I got to visit national parks for the first time when I was a teen. The first park I can remember was Sequoia National Park in California. Boy, those trees really were giants! I remember being awestruck by the fact that a tree could be big enough for a car to drive through. I sat in wonder staring up at the endless sea of branches trying to catch a glimpse at the top of one of those suckers. My grandfather told me to “Take note, Jerri. They don’t become this big everywhere.”

My next park was Joshua Tree National Park, again in California, out in the desert near 29 Palms and Palm Springs. It had something in common with Sequoia—giants. But not trees. Rocks. Huge, smooth, hot and dry rocks. This place was a mecca for hikers and rock climbers. And what trees this national park had were not what I consider the lovely “wanna make a tree-house in that one” kind. These were the prickly, unattractive, tall-growing yucca-type of tree that made me cringe at the thought of going near one. Impressive, yes. Welcoming, no.

Then I visited the one national park that still lives in my heart. Banff National Park located in the Alberta Canadian Rockies. I had never seen such mountains or glaciers. The air was crisp and clean. The roads were wide and long. What a glorious park that was. I wanted to stay for days.

While we were visiting, there was a grizzly bear terrorizing campsites in the area. Even though we were staying in hotels, I remember feeling terrified for the local campers, yet exhilarated that there was an all-out “bear hunt” going on.

On the final day of our visit, we saw a helicopter lifting something large and black out of a field of trees and into the air. The big black mass was flown closer and closer to the road we were on as we were leaving the valley. And I saw it. The grizzly. The rangers had shot it and hoisted it up out of the area by helicopter. The newspaper headlines the next morning read, “Killer Grizzly Caught.” I stared at the photos in amazement and thought, “Wow! This is really getting close to nature.”

I was hooked. National parks were a place I longed to go to get close to nature. I speak of my memories often. I can’t wait for my daughter to experience the adventures that await her in the vast number of national parks in North America. Stories that will stick with her for the rest of her life. Memories that will feed her soul. Dreams that she will share with many.

Jerri Hemsworth
Publisher
E: jerrih@natja.org
B: www.travelworldmagazine.com/blog/publisher