Lazalu
Originally Published April 17, 2022
We sat in silence waiting for the moon to rise over Lazalu. We had just finished a group reading, some poems, some recollections, some eulogies and songs. There were nearly thirty of us sitting in the hacienda of our host, Robert Perkins, a poet, adventurer, filmmaker and artist.. This week he was hosting a group called Kift, a gathering of techno-nomads, sharing the benefits of communal living while traveling around the country in vans, tethered through the internet to their “day jobs” in Silicon Valley.
Theirs is a community of choice, made up of a diverse group, each with their own story. Most had left a life behind, willingly or not, and it was clear, as we sat there in silence after the reading, that they seemed to find love and support in this group not found elsewhere.
We had come from Coral Pink Sands the week before, a Sahara like desert, filled with roving off-road-vehicles, many boasting the usual banners. There was the constant high pitch of engines everywhere, a thousand leaf blowers buzzing in the wind.. Lazalu was a sanctuary to calm our nerves.
Shortly after we arrived there was mention of pack mules down the road. We went with Rob to visit Paul Gooch, a local ophthalmologist whose hobby, along with some of his friends, is to take pack mules into remote parts of Zion to camp in style. His website, Longears and Sourdough is a treat, if like us, you have donks on the brain.
