We had just enough time between traveling from Brian Head to our first play at the Utah Shakespeare Festival to take a detour to Old Iron Town. Old Iron Town is the remains of a mining settlement that was established in 1868 and ceased operations in 1876, though mining continued in the area into the late 20^th century with open-pit excavations and the building of a railroad for ore transportation. Predictably, Old Iron Town was an interesting stop.

After our visit into the deserted past, we were off to the most dramatic part of our vacation. We saw four plays at the Utah Shakespeare Festival over two days. Clue was Jason’s favorite in part because he understood the dialogue and plot fully, which isn’t always the case for him at the festival. I thought Clue was silly, witty, and fun to watch. Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street was perhaps less fun to witness. I expected it to be morbid; the involuntary gagging was slightly less anticipated. With that said, the acting was as well done as the flaky meat pies. The Tempest was showing at the festival’s smallest theater, and we enjoyed the intimate setting. This production turned male roles into female ones, a timely change if not entirely accurate to Shakespeare. Shakespearean tragedies often involve mutilations, dismemberments, and other such maimings. King Lear, with actor Anthony Heald in the lead, did not hold back on that front; eyeballs were gouged out and played with enthusiastically.

I promised I wasn’t done talking about our repeat encounters with rain, so let the torrent of information continue. Our King Lear performance was nearly canceled due to a heavy downpour that persisted for the first half hour of the show. Luckily, Jason and I were prepared as usual with multiple rain jackets and garbage bags, plus extras to pass around to those less equipped.

Between all those shows, we purged thoughts of meat pies and insane sovereigns with a hike to Thor’s Lookout via Thor’s Hideout from the Thunderbird Gardens Trailhead, a total of 3.6 miles. Temperatures remained in the low eighties, hot enough for sweat but not hot enough for no sweat. Apart from the abundant, shapely vermillion rock, Thor’s throne, a massive chair created from stone and wood, was the coolest thing about this hike. Before departing Cedar City, my family also took a 1.5-mile walk on one of the town’s agreeable paved paths, the Cedar Canyon Trail. While not quite as scenic as Thor’s Hideout, its mild incline made it a hit with those in all shape stages.

Upon leaving Cedar City, we stopped expanding our minds and started squishing our bodies. On the return drive, we stopped at the Tabernacle Hill Lava Tubes near Fillmore. We estimated we’d spend 1.5 hours there. Instead, we spent five. Our original guess didn’t account for the area’s many levels. Tabernacle Hill was an active volcano 10,000-24,000 years ago. Its numerous eruptions left a lava field nearly four miles wide. Atop that field are bizarre porous outcroppings and below it a fascinating system of lava tubes of varying sizes and in different states of ruin. We couldn’t leave one of these crunchy, aerated layers unsampled, so five hours it was.

We started our explorations by following a collapsed tube into a crater meadow before climbing through another partially collapsed tunnel. Afterward, we hiked to the top of the cinder cone adjacent to Tabernacle Crater, which was once a lava lake. The crown of this mound was mercilessly sharp, brilliantly scarlet, and jutted out of its crumbling base in a frenzied fashion. Excruciatingly uncanny! Later, we scoured the hillsides for more open tubes to discover. The tubes were prolific but finding entrance holes proved difficult. We succeeded eventually, and the cramped-quarters lovers amongst us went on a tight shaft romp in that find before we all returned to a sizable intact tube on the other side of the road. That large conduit provided much to encounter with a flashlight and a blacklight. Just as we were about to exit the cave, a downpour began, so we got drenched one more time. Later, we learned there was a flash flood in Cedar City just hours after we left.

Nothing eliminates cave funk like hot springs funk. With that in mind, after Tabernacle Hill we took yet another detour, this time to Meadow Hot Springs. Meadow Hot Springs are a string of geothermally heated pools located near Tabernacle Hill. Some of the pools apparently reach 100 degrees. The one we plopped into seemed more like warm bath water. A foot soak sure felt nice though. The nibbling fish, a little less so.

With that, our oddly adventurous trip prompted by a series of plays ended. Since the soakings were almost as prolific as the monologues, it wasn’t exactly what we were expecting. However, sometimes the unexpected is better… as long as you don’t get struck by lightning.

