Beyond Evanston

Back in 2007 and 2008, I went on several road trips and put together a travel journal after each trip. I selected photos, arranged them in chronological order, then wrote some words to accompany them. They were saved as PDFs and emailed to a short list of people I knew.

I’m at least a decade late to this blogging thing but I thought I would dig up some of those travel journals and convert them to blog posts. This is one of the first.

MAY 31, 2007 • SAN FRANCISCO

On the last day of another freelance gig, I made a two-week rental car reservation.

On my way to a haircut appointment I remember that Pat Benatar will be playing at the Silver Legacy in Reno in a few hours. Although Pat Benatar would be an excellent way to start the trip, I keep my haircut appointment because I don’t want to venture into the outlaw states sporting long silky locks. The only stop I have planned is Deadwood, SD, mainly because I love the HBO show.

I will also be passing through Evanston.

It was a late and cold November night in 1996 when I drove out of Salt Lake City headed toward Denver. I had been on the road for a month and I was tired and my bones were cold from having spent too many nights in the van. I was going to see a little bit of Colorado then head back to San Francisco where I had moved to from Orange County just a month before without a job or an apartment. My stuff was in storage and I had been sleeping on a friend’s couch. My roadtrips were rather frugal then — I had a small mattress in the van, I showered at truckstops and campgrounds, and gas prices were still far below $2 per gallon.

I was taking a curve on the 80 somewhere between Park City, UT and the Wyoming border when I saw a deer crossing the road for the first time in my life.

And I crashed into it.

It tumbled over the van and to the right. The brakes locked up and the van screeched to a halt with its rear half still in the traffic lane. The impact had crushed in the front center of the van, which bent the steering column, which jammed the brake pedal all the way to the floor.

Never before had I faced an ordeal of this magnitude in my rather sheltered life and I hadn’t a clue what to do next.

To my shock and relief, not 5 minutes had passed when a police car pulled over. It was a cop who works in Park City and lives in the first town past the Wyoming border, and he just happened to be on his way home.

And that is how a long-haired, vegetarian Asian guy who had just escaped Orange County ended up spending Thanksgiving in Evanston, Wyoming.

I will never forget the look of pity/condolence/mirth on the tow truck driver’s face when I asked about places to eat and mentioned that I am a vegetarian. Nor will I forget riding the one and only “taxi” in town which was an old white limousine driven by a tiny woman who appeared to be older than the history of automobiles.

Other things I won’t forget:

The guy I spoke to at the body shop (who had also been released from prison recently and hit a deer) who wore black suede chaps with fringes over his Wrangler jeans
Hunting for Thanksgiving dinner at the gas station food mart, hoping for something like a frozen bean & cheese burrito and finding a frozen bean & cheese chimichanga instead (ooh, exotic!)
Waiting 8 hours for the Greyhound bus (not realizing that there was only one bus during holiday schedule) and the 16-hour ride back to San Francisco
Looking up Evanston in a travel guide book afterwards then coming across the names of the places I had dined in and reading “You might want to take a look in the kitchen before deciding to eat here” without further explanation

For a long time, I referred to my Wyoming experience as The Ordeal. I was not taking pictures in those days. Other than the damaged van shown here, no other photos were taken during the trip.

JUNE 2 • WINNEMUCCA, NV

Appropriately named after its owners, not customers. I spent the first night of the trip here.

As usual, shortly after checking in to the attached hotel, I was wistfully dreaming about the swanky room I could’ve stayed in with the money I just lost. Not that there are any swanky places in Winnemucca.

I didn’t like this car until I realized that it has satellite radio.

I’d never touched one of those before. Now I’m ruined.

I was spending $50-60/a day on gas. That takes a lot of romance out of a road trip.

Getting through the rest of Nevada and Utah would have been boring if it weren’t for the clouds. We just don’t get skies like this in much of California.

Stuff like this helps put some romance back in

On a day like this in the middle of a nowhere like central Nevada, you can urinate in the open and fly just by looking up.

WELLS, NV

One of many small towns with a ghost downtown waiting in vain for a second chance. I saw flyers announcing the city’s efforts to renovate and revitalize downtown.

I stopped here again during a road trip in the winter of 2010 and this is what the street looked like.

At the visitor center, which was unattended, I picked up a map for a ghost town named Metropolis.

Metropolis, NV. 12.5 unpaved miles northwest of Wells.

I was reluctant about driving here because I have driven on too many dirt roads only to find just more dirt where something historical used to be. There wasn’t much left here other than this school building but I'm glad I got here during this weather condition.

