On the third day of our trip we had finally driven out of deserts and into the green — Hidden Haven.

Hidden Haven — waterfall.

Tehachapi:
On our first day we had planned only a short journey, as we still, in the morning, finished packing everything possible for a two-week trip. With quarantines and rules being changed every day, we had no idea what would await us, and thus we took along "everything". Food supplies, sleeping bags, tents, clothing for both hot and snowy weather, should we get stuck somewhere and not be able to move on, or if we were not allowed to return home.

Driving to Tehachapi, still in California, passed relatively without problems; then came a pizzeria near our hotel had an open patio. Because, you should know, it's much much healthier to sit outside next to a busy street in hundred plus degrees, than inside — where everybody still must go, guests to place orders, waiters to carry food. We managed to grab seats in a shade, where a faint breeze was blowing, and get a beer in a GLASS (instead of paper cup), and our resulting rating was positive.

Hotel would issue paper bag breakfasts, containing some crackers and a green orange (nice oxymoron in English), which had strongly reminded us of our old socialist youth's lunch bags we got on our school trips — but we were ready and ate from our own supplies.

A view to Virgin River and Zion National Park.

Cedar Breaks open like a pit in Markagunt plateau.

Las Vegas/Henderson:
We had not seen Hobbits for more than a year again, and since we lack kind intelligent words from someone who does not regard us as lepers, we included Henderson in our itinerary.
Vegas! In July! Where night temperatures drop below hundred twenty, and stepping outside is impractical. We were this desperate! Still, visiting was pleasant, we chatted with kindred souls, ate at a Vietnamese place from real plates, and carried away a few recommendations from a hobbit's potential son-in-law, regarding one of our next destinations.

Rating our hotel — our favorite Best Western on St. Rose did not disappoint, we got a free suite upgrade, with two rooms, hushed and quiet, nice to sleep in. One would order breakfast ahead of time in the evening, menu looked promising. Yet in the morning we were again issued a paper bag. Although it contained e.g. a breakfast muffin sandwich with egg and meat patty, after heating it up in a room's microwave, we kind of did not have anywhere to put it, for even paper plates are forbidden as unhygienic. Apparently hotel guests are supposed to eat from their (used) towels, or learn to juggle hot breakfast with asbestos gloves (not provided).

Cedar Breaks.

We had even seen marmots at Cedar Breaks.

Cedar City:
Back when still just planning, we were looking for a place not too far from Vegas, but one where you could stay outdoors longer than scooting from an air-conditioned car into some air-conditioned building. Look on a map revealed Cedar City, huddled under some relatively high mountains, which hide Cedar Breaks. Besides, I have a literary relationship with Cedar City — it plays main part in my favorite book Pure joys of my life (Čisté radosti mého života). I've been harboring a dark suspicion that the author has never visited Utah, and that the main character, Nat Jessel, could never have camped alongside brooks and pools, in the shade of pine trees, in these parts. And thus, following an example of another literary hero, Saturnin, I decided to perform a bit of fact-checking on the literary fiction.

Bristlecone pines grow at ten thousand feet - longest (5 thousand years) living organisms on Earth.

Brian Head Peak forms just a small hill in Markagunt Plateau - despite being respectable 11,312 feet tall.

Our first chance came just in the afternoon — we got early to our hotel, and at least one child (Tom) exhibited willingness to go out with us on a small hike to Hidden Haven, which promised a waterfall. So yes, despite Cedar City itself being a desert city, just a short distance away (and higher), there are creeks and trees (including pines). Thus I can report only two inaccuracies in the book — even the forest was dry enough that there would be no lying down in the moss; after what I saw of the Small Salt Lake on my own eyes — I would dare to say it was no good for swimming. Salty plain on the desert side of the freeway is not very inviting — if I were headed somewhere for a date, it would be some pool in the mountains.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. From our hike we headed straight for a Chinese restaurant adjacent to our hotel, only called Lisa to get out of the room. We were let to dine indoor, given food on plates, and served real silverware! Perhaps I am a simpleton, but I really did not realize how much I appreciated civilization. Hotel breakfast was worse — long shelf-life muffins wrapped in plastic, we can be without. Fortunately we were prepared, and ate our own breakfast from our fridge.

Little Salt Lake.

Double-imprint of hadrosaurus's foot.

Invigorated, we set out to the mountains, direction Cedar Breaks. These are rather famous attraction, but only hold a status of National Monument, not a National Park, hence were still dodging restrictions and decrees, not requiring permits or extra social credit to enter. We had simply driven up to ten thousand feet altitude, shown a person at the register our expiring, but still valid annual pass, parked — and went to walk along a ridge over torn red rocks. The view is even more shocking since on the way there you find yourself on Markagunt Plateau, a high mountain mesa with shallow bowls of meadows, dotted with occasional pine grove or a pool. Even the local highest mountain, Brian Head Peak with its 11,312 feet, rises up like a small friendly hill. And in all this mild landscape, a deep red pit opens up suddenly in front of you. It's very similar to Bryce Canyon, better because of the walking trail, with cute little meadows on one side, and a passionate drama of hoodoo mazes and canyons on the other. In Bryce, which features red ravines on both sides of the road, you can walk down among the red rocks, but that deprives you of the big perspective. Better, at Cedar Breaks were by far not as many people as one finds in National Parks, and we enjoyed it the more. A geezer going in the other direction alerted us to a great number of marmots living there. Indeed — now being ready and scanning the landscape, we spotted these local rodents, and took pictures.

