40 Years Together, One Beautiful Trail Ahead

Forty years together is a milestone. We've shared days, weathered challenges and enjoyed celebrations. Through it all, one truth stands out: we are soulmates. Our path has not always been easy, but even at a young age, our souls recognized something essential in each other. There’s a sign in our bedroom serves as a gentle reminder that souls don’t worry over calendars, clocks, or miles. Souls simply know when it feels right.

A soulmate isn’t someone who slips into your life quietly. Soulmates arrive to shake things up, and to challenge, change, and expand who you are. They break open your heart so light can get in, and in doing so, they help you become better—together.

The years have shown us that relationships aren’t built on easy days. Their strength comes from facing the storms side by side, even when tempers flare and tears fall. We haven’t always managed our hardest days with love and care, but have faced each one together.

What endures is the choice—day after day, year after year—to hold on to the life we’ve made. From launching a business when we were too young to know better, to raising three remarkable boys, to carving out new adventures in retirement, every chapter has shaped us. Building our tiny home, starting another business, creating time to travel, cherishing moments with our grandsons—each is another chapter in our story.

So, as we arrived in Utah late at night to celebrate forty years—just the two of us, waking the next morning to the first snow of the season —it felt like the perfect beginning to another chapter in our journey that we hope to continue for many years - together.

Park City

We started our morning at Five Seeds, an Australian-inspired café with creative brunch dishes, and fresh, nutrient-packed foods. The restaurant’s décor is modern and full of greenery.

After breakfast, we set out to explore, and wound up hiking the Daly Trail.

The trail and mining area were empty in the early morning, fresh after a snowfall overnight. The world felt quiet as we wound gently into Daly Canyon, the beginning of Park City's mining history, filled with echoes from the past.

As we climbed higher, we found relics from the 19th century--mine entryways, old rail car tracks leading into shadowed corridors, and stone walls dusted in snow. We paused often to take pictures of what remains of Park City’s silver rush era.

The trail was surrounded by streams with water flowing inside banks that were edged with ice.

Being here—just us, felt like a celebration of adventure and a time to reflect. We took time to be grateful for our time together, for our shared history and for the gift of discovering new places.

We spent the afternoon on Park City's famous Main Street and it was so fun - an entire afternoon exploring the pubs, browsing the boutiques and soaking in the mountain-town atmosphere.

We opted for a casual dinner close to our hotel at the Boneyard Saloon which had an easy mountain-casual feel, created by blended rustic wood with industrial touches, and big open seating. The pizza was delicious.

Weber Canyon

We started our second day before the sun really got going by driving out through Oakley and Kamas and then into Weber Canyon.

The fall colors were showing off in all their glory.

By the time we climbed toward the Smith and Morehouse Reservoir the air was thin and cold, and we were surrounded by silence.

We are still talking about how peaceful it felt there.

The reservoir felt like a hidden pocket. It sits high up in the Wasatch, and was surrounded by fresh snow, bright enough to make us squint. The whole place seemed far away from anything hurried or loud.

We learned from signs that long before any of the small towns in the valley existed, the Ute people traveled this corridor, following the river before roads ever carved their way through. Later came the tie-hackers — men who lived and worked deep in the mountains, cutting timber and shaping railroad ties by hand. The reservoir carries the names of two of them, Smith and Morehouse. The canyon holds a feeling of oldness.

Salt Lake City & Jack's Mountain

Saturday morning, we headed back toward Salt Lake City, aiming for an early morning hike up Jack's Mountain to Jack's Mailbox Peak, a steep little crest tucked right into the foothills above Salt Lake City. The trail heads up fast — a straight shot toward the ridge — and before long the whole valley opened up behind us.

The trail was open, weaving past scrub and rock with nothing but blue above us. It’s part of the Wasatch Range. At the top, we reached Jack’s Mailbox, a pair of mailboxes filled with journals and letters left by hikers. It began as a memorial for Jack Edwards, a young boy who died in 1995, and over the years it’s become a quiet place where strangers write down whatever they’re carrying.

From the ridge above Salt Lake City, we could view the whole valley, including the city which sits in a clean grid.

Farther out, the Great Salt Lake fills the horizon, and the distant islands look like dark silhouettes floating on the lake.

It was that view that set the rest of the day in motion: after seeing the Great Salt Lake from the peak, we had to go see it up close.

Someone along the trail had recommended breakfast at Over the Counter Cafe, which just fit the bill since we were starving after our hike. I had the BLT and Spencer had something called a Train Wreck. Both meals featured their version of sliced hash brown potatoes - a MUST TRY!

Antelope Island State Park

As soon as we finished eating, we headed to Antelope Island State Park, anxious to see Salt Lake and hoping for a glimpse of the bison we read roamed wild in the park.

Once we arrived into the park, The Great Salt Lake looked like a sheet of hammered silver.

It felt like a quiet inland sea, strange, but in a beautiful way.

As we drove deeper into the park, the stillness opened up to one of the most unforgettable sights of the trip: Antelope Island’s bison herd.

The herd was massive and I can only describe the animals as majestic. They grazed along the roadside beside the great salt lake and wandered across the rolling golden hills we hiked through, and we were able to get sooooo close.

Watching them graze felt like stepping into the American West.

It was a rare moment in travel when nature humbles you. We watched them for hours, and I could have stayed for days.

Fielding Garr Ranch

Before heading out, we stopped by the Fielding Garr Ranch, a national historical marker that includes a tour of frontier history through buildings, shops and farm equipment dating back to the 1850s.

We headed home to find dinner and as we drove, we read that no trip to Salt Lake City would be complete without a stop at Red Iguana, the legendary spot made famous by Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, so we decided to give it a try.

It was definitely the kind of place where we wondered if we should even enter, but then we saw the line wrapped around the block and though it would be safe. Every minute was worth the wait.

We were hit with Red Iguana energy as soon as we entered the door—bright colors on the walls, plates clattering and a smell of chiles and spices surrounding all the sights. It felt like we had been invited to a party.

The food was made with bold, comforting flavors, which made us understand immediately why the place has a cult-like following. And we ate every single one of those incredible sopapillas.

It was a true hole-in-the-wall with unforgettable food mixed with tons of fun. Don't miss this place if you find yourself in Salt Lake City.

The next morning, we headed home.

The years written so many versions of our story—young parents raising three boys on grit and hope, leaders in management and education, and business owners, learning as we went, partners weathering the hard days and celebrating the beautiful ones. And now, we are grandparents, with time to enjoy each other, intent on carving out new adventures in a season of life we once only imagined.

Driving back, we found ourselves talking about bathroom configurations, countertops, and the final projects waiting for us in our tiny home. It made me smile, because these are the same kinds of conversations we’ve had our whole lives—building, dreaming, creating something together from the ground up. It’s just who we are.

After forty years, we’ve learned that the best adventures are almost never the fancy ones. They’re the ones where we build something, explore, laugh, wander, eat too much, make a wrong turn or two, and end up with another story to tuck into our collection.

And now? It’s back to staining boards, installing lights, and building the little life we love—until the road calls again.