A road trip West, deeper into adulthood

There’s something mythical about the cross-country road trip. 

It holds a reverential place in the collective American psyche — a bold trek of big distances and vast landscapes. Those 3,000 miles have transformative power.

I’ve wanted to drive West since I was young. Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon — it all sounded larger-than-life, nature’s version of folk heroes like Paul Bunyan and Davy Crockett. That vision of grandeur never waned.

Buffalo in Hayden Valley, Yellowstone National Park.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

I finally hit the road this summer, at 32 years old, cruising from the East Coast to the San Francisco Bay. The experience was just as I’d hoped, leaving me with poignant and indelible images: the swift, emerald current of the Colorado River; wind turbines slicing through dense rainclouds over the plains of northern Texas; black oaks peppering the rolling, golden hills of the Sierra Nevadas; endless expanses of arid Southwest desert, of neatly planted Idaho farmland; the fire-scorched trunks of sequoias, like the charred feet of giants stepping from the sky.  

But in all the years contemplating such a voyage, I’d never considered the trip might also be unmistakably bound to another phase of adulthood. 

Desert in Williams, Arizona.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

The spark for the cross-country endeavor was one of utility: helping two close college friends move from Brooklyn to California (or, more accurately, transporting their anxious dog in a car cabin instead of an airplane). There, they intend to raise their two-year-old and future members of an expanding young family.  

So, I shipped off with Rob (Friend #1) and Deb (the pooch), reuniting them with Lauren (Friend #2) and their daughter a week later.

The pavement was a wormhole, a portal to a new chapter of friendship — something intangible but palpable. 

Rob, Deb and I in Petrified Forest National Park, Arizona.

My experience is by no means singular. The limited responsibility of one’s teenage years and early twenties yield with time, perhaps to far-flung jobs, maybe to love, marriage, children and new homes in better school districts. Friendships don’t necessarily fade, but physical proximity does — and, with it, the ad-hoc weekend beers, the neighborhood dinners, the summertime hangouts in Prospect Park. With distance, friendship takes on a new dimension. 

That cycle is part of the human experience, because it’s part of growing up. The Summer 2021 Road Trip was the clearest manifestation of these seismic changes in my life. My active role in that change forced me to reckon with it. 

I had ample time to contemplate. Saying goodbye in the Bay Area didn’t mark the end of my expedition; it was the beginning of a five-week solo tour of national parks in the West. 

Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

That stretch took me along another 5,000 miles of road and almost 200 miles of hiking trails. Most days, in the woods and mountains of California, Idaho, Montana or Wyoming, I was alone with the wilderness and my thoughts, tinged both by sadness at the prospect of seeing less of my friends and, eventually, an appreciation for new opportunities — for richer reunions, travel, personal growth.

My musings often returned to something Rob said the morning of our last day together: “End of an adventure. Start of a new one.”

What a wonderful lens. I’ll cling to that optimism.

Rob and Deb on the Blue Mesa Trail, Petrified Forest National Park, Arizona.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

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HIGHLIGHTS

These six weeks of travel contained my most ambitious and nomadic itinerary to date, bringing me through 19 states, five national parks and a handful of national forests.

Three parks got special attention — I spent two weeks in both Yosemite and Grand Teton, and a week in Yellowstone. When I wasn’t driving to and from destinations, I was exploring these sanctuaries. Each has its own personality and natural treasures. 

Here were my favorite segments. (The parks are listed chronologically.)

GRAND CANYON NATIONAL PARK

Sunlight edges above the Grand Canyon’s North Rim.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

I could visit the Grand Canyon 1,000 times and never tire of it. Its plateaus, buttes and fissures are ethereal, its scale incomprehensible, its shades of red unending; the place leaves me awestruck, plain and simple.

With just a day to explore, Rob and I undertook the most ambitious possible hike: a descent from the South Rim to the Colorado River and back. The 16-mile odyssey started at 4:30 a.m., when the immense walls were bruise-colored silhouettes, and led into the canyon’s rusted-red belly, ultimately traversing the Colorado a mile below the lip.

The endeavor pushed me to my physical breaking point — but I’d repeat it without hesitation. 

The Kaibab Suspension Bridge, also known as Black Bridge, is one of two bridges in the Grand Canyon that traverse the Colorado River.
Photo credit: Greg Iacurci

The National Park Service cautions against the excursion (especially from May to September, when temperatures are scorching). The feat requires ample preparation — plenty of time, food and water (which is scarce to nonexistent, depending on one’s path). The loop down the South Kaibab Trail to the River Trail and up Bright Angel Trail is recommended, offering some water and shade on the ascent during the hottest time of day.

