undeserved splendor
Glorious pit stop on the return route
It was probably days ago, way back in Wisconsin, when I realized I’d bit off more than I could chew. Setting up two face-to-face interviews in the Eastern Time Zone meant driving all the way to the, you guessed it, Eastern time zone. What kind of fool does this? Just Zoom why don’t you, Shumway? During a long summer vacation this would have been more plausible. For one thing I could have camped- on this trip it was too cold to camp. I could have stayed back in the Bitterroot where I have the rental place and the studio. There’s lots of work to do.
So the jury is out as to whether the trip will prove a worthwhile expenditure of time and money. But you could say the same thing about anything I do for kla.tv or BBR or Substack. Luckily, when those interviews start getting tens of thousands, then hundreds, then occasionally millions of views on kla, I feel everything has been worthwhile. As for BBR, I wonder a lot whether I’m on the right track with all this. Am I biting off more than I can chew here too? Running a radio station with no experience? Maybe it will just begin as a podcast and if things go well we’ll end up filling up the week with lots of live material. We’ll see.
In any case, after Nashville I had to get home. Needing a good interview spot, and following his suggestion that I get a room in the same hotel, I had spent some $$ at the Nashville luxury suites place for the Bart Sibrel interview. Then I wanted to save a little money so I spent the next three nights intermittently driving and sleeping at rest stops (Tennessee/Kentucky/Illinois/Missouri/Nebraska/Wyoming). Finally my underwear entered biohazard phase and I had to get a motel so I could shower, hang my just-cleaned wet clothes and sleep in a bed. After I’d made it all the way to Cheyenne, WY, I thought about either getting a motel there or continuing along I-80 West and stopping in one of the smaller, high-elevation, southern Wyoming towns. Thing is, these towns are not very attractive. Rawlins, where everyone works at either the refinery or the penitentiary, feels like a desert outpost and Rock Springs isn’t much better- it’s bigger and bustling but the buildings are dilapidated, the trees are few and the whole place feels like it’s surrounded by barren, dusty rocky hills with ugly scrub brush. Plus ‘bustle’ just means cars going in every direction- nobody, I mean nobody is out walking. Even on such a fine day as today. But then, what would you walk to? And around town what can you see? If feels like the views of the wide, borderline-Great Basin landscapes are all blocked by another rock, dust and scrub berm. So I considered just getting a cheap motel in Rock Springs and bolting out early, or splurging a bit so I could stay in one of the towns on the way to Jackson. Of course there was no way I was staying in Jack$on. But on the way in Pinedale, one hotel had a rating of 9.8, and the rooms were in lakeside cabins, and the price was way too low it seemed. I always fall for the ‘only one left’ and so I clicked ‘Reserve Now’. I betcha in mid summer these cabins would go for 3 or 4 hundred a night.
I’m right on Fremont Lake, just outside of Pinedale, southeast of Jackson and the Grand Tetons. Check it out:
Picture-perfect little duplex cabins.
The interior was nice too. The work desk/stand was a 4-inch-thick slab of cedar. All the furniture, including headboards and mirror on the wall, was made with that rustic, twisting knotty pine. There was a gas fireplace with a blue flame. And the heat came up through the hardwood floors.
-For crying out loud Shumway, is this how you spend your trip money? I thought you were supposed to be bedding at rest stops, or sharing hayloft space with the racoons in Wisconsin farm country, or in dilapidated tenement apartments in South Chicago, like the one Charlton Heston shares with his mentor Saul in Soylent Green, with no care for comfort-just a commitment to gettin’ out and gumshoeing to get to the truth. Man, first you’re practically staying at Andrew Jackson’s guest cottage at the Hermitage in Nashville and now you may as well be at Michael Corleone’s Tahoe-lakeside villa.
I’m telling you this place was way underpriced- it’s low season with the skiers and snowmobilers gone and lake frolic season months away. I only paid 9 dollars more than I would have at the roadside Budget Inn in Pinesdale, where at check in Kumar would have glared at me for interrupting his Bollywood flick.
