541 - House on Fire
Today I woke up hotter than a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto.
No, seriously. For the past week it’s hit 100°F everyday, and my internal temperature was slowly roasting to perfection.
For the first couple days it was fun. A novelty, you could even say. “Look how hot it is! Hahaha this is ridiculous, I can’t believe Earth can get like this!” was something I’d find myself joyously exclaiming.
I was running, hiking like a neanderthal, and taking photos in that delicious Utah sunshine. I embraced the heat like it was a newfound friend.
But like all relationships, the honeymoon period slowly came to a close.
It all started after a night of little to no sleep. I’d just done an adrenaline-filled hike into the middle of nowhere, and my mind did not care for any sort of slumber. I woke up at 9AM feeling like I’d just climbed Everest. But in reality, it was the complete opposite. I was in a scorching desert at an elevation of 4,295’. That’s 24,737 feet below Everest.
I was dehydrated, sleep deprived, and absolutely cooking in my black Prius. There wasn’t a shady tree for miles, and I was exposed to the hot sun like a snail in a frying pan.
Crawling out of my black blanket, I moved to the front seat and cranked the AC to its max. I put my hand over the vents like a reverse campfire and waited.
I wasn’t lost in the irony that today’s adventure involved a place called “House on Fire.” It was a fairly famous set of Pueblo ruins known for its “inferno-like” stones. If you came at the right time of the day (between 9-11AM,) the sunlight would bounce off the canyon walls and light up the ruins like a house fire.
The place had been on my bucket list for years. The first time I ever saw a photo of it, I was at a downtown art festival in Breckenridge, CO. I still remember walking up to it, 9 or 10 years old, completely mind blown. I asked the artist where it was, but he wouldn’t tell me. He said that it was a “photographer’s secret.” Crusty old fuck.
Good thing I had Google and the ability to enter “ruins that look like fire” into it.
I took my hands away from the AC vent, chugged about a liter of water, then opened my door to a wave of heat.
Luckily the hike was only a mile or two. And since this place was well-known, it actually had a trail. Oh, the perks of civilized society.
I packed up my shit and set off. The hike in wasn't too bad, minus a few flies that made me want to jump off a cliff. I arrived at the ruins right on time, and the house lit up like a scene straight out of hell itself:
“House on Fire”
Taken with Sony a7rIV + Sony 12-24mm f/4 G
[ISO 640 ~ 12mm ~ f/9 ~ 1/160s]
(Want a Print? Get one here.)
“The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pain and pleasure.” - Dante Alighieri, from Dante’s Inferno. Had to drop that quote in here somewhere.
Not a bad shot though. I had to decide between about 50 photos all at slightly different angles. I’ve been absolutely in love with the Sony 12-24mm f/4 G lens lately. It’s a freaking wide-angle beast of nature.
Anyway. It was time to make the biggest mistake of my life.
I trudged back to my car, still groggy from my brain’s lack of dormancy. At least I got something done today. I had a feeling it was going to be one of those days where I binged YouTube, glazed in the afternoon sun.
So I opted for a nap. Maybe that would give me motivation to edit later.
Now, full disclosure, I’m not normally a “nap” guy. The idea of sleeping in the middle of the day makes zero sense to a late-stage workaholic like myself. I’d rather dig a hole. But on special occasions where I knew nothing was going to get done, I’ve been known to succumb to the lure of blissful slumber.
So I pulled the Prius into some geezer gas station, set the AC on high, and let the dream fairies take control.
3 hours later, I awoke in a panicked daze. My heart was pounding, and everything felt dizzy. The sun beat down on me through the hatchback window, and I was covered in sweat. But I didn’t want to move.
I gazed out my side window and saw a tourist walking by with their fat chihuahua, about 10 feet from my car. The thing was panting like it’d just seen the Devil himself. Maybe it had.
I mustered the strength to move to the front seat, following the cool air. But movement made me feel worse. Like I was going to pass out, worse. I had a sudden realization that my body was not doing well. Then my heart went into an even deeper frenzy. This place was an actual oven.
I need to get out of here.
Looking around, I grabbed some random editing shit and threw it in a bag. I stumbled out of the Prius, walked towards the gas station, and opened the door.
A gush of cool air rushed through me. I gasped at the intensity of the moment. This was what heaven felt like... I plopped down on one of the cafeteria tables and put my head in my hands. I let my soul evaporate to the promised land.
5 minutes went by. Then 10 minutes. Then 20. Suddenly the sound of a blender rumbled through my ears. I looked up to a 4 year old walking by with a milkshake the size of his head.
Nourishment.
I jumped out of my chair and ordered the biggest Oreo milkshake they had. (And a side of curly fries for good measure.)
And, slowly but surely, my body began to recalibrate back to its standard temperature of 98.6°F.
What a trip.
I got out my editing gear and pretended like I hadn’t just gotten possessed by some kind of heat demon. No more desert naps for me.
I’m on a mission to explore as much as humanely possible.
Want to see my progress? Check out the Adventure Map.
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