A Nice Saturday Drive

Lisa was planning a drive to a rural town on Saturday and asked if I’d like to come. She is a realtor and had met a potential new client while hosting an open house. This new client had been drawn to Lisa primarily because she was a woman, expressing her belief that a woman would do a far better job of selling her properties. After a nice chat, she agreed to look at the properties Saturday; the reason for the drive. I had nothing pressing and thought a drive to the mountains sounded like a nice break from the usual traffic battle I face every day in the city. We hadn’t taken a drive together for awhile so that sounded appealing as well. 

The destination was a small town named “Hanna” approximately 90 miles from the city. Pulling the map up on Google, I realized in all the years I had lived here I had never heard of Hanna, much less traveled there. Talking to some of my colleagues earlier in the week, they mentioned it was a pretty area and worth the drive. I was intrigued.  As I researched the route; I understood why I had never been there. At the proverbial “Fork in the road” in Kamas, I always turned left. That direction took us to the Mirror Lake Highway; a favorite camping destination, so turning “right” would be a new adventure. 

Lisa and her client had agreed to meet at noon at their cabin in Tabiona Heights. Later, we would head to their small restaurant back in Hanna for a bite to eat. This was planned because in addition to listing the cabin, the client wanted to sell the restaurant and the house next door. We were leaving the city at 10; I suggested we take my vehicle for two reasons: One-I didn’t want to put the miles on her very nice S4 and two, we were unsure of the terrain and mine is AWD. 

As we were heading to my vehicle, we joked about picking up some jelly filled doughnuts from 7-11 for the adventure. This was something we always did before hitting the road on a trip, especially with the kids. It was a nice thought but decided to just take our water. As we settled in, we both thought it curious that we had lived here most of our lives and had never experienced Hanna or the surrounding area. The drive took us up Parleys Canyon towards Park City. It is a beautiful old mining town that has evolved into a world-class resort destination. The winter means skiing/boarding and the summer is weddings, hiking and biking; in fact, this particular day was nearing the finale of The Tour of Utah. This is a prestigious and highly regarded bike race that covers a good portion of Utah’s fantastic northern mountain terrain, and today’s route was unknow to us but knew it started and ended in Park City. 

As we exited on to Highway 40, it was becoming apparent the race was likely to cover part of this road. The further we drove, the more course signs we saw and the first sighting of fluorescent green shirts. As we started to ascend a hill; to the right was “Jordenelle” reservoir, a popular water sport area. We were never fond of it- “Too windy” we both said, followed by “Look how choppy it is.” But it is a beautiful view. We were both taken by the number of expensive homes dotting the landscape-all trying to secure the best view of the water. As we started coming down the other side, I pointed out to Lisa a large building in the distance. “That is where we rent the “Razors” for the annual customer appreciation ride/BBQ.” We both chuckled when recalling the condition my eyes were in after going on this ride. “Wearing nothing but sunglasses and going off-roading for the day killed my eyes.” “I remember” said Lisa. “They hurt me just looking at you.” 

Just past that large building, we approached the stop-light in Kamas; the “Fork in the Road.” Left took us to familiar territory, but right was the new adventure. As we continued driving, Lisa commented she felt she had traveled this road before. Every several miles, a turn, a building, a view, looked familiar to her. I remarked it was pretty and seemed similar to other drives, but I was confident this was all new to me. The road grew steeper with more curves, but because it was newly paved and the lines recently painted, it was easy to navigate. We also started to notice the large number of dead trees. Whatever the cause, there were more dead ones then living and hoped the wildfire’s that are becoming more common in Utah didn’t find their way here-there would be nothing left but scorched earth.  Even with the dead timber, it was beautiful. Occasionally, we were offered a view of a river; South Fork of the Provo river actually, meandering alongside the road. As we asked each other if there might be good fishing, we saw fishermen in the river and walking along the banks; poles in hand, none carrying fish though. I guess that’s our answer… As we continued on the very windy road, I pondered how challenging this drive would be towing our 28’ Airstream-a pain in the ass I’m sure. This scenery stayed constant for the next twenty or so miles, up and down, gradual twists and turns and the occasional turn-off for a trailhead. 

About the time we noticed a distinct change of topography, a road sign noted Hanna was 10 miles ahead. The pine trees were giving way to scrub oak and what appeared to be Utah juniper. The face of the hills were becoming predominately rock features in a variety of shape, size and color interrupted only by the juniper and stray, mostly dilapidated structures. The further down we road we went, the less appealing the surroundings became. There was one major and dramatic exception-the red hillsides! Those features were reminiscent of the St. George and Ivins geography, and broke up the monotony of the juniper trees. 