There was nothing but salt flats along the 80 until I got to Salt Lake City where I stopped for dinner. It was getting dark but I did not want to stay in SLC or the resort town of Park City, which is the only thing past SLC until you get to Wyoming.

Suppressing the images of deer galloping through my mind, I continued east toward Evanston.

The night wasn’t as late as the one 11 years ago and there were many other cars on the highway, which helped calm me.

This is where the tow truck dropped me off around 2 am on that November night.

Although I don’t remember this place being particularly clean, I felt that I should stay here again. I asked the woman behind the counter if she is one of the owners from 11 years ago and told her that I had stayed here after a deer incident. She stood still for a moment then said, “I remember…. You had a blue van, right?”

This McDonald’s parking lot doubles as the Greyhound bus stop and it is inside this McDonald’s where I had spent 8 hours waiting for the bus and had a conversation with yet another fellow who had recently been released from prison.

Behind the wheel of a functioning car, Evanston didn’t look so bad. It has a historic downtown with old buildings and the locals were out gardening and cleaning the sidewalks.

Apparently the only movie theater in town has been closed since a fire that happened while Eragon was playing.

I had hoped to get more pictures of the place that had been occupying such a significant place in my memory but I just didn’t see anything of interest. I put the lens cap back on and rolled out of town to see more of Wyoming, beyond Evanston.

ROWLINS, WY

This historic prison is open for guided tours. Even on a June afternoon, it was chilly inside. The inmates back in the day had to endure the arctic temperatures and shower in freezing water. However, they were allowed to paint their cells whatever color they wanted. Most of them chose dark colors so that their activities would be harder to observe.

Just like my taste in music, I go gay for roads that look alternative/obscure/out-of-print.

I saw some of Cheyenne but didn’t stay long or take pictures. It felt a bit too crowded for me. I used to hit all the big cities during my early road trips in my 20s but it’s the opposite now. I don’t want to deal with towns that have more than two freeway exits.

Like most highways I was on during this trip, this one going into Nebraska was nearly deserted.

CARHENGE

Spent the night in Alliance, NE then came here in the morning just because it is only 3 miles outside of town.

CUSTER, SD

I am now in the Black Hills, which is where Deadwood is.

This is a preserved/recreated ghost town at the location where General Custer used to stop to water his horses. It consists of about 30 buildings filled with old furniture.

The children of the people who run this place hang out in the saloon building and chat with the visitors.

The sky to the west is almost black and a strong wind is blowing in through the cracks. There were no other visitors while I was here.

Got a room for the night in Custer then ate dinner at a bar while a guy on stage did acoustic covers of 70s tunes, including a “lesser-known song” by the Doobie Brothers, which turned out to be the best selection in his set.

I didn’t know that this was in the Black Hills.

It can be seen from the road. There'’s no need to go to the official visitor center and pay the entrance fee.

What I saw were mostly bison and deer.

RAPID CITY, SD

is the largest city in Black Hills. The only reason why I came here is to eat at this Chinese restaurant, and the only reason why I wanted to eat here was to see the photos on the walls, which were shot by the restaurant owner — Robert Wang — who happens to be a rather famous photographer. He was not there but I spoke to his wife briefly.

I never would’ve imagined these photos would be in here. It’s just an ordinary Chinese restaurant with an all-you-can-eat buffet and pasty families stuffing their faces.

After a buffet which wasn’t nearly as good as the photos, I took county roads through the Black Hills to get to

DEADWOOD, SD

Parking is not allowed on the main street — an ordinance I totally support.

I stayed at the Bullock Hotel, which was built and run by Seth Bullock (the town sheriff in the 1890s) himself. Many people claim to have seen his ghost here.

I had preserved peaches at room temperature in honor of Al Swearengen—who is, by far, my favorite character in the HBO show. You’ll have to watch the show to get the peach reference.

Not to my surprise, the town felt like an amusement park (like Knotts Berry Farm) with slot machines. Legalized gambling, and more recently, the popularity of the HBO show have saved the town from dying like so many mining towns did.

Graves of Wild Bill and Calamity Jane, who were also characters in the HBO show

Yes, I withdrew money just so I could have a receipt that says “Deadwood”

Wells Fargo is everywhere now. In ’94 they were starting to open branches outside of California for the first time and were met with anti-Californian TV commercials from local banks in the Northwest. The last two lines of one commercial I saw went something like:

“What are you people, thieves?”

“No, we’re Californians.”

BADLANDS, SD

is an area to the east of the Black Hills. Its landscape made it a popular location for filming sci-fi movies.

