FFWD Weekly
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Travel by Leonard C. Alan and Dana Wilson As our flaming-red chariot muled its way through the exhausted sun-blistered streets of Niland, CA., an apocalyptic-decomposing-atomic-desert hamlet, it became dreadfully apparent that the nihilists were in charge and the order of business here was the suffocation of ambition, plagues on houses, and the will of lethargy. No sooner had we rejoiced in our exit from this nomadic wasteland than we saw it in the distance. At first it looked more akin to a kaleidoscopic-lysergic nightmare than an oasis or a place of salvation. The sign read: "God never fails, Salvation Mountain." Slamming on the brakes and making a hard right, we were suddenly greeted by the spastic arms of Leonard Knight, the creator of Salvation Mountain. To fully understand the significance of Salvation Mountain, you must first meet the man. Born in Vermont in 1932, Knight received his calling 35 years later in a $50 camper in Lemon Grove, CA. Like a bolt of lightning spiked from Zeus, he had, from out of some dark tunnel of abstraction, seen the light. For the next half-hour he got down and prayed, "Jesus, I am a sinner, please come upon my body and into my heart." "Acts 2:38 says repent to Jesus. It's the one thing that God tells us to do," Knight says passionately. For the next 17 years, he spread the joy he had found. He talked to churches and embraced people until one day in 1984, he found himself in Nebraska towing a hot-air balloon behind his pickup truck. The balloon had a simple message for all: "God is love." Knight's trans-state crusade ironically came to an end in Niland, a town who's name bears and means nothing. "I just rutted out here," recalls Knight, adding that there is no significance in his mountain being the only sign of hope in this heartless homage of homestead desert death. So what is Salvation Mountain? Picture 100,000 gallons of non-toxic paint, layers upon layers, in every colour-combination known, lapping up part of the American desert. The mountain is covered with passages from the bible and is adorned with old cans and pots that have been beautifully converted into painted flowers. A calm sea spreads out before it – the sea and flowers parted by a yellow path leading up to an old, splintered, off-white cross. Below the cross, above a massive red heart, is his message, "God is love." Knight is of no particular faith. "I don't want a manmade church up here with one nametag, ’cause I love them all," he says. "I've had churches come up and say, 'How many people has the mountain saved?' I say none – Jesus Christ saves people." And as for charging people, Knight will have no part of it. "In my mountain here, God willing, it don't cost anything, because Jesus paid the price." Knight is excited about the prospect of his mountain being turned into a national monument. Supported by The American Visionary Arts Museum, they're in the process of attaining the unanimous vote of congress in recognizing Salvation Mountain with official national status. What this means, says Knight, is that the mountain will be around for generations to come. "I can't do this alone, it's going to take the whole world to help me." We have met many people in our travels, but none as beautiful as Leonard Knight. Never once did he impose his beliefs upon us, and he spared no effort in comforting us from the 48-degree desert sun. Knight's selfless desire to proclaim love as the supreme force affected us deeply – if you're interested in love, pay a visit to Salvation Mountain.

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