Jonny

"I want to go to Bryce Canyon," Jonny said, when we asked him how he wanted to allocate his weekend with us in Southern Utah, after spending Friday night in St. George.  When we actually arrived at the St. George house, though, Jonny felt torn.  He stood by the spot in our house where he had first met Jenny, seven years ago, and considered just hanging out in St. George all weekend, letting the good memories wash over him.

We decided on a road trip, and headed for Bryce on Saturday.  Dave and I were very flattered that Jonny would use this weekend, when Jenny was working and Jonny's classes were out, to fly to SLC to see The Parents. We stopped at a rock store in Rockville (or was it just down the road in Springdale?) to poke around in the piles of petrified wood outside the store and finger the geodes, sandstone book ends, and slabs of raw amethysts inside.  Jonny resisted the temptation to buy, but I emerged with a dinosaur tooth.

There are some places in Springdale that Dave and I cannot pass without visiting, and we shared them with Jonny--the Worthington Gallery, with its pottery and blown glass, and the David West and Fatali photo galleries.  We then ate a late lunch at the Switchback, with its tasty salads and salmon and its huge windows looking at red rock cliffs.

We arrived at Bryce in the evening.  It was dark and cold at Ruby's Inn, and there was ice on the pond outside our motel rooms in the morning. 

After breakfast at Ruby's Inn, shared with a busload of French tourists, we spent an hour or two walking to Bryce viewpoints, in awe at the beauty.  Dave pointed out Toquerville, beyond the canyon, where his grandfather was born.  Jonny prides himself on being a Westerner, and this was the ultimate West--rugged, isolated, dry, and gorgeous.

We then drove up Highway 89, through Escalante to Boulder.  We passed the narrow bridge of land where some drivers hesitate to cross, as cliffs fall hundreds of feet on either side of the road.  We passed the canyons housing Calf Creek Falls, and remembered fun times, when Jonny and Michael were little, swimming in the pools beneath the waterfall. 

We stopped at Hell's Backbone Grill, in Boulder, for a stylish Mexican brunch served by a handyman/waitress who carried pliers in her back pocket as she served our food, and then wandered outside to pull weeds.  We remembered the weekend, many years ago, when Dave had a conference at the Boulder Lodge and Jonny and Michael and I hung out here.

And there was one more highlight to a spectacular day, as we drove over Boulder Mountain and looked out at the Henry Mountains, far in the distance.  It was pure Utah!