The National Parks: America's Best Idea: Share Your Story

Remembering Martin Murie and His Legacy

2009-10-03 19:13:53

Martin Murie was my cherished professor and mentor at Antioch College during the early 1960's. I was a biology major there and wrote my senior paper, "In Wilderness Is the Preservation of the World", as a direct influence of his teaching. I remember how he invited his class to his home for an evening of sharing our photographs of favorite natural areas we had visited. When a parcel of land adjacent to Glen Helen, the natural area containing the Yellow Springs of our college town, needed an action plan to reduce the effects of encroaching civilization, Martin took action to involve students in the process and encouraged me to play an important role.
You cannot know how good it felt to see Martin again, being interviewed as a part of this series,
and get the full story of our legacy from Olaus and Adolf. I'm sure it meant a lot to him at this time in his life, to experience the process of working with Ken Burns to produce this inspiring, detailed record of the creation and history of our National Park System. It certainly meant the world to me and my classmates.

Boy Scout Jamboree Trip

2009-10-01 21:12:08

In 1953 as a 15 year old Boy Scout I left by Train from Port Kent Station for a trip across the Northern United States to the Santa Anna Ranch in Southern California to attend a National Jamboree. John Deming of Elizabethtown and Jack Laduke of Saranac Lake were other locals on the trip. As we crossed New York State there were 6 Railroad Cars of Boy Scouts. We stopped at Yellowstone and Yosemite and on the return trip across the Southern United States at the Grand Canyon. The trip lasted 3 weeks; 1 going, 1 at the Jamboree Encampment and 1 returning. In 2008 at my wife's St Lawrence University 50th college reunion and my 49th I found that 3 of her class mates were also on that train trip from New York State.
It was a fabulous trip I've never forgotten. many thanks to the Scouting Leadership and my Parents for making it possible.
Rod Giltz

astronomy in the canyon

2009-09-30 07:28:28

My husband and I were camping with our three children at the Grand Canyon National Park. We happened to be there on the one night a year when the Arizona Amateur Astronomers Club was out with all their telescopes. There must have been fifteen or twenty huge telescopes set up, and we wandered from one telescope to another, viewing all the wonders of the universe, beautifully visible in the clear night sky. I remember it was very cold and windy. There were only about forty or so people mingling around, enjoying the evening. It was simply remarkable to have chanced upon this yearly astronomy offering in the Canyon. My children will never forget it. It added a whole other dimension to the wonders of the Grand Canyon.

Busy Beaver at Denali

2009-09-29 00:25:22

My trip to Denali was picture perfect. Beautiful fall colors, sunny weather, and fewer people during the last week of the season in September set the stage. The bus ride to Eielson Visitor Center also did not disappoint – several bears, caribou, Dall sheep, moose, and even a wolf went about their daily routines right in front of our eyes. The crisp breeze felt like snow-covered Mount McKinley exhaling on my face as it towered before us commanding respect.

But it was actually something much smaller that made the biggest impact on me at Denali.

After hours on the shuttle bus, my husband and I decided to hike the Horseshoe Lake Trail near the main visitor center before calling it a day. We passed a handful of people on the trail through the woods to the beautiful lake. The trail ended at a large beaver dam on the far side of the lake. After our great luck that day seeing all the animals on our checklist, we stood quietly looking and listening for any signs of a beaver.

Frustrated and annoyed, all we could hear were a few immature teenagers shouting and laughing across the lake. Fishing pole in hand, they seemed to be more focused on scaring away all of the wildlife and crushing empty cans than enjoying this serene spot.

“Don’t they have any respect for nature?” I grumbled as we turned to walk back.

As we hiked back up the hill and through the woods, we were talking about our amazing day when we saw the teenagers in the middle of the trail. We got part way past them when we noticed why they were frozen in silence. They were hypnotized by a large beaver gnawing away at a huge tree.

Not more than a quarter of the way into the tree, the beaver proceeded about his business chewing and cutting deeper and deeper into the wood. Wood chips were flying. Everyone seemed to hold their breath – the only sound was the scraping and cutting of his teeth into the tree. By the time he was half way, an older couple had joined the crowd on the trail watching him do his job.

Up and down and around and deeper, it was like watching an experienced artist complete a masterpiece in record speed. I began to notice many stumps nearby, all gnawed in exactly the same way, at the same angle, precisely cut so the tree would fall down hill every time.

Less than 15 minutes later the towering tree toppled to the ground, exactly as the beaver had planned. He had succeeded in chopping down a tree with his teeth! And he seemed oblivious to his power to stop everyone – even the loud teenagers – in their tracks to watch his amazing feat.

As the tree hit the ground, all of us finally exhaled. He did it! High fives and a congratulatory cheer from proud fans seemed appropriate.

But the beaver did not stop to admire his work. He knew he was not done. He did not skip a beat before proceeding to remove the small branches from the tree and break it down for his dam.

In today's digital world of short attention spans and constant visual stimulation, this small busy beaver was able to hold everyone's undivided attention that day. Amazing.

Back to the Wild

2009-09-28 23:11:27

When I am feeling overwhelmed with the stresses of daily city life, there is nothing like a visit to a national park to bring everything back into perspective.

Entering the gates, I am immediately transported to a time when the land was wild. I imagine the early settlers crossing this land, unchanged and undeveloped still today. The hardships they must have faced just to survive humble me.

While many parks have given me this feeling over the years – Volcanoes, Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, Mount Rainier, Everglades, Denali – no park has shown me the power of nature as much as Big Bend.

Big Bend is remote, wild, and a huge land of extremes.

Our long weekend of tent camping and hiking in Big Bend included stormy nights – lightening, sheets of rain, 60 mph winds, and hail – each followed by blazing hot sunny days. I got stuck in the mud hiking to hot springs while later hikers just ahead of us were stranded on the other side of a “dry” creek bed that turned into a raging river racing into the Rio Grande in a matter of minutes (park rangers rescued them). If ever I thought we had nature conquered, Big Bend showed me immediately how vulnerable and exposed we are in the wild.

And yet the thriving fauna all around showed me that life in this harsh land is possible. Javalinas trotted freely through the campgrounds, walking sticks poked around after the rain, birds hopped and sang in the mornings, bears and mountain lions left their mark on the trails, and lady bugs fluttered around us at the top of Emory peak as excited about the extraordinary view as we were.

Is this really our land? Or their land? Or God’s land?

All I know is that survival in this wild land makes survival in my business meetings a piece of cake.

Keep Bears Wild!

2009-09-28 21:54:28

Here we are - three bears from Houston, Texas - at Glacier Point, November 2008. We just saw this very spot on Ken Burns' "National Parks; Americas Best Idea!" Teddy Roosevelt was here! You should visit too!

Reclaiming the Scene of the Crime

2009-09-28 17:59:09

I first fell in love with Yosemite as an 18 year-old camper. So much so that at the age of 28, I moved from Manhattan to Yosemite to work for what was suppose to be a summer. I stayed a full year, saw all four seasons. Spent countless hours in "my" meadow, my spot, my place in the world.

I also met and married my husband during this year. In fact, I had my dream wedding in my meadow. I took my vows in my spot. Then my new husband and I moved away from Yosemite to start our new lives.

Only this marriage turned into a very distructive place, a place of abuse and addiction. A place where I felt like I was dying.

I returned to Yosemite one Thanksgiving weekend, to return to the scene of the crime and ask God to save me.

I remember as I made my way from Curry Village where I was staying to my meadow, behind the Lodge to what is called the Swinging Bridge, I had the clear sense that is was not my strength getting me there. I knew God was really carrying me. I had never experienced His presense so clearly as I was then, returning to where I had taken those vows over six years earlier. I couldn't actually see God, not exaclty. But almost. He was so close.

I literally shook as I made my way across the path to the bridge, to stand at the base of the tree of my wedding. I cried. No, I wept. It was horrible. It was the end of my marriage. I was a broken girl.

Yet this horrible moment was aslo one of my best moments. Knowing God was holding my hand as I took off the wedding ring. Knowing He was holding me as I sat by the river and cried over all the pain of my marriage, all the broken vows and broken dreams. The Creator of Yosemte, of Half Dome and El Cap and Yosemite Falls and Three Brothers and the Merced River - He was holding me, knowing me, loving me. It was amazing. And horrible. This moment in my meadow.

So me and my God reclaimed my spot in the world. No longer just the scene of the crime. No longer just where I took vows about love and forever only to be beaten down. Now, again, a place of creation, redemption and grace.

He carried me that day, in my utter brokenness. I return to my meadow in my prayers often. Me and God hang out there together all the time in my spiritual imagination. He reminds me that while I am not that same broken girl from over a decade ago, He still carrys me. I still do nothing on my strength.

Yosemite is the closest place to Heaven on earth for me.

It was better than I ever imagined.

2009-09-27 18:54:37

When I was in 8th grade, I remember hearing news stories on TV and learning about Yellowstone National Park. It sounded like the most amazing place on earth, but I was sad. This was also the year that Yellowstone was burning. I was so saddened to hear about the thousands of acres of earth and life scorched. I cried for the animals who died and were injured. I just could not understand why God would let something so wonderful be destroyed. I could not understand, so I made my father promise me that he would take me one day. I had to see for myself what had happened.

Many years went by. I traveled across the country and to some foreign countries, and though I had not made it to Yellowstone, it was always close to my heart, and I knew the day would come when I would look over that magnificent landscape.

That day came on a beautiful afternoon in May 2007. My parents, my husband and I had spent 3 days in Grand Teton NP, but the time had come to go to Yellowstone. The anticipation had my heart beating wildly and a smile the size of the Grand Canyon spread wide across my face.

We entered the park from the west entrance, and as soon as we crossed park boundaries, tears began streaming down my face. I could not believe I was finally there ... my dad was fullfiling his promise to me. I was in Yellowstone.

As we drove into the park, I began to see the scars of the fires I had read about so many years ago. It was hard to believe that the marks were still prevelant. I had heard it would take hundreds of years and years for the forest to recover, but nothing had prepared me for this - in a good way. Growing beneath the scarred remains of ancient trees was the new forest, growing strong and vibrant.

Over the next 5 days, my family and I would spend time exploring the many treasures both on and off the Yellowstone beaten path. It is the most amazing, awe inspiring, magnificent place on this earth. And as I remember my time in the park, I remember being inspired by the tenacity and strength of the park. If Yellowstone could make it, so could I ... whatever God through at me, like the forest, it would make me stronger.

As we were driving towards the west entrance on our final day in Yellowstone, tears once again began streaming down my face. I knew that I would be back one day. A small shower had fell from the sky, but the sun was beginning to shine. I was looking in the side mirror and screamed "Daddy pull over!" I had my sign from God. It was the most beautiful rainbow across the river. It was the perfect ending to the perfect trip, and we stood there until the rainbown faded away.

In all its glory and strength, Yellowstone was better than I ever imagined.

My favorite Western Road Trip

2009-09-27 16:28:55

My friend and I took a road trip in 2008. We drove from Texas to California and up the coast of California. We spent several days in San Diego and San Franciso then we headed for Yosemite! I had never been and neither had she. It was the most breath taking thing I have ever seen!! The sights were just amazing. A truly spiritual experience. We went all over the park and to every waterfall that we could get to. Neither one of us are in physical shape to hike, though we would have both loved to hike in that beautiful park. I hope I can go back and take my grandchildren to see the undescribable vistas of Yosemite.

On the same trip, as we headed back for Texas we went through Brice Canyon Park in Utah. Though, to me not as pretty as Yosemite, (because I loved the mountians and trees in Yosemite.)it was a glorious sight. The "hoodoos" were really spectactular.

Our nation truly owes a debt to the people who discovered these amazing places and to those to sought to preserve them as national parks. God Bless America, we are so lucky to live in this awesome country.

Karen Hare

Denali Over the Years

2009-09-24 01:46:06

Every summer for the past 13 years my family has taken an annual trip to Denali National Park. We camp at Teklanika Campground for a week at a time and ride the park busses to our favorite hiking areas like Tattler Creek and the Toklat River. We have been fortunate enough to observe wolves, bears, caribou, moose, Dall sheep, and lynx in their natural surroundings relatively unbothered by the presence of humans. In the evenings we attend the Ranger talks and learn about the flora and fauna surrounding us. We have met wonderful people from around the world at these talks conducted in the Teklanika Campground amphitheater. No matter how long we stay we are never ready to leave Denali National Park.

Photo #1: Trying out the headgear on the banks of the Toklat River (2008)
Photo #2: Hiking up the Tattler Creek drainage (2009)

Canyonlands: At Home with Sky and Rock

2009-09-23 22:29:41

I've had lots of wonderful experiences in many of our parks, but Canyonlands National Park in Utah has a special place in my heart. I can't quite explain it, but the desert feels like home to me even though I grew up in the midwest. Canyonlands has both a welcome intimacy of scale - canyon hikes in The Needles take you through winding, ever-unfolding passages of rock sculpted by wind and water - and the grandeur of expansive vistas.

