48 Hours in Utah: I Want to Be SedatedPart II - Good Morning Salt Lake City and Donut Falls!
All Photos Courtesy of Grant Mitchell
Read Part I: Cannabis at the Crossroads
Around noon on Wednesday, M.W. arrives with an ambitious plan: first, a hike up Donut Falls, followed by a jaunty drive through Park City. Finally, we shall enjoy a lavish dinner at a five-star restaurant. We take off in an automatic import hatchback at high speed, chatting rapidly and recollecting about a time when we knew each other in another lifetime, within this timeline, but before the very different lives we’re both living now. Mentioning before, I can’t say much about M.W., because, well, it’s classified. But let’s just say that M.W. has been there, seen and done the figurative “that.” Currently, he’s much more chilled out in his new high-altitude home.
Hiking two miles up Donut falls was not too difficult in my Converse 3-stripe street shoes, although hiking footwear and shorts on this triple-digit degree day would probably have been more appropriate. Bebopping through the shady emerald trees overhanging as a welcome reprieve from the sun pounding on my face, bees danced about my ankles, zipping across the path toward brightly colored flowers and fresh streams feeding down from the falls.
In the crisp clean air of Utah with my old friend M.W., I felt a renewed clairvoyance of purpose. Trying hard to keep up with the standards, I know my body is slipping from the youth I held so dear. The temporal disposition of the self-transposed against the power of nature, and humility resonated profoundly. With a smirk on my face and an obvious effort for sloughing slightly upright against some back tweaks, the enveloping sunshine beaming down reinvigorated my soul. I was accepted again... not for the material accomplishments, so much as what I was and am. A simple person grounded in values of sacrifice, honor, and minimalism. I felt understood. My heart sang: Look up! Let the beams shine down upon the soul and speak clarity. I thought, it’s kind of like “the process of becoming a butterfly from a moth is the cycle of transformation and rejuvenation.”
At the crescent of the peak of the falls, I decided, what better time to try and cross the river through the middle path of rocks? A poetic train of thought about impermanence began formulating in my mind regarding the rare glimpses of moments we get along with our experiences. Knowing that we were running close on time, M.W. decided we should jet up to Park City. Up and away we drove to the home of the Sundance Festival.
By this time, I was seriously parched and had a bit of dry mouth from eating an edible earlier. Hills and mountain peaks of the highway opened to the City Hall of Park City, where we parked in a scrunched lot. Having never been to this airy town before, I was led by M.W. through a dark graffiti scribed hallway made of classic bricks between the driveable street and the main tourist pathway lined with shops.
This area had become highly commodified, with every square inch being occupied by some form of venue… art galleries, department stores, fashion boutiques, and the place I was eye-balling for a much-needed refreshment: a two-story black and gray unassuming pub. Climbing our final summit of the day to the top floor, we posted up at the standard watering enclave. It was pale ale for me and plain tap water for M.W., who didn’t want his driving skills diminished just yet. Our pub’s patio was loaded with tables brimming with young crowds, laughing and toasting to the heatwave. They were possibly delusional from the altitude and dehydration, like me, or just having a good time.
Either way, I wanted to know how much an apartment would cost per month in this neighborhood. M.W. said maybe $2,000, a couple next to us said, “This place wanted $2K/night during the peak snow season for skiing!” Watching the wispy clouds roll in, I tipped $2 for the $7 bottled beer and glass of water. With a nod to the bartender, and superfluous obligatory exodus comment, the final phase of our camaraderie operation loomed closer to completion.
It was all downhill from there. Literally! M.W. crept down the extremely winding steep road with a 10 percent grade. I was able to snap several moving photos, illustrating but never fully capturing the magnitude of the openness of a magnificent and breathtaking summer landscape. Utah is usually known for its wintertime escapades of snowboarding and the snowy scenery. The provocative allure of snapping summertime photographs in the full bloom of the sizzling equinox felt just as fulfilling. Combining text with graphics better conveys the trip!
At a decadent dinner, M.W. talked about numerous philosophical pontifications from Kant, items I can’t disclose, and we colorfully engaged for a couple hours. After a few beers and a relatively early departure from my good friend, I bid adieu to my final night in The Crossroads of the West. Cooler air breezed past our open car windows as M.W. expertly navigated the urban grid to drop me off at the Metropolitan Inn. Crashing out super late after more solo escapades downtown, I woke up way too early the next day, needing copious amounts of coffee. An excessively hot trek beckoned me back to my ranch outpost after inculcating our valuable insights.
M.W. left me with this letter: “It felt epic seeing you today. I enjoyed hearing about how you are discovering ways of overcoming challenges, tribulations, tragedies, and turning them into triumphs. Keep up the good work. The mountain and the waterfalls at Donut Falls uniquely serve as a stoic reminder of the impermanence of our physical selves, but also invite a celebration of what is good and whole within the here and now, and reinforce the enduring values of sacrifice and honor that have connected real men of the past, present, and continue to serve as signal beacons taking us forward into an uncertain future.”
Cruising the train back towards the airport, facing forward, gratitude struck my heart for the whole gift, realizing the value of the ability to travel medically. I jotted a profound note: Impermanence makes me philosophize on how valuable, unique, and special all the fleeting moments are. In a way, we’re all simply passengers on the ride of life and should pause to cherish the preciousness in all our experience snapshots.
