TRONA
Journal Entry
THOUGHTS™
01–27–2022
︎ Writer: Stew Caldo
︎ Photo: Cade Proulx
Nature has become a safe space to meet myself. Maybe it's the quiet uninterrupted air. Or the lack of stimuli causing my thoughts to spiral. Maybe the rawness of being one with the earth again. However it resonates with my soul, escaping into nature has become my medicine.
I didn't exactly need - actually, I did need. I needed an escape. I feel like I've still been carrying the weight of the holidays, family, Q4 client requests, and new years expectations. I'm beginning to resent the month of december. I can't think of any other time of the year when humans put more expectations on one another. I feel like everyone needs some thing new from me, and I'm being pulled in 20 different directions at once. And all the while, everyone is singing holly jolly tunes telling you to love others and be with your family.
But I was carrying a lot of weight into 2022. My relationship with myself felt like it was constantly shameful. Ashamed that I hadn't set better goals. Made big changes. Pursued unlikely goals. Idk, the past few weeks I've been feeling a lot and just projecting it onto [REDACTED]. It's odd, because I rarely go through phases where I question myself. I usually have this blind confidence going through life, but lately I've questioned everything. My purpose, wether my work is meaningful, my intentions. [REDACTED] joked around a bit saying it's my turn to have rampant depression and anxiety. I'd prefer to run away from it.
I planned the trip about a month ago with [REDACTED] and [REDACTED]. They were fully onboard with the idea, which surprised me from [REDACTED]. I never expected him to be down for a chaotic stew trip. He'd had enough of that in our earlier years together. We had initially wanted to go to Wild Willy's, but I found out it was 10 degrees at night so we aimed for Trona Pinnacles instead.
[REDACTED]
We picked up a dirt bike on the way as well and loaded it up into the bed of the truck. This became one of those moments where I realize how important it was for me to get a truck. I need to be able to do fun shit like that on a whim.
Arriving to Trona is an interesting experience. There's a Stater Brothers two towns before the empty road leads to the abandoned desert, but if you miss it, there's not another place for supplies for about an hour and a half. Luckily, we hit the Stater Brothers preemptively since it was conveniently located by gas station we'd bought some wood from. We didn't really clean house like I usually would buying groceries before a camping trip - thinking that there would be more on the way if I changed my mind. But as you head away from Jawbone canyon and go more east, the hour long road has nothing alongside it and quickly turns to dirt. And you realize, oh shit, there's nothing within 2 hours of this place. And then you're stuck with whatever you got from Stater Brothers.
The drive in to Trona Pinnacles at sunset has to be one of the most freeing feelings – there's little to no road, and once you see the pillars stretching to the sky there's an infinite amount of ways to get to them. There's honestly no wrong way. We drove around for about 20 minutes scoping out the area, the different people camping, in hopes of finding a spot that blocked the intense wind that was rolling through. We had no luck there, but found a spot to watch the sun set and begin setting up camp. We dirt biked for a bit, set up tents, and then immediately [REDACTED]. I haven't [REDACTED]. [REDACTED].
After [REDACTED], we realize we were missing two bundles of firewood. We searched the truck completely, and then [REDACTED] realizes he left them at the gas station. All we had was a starter log and two bundles. I knew this wouldn't be enough for a night of drugs, so I tell [REDACTED] we have to go to the other campsites and ask to borrow some wood. And also beer. We need wood and beer. How the fuck did we forget beer.
The neighbors lend us some wood, and we head back to the campsite. No beer.
The rest of the time spent around the campfire was one of the best nights of my life. I've never laughed so hard in my life – at some points, I was keeled over in the dirt, hands and knees, dry-heaving trying to just catch my breath. The best part was, it was over the stupidest shit – really, if any of those jokes were told to me now I may not even crack a smile. But there's something about being in a remote area and just surviving together that makes you see the light in everything. It makes me miss Phi. It makes me treasure my home. It reminds me how grateful I am for my business, and the freedom to do things like this. The past and future melt, and all that matters is that there's a warm fire under our ass and we have chili.
The campfire chili always becomes a metaphor for life. I'm not sure I could explain it properly now, but when you're there in the cold winter night and those beans hit the pan, all that matters is chili.
I'm not sure what I worked through that night, but I've felt changed since. I feel grounded. I feel like I understand what I'm doing and the purpose of it all. And when I don't, I don't continue to question it, I just trust God that what I'm doing is meaningful.
