Salt Lake Shitty is the other name I’ve been tossing around. This is now my third night staying in Utah’s capital city and my second day spent trying to leave it.
In hindsight, I think I was getting a little hitchhiking cocky. Since I left Vancouver nothing could stop me – I stuck out my thumb, put on a nice self assured smile that screamed “friendly lovable Canadian / great addition to a drive of any distance” and watched as the coastal forests of Washington and Oregon were left behind. Even the arid desert to the east, that on a previous trip had left me stranded for over six hours, posed no trouble. I made it to Salt Lake City from Vancouver in two and a half days. “Wow- looks like you’re making good progress” my mom wrote in an email. I was untouchable. I treated myself to a motel room in the city, shaved my encroaching neck hairs, showered, emailed, watched half of oceans 11, slept in a bed. The next day I woke up early and took the light rail train to the edge of town. Or I would have if it wasn’t Sunday and the light rail trains took you to the edge of town. Instead I found myself in the suburbs.
Salt Lake City is nestled in a valley of the Wasatch Range and, to quote Wikipedia, “this region is a corridor of contiguous urban and suburban development stretched along an approximate 120-mile segment of the Wasatch Front.” It bears mentioning that the road system of Salt Lake is built in a massive grid and each street is a three lane monstrosity that spews heavy traffic at regular intervals mediated by a blinking hand that urges you to cross so that the cars can continue their unrelenting flow. Sidewalks will peter out into nothing more than gravel strips pinched by chain link fence. Signs with a pedestrian circled and crossed in red are as frequent as similar signs with cigarettes, martini glasses, or dogs pooping without someone picking up their waste, are in other cities. Also, and only adding to my issues with this city, cars are oddly monochromatic, as if no one ever had the idea that you could colour your vehicle something other than beige, or a shade between white and gray.
Anyways, here I was, trapped in this contiguous urban and suburban development, with nothing but naïve hope and a vague sign reading “South East”. It took 8 hours in an exxon parking lot and a conversation with a biker who wanted to know if I ever got laid hitchhiking before I used mcdonalds’ wifi to check craigslist for a rideshare. Lo and behold! A couple had just posted not an hour earlier that they were headed to Denver the next morning! I called them over Skype, made plans to meet them the next day and hiked into, the admittedly beautiful, mountains to camp for the night. The next day I woke up with the sun, packed up my tent and made my way back to the McDonalds. My phone lit up with emails – Rob (craigslist Rob, driving to Denver at just the perfect time Rob, hero Rob! Savior Rob! Take me from this contiguous suburban hell Rob!) ‘s van had broken down in Boise. So now I have a one-way greyhound bus ticket to Denver CO tomorrow morning and cannot wait to leave this town.
Well, I suppose there’s a lesson in all this, but really I’m just tired and hate Salt Lake City.
Gnarly Travels 