“Yes, it’s broken. My toe is definitely broken” I said. But I guess that was what I got for wearing tennis shoes to a literal mining pit. The fourth digit on my right foot had been purple and swollen. Any movement hurt.

April and I were sitting in our accommodations for the night. It was a converted pickup truck slider covered in wood paneling called the “Gypsy Van,” parked in a posh trailer park filled with old school buses and hipster-themed camper vans. The day had been spent mining away in a slate quarry where I had been looking for trilobites. And while I had found many excellent specimens, my body had paid the price. April and I were both dead tired.

“I don’t think they are checking passes, and besides, think how good you'll feel afterward!” April explained to me, making the case for sneaking into the resort for a midnight dip.

“I’ll stay here while you go and check,” I told her as I gently poked at my toe, prodding it as if I could somehow poke the bones back into place.

Not much later, I too made my way up the hill and found my way to the illuminated hot springs. Only a few people were there this late at night. Our passes were for tomorrow, and I worried someone would catch us and kick us out. But April thought it was worth the risk, and as I slid into a porcelain tub covered with thirty years' worth of mineral buildup, I had to agree. Our bodies relaxed, and I dreamed of sleep as we reflected on what had happened so far and what was still to come.

Our little nothing of a long weekend trip had turned into one for the books. We had shown up in Utah with almost no expectations, only a need to turn some soon-to-expire credit card points into a quick getaway. What we found was fun and adventure unlike any other.

Salt Lake City

April had always been one for credit card points, god knows we spent enough to have plenty. But neither of us ever planned ahead. So when 2022 came to an end, April had about 300 dollars worth of Delta credits that would disappear if not used. Scrambling to find a place to go, we decided on a 4-day weekend trip to Salt Lake City. A place that neither of us would normally go, but we didn’t want the points to go to waste. So here we were, some three months later. It was 7 am, and we had just gotten off the plane. We booked the cheapest car we could find and a lackluster AirBNB. We didn’t have the slightest clue what we were going to do for the next few days, but right then, all I could think about was food and coffee.

We were still coming down from our intensively planned 9-day long road trip to the Pacific Northwest. At this point, we had just barely caught up on sleep. While I thought we both had a lot of fun, the trip wasn’t without its problems. Primarily, we planned without much proper research, which left us quite disappointed on a few major events. I had wanted to go backpacking in the Hoh rainforest, but upon arrival, I found snow on the ground and didn’t have the proper equipment for spending two nights covered in ice. April wanted to see the tulip fields outside of Seattle, yet we had arrived too early in the year to see them as they should be seen. As a result, we drove home with a bit of a low feeling in our stomach.

The morning was surprisingly quiet. The smell of fresh coffee and buttery pastries filled the air as April and I waited for our order at a small coffee shop downtown.

"What if we go to the salt flats today?” I recommended.

We had been discussing the activities of the day for about an hour now. As April drove, I Googled to see what was and wasn’t open. We compared travel times and interest levels. Before arriving, we each decided on one big activity, and these were the tentpoles upon which the rest of our adventure would be built around. These had been scheduled for the last two days of the trip, and as of now, we had nothing planned for the next 48 hours except a place to sleep.

I couldn’t help but feel some level of performance anxiety. We had nothing planned, and I had no idea where we should even start. I worried my choices might lead us down a path where we would leave disappointed, or worse, we would spend the next two days bored as we aimlessly wandered around this strange city.

“I can’t believe it! Look!” April said as she handed me her phone with a website for the Salt Lake City tulip festival.

I couldn’t believe our luck, and I knew better than not to say yes. Flowers of all sorts held a very special place in April’s heart, and any opportunity to see them was worth taking. I spent some time studying the weather report to find the best time for us to go. It would be raining on and off all day, and neither of us was prepared for it. We booked tickets for later in the afternoon when there should be a few hours of sunshine.

I couldn’t help but think that God was shining his light on us. I knew that he had been working extra hard to make this city special, and I had to give him credit for this stroke of luck. To show our thanks, I thought we should take a stroll down to the church.

“We need to stop at a Sephora, or a Nordstrom. I forgot to bring my lipstick,” April said.

So we set off on foot, first to the makeup store, then to the church.

