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240/365 – The Trip-Part 6: Utah and The Seven Wives
© 2012 Timmy Tamisiea. All rights reserved. IMG_0862

240/365 – The Trip-Part 6: Utah and The Seven Wives

Woke up all psyched for the real hot breakfast the hotel promised us.  I mean, you pay 90 bucks a night for a hotel room in small town Colorado, a hot breakfast is expected!  Instead, we got a line out the door.  The way the hotel set up the breakfast counter was asinine.  At the end of the counter was the waffle maker . . . and everyone was waiting for that.  Instead of placing that machine in a separate area so two separate lines could form, it was a gaggle of people who wanted the waffles and blocked anyone from getting to the eggs and sausage.  So, Megan and I had cold English muffins and yogurt.  Gross.  I mean, you pay 90 bucks a night for a hotel room in small town Colorado . . . 

On our way to Utah!

Part way through the morning we stopped at a little oasis for gas.  I wouldn’t even call it an oasis – it was like some David Lynch wet dream.  A weird little gas station with a run down diner and a odd store next to it.  The landscape was beautiful, but ot also made the whole scene oddly surreal.

Behind me is a world of weird.

I was insistent on going in the store.  Maybe we shouldn’t have.  I mean, would you go into this place:

There’s “Wow” as in “Cool” and “Wow” as in “Holy Shit!” Guess which one this is.

The other signal that we should have stayed out was the sign on the door that read,”Don’t feed the bears.  There have been several bear attacks in the area.”  In Andersonville in Chicago, this means something quite different.  In The Wow Effect . . . The store was full of odd wood carved statues, a fat bearded man on an old cell phone sitting in a rocking chair and . . . coffins.  At least three of them.  We high tailed it out of there before the man could get off his phone and murder us.

By late morning, we reached Utah.

Gonna get me another wife, y’all!

Here’s the thing about Utah; the lndscape is BEAUTIFUL.  Like deserts mixed with grand rock architecture.  At the same time, it is bereft of civilization.  At one point, there was 120 miles of nothing.  No rest stops.  No gas stations.  No small towns.  Nothing.  We made a lot of stops at scenic views.  Partly because they were absolutely stunning.  Partly because we had to get out of the truck.   The first scenic view was pretty damn awesome:

And we're buying a stairway to . . . and we're buying a sidewalk to heaven.

And we’re buying a stairway to . . . and we’re buying a sidewalk to heaven.

A bush between two big boulders . . . get your mind out of the gutter.

Pretty, Pretty.

Even in Utah she’s so LA.

This might be some of my favorite graffiti.


Even the parking lot is beautiful.

Old wood . . . seriously, get your damn head out of the gutter.

Old wood . . . seriously, get your damn head out of the gutter.

Beware of the wild handicapped people.

After this beautiful scenic overlook, Megan and I stopped in a little town called Green River, Utah.  I was just famished.  Especially after that crappy breakfast we had.  Green River, situated on the — yeah yeah, the Green River — was a nice little town.  We stopped at the Tamarisk Cafe.  A shabby little place with not too shabby food.  Seemed like where all the locals go for a night out.

The only risk is not taking one. Eh? Ehhhh?

We sat next to the large windows that faced the river.  It was a really nice lunch . . . nothing fancy or perfect, but just what we needed.   The thing that indicated the small town mentality was a message on the menu:

In ‘merica our colors don’t run and we tip. USA!

After lunch we hit that 120 mile stretch of nothing.  We had finished World War Z hundreds of miles ago and the Stephen Kind audio book wasn’t quote doing it . . . little tip for Mr. King — anticipation is different than drawing out the inevitable.  We put in another audio book, Panic in Level 3.  We thought it was another horror novel . . . it was non-fiction and really boring.  The author loved talking about his research process.  Another writing tip — no one cares about the background details of writing a book.

Finally, we had to stop at one of the numerous scenic overlooks if only to stretch outr legs.  This one was called the Salt Ridge.  It was a massive stone wall that blocked everything going west.  The core of engineers had to dig a pass for almost 10 years to get the highway through.

No joke. Really breathtaking.

The hills have eyes.

Now you know exactly where this was taken.


It’s amazing just how massive this pass is.

Another view with the road.


When we finally reached the end of the massive nothingness of I-70 — the route between Green River and Salina, Utah, we had to stop and get some air, gas and refreshment.  Salina was truly an Oasis.  People of every creed, race and style stopping to get some rest.  A statue of a Native American (no plaque, no description) was standing just down the road by the gigantic parking lot — It was like he was protecting the travelers as they passed through this rest stop.

Before  that was just another indication of refreshment and American ingenuity:

After Sailna, it was about 2 hours to St. George, a town at the Southwest corner of Utah — the last town before Arizona.  Megan had done some research and found a little bed and breakfast we could stay at; The Seven Wives Inn.  Yes, named for the Mormon wives who occupied the mansion back in the day.

It was a really quiant B&B with seven rooms all named after the wives.  We stayed in the Harriet room.  Harriet’s was the niece of the Mormon’s first wife . . . just read the picture from our bedroom door:


We were so tired by the tome we reached St. George that we just walked down the street, got some pizza and ice cream and then headed back to relax in our room.  Before we made it back to the B&B we ran into another creepy children’s statue:

Smile for me . . .

Megan hated that thing.  So I put it in just to give you all nightmares . . . Oh, and caddy-corner to the Seven Wives was this little piece of Mormon history:

I dropped off MEgan so she could be a stone cold, ballin’ sister wife.

And so day 6 ends . . . Sleepy time.  Good night Bringhm Y


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