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SEQUOIA NATIONAL FOREST

The Trail of 100 Giants 

Giant sequoias are ancient beings. Some of the oldest were saplings when Ancient Rome was a thriving civilization some 2,000 years ago.

With age comes impressive size. These trees are the most voluminous in the world and grow to about 300 feet. Their branches alone can be bigger than most other fully grown trees.

The Trail of 100 Giants in Sequoia National Forest is true to its name, featuring 125 sequoias with diameters exceeding 10 feet. It would take about a dozen average-sized men to hug the broadest, which has a 70-foot circumference.

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YOSEMITE NATIONAL PARK

Tunnel View.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Yosemite is a hiker’s paradise — a playground of granite domes, dramatic cliffs and forests of towering pines. Practically every trail in the famed Yosemite Valley yields a unique perspective of monoliths like Half Dome and El Capitan, or perhaps leads adventurers to the brink of plunging waterfalls like Yosemite Falls.

But the valley constitutes just six of the park’s 1,200 square miles. The “high country” is just as worthy of attention — a wonderland of crystal-clear alpine lakes that features one of the largest high-elevation meadows in the Sierra Nevadas.

Best hikes and sights:

Tunnel View

The elevated lookout from Tunnel View offers the iconic glimpse of Yosemite Valley. To the left, El Capitan, a smooth granite nose, hovers over the valley floor; opposite, the tail of Bridalveil Fall sways gently in the wind, in the shadow of the hulking Three Brothers; and Half Dome, a colossal sheared-off rock face, takes center stage beyond.

It’s the perfect launching pad for a tour of the glaciated valley. Descend to the loop road to ooh-and-ahh at each marvel from up close. (My personal favorite: El Capitan Meadow, which gives an unobstructed gaze straight up from the base of its 3,000-foot-tall namesake.)    

Taft Point

View from Taft Point.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Taft Point served up the best of Yosemite’s innumerable vistas, with soaring views of El Capitan, the Yosemite Valley and the Cathedral Rocks and Spires — all for a minimal 2.2-mile out-and-back hike. It promises to be a stunner at sunset. 

Yosemite Falls

The three tiers of Yosemite Falls careen 2,425 feet into the abyss, making it North America’s tallest waterfall and the world’s fifth-largest. Visitors can walk a short distance to Lower Yosemite Fall (and, if so inclined, scramble over boulders to the pool at its base). Those up for a sweat can trek to the top of Upper Yosemite Fall and on to Yosemite Point. 

Cathedral Lakes 

Upper Cathedral Lake.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

There’s a lot to love about the moderate 7-mile out-and-back to Upper and Lower Cathedral Lakes, a pair of pristine basins nestled at the foot of Cathedral Peak, a nearly 11,000-foot spire. (The upper lake is the real showstopper.)  

Time permitting, a hike here should be paired with a longer trip to Yosemite’s high country. Explore Tuolumne Meadows (across the road from the trailhead), meander along the Tuolumne River from Pothole Dome, take a dip in Tenaya Lake (the park’s largest) and soak up the sights from Olmsted Point.

Vernal Fall and Nevada Fall

Nevada Fall and Liberty Cap.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

The strenuous climb to Nevada Fall grants one of the park’s premier panoramas: the 594-foot chute dwarfed by Liberty Cap, popping from the earth like a huge, gray thumb. Ascend the Mist Trail past Vernal Fall (a 317-footer whose vapor gives the trail its name) to the top of Nevada Fall. Descend the John Muir Trail, the vantage point for the photo above.

Views of Half Dome 

View from Glacier Point. Half Dome (right) stares at North Dome across Tenaya Canyon. Beyond Half Dome, just to the left, is Clouds Rest.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Half Dome is probably the best-known of Yosemite’s many famous rocks. North Dome, which stares directly at it from across Tenaya Canyon, offers a front-row seat. The perch grants an intimate look at Half Dome’s face and its huge white eye, streaked with globs of gray. 

For those who don’t want to make that 10-mile journey, don’t fret — a drive to Glacier Point or short walk to Sentinel Dome provide other breathtaking perspectives. The intrepid might hike to Clouds Rest, a nearby peak that, at 9,900 feet, sits above Half Dome and yields a 360-degree view over Yosemite’s sea of granite. 

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GRAND TETON NATIONAL PARK

Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

The Teton Range is like a mirage when you first see it. The jagged mountains rise impossibly fast from flats coated in pale-green sagebrush, their mass dominating the skyline from the instant one passes through the park entrance near Jackson, Wyoming. Grand Teton, the tallest of the bunch, stands at almost 14,000 feet. 

