Life Changing Experiences

When interacting with National Park visitors, you are consistently reminded about how fortunate you are to be working in such inspiring places, and they’re not wrong. While those sentiments ring true, admittedly after you constantly hear it you become desensitized to the concept - that is until someone puts things into perspective.

Thus far in my National Park Service career I have had a few situations that will likely always stick with me. These are not your typical visitor-ranger-interactions. These are situations where a visitor showed extreme vulnerability and confided in me about something deeply personal and touching. One such situation really has still impacted me today...

It was a cool September day in 2010. I was solo staffing the outside visitor center desk at the Norris Geyser Basin within Yellowstone National Park. At this particular geyser basin there were two major boardwalk loops available for visitors to hike, each trail fairly strenuous in its own way, yet each also offering unique panoramic views. Located next to the outside visitor center desk is the trailhead for the Porcelain Basin area. This area also conveniently showcases a panoramic view of the area without having to hike the entire loop - a truly brilliant and beautiful overview of the basin. Milky blue hot springs, fiery red and vivid green streams, slithering baths of steam, and occasionally the magical experience of seeing a geyser erupt were the views from this location.

While several folks choose to go beyond the observation viewpoint and hike this dynamic geyser basin, the hike wasn’t for everyone as there was a fairly steep hill getting both down and out of the basin. I think I heard every possible reason why folks might not want to make the trip down - “I have bad knees.” “I’m getting too old for this.” “I have asthma.” “I’m out of shape.” “It’s not the coming up that is bad, it’s the going down.” I could go on and on with the sentiments folks shared with me - however...

On this particular day there were two women, likely in their early 60s, and they seemed as jovial as one could be. One woman wanted to walk down into the basin and hike around while the other woman said she just couldn’t do it. After discussing their options, the one woman headed down to the basin as the other stayed behind and started to talk to me. At first it was casual. “Where are you from?” “Do you like it here?”, etc. After a while the woman stared at the white-capped peaks that loomed in the distance and with a heavy breath exclaimed, “God, it’s beautiful here and I can’t believe I made it here after all these years.” She turned to me and asked, “do you ever get sick of this place?”. I answered, as I always do when I get that question, “No, I don’t think you can ever get sick of living in such an amazing place. I mean, I often can't believe I call this work.” I truly meant everything I had just said but again when you get asked the question so often, the answer almost feels like it becomes scripted. There was a pause between us, where both the woman and I stared out on the vast landscape.

“It’s been quite the journey getting here,” she said abruptly. “How so?”, I questioned. It wasn't out of the ordinary for visitors to want to share their vacation stores with me, so I listened as usual.  Many of the stories were the same, vacationers passing through the park usually spending two to three extremely packed days to see a place that could easily take a week to visit - the go-getters as I liked to call them. These were the folks who wanted to see all the major tourist locations and desired to know where the next gift shop was. However, this time it was different, as I continued to listen the woman began her story; I unfortunately misjudged the situation and assumed this would just be a story like every other.

“I thought I would never make it to Yellowstone. My whole life I had always wanted to come out here, but life kept getting in the way. Ever since I was little my parents always told my brothers and I what an amazing place this was, and they always talked about taking a family vacation out this way. Unfortunately, that never happened, time just passed us by. We all grew up, and eventually my parents passed away. I got married when I was 19 and my husband and I had planned to come out here for our honeymoon, but we ended up not being able to afford the vacation. We promised that at some point in our lives we would come out here to visit. We started a family and as the kids grew up, we started to tell them stories about Yellowstone, about how we one day wanted to take them all out for a family vacation to see it. At this point it seemed like it was no longer a desire but a need to visit this place. Time once again caught up with us and the kids grew up. My husband and I decided since all the kids were gone that it would be the prime opportunity to go see Yellowstone. I started to plan the trip a year in advance. I booked rooms here in the park, got all the information I could, as I knew this time we were really going to get to go. Everything was set. We knew where would be staying, when we were going, how to get there, and what we would be seeing.”

I listened intently; I was becoming entranced in what she was saying as she said it with so much conviction, as if this meant everything to her. She was obviously sharing something that meant a lot to her. She continued on -

“Well, that was our plan, until my husband got sick. A few months before we were headed out this way, I lost my husband to cancer. I knew I could never make the trip without him. I admit it was very hard for me to see anything positive in my life at that moment, but my son convinced me that the best thing for me to do was to still go to Yellowstone, as that's what my husband would have wanted me to do. Well, I had to push back the date by a few months, but I was going to head out to Yellowstone now with my son. He was just as excited about the trip as I was. “

Her speaking voice became quieter, and her eyes started to fill with tears. I knew that it must be hard to lose your significant other, but I didn’t expect what she was about to tell me next.

“Well, that was five months ago that all happened. This was the week my son had planned to come out here with me. Well, here I am, but not with my son; I’m here with my good friend, Emily. Emily insisted that I come; she said that’s what they would have wanted. “

I was puzzled and didn’t understand. Why had she not come with her son then, why was she starting to weep?

“You see this trip has been about the best and hardest thing I have ever done. I mean it when I say that I always wanted to make it out here, and I never thought it would happen. About a month and a half ago I lost my Yellowstone partner. My son died in a car wreck coming home from work one evening and was thrown from the vehicle. He was killed instantaneously. I was devastated and still am. Yellowstone was the last thing on my mind at that time; I just wanted my son back. There was no way I was going to go without him.“

I couldn’t believe everything this woman had gone through and here she was standing there, still staring into the Yellowstone abyss. I could sense that this moment meant a lot to her, to be in the moment, to feel the cool September breeze, to stare upon those white capped peaks - to share her story. I was utterly captivated by every word she said.

“I hope you don’t mind me telling you all this. It’s just been so tough. Emily insisted that this is what my son would have wanted. He wanted me to go so badly ‘cause that’s what my husband wanted. Emily was right but it was hard to accept. But here I am in Yellowstone, and I don’t regret coming one bit as I know both my husband and son are here with me in spirit looking down from Heaven.”

It took everything for me not to cry. I could feel tears starting to swell in my eyes and quickly I bit the side of my cheek as hard as I could to keep them from streaming down my face. I took a second to ensure my voice would speak without cracking, as I knew I had to say something to her, or I regret it.

“I am so sorry to hear about all you have gone through, I cannot begin to fathom that. Thank you for sharing your story with me. It really puts into perspective what it means to be here, and I am glad that you were finally able to make it out here after all that time and we crossed paths.”

After a few pauses and some more small talk, her friend Emily arrived from the Porcelain Basin and the two went on their way. I still don't know her name to this day, and I don’t know if that woman knew by sharing her story, she would have such a lasting impact on my life. 

I can still feel that conversation and moment today, as it put so much into perspective for me. It really changed how I feel and what I take for granted. Sometimes when I am thinking “oh God, not another tour”, “I don’t want to go to work today”, or start to center my experiences around me, I remember this conversation and remember that the work I do and the places I call home are greater than me or any one individual - they are places that inspire transformative experiences, provide introspective moments, and can also create peace within. I've also learned that each of us has a story to share, and you never know when you may change someone's life or better yet - when they may change yours!