After freezing our buns off overnight in Lamoille, we reversed our course and drove back the way we came, and picked up I-80 for the really barren drive to Salt Lake City and our rendezvous with my old fraternity bro, Hal. The drive through the balance of Nevada was more of the same (left), but the drop down into the great salt basin of Utah was surreal.
It’s no wonder that Brigham Young cried out: “This is the place!” when he crossed the eastern mountains that rim what is now SLC. He wasn’t about to tackle this grotesque wasteland that lay on the western side. We drove seemingly endlessly across the salt.
I was reminded of my more adventurous youth when I was driving solo from my folks’ place in Indianapolis back to California for the start of my sophomore year. I was in the great white whale (see previous entry, Clarter Farms), it was 10pm, and I started west across the Bonneville Salt Flats, at that time a two lane road with absolutely no lighting. It’s DARK out there, save for the moonlight. My lights started dimming and steadily punked out until I had only two yellow pools in front of the car. I had to steer by the moonlight reflecting off the white center line, and hope that oncoming cars could see my jaundiced orbs. Yes, it was a white knuckle drive. Made it to Wells, where nothing was open. Stopped the car at a gas station (it wouldn’t restart) and walked to a combo hotel/bordello for the night. Next day found that the alternator was shot, would take 3 or more days to have one shipped in. Augh. Can’t be late for college. Bought a new battery, and took off, being careful not to use any radio, fan, lights, etc., and never turned off the engine, even when refueling. Made it all the way to Palo Alto, probably in time to torture Hal during Hell Help Week at the frat.
We haven’t see Hal since he visited us at our apartment in Santa Monica about 40 years ago. He’s added a few avoirdupois, but the old Hal is still evident.
First things first, we had to exchange the secret handshake. Only problem is, I never learned it in the first place. Hal claims that we finally got it right, but you couldn’t prove it by me.
We’re standing on the grounds of Temple Square, on which sits the first tabernacle built by the Mormons, completed around 1871. It’s an amazing building inside and out, with an exterior metal roof that holds itself up without interior trusses or anything. An incredible engineering feet, accomplished only 22 years after they arrived in wagons and handcarts. This is where the choir gives performances, and it houses this great organ.
You can see some of the interior of that roof. No supporting beams or anything! The square also houses, of course, the temple, which we heathens are not permitted to enter, but it is quite a sight from outside.
After giving us the cook’s tour of the square, Hal took us to a restaurant in an adjacent building that had wonderful views overlooking the temple as the sun went down.
The restaurant is a gourmet buffet, emphasis on the gourmet. And very posh to boot. That’s Loni with her back to us; Hal is in the background filling his plate for, I believe, the second time.
Everything was scrumptious. Extensive hors d’oeuvres and starters, 7 entrees including excellent prime rib, blackened catfish, etc. AND, 22 (count ‘em, 22!) desserts! Alas, after stuffing ourselves with all that came before, I could only sample four or so. Sigh. (Burp!)
We ate and talked for hours, but they had to shut down and, alas, Hal isn’t yet ready for the retirement game, and he had to drive home twenty miles or so. Lovely Daryl couldn’t join us as she had to care for her mom, but we had a great time catching up with Hal. He refused to let us pay for the meals (honest, I tried to protest), so we owe him big time. Thanks Hal; get thee to California so we can reciprocate! As we were leaving, one last shot of the temple. It really is a beautiful place. I think Joseph Smith would have approved.
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