There has always been something so incredibly magical about this seemingly barren landscape that I can feel as soon as I begin driving down those dusty desert roads. It always feels like you’re on some kind of epic road trip. Somebody that I used to know once described something as “hauntingly beautiful.”

That day I headed as far South East as I could go before I ended up across country lines into Mexico. I took off my black heeled boots and walked across the bright sand before stumbling further onto Boca State Beach passed the few empty beer bottles and cigarette butts.

It’s been eleven years since the first and latest time I had to bypass the grapevine heading south to avoid a snowstorm. It took me about six hours, but it put everything in perspective. I was able to be on the roads that I never have seen before.

My jaw dropped at the sight of one of the seven natural wonders, and I found myself staring for two hours on the edge of a cliff overlooking the steep drop straight down to the eerily bluish-green-colored Colorado River.