I remember in particular a hike my husband and I took in May 2004, our second trip to the park. I was pregnant with my daughter, and we hiked the 11-mile Confluence Overlook trail, an out-and-back to a cliff overlooking the confluence of the Colorado and Green rivers. I remember being suffused with an intense, deep peacefulness and joy for the entire hike, and that it was absolutely the right place to be at the time. At the midpoint we sat at the cliffs, with their sheer drop to the rivers below, and watched swallows dive over the edge in pursuit of insects, effortlessly surfing the hot updrafts. I like to think that our daughter, whose incredibly vibrant and cheery personality is unlike me or her father, encapsulates the emotion I felt that day and carries it with her always. I look forward to taking her there in a few years, doubly so now that I am a cancer survivor. My experiences at Canyonlands have given me a reserve of peace that I can draw on in times of trouble.

Included are some photos from the hike that day, as well as some aerial photos of Canyonlands that my husband took on a small aircraft tour of the area during that same trip.

First sign that our trip was going to be great.

2009-09-23 20:41:20

We entered Glacier NP, drove around a curve and came upon Mirror Lake. It was incredible and its beauty was unexpected. We stayed for a couple of hours knowing that our trip to many parks over the next few weeks was starting off the right foot.

Sam's Story

2009-09-23 12:05:18

Just outside the city of San Francisco lies the Marin Headlands, a spectacular part of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area. Nestled just steps from Rodeo Beach is Headlands Institute, a campus of NatureBridge. Headlands Institute, a partner of the National Park Service, is dedicated to to teaching science and environmental education in nature's classroom to inspire a personal connection to the natural world and responsible actions to sustain it. Headlands Institute serves a diverse demographic. For many students, arriving at Headlands Institute offers them their first ever view of the ocean. During their stay at Headlands Institute students have an opportunity to hike Hawk Hill in their field groups. Headlands Institute Field Science Educator, Sam Pena talks about his connection to Hawk Hill in the Marin Headlands.

A dinnertime unwelcomed visitor.

2009-09-22 12:35:31

We had finished bar- b- quing chicken on the pit and were sitting down to eat in the open as we were tent camping in the Chisos Mountain Basin, when our son said, there is a skunk close to dad. We all froze and without looking my husband picked up a small piece of chicken and threw it to the ground near the skunk. Fortunately the skunk picked up the chicken and left. We never saw him again. Needless to say we were all relieved. We do not have a picture of this as it happened so fast.

Backpacking the Grand Canyon's Red Wall

2009-09-22 11:00:09

During a Vermont mud season several years ago, I took a trip with friends to Arizona to hike in the Sonoran Desert, backpack the Grand Canyon and explore the national parks in southern Utah. It was my first time in the Southwest, and as someone who grew up in the eastern US accustomed to a landscape covered with verdant vegetation, I was astounded by the in-your-face geology that surrounded me when I arrived in Flagstaff, Arizona. Visible volcanic cinder cones and lava formations, petrified sea beds, severely eroded rock formations, and a mile deep canyon were a few of the many spectacles I encountered on all my hikes and backpack trips.

The pinnacle of my adventure was the Grand Canyon backpacking trip my best friend from high school, her friend from California and I did at the end of April/beginning of May. After a hectic trip to the park office for our backcountry permits, we hiked from the top of the South Rim through snow-covered trails and cold temperatures. As we descended deeper into the canyon the snow disappeared the the air temperature grew from warm to hot. Our packs were loaded with gear such as sleeping bags, Therma-rest, food, tools and clothing--and a lot of water. I never carried so much water on my trips back East because I could always find a stream or other water source to draw from. Not in the Canyon, however, and the park ranger warned us sternly that we needed to have at least three quarts of water per person on the way down or else forget about going. We also brought succulent vegetables like cucumbers, and my friend, who had hiked the Canyon several times introduced me to the Jicama, a firm but moisture-filled root vegetable that weighed about five pounds. We reluctantly took turns carrying the Jicama in our packs, and it became a humorous and memorable part of the journey.

I will never forget the first time I saw the Colorado River: I peered over the edge of a very narrow and steep portion of trail, and there it was about 1000 feet below us. While admiring the view I also felt a certain rush of adrenaline thinking about what could happen if I took one misstep.

A more challenging part of the trip was the trail through the Red Wall Limestone formation, one of the many geologic layers of the canyon that tells a story of 2 billion years of earth history. Here I experienced more adrenaline rushes as we hiked down the steep cliffs, careful to keep my pack centered so the weight of it would not take me over the edge. Along the trail we could see fossils embedded in the rock, and I learned that the red color came from rainfall leaching the iron-laden shale that sits above this formation.

At night we slept on mesas in just our sleeping bags, watched satellites cross the sky, wondered at all the stars and talked about everything. Our days were filled with intense physical exertion and efforts to keep hydrated, so we had no problem sleeping at night.

When we reached the bottom of the canyon at the Colorado River, I observed the Vishnu Schist, 2 billion year old rock exposed along the banks of the river, and felt very small and ephemeral in comparison. The river water was cold, fast flowing and filled with sediment and our only source of drinking water for the trip back. We all had left our water purifiers back home but did have iodine pills, so into the murky water in our containers we dropped a few tablets. It tasted horrible but when faced with the option of drinking or dying of dehydration, we opted for drinking the bad tasting water.

The return trip was just as intense as the hike down, and along the way we were lucky to find a small stream of water dripping from a crack in the canyon wall. Immediately we dumped out the Colorado River sludge and could again look forward to taking a drink of water. Upon arrival at the South Rim, looking grimy after five days without a shower, we asked a passer-by if they could take a picture of us with the canyon in the background. That was 20 years ago and I still have the photograph: it was one of the last times I would partake in an outdoor adventure with one of my friends, a very good friend from high school who eventually succumbed to cervical cancer a few years later.

My father and his family visit Yellowstone in 1928

2009-09-21 15:50:32

Photo of my father, grandfather, 2 uncles and my aunt visiting Yellowstone in their brand new 1928 Chevrolet. My father is the small child in the photo he is now 86 years old. He still remembers this trip very fondly.

Minnesota farm families travel to Yellowstone 1919

2009-09-21 14:45:32

My parents took me to Yellowstone in 1919. I was 8 years old. We were part of a group of uncles, aunts and cousins all from neighboring farms near ours in Sharon Township in Le Sueur County Minnesota. Each family traveled in a large Studebaker touring car. The cars included pieces of wicker luggage that were designed to fit on the running boards held on by expanding braces. There was no trunk but camping gear and extra tires and an extra axle were tied on, all to prepare for rough roads and accommodations that were few and far between. One night spent in a hotel was a new experience for my mother who had never seen a bathroom and shower. She enjoyed a warm shower and then realized she was still wearing her shoes. A stop at a rural church one Sunday surprised the small congregation when 10 people all wearing matching ankle length khaki duster coats walked in.

Once at Yellowstone we were all astounded by the vast lobby of the lodge. We, however, were going to be camping. Large canvas canopies that attached to the cars were shelter for our pup tents. My father opened his suitcase to find locusts- encountered along the way- had eaten through all 9 of his neckties (imagine needing 9 neckties on a camping trip)! Old Faithful went off at exactly the same time unlike my last trip to Yellowstone in 2003. Our guide on a hike around the park showed us how to throw a handkerchief into morning glory pool and watch it blown out of a nearby geyser. The most exciting thing for an 8 year old was to feed sugar cookies to the bears. We would stop when we saw a park ranger and other visitors in the road hand-feeding the bears. This ended for us when a bear reached into the car with a large paw and tried to take our picnic basket.

Buffalo Bison In Yellowstone Park

2009-09-17 11:33:10

Driving north through Hayden Valley in early August, I stumbled across a herd of Buffalo swimming the Yellowstone River and crossing the road. I was in amongst the herd and they were so close and so huge and beautiful. You really have to see my video to appreciate the sight.

It was the highlight of my trip!

Celebrating our 10th Wedding anniversary backpacking Glacier National Park

2009-09-16 21:53:45

We decided to celebrate our 10th anniversary with a backpacking trip through the beautiful Glacier National Park. Here we are on the third day of our trip hiking along the Skyline Trail. The mountain views, beautiful rivers and lakes, solitude, and wildlife make this one of the most spectacular parks in the country. God bless America!

A TRIP THROUGH YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK IN 1896

2009-09-16 16:09:50

The following excerpt is a part of the complete "diary" as written by My Great Grandmother, Mrs. Louis (Emmaline R. Current) Bird about her trip through the Yellowstone National Park in 1896. To better understand what things were like back in 1896, please go to the URL provided, so you can read the entire diary. I have provided a copy of both the original written text and the computerized version to Mr. Lee Whittlesey who is the Yellowstone Park historian.
Please click on the following URL:

http://www.infinetivity.com/~chareve/yellowst.html

EXCERPT:

OUR JOURNEY TO THE
YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK

AS DERIVED FROM THE "NOTEBOOK" DIARY OF

Mrs. Louis (Emmaline R. Current) Bird

On Monday morning August 17th 1896, we were astir early with high

expectations to get started on a journey to the Yellowstone Park.

It rained some in the morning and there were many things to get together, for we

were going horseback and carrying our effects on pack horses and donkeys.

So the time passed and we did not get started till nearly three in the afternoon.

We all mounted our horses and started off single file.

Will took the lead, your Papa next, then myself and Ratie, the packs coming in

after her, and Elmo and Mr. Calica (a young man that went with us) bringing up

the rear.

We traveled ten miles that evening and camped for the night. It was rather novel

for us, as it was our first experience "camping out". It rained some that night and

of course we did not sleep very much that night, for every little noise would waken

us, and I was afraid of snakes.

Yosemite Evening - (A Poem)

2009-09-14 12:08:12

Out west one eve/ On reaching the top/ I find an old stark tree/ Standing alone/
With outstretched branches/ Welcoming me/ To the sunset/ We stood there together/
I with unslung camera/ In awe/ He leaning over/ Pointing west/ At the sunset/
The vista purpling/
Sharing together this miracle/ He sees every night/ I long to see again/
Two friends standing sharing/ I felt his branching comradely arm/ Across my shoulder/
Then it was dark/ time t take leave/ Only to find my flashlight/ had no light/
Alas my frind could not turn on the back porch light to light my way/ He did the next best thing/
He lit a crescent moon/ To help me down the path toward night

Looks like Indians in the rock

2009-09-14 10:12:20

As I was taking this picture the shadows look like Indians in the rock it was from the people shadow that were behind me.

On The Way to Viet Nam

2009-09-08 16:29:53

In June of 1966 my suitor and I set out from Rhode Island for a meandering road trip to The Naval Air Base in Coronado, Calif. He was a Navy helicopter pilot about to go to Viet Nam and I was his girl. We made our way westward in his Econoline van visitng friends in Michigan, and Georgia, and his relatives in Mississippi where we became engaged. The high point of his trip may have been the Bell helicopter factory in Texas. Mine was the Neiman Marcus store in Dallas and a gigantic tarantula who crossed a long, flat Texas highway far in front of us. We braked for him. The best was still to come. By the time we reached western Arizona it was dark but we pushed on toward the canyon. We had a bed in the van where we often slept and planned to do so that night after we entered the park. It was very late when we arrived and we were too tired to look for a campground, so pulled into a scenic overlook and crawled into bed. We were on the south rim and awoke to bright sun. As my finance opened the double side doors I saw, in the foreground, an amazing bottle brush bush almost touching the van. It was surrounded by ruby throated humming birds, alive with them. The back ground, more like back drop was the Grand Canyon. What an indescribable sight, what a contrast!
Twenty-six years later, on my 50th birthday, I was able to return and share that wonderful American geographic heritage with my 3 children !

Lafayette Park

2009-09-03 16:35:42

A story about the rennovation of Lafayette Park in St. Louis, MO.

String Lake Serene

2009-09-01 17:08:38

I visited Grand Teton National Park just last week. String Lake is one of my favorite parts in the whole area. We spent the day a long it's beautiful shore. More importantly it was the people that we met. We me a wonderful man who lives in the area for 8 months of the year. As his group were putting his canoe in the water, he heard my son, who is autistic say, "I want to go on a boat ride." After his group had all taken turns, he came and asked my son to go for a boat ride. My son hesitantly declined, but then I convinced him it was okay. He got in the boat and had the best boat ride ever. I will never forget the smile on my son's face.

Upsidedown in Yellowstone or I Made a Hit with a Bear

2009-08-31 22:22:43

In 1950, while on a family vacation, my dad and I (age 11) walked from our cabin to view a small waterfall while my mother and cousin stayed to finish dishes in our rustic cabin. On our return, we noticed a semicircle of people watching a man sitting on his front steps cutting a piece of apple, which he threw to the brown bear about 20 feet in front of him. Every time the man cut some apple, he threw it a few feet in front of the bear, obviously trying to see how close he could get the bear to come to him. In those days in the park, people would foolishly stop the car, roll down the window, and feed bears from the car. At night, you could him the bears rummaging through the garbage cans that were placed behind each cabin. But, back to the story.

Fascinated by the scene in front of us, we joined the group to see whether the bear would first devour the apple before he nibbled on the foolish man feeding him. Suddenly, with the bear about six feet from the source of his lunch, the bear turned 180 degrees and charged out of our group. Just seconds before this happened, my dad, thinking he had seen enough and believing that I was following him, went back to our cabin, which was just yards away. When my dad heard the screams as everyone tried to avoid the charging bear, my dad turned around just in time to see his only child doing a perfect flip about six or eight feet in the air. All that could be seen of the bear was the cloud of dust as he ran into the woods behind the cabins.

