Friday Travel Day

This will be a short blog, as I am tired, and while it is not that late, it feels late because I drove for over four hours to get here at Ruby’s Inn in Bryce Canyon City, a few miles from the park by the same name. It was a lovely drive, especially the few miles descending from 7777 feet, then Red Canyon on the scenic Byway 12.

We rose early, and Deborah packed and then headed off to her sessions, and I made coffee in the room (one for Deborah earlier) and wrote the blog. I invested most of the morning writing and doing the usual things, including paying for my health insurance premium for another month, for over $1,100.

Next, I doom scrolled, and the 1929 book did come to mind. The stock market face-planted into correction territory after it stopped listening to the President’s promise that the war is over (just like the Wall Street Bankers in 1929, I just read about who kept saying the crash was just a temporary misunderstanding). And with Mr. Trump’s pressure to lower interest rates, there is nowhere to put your money for any good return for reasonable risk. I will be glad for my first Social Security check in May. I cannot pull anything from my IRA in this kind of market. Time to buckle up and ride it out.

I am traveling on Thursday. I was happy to hear that President Trump finally agreed to pay the TSA workers. He could have done that for the last two weeks. I am not making a political statement here; he really could have done that all along.

Next, I wrote a nice story of our last full day in Salt Lake City, and had some of the pizza from last night for breakfast while I worked on it. Deborah also brought me some of her breakfast, and that was lovely: jam on a biscuit, bacon, and a potato. I wrote some more, packed, and soon published. I showered and finished packing. I then wheeled the heavy bags to the car. I was thinking I should move it closer as it was a long path in the parking garage, but no, I thought I should only make this trip one more time.  I then returned, and Deborah was between sessions. She had some books she received, and I hauled the books and my gym bag with my computer to the car, and again I thought I should move it. But then thought, no, that should be the last trip.

Deborah was back to her sessions, and I walked down to the Tabernacle at Temple Square for the noon recital. There were about a hundred of us (at least one school bus load of young folk). The sound was incredible as the building was built in the 1800s, before microphones, and someone projecting their voice could be heard everywhere. The pipe organ was loud but not brutally so, not even shaking the floor. The delicate notes were clear. The recital lasted thirty minutes and was a tour of the organ’s sound and capabilities, as well as the room. I enjoyed “Were You There?” and a modern atonal piece that showcased the player’s ability to coax new sounds from the organ and the room. After the playing, the organist, a young man, met folks; he seemed to love his job.

With that done, I walked back to the room and met Deborah there. Next, I put on her backpack and walked it down to the car again, thinking I should have moved the car, but it did not matter. This was the last thing.

Deborah checked us out of the hotel, and then we waited for the drawing, and sadly, Deborah did not win. We then walked one last time down to the car and got in, and I commented on how long that walk was and that I should have moved the car closer three times ago. Deborah just laughed at me.

We picked up sandwiches before we left, and I then drove us out of SLC and headed south. Deborah, starving, finally ate her sandwich when traffic was not chaotic, and later we stopped at Wendy’s to get me a coffee. I was getting tired after two hours, and ate our sandwiches then.

The drive, now on Highway 15 most of the way, and in Western Utah, was different rocks, mountains, and passes, and the coffee helped. The amount of open territory was even greater than during our previous desolate drive on Highway 6. Wow! We found two rest areas on the whole four-hour drive! This is not Oregon or Michigan, with their thirty-mile-or-so distance between rest areas. The last Starbucks is in Spanish Fork again (I was sure there had to be one on 15, but none after Spanish Fork).

After a long stretch of nothing, we reached Beaver, Utah, and there was a Flying J with everything you might need, plus various fast-food and sit-down places. We used the facilities and took some silly photos. It was a perfect break.

The drive was not stressful, but there was more traffic than last time, and a different route with fewer sudden curves, but some amazing views and more altitude. We left in the afternoon, and I was pretty tired when we finally found Ruby’s Inn.

The place was a madhouse, and parking was filled with folks going everywhere, walking or in cars. We got checked in and found our room to be comfortable, if not a bit plain. We got our bags to the room and soon headed back out for an expensive dinner at the hotel (when we were in the General Store, we saw folks grabbing frozen dinners to microwave in their rooms; not a bad plan). Instead, we had steaks and drinks. Our waiter, Isaac, had been working there for seven years and is part of the family that owns the inn. He helped us with the menu and was friendly. He gave us some advice on Capital Reef National Park. We think we want to stop there on the way back to SLC to break up the trip.

We were tired and found a Lonely Planet book on Utah’s National Parks in the General Store, which is helping us plan a half-day visit to Bryce. We are not planning to hike, but just to enjoy the simple things (though we can do a short hike we discovered in Arches).

And with that, I think I can stop here in our room.

Thanks for reading!