I’ll be frank, we rushed through Utah. When we left Elko in the morning, we had nothing but visions of Park City dancing in our head—home to the 2002 Winter Olympics and at an elevation that it must provide some respite from the summer heat. Little did we think of the salt flats between us and Park City. Like the Fellowship of the Ring on their way to Mt. Doom (except a nice Mt. Doom with trees and flowers and ski lifts) we faced overwhelming trials. Lacking air conditioning, we rolled down our windows and were treated to what I can only imagine a chicken must experience in a convection oven. Fortunately, growing up in a family that did not believe in air conditioning, I knew the drill. We had bought a spray bottle during our stay at Walmart and now I let the convection heat evaporate misted water from our skin. It’s like sweating but ten times more effective.
While we had considered a stop over in Salt Lake City, we were thoroughly over anything remotely having to do with the seasoning. Instead, we went up. Up! Up! Up to Park City, where the trees are green and so is the grass. After traveling across Nevada and most of Utah, I no longer take that color for granted. We stopped over for a trip through the Park City Museum to learn about the Silver Fever that established the town and we grabbed lunch. Then it was off for the border and Wyoming.