First Quarter Moon
After a good night’s sleep and a first class breakfast at The Hub in Heber City, I was ready to rumble. My plan was to walk halfway to Provo and camp in a state campground along the Provo River.
I saw this random road decoration on the way out of town. Just once I would like to see a sign that reads “Strollerists Welcome.” Sigh.
In a hay field next to Hwy 189 somebody dressed up these hay bales like Minions. I think that’s what they are called. I am a little behind on my feature length animated cartoons these days, but you probably know what I mean.
The sky was pretty hazy this morning, but I could tell that the Wasatch Range is pretty cool. The Sundance Film Festival is held up in these mountains, which I was told are owned almost entirely by Bob Redford, that rich old coot.
This lake begins just before you get to Provo Canyon, which is where Sundance is and where the Provo River flows.
The wind was ripping pretty good here and then I noticed Road Work signs and then both shoulders were closed. Lots of traffic. Nowhere to walk. Bummer.
There was one large turnout, a place to put tire chains on your vehicle during the winter months. I scrambled over there and made a small sign that read “Provo” and hoped for the best.
The best arrived in a matter of minutes. The prettiest girl in a state full of pretty girls stopped her Chevy Silverado and helped me load Bobalooie into the back. I forgot to ask her or her infant’s name, so I’m just gonna call her Beauty and him Buckaroo and leave it at that.
Beauty is just as nice as she is pretty. She drove through the construction zone and to the mouth of Provo Canyon where she showed me how to get on the Provo River Parkway. A bike path! Good for strollers, too.
I proceeded to follow the Parkway into and through the city of Provo, past Brigham Young University and lots of yer basic iconic historic beatific edifices.
Provo is a thriving little metropolis. I think it would be a really fine place to experience a mountain winter season. Everybody I met was friendly to me – is it just because there is something charming/disarming about a geezer pushing a stroller?
Or is it because I am one of The Children of Peace?
Peace, Love, and I’m With Them,