The not-so-subtle shifts in the paradigm began one recent morning not long after daybreak when I raised the westward-facing window shade and, as is my routine, visually drank in Mt. Timpanogos.
There are spiritual overtones involved with this ritual, of course. It’s difficult to gaze across the Heber Valley at that glaciated and stunningly beautiful rock massif and not feel humbled. Especially when it falls under the caressing touch of that soft light that comes with dawn and lingers until the full power of the sun slinks its way across its face.
I follow the ridgeline that is the sleeping princess’s flowing hair up from Provo Canyon on the south, on up to Bishop Bowl at Sundance Resort, and up and over her brow and facial features before alighting upon the immense snowfields of Big Provo Hole and Cascade Cirque.
From there, above Stewart Falls, it’s up to the Summit Ridge, “the shoulder,” the Grand Staircase, past Robert’s Horn, and on to North Peak where I dawdle casually on the snowfield from where “the horse on Timp” emerges each late spring or early summer.
Until that morning, that is. Overnight a huge avalanche had stripped much of the snowfield surrounding the impending horse-head cameo, leaving a quite easily discernable to-the-naked-eye fracture line — what with the aforementioned revealing light of dawn, and all.
In thirty-some years in the valley, I had never seen anything quite like it. I stood transfixed awash in astonishment. Subsequent temperatures have, however, softened the overall visual effect, but on the morning in question, “my” mountain spoke to me in tongues. “Shapes are shifting,” it whispered.
So, ever since, I’ve been on alert for any such altered states. A couple of them arrived in rather quick succession, beginning with the newsflash from Lynchburg, Tennessee, that those who currently make such decisions for the Jack Daniel’s whiskey operation are changing the iconic label that has long been affixed to its equally iconic whiskey bottles.
With the longstanding provision that a whiskey can’t be called “bourbon” unless it’s distilled in Kentucky, Jack Daniel’s has always carried the following descriptive on its label: “Jack Daniel’s Old Time, Old No. 7 Brand, Quality Tennessee Sour Mash Whiskey, Distilled and Bottled by Jack Daniel Distillery, Lem Motlow, Proprietor, Lynchburg (Pop. 361), Tenn. U.S.A., Est. & Reg. in 1866.”
If memory serves, the late Kenny Binatena had that bit of arcana memorized before he had completely committed to memory the soundtrack to “Paint Your Wagon,” which, with or without much prodding, other than a few swigs from a jug of “Jack,” he could belt forth in a variety of keys from dusk ’til dawn.
Missing from the new label will be “(Pop. 361),” “Lem Motlow, Proprietor,” and “Est. & Reg.” “Since 1866” hangs out on a side panel lest it too succumb to the “label refinement,” as the suits refer to it. Relatives of the long-deceased Motlow, some of whom still reside near the distillery, aren’t exactly taking kindly to the new verbiage. Binatena, no doubt a neighbor and drinking partner of “Ol’ Lem” by now, probably isn’t all that thrilled either.
And that brings us to the third shift in the norm: The possible paving in New Mexico of San Juan County Road 7950 into “Chaco Culture National Historical Park,” a United Nations World Heritage site. I never once said that connecting these particular dots was going to be easy.
The whole desert road thing, of course, got my ire up immediately. Why is it that, when it comes to points of interest throughout the West, if there isn’t a road already in place, we need to build one and, if there already is one, we need to improve it?
The portly gray dude has had absolutely no problem in accessing the glories of Chaco Canyon via the present 13-mile stretch of dirt road and, besides that, the park is ill-equipped to handle a quantum increase in annual visitorship. Its inherent intimacy and lack of ambient light is what makes interaction with the ancestral puebloan ceremonial structures and its night sky so sacred.
So, here’s the drill. Listen to mountains! They often have something important to say. Do not covet thy neighbor’s whiskey label. Scripture comes in a variety of forms. And finally, never promote pavement when dirt will do or roads when trails will suffice. Trail trekking can also help keep your shape from shifting.
Jay Meehan is a culture junkie and an observer, participant, and chronicler of the Park City and Wasatch County social scenes for the past 40 years.