Thunder Mountain Indian Monument

Driving through the salt flats of Nevada while returning from Sacramento, on a failed job search, I saw a house on the side of the freeway in rural Imlay, Nevada. I decided to stop, to Peter's chagrin, as usual. It was rather amazing:

These pictures depict the story of a guy who set out to live a simplistic life with his wife and kids. Leaving California, his car broke down in nowheresville Nevada. He did not have the money to fix it and so he squatted on this land with his family in a one room pull trailer. The owner of the land approached him and offered the land to him for next to nothing. The man, formerly Frank, took on the name Chief Rolling Mountain Thunder and built a home on the roadside for his family using the daub and bottle technique. The home is a monument to the injustices committed against the American Indian people of America and the statues depict heroic natives and different battles. In 1989, Chief Rolling Mountain Thunder killed himself in his home and the property was recognized as a state historic site.

I guess one could say that these are the remnants of a man and his vision:

To learn about this interesting place, click here:

Do it.

http://www.thundermountainmonument.com/

Semi Truck Billboard

Outside of Reno on I-80 W.

Yeah, I like to take pictures of signs...

Here is a sign at the Tooele Airport where Peter and The Mom went sky diving (while I watched and took photos and had a tail gating party with Lynners):

And while I am on a tangent, here is the best photo, pretty much ever, of The Mom:

Yeah, she is kick ass.

The West Desert

Adventures in the desert on the way to Wendover for Peter's 28th birthday. First we stopped by the Great Salt Lake:

Saltair:

We stopped to take a picture of Metaphor about 30 minutes outside of Wendover, NV. Apparently you are not supposed to stop; it is emergency pull-over only. I stopped quickly...

We stopped at the Bonneville Salt Flats several miles down the interstate from Metaphor. That is salt on the ground, not snow, in the pics (of course you folks from Utah know this).

Then we went to what was supposed to be a ghost town...but there were some people living there. It was kind of like a shanty town down a long-ass dirt road. The stores and post office closed shop in the 1940's.

Welcome to Gold Hill:

Peter on the look out for zombies or rifle-toting locals of the ghost town:

Leaving Gold Hill...

To Wendover for some drinks, penny slots, and great steak dinners.

And Wendover Will:

There was also this sign on the way home by Dugway, Utah:

Which is kind of random, but concludes the trip nonetheless.

About Gold Hill:

http://www.utahoutdooractivities.com/goldhill.html

Salt Flats:

http://www.utah.com/playgrounds/bonneville_salt.htm

Creepin' at the Cemetery

These were taken at the Salt Lake City Cemetery on a blustery day in March of 2010. While I am opposed to the weird ass American burial practices, I do enjoy the mystique of cemeteries.
Especially if there is a squirrel sitting on a nice rock:

Some nice statues:

A nice head stone:

Some weird shit:

Las Vegas February 2010

Several times a year Peter and I go looting in Las Vegas. We go drinkin' with ne'er-do-wells and scallywags and take in what ever there is to be had.

'Twas an aunt and uncle be givin' us our first round:

 

And two mateys be givin' us our second:

'Twere the King himself presented for our eyes his booty:

Thought we might be cast to Davy Jones' Locker while on the deck of the Stratosphere and her rides:

Thar be some grand sites from the poopdeck:

We swaggered down to Freemont Street:

'Twere a fanatic blaggard:

Then we scourged the strip:

   

Alas, we sailed home.

"What the?...what the fuck are we doing out here in the middle of the desert?"