I think I got up a little late in Las Vegas and headed out to southern Utah on this day, 50 years ago. I actually don’t remember if I had intended to visit Zion National Park or just saw signs for it and figured it would be a good idea. Even though I think I spent only a few hours there, I found it to be an amazing place.
I recall pulling over in Zion, turning off the engine, and sitting on the car’s hood, listening. Besides the occasional sounds of birds, the only sound I heard was the creaking of the car metal as it expanded in the heat.
Here are some photos from Zion and the surrounding area. (Use arrows to advance the images.)
Much of Interstate 70 in Utah was two-lane and undivided. I remember being somewhat daunted by the approach of 18-wheelers at a combined speed of about 140 mph. Their wind wash moved my car sideways more than I liked.
Here’s a scene I’ve found so typical of roads in the West. Maybe it happens everywhere, but I have a ton of such pictures from out here. The skid marks, I expect, foreshadow a sad tale.
As nighttime approached, I started to look for a place to stay. Eastern Utah was then, and likely still is, a pretty isolated area. Between the infrequent small community that might have been a reason for a highway exit existed many miles of desert. The image below is a satellite view of the area currently.
I depended on road signs to tell me how far the next community was. I remember driving by Green River and seeing signs saying “No vacancy” so I continued. After driving for quite a few miles more and feeling sleepy, I thought it risky to keep going. I figured maybe there was another option in Green River and I returned. At least I knew it was there.
Traveling down the main street, really the only street, in Green River (population 952, 2010), I saw a couple of motels with no vacancies. Then, however, I saw what appeared to be a hotel. It didn’t have a sign indicating vacancies or none, but a light was on, so I figured I’d check.
The “lobby” of the hotel contained a couple of pieces of aluminum lawn furniture. There was a “front desk” with a bell on it and, beside it, a room from which I could hear the sound of a TV. I rang the bell.
A guy with overalls, but no shirt, as I recall, came out and asked, “Can I help you?” I asked if a room was available. He said there was one left. I took it and, as usual, paid in cash. I don’t remember what it cost.
He showed me up to the second floor and to the room. Bathroom, he said, was at the end of the hall. Outside the room’s window, a neon light was in operation, fitfully. On the wall, a fly swatter hung on a nail. The window, which was open because of the heat, had no screen.
I don’t remember if I had a restful or troubled sleep that night. I just remember being happy to have gotten through the night and to leave the next morning. I wish I had taken photos of the interior, but, before I left Green River that morning, I took a picture of the exterior.
Salina Hotel, Green River, Utah. Book it. It’s unlike any hotel in which I ever stayed.