I was always happy to just wander around a new place. There was so much to see and learn, even in the most generic of spaces. The architecture could speak volumes about the history, and how people walked, talked, and reacted could tell the story of a town just as well as anything.

The first thing I noticed was how empty the streets were, especially for a beautiful Saturday morning so early in Spring. Where were all the people shopping and enjoying the city? The few people I did see walking about seemed a bit off to me.

“They don’t look like city people to me,” I said to April as a group walked by wearing khakis and polos. Their outfits looked more in line with 90s office decor than the often trendy urban youth I’m used to.

“Perhaps that is what people look like here?”

After acquiring some free samples of lipstick from a department store, April led me to a section of town where we could find the main Mormon churches. The main church was under construction, so we had to settle for an older church next door. The gates were open, and we entered a few of the buildings. Around us were dozens of young people who worked for the church, many of whom seemed even more out of date.  Within moments a young girl from Taiwan in a dress straight out of the 1800s approached April and started speaking Mandarin. I quickly busied myself with looking at the walls, as to not be enlisted into any Mormon conversations.

I did find the whole church to be quite welcoming. The smaller chapel had a feel of modesty, and everyone was very nice. The churchyard had lots of tulips, which made April very happy. All around, there were young people who appeared to be on some sort of religious pilgrimage. They took selfies in front of statues and examined every plaque, painting, and book.

The main church had a giant pit dug around it. I looked through an observation window that had been cut into the fence surrounding the construction site. As I peered down, I could see the massive foundations holding the old stone building up. Pillars of stone that shot down into the earth were being examined by construction workers. The magnitude of the church was quite impressive, and I wished I could go inside. Oakland has a modern Mormon church that April and I visit from time to time. Neither of us is religious in the slightest, but the beauty of the church and the gardens surrounding it is undeniable.

We soon found out that most of the people we had seen walking around were, in fact, visitors. After leaving the church, we passed the convention center just as thousands of medical professionals were pouring out. Dressed in their finest business casual, they seemed to blend in well with the atmosphere of Salt Lake City.

Wishing to avoid the wave of people, we ducked into a conveniently placed Art Museum, and I found myself instantly transported to a world of creativity.

“I actually saw a gallery show based on this project,” I explained to April as we watched a movie about a man who was cutting a house in half as a form of public art. “It's called house splitting, and the gallery I saw had the four corners of the home on display.”

The top floor of the museum was dedicated to a selection of local artists, and the lower section was dedicated to raising awareness for housing rights. I made it a habit to visit an art gallery or museum in pretty much every city I go to. While most of these places cannot exhibit work that is on par with the A-tier museums like the MET or MOMA, I find most still have something meaningful to share. Rarely do I leave feeling as if I wasted time or money. Today, it was enough to be reminded of the art of Gordon Matta-Clark, the artist who split a New Jersey house in half.

Standing in the parking lot for the tulip festival, I quietly watched all the families walk by as April struggled to get undressed in the front seat of our tiny rental car. While I knew it might not be a good idea, I also knew better than to recommend April to go without her pretty clothes and makeup.

After some time, April got out of the car all dolled up and ready for pictures, and the two of us made our way to the main park entrance. It was quite grand, with the entrance opening to a vast vista of manicured lawns and large patches of tulips scattered about. A maze of paved walkways veined out across the landscape, carrying the thousands of visitors. The entrance was very busy, so I pushed April deeper into the park. All over were small patches of tulips. Each area had unique varieties and combinations. While it was a far cry from the massive fields of tulips one could find in Seattle or Holland during the right time of year, it was still very beautiful.

We spent about an hour winding through the maze of walkways towards the center of the park. All the while, April snapped photos with her phone, and we took an extreme number of selfies. As we neared the food court, the temperature began to drop, and I saw ominous clouds roll in overhead.

“If I had to guess, we have ten minutes till the rain comes,” I said as I looked up at the clouds. The flagpole that rose high in the middle of the park was whipping madly in the wind.

“Are you okay with getting a little wet?” I asked April. I could tell that wasn’t her plan, so together we began to hurry and move towards the exit.

Despite the looming threat of rain, we stopped several more times for photo ops and ended the visit on a high note.

As rain began to speckle the road, April and I pulled over to find a place for lunch. It was later than I usually liked to eat, and I was getting hungry. April, too, was getting anxious, and I could tell that if we didn’t get something soon, we would be bound to have an argument. I wanted something quick and easy, while April wanted something nice and fancy.

