Wild Places, Wilder Lessons: Yellowstone & Grand Teton

I’ve always believed that some places are best experienced in silence — the kind where the only sound is the wind in the trees or the far-off call of something wild you can’t quite see. Yellowstone and Grand Teton? They’re that kind of place.

A view of gently flowing water in Yellowstone National Park

The trip started like most of mine do — a mix of excitement, snacks in the car, and the hope that I packed the right clothing. But the moment we crossed into the park and saw the peaks of Grand Teton towering over the glass-like water, I felt it. That quiet shift in your chest when you know you’re somewhere special.

Yellowstone is a reminder that the earth is alive in ways you can literally see — geysers hissing, mud pots bubbling, and colors so unreal they look Photoshopped. And then there’s Grand Teton, with peaks that make you feel small in the best way. Mornings there were all cool air and mirror-still lakes, the kind that beg you to slow down and just… be.

Lake Taggert in Grand Teton National Park

But as beautiful as it all was, there was this underlying thought that stuck with me: these places only exist like this because people fought to protect them. The bison, the elk, the wolves — they’re here because someone decided they were worth saving. And they still are.

Conservation can feel like this huge, distant idea, but standing there — watching a herd of elk move across the valley at dawn — it becomes personal. It’s in the way you stay on the trail so you don’t crush delicate plants. It’s in the way you consume as ethically and responsibly as you're able. It’s in donating to the organizations working every day to keep these parks wild.

The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone

I left Yellowstone and Grand Teton with more than just photos. I left with this gentle reminder: wild places don’t stay wild by accident. They need us to care — really care.