Awe.

The sheer vastness of this place demands it. We have barely tipped toe on this vast land and it’s hugeness bewilders us from our pokey little nations across the pond.

The seemingly endless fields of sage brush flit by our window as we head for Salt Lake. The preacher on the radio talks in circular fashion about god’s love and infinite forgiveness no matter what the percieved sin, yet also tells us we must behave and not let god or Jesus down. This shit winds me up. I flit to the next station. 45000 wild horses are to be culled… 45000! We have seen 7, maximum. Where on earth they are gonna find these surplus horses is anyone’s guess, apparently it is to “make room” for cattle farmers. One thing they ain’t short of around here is space. It somewhat beggars belief. But as I say, this is the land of the large. Go large or go home I suppose.

The Salt Flats of Utah are immense. Brilliant snow white desert stretches until it meats the haze under the hot sun. Between the salt air, sun and the vast apparent sea from which the mountains emerge from as Islands amidst dead calm waters, one could be forgiven for thinking that this was indeed the coast.

The sea is a fickle one though. As Beauty blazes down I80 in the heat of the sun we cross like Moses, the ever retreating sea disappearing before our eyes and turning into the iridescent sparkling salt laden earth, shimmering like Cullen-skin in the sunlight as we pass.

Once we reach the capital of Utah, we head for the state building. Again huge, but beautifully built. Shrines to the pioneers and the likes of Brigham Young. The sheer number of churches, both existing and in the process of being built amazes Conny. By the end she is pointing out each one incredulously and vocally “Look David, another bloody church, what tdo these people bloody do with all these churches, they’re bloody everywhere?”

“Why they marry their sister-wives” is my reply.

“What they can do that here?”

“Yup, shall we find a sister-wife? Go big or go home?!”

Now. Let’s talk about food.

Land of the large definitely applies. Yes each house is ginormous, and each house has a fleet of ginormous cars/vans/trucks outside (which particularly boils my piss in these days of climate denial and such) but the food. Holy shitballs. I am not known for my lack of appetite. Rather the opposite is in fact true. I am a veritable vegetable dustbin, of industrial proportion. Attested to by my not insignificant girth (around the waist ladies, keep your minds out of the gutter please) and impressive man-rack. But even I, David “Never let a meal beat me yet” South opt for the small option where possible. You see ordinary folk walking around with buckets of beverage. A “light lunch” grilled cheese and Tater Tots fills us both up. Pizzas so big they don’t fit out the fridge door in Walmart without an angled tilt. Bottles of pop or juice that could last a family a decade…it’s incredible.

The propensity for disposables also hurts my brain but I shall leave that for another day.

Conny cooked pasta today. Enough to feed 30 I think. Something must be rubbing off on her.