“I don’t think we need to go out of our way for a big sit-down meal. I’m thinking a drive-through or quick bite,” I suggested.

And so followed the standard vacation argument that had to happen at least once per trip. Anyone who has ever been in a serious relationship could write the script, so I’ll gloss over the details.

One hour later, I was waiting in line at a 7-11, trying to buy some granola bars. April had elected to skip lunch and was waiting outside.

With some level of hesitation, we decided to go to the Da Vinci Museum. Irritation brimmed in my subconscious, and I could tell April was feeling the same way. But I knew that we would be better off spending the day being productive, so I tried my best to enjoy the museum. Within minutes of walking around, we discovered that the museum was designed for children, not adults. We had paid admission, so let's make the best of it, I thought to myself.

I soon discovered a flight simulator and saw that we could take the plane anywhere in the world. In an attempt to extend an olive branch, I dropped the plane off on the eastern coast of China and enlisted April’s help in locating her hometown of Qingdao, and within the hour, we were having fun again.

Ever since we had returned from Seattle, April and I had been sober, and we wanted to keep it that way for the near future. I would be lying if I didn't admit this complicates things. Normally, I would just steer us to the nearest brewery, and we would spend the rest of the night there, having fun and drinking. But now, we were hungry and couldn’t risk going to a place centered around booze.

We picked one of the trendiest restaurants we found on Google, limiting ourselves to the ones near the downtown area. We were impressed by the atmosphere as we climbed the stairs to the second-floor dining area.

“Oh Look, Mocktails!” I said, glad not to be having diet soda with my dinner. I paid 8 dollars for a ginger beer, and April ordered a mixed juice drink. We ordered pasta and pizza and got excited to enjoy our meal. Within minutes, our expectations were cut down though. My "Mocktail" was actually a warm bottle of seltzer that I wouldn’t even buy from 7-11, and the food was comically salty. So salty that we originally thought there was a mistake. Perhaps they were playing a prank on tourists or showing pride for the mineral that gave this city its name. But I was left with a bad taste in my mouth and eager to find someplace else to go.

One of the beautiful things about not drinking is that you are forced to be creative when it comes to late-night entertainment. Bars were off-limits, and having technically eaten a meal, there was no reason to go to a different restaurant. So what were we to do? I cannot remember who recommended it, but we found a live comedy show in the arts district. We bought tickets, eagerly grabbed the check, and basically sprinted for the car. The show started in 15 minutes, and we had to get halfway across town.

Thanks to some haggling April did with the security guard, we were seated near the front. The comedian was somewhat well known, having a Netflix special and appeared on Late Night shows from time to time. It was a spectacular event. April and I haven’t laughed that much in years. The comedian specialized in Monologues so the jokes were fast and easy to get. He worked well with the crowd, calling people out and making jokes on the fly. His crowd work was top notch.

We left the comedy club in a joyous mood and wanting more. But it was gettin late, and since we couldn’t drink, we headed to the Airbnb and called it a night.

“I think we should go somewhere else!” I said to April.

“You wanted to eat some biscuits, so let’s get some biscuits!”

“I don’t want to wait for an hour though, you know how much I hate waiting.”

This was the normal morning routine for the two of us while on vacation. I woke up early, walked the city for a few hours while April slept and eventually got ready. By the time we finally got to a breakfast spot, I had been up and about for a good deal of time, and I was often quite hungry.

Today was no different. I woke up and got a coffee before walking the neighborhood where we were staying. A nice place for sure, but a ghost town on Sunday mornings.

As April and I debated back and forth about the wait time, I got a notification that our table was ready, much faster than the one hour we were quoted.

While we sipped on house-made lime sodas, I absolutely destroyed a solid pound of biscuits and gravy, and we discussed the possible activities of the day. Yesterday was great, and today we had the Salt Lake as our main activity.

“We should go for sunset,” I said. “I hear they are absolutely beautiful, similar to what we saw in Death Valley.”

“So what time should we leave?” April asked.

“Maybe around 4 or 5, that should give us plenty of time.”

“I have to do my paperwork today,” April said.

“Okay, so how about we find a coffee shop later, and you can use my iPad?”

