The guys over at the local burger joint have shirts saying “where the hell is Hanksville ?”. That’s the idea : it’s in the middle of nowhere in the desert, between Torrey and Lake Powell.


The city boasts more people than Torrey but it sure looks smaller (ok it’s Sunday, but still). Coming up to here was great though, as the road was downhill and through Capitol Reef park. This one is another fantastic national park, with great red mesas, and the road following the canyon along Fremont river. There are also lots of orchards all along, with agriculture schools still active.


After the park, the colors change to grey and for a time I was feeling on the moon. Then the canyon clears out and it feels like a desert, just like in Cameron. The road plunges through a canyon again, with brownish hues, joins the river, and a few houses show up : Hanksville.


I was glad to arrive. That’s the first longish run (50mi/80kms) I’ve done in more than a week, and I lost the habit. The road was easy, the wind not too strong (but still in my face), however I was counting the last miles again. I still have that feeling that I might just quit, stop and sit down at any time. But I can’t : there’s nothing around and I have to reach the finish line. I’m still objective-based, although I push myself to enjoy the ride as long as possible.


I was also pondering another vivid dream I had last night. I was being chased by a tiger, trying to hold closed a door. Then it got distracted somehow, and I plunged a dagger through its throat – quite a feat. It lies on its back dying, like a toppled Mountain. At this point my mother shows up, and despite my warnings, she goes to pet the tiger like it’s a cat. Of course she gets trashed, and I have to slit its throat open to finish it. Yeah it was very graphic.


Thanks to dreams interpretation, this becomes very clear. A tiger symbolizes power, but being chased by one is repressed emotions. That’s also my middle name, so it’s very logical. My mother in all this represents unresolved problems that have to be worked out.


All of this could be expected following the news I had yesterday. If you’ve read the blog for some time you know I’ve never known my father and started to look for him. I have very scarce info besides his name and the fact that he was a teacher in the early 70s. Before leaving France I wrote to the guy in charge of teachers in the corresponding region, asking to forfeit confidentiality and send me the infos they had on him. The answer came back : there was no teacher with that name at this period. A real plot twist ! That would mean either my father lied to my mother, or my mother to me. Hence, the dream. Sometimes the subconscious is very straightforward 🙂 Or maybe it’s just the bison meatloaf I had yesterday evening.


For the next two days I’ll be in even more remote areas, without even wifi ! I should join civilization again in three days, in Blanding, where I’ll take a day off – finally 🙂


One thought on “Hanksville

  1. Joe Mariscal

    You are John Chapman (Johnny Appleseed…look him up), sewing his apple seeds across the land for many reasons. You are sewing…excitement, enlightenment, sadness, depression, discovery…many things. Let the good people that you meet along your journey know how you feel, invite them to ride with you a few miles as you leave town. Be well my friend.


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