“By May 1^st, my birthday, I was on the road, giddy with anticipation, driving highways, then smaller roads, and eventually nameless trails. In that way, I was able to brush up close against the land, to meet the people, to find rhythms.

Utah has many mountains- a few sacred,  many skied and hiked, some just left alone-  each teaming with enough wildlife to have forced Noah to order a second ark.

I founds that the cultural tapestry of Utah is quilted with Mormons, Gentiles, Native Americans, Hispanics, saints, sinners and even a few scoundrels.

I met an agreeable mix of flaks with names like Ada, Doke, Nino, Joe, Darla and White Crane. We shared Diet Cokes or iced-tea while we chatted. “You betcha,” was the usual answer to a request for assistance. These are the kind of folks you want around if your car dies. As they drive the back roads, one hand rests atop the steering wheel, always ready to wave.”