Today’s news announced that the 2034 Winter Olympic Games will be returning to Salt Lake City, Utah, the host of the 2002 Games. Yay for Team USA!
Carol and I recently enjoyed a guided tour of Salt Lake’s Olympic Village following a professional conference at a nearby ski resort. It was a thrill to gaze down from the top of the 120 meter ski jump. The mountains in the distance offered just as spectacular a view—but less dizzying!
I am now a bobsledder, if one run makes one so! Set on wheels for the summer tourist runs, and piloted by a trained driver, the daring can team up with three other brave souls and hurtle down the track at 70-75 mph, experiencing 3-4 Gs—starting right past the sign that warns “severe injury or death can occur beyond this point.” (Here we see the only bobsled Carol would get in: bolted to the concrete!)
We did receive a brief prep: put on this hoodie, and this helmet. When you fold yourself into the sled, bend your knees, but angle your feet flat on the floor; extend your hands through the wrist straps; hunch and hold your shoulders up to cushion your neck and keep your head from flopping around. Now push outward with your arms against the sides of the sled to keep you inside. One thing more: breathe! And with that, the attendant gave us a walking push down the innocuous-looking track.
Fifty-eight wild, jarring seconds later we reached the bottom: shaken, not stirred. And I discovered that I was out of breath. Apparently, despite the advice, I forgot to breathe!
We enjoyed lunch on an observation deck by the Freestyle pools where would-be Olympians of all ages took turns cruising the slopes down and up into a flip into the bubbly water below.
We then left Olympic Village for the Weber River valley. At Weber Crossing in 1846, the Donner party was left a note instructing them not to go through Weber Canyon. Instead, they blazed a trail to Salt Lake Valley, which the Mormons followed for the next 22 years.
But we, aboard a bus, arrived at the same site for a more recreational sojourn: a mostly calm raft ride, save for a few surprisingly placed rapids. One raft from our company approached a boulder from a slightly wrong angle, and two of our friends promptly pitched into the fizzy drink. We were able to drag one of them into our raft, while the other unfortunate was rescued by her own mates. We then stopped and gave the soaker back.
Near the end of the river journey, our guide instructed us to lie sideways across the raft, facing up. We soon discovered why: the river was a bit high, and that’s the only way we’d fit under the upcoming concrete bridge. During that brief, darkened passage, I hand-spanned the distance from my forehead to the bridge’s flat underbelly. Our friends in the other raft had to stop and portage around the obstacle.
The river and mountain scenery was gorgeous, but of course we didn’t bring our cameras or phones along. As the guide explained, “your phone may be waterproof, but it sinks.” So we have glommed a few pics from others.
(Carol and I were in Utah while I attended a meeting with my counterparts from other state park and recreation associations. One night, we dined in a basement restaurant with curtained corner booths that reminded us of the Harmonia Gardens in Hello Dolly! This year, many of us opted to take an extra day off the clock to enjoy some of the special attractions of northern Utah. This other view I call Sunset Strip: straight down Main Street, Park City, UT.)
We ended our lovely, exhausting day with a barbeque at Wasatch Mountain State Park, where the lingering sun didn’t even begin setting until after 9 pm local time.
