10/21- Salt Lake City, Utah

The scenery I awoke to was stunning. One giant mountain rose up behind me and another rose up a little ways off to the west as well. I was having another one of those lazy morning feelings, when in all logical reality I should have been panicking from the get go about being stuck in the Deadzone that is Utah. I could've cared less, and was confident against rumors that things would work out.

Slowly I packed up by about 9:30am and made my way over to the Flying J for a nice liesurely breakfast. I was conscious, at the time, of a pattern Todd and I had noticed in time and liesurely mornings. Several times both of us separately have woken up around 9:30am and felt like not doing much in the morning. Sitting around writing, having breakfast, just pondering, which ever. Then around 12:30pm I feeling strikes us to get to the day finally, and when we do usually something quite phenomenal happens. Whether its picking up one really long interesting ride, or catching a serious of hops, or something else completely. Most times those inspiring or thought provoking days have happened they've had that kind of morning. So when I saw myself heading into the diner around that time I wondered if such a day was in store for me.

At my table there was one of those truck stop table phones. Between ordering and eating my food I called my Mom at work to catch up with what she was doing and tell her how my visit with her sister had gone. She was a bit busy, so couldn't talk long, but it was nice just touching base. I ate my meal and watched the news on TV completely unpressed about getting out and hitching for the day.

Sure enough, I was done and full by noon, paid my bill, brushed my teeth, and out in front of the place by 12:30pm. I was there for a bit. Maybe an hour passed before I got my first ride offer, though it was heading west. A couple of dread head hippies heading back to Northern Cal to go trimming. I liked the idea of riding with them, and thought about catching a ride with them back to the eastern edge of Nevada thinking a ride would be more likely there, but I wasn't willing to succumb to the rumors just yet.

Eventually I switched from being in front of the building to being out by the exit where more people could see me. While waiting, thinking on the principles of just being where I was, I set to writing a letter to Loreli. By 3pm I did end up with a ride. Jordan picked me up offering me a ride to the Flying J truck stop in the city. I jumped on it remembering Jorge's concern about trying to get a spot there late at night. He claimed it was always busy and never any parking after 6pm which sounded promising to me.

Jordan was another guy who went out of his way for me. He went so far as to research the address of the Flying J as well as going a little out of his way to get me there. He was going to pick up a new car he'd bought a week ago and had to return for some repairs. According to him he said if they can make him wait a week he can make them wait half an hour to get me where I need to go. He also believed he could get a ticket for picking up hitch hikers, but that he believed that law was stupid which was why he gave me the ride. Despite the reputation, Utah has some really nice people living there.

Once there, I set to finding myself a spot to nest in. There was a picnic table set perfectly by the corner of the building where the truckers all walk by to go inside, cars are all parked nearby, so they can see you, and the staff isn't staring at you from any windows. I dropped my pack so it was visible to all and got back into my letter.

A few hours of being there and I went back to wondering what I was missing. Was I doing something wrong, was there some lesson in this for me, what can I do to correct my situation? In all reality, no one was picking me up and that was that. I had moved to the center of the hive and wondering why no rides were coming. I decided to get myself moving around a little to see if that would be "stepping out the front door" of getting myself in some right spots. I sought out the Post Office for my letter to Loreli.

It was a bit of a hike, but not too bad. Along the way I could hear freight trains in the area and wondered if that would be a possibility. My aim at this point was to get anywhere clear of Utah. Victor had text me saying he was still stuck in Vegas with a broken truck, Grand Junction was seeming appealing, though a little south for my tastes, and then there was Wyoming of which all of my usual reservations for that state had oddly fallen away and it was looking quite appealing right about now.

I mailed my letter and returned to the J, this time actually spotting the train on my way back. As it turned out the track actually wrapped around the truck stop I was camping out at. This had hints of being somewhat of a sign in my mind, but at the same time I was resistant to making my first foray into train hopping just yet. I would say it had to do with fear, which is also a good indicator that something's pushing me that way, although it also didn't feel entirely right either.

I sat back down at the J for a bit then decided to explore other options. The truck stop wasn't in the best location. It was off of a sub-route and not an interstate, although not too far away were I-15 and I-80. Also I had run into a guy who gave me some tips on where to catch a train if I were to hop one. I wandered up that way toward the city to look into this hopping option, as well as scope out what the ramps looked like. I didn't find much in the way of anything helpful, and basically just found myself going for a stroll. I did, however, make a call on Amtrak and Greyhound to discover tickets to Grand Junction or Evanston were not terribly expensive. The sun was setting by now so I figured I'd get back to the Flying J. On my way a car pulled up to me.

