It was a little worrying that neither Zac nor his motley assortment of hipster-mormon-biker bros had heard of the town of Strawberry, Utah. After an interesting experience in Provo (see above picture), all 7 of us cyclists were aching to indulge in some 4th of July festivities. Strawberry, however, lies off of “old” highway 40, and had the potential to be a ghost town. After putting on the Lance pants and chugging up the Wasatch mountains to Heber City,
we decided on the audible of audibles. Max received a phone call from an individual he only referred to as “Z,” persuading us to join him twenty miles north in the swanky Ski Town of Park City. On the spot, we abandoned our plans to camp out in Strawberry and, with no place to stay or a pitch a tent, headed up North. After baby-wipe showers and a fresh change of clothes, we wandered the town trying to find a stranger to take us in for the night. After Laura failed to cajole a man with a wizard staff (google “wizard staff drinking game”) into allowing us to sleep on his living room floor, she got a call from a friend of a friend; a professional ski-jumper who happened to live year round on the main drag of Park City with a floor for us to sleep on. Such news called for celebration, and we all converged on the Wasatch Brew Pub for drinks and snacks (I had root beer, for my interested parental units).
Next, we gathered on a golf course at the base of the Park City Mountain Resort to watch fireworks. Possibly the greatest day of the trip up to that point.
Audibles, adventure, and spontaneity are what make this trip totally worth it.
The next day we set off to camp at Starvation State Park. I have no idea why its called “Starvation,” (maybe something to do with the Donner Party) but it was an unexpected oasis in the arid east of Utah. We went swimming and Max made Cowboy Caviar. Yay.
This was our last night in the wild, wild state of Utah. The next day we planned for a century up to Dinosaur National Monument in Dinosaur, Colorado. The coolest town name, ever.