Roots

My 84 year-old lifeguard, Clella, was born and spent the first 14 years of her life in the small town of Tropic, Utah, which is nestled in the valley beneath Bryce Canyon.

Jan and I brought Clella back to Tropic last year about this time, joining Clella in a walk down Memory Lane. We visited her childhood home and the barn where Clella dreamed of becoming a Zigfield Follies dancer.

As you can see in the photo here, Clella has a lot of spunk. This shot was taken along I-15, which will get you from Las Vegas to southern Utah.

We visited much of the same ground today, but added a trip to the "East Valley," which is "out" from Tropic, which is in Bryce Valley. In the East Valley we finally found Clells's grandfather's house, along with the grave of her great-grandfather. Both of these men were from Clella's mother's side. Clella's mother died giving birth to her tenth child, who also died that day.


Yesterday, we were at Zion National Park. Spectacular views of the tallest sandstone cliffs in the U.S. This morning we did an abbreviated tour of Bryce Canyon, doing it almost no justice, but it was enough to at least get a tasted. We spent much more time in Bryce last year.

Tomorrow we head to Grosvenor Arch and Kodachrome Basin, along with Cottonwood Canyon. After that we will go to Page, Arizona and the Glen Canyon Dam, which forms the head of Lake Powell. Then we will skirt the Vermillion Cliffs and eventually end up in Mosquite, Nevada. It will be a long day, but the scenery will be spectacular.