For those of you who have been worried about the cost of Envy's maintenance service in Salt Lake City, you'll be happy to know it went well. Nothing required. Say it with me: winning.

Tanned, tattooed, mohawk-headed Jake from Sexton Offroad was as enthusiastic as Americans come, and we enjoyed a friendly chat while he gave us recommendations on trails and future ideas for making Envy all the more capable. Thank you, Jake!

Before our visit to Salt Lake City, Tom and I did a loop around the Great Salt Lake Desert, home to the famous Bonneville Salt Flats. The north portion of the road is a lot quieter than the south end. So much so, that Tom and I had never felt more remote than at any other time on our trip so far. Even the Dempster doesn't compare because it's so frequented with other travellers. At times, it felt a little nerve-wracking, but in the exciting, we're-really-alone-out-here sort of way. It's not only the absence of people that brings feelings of remoteness to the surface though. Isolation magnifies tenfold when there's nothing around you but dust, water, and air. No cozy mountains to nestle into, no big trees to seek shade and solace. No babbling brook to sing you to sleep. Just open, vast, nothingness.

And when there isn't much life around you, you're forced to face the magnitude of your own.

Aside from her intense emptiness, the desert holds the utmost beauty as well. For those few quiet days our world was filled with pink and blue. Pastel colours stretched from our souls to the skies. I've never witnessed such unparalleled reflection. The water sits only a few inches above the salt flats, which have a natural pink hue, stretching for miles and miles, reaching a slim horizon of desert hills far off in the distance only to continue into the vast blue sky. Water and air mirror one another, equally balanced. Like glass, uninterrupted colour fades from one shade to the next. And as the sun shifted and lowered, the colours followed her path.

I can't fully articulate the kind of quiet that you find in a desert. Stillness so severe it forces you to surrender to the moment. Truly alone, together, Tom and I sat in silence for a good chunk of those few days, taking in brilliant sunsets, giant full moons, and peaceful purple mornings. Visiting the desert was not part of the original plan, but as I gazed at the map, zooming into the nooks and crannies around Salt Lake City, it dawned on me that we should explore the desert while we have the time.

It was worth it.

Salt Lake City is a bustling metropolis at the base of the Wasatch National Forest. With what looks like a growing population of young people, modern, industrial-style condo buildings are being built amidst the older Victorian-era brick buildings. A threading of old and new, it works. We celebrated Tom's 35th seeking out brisket and beer in what appeared to be a trendy little area of town filled with hipsters. It was a rather tame evening until a fire broke out in a derelict apartment building several blocks away. We watched 12 fire trucks work to put it out amongst a growing curious crowd. We'd only just walked past the very same building on our way out for the evening!

Not an hour's drive from the desert is the Farmington Canyon trail that leads you up into the Wasatch National Forest. We spent a night perched beneath golden yellow birch as we waited out the rain for the sunshine that was meant to return in the morning. Grateful for the rays the next day, we explored Skyline Drive, a dirt road that takes you along a ridgeline and past a collection of wealthy neighbourhoods high above the city. Though we spotted numerous hunters, the drive is worthy of anyone who seeks to soak up the autumn colours.

Strangely enough, the name Skyline continues much further south of the city on a different dirt road that takes you 150km along the Wasatch Plateau. Staying true to our goal of staying off tarmac as much as possible, we explored the entire length of the trail and were greeted with views… upon views… upon views.

Just the day before we were losing ourselves in dusty pinks and blues, only to be suddenly struck now by reds, oranges and yellows of the changing forest around us. Though Skyline Drive is approximately 10,000 ft above sea level, deciduous trees hug all sides of the hills up here, blanketing entire mountain ranges with glowing warm colours. Elevations of this height back home usually come with greys and greens, with a scattering of colourful wildflowers.

But here, the mountains burn as bright as the sun.

Solitude on the salt flats

Daring the killer dunes