Thursday, July 07, 2005
PART TWO: Shoshone on, you crazy diamond
There's something I forgot to add about the Las Vegas experience. I was a bit sick of writing by then. It was starting to feel like work. Anyways, the point I wanted to add was that after slapping a tenner into the pokies that are actually IN the bars (Oh, yes, readers, very, very beaut), I picked up my drink and went to suck back a little through these dumb straws that I'm not sure if we have in Oz, but they're everywhere in the Americas. They're pink and white (exclusively), short, thin, hard, and, as I soon discovered, really sharp at the ends. So I picked up my drink, went for a sluck, then promptly stabed myself, HARD, up my left nostril. I said nothing of course, I was being very brave. It wasn't until I sat down with my companion that I felt like my nose was running. And it was -- with warm, sticky PLASMA. I only tell this story as it was the first of a running joke of nosebleeds, which were all the more hilarious given I'd never had one before.
Anyhoo, after our one-night Vegas experience which could have only been more complete if my companion had allowed strippers in the room (which she wouldn't), we took the long way back to LA via Death Valley so we could check out some desert. Apparently we have some of that burny bastard back home, but I've never seen it. We stayed in a little town called Pahrump (something like that), also in Nevada, which was just like Vegas, except really small. And shit. Except we did watch some late-night adult fantasy on HBO, which is my new favourite TV station. And not just for the late-night adult fantasy.
Next day was hot. 95 farenheit, pushing 40 c. But the kooky shit was, as we rolled out of the hotel carpark we noticed a very high mountain. With SNOW on it. Crazy. We drove an hour or so to find a town near the entrance to Death Valley National Park called Shoshone (Sha-shown-ee), pop 48. And it was tops. Most of my knowledge of the Shoshone area comes second hand from this guy Dave who runs a vegetarian cafe serving what just might be the only decent ESPRESSO (you have to scream it loud in the US or no-one understands) in the Western Whatevers. It started as a mineral mining town a hundred or so years ago and is now populated almost entirely by mad scientists, bitter novelists and refugees of Corporate America. Like him. He threw in the towel as a ladies' outfitter and moved out there with his wife and son. The wife, being French, couldn't take it, and moved away. Now Dave lives there with his boy, runs his business, and takes his pig for walks. Yes, his pig. And she's a little cutie. Every time I walked past his place, I found myself drawn to her. I've seen few examples of true, pure joy in my life, but the delight of that fit little black pig when you scratch her beyond the ears is about as close as it gets.
After a night in a room, chilled by what the manager described in drawl as a "swamp cooler", refreshing ourselves with two-dollar forties (big longies), we hit the road again to the actual Death Valley. It's basically a big salt pan, hot as fuck, and not really that impressive. But the surrounding countryside was truly awesome. After every corner, another rock mountain would reveal itself. And it is harsh country. Rock, after rock, after rock. We pulled over to check out a little cave that was on the side of the road. Just standing there in the blistery heat, I could understand what Dave was on about. You could really find yourself out here. Maybe you wouldn't like what you find, but you could do it. We're pretty sure we heard a rattlesnake. We definitely saw tumblweeds. And we definitely saw a jackrabbit. Ever seen one? FUNNY-LOOKIN'. No creature needs ears that size. Except when there are rattlesnakes around, I guess. Maybe they're for shade. All in all, I found the Nevada countryside awe-inspiring and incredibly restful. I even found myself thinking it could be a good place to set up the compound. The land is really cheap. And you can have as many guns as you want.
Anyhoo, after our one-night Vegas experience which could have only been more complete if my companion had allowed strippers in the room (which she wouldn't), we took the long way back to LA via Death Valley so we could check out some desert. Apparently we have some of that burny bastard back home, but I've never seen it. We stayed in a little town called Pahrump (something like that), also in Nevada, which was just like Vegas, except really small. And shit. Except we did watch some late-night adult fantasy on HBO, which is my new favourite TV station. And not just for the late-night adult fantasy.
Next day was hot. 95 farenheit, pushing 40 c. But the kooky shit was, as we rolled out of the hotel carpark we noticed a very high mountain. With SNOW on it. Crazy. We drove an hour or so to find a town near the entrance to Death Valley National Park called Shoshone (Sha-shown-ee), pop 48. And it was tops. Most of my knowledge of the Shoshone area comes second hand from this guy Dave who runs a vegetarian cafe serving what just might be the only decent ESPRESSO (you have to scream it loud in the US or no-one understands) in the Western Whatevers. It started as a mineral mining town a hundred or so years ago and is now populated almost entirely by mad scientists, bitter novelists and refugees of Corporate America. Like him. He threw in the towel as a ladies' outfitter and moved out there with his wife and son. The wife, being French, couldn't take it, and moved away. Now Dave lives there with his boy, runs his business, and takes his pig for walks. Yes, his pig. And she's a little cutie. Every time I walked past his place, I found myself drawn to her. I've seen few examples of true, pure joy in my life, but the delight of that fit little black pig when you scratch her beyond the ears is about as close as it gets.
After a night in a room, chilled by what the manager described in drawl as a "swamp cooler", refreshing ourselves with two-dollar forties (big longies), we hit the road again to the actual Death Valley. It's basically a big salt pan, hot as fuck, and not really that impressive. But the surrounding countryside was truly awesome. After every corner, another rock mountain would reveal itself. And it is harsh country. Rock, after rock, after rock. We pulled over to check out a little cave that was on the side of the road. Just standing there in the blistery heat, I could understand what Dave was on about. You could really find yourself out here. Maybe you wouldn't like what you find, but you could do it. We're pretty sure we heard a rattlesnake. We definitely saw tumblweeds. And we definitely saw a jackrabbit. Ever seen one? FUNNY-LOOKIN'. No creature needs ears that size. Except when there are rattlesnakes around, I guess. Maybe they're for shade. All in all, I found the Nevada countryside awe-inspiring and incredibly restful. I even found myself thinking it could be a good place to set up the compound. The land is really cheap. And you can have as many guns as you want.
