Somewhere around the second week of October, the American travel machine points itself at New England, lets the national parks empty out, and starts drafting gift guides. Death Valley National Park spends that same week quietly turning its lights back on. The Inn at Furnace Creek, dark through the worst of the heat, reopens for … Read more
The first time fall genuinely ambushed me, I was a mile below a Blue Ridge overlook with twenty minutes of usable light left and a headlamp that had been in my pack, untouched, since spring. It clicked on at quarter power, blinked its little death pulse twice, and quit somewhere around the second switchback. I … Read more
I’ll never forget my first real meteor shower. I was twelve, lying on a deflated air mattress in the back of my dad’s pickup truck, somewhere deep in the Oregon high desert. The sky was so thick with stars it looked like someone had spilled salt on black velvet. And then — a streak. Then … Read more
I’ve been to a lot of national parks. I’ve driven the Going-to-the-Sun Road, hiked into the Grand Canyon, and watched Old Faithful from a bench surrounded by three hundred strangers. But nothing prepared me for a park where you can’t actually go anywhere without a boat. That’s Voyageurs National Park — 218,000 acres of northern … Read more
I’d been driving east on US-50 through Nevada for two hours without passing a single gas station, restaurant, or town worth more than a paragraph in a guidebook. My Celestron SkyMaster binoculars rode shotgun, ready for the dark skies ahead. The highway stretched ahead like a gray ribbon unspooling across alkali flats, and my phone … Read more
There’s a moment that happens about two hours after sunset in Great Basin National Park, somewhere around 9,000 feet elevation, when the last trace of twilight bleeds out of the sky and the Milky Way detonates overhead like someone cracked open the universe. I’d driven six hours from Salt Lake City to see it, and … Read more