Up Parley's Canyon

The figurative me has made it to, and have passed Salt Lake City, Utah. I have walked 758 miles since leaving Alameda. I am walking up Parleys Canyon on I-80 to the cutoff to Park City, Utah.

Having Mormon pioneers in my background, I am always amazed when I travel up and down Parleys Canyon. It is very steep. I have seen many semi trucks lose their brakes out here on the slopes. I can’t imagine how they were able to keep a full wagon from barreling down the canyon.

I may make it close enough to Park City to attend the Sundance film festival. Dorey and I once attended with our friend Steven Wood. This was in 1982, when the festival was in its infancy. We were students at BYU. Steven drove. Driving with Steven is always an experience, as he spends most of his time looking backward. Adding to the experience was that it was snowing as we climbed out of Provo to the Deere Creek reservoir. I kept wondering about our sanity about this trip to see a couple of movies.

We saw two documentaries that night–one was Clothesline–a documentary about how women throughout the world are connected by a clothesline. The other was Errol Morris’s Vernon, Florida. The crowd was amused by both. We ate at the Tacotime in Heber on the way home. Strange what you remember nearly 30 years after the event.

On The Salt Flats

The figurative me is out walking among the Salt Flats. I have, I estimate, driven over these Salt Flats while over 50 times. Evening summer crossings are some of my fondest memories. I could often see dark rain clouds gather over the desert as we drove east toward Salt Lake. In a few minutes, lighting would flash off in the distance. A few minutes of rain would fall. And then the smell would hit--that beautiful smell that rises when the water hits the dry, hot tar of I-80. On great days, you can get this smell all the way into Salt Lake City . At that moment, I know that the desert will be cool enough to sleep for a night.

Other trips have not been so pleasant as those summer evening drives. In November 1983, when Christian was just a baby, we were taking home to California to introduce him to my father. Dorey and I slid across the desert in a winter storm, and worried that we would never get Christian to my father. I hope never to make that trip again.

The figurative me has walked 689 miles since leaving Alameda. I will be in Salt Lake City in 50 miles. The picture in the mural is not located out in the desert, but in Berlin.

Quick Catch-up.

I have walked 1,416,648 steps since figuratively leaving my home in Alameda. That is 670 miles. I have crossed the great state of Nevada, and have moved into the Salt Flats of Utah.

While the figurative me has been walking along, the literal me has also been on the move. Dorey and I had a wonderful time in Europe. We walked easily over 60 miles while there. We had Christmas, where Kate and Jacob came to cheer up the house. We had New Years, where we did little but eat and enjoy. And now we are in the worst month–January–but at least we are halfway through.

Those guys in the pictures are my fellow walkers. They can be found in Malmo, Sweden.