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  

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  

Things Stolen from Us, Part I

Time feels like watching paint dry. Christmas always feels forever away, and my birthday isn’t much better. Then, in an instant, you look backward to discover how much has escaped you. It feels like a small puddle falling victim to the sun on a hot summer day. My youth is stolen from me, and I found myself thrust into adulthood with little regard to my desire to slow everything down.  

With a mountain of responsibility resting on my exhausted shoulders, I find myself staring intently into the bathroom mirror. At the edges of eyes, written across my forehead, and drawn drastically between my cheeks and mouth, wrinkles are beginning to form. They give away my age before I ever utter a word. Staring a little longer, there are days when my face feels like the clay of the desert floor being baked by the harshest of the sun’s rays. Cracks are spreading in every direction.  

Silent strands of gray hair are making themselves known like an uninvited guest at a party I had no intention of hosting. Without permission, they are sneaking into a forest of brown and pretending I do not notice. At the right angle, I find them hiding in plain sight. Still, I must count myself lucky in this regard. I still have hair.  

Rising each morning, my body hurts in new and fascinating places. My back no longer belongs to Atlas. Prone to fits of spasm, it serves as a constant reminder of the time slipping through my fingers. Heading north or south and stretching in all directions from my lower back, you will find a hundred destinations revealing my mortality.  

As I drew closer to my 40th birthday, I found myself only partly in a celebratory mood. Mostly, I kept tossing the same idea back and forth. I am closer to 80 than the day I was born.  

Friends are beginning to fall ill. A few unlucky ones have passed away. Each serve as a thundering reminder that my days are numbered. If I am lucky, I can double what I have managed thus far. In the grand scheme of things, this still does not seem like enough time. If I am honest, the end absolutely terrifies me.
Time is being stolen from me, and I am helpless to stop it.  

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  

Point B (15/15): The Destination That Changed Me

Travel solo. Travel solo, at least once in your life. If you are in the United States, take a road trip across your home state. Drive across this beautiful country of ours. Fly somewhere new or fly somewhere familiar, but do it alone. Book a plane ticket and head for some place your feet have never touched before.

I know the fear you may be feeling reading such a paragraph. I know the nightmare scenarios your mind may be exploring. I feel your anxiety. I have been there too, but I need you to trust me.

Traveling solo is an act of bravery that will change you. If travel can be boiled down to the act of moving from Point A to Point B, I am here to tell you that the person you meet at your destination after traveling solo will be brand new. By doing so, you will discover a braver, more capable, and confident version of yourself. Forced to depend solely on yourself, you will be tested and challenged in unimaginable ways. Your resourcefulness will be your only guide. Best laid plans will do what they always do, but I urge you to keep pressing forward. I am living proof that the rewards are worth the trials.

Back in 2011, I could have never imagined giving such advice to people. That version of myself was incapable of doing most things alone. But then, when I needed it the most, I found an insane moment of bravery and held on tightly with clenched fists as I pointed my car toward the Pacific Northwest.

Driving from Oklahoma to California, and then toward Seattle, I could feel myself changing with each new state line. I felt a goose-bump-inducing level of pride for my small wins. With each mile, I felt more open to new experiences. There was no one else to rely on, but the man driving his car toward new opportunities. I was beginning to realize my own power.

I arrived in Seattle. Here, I would make my stand among a mass of people, all of them strangers to me. For the first time in my life, I felt ready for whatever challenge might visit my doorstep. Before me would be unforeseeable tests that would challenge my resolve. In each of these episodes, I would begin to doubt my power. Then, I would recall the bravery it took to drive across the country, leaving everything I held dear in my rear view mirror.

Every setback or moment of celebration would find me reflecting on that pioneering spirit that drew me westward.

Confidently planted in my new home, this encounter with solo travel would inspire me to do more. It would take me to countless American cities. I would travel even further and plan a trip to Rio de Janeiro. In this bravery, I would find permission to pursue a thru-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail. It made the unbelievable task of leaving Seattle for Los Angeles a little less daunting.

