What You See

Long ago, a former friend from New Hampshire argued with me saying there was nothing beautiful about Utah except for the red rock country down south. Of course, when he said that, he hadn't been around Utah much and it was a dry, brown fall in the valley. I have since lived in upstate New York, so I know what he was talking about-- the trees in fall in the northeastern United States are indisputably beautiful and magnificently colorful. However, I remember telling him, "You can find beauty anywhere." I still believe it.

Recently, I was skeptical about the idea of walking on the Jordan River Parkway Trail. Would I find beauty there? After all, it's on the "west side" of town. The trail often makes headlines for crime, homelessness, and environmental mess. Even so, my parents had recently enjoyed the trail and said south of 33rd, it's safe. 

Years ago, I rode my bike on the trail north of 33rd without fear, but it was during the day and I was accompanied by my oldest daughter. At that time, we saw some graffiti and evidence of homeless people, but no particularly shady characters. There were frequently people walking, running, and cycling on that part of the trail. I posted about that time here and another time here. We were also newly returned to living in Utah, so we hadn't learned of any recent scary stories.

After hearing of my parents' walks there, I wanted to give the Jordan River Parkway Trail another chance. It's a long trail. It extends through most of the Salt Lake Valley, so lately my youngest daughter and I have been walking small sections at a time. 

Last Wednesday, we walked along the trail between about 130th South and 123rd South and back again. On Instagram that day, I posted the pictures I'm posting here along with a few more. Several of my Instagram followers commented on the beautiful pictures in the post. One friend said she might try walking the trail there sometime. 

That's when I worried. Had I misrepresented the trail? Walking there wasn't all beautiful. I just might have captured some of the prettiest sights. Was my Instagram friend like my New Hampshire friend? Would she be able to find beauty there too, or would she only see the majority of the trail area which is relatively wild, dry, and harsh?

Also, I wondered about my friend's safety. I hoped she wouldn't go there alone. The area where we were didn't always feel completely safe. I have to admit, while we were there, I told myself scary stories. 

Near where we parked our car, a stressed-out-looking man was walking his big German shepherd around the park-like sidewalk on Vista Station Road. Another was down the hill, seemingly just standing there in the bushes, staring up at us. For a moment, I imagined the guy below signaled something up to the guy by the road near us with the dog. Were they going to steal our car while we were gone walking? Was he signaling that the two of them were clear to entrap me and my daughter? 

No, of course not. It was a split-second story I told myself in my head. I didn't say anything about the thought to my daughter. I quickly thought myself out of that unlikely potential.

I didn't say anything about any of my scary thoughts to my daughter. She felt like we were entering another world. Along the trail, we saw a lot of magpies, a few robins, and a couple of ducks. One bird made a particularly strange sound and my daughter said, "Was that a mystical creature?" It was probably only a magpie, but she was clearly enjoying herself, worry-free. I was glad I kept my thoughts to myself.

Even so, I kept telling myself the occasional scary story. 

As we continued on the trail, I saw the words, "Turn around!!" written in purple sidewalk chalk on the asphalt trail. Was that a warning we should heed? Was there some kind of danger ahead? 

Again, I decided not to worry about it. Maybe it was part of a game someone was playing, or part of some kind of race, I thought. After all, the lavender lettering looked more cheerful and playful than forbidding.

There is so much undeveloped land out there by the trail, so much space. We only came across a handful of other people, and not all at once, during the whole hour we walked. There was one shifty-eyed runner; two fast male power cyclists; and a sad-looking older woman walking her rottweiler. At times, the emptiness of the place made it a little unnerving. Trees, bushes, and grasses lined parts of the trail. There were so many places someone could hide. 

It also wasn't all pretty. There was garbage here and there. Weeds were almost everywhere. The river didn't smell bad on this portion of the trail, but it didn't look particularly clean either.

The lady with the rottweiler turned out to be nice. There are two trails that fork toward the end of where we walked. One is asphalt. The other is the equestrian trail, made up of wood chips. As we approached the lady, going the opposite way on a bridge near 123rd South, I talked to her. 

I pointed ahead and said, "Do you know where this trail leads?"

"This way goes up the hill to the swimming pool. It's pretty steep. Well, maybe it's not that bad. I'm just out of shape," she answered.

Her face lit up as she talked with us.

Then pointing to the direction she'd come from I asked, "Does that trail lead somewhere else? Or does it connect to the main trail?"

"It runs parallel, but it meanders. It's the equestrian trail. I like that one because I can let him off the leash," she said as she pointed to the dog.

"I think we should take that one on the way back," I said.

We smiled and thanked her. 

"Have a nice day," she said cheerfully as she turned and went on her way that led up to the swimming pool.

That's when I let go of my scary stories. Yes, the woman had a guard dog with her, but if she was fine, we'd be fine too. I'm not saying it's always safe there, but I felt more comfortable after our encounter.

At the end of it all, I had nothing to fear. Our car was where we left it, unharmed. I was grateful for the exercise and the beauty we saw.