First Impressions of North Cascades National Park

My visits to our national parks always seem to coincide with some special moment in my life. It feels like I discover a new park exactly when I need it. My first trip to North Cascades National Park was no different.  

My roommate, Patrick, and our friend, Tim, already knew what was waiting for me beyond the boundary of the park. Weeks before, they made a road trip to this secluded gem a few hours northeast of Seattle. Thankfully, they didn’t spoil anything for me. They did prepare me for the awe and wow awaiting my arrival.  

On a crystal-clear day, we filled Tim’s car with our camera/hiking bags. Our plan was to hike up to one of the many lakes in the park, and then make a few stops to grab some photos.  

As we made our way toward the park, highway noise was slowly replaced with passing trees and rushing water. Consumed in an endless sea of evergreens, I could feel my excitement level rising. I love our national parks, but tackling a new adventure with two of my best friends made this time even more special.  

As we crossed a metal bridge to fully enter the park, I was stunned into disbelief. With each new mile, I saw a buffet of deep valleys, tree-lined mountains, and aqua blue water. At first, it didn’t feel real. It still doesn’t. It also felt gluttonous to have so much beauty in my backyard. How did three guys get so lucky?  

After a quick drive through the park, we arrived at our trailhead right off State Route 20. Shoving cameras, snacks, and water deep into our packs, we began slowly climbing toward a lake a few miles away.  

An hour later, we arrived at our destination. To our surprise, we had this little slice of heaven to ourselves. We snapped photos, ate, and laughed. In every direction, there were vistas demanding our attention and practically begging to be forever enshrined in photographs. To the best of our ability, we obliged.  

Hungry for more, we made our way back to the car. From there, we headed to an overlook that was supposed to provide great angles of the jagged peaks and the highway running through the park. After that, we headed toward the world-famous Diablo Lake. Both stops left my jaw on the ground. As a simple kid from the flatlands of Oklahoma, I was not used to so much beauty. I didn’t know the Earth could do things I was seeing before me. I considered myself beyond blessed to be standing in the shadow of so much bounty.  

After snapping hundreds of photos, we decided it was time to head back toward civilization and Seattle. As we rode the curves through the park, the windshield seemed like a movie screen displaying scenes from Planet Earth in 8K resolution. Once again, I considered myself lucky to have such a treasure in my backyard.  

Years after our trip, I would learn that North Cascades National Park is the least visited park in the state. In 2023, just 40,351 people (about twice the seating capacity of Madison Square Garden) visited the park. In Washington State, Mt. Rainier and Olympic National Parks rightfully steal the show. I understand the attention they receive, but in my heart of hearts, I feel North Cascades National Park is one of the most beautiful in the entire park system.  

But the lack of crowds is also one of the park’s many selling points. It is never crowded and unspoiled by people who can never fully appreciate it. Those who choose to visit this park are choosing to go out of their way to do so. When they do, I know many of them walk away with a feeling like mine. If you choose to make the journey, prepare yourself. You will be truly amazed.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

Captured: Sequoia National Park

Have you ever walked among giants? Have you ever thought, “No picture will ever do this place justice?” Did you try to capture what was before you anyways? Then you know Sequoia National Park and the challenges surrounding attempting to capture one of America’s most famous parks.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

First Impressions of Olympic National Park

Not far from my former apartment in the Alki Beach neighborhood of Seattle, I used to walk along the shoreline and stare in awe across Puget Sound. On a clear day, the majesty of the Olympic Mountain range would sparkle and beckon me westward. Even when my schedule would forbid me from hiking her trails or camping on her vast beaches, the call to visit remained steadfast.  

I don’t recall my first visit to Olympic National Park. It was either a hike near Lake Crescent, or it might have been a hike down to Shi Shi Beach. For our purposes here, I will combine the two destinations. I think you will get a better sense of what makes Washington’s peninsula so special.  

From downtown Seattle, you can take the ferry to either Bainbridge Island or Bremerton. If a ferry isn’t enticing, you can drive to Tacoma and take the bridge to Gig Harbor. This choice will make the southern part of the park more easily accessible.  

Lake Crescent is 17 miles from Port Angeles. Shi Shi Beach is near the most northwest point of the peninsula. Driving the winding roads to both locations, you will be fully engulfed in an endless sea of trees, as waves of every shade of green fill every vista within your reach. Every so often, there is a break in the greenery, and you can catch a glimpse of water. These rare openings offer an opportunity to appreciate the environmental conditions that make this rainforest so unique.  

At both locations, I was struck by the churchlike silence and stillness. Far removed from the hustle and bustle of Seattle, there are few crowds to contend with, and tranquil seclusion can be found around every corner.    

