I love the names of things out here. Canyonlands. Zion. Where I live, we have names like Huckleberry Trail, Maple Ridge, and Meadow Run. Here, signs frequently include the words canyon, desert, cliffs, and a variation on the hottest color: crimson, vermilion, or plain old red. But my very favorite, the place that has the best, most intense name, that as soon as I saw it, I thought, “I want to go there,” is the Valley of Fire. The Valley of Fire! So I was super excited that my friend Amy suggested we kill time there on on our way to Vegas to pick up our friend from the airport.

The Valley of Fire is a state park in Nevada, and the colors and temperatures lived up to its name.

We did a short hike to see the Fire Wave, and at 10 o’clock in the morning in April, it was already brutally hot. There is no escape from the sun, and its heat radiates off the red sandstone. But boy was it gorgeous. We even saw a bighorn sheep!

The desert doesn’t mess around.