Only my pride was injured. Had I stepped to the side about a foot or so, I could have avoided being hit by the bear. I saw that the bear was charging directly toward me, but in my panic I was too terrified to move. The bear hit me on the lower legs on the upswing, I believe, because I was tossed in the air as though I had been a part of some acrobatic act. My glasses flew off, and my billfold fell out of my back pocket. I landed on my hands and knees in the gravel and got up just as my frantic dad reached me.

For the rest of the evening I was the young hero of the park. People would point at me and say, "That's the boy that got hit by the bear!" I received several gifts of candy from those who had observed this little theatrical display. My parents were most grateful that their son had survived what could have been a story with a much more tragic outcome. A couple days later while a long line of cars had stopped to watch a herd of elk meander across this beautiful meadow, I jumped out of the car with my camera in hand and charged up the hill. My parents didn't realize what was going on until they saw me rolling down from the top of the hill. But, wait. That's another story.

Take My Breath Away

2009-08-31 21:43:56

My husband and I were in Phoenix for a wedding in November, 2008. Part of our trip included renting a car and driving to the Grand Canyon. I'd never been to the Grand Canyon but it had always been a goal of mine. The drive from Phoenix was kind of long, lots of desert, then mountains with scrub bushes. Nothing really that pretty to look at. Half way through the voyage, my husband asked me to take the wheel. The rental car was a tiny, little foreign model with very sensitive steering. My husband uttered many, many complaints of my handling of the vehicle. Needless to say, the trip was not going that well. We finally entered the park. The road was straight, the view was of scrub brush and dirt and I was still bouncing from yellow to white line, exacerbating my husbands car sickness. I was starting to get extremely frustrated, wondering where in the world was this "amazing" grand canyon. I'd seen it in photos and in the movies, but driving up the long entryway was creating in me a very disappointed effect. With the crabby husband, the long drive, the boring scenery, I was beginning to think the Grand Canyon was just a little ripple in the Earth's structure. And then, I decided to take the road to the right. A sign said scenic overview, or something like that. We turned right, went around a corner and the Grand Canyon opened up before my eyes. I will never, ever forget that moment. I gasped, and choked on my own shock, awe and amazement. The Grand Canyon was more beautiful than I could have imagined, more magnificent than any photo I'd ever seen. It was enormous, huge, with many layers of colors and details. All that arguing and grumpiness was complete lost and forgotten with the discovery of this most amazing natural creation. It took my breath away, it brought tears to my eyes, I was enthralled. I've told this story to friends and family and insisted that they see the Grand Canyon. It is an amazing experience.

River of Grass and Stars

2009-08-29 09:55:31

The 'Glades' weren't a total stranger to me; we lived on what had once been the fringe- where the piney woods and palmetto scrub of Southwest Dade County had abutted the edge of this seasonally ebbing river; before the system of canals had tamed the swamp to gain ground for agriculture and the hurricane-resistant flat-roofed stuccoed-concrete jalousie-windowed homes we and our neighbors all lived in. I played not too far away in the ‘woods’ most days, busy maintaining my saw palmetto thatched roof ‘fort’, fishing and rafting in the canals, and sometimes riding further West on my bike to trample through the waist-high grasses to catch snakes and tortoises as ‘temporary pets’ for show-and-tell at school.

I was now 13 years old and totally enthralled with the prospect of earning my camping merit badge in the real Everglades on a troop camping trip to a Boy Scout camp within the park. I was to ‘live off the land’, finding my food and shelter like I imagined the Miccosukee Indians had. Unlike the woods near home, I wasn’t going to be permitted to hack my way through a hammock to secure wood, palmetto, and fox grape vine for my shelter; I would have to use the 10x10 sheet of Visqueen plastic sheeting my Dad had given me as the basis of my shelter along with a bundle of 4 foot sticks and twine I had brought for the occasion. I lashed the end supports and ridge-line for my transparent tube tent, a suitable latrine framework, and the compulsory tripod for hanging pot or water bag. With my camp ready for the night ahead I went in search of dinner. Being winter, there was no standing water for miles, no cattails, no grape vines, or palms – just saw-grass growing out of decaying thatch and exposed oolite limestone as far as you could see. So I ate the boiled base of saw-grass leaves, resembling a pot of sliced green onions, but not nearly as tasty. It was one of the most disappointing meals I’ve ever eaten and I went to bed totally dissatisfied. My vision of a banquet of roasted fish and cattail root mush not realized.

About 2am I was awakened by a small animal scratching around the thatch nearby, obviously faced with the same poor prospect of finding it’s dinner as me, when I looked up through the ceiling of my tent- I couldn’t believe my eyes. A sweeping river of stars from horizon to horizon, more than I had ever seen! I tried pick out a familiar star or constellation, but I was totally lost- overwhelmed. I laid there for hours, just staring. The river of stars and the river of grass were almost reflections of each other, and I was in the middle of both! I felt so small. Away from the lights of Miami, I saw for the first time beyond the immature and limited perspective of myself and my little world. That night I gained a little insight into the magnificence of God’s creation and my very, very small part in it. I was humbled.

Yosemite, Mussorgsky, and Alzheimer's

2009-08-29 06:59:32

I'm a Minnesota-bred woman, and never went anywhere else until I moved to San Diego in my late 20's. Sometime during the 1980's, I got to see Yosemite for the first time. They have prescribed burns there regularly, but there had been a BIG fire the year before. I had Mussorgsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition" playing in the car as we crested the first mountaintop that displayed the Yosemite Valley below us. Every slope was covered with black sticks that used to be trees, and the Mussorgsky tape had just entered that "sad" part. Tears rolled down my face at the devastation. Mile after mile, scorched destruction, accompanied by that music. My heart ached for the losses.

That music evokes images of Yosemite every time I hear it. After a car accident with head injury in 1987, I lost a lot of memories from that era, but not that one.

Of course, the park recovered, as did I , and I went back many times. Such magic! When my Mother was diagnosed with mid-stage Alzheimer's Disease, I wanted her to see Yosemite while she could still appreciate it. She and I flew from Minnesota to San Francisco, rented a car, and drove to Yosemite. She was child-like in her awe and wonder. She waded in the Merced River, saw bears and a lynx, laid on her back in a meadow looking up at El Capitan, and tried to buy everything in the Ansel Adams store. One highlight was lunch at the Ahwahnee Hotel, where she sternly told the waiter she could feed a family of five for the price of their $13 cheeseburger.

Goats Do Roam Even Into Weddings at the Grand Canyon

2009-08-28 22:18:39

The first time I visited the Grand Canyon was the occasion of the wedding of my daughter Rachel Anna on May 24, 2008. In 1993, Rachel's mother, who was an artist, died of a cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 49. Rachel was 20. The family -- I, Rachel and her 25 year old brother Matthew were devastated. We each began a pilgrimage of grief. Several years later, Rachel decided to spread her wings and venture to Phoenix, Arizona to live with a friend from high school days. Once there, Rachel, a communication and art major in college, landed a job as director of marketing for a retail office furniture company. She became a marathon runner and met and fell in love with Brian a geologist for the state of Arizona who was also an expedition backpacking guide at the Grand Canyon. After many, many backpacking trips together at the canyon, the question was popped and, of course, the place for the wedding was a given -- the Grand Canyon. A small group of immediate family and friends gathered at a remote site at the edge of a point with a steep and deep drop off. Just before the ceremony was to begin, a Big Horn Sheep kid ascended the sheer side of the cliff and joined the wedding party. He remained for the ceremony roaming between the wedding party and the guests. Just before the ceremony, Rachel presented me and her step-mom Chris with an original watercolor of the site of the wedding which she had painted in memory of her mother. The expansive vista, the wedding site, the watercolor, the the happy couple, the uninvited but welcome guest -- it was all awe inspiring. I viewed it all through tears of joy. By the way and ironically, the couple had chosen "Goats Do Roam" as the brand of wine for the reception.

National Parks

2009-08-28 16:19:47

As the guide at Petersburg National Battlefield Park explained the history of the site, I could almost hear the muskets of Grant’s army shooting at the Confederates defending Battery 5. While touring the visitor center at Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, I tried to imagine the hard work that was put into building that great dam. The lake behind the dam is named for George Powell, the famous explorer of the area; maybe I’ll discover something special and have it named after me.
I celebrated my 11th birthday by visiting three national parks: Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, and Zion. As I hiked along the rim of the Grand Canyon, a family of deer crossed my path. The deer with the biggest antlers looked like a strong father protecting his children. When my parents, sister, and I first drove into Bryce Canyon, my dad turned on the air conditioner in the car; by the time we reached the top of the mountain, the temperature had dropped and snow covered the ground. In Zion National Park, the most beautiful of the parks, I rode a horse past the Three Patriarchs – mountains named for Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Fort Necessity, the only historic site I have been to in Western Pennsylvania, has a new walk-through museum. Every section has a different focus: uniforms worn during the French and Indian War, information about the actual battle, and paintings of the fighting. The sound effects of guns going off and thunder crackling enrich the tour.

Each national park and historic site I have visited, whether ones in Virginia or Utah, Texas or Montana, Arizona or New Mexico, has its own personality and story to tell. The national parks and sites extend the lessons of the classroom and make learning about history, biology, botany, geology, and geography fun. Fifteen Junior Ranger Badges and one Web Ranger Badge hang on a bulletin board in my room. I earned these badges by taking a quiz about each park. I also took an oath, given by park rangers, in which I promised to protect the parks and keep them clean. The national parks and historic sites are truly America’s best idea!

I ain't afraid of no bear

2009-08-27 20:42:14

I had just finished my master's in education and had taught at a rough urban school in Milwaukee, WI when my brother and I decided to venture west. Destination: Glacier National Park. We drove the 23 hour drive in a two day time period. The empty road leading to the park exemplified the wild nature we were about to embark on. We arrived at our site and were lightly warned of grizzly bear presence in the area/protocol to protect oneself, etc but decided to take a hike up the mountain located next to our campsite anyway. On the way, we took a picture overlooking the scenic panoramic, and ran out of film. We saw a few people and asked who was the last coming down the mountain. When that person passed us, we were alone on the trail. We sporadically made weak noise attempts, as the directions advised, but were more concerned with getting to the waterfall that hikers had bragged about. After drinking from the glacier stream trickling down the steep slope, we decided to turn back into the dusk back to our campsite. I lead the way, and all at once, I stopped dead in my tracks. I have never felt such a disbelief of reality in my life. It was as if I honestly thought for a moment that was viewing the husky grizzly bear at a zoo, or perhaps I was dreaming, but none of these thoughts were real. The truth was, the 700 pound (or more, it is hard to tell) grizzly bear was staring directly into my eyes. My brother's 6'2" frame ran into me, as I stood still and his words "Why did you stop" beckoned no reply from my silent mouth. He quickly figured it out. Adrenaline took over and his quick thinking lead us backwards as the 20 ft away beast continued walking closing in on us. We backed up casually and weaved our way back up the mountain (as we could do nothing else) until we hit the water source (which was most likely were the bear was going) and jumped over the stream and clung on to a tree jetting out of a moss covered bank. The bear slowly sauntered up the slope and stopped, seemingly assessing whether or not he would head to the water and deal with us, or not. To our relief, he continued up the mountain, giving us a window of opportunity to head back to our camp. I slipped and fell into the stream as I was jumping back over, and my brother immediately jumped in sticking his leg out for me to grab, like a sturdy branch. In that moment, the bond that we formed was unexplainable. Our soaked bodies climbed up to dry land, having just missed plunging down the waterfall and possible injury. We ran the entire way, clanking stones, singing made up, out of tune songs, and squishing in our boots. We entered the quiet campsite and sat at our campfire pit, trying to reflect on what had just happened. We lit a fire, cracked open a beer, and laughed our a** off. The next day, we canoed and hiked throughout the beauty that seemed so uncrowded (compared to other National Parks). In one of the souvenir shops, a child's t-shirt stated the title of this article, and my brother found it fitting that I have it. That trip created adventure, fun, and an unforgettable time that my brother and I will always have. Nothing material, or capitalistic could compare or mimic that wild experience at Glacier National Park.

Dad Makes it to the Tetons

2009-08-25 13:41:44

Ever since my late father saw George Steven's 1953 Western, SHANE, he wanted to got to the Grand Tetons. "Where the Hell is THAT!" he'd say when we saw it together in reissue in 1970. "I gotta get into those Mountains.!"
Well, finally in the early fall of 1981, I flew from NYC and my folks drove from California, and we met up in Salt Lake. Then we ascended together into Wyoming. For the ten days we were in the realm of the Tetons, we had perfect weather. Crisp and clear. We rafted on the Snake River, we took a 'breakfast ride' with a local stable hand, who served us fresh trout on the shores of Jenny Lake. We just let ourselves be mesmerized by those jagged peaks.
My Dad died in 1992, but he was already in his heaven in 1981. I snapped an iconic photo of my Dad in the forest just below the Tetons on the lakeshore. It looks posed, but it isn't. I just happened to catch him in a moment of reverie, just soaking in the atmosphere. Breathing it in. Feeling it. Being present in that moment with the Tetons looking over him. It's my favorite picture of Dad. It puts my heart at rest. I know he's in his Heaven.

