Road trip: Utah, me and a million other tourists

 

When time is of essence, a single minute feels like eternity and at the moment, it feels like a million eternities. 

I should have been gone by now.  I wasn’t necessarily in a hurry, but I had a plan and that plan included me being on the road five hours ago.  I should have been on the outskirts of Las Vegas instead of pacing my living room while awaiting the UPS guy to deliver my camera lens.

I have had this lens, actually a Canon 1.4x extender, on my Amazon wish list for over a year.  When I realized I could get over $100 off if I used my credit card points, I hastily ordered it.  

It wasn’t until two days later that I realized the scheduled delivery date was on the day I was leaving for Utah.  And that is why I am still at home.  As a side note, UPS attempted delivery the day before, but I was out running errands and a signature is required (sigh).

Finally! 

The driver is here and hands me my package.  I’m ready to sign for it, but he punches a few buttons on his scanner do-hickey and says he doesn’t need a signature.  A quick thank you and off I go!

It’s 6pm when I reach Sin City.   Twilight, but the gaudy lights that usually transform Las Vegas from grunge to glitz have yet to come on.  Mandala Bay, Luxor, and Excalibur Hotel and Casino, among others, sit dark.  Once called the “Entertainment capital of the world,” Las Vegas doesn’t seem so entertaining and I wonder how much of that is due to the pandemic.

Mulberry Inn

This isn’t my final destination and I’ve never really liked Vegas anyway, so I’m not too concerned about their tourism woes.  I’m just passing through, like I’ve done many times over the years.  The last being a little over a year ago.  

I was different then with a fragile mind and heart.  A sentimental and emotional mess.  Although I am driving the same truck, traveling the same road, and probably wearing the same shirt, I am definitely not the same person. 

The me of then and now are in stark contrast.   I remember the past the same as I did last year, but this time it is with a smile and gratitude for a good life shared.   Not a single tear is shed.

It’s 8:45pm when I reach the Mulberry Inn in St. George, Utah.  Somewhere along the way there was a time change making me even later than I already am.  

The Sherlock Room

My friend, Christy, meets me at the curb.  She helps me carry my luggage and camera gear to my room, but she is in her pajamas, so our greeting is brief. 

Edwin Woolley, a prominent judge and merchant, built the house in 1873.  It was one of the largest and finest structures in the city at the time.  Originally known as the Woolley-Foster home, it became Seven Wives Inn in 1981 becoming southern Utah’s first bed and breakfast inn. 

The Mulberry Inn, which it's now called, has only been in existence for less than a year and is still being renovated.  It has about 7 rooms and all are named after characters in literature.  

I am in the attic, which is called the Sherlock Room, named after Sherlock Holmes of course.  It is spacious with two beds, a desk, and a private bathroom with a claw-foot tub.  

Legend has it that the attic was used as a hiding place for polygamists when US Marshals came to town.  The house was also at one time a rest home and even a dormitory for Dixie State College. 

Playing cornhole with
Christy and her Dad

The inn is old and creaky and I am certain it is haunted.

The next morning, I meet Christy and her parent’s downstairs for breakfast.   I make a point of asking the proprietor about any hauntings.  She tells me a story about finding the light outside my door turned off when she knows she left it on.  Long story short, it was her husband turning off the light and not a ghost.  

I am disappointed yet relieved at the same time, however, she never answers my questions about ghosts with a definitive yes or no, so I am left to speculate and wonder.

I spend the next two days relaxing at the inn and driving around St. George with Christy and her parents.  They are interested in moving to St. George, so we look at houses, which also gives me the opportunity to check out different neighborhoods. 

California is too expensive and I do not agree with her liberal politics.  I have lived in San Diego my entire life and I am looking for a change.  I want somewhere more conservative and with a lower cost of living.   I can afford to stay in California, but can’t afford to live in California.  I’d rather spend my pension on plane tickets and not rent. 

Being close to nature is just one of the criteria for my finding a new city to live and St. George clearly meets that requirement.  

Utah has five national parks, with Zion, being less than an hour’s drive from St. George.  However, the city has a desert climate and I am looking for more of a mountainous area with pine trees and perhaps snow. 

