The Enchanted Wilderness: The Book That Changed the Way I See the Desert

The Enchanted Wilderness - A book worth searching for.

A Personal Reflection

Before I review The Enchanted Wilderness, I should probably tell you why this book means so much to me.

I had the privilege of knowing its author, Ward Roylance, not just as a writer, but as a mentor and friend.

Robert Riberia & Ward Roylance - 1991

When I first met Ward in the early 1990s, he was already a legend among those who loved Utah's red rock country. He had spent decades exploring the Colorado Plateau, writing about it, photographing it, and tirelessly advocating for its protection. But what impressed me most wasn't the depth of his knowledge. It was the way he saw the landscape.

Ward didn't simply admire sandstone cliffs or dramatic overlooks. He saw what he called "Art in Stone." Standing beside him in places like Cathedral Valley or the Needles District of Canyonlands, I began to understand what he meant. He taught me to look beyond the obvious - to notice the graceful curve of an eroded fin, the balance of a weathered rock sculpture, the subtle textures and patterns that most visitors walk right past. It was as though someone had adjusted the focus on a camera lens I'd been using all my life. Once I saw the desert through Ward's eyes, I could never see it the old way again.

In September 1993, Ward invited me on what would become our final trip together into the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park. Along with several members of his family and my best man, Sean Dougherty, we spent several unforgettable days four-wheeling through Salt Creek, hiking to Angel Arch, flying over the confluence of the Green and Colorado Rivers, and sleeping beneath some of the darkest skies I've ever experienced. At the time, none of us knew it would be our last adventure together. Ward passed away unexpectedly just two months later.

More than thirty years have passed since that trip, yet I still catch myself hearing Ward's voice whenever I wander through canyon country. Not literally, of course, but in the way I photograph, the way I slow down, and the way I try to appreciate the desert as something far more profound than a collection of scenic overlooks.

That's why The Enchanted Wilderness isn't just another book on my shelf.

It's the book that best captures the philosophy of the man who forever changed the way I experience the Colorado Plateau.

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Review: The Enchanted Wilderness by Ward Roylance

Some books teach you about a place. Others change the way you see it.

Ward Roylance's The Enchanted Wilderness belongs firmly in the second category.

I've owned a copy for years, and after recently reading it again, I'm convinced it's one of the finest books ever written about the Colorado Plateau. It's not a guidebook, nor is it a coffee table photography book. It's something much deeper - a love letter to the red rock country of southern Utah and an invitation to experience it with new eyes.

The title itself is perfect. Roylance uses The Enchanted Wilderness as more than a name for the Colorado Plateau. To him, it's a state of mind. It's the feeling that comes from standing on the edge of a canyon at sunset, wandering through sculpted sandstone with no destination in mind, or realizing that the landscape before you has been quietly evolving for hundreds of millions of years.

As I read, I found myself nodding in agreement page after page.

Roylance understood something that many visitors still miss today. The magic of this landscape isn't found by checking famous viewpoints off a list. It comes from slowing down. Returning to the same places again and again. Watching how clouds transform a cliff face. Noticing the tiny sandstone sculptures that most people walk right past. Learning that no two visits are ever the same because the light is never the same.

That philosophy resonates deeply with me.

Over the years, I've returned to many of the same places around Utah dozens - sometimes hundreds of times. Friends occasionally ask why I keep going back instead of searching for someplace new. Roylance answers that question better than I ever could. The longer you spend in the desert, the more it reveals. Familiar places don't become boring - they become richer.

One of the themes running throughout the book is Roylance's fascination with what he calls the "ineffable" - those moments in nature that simply cannot be explained with words. Every landscape photographer has experienced them. You stand there with a camera in your hands, knowing that no photograph will fully capture what you're feeling. You press the shutter anyway, hoping to preserve at least a small piece of the experience.

That's a feeling I know well.

Although Roylance was also a photographer, The Enchanted Wilderness isn't really about photography. It's about seeing. The camera is merely one way of paying attention.

The book also serves as an early warning about development across the Colorado Plateau. Roylance writes passionately about the gradual loss of wilderness, mourning places altered by mining, reservoirs, roads, and industrial development. Reading those chapters today, it's striking how relevant many of his concerns remain. The challenges may have changed, but the need to protect these extraordinary landscapes certainly hasn't.

The writing style won't appeal to everyone. Roylance isn't afraid to wax philosophical, and there are passages that read more like essays or meditations than traditional travel writing. He quotes poets, philosophers, historians, and geologists with equal enthusiasm. If you're looking for trail descriptions or practical travel advice, this probably isn't your book.

But if you've ever stood beneath a towering sandstone cliff, watched a thunderstorm sweep across Canyonlands, or found yourself speechless at sunrise in Capitol Reef, I suspect you'll understand exactly what Roylance is trying to express.

Reading The Enchanted Wilderness feels like spending an evening around a campfire with someone who has devoted a lifetime to understanding this remarkable landscape. He isn't trying to impress you with how much he knows. He's inviting you to look a little closer, stay a little longer, and appreciate the desert for reasons that go far beyond scenic overlooks and Instagram photos.

In many ways, I think this book helped shape how generations of people - including myself - have come to think about the Colorado Plateau. Even decades after it was written, its message feels remarkably fresh.

Some books are enjoyable while you're reading them.

Others quietly change the way you experience the world after you've closed the cover.

The Enchanted Wilderness is one of those rare books.

Rating: ★★★★★ (5/5)

If you love the deserts of Utah, Arizona, Colorado, and New Mexico - not just as places to visit, but as places to contemplate - I can't recommend it highly enough.

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A Final Note

Originally published in 1986, The Enchanted Wilderness has been out of print for many years. Finding a copy can take a little patience. Every so often, I've seen copies turn up in gift shops and bookstores around Torrey, Utah, as well as in used bookstores scattered throughout the Four Corners region. They also make occasional appearances through online used book sellers, though availability can be unpredictable.

If you happen to come across a copy, don't hesitate.

Whether you're a photographer, hiker, geologist, or simply someone who loves the red rock country of the Colorado Plateau,  The Enchanted Wilderness is more than just a book - it's an invitation to experience this remarkable landscape with greater depth, curiosity, and appreciation.

I can't think of a better companion for anyone who wants to truly understand the desert Southwest. It's a book worth searching for, and even more rewarding to read.