Lake Crescent feels pristine and otherworldly. Sitting near the northern edge of the Olympic Mountains and carved by glaciers, the lake is the perfect mixture of towering mountains, evergreen trees, and a mirror-like lake. In many ways, Lake Crescent is a photographer’s paradise. This held true for me during my visit. I could have spent hours trekking around her shoreline, blissfully snapping photos, finding new angles, and trying to capture an awe-inspiring sense of beauty. But photos will never do this place justice. It is meant to be experienced firsthand.  

I have filled the internet with extensive essays about what makes Shi Shi Beach so special to me. I have hiked her shores three times and camped twice. Each experience has been rejuvenating. These experiences have also seemed to find me exactly when I needed them. Much like Lake Crescent, Shi Shi Beach is secluded and far away from the typical national park crowds. Hikers and campers mostly stick to themselves. Everyone seems focused on the same things. We all seem pulled in this direction for peace and quiet, to meditate on life, and to chase some sort of change. It is an exceptional place for me. It is a place I know I will return to again and again.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

First Impressions of Mount Rainier National Park

In Seattle, we often ask each other, “Is the mountain out?” If the answer is yes, we know it will be a picture-perfect postcard day. If not, we know we are in store for more gloomy weather.  

Throughout much of the fall and winter, the answer is almost always a resounding, “no.” Then, sort of like clockwork, somewhere in the middle of April, the mountain emerges from her slumber. You will find yourself crossing the West Seattle Bridge, driving south on Interstate 5, or down Rainier Avenue, and you catch sight of Mount Rainier. Standing tall and strong like a lighthouse, it beckons you to come and see.  

On my first trip to Mount Rainier National Park, I wanted to avoid crowded spots like Paradise and Sunrise. There is nothing wrong with choosing to visit these locations. Everyone should at some point, but be warned. They are popular, and parking is a battle won by travelers who are more patient than me.  

Instead, I hoped to find a decent trail with spectacular and awe-inspiring views of the mountain far from the crowds. Writing this more than a decade after my first visit, I find it impossible to remember the name of the trail we hiked. I do remember driving down a forest service road for 20 to 30 minutes, with clouds of dust and rock filling the air behind my car. We drove so far that my friend and I started to think we must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.  

When we arrived at an empty parking lot, the worried moments melted away. This was the solitude I needed. From the safety of the parking lot, we traced the zigzags of the trail down to a rushing river. From far above, it looked like a few miles of switchbacks before we could soak our feet in freezing water.  

With packs snapped into place, I locked the car and we walked away. For an hour or so, we hiked downhill. Quickly, we settled into the routine of heading in one direction, turning, switching, and then heading the other direction. For an hour, we repeated this pattern. Then, we finally poked through the trees and stepped out onto a small beach next to the river.  

For another hour, we snacked, played in the water, and relaxed. Sitting there in the moment, I looked upstream. With wide eyes, I soaked up the grand landscape before me and the might of Mount Rainier. Then and there, something changed in me. A seed was planted. I didn’t want to just hike these trails. I wanted to document my experiences. I wanted to share them with the world in hopes of inspiring people to get outside and share in the splendor of nature. Thinking of the possibilities, I smiled at the prospect of this new creative outlet.  

Following no trace rules, we cleaned up our makeshift camp, snapped our packs back into place, and began the arduous journey back up to my car. The return journey took twice as long and required more breaks. Then and there, I learned a valuable lesson about myself. I prefer to begin a journey by hiking up a trail much more than ending that way.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

First Impressions of Death Valley National Park

Death Valley National Park is infamous. From its raging heat to its barren landscape, its reputation shapes whatever you might think of this place. Some of those rumors and second-hand experiences might be true, but nothing can prepare you for your first visit.  

Driving from our home in North Hollywood, it was a four-and-a-half-hour drive to the park’s entrance. Hoping to escape the heat, we chose to visit in December. Even in late fall, the temperature still landed between 75 and 80 degrees.  

As you leave the coastal landscape of the Los Angeles basin and head northeast toward the park, which sits near the Nevada border, the view outside your window begins to change rapidly. Green lawns and palm trees slowly begin to fade. The landscape morphs into something more mountainous, arid, ominous, and sparsely populated. Driving toward the Furnace Creek Visitor Center, I was both excited and shocked by the change I witnessed through my windshield.  

Nothing can prepare you for the sheer size of Death Valley National Park. Coming in at 3,000 square miles (about twice the size of Rhode Island), the park is vast, open, and contains more to see and do than you can imagine.  

On this trip, we headed toward Golden Canyon, Gower Gulch, and the Badlands Loop. For some odd reason, I wanted to hike through a landscape that matched my preconceived notions of Death Valley. My choice did not disappoint.  

