Getting There

One of the difficulties of travel is getting directions from the locals.  I've always thought men were funny that way, giving you directions even if they have no idea where they are or where they want to go.,  They still will give you firm directions.  I am finding that women are just as bad.  Everyone wants to be helpful. 

What they do is leave out one essential part of their directions and suddenly you are going off in an entirely wrong direction.

In Utah, they add another wrinkle by giving an erroneous idea about how long your trip will take.

Or some other essential thing.

I told in Beaver, Minersville and Milford yesterday.  At the end of the third set, I asked how long it would take me to get to my next destination, the Dugway military base.  

"Three hours," one of the mothers said.  "It takes me two hours to get to Provo, and another hour to Dugway."  Then she added, "Of course I go a little above the speed limit."

I looked at the map and thought, no, I'll stop around Nephi and camp in the Unita National Forest.  I left and that's when things started to go wrong.

The speed limit on the interstate is 80 miles an hour.  My car gets a little fussy when I go over 70.  Right off the bat, that meant I would never make it to Dugway in the time alloted unless I set my alarm at the camp ground.

Still, I stopped at Nephi and asked a clerk about camping.  "Easy," she said, "It's only two miles up the  road," and she pointed across the highway.  So off I went.  Yes, within two miles I was in the national forest, but not at a campground.  I kept going through stunning scenery, until I came to a campground some five miles later.  It was closed.  The next campground was closed, too.  The signs said there would be another in eight more miles, but would that be open?  I had no way of knowing.  I turned around and drove back to the highway.

The sun was coming down and now it started to rain again.  Once again, no campground for me.   So I had to drive on to Provo. 

I finally saw something recognizable in the dark and rain.  It was Walmart.   I figured if nothing else, I could sleep in the Walmart parking lot.   But no, two Brigham Young university students were in the lot discussing a fishing boat.  They gave me directions to an inexpensive motel.  Wonder of wonder, their directions were accurate and once more, it was a motel for me.