We decided antique shopping was the best thing to do, and I found a shop only a few minutes' drive away.

As I walked around the shop, I had my Leica M6 around my neck. A man who was holding what appeared to be some sort of vintage camera flash came up to me.

“Nice camera,” he said to me, and we started up a conversation. I showed him both of my Leicas, and he showed me photos of his. I was always happy to talk to people in the wild who were also film shooters. We were often easily spotted in a crowd, our cameras being either much smaller or more often, much larger than expected.

It was at this time I should explain the mix of black and white and color photos on this trip. As you may remember, my Mamiya broke down on our last vacation. This was, of course, devastating to me, but thankfully I had insurance, and the camera had been sent off for repairs. But I was curious to try something new for this trip. I had recently gotten back into black and white photography after having shot almost nothing but color for the past several years. I forgot how exciting it was to develop my own film, how the shooting style felt so different, and how some subjects called for black and white and refused anything else. And seeing as I was the proud owner of two Leicas, one an M6 and the other an M4, I decided I would bring both on this trip. I had my M6 loaded with color, mostly Portra 400 or 160. My M4 was only fed HP5+ which I shot at either 800 or 1600.

I shared the same lenses between the two cameras, a 23mm and a 50mm. But after shooting a bit, I found that color film called for the wide, while black and white felt so natural on the 50, so I almost never had to take the lenses off. These two cameras made for beautiful travel companions.

As I talked to the man in the antique store, I explained all of this and more. Being a film fanatic of the same caliber, he matched my conversation perfectly. If it weren’t for April, I don’t doubt we would have been there till the store closed and probably found some neon signs after dark to take photos of. But I had to pry myself away and found April with a long list of things she wanted to buy.

I ended up buying her a vintage Tiffany watch she was in love with. I decided not to buy anything for myself as I didn’t want to overstuff our luggage.

After a bit of haggling on the price of our antiques, April and I walked over to a large coffee shop across the street.

“I have to go to the store to buy some tools,” I explained. “How long do you think you’ll need to work?”

"Hmm, I think about an hour, maybe an hour and a half. Do you need to take the car?" April says.

I google the closest hardware store and find one only a mile away. "No, that's okay. I want to walk."

I left April at the coffee shop and set out on foot. The previous day, I had some time to explore the downtown area, but there was only so much a person could learn from the highly curated city center. Today, I was walking through a random neighborhood, an area of town that most tourists would pass over. These were the places I liked the most. Perhaps the things I found were seen as mundane by the people who lived there, perhaps you would as well. But I found them fascinating. Trivial things like the way a home was renovated, the kind of junk people tossed out, or signs hung on trees and poles. Each told a small part of the story. As I walked, I began to read the streets. I did not pretend I could finish the whole story in an hour, but I began to piece things together. I snapped photos when I found something that caught my eye. By the time I reached the hardware store, I had finished nearly a whole roll of film.

At the store, I bought a rock chisel and two pairs of gloves. These would come in handy for the next day’s activity. I left, texting April to let her know I was ready when she was. I once more hit the streets, this time with no destination in mind.

Some time later, April picked me up, and she already had the next location programmed into the GPS.

For the next few hours, we visited a handful of other shops, looked at vintage furniture, visited a trendy book store, and explored a place that had some really cool neon signs. At around 4, we decided to head out to the flats.

Two hours later, we arrived. I commented on how unique the drive was and how bright the sun was. I was now very glad April had insisted on me bringing sunglasses.

We parked at the visitors center and inspected the terrain.

“I didn’t expect there to be any water,” I said as we peered over a large pond that acted as a boundary between the parking lot and the salt flats. On the other side, we saw lots of vehicles driving around, but they were all large off-roaders. We both observed as a Toyota 4x4 drove through the water. The flat unmoving surface acted to hide the bumps and ruts under the surface. The truck surged and dived a great deal as it traversed the thirty or so feet of water.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” I asked as I looked back at our low-riding Lexus hybrid.

“I don’t see anyone going over in a car,” April said.

I spent some time walking around, looking for alternative routes and debating if our insurance would pay for a tow truck to pull us out of the lake.

“Fuck it,” I said, “We drove all this way, and I even increased the insurance just for this situation.”

The two of us hopped in the car, and we carefully began to drive towards the water.