Igniting Love of National Parkland

2009-08-21 19:52:34

I was floating on a raft in the middle of an ocean, rocking back and forth, my long curly hair trailing behind me and as I reached up to push wet hair out of my eyes, I suddenly woke up to a shaking leaky tent, lurching back and forth with my husband and our two children in it. The sandy smooth surface we chose to place our tent turned our to be a dried stream bed and it was filling up, fast. Unzipping the backpack tent we sleepily oozed out and took refuge on the picnic table under the canopy - the same one we had played cards using a candle lantern for light just hours before. I am grateful for our national park memories. For the last 15 years, we have had many adventures during our national park vacations. Finding fossils on the Delaware River; wondering what to do about the rouge male bison standing in the middle of our trail in Yellowstone; trudging through the winter wonderland on the top of Mt. Brown or into an oncoming storm at Two Medicine (submitted picture) just this year in Glacier National Park; hearing my heart beat and feeling insignificant in the vastness of Grand Canyon, yet waking up at the North Rim and feeling more connected to the Earth than ever before. The four of us have logged a thousand trail miles and tens of thousands of feet of altitude gain. We have heard the call of cougars, had our socks bitten by a ptarmigan; and been followed by a mountain goat. But we have lived and we have loved our land community from the river at Zion, the hoodoos at Bryce. the rain forest in Olympic, to the top of Half Dome in Yosemite. Treasured land, magical moments!

Going Home

2009-08-20 14:12:57

In August, 1945, my father was stationed at Lemoore Army Air Force Base, just south of Fresno, California. Like every other American serviceman at that point in World War II, he was getting ready for the invasion of Japan. Then, suddenly, in mid-August, the war was over.

Thousands upon thousands of servicemen poured into the streets of America's cities and towns to celebrate. But streets crowded with frenzied humanity did not seem to my father to be the appropriate place to rejoice in the arrival of peace. Hopping a ride on the back of a buddy's motorcycle, Dad had his friend drive him up to Sequois National Park, and drop him off there.
And it was there, amid some of the most ancient living things on Earth - the great Sequoia trees that had seen human wars and peacetimes come and go for hundreds of centuries - that Dad meditated upon the ending of mankind's most recent attempt at self-destruction.

My father always felt that human passion - its bloodthirsty episodes alternating with periods of fragile tranquility - was never to be trusted. What could be trusted, what would always endure, was patient, abiding, egoless Nature. It was in Nature, not the crazy hubbub of human society, that Dad's spirit felt at ease and at home. Home is where one finds the deepest joy. That is why the end of World War II found my father, not lost in a sea of drunken humanity, but lost in reverie in the sequoia forest.

A Chance Encounter

2009-08-15 21:27:17

The hype over the 1962 Seattle World's Fair inspired me and a fellow teacher, Anne, to visit the World's Fair and at the same time, see America. As recent college graduates, we did not have much money so an old friend, Fr. James W. Skehan, SJ, head of the Boston College Geology Department talked us into camping our way cross country. He plotted the trip for us making sure we visited as many national parks as possible.

Dubious at first, the trip, the camping, the people and most of all the magnificent scenery made this one of the most exciting adventures of our lives. We met wonderful people and experienced in a very special unadulterated way, the grandeur and the breathtaking beauty of Yellowstone, Glacier, Rocky Mountain, Devil's Tower, Crater Lake, and finally, the Grand Canyon. We also encountered a number of wild animals and other species that crawled on the ground.

We had stayed in the Desert Sands in Las Vegas so we could "experience" Las Vegas. It was the low point of our trip. The following day, we reached the Grand Canyon and resolved to stay two days because we were so happy to be camping again.

The summer staff had scheduled a campfire discussion starting at dusk. The topic: Is There A God? The discussion was lively; however, there were two handsome men on the far side of the campfire that we just knew we had to meet, Jack and Jay.

Our long conversation began after the campfire was dampened and everyone had returned to the campsite or cabin. We invited Jack and Jay to breakfast where we continued exchanging stories about our cross country trips.

Since we were all headed East and time was growing short, we decided to travel in tandem. Five days after we had met, we waved "good-bye" on the George Washington Bridge. Anne and I headed for Connecticut while Jack and Jay headed for the Eastend of Long Island.

"You're going to marry Jack McCaffery," Anne said as we turned onto Rte 95.

"I know" was my response although I had no idea where that came from.

Jack and I were married on August 17, 1963.

Forty years later, our youngest daughter, Regina, went on a mountain biking tour of the Grand Canyon. "Will she meet Mr. Right?" I wondered, but dared not say.

Sure enough, she and the director of the tour, Patrick Hackleman, continued to see each other after the trip and guess what...they were married in July 2004.

The Best Way To Share Our Country

2009-08-13 10:39:52

When our three children were all under the age of 5 we realized that if we wanted to show our children the United States of American before they were 18 we would need to do a lot of traveling. Expensive vacations were out of the question, but... camping was the solution. We made it a goal to get them to as many National Parks as we could before they left home. We purchased each child a National Parks Passport. They have stamps from Acadia National Park, Mammoth Cave NP, Chickasaw NRA, Carlsbad Caverns NP, Guadalupe Mountains NP, Yellowstone NP, John D. Rockefeller Memorial Parkway, Grand Teton NP, Rocky Mountain NP, Great Sand Dunes NP, Glacier NP, Little Bighorn Battlefield NP, Mt Rushmore National Memorial, Montezuma Castle NM, Tuzigoot National Monument, Devils Postpile National Monument, Petrified Forest NP, Great Smoky Mountains NP, Jefferson national Expansion Memorial, Grand Canyon NP, Yosemite NP, Death Valley NM, Capulin Volcano NM and several that simply didn't get a stamp.

Our goal was always to stay in the park if at all possible. The Junior Ranger program was always a highlight and all three enjoyed the activities. They have memories that can never be replaced - hiking in Yosemite to one of the falls with Daddy, the bear outside our cousin's tent at Yosemite, the buffalo scratching against our tent trailer in Yellowstone, a boat ride at Glacier as well as the photography hike, sleeping in a flooded tent at Acadia,playing in the "river" at the Great Sand Dunes, the left hand cave tour at Carlsbad caverns, and campfires and stories of Rufus the bear no matter where we were. They all have vivid recollections of the spectacular scene of the mountains at the Grand Teton National Park. We camped next to a family from France at Rocky Mountain NP and the children loved simply playing on the boulders together. Years later, the oldest two were introduced to wilderness backpacking at Rocky Mountain as well.

Our middle child was 6 when we went to the Grand Canyon. We got out of the car as we approached the main parking area and walked to the rim and looked out at that incredible sight. She literally stood open mouthed for a minute or two, and finally said, "I wish every kid could see this. It's better than Christmas".

We will be forever grateful for the US National Park System. We look forward to taking more trips with our children and grandchildren to enjoy our amazing country.

Memories of Park Life

2009-08-11 18:52:41

My first national park experience was in the early 50's when my parents would take may sister and I each summer for vacation in Yosemite Valley. We stayed in tent #494 in Curry Village, climbed the boulders in the area and hiked a few trails. I especially remember our lunches along streambeds of Ritz Crackers, Velveeta Cheese, and Motts Nectars. The Stellar Jays always stole my crackers! We went on a burro picnic from the Valley Stables to Housekeeping Camp. I was afraid because I road "mama" who's young one came along and kept trying to nurse while we road. I thought it was trying to nip my toes. I cried the whole way. I loved the smell of Yosemite - the "mountain misery" baking in the sun on a hot day in the south area of the park; the pine needles; campfires in the campgrounds.......the wind in the pines; owls in the trees and Stellar Jays screeching.

Later, after high school, I went to work for the concessioner in Yosemite Valley. I held many different jobs, but especially liked working at White Wolf High Sierra Camp as a Camp Helper. I later met my husband in Yosemite National Park. He was a Ranger in the Wawona District at the South end of the Park. I thought he was especially handsome as he patrolled on horseback in his uniform! We've been together 25 years and have have had the pleasure of living under Yosemite Falls in one of the 1930 Ranger houses; and living and working in Grand Teton National Park; Petrified Forest National Park, and the national office in Washington, D.C. I have always considered the National Park Service my extended family and have many friends to date from these various areas. I have never seen a National Park unit that I haven't liked - they all offer something unique. I've a life full of great memories!

Our National Parks Serve The Disabled

2009-08-07 10:44:48

As a person in a wheelchair due to Multiple Sclerosis I have found freedom and joy in our National Parks. They are all accessible. I have rolled to the edge of the Grand Canyon, explored Yellowstone, Zion, Bryce Canyon, Yosemite and Mount Rushmore and many other parks in the West. I travel with a great organization Assess Tours. Clint Grosse,director of Access Tours, takes the disabled to our parks in the West. I'm sure he is as knowledgeable about our parks as anyone in the fifty states. As we wheeled to the bottom of El Capitan, or saw the Crazy Horse Monument being built my sense of freedom soared and joy entered my heart as I realized I was as able to participate in traveling our great land as much as anyone else.

Our family summer with no home 1978

2009-08-06 17:01:09

Our home was destroyed by fire on Jan. 3, 1978.

It was the dead of winter in Bensenville, IL. The home insurance was not enough to cover rebuilding the home on a lovely 3 1/4 acre site, so, as a family we decided to travel when our two boys finished the school year and then decide where we were going to live. We bought a cargo van, camping equipment, fishing gear, etc. and made a pact that we would not stay in any hotels. We mapped out a trip, with the official starting point to be at the headwaters of the Mississippi River. We then visited dozens of National parks and historic sites in every state west of the Mississippi. We took a northern route from Bensenville, which is west of Chicago. Through Wisc., then Minn. yes the boys were thrilled to "step over the Mississippi"! Then North and South Dakota. Of course Devil's tower was a hit. Montana and Wyoming were next. Yellowstone has to be my favorite of all. It's like being on another planet. Then came Utah, Washington and the emerald city - Olympic. Down through Oregon, Calif, we loved Yosemite. Then Mesa Verde in AZ and lots of other stops there like the hike to Cochise stronghold. Then on to the Grand Canyon. New Mexico had many stops. Then all over Colo, Texas, Okla, Missouri and back home through Iowa. We never did stay in a hotel. We fished for our lunch and dinners every place that had a stream or a lake. I became quite a good fish preparer! (My oldest son became a chef and did some tv shows. One show he dedicated to me, it was the how to prepare fish show!) We ate dinner in one restaurant in the 2 1/2 months we traveled, only because it had rained for three days while we were at Glacier park and we just wanted to dry out!
After being back in Ill. for a couple of days, while staying with friends, we decided that the winters were not our cup of tea and before school started, we were off again to Tucson, AZ to set up home. I am very fortunate that our boys were behind us on this move. We have also lived in northern and southern Calif and Fla. and are currently living in PA. My two sons are now 44 and 42 and sadly our two youngest ages 26 and 22 did not get to see all of these sights. The two older ones still talk about this summer trip and say it was the best thing they have ever experienced in their life to date. We pull out all of the photos and slides we took on the trip every so many years and love to tell our own individual tales that we remember about the summer of '78.
I have never felt so alive and free as I did that summer. No home, no bills, no furniture or house to take care of. No job, no phone and no TV. And back then we had no cell phone, video games, i-pods, etc. My gosh, what did we do! Well, after showering in cold water, if we were lucky to shower, eating oatmeal on the camp stove, fishing for lunch and dinner, gathering fire wood, rain or shine, maybe playing a game on the picnic table we were pretty pooped and in bed asleep by 9:30pm.
We are so fortunate to have a country that has set aside these wonders to visit and experience. I wish all families and individuals would take a ride, visit the wonderful world that is out there. It's not created by man and it is so much more than man could ever do. It truly is a gift, a wonder, a joy to experience.
We have since visited national parks and sites in at least another dozen states since 1978. I guess it's just in our blood to travel and see what our wonderful country has to offer.
I hope you enjoy it too. Don't delay, it's right outside of your back door.

Good things happen to truely good people!

2009-08-04 20:57:45

Aside from the awesomely beautiful sights at Yosemite National Park such as the spectacular view from the top of Half Dome, Yosemite Falls, and El Capitan, our visit to Yosemite for my wife and I will always remain a special memory for us because of a special experience at the lovely Ahwahnee Hotel on the park grounds. We arrived to find a line for lunch at the expansive dining hall at the Ahwahnee. The lunch serving was well underway as we waited patiently for our turn to be assigned a table by the maitre d'. From the right side of the dining hall I heard someone choking. Being trained in the Heimlich maneuver, CPR, and first aid, I listened intently to determine if the person choking needed help. When the choking sounds continued, I offered my services to the Maitre d', but he simply thanked me and assured me that they could handle the situation and would not need my kindly offered help. Soon I could tell that the choking guest was indeed out of trouble and we all resumed our waiting in line for a table. Well, unknown to me, I deduced later that the maitre d' was evidently impressed by my unselfish offer of help for a complete stranger, for our turn soon arrived to be seated and the maitre d' assigned us to the absolute best table in the dining hall, the most sought after table with the very best breath taking window views of Yosemite Falls. What a very pleasant surprise for my wife and I. It occurred to me later that we were probably given the table most sought after by so very many people who no doubt attempt to coerce the maitre d' incessantly with their requests, pleas, and bribes to try to get that special table. I imagine it may have been a "breath of fresh air" for the Matre di to assign that prized table to someone who seemed genuinely nice, kind, and helpful who unselfishly offered to help another guest without any motive whatsoever except to be helpful and kind. I must say I was very moved by his kindness, and my wife and I enjoyed a wonderful dining experience in full view of the magnificent Yosemite Falls! Cast your bread upon the waters, it was once said, and it shall be returned to you ten fold. From that day forward, I have believed that truly unselfish kindness helps to prove that good things do indeed happen to good people! It is also both contagious and uplifting for the spirit for all concerned.

