Utah Scavenger Hunt
Utah is a land of sharp contrasts and deep convictions, shaped as much by its crimson cliffs and briny lakes as by its unshakable belief in purpose. From the first settlers who followed their prophet across desolate plains to make the desert bloom, to modern trailblazers shaping Olympic legacies and sculpting spirals in salt, Utah has always been a place where people carved meaning out of landscape.
History here moves in bold gestures—temples rising from dust, rails driven into wilderness, dams hoarding rivers with the power to transform regions. But Utah is also a quieter canvas, where fossils rest beneath museum glass, and ancient rock art waits in silent alcoves for new eyes. In the sweep of your scavenger journey, you’ve uncovered ghost towns and gleaming stadiums, Mormon tabernacles and outlaw hideouts, atomic vaults and hollowed-out gas stations.
This is a state where past and present rarely run parallel—they intersect, collide, and echo across time. Utah remembers its saints and its skeptics alike. It canonizes its stone, sings through carillons, and lets artists sketch permanence in impermanence. Its heritage is as layered as its geology, and every stop along the way reveals a people determined to shape their surroundings to fit both faith and function.
The photos and stories collected here are a fast and fun way to learn the explanations behind the quirks, the traditions and the secrets that make Utah uniquely Utah. Why are the hallways and staircases in Lion House so narrow? Solved. What Utah building did Frank Lloyd Wright call “one of the architectural masterpieces of the country and perhaps the world? A mystery no more. Where is Salt Lake City’s first designated arboretum? Identified. Where is America’s longest non-urban tunnel? Revealed. Where is the spot the Golden Spike was driven to complete the transcontinental railroad in 1869? No one knows.
Six decades roamed from hall to hall, Until they crowned the granite wall With Kletting’s dome and columns tall. A copper hat, a stony base— The Beehive’s grand and stately place, For votes and laws and civic grace.
Brigham gazed across the plain, His people sore from trek and strain— “This is the place,” he did proclaim. With bronzes grand and tales displayed, Of prophets, scouts, and trials delayed— Their Zion found, their claim was laid.
Brigham found a swampy site, Where lava rock would prop it right, A temple gleamed in desert light. When lightning struck its modest spire, They doubled height at Young’s desire— A final wish fulfilled in fire.
A mountain man with trading flair, Built shelter near the river’s pair, Where Mormon pioneers would stare. His legacy, a cabin small, That’s played the float and braved the sprawl— Oldest non-native wall of all!
When Stagecoach rode through mesas red, John Wayne and Ford the West re-spread— And Monument dreams came back from dead. A cellar once, now muse and lore, Still bearing Brittle’s name on door— Where legends laced their saddle-core.
The Lion roared with thirty wives, And fifty kids with noisy lives— They tumbled through the halls in hives! With narrow stairs and meals en masse, Brigham’s lioned lair had flair and class, A pantry now with pie and sass.