Hello Professor,

Sorry this is so long but this is a story that might hold something important to create into something but I haven’t been able to locate how it would work as a piece.

Over the weekend I went on a camping trip with a couple other undergraduate students. This trip was in preparation for a possible trip to Chaco Canyon during spring break to do research in regards to sound and how the surrounding environment effects it. The camping trip from the recent weekend was to test our preparedness for such a trip.

We decided to go to the nearby locations of Blair Valley and Slab City for the two nights we stayed. While the first night was fairly uneventful, the second night provided a happening that might be akin to what inspired the book from last quarter.

When we first started setting up our camp an individual by the name of Moth walked over to where we were and recommended that we move our spot we had picked as it was on the road (the exact areas of where driving occurs were difficult to see as it was in the desert off the main road) and it would be dangerous as “they” (we concluded he was referring to locals) drive around “his yard” without their headlights late at night. He proceeded to point out a location further south marked by two stacks of tires. He told us these stacks were to indicate an area of sand in which his bus had gotten stuck in not too long ago. We decided that would be a good distance away from where we had unsuccessfully tried to set up camp. The tires would provide a good marker around the camp to hopefully deter these late night drivers Moth had mentioned previously. So I set them up around the camp in five stacks of two.

The day proceeded to be fairly calm. It including a walk during sunset to inspect two water tanks that were covered in two separate murals, one dedicated to an extensive sexual fantasy with animal-headed humanoids and another that looked like a schizophrenic conspiracy theorist’s work. Later on that night after having a campfire cooked meal we decided to go to The Range, which is Slab City’s music venue. It was there that we ran into Moth again but in his acid fueled living he didn’t remember meeting us earlier. We thanked him for being helpful earlier and he said it was quite okay that we were staying in his yard. I was busy listening to the band and observing everything going on around while the girls we were with had a conversation with Moth and proceeded to dance with him and some other guys to the covers being played. After a while the girls got creeped out by the advances the semi-permanent residents of Slab City and we left to go back to our camp site.

It was around midnight when we finally settled in our tent. It was not as cold this night in comparison to the last so we fell asleep pretty quickly. I woke up about an hour later feeling uneasy, though I was having trouble discerning whether it was a need to go to the bathroom (which is near impossible when it is that cold) or something else was alerting my attention. Soon after I began to hear yelling from the direction of Moth’s residence. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY YARD!” “YOU FUCKERS MOVED MY MARKER!” and other reiterations which I can’t remember clearly but definitely involved the word fuck. For a while I wasn’t sure where it was being directed at, as he had been yelling earlier in the day but at his dogs. I woke up Chris who was slightly waking up because of his dog being alerted to the yelling as well. As the yelling went on I definitely began to get a sense of panic. Then Chris and I hear another voice and a car’s engine running. The sound of the car moves closer to us along with Moth’s shouting. Frozen in panic I can only sit and listen as Moth yells “GET THE FUCK OUT!” while the car drives past our campsite.

After the sound of the car moves past, Chris and I get out of the tent to look around. The car we suspect is Moth’s is out in the distance but not too far off and we fear it could come back around to run us over in an acid and alcohol fueled rage. A few moments of discussion between us and we decide we need to pack up. Chris loads his shotgun just in case. The only thing left to get together are the girls who are still fast asleep in the tent. We take a moment to think about it and then decide it would be illogical to stay the rest of the night and wake the girls up, rushing Janise into the car with the dogs while Chris and Caitlin pack up the tent and I deflate the mattresses. It was the fastest we’ve ever broken down the equipment. Just as we’re finishing we see the car start to drive out west away from our location but understand it could be only a matter of seconds until it turns towards us again. We jump in the car and drive off at 2 am.

I arrived back in my on-campus apartment at 8 am exhausted and bewildered. I’m still having difficulty sleeping but hopefully it’s not any serious post-traumatic and it’s just getting adjusted to a sleep schedule again. Let me know if you have any thoughts.

Best,

Henderson