Heading down a steep hill, I could see the bottom of the shallow pond. It honestly didn't seem nearly as bad as I thought. As I slowly entered the water, I heard the bottom of the car scrape as we bounced up and down violently. Within seconds, we were on the other side, and the surface turned smooth as silk.

“Woohoo!” I shouted as I pointed the car toward the mountains and began to drive. Excited, I turned the radio up and started to accelerate.

At first, I kept it around 40, but after I had some time to understand the properties of the salt, I began to press the gas pedal deeper towards the floor. We hit 50, and April asked me to slow down.

I kept going to 70, then 80. I rolled the window down to feel the wind rush by, and the heat of the air instantly warmed the whole car up.

When the speedometer clocked 90, we hit a pool of water. I had no clue there would be water, but it was too late now. I lost all control of the car. I didn’t want to hit the brakes though, so I just let off the gas and tried my hardest to keep the wheel straight. The car was still going about 90, but we were now traveling sideways. April seemed to be oblivious to what was happening, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Slowly, the car began to slow down, and by the time it completely stopped, we had traveled some hundred yards. First sideways, then backwards. Our car now faced towards the highway where we started, and I got out of the car, happy to be alive.

I decided in the moment not to tell April how close I felt to death just now. Instead, we distracted ourselves with the beauty of the flats.

One might think that a photo of the Salt Flats would be simple, and we would be bored within minutes. While there are only really a few things to see, the simplicity drives me to look deeper. An infinite level of nuance can be found in the wide stretches of white, a blank canvas upon which our imagination can run wild. As the sun begins to set, the colors change by the minute, and I fear I’ll run out of time. Hours had gone by in the blink of an eye, and it soon became too dark to take any more photos. April and I had both exhausted our creative energy with stacks of Polaroids and spent rolls of film. Tired, we decided it was best to get off the flats while there was still light, so we started making our way back to the highway. We had driven out quite some distance to get away from people. As we drove back, we noticed several groups of photographers who brought professional studio lighting and large reflectors. Other groups only brought lawn chairs and still sat as the skies released the last bits of color before dark.

We drove back through the pond and up the hill to the parking lot. The car was covered in a thick layer of salt, and we spent some time removing as much as we could from ourselves and the interior of the car. The tiny grains seemed to get everywhere, and I wanted to protect our cameras. Satisfied, we started the long drive back to Salt Lake City.

We arrived to find the city completely shut down. Not a single restaurant was open except for highway fast food joints. I found a Thai spot that was open for takeout, and we loaded up on food to take back to the Airbnb. It was already close to 11, and we both knew that tomorrow was going to be a real doozy.

“I’m setting an alarm for 4 a.m.” I said.

"So many sheep," April remarked.

The sun had just begun to peak over the mountains, illuminating a yellowing pasture full of sheep. Our car was heavily packed with all our stuff. An hour ago, we cashed in a pile of Starbucks gift cards for a day's worth of food and drinks. According to the maps, our destination was more than an hour and a half away from the nearest restaurant, so we needed to stock up.

I attempted to snap a few photos of the sheep, but they were too scared of me and ran away. If we weren't behind schedule, I might have stuck around a bit to see if they would return. But I didn't want to waste time photographing livestock; I had fossils to dig!

We didn't reach the quarry for another two hours. The last 30 miles of the drive were all gravel, and our little hybrid wasn't handling it well. As we exited the car, I couldn't help but laugh at its state. The thick layer of salt from yesterday had expanded as dirt and dust were kicked up on the gravel road.

We parked in a gravel lot next to two other cars. Off in the distance, I saw a wooden shack and a few porta-potties. Eager to get the day started, I ran over. No one was currently manning the booth, so I walked around admiring the rocky landscape.

As we walked, April found the first fossil of the day. Scattered around the ground were millions of rocks, and within a few seconds, I too found a few impressions.

A moment later, a bearded man came running from the bottom of the pit and got us all checked in. He was kind and helpful, giving us a safety briefing and handing us rock hammers. And so began a long day of mining.