The park landscape is a wilderness as beautiful as they come, replete with more than 100 alpine lakes, dense pine stands, rivers and waterfalls of cascading snowmelt, hills dotted with colorful wildflowers and abundant wildlife.

Mormon Row.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Visitors can ascend canyons deep into the mountains, relax on the shores of Jenny Lake and Jackson Lake, scout for bison at Elk Ranch Flats or marvel at the idyllic backdrop from historic Mormon Row.

Best hikes and sights:

Paintbrush Canyon-Cascade Canyon Loop

Grand Teton towers over Cascade Canyon.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Adventurers would be hard-pressed to find a better day hike into Grand Teton’s backcountry. The 19-mile juggernaut crams all of the park’s charm, elegance and regality into one epic trek. 

It starts with an unrelenting, 4,350-foot climb through Paintbrush Canyon to the Paintbrush Divide, which, at 10,700 feet, often holds snow well into summer. (I forged over two snow banks in late July, both easily navigated. Snow equipment may be necessary earlier in the season.)

Descent to Lake Solitude from the Paintbrush Divide.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Hikers then cross the range into Cascade Canyon and to the coolest part of the expedition: Lake Solitude, a remote pool of snowmelt nestled at the back of the canyon with direct views of Grand Teton and Mount Owen. Jump in for a real jolt before the descent to Jenny and String Lakes. 

Leigh Lake

Leigh Lake.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

The trail along Leigh Lake’s shore is the best value of any in the park: a prime glimpse of Mount Moran and other crags across a sprawling lake (the park’s second-largest), accessed over just a few miles of level, wooded terrain.

Beforehand, stop to admire the Cathedral Group — a regal trio consisting of Grand Teton, Mount Owen and Teewinot Mountain — at a turnout before the Leigh Lake Trailhead.

Jenny Lake and Jackson Lake 

Jackson Lake.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Jackson Lake and Jenny Lake are the No. 1 and 3 largest in the park, and among the most popular. There are many ways to recreate here — the beach, hiking trails, boat rides or a good, long stare at the peaks across the water, their reflections vibrating in gentle ripples. 

Taggart and Bradley Lakes

Taggart and Bradley Lakes have a similar appeal to Leigh. A 5-mile loop trail ushers hikers past each gem, which rest in the shadow of Grand Teton and Mount Owen. Visitors may also opt for a shorter route just to Taggart, the larger of the two lakes.    

Wind Cave

The hike up Darby Canyon to the Wind Cave was unlike any I’d done — largely because the trail, in the nearby Caribou-Targhee National Forest, ends at a gargantuan cave mouth. A stream, flowing from a mysterious underground source, cascades from the grotto’s interior and over a cliff.

But the journey doesn’t have to end there — throw on a headlamp or grab a flashlight and trek into the cavern. (Don’t worry, there weren’t any bats or critters.) The tunnel system seems to extend for miles through the mountain, though spelunkers can turn back at any point. (I made it about ⅛ to ¼ mile before things started getting a bit cramped for my liking.)

Elk Ranch Flats

Mount Moran looms over Elk Ranch Flats.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

If you want to see buffalo in Grand Teton, this is the place to do it. Free-ranging herds meander along the plain, eating grass and rolling in the dirt.

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YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK

Canary Spring, Mammoth Hot Springs. Water flowing down the hillside deposits limestone sediment, forming travertine terraces.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Yellowstone challenged what I knew of the natural world and its limits. To see it is to suspend one’s disbelief. 

The park is a searing cauldron of boiling water and mud, hot springs, steam vents and geysers, all bubbling, hissing, oozing and spitting, like the land itself is angry and alive. Microorganisms that thrive in the intense heat transform the landscape into a palette of swirling, vibrant color, like Van Gogh’s brush stroke at work. It’s indescribably beautiful and haunting all at once. 

A “Bobby sock” tree. Dead lodgepole pines near hydrothermal areas soak up mineral-laden water; the minerals are left behind when the water evaporates, turning their trunks white.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

The preserve, a massive 2.2 million acres, sits atop an active supervolcano that fuels the thermal activity. (The volcano hasn’t had a major eruption in 640,000 years, and likely won’t any time soon.) More than 10,000 hydrothermal features dot the terrain, the largest concentration of its kind in the world. 

But Yellowstone’s wonders extend far beyond its volcanic underpinnings. It’s no surprise this crown jewel was protected as the world’s first national park in 1872