Utah
Chasing light through the storms and the stone.
Seven days, several highways, and one very questionable playlist. That was our road trip through the heart of Utah.
Our route took us down Route 24, Route 95, and Route 89. Every detour in between felt like a crash course in how fast the desert weather and landscape can completely shift on you. We spent forty-eight hours driving through a relentless mix of drizzle, thick mist, and full-on biblical downpours. We had to pass on a couple of spots we’d been planning on for months, and spirits definitely started to dip along with the clouds. But the mood inside the car never totally soured. Someone would dig up an old college joke, or we'd find surprisingly decent coffee in a sketchy gas station, and the rain just became part of the background noise.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, the skies cleared. The desert completely came alive. We were looking at slot canyons glowing like molten glass, mesas shimmering in the dusk, and clouds shifting perfectly into place just as we pulled out our cameras.
Traveling with old college friends is always an adventure in itself. We had one guy filming absolutely everything—the good, the bad, and the total misfires. Another was on a desperate mission to find five-star food in towns that barely had a stoplight. Our self-appointed "time cop" barked that we were late at every single trailhead, while the perfectionist of the group refused to pack up until the light was absolutely flawless. By the end of each day, we were moving like creaky tripods, every step accompanied by a chorus of sighs, pops, and groans. Ibuprofen was essentially our unofficial trip sponsor.
But looking back, those long stretches of empty desert and the brutal weather just made the good moments stick out even more. Even in a place that vast and isolated, the sun eventually breaks through, and it's a whole lot better when you're sharing it with people who remember who you used to be.
Candids
