Page 8 of 8
Soldier Hollow, Utah
I never thought I could handle a girl with guns
Possibly my second favorite single picture of the slideshow, taken at the well groomed Cross Country Course at Soldier Hollow, far and way the most spectacular venue Salt Lake was able to provide.
After a spectacular ascent up Provo Canyon to Heber City (far more beautiful than the popular Parley's Canyon/I-80 route between Salt Lake and Park City), a short shuttle ride and then a walk through the well meaning "western experience" exhibits, you finally reach the reason you came all this way, an especially attractive and accessible cross country course hiding just on the other side of the Wasatch front. Crowds were a healthy mix of curious locals and hard core international fans, all remaining especially well behaved with the constant and real deterrent of armed athletes within easy striking distance.
Ok. This one is my favorite picture.
It's back to Salt Lake (real life chronological order be damned!) for the last of the pictures..
Downtown Salt Lake held one real venue (the Delta Center, uh, I mean the Salt Lake Ice Center) as well as the Salt Lake Olympic Square. As secure as any venue, the square held the worthwhile superstore, various sponsor tents offering free stuff, ice sculptures, marginal entertainment, parades and a chance to curl or luge at the Coca-Cola tent. It also contained its other real, star attraction, the Olympic Medals Plaza.
The idea of the Olympic Medals Plaza was to create a single, nightly place to celebrate the games, the athletes, the experience. All medal ceremonies (except for hockey, figure skating and short track) were moved from their individual venue to here. Every night, starting at 8pm and following some type of opening act, the medals were awarded after a brief, Opening Ceremony type performance. After the flags and anthems, the stage (underneath its kick ass Hoberman Arch) rotated the flame out of view and a concert started. I attended two ceremonies at the plaza, the tickets were part of SLOC's initial "Olympic Experience Package" offering. I was lucky enough to see two good concerts, appealing to my adult alternative demographic. I saw Train (truly competent) and Barenaked Ladies (call it impulsive, call it compulsive, call it insane). Following the concert, fireworks lit up downtown and its spectacular giant images.
Despite the perceived glamour of the concerts, the medal ceremonies themselves attempted to remain the focus of the night. Earlier in the day on my first visit to the plaza I was at Snowbasin watching the Men's Combined event from my partially obscured General Admission standing seat. Later that night, American Bode Miller (as well as a Norwegian and Austrian) lit up the medal plaza, leading us all in a rousing, pre-recorded version of Norway's national anthem as he modeled his recently won silver medal.
Designed by local east coast genius Chuck Hoberman, the Hoberman Arch is, in reality, not that different than the well known Hoberman Sphere and the partially known Hoberman Dome. This is the arch, partially opened as dancers over celebrate the impending appearance of a big ass flame.
Fireworks and giant flames warmed the crowd every night at 10pm, signaling to all that it was just about time to think about leaving the medal plaza.
The polar opposite of Salt Lake in most every way, Park's City's "Main Street Celebration" had its own fireworks as well.
On one of the last days that I was in northern Utah I went out of my way to visit Park City one last time, to wait in line at its Roots store, to walk its overtly festive street. When I arrived and started walking up the hill I noticed that there were large crowds headed right towards me. The crowds were being shepherded by police, Main Street was being shut down because of a security incident. An hour later I was long gone when the street reopened, a mysterious package had been reported and the police and National Guard sent in a robot to blow it up, to blow it up good. It turned out just to be a harmless thermos, but at least it allowed the National Guard and the robot to feel extra important for a while.
There are images and sounds and places related to these Games that I will be hard pressed to ever forget. I remember driving south from Salt Lake late at night after a hockey game and seeing the ghostly image of the Wasatch front for the first time, its immense snowy peaks palely lit from the south valley's city lights. I remain haunted by things like that, like the banners outside the venues, those damn cowbells, the Swiss guys in the big funny hats who actually gave me some Riccola, the numb feelings from suffering through the night cold at the indescribable Opening Ceremony, the music in the videos played at every event. Somehow it all added up to something more. I was in Salt Lake for the first 13 days of the games, I imagined I would find myself burned out from my overly ambitious schedule, the security, the crowds, the hassles. I was hard pressed to be excited about the trip before I arrived and never expected what was to happen. I found myself truly sad when I left. I suffered through a painful four day withdrawal, trading the optimism and hope of Salt Lake with the harsh, sad truths of Las Vegas.
This is one (or more) of those images, a place in time that will never be again. The truly nondescript towers of Salt Lake were briefly hidden from the world by giant, oversized banners celebrating sport and reminding all who cowered underneath exactly how screwed we would have all been if a 150 foot high snowboarder somehow came to life and decided to crush and attack the crowds gathered at Salt Lake Olympic Square.