We have to scramble up the white layers to the red rocks of Vermillion Castle.

Vermillion Castle.

For our lunch picnic we stopped at Brian Head ski resort, and after a family council, we drove down to Small Salt Lake to check out hadrosaurus tracks. These days you can see raised natural molds of the original three-finger imprints in soft mud. We did not linger, as by descending from ten thousand feet to mere fifty-five hundred, temperature jumped up abruptly. Worse, smoke from a wildfire in Veyo spread on the plains, one which we did not notice in the mountains.

We found a Thai restaurant for our dinner, and then Sid and I headed across the street to have a beer at Policy Kings Brewery. We were alone in the pub, and thus engaged with the barman. It turned out that he was from California as well, training for a helicopter pilot license in Cedar City. I felt like a real tourist, for I truly had no idea that a small-town university like this' would be the highest regarded pilot training program and the largest training fleet in the whole States.

Cinnabar.

Going north we enter weather - looking forward to rain!

We looked to the smoke-filled horizon in the morning, packed sadly, and hoped that the smoke won't catch up with us in the canyons of Road 143. We had looked forward to a hike to Vermillion Castle. The start was up a crazy slope, so Hippo was rumbling, kids were being obnoxious, and I was waving my cane about. Being old is ugly and my left knee sometimes malfunctions, so now I take a tourist cane to terrains. Like an old hag. Luckily, later the trail leveled into an acceptable angle, and when it turned around a rocky corner, a beautiful cinnabar-colored rock castle appeared before us. Layers of White and red sandstone alternate in this area, and the color contrasts are incredible. Mixed with local lush greenery and a blue sky above, it all looks like a wild dream of a kitchy tourist memorabilia painter.

Air temperature climbed steadily into fever levels, and soon we eagerly boarded our air-conditioned car, starting to slice off more miles to the north-east, all the way to Ballard. We drove through a back-drop of incredible mountains. California is very diverse, but if I were to vote for the most beautiful state, it would be Utah.

Flaming Gorge.

We had fruitlessly sought bighorn sheep in Rocky Mountains - here they just normally graze in a campground.

Flaming Gorge:
We reserved our room for the night still in Ballard, Utah. Lisa and I refused to have dinner — not that I would truly suffer motion sickness, but long sitting in the car does not suit me, and I had a feeling it would be better for me to just have a shower and a lie-down. After all, I'm not exactly under-nourished, and skipping a meal won't knock me over. Tom and Sid went to have dinner, ended up one town down the road in a local burger place and a souvenir store named Marion's Variety, where they paid as much for dinner for two, including drinks, desserts and tip, as they would normally be charged for one portion (tax extra) where we live.
This was the first hotel on our trip, which offered a relatively normal version of a breakfast, and so I could let the rest of the family sleep in, grabbed my laptop, and went to sit down with a coffee, ordering eggs and breakfast sausage from a merry woman, and ate like a human, without dribbling into my bed and half unpacked luggage.
After breakfast I watched from a window, fascinated by cowboy horse training — and for the second time in a few day I have seen shepherd dogs chasing cows — so I don't know if it's Utah specialty, or if I had missed something somewhere, but it intrigued me as a concept.

Sheep Creek Geological Loop.

Tower Rock.

Sid had spotted Flaming Gorge as a convenient stop along our long journey to Riverton, a place where to stretch our legs a bit. As it turned out, we regretted not having more time, for it is a place deserving more comprehensive checking out. At a tourist center we ran into a ranger with Czech roots, and so we chatted, pulling more information out of her — like about the best ice-cream wide and far being sold in Farson, in neighboring Wyoming, which we would pass though.

She has also shown us a huge moth resting on a wall of the center, gave us two maps, and recommended driving to Sheep Creek Geological Area — a kind of loop through various geological layers cut by a creek in the landscape. On our way to a reservoir overlook we spotted big horn sheep, quietly grazing — the same ones we — like thousands of other tourists — missed out in the famous Rocky Mountains National Park. Flaming Gorge finds itself in Ashley National Forest, full of small lakes, campsites, mountains and rocks — without the madhouse of National Parks and Monuments. Next time we shall reserve several days for this area.

Sheep Creek Bay.

Flaming Gorge Dam.

The landscape between Flaming Gorge and Riverton is then relatively boring — assuming you get bored by western back-drop of half-deserts, ranches, dust rising high, and occasional rocky outcrops. Still, an ice-cream stop in Farson came certainly welcome, especially in our family that loves ice-cream. Excluding myself, naturally — give me coffee and a chunk of good chocolate, and keep your ice-cream. While the rest of the family chomped bravely through their "baby" portions (by volume comparable to glass of beer), I took my time watching them enjoy it, relaxed on a break from long sitting in the car, and looked forward to the second half of our trip.