Tooleing Around: Day 30

Slow off the starting block today, packed and headed in to Park City for Breakfast. Promising rain again all day. Will hit the shops on Main and buy things for myself.

The room at the Marriot was very nice but  what hotel charges $10 a night for WiFi in this day and age?

The Eggs and Bacon At Main Street Deli were basic and expensive, lame coffee.

Crossed the road to the Park City Museum. It was a silver mining town before the skiing thing took off in the 1960s. The two crossed purposes when the original ski lift in 1966 was converted into an odd little subway that ran up the mountain through the mine shaft.

 

The basement also housed the original town dungeon, opened in 1885, closed 1966. 11 people died in this claustrophobic little prison. It was mostly a detention center and a cooling tank for drunks, The cells were tiny, about 7  by 6 foot . Spooky. 

And of course, Park City hosts the Sundance film festival, annually in January , now one of the top five film festivals in the world, with a focus on Independant film. It was originally started by Robert Redford. The historic Egyptian theater is the epicenter of the festival.

 

Mediocre coffee at Java Cow on Main, another odd combination of coffee, ice cream and souvenir store. 

Wandered the picturesque Main Street . Park City definitely has that laid back groove that comes with lots of money, It has that priveliged Hamptons feel. There are a few people on the streets , it’s obviously a town between seasons. Its quite a feat to be more expensive than Manhattan. 

Dolly’s Bookstore was another odd combination of bookstore and attached chocolatier. I bought another hardcover  titled The Piranhas. I read the authors other, Gomorrah, a few years back. That’s also the title of an excellent movie and an excellent, grueling series, dealing with the Naples mob.

 

Natalie, in Stoked, a far better coffee shop, gave me the run down on  Park City, She described it as being a little Disney like, lots of LA Movie peoples second homes and moneyed New Yorkers. I’m here in what’s called  Shoulder season post Summer and pre Snow.

Natalie is planning to move to Berlin with her girlfriend, Wolfe next spring . Wolfe is an artist specializing in oil on wood block painting . She showed me a website of the art, I liked a lot of the pieces.

Natalie  has an Irish passport, so she’s all set for Europe. The grandparents were from Limerick. She described a lot the coffee customers as Poodle Ladies.  I witnessed a couple , over manicured , over exercised, sheep dressed as lamb.

Moab was strongly recommended as a destination by Natalie and the Garage Cafe there, to eat, So heading to Moab. Moab is the town adjacent to Arches National Park.

The 260 miles to Moab brought me first through the changing fall colors, then across the plains with the mountains to my left and the last stretch through red rock valleys.

Walmart has gas stations?

 

Checked in to the Bowden Motel, not the Plaza, but it’s two blocks from the center of Moab. A couple of German tourists were unsuccessfully trying to pay at the front desk with travelers checks. They still make those things?

I got a complaint from good friends in Zurich I wasn’t posting enough selfies. Will see what I can do.

Moab is still in season , the temperature is  perfect for hikers. The town has more of a Western feel than Park City, anc there’s s nice hum to the place, lots of outdoor dining.

 

Went to Zax for dinner and ate at the bar. Got in a conversation with loud Harold on my left and  louder Bob, on my right, a tattooed ex marine and a veteran of Beirut. He lives in the cab of his truck, hauling long distance for the Military. He cant haul in California because his truck gives out too much emissions. Harold avoided Vietnam and just gave me a recipe for cheese curds (he’s from Wisconsin).  Though Bob lives in the lorry, he owns a home in Leesburg, Florida. I got some good instruction on how to carve up road kill if I ever have the need, truck ploughed Moose in particular. 

Fortunately, Steve Noonan, sat down at the bar and saved me in the middle of the “Let me tell you how I got my Indian Name” story.

The improbable Indian name is “Snow Hawk” by the way. Will fill you in someday . I thought I was going to get the “Two Dogs Humping” punchline.

Steve had an interesting story to tell. He is a helicopter pilot with the Australian army, on a three year transfer , posted with the Marines in San Diego . It’s a project to gain amphibious experience from the forces here.

Steve is 29, from Brisbane. He is making the most of any free time he has, seeing as much of the country as he can and meeting as many people as he can. We had a great conversation, comparing experiences as emigrants, once Snow Hawk and Cheese Curd and his missus left the bar.

Hopefully I will catch up with Steve when he gets over to NYC.

The Bills:

Hotel: $140

Gas: $34

Food: $15