED button does”, I can tell you the answers is ALWAYS, “There’s only one way to find out.”
Factoring in consequences is for chumps, fuddy-duddies, and buzzkills.
And, while it is true that I have frequently been hoist by my own petard, I maintain that these things might have happened to me anyway, even without the act of satisfying my curiosity.
I tell you all of this to help you better understand why, abruptly, I drove 500 miles in the wrong direction yesterday.
It was “wrong” only insomuch as, it was east – back in the direction I had already been.
And, while this means it will be, at least, a 1000 round trip, to get me back to where I was (a heavy expenditure to someone on very limited funds) I stand firm in my decision. Sort of.
I am back in Farmington, NM. More on why in a moment. But first, here is what I saw.
A lot of nothingness. But, not just nothingness…BARREN nothingness (pic related)
If you have ever played the video game, “The Legend of Zelda;Twilight Princess” (you haven’t) then you will know two things:
- The game is a lot manlier than the title seems to indicate.
- This thing appeared in the canyon area of the game…
complete with spinner track
I saw Lake Powell. The pic does not capture the enormity. Big rigs driving by looked like big rigs for ants or something…
It’s a panorama. Click it.
From there, much more nothingness… (several spaces left blank to represent)
On the outskirts of Page, AZ I picked up a hitchhiker because, that’s how I roll (no consideration for consequences, that is).
He was a young Navajo fella. Mid 20s. And, I cannot emphasize this strongly enough…batshit crazy.
He mumbled to himself non-stop. When I asked where he was going, he replied, barely breaking his mumble, “Down the road.” Uhm…yeah. ok.
After several minutes he decided to get chatty with me. He introduced himself as, “Ginger.”
For those of you who have never been out west, among the Navajo, the gene for red hair is really recessive. If Ginger was carrying it, he did not show outward evidence of it.
After making him repeat his name twice, I still wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly, so I said cautiously, “OK, well…GIN…GER… (pause while I waited for him to correct me. He did not)…what is it you do for a living?”
Utterly without shame, or pride for that matter, he replied, “Steal bells.”
My mind raced, exploring all the possible things I could have misheard and decided that he must work at an, as yet, unsmelled by me, tire factory making steel-belted radials. So, I said, “Steel belts?”
Ginger, as if talking to one who is a bit slow, repeated more clearly, “I steal bells.”
“Oh. Well, that’s nice.” I said when I couldn’t think of anything else.
Several more minutes of silence and then Ginger said, as if I would understand, “Porcupine Mesa.”
I gripped the wheel. My mind raced. After a minute I said, “OK. I give up. What is Porcupine Mesa?”
He said, “Where I live. We passed it a few minutes ago.” And, he continued to stare through the windshield, seemingly unconcerned that we were heading deeper into the desert.
Not in the market for a traveling companion, I cut a bootlegger’s turn and sped back.
When I dropped him off, he leaned back into the EM-50 Phantom Rambler, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a Rawling’s baseball.
“Are these made in China?” He asked me.
“Costa Rica.” I said, not really sure why I knew that.
“Where’s that?” He asked.
“Jurassic Park. ” I said.
He nodded and closed the door.
You cautious people never would have had that interaction. Just sayin.
Night fell. I continued on.
I went to the World Famous Four Corners Monument!
This is a granite slab on the ground in the spot where Utah, Colorado, Arizona, and New Mexico meet! It was built to withstand earthquakes, blowing sand, harsh sunlight and time. You couldn’t damage this marker if you left it alone with a toddler – the most destructive force known to nature!
To be precise, I didn’t go there. I went 150′ from there. To “protect” it, they close the gate at 5 pm to deprive nighttime travelers of seeing it unsupervised.
So, now I am in Farmington, NM. 22°F.
I came here because of that rich kook, Forrest Fenn, that I mentioned in a previous post. He claims to have hidden a chest filled with gold and jewels somewhere in this area…
about 5,000,000 sq.mi.
He wrote a poem with nine “clues” that lead to the treasure.
What the clues lack in cryptic-ness, they more than make up for in vagueness.
Because of this, he has since released some follow up clues. For instance, early in the poem he makes reference to the chest being hidden below the “home of Brown”. He later released a statement saying that the gold isn’t associated with any structure because treasure hunters started digging up outhouses (yick). I shit you not.
For laughs, I read the poem. There is no way anyone could make sense of this. Then, something clicked and I thought, “I wonder if there is any chance it is hidden…”
As always, there is only one way to find out. I spun the Rambler around just to take a look.
Win or lose – I’ve already found my riches in the love of a good woman.