With the success of our Shakespearean trip in 2021, my family decided to give the Utah Shakespeare Festival another whirl in 2022. Jason and I opted to go a little early and get out of the summer heat at nearly 10,000 feet in Brian Head, which is only about half an hour from Cedar City. We sure did get out of the heat and then some. Here’s how our vacation turned into a deluge of water, culture, and conduits.

Per our typical M.O., we arrived in Brian Head just in time. On this occasion, just in time to hike 2.5 miles on the Manzanita Trail… or, more specifically, just in time to hike half that distance before dark and the other half not before dark. The Manzanita Trail is a mild path that runs along Parowan Canyon’s hillsides above State Route 143. While the highway can be heard and seen in sections, the trail feels removed from the road for the most part. If you want a quick introduction to Brian Head, this is a good track to take. You can access it from the Town Trail just where SR-143 intersects Aspen Drive.

The next day, we were uncertain if the weather would allow us to do another hike, but as the threat of rain and thunderstorms decreased and shifted to later in the afternoon, we felt reasonably comfortable attempting the trek to Sidney Peaks. Sidney Peaks are a trio of small mountains that range in elevation from just under 11,000 feet to just over 11,000 feet. The Sidney Peaks Trail, which is a section of the Bunker Creek Trail, crosses a saddle between the South and Middle Peaks. While there are no official paths that lead to the tops of any of the peaks, Middle’s apex is easy to reach. You can carefully avoid stepping on delicate mountain foliage by sticking to rocks and gravel as you climb a final incline to its 11,060-foot summit.

From its zenith, we could survey all our surroundings. We observed a sky stuffed with unsettled clouds and rain off in the distance. Although the storm seemed a considerable space away, we still set about the task of heading down with a little urgency. The first claps of thunder ripped through the alpine serenity before we had even returned to the main trail. That’s when the sprinkles started too. Soon after, as the cliché saying goes, all hell broke loose.

The storm kept worsening at a rapid pace as it struggled to chug up the ridgeline the Sidney Peaks Trail runs along. We were concerned about the hunk of metal Jason had on his back in the form of a tripod becoming a lightning beacon, so we ran the sections where tree cover was nonexistent, or the thunder seemed particularly wrathful. Out of the 2.3 miles of main trail we had to traverse to get back to the trailhead, we sprinted at least half with backpacks jostling and sopping pants clinging to tired legs.

The downpour escalated until we could barely see, and our shoes were so wet we didn’t even bother trying to avoid the large puddles and streams covering the path. Fortunately, the lightning wasn’t as plentiful as the thunder, and it never struck anything near us. The last part of the route, a downhill portion, looked more like a stream than a path as we sped through it. I felt certain floods were flashing in some of the surrounding hillsides. Sidney Peaks’ 5.25 miles would have been a mild and satisfying trek if it hadn’t been for all the effort required to avoid becoming lightning kabobs.

After the rain ceased later in the afternoon, we rallied enough energy to drive to the top of Brian Head Peak, which tops out at 11,307 feet, and enjoy its 360-degree scenery while dodging yellow-bellied marmot droppings. We also drove a few extra minutes to the North View Overlook at Cedar Breaks. We did not feel inclined to do any more hikes since we were suffering from post-traumatic storm disorder.

As we were heading out of town the next day, we discovered SR-143 had been closed since the previous afternoon due to a blockage of water, mud, and trees caused by a flash flood, an occurrence I had predicted. Fortunately, the debris had been cleared enough to allow one lane of traffic through the canyon, and we were able to continue with minimal delay.

I wish I could say we were done dealing with cloudbursts at this point in our outing, but that would be an inaccuracy. Next time, I will cover the rest of the trip and the rest of the deluge.

While I’m habitually behind on posts, my website maintains chronological consistency, except in this case. This should have been posted prior to my birthday ramblings, but here it is regardless.

For many years now, Jason and I have believed experiences matter more than things. That’s why we decided to give my family members a long weekend getaway as all their birthday presents for the year instead of wrapped gifts. I did some research and came up with a few location options, and we put them to a vote. In the end, my family picked Bear Lake.

Although Bear Lake is a major tourist destination in the summer, Garden City, the main town on the Utah side of the lake, isn’t usually too crowded in early June, which was the timeframe for our visit. The tourists were trickling in, but most restaurants had reasonable waits, and the water wasn’t cluttered with boats.

