Nevada is the fastest growing state in the country. Why? God knows, but it's evident when you go there that the sprawl is exploding. This, coupled with the obvious lack of water, casts a doomed pallor over the state; yet it's one of the most interesting places to explore, culturally.
Once upon a time, I crossed Nevada on I-80 when most of the state was on fire, leaving both sides of the road blackened save for the withered brown median strip. That is all I recall about central Nevada, but if I was to cross it today I'd take U.S. 50-- the "Loneliest Higway"-- for sure.
There are two major areas of population in Nevada, the Reno area and the Las Vegas area (Vegas being, of course, much larger and sprawlier). Reno: is it as bad as it seems? I'll leave that for you to judge. They have a super-friendly dojo, Aikido of Reno, and a Wild Oats natural supermarket (5695 S. Virginia, across from Meadowood Mall). If you want sushi, someone's compiled a comprhensive Reno sushi report. And if you're willing to drive to the ends of the city, there's some good hiking-- just don't look back at the brown-hazed bowl of Reno.
Part of the delightful Reno experience is leaving Reno. There are many ways to do this; the tales further down on the page expand upon this subject.
If you're going west from Reno, just across the border rests Truckee, California, which I definitely recommend stopping in. It has a walkable downtown with a natural foods mart, good coffee shops (I recommend especially Truckee Books & Coffee, 10009 W. River)-- and of course, the lovely Truckee river.
If you're heading south towards Las Vegas, you can make detours for Area 51 or the Nevada Test Site. When you get to Vegas, stop by the Atomic Testing Museum... More info on Vegas can be found in the Las Vegas travel guide. Further south still, you have Boulder City, a reasonably nice place to lunch if you're visiting the Hoover Dam.
Let's have a word about the Hoover Dam. Because people today aren't very impressed with structural feats anymore (that was so twentieth century), the Hoover Dam isn't that impressive; its the fact of its now-unimpressive-status that makes it interesting. Can you imagine the marvel, the awe, that it must have induced in the children of the 1940s? What it symbolized-- taking control of this mighty river? Oh, well, in jaded-today it's just some overtouristed landmark, but back in the day it must have been Something. For more on the Hoover Dam, you can read this important, informative piece on water. Water is (or should be) a Big Thing in Nevada...
Oh, and there's prostitution and gambling and marriages galore in Nevada... but if you want tales of love and hard luck, you'll have to read that Las Vegas travel guide or the field notes below.
field notes: sand creek desert, nevada
to donner pass, california / 30 june 2005
The sense of hurtling towards my destiny,
for once.
Red signals flash by in the night.
Nevada wasteland. Patches of half-melted snow in the half-moonlight;
encampments, ranches, factory lights punctuating the dark.
There's no slowing this train down.
There's been this sense of dread since the AmShack trailer in Reno (they have a temporary station set up)... all the fat demonic americans under the fluorescent lights all closed in together waiting for the California Zephyr which was late, uncountebly late, they don't tell you how late the train is ever, that's the way of it,
and i thought they were whispering about me in the darkening afternoon, you know that tone people get when they're whispering about you, especially obese older women with dyed curly closein hair-- little children with jumbo sodas-- the men bored of it all, in their own daydreaming men-world, i don't know what they daydream of but it's clear they're not there, the women run the whole show & the men limp along-- anyway,
i realized i was getting paranoid,
stuffed my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket, looked out towards the tracks,
and of course the train came, half-empty car, i fell asleep across two seats with my head on my jacket, woke up to shouting from below (the trains out west are doubledecker) Bitch you think you can be down here fucking my man or who knows what jesus christ, i roll over, wonder if it's up to me to regulate this situation since there's no one around, i sit up.... a girl comes up the stairs, teenage -- i ask, is anyone mediating that conflict? --what? she says, & i realize i'm not speaking common enough english -- i mean, is there a conductor there -- no, she's tripping out down there -- is she going to get violent? -- she's trying to but, i think they'll work it out -- ok --
the surreal sense of dread, of being stuck in a metal pod careening through a desert wasteland with unreasonable beings -- subhuman -- and here all my prejudices have been laid bare: i am terribly, brutally judgmental and harsh towards my fellow beings & especially fellow americans, at least inside my mind (& i know it seeps out through my glances & gestures)-- but there's this effect, this filter, like a slant of light, where something shifts, and the people just become alien or computerized or animal or somehow entirely unreal, like robots (ugly ones) . . . and i know this isn't right / are we not all divine beings having human experiences / ? there are also slants of light that fall and suddenly i can love them... love them for being human in all their flaws and joys... never mind... i have trouble when i try to explain all this.
weary, rub my temples.
i have whiplash from being rearended earlier today, just a touch of it-- whiplash doesn't sound like something that one can have just a touch of, but i do: a trace of whiplash.
***
two hours further into the night, and things are better. sitting downstairs in the lounge car drinking apple juice. Tropicana: it says 100 % juice on the label, but it tastes like candy, a spooky realization that apples don't taste like that but i didn't even notice until i read the label "natural flavors" -- now i can’Äôt drink it without tasting jolly ranchers, artificial candy green...
but things are better, because first there were energetic young men discussing Hegel and insanity and mathematics at the table next to me, and now -- saxophone!
the man stands at the end of the car; dark hair well-combed, black jacket, and his music wanders all around; there is jazz accompaniment from someone's laptop; a woman makes a motion to dance in the aisle... He is jaunty, a fine young chap, he sucks on his reed to warm it up, all the young mathematicians have stopped playing D&D on their laptops to listen, people stream down and crowd the car, i feel guilty for taking up a whole table with my apple juice & books about pirates & laptop -- but a woman sits across from me, sets down some drink with a twist of lemon, it's fine on a nevada december night, and hell, by 330 am we'll be in salt lake city...
The music is filling the car with humanity. It is dispelling the demons. They pop like cartoons and suddenly I am surrounded by real people. It is a form of joy.
his music wanders around seemingly aimlessly, that's the beauty of it, this casual aimlessness, so different from this onepointed hurtling we're all captured on, the luxury of aimlessness, to be able to wander, to not be so confined to the path and the mission and the goal to have time to wander, as if the world wasn't dying by degrees, as if we could all just live human lives & ignore the brown cloud hanging over the valley
He is going to Illinois and he has a chance for a gig at a hotel and he understands about practice and I told him he filled the car with humanity and dispelled the desert and he smiled. At the end of the conversation he gives me a handshake (warm) and tells me his name is Damien and I tell him my name and then there isn't much to say (we are after all going to different places) so he says Nice to meet you to which I always say Likewise because i like the word like wise and so that was that a good thing
***
the next day the afternoon dissolves as we conversate across the colorado mountains, snowy peaks & winter solstice light, talking of music and creativity and loneliness and travel and yes love all those good things that travelers can talk about when they're going different places, and before i know it the lights of denver are spread out before us in the dark and i am sad, but i know this feeling, it always happens this way, i contemplate riding the train with him all the way to chicago but instead step off onto the platform, where it is snowing, and i hope i will not be too cold tonight . . .
sometimes you have nothing to offer but a poem torn from a page and a mandarin orange you picked from a tree in california and this is enough
there is no ending for this: just where you take your eyes from the screen and continue your life, that is the ending, except i recalled an israeli man (musician) saying to me as i left athens (passionately) You must live your life. Never waste a moment.