As it was there was no plump, cheerful Peggy, or Kumar for that matter, at the office. In fact the restaurant, office and convenience store were closed. I had to tromp around in the snow a little before seeing a note on the office-cabin window that said, “Your key is in the mailbox.” That wouldn’t work in Nashville.
There was a beautiful blueish glow on the shady part of the huge, frozen lake and I wanted to make use of the remaining light to look around a bit. Just had to get the food and beer in the fridge first. As I put the beer in the fridge, I asked myself if I really should have bought a six pack of IPAs at the Albertsons in Rock Springs. Usually it would be a no-brainer-three nights of temperance and sleeping in the car-I figured nobody could fault me for wanting a cold one to go with my Juantonios chips, Lucerne swiss cheese block and Hillshire Farms thin-sliced smoked turkey. Still, there were two considerations:
After a couple IPAs, would I neglect to write a blog entry and just doze off to sleep?
With all this luxury and food splendor, and nobody to share it with, was it right to put my mind into the hazy, happy zone with a couple 6.2 IPAs? A bit selfish, no? WWJD?!
As I put the beers in the fridge, I looked at the pretty, orange beer cans and thought of Soma, the all-purpose wonder drug that everyone takes in Brave New World. This book was on my mind because I just finished the audiobook version of it a few miles before arriving to Pinedale. Shamefully I’d never read the book; always figured I get around to it but I knew it was another famous warning story about the future, and since Orwell had already written the book on that subject- future dystopia- I was in no hurry to read Huxley’s BNW. Mistake! It’s an excellent story with a good plot and does a great job suggesting that the future might not be a brutal iron fist crashing down on any and all hints of resistance, but a pleasant world where everyone is quite content with their slavery. Soma plays the major role in the story.
My favorite beers both come in orange:
They didn’t have these at the Albertsons in Rock Springs so naturally I reached for the six-pack box of orange-can IPA from the microbrewery in San Diego. Free Wave Hazy IPA. Yeah, that’ll do!
Ever since the Wisconsin beer gestapo I wondered about being carded so I was happy that the lady in the booze department let me just pay cash no questions asked.
With all my stuff in the cabin, and the beer and food in the fridge, I walked down to the lake to have a look. Except for a crow on a tree, it was dead silent, and beautiful:
Then, back at the cabin, I had a shower and put on clean underwear (cue angelic voices). Just before last light, I put on my ski hat, sweater and parka, grabbed the chips, cheese, turkey sandwich slices and beer, and made for the comfy, wooden deck chair. Again I thought of Brave New World. The hero, called The Savage, wanted nothing to do with the high-class Alphas that surrounded him and their culture of hedonism and instant gratification. He wanted to experience all the discomfort and pain that went along with seeking and knowing true love and truth. To bring himself to a closer understanding of the Godly, he would deny himself everything- not just Soma, good food and games, but even something as natural and innocent as a beautiful view. Before he would allow himself a visit to the nearby lighthouse to take in the green landscapes, he forced himself through hours and even days of penitential, painful exercises, which even included literal self-flagellation.
Just before ensconcing myself in the deck chair, I thought, “Man, this is a far cry from flagellation! Do I deserve any of this? Should I really be taking Soma tonight?”
But then, I cracked open the can with that wonderful phhht sound, thought of my three nights on the road, and with a full bag of chips in the seat next to me, took a look at the beer can.
No Soma tonight for me! The Pastor back at my childhood Presbyterian church, Dr. Yeaworth, would have gone for the easy church-laugh here, and said, “God certainly has a sense of humor!”
PS: Michael York’s reading of Brave New World is excellent. He even does a pretty good impersonation of the country New Mexicans in the savage-land chapters.
Non-alcoholic brew? That's what you get for buying IPA, which I cannot stand the taste of. And in orange aluminum cans, no less! Doesn't beer taste better if it comes out of a glass bottle? Except for IPA, which tastes horrible no matter where it comes from. Probably next you'll be trying to interview the Orange Man Himself to get the lowdown on what needs to be done to set the country right or to get his opinion on the best beer to drink. But, that's my opinion and not really worth paying much attention to.
Anyway, I'm glad to hear you're back. So am I and we need to get together again soon.