Embracing The Savage - Part 6
From Utah, the obvious choice would be to head West or North. Instead, despite shitting on them in earlier parts of the series, I accepted an invitation from Fred the Brazilian and the two French girls I met in Santa Fe to meet them in Vegas. That’s the thing. One can highlight dubious areas and actions by people, even openly disagree with them, but still remain friends and enjoy a good time. Except that last part doesn’t really work out. The Vegas trip is a bust. After such a rewarding time being alone on the road, everything Vegas has to offer is plain boring. I spend one visit to a night club, one that many people would be desirous of, just wanting to leave.
Leave, I eventually do. Unlike in the Nicholas Cage movie. There is a 5 hour stretch in Nevada where there is nothing but highway. No gas stations. No towns. Nothing. The last thing you see is a warning stating that you need to fill up your tanks because you’ll be stranded otherwise. Of course, they still have speed guns along the way to keep you honest lest you think you’re on an autobahn.
That stretch and a pass through to Eastern Oregon, where no one ever goes, eventually leads to Idaho. Another place no-one goes apparently. Which is great for me as I find some hot springs all to myself. A welcome respite from the cold onset of winter.
In Boise, I stay at an empty hostel run by an attractive tall, blonde girl. She asks me to stay back after my first night and a chance to spend time with a beautiful woman wouldn’t need a second thought for most men. Or even me before I started this trip. What the fuck is happening?
Winter is what is happening. A chat in a Boise coffee-shop near its government buildings led to a suggestion from a stranger to head to Missoula, Montana. On the way, the green begins to give way to white. And as this was all unplanned, I don’t have the right gear to prevent me from freezing the proverbials off.
Which turns out well ultimately. After passing the time speaking with a young man who brought his parents to show them around the town he moved to, I begin exploring the scene. Missoula is a town that has re-emerged from it's history as a lumber and railroad town to be an education & healthcare hub for the state of Montana. It's also emerged as a destination for musicians and other artists. Spend less time hustling and jockeying and more time creating. Or eating like this cat.
There are cozy cafes, thrift stores, used book stores, live music and bars lining some of the streets of the town. And art galleries too:
Filled with culture, I make my way to a pizza joint to fill my belly. There, I exchange glances with a woman who I then show that the pizza slice display could be used to warm our hands. Her defences melt and a few hours later she invites me to brave the winter night with her rather than alone in a dorm room.
While I may have temporarily forgotten about certain biological possibilities in Boise, winter brings out the need for bodily warmth. The morning after, I make a hash of making eggs. She laughs and seems to see who I’m transforming into before even I’ve noticed. I grab my things from the dorm and stay in her spare room. We explore the pristine snow by a nearby creek together.
She’s very cautious about asking me to stay back longer, respecting the journey I’m on. Sure enough, I leave a couple of days later, but we stay in touch. She gives me a CD of her album as a parting gift and later sends me a 12 page story called “sandesh” about the time we spent together. It turns out her frustration with a malfunctioning fire-alarm was what led her out to the pizza place that first night.
The long drive from Missoula to Washington begins.
Part 7 coming soon.