The Great Adventure

An alarm clock, now that was a new concept, dragged me unwillingly from my slumbers at the unreasonable hour of 4.45 am. Sleepily I beat it into submission and having eventually located the light switch I looked blankly around the motel room, my sleep fuddled brain eventually registering that today was Friday the day for heading back down into Utah and Salt Lake City. Map of route

No opportunity for breakfast at such an early hour, so I confined myself to a couple of the motel's complimentary biscuits and was eventually able to coax the temperamental coffee percolator into life, which as if protesting at the early hour produced a tepid cup of indifferent coffee in retaliation.

I had packed my backpack late the previous evening so after the luxury of a hot shower I was soon ready to head out. Whilst settling my motel bill yesterday I had enquired as to the availability of an early taxi, but their uncertain responses to my probing questions as to their reliability had left me unimpressed. Given that I absolutely could not miss the Jackson Hole Express back to Salt Lake City, as this would result in the missing of my flights home on Saturday, I had decided to rely on Shank's Pony and make my way to the meeting place at Car Corner under my own steam.

One final check of my room and at 5.30 am I hoisted my backpack onto my back for its final hike of this holiday and exited my room, carefully ducking so as not to collide with the top of the door frame and awake my sleeping neighbours. Outside is was still dark, mildly muggy, but dry with no movement or noise apart from the steady hum of nearby air conditioning units.

Not for the faint hearted

Having carefully confirmed the route on the Wednesday afternoon I headed off down the sidewalk (pavement - gone native already!) in the direction of Car Corner outside of Jackson.

After many days walking my feet had finally decided to register a protest, but surprisingly it was not the blister on my large toe which although impressive in dimension was painless, but an insignificant mark on the sole of my right foot. It felt as if the soles of my feet had been attacked with sandpaper. That said my jeans with the backpack belt pressing on top of my trouser belt and ordinary shoes with uncushioned socks were not the best way of mitigating the impact of the weight of a large pack.

Even at 6-4 and 13 stone I felt slightly vulnerable walking the streets at this hour, but apart from the passage of the occasional motor I was undisturbed. What I had not anticipated was the necessity to avoid the many water sprinklers that were automatically set to run at this early hour. They were indiscriminate with their aim and frequently soaked the sidewalks. Fortunately I escaped being caught by one commencing just as I passed by, but I had a couple of close shaves.

By now the sky was lightening and dawn was breaking as I arrived at my meeting place Car Corner at 6.10 am, twenty minutes early. Unlike my journey up from Salt Lake City, with the number of individuals slumped around in various states of consciousness, the minibus was obviously going to be full. Still I was hopeful of meeting some engaging personalities to keep me entertained during our 6 hour drive back down into Utah.

At 6.30 am sharp we were off and soon heading over Teton Pass. Unfortunately my travelling companions seemed a lacklustre lot and seemed disinclined to talk despite my best efforts (and English accent). It was going to be a long journey. Apart from the occasional protest from the rear of the bus as to the temperature of the air conditioning, it reminded me of being in a class of naughty children forbidden to talk.

Having left the windy roads of Swan Valley we reached Idaho Falls and joined Interstate 15 (a sort of dual carriageway with a very wide central reservation) which would take us all the way to Salt Lake passing by Pocatello and the wonderfully named Brigham City, which made me think of the old wild west. Readers may have heard of the California Highway Patrol (CHP) well a lot of the individual states have an equivalent and having travelled down the interstate I could appreciate why. To an English eye they are nirvana with very light traffic, but often very remote passing through uninhabited areas. Given the size of the land mass cell phone coverage can be problematical and should a breakdown or worse occur depending on the time of day it could be some time before help can be summoned. It is no surprise that they use medivac helicopters a lot.

A rather upmarket hotelHurtling down the interstate at 90 mph (this may come as a surprise as the imagined speed limit of 55 mph has been increased to 75 mph) we reached the Salt Lake City Airport drop terminus at 11.50am 40 minutes early. I assisted some of the travellers, who were catching onward flights, with their bags and then sat down to await the arrival of my courtesy bus to my hotel for night - The Little America. Fortunately having sat in the very same spot some 13 days before I knew exactly what to expect and the black mini bus soon turned up and by 12.15 pm I was on my way into downtown Salt Lake City approximately 6 miles distant.

In booking my hotel I had deliberately selected a mid price range to allow me a little luxury, but without being to over the top, so on arrival at the hotel I was surprised to find myself exiting the minibus into a covered area with a rather grand marble entrance. Backpack on my back the trekking poles strapped to it's side poking above my head like little markers the revolving doors, unless I was looking to make a statement, were obviously going to be a complete not starter. Fortunately I noticed a side door and swiftly headed through it into the hotel lobby.

