Utah 2025
Chasing light across the desert
Seven days, several highways, and one very questionable playlist — that was our road trip through Utah’s wild heart. Route 24, Route 95, Route 89, and every scenic detour in between became our classroom of stone, sky, and unpredictable moods. The first two and a half days, the weather gods seemed personally offended by our optimism. We drove through drizzle, mist, and full-on biblical downpours — the kind that make you start Googling “ark blueprints.” Spirits dipped along with the clouds. We missed a couple of dream locations, but hope never left the car. Someone cracked a college-era joke, another found bad coffee in a good mood, and laughter soon drowned out the rain.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the skies opened up. The desert glowed again — slot canyons lit like molten glass, mesas shimmering at dusk, and clouds rearranging themselves for our cameras.
Traveling with old college friends, though, was its own adventure. One of us filmed everything — meals, mistakes, and misfires. Another was hunting for five-star food in zero-star towns. The time cop barked “we’re late!” at every stop, while the perfectionist refused to leave until “the light was just right.” By the end of each day, we moved like creaky tripods — every step accompanied by a chorus of sighs, pops, and groans. Ibuprofen became the unofficial group sponsor.
And yet, through every laugh, ache, and fleeting moment of light, one truth held steady: Even in the vast silence of the desert, light returns — carrying with it the warmth of friendship and memory.
Candids
