So yes, 14 hours. Why, you may ask, would we go on a journey for only 14 hours? It has to do with frequent flier rewards and A-List status, probably some form of algebra and physics, and the fact that Dan is all about rewards programs that will benefit our travels. It seemed a little crazy, but why not.

After getting in very late on Friday night (flight delays, then cancellations, then rebooking), we rose as early as we could muster to fully utilize our remaining six hours in the state before we had to fly back to Colorado. I spent the formative years of my life driving back and forth between Denver and San Francisco (where dear family members live). As a kid, we would make the drive at least once a year, and our route always took us through Salt Lake City. However, because my family is of the intense, we-can-make-it-in-17-hours-if-we-just-believe variety, we almost never made lengthy stops along the way. So while I knew what SLC looked like as it passed by the window, and had gazed upon the Great Salt Lake itself on a number of occasions, and once spent hours and hours on the cusp of Park City, Utah, when our car broke down — memories! — it had been years and years since I had really explored any of the sights. Dan had never been to the city or surrounding area at all. We started with a very fast jaunt around downtown and the grounds of the Mormon temple.

Then off to breakfast at a funky little diner….

…and then up to Park City, Utah. We wanted to see where the 2002 Winter Olympics had been staged. And where Sundance Film Festival takes place each year. It was fairly warm and most of the snow had since melted, but we felt we could imagine the scene. Sadly, we happened to be in Park City in the three-four weeks when the place essentially shuts down. In between ski season and their summer activities circuit, the place goes quiet. Business owners either take a nice vacation, or work on those renovations they’ve been putting off, or just give their employees what I imagine is a well-earned break.

On the drive to Park City. I’m such a sucker for a barn-in-a-field shot. 

Evidence of fun times gone by. Good ol’ Banksy. There’s a glass pane covering the work to protect it.

This is the look of disapproval I’m afforded when my subject realizes I just took a rather unflattering photo of him yawning like a lion on the Serengeti. 

After wandering up and down the streets, drinking coffee, visiting an independent bookstore and envisioning returning to feast our eyes upon the extravaganzas of future film festivals, we headed back down the mountain to see the lake for which the city was named.

As you can imagine, it was salty. I felt like my fingers were brining up quite well when I touched the surface. It was also very beautiful. Calm.

Ideally we would have ventured to the northern part of the lake as well and get some other views. And we certainly would have liked to see more of the downtown area. But that’s how it goes with a 14-hour trip. You embrace the time given you, you venture as far as possible and then promise to return another day.

The end!