I grew up in San Diego, California. I dont think you could get much farther from the glitzy, coastal, big-city feel than Bluff, Utah.

This dusty town of only around 250 permanent residents, bordering the Navajo Nation, was completely foreign to me when I first rolled into town on a brisk January afternoon.

For one, paved roads arent a given. Nor is cheap food but those small luxuries are easily forgotten as soon as you meet the people. These people arent the put in your headphones and ignore the world type I would walk past in my hometown these were creatives, business people and stewards of the land.

The townsfolk are a collage of all that typifies Americana. New business owners, shipped in from the east. A dance teacher, passing down cultural dances to a new generation. A trading post owner, with tight, familial relationships with all the artists she buys from. A high school art teacher, preoccupied only with getting young people to express themselves. A handcarver, keeping the unique symbology passed down to her alive.

This town balances two realities the history of the Latter-day Saint settlers, dating back to 1880, and the history of the ancient inhabitants, dating back much, much further. This blending of two time periods makes Bluff feel alive a constant conversation between ancient and modern.

This annual festival runs all weekend, with balloons flying over Bluff proper on Saturday morning just after sunrise, and staying up until around 10 a.m. There are no charges for spectators, and balloons take off from all over town so walk around and see what you can find! The view of the balloons next to the towns twin rocks formation is a striking sight, although Ive been told that setting up atop a nearby hill mightve been the better view.

When I was visiting, I stuck around some ballooners setting off from the Twin Rocks Trading Post parking lot. One smaller ballooner, strapped to her fuel tank, cracked a lame pun as she waved us goodbye, legs swinging in the empty air below her. The other, larger balloon drifted directly above us once she was airborne. Quite strange to look straight up and see a spot of bright yellow amidst an otherwise cloudless blue sky.

Just across the street from the twin rocks formation, is the small Cow Canyon Coffee Shop. This indie stop has more than just coffee it has homemade baked goods, and sells other wares from independent artists and sellers from the wider four corners area. Above all though, come for the coffee shops lovely back porch. With wall-to-wall windows, the natural light from the sun beaming through the glass is unmatched with a warm drink in hand.

This spot reminded me of the indie coffee shops found in my own gentrified hometown "shabby chic" decor, local vendors work for sale, baked goods made in-house, and a chalkboard menu.

When my classmate and I were walking around after the initial balloon take off, we came across the owners and operators of the coffee shop not working with their customers, but all standing outside. Their heads were craned upward to get a view of all the bright balloons against the sharp blue sky and red rocks, fiery with the morning sun. What made the sight stranger was that near them was a majority of their own customers, also standing enraptured, eyes heavenward. My classmate and I joined them for a few minutes, until they got their fill and returned to tend to their patrons. Only in such a small town does a coffee shop completely grind to a halt for a few minutes of awe.

Cow Canyon Trading Post

Sorry, I had some of their coffee, so Im totally wired, the short older woman said in passing, as she weaved around the wooden display cases and shelves filling in her small shop. That wasnt hard to believe. She sported a statement piece of a winter hat, with long, wavy gray hair visible underneath it the messiness of which she left ignored as she rushed to help some newer customers who had just entered.

After a few minutes, she shifted her attention back to me. My classmate and I had been bumming around the main entrance area of the shop, ogling at some of the more striking pieces, but entirely ignorant of any of their significance. She quickly noted our interest and began animatedly explaining some of her most prized pieces to us, pulling us around the rooms to go through some of her favorites.

She is Liza Doran, the longtime proprietor of the trading post. A Bluff native for 40 years now, her charm and passion are absolutely contagious. If youre looking for traditional art from local artisans, you cannot miss this trading post.

If one wants to get in touch with the ancient side of this area, these petroglyphs are easily accessible, just a short drive out of town. High up on a cliff face and protected by a chain link fence, these ancient carvings reveal the true age of the creative culture of the area.

The oldest carvings here are in the Glen Canyon Linear style, which is thought to date back as far as 3000 B.C. Creatives did not spawn into existence here a few decades ago, no there have been artistic folk here for millennia.

Before visiting, I knew only intellectually that ancient peoples had been in and around Bluff for centuries. It didnt really connect for me that this small town of mostly RV parks really held an ancient heritage. Only once I stood where these ancient artists stood, and saw their scrawled work, did I really begin to glimpse Bluffs true history.

The petroglyphs have their own internal story, too at a glance, it all seems equally ancient. But looking closer, some carvings are centuries older than others. Many people, ancient to us today, carved next to the work of those who were ancient to them. A vast history marks this wall.

Walking through this area and finding the various markings of different ages, its difficult to not feel a kinship to these artists of old, when all they really did was draw weird little dudes onto some red rocks.

Dust billowing in our wake on a clear Sunday morning, our minivan was booking it down the 17-mile dirt road that made up The Valley of the Gods, a short drive outside of Bluff. My classmate hung out the window behind me, her expensive Sony camera pressed against her face, avidly snapping photos of the stunning red rock formations whipping past. I was on map duty in the passenger seat. As I wrestled with the large, crinkly paper map, I pointed out rock formations and their names as they came up my classmate scooting back and forth across the back seat to get the shots she wanted, desperately hoping the balloons lazily floating between the rocks would pose just so.

Our driver spent most of his energy keeping our borrowed van in decent shape, and the rest on his phone, listening in to a sacrament meeting talk from his home ward and dodging hot air balloons on the road in front of us.

On top of all of that, we were running late for church.

Weaving between these singularly massive creations of God made me feel so very small. And its these times when I feel dwarfed that Gods love for me feels that much more miraculous.

Fetching snacks at the single gas station in town, bundling up each morning to gawk at balloons with a bunch of strangers, worshiping with a small branch of around 30 people moments like these were the ones that set Bluff apart. Not the new resort we stayed at, not the fancy food we ate. The people, simply living their small-time lives, charmed me endlessly.

To someone used to tall skyscrapers, wide freeways and long lines the world feels smaller when youre in Bluff.

(Instagram/@im_off_stage)

A rock slide in Ivins, Utah crashed a wedding photo shoot. Video shows rocks falling and dust rising in the air as the couple poses for the photographer. The area is close to St. George, about four hours south of Provo.