As I made my way to the rock pits, I was filled with childlike excitement. I had always been interested in fossils, and I spent a great deal of my youth in Oklahoma hunting for them. Despite this, the culmination of years' worth of hunting could fit in a single small wooden box. Now, as an adult with access to more resources, primarily travel, this was my second major hunting expedition. It was by total accident that we were able to make it to this dig site. We had booked the trip to Utah without this in mind, and it wasn't until a week before we left that I even considered this possibility. But thankfully, it was in the cards, and we were able to make it happen today.

The weather was perfect for being outside. The sun was obscured by a thin layer of clouds, promising to stay that way for most of the day. It was warm, but not hot, and because we were here on a Monday, we basically had the place to ourselves. There were a few dedicated hunters out and about, but for the most part, April and I were free to use all the mine's resources.

It didn't take long before April and I started finding some good specimens. We were hunting in shale for trilobites, creatures so old that they were already fossils when the dinosaurs were walking around. They were small critters that were kind of a cross between a crab and a beetle. Most of the ones we found here were quite small, but early on, April found a beautiful specimen that was about 4 inches long.

The best way to find them was by splitting rock. To do this, we used rock hammers or chisels. I started by using large crowbars to separate big chunks of rock from a cliff face. Then we slowly peeled the rock apart, layer by layer. It was time-consuming and hard on our whole body, but I found the reward to be quite great.

I chose not to keep my camera on me while mining. Because of this, I didn't take any photos till the very end of the day. And by that time, I was dead tired. April and I had been mining for almost 9 hours at that point. We both came away with a large haul of fossils to take home. My goal had been 50, and looking at what we had scattered on the table then, I thought I had at least that many.

By closing time, our whole bodies were sore. April shared that she too was feeling weak. So, we decided to pack up the car and head out. Covered in dirt and sweat, my shoes were damp. I decided to take my socks and shoes off and switch into my flip flops. As I took my shoe off, pain shot up my foot and through my legs.

"Oh god April, my foot is killing me!" I said, wincing. I poked and prodded until I located the center of the pain - my fourth toe on my right foot.

April elected to drive us to our next destination, which was three hours away. After about an hour and a half, we reached the first sign of civilization since leaving the quarry.

Starving, we had only one option for dinner - a burger joint inside of a butcher shop. While we waited for our food, I took joy in placing a random selection of fossils on the table, examining each one far closer than time allowed at the quarry. I plucked each one out of a fanny pack I had been using to store the smaller samples we found. A smattering of dirt scattered itself across the table, and April busied herself with cleaning it up.

Our food arrived, and we both eagerly ate it up, wanting to get back on the road as soon as possible. Ahead of us, thunderclouds began to build, and the sky turned deep blue and purple.

I hoped the rain would hit us and clean the car. We could see the wall of rain in the distance, but just as the windshield detected the first few drops, the road took a hard right, as if it was intentionally keeping us out of the rain.

Hours passed, and we finally made it to our destination. You already know that April and I snuck into the resort for a nice little dip, so I'll skip over those details now. All you need to know is that by the time we made it back to the bed, we were both so ready for sleep that we could barely get out of our swimsuits. I think I was out before my head even touched the pillow, and as we slept, our bodies worked hard to prepare for our last day of the trip.

I had planned to wake early to photograph the resort, but as I peeled the curtains back, I was met with bright rays of light. The sun was already several hours into its daily arc. So instead of grabbing my camera and heading out alone, I woke April and helped her get ready for our official spa time. A few minutes later, we made our way up the stone steps to see the hot springs in the daylight. A few people were already soaking in the tubs. There were enough tubs for April and me to find some privacy though. I had to be careful as my toe was still in quite a bit of pain. Overnight, it had begun to swell, and in the daylight, I could see that it was black and purple.

"Oh Lucus, this is so warm," April said as she slid into the most secluded tub, hot water bubbling out of the rocks and overflowing as she slipped deeper and deeper into the water.

I too spent some time in the water, but since I missed my morning shooting opportunity, I went back to the trailer and grabbed my camera. The next two hours flew by as I alternated between relaxing and exploring. I, of course, took hundreds of phone pics for April, and only a few of myself. My ghostly white skin stood in stark contrast from the yellow and orange that gave this spa its unique style.

“We should book a massage!” April said after we got back to the gypsy wagon. “The website says to call this number if we want to book a massage. We should see if they can do a couples massage! I’ve always wanted to do a couples massage!”

Somewhat hesitantly, I called to see if they had any availability.

