In Muir Woods National Monument, with its towering coastal redwoods as monuments to the conservation movement, I stood among ghosts and giants.
It’s taken over a year to really sink in: I’ve backpacked Yosemite National Park. Thousands–maybe millions–of people have already accomplished that feat, so what makes the fact that I’ve done it so special?
Although I was only passing through Yellowstone on my very first cross-country road trip and stayed in the park for a little less than 24 hours, some of my memories of the experience still remain as fresh and as sharp as they did in the moment.
It’s a loose analogy but I think it works: if northeastern Wyoming is like a set of washboard abs, then Devils Tower National Monument is like an outie bellybutton.
One of the things I miss most about living on the East Coast is escaping to Manchester, Vermont for a long holiday weekend.