Park City, Utah where I’ve been staying with my friend Marilla for the past ten days was a silver mining town back in the 1800’s before it became a ski haven and the site of the Sun Dance Film Festival. Main Street still retains some of the old west feel despite the trendy restaurants and renovated homes that once accommodated miners and today sell for stratospherically high prices. Saturday, we took a guided walking tour, learned a bit of the town’s history and stopped for a beer at the No Name Saloon. It was once known as the Alamo, but when it changed hands the old owner wanted a steep price for the use of the name. Unwilling to fork up, the new owner had a clever idea. The sign hanging outside reads: America’s Last Authentic Miners Organization of Debauchery. The first letter of the first five words spell. . . you guessed it.
Utah is a beautiful state in all seasons. It’s been a bit hot during my visit–I wilt at 90 degrees–but we’ve hiked almost every day in the Uintas and Wasaatch mountains. I’ve seen mountain meadows with carpets of wildflowers, streams and waterfalls, iridescent blue fireflies, scampering wildlife. So much beauty, it was a hard choice between trying to capture it all and just taking it in. I tried to do a bit of both. Yesterday we drove out to Sundance, took the chair lift up and hiked down, a bit warm and dusty and more than ready for a fabulous lunch on an outdoor terrace.
Half an hour down the mountain in Salt Lake City, the two Red Iguana restaurants have long queues outside both places, funky decor and appetising selections of moles. The margaritas aren’t bad either.
I was going to write that I’d purchased the car on the patio of the Red Iguana (a Caddy?) with the handsome advance from the sale of my book, but after the Lamborghini joke, I decided against it. Haven’t sold the book, didn’t buy the car.
Tomorrow, we hit the road early, tomorrow night, Hot Springs, South Dakota. Whooopeee.