Salt Lake City and Antelope Island

A Couple Days of Contrasts
The morning began cold, the kind of cold that wraps around you, sharp and insistent. But the sun was out, bright and unforgiving, slicing through the chill. On Antelope Island, it was just us, the trail, and the bison. Frary Peak called, a casual line etched into the rugged hills. The climb was steady, the air thin, and the views? Endless. You could see the salt flats stretching out like the pages of a worn book, their stories laid bare by time. The bison grazed, heavy and ancient, moving as if the weight of the world hung on their shoulders. Now and then, showing their speed and agility, chasing the birds from their backs. Then, just as quickly, they returned to their slow, heavy pace. They didn’t mind us—barely noticed, really. But there was something reassuring about their presence, a quiet reminder of resilience in this wild place.

By the evening my mood changed and hunger gnawed, persistent like the wind. Spitz, a Greek place tucked into Salt Lake City, came recommended. Jakob had said it was good, and he was right. The wraps and fries hit the spot, the kind of food that makes you sigh and smile at the same time, bringing an end to my hangry mood.

The next day began lazily, as all good mornings should. Coffee and sandwiches at Alpha Coffee with Jakob felt unhurried, the kind of conversation that loops and meanders without urgency. The city called eventually. The Capitol building stood proud and austere, its grounds orderly, a stark contrast to the wildness of the island. Temple Square felt heavy with history, its air thick with stories and faith. The snow began to fall then, soft and intermittent, covering the city in a fleeting white cloak.

This day closed just as the day before—with Spitz. Because some things, like good food, are worth repeating. It was US election day and fireworks lit up the night as if the world wasn’t turning strange.

Next stop, Bryce National Park…