National parks are having a moment. From the rocky boreal forests of Isle Royale, to the arid dunes of Death Valley, to the charismatic megafauna of Yellowstone, thereā€™s no shortage of diverse landscapes to explore and adventures to be had in each of the 63 Congress-designated units.

In 2020, I embarked on a quest to visit every single national park in under a year, which took me well outside of my comfort zone, kayaking to glaciers in Alaska’s Kenai Fjords, solo backpacking in the red rocks of Utah’s Canyonlands, and rock climbing on the moss-splotched cliffs of California’s Pinnacles. I wrote a book about it, too, called , which details the nitty-gritty of my outrageous journey.

These are my picks for the best adventure in every national park.

1. Bike Carriage Roads in Acadia National Park

Situated in the far northeast of the country, Maine’s Acadia National Park is known for its craggy ocean cliffs, phenomenal sunrise vistas, incredible autumn foliage, and bevy of freshwater ponds. Itā€™s also revered for its 45 miles of scenic, crushed stone , a gift of John D. Rockefeller Jr. in the early 1900s. , in central Bar Harbor, has the largest rental fleet in the state (including mountain, hybrid, and ebikes), making it easy peasy to hop on two wheels and cruise around the park. Iā€™d heartily recommend starting and ending your ride near Jordan Pond to enjoy some of the best fall colors and post-workout popovers.

2. Take a Fiery Furnace Loop Tour in Arches National Park

Arches in Utah can get a bad rap for its crowded trails and long wait times for vehicle entry, but the parkā€™s area, which boasts a heady labyrinth of sandstone hoodoos and slot canyons, is the only permitted hiking zone. That means itā€™s less-crowded and more regulated than old stand-bys like the trail up to Delicate Arch. Explore this outrageously unique natural wonder stress and GPS-free on a guided, , which will also offer loads of information about the areaā€™s cultural and geological history.

3. Drive the Badlands Loop Road in Badlands National Park

For the best views, prairie dog towns, and glimpses of ornery bison, thereā€™s no better (and more accessible) day trip than a meandering drive along Ģżin South Dakota. In addition to the roadā€™s twelve designated overlooks, auto tourists here will glean second-to-none views of the parkā€™s famously striated Badlands Wall, and its rippling, rapidly eroding hills of ecru and sepia. If youā€™re itching to get out and stretch your legs, a quick, .3-mile hike along the boardwalk should do the trick.

4. Raft Santa Elena Canyon in Big Bend National Park

Itā€™s tough to pick just one must-do adventure in a park as multisport-friendly as Texas’s Big Bend, which is known for its stellar hiking trails, 4WD-accessible desert camping, steamy hot springs, and phenomenal river access, but this one combines the best of the bunch. Not only is a marvel of the erosive power of water (the ravineā€™s 1,500-foot limestone walls were carved over millennia), itā€™s also a great single-day or overnight . Just be sure to check the before heading out.

5. Sail, Paddle, Snorkel, & Island Tour in Biscayne Bay National Park

Few national parks are primarily water-based, and, unless you own your own boat and scuba gear, getting the most out of a visit to southern Floridaā€™s Biscayne can feel like a daunting task. Thankfully, Biscayne National Park Institute, a collaboration between the park and its official nonprofit arm, offers some awesome day trips through the areaā€™s lush mangrove lagoons, underwater reef systems, and historic islets. The Instituteā€™s tour includes a sailing voyage across the bay, kayaking around Boca Chita or Adams Key, and snorkeling in the same area. Pro tip: ask your guide about the time an eccentric millionaire took his pet elephant to .

6. Descend the Gunnison Route in Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park

Sure, you could simply drive around and gawk at the spectacular view points along the South Rim of Black Canyon of the Gunnison in Colorado, but to truly appreciate the rugged expanse of one of the steepest, narrowest canyons in the world, youā€™ve got to climb down into the belly of the beast. Fit hikers and avid scramblers will love spending a day on the , which drops a staggering 1,800 feet in just 1.5 miles. At the bottom, soak your feet in the mirror-clear waters of the Gunnison River before the long ascent back up.

7. Hike the Figure-8 Combination in Bryce Canyon National Park

Why hike one iconic trail in Utah when you can weave together three gorgeous paths that dip below the rim of Bryce Canyonā€™s hoodoo-studded amphitheater? The Figure-8 Combination starts at Sunrise or Sunset Point (check what times are busiest first) and merges Queenā€™s Garden, the Navajo Loop, and the Peekaboo Loop into one strenuous, 6.4-mile day hike. As you meander through the maze of rust-tinted sandstone formations, youā€™ll likely understand why Ebenezer Bryce, who the park was named for, called it ā€œa hell of a place to lose a cow.ā€

8. Mountain Bike White Rim Road in Canyonlands National Park

°ä²¹²Ō²ā“Ē²Ō±ō²¹²Ō»å²õā€™ is often the trip of a lifetime for dedicated cyclists and overlanders, and nabbing a coveted day use or overnight permit can be tricky business. The scenic byway in Utah, which stretches for 100 miles along the tangerine-hued cliffs of the parkā€™s Island in the Sky district, is often completed as a multi-day expedition, so that adventurers can take their time and savor the craggy mesas, crumbling pinnacles, and sweeping Green River vistas the area is known for. Unsure about going it alone or donā€™t want to haul out your rig? offers a fantastic four-day bikepacking trip for canyon-loving bikers of all skill levels (e-bikes allowed).

9. Explore Cottonwood Wash Slot Canyon in Capitol Reef National Park

If youā€™re blessed with good weather on your next trip to central Utahā€™s Capit0l Reef, consider braving the washboard Notom-Bullfrog Road, on the parkā€™s less-traveled eastern edge, to take in the sheer majesty of the Waterpocket Fold (the parkā€™s defining feature, a 100-mile-long wrinkle in the earthā€™s crust). On the way, stop at a ranger station for a detailed map and guide to the areaā€™s many slot canyons, which are an excellent way to spike your adrenaline while avoiding crowds. is relatively easy to navigate and begins its narrows section after a short 1.5-mile hike. Double-check the rain forecast (never hike a slot canyon during or near a monsoon), then get ready to shimmy, climb, and squeeze your way through narrow sandstone walls.

10. Take a Guided Kingā€™s Palace Tour in Carlsbad Caverns National Park

One of the few national parks thatā€™s largely accessible by wheelchair (an elevator drops visitors 750 feet to the caveā€™s main rooms and an underground cafeteria), Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico is an out-of-this-world stop on any parks roadtrip. Chock-full of delicate limestone formations that resemble rippling jellyfish, huge white draperies, and gardens of toadstools, itā€™s one of the most decorated cave systems in the world. The ranger-led Kingā€™s Palace Tour is a great way for visitors to get an up close and personal look at the deepest portion of the cavern thatā€™s open to the public, and, if youā€™re lucky, your guide will conduct a blackout, allowing you to take in the wild darkness of the passageways.

11. Kayak Through Sea Caves in Channel Islands National Park

Hop aboard an and get ready to explore Southern Californiaā€™s rugged sea caves and dense kelp forests while kayaking around Santa Cruz, the largest island in the park. BYO-kayak or book a day trip with for a guided look at some of the most colorful coves and caves. Plan your trip between June and September for the calmest waves and easiest paddling.

12. Canoe or Kayak Cedar Creek in Congaree National Park

Though Iā€™m not a seasoned paddler by any means (my adventures have been relegated to a few guided day trips here and there), I spent my one afternoon at South Carolinaā€™s Congaree National Park shuttling cars and exploring the length of heavily-wooded Cedar Creek by kayak. Something about the tea-colored water, eerie protruding cypress knees, and wonderful silence combined to make it a magical way to soak up this small but special park, which preserves the countryā€™s largest remaining tract of old growth bottomland hardwood forest. offers expert-led paddles if youā€™d prefer a group trip.

13. Cruise the Scenic Rim Drive in Crater Lake National Park

In a park mostly known for its enormous, sapphire-tinged tarn, sometimes the best way to take in the spectacular beauty is to explore by car. Crater Lake, in southern Oregon, offers one of the best in the entire national park systemā€“a 33-mile feat of engineering that circumnavigates the lake, which is the deepest in the U.S. Along the way, road trippers can enjoy thirty (Watchman and Phantom Ship were my favorites) and a flat, one-mile hike from Rim Village to Discovery Point, should they fancy a stroll.

14. Fly Fish the Cuyahoga River in Cuyahoga Valley National Park

The is a triumphant success story when it comes to modern conservation. Many outdoor enthusiasts wrote it off in 1969, when it made headlines for catching on fire due to oil slicks. Recently, itā€™s made the news again, as the Ohio EPA deemed fish caught in this waterway safe to eat, meaning that can once again enjoy the winding, wooded Cuyahoga with peace of mind. Commercial guiding companies like and community groups like are helping the people of the greater Cleveland area rediscover the joys of urban fly fishing.

15. Hike Mosaic Canyon in Death Valley National Park

As someone whoā€™s gotten lost in the Death Valley backcountry in California and spent many sunset hours blissed-out in the , it might be surprising that my favorite adventure in this arid expanse is a humble, four-mile hike. However, in my mind, the journey through the narrow, winding walls and dry falls of epitomizes the bizarre geology that characterizes so much of this massive desert park (the largest in the lower 48). Take your time on the bumpy, washboard Mosaic Canyon Road, then get ready to traverse a ravine of water-polished marble and colorful volcanic breccia before reaching an impassable dry waterfall, two miles in.

16. Bike Denali Park Road in Denali National Park

¶Ł±š²Ō²¹±ō¾±ā€™s in Alaska is a graded, 92.5-mile byway thatā€™s only accessible by park-sanctioned tour or transit bus past mile fifteen. As such, itā€™s an awesome (and uncrowded) place for cyclists to day trip or bikepack, utilizing the parkā€™s (reserve in advance) to return to their car at the end of the journey. Bring your own or rent a bicycle at to weave through and around the areaā€™s fragrant spruce forests, wildflower-studded alpine tundra, and braided glacial rivers. Just donā€™t forget to bring the bear spray.

17. Camp on Garden Key in Dry Tortugas National Park

Most travelers to Dry Tortugas, which sits roughly 70 miles west of Key West, Florida, step onboard the for a simple day trip to Fort Jefferson, a towering red brick fortress that helped defend the Union during the Civil War. However, the most pristine solitude and celestial dark sky vibes can be gained by intrepid travelers who stay overnight. Sandy with picnic tables and grills line the far corner of Garden Key, where visitors can enjoy serene beaches, once the 3pm ferry departs.

18. Take an Airboat Tour in Everglades National Park

Yes, it might seem cheesy at first glance, but a guided airboat tour is one of the most quintessentially Everglades-y things you can do on your next trip to this southern Florida national park. is licensed to drive their vessels across the sawgrass slough that characterizes the parkā€™s northern section, and their hour-long tour is one of the most surefire ways to see the dinosaur-like visage of an alligator in person.

19. Raft and Backpack in Gates of the Arctic National Park

My motto is: if youā€™re going to go far, go big. Though the rafting portion of my visit to Gates of the Arctic in 2020 was canceled, I was still able to revel in the Middle Earth-style majesty of northern Alaskaā€™s Arrigetch Peaks, which extend thousands of feet above the tundra like rocky granitic sharkā€™s fins. Now, is once again offering their combination rafting and backpacking trip across this stunning landscape, which begins with a scenic float down the Alatna River before hiking up and into these marvelous mountains.

