“I’m going to have to parse out which feelings are prompted by Amangiri, and which ones are just from visiting the Southwest for the first time,” I told a fellow journalist as we disembarked the tiny aircraft in Page. The sun set as we swooped low, gliding beneath the clouds. Golden light illuminated the red, rocky terrain, the Colorado River zigzagging beyond—its path carved deep into stone, revealing layers of history pressed into long lines of green, pink, red, brown, and white.
I soon discovered there was nothing to parse. Amangiri embraces the terrain in every detail of its design—blending into the landscape while offering a luxurious return to the Earth, even if it looks more like Mars. Except here, there’s water.
The main pool curves in an organic “U,” wrapping around a massive stone centerpiece. Nearby, weddings are held in a natural rock amphitheater just steps from the property’s luxury tents. Designed to provide an even more secluded experience, the tents connect guests more firmly to the land through isolation. Sitting close to the resort, a short golf cart ride away, the campground doesn’t sacrifice an ounce of the luxury you experience in the main resort. Whether it’s in a tent or a room, every guest opens their doors to a breathtaking view, with no obstructions spoiling the line of sight across the flat, arid landscape.
Arriving after sunset, the morning brought my first view from the room, and I half expected to see a herd of wildebeest grazing in the distance as I sat up in bed, nestled in crisp, soft white sheets. Indeed, our host, Anne-Francoise Guibert, told us that they refer to it as the “American safari.” It’s easy to see why. But unlike African safari experiences, Amangiri offers a ridiculously wide range of activities—from helicopter rides over the Grand Canyon, to yoga classes atop a several-hundred-foot rock (you have to take the helicopter to get there), to via ferrata and tours of Lake Powell. Oh, also hot air balloon rides. Essentially, you can drink in the landscape from every angle imaginable.
All of those outdoor and/or airborne activities are in addition to the experiences available inside the resort itself.
From the moment you arrive, the amenities at Amangiri make it clear this is not just a hotel—it’s a meticulously choreographed experience of immersion, indulgence, and intentional stillness.
The spa is a hushed sanctuary; its lobby is filled with the sounds of a crackling fire in the hearth, and as candlelight fills the room, its flickering glow harmonizes with the fire’s sound. After your eyes adjust from the desert sun to the dim warmth, it feels like a cave, a church, and the coziest living room combined. The effect is deeply calming, designed to dissolve tension at a cellular level. Inside, pools glow, and the scent of a cedar-lined sauna permeates the facility. If you’re into pain, there’s a cold plunge where you can reset your entire nervous system. Luckily, it’s right next to the sauna and steam room.
The heart of the resort is the main pavilion, where floor-to-ceiling windows pull the desert inside and a row of oversized fireplaces parade down the center of the space, filling it with the nostalgic, grounding scent of bonfire. The open kitchen is tucked neatly into a corner, inviting the sound of searing steak and the smell of freshly chopped herbs and citrus into the already enticing room. Low couches in deep earthy tones, warm woods, and carefully chosen textures gently pull your eye around the room. It’s a masterclass in combining privacy and community in one area, just by using furniture and sensory experiences.
The pavilion is where guests convene for meals on their own schedule, unless they choose to take advantage of room service. Gentle reminders that privacy is always available are everywhere. The meals mirror the ethos of Amangiri, centering local ingredients without omitting any of the comfort foods you may be craving during this period of deep restoration. The menu includes ingredients like slow-braised buffalo, elk tenderloin, rainbow trout, and prickly cactus, along with many native herbs. And even if it leans into local ingredients, there is no shortage of seafood with dishes like ahi tuna akami, grilled octopus (my favorite), and wood oven prawns. If the menu is out of your wheelhouse, or if you, for some reason, brought your children, you can always order off menu—the incredibly accommodating chefs take requests, so you can absolutely order french fries to eat in the bathtub while you sip a glass of crisp, cold white wine. For breakfast, and I cannot stress this enough: Get the cast-iron pancake.
Healing often requires movement; you can test your body to quiet your mind in the fully equipped gym or the yoga and pilates studio, where classes are offered throughout the day. There’s also a lap pool over by the tents.
Because it’s so close to the massive and sprawling Navajo Nation, the resort employs many people living on the reservation. Nightly workshops are available to educate guests on Navajo customs, like learning to weave a dream catcher or observing a musical performance. Drinking margaritas in a hot tub after a full-body massage is also an available activity. I recommend trying both to get the whole experience.
However, the resort’s biggest attraction isn’t the hot air balloon ride or the impressive 920 acres of uninhabited land. It’s what brought our host, Guibert, from Paris to Utah 20 years ago. It is ideally situated to explore four of the most beautiful parks in the world: Bryce Canyon National Park (2.5 hrs by car), Zion National Park (2 hrs), the Grand Canyon (2.5 hrs), and Lake Powell (20 mins).
Guibert came to Amangiri as a guest, eager to explore and hike around the National Parks. But her solo trip took an unexpected turn. She fell in love with her hiking guide. Now, she, her hiking guide (now husband), and their son live just minutes from the resort and spend most of their time outside—a far cry from her previous job in finance.
After a few days touring the resort and surrounding area, high and low, I found myself sitting on the bench outside my room, looking over the flat, dry ecosystem that stretched as far as I could see. The sky had turned a deep shade of orange, and the castle-sized rocks sprinkled about were casting long, dark shadows. It was a moment of appreciation for, well, the really big rocks. But as I sat there, I received a gut punch from a single “bling” of my phone, the screen lighting up where it sat forgotten. It was an Apple News notification about the nationwide rallies protesting federal funding cuts to the National Park Service (NPS).
In early 2025, the Trump administration enacted significant budget cuts to the NPS, including the termination of approximately 1,000 employees, primarily those in their probationary period.
These cuts raise concerns about the maintenance and operation of national parks, as well as their impact on visitor services and public safety. Indeed, our tour guide at Lake Powell, known simply as “Captain Bob,” told us that there was nobody left to keep the bathroom facilities clean for visitors, so he and his team members have had to step in to clean them themselves at times.
The consequences of these cuts are already visible, with the department operating with 2,400 fewer employees than the previous year. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, which manages recreational facilities at federal lakes and reservoirs, also announced closures and reduced hours at over 30 locations.
Staffing challenges are compounded by a growing maintenance backlog exceeding $22 billion, which will worsen with reduced staffing. Gateway communities—towns that rely on park tourism—may face economic ripple effects if visitor experiences decline.
Despite these challenges, visitation remains high. In 2024, national parks saw a record 331.9 million visits, a 2% increase from the previous year. In 2023, National Park tourism generated approximately $26.4 billion.
Protests have erupted at over 100 national parks and monuments across the U.S., organized by the Resistance Rangers—a coalition of off-duty park service employees. These demonstrations are intended to raise awareness and urge elected officials to restore all funding and staffing to the NPS.
These parks are more than vacation destinations. They’re cathedrals carved by time.
And you don’t have to look far to see the impact of federal disinvestment with your own eyes. Just pull off at a rest stop with overflowing trash bins, or visit a trail where the ranger station sits shuttered. Or listen to a guide like Captain Bob talk about scrubbing toilets because there’s no one left to do it.
Places like Amangiri remind us what it feels like to be small in the best way—to stand still, breathe deeply, and let the land do what it does best: heal. But that kind of restoration isn’t owed to us. It’s a quiet offering, one that asks something in return. We only deserve places like this—where the silence feels sacred and the horizon stretches without interruption—if we’re willing to care for the lands beyond the property line. Beauty and responsibility are two sides of the same coin. If we’re lucky enough to stand in awe, we’re also called to stand up.