Not so clean anymore... but the satellite radio is still going strong — letting me enjoy commercial-free programming even at a place like this.

WALL, SD

Wall Drug used to be a little store near the north entrance to the Badlands. One day they decided to put up FREE ICE WATER signs on the highway. Today the store takes up an entire block.

And, yes, you can still get free ice water.

They have some interesting window displays.

and a place for travelers of faith, which was completely empty.

I’m about halfway through the trip time-wise and don’t have a return route planned yet.

I decided to go to Yellowstone National Park and figure out the rest there.

I approached it from the northeast and I think I enjoyed the views from the steep, winding roads through the snow-covered mountains that lead into the park more than the park itself.

Yellowstone National Park

I heard a ranger woman saying, in a stern voice, “Sir, it is ILLEGAL in Yellowstone to harass the animals.” I did not see whom she was talking to but I pictured him looking like the sort of jackass who would be featured on When Animals Attack.

I drank a lot of Bud and Coors because those usually were my only options in the bars along the way.

As the “gateway to the Tetons,” Jackson, WY was infested with tourists on this summer day.

BEND, OR

has changed/grown so much. It looks nothing like the little town I visited in 1994.

Standing in this huge shopping mall, I easily could’ve believed that I was in Orange County, CA. But Jamba Juice tasted oh so refreshing after the dusty drive and days in the MEAT country. I stocked up on food for I knew not where I would be spending the night.

It turned out to be Bend because motels were plenty and prices competitive.

Next day, I drove south then made a left onto a by-way to revisit Christmas Valley.

FORT ROCK, OR

But first I stopped at Fort Rock, which is a town of about 30 people, a gas station, liquor store, and old buildings that have been gathered from the surrounding areas.

It is a lot like the ghost town I visited earlier in Custer, SD but I enjoyed this one more.

THE LOST FOREST

A long time ago I read a book titled The Man in the Tree, which is about a man who could bring objects from alternate worlds into this one. Through a character in the story, the Oregonian writer Damon Knight gives the reader the directions to a place called the Lost Forest which really is in Oregon but not on most maps and requires an off-road vehicle to reach it. It is a sparse forest of evergreens scattered across an expanse of white, volcanic ash sand. I think when I realized that traveling can make it possible for me to make my own footprints in places I learned about in books in such a way, I fell in love with it. As a lad growing up in a small town in the Orient, I thought that walking to the other side of the train station (which was less than 2 blocks away from the house) was far, and when I moved with my family to California, it took me over 10 years to venture outside of the state. So, whatever traveling I get up the nerve to do now is quite an accomplishment.

Anyway, the first and only time (I did not drive out there this time as it is a rough ride) I made it to the Lost Forest, I was 32 and just beginning to grow a new interest in something for the first time in years. And I spent that night in a town named Christmas Valley. As my head lay on the motel bed, it was like drifting to sleep inside a dream.

The motel is still here. There is no one in the office except for a black cat who soon settles down on my lap while I sit and wait. Instead of the friendly old lady I remember from 7 years ago, I am greeted by a feral middle-aged woman who eyes me as if I had trespassed into her home and wiped my ass on her drapes. Perhaps she is the bitter daughter who inherited a motel and a life she didn’t want, or she simply doesn’t like the likes of me. Maybe I should’ve left right then but I check in and am given the key to room #3.

CHRISTMAS VALLEY, OR

The room features a large dead mosquito in the center of the bath tub and a satellite box hooked up to a 70s TV with wood paneling. Later on in the afternoon the feral woman throws me another venomous look in the parking lot but the day draws to a close without incident.

ALTURAS, CA

I stopped here for another chile relleno and noticed an old hotel that smells of photo opportunities inside.

But its doors were locked and the place might be closed permanently. I wrote down the # of the realtor (whose office is next door but also locked because it’s sunday) and made a mental note to return someday and try to get inside before it is gone forever.

What?? You guys are NOT showing Shrek the Third???

A few miles before I got here, I thought I heard heavy raindrops on the windshield. It was the sound of of bugs, lots and lots of bugs.

I’m glad this didn’t happen to me during my 2 weeks, 9 states, and 5000+ miles.

The remainder of the drive back to SF was picture-less.

I got two weeks of freelance work when I came back but I have nothing lined up for next month. I sure covered a lot of ground in a short period of time and checked off a lot of places, like I was on tour without a band or fans, but I’m having a hard time concluding this journal. Somehow the trip feels unfinished.

After the two weeks of work, I repack my bags.