day 18—feeling blue

Pink, orange, and gold bled across the sky as shadows stretched over the salt flats, creeping closer to our feet with every passing minute. Behind Graham Peak, the tallest of its rugged companions, the faint remnants of last night’s full moon clung to the horizon. To the west, the Pilot Range glowed in soft alpine hues, its peaks lightly dusted with snow.

It was hard to believe that in a few hours, we’d be swimming.

Coffee in hand, we headed back toward US-93, better prepared this time for the jarring washboard roads ahead.

By the time we arrived, the parking lot was empty—just as we’d hoped at 8:00 AM. We quickly slipped into swimsuits, packed a tote with essentials, and made our way down the familiar wooden boardwalk.

The morning air was crisp, and the water stretched out before us like glass—still, sharp, untouched. The sun dominated the sky without a single cloud to soften its clarity.

“We’re crazy, aren’t we?” I asked as we stood at the dock, adrenaline, and goosebumps spreading across our skin.

“Maybe, but look at this,” Trent said, his gaze fixed on the endless horizon.

Charlie paced the dock, her excitement barely contained. She knew we had packed her ball and was waiting, tail wagging, for her turn in the water. I gave in and tossed it a few feet from the dock. But Charlie hesitated, her paws curling over the edge as she tried to summon the courage to leap. After circling to find a gentler entry point, she returned, and with some encouragement, finally made the plunge.

We cheered as she paddled back to us, her tail wagging and her prized ball clamped tightly between her teeth. Swimming was her favorite.

I gripped the algae-slick ladder as I slowly lowered myself into the water. Warmth bloomed around me, growing more inviting the deeper I went. The pond, heated by geothermal energy, felt like a small miracle in the middle of winter.

Trent followed, cautiously stepping in behind me. Though the water was a soothing 70 degrees, the outside air hovered around 30, and the contrast made us both shiver for a moment before we settled in.

Blue Lake had a history—Trent had read about scuba divers using it as a training ground, anchoring personal belongings and artifacts to its depths. While we weren’t planning to explore the lake floor, we welcomed its restorative waters, a much-needed break from winter’s relentless grip.

Eventually, the three of us found our rhythm, swimming back and forth between the shore and the pond's center. Briefly, it felt like the world had disappeared, leaving just us and the warmth of this unexpected sanctuary.

After an hour of exploring, we packed up and bid farewell to our serene oasis, turning our attention toward Heber City—where we’d soon find ourselves in deep water again.