Last week I spent three days at what is billed as the most luxurious bed and breakfast inn in my hometown of Price—picture Buckingham Palace were it constructed entirely of materials readily available at Home Depot. My housemates were friends and fellow photographers, come to behold a selection of my glorious photographs on display at Gallery East. I am, of course, honored to have such talented and devoted followers.
When it came time to go our separate ways, I struggled mightily to persuade Jess and Leigh to take the Nine Mile scenic backroad to U.S. 40, which in turn would take them home to Laramie. They declined my advice, no matter that it is the shorter of two options. This because no one seems to trust my judgment when it comes to driving directions.
The following day I recommended the same route to Bill, who was aiming to get to northern Nebraska. He, too, was dubious; however, I believe I finally talked him into taking the shortcut. Whether he did so or not, I can’t say because no one has heard from him since.
I do vaguely remember that there is an unpaved section that zigzags up and over the escarpment known as the Bad Land Cliffs, where in olden days robbers used to lie in wait to waylay stagecoaches. But surely those days are long gone, or at least I think they are.
Myself, I chose to take scenic byway 191, which runs between what used to be the town of Castle Gate and Duchesne. It’s not the most direct route to my home in Salt Lake City, but it offers an alternative to dangerous highway 6 and overly crowded I-15. Best of all, it allows me to go slow, so if a deer or range cow should suddenly appear, I can avoid running into it.
And should I come upon something really strange—say, a bullet-riddled mattress propped up beside the road—I can stop and investigate. Now, empty bottles and cans and washing machines and television sets are commonly used for target practice in rural Utah, but this is the first time I’ve come across a perforated Perfect Sleeper. It wasn’t until I got to the village of Duchesne and spotted teenagers wearing mattresses that it became clear to me that this is how the residents of the Uinta Basin have decided to deal with the threat of school shootings. Outfit the kids with mattresses, preferably with Kevlar slip covers, and they’ll be good to go. True, a mattress-clad kid might be swept up like an autumn leaf and blown into the path of a passing tanker truck, but he’ll probably be able to walk it off.
Or so I thought until I pulled over for a closer look. Turns out the local high school was staging a fund raiser. Whew! What a relief.
