Rocky Roads

Whenever someone mentions the term “rocky road” around my co-worker, he dives into the tedious tale of his high school friend who has the last name of Roads and how his parents named him Rocky and his brother Dusty. And every time he tells us this two-minute story, he acts as if it’s the first time he’s ever told anyone. Owing to the fact that the story is only two minutes, we all sit and wait and smile and say, “Ha ha. That is truly ingenious of those parents! Rocky and Dusty Roads. Pure awesomeness right there…” My discussion of rocky roads will not only be longer than two minutes (unless you are a speed reader), I also promise that it will be more interesting than what you just read.
Last Friday I decided to take a drive up into the Mirror Lake area. A few miles before Mirror Lake there is a turnout for the Duchesne Tunnel. One summer my Scout troop camped out at the top of the Duchesne Tunnel and we ended up taking inner tubes down the freezing passageway (which I don’t recommend or think is all that legal nowadays). After the first run down the tunnel, we figured a second run is only appropriate for adventurous young men like ourselves. We’re probably lucky we didn’t freeze to death, wearing only swimming trunks and sandals through an icicle-ridden, six-mile long tunnel that took an hour and a half from start to finish.
Of course you’re wondering when rocky roads are going to come into the picture. Well, we had a couple vehicles parked at the turnout so we could get back to our campsite about seven miles away. Back then it didn’t seem so bad traveling on the dirt road that led to our campsite, but when I returned last Friday, the road reminded me of a cobblestone road, except instead of tiny smooth rocks they were large stones, some sharp, and all I can say is, we were fortunate to have a vehicle that could handle the road’s bumpiness. At first I thought I had found a dried-up riverbed to travel along, but then there were indications (e.g. other people camped out near the road) that I was indeed on a roadway that led to an actual destination.
My poor pregnant wife. She thought for sure the bumps would induce labor and we would wind up delivering a baby two-and-a-half months early right there in the middle of the mountains and we’d have to flag down another motorist to borrow a knife to cut the umbilical cord. (Some of you are reading this thinking, “That’s how I was born. Nothing wrong with that.”) As we crawled down the mountainside at 5 mph toward the head of the Duchesne Tunnel, our unborn baby boy decided it was roughhousing time and he started really kicking and punching. My wife wanted to turn back and get off the road so the baby would calm down, but the road was little more than a glorified hiking trail, and it was literally impossible to turn our vehicle around, so we stopped every so often.
After about 45 minutes of bumpy rocks and short breaks, we eventually made it to the shady valley that is home to the Duchesne Tunnel inlet. The road we came down was the only way out, so I made sure we took plenty of time to relax and take in the scenery around us. We were surrounded on every side by mountains and woods. We saw a beautiful 100-ft. waterfall and hiked through a small canyon with a river running through it. The area was pristine and there were only a handful of other humans enjoying it with us. It was so peaceful; the only noises were natural ones coming from the river and the wind in the trees.
I am convinced that the rocky road we traveled on weeded out many would-be visitors to that beautiful area. I’m all for people getting in touch with nature, but along with people comes garbage and noise. The less accessible a location is, the more unspoiled and picturesque it will remain. The harder the journey, the more enjoyable the destination. Just another one of life’s lessons that was shaken into me as I bumped up the rocky road again toward a paved highway that would lead me quickly and easily back home.

