A Journey through time, space and nature in Utah's Wild West

“Astronomy really is one of the oldest things we’ve done on earth,” historian Kevin Schindler says at the inaugural Bluff Dark Sky Festival in the town’s community hall a few days later.

That is the ethos of the festival – to encourage astronomers of all ages, backgrounds and levels of expertise to come together and enjoy the magic of the night sky.

Although stargazing might not be the first thing that comes to mind when picturing the plains of the Wild West – Utah’s large swathes of sparsely populated land mean light pollution is minimal, making it an ideal location for astrotourism.

Bluff is a small town in San Juan County with a population of around 250 and yet more than 100 people have attended the two-day event – some of whom have driven hundreds of miles to be here.

One man, who has transported his telescope worth thousands of dollars to share it with festival-goers, tells me his fascination began as a young boy on camping trips with his best friend, and that he still feels a sense of childhood amazement whenever he gazes up into the night sky.

I look up at the bright stars embroidered against the blackness and the milky way arching across the heavens. The scent of hot chocolate wafts among the crowd as I breathe in the crisp air. 

Guided by red head torches, huddled over telescopes and assisted by laser pointers, attendees are wrapped up in their hats and gloves as they chatter excitedly – identifying constellations and watching shooting stars streak across the horizon.

In the daylight, the grandeur of Utah’s wilderness is revealed as I zig-zag across the state on a six-day road trip.

The scenery that flashes past the car window is instantly recognisable, having formed the backdrop of sci-fi classics such as Planet Of The Apes and westerns including Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid.

Giant red sandstone rocks tower over the flat desert dotted with tufted plants, their strata and crevices sculpted by the wind over millions of years.

It doesn’t take much imagination to picture Tom Cruise scrambling up the cliff faces in a Mission Impossible stunt or a pterodactyl swooping beneath Utah’s famous Delicate Arch.

Coming from built-up London, I realise it’s impossible to comprehend the true scale of the landscape as I pause at viewpoints to look down into the labyrinth of ravines, over the expansive desert and across to the mountains lining the horizon.

It feels as if I am staring at the entire world and travelling back in time to when the Tyrannosaurus rex roamed here.

Home to five national parks and steeped in geological history, Utah is an adventurer’s dream – with a chance to stumble across the fossilised remains of a mammoth while hiking, abseil down the steep canyons and ride a horse through true cowboy country.

At first, the arid climate and rocky landscape seem a little bare and, perhaps, rather inhospitable, but spending time with indigenous people whose ancestors have lived here for thousands of years opens my eyes to the resources and opportunities presented by the desert.

One morning, I meet Louis Williams, the owner of the Ancient Wayves tour company who takes me on a walk along the Mule Canyon in the Bears Ears National Monument.

“There’s different clan systems within each tribe,” he says, explaining his Dine (or Navajo) heritage, “There’s a relationship usually associated with nature, with the terrain out there, because our stories originated in these lands.

“My first clan is Deer Springs people. So I’m taught to introduce myself with that.”

Suddenly, something catches Louis’s eye.

“Did you see that?” he says excitedly as I whip around, a moment too slow, “That was a buck, a big male deer with antlers!”

Strolling through the sunlit valley, Louis pauses every so often to bend down and show me different plants and talk about their usage within indigenous cultures.

A spiky yucca that can be made into shampoo or woven into rope, scale-like cedar leaves for sprinkling on fires to keep bad energy out of the home and fragile cryptobiotic soil crusts that fortify the desert against erosion.

Louis tells me that before hunting season, his clan say prayers to show respect to the deer.

“So it’s mutual, it’s not possessive. We all take care of this landscape because it takes care of us,” he says, explaining the concept of ‘Hozho’ – a central philosophy for Dine people.

“It’s like your physical, your mental, your spirituality and nature. Those four elements should be interwoven at all times.

“That’s our Hozho, our balance. We are one with nature.”

The climax of our walk is the House On Fire, a series of terracotta-coloured granaries built into the sandstone cliffs that are so-named because their chiselled ceiling resembles flames as the sunlight hits it.

Ancient Puebloans who stored their food here between 700 and 2,500 years ago have left handprints painted into the rock, like a greeting from the prehistoric era.

Before my flight home, I stop at the Clark Planetarium in Salt Lake City to meet its director Duke Johnson, eager for one more chance to learn about the mysteries of our universe.

“If there’s one thing that unites everyone, every species, no matter what it’s the night sky,” he says, as we peruse the exhibitions, including a huge chunk of meteor and a piece of 3.3 billion-year-old moon rock.

“We might live in completely different biomes, but the one thing that we share is the sky.”