20. Tram Ride to the Top in Gateway Arch National Park

Letā€™s face it. Itā€™s strange that thereā€™s a national park in downtown St. Louis, Missouri, to begin with, but if youā€™re making a pilgrimage to the futuristic chrome rainbow of Gateway Arch, you might as well get as high as you can on that bad boy. Reserve your tickets in advance (they do sell out) for the , which offers second-to-none views of the cityā€™s iconic Midwestern skyline.

21. Overnight at Granite Park Chalet in Glacier National Park

Once hailed as ā€œthe Switzerland of America,ā€ Montana’s Glacier National Park is one of the few sites in the NPS that still has hike-in mountain huts and lodges, just like the Alps. Sure, the is a bit fancier with its full-service dining room, but boasts an incomparable view, and the opportunity to arrive via trekking one of the areaā€™s most famous trailsā€“the . Enjoy countless wildflowers on your ascent (think beargrass, purple asters, and Glacier lilies), then chow down on dinner in the communal kitchen.

22. Cruise through Glacier Bay National Park

The vast majority of visitors to Glacier Bay, in southeastern Alaska, arrive via ship, and though the easiest and most affordable route into the park is on , travelers can get a longer and more in-depth look at the parkā€™s humongous tidewater glaciers aboard a park-sanctioned cruise ship. Scour the seas for feeding humpbacks, hear the calls of Steller sea lions, and enjoy a delectable dinner with the backdrop of verdant fjordlands on one of trips up the Inside Passage.

23. Hike Rim-to-Rim in Grand Canyon National Park

Itā€™s one of the most bucket-listy backpacking trips on the planet, a 24-mile adventure through rugged cliffs of billion-year-old sandstone with over 13,000 feet of elevation gain in Arizona. That is, if you can get a permit. Trekking the is a phenomenal way for fit hikers to deepen their experience of ā€œthe big ditch.ā€ Start at the or , overnight at Bright Angel and Cottonwood Campgrounds, and get ready for the red rock experience of a lifetime. Book a for your return.

24. Backpack the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park

Yet another sincerely epic (and much greener) backpacking adventure is the iconic , which traverses 40 miles of jaw-dropping alpine scenery, passing craggy granitic canyons, high mountain peaks, and meadows full of lupine and forget-me-not along the way in Wyoming. Plan ahead to for this oneā€“they sell out months in advanceā€“and stay on the lookout for huckleberry-chomping bears and surly marmots.

25. Hike the Bristlecone Grove and Glacier Trail in Great Basin National Park

Perhaps the most quintessentially ā€œGreat Basinā€ trail of them all is through ancient bristlecone pine forests (which can contain the oldest living things on the planetā€“trees up to 5,000 years old) to the foot of the . Along the way, travelers can crane their necks to take in imposing views of 13,065-foot Wheeler Peak, the second-highest in Nevada.

26. Climb the High Dune on First Ridge in Great Sand Dunes National Park

It may not have a sexy death metal name like ā€œBlack Canyon of the Gunnison,ā€ but climbing at Great Sand Dunes in Colorado is a great way to break a sweat while taking in the sheer enormity (thirty square miles) of these high-altitude hills of sand. Itā€™s also a much easier and more attainable goal than when I tried to hike , which has since been dethroned as the highest in North America.

27. Bike Cades Cove on a Vehicle-Free Day in Great Smoky Mountains National Park

Most travelers to Great Smoky Mountains will immediately put a visit to traffic-choked (home to a handful of 200-year old settler cabins and excellent wildlife viewing) on the Tennessee side of the park on their list of things to do inside the park. But if your visit lands on a Wednesday, youā€™re in luck. Each year, from May through September, the park implements a strict on hump day so that tourists can experience a bit more serenity. No bike? No problem. Rent one at neighboring , near the campground.

28. Summit Guadalupe Peak in Guadalupe Mountains National Park

What was once a vast underwater reef system is now the highest point in the state of Texas, and adventurous souls can set out on the challenging 8.4-mile trek to the summit of as a long day hike or an overnight backpacking trip (just book a primitive in advance). From the apex of the hike, youā€™ll have the privilege of gazing out at hundreds of miles of sprawling Chihuahuan Desert.

29. Hike the Keoneheā€˜eheā€˜e (Sliding Sands) Trail in Haleakalā National Park

One of the most spectacular sights in Maui’s Haleakalā National Park on is the multitude of blood-red cinder cones that freckle the main craterā€™s floor, and this 11-mile trek from the to Halemau’u is one of the best ways to take it all in. I spent an entire day wandering through the Mars-like landscape of this enormous volcanic wonderland in 2020, and wished I had the time to overnight in a and explore even more. Find out more about if it’s okay to travel to Maui now here.

30. Take the Circle of Fire Helicopter Tour in Hawaiā€™i Volcanoes National Park

Yes, itā€™s a little bougie, but itā€™s rare that the Big Islandā€™s visible lava flows are in an area that rangers will allow park visitors to stroll to, and booking a helicopter flightseeing tour that soars over the is the surest way to safely feast your eyes on an active lava flow when visiting Hawaiā€™i Volcanoes. offers a mind-blowing hour-long flight out of Hilo thatā€™ll showcase the islandā€™s towering volcanoes and lush rainforests, complete with an inspired soundtrack in your headphones.

31. Soak in Mineral Water at Hot Springs National Park

Not every national park visit has to involve an epic adventure. Hot Springs, in downtown Hot Springs, Arkansas, offers the post-walk pampering and relief that many of us crave. After exploring the and the townā€™s historic core, post up at 111-year-old Buckstaff Bathhouse for a , which includes a 20-minute massage and a whirlpool mineral bath.

32. Hike the Cowles Bog Trail at Indiana Dunes National Park

The 4.7-mile stroll through , one of the most biodiverse locations in Indiana Dunes, terminates at a sandy beach on the shore of Lake Michigan, which is a perfect (and uncrowded) spot for an afternoon picnic. Along the way, birders will want to scan the marshes and black oak savannas for , including the rare Kirtlandā€™s warbler and western kingbird.

33. Backpack the Greenstone Ridge Trail at Isle Royale National Park

Pack your bug spray and get ready to hike. The Greenstone Ridge Trail is the most legendary overnight hiking route in Minnesota’s Isle Royale, a that cuts across the largest island in oceanic Lake Michigan. Spanning many different landscapes that vary from small, forested tarns to boreal woodlands peppered with slabby boulders, the hike is also a great place to try to spot moose and wolves, the latter of which was repopulated in 2018.

34. Rock Climb at Joshua Tree National Park

You donā€™t have to be Alex Honnold to send the gnar on an outdoor rock climb, and the fine folks at in Joshua Tree are able to tailor-make a full- or half-day climbing adventure for any intrepid spirit who wants to scale huge, monzogranite mounds. Of course, if youā€™ve got your own gear and youā€™re down for a little trad or bouldering on what I hear are notoriously sandbagged slabs, the southern California park boasts .

35. See Bears at Brooks Falls in Katmai National Park

This oneā€™s pretty self-explanatory. Book a float plane to the historic anglerā€™s paradise of Ģżin Alaska, hike the 1.2-mile trail out to , and enjoy the dozens of hungry grizzly bears youā€™re sure to encounter from a well-placed wooden platform that serves as the parkā€™s main viewing area. are available if you donā€™t want to splurge on a room or spend the night in a tent to keep the ursine creatures at bay.

36. Kayak to the Aialik Glacier in Kenai Fjords National Park

Though I was on a strict budget in 2020 when I visited every national park, I was grateful that I splurged on an all-day wildlife-viewing boat ride and when I traveled to Alaska’s Kenai Fjords. Not only did this tour point out a wide variety of marine mammals I had never seen before (think Dallā€™s porpoises, Steller sea lions, humpback whales, and thousands of nesting puffins), but it also brought me face-to-face with a which, apart from being terrifying in its scale, helped me internalize the enormity of climate change and the importance of these remote landscapes.

37. Backpack the Evolution Valley Loop in Kings Canyon National Park

Though isnā€™t fully inside this California national park (the longer isnā€™t either), Iā€™m listing it, because the several miles I spent traipsing around Evolution Valley when I hiked the John Muir Trail were easily the prettiest of the whole darn trek. Pitch your tent on the lakeā€™s northwestern edge for the best views of pine-studded islets and ragged Sierra peaks.

38. Walk Across the Great Kobuk Sand Dunes in Kobuk Valley National Park

Unless youā€™re an Alaskan local hunting caribou, making the trek out to far-flung Kobuk Valley can feel like a daunting task, so most visitors here book a bush plane for the day and touch down at the parkā€™s most famous landmarkā€“the . Sitting entirely above the Arctic Circle, this large dunefield might look more at home in the Sahara than the tundra, but the roughly 30-square-miles of sand that was deposited here is an unusual relic from our last ice age. Book a with an expert pilot to safely experience this less-trammeled wilderness.

39. Paddle and Hike Around the Twin Lakes in Lake Clark National Park

Skip Port Alsworth, the main town inside this massive Alaskan park, and instead, get deep into the bush on . Itā€™s a lighter athletic commitment than many of the stateā€™s bush trips, which can require carrying a 50-pound pack for multiple hours a day, while still highlighting the brilliant fuchsia fireweed, spectacular teal waters, and lingering tundra sunsets that epitomize Alaskaā€™s wilderness. Donā€™t miss the opportunity to check out legendary survivalist Dick Proennekeā€™s cabin on day 4.

40. Summit Lassen Peak in Lassen Volcanic National Park

Though the trek to the summit of California’s is only five miles (round trip), it feels a million miles away from the nearby town of Redlands. Rising into the high alpine, with a peak height of 10,457 feet, the trail passes scraggly whitebark pines and purple penstemons before culminating in a riveting scramble to the top. Gaze out at rocky ridgelines, cobalt Lake Helen, and the far-off visage of Mount Shasta before heading back down.

41. Explore a Cave in Mammoth Cave National Park

When road trippers head out to rural Kentucky, they might be surprised to learn that the worldā€™s longest-known cave system is hiding in plain sight. Deep in the lush, green hills of cavern country, Mammoth Cave provides an underground wonderland for spelunkers of all ages, and the is one of the longest and most in-depth ways to explore it. Along the four-hour route, a park ranger will lead the group through eerie landmarks like the bottomless pit and the caveā€™s abandoned tuberculosis ward.

42. Tour Cliff Palace in Mesa Verde National Park

When I first visited Mesa Verde in Colorado as a ten-year-old kid, I was blown away by how up close and personal I was allowed to get on a ranger-led tour of , the largest and most well-known of the parkā€™s ancestral Puebloan dwellings. On , guests will learn about the siteā€™s ceremonial importance and the astonishing masonry techniques of the tribe that once called the area home.

43. Climb Mount Rainier in Mount Rainier National Park

Brush up on your rope team skills while summiting one of the most famous mountains in the country on a four- or five-day Ģżin Washington. This trip is not for the faint of heartā€“itā€™s the most glaciated peak in the lower 48ā€“but completing a summit bid is a bucket-list adventure for most climbers and hikers who attempt it.

