“...Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair....”
This is the first of a four-part series.
If, as I silently yearned to do at the height of the 60s hippie movement, I had been
able to escape (as I saw it) the confines of small-town southern Utah and make it to join all those other free spirits in Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco, life would be decidedly different. Not being into the sex and drugs that many were, however, would have been rather limiting on my own assimilation into that 60’s culture and I find that life has been just fine as I have lived it. I grew up and moved on, all those gentle people grew up and are now busily building their stock portfolios in preparation for retirement, and Haight-Ashbury traded its tie-dye and sandals for a suit of urban respectability, complete with groomed flower boxes and manicured and sweatered dogs. It’s amazing what can happen in fifty years!
Moving on to the “wander” to San Francisco. ‘Twas a quick trip, a day driving there, two days in the city, a day’s drive back. Lovely-- IF you like driving across northern Nevada via I-80, through the flatlands made of accumulated salt, where mysterious people stop on the edge of the freeway and leave messages and art with rocks and bottles in the salt beds (who ARE 
these people and who are they talking to?), then up and down through the endlessly stretching basin and range topography, crossing grasslands, desert, passing towns such as Wendover (destination of the “fun bus” and icon of wasted space), Wells, Elko (home of the Cowboy Poetry Festival and the most amazing Basque food at the historic Star Hotel), the Golconda Summit (this would be a beast in the winter!), Winnemucca (don’t you love saying that word?), Battle Mountain (not sure I want to know the origins of the name), Lovelock (get your love’s locket here -- no really, that’s what they advertise!), and finally to Reno, on the eastern slope of the Sierra Nevadas. The drive is as long as that last sentence but for desert lovers it must be delightful. For the rest of us, well, we just need to learn to appreciate the desert.
The climb to Donner’s Summit was beautiful and the mountains are stunning -- geologically a granite batholith, there is much exposed rock with spruce and other hardy conifers that put the garden variety to shame as they hang on and dig in, doing their part to break down that massive rock. These trees are the tough guys, and I have tremendous admiration for their endurance and raw beauty. Driving down the western slope of the mountains is an ear-popping good
time. Truckee is a skiing destination but since we were there in late June, ski season was over, the crowds were gone and the main thing running was the river. Snowmelt cascading down everywhere -- beautiful, especially after crossing the desert! Once you get to Auburn it is all California-- rolling hills, wetlands, agriculture, palm trees and cities. We finally made it to the toll booth at the Bay Bridge, about eleven hours after leaving Salt Lake City even with stopping for the Basque food (that deserves its own blogpost!) and then it was into the City by the Bay.
Coming soon:
Part Two: If You're Going to San Francisco - The Embassy Hotel, The Tenderloin and people
Part Three: If You're Going to San Francisco - Day One in the City
Part Four: If You're Going to San Francisco - Second and Final Day (ah sadness)
Thursday I escaped. With Tiff as collaborator, Jonathan covering for me at home, and the encouragement from my cheerleaders in the office I was able to make it out -- out of the house, out of the office, out of town, just out. I am OUT. Tiff leading the way, we dodged UHP marked and unmarked cars all down I-15, slipped off the freeway onto UT-9 and cruised through the otherworlds of LaVerkin, Virgin and Rockville, finally arriving at our safe house, Canyon Ranch Motel in lovely Springdale, UT. Caren and Mark (I've never learned their last name) met us as though we'd just successfully been handed off to them on the refugee trail. After getting us settled in our temporary home, they retreated, probably to go walk the dogs (I think that's pretty much an all day project for either Caren or Mark). Thus began our retreat.Friday was a planning day. The weather was looking rather grim -- rain, rain and rain/snow, but what the heck. If it's going to weather on us at home we might as
well be here! It wasn't raining yet and we'd come prepared anyway so we went to the park (Zion National Park). Never to miss an opportunity to browse the books in the Visitor's Center, we only looked this time, no purchases although Tiff tried to interest me in the stuffed tarantula for the boys (twin grandsons). Imagination prevailed however, as I knew I couldn't ride home in the same car as that thing so we left empty-handed. Clouds were heavy with only a spot or two of blue sky but the intensity of the natural world was, as always, breathtaking. We opted out of any real hikes as the steep trails were thickly iced over. Instead, we spent time just walking (both of us), sitting (me) and taking many photos along the river (Tiff). It was indeed a wonderfully reflective time. When was the last time you just sat on a log listening to the water and birds? A highlight of the day was the rafter (did you know that's what a group is called?) of turkeys that was on the road... and on the road... and back on the road..... Fatties all, they (eight of them) just kept coming back in front of the car. This is after the helpful History Association employee at the Visitor Center had told us that if we saw turkeys not to roll down the window to take pictures because the turkeys think you are going to feed them and when you don't they jump on the car and try to get you! By the way, wild turkeys have really long, sharp claws and can rip the paint on your car to shreds. Just so you know.
