Drinking Coffee in Utah

This morning I find myself sitting at my desk, drinking a hot cup of coffee.  I’ve just eaten a mug of oatmeal (mugs are easier to clean and store better) and Penny is looking outside at a golden daybreak.  Last night was cold.  The coldest it has been for a while on my journey across the Southwest. It’s only about 45F in the bus right now, but warms up a little bit more as the sun continues to rise. I’m drinking from the mug I got in Sligo, Ireland. That seems so long ago now.  Each sip I take warms me up on the inside, the heat of the mug helps unstiffen my fingers and bring them back from the numbness as I type.

I’m in southern Utah, about half an hour north of Cedar City.  I’ll be back in town tomorrow to get new tires for the bus.  The ones I have now are the old stock Continental bus tires.  Half a dozen smooth, flat grooves running in parallel which are great for going round and round, but not much else.  It will be good to have new rubber on the road. It’s still late winter up north.  Donner Pass was socked in and the Sierras showed people that Mother Nature is still the boss.  

The coffee tastes good. It’s hot.  Outside, the meadowlarks are singing. Last night was cold, but my diesel heater kept the bus nice and cozy.  That and the all-weather tires are going to be a game-changer. But cold is still cold and with running the heater comes calculations that I always have to be running through my head. Burning fuel means replacing it, and replacing it means driving, which means more dollars going into the gas tank and less time with my butt in the chair.

I’m not running the heater this morning. That’s what hoodies are for. And coffee. Tonight is supposed to be colder, dipping down below freezing.  It’s been two months since I’ve seen that. You can only take so much of the Arizona desert before you miss trees and grass and yes, even snow.  I see lots of it on the mountain peaks across the valley. Creosote and palo verde have surrendered to sage and prairie grass here.  Yesterday I visited Parawan Petroglyphs.  It was good to see evidence of people, and I don’t mean the occasional RVer sitting in the low winter sun in a folding chair with their socks pulled up to their knees. Life for people in the deep desert is an affront against nature and it shows.  The signs of civilization, thousands of years old make me feel less out of place.

A Native American man stood in the visitor area playing a flute and then a hand drum. The melody of the flute echoed off the canyons in a mournful tune, twisting its way up amongst the images of snakes and warriors gods and corn tassels. His drumming was rhythmic, monotonous. It reminded me of the sound of my wheels on the road. Dun-dun-dun-DUN-dun-dun-dun and on and on.

The people of Utah are friendly but not welcoming. As I sip my coffee, I have to smile at the comparison.  Ireland was welcoming and mostly friendly. An entire nation, civilization, and culture based on taking the piss out of someone. Their language might be less intimidating to learn than their humor.  Utah is different. 

People smile and have a brightness and optimism in their eyes. Outsiders are just another passing cloud on a sunny day. But there are signs. The tucked in button up shirts. The long dresses. Sometimes the snoods. Those wake you up when you realize you’ve been watching a heartbeat too long. The level of confidence, not quite arrogant, but something else. There is hospitality here, but don’t get too comfortable. I see a little bit of panic too. Like that look neighbors get when a moving van pulls into their cul-de-sac. Newcomers are coming in a new wave of colonization. You see that too in the tattoos and crop tops. I’m just passing through and I can see the look of relief whenever I say this.

Today, I have lots of work to do. Working on two stories.  Maybe outlining a third if there is time. The work has been steady lately. For now I’ll focus on that and worry about the pay later. It’s the life I have chosen. I get to open my eyes every morning and my job is to just pay attention. It’s easier to do in a bus than it is four walls. Sure the showers are cold, and infrequent. Sometimes you can see your breath inside your home. But Penny gets me up and moving. Going on hikes or throwing that tennis ball. You have to keep moving.  So many of us slow down and eventually grind to a halt. It’s easy to do when you’ve set your roots so deep.

Thanks for Reading!

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