44. Hike to a Hidden Beach in National Park of American Samoa

Sure, Ofu Beach gets a heck of a lot of attention from travel magazines who routinely list it as one of the most beautiful in the world, but the truth of the matter is, itā€™s incredibly difficult and expensive to get to. Instead, visitors to the parkā€™s main island, Tutuila, can embark on a thrilling, ladder-filled 2.2-mile hike to a secret, pebble-crested beach on the . Just beware of harsh waves on the hikeā€™s backsideā€“go for a post-hike swim near Vatia afterwards.

45. Whitewater Raft the Lower New River in New River Gorge National Park

New River Gorge is known for its world-class climbing and rafting opportunities, and paddling the is an iconic way to get to know this West Virginia park. On this all-day trip thatā€™s suitable for ages 12 and up, guests will enter the splash zone on 25 class II-V rapids, including a gnarly class IV stretch thatā€™s directly under the enormous New River Bridge. Got littler ones in tow? ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶųs on the Gorge also offers mellow whitewater trips on the .

46. Visit Stehekin in North Cascades National Park

A well-known stop along the Pacific Crest Trail, Stehekin is a small, remote village set in Washingtonā€™s idyllic North Cascades. To get there, travelers must hike, boat, or fly in, making it the ideal place to unplug for a few days and get back to roots. Once there, pick heirloom apples at the or try your luck at .

47. Walk or Backpack in the Hoh Rainforest in Olympic National Park

One of the primary draws of Washington’s Olympic National Park is its large acreage of old-growth temperate rainforest, a verdant expanse of moss-covered maples and moldering stumps thatā€™ll excite any avid forest bather. Travelers here could go the tourist route and tramp along the one-mile , or you could explore the path less taken on an overnight along the just-as-stunning , which boasts much of the same scenery, sans crowds.

48. Hike the Blue Mesa Trail in Petrified Forest National Park

I can be a bit of a ā€œletā€™s hike 15 milesā€ masochist in the national parks, in Arizona’s Petrified Forest totally wowed me back in 2020. Not only is it family friendly, it also traverses a rare stretch of striped blue badlands formations, formed approximately 200-225 million years ago. Travelers here can also see a few wonderful examples of petrified conifer wood, from which the park gets its name.

49. Hike Through Volcanic Peaks in Pinnacles National Park

California’s Pinnacles is home to a mind-bending expanse of volcanic peaks and spires, created as the San Andreas Fault dragged along the countryā€™s west coast. For the most spectacular scenery in the park and the best shot at spotting an endangered California condor in the wild, jump onto the 5.3-mile , which ascends steep Civilian Conservation Corps-carved steps into the heart of the pinnacles formations.

50. Visit Tall Trees Grove in Redwood National Park

Youā€™ll need to secure an (it’s free) to hike to this secluded grove of redwoods in California that contains several of the tallest trees on planet Earth, but, trust me, itā€™s worth it. The 4.5-mile (round trip) pathway switchbacks down through a dense forest full of mushrooms and colorful lichens before plopping visitors in the middle of a truly spellbinding grove of sempervirens.

51. Climb Longs Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park

The exposed, class three up is not recommended for beginners or those who arenā€™t comfortable at altitude, but given Coloradoā€™s obsession with 14ers (thatā€™s Centennial State jargon for any peak over 14,000 feet), Iā€™d be remiss if I didnā€™t list it. If youā€™re not a fan of heights and sheer drop-offs, you can still enjoy incredible vistas of Longs Peak on a day hike to and its magnificent alpine cirque.

52. Hike up Wasson Peak in Saguaro National Park

Thereā€™s a little something for everyone on . Beginning on the (keep your eyes peeled for petroglyphs up the wash), ascend a gently sloping desert path that eventually carves its way through a ā€œforestā€ of giant, Seussian saguaro cacti. At the top, hikers can gaze out at top-down panoramic views of the Tucson basin before heading down via the High Norris Trail for an 8-mile round-trip.

53. Backpack to Redwood Meadow Grove in Sequoia National Park

One of the most magical sights in Sequoia, its namesake, wooly-barked trees, can often feel plagued by auto tourists in summer months in California. Not so at Redwood Meadow, which is one of the most remote old-growth sequoia groves accessible by trail. Experience the park the way turn-of-the-century visitors would have on that, at its turnaround point, allows hearty hikers to camp under a secluded canopy of ancient conifers.

54. Drive Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park

Beginning at the northern end of the famous Blue Ridge Parkway, Shenandoahā€™s Skyline Drive winds through Virginiaā€™s wooded Blue Ridge Mountains for 105 blissful miles. This scenic byway hits peak-gorgeousness in fall, when leaves begin to turn carmine and marigold. Pull over at dozens of well-placed NPS viewpoints and stretch your legs on a short hike to moody .

55. Spot Wildlife in Theodore Roosevelt National Park

Itā€™s often said that Theodore Rooseveltā€™s love of nature truly took root during his time in the rugged, rabbitbrush-topped badlands of North Dakota, so much so that the area has since been preserved as a national park. On the paved, 48-mile scenic loop, modern day visitors have the opportunity to spot loads of wandering wildlife, like yipping prairie dogs, clever coyotes, grazing elk, and ice age-era bison. Take a short stroll along the Little Missouri River on the if youā€™re keen to explore further.

56. Scuba Dive in Virgin Islands National Park

Make the most of your journey to this surprisingly far-flung tropical park and spend some serious time under the waves. is the only PADI five-star IDC dive shop on the island of St. John, 60 percent of which is designated as parklands. Each day, they offer two-tank morning and afternoon dives that explore creepy shipwrecks, psychedelic coral reefs, and a myriad of sea life (think peaceful turtles and striped butterfly fish).

57. Captain a Houseboat in Voyageurs National Park

I did not think that I would have as much fun driving around a on northern Minnesotaā€™s Lake Kabetogama as I did in 2020, but something about the trail-free wooded wilds of the boundary waters grabbed my soul by the reins. For three days, I motored around this pine-bordered freshwater expanse in a one-bedroom houseboat, complete with a waterslide, camping on private islands near the Canadian border and listening to loon calls as the sun sank.

58. Hike the Alkali Flat Trail in White Sands National Park

Though New Mexicoā€™s White Sands is a smaller national park with only 145,762 acres and nine miles of hiking paths, hiking the five-mile will bring you right into the heart of the action. As the longest trail in the park, itā€™s often the least-crowded of the bunch, allowing walkers to take their time and marvel at the otherworldly serenity of the largest gypsum dunefield in the world. Stick around after the hike for a completely Rothko-esque sunset show.

59. Take a Wild Cave Tour in Wind Cave National Park

Though this South Dakota park has been plagued with elevator troubles in recent years (check its current status before heading out), Wind Cave is a bastion of some of the last remaining mixed grass prairie in the country, and well worth a visit. Apart from rolling hills populated by fuzzy bison and prairie dogs, visitors wonā€™t want to miss a chance to explore the less-developed reaches of the caverns on this four-hour .Ģż During it, a ranger will provide a safe introduction to caving as participants climb, squeeze, and crawl through a variety of passageways, all while wearing a headlamp and experiencing the true natural darkness of the cave.

60. Ice Climb the Root Glacier in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park

When I spoke to a backcountry guide in the small gateway town of McCarthy this summer, I was surprised to learn that the vast majority of travelers to Alaskaā€™s Wrangell-St. Elias forego the day-long ice climbing tour in favor of a mellower . In my opinion, thatā€™s a grave mistake, because donning a set of ice axes and crampons to ascend a near-vertical glacial wall is as exciting as it is educational. Beef up your biceps (and get in a pretty hefty glacier hike) on that explores the Root Glacier from the hamlet of Kennicott.

61. Geyser Gaze in Yellowstone National Park

Very few national parks have hydrothermal features, and fewer still have an expansive network of accessible boardwalks from which to delight in them. Yellowstone, located primarily on Wyoming, is home to over half the worldā€™s geysers, and meandering through its various thermal basins is a must-do adventure inside the park. Avid hikers might want to escape the crowds on a 5.6-mile day hike to , as I did on my parks journey, while families wonā€™t want to miss the easily-accessed (go early for primo parking).

62. Hike Half Dome in Yosemite National Park

Itā€™s always a crapshoot to see who actually nabs a Half Dome permit each year, but for the lucky few thousand who do each summer, itā€™s the adventure of the lifetime. in California is incredibly strenuous and not for the faint of heart, rising 4,800 feet above the valley floor to a slick granite dome etched with bolted metal cables, for the final climb. Because of its challenging nature, overnighting at Little Yosemite Valley (extra required) is highly recommended to properly acclimatize and soak up the views of soaring granite.

63. Ride Horses in Zion National Park

Cowboy culture still goes hard in Utah, and at Zion, travelers can don their favorite boots and go for a one- or three-hour long that showcases some of the most excellent vermillion cliffs the park has to offer (like Three Patriarchs and the Beehives). The trip returns along the riparian stretches of the Virgin River, near centrally-located Zion National Park Lodge.

Emily Pennington has been to all 63 national parks in the U.S. and wrote a column about each one for ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų. She started off on her 63 Parks adventure in her van just as COVID was hitting and managed to continue traveling safely to each park. Then she wrote a book about her quest called

The post The Best Things to Do in Every National Park appeared first on ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Online.

63 Parks Traveler started with a simple goal: to visit every U.S. national park. Avid backpacker and public-lands nerd saved up, built out a tiny van to travel and live in, and hit the road, practicing COVID-19 best safety protocols along the way. The parks as we know them are rapidly changing, and she wanted to see them before itā€™s too late. American Samoa is her final park visit.

A wave of humidity knocks me off my feet the moment I exit the plane, like Godā€™s breath reaching in for a kiss. Thereā€™s something ancient and otherworldly about the steamy air of the tropics that always feels overpowering, and American Samoa, an archipelago in the heart of the South Pacific, was no different. Everywhere I looked, thick tendrils of green poured out onto rooftops, roadways, and down steep oceanside mountains, Mother Nature working hard to reclaim whatever human development she could.

American Samoa, a U.S. territory south of the equator and northeast of Fiji, is often described as a less-developed version of Hawaii. Getting there is no quick hop across the ocean: it required a six-hour flight from Los Angeles, followed by another nearly six-hour flight from Honolulu. The park occupies parts of three volcanic islands, and as I explored its main one, 52-square-mile Tutuila, I quickly learned that this destination was much more than a far-flung version of the Aloha State.

For starters, itā€™s important to acknowledge that the National Park Service doesnā€™t own any of the parkā€™s grounds; in keeping with the Samoan belief of communal ownership of land, park units are currently leased from Native villages and the American Samoa government. National Park of American Samoa was specifically established to protect , the customs and heritage of Samoaā€™s 3,000-year-old culture. For those eager to experience the regionā€™sĢżunique, wild beauty, youā€™ll be happy to hear that itā€™s home to the only mixed-species paleotropical rainforest in the United States, as well as one of the deepest natural harbors in the South Pacific, delicate coral reefs, and boulder-strewn beaches. History buffs can look at it from another angle: these islands were a key naval outpost during World War II. Today, tourism and tuna canning are the main industries on American Samoa.

