Adventure 399: Park City, Utah/Post D

Rise, Lazarus, Rise.

We try to be good stewards everyday, but today found us attending Mass at St. Mary's of the Assumption in Park City. Lazarus rose from the grave today, reminding us that eternal life waits for those who believe. St. Mary's is the third Catholic church we've attended that has a vibrant, fully attended service. The last two were Fredericksburg and Flagstaff. Given this evidence, perhaps the Catholics are in the midst of a resurgence. After church, we dashed over to the Homestead Crater, a geological beehive shaped marvel that contains 35,000 gallons of ninety degree water that recycles from beneath its sixty foot depth to provide an incredibly silky, odor free experience. We floated for more than forty minutes until our fingers wrinkled and our aches subsided. And since we were so close, Douglas, who excels as a host and tour guide, took us to Robert Redford's Sundance Institute and ski resort. If a person compares it to the opulence of Deer Valley in some sort of contest, Sundance would appear rustically uninhabitable (Sort of like how President Trump views Camp David). On the other hand, if a person views Sundance as a refuge for artists with new ideas to share, and a place for creative minds to find forms of expression, then the canyon where Sundance exists is exactly what Redford and his ilk had in mind. We had a few small plates in the the Owl Tavern, which was used in the movie "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid". Redford bought the building and had it reconstructed on site  at Sundance. The echo of the wooden floors, the pine leaves kissing up against the buildings, and the sheer reaches of the mountainside made us feel welcome, and perhaps even peaceful. To finish the night, my cousin Joan fixed us dinner and showed off her little piece of condo heaven. We played three games of crib (Judy and I finished second), which includes my family's version of loving banter, which is a little like, "Why did you turn that over; you know there's creepy bugs under there. So we laugh the true laugh of the bitter-sweet while Judy grins, protected from harm (we rarely bite outsiders), and the salty tears of truth we call love run down our cheeks. It's all good. Tomorrow, we'll spend our last day here, sharing either a joyous win or a joyous season with our beloved Zags. Either way life will be good, hopefully then, but most assuredly today.

 The Homestead Crater is really quite a funky place, and a bit less polished than the normal Park City resident may be used to.

 This is the man made entrance. Originally, people entered the crater by lowering a rope ladder through the opening at the top.

 A dark hallway, quite damp and slippery beckons all who enter.

 Flotation devices are required. Joan is easing into the pool.

 Warm water scuba diving lessons are given on a regular basis.

 The lower part of Sundance ski resort.

 The Owl Tavern.

 Sundance Resort is speckled with buildings where artists, film makers, poets, and dreamers gather. The mission of the place is to allow "small voices" a place to gather volume.

 This hallway, a memory lane of sorts, is filled with hall of fame pictures, words of promise, and the Institute's mission as expressed by Robert Redford.

 This is the good life in Park City. Joan's living room.

 Her kitchen. There are three bedroom's a private garage, and upkeep provided through HMO fees.

 The view from Joan's deck.

BBQ chicken salad, quite tasty for dinner. It was another good day as guests of my cousins, Douglas and Joan Hoisington.