So, I had a work gig a few days ago in the uber-rural town of Price, Utah, the political seat and largest town in Carbon County. I left my hotel in Provo, home of Brigham Young University, at 7:30am actually looking forward to 90 minutes of digital downtime. I’d been warned the Highway 6 route through tall-walled Spanish Fork Canyon plays havoc with reliable cell signals, and I was hoping for a quiet respite from my usual endless drone of phone calls and emails.
Before I knew it four paved lanes had narrowed to two, shoulders steepened, side-roads disappeared, and recently-patched asphalt began a serpentine wander through a desolate, rocky landscape straight out of some John Wayne oater. Stratified layers of limestone and shale towered above me on either side, their near vertical cliffs streaked with rosy pink sandstone. The occasional glitter of pyrite and mica flecks sparkled when the morning sunlight caught it just so. And then suddenly the steep walls dropped away and revealed an astonishing vista of ancient mesas more numerous than I could ever imagine.