Saturday was more of an indoor day. It was raining all day and since we both brought projects to work on there is no better place t
o work on projects than right here with the stunning scenery available from the windows. We did spend a little time with a real estate agent (sister of friend Greg) who showed us the perfect house for us here. The only obstacle is money to buy it! Anyone want to go in with us? We'll share the time here!
Sunday, our one day left. We woke up to snow! Beautiful! Lots of snow! Knowing that the canyon would be stunning with the snow we hurriedly piled into our multilayers of hoodies, jackets, beanies and scarves, grabbed cameras and batteries and headed out. The consensus was that though Zion is beautiful anytime, summer (peak tourist season) is actually the lowest on our seasonal rating. We've been here in spring-- water and waterfalls cascading from the cliffs everywhere, autumn-- leaves competing with rocks for the 'most colorful' award, and the smell! Oh my goodness, the smell of autumn in Zion triggers something primal. But Winter-- how to describe winter in Zion? One feels the need to whisper as though the slightest sound will wake something that needs to sleep a little longer. It's a tender, nurturing, pre-wakening feeling, as though the snow is lovingly protecting the life that will soon emerge. No turkeys or deer and few birds today, just stillness and intense color -- reds deepened by the wetness and dark green of the trees all accentuated by the whiteness of the beautiful snow.
Tomorrow I will retrace my way back home and Tiff goes east to Bryce, our respite over, but our time here will get us through until next time we can get back to the natural world that heals my soul.
able to escape (as I saw it) the confines of small-town southern Utah and make it to join all those other free spirits in Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco, life would be decidedly different. Not being into the sex and drugs that many were, however, would have been rather limiting on my own assimilation into that 60’s culture and I find that life has been just fine as I have lived it. I grew up and moved on, all those gentle people grew up and are now busily building their stock portfolios in preparation for retirement, and Haight-Ashbury traded its tie-dye and sandals for a suit of urban respectability, complete with groomed flower boxes and manicured and sweatered dogs. It’s amazing what can happen in fifty years!
these people and who are they talking to?), then up and down through the endlessly stretching basin and range topography, crossing grasslands, desert, passing towns such as Wendover (destination of the “fun bus” and icon of wasted space), Wells, Elko (home of the Cowboy Poetry Festival and the most amazing Basque food at the historic Star Hotel), the Golconda Summit (this would be a beast in the winter!), Winnemucca (don’t you love saying that word?), Battle Mountain (not sure I want to know the origins of the name), Lovelock (get your love’s locket here -- no really, that’s what they advertise!), and finally to Reno, on the eastern slope of the Sierra Nevadas. The drive is as long as that last sentence but for desert lovers it must be delightful. For the rest of us, well, we just need to learn to appreciate the desert. 
time. Truckee is a skiing destination but since we were there in late June, ski season was over, the crowds were gone and the main thing running was the river. Snowmelt cascading down everywhere -- beautiful, especially after crossing the desert! Once you get to Auburn it is all California-- rolling hills, wetlands, agriculture, palm trees and cities. We finally made it to the toll booth at the Bay Bridge, about eleven hours after leaving Salt Lake City even with stopping for the Basque food (that deserves its own blogpost!) and then it was into the City by the Bay.
