On my way out of Utah, I enjoyed the hospitality of the Holding family one more time at The Grand America Hotel. Also bedecked in glass chandeliers and gleaming Carrara marble splendor, the 24-floor hotel—Salt Lake’s largest—is glitzed to the nines. But after all my backcountry woodsiness, who’s to blame a sore girl for wanting a bubble bath in a pink-wallpapered powder room? I sunk into the hot water and realized my bees had flown away somewhere in between runs four and six yesterday. A proper solo trip helps remind you who you are and maybe even how to ask for what you need. This weekend I needed Utah, and she obliged.