Robert Abel
Wellington, Florida

Creative Motorhome Repair

2009-08-02 13:38:27

My husband and I were living in Cheyenne, Wyoming at the time. My husband was career-Air Force stlaioned at F. E. Warren AFB. My parents and sister came from Pittsburgh to visit us and to take a family trip to Yellowstone National Park. We all packed up in my parents 24 foot Winnebago for the journey. All was well until somehwere along a somewhat deserted road in the park the Winnebago dropped its universal joint. and we came to a screeching halt. Both my father and husband are (fortunately) very mechanically inclined, so they went to work diagnosing the problem and looking for a solution. Apparently, we had lost the "needle bearings" from the universal joint so needed to find something to replace them. The point of this story is just how may people stopped to offer their assistance - we were amazed! This was just before the days of cell phones, so everyone offered to let the park staff know that we were stranded and send help. We particularly remember one women who stopped - not to help us - but because whe had a can of nuts that she could not open and seeing our tool boxes she assumed we could help her by opening her can - which we did!

It was my mother that came up with the solution - we cut the long, sharp pins off the familiar corn on the cob holders and along with a few nails that my father had, were able to repair the univeral joint and be on our way!

My parents are both gone now, but we still laugh about this story and think of that trip very fondly.

Kathy Chepponis-Smyth
Dave Smyth
Cranberry Township, PA

Just a ribbon in a tree

2009-07-29 19:44:43

In the 1950s, as my family traveled the roads from Wyoming to Iowa, visiting with my Mom's relatives, and then with my Dad's; we had the opportunity to stop at a number of America's National Parks. One park that really sticks in my memory is The Devil' Tower in South Dakota.
Originally, I heard the story of the Indian Maiden who climbed to the top of the Tower to get away from a huge Grizzly Bear, his claws accounting for the scoring in the sides of the Devil's Tower. Later, in geology classes I learned about Monolithic Lava plugs and how the softer material would weather away, leaving the more dense stone behind. All of these stories by way of explaining how such a piece of work came about.
About every twenty years or so I had the chance to go back to The Devil's Tower, and every time I have found the experience impressive. I never grow tired of looking at the handywork of our Creator. And I have learned over the years that our Native Americans have treasured and revered that location too.
But, in July of 2004 the true majesty of the Devil's Tower was brought home to me by something as simple as a ribbon in a tree. Indians from all over had come to the area for a religious ceremony, part of which entailed tying prayer ribbons in the trees around the base of the stone monument. As I walked the trails around the circumference of the Tower these silent witnesses to the enduring beliefs of these first people made me feel as if I had entered into some great Cathedral.
Actually, I believe that I had.

Coming home from Iraq...

2009-07-29 18:41:10

Coming home from Iraq…
Coming home from Iraq was like being in a Carnival. It had its up and downs, and as many curves as you can imagine. I spent 354 days in Iraq with a Military Police Company I saw things that I would never talk about again and I made friends with people that I never would have had the chance to while I was over there. You could say that we were all a little emotional coming home and knowing we were still alive and that some of our brothers and sister didn’t make it back with us. We all had questions for fate and our high powers.
I am from Michigan and as far as I was concerned it was the best state in the country. I went home for two days of my thirty days of leave and those two days were the loneliest that I have ever felt. It’s hard to live with two hundred soldiers and then get thrusted back into the civilian world. So I flew back to Louisiana as fast as I could. Most people were ok but some would ask questions that I could not answer. I know they all meant well, but what was in my head was not to share.
My best friend Josh picked me up and told me I wasn’t going to spend the next 28 days in the barracks but I was going to go home with him to Washington State. I figured it would be better than being alone. At this time in my life I had a lot to think about. I was single and really didn’t have a lot going on in my life besides being a soldier and I wanted more.
So Josh, our friend Heather and I packed up in Josh’s Exterra and headed towards Texas. I got to see cows and BBQ joints in Texas and Aliens in Roswell, NM.
But the best part of the trip was pulling over that hill and seeing the Grand Canyon. There are no words to express the feeling for seeing something so great. Untouched by man, it’s such a spiritual place. We spent two hours there and while I was sitting on the edge of the canyon I could feel all the anger, stress and disappointment inside myself vanish. Whoever is up there looking down on us knew that I needed this time to reflect on who I was and what I was becoming. Being a woman in a man’s world it’s hard to distinguish between who you are and what you are. Men seem to get over things a lot faster than woman or at least they just hide it better.
While I was sitting there looking out at the abyss of the canyon I looked around me and noticed that I might not be as alone as I thought. Josh was right behind me looking just as changed as I had felt. Going through this emotional journey with this man made me realize that I wanted more from him.
Today Josh and I are married, neither of us is in the military anymore but we do have the most beautiful four year old twins, Brennan and Morgan Lou. We live in Washington State and I have never felt more secure than at this moment.
Next week Josh will be going back to Iraq as a contractor but I know that we will be ok. And one day I hope to head back to the Grand Canyon to show my children that everyone has hard times but no matter what, fate will find you and show you where you belong. Our Higher Powers or whoever might be up there is there to help us. And when we really need them they will be there with love and understanding.

This picture below is of Josh and I at the Grand Canyon!

My great grandfather in Yosemite

2009-07-27 15:45:17

My great grandfather, Code Morgan, worked at the photographer studio in Yosemite Valley National Park in the early part 20th century. He left behind some photographs illustrating a snap-shot in time.

National Parks 1930 Road Trip

2009-07-23 11:33:09

My grandparents, Helen and Julius Hertsch were married on July 11, 1928. 2 years later, on May 18, 1930, they packed their gear into their Chevrolet, and started their odyssey across the USA.

Leaving from eastern New York state, they traveled to Washington D.C., then headed west touring the national parks.

My grandmother kept an amazingly complete record of their trip in the form of a photo album and scrapbook. In addition to many personal photos, she kept clippings from brochures, postcards, and all of the paperwork: camping permits, motor vehicle permits, ticket stubs, even correspondence with park rangers after their return from the trip.

I only recently came to understand the history of one item. Grandma and grandpa went to Gruman's Chinese Theatre. I knew this was the famous theater in Hollywood associated with the stars in the sidewalk. She has the program pasted into the album, along with the ticket stubs for a matinee showing of Howard Hughes' Hell's Angels. The date shows that they saw it between the Los Angeles premier, and before the New York premier and national release.

This family treasure has often allowed me to enjoy their trip long after the fact.

Traveling to Mexico and back

2009-07-23 01:38:25

In 1951, my parents packed up our Chevy for a road trip through Oregon, California and Arizona to Hermosillo, Mexico. My sister was six years old; I was eight. We had a big green tent, kitchen supplies, Coleman stove and lantern, water canteens and a wooden box with a canvas cover, (kept wet), for a cooler. There was a board across the back seat for the two of us to sleep on; we argued over the blankets.
My memories include the nightly campfires with the park rangers and other families, the clothesline tied between trees for laundry, finding occasional rocks under us when crawling into our sleeping bags, the hiss of the lantern while it was lit, the fresh air, and things to do while driving: counting white horses, reading Burma-Shave signs, and reading.
The pictures I have show the Hopi dancers at the Grand Canyon, my father at the Hermit's Rest sign,and the magnificant colors of the canyon rocks. I remember being in Mexico and having people calling my sister "Angel", since she was blond and blue eyed; also having to drink only bottled water, the box of crayons that melted on the ledge under the back window, and the plants that my father gathered to bring home to our back yard.

Thank you for the chance to share these thoughts.

Plaid Pursuits: An old-fashioned wilderness experience on the Current River

2009-07-22 22:40:34

We each have our own idea of the ideal wilderness experience. I got mine from a wall calendar I had last year, which featured vintage illustrations from 1940’s outdoor magazines. Each month, there was a different idyllic or humorous view of outdoor life. Rugged men in canoes on afternoon glass, thirst-inducing whitewater roaring past a camp, a fat guy hooking himself with his fly rod–each illustration made me want to be there, to be that guy with the rolled up red plaid sleeves, to live the low-tech life of aluminum bait buckets, wooden paddles, and trout in the frying pan.

These images are the stuff of old magazine illustrations. But they are also a part of our collective imagination and our dreams as outdoorsmen and women. They are what I hope for every time I plan an adventure.

My favorite image in the whole calendar is of three guys at their riverside campsite. This is not the campground so many of us settle for, teeming with people, loud with somebody’s stereo blaring over and over “you got to kiss an angel good morning and love her like the devil when you get back home.” This is a wilderness camp. Yet it is luxurious. It has everything: a fine tent (you can just see the cots inside!), a big pot hanging from stout sticks over a fire, a canoe on the edge of a fast river, and of course three hearty men dressed smartly in khaki and plaid. One is carrying firewood while the other is getting the pan ready for the fire. The third is coming up the bank from the river with a huge trout, just in time for dinner. This is it, I thought. This is what I want to create.

And so I did on the Current River in Southern Missouri with the help of two kindred spirits, my friends Tim and Ben. Here’s what I learned and how you, too, can have an experience right out of a 1948 cover of Outdoor Life.

Tip #1: You can’t have a wilderness experience if you aren’t really in the wild.

Forget the family campground. Similar to the Buffalo in Arkansas, the Current is a National Scenic Riverway, which means almost all the shoreline is parkland, yours to explore and camp on. You can launch your boats on the upper Current, as we did, on a Friday afternoon, knowing that when you are ready to stop and make camp, there will be a wonderful bar or beach waiting for you with nobody else around. There are very few places like that left in the world.

Tip #2: Rednecks are not considered wildlife.

I know there are plenty of folks that live near the Ozark rivers who are resepectful of nature and the other people who are trying to enjoy it. But be warned. You can’t have a wilderness experience on the Current or the Buffalo (or the Spring or any other Ozark river) on a weekend in the summer due to the number of locals who float gunwale to gunwale, guzzling beer and Jell-o shooters. You might have a fleeting attraction for the drunken young women who bare their breasts. That is a sort of wildness, I guess. But, no, it’s not a wilderness experience or anything you’d want to bring the family to. And it’s not the sort of calendar picture I was thinking of. Come in the spring or on a weekday or in October, as we did and you’ll fine the solace you are looking for.

Tip #3: Camp out of your boat.

Who knows, those guys in my ideal scene may have had a couple of woodie station wagons just out of frame. But the idea is to keep it real. Once you are on the river, you stay there. No roads, no houses, no civilization, no base camp to get back to. Camping as you float gives you a lot of flexibility and you only have to shuttle once the whole trip. Best of all, you get the feeling that the entirety of the wilderness is your home, your shelter. And if the weather is as perfect as ours was, you begin to question the need for “civilization” at all.

Tip #4: If you are a kayaker, adopt a canoer.

Tim and I, both kayakers, wanted Ben to come along, with or without his canoe. Right after college, he hiked the entire Appalachian Trail. Who wouldn’t want to camp with him? Now in his forties (like the rest of us), even Ben was content with our weekend plans, and we were proud to share them with him. The fact that he had a great 17-foot Wenonah had nothing to do with it. Really. But it sure was nice having a supply barge for an ice chest, a big iron Dutch oven, most anything we wanted, except maybe those cots.

Tip #5: If your camping buddy is using the same tent he carried on the AT 23 years ago, be sure you pitch yours upwind.

Ben’s antique Kelty stunk. We couldn’t believe he could crawl into it and sleep. It was like crawling into the bowels of a cow. In fact, we called it the House of Cheese. There’s something hardcore about an old, vomit-inducing tent, but in my calendar scene, everything smells like pine.

Tim and I both carried cheap “3-man” tents that were small enough to stow on our boats, yet roomy enough for our blow-up mattresses and any gear we didn’t want to get wet with dew. They were closeout priced at only $19.99 each. Tim had used his a few times before and the zipper broke on this excursion. Mine was brand new. So, after two nights, my “lodging” cost was $10 a night. If the tent lasts me three weekends, that’s just $2.50 per night. No doubt, my zipper will break or a pole will snap soon. But that’s fine because I’ll get a fresh, new tent. The moral of this story is, cheap tents never stink.

Tip #6: Spare the rod.

On our trip, the beauty was breathtaking. Trees of red and gold reflected in clear water that raced past sheer cliffs. I could look down in the deep parts and see fish as if I were looking into an aquarium. Tempting to this fisherman, for sure. However, I quickly realized that fishing on a running river is frustrating at best. Two casts and my buddies (who weren’t fishing) had left me behind. Two casts and the current had me in the brush. And if I left my rod in the rod holder, it got hung up in overhanging tree branches. I really didn’t want to be the guy in the calendar who hooked himself. So my advice is to save the fishing for campside. Try to camp near a deep hole with plenty of brush or logs. That’s where the smallmouth are.

Tip #7: Don’t take firewood for granted.

Stinky tent aside, far aside, we were able to set up a camp just as I had envisioned, a real Calendar Camp where we could see the fading light on the water, where Ben caught crawfish from under rocks and fished with them in the rapids, where we were totally by ourselves. It was a calendar moment, minus the big trout. Fortunately, we brought dinner with us. And we found enough wood for a fire. Not always an easy task on such a well used river.
If you don’t like traipsing deep into the woods to find dead and down, bring a folding saw. It’s very hard to find small sticks after a season of heavy camping. We were glad to have Tim’s saw because most of the deadwood we found was ten feet long. Another less calendarific option, if you have a canoe, is to bring some firewood or at least some kindling with you.

