“On 62 is the MESSAGE FENCE we were telling you about —
it’s on the south side of road with the railroad tracks to the north —
it’s easy to see and worth stopping because it’s total Americana –“
Brian
The road was crazy-straight. The day was clear so we could see as far as our eyes would allow. There were no bends, no turns. Just straight, desert, 2-lane road.
There were dips, however. Big dips. Roller-coaster dips. Mister and I were cruising along, losing our stomachs to our throats, only to settle down for a mile or so before the dips started up again. And here was the funny thing: about every 10 miles there was a sign reading “Dip.” And that particular dip would be so minuscule as to make us wonder why a sign was posted at all. The other dips, however, were mondo. And around those puppies? Nope, nary a sign in sight.
Anyhoo, as we drove along in search of the Message Fence, we spotted something else: a desert totem pole with Iron Mountain in the background. Filled with notes and mementos, it is a cool piece of art. My favorite bit of eye candy on this one is the mailbox at the top of the pole. The flag is up, waiting for attention.
After a short couple of minutes admiring the totem pole, Mister and I continued our drive. At some point we realized we were paralleling the train tracks to the north of us, and started looking for the Message Fence on the other side of the road. When we caught sight of – something, we pulled over to get a closer look.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. The “messages” are mostly comprised of shoes. Yes, there are a lot of single shoes, but there are also a ton of fully mated pairs. Some of the shoes appear old or torn. Others look to be almost new. The collection is beyond odd, with the only uniformity being footwear.
There are a few other odd items thrown in for good measure, and those were just as interesting (or not) as the shoes. Some folks wrote on the items. Others didn’t. Erosion isn’t taking too quick a toll on the shoes, so I suppose this “art” will last a long while.
What I wondered was this: how the heck did that first person decide to attach shoes to a barbed wire fence? Was there a message? Is there a message now? I mean, I tried to glean some meaning from the spectacle. I tried to understand how so many soles might relate to our souls.
I was still trying to understand as Mister and I steered our way back onto the straight desert highway. And much like I’d felt after leaving that homeless kid outside our first desert stop, cluelessness abounded. It seemed the desert wasn’t giving anything away.
But I didn’t dwell on it too long, for I was getting hungry. And if I recalled correctly, Brian had some recommendations on that front…