The road to anywhere
Just recently returned from a really fun project that involved driving over 3500 miles through the Nevada “outback”. More images on the way!
Just recently returned from a really fun project that involved driving over 3500 miles through the Nevada “outback”. More images on the way!
Well this is awkward.
These decent-sized creosote bushes don’t really account for a lot of shade, but it’s more comfortable than being under the vehicle.
There’s no way you could handle staying inside that thing, even with the windows down. So yeah- a nap under the biggest, shadiest bush you could find made sense considering your options. Until (and well after sunset) you woke up from your hazy fade to a snake slowly brushing by your neck.
You reflexively swipe at it but in doing so you also whack it right in the mouth. The snake’s fangs are stuck in your palm! You throw your arm in a wild arc, trying to sling the snake off. This works, but you also feel the heat from it’s venom start to throb in your wrist.
It’s pumped ever faster by your own startled heart up into your armpit, tingling. This is happening way too fast.
You immediately jump up and rush to the driver’s side door trying to escape this waking nightmare, but you feel a tingling in your neck and nausea start to take over. You stumble over the asphalt shoulder as you swing around the front of the vehicle, splaying headlong into the road itself. You can barely get your hands out to stop your fall and your head just
donks
off the asphalt like some cartoon sound effect. You note the sound well, because it seems so much louder than the blood that’s pounding through your eardrums.
What’s in a name like Death Valley, right?
Your arms feel like they aren’t yours anymore.
You taste something like metal in your mouth. Your vision begins to tunnel.
Your chest shudders. You can barely see down the road anymore…
Can’t even move… and so you wait; with a faintly sinking, almost roadkill feeling?
You can start over, if you’d like.
The town of Rhyolite looks, well… ruined.
But you’re here now, so might as well have a look around.
You can take a closer look at the ruins of the three-story tall building just ahead or check out a lone train caboose that seems to still be standing on the other side of town.
Wait… is that a sign?
From a distance you thought this was some kind of crucifixion and now that you’re closer, you realize that actually might be the intended effect.
It looks like artist Dre Peeter’s wood sculpture is called Icara which you presume is the feminine equivalent of Icarus (that sassy son of Daedalus who flew too close to the sun). Metaphor or not, the sun is really good at pointing out hubris. Cool heads prevail.
From here you can take a closer look at the base (which seems to have booty shorts nailed to it) or you can investigate the ghosts nearby.
This appears to be the truck that either got the most care over the years… or else it just suffered a lot less tragedy than the others.
It looks like it’s pretty decent shape, maybe it even still runs? Someone around here must be collecting these trucks, you think.
But who (and where) the hell are they? Enough trucks already; you decide to head over to the lively side of town: the Post Office.
I love it when people wire lamps into the branches of their trees. This particular lamp is hanging up in a junkyard in Las Vegas.
The sign bears one word: Esmeralda… where have you heard that before? You’re pretty sure it means Emerald in Spanish, and it is the name of a neighboring county here in Nevada. But there’s not much else about this sign to help you out.
You can still go over to the massive ruins of the three-story tall building or head to the lone train caboose.
Maybe it’s just the air around here but these ghosts remind you of some early Beastie Boys moment, frozen in time.
They seem to want you to turn around and… oh look, maybe they’re pointing to that other ghost!
Weird, how did you not see that before? And the ghost these three are pointing towards seems to have… a bicycle?
Did it just get here or something?
You gotta check-ch-check-check-check-ch-check it out… What-wha-what-what-what’s it all about? (RIP Adam Yauch)
This crusty old metal Coca-Cola sign was something I found laying in the dust of East Las Vegas. There’s a little paint still hanging on, but for the most part it’s camouflaged against the desert floor.