You're back in your old neighborhood cigarettes taste so good

I'm back, did you miss me? Shut up, you did so.

My trip was nice. I was able to con my brother into joining me, so that made it even better than if I'd gone alone. That said, what was quite possibly the highlight of the trip happened before I even got to his house when I came across a burning semi on the freeway. The trailer was full of sheep, and emergency personnel were doing their best to evacuate the trailer, but there was still at least one that had caught fire. I can assure you that you simply haven't lived until you've seen a charred sheep standing on the freeway, staring at the flames that had so recently ignited its wool. In fact, I was so busy looking at the charred sheep that I nearly ran over the off duty police officer that was directing traffic. It's probably a good thing I eventually saw him.

I spent the first night at my brother's house, and we left early the next morning to drive the rest of the way. When we finally arrived I realized that even though neither I nor my family has lived in the area for ten years, I always feel as if I've returned home when I see this view:



We fished the Green River for the rest of that afternoon and the following day. The fishing was slow but I was able to catch a few. I was hoping to have one of those 50 fish days that people often have on that river, but it was still fun to get out there. At least for me. My brother would probably tell you something different. It was one of the few times that I've actually caught more fish than him. In this case, it was quite a few more.

Here's a picture of him getting skunked:



And another:



The original plan was to fish the Green River for two days and then go back to Salt Lake City so I could spend two days with my kids. However, my ex-wife called to tell me that the kids were grounded because of their grades and that she was making them do homework all day Saturday. Plus, Shooting Star and her sisters were visiting the area, and they convinced us to stay an extra day and float the river with them.

Not all the pictures I took turned out good, but you can see why this is one of my favorite places in the world.





I did spend Saturday night and all day Sunday with my kids, so I'm not as horrible a father as I could be. I also spent some time hanging out with Flieswithoutwings and some other old friends. I didn't want to come back.

Of recklessness and water

Lately I've been itching to visit Flaming Gorge. I spent 3 years of my life there, and despite the fact that I hated my parents for making me move there, it is one of my favorite places in the world (you might consider it to be my Brokeback Mountain, although in a less gay cowboy kind of way).

My friend Flieswithoutwings put it well when he described living there as "being part of a magical place and time." I've thought about what it would be like to move back there some day, perhaps after I retire, but it wouldn't be the same unless all my favorite people moved back there too.

I'd like to pay a visit to the area during Spring Break, but don't know if I can afford it. I have a million stories about the area, and Flieswithoutwings has done a good job of telling some of them in his 'Chronicles of Cow Country High' series, but here's one that I thought of the other day and thought I'd share. Besides, I doubt this one is worthy of inclusion in The Chronicles.

Flaming Gorge Reservoir is a fairly large body of water, and approaches a depth of approximately 500 feet in some places. Late one summer night we went swimming off the docks at the visitor's center on the dam (even though it wasn't legal). I decided to swim over and touch the dam. I have to say that it was unsettling by the time I got there because of the amount of water that was beneath me. I had the feeling that if I were to sink to the bottom, my body would never be found. I followed through and touched the dam, but it wasn't a task I was eager to perform again.

As with any body of water that big, there were always rumors about bodies being found by fishermen who were trolling and would think they'd hooked a large fish only to end up netting a human body (in full or in part). Usually the stories stated that the body had multiple fishing lures stuck to its skin (a sure sign of an urban legend, even though the area was far from urban).

While I doubt the authenticity of some of the stories I heard while I lived in the area, there are certainly plenty of bodies in that lake. My mom had a cousin who drowned there when his boat capsized during a storm and whose body was never found. With water so deep, you could imagine that it would be a good place to dispose of a body. In fact, it is believed that Ted Bundy dumped a few of his victims' bodies there.

One day we were talking about how it was kind of creepy that we'd swim in waters where bodies were decomposing. Not that it deterred us, but it is kind of gross when you think about it. During the conversation one of my friends proclaimed, "You know, my missing aunt used to date Ted Bundy."

For Shooting Star

I took this picture as a testament to how man has alterred the world. The mile marker speaks for itself by marring the view, but the reservoir may be less obvious. Both alter the landscape, and neither would be there without man's help.

My brother looked at me like I was a weirdo when I took this picture.

I remember responding to him with "Now that's f**king art!"

(Note to Shooting Star and Flies Without Wings (I'm boycotting the acronyms for now): Does this help with the homesickness?)