Inside there was more marble along with polished wood and staff! To say I felt under dressed would be an understatement - 12 days beard growth, a dirty backpack and jeans were not the dress for this hotel and I practically tip toed across the lobby, discarding my back pack in front of an immaculately turned out receptionist who looked at me with some surprise. However politeness personified and identification confirmed (and credit card swiped) I was provided with a map to locate my room - fortunately for me (and them!) located outside the main hotel in a semi motel complex nearby. However unlike the Antler Motel in Jackson this was real luxury and cheaper at only $100 a night (Antler $125).

Top of my agenda, having not eaten properly since the previous evening, was food but first I sought out my razor and attacked my surplus of facial hair. Presentable once again it was back to the main hotel and I swiftly located the in house coffee shop where I was looked after by a charming old lady who ensured I was well fed and watered - my first steak of my holiday. On hearing that I was from Liverpool she reminisced about seeing the Beatles (makes a change everyone associating the City with a certain football team - or was this just an American thing?).

Lunch over it was time (2.40 pm) to head outside in the direction of Temple Square and see some of the sights.

Looking back towards my hotel from Temple Square

Salt Lake City has an efficient tram system but what I had not anticipated was the complexity of the timetables which to my eyes were incomprehensible. Add in that it was necessary to purchase a ticket at the station from a machine and notices of fierce penalties for underpayments, it will come as no surprise to learn that I decided to forgo the convenience and comfort of an air conditioned tram and head (literally uptown) by foot to Temple Square. My feet were not so keen on the prospect and protested painfully, but decision made I headed off into a boiling sunny afternoon with the temperatures in the nineties.

The Temple seen from just outside Temple Square boundary

I met surprisingly few pedestrians during my walk - I suspect that they were either all taking refuge in their air conditioned offices or staying in the comfort of air conditioned transport. My hotel was only 4 blocks away from Temple Square so it was only a matter of 25 minutes before I arrived at my destination. I saw little if any signs of urban deprivation along the way - no boarded up shops or buildings. A lot of the buildings had signs outside explaining their providence (including mentions of former brothels).

Temple Square home of the Mormon faith occupies approximately one city block. My initial impression was of a small redoubt surrounded by snarling traffic hurtling around its perimeter walls. It was much smaller than I had anticipated. The area was immaculately clean with lush green lawns and bright flower beds. As I arrived a wedding party were leaving the actual Mormon Temple (no tourists allowed in here). I decided against taking a photograph through the railings as being to intrusive.

The "Sisters" at work (behind is the fenced off Tabernacle undergoing renovation)As I wandered around the pedestrianised area of the temple grounds I was
aware of a number of lurking ladies (no not that type!). These I learned were the Mormon "sisters", who I would estimate were in their early twenties from all over the world who as part of their missionary duties were to spend a couple of years in Salt Lake City meeting and explaining their faith to visitors to the Temple area. They all wore discrete badges incorporating the flag of their country of origin indicating the languages they spoke. They were a very diverse group and it was certain that you would be unable to claim that you did not speak their language as I saw just about every world language represented including Mandarin. The "brothers" apparently are not so lucky as they have to undertake missionary work across the world preaching the faith. I also noted discretely in the area men in dark suits who, from their radio ear pieces they wore, I assumed were providing site security.

The Mormons have a very a large database of family genealogy and it is possible to research your family background. Unfortunately I did not have sufficient time to investigate this further. Wherever I went the sisters were always there and whilst not remotely threatening they were keen to steer visitors in the direction of the official guided tour.The one thing that did concern me was the "registering" of tour participants who appeared wearing name badges and were moved around like a shepherd with his flock.

Snapped whilst lazily watching life go by

I think it may have be the effort of my exertions over the preceding 10 days or possibly the heat of a summers afternoon, but I was quite happy to sit in the shade and watch humanity (and guided groups) pass me by.

The Mormon Tabernacle, home to the world famous choir of the same name, was unfortunately closed whilst the building underwent strengthening work to protect the occupants from any earthquakes. On asking when it might be completed I was informed that it was meant to have been completed last month (July) but was now running 12 months behind schedule. Nice to know its not just us British who have these sort of problems.

Having soaked in the atmosphere it was by now 16.30 and my early start was starting to catch up with me so I decided to head back in the direction of my hotel. Even this was not without its distractions as at one point I found myself inside a book store browsing their stock of books. How mad is that - come 5,500 miles and stop off at a bookshop.

Walking back to the hotel I stopped occasionally to admire the diverse architecture - a mixture of late 19 century, mixed with modern (what might be called plate glass). All in all I considered it very successful. The traffic was very busy though!

A leisurely dinner and I found myself gravitating back to my room early to "chill", redress my sore feet and reflect on my holiday, which was all but over. Its amazing how time flies when one is having fun.

All to soon it was time for bed - tomorrow would be another long day crossing multiple time zones and a number of airports to negotiate.

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