July 10, 2007
The heart of Zaqistan
Recently, I took a trip to Zaqistan. Zaqistan is a sovereign nation that my friend Zaq founded, located in the northwest corner of Utah. It is marked by a set of latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates. The nearest gravel road is three and a half miles. The nearest highway is another couple of miles further. From there, it is about a half an hour's drive to the nearest town, with cell phone service nearly absent the whole way.
Past expeditions to this remote micronation have been made on foot, as the quickest walking path traverses a rather large butte. But on this third expedition to Zaqistan, Zaq was determined to drive to Zaqistan, topographical nuisances be damned.
Most of the terrain looks like this:
The "small" desert brush native to Zaqistan is deceiving; hidden underneath these oases of life are mounds of death. Unfortunately for Zaq's minivan, a good deal of these bush-mounds are too narrow to drive around, so much bumpiness was had.
After spending the night at a clearing, one quarter of the way through, we made out for Zaqistan. We were lucky to discover a long stretch of salt flats, similar to those found in car commercials where cars travel fast and recklessly. Unfortunately, these commercials do not illustrate the slight variation in altitude of these "flat" sand stretches: our cautious driving led us to temporary residency in a nearby ditch.
Another unique topographical feature of Zaqistan is the local variant of top soil, whose dry surface hides the wet clay beneath it. In extracting the minivan from the ditch, we familiarized ourselves with the advantages and disadvantages of various traction-inducing techniques and implements. We tried boards, car mats, shoveling, using the car jack (for digging out the wheels and placing mats underneath tires) and removing all of the cargo. And at some point, two or three hours later, we finally did make it out, and went on our merry way.
At this point in the tale, it can not be understated how far away we were from any humans, human contact, or humans with four wheel drive tow trucks.
We arrived in Zaqistan, and proceeded to satisfy the purpose of the trip: building the Zaqistani capitol building. The geodesic dome was built with 150 metal tubes, half of which were left behind to permit future construction. The building process was quick and efficient, as it had all been planned and practiced before. We spent the night in the dome and enjoyed a dude brew.
The next day we woke up early to get a head start towards Salt Lake City, where I was scheduled to leave on an airplane at 11:30 PM. I think we got up around 7 AM. Throughout the morning, we made a specific effort to avoid any ditches or salt flats. Unfortunately, with only eight feet between the minivan and the gravel road, we got stuck again. I believe this was around 10:00 AM.
In retrospect, the first day's tribulations were introductory. Whereas we were dealing with clay before (which, though wet and sticky, can be made to secure any traction implements), this particularly stubborn patch of ground was filled with pure, frictionless sand.
New challenges require new tools. In this case, Zaq brilliantly remembered the sandbags. He had brought them along for the purpose of securing the robots installed on the previous trip (they had fallen over and needed repair).
The advantage of the sandbag over other traction devices is in its weight. The disadvantage of the sand bag is that the bag material is rather weak, as we learned, and only lasts one "go" before ripping.
Additionally, it should be noted that at this point we learned that the front right tire had been punctured and was leaking air.
Here is a diagram of the magical traction combo that eventually proved itself worthy for both sides of the car (with four and a half hours of supplementary digging and car-jacking):
Once out of the sand, our tire lasted the duration of the gravel road. Having used the car jack more times in the past two days than I might forseeably use a car jack in my entire life, I felt qualified for this new obstacle. Sadly, all that sand and clay had rendered our jack unusuable.
But what were we, if not resourceful? Zaq had the foreseen this conclusion, and had packed the solution in the back of the minivan... For the next 37 miles, we drove 10-15 miles, stopped the car, used his bike pump to fill the tire, then drove until we needed to pump the tire some more. This worked out well, and we made it to the nearest gas station A-OK.
When switching out the tires, we came upon good fortune: the spare tire was full-size, and could be driven on at normal speeds. (I am omitting here the story of how I accidentally dropped the mini-van on the axle) Partly out of general distrust, and certainly due to overpowering weariness, we drove quite fast to Salt Lake City, with visions of 130 miles-worth of bike pumping serving as our spiritual guide. We arrived in town around 8:30 PM, with my flight scheduled at 11:30 PM. The sandwich I ate was one of the best sandwiches of recent memory. To top it all off, I found out that my flight would be delayed for three hours, rendering our previous urgency unnecessary.
But our toil was not without its reward; the worthwhile journey is the one which tests the will and enhances the mind. Plus it is now a youtube:
As a footnote, I would like to highlight the fact that the only sounds in this video are ones we made ourselves (with the exception of a jet engine). The desert is silent. And it is beautiful.
July 8, 2007
77 BOA DRUM recap
Yamantaka Eye was number 0. He leads the drumming. He also modulates synthesizers and bangs on decapitated guitar necks with various banging implements. Three other drummers from Yamantaka's band, Boredoms, were numbers 1, 2, and 3. They promulgate new drum patterns, and periodically provide counter-melodies to the main pattern. Numbers 4 through 77 spiral out from the inner core. They are the outer circle, the big beat, the "ammonite's swirl," and the main draw for this massive event.
The 77 drummers are "77 BOA DRUM," a 77 minute performance for July 7, 2007 (@7PM).
Nearby boats played the part of innocent bystanders, passively observing rhythmic synchrony flowing across the river, ping-ponging off of the nearby Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges. New drum patterns emerged from the pulsing epicenter, passing slowly around the spiral until they hit number 77. The passage from one pattern to the next is a subtle process, resembling the ebb and flow of classical movements. Just as one pattern dominates, the next one creeps up slowly, eventually taking over.
Periodically, this cycle is interrupted by Yamantaka's hits to his mutant guitars, as the drummers respond with hits to their cymbals, hi-hats, snares or bass drums.
The effect was "continuous compounding amazement."
