Last week I officially decided that I’ve now seen all of Utah. It was while on Highway 21 between Milford and Garrison, in my trusty Isuzu Rodeo filled with bluegrass instruments.
Utah is the state of my birth, and for all the places I’ve been, it remains one of my favorite. I think the variety of geography is unbeatable, and the quality top-notch. Here’s a brief overview of my experiences around the borders of the state, starting at the top and going clockwise:
I once hunted deer with a muzzleloader (black powder, lead ball, buckskins) in the mountains above Snowville. Very cold. Saw one deer, took one shot, missed by a mile.
Last week I spent three hours on the side of the freeway in Tremonton when the band-mobile exploded on the freeway.
Lived in Mendon while I went to school in Logan which is next to the town where I was born, Smithfield. I’ve been to the back of Logan cave 3 times.
I used to believe that no one had ever found the bottom of Bear Lake. My dad broke some ribs on a four-wheeler while trying to ride the four-wheeler in the lake. That was weird.
I spent my high-school weekends hiking above Huntsville, in the Middle Fork area. I used to cross-country ski around Snow-Basin. A girl took me downhill skiing there once, but I crashed a lot and we never went out again.
My grandparents lived in Enterprise/Morgan while I was a kid. That’s where I learned to shoot, fish, hunt, chuck rocks, and stop profuse bleeding with dirt.
Evanston is not in Utah. It is also not pronounced “Evingston”.
I’ve backpacked into countless high Uintah lakes. I once speared a piece of jerky and posted it on top of Kings Peak, making that piece of jerky the highest thing in the state of Utah for as long as it lasted.
Once, looking for dinosaur bones near Vernal, I found the remnants of a cow and packed home a piece of the spine – my parents never told me it wasn’t a dinosaur, and for years the thing sat on my bookshelf.
The RubberBand shot the “Be the One” music video in Roosevelt and Duchene.
Wellington has a park in the middle that I have eaten lunch in more than any other park of any other town I’ve lived in.
I’m very fond of I-70. I think the San Rafael Swell is awesome.
Ah, Moab. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways: Canyonlands (Needles District), Arches, the Maze, Chesler Park, Little Wildhorse Canyon, Blue Bell Canyon, the Slickrock, Porcupine Rim, Amasaback, the White Rim Trail, Elephant Hill, Poison Spider Mesa, the Pizza Hut, Prophet Bob and your illegal homes blasted out of rock to house your too-many wives, Goblin Valley, the Confluence, Dead Horse Point, etc. etc. There’s no end to the wonder of that little corner of the state.
Reservoir Powell. You are not a lake. You are a giant toilet of refuse and oil-spills. You are the symbol of waste. I want the canyon back. HEYDUKE LIVES!!
I spent a summer dressing like a cowboy and playing mandolin and banjo in a little theater in Kanab. I know an obscene amount of cowboy poetry for a guy my age.
I was “escorted” out of Colorado City once by dudes in big trucks when I was cruising around out of sheer curiosity. Weird town. ‘Nuff said.
I lived in Hurricane for a few years. My wife was born and raised in Toquerville. I worked in St. George for 5 years. I have family in Santa Clara and Ivins. The biggest pot bust in Utah history just happened above Pine Valley.
Which brings me back, more or less, to Eskdale, Utah, and my Rodeo full of bluegrass instruments. I really enjoyed my visit to that Community.
I learned to whistle on a trip to Topaz Mountain, where I visited again this summer. I can still whistle.
My uncle makes targets for the military to blow up in the Dugway Proving Grounds. He has never offered to bring me along and watch stuff get blown up by jets and bombers.
On a trip to the Salt Flats, I set my land-speed record on a motorcycle and discovered the skeleton, saddle, rifle, and hatchet of a mountain man, apparently buried haphazardly by a friend. We reported it to the U of U, but no one seemed to care. Doing our own research, we discovered the journal of a man who survived the Salt Flats by eating his buddy on the same mountain we found our bones.
I got kicked out of the Peppermill Casino once for being under-age while watching a band.
I think that’s pretty much the whole perimeter. To tell the tales of the middle of the state would take hours, and they might not be as interesting. It seems all the interesting people I have met have lived on the fringes.
Well, here’s to fringes. If you’ve never been to Utah, it’s worth your time. If you’re new to Utah, just get in the car and drive around. If you’re a native to Utah but have never left your quaint valley of comfort and niceness, well, I have nothing to say to you.
And I can’t wait to know the rest of the world like this. Everything I’ve seen makes me grateful for a chance to live life and see the world – and as a musician? Even better!
See you down the road.