Jason and I rented an enormous house that could comfortably fit my mob of relatives with an indoor trampoline, indoor basketball court, indoor swing set, poker table, pool table, ping-pong table, movie theater room, nine bedrooms, and six bathrooms. Each time a new batch of kids arrived, they would instantly disappear to explore the mysterious and captivating features of the home.

Sadly, one of my sisters caught COVID through a coworker who came into work sick with a “cold” right before our trip, so she couldn’t join us. Miraculously, with how much COVID was circulating at the time, she and her husband were the only ones absent due to it.

With so many activity options, including the ones inside our rental, what was first on our agenda? Hit the lake. Jason and I had reserved a two-hour boat tour with a guide in a brand-new pontoon for that morning. While we were envisioning this as a low-key lake wander with some informative discussions on history and ecology, the kids got too distracted by the towable tube, and our tour turned into a watersport montage.

As the water in Bear Lake was currently just shy of 50 degrees, most of us were not enthusiastic about accumulating wetness acquired from it, particularly the adults. I was the first grownup to volunteer for the tube. Since I was dealing with a case of prepatellar bursitis at the time and knocking my knee against the tube was repeatedly painful, I didn’t last long. However, my distinguished valor convinced, or shamed, other adults to brave a ride. Our driver skillfully kept all but one of the group from sliding into the water while tubing, but then the kids decided to all jump in anyway.

We had seen the Bridgerland Adventure Center on a hill as we were traveling into town. Its complex jumble of crisscrossing lines and bright orbs intrigued us, so we spent a chunk of the afternoon climbing through this four-story rope course. As each increasing level at Bridgerland gets progressively harder, most of the party focused on levels two and three for more robust challenges. I made it through level one in its entirety and a small fraction of level two before closing time. I may not have slid upside down across a duo of rope strings, but I conquered the course in my own lame phobic way.

That evening, we entertained ourselves with some epic games of dodgeball, poker, and “monster” along with a screening of Avatar in the movie theater room. Boredom did not occur even amongst the grumbly teenagers.

The next morning, we headed out for 90 minutes on four legs at Beaver Creek Lodge. Some members of our group had never ridden horseback, so there was a mix of excitement and fear amid them. Beaver Creek Lodge was able to accommodate our large troop, but as it was early in the season, the horses were flabby from winter inactivity. They huffed and puffed as we climbed rolling hills and grasslands. My steed, Smokey, was mellow and only seemed worried about getting left behind. In contrast, Jason got the second alpha of the herd, Tough, and he liked to ensure his status by staying in the front and biting other horses… and occasionally Jason.

After our ride, we lounged around the cabin and napped until one of the kids who had arrived too late for our tubing escapades mentioned they didn’t want to visit Bear Lake without actually visiting the lake. So, the entire clan headed to Rendezvous Beach, which is typically packed in the summer but was nearly deserted in its current nippy form. That nippiness didn’t inhibit our sandy endeavors though. One of the kids found a shovel and started digging while others immediately set to fishing. The adults thought there was zero chance anything would be caught, but a sizeable trout was hooked briefly before it dramatically wiggled away.

That evening, our giant group went to dinner at the Campfire Grill. The setting was fantastic and the food decent. However, indigestion still kicked in when we were woken up at 1:58 in the morning by a flashing red light and an earsplitting “beeep, beeep, beeep.” My first reaction was to ask Jason, “What are those boys doing?” It stopped after a couple minutes, and we later ascertained that it was probably the carbon monoxide detector malfunctioning. Ironically, the accused boys weren’t even stirred from their slumber by the shrill alarm even though they had chosen to sleep in a closet instead of on a bed.

Our outing may have concluded in alarm, but the rest was anything but alarming. Relationships were renewed, limbs numbed, balls dodged, and memories cemented. As you may have ascertained from the contents of this post, Bear Lake makes for an excellent group gathering spot with various distinct activity possibilities in its vicinity.

On a related note, the Bear Lake area is known for its raspberry shakes, so we decided to undertake a comparison of all the raspberry shakes in town. Despite our diligent efforts, we only made it through shakes at three places. Of the three, the winner was Zipz, but the best burger went to LeBeau’s, and Merlin’s Drive-In triumphed in the fries category. There are a lot of cute burger joints in Garden City. If visiting, be ready for plenty of nostalgia and grease.