Tip #8: Too many miles spoil the smiles.

Obviously, when you can camp anywhere, your day’s paddle is flexible. At the end of your journey, however, you need to be where you left your shuttle car. The worst thing is to have to hurry. On Friday afternoon, we put in at Cedargrove at about river mile 8. We finished up on Sunday at Round Spring, mile 34.2. That’s just over 26 miles total. This gave us time to stop and see the sights, enjoy lunch and talk to folks we ran into.

On Saturday, for example, we passed a young woman wading in the cold river. I waved. Tim waved. She looked at us with a strange longing. I thought it was because I looked so rugged in my kayak loaded with drybags. Tim and I rounded a bend and looked behind us. No Ben. We waited for a while and still no Ben. Finally, here comes his green canoe with the young lady in the bow! I immediately took a picture so I could show his wife. Turns out she was an a pare from Germany who had walked up the path from the old hospital ruins at Welsh Spring and wanted a ride back down to meet up with her host family, and that was why she was looking so hopefully at me, trying to determine if there was any way of catching a ride.

We explored the ruins of the Welsh Hospital. We paddled straight into Cave Spring where the water looked like the Baths of Virgin Gorda, blue-green and so clear. We hiked back to Pulltite Spring and found an old abandoned cabin awaiting restoration by the park service, and we imagined what it was like to live in such a beautiful place with your own endless supply of clean water.

Saturday night, we camped where someone had camped the night before. There was still some smoldering firewood, which we restarted, imagining that this was a fire from the beginning of time, the eternal flame kept burning night after night, eon after eon, by fire sentinels like ourselves. Even forty-somethings think silly stuff like that out here. That night, I slept like a rock. The next morning, of course, we made sure our fire was out completely. After we loaded the boats, I poured water over it and clouds of white smoke rose up in the cold air, dream-like wisps that we followed downstream.

Tip #9: Don’t give up.

All too often, we imagine what a paddling adventure might be like and we go for it only to be met with two inches of rain, thick clouds of mosquitoes, or even sickness or injury. My last tip, however, is don’t give up. Go to the spring-fed Current River in the fall, when the weather tends to be dry, the bugs gone, the leaves chromatic, and the river free from crowds, and you’ll increase your chances of having not just a perfect day, but enough calendar moments to last you all year.

Randy Parker is a sailor, kayakfisherman, paddler, poet, and wearer of classic plaid shirts. He works as an advertising writer in Memphis.

Trip of a Lifetime

2009-07-22 16:36:02

In 2008 my wife,Judy, and I got to take the trip of a lifetime. In a truck and camper with our old Labrador Retriever and accompanied by our good friends in another truck and camper, we covered 15,000 miles between Vermont and Alaska.
We were able to visit many parks, including Devil's Tower,Badlands, Yellowstone,Glacier,Denali and Kenai Fjords as well as Banff in Canada. We got off the path several times including side trips to Yellowknife in the Northwest Territories and Coldfoot, Alaska in the Arctic Circle.
The scenery was awesome and everytime we thought it couldn't possibly get any better, it did! The parks are truley a treasure, from the unspoiled scenery to the abundant wildlife. In Kenai Fjords Park alone we saw Whales, Sea Otters, Steller Sea Lions and Dolphins. the next dream is to do it again as soon as we can!

A July 4th Ride on Going to the Sun Road

2009-07-22 13:02:36

As I travel the country on my Harley-Davidson, I include as many stops at National Park Service sites as I can. Indeed, I’ve ridden in National Parks from A to Z (Acadia in Maine to Zion in Utah). I’m always incredibly impressed by what I see and by the various parks’ staffs. It’s easy to see why Ken Burns’ includes “America’s Best Idea” in his film’s title.

This year’s three-week, 7,500 mile motorcycle odyssey included stops at five previously unvisited NPS sites: Glacier National Park (MT), Craters of the Moon National Monument (ID), Guadalupe Mountains National Park (TX), Carlsbad Caverns National Park (NM) and Hot Springs National Park (AR). All were special in their own way, but by far the most spectacular, the most memorable, the most truly awe inspiring was Glacier National Park.

The trip’s timing brought my wife, my motorcycle and me to Glacier on the Fourth of July. (I would argue that Independence was America’s Best Idea but that the National Parks run a close second.) What a perfect day for a first visit to that breath-taking landscape. I’ve been to many, but not all, of the Rocky Mountain area national parks; Glacier impressed me like none of the others, impressive though they were.

What a ride: hugging the seemingly endless curves along Saint Mary Lake, cranking the throttle to carry us to Logan Pass, stopping often to gaze in wonder at the majestic rise of soaring peaks and even engaging in a mid-summer’s day marital snowball fight. No matter where I ride for the rest of my life, the 50-mile ride on Going to the Sun Road will always have a place in my “top three rides” list.

I have many roads yet to ride and many national parks yet to visit, but experiencing Glacier National Park before the glaciers, threatened by global-warming, recede to nothingness and the verdant pines fall victim to voracious beetles marks the high point (metaphorically not altitudinally) of this year’s trip.

I look forward to PBS’s presentation of the Ken Burns film. Thanks.

My National Parks Family Treasure

2009-07-22 00:29:54

My Grandmother and Grandfather, Helen and Julius Hertsch, were married in 1929 I believe, and went on a tour of the relatively new National Parks from May 18th through August 29th of 1930.

They began in Long Island, NY, and traveled first to Washington D.C., and then headed west. My grandfather had customized their 1929 Chevrolet automobile, turning it into a first generation camper. They camped all across the country. In one of the parks, they got chased out of a cabin by a flash flood! One can only imagine how strong a spirit of adventure they must have had to undertake and complete such an odyssey at the start of the great depression. The truly wonderful thing that my grandmother did was record the entire trip in remarkable detail.

I now have her scrapbook from this trip which begins with a page filled with the windshield park permit tags from all of the parks in which they camped. The scrapbook is filled with priceless photos they took, commercial photos and postcards, camping permits, ticket stubs, permits to operate motor vehicle within the parks, guide service receipts, campfire permits... all of the documents relating to the trip. She even included correspondence with park rangers received after their return, a brochure from the Morman Tabernacle in Salt Lake City, a program from Gruman's Chinese Theatre where they saw Howard Hughes' film Hell's Angels (she pasted the ticket stub into the program).

This family heirloom is truly a treasure. I enjoy so much being able to envision the trip that they took, and I am hoping to digitally store images of the scrapbook to ensure their survival for generations to come.

Kendal Green, Slippery Rock, PA

Fire Fall

2009-07-18 05:25:23

When I was a child in the 1950's, my family would camp in the Yosemite Valley in the summer. Every evening, the rangers would have a show that always ended with "Fire Fall." They pushed a huge pile of burning embers over the side of a mountain (El Capitan?), which was beautiful to behold. I hope there is some footage of this that can be included in the documentary. I feel sad that children today will never be able to see it.

Literally Awestruck

2009-07-16 17:12:07

I believe that I have experienced true awe only twice in my life. I have had other extraordinarily intense and memorable experiences, but for me awe is distinguished by the accompanying shock of nothing-remotely-prepared-me-for-this surprise. At the age of thirteen, I had already seen many vacation photos and calendar views of the Grand Canyon, and had even watched a dramatic fly-over in wide-screen Cinerama (yesterday’s IMAX) but this was little more than what finding a fossilized footprint might be to a face-to-face encounter with an actual dinosaur. With my Grandmother, I journeyed from Ohio to the South Rim of the canyon. We arrived by train and set up in a modest tourist cabin. From there I walked toward the edge and I imagine that when I first saw what was below, I must have been frozen and slack-jawed; my experience of everyday reality suspended and my senses in a state of lucid electrical overload. The Canyon was astonishingly vast, beautiful, singular, and ever-changing. The desire to descend and explore that was unleashed in me carried the compulsiveness of a siren’s song, but in my grandmother‘s company I was bound to the rim. I think that in that moment, the West seized my heart and has never released it.

My First Visit to Yellowstone Park

2009-07-12 00:36:06

It was the summer of 1940. I was 5. In a few more weeks, I would enter the first grade of the little Greenwood School in eastern Jerome County, Idaho. Before we became “tied down” by my school schedule, Dad decided we should go to Yellowstone.

For my mother and me, this was a first visit, even though we had heard countless stories of that wondrous place. For Dad, this was a return visit, for he had worked at The Park, as he called it, from 1925 through 1932.

His had been a ground-level job, much of it grasping the wheel of an 11-ton road grader. It was pulled behind a big Holt-75 tractor, driven by Dad’s older brother. They were part of an 80-man work crew building some of the first paved roads through that pristine wilderness.

So it was that our first stop in the park was the highway garage where Dad found a few men whom he knew who were still working there. He proudly introduced me.

The stories Dad told reveal the wildness of those early days of Yellowstone. He told of Jiggs, the large black bear who came to camp each morning. He came for his orange, one of those given to the workers at breakfast. One worker had befriended the bear, which would stand on his back legs, patiently waiting while the worker peeled the orange and fed it to the bear one slice at a time.

We had our own encounter with the Yellowstone bears while there, although I slept through it. The next morning, I learned a bear had come through camp during the night and broken a tent rope, bringing down the tent on top of us. I was angry at myself for being such a sound sleeper.

The next evening, we joined other tourists to watch the feeding of the bears, a practice which stopped not long after that because of safety precautions. I was amazed at their brute ferocity. Dad agreed, but the next day we came upon two small cubs. He had often talked about how easily a bear could climb a tree, so he set about getting those cubs to climb. He chased them all around through a small grove of trees, and I have a vivid mental picture of those cubs peeking from behind trees, as if teasing Dad. They never climbed, and Mom finally, somewhat hysterically, convinced Dad to give it up before the mother bear returned.

We watched as Old Faithful erupted, spewing its scalding water 180 feet into the air. That was before the big earthquake which lowered the typical eruption considerably, making it far less dramatic.

One day Dad took us to the edge of a parking lot and led us down a path. He said he knew where there was a tiny geyser which squirted a stream of water once each minute. Suddenly, Dad grew tense. A bulldozer roared across the trail, tearing up the terrain. Dad exploded, “He just tore up the geyser!” He marched over and confronted the operator, who insisted he knew nothing of any geyser in the area. Dad turned back and said, to us, “Let’s go home.”

As we bundled up the tent and packed the car to leave, Dad said he didn’t ever want to return. “It’s just not the same any more.”

Message from the past

2009-07-10 14:19:53

When I was a little my parents made sure that my brother, sister, and I got to experience America’s historical sites and national parks. Each family vacation we would travel across the country to visiting parks whenever and wherever we got the chance. I remember visiting Gettysburg, the Grand Canyon, and the Olympics; each place awe inspiring in its own way. Though many of my memories of those parks are special, I never felt as connected to a place as the time my family visited the Rockies.

When my mother was four she lived for a year in a little town right around the base of the Rocky Mountains. She would often fondly reminisce about the short time she spent in the little town and how she enjoyed exploring the forests near her house. She told us about a trail next to a brook where her and her parents would go for picnics. Eventually my mother would move away from the small town, leaving the trails and brooks where she would play behind.

Around the time I was six or maybe seven and living in Arizona, my family decided to drive to Colorado to visit the Rocky Mountains. For me and my siblings it was a new experience, but for my mom it was like coming home. We drove the mountain range to one of the peaks that still had snow even though it was mid August. We spent the morning exploring the mountains, and around lunch we decided to pull off by one of the million picnic places. First we at lunch, then me and my siblings ran off into the woods to go exploring. We came to a brook that had an old cement pathway running along side it; in the middle of that cement where the letters DN with a little s trying to squeeze in between them, a clear afterthought. They were my mom’s initials she had written in the cement next to one of her favorite brooks so long ago. They stayed in the park as an untouched reminder, so that 30 years later my mom could share her favorite spot from when she was a kid. That is what national parks are to me, somewhere I can take my kids and tell them the stories of when I was a kid, like they will go on to tell their kids.

Yellowstone Memories

2009-07-09 14:26:24

Over the past 20 years, I have had the pleasure of visiting many of this nation's amazing national parks. My most memorable visit was to Yellowstone National Park in 2006. As an elementary science teacher, I was impressed with the great variety of geological wonders that can be found in that park's environs. I was able to view vast canyons, beautiful waterfalls, vast travertine rock formations, bubbling mud pots, and explosive geysers. By far, however, the most impressive thing I saw was the Grand Prismatic Spring. Located in the Midway Geyser Basin, it ranks as the largest hot spring in the United States. Deposits of algae color the spring in the hues of the rainbow. Being able to see this beautiful example of nature at its best was the highlight of my trip to Yellowstone, and well worth the two thousand-mile trek from Baton Roug

Paradise Park in Rocky Mountain NP

2009-07-03 22:55:52

On my most supreme experience as a young ranger in Rocky Mountain National Park, I had climbed the entire day with a couple of friends into one of the most remote valleys of the Park, one so remote and difficult of access that it is probably visited by no more than 25 or 50 people a summer. As I lay in my sleeping bag that night, rolled up in only a large sheet of plastic in case of inclement weather, an airliner flew over, and I contemplated the contrast between my experience and that of those who would comfortably land in Denver in a few moments.
Several years later, as I was searching for a conclusion to an invited address on outdoor recreation for a convention in Washington, DC , that experience returned to me, and I finally wrote: “Those of us who have been privileged to spend a night under the stars in an isolated mountain valley know that the wilderness transforms each of us, in subtle ways which linger long after the glow of the campfire and the smell of the pine needles are gone. Better citizens result from such a primeval reunion with the source of our biological heritage, and we should work to bring that experience within easy reach of those who need it so badly.”