In the Absence of Great Adventure

The great poet Robert Frost wrote, “Two paths diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.” That man knew how to create his own adventure: taking the almost unrecognizable pathway through a forest full of animals and other unknown dangers. Now, Robert Frost spent much of his time in the New England area, a relatively flat landscape, which means his pathway wasn’t fraught with the perils of steep cliffs and rock slides potentially blocking off the main trail. I don’t know if I could call his walk through the woods a hike; it’s more of a stroll really. And that is why he took the path less traveled by. He must have found the well-traveled paths extremely mundane and tedious. In the absence of great adventure, Robert Frost had to create his own.
Here in Utah, we have numerous trails that, as seen constantly in the news, pose a considerable risk to the people hiking those trails. Great adventure (i.e. coming face-to-face with a rattlesnake, holding onto tree roots to keep from falling off a 100-ft. cliff) is only minutes away from many of our houses.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but I love hiking. There was a time in my adolescent years when every day I blazed my own trails (or followed very narrow deer paths) through the forests of Rose Canyon, near the Kennecott Copper Mines. We lived right smack dab in the middle of nowhere, and there was plenty for a young boy to explore without having to travel too far. On summer days while the city kids were complaining, “Mom, there’s nothing to do…there’s nothing to eat…it’s too hot…” I was climbing to the top of a mountain that I had climbed three times previously that week. And each climb was as exciting as the last. Each day was a brand new day and I never knew what I would find or experience.
All across Utah, there are hiking trails that typically lead to a point of interest, whether it’s a waterfall or a cool rock formation or breath-taking beauty. (By the way, there are very few areas in the United States that can compare with the wealth of trails and hikes that Utah has to offer. Nebraska, anyone?) Some of my favorite “hikes” would probably be termed “strolls” by my reckoning, like Cascade Springs in American Fork Canyon or Silver Lake near Brighton Ski Resort. Both provide the strollers (as I will call them, since I cannot bring myself to call anyone a hiker who does not struggle to reach their destination) with a wooden pathway around a beautiful body of water. There are other trails near the main wooden pathway that you can take and evolve from a stroller to a hiker within seconds. And the pathways are very family friendly. If you have young children, such strolls are ideal to expose them to the wonders and joys of nature.
Some weekends I don’t have any grand adventures planned, but I still want to enjoy the outdoors. A hike is always the perfect solution. I can choose to take a small hike (15-30 min.) or a longer hike (4-6 hours), and there are plenty of each within a reasonable distance from my home. Back in my Rose Canyon days I could easily slip away on a hike and not worry about taking any sort of supplies. Now I generally have to prepare for hikes, mostly with water and a snack to keep my energy up. Sometimes even a map is required, especially if the hike is full of paths less traveled by. If I’m planning on a longer hike, an extra pair of socks and a first-aid kit are necessities. I may not have been the best Boy Scout, but I can appreciate their motto of “Be Prepared.”
If you’re in-between adventures, or your children are telling you that there is nothing to do (they already ran through the sprinklers and built a chair tent), consider a hike. They’re healthy, easy on the eyes, and typically free, other than fuel and supply expenses. And if you’re going to take the path less traveled by, be prepared and know that it will make all the difference between mundane and adventurous.

Why I Carry a Bat Signal

I drove up into the mountains to escape the oppressive heat of the valley floor and to write my column in the quiet that only the night can afford. Everything was fine and dandy as I sat there on a log a little way off from my car and looked out at the twinkling city lights in front of me. The cool air was relaxing and the occasional hoot of an owl was comforting while I carefully strung words together so that they would make sense to you, my dear reader.
Little did I know that disaster was lurking the whole time I wrote. And little did I know that disaster could take the form of a simple key, broken in half and bent at an angle just right for puncturing some poor unsuspecting fool’s tire. That’s right, a key inserted itself into my tire and released all the air necessary for safe travel. I kind of felt bad for the key, because it had obviously been made for a specific purpose, but it was now broken and useless and had tried to prove its usefulness by attempting to open my tire, which it was indeed successful in doing. But enough anthropomorphizing.
I didn’t realize that my tire was flat until I had backed my vehicle up to leave and it felt like my Jeep was stuck in some mud (I’ve felt that a few times and it’s never really a good feeling). Believe me, I’d have rather been stuck in a little mud than have a completely flat back tire. So there I stood, the good Tenderfoot Boy Scout that I was, utterly unprepared. No flashlight, no mechanic, no bat signal, no nothing. Luckily, my vehicle came equipped with a spare tire and other random tools that I eventually learned what they were capable of. Okay, I’m not that stupid when it comes to changing a tire, but it did take some searching around to find all the various tools hidden under seats and in secret compartments. This was my first flat tire on my Jeep in the three years I’ve had it. Pretty good I’d say.
Anyway, the flimsy jack I had to use got the Jeep up to a good height and I was able to remove the lug nuts. When I attempted to pull the tire off, the vehicle shifted its weight and the jack snapped in two pieces. The Jeep came down with a crash and I was suddenly up a very specific creek without a paddle, so to say. At first I hoped that the jack was simply playing around, but upon closer inspection I could see it was ruined beyond repair and I now had a 3-wheeled Jeep (which, by the way, is not a good thing to have at all).
The thing I love most about the mountains are the people who go out to enjoy them. I wasn’t in an extremely popular area, especially at night, but I was fortunate enough to finally flag down a kind soul in a truck who had a much sturdier jack than mine. The driver of the truck was more than happy to help, despite my embarrassment at having to ask for it and within minutes there was a spare tire where there wasn’t one moments before. After expressing my somewhat flustered thanks, I was back on the road again headed toward blessed civilization and my warm bed. (Actually I was headed toward this column you are reading now, and then bed.)
I realized that I could have been in a real bind if another motorist had not passed by me that night. I might have been able to dial a number on my phone and get enough reception to call for help, but those chances would have been thin indeed. Being prepared for the worst is an excellent rule of thumb, especially for outings in secluded areas where mechanics aren’t waiting around every corner, or any corner for that matter. I hate to say it, but expecting the unexpected isn’t what I do best, which is why I now carry a bat signal with me at all times. I haven’t tested it yet, but I have faith in the Dark Knight. I can’t always expect another outdoors enthusiast to bail me out of every scrape I find myself in, but if there is one nearby, you better believe he or she will do anything to help a person in need. Thank you, fellow adventurers, for being prepared when I’m not!

