Monday, July 16

Monday, July 16: Zion National Park to Fillmore, Utah (169 miles)

After a late breakfast in the Quality Inn complimentary breakfast zoo (coffee, ersatz orange juice, scrambled eggs, waffles), we checked out, left our car in the lot, and took the free shuttle bus to the Zion Park Visitor Center, where we boarded another shuttle bus for a tour of the canyon. Cars are not allowed on the roads, but the free shuttle buses run every five minutes; you can get off and on again at any one of the ten trailheads and other stops along the way. The 6-1/2 mile long road runs almost the length of the canyon; there’s a mostly level 2 mile long paved trail at the end of the road that even geezers can negotiate with ease (so we thought). The trail runs beside the Virgin River, which carved out the canyon millennia ago, and periodically floods dramatically. The canyon walls, which rise almost vertically, gradually narrow to a slit, which can only be accessed by wading upstream (we didn’t try it). The cliffs rise as much as 2,000 feet above us, and are a favorite for advanced rock climbers (though we saw none this hot day; they prefer spring and fall). 

 

We returned from the head of the trail by foot and shuttle bus, stopping at the Zion Lodge for a salad and a beanburger. There we had a pleasant conversation over lunch with a Belgian couple making their first trip to the US. (Comparing notes on our individual car travel, we each learned that the other had named their GPS. Ours, as you readers know, is Carmen (the Garmin); theirs, a TomTom, is named Katje and speaks Flemish. He told us how Katje says “recalculating” but Flemish is not easily learned in one setting and I soon forgot).

By then it was 2:30 or so, and we were still in Zion National Park, needing to get back on the road for a couple of hours. So we set off for the north, heading up I-15 toward Salt Lake City, and stopping at 4:30  after 169 miles in the little town of Fillmore, which brags that it was the first capital of Utah. The speed limit on I-15 is 80, and everyone does that and more. Scary.

We checked into a comfortable Comfort Inn, had a swim (our first on the trip) in the motel’s indoor pool, and went out to dinner. The choices were few: Burger King, Larry’s Drive-In, and the Hong Kong Kitchen. We settled for the Burger King, where we each had a fish sandwich (BK Big Fish) which cruising shipmate Ron Magers many years ago persuaded me was the best fast food bargain in America. He was right then, and he is still. The strange brown square objects in our hamburger buns were real fish, tasted like haddock, and quite likely were caught by Gloucester fishermen, packed by Gorton’s, and sold to Burger King. It was perfectly cooked, juicy and delicious.

The Burger King in Fillmore was a piece of Americana. If Edward Hopper were alive, he’d have painted the scene in this one.