“There is only one person who does the massage, and they aren’t free till 3 pm. I’m not sure if we will have enough time to get back to the city,” I explained.

“Oh, sure, we have till 9 to get back,” April replied.

“Okay, how about we just book one hour for you?”

We now had a few hours to kill, so we drove to the nearest city and found the nicest restaurant in town. We ordered the most expensive items on the menu, fish for April and steak for me. The bill still managed to be far less than the cheapest meal in Oakland, less than $40 after tip.

After, while getting coffee, we discussed what else we could do. The woman at the coffee shop recommended we make the drive out to a lake nearby, but April would rather go downtown to see the shops.

We made the drive down Main Street, but it was over within just a few seconds. There were only a few shops open, and most of them were the sorts that sold necessities rather than the kinds of places tourists usually go. Out of ideas, April took me to a shoe store, but I decided not to buy anything.

As we walked around, a miracle happened - I found a game shop, and somehow it was open on a random Tuesday afternoon. We went in and spent some time looking at the board games. They had a decent selection, and with the help of the man who owned the shop, we picked out a fun pattern-based game that was for two players. I asked the man if we could play there, and he showed us to the game room that was full of folding chairs and tables.

For the next hour, we familiarized ourselves with the game, which was sort of like Tetris. We were able to get two games in - April won the first, and I won the second.

Before we knew it, it was time to go back to the resort for April’s massage.

I told April I would be walking around exploring and taking photos while she got the massage.

I walked April to the building where the masseuse told us to meet. From the outside, it looked quite shabby - not at all the kind of spot I expected. As we walked up the hill, the sun was very bright, and we could hear the gentle flow of spring water in the distance. Opposite the hut, an expansive graveyard of abandoned vehicles and farm equipment cluttered the otherwise picturesque landscape.

As we got closer, a woman came out to meet us. She introduced herself as Aubrey, and I handed April off to her.

To pass the time, I took photos of ducks and abandoned homes. After some time, I decided to sit near a pond and watch the fish as they swam. They all seemed to gather where the creek met the pond, mindlessly treading water and staring upstream.

I wondered what they were doing. Were they waiting for food to come tumbling down the stream? It would make sense that most food comes from the river. But I couldn’t help but imagine they were longing to travel up the river. Perhaps they tried from time to time. Maybe it was only the young and energetic that went, while the older fish resigned themselves to a sedentary life, waiting for whatever was upstream to come to them.

My phone rang, and it was April calling me.

"Hey."

"Oh my god Lucus, it’s so good. You have to try!"

"I take it you had fun?"

"It was life-changing, the best part of the trip! I asked if she has time for you, and she said you can do a one-hour session right now. I’ll pay! You deserve it."

"Do you think we have time?"

"Yes! Trust me, it's worth it."

And so, I walked up to the strange little shack up on the hill and spoke with the masseuse. We agreed to do a half-hour session and began right away.

The massage was quite nice. Amanda worked hard to loosen my body up as much as possible, and when I left some 45 minutes later, my walking had improved, and I could breathe easier. While I wanted to spend some more time savoring my newfound lightness, we were now running late and had to head straight for the airport, some 4 hours away.

The journey back to Salt Lake City was painless. We stopped at a car wash along the way to remove as much of the salt as we could. I didn't think it would bode well to turn it in in such a state. We didn't have time to stop for dinner, but we were both okay with that.

There was a quick moment of panic when I realized I had left my camera bag in the car. We were on the shuttle heading to the terminal when I noticed, and we had to sprint through the parking lot to make it back in time. By the time we got to the terminal, most people were already seated. But we made it!

My body had picked up a bit of tension since the massage, and the past few days of adventure had left me worn out. I expected I would sleep like a baby once the plane was in the air. But for now, I couldn’t help but reflect on how well this trip turned out. Without much of a plan, we landed in this same airport only four days ago. Since then, we had seen some tulips, almost been in a car crash, dug 500 million-year-old fossils out of the ground, and been healed by a magical masseuse. Not bad for a little credit card weekend trip.

As the plane began to taxi, I looked over to see April already fast asleep. The light was coming in from the window, and I reached over to shut the screen. I sat back and readied myself for takeoff. My noise-canceling headphones shut out the world, and before the plane even took off, I comfortably dozed off as well.