Relishing my new superpower, I would discover a new truth. There are moments in this life that are meant to be shared with others. Seeing the world through the eyes of my partner or dear friends, I am reminded of the life changing and life affirming power of travel. In our collective awe, my cup is refilled. Reflecting on our shared experiences, I know I could not fully appreciate these moments if it had not been for a moment of bravery that drew me from the relative safety of Oklahoma.

It is not Rio, New York City, Vancouver, or any of the other countless destinations I have visited that changed me. Rather, it was the open road that pushed me to a place I now call home that changed the trajectory of my life. Without hesitation, it was the greatest decision of my life.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

Potent Quotable (15/15): A Guiding Quote

In 2011, I began my nonprofit career in earnest at Kent Youth and Family Services. In those early days, I was amid a new beginning, far from family, friends, and the only home I had ever known. Transition coupled with work in a new sector made those early days challenging. In a way, I felt as if I was being tested. Watching friends buy homes, get married, and travel, while I struggled to keep food on the table because of my chosen field, kept me wrestling with jealousy and a false sense of martyrdom.

Attempting to divorce my ego from my sense of suffering sent me searching for something I could use as a north star. I needed a roadmap, story, lesson, or guiding quote to shade myself from the harshness of my reality. Then, out of the blue and when I needed it most, I stumbled across the following Greek proverb.

“A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they shall never sit.”

The first time I read this quote, I was stunned. I read it repeatedly, attempting to fully understand every word in the sentence. As I sat with it and reflected a little longer, I discovered exactly what I needed. Since then, it has become an unofficial mission statement for my life. I often pair it with a personal motto that sums up the decisions that have delivered me to this point in my life.

“I wholeheartedly reject the tyranny of the expected.”

In celebration of 15 years of Natetheworld, I want to dig deeper into the quote, explore my personal motto, and reveal a new quote that will guide the next chapter of my life.

If you and I found ourselves bellied up to a bar discussing the greatest challenges facing our country and the world, I would tell you that I am most concerned with the rampant selfishness and cynicism I see on almost every street corner. I am utterly baffled by those who see injustices in our housing/food systems, injustices in our economy, and injustices in our society, then decide it isn’t their problem. Even more unsettling, I am disheartened by those with the power to bring about real change, but too cynical to try.

If our society has any real chance of saving itself, it must be able to operate and sacrifice without immediate thoughts turning toward personal benefit. While we may not experience homelessness, we must understand that housing those without homes benefits us all. While we may have plenty to eat, we must understand the plight of those who do not. While we may have never experienced discrimination, we must work to undo structural inequities.

If humanity has any chance of seeing a new dawn, it must plant selfless seeds without much care given to whoever benefits. Said in another way, we must choose to give a damn. We must work tirelessly, and we must realize we may never see the fruits of our work. Yet, we must persevere, knowing society will be made better by the work we started.

In our world, this sort of thinking is not perceived as the norm. Ayn Rand devotees and “the greed is good” crowd would have you believe selfishness is the ultimate aim. They preach with little regard given to the fact that success rarely trickles down. They move forward with a survival of the fittest mentality, and without much thought given to those left behind.

I wholeheartedly reject this lone of thinking. In fact, I wholeheartedly reject the tyranny of the expected. Instead, I implore you to chart a different path. Make up your own mind about religion, politics, home, work, marriage, and kids. Chart a different path beyond those examples that served your parents and their parents. As you push this new frontier, always consider how you can be of the most good, using the talents and treasure you have been afforded. This isn’t a trickle. This is a ripple effect with unimaginable possibilities.

For more than 10 years, this thinking has guided my employment choices. It has influenced who I have loved, how I loved, who I vote for, the entertainment I consume, and so much else. As I pause on this moment, I see an opportunity to transition and sharpen my focus. This season of change begins with a new quote to full explore.

“Speak only if it improves upon the silence.” -Mahatma Gandhi

When I speak, both verbally and non-verbally, I want to be a person who adds value to the conversation. I want my words to matter and carry strength. I don’t want to be another person who fills awkward silence with nonsense. Instead, I want to be a person who relishes moments of quiet reflection as opportunities to cherish the power weaved into these moments. I want to promote reflection over instant reactions. I want to hear from people who aren’t the loudest or most boisterous voices in the room. When I speak, I want people to know they have been heard, and I have considered their words with my whole being.