We were early for our appointment, and our GPS said we were getting close to our destination, so we started looking for a gas station; to fuel up and use the restrooms since the cabin we were viewing only had a septic tank. Why take a chance if it was operational right?  Problem was, there weren’t any stations. Checking Google, it said the closest fuel was 18 miles away-how can that be? There are a lot of trucks here and they burn a lot of fuel; there must be a Maverik station near; nope, it’s 18 miles down the road. In our quest for a rest-stop we had passed the road that led to the cabin, so we did a U-turn and headed back. We’ll pee when we can... Approaching Mile Marker 41 we turned left on to Lewis Road.  The paved road quickly turned into dirt and gravel. The directions Lisa had received from her client weren’t particularly useful, but we had the address and Google. Ahead was another “Fork in the road.” One led to Tabiona Springs, further up the mountain with numerous large homes, the other down a road with no structures in sight. That is the road we took. As it became increasingly rutted and uneven, we agreed our vehicle choice had been prudent; Lisa’s S4 could have handled the windy road with ease, but this stretch would have likely killed it. Google kept us going down this apparent road to nowhere, finally announcing we had arrived, and in fact we had. 

We turned into a wide and semi-flat opening in the juniper, occupied by a F-150. We got out and stretched our legs. As Lisa navigated to the cabin, I walked to the rear of my vehicle and did what I needed a restroom for-being a male has its advantages…  As I joined Lisa, her client and her husband, I realized it truly was 800 sq. ft. They were discussing the history of the cabin; 10 years in the making and sitting on 7 acres. It appeared to be well built and structurally sound. It had a decent sized kitchen, full bath and small living room, all needing completion. Against the living room wall was a very steep ladder that led to an upstairs space destined to be the bedroom. I climbed up but was apprehensive; the ladder was not attached to anything at the top. Lisa was more adventuresome and climbed to the top and walked around the space. I held the ladder as she descended; a little fearful of the ladder tipping over. They had been working on this for ten-years, but it was still not finished; 10 years commuting to build this made my head hurt. “Wow” I thought. While Lisa visited inside, I walked outside to survey the outer perimeter of the building. I noticed small, random groups of cacti between the dirt and juniper. It smelled good and was interesting to see but wondered who would ever want to spend any time here. There was electricity, which was a plus, but the only water came from a tank buried in the front “yard” that was serviced by a guy that would fill it if you called him. So, you have a sceptic tank, but no water…  Maybe if you were a hermit this place would be ideal.  

We had decided to have lunch back in Hanna at a restaurant the client’s daughter owned-and also wanted to sell. The client’s husband was finishing some concrete work on a pad leading to the front porch and wanted to stay, so she rode with us. In my vehicle she was explaining the boundaries on her property, all 7 acres of it. After backing out of the bumpy entrance, she asked if we would like to see the property lines. “Sure” Lisa and I answered. As we navigated the increasingly rutted road, we agreed again on our choice of vehicle. The client pointed in the direction we should proceed while telling us about her neighbor. “This guy has lived in a trailer here for at least 7 years” she said. “He lives here year-round.” She finished with “Nice guy, a little quirky though.” As she finished, we could see his trailer in a distance and noticed random furniture and objects littering the area. It was funny in an odd sort of way. Hung like Christmas ornaments on the branches facing the road were an eclectic mix of everything from a bat (wings extended,) super heroes, literal Christmas decorations, food containers and any other weird and amazing thing you could imagine. I wondered if he might be an exiled musician, or just a hermit; either way an interesting guy to have a drink with. 

We had noticed the restaurant on our search for the cabin, not because it stood out; only because we were really looking for it. The client said the food was exceptional and people rave about it. I didn’t doubt her-the food must be good because the exterior is very unappealing. As we parked, I noticed an outdoor seating area, completely covered with heavy semi-transparent plastic.  There was an “Open” sign hanging behind the plastic that was only partly visible and a sign adjacent to the parking area proclaiming the place too that was mostly obscured by weeds.  There was also a decorative metal sign hanging above the parking. It was rusted-was that by design or neglect?  The inside looked far better than the exterior and was decorated in a Women of the Wild West theme. Not sure why, other than the client respected women. We were greeted and served by her great-granddaughter, a girl of ten. She was bright, articulate and cute-it was a treat meeting her. She was proud to show off her new iPhone, earned with tips working in the restaurant she said. After placing our order, we walked outside to get a lay of the property and a sense of the possibilities. The outside grounds were large and had been left totally unattended. There were three mowers in various states of disrepair and outdoor seating that hadn’t had a butt placed on them for years I imagined. The client envisioned an RV park in the open space. It would take work, and a lot of money, but with the view of those red rock hills it would be stunning. Walking back inside, we entered through a recent addition that we were told was slated to be a State liquor store. The only employee would be the client’s daughter who also ran the restaurant-by herself. “No wonder so much is unfinished” I thought.  Next door to the restaurant was her house; also for sale, and also unfinished, just like the cabin and the restaurant.  Her husband was a handy man that worked in the city 90 miles away. He would stay in the city during the week working on the client’s house (you guessed it, unfinished or at least a remodel.) I could appreciate why everything went unfinished; everyone worked so hard. There was no denying their work ethic, but the unfortunate reality was nothing they wanted to sell was ready to sell, not even close. 

We finished our lunch, chatted a bit about the next step in marketing the properties and said our goodbyes. It was time to head home.  Lisa and I reviewed what we had seen and pondered the market in Hanna and Tabiona Springs. “How much would it take to realize the dream of those properties” we asked each other. “That’s why you are a realtor with the MLS” I said. We then questioned the recreational opportunities of the area; a question the client couldn’t fully express and thought crucial to any sale. “Why would anyone live or play here?” I asked. “The bikers seem to like it” Lisa answered. She was right; we had noticed a fair number of bikers on our way to Hanna and were following a group of 5 bikes now. Our conversation back was a mix of what we had seen, who we had met and another word of thanks for not towing a trailer on this windy road. As we were approaching the junction where we originally turned right instead of the normal left, we could see the growing number of people wearing the fluorescent green shirts. They were on all corners of the intersection; some speaking into walkie-talkies. The left turn took three light changes before we got through which seemed a lot for such a small town. In the distance we could see the building with the Razor rentals and even further we could see the road was closed going the direction we needed. When we started this journey, we were aware of the race and wondered if we would encounter any detours but thought because it was late afternoon, we had made it. No such luck; we needed a U-turn and a normal left back at the intersection. As we approached the turn, I recounted the drive I had taken with the Razor after I rented it, to better explain (again) why my eyes were so red and painful looking. “This road takes us through Kamas and into Oakley where our group met to start our off-road adventure” I said. “The highway portion of the ride was 15 miles each way, with four hours of dusty off-roading in-between. The problem was there was no windshield and I had only sunglasses-poor defense against the elements” I finished. The road continued to be populated by the bright green shirts, meaning the bike race would be passing here at some point. We were glad to have gotten this far, had we lingered in Hanna much longer we would have been stopped at our intersection for quite a while. This road skirted Rockport reservoir. Driving by we were surprised how low the water level was. It had been an extraordinary winter, with record snowfall, so why so low? Maybe it was normal and because we hadn’t seen this reservoir for so long, we remembered it being much larger. 

This onramp to I-80 entered about 5 miles beyond our planned route which was actually a nice diversion. We had already experienced the other route, so this kept the drive interesting. Traffic moved at a fast pace with the faster vehicles darting in and out of their lane hoping to get to their destination faster. This never works; you change lanes and it slows down. It is funny; the car that speeds around you gets stuck behind you at some point. Car Karma… 

It is not surprising to see construction on the hillsides while driving Parleys Canyon, but the excavation we saw was more extensive. It looked like a four-lane highway going up the mountain, bordered on both sides by tall pine trees.  “What are they doing?” I asked. I answered myself with “Ski-run?” “Road to a new development?” “No idea” Lisa answered. “Is that the old snow-tubing park?” I asked. “What was the name of it” we both wondered out loud. “Gonzala-Gonsaga-Gonsolo” “What is it?” We knew we were close but wrong. We had no internet, so Google wasn’t an option. Lisa called her sister to see if she remembered. It had been opened and closed numerous times over the years, so we needed someone close in age that actually went (like us) to remember. She didn’t remember either. The rest of the drive was smooth sailing and other than obsessing over the name of the park, we were home in short order. Entering our building Lisa Googled our question again- “Gorgoza!” she shouted. Opening the door, we were greeted by Lisa’s mom. “How was it?” she asked.  “It was a nice Saturday drive.” We answered.