Diehard hiker that I am, I made a beeline for the Mount Alava ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Trail on day one. With no rain in the forecast (a rarity in this corner of the world), I reasoned that the 87-degree temperature and 80 percent humidity would make for a pleasant excursion along this rugged, unmarked trail. I was wrong. Shoving the occasional fern and tree branch out of my path, I ascended a steep slope cut into the jungle. Countless spiderwebs broke across my face. Hermit crabs scuttled away from close calls beneath my boots. In under an hour, Iā€™d sweat through my sun shirt and shorts and was panting in the midday heat. I didnā€™t see a soul all afternoon. (That said, this national park saw only 1,887 visitors in 2022.)

My reluctant acceptance that this overgrown route through the rainforest would not be as breezy as the manicured trails I was used to in California forced me to slow down, take breaks, and listen in a way I often donā€™t when Iā€™m charging toward a mainland peak. The melodic trill of tropical birdsong serenaded me as I neared an undulating ridgeline where flying foxes with three-foot wingspans whooshed overhead like small, mammalian dragons. I almost didnā€™t mind that my GPS app turned me around just before the summitā€“Iā€™d been transported out of my terrestrial woes and into a state of wonder.

After a long (and scorching) backtrack through the forest, I hightailed it to Tisaā€™s Barefoot Bar, a legendary oceanfront eatery east of the capital of Pago Pago, for a well-earned piƱa colada and seafood feast. Tisa Faā€™amuli, the restaurantā€™s matriarch, was a pioneer of ecotourism on the island, promoting the establishment of the private in the early 1980s, before the national park was formed. While she, her husband, Candy, and I dined on freshly caught bigeye, homegrown pineapple, and locally harvested breadfruit, I admired the barā€™s construction. With its hand-woven thatch-roofed panels and hewn log columns, it reflected traditional Samoan architecture.

Candy offered to take me snorkeling the following morning, so I rose with the sun to catch the low tide. We paddled out to the sanctuary to visit the areaā€™s famous underwater reefs. I allowed the slight current to rock my body along the gentle surge of waves, eyeing striped butterfly fish and listening to rainbow parrotfish crunching on coral while darting around the mounds of their massive colonies. As we slowly returned to shore, Candy spotted an endangered hawksbill sea turtle. My heart did a somersault inside my chest.

Compared to the horror-show headlines decrying miles of bleached, dying coral in Australia and the Caribbean, American Samoaā€™s reefs are doing remarkably well. A group funded by a National Park FoundationĢżresearch grant that hopes to uncover why Samoan corals appear to be more resilient to temperature increases. The teamā€™s gene-mapping efforts may reveal whether adaptation could be the reason, or possibly novel genetic diversity. The answer could restore devastated reefs across the globe affected by climate change.

My final night in Samoa, I found myself wandering from restaurants to bars in Pago Pago, an attempt to escape the pervasive humidity.ĢżAt least my red-eye flight back to Hawaii would have a temperature-controlled environment. It was a fitting ending to a trip in which I endeavored to explore and make sense of an utterly wild landscape and intense climate.

Perhaps the awe and discomfort I faced in my final national park served as a sensory metaphor for all that was noble and important and critical about my entire park experiment. After all, if we pave over our rough and difficult pastā€”something that underlies every national park in Americaā€”how will we ever make sense of our future?

63 Parks Traveler American Samoa Info

Size: 13,500 acres

Location: The South Pacificā€™s Polynesian Triangle, about 800 miles northeast of Fiji

Created In: 1988 (national park)

Best For: Snorkeling, hiking, diving, beach days, bird-watching

When to Go: The best months to visit are June through August (77 to 85 degrees), when temperatures and precipitation tend to be more pleasant for outdoor excursions. Autumn (78 to 87 degrees) brings the return of the rains, while winter and spring see hotter average temperatures and even heavier rains.

Where to Stay:ĢżWhen I said that American Samoa is undeveloped, I meant it. There are few hotels and virtually no Airbnbs on its islands. , on Tutuila, is conveniently located near the beach and national-park visitor center, and its ocean-view restaurant is popular with locals and tourists alike. Another solid choice is Tisaā€™s Barefoot Bar, where you can spend the night at a thatched ā€”an open-air houseā€”right on the water; a gourmet breakfast and dinner are included in the price.

Where to Eat: For breakfast, head to in Pago Pago for healthy smoothies, bagel sandwiches, and buzzy espresso drinks. After a day of hiking and adventure inside the park, mosey over to (reservations required) for a seafood dinner or, on Wednesday nights, a traditional umu, or earth-oven, feast.

Mini ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Rent a car (a must for exploring the national park) and trek the on the northern side of Tutuila. Youā€™ll climb a , followed by a steep rope-and-ladder section, before dropping down to a rock beach with outstanding views of craggy Pola Island. Afterward head out for a snorkel (bring your own gear, as it can be hard to find on the island, or rent some from Tisaā€™s and have Candy take you out to the Alega Marine Sanctuary).

Mega ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Hike 1,610-foot via Fagasa Pass. Although I was ultimately able to laugh at my ordeal on the Mount Alava ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Trail, I canā€™t in good conscience recommend it. Instead, hike the from Fagasa Pass, which is well-maintained, easy to follow, and offers breathtaking views of both sides of Tutuila and its surrounding waters.

The post The Hidden ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶųs of National Park of American Samoa appeared first on ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Online.

After a decade working for Hollywood executives in Los Angeles, Emily Pennington decided to change her life and spend it outdoors as much as possible. She bought a temperamental minivan she named Gizmo to live in, and set out on a yearlong road trip to visit all sixty-three national parks, hoping to make it through the adventure in one piece. On the road, she found herself navigating a painful romantic breakup and non-stop obstaclesā€”from the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic to wildfires and hurricanesā€”that threatened the trip, her safety, and her peace of mind.

En route, she wrote about each national park in ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų‘s 63 Parks Traveler column. And now she’s published a compelling book about the experience called . Below is an excerpt of one our favorite chapters on how she found the strength to hit the road.

I drove toward Yosemite with the shattered pieces of my life, empowered by the thought that I could now build them back into whatever shape I wanted. When I reached the valley floor, I was surrounded on all sides by enormous walls of granite. El Capitan and Half Dome stood like friendly, stone-bound greeters saying hello to all who passed through, and the warm hues of autumn were ever present. After I pulled into my campsite at Upper Pines, my legs were itching for a walk, so I took off down the nearest trail to Mirror Lake. I let my feet carry me past gray squirrels and immense pines, all the way to a sandy pit where the lake should have been, had California not been in a historic drought. The vertical wall of Half Domeā€™s western face blushed in the late sun.

Mosquitoes began their invisible, Doppler-like buzzing around my head, but rather than turn back to make dinner, I felt compelled to climb to the top of a nearby boulder and lie flat on my back to watch the light shift across the famous granite dome.

David was an Eagle Scout with the body of a lumberjack and the heart of a poet. It was his fault that I had grown obsessively fond of backpacking in the five years leading up to my quest to visit every park. I fell madly in love with his ability to quote Epictetus over penne arrabbiata and his infectious adventurous streak; years before we met, he and a group of friends had plotted a six-month course from Los Angeles to Rio de Janeiro. By bicycle. Riding past an onslaught of fish-taco stands, dodging dengue fever in the thick jungle, and surviving a police shakedown, his posse had managed to do the unthinkableā€”prove that ordinary people with nine-to-five day jobs can save up, set off on a professional-adventurer caliber trip, and survive relatively unscathed.

Not having come from an outdoorsy family, my first-ever backpacking trip was in Sequoia National Park at the ripe age of twenty-eight, under Davidā€™s watch. I was a complete junk show. Donning a backpack left by Airbnb guests at my former apartment, I hunched, apelike, under its weight as my lungs quickly learned (and hated) what the air feels like above nine thousand feet. Among the assorted sundries inside my pack was a bohemian leather jacket, a full-sized towel, and a child-sized sleeping bag, covered in a purple paisley print with peace signs, from the sale bin at a suburban H&M.

David wasn’t aware that this was my first backpacking excursion. And I didnā€™t know that he didnā€™t know. So when he suggested a twelve-mile journey up to the summit of 11,207-foot Alta Peak and bedding down in the high-altitude meadow that shares its name, my youthful bravado and desire to impress him lit up, and I said yes. I did yoga three times a weekā€”what could go wrong?

What I didnā€™t know was that, once you reach a certain elevation, the air becomes noticeably thinner and thinner, until walking uphill requires a tremendous amount of effort and concentration. I felt like I was sucking air through a wet paper straw as we ascended in the afternoon sun. Without a chest strap, my backpack clung to my shoulders like a limp orangutan and swung frustratingly to and fro whenever I moved. By the time we made it to camp, I was a girl crumbled.

My stomach growled ferociously from the exertion, and David carefully assembled his little aluminum backpacking stove and delicately screwed its hose onto a fuel canister. Click. Click. Click. The lighter failed to ignite the gas inside the metal burner. This left us with two options: soak our dehydrated backpacking meal in cold water, making a crunchy and unsavory soup of bland calories, or use chocolate to bribe the hikers at the next campsite into letting us borrow their stove.

Not fifteen minutes later, we had arranged our makeshift rock chairs into a circle of former strangers and were passing around a Nalgene filled with scotch whiskey that made my head spin beneath the dazzling brightness of the Milky Way. A woman pulled a ukulele out of her pack, Mary Poppins style, and the six of us howled at the moon as we belted out the lyrics to familiar pop songs.

The next morning, after a fitful night spent tossing and turning in our cramped one-person tent, I awoke to find the meadow and the High Sierra beyond it awash in pink-hued light. It was my first sunrise in the Great Western Divide, and though I had spent most of my adult life up to that point in a strictly secular mindset, something about the soft glow and the stillness of the morning hushed me into reverence.

What impractical magic had I stumbled upon? A forest-laden Burning Man for athletic hobbits? A blister-bearing mountain temple for misfits?

A lot of people have a rare and poetic transformation in the woods. They find god or something like it and emerge reborn. I suppose the experience might be akin to oneā€™s first experience with psychedelicsā€”the world appears one way your entire life and then, suddenly, it isnā€™t.

What happened to me was somewhere between a god moment and a boot camp. I saw the light, sure, but I couldnā€™t walk straight for three days. I was blistered and bruised. I was ravaged and raw. I was hooked.

It was oddly fitting, then, that my relationship with David collapsed inside a national park. The wild likes to wring out all unnecessary claptrap and excess baggage until youā€™re left naked and exalted and clinging to the truth.

ā€œItā€™s not me, itā€™s you,ā€ I found myself saying one Saturday evening in Yosemite, before my parks journey was even the seed of an idea. A full moon beamed auspiciously overhead like a spotlight as we assembled a small fire beneath the granite eye of Half Dome. ā€œIā€™ve done everything I can to impress you. I took up rock climbing. Iā€™m a competent outdoorswoman now. I organized a threesome. Hell, Iā€™m even faster on trail than you are these days. Why wonā€™t you just call me your girlfriend?ā€

David stammered into speech before the thought had fully formed.

ā€œBecause .Ģż.Ģż. I .Ģż.Ģż. I donā€™t think we would make very good domestic partners.ā€

ā€œO³ó.ā€

I began trembling in great sobs, fearing my organs might melt out through my skin as I wept. My chest rattled as I struggled to take in air. My worst fears were coming true. My efforts went unnoticed. My best would never be good enough. My adventurousness and impulsivity were charming for about a year, until it was time for him to get seriousā€”with someone else. I felt like the worst version of the manic pixie dream girl trope: the manic outdoorsy dream gremlin that everyone wanted to sleep with but no one wanted to take home to mom.