In my attempt, I will fail. I will break the silence with a joke. I will misspeak or fail to make a solid point. But I will keep trying. I will keep trying, because I am confident on the other side of this unknown chasm is a better leader, husband, friend, and community member. In this belief, I find a connection to a quote which began this journey. This is yet another seed for me to plant.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

15/15: Reflections on 15 Years of Natetheworld

15 years ago, I began a journey thanks to a friend’s encouragement. I had always loved to write, but with the click of a button, I was choosing to share my passion with the world. That moment of bravery would change my whole life. It would open doors beyond my wildest dreams. It would find me standing in places I never imagined. It would lead to my current job. It would create spaces that invited me to think critically about film.

15 years later, I have attempted to write honestly about the world as I experience it, with thousands of essays, poems, reviews, and projects. From the very beginning, there was always an invitation for friends, family, and complete strangers to join me.

Writing is the thing I would do even if no one was reading. Without a doubt, though, it has been the greatest honor of my life to have my work read. On this journey, we have loved, laughed, and cried together. Along the way, I hope we all felt a little less alone. And I hope we all learned that no one should define themselves by their worst days.

As I reflect upon this milestone, I am thinking deeply about essays that served as inflection points. I experience these inflection points as moments when my writing changes, a new audience presents itself, and/or I can write more openly. In honor of 15 years, I thought we might revisit some of those essays. Some of these essays are hard for me to read. I am often my harshest critic, but I think it is necessary to revisit these time capsules. As a personal exercise, I want to see how much I have grown as a writer. Together, I hope we can see progress and change.

 My First Attempt

To read this essay, click here.

I love this quote from Ashley Hetherington. “I wonder about all the things we miss out on when we stay in comfort zones. When we stay safe, when we don’t take that chance, that could change everything.”

I was so nervous about hitting “post” on my first essay. Privately, I had been sharing essays and poems with trusted friends for years. Sharing something on the internet felt terrifying. With the click of a button, I would release control. I would be vulnerable. Nevertheless, I persisted. It was something I had to do. I am so thankful I did.

With some courage, a prayer that the world would be gentle on me, and a promise to give this journey my best effort, I published. Then, I didn’t stop. I shared. Perhaps I over shared. I worked through my struggles, my losses, my love, and my emotions. I did it out loud, hoping to find a community, and with a hope that those going through the same challenges might discover they aren’t so alone. By doing so, my whole life changed, and I changed right alongside it. 

 To My Brother Lucas, My Family, and Friends

To read this essay, click here.

I have never written something more important than the eulogy for my brother’s funeral. Flying from Seattle back to Oklahoma, I began crafting the words I would attempt to share. I would finish it in Debbie Morey’s office. On a Friday, I delivered them to a crowded funeral home. The entire process felt like an out-of-body experience. In reflection, I see a man working through the stages of grief.

Since then, I have written extensively about suicide, depression, and grief. The outpouring of support with every essay has been overwhelming. What has been more amazing to me has been hearing from people who are struggling. I have been told my words helped them see a little light in the darkness. As a writer, I don’t think you can long for much more than that.

 An Honest Post

To read this essay, click here.

The day the Supreme Court made marriage equality the law of the land, I ended years of struggle and come out. After I pushed post, I headed for the Washington coast. Camping on Shi Shi Beach, I was without a stable internet connection. I did not know how the world was reacting to my confession.

When I finally returned to civilization, I felt an avalanche of love and support. Since then, I have a met an amazing man who loves me deeply and makes me feel as if anything is possible. We are engaged to be married and are planning for the future. Looking back on this post, I am so grateful for the courage and the journey that delivered to such a moment. But I also cannot help but hope for better days. I dearly wish we would reach a point when it isn’t necessary for someone to come out anymore. I wish acceptance and love were our default settings.  

 Los Angeles, I Am Yours/California Stars

To read this essay, click here.

Rereading this essay, it feels like it was a lifetime ago when we left Seattle for Los Angeles. Honestly, it just feels like yesterday when we moved back to the Pacific Northwest.

