Salt, And Other Things

10/1/23

Draper, UT

Today was one of my favorites so far, but that almost makes me want to talk about it the least.

While sleeping in the car last night, the rain came washing over the walls and roof, almost like waves, crashing down around me. I had a hard time falling asleep, and it reminded me of a time when I slept perfectly well in very similar conditions, aside from being in a tent on a mountain outside Joshua Tree this past January.

I thought, I should be out there right now, not here in this van. It’s too easy.

That’s something that Hannah and I talked about yesterday, as I brainstormed ways to add more adventure into my life. For us, living in a van on the road is way easier than we thought. Especially after doing a similar trip with four people packed into a Subaru Forester.

I’ve also been thinking, because of how much time we spend in the car, on the road, how easy it is to go most of your life without really experiencing nature. Driving somewhere and getting out to take a picture isn’t experiencing nature. Even a day hike is not really experiencing nature. That doesn’t come until you are truly at nature’s mercy. Depending on it for food and water, seeking shelter from it or in it, feeling the weather on bare skin. After all, that’s what I, and people like me, are really after.

So why am I spending so much time inside a van? As I lay there, trying to sleep, I thought about friends of mine who recently completed real experiences of their own. Long through hikes, months alone in the backcountry, multi-day summit attempts. I envied those people, feeling soft in comparison. I thought to myself “how long are you going to stand on the edge before you jump in?”

So, after a leisurely morning, my internal driver started screaming at me. Given that they day ended up being far more beautiful than I anticipated (my weather reports have been fairly off lately), I figured it would be the best time to make a run for the Bonneville Salt Flats, in northwest Utah.

On our way, just past the Great Salt Lake, we stopped to switch drivers. I noticed a large rock face on the other side of the interstate, and after consulting Mountain Project, determined that there was a 4 pitch sport route available. I convinced Hannah to give it a try, figuring we’d have enough time before the sun set to get to Bonneville.

After two pitches, the wind was starting to make me nervous. The kind of wind that could blow your foot off a hold if it wanted to. And, the kind of wind that makes communication between belay stations nearly impossible (remember I just returned my walkie-talkies). So we finished the second pitched and rapped off, getting down to the car around 4:30pm. But by then I was already starting to feel more adventurous.

Then we get to the salt flats, and they’re incredible. Some parts are wet from the rain in the last day, and they create huge reflective surfaces. We wander around taking pictures. I sample some of it (four pinches overall), and it’s the best salt I’ve ever tasted.

Then we take Beeby out onto the flats, something I’ve always wanted to do. I think I hit 90 mph. So flat you wouldn’t believe it. That, mixed with huge sections of standing water only centimeters deep, created the sensation that we weren’t really driving, more gliding across some strange ocean. We stopped a couple miles out, nearly in the center the flats. It felt like standing on a glass sheet as far as the eye can see. The entire sky from horizon to horizon reflected.

The strange thing was that part of me kept trying to convince myself that I was having a unique experience. I wondered how many people I know have been there before, and if I was just having the same experience they had, which wasn’t enough for me. In order to avoid any of the annoyance of comparing outdoor experiences (something that I’m been conditioned to do based on social media and meeting outdoor enthusiasts from all over), I find it almost better to keep the best ones to myself.

The thing is, all I’m doing is comparing my life to friends whose lives are either just as adventurous as mine, or more so. When in reality, I know plenty of people who would love to have some of the experiences that I get to have.

This thought occurred to me this past spring, and I’ll spare you the long story, but it resulted in me wondering if maybe the reason we adventure is to share our experiences with the people in our lives who don’t get to.