We'd spent the morning driving across southern Idaho's high desert, where miles of open country stretch beneath an endless sky. Sagebrush rolled past the windows in muted shades of green and silver, and the horizon seemed to breathe in slow motion.
The road narrowed. The horizon widened. Billboards, traffic, and the constant noise of modern life faded into the distance. In their place stood clusters of sagebrush scattered across the valley floor and, rising from the landscape like ancient guardians, enormous granite formations glowing beneath the Idaho sky.
