Scattered Thoughts and A Fleeting Trip Through...

Ramblings by Peyote Carnel
Photography by Chris Cactus

Figure #1: A rental car...go figure
A default upgrade to a Toyota Camry from the Hertz Corporation that handles like a luxury liner. It has a CD player and I’m ready to drive just about any road and any distance. Therefore I left Reno at the (odd to some) hour of midnight. Three hours later, I arrived at the condo of Michelle Taggart in Mammoth Mountain. Michelle wasn’t present but snowboard chick megastar Barrett Christy was. The Empress film girls were here in town to shoot as well. It is spring and the weather is clear. Upon waking the next morning, it came to me: Mammoth is an interesting place in that it seems so geographically desolate and rad yet there’s usually kooky people everywhere. The Superpipe, Barrett and the locals like Matt Kass (who hiked the pipe many a time for my lens to do huge methods) and Jonnel Janewicz (who rips through the pipe and park and without stopping) are a testament that things here can be stable and rad. A typical scene might be an invasion of the shopping mall snowboarders from LA: hip snow clothes with no wear or creases. But today’s highlights include Barrett signing autographs for a man in a rental shop who claims his wife will be stoked. She’s a dominatrix who makes $80,000 a year on her two to three week a year excursion. Next, Mammoth could be erupting at any moment. Shit, who knows?

Fig. #2 Sunburned Face, Windburned Mind
So I end up leaving Mammoth that afternoon enroute to Snow Summit and an event with boxes and rails to snowboard for exclusive multi-media coverage... that was exclusively put on by Nixon watches for media. I guess. Fruit stands in the town of Independence with good bananas and oranges to keep me awake for the drive into desolation. The Ghostly town of Randsberg is well closed by 9:00 p.m. Then Four Corners is the intersection in the Mojave of Highway 395 and Highway 56 and comes out of nowhere. But I realize I’m now somewhere. But I’m not where I want to be; Summit is still hours away and it’s already 10:00 p.m.

...Deserty Like Places Where People Ride Snowboards.

Figure #3 The Desert Dries Your Brain Out and Victorville Is No Exception. It’s nothing new. Driving solo, I figured wouldn’t make the Nixon house (thanks anyway Chad) for the sake of early morning fresh jib footage. It is late and the Dairy Queen in the distance was closed. No Butterfinger Oreo cookie Blizzards here. Soon I was renting a room from some crazy western guy fresh off the line dance floor who had a mullet like I’ve never seen (and I live in Reno right next to Sparks where they grow ‘em). He claimed I was on the good side of the freeway so I put down my $29.00 for the craziest ground floor room ever. This isn’t the Ritz Carlton, the rugs are stained forever, the bed is bent, cum stains riddle the comforter, the TV is blurry, and the vibe here is crazy! And some of the rooms have stickers that warned of possible meth lab chemistry, er, uh, I mean hazardous waste or something super bizarre and inexplicable inside. I can’t wait to wake up to the sun and leave. If I am going to wake up…

Figure #5 Winter is Over; Retreat to a Desert Vista Towards the City of Vegas
Out of the winding Big Bear Lake road and through the lush Joshua trees I take Route 247 northeast through the Lucerne Valley and pull over to watch the raddest desert sunset. While driving I feel grateful that it’s not summer out here or it would be about 1000 degrees.
10 minutes later...
Calico Ghost town signs appear before my headlights so again I randomly exit. It’s not quite dark yet and I follow a road five or so miles off the highway into this bizarre area of ancient trailings, silhouetted flying bats against an alpenglow and wooden structures that once moved iron ore out of the earth. I park the car, walk into some crazy cave and go in about 50 yards and after realizing that no one could rescue me if it caved in, I panic the fuck out of there. I’m now driving around a corner and suddenly there are 20 or so motor homes lined up in this parking area. It circles onto some crazy road so I pull over as a park ranger stops and tells me how to escape this crazy ass world of would-be Winnebago gold panners.

Figure #6(66) Watery Eyes, Fiery Mouth
It’s now dark and desolate. I’m hungry and see a crazy Chinese-American restaurant off the side of the road. I randomly pull off before the town Yermo (your mom?) and decide to check it out. With a strange feeling, I enter through the dark doorways having no idea that I’m about to step 30 years back in time. Wow! I sit down on the crazy barstool and check the early ‘80s priced menu. I decide to order a Kung Pao chicken. “Oh yeah, and make it kinda hot,” I ask. “Yew wan’ it hah!?” said the Asian waitress, who I later find out is the owner and has been for some time. I nod my head in agreement. I eat and a conversation ensues about the interior of the restaurant. She insists that it’s outdated. I encourage her that it’s stylish beyond measure and a fading part of American culture. A half-hour later I’m driving down I-15, belly beyond completely full with my mouth now on fire. I pull off in the ever-bustling town of Baker, California home of the world’s largest thermometer. Passing the famous Greek restaurant I’m feeling sick and looking for a bathroom. I end up buying a milkshake and pissing in the parking lot at the Bun Boy Restaurant. OK, with my mouth still semi on fire I’m enroute to Las Vegas to visit my friend Augie and ride fury filled rollercoasters.