I fell in love with camping and hiking at an early age, and I’ve been traveling to national parks for over a decade now. I am often met with moments of the sublime which seem to suspend time and encourage, if not force, introspection.
And sometimes it’s all about the drive.
Grand Teton National Park.
Olympic National Park.
Olympic National Park.
Acadia National Park.
Death Valley National Park.
Death Valley National Park.
Olympic National Park.
Yosemite National Park.
Montana Unlimited.
Shenandoah National Park.
Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
Olympic National Park.
I was walking north up Kalaloch Beach.
One last stop on the drive south out of Olympic. One last sunset. I just needed to get a little closer to the bluff.
I left my phone in the rental car. My pockets were empty, and only one roll of film in my camera. Volcanic sea stacks on the horizon.
At least a mile up the beach and it slowly started to feel like the walk could last forever. Like I could keep walking north towards the bluff, but it would never quite be close enough. My one roll of film would never run out, and the sun would never set.
The walk would last so long that people might join me. People that were far away. People that have passed. They would walk with me, share stories, and then be gone again. A dreamland on the western shores.
Lost in time on Kalaloch Beach. Walking north.