Through The Lens Utah

Clockwise from left: The banded cliffs of Capitol Reef National Park reveal layers of rock sculpted by deposits, volcanic ash, and upward folds in the earth’s crust. The coloured surfaces seem to glow and glisten in the late afternoon light, forming mesmerising patterns and shadow- play; as theatrical as it gets, the Double Arch is a pair of soaring twin arches, with the larger one at 112 feet, the tallest such in the
Arches National Park. Unlike what one might guess, these were formed not by erosion from the sides but by downward water erosion from the top. That is to say, these massive openings were once just a small pothole each; at ‘Island in the Sky’, the most accessible district of the Canyonlands National Park, this towering mesa sits on sheer sandstone cliffs over 100 storeys above the surrounding terrain. Such spectacular views are easily reachable with short hikes and reveal Utah’s layer-cake geology of canyons carved by the Colorado and Green river systems.

Clockwise from above: With over 650 etchings, Newspaper Rock or Tse’ Hane’ (the rock that tells a story) is a dense petroglyph panel filled with vivid imagery. It records 2,000 years of human activity, starting from the prehistoric Archaic, Basketmaker, Fremont, and Pueblo cultures, all the way to the Ute and Navajo people, and even European settlers; weaving is a prominent Navajo practice, not only for making tapestries, blankets, and rugs, but also for beautiful artworks such as this piece made from woven beads. Traditional designs have strong geometric
sensibility with diamonds, zigzags, crosses, and repeated bands; Navajo women are keeping alive Diné artistic traditions such as textiles, basketry, and pottery by interacting with curious visitors and sharing their knowledge with younger generations.

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN UTAH’S sandstone cliffs and rugged mesas, our guide Ben asks why we can’t stop photographing everything. The question lingers longer than expected. Is this an earnest attempt to preserve slices of time, and for how long will our digital traces outlive us? It’s the kind of thought this terrain invites. After all, the land here is itself a
visible signature of aeons of history. Southern Utah lies within the vast Colorado Plateau, made of sedimentary rock formed by ancient seas and river systems that no longer exist. Remarkably, the geological bands remain discernible even today. Large parts of the region have remained relatively stable for millions of years, allowing erosion to bake a ‘layer-cake’ of Earth’s history. And yes, that indeed is a term in stratigraphy. Every frame here is astonishing. Standing at the edge of a sheer drop at the Island in the Sky district of the Canyonlands National Park, we gaze at the Colorado and Green Rivers cutting across layers of rock deposited nearly 300 million years ago. At the adjoining Dead Horse Point State Park, we are transfixed by the stillness of the landscape. Some layers originated from
ancient mountain ranges whose sediments travelled here through wind and water. These two natural forces acting on Jurassic-era sandstone deposits have shaped many of Utah’s most iconic structures. Take the Delicate Arch, perhaps the state’s most photographed landmark and one of more than 2,000 such formations within the Arches National Park. It was carved from the Entrada Sandstone that once existed as coastal dunes and tidal
flats, back when long-necked sauropods walked these lands. These natural arches, bridges, and spires continue changing even today, eroding and collapsing gradually. It is fascinating that within a human timescale one can witness geological history in motion.
But is there a human signature amidst such vastness? As we drive through the open terrain, sparse settlements, gas stations, diners, and roadside motels appear to be the only markers of habitation. Then, a visit to Monument Valley opens our eyes to how indigenous communities have lived in these remote areas for centuries. Chatting with an elderly woman from the Navajo tribe (aka the ‘Diné’ people), we learn about spiritual beliefs connected to the distinctive rock formations. “Nature and us, we have to be in harmony,” she says, emphasising the Navajo philosophy of Hózhó, translating to “walking in beauty.” Even the hogans, traditional Navajo homes made of juniper wood, mud, and stone have east-facing entrances aligned with the rising sun, embodying nature and its cycles.
On our way to Capitol Reef National Park, we stop at Newspaper Rock, one of the largest known collections of petroglyphs in the American Southwest. Spread across a sandstone wall are hundreds of carvings created over nearly two millennia across successive cultures. Human figures, animals, hunting scenes, and surreal abstract symbols that could easily engage alien-enthusiasts cover the stone panel. Such rock art sparks debate about what art even is. Were these carvings simply scribbles, a canvas for expressions, or
communications from another time? As we continue through Capitol Reef’s Waterpocket Fold, our road trip has made us deeply introspective. In a way, we are
scrolling through an endless gallery of time itself.