On my first trip to the desert , I’m struck by how the dry, inhospitable landscape of dust and red rock invokes the same vastness as looking out to sea. “It just makes you feel so small,” I hear more than one passenger whisper as we gaze at the shifting scenery of Southern Utah through the windows of our train car.

It’s hour four of our three-day rail journey, and I’ve given up on taking photos of every view and vista. Instead, I give into the lull of the train—a blissful surrender that can only exist within the perpetual motion of a locomotive, with no ability to pull over or veer off track.

I relish the opportunity to slip in and out of daydreams, watching the desert bake and glow in the afternoon sun from the comfort of my leather seat.…