Summit to Salt — Lauren Royer

When people think of Utah, often the first thing that comes to mind is towering red rocks, other-worldly landscapes, dinosaurs, and organized religion. My experience visiting Utah in 2024 began at the summit of the Wasatch mountains, later descending into Salt Lake City, and beyond into the salty wilderness surrounding it. The visit was not entirely conventional, but it was surreal and contemplative.

With trees marking the skyline, I saw brilliant constellations by night and during the day, vibrant rainbow colors as the trees flirted with the early autumn season. Once in descent, the trees faded into city buildings, whose architecture was both rigid and almost oppressive, demanding to be seen in their historic forms and functions. I rummaged for geodes, walked through museums of art and natural history, finding peace at the botanical gardens.

Rock music pulled me into a dive bar where a collection of youth played for their enthusiastic followers, a different form of worship. Beyond the city limits, I drove through barren landscape with the extreme sunlight over drying lakes forming optical illusions and reflections. I experienced the satisfying crunch of walking on pure white, blinding salt flats, where long ago water had abandoned the land.

This was my summit to salt journey. It felt like being on a different planet from the Pacific Northwest—a planet I didn’t fully understand, nor did I feel it embrace me. Instead, it pulled the salt from my being.

Part 1: Summit

Part 2: Salt Lake City

Part 3: Salt