In that moment, I needed to know that someone could love me unconditionally, absent of achievement, and maybe it was a foolā€™s errand all along. But Iā€™d been chasing down that elusive partner ever since. And now, in the final months of my parks journey, I was realizing that the only person that someone could be was me.

After things with David fell apart, it took a long time to build myself back into something resembling the woman I wanted to be. I lolled around at my desk job for months. I slept with dozens of strangers. I stopped eating. I started force-feeding myself meal replacement drinks.

But as my heartsick intensified, so, too, did my love of the wilderness. I took a class to learn how to use an ice axe and crampons and started setting my sights on higher peaks and bigger adventures. Rather than elevate another man to godlike status in my mind, I began going out every weekend and throwing myself against the ragged canvas of the mountains. And though my new lifestyle felt raucous and healing, I needed more.

One day, on a hiking trip through Kings Canyon with a girlfriend, the thought hit me with all the ferocity of a locomotive barreling toward my chest: What if I was less in love with David and more in love with the adventures he introduced me to? What if I struck out on my own and planned a yearlong journey across America, solo? Across the one thing that had stirred me awake, ripped me wide open, and stitched me back together againā€”the national parks.

I didnā€™t need a partner in crime to set off on a grand adventure. I had two perfectly good feet, a dirt-caked backpack, and a fire inside my heart.

Now, back in Yosemite four years after that fateful trip with David, I felt it all come back to me. I was staring up at the exact spot where we had ended things. Past melded with present, and I found myself experiencing a wallop of dĆ©jĆ  vu, simultaneously feeling the weight of two shockingly similar realitiesā€“Iā€™d severed ties with my most recent partner, Adam, on a hiking trip too, inĢż Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. What is it with me and breakups in the fucking national parks? I wondered. Maybe it was something about how truth reigned supreme in the wilderness. It was all trees and rocks and elements of the ancient. The ultimate stress test for any relationship. The wild could be counted on to rip out anything that wasnā€™t real or worthy from my life.

As the sunset turned fire red on its slow descent, I realized something else: that my moment of deep loss with David under those smooth stone slabs cradled this one. It was that singular night that catapulted me into exploring the parks and becoming so proficient in the outdoors that I would never again need a man to guide me. It stood to reason that this moment of sorrow might also be cradling some incredible, unforeseen future that I couldnā€™t yet fathom. I had come so far in four years. Where would I be in four more?

To escape the heat and the wildfire haze, I spent much of the next morning driving up to the parkā€™s high-altitude Tuolumne Meadows area, making a pilgrimage to Elizabeth Lake before the afternoon crowds arrived. A perfect reflection of Unicorn Peak lay suspended in the glassy water while insects occasionally skittered across its slick surface. I wandered around the lake, the only person on the trail, and clambered onto a large boulder facing the humpbacked mountain. It was the same spot where, almost two years earlier to the day, Adam had suggested that we perform a relationship commitment ceremony, writing vows and declaring our love.

From my backpack, I removed a small Ganesha statue, a stick of palo santo, a lighter, and a list of vows I had written. I fingered the late-season grass, crisp and nearly golden, and snapped off two identical strands from the ground below. After carefully tying them into a circular shape on my left ring finger, I lit up the fragrant wood and started reading my script. If I couldnā€™t find a partner, I would marry myself.

I promise to be gentle with myself and let whatever emotions arise come and go calmly and with great care.

I promise to love myself unconditionally. I promise to love my thoughts, even the less charming ones.

I promise to stand by myself in sickness and in health.

I choose patience, trusting that the work I am doing is true and meaningful and that I donā€™t need to beat myself up to have amazing things happen.

With tears streaming down my face, I kissed the feet of my little bronze Ganesha, remover of obstacles, patron saint of new beginnings. A woodpecker began her percussive search for breakfast. I gazed up and laughed. The morning sun warmed my face.

With my heartache distilled into a few blades of grass wrapped tightly around my finger, there was nothing to do but move forward. Flinging myself across the country toward Cuyahoga National Park in the wake of so much emotion seemed a prime situation for drama, but I mostly spent my days listlessly flipping through Johnny Cash and Rilo Kiley playlists. I belted out the lyrics I knew as I passed high, pine-scented mountains near Flagstaff, countless Route 66 travel stops, and the painted flattop mesas of central Arizona. I pulled over to sleep at a Loveā€™s truck stop, the incessant hissing of 18-wheeler breaks and deranged railroad horns making the scene feel more like a three-ring circus than a legal place to sleep for the night. At 6:00 a.m., I finally rose when a car alarm failed to stop screeching after twenty minutes.

The road was mostly dull, with the occasional rust-hued plateau, field of cows, or gust of hot wind. I texted a friend to see if he had any recommendations near Amarillo. Just keep driving, he replied.

I had never seen fall colors out east before. For years, I had known about their heart-stopping magic from movies and television shows, but the all-American rite of passage of actually seeing them in person had never graced my life until I reached Cuyahoga Valley, my forty-eighth national park.

Tucked between Cleveland and Akron, the park was more urban than most, its sprawling woodlands home to various historic buildings and railroad stops. With a thin ripple of clouds blanketing the horizon, I pulled into the parking lot for one of the areaā€™s most beloved hikesā€”Brandywine Gorgeā€”and began meandering along its mile-and-a-half loop. Steep rock walls lined with mosses and hanging gardens soon loomed overhead as I neared the areaā€™s main attractionā€”Brandywine Falls. A swift cascade of water trickled over terraced ledges of stone, looking more like a series of lace ruffles on a debutanteā€™s gown than the roaring torrents of rivers pouring over the edges of cliffs in Yosemite Valley. I walked on. A canopy of canary-yellow maple rustled above me, and I lifted my gaze skyward, trying not to trip over tree roots. This is real autumn, I thought as I hiked along slowly, watching the wind turn leaves of rust and marigold into tiny paper airplanes that wafted gently onto the forest floor. It was as if the trees were throwing a giant party, exploding into one final burst of elaborate color before embarking on their cycle of hibernation and rebirth.

When the sun began its nightly descent toward the horizon, I hightailed my van over to Ledges Overlook, a series of rough sedimentary rocks that fall away steeply to a birdā€™s-eye view of the parkā€™s glorious foliage. From the perch I could see for miles. Lit up in late evening sunlight, the warm rainbow of fall colors looked even more magical, and as the clouds turned a brilliant shade of tangerine, two dozen other hikers sauntered out of the woods and stood stock-still, taking it all in. When the last of the sun faded, we scattered and went our separate ways, the spell broken. I felt more at peace than I had in a long while.

I awoke wrapped in my sheets as a wash of pastel morning light made its way across the farmlands outside Akron. With rain in the forecast, I needed to hustle if I wanted to explore more of the park. After a breakfast of oatmeal and instant coffee, I spun my wheels toward Century Cycles, rented a bike, and started down the Towpath Trail. It instantly found a place on my list of the best urban riding paths.

The trail was intermittently paved and gravel, paralleling the Cuyahoga River and the ruins of locks that once served as a portage for ships carrying goods from Lake Erie down to the Ohio River. Now long abandoned, historic canals sprung up here and there beneath apricot-hued leaves that seemed to burst forth from every tree. I zoomed past old wooden storefronts and miles of fiery fall colors, thinking about my future as I raced the rain.

I would like a vintage, courtyard-style apartment. I would like a medium-sized dog. I would like to go skiing with my mother and find a devilishly handsome man to press my warm body against, but preferably not at the same time.

It felt healthyā€”excavating a way forward from the vantage point of a swiftly moving vehicle. Like carving a new path allowed me to enjoy the trip more. If I was chained to travel because there was no other option, travel would lose all novelty and wonder. There had to be hope. There had to be a future to look forward to.

Emily Pennington, a freelance writer based in Los Angeles, visited 60 national parks in 2020. Just before this article went to press, she explored American Samoa, her 63rd and final park.

 

How to Get Reservations at These Popular National Parks in 2023

The post In Her New Book ā€œFeral,” The Author Recounts Visiting Every U.S. National Park in a Year appeared first on ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Online.

63 Parks Traveler started with a simple goal: to visit every U.S. national park. Avid backpacker and public-lands nerd saved up, built out a tiny van to travel and live in, and hit the road, practicing COVID-19 best safety protocols along the way. The parks as we know them are rapidly changing, and she wanted to see them before itā€™s too late. Acadia is her 49th park visit.

I clutched a cold iron rung, glinting in the early sunlight, and felt my left hand slip on the mud of a previous hikerā€™s boot. I could feel my heartbeat quicken as I clambered for a better grip. My chest tightened. My stomach dropped. Below me was a near vertical cliff of over 300 feet, and I was now clinging one-handed to a lichen-speckled face overlooking the Atlantic.

Acadia National Park, in southeastern Maine, is famous for these sorts of death-defying hikes with commanding views of the wild ocean, also known as rung and ladder trails. When I met up with my friend J.C. to explore the area for a few days last October, the first stop on our list was also the most perilous. At 3.2 miles, the might seem like a moderate day hike by most standards, but less than half a mile in, the trail transformed from dirt singletrack to a choose-your-own-adventure maze of car-size granite hunks and thin metal bars intended to serve as hand- and footholds. It startled me awake far more than my morning latte.

After gaining a thousand feet of elevation in under a mile, legs wobbly but no worse for wear, the two of us stood on the summit of Champlain Mountain, a tapestry of gold and blood-red trees hugging the gunmetal water of the rocky shoreline below. The next day, I mumbled to myself, would need to be more relaxing.

Home to 45 miles of crushed-stone carriage roads, a gift of John D. Rockefeller Jr. in the early 1900s, Acadia is a wonderland for looking to get off the beaten path and enjoy miles of car-free lanes bordered by hemlock, white birch, and maple. I rented a bike in Bar Harbor, a small, historic town enveloped by the park, and put my lungs to the test as J.C. and I set off from Jordan Pond on a 13-mile jaunt around wooded Sargent Mountain. As we ascended, the views down into glistening sapphire lakes were tremendous, but before long, my breath became ragged and my long-sleeved thermal was soaked through with sweat.

Wheels spinning, the wind whipped my hair around the plastic cage of my helmet as I eagerly zoomed across babbling streams and stony bridges to complete the loop. It was midafternoon by that point, and we were both fiending for a batch of famous popovers and jam. I hungrily slathered my two puffed rolls with butter and devoured them in a matter of minutes, crumbs and all. Though Acadia didnā€™t have the high-altitude peaks of my native California, the park was steadily impressing me with its diversity of recreational opportunities.

To cap off the trip, the two of us rose before dawn to watch the sunā€™s faint glow trace its way across island-strewn Frenchman Bay from the summit of . The peak, which is the highest point along the eastern seaboard, also sees the countryā€™s first rays of light from October to early March. Every morning, hundreds of travelers jockey for position to catch the show, and we were no different.

Bundled up and bleary-eyed, I leaned against a granite pillar and gazed out into infinity as the sky lit up like a Day-Glo Rothko paintingā€”first periwinkle, then fuchsia, then bright amber. Shivering amid a crowd of strangers, I could sense that I was in the middle of a memory that would last a lifetime, waiting for the new glint of our closest star to gently warm my cheeks.

