More Summer

This past week has been both fast and slow, as Summer often is.

Last Saturday, Ashley and Elaine and I decided that a short road trip was in order. We left Monday afternoon. It was hot and we drove fast deeper into the heat and headed south.
We decided to go to Fish Lake--a deep blue lake that sits on top of a mountain and commands the desert for a hundred miles in every direction.


We ditched out on the freeway and took a back road that promised to lead us through the tops of the mountains and to our destination in grand scenic style.

The pavement dissolved in the heat underneath us and gave way to dust and gravel.
We encountered a "Road Closed" sign chained to the trees across the road.
We proceeded to lift the chains and drive under.


We wound up through the hills and into the aspens and pines and through meadows and stopped at a lake that wasn't on the map to hear a chorus of summer frogs rehearsing in the late afternoon.


We saw a moose.

We came to the top of the mountain pass only to encounter another road closed sign--and eight foot snow drifts blanketing the road ahead.

We drove back down, underneath the chains again.

It was dark soon after, so we decided to search out some fabled hot springs south of Richfield and after some help from the nicest cowboy gas station attendant on the planet, we found them. Mystic hot springs. A hippie-owned hot water haven in the desert hills.
We soaked in giant white bathtubs under a nearly full moon.

The next morning we found ourselves in a green pine and quaking aspen valley at nine thousand feet elevation next to a five mile long and one hundred foot deep lake.

We launched the old boat and found ourselves chopping high-speed across the water like a dolphin afraid of the deep.

We cut the engines and took a floating nap.

I nearly ran the boat aground in the lake's only shallow spot.




Later, we took off into the woods and found, among other things, Rust Springs, the High Top Meadow, and a pack of cigarettes dangling on a string from a tree--a lost and found.

The next day was lazy. We woke up late. Cleaned and picked a dot on the map called 'Frisco' that claimed to be a ghost town as our next destination.

We drove through what felt like dozens of small towns, stopped and stood inside Butch Cassidy's house and listened for ghosts.
Pulled over and explored an abandoned gas station and then drove some more into the evening.

We realized that Frisco was farther than we thought and left it to ghost another day without us.

Moon rise came as we soaked in the Meadow hot pots on the way back. Sitting on rock ledges in warm and crystal water over an underground cave we watched bats snatch bugs from the surface of the pond.

Thursday was recovery. Also found out that I got cast as Pericles in the Young Company Shakespeare production of the same name.

Friday was Family Reunion in Heber--catching up with long lost cousins.

Saturday new glasses ordered and lunch with Dad and Andrew at Taco Riendo. Best Horchata of my life. Every time.

Later on, King and I strike, followed by an adventure with Clark and Amy.
We went to the Hollow Mountain up the canyon--a looming quarter mile tunnel that ends on a cliff face. It's entrance is a forty-foot grid of rusted iron bars like a cage over a gaping mouth. I made Clark and Amy walk the whole thing in the dark.

We told ghost stories in the car, almost hit a deer, and landed in my yard sleeping on a spare mattress we had pulled out on to the lawn. It was getting light before we fell asleep, and we woke up scant hours later this morning to the clip clip sound of my neighbor trimming the roses.