My first 2 Weeks on Mars:
If I made a list about the differences between my life in Olathe, Kansas and my current life in Utah, it would sound as if I’m on another planet. The geography is even so similar to being on mars that the Mars Research Center is located not 30 minutes from our campsite! To make life feel even more alienating, I moved 1000 miles from my childhood home to a campsite in the middle of the desert with no running water. Luckily, I’m not in a tent, but rather, I share a camper with a 19-year-old, an extra large black lab, and a mouse roommate who ate my shoelaces this week. While it’s been a drastic change in landscape, living quarters, and culture, the people of the 250 person desert town have been another kind of different.
Before we get into any of that though, I should add a disclaimer… there is no interplanetary conflict present in the following post as the title may suggest… Sorry! However, I have felt the clash of two extremely different worlds both physically and mentally. And by exploring the differences between my worlds, I suspect I will find them to be much more similar than they appear. If you’d be kind enough to give me 10 minutes of your time, I’d like to bring you along on this adventure and into a different world.
My trip to Utah started with a 16 hour car ride that drove us through the Colorado stretch of I-70. I was traveling with two people I had met that morning. Dan, the main pilot, whose business I was traveling to Utah to work for, and his son Iain, our copilot and my soon-to-be roommate. We delayed our trip by one day to avoid a snow storm but still ended up facing adverse weather that forced us to stay in a hotel halfway. For those who don’t know me well, this kind of trip is right up my alley. There’s nothing better than an intensely long road trip with someone you just met. If you’ve never tried it, you really ought to, for it can deeply change your perspective on life. Not only was it my job as the back seat spectator to feed the fire of conversation but also to enjoy some of the best views I’d ever seen. The whole drive through Kansas and into Colorado felt like we were traveling through a winter wonderland of bright white rolling hills in every direction. Driving through the mid-winter mountains, however, felt more like a winter wasteland with cars spun-out on both sides of the roads and miles of truckers putting chains on their tires (which was a new sight for me). But, after we escaped the mountains, I caught my first ever glimpse of the desert wasteland I was about to call home. Everything was red, orange or brown with little specs of greenish-gray shrubs splattered throughout the landscape. I had never seen anything like it. Reading and talking became a challenge as I was too busy admiring the stark contrast between this strange desert and what I called home.
When I think of home, I think of the rolling Kansas prairie. Hills of green as far as the eye can see. Though in January, the resting hills take on their own shade of orange, red, and brown. It’s almost like the desert and the prairie were painted by two different artists who had to use the same color palette and different definitions of beauty (yet I find myself partial to the Prairie). Not to mention, when I think of the rolling prairie, I can’t help but think of the diversity of life amongst the variety of grasses, wildflowers, and shrubs. So far, all I’ve seen in the desert is an old, seemingly lifeless landscape. Now, that’s not to say the desert is without its own biological diversity, but it’s not the staple of the desert. However, the sheer age that you can feel upon driving into the desert, carries its own unique beauty. Every rock formation, every peak and valley, and each slot canyon is the product of hundreds of thousands, in certain cases up to millions, of years of slow carving by nature’s tool belt.
One doesn’t have to live here long to respect the power of nature, for the weather here is its own beast. During my first week, there was a dust storm which caused us to hunker down for 30 minutes at work and again in the evening when it was paired with rain. 20-30 mile an hour wind gusts may not sound extreme, but when they are paired with loose sandy hills and light rain, those winds become a challenge to function in. Everyone’s tough until they get sand repeatedly tossed in their eyes. Not only is the weather here harsh, but it is more diverse than I was expecting.
It’ll be 30 degrees yet feel like 60 if the sun is shining, only for my feet to freeze in the evenings. Even as I’m writing this, we have snow on the ground… In the desert! I didn’t know it was possible but we received 2 inches of snow this morning, which is actually 25% of the annual precipitation received out here. I pay close attention to the weather, not only because we do outdoor construction work and live on a campsite, but most because I’m coming from an urban organic market garden that’s caused me to ponder what veggies I could grow out here. After some encouragement from a gardening buddy and my soil science professor, I’m convinced I could grow some food here if I stick around through the spring. But the spring is a monster all on its own!! As for the spring, those winds that were harsh at 20 miles an hour reach speeds of 60-70 mph kicking up dustnados! These flying eye murderers are appropriately called dust devils. But all of this has been worth it for the beauty of the scenery and the exciting adventure of exploration… So far…
As if the sheer beauty of this place wasn’t enough though, the region was a well-known outlaw crash pad. Back in the 1800s, the area which Hanksville now resides (about an hour and a half southwest of Moab) was the perfect place to escape the law using the various natural obstacles. If you’ve ever heard of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kids, or the Wild Bunch, then this region of Utah may be more familiar than you know. Dan, my quasi-boss, is obsessed with the area’s history and has given me lengthy TedTalks about the different periods of time. Despite the occasional rehashing of some stories, I’m deeply grateful for the history and happenings he has shared with me. I had very little knowledge of anything west of the Rockies and now I could do a whole blog post about the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints, the history of this Utah desert region and how the landscape came to be.
