I have established a good set up in my life these days when it comes to "doing stuff." Obviously, if it's something I want to do, I'm doing it. If it's something I don't want to do, I'm usually not doing that, either. (Note: it took some time, but this flex is absolutely vital in life, and in speaking to others my age in a similar life situation, they are amazed one can do this. If you fit this category and are not doing this now, I highly advise you to get moving) This hasn't cut down on the amount of squawking in the house from others, of course, but it's made my days happier, so it's worth it.
This leaves one category: something is proposed and I either have no experience with what's suggested, could take or leave it, or truly don't know. "What the hell. Sure." tends to be my response. I needed to remember this after a typically terrible lunch in a sportsbook in a Las Vegas casino. Normally, I'd stay and fight through either with bets, or move to a different casino to find the right fit. What I hadn't done before was continuing to drive east.
What you see first might be what "Las Vegas" doesn't want you to see: very industrial, a bleak desert landscape, with a racetrack thrown in for spice. Next thing you know, you're just in the desert with no buildings anywhere, and you can't help but think you drove through a mirage. I figured there would be some casinos near the border, and there are, and they are as comical as I'd expected. No time for investigating - had to push onward to Arizona.
At this point, I'd been in the car a while, so when I was driving through the Virgin River gorge at dusk, I was more than a little concerned. You're making good time, you have no use for looking at scenery at these speeds, and yet you feel like you're suddenly driving indoors. (Outside, under some light) By the time of a Utah arrival, I felt like I'd crossed the finish line. Look, we made it! Take in a beautiful sunset, and we must be where we're supposed to be, right?
No, we're not, and because of the woman formerly known as Smiley's hunt for "hot slots" that commandeered 2 hours of our time, I'll be driving a 2-laner through the mountains in pitch black. "Hey Trip, where are we?" Well...I have no idea. Arriving later on at this time of year gives you little time for calibration or figuring out what's what. Awful food for dinner, worn out from driving desolate landscapes, and on an uncomfortable bed at the "lodge" was not an ideal ending.
Sun up, some of the locals were about. My body says it's an hour earlier than the clock which might not mean much to others but after yesterday, it does to me. "Come on - are you ready?" Well, no. My body was in Las Vegas yesterday, so get up at this hour on a Saturday, sure, I'm running on adrenaline for 24 hours. But I'm not there, I'm at a national park. It's time to hike?! Groggy, comically bundled up for the early legs of the trip, my stumbling in will have to be tempered.
The wandering is narrow, but despite the early cold, not only is the scenery worth it, so too is the people watching. Some is familiar to LA (large families a variety of ages leaving garbage in their wake), others not so much: one group of maybe 20 were all wearing bright blue shirts saying AUSTRALIA in a massive font. Another group included active seniors cautiously moving with walking sticks who, if I'm being honest, I'd have kept to just flat terrain as 1 slight slip would cause damage. The Big Scoop took a couple spills, no injuries, but no fun either, and the kind of thing that drives someone to say they're "never hiking again."
So, she and I returned to the lodge dirty, exhausted, and more concerned with relaxation on this "vacation" than pushing it. After cleaning up it seemed fitting that I watch a Utah game on the uncomfortable furniture. If the option is working too much to enjoy the scenery and nightlife which is limited, I can't say this is something I'd have wanted to do...or at least not in a way that I'd like. The vacation conundrum alongside the people of my house continues. More-than-passable Thai food capped the night, and I tried to be optimistic for the future.
More driving the following morning at least brought me to a small town in the middle of nowhere: Orderville, Utah. And yes, the best of this was an ATV ride to rock climb for views like this:
Post-climbing allowed me to wander this town. I'd have explored as long as it took to see everything, whatever that might be:
What's doing in Orderville? The post office bulletin board advertised getting your up-to-date shots, available properties and other services.
Pet care is apparently also a local issue. I didn't feel right about calling any of these numbers what with it a weekend and not wanting to bother the locals.
Wherever it is, I always appreciate a "main drag" of town, especially one where there are no stoplights. It makes it all the easier to get around. If anyone noticed, no one seemed to mind. A man complimented my Rams winter hat by reminding me "we've always liked the Rams because Merlin Olsen played there." I nodded and said, "Utah State." which, with a smile seemed to give me more bonus points than I realized at the time.
Who's up for some Ice Cream Soup, kids? I thought so!
We had to press onward, however - 1 more park to see. A much more leisurely drive led to Ruby's Diner. In a location that looked like the saloon in Dodge City where the Griswolds decide to visit and watch Clark get "shot" from an ornery bartender, we naturally took the all-you-can-eat BBQ buffet. It hit the spot and also gave everyone a different kind of fuel: the kind where you're going to want to walk around a bit. Where can we go with few crowds so that I can release the brass bonanza?
Nothing echoed out here, thank goodness. Plus, I could blame the nearly 2 miles high altitude on why I needed to just get back in the car. We were losing the light, and my greatest fear (driving these narrow, mountain-edged roads in the dark) was realized. When we finally made it back, we shoved down enchiladas at a furious pace. No one said much (we were worn out) but this meal felt like a victory more than anything else.
Somehow, we made it back the next day. We stopped in Las Vegas and kept her "hot slot" hunt to a minimum. We didn't stop in Baker, Yermo, or Barstow. We had to get home. And when we did, at dusk, it was an immediate look-around at how things were when we left. We had no idea of our future and yet, it was accomplished. Holding on to a tree root to dodge massive groups of tourists on a narrow trail? Having a milkshake for breakfast while chatting up small town locals? Trying to keep my breath over 9,000 feet at Rainbow Point? Lamenting traffic for an F1 race in Las Vegas?
"What the hell. Sure."