Auto Touring

“You all are crazy!” said the woman behind the glass window at the towing company where I was patiently waiting for my vehicle to be released. I had just told her that I had driven an automobile from Salt Lake City to Seattle. And I had half a mind to tell her she was crazier than me for charging people $125 in towing fees. You see, I parked where I shouldn’t have. The signs on the roadway were confusing to a first-time visitor to Seattle like myself. The poor rental car I was driving wound up getting carted away on a tow-truck. Anyway, there I was with a Seattleite telling me I was crazy for driving 850 miles to visit a beautiful city on the west coast. I didn’t tell her I was planning on driving down to San Francisco and then eventually back to Salt Lake. She probably would have charged me a “Stupid Fee” on top of all the other charges.
Finding out my mode of transportation was missing from where I parked it was one of the lower points of my recent road trip with my wife. Touring states and countries in an automobile is a great way to see a lot of beautiful landscapes as well as go insane. Road trips are like super-extended Sunday drives. We traveled nearly 2,700 miles over the 4th of July weekend, and let me tell you how grateful I am for the inventors of cruise control. I am extremely thankful for a device that allows me to stretch my legs out while maintaining a steady speed. Once we left the hustle and bustle of the Wasatch Front behind, I was able to set my speed at 75 mph and enjoy listening to my wife read to me as we rocketed toward Seattle. With over 40 hours of driving time total, we were easily able to read two books and play 20 Questions countless times. Not to mention ten of those hours were spent poring over a map.
I won’t bore you with the mundane touristy sightseeing expeditions we embarked on, but suffice to say, the weather was beautiful in San Francisco and all along the west coast the temperature was much cooler than Utah’s. We took a tent with us for a couple of the nights we would be traveling between cities (we wanted to save on hotel stays), and luckily we brought along extra blankets, because Oregon was a little chillier at night than I expected. California on the other hand provided a wonderful camping experience and the night temperatures were perfect for sleeping outside.
We did most of our driving after 8 pm. The highways were wide open then, and normally busy freeways were almost completely devoid of life. There were a couple of days when we drove during the afternoon, and it was nice to see the countryside and mountainous regions of Washington, Oregon and California. We crossed Nevada late Sunday night/early Monday morning on our way home, though, and didn’t see much of it. At about 9:45 pm we were blowing through Reno and by 4:15 am the bright lights of Wendover were well behind us. At the end of our auto-touring trip we simply wanted to be back home after spending so much time away from the comforts of our own home. Judging by what I’ve already seen of southern Nevada, I don’t think we missed much. In fact, the moon and stars were exceptionally bright in the pitch-black Nevadan wasteland, and I’d rather look at the night sky than the glaring heat of the bland desert.
There are only a few things that would have made my road trip better. The first thing: a better music selection. The rental car was equipped with Sirius Satellite Radio XM, and despite the technology involved, I was sorely disappointed with many of the channels, as they would often play the same music over and over and over. I can’t tell you how many times I found myself in the middle of Don McLean’s “American Pie” realizing I was singing along for the umpteenth time. The second thing: I would trade my atlases and maps for a GPS navigational system in a heartbeat. The atlas I had contained all 50 states and it only gave zoomed-in sections of the major cities. There were many times we had to guess we were headed in the right direction, because we didn’t have enough detail on our map. And the last, but not least, thing I would have wanted on my road trip: my dogs. The poor things missed out on miles and miles of open highway that would have been perfect for sticking a head out of the window and hanging out a tongue. Oh well, next time! Thanks for reliving this past weekend with me and I hope you’re able to enjoy an auto-touring adventure of your own soon!