The Downward Spiral

What could be better than a 1,500-foot-long spiral made up of earth and rocks? Everything, that's what.

I went to go see the Spiral Jetty on Friday and I was sorely disappointed. The newspaper made it sound so much cooler. Also, the website made is sound much easier to find. Why do we live in a world of lies?

I invited a couple friends to go with me, but when we all met up on Friday, seven more people showed up and we had to take two cars. This was a bad idea and contributed to us getting lost on more than one occasion. The Spiral Jetty is somewhere on the northern tip of the Great Salt Lake, accessible only by rocky dirt roads that seem to go on forever.

Although the website told us to take the "main gravel road" from the Golden Spike Historical Site (where the eastern and western railroads met up way back when), there were several main gravel roads. And of course we went down the wrong one, made the wrong turns, and ended up staring at cows way out in who knows where. By the time we figured out the correct path, the light was failing and the other car wussed out and left.

This is where my stubbornness kicked in. You don't drive around for three hours, only to turn around and go home without seeing the gigantic pile of rocks you came to see. My car pressed on until the road narrowed and we had to drive slowly over boulder-strewn paths, trying to find a big abandoned trailer so we'd know where to turn next. These are the times when I wish I had an 4-wheel drive instead of my tiny, micromachine of a car. It's great in the city, but it's not supposed to go off-roading. Why haven't I learned this?

We kept driving, despite all common sense, dodging rabbits who kept jumping in front of the car and large owls that would wait until the very last second to flap away from my oncoming headlights. Finally, after passing all the designated cattle guards, finding the rotting old boat and trailer, and turning onto the final stretch of dirt road, we had to stop. My car could no longer traverse the terrain without getting butchered. We got out and hiked the rest of the way, fighting the setting sun. I wasn't about to miss getting some photos after all this trouble.

We happened upon two ladies who were relieved to find other people. "We're not the only crazy ones," they laughed when we caught glimpse of them. They explained that they had just came from the jetty but were upset they had forgotten their cameras. We decided I would email them some shots if I could. The light was almost gone at this point, and we ran the rest of the way. Finally we reached the jetty and I was able to squeeze out a few pictures.

Seeing the twisted piece of 70s concept art was not as cool as it should have been. Recent rains had washed away the encrusted salt covering and darkening skies made it hard to see the pinkish hue of the algae-ridden saltwater around it. But the point was that we had made it there, despite the bad directions and the bad roads and the suicidal bunnies.

It's one of those things where you're all pissed off but then it's suddenly all over and you think, "wow, that didn't suck so bad after all." The Spiral Jetty turned out to be just a bunch of rocks, yes, but the craziness of getting there was really the entertaining part. Good laughs, good friends, good memories. You know, the kind you'd talk about if you lived in one of those coffee commercials where you reminisce, perched over steaming mugs.

But none of us live in a coffee commercial. Let us never speak of it again.