Wandering the Weird
I’m taking a break from waxing poetic in my usual brooding fashion to have a technicolor waltz down memory lane and break down some of the weirdest, wackiest spots I’ve happened upon while traveling across the U.S.
I’ve been fortunate enough to travel often in my life, which is something I cherish deeply and realize is possible because of an abundance of privilege. Over the years, I’ve come to prioritize the more obscure, locals-only, non-tourist destinations when visiting a new city. If it’s off the beaten path, it’s right up my alley.
The qualifiers for making this list are two-fold: 1) When arriving, one of my immediate reactions was, “what?” 2) I remembered them in a timely fashion before publishing this post!
Cathedral of Junk - Austin, TX
Do you remember that scene in Harriet the Spy (1996) when they enter Ole Golly’s garden of magical left overs and your little eight-year-old heart goes pitter patter at the wonder of absolute, certified junk given a new life as spectacular treasure? It was a pivotal moment in my childhood. I’ve always held an affinity for junk and Ole Golly’s windchime garden is one of the first moments I observed and acknowledged the power of creativity and imagination as a tool for transformation.
Years later, I searched for fun, weird things to do in Austin, TX, a few years before calling it home. I set out, with my sister and friends, for the artistic haven that is Vince Hannemann’s Cathedral of Junk. I felt the same flutter in my stomach that I had over a decade prior
Built on a foundation of scrap metal, barbie heads, mardi gras beads, and rubber duckies, the CoJ is an offbeat delight and well worth the suggested $5 donation per adult. Just when you think you’ve seen it all, Vince throws you a TV zen garden and stepping stones built by yellow tires.
Nestled in one of the increasingly stifled neighborhoods just south of Ben White, the Cathedral is almost single-handedly keeping Austin weird. Battling complaints from neighbors, check ins by city officials, and forced structural re-vamping, this wacky wanderer hopes Vince’s Cathedral withstands the ever-growing buzzkill that is Austin’s love affair with gentrification, suburbia, and capitalist approved art scenes only.
I was taking one of my first solo trips to Denver, CO, in the fall of 2016 when I stopped at Cadillac Ranch. The 70s art installation/sculpture sits in the middle of a cow pasture off I-40.
While walking the 100 or so yards from the road to the installation, I noticed an increasing amount of plant life covered in pastel spray paint drippings. Bus loads of kids, ranging in ages from children to what seemed to be college students, ran past me with delight, spray cans in tow. Someone had a boom box and was jamming to country rap while painting. It was a lot to take in at once.
According to the official Wikipedia page, Stanley Marsh 3, eccentric millionaire who funded the project, had this to say in response to Ant Farm’s original proposition for funding: "It's going to take me awhile to get used to the idea of the Cadillac Ranch. I'll answer you by April Fool's Day. It's such an irrelevant and silly proposition that I want to give it all my time and attention so I can make a casual judgment of it."
While interesting and fun, and definitely “What???”-inducing, I found myself a little underwhelmed and disappointed by the whole experience. Looking at a photo online inspired the same reaction as viewing it in person. That isn’t to say I don’t respect the longevity or authenticity of this project because I certainly do. It just didn’t resonate with me in a Harriet the Spy type fashion, which is the standard to achieve moving forward.
Salvation Mountain - Calipatria, CA
East of the Salton Sea, in the middle of a desert that feels a lot like a fever dream in southern California, sits Salvation Mountain. I still don’t quite know how to articulate my experience there. At the time, I was on my own, traveling the west coast for over a month. It did feel like being wrapped warmly in the arms of salvation.
There’s something about spending any length of time in the desert that makes it impossible to hide from things one’s refusing to face about themselves. Open land, powerful wind, beaming sun, unrelenting intuition knocking down our walls.
Leonard Knight’s Salvation Mountain is a quirky, loving, astonishing breath of fresh air, surrounded by merciless desert. The history behind the mountain is interesting and in depth, and I’m happy to report the odd legacy of this unsuspecting mountain of art lives on.