I still deeply miss Los Angeles. I miss the friends, the work, and the community I built there. I found the change I needed in my life in Southern California. However, my partner does not feel the same way. Moving back was hard, and as you will see from the essay below, building a new community has been one of the greatest struggles in my life. But I haven’t given up on Seattle. I am still here doing the work, hoping for better days.

Seattle (An Essay)

To read this essay, click here.

I write and publish a lot of essays, but I rarely turn my focus inward. In this essay, you can see my personal struggles laid open for all to see. Talking about my own mental health is rarely something I do, but this piece exists because I needed to say these things to someone.

Since publishing this essay, calling Seattle home again has become easier, but the struggle remains. Looking back at my life and all I have written, I see a myriad of inflection points. With the future laid before me, I cannot help but wonder what the future inflection points will be. How will I respond? What will I write about them? How will I find community in those moments?

Be good to each other,

Nathan

My Favorite Destinations, Part II

When small talk gives way to deeper conversations, a world of thoughtful insight reveals itself. Penetrating through questions about where one works and lives, opportunities to know someone more deeply start with simple, but profound questions.  

“What travel destination changed the course of your life?”  

Nine little words strung together with a real chance to know someone. At the best dinner parties or conversations over drinks at a bar, questions such as this have been served. It is one of my favorite questions to answer and it is something I am always happy to investigate in a new way.  

Traveling to New York City has changed my life. My first trip was shortly after finishing my undergraduate degree. With a tax refund burning a hole in my pocket, my roommate and best friend created an itinerary we called “The Epic Journey.”  

From Oklahoma City, we would drive east toward the Smoky Mountains. Once there, we would camp, hike, and commune with nature. From Tennessee, we would drive to Washington, D.C. In our nation’s capital, we would take in the sights and brush up on our American history. From there, we would take a train to NYC.  

Of course, the best laid plans often go awry. So much of that trip did not go as expected, but the last roadblock soured my mood. Stuck in Washington, D.C.’s infamous traffic, we missed our train to New York. Out of options, we drove to New York instead.  

Driving into Manhattan in a yellow four-door car during rush hour is an experience I never want to relive. Frustrated from trying to find a parking garage near our hotel, I finally got out of the car and told my friend he would have to take it from there.  

With a car safely parked and bags stored in a hotel room, we began exploring the city. Since that trip, I have returned to New York two more times. Once in 2011 to visit a friend from Oklahoma and again in 2021 with a buddy of mine (also from Oklahoma). After each visit, my opinion of the city grows more positive. Far from the tourist traps and into the neighborhoods people call home, New York is making sense to me.

New York is overwhelming in the most beautiful way. In canyons of glass, steel, and concrete, you move with masses of people from all around the world. Motors run, sirens scream, conversations spill out into the street, and aromas attempt to lure you into countless restaurants, eateries, and bodegas. It takes more than a few days to consume this city. I imagine a person might spend their whole life exploring its many corners and never fully appreciate it all.   

It is a daunting center of American culture and demands attention. From television to film, from books to articles, and from art to all other forms of expression, it is a current that moves people around the world.  

On these trips of mine, I have wondered what it would be like to live within its confines. Where would I work? Who would my friends be? What would I call my favorite shops, restaurants, theaters, and spots to gather? How would I shape New York and how would it shape me? Would the lifestyle harden me, or would I keep some version of myself?  

Unless an opportunity I cannot ignore arises, I will never know the answers to these questions. I can only analyze the immediate and shortened experience of travel. In that review, I see a person changed forever. New York has deepened my sense of wonder. It has made me a traveler who can overcome the frustrations that visit every trip. Here, I’ve learned to walk and explore without an agenda. My only guide is what catches my attention. Here, I’ve learned to hold on to each special moment. Not everyone gets to travel like this, and I should count myself lucky. Here, I’ve learned in a mass of humanity you can find community, but you must work at it.  

Yes, traveling to New York City has changed me for the better. My visits are far from through. There is still so much to learn and experience. Who knows what version of myself I will find on the other side?  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan