Moki Dugway

As I packed for our jaunt to Bluff, I said to Tizzy, "Let's pack for our trip!"

She ran over to me, concern on her face.  "What?!  A trip? Are we there yet?"

I laughed.  "No!  We haven't even left yet!"

She scowled and looked me in the eye.  "Why?  Did we miss our flight?"

No!  What is this?  When did Tizzy become such an alarmist?  Like any four-year-old, she has no concept of time.  Everything good is "right here, right now," and everything else is in some other realm made up of both past and future, because they're one and the same in those tiny minds.  The only thing of value is now, according to Tizzy.

And in a way, she's right.  She knows what adults forget: that THIS moment is incredibly precious.  I often think of Longfellow's words:  "Act!  Act in the living present, heart within and God o'erhead."  This morning I looked at Tizzy sleeping and was overwhelmed by just how exquisite she is.  I looked at her porcelain features for a long minute, marveling again at the fact of her presence here.

This is why I love it so much when we go away on an adventure.  It's like being in a postcard where everything outside the frame becomes, if only temporarily, irrelevant.

The sun is such a luxury.  We had a relaxed breakfast on the patio and swam for an hour before hitting the road.  Scott had a route mapped out that followed almost exactly what Josh had recommended, too, as well as Araceli's cello teacher, who drives his vintage cars all over the backroads of this state.

Fist up, Mexican Hat.  Ptolemy didn't care that we told him it was too far away to climb.  He broke out of the car and took off running, calling over his shoulder, "I don't care!  I'm climbing it!"  After a hundred yards, he slowed down, disappointed, until he spied a much, MUCH smaller mound of dirt on the side of the road.  He brightened and squealed, "But I can climb THIS!"  Way to manage your expectations, Tolly!

The nearby town on Mexican Hat was exotic in its own beat-down, empty way.  We got gas and snacks at 7-11 before slowly driving the length of town, imagining what it would be like to live there.  Right now, I'm ready to pull up stakes and move to Mexican Hat.  It's sunny, it's warm, the air is clear and the backdrop is drop-dead gorgeous.  The fact that I'm ready to move there is testament to two things.  One, that the winter in northern Utah really is THAT bad.  And two, that I fall in love with every single place we visit.  I bet there's a name for that.  I'm going to call it Mexican Hat Syndrome.

I could totally live here.  For at least an hour.

Scott and I drove every mile of this day with perma grins plastered across our faces, along with the expression of disbelief over not only the beauty, but the fact that we had never been to this area.  It's tragic, really.  On our list of sites to see was Goosenecks of the San Juan State Park.  As an added bonus for traveling in the winter, aside from the fact that we were the only people for miles around, is that the state park was free entrance.  OK, it would have only cost five dollars, but we Dopps get excited about little things.

Halfway up Moki Dugway

Moki Dugway is a famous drive that has switchbacks all the way up a giant plateau.  Golda was terrified, but it turned out to be not scary, and worth the incredible vistas.  We couldn't help but stop a few times to gawk at the view.  I'm going to put an itinerary on the blog of this trip, for myself and anyone else who wants to do an incredible trip through Utah that doesn't route through St. George.  Moki Dugway is a must.

Aren't those switchbacks insane?