Sunday, July 17, 2011
Every summer, it seems, I am reminded of something I always think I will never forget.
For the past several years, I have made a point every summer of visiting a national park. Living in Utah, which is blessed with five of these most beautiful and amazing places, this is a relatively easy task.
Last year, I spent several days with my sons hiking and camping in what has become one of my favorite parks: Capitol Reef. Not only does Capitol Reef sport some of the most breathtaking canyons I have ever seen, but it is, at least from my perspective, a relatively less used park. Sometimes solitude is nice. In Capitol Reef, I have found myself on many hikes, for hours, with no one but those in my party. Add to this the chance to see ancient rock art, find desert creatures like snakes and lizards, and partake of a searing summer heat, and I can think of few places that make a nicer getaway for a few days from the city. (It also doesn't hurt that the nearby town of Torrey also features some amazing food.)
This past week, I camped with my sons as part of my wife's family reunion in Yellowstone. It has been almost two decades since I was there last, in a frigid winter to snowmobile. Two things immediately overtook me as we drove in through West Yellowstone in a misting rain turning to dusk. I was reminded of just how gorgeous the place is; there is a reason why it was the first national park. And I realized how each of these parks has their own personality, their own story to tell. Capitol Reef and Yellowstone could not be much more different, but I love them both.
Toward the end of the trip, as I looked into the brilliant turquoise and coral pools at Mammoth Hot Springs, I contemplated this. I recalled Prof. Daniels' comment from earlier this year about why he got into environmental law in the first place, and how each of us has our own back-story about why we did too. For me, I realized, much of it is bound up in my childhood, and part of that was a trip I took when I was about the age of one of my sons to this same park. I recall standing face to face with a bison; I remember hiking into the aspen with my father; I see clearly in my mind the awe I felt then, that I feel now.
As we drove out of the park, having just hiked Geyser Hill near Old Faithful, we came into a valley. We were on our way out, and on its way in was a lone gray wolf, undisturbed, traversing the greens, following the Gibbon River to the trees.
Once again, I was reminded. I was so glad I was.