From Fast Living in Salt Lake to Slow Living at Bear Lake

I love a lonely road.

We made a quick trip to the big city this weekend. It’s about a two-and-a-half-hour drive from our Bear Lake home to Salt Lake. That last half hour on the freeway is always the first reminder of why we left.

Bob lived in the Salt Lake Valley his whole life, and I was there for about the last half of mine. We loved the home we made together in the Millcreek suburb—quiet, cozy, and just close enough to downtown that we could pop in for dinner, a show, or a little culture whenever we needed to feel like urban people again.

It really was a great city: clean, modern, safe, full of food, entertainment, and sports. Anything you wanted to do was just…right there.

But being homebodies, we didn’t go out much. And every time we did, there seemed to be more construction, more people, more traffic, more hassle. Even heading toward the mountains for a hike—something that used to feel like escape—started feeling like standing in line for nature.

You might be getting the impression that I don’t like people very much. You wouldn’t be entirely wrong. It’s not people I dislike—it’s just people in bulk. (And sometimes, you know, people in general.)

Still one of my favorite bumper stickers of all time:

“Dogs. Because People Suck.”

It’s been almost a year since we moved from Millcreek to Fish Haven. This recent trip made me think about what we’ve lost and what we’ve gained—swapping the city life for small-town living. Here’s the running tally:

LOST	GAINED
Access to hundreds of restaurants	One restaurant where they know our name—and free-pour the whiskey and tequila
Dog boarding	Cash as a constant companion, at home and on the road
A nearby hair salon	A quiet drive to a solon that charges less and doesn't expect me to know how to use a round brush
Professional sports teams	The Bear Lake Monster Plunge (Winterfest, Jan 30-31, 2026)
Miles of paved bike paths	Miles of lake shoreline and unpaved, mostly-empty trails
Renowned museum, theater, and music venues	Local historians, actors, and artists, who love what they do
Car dealer	A neighbor who "knows a guy"
Ten-minute drive to Costco and Home Depot	A scenic canyon drive, a good list, and newfound appreciation for planning ahead (instead of making three trips in the span of four hours)
Close to family	Not too close to family
Air pollution and inversions	Fresh air, blue skies, and sunrises that make you late for breakfast
Constant traffic	The occasional roadblock by a herd of cows
Food and grocery delivery	Knowing your neighbors well enough to text, "Hey, you coming back from Logan today?"
City skyline	Lake views, mountain silhouettes, and a starry night sky

Today we're doing the usual Sunday stuff at home—slow living at Bear Lake with laundry, football, hobbies, and naps (more naps for Cash than anyone else). The difference is, here it feels like enough. Like life has slowed down to a speed that makes sense.

Sometimes I miss the convenience of the city, but I’ve learned that convenience and contentment aren’t the same thing. You can always get more stuff. You can’t always get more sky.

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Want more slow-living perspective from Bear Lake?

Once a month, we send a short note with 3 things we paid attention to, 2 things to be intentional about, and 1 thing somebody said once that made sense. It’s our way of sharing a little inspiration, a few laughs, and a slower pace—straight from our deck to your inbox.

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