For hours, my partner and I hiked among the gold-colored hills. We explored narrow canyons and ridges opening to the vast expanse of the park. Beneath our feet, the Earth cracked and baked in the fall Sun. The ground felt like more than just a helpless victim of our star’s violence. It seemed like a painted canvas demanding to be explored. The hills and canyons offered privacy and seclusion. Among them, staying on course was often rewarded with views of impressive mountain ranges and open spaces of indescribable beauty.  

As we arrived back at my car, I found myself overjoyed and dismayed. I felt joy for the reward of such a special place. I felt dismayed, because I knew I had only scratched the surface of this place. As we began our journey back to Los Angeles, I made a promise. This would not be my final visit to this park. There is still so much to explore.  

 Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

First Impressions of Zion National Park

My love for a great road trip across America is well documented. As I sit here reminiscing about a trip to Zion National Park, it seems almost all my visits to America’s national parks have been the result of a road trip. This is perhaps a theme worthy of deeper exploration.  

My friend Tim had a plan. We would drive from Los Angeles to Zion National Park. Once there, we would spend a few days hiking and taking photos. After communing with nature, we would spend a night in Las Vegas before heading home.  

I am not the friend who often says the word “no”. In fact, I try to avoid it at all costs. If I can afford it and it doesn’t bring harm to me or anyone else, I am usually down for almost anything. This trip didn’t require a lot of convincing.  

Before the trip to Zion, I had been on countless photography and hiking trips with Tim. When I first moved to Seattle in 2011, I met Time and his partner, JR, through my work. It took some coaxing on their part, but when we finally made it work, we became fast friends.  

Instantly, Tim and I bonded over our love of photography, hiking, and a good old-fashioned road trip. With my good friend and roommate, Patrick, in tow, we would drive for hours snapping photos, crushing trails, and exploring Washington State.  

When Tim and JR moved from Seattle to Long Beach, CA, my partner, Brandon, and I weren’t far behind. With moving boxes still packed and in town for less than a month, Tim and I were on a road trip. Six months later, we found ourselves driving toward Zion National Park.  

After years of hiking and photographing the forests and vistas of Washington State, I was slightly ambivalent about finding beauty in the deserts of California and southern Utah. Shortly after my arrival, Joshua Tree National Park changed my mind. Zion cemented my belief that there is something strangely odd, peaceful, and beautiful about the desert.  

Zion is unlike any other place I have been. The park itself is compact and easily accessible. Cars don’t crowd the roads inside the park. Instead, shuttle buses drive guests to various points throughout the park. For anyone who has driven through Yellowstone or Yosemite, this is a welcome change.  

Shortly after our arrival, Tim and I placed our bags in our rooms. Within the hour, we had camera bags in hand. For hours, we hiked, snapped photos, and challenged ourselves to find unique angles. We were attempting to capture the park in ways missed by others.  

On this cool April day, the park was showing off. The reddish hue of the mountains was exploding with color. Green filled the valley with promise, and every vista stole our breath. In a couple of hours, we snapped hundreds of photos.  

The next day, I solo hiked up to an overlook. From the rim of the valley, I could almost see the entire park. Sitting there, rationing water, I felt both insignificant and small. When exploring nature, these are my two favorite feelings in the world. As you continue to read this series, this will be a common theme. As will my appreciation for the special places that comprise our national park system. It is an unoriginal thought, but I must echo it anyway. The park system is America’s best idea.

After another night in Zion, Tim and I drove to Las Vegas. The dissonance between these two locations was not lost on me.  

I didn’t know it at the time, but this trip and a road trip later in the fall up the coast of California would be my final trips with my friend. Tim died of a heart attack in early 2019. I was devastated to lose him. In many ways, I still am. At least, I have moments such as this trip. I will never forget the hours spent talking, laughing, listening to music, snapping photos, hiking, and exploring. Every day, I am thankful for the gifts of his friendship.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

First Impressions of Grand Canyon National Park

Jordan, Matt Patt, and I knew all the stops along the way. Rick, at his request, did not. As a graduation gift, we offered him this only clue, “God, Man, Godlessness.” Beyond those three words, we offered no other hints.  

With bags stuffed into the trunk of my yellow Mitsubishi Lancer, we drove west. The first hint of our destination revealed itself.  

For hours, we drove on I-40 from Oklahoma City toward Arizona. If you have ever had the fortune of driving this interstate, you know that things can quickly become monotonous. Oklahoma and Texas are flat for as far as the eye can see. New Mexico shines with the setting sun. It isn’t until you cross into Arizona that you get a sense of the possibilities before you.  

With each new state line, Rick’s mind attempted to piece the puzzle together. Thinking on “God, Man, and Godlessness,” I hoped he was readying himself for the awe of our first stop. Being fully aware of our destination, my excitement was difficult to contain. This journey to the Grand Canyon would be my first visit to the park. Beyond knowing the destination, the vastness and inspiration that define the park for so many people would be brand new to me. Like most people, I only knew of the Grand Canyon from photographs and books. I knew this brief trip would not be enough. A couple of hours in the park would be just the beginning. Nevertheless, I was thankful for the opportunity.  