Teetering Pronghorn Antelope Fawn

2009-07-03 18:14:18

I now believe in the power of bonding... but let me backtrack. I was on a mission to find a great horned owl nest, and never got there because I stopped to watch two antelope does in Grand Teton National Park. Maybe, I thought, just maybe there's a fawn hiding in the grass.

Stopped the car, got the camera out to use as binoculars. And darn if one of the does wasn't giving birth that very moment.... click click click (long shots, but I could see the calf poking it's nose and front feet into the world).

I let mom get settled and then walked slowly into the sage; she predictably walked off to lure me away from her fawn. But not far. Sure enough, there was a little fawn in the sage, and after a few minutes, it gathered its strength and tried to rise to come toward me.

Now I'm thinking, is this baby imprinting on me? Or maybe coming toward me because the tripod legs look like mom's legs? Whatever the reason, it followed my encouraging tones, eye to eye with me all the while as it tried to crawl, then tentatively tried to get to its feet. Mind you, this is less than half an hour after being born. I was able to lead this little one's first steps, wavering, teetering, with an occasional face plant, over to its twin who was already dried and settled in some grass nearby.

As I backed away and watched from the road side, I saw the mother antelope circle downwind, then approach slowly to reconnect with her babies. Truly the very best way to spend Nature Photography Day and all that Grand Teton National Park has to offer.
Details at:
http://www.nanpa.org (regarding Nature Photography Day)
http://www.redbubble.com/people/annruttle (regarding photographs)
http://www.gtnpf.org/ (regarding Grand Teton National Park)

Family Returns To Great Smoky Mountains Vacation Sights 34 Years Later

2009-06-30 23:52:15

National Parks have been a favorite vacation destination for our family for many years. In 2008 my sons and I traveled from various states and met at GSMNP to enjoy the same sights where we had vacationed in 1974, 34 years ago, and to introduce their children (my grandchildren) to the Great Smoky Mountains experience.

Although the signs and roadways have changed, the overlooks and beauty of the park remained and brought back the thrill and wonder of seeing it as we had the first time. As we began to load into the cars to depart, I recognized the spot where my three sons had posed at Newfound Gap in 1974. They recreated a similar pose on the same spot on the perfectly beautiful day of 08/08/08 in 2008. We missed opening day of the Olympics, but we made new memories with family time in one of the greatest places on Earth.

Maybe my grandchildren will again return the the park when they have families of their own.

ardor of the arid

2009-06-26 22:12:25

Our trip to Joshua Tree was a pre-wedding honeymoon, though at the time it was never meant to be so. It was our very first trip to the west coast, it was the first time either of us experienced the desert, it was a new tent and a rented car and a sense of adventure. Jet lagged and totally unprepared we pulled in the Joshua Tree in time to take the very last camp ground, which was luckily next door to an amazing californian and his daughter who would save us from being fireless, s'more-less, and bored. After days of wandering the desert amongst the spring wildflowers and without a shower we emerged smelling absolutely awful and absolutely in love. We are the kind of people who are happier sharing a tent than a queen sized mattress. We were married a month later.

Wonderland Trail

2009-06-24 01:37:17

I had been interested in hiking the Wonderland Trail for many years; in 2006 my wish came true. I still have vivid memories of the view of the mountain from Spray Park, the walk between Summerland and Indian Bar, and looking over my shoulder at the mountain between Indian Bar and Nickel Creek. I was there during my favorite time of year in the Northwest: September. The weather was perfect--sunny but not too hot--and the bugs were not an issue. I barely remember the physically challenging parts of the trek; overall those memories have been replaced with glowing memories of contentment.

I met several folks along the way that traveled half way around the world to hike the Wonderland Trail. I feel so fortunate that Mt Rainier is in my back yard.

Dream come true...

2009-06-14 21:46:20

It was 1963, I was in third grade. That's the year we learned about Geography and History. I could remember it like it was yesterday when we learned about Mt. Rushmore. I remember saying that some day I'd visit it and other places I learned about.

That day came in October 1999 when I trekked across this great country. While I visited many places as drove, the one place I planned to see was Mt. Rushmore. I was somewhere in the middle of the country when a couple told me to make sure that I was at the Mt. or stayed there to see the dusk event. They wouldn't tell me what it was (as I won't tell you) but take it from me -- be there to see it.

The first time I saw the Mt. from around the bend, I started to cry. I guess realizing a dream sometimes does that. I spent much time there that first time; because I got there early in the afternoon. They have a nice cafeteria, a few movies to view, a museum and lots of memorabilia to buy! (watch out, some of it's made in China)

I have now driven across the country 3 times, and each time "visit Mt. Rushmore" has been on the venue.

Make sure you're there at dusk!

3 Times Is Enough!

2009-06-14 21:33:18

Having immigrants grandparents who legally entered this country from Italy, Switzerland and Austria, the Statue of Liberty held many interesting moments for my family.

I'd seen the statue from land of course, and she looked quite small.

At 10 years old, on a road trip at summer school, I remember getting off the ferry in awe that the statue was as big as she was. It was the first time I trekked up all those steps, is it 386 or so? to the crown. I purchased a Statue of Liberty memorabilia - a postcard in a glass box that I still wish I had.

In 1985, on my birthday, I took a 11 pre-teens to the statue; yes all the way to the top. On the way down we spent quite a bit of time at the museum. I let them roam about; after all, how much trouble can 11 pre-teens get on the 77th floor of a building?!? Telling them if any of them "got lost" where to meet me and the group.

Next thing I know I'm in the bathroom and I hear my name being called out on the speaker system. Embarrassing or what! Ended up that a few of them lost me, looking for me and couldn't find me. I can still hear my name echoing through the statue!

In 1994 I went up to the top again was when my now ex-boyfriend who had never been to NY came to visit me on Staten Island. It was dead of winter. I'm so glad that I brought extra sweaters to wear, because it was freezing in there. Now there was Plexiglas on the side of many of the stairs. I guess so that the children didn't throw things down as I remember we did that first time :) We pretty much had the whole statue to yourself, saw very few people as crazy as us trekking up the stairs.

In 2003, during the summer, I again went to the Statue with a friend from NC. She wanted to go to the top. I looked up and said; not again. I went to sit down and waited the few hours for her to enjoy the trip.

Like most NYers, I never get sick of looking at the Statue. For 15 years I looked at her twice a day as I went to work in NYC. She’s a lot to miss!

And when I friend cleaned out her house, I got all her Statue of Liberty memorabilia. It stands proud where I can see it daily.

History Comes Alive at Gulf Islands National Seashore

2009-06-10 01:27:14

Gulf Islands National Seashore is America's largest national park containing a seashore, stretching 160 miles, consisting of barrier islands and coastal mainland in Mississippi and Florida. The warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico nourish spectacular beauty including bayous, salt marshes, live oak and southern magnolia forests, as well as snow-white beaches and an incredible variety of wildlife. 80% of Gulf Islands National Seashore is underwater in the Gulf of Mexico.

Gulf Islands National Seashore also has a very rich history that spans almost 150 years, from the Spanish colonial Bateria De San Antonio (1797) to the World War Two-era Battery 234. This reflects the historic value of the anchorages at Pensacola Bay, Florida and Ship Island, Mississippi. Among these are the American Third System forts: Fort Pickens, Fort Massachusetts, Fort Barrancas, and the Advanced Redoubt, all of which saw action during the Civil War.

The Northwest Florida region boasts a rich history under Spanish rule. Pensacola was settled in 1559 by Spanish explorers. This week, the world's third largest tall ship, the Juan Sebastian de Elcano, visited Pensacola, sailing through the waters of Gulf Islands National Seashore. The ship arrived to help commemorate the 450th anniversary of the discovery of Pensacola.

Launched in May, 1927, the Juan Sebastian de Elcano is the official training ship for the Royal Spanish Navy. It was a tremendous moment of history coming alive as the ship sailed through the emerald waters of Pensacola Bay and Gulf Islands National Seashore.

WSRE, PBS for the Gulf Coast, is producing a documentary about Gulf Islands National Seashore as a comapnion program to Ken Burns' "The National Parks: America's Best Idea." Pictured is WSRE's production specialist/videographer, Ted King, taping the Elcano as it sailed away from Pensacola. For more information about WSRE's documentary on Gulf Islands, visit the WSRE Web site at wsre.org.

the Sequoias of Muir Woods

2009-06-08 22:07:28

The Sequoias of Muir Woods

Let me start by saying God bless Teddy Roosvelt. He made Muir Woods a national monument to protect it in 1908 - even back then it was in danger of being logged over.

Muir Woods is a redwood forest in Marin County - just north of San Francisco across the Golden Gate Bridge. It runs along Redwood Creek in a series of valleys. If you want, you can have a look - check out:

www.nps.gov/muwo

I have been hiking in the old growth forests of the northwest a few times and in Maine too, so I thought that I was beyond tearing-up when it comes to trees, but I was mistaken. There is little that I am able to put into words to describe the experience of walking among living things that are taller than a football field is long. The tallest of these beings is even taller than the Giant Sequoias - which grow to diameters of 40ft (they are called giant because of girth) compared to the Muir Woods redwoods' "slim" 20ft in width.

Most surprising were the other sensory delights of being there. The first that I noticed was the aroma. There could not be a fresher, cleaner sent than a redwood grove. If I was to be somehow limited to one smell for the rest of my days, this would be it. It is not overpowering - not cloying after a while like pine, fir or even the balsams of Maine. Instead every breath seems like the first you might notice upon going outside on the first crisp and clear day of autumn. Only every breath in a redwood grove is like that very first one - clean, sweet, crisp but never overbearing.

Here is another sensory surprise: there is no sound. Because the tall trees form a canopy for sunlight, there is not much undergrowth. And it is the undergrowth that supports the animal life that makes the sounds of the woods there just isn’t much going on. To be sure, I saw a lizard and a chipmunk, but inside the grove valley - no birds and after a few miles of hiking, no tourists either. The silence was as profound as any I have experienced even up at our Pennsylvania on the West Hicks Run side of Thunder Mountain. That is where I go specifically for solitude.

Naturally, the main sensory delight is the sight of the trees themselves. Perhaps some of the place names might convey the imagery better than I can: Cathedral Grove, Bohemian Grove, Spire Peak, Redwood Creek and Fern Creek. The size of the tall residents of these places is truly amazing. I was much taken aback that others didn't seem to be compelled to gape upward, as I was. The tourists on the paved paths seemed just to be absorbed in looking at the trees at people-level. NO ONE SEEMED TO BE LOOKING UP!!!!

Maybe that was because in looking up, you had to really be careful not to topple over backward as first your eyes roll to the top then your neck arches to the maximum, and then finally your spine arches likewise until you felt yourself begin to tip backward as you look up a vertical being whose top you could not see. Or maybe it was because in looking up in the presence of such giants you quickly and unmistakably come to the realization of just what a puny lump of protoplasm you really are. These beings are four times as thick as you are tall! And their vertical scale is simply beyond description.

The good hiking trails are not marked on the tourist visitor brochure, but if you ask, you can find where the hiking trail maps are sold. In my quest to outdistance the crowds on the paved tourist walks, I took to the Ocean View Trail on the southwest face of Mt. Tamalpais. I hiked above the trees themselves and at about 3.5 miles in and maybe 1000 vertical feet, you can actually get a view of the ocean. But that is not the main delight. It is still the Sequoias. From above, the redwood foliage is as impenetrable as it is from below. You can't fully appreciate the trees, though, because you only see the upper third or so of them - the part with the branches and needles. The lower two-thirds is hidden from view when you are above them.

From the Ocean View Trail, I took the Redwood Trail - in search of an inn I had heard mention of. After about two miles, I rounded a bend and there it was: a rustic Bavarian retreat. It is four stories high, but not very deep as it clings staircase-like to the mountainside. It was built in 1911 and has quite a view. And while you can get lunch at the Tourist Club, as it was named, you can also get much more important fare: beer.

Fortified by one each Pilsner Urquel and Paulaner Extra, I decided to retrace my steps to Ocean View and then I cut off on to Lost Trail (it was covered for 30 years by a landslide in 1932, hence the name upon being re-opened) and then down in to Fern Creek. From there, I crossed Redwood Creek and took Sierra trail to Camp Eastwood and then back along the east ridge via Hillside Trail and down again into the paved tourist walks through Bohemian Grove. While on the unpaved trail, I passed maybe 8-10 parties in 5 hours - not much of a crowd for a dazzling site that is only 12 miles north of the Golden Gate Bridge!

Footnote: Some musings from my hiking notebook.

In awe I gape at the Sequoias.

