I saw things to-day about which I could write a good blog, but I won't. I'm on vacation. I don't want to ponder import stuff. Stuff like why do we forsake things and move on.
Driving an aging but well maintained Morgan across the United States, it is not surprising that I would like to discuss "leaving things behind." We do it all the time and I am not sure why. Why don't we dig in our heels and insist on keeping what we have and built with a living past and not on its grave.
The American West in a certain way reminds me of Northern Ontario. I drive through little town after little town that looks to be but a shell of its former self. Fine buildings boarded up and apparently abandoned dot so many of the small communities. The migration to the big cities continues.
Enough. The rain was holding off this morning but the clouds still hovered overhead. We left the top up and headed for Jackson Hole. Jackson Hole is the name of the ski resort just outside Jackson, Wyoming. Clouds or no clouds, we were taking the new tram to the top. I figured with luck I might get some nice shots of the Grand Tetons poking their peaks above the low-lying clouds.
I was right. It was a simply gorgeous day. You just have to know where to look.
Winter still lingers on the mountain tops. Note the depth of the snow this couple is walking past. It is more than six-feet deep!
When I went slogging through the snow to get the proper angles for some pictures, the snow was deep enough to make the going difficult. Judy was unprepared for the deep snow and was caught with canvas, open-toed wedges. She went for a coffee in the small, simple restaurant at the summit.
With rain still threatening, we left the top up and headed south for Providence, Utah, our stop for the night.
To get there we were going to drive through some of the most spectacular scenery in North America. I wish I had more pictures but the roads were not the kind that encouraged picture taking. (The Morgan is quite small and Judy is able to squeeze off some shots but the tight, frequent turns made it impossible for her to hold the camera steady.)
The day took us through Wyoming and into Idaho and finally into Utah. We entered Utah at Bear Lake --- a long stretch of water with an incredible blue colour. It was so inviting we stopped at the Cafe Sabor. We knew any place with a permanent mariachi band in front had to be good. (The musicians were colourful, painted iron sculptures.)
The place didn't disappoint. Judy's Mexican Chicken Caesar was great with slices of fresh, ripe avocado, tender strips of chicken and lots of romaine lettuce and more. My dinner was more traditional but it didn't make as nice a picture.
Like I say, good days are where you find 'em. You just gotta know where to look.
When we left the restaurant the sky was as blue as Bear Lake. We stashed the Morgan top behind the seat with the sidecurtains. We were ready for the final twisty canyon road into Providence --- Logan Canyon road. It passes through fields brightened with wildflowers, slips between vertical limestone cliffs, and in many places a spring-rolling stream shares the canyon with the highway.
U.S. Highway 89 is a National Scenic Byway through Logan Canyon and I highly advise anyone who has the chance to take this road.
I felt, in a certain sense, like I was skiing a slalom course. I always ski with my hands holding my poles right in front as I go right and then left down the mountain. With the Morgan my hands are about the same distance apart as they steer the car right and then left and then right again. Logan Canyon has rhythm. It rocks. And it set my little Morgan to dancing as it sped between the canyon walls.
It was a simply wonderful end to a simply wonderful day.