63 Parks Traveler Acadia Info

Size: 49,077 acres

Location: Southeastern Maine

Created In: 1916 (Sieur de Monts National Monument), 1919 (Lafayette National Park), 1929 (renamed Acadia National Park)

Best For: Hiking, sailing, coastal drives, rock scrambling, tide-pool viewing, cycling, history buffs

When to Go: Summer (53 to 79 degrees) offers warm weather and low precipitation, while fall (32 to 71 degrees) is popular with the leaf-peeping crowd. Winter (15 to 38 degrees) is quiet and perfect for snowshoeing the carriage roads, and spring (25 to 65 degrees) brings hundreds of wildflowers.

Where to Stay: Acadia operates , two of which (Blackwoods and Seawall) are located on Mount Desert Island, near the main hub of the park. If youā€™re looking for a cozier stay with a hot shower, views of the Atlantic, and a primo free breakfast, check out the .

Mini ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Watch the sunrise from the summit of Cadillac Mountain. Grab and set your alarm to catch the countryā€™s first rays of light from the parkā€™s high point, then steer your car down the paved slope and onto , which affords stunning coastal views and easy access to highlights like Thunder Hole, Jordan Pond, and Otter Cliffs.

Mega ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Hike one of Acadiaā€™s rung and ladder trails. Though the gets all the love on social media, the is longer and far more scenic if youā€™re an experienced scrambler with a stomach for heights. Go before 10 A.M. to avoid the masses, and consider switching to a hike on the parkā€™s if thereā€™s any chance of rain on the forecast. Afterward, indulge in the areaā€™s most famous delicacyā€”a lobster rollā€”at Stewmanā€™s Lobster Pound.ĢżYouā€™ve earned it.

The post The Best ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶųs at Acadia National Park appeared first on ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Online.

Spending time in the great outdoors is supposed to be one of lifeā€™s simple pleasures. But these days you canā€™t just hit the road, snag a visitor map, and hope for unpopulated trails or available campsites in any national park. At the National Park Serviceā€™s most popular spots, a combination of timed-entry ticket systems, hikes with user fees, and headache-inducing online reservations can turn what should be a respite into a chore.

While some national parks remain free to all, many of the most popular charge up to $35 per vehicle, making the annual America the Beautiful parks pass ($80) a steal if youā€™re planning to visit at least three parks.

Entrance fees typically cover one private vehicle and everyone inside it for up to seven days of in-and-out park usage, although commercial vehicles are charged an additional fee per tour guest. Fees go toward critical maintenance, staffing, and upgrades . Travelers looking to save some cash should consider checking out their favorite national park on one of the yearly fee-free days or logging 250 hours of volunteer work to earn anĢż.

No matter how you wish to enjoy Americaā€™s most famous public lands, weā€™ve created this handy guide to park fees and reservation information to make planning your next visit easier. Remember, entrance fees arenā€™t the only expense youā€™ll have when visiting national parks; weā€™ve listed a few notable additional expenses and considerations, including timed-entry reservations and permitted hikes, at certain locations.

Acadia

Fees: $30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: Beginning this year, Acadia requires for visitors traveling up Cadillac Summit Road from May 25 to October 22. These timed-entry tickets cost $6 per vehicle and are available for two windows: sunrise and daytime.

Arches

Fees:Ģż$30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycles, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: In 2022, Arches will implement a pilot to prevent overcrowding. Visitors in vehicles entering the park will need to pay an additional $2 reservation-processing fee for entry dates that occur between April 3 and October 3 from 6 A.M. to 5 P.M. MST.

Badlands

Fees:Ģż$30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

Big Bend

Fees: $30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

Biscayne

Fees: None
Additional Info: The park charges a $25 fee for overnight stays (for up to two tents and up to six people) at either Elliott Key or Boca Chita Key.

Black Canyon of the Gunnison

Fees: $30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

Bryce Canyon

Fees: $30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

Canyonlands

Fees: $30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

Capitol Reef

Fees:Ģż$30 per private vehicle, $15 per motorcycle, $10 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

Carlsbad Caverns

Fees: $15 per adult, children age 15 and younger are free
Additional Info: Visitor fees are valid for three days after the initial entrance date. cost extra.

Channel Islands

Fees: None
Additional Info: A private boat or ferry is necessary to reach this park.

Congaree

Fees: None
Additional Info: The park does not charge for admission, camping, or ranger-led programs.

Crater Lake

Fees: $30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

Cuyahoga Valley

Fees: None
Additional Info:ĢżAlthough admission is free, the park recommends making a donation to the .

Death Valley

Fees: $30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

Denali

Fees: $15 per adult, children ages 15 and younger are free
Additional Info: This fee covers admission for seven days and may be . Tour and transit buses beyond Denali Park Roadā€™s mile 15 are available for an .

Dry Tortugas

Fees: $15 per adult, children age 16 and younger are free
Additional Info:ĢżBecause this is a remote island-based park, entrance fees may be . You can only reach the park via a (each $190 ticket includes entrance to the park), , or your own private boat or plane.

Everglades

Fees: $30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

Gates of the Arctic

Fees: None
Additional Info:ĢżAlthough fees are not charged, the park requests that all travelers stop by one of itsĢż prior to arrival.

Gateway Arch

Fees: $3 per adult, children age 15 and younger are free
Additional Info: This entrance fee does not include a to the top.

Glacier

Fees:Ģż$35 per private vehicle, $30 per motorcycle, $20 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info:ĢżWhile fewer roads are open in the winter, rates during this season, which runs from November 1 to April 30, are more affordable: $25 per private vehicle, $20 per motorcycle, and $15 per person without a vehicle. A timed-entry system will be implemented again in 2022 from May 27Ā­ to September 11; visitors will be charged a $2 service fee on when booking.

Glacier Bay

Fees: None
Additional Info:ĢżBackcountry campers and private boaters recreating in the park will need to obtain additional .

Grand Canyon

Fees: $35 per private vehicle, $30 per motorcycle, $20 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: Entrance fees may be .

Grand Teton

Fees: $35 per private vehicle, $30 per motorcycle, $20 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

Great Basin

Fees: None
Additional Info: are an additional fee.

Great Sand Dunes

Fees:Ģż$25 per private vehicle, $20 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: Entrance fees may be .

Great Smoky Mountains

Fees: None
Additional Info: None

Guadalupe Mountains

Fees: $15 per adult, children age 16 and younger are free
Additional Info: Fee covers park entrance for up to seven days.

Haleakala

Fees:Ģż$30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: Unlike most parks, these fees only cover vehicles for from the entrance date.

Hawaii Volcanoes

Fees: $30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

Hot Springs

Fees: None
Additional Info: Admission, guided park tours, and the historic Fordyce Museum .

Indiana Dunes

Fees: None currently; however, beginning March 31, 2022, prices will be instituted: $25 per private vehicle, $20 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info:ĢżĢżFees will cover a seven-day entry pass.

Isle Royale

Fees: $7 per person
Additional Info: Visitors may pay their entrance fees .

Joshua Tree

Fees: $30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: Visitors can also purchase their weekly entrance passes .

Katmai

Fees: None
Additional Info: None

Kenai Fjords

Fees: None
Additional Info: This park also does not charge .

Kings Canyon

Fees:Ģż$35 per private vehicle, $20 per motorcycle, $20 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info:ĢżAnnual passes, as well as those for vehicles and motorcycles, are .

Kobuk Valley

Fees: None
Additional Info: None

Lake Clark

Fees: None
Additional Info: None

Lassen Volcanic

Fees:Ģż$30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicleĢż
Additional Info:Ģż±õ²Ō decrease in price to $10.

Mammoth Cave

Fees: None (surface activities and trails only)
Additional Info: start at $8 for adults; children age 6 to 12 cost $6, children under 5 are free.

Mesa Verde

Fees: From May 1 to October 31, entrance fees are $30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, and $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: During the winter, entrance fees drop to $20 per private vehicle, $15 per motorcycle, and $10 per person without a vehicle. Annual passes, as well as those for vehicles and motorcycles, areĢż.

Mount Rainier

Fees:Ģż$30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: None

National Park of American Samoa

Fees: None
Additional Info: None

New River Gorge

Fees: None
Additional Info: None

North Cascades

Fees: None
Additional Info: None

Olympic

Fees:Ģż$30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: The park allows visitors to purchase vehicle, annual, and motorcycle passes .

Petrified Forest

Fees:Ģż$25 per private vehicle, $20 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicleĢż
Additional Info: None

Pinnacles

Fees:Ģż$30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicleĢż
Additional Info: To help avoid entrance-station wait times, the park allows visitors to prepurchase passes .

Redwood

Fees: None
Additional Info: The adjoining redwood state parks (Jedediah Smith, Del Norte Coast, and Prairie Creek) collect . Federal pass holders will not be charged.

Rocky Mountain

Fees: Single-day passes cost $25 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicleĢż
Additional Info: Visitors who want a seven-day vehicle pass will be charged $35. Passes may be Ģżin advance. To avoid overcrowding, an entry-ticket system will be implemented this year from May 27 to October 10; travelers have the option to choose a timed window to visit the park, with or without Bear Lake Road. A $2 service fee will be charged per ticket.Ģż±õ²Ō 2021, the park proposed a $, which may take effect this year.

Saguaro

Fees:Ģż$25 per private vehicle, $20 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: The park encourages visitors to pay their entrance fees , to reduce cash transactions.

Sequoia

Fees:Ģż$35 per private vehicle, $30 per motorcycle, $20 per person without a vehicleĢż
Additional Info: Save time at the entrance station by purchasing your vehicle pass .

Shenandoah

Fees:Ģż$30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicleĢż
Additional Info: Beginning March 1, visitors looking to access the Old Rag area will need to reserve an additional ; a $1 nonrefundable reservation fee will be charged per ticket.

Theodore Roosevelt

Fees:Ģż$30 per private vehicle, $25 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicle
Additional Info: Visitors may purchase their entrance passes , to save time at the entry station.

Virgin Islands

Fees: None
Additional Info:ĢżAlthough the park does not charge for general entry, there is a $5 per person (age 16 and above) for Trunk Bay.

Voyageurs

Fees: None
Additional Info: In 2021, there was a for camping and tours.

White Sands

Fees:Ģż$25 per private vehicle, $20 per motorcycle, $15 per person without a vehicleĢż
Additional Info: None

Wind Cave

Fees: None (surface activities and trails only)
Additional Info: Cave tours are available for an . In 2021, there was a for these tours to provide funding for necessary upgrades.

Wrangellā€“St. Elias

Fees: None
Additional Info: None

Yellowstone

Fees:Ģż$35 per private vehicle, $30 per motorcycle, $20 per person without a vehicleĢż
Additional Info: Visitors may purchase their entrance passes in advanceĢż.

Yosemite

Fees:Ģż$35 per private vehicle, $30 per motorcycle, $20 per person without a vehicleĢż
Additional Info: Timed-entry tickets will be required during peak hours, 6 a.m. – 4 p.m., until September 30, and are ($2 per vehicle) beginning at 8 a.m. on March 23.