After hours and hours of driving, we finally entered the park. As we did, Rick got his first sense of what we meant by “God.” Parked in an overcrowded lot near the Southern entrance, we walked toward the rim. Nothing in this world can prepare you for the first time you stare into the canyon. No picture does it justice. It is indescribable. Even today, almost two decades later, words fail me. It took my breath away and left me stunned.  

In every direction I looked, I found myself frozen in awe. I am not a religious man, but this was one of those rare instances where I felt some higher power.  

For a couple of hours, we explored the rim with dreams of what it might mean to traverse the canyon floor. Matt and I snapped photos. Jordan and Rick explored on their own. It was this trip that unlocked a deep love for photography. This hobby has taken me across the country and around the globe. It has opened doors and provided the foundation for friendships I will forever cherish. I love attempting to capture the beauty I see in this world in a frame.  

With a constant tick of the clock in the back of our minds, we pulled away from the park. We began traveling toward our next destination. As we did, I made a quiet promise to return to this special place. While I have yet to fulfill that promise, the magnificence of the Grand Canyon still beckons me from America’s great southwest.  

For a few more hours, we drove toward the Hoover Dam. Here, we experienced the exceptional power of “Man.” From there, we drove toward Las Vegas. There, we experienced “Godlessness.” When all was said and done, I had cherished memories of a road trip I will never forget.  

 Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

First Impressions of The Great Smoky Mountains National Park

With forty pounds of camping and hiking gear strapped to my back, I began reconsidering what had delivered me to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Watching sweat pour from my best friend’s head, I can see he is considering the same thought.  

Standing in this space, outside of my car, took months of planning and scheming, but it all began with a red envelope from Netflix.  

I don’t know what made me add Into the Wild to my Netflix queue. As a Pearl Jam fan, perhaps I learned Eddie Vedder contributed to the soundtrack. As a fan of Sean Penn’s work, maybe I wanted to see the product of his work as a director. Whatever drew me to this film, I would never be the same.  

It might sound hyperbolic, but this is one of those films that changed the entire course of my life. It opened the door to the idea of moving to Seattle. It planted seeds for an idea that would morph into an attempted thru-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail. It made me deeply question society and what I wanted out of life. It also gave birth to an unforgettable road trip stretching from Oklahoma to the Smoky Mountains to Washington, D.C. to New York and back home again.  

As soon as the credits rolled, we began scheming. It was instantaneous. Over the next few days, we devised a plan. We wanted to get outside. We wanted to explore. We wanted to reconnect with ourselves and do so with nothing more than the tools on our back. After countless hours of conversation, we decided on the Smoky Mountains. From there, we would explore our nation’s capital and her biggest metropolis. The last stops seemed like a natural contradiction and a fitting period at the end of a life-affirming trip.  

Over the next six months, we trained as best as we could. Oklahoma is flat. Training is hard in such a place. We researched gear, spent hours in conversation with friends who knew hiking better than we did, and gobbled up everything we could find about backpacking in the Smoky Mountains.  

Before we knew it, I packed my little yellow car with gear. We drove east with tax refund checks, burning holes in our pockets and the promise of adventure. As we drove through Memphis toward Knoxville, the scenery grew greener and more mountainous. The landscape was changing dramatically, and soon we would too.  

Parked at a ranger’s station, we picked a simple and unassuming trail; something perfect for two boys from Oklahoma. Hours later, we found ourselves parked at a trailhead. With gear loaded on our backs, we walked away from my car into our own version of the wild. What waited for us on the other side changed my entire life.  

Many things about this trip did not go according to plan. Hiking around the Smoky Mountains was more strenuous than we thought. I locked my keys in my car at a campsite on the second night. My camera didn’t survive a creek crossing. We missed our train from D.C. to New York. Matt Patt ran out of money somewhere in Pennsylvania during the return home.  

Despite these challenges, I remained changed. A deep love of travel was unlocked. A desire to explore all our national parks became a personal goal. On this journey, I found the courage to leap beyond my expectations. Over the course of the next three years, I would do exactly that as I began writing a new story in Seattle.  

My first impression of the Smoky Mountains is simple. It is a national park that changed my life, and I can never repay it.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan 

Captured: Glacier National Park

Of all the National Parks I have visited, Glacier National Park feels the most special and awe-inspiring. It is one of those places on Planet Earth that pictures don’t do justice. That didn’t stop me from trying.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

Captured: North Cascades National Park

North Cascades National Park is one of those places I want everyone to know about, but I want to keep completely to myself. It is a place of outstanding beauty with vistas defying description. I have lived in Washington for a long time and I have visited the park more times than I count. Each time, it leaves me astounded.

Be good to each other,

Nathan