Blog
Untethered as the Birds: Zip Lining in the Smoky Mountains
I feel giddy as they lead us higher, higher, higher into the sky, leaving the lush green trees that once surrounded us at our feet, and at the feet of the rugged blue peaks I now spot in the distance, shrouded in wisps of fog. The most biodiverse National Park in the United States, the Smoky Mountains smell of mist, clay, and clouds. I inhale the trees’ breath and relish the tingle of minuscule rain droplets that litter my skin, no longer fighting the inevitable merging of my once-clean body with Earth’s fingerprints.
Window To The Sky: Arches National Park
The postcards do not show the smooth crater like a black hole threatening to suck the arch away into the center of the earth; nor the breathtaking and treacherous view beyond its keyhole. A rounded frame, it holds within itself the desert’s deadly beauty, which—akin to Galadriel in Lord of the Rings—bellows, “All will love me and despair!” My awe is tempered by caution as the empty deadness warns us of what we’ll become should we get lost or misstep.
A Grove In A Graveyard: Capitol Reef National Park
Travelers named this desert Capitol Reef before they’d known water once dwelt there. As we drive between the towering red cliffs that once barred ancient wanderers passage, I imagine marine wildlife swimming alongside us through the mummified ocean. Our campsite lies nestled against lush fruit orchards planted by Mormon settlers—an unexpected oasis amid the scorched, dry land; a grove in a graveyard. I smile at the familiar agricultural sight, as a horse trots picturesquely around the pioneers’ historic barn—so out of place against the copper desert backdrop.
Bryce Canyon Trail Ride
We descend into the spindles, gradually transforming what seemed a distant painting into walls that tower over us. At every turn, we discover new castles, monuments, windows, and valleys, all reaching their blood-orange fingertips toward the periwinkle sky. Can we really be just miles from where we started? For I feel as though I’ve been transported to Mars.
A Mortal Among Seraphim: Hiking Angel's Landing in Zion National Park
The hot desert sun and thin mountain air have made good on their reputations long before we’ve even reached the base of the fin-like formation that juts 1,500 feet out of the canyon. I gasp for breath and wipe sweat from my brow, trying not to think about the sign we pass that warns me not to be the fourteenth fall since 2004.
There’s Something About Zion
There’s something about Zion National Park. It is the something that I saw in your eyes, glazed over with longing. Something that hugged your heart like the comfort of a mother’s bosom and whispered, return to me. I didn’t understand it, until she embraced me herself. Now I know.
Fossilized in Time: Petrified Forest National Park
We hike a jet black trail into “Blue Mesa,” eroded hills layered in shades of muted mulberry and maroon, lined with vein-like cracks. Now, surrounded by dunes, all is quiet. You take my hand as we wind down switchbacks between the smooth-sided slopes, whose creases hold glittering fragments of petrified wood that wink at us like jewels in a mine.
Chasing Ghosts on Skyline Drive to Shenandoah National Park
I drive alone on black roads coiling like a snake ‘round misty blue mountains, rendered flat by haze, with nothing and no one for company but the blissful expanse of nature. I emerge from my parked vessel to stand in the middle of it and stare down a long, echoing tunnel that splits the cliff, tempting fate as the tremendous roar of an oncoming car reaches my ears. As I sprint to safety, the sound fades into the distant calls of crows and miniature waterfalls trickling down the mountain’s face.