Zion

Fees:Ģż$35 per private vehicle, $30 per motorcycle, $20 per person without a vehicleĢż
Additional Info:ĢżThis is the first year the park will require an to hike the popular Angels Landing Trail; price is $3 per person, plus a $6 nonrefundable reservation fee.

The post Everything You Need to Know About National Park Entrance Fees appeared first on ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Online.

63 Parks Traveler started with a simple goal: to visit every U.S. national park. Avid backpacker and public-lands nerd saved up, built out a tiny van to travel and live in, and hit the road, practicing COVID-19 best safety protocols along the way. The parks as we know them are rapidly changing, and she wanted to see them before itā€™s too late. Gateway Arch is her 46th park visit.

After a whirlwind of mountainous parks in Alaska, Washington, and California, I arrived in downtown St. Louis, Missouri and parked my van at a meter underneath the highway, confused. By that point, I had become accustomed to national parks as places of refuge from cities, not manicured lawns and manmade lakes within them. In my mind, a national park was defined as a wild expanse set aside to protect natural wonders, cultural resources, and wildlife. I wondered; how had one been established at the center of such urban sprawl?

The 630-foot is a marvel of modern engineering, by any standards. Completed in 1965 and designed by Finnish-American architect Eero Saarinen, the arch towers over the St. Louis skyline. Its height and scale are symbolic of manifest destiny, its futuristic chrome a nod to the space race of the time.

The arch sits on the banks of the Mississippi River and is meant to mark a location near where Meriwether Lewis and William Clark began and ended their (1804 to 1806) of the land acquired in the Louisiana Purchase, bought by President Thomas Jefferson just one year prior.

Visitors to the park can meander the grounds on the paved, 1.6-mile Gateway Arch Trail, which curves around colorful honey locust trees and manmade lakes, offering tremendous views of the arch itself. Thereā€™s also a developed riverfront area, complete with guided riverboat tours, a historic Old Courthouse where the Dred Scott Case was decided, and a recently remodeled underground museum which details the complicated history of westward expansion.

Walking around the park on a hot October afternoon, I found myself appreciating the recent efforts taken to acknowledge how much land had been stolen from Native American tribes as a result of Lewis and Clarkā€™s expedition. The park underwent a five-year, $380 million renovation before reopening in 2018, which includes the addition of with an entire section dedicated to Native land history. But there was also a pang in the pit of my stomach. A befuddled feeling that this didnā€™t feel much like a national park at all.

As one of our newest national parks, the bill to redesignate the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial into Gateway Arch National Park was sponsored in 2017 by, the stateā€™s senior republican senator. But, even in its nascent form, the park struck controversy. Not one month after the bill was proposed, Robert Vogel, acting deputy director of the National Park Service, suggesting that the park would better fit the departmentā€™s definition of a national monument. He cited that ā€œnational parks contain a variety of resources and encompass large land or water areas to help provide adequate protection of the resources.ā€ At a scant 91 acres, Gateway Arch did not fit the bill.

Before the parkā€™s massive reconfiguration, it was a drive-up tourist attraction in the heart of one of Americaā€™s biggest cities. Visitors would hop out of their cars, snap a photo, and leave. The economic advantages of having them stay at least a half day were a tremendous opportunity for the state, one that Curbed likened to a. Surely more money would flow in if they could get a national park designation, too.

President Trump signed the bill into law on February 22, 2018.

I made my way under the arch and onto a sidewalk bordering the Mississippi River, fabled artery of trade for so many centuries. Street performers and horses were panting in the sweltering sunshine while riverboat barkers tried to drum up some business.

ā€œThereā€™s surely a lot of history here,ā€ I thought to myself. ā€œJust donā€™t call it a national park.ā€

63 Parks Traveler Gateway Arch Info

Size: 91 acres

Location: Eastern Missouri

Created in: 1935 (Jefferson National Expansion Memorial), 2018 (National Park)

Best For: Cultural history, short walks, river tours, city views

When to Go: Gateway Arch is a great year-round destination, due to much of the attractions being indoors. Spring (38 to 77 degrees), summer (67 to 90 degrees) and fall (39 to 81 degrees) have the most palatable temperatures.

Mini ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: After exploring the museum, take the (from $12) of Gateway Arch and gaze out at spectacular views of the St. Louis skyline, the Old Courthouse, and the infamous Mississippi River.

Mega ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Go on a (from $21) on a replica 19th-century paddle-wheel riverboat. The park has a variety of brunch, dinner, sightseeing, and specialty tours available for booking, letting park-hoppers tailor-make their visit with the perfect Mississippi River outing.

Ģż

The post Should Gateway Arch Be a National Park? appeared first on ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Online.

63 Parks Traveler started with a simple goal: to visit every U.S. national park. Avid backpacker and public-lands nerd saved up, built out a tiny van to travel and live in, and hit the road, practicing COVID-19 best safety protocols along the way. The parks as we know them are rapidly changing, and she wanted to see them before itā€™s too late. Hot Springs is her 45th park visit.

A bubbling jet of warm water shot through the tub with surprising ferocity while I kicked my feet up, resting them against the smooth porcelain. As if suddenly transported to a world of 1920s starlets, a bathing attendant waited just outside my taut curtain, ready to bring me more towels, ice chips, or cold water. was hardly your typical national park fare. I tilted my mess of red hair back and tried to relax.

Hot Springs, in central Arkansas, is not like other parks. Established in 1832 as ā€œHot Springs Reservation,ā€ the area was set aside by Congress before the concept of a national park even existed. The naturally heated spring water was believed to have medicinal properties, steeped in minerals like calcium, magnesium, and potassium, and for centuries, Natives and tourists alike flocked to the warm pools on the western slope of Hot Springs Mountain to cure their ailments.

At first, the soaking facilities were little more than, perched over individual mountainside springs or tubs carved into the rock. Since then, grand, multi-story structures adorned with mosaic domes and elegant brickwork began to spring up around the turn of the century as the popularity of the baths soared. Today, is still home to eight of the original buildings constructed between 1892 and 1923.

Visiting Hot Springs National Park is more like taking a stroll through time than clomping to the top of some Instagram-worthy summit. After my muscle-relieving soak at Buckstaff Bathhouse, I sauntered down Central Avenue, taking in the impressive historic buildings as I made my way onto the. Lined with carefully lain bricks in a variety of geometric patterns, the promenade was designed to create an aesthetic transition from the bustling spas below to the wooded slopes of the Ouachita Mountains above.

I traversed the rust-colored pathway for a moment before veering off onto the Peak Trail, a half-mile jaunt to the top of Hot Springs Mountain and the 216-foot summit tower of latticed steel that shares its name. As the sun began to dip toward the expectant horizon, I meandered over to a white pagoda and took in panoramic views of the entire city of Hot Springs, stretched out below me and bathed in amber light. Beyond that, the rolling green hills of rural Arkansas seemed to go on forever.

It was anything but a typical day in the park, but as I watched the sky fade from marigold to coral to rosebud, I sensed a deep feeling of calm come over me, one that never would have occurred had I spent the day crushing big miles.

My kinks worked out. My muscles relaxed. My spirit restored.

62 Parks Traveler Hot Springs Info

Size: 5,550 acres

Location: Central Arkansas

Created in: 1832 (Hot Springs Reservation), 1921 (National Park)

Best For: Spa treatments, mineral soaks, historic architecture, short hikes, car camping

When to Go: Spring (40 to 81 degrees) and fall (41 to 86 degrees) have the best temperatures for outdoor exploring and escaping the oppressive heat and humidity of summer months (66 to 94 degrees). Winters (29 to 56 degrees) are generally mild and snow-free.

Where to Stay: If youā€™re looking to splurge, the, located right off Bathhouse Row, is adorned with gorgeous 1875 architectural details and offers traditional bathhouse services at their top-rated spa. If youā€™re looking to camp inside the park, the NPS operates one campground,, which offers full hookups, flush toilets, and picnic tables.

Where to Eat:Ģżon Bathhouse Row, is the worldā€™s first to use thermal spring water as the main ingredient in their ice-cold craft brews. The joint also serves up pub classics like hearty Ā½ lb. burgers and chicken wings.

Mini ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Take a hike! Hot Springs is home to, most of which lead up from the center of all the action ā€“ Bathhouse Row. We recommend the mostly flat, 1.7-mile Hot Springs Mountain Trail for its scenic viewpoints overlooking the surrounding Ouachita Mountains.

Mega ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Pamper yourself at the longest continually-running bathhouse on Bathhouse Row. has been in operation since 1912, and their traditional bathing package set in old-school whirlpool tubs and vapor cabinets (starting at $82) will leave your mind feeling like itā€™s time traveled to the turn of the century and your body feeling relaxed and rejuvenated.

The post Tub Hopping in Hot Springs National Park appeared first on ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Online.

63 Parks Traveler started with a simple goal: to visit every U.S. national park. Avid backpacker and public-lands nerd saved up, built out a tiny van to travel and live in, and hit the road, practicing COVID-19 best safety protocols along the way. The parks as we know them are rapidly changing, and she wanted to see them before itā€™s too late. Yosemite is her 44th park visit.

ā€œIf there had been a National Park Service when the Oā€™Shaughnessy Dam was authorized to be built, there would have been a director who probably would have said, ā€˜Are you absolutely insane?! This is a national park.ā€™ā€

I met up with Shelton Johnson the day before my trip to Yosemite in September 2020, and his words echoed in my head as I meandered around the immense, man-made Hetch Hetchy reservoir on a scorching morning. Considering that he was a decades-long ranger and something of a Yosemite legend after appearing in the Ken Burns national parks documentary, I talked to Johnson outside his Mariposa, California, home before even setting foot in the park.

ā€œYosemite is the cradle for the national park idea,ā€ Johnson, 63, said. ā€œIndirectly, John Muirā€™s failure [to protect Hetch Hetchy] became a success story for the Park Service, because it showed why we needed to have an agency.ā€

And what a failure it was. I had been to the park nearly a dozen times before, but had never been able to bring myself to the shores of Hetch Hetchy. The idea of it seemed too painful. Once a stunning basin touted as being more beautiful than its more famous cousin to the south, Yosemite Valley, the development of Hetch Hetchy Ģżto provide drinking water to the City of San Francisco. It was a blemish on the entire notion of a national parkā€”the idea that these places were to be protected for the peopleā€™s enjoyment, forever.

Sure, the sapphire water looked inviting, but beneath its surface lay a more complicated past; the U.S. Army and Park Supervisors alone were not sufficient to defend against threats from Washington on a legislative level. The parks needed an agency to champion them from within the government, an agency that did not exist until 1916, decades after the first national parks had been created.

ā€œIf it happens in Yosemite, then why not in Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon?ā€ said Johnson. ā€œBut if thereā€™s a director, if thereā€™s an agency, then the director of that agency can stand there and say, ā€˜Are you insane?ā€™ Itā€™s all a question of who gets to say, ā€˜Are you insane?ā€™ā€

Were they insane? I found myself wondering the very same question as I wiped droplets of sweat from my brow on the five-mile hike out to Wapama Falls, a 1,000-foot-tall cascade that would have been bursting at the seams in spring, but was now a dry jumble of rock. Visitors arenā€™t even allowed to swim or boat in the reservoir. Why create a park only to pick off its resources one by one as though it were a common junk sale?