Just today, I got to see the Hanksville Burpee Dinosaur quarry which dates back between 150-165 MILLION years ago. I’m well aware that all places on Earth are nowhere near new, including the land I call home in Kansas, but there’s something about a place with visible age that’s very alien to my suburban home lifestyle. Iain and I stared at a rock for probably 5 minutes discussing the contrast of the layers, the color from different years, and the overall age we guessed it might be. That’s the kind of history you can see, experience, and feel (of course I had to touch this dang rock!!) and that’s the kind of history this landscape is rich with. As much as I hate to admit, you just don’t see that in Kansas.
While we may be at a point in history where humans have dominated and conquered most of the world’s land surfaces, Utah seems to have plenty of exceptions, and Hanksville is most definitely one of them. Despite the annual 1.5 million tourists passing through on their way to Lake Powell from Capitol Reef and other desert events, the town maintains a humble size of about 250 people year round. This is partially due to the geography and extreme weather, but there’s always been something about the desert that brings forth a deep sense of isolation, and most definitely, about Hanksville. Whether it’s a roaming tribe of indigenous people, or a lone cowboy, the isolation story can’t be denied when thinking about the desert. The town’s one market, two gas stations, and the two inns add to this sense of isolation. Unless you’d like to stop at the sketchy looking ‘museum’ which I haven’t mustered up the courage to explore, there’s really nothing to do. Oh wait! I forget that there is a rock shop too! Even the locals told me on my first few nights, “there’s just nothing to do out here”. They also warn that “many people can’t handle the quiet of the desert, as their thoughts will drive them mad”. Well that’s reassuring… Thanks locals! Honestly, I’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet, and a break from all the noise of the suburbs and the city. And I think all the people here do too, with an exception of the few trying to get out of here as fast as they can.
There’s something to be said about the culture of a people who aren’t bound heavily by over encompassing social norms. Everything here seems to run by its own rules. Times are loose, and people are on their own schedules. Even a couple of my fellow coworkers show up when they like. I honestly haven’t met a few of them because they didn’t want to work extra hours during the winter months. Now, I don’t have a full frame portrait of this town quite yet since it is the definition of a drive through town making most of its money off tourism and I’ve only been here during the dead of winter.
There’s something about living at the edge of the earth that makes people live in a different way. Needless to say, the edge of the world feeling this town brings is vastly different from being in the middle of the country and 30 minutes away from Downtown Kansas City. For reference, the nearest Walmart is over an hour away! Not for a lack of trying, but I cannot find the words to fully capture the extent of Hanksville’s interesting attributes. I don’t wish to make this sound like a bad place as everyone here has been very kind to me, but I’ll provide some examples to dictate how odd this place feels. Every person out here owns many guns, with our camp having about 15 different varieties. Granted, this is the desert, there are no police, and this is a tourist town, so a gun may not be a bad idea, but it’s very clear that everyone in town owns at least a few guns of their own. And if you’re one of the few who has either one, or none, then look no further than your local gas station where you can buy your own handgun, rifle or bow & arrow over the counter. As if that’s not enough of a contrast, the town has no zoning laws (outside of a hand drawn map written clearly out of necessity and not practicality) and each home has at least 2 or 3 busted cars or campers lying around their property. It may be a stretch to say, but not by much, that every family in town either owns, or has owned a camper van. The two RV parks in town that aren’t most attractive but manage to draw a crowd for better or worse. I’ll reiterate here, if you could pinpoint a geographical location where the wild west ended, you would find yourself in Hanksville, this place was built on lawlessness. It’s even home to the world’s largest wanted sign!
Once more, I do not wish to cast any judgment on this town or its people as I’ve had only positive experiences with everyone I’ve met and worked with. And I know that everyone here is doing what they can to survive, just like we all are. But the culture I’ve experienced, the town (or should I say campsite) I live in, and the geography/history of the region has been all so vastly different from my life’s experiences that I can’t help but feel I’m living on a different planet. So it is out here on Mars that I am building log cabins with a couple of former strangers and learning what it means to be a sturdy rock in the ever flowing river of change. But I’ll dive deeper into my personal growth in the next post, otherwise I may go over 10 minutes of reading time and I’m a man of my word! Thank you for giving me some of your time, I hope you learned a little something and that you’ll join me next time as I take the Next Step on my lifelong journey into the unknown.
Until Next Time! ~Josh
The Next Step 
Leave a comment