Before the last ice age 140 million years ago, the entirety of North America was covered by these indescribably magnificent, living monoliths. They are the ancestors of all North American conifers. They are the Father-trees of all father-trees. They must know God. They humble the very earth. They are invincible to even fire, but sadly, not to us. They are wise (a synonym for experienced) beyond measure as their individual experiences stretch back beyond the birth of the Christ. They are the only still-living things on the planet that can celebrate birthdays in millennia – and that is in the plural.

These very trees I touch were already alive when the entire global population of the species Homo sapiens numbered less than 50 million heads. These very trees I touch were already alive back when the iron grip of Rome dictated the acceptable conduct of civilized humankind. But even millennia upon millennia previous to that, before mankind came to walk on two legs, the forefathers of these trees held sway over this, "our" continent. These beings and their kind are the true living definition of old!

And so, it seems grossly disrespectful to call these magnificent beings by the color of their flesh – “redwoods.” The Latin genus/species name we bestowed on them speaks of the awe that botanists held of them upon the discovery of their true age. We should call them by this truer name out of respect. We should call them Sequoia Sempervirens: Sequoia Ever-living.

Timeless Canyon de Chelly

2009-06-05 20:12:41

On a tour of the west my husband and I decided to visit Canyon de Chelly and hike the
White House Trail, the only trail you are allowed to hike within the park without a Navajo guide.
The trail is steep and narrow made easier by switchbacks . Navajo people have been summering in this lush canyon for centuries tending to their sheep and crops. After gazing
at the ancient Anasazi ruins for an hour or so we started our hike back up the canyon with
our treking poles, sun protective clothing and daypacks. Upon reaching the rim of the canyon
I decided to take a picture. My husband tapped me on the shoulder and I quickly moved out of
the way for a Navajo woman probably around 90 years old in traditional Navajo dress. We
smiled at each other and In broken english she asked " where you from"!!! I told
her New York. " New York!!! far from home!!!" She pointed to where she lived in the canyon and
we told her how much we enjoyed our hike. We said our goodbyes and watched her make
her way around the first switchback. I felt like I was transported into another century except
for the little Mickey Mouse day pack she had on her back!!!! I will never forget her and I still wonder till this day how many times she's walked up and down that trail during her lifetime.
What a spectacular place!

Yellowstone by moonlight stays with you always

2009-06-01 22:11:13

Traveling with friends I had met just days before, I visited Yellowstone National Park as side trip during a two-week study trip at the Buffalo Bill Historical Center in Cody, WY. During the day-long trip we stopped at all of the normal tourists points. The geological diversity of the park was awe-inspiring. As impressive and as memorable as all these were, it was the trip out of the park that has stayed with me for more than a decade. Due to construction, we couldn't exit through the gate we entered and misjudged how long it would take to get to the next gate. This misjudgment resulted in an amazing trip along the winding roads of the park, guided by the light of the full moon. The trip was full of moonlight encounters with the park wildlife. First a close call with a grizzly running across the road, causing us to make an abrupt stop. After recovering from the fright, we continued on only be stopped several more times by a group of deer, then elk, and a lone moose. Ever since this magical trip, Yellowstone and the West have been calling me back. I will finally return this summer to share the park with my family and hope to form new memories.

Oh, The Things You'll Imagine

2009-05-27 21:37:01

Washboard dirt roads never really meant anything to me, until April 2009. While on vacation in New Mexico we decided to visit the remote Chaco Culture National Historical Park but were very nervous that the wee bit of rain that area gets would happen the one day we planned to visit. The road is impassable when it rains even just a little. The day turned out to be sunny and dry, so off we went, headed down that crazy, teeth-jarring, fourteen miles of washboard road to Chaco Culture. Can’t say I would relish the idea of doing it every day, but, man, was it worth it!

Chaco Canyon was sort of a crossroads of commerce and ceremony from AD 85 to 1250. We read up on the area a bit before our trip so we had the basic information in our heads, but decided to take one of the ranger-led tours to see if the details could be fleshed out. Wow… did the details get fleshed out!

Our ranger was Clif Taylor, a volunteer for the National Park Service. I work in public broadcasting and know how wonderful volunteers are because we rely on them for so much of what we do, but I was super impressed with Clif’s depth of knowledge and his wonderful
presentation. We toured Pueblo Bonito, the largest of the ruins and perhaps the center of activity in the canyon. Pueblo Bonito covers about two acres and had more than 500 rooms. Some of the buildings might have been five stories high.

Clif told us about canisters found during an early 20th century archaeology study that have recently been found to contain traces of chocolate, which could only have come from trade with Mexico. He also told us about two “dudes” whose skeletal remains were found in the same study. They were buried in such a way that they must have been very important men. And, they were very tall, much taller than the average person of that time. Oh, the stories that came to mind while listening to Clif talk about the site. Clif’s presentation was historically accurate but it left open a world of imaginings. It’s the imagination that leads people to exploration.

And explore we did. We scrabbled up the rocks to get to the top of the mesa that overlooks Chaco Canyon and walked along a trail that took us to a Pueblo Bonito overlook. The enormity of the ruin doesn’t really strike until it is seen from above. Standing up on the mesa and looking
out over the canyon at the many other ruins, imagining what it might have looked like a thousand years ago, a treat beyond compare. Clif mentioned that we have no way of knowing if the Chacoan people colored the plaster used over the brickwork, but if they did, perhaps the canyon was a “riot of color.”

We only spent a day at Chaco Culture, but are already talking about a return trip. There have been discussions between various local and government agencies about paving the road to the canyon, and the delicate parts of me would appreciate that, but then I wonder if this isolated site would become too crowded if there was a paved road. Then again, maybe people who live in the area might also appreciate not having their bones rattled when they venture away from home. Or maybe they feel discomfort is a small price to pay for preservation. Maybe if the road was paved there would be a limited number of cars allowed out at one time, with reservations required. It is a discussion that continues.

Adult Journey with Dad

2009-05-27 21:04:59

in 1997 I had a rough time and had to move back home with my parents. My dad had just had a heart bypass operation and retired after over 30 years at the post office. We went together on a road trip through the West. We landed in Las Vegas and drove to Zion National Park. I will never forget the awe I had when driving through the canyons for the first time. My life in flat Michigan had never prepared me for that moment. I brought along my camera and grew a life long passion for landscape photography.

We drove from Zion to Bryce and then to the Grand Canyon and Saguaro National Parks. Over the remainder of the two weeks we also went to Death Valley, Yosemite, and Seqouia National Parks. I saw the classic landscapes of Ansel Adams and climbers no bigger than a speck. We drove thousands of miles and talked about many things along the way. I encountered my dad as a full grown adult with all the regrets and resentments erased. He told me the trip helped him get over the depression he was feeling after retirement and surgery. Although I'll never be a back country hiker, I learned about respect for the protected lands and the transforming power of nature. My dad and I were always close after that and I'll always have that memory of us on the great road trip together. I have tried to repeat the experience with some success in later years but nothing compares to the first encounter with these lands.

An Unexpected Day

2009-05-26 20:26:24

My husband and I love to go to the Copper Country, the area referred to where Keweenaw National Historica Park is located. We stay in a little cabin (a former post office from an abandoned mining town) facing west on the vast, rugged, beautiful Lake Superior. One day in the summer of 2008, we were visiting a Smithsonian traveling exhibit on food, being displayed in an old Catholic Church in Calumet that is part of the National Park. When I told the docent that my parents were born and raised in Calumet and my grandfathers worked in the copper mines (coming from Scotland and Canada), she asked if I had ever been to the Copper Country Achives housed in the library of Michigan Tech University down the road in Houghton, MI. I hadn't. So the next day, excited and full of anticipation, my husband dropped me off at the library. I didn't emerge until they politely said the library was closing for the night. I found the ORIGINAL company employment papers that both grandfathers had filled out when applying for a mining job. From these I learned their height, hair and eye color, date of birth and former jobs. You see, I didn't know my grandfathers. My maternal grandfather was killed in the copper mine when my mother was 4 years old. My paternal grandfather died when my father was 8 years old. He had been in a mining accident. I found a newspaper article describing my maternal grandfather's death and the orignal coroner's inquest into his death. I learned when and how he had died. I found different addresses both families had lived at in Calumet and the next day went to see these homes. At one, I was invited in by the present owner, after she saw me sitting in front of the house staring at it. What I discovered at the Archives, as a result of visiting the Keweenaw National Park, will never leave my head and heart. I sat at that library table with tears in my eyes. It was a connection to my past, to my parents' past (both of whom are deceased). I was able to copy these findings and then share what I learned with other family members. I wish Mom was still here so I could tell her, even though she taught me to never tell a lie, I caught her doing so! In the family archives, I found an employment application for a job as a telephone operator at the Calumet and Hecla Mining Office. It was my mother's name, her signature, but one year off on her birth date. Then I got it! She made herself 18 years old instead of the 17 that she really was. She needed that job! That was in 1933. The Keweenaw National Historical Park is not one of the more visited NP but it is a true gem. The history of that mining era, the beauty of the land and the workmanship of the buildings in Calumet are a national treasure. I am grateful it is being preserved, as the events and people of that time and area contributed to and helped shape America. Thank you.

Engaged at the Everglades

2009-05-21 14:53:38

Well...it was dream for me to be able to explore the Everglades. Having grown up around the swamp and bayous of Louisiana, with its many scares of civilization, I yearned for an understanding of this landscape without such heavy scars. I found beauty abound in the Everglades. We met some wonderful families, who shared memorable canoe rides through the mangrove forest as they offered there advice to me as a young man and family life. (almost uncanny, as me and only my bride -to- be's mother knew of my plans- and the mom was back home). Then the ever knowing rangers helped me and (unknown to her at the time) fiancee plan are three day canoe expedition through the 10,000 islands. After paddling around 15 miles we landed on Picnic Key. Where we laid to rest our souls on the beach as Pelicans fed on the receding shores and Bald Eagles chased Osprey but 30 ft from our heads on the shore. The place was completely magical, spiritual, and just downright HOME! Your connectedness to something invaluable and its tradition will live with us for ever, and together by the way, as we welcomed the New Year on Picnic Key, I asked her to marry me...she said YES! A memory to live with us till the end!

Howling Wolves NOT in the Grand Tetons or Yellowstone

2009-05-17 10:27:17

I recorded this audio as I stood in a meadow just outside of Driggs, ID. This is the howling of ~30 wolves. They live in a wildlife refuge just outside of the parks.

National Park Road Trip

2009-05-15 13:39:34

I have a goal to visit all of the National Parks during my lifetime. It's a great way to show my children the American landscape, teach them about our history and to experience life beyond the backyard. This past summer we drove from North Carolina to New Mexico and back, visiting several of the parks along the way. From caves to civil war forts, we had the chance to take in over a dozen locations. One of our favorite sites was the White Sands National Monument. It was the middle of summer, blazing hot temperatures. Surprisingly the sand was cool enough to take your shoes off and charge down the huge dunes. I highly recommend this park to everyone.

September 11, 2001 at Arlington House

2009-05-14 12:54:55

In 2001, I was a NPS Visitor Use Assistant at Arlington House, The Robert E. Lee Memorial. The home sits in the middle of Arlington National Cemetery, overlooking Washington, DC and the Pentagon. The morning of September 11 was gorgeous -- blue sky, sun and a peaceful feeling in the cemetery.

While walking over to the mansion from our NPS offices, one of my coworkers mentioned that he had heard a report that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York. "What a terrible accident," I thought, not realizing the significance of the news.

A few minutes later, while standing on the second floor of the mansion, I heard a loud "BOOM." My co-workers and I walked outside and saw a huge billow of black smoke coming from the South. American Airlines flight 77 had just crashed into the Pentagon. The few visitors who were around started asking questions of us, and we started asking questions of them. "What did you see?" "What did you hear?" "Have you heard what happened in New York?"

A few minutes later. The site supervisor came over and announced that the house was to be closed immediately. We then started doing security checks around the site -- checking inside trash cans, behind toilets, in cellars -- looking for anything out of the ordinary. None of us, including the supervisor, knew what we were looking for. But, the day had already proved to be a strange one.

After an hour or so, my supervisor told the rest of the staff to go home. As luck would have it, I had actually driven to work that day, instead of taking the Metro as I usually do. (The thought of getting on public transportation in the midst of what we then knew to be a terrorist attack was unsettling to say the least.)

Before leaving, I grabbed my spare ranger uniforms from the uniform closet. I remember thinking that maybe they would be useful in the days ahead in some sort of volunteer capacity -- like if the emergency services got so overwhelmed that additional help was needed. It was probably an illogical thought -- what good was a Park Ranger uniform going to do if there was an emergency? But, it seemed to make sense at the time.

On the way home, I collected two friends who lived close to the city. We set out for my parents house -- about 25 miles away -- thinking it would be safer there than close to DC. In route, we stopped by the Metro station and we crowded a few more folks into my car -- people who had taken the bus to work day. I didn't know most of them, but recognized them from my normal Metro commute.

We spent the rest of the day glued to the television, slowly piecing together what had happened alongside the rest of the nation and world.

Yosemite

2009-05-11 17:11:51

We went to Yosemite twice a year, once in Feburary and once in October. As a Bay Area kid it was quite a treat to see all the snow once we entered into the park. We learned to ski at Badger Pass and drank cocoa in the Ahwahnee Hotel. I could never decide which was better, the skiing in the winter or the hiking and bike riding in the fall. We would stay in the cabins and rent bikes in the villiage. I have not been back to Yosemite in many, many years. Its a memory of a place that is linked with my family and will always be.