The thought lingered with me all afternoon, as I drove to Tuolumne Meadows, the parkā€™s higher elevation alpine hub, and crunched my boots onto the seven-mile trail to Lower Cathedral Lake, a natural tarn fed by streams and snowmelt set at the base of a toothy granite mountain. With a through Gates of the Arctic, one of our countryā€™s last truly wild places, it burdened my heart to know that the battle is not yet won. The conversation around how and why we protect or develop our national parks is, sadly, ongoing.

There was still a lot to love about Yosemite, though. Long touted as a mecca for big-wall climbers, the park is consistently in the top ten most visited parks and revered for its breathtaking valleys, secluded alpine meadows, and miles of glacially-carved granite. As a long-time Californian, it was the place I went when I needed an escape, begging nature to rock me out of my frazzled mind.

When I stared up at the spired summit of 10,912-foot Cathedral Peak in the amber glow of sunset, I felt a strange mix of immense gratitude and stalwart duty. Grateful to be alive in a time when I could enjoy so many of Americaā€™s natural wonders and fiercely obligated to help fight for them for the rest of my short life.

63 Parks Traveler Yosemite Info

Size: 759,620 acres

Location: Central California

Created in: 1864 (Yosemite Grant), 1890 (national park)

Best For: Hiking, rock climbing, backpacking, waterfall viewing, car camping, big vistas

When to Go: Yosemiteā€™s two most touristed areas are at vastly different elevations. Access to Tuolumne Meadows via Tioga Road is, while Yosemite Valley is accessible year-round. Spring (31 to 73 degrees) is the best time for waterfalls, summer (47 to 90 degrees) brings crowds and great hiking weather, fall (30 to 84 degrees) is when rock climbers come out in full force, and winter (25 to 53 degrees) is often snowy and mob-free, even in the valley. (Temperatures provided are for Yosemite Valley.)

Where to Stay: If youā€™re looking to splurge on a nearby hotel, is the best of the bunch and conveniently located to Yosemite Valley and Tioga Road. Similarly, if you can nab a coveted spot, the are nestled right under Half Dome and have some seriously striking views.

Mini ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Hike to. This moderate, seven-mile trek begins at Tuolumne Meadow and is an epic way to see some of the parkā€™s most unique features up closeā€”idyllic alpine lakes and craggy granite peaks.

Mega ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Go on an. As one of the largest national parks in the lower 48, Yosemite is ripe with opportunities to really get out into the wilderness. Popular itineraries include: Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne, Ten Lakes, and the loop.

Ģż

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63 Parks Traveler started with a simple goal: to visit every U.S. national park. Avid backpacker and public-lands nerd saved up, built out a tiny van to travel and live in, and hit the road, practicing COVID-19 best safety protocols along the way. The parks as we know them are rapidly changing, and she wanted to see them before itā€™s too late. North Cascades is her 43rd park visit.

The air hung thick like dirty pudding and stank of burnt rubber as I made my way out of the roadside pullout I was camped in. It seemed the apocalyptic wildfire smoke I had been hearing about for weeks had finally caught up to me, and it was not pretty. The West Coast was experiencing an unprecedented fire season, one that had already scorched millions of acres and killed dozens of people. It was barely mid-September. The year? 2020.

I couldnā€™t hike like that. The air quality was well into the hazardous zone, and simply standing outside felt like sucking down a dingy pack of cigarettes. The sky itself, the one thing we can count on to nourish usā€”toxic. I was devastated. I rolled my van into a Motel 6 near Tacoma, checked into a basic room, jumped into the shower, and promptly began sobbing. Global warming felt deeply personal now, a kick to the gut that threatened to take away the things I love most in this world.

I hunkered down for three long days, watching the smoke-drenched sun glow an opaque, tanning-bed orange. Reluctantly, I realized I needed to explore the park, smoke or not, so I crawled back into the van and drove north.

North Cascades, in northern Washington, is largely designated as a wilderness park, expressly set aside to remain untrammeled by man, but there is one road, North Cascades Scenic Highway, that cuts through the center of it, bisecting the north and south units. Smoke be damned, I wanted to swan dive straight into the heart of the area and see what conditions were like.

My journey started at Gorge Dam, faintly visible in the morning veil of white smoke. Next, I cruised over to Diablo Lake in the eerie gray light to take in what was supposed to be one of the most famous views in the Cascadesā€”a shimmering turquoise lagoon perfectly framing Davis Peak. Only, the peak was nowhere to be found. I was adrift in a sea of white ash and muck that filled the air, gazing down at fuzzy little islets. My heart sank. There was no choice but to return to the motel in hopes of better weather tomorrow.

Sometimes, all it takes is a simple turn of events to make it feel like Mother Nature is working her magic in your favor. I woke the next morning and saw an actual sunbeam gleaming brightly onto the wooden banister outside my window. The weather gods had answered my prayers.Ģż

Ready for an epic hike, I set off towards the eastern edge of the park, winding through old growth conifers and parking my van at the Rainy Pass Trailhead. The plan was to hike the 7.2-mile Heather-Maple Pass Loop, and the clean mountain air couldnā€™t have been more perfect. I started up a series of shaded switchbacks, detouring to lovely Lake Ann, throwing a quiet party in her brilliant autumn color shift.

From then on, it was straight up to the pass, switchback after breathless switchback, each turn somehow yielding more spectacular views than the last. I gazed out over a land ripe with craggy summits, occasional pops of fall color heightening the spectacle to near-utopian. The sun was warm, the maples had just turned crimson, and, far off, I could make out the high, glaciated peaks of the North Cascade Range, glittering like silent deities.

I didnā€™t want to leave. I wanted to wrap myself inside that moment forever until modern life melted away. I sat at the top of the ridgeline for a long while, remembering the smoke, the often tenuous nature of our joy on this planet, and why it is so critical that we fight for the things we care about, like clean air and feral landscapes.

After four days in a world without sun, this literal breath of fresh air was precisely the thing I needed. A gentle reminder that, yes, light will return, even after the darkest days.

62 Parks Traveler North Cascades Info

Size: 684,303 acres

Location: Northern Washington

Created in: 1968 (national park)

Best For: Backpacking, hiking, mountaineering, star gazing, fishing, car camping

When to Go: Summer (49 to 77 degrees) and fall (36 to 70 degrees) offer perfect backpacking/hiking weather, and summer months have the least precipitation. Winter (31 to 45 degrees) and Spring (34 to 65 degrees) often see much of the park buried in snow, and Highway 20 is generally closed mid-November to April.

Where to Stay:, located right on the shore of stunning Diablo Lake has a boat launch, flush toilets, a small beach, and wooded campsites with some privacy. Thereā€™s also easy access to several phenomenal hiking trails, right from camp.

Mini ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Hike the 7.2-mile. If youā€™ve only got one day in the North Cascades, this is the hike to do. Trek to Lake Ann, catch a glimpse of the high glaciated peaks, and traverse a narrow ridgeline surrounded by mountains as far as the eye can see.

Mega ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Go backpacking. Though the wildfire smoke ruined my plans for an overnight trek, the North Cascades are best explored overnight. A popular option is hiking up Cascade Pass, then checking out Black Warrior Mine and the.

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63 Parks Traveler started with a simple goal: to visit every U.S. national park. Avid backpacker and public-lands nerd saved up, built out a tiny van to travel and live in, and hit the road, practicing COVID-19 best safety protocols along the way. The parks as we know them are rapidly changing, and she wanted to see them before itā€™s too late. Mount Rainier is her 42nd park visit.

Mount Rainier stands out like a shining, white beacon against the Seattle skyline. As the tallest peak in the state (at 14,410 feet) and the most glaciated in the lower 48, it flaunts a platonic ideal of what a mountain should look like in any seasonā€”rocky, snow-capped, and, most importantly, massive.

I had come to the park wanting to solo backpack a portion of its fabled Wonderland Trail, a 93-mile loop that circumnavigates the peak, but with wildfire smoke bearing down on the Pacific Northwest and the exhaustion of months on the road suddenly hitting me, I knew it was time to slow down. ā€œYou canā€™t epic all the time,ā€ I thought to myself as I perused a park map in search of more moderate day hikes to fill my visit. Even though my mind wanted to push hard, my body was saying no.

My van, Gizmo, shook violently as I traversed the sixteen-mile washboard road up to Mowich Lake, Rainier hovering like an apparition on the horizon. Donning my pack and trekking poles, I shimmied onto the, a six-mile singletrack that promised a waterfall and majestic views. Boots to earth, I began to meander through a forest of hemlock and Douglas fir.

A series of switchbacks left me breathless and drained, and just when I thought I couldnā€™t go on, I rounded a corner and found myself face-to-face with a glorious meadow, full of tufted, white cotton-grass. Mount Rainier glowed bright amber as it popped up from behind a stand of subalpine fir. I took one long, last look before chasing the dying light back downhill through the trees.

After a chilly night in the van, I rose at six to nab a coveted parking spot at , one of the parkā€™s most popular and view-filled areas. John Muir once called it ā€œthe most luxuriant and most extravagantly beautiful of all the alpine gardens I ever beheld in all my mountain-top wanderings,ā€ a quote which is emblazoned across the stone steps that visitors ascend as they hike out of the parking lot.

My second dayā€™s mission was the 5.5-mile Skyline Trail, and as I started up the paved path, I began to understand what Muir meant. Small signs bearing the names of different wildflowers bordered the walkway, creating a classroom experience while I hiked.

At the trailā€™s apex, Panorama Point, I could make out the staggering hugeness of the Nisqually Glacier as it cracked and flowed down the volcanoā€™s slope, as though poured from a giant cement truck and frozen in place. The sheer size of it floored me. Feeling invigorated and giddy, I practically skipped along the downhill slope back to my van, passing a fluffy mountain goat and several marmots on the way.

I capped off the trip with a short meditation at Reflection Lake, one of the parkā€™s most photographed spots. Sure, I didnā€™t have an epic, but it didnā€™t matter. I filled my lungs with crisp mountain air and slowly exhaled, feeling stilled and grateful that thereā€™s no one right way to see a park.

62 Parks Traveler Mount Rainier Info

Size: 236,381 acres

Location: Western Washington, about two hours from Seattle

Created in: 1899 (national park)

Best For: Hiking, backpacking, mountaineering, snowshoeing, wildflower viewing, car camping

When to Go: Summer (36 to 65 degrees) is the best month for flower gazing, while fall (25 to 58 degrees) boasts great hiking weather as well. Spring (24 to 49 degrees) is still snowy at altitude, while winter (21 to 36 degrees) is perfect for snow play at Paradise.

Where to Stay: Whether youā€™re just landing in SeaTac or coming off a long trail in the park, is a surprisingly nature-filled haven with chic rooms, cozy beds, great food, an organic garden, and tantalizing post-hike spa treatments.

Mini ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Hike the. If youā€™ve only got one day in the park, this 5.5-mile trek out of the Paradise area checks all the boxesā€”big vistas, stunning wildflower displays, and a Polaroid-worthy moment of Mount Rainier hovering above Myrtle Falls.

Mega ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų: Backpack the. Most hikers take 7 to 14 days to complete this beast of a 93-mile trek. It circles Mount Rainier and passes through dozens of breathtaking alpine meadows and forests of fir and hemlock along the way. If you go, plan ahead! The are notorious for selling out months in advance.

Ģż

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