East Canyon Drive

I drove to East Canyon Dam to watch the sunset today. The air was crisp and refreshing. The trees were green as they could possibly get. Lush, and cool. The water was calm and placid, blue and shimmery. It made me wonder how many years I would have to trace back to find myself standing under water. “Air” is playing in my car. So loud I can hear it as I walk down to the water side. I went up there to think, but surrounded by all the beauty and peacefulness, I find myself numb of thoughts; blank, and pleasant.
I climb back in my car to warm up. I sniff 30 milligrams of morphine and melt back into my seat. My nose is burning and my brain is buzzing. I touch myself. I sniff some water up my nose to clear the burning and rubbing my face yelp out a little moan.
After however many minutes of pleasure and relaxation, I decide its time to drive. I start to head home concentrating more on the atmosphere than the road, when I realize that East Canyon is now open. See it has been closed all of summer, for all the time I’ve lived here in this Great Salt Lake. So I turn around. I pass the gate that has been closed all these months and I enter a territory I’ve never been before.
It feels great. The trees line the street and travel up the mountains… so many flowing leaves and thick, lush, greenery that it’s hard to concentrate on the road. My brain’s still buzzing, Airs still blasting out of my “magically delicious” Ipod.
I feel so overtaken by beauty and peace; I drive ten miles under the speed limit. This is a place I’ve never traveled before and I have no clue where the end of this road will take me. And it feels amazing.
I gracefully turn the wheel to match the way the yellow lines bend and curve on the road. My body sways opposite of the car as I figure-eight my way up this new and fantastic canyon. I pass large red rocks of mountain and stare in awe. I casually glance down behind me to the tree filled valley I’m leaving behind and I wonder just where it is I’m going.
Morgan County. The sign answers my question. I knew there was an East Canyon in Morgan County but I did not know whether it would connect to the canyon I was presently driving on. I guess I should have thought about it more. I realize now where I am headed and debate whether I should turn around. But the scenery is so overwhelming that I cannot stop driving. I have no idea how long I’ve been driving at this point and I really don’t care. There are pathways off the side of the road most likely leading to campsites and hiking trails. The sun has set at this point but the light in the sky continues to lead the way. The clouds are gray due to the rain storms we’ve been having the past few days, and I wish now that there was a lightening show I could watch the flashing show, while surrounded by all the splendor.
It’s getting darker now and I pass a billboard. A sure-fire sign that I’m getting close to reaching civilization, quite possibly the last thing I want to do at this point, especially the “civilization” in Morgan County. I pass a ranch and some horses who look like they’re dancing with each other round and round in circles. I crack my window a bit to smell the refreshing scent of the outside air, and my car is filled with the cool mountain breeze. I imagine I’m flying. I want to close my eyes but remind myself that I am the one controlling this car.
Finally ahead of me I start to see lights. Now I know that I must be getting closer to this bo-hunk town that is not in fact my final destination, and I know that once I’ve actually reached it I will just have to turn around and head back, not knowing how long it would take me to get home.
So I stop. I flip a U-turn, and I head back the up the path I just came down. Now it’s dusk. The path is no less magnificent the second time venturing through it.
My brain has stopped buzzing at this point and is now becoming numb. I’ve had to go to the bathroom the whole time and though I’ve passed several rest stops I continue to tell myself I can wait until I get home. I pass by the red rocks again, still brilliantly glowing red I stare at them again. When I look back at the road there’s a deer standing in the middle. I swerve to avoid hitting it and come 3 feet from driving off the road and crashing into the valley below. Just like that and my life could be over. It was me or the deer, and in that split second I would have chosen me. A second deer on the side of the road distracts my attention once more, only this time I would have just hit a pole. I decide that I need to pay more attention to the road and just get myself home. **

~Summer, 2005