Although I’ve crossed St. George off my list of prospective cities to live in, Utah is still one of my favorite states and I intend to enjoy her beauty while I am here.  

When our time is up in St. George, Christy and I say our goodbyes.  She heads for Colorado and I head towards Zion, Utah's first National Park, but instead of the tranquility I’d hoped for, I am met with traffic and crowds.

The Mt. Carmel tunnel in Zion is a little over a mile long and a highlight of the park.  It was built in 1927 and the reason for the congestion.  

It is a very narrow tunnel so park rangers are allowing only one direction of traffic to go through at a time.  It is a time-consuming process as the line of cars and RVs stretching in each direction seems endless.

I am frustrated.  It is difficult to find parking and I bypass many of the viewpoints because they are already full.  For the most part, my camera sits untouched on the passenger’s seat. I exit the park with perhaps a handful of photos taken on my cell phone pointed out the window.

View out the Mt. Carmel tunnel

Highway 89 leads to Bryce Canyon National Park.  

Originally a national monument, Bryce Canyon was re-designated a National Park in 1928 by Congress and it is my next planned stop.  The park supposedly receives fewer visitors than Zion, but the line of cars waiting to enter is long and it makes me wonder.  However, I am still happy to be here.  

It was December 2007 when I last visited Bryce Canyon.  The park was covered in snow with only one viewpoint open, but it was incredibly beautiful!  However, this time….

Park rangers have closed the first several viewpoints as the parking lots are packed.   That should have been my first clue, but instead, I remained optimistic.  Had I consulted a map, I would have known that the road through Bryce was in and out, not a thoroughfare like at Zion.  However, I didn’t so when traffic came to a standstill, I was momentarily excited.

Were we stopped for deer?  Elk?  Maybe a bear?!  My camera was at the ready, but when traffic inched along with no wildlife in sight, I finally glanced at my map.  The road ended at a visitor’s center.  It circled through the parking lot and that is why we were gridlocked.  A thousand more cars than spaces. 

I never made it to the end.  I lost patience and flipped an illegal U-turn in the middle of the road. I bypassed everything and headed straight for the exit, which was also congested with traffic.  Too many cars and not enough national park.  The entrance was closed and visitors were being turned away.  

A disappointing day to say the least. 

Bryce Canyon NP

If only I knew then what I know now, I would have come straight home, but a small part of me was still hopeful and I stuck with my original plan.  And that was to continue to Pando Aspen Grove via scenic Hwy 12. 

With nature, one can never accurately predict the changing of color in the fall, but I was confident I would see some along this stretch of highway.  I was encouraged by the groves of trees near Grover with their leaves of varying shades of orange and red and my earlier irritation was replaced with delight.

It took me longer than anticipated to drive Hwy 12 and it was nearly dark by the time I reached the turnoff to Pando.  The campground was still 30 minutes away with no guarantee it was even open because of Covid-19 restrictions.  Change of plans.  Drive to Richfield and return the following day. 

However, in Richfield, I couldn’t find a hotel room, at least not one within my budget.  Another change of plan.  Skip Pando and perhaps head into Nevada.  Maybe Mesa Verde National Park was open.  I was tired and agitated because of the unavailability of hotel rooms, but looked upon this as a learning experience in both patience and adaptability.

I drove another hour to Beaver and stopped at the first hotel I saw, but they too had no available rooms.  I called another five or six hotels but all were booked.  What was happening?  Where did all these people come from?  Were we not in the middle of a pandemic?  Shouldn’t people be staying at home? 

Exhausted, hungry and on the verge of tears, I got back on Hwy 15 and headed south.  By the time I reached Cedar City, it was 9:45pm.  I’d been on the road for 12 hours!  

My normally frugal self didn’t care about price.   All I wanted was a hot shower and a comfortable bed.  After making numerous calls to different hotels, I finally found a room at Best Western.  Lucky for me there had been a last-minute cancellation. 

The next morning, I looked at a map thinking of how I could salvage this road trip.  However, when I realized I had driven over 415 miles in one day only to end up a mere 52 miles north of where I had started, all motivation was lost.  

I drove home instead and enjoyed a hot shower in my own apartment.

 Total mileage: 1424 miles.