Took a quick overnighter dinner trip to PF Chang’s in Provo. We left Friday morning while the air was still crisp and the sun low. What a fantastic day! The first leg took us through
Zion National Park, recently voted #1 of all the national parks, can I just tell you that there is nothing quite like hearing and feeling the rumble of seven Hog’s as they pass through the mile and a half tunnel, one of the hallmarks of Zion. Our route also took us past
Bryce Canyon, another of Utah’s popular and picturesque national parks.
As we passed through the small towns that dot Hwy 89, I am reminded of the legend and folklore left by one Robert Leroy Parker, alias Butch Cassidy. So many myths and legends surround the life and demise of Butch Cassidy that it is difficult to sort fact from fiction. Charles Kelly related the story of sixteen-year-old Harry Ogden from Escalante, who spent his savings to purchase a good horse and a sixty-dollar saddle. When out riding along the border of Robbers Roost in 1898, an outlaw on a jaded mount forced young Ogden off his horse, gave the boy a quick kick in the pants, then rode off on Ogden's animal. About three weeks later, Ogden received visitors at his home in Escalante. One of the men was Butch Cassidy, another was the outlaw who had stolen Ogden's horse and was still riding it. When Cassidy asked Ogden if he had lost a horse, the boy quickly identified it. Butch Cassidy then ordered the outlaw off the horse and told him "to start walking toward a distant gap in the hills and keep on going." He then said, "We don't have any room in this country for a man who will mistreat a young boy”.
Notorious for bank and train robberies, there is no documentation that Butch ever killed anyone, although some members of his loosely formed gang, called "The Wild Bunch," could not make that claim. We passed directly through the towns in which Butch and his family lived.
Canyons, curves, trees and straight-aways and company with 13 of the finest people you will ever meet, that was my weekend.
sundance
ived. Now understand that Kent is the salt of the earth. Quiet, unassuming, humble and as honest and pure as the day is long. But when our guide, we'll call him Jose, approached the three of us who ventured out on this excursion, he looked straight at Kent and asked if he needed some Viagra. I do believe Kent's ego is still bruised.