The lady inside was specific. She said she didn't want to give me a ride but she wanted to help me out, and handed me $5. That perked me up a bit. When I got back I sat out for another hour or so, then went off for another stroll in a different direction to look over the train yards, some other ramps, and the possibility of just walking out through back roads. None of these options looked good when I saw them.

It was about 9pm now and I was ready to call it a day. Reasoning my options out I figured I would give the next day one more good solid try, and if all else failed I take the bus or the train out that night. I picked up some cardboard and found a perfect spot behind the truck stop amid some tall weeds for a good nights rest.

The morning would prove to have its new elements to my challenge. I returned to my table and began working on an actual sign, something I had yet to use on my own yet. While drawing it up some employees came to sit with me for a smoke and warned me that if management saw me flying the sign I'd be kicked out for sure. They continued on to say that management was thick that day and that every level from regional on down to local managers were inspecting the place because Pilot had just bought them out. I took this as a huge indicator that I was not to stay in Utah much longer.

I sat flying my flag from the table anyway. It was out of the view of the counter people, and I could easily hide it should any of the roaving management come out. In the meantime I'd let as many truckers and drivers get a look at it as I could to hopefully find my way out of there. Nothing took, and eventually I moved to in front of the store, then over to the truck exit, then back to in front of the store. Finally, after a day of spending an hour or so in each place I got cocky and moved to the exit of the regular car gas station part, in full view of the counter people. About ten minutes later two people came out and asked me to move across the street with my sign. I asked if I could stay where I was if I chucked the sign and they told me I was loitering and that was intolerable. Fair enough, I'm pretty sure I sabotaged myself subconsciously on that one anyway.

It was about 3pm then and plenty of day light left. I resolved to myself that this must be not only a lesson in patience, but money as well. Easily this could be seen as self conviction, but I'll portray it to myself however I like, thank you. I decided to just commit to taking either the 8:15pm bus to Evanston, WY or the 4:15am train to Grand Junction, CO and enjoy the city in the meantime without a hint of trying to hitch. There is the famous Salt Lake City library that I'd heard so much about for genealogical studies so I figured that would be my first stop.

Took me about an hour to get there, but once I did it truly was lovely. I even excited some of the locals when I asked where it was. One thing about Utah folk, they are extremely proud of their monuments. The guy at the library was hilarious too as he got into asking me if hitching life was as exciting as it was cracked up to be. I assured him I've never felt better or more alive in my life, and turned him on to the website. While online I ran into Todd for a quick chat and decided to take his suggestion of busing past Evanston, although only to Rock Springs and not Rawlings as he was suggesting.

When my time was up I made my way over to the Greyhound/Amtrak Station. This was one place in Salt Lake that I knew, as I've come through here many times. The debate was in my face then of taking the dollar difference ticket to Grand Junction and get myself on the low road and guarantee a stop over in Denver, or go straight on to Wyoming and get further west. I opted for Rock Springs.

Come midnight I was the only one getting off at the McDonalds stop over. I had debated just staying on, since the Rawlins stop was at 3:59am and the bus driver really had no clue who was getting on or off her bus at midnight or 4am. In fact she saw me with my pack on when they were reboarding and looked at me questioningly not quite believing this was my stop. It did seem like the honest thing to do though, which is important to me whether I'm caught or not.

I know the common argument that big corporations like Greyhound and such are stealing my money regularly with over charged pricing and such things, but I figure stealing is stealing regardless of whether your stealing from another thief or not. I had the same debate about the train hopping, and I'm still not sure about that answer. Am I caught up in law or morality? Not sure really with something like train hopping, or bus hopping for that matter.

Either way, I got out and found out the truck stop Sean had droppped me off at a month and a half ago was two miles down the highway. I got up on the darker edges of the interstate and walked until 1am to that Flying J and dropped in to the diner for some dinner. Back in my struggle to leave Salt Lake I'd asked Todd to post something a Craigslist under rideshares saying I was looking for a ride out of town. He embellished it to read that I was struggling to get home to Massachusetts where my sick father was and could anyone help since I was stranded. When I sat down for dinner I got a text from another Salt Laker concerned for my plight. Again, they weren't offering a ride, but I think they were offering a place to stay if I was stranded. Nice folks, they just don't want you in their car. Fair enough.

I ate, read, and wrote until 3am then crossed the road to some high rocks and made camp for the night. Regardless of what any of being stuck did or didn't mean, it felt good to be moving forward again.