I spent a little over an hour roaming the grounds and soaking in, quite possibly, the largest and weirdest art installation I’d seen up until that point. A couple took their wedding photos, a group of frat bros laughed as they wandered through the pastel colored love-land, and a few lone travelers, like myself, stood in what I can only imagine was amazement, taking in the power of one artist’s determination and vision.
If you have the chance, no matter your beliefs, take a trip to Salvation and hope for the same kind of warm hug from the desert I received while visiting.
This one is just about as obscure as they get. It took an hour of getting lost in Pike Place Market to finally muster the courage (and swallow the pride) to ask a stranger where the gum wall was. I’m grateful they knew what I was talking about and saved me the embarrassment of trying to explain why I wanted to go see a brick wall to which hundreds of people had stuck their gum.
It’s a stinky stop, for sure, and when I was visiting, two armed cops guarded sanitation workers who were spraying down the wall, bit by bit. I found myself mumbling “what is happening?” many times while visiting the Pacific Northwest and this was one such occasion.
According to the official Gum Wall Wikipedia page, the nasty habit began in the 90s and has persisted since. Just outside of the Market Theater, it’s reported parts of the wall have measured several inches thick (literally gagging sparkling water while typing this) and the gum shrine spans 50 feet.
I won’t say it’s a delight, but I will say it’s unusual enough to visit.
The Witch’s Castle - Portland, OR
I’d like to state, for the record, I’m not proud of venturing out to find this destination at dusk, completely alone, without cell service, in an unfamiliar city, wearing a bright pink bomber jacket in the middle of a dense, dark forest.
But I did. I did it and I’m glad I did it because it was creepy and beautiful and somber and the start of the next horror film I’m writing.
Built in the 1930s and maintained by Portland Parks and Rec, the abandoned “Witch’s Castle,” named by local kids who enjoy throwing Friday night gatherings at the moss-covered fort, lives in infamy as a haunted, ghostly dwelling.
The real story is, well, even more cinematic than your traditional ghost story. The family who owned the land in the 19th century had some weird drama, ending in one murder and one jailbreak turned execution. The land was left to the city of Portland and is a sought ought spot for hiking enthusiasts and horror buffs alike.
Nicolas Cage’s Pyramid Tomb - New Orleans, LA
I’m not going to dignify this spot with an abundance of time or energy, but I wanted to include it on this list because WHAAAAAAAT IS THIS GUY THINKIIIIIIIIING?! Sitting in a corner of the historic St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, which also houses the resting place of Marie Laveau, is Nicolas Cage’s future tomb, a pyramid-shaped eye sore, branded with the words “Omnia Ab Uno,” which translates to “everything from one.”
I can’t imagine the audacity and amount of money it took for the man who stole the Declaration of Independence to mark his territory in such a blatantly pompous and tacky fashion, in the oldest cemetery in New Orleans, no less, BEFORE HE’S EVEN DEAD.
Needless to say, locals hate it, I hate it, and I’m certain Marie Laveau would hate it.
Bonus: House of Eternal Return, Meow Wolf, Santa Fe, NM
I didn’t plan on including museums, places of business, or lodgings (like the Flinstone Bedrock City campgrounds outside the Grand Canyon or Tin Valley Retro Rentals in Terlingua, TX), but when speaking of the weird and what of the world, House of Eternal Return has to make the list.
I won’t tell you much because it’s best to visit without knowing much (the experience is in the mystery), but I will say it was one of the most magical and mind-bending days of my life. Interactive, playful, a little sinister, and possibly supernatural, House of Eternal Return is a must see in the state of New Mexico.
Alright, friends. It’s your turn. Let us know the weirdest, wackiest, most WHAT IS HAPPENING-inspiring places you’ve visited in the comments below.
Bethany Swoveland is a poet and digital artist in Texas. She’s available for freelance work and can be reached at bethanyswoveland@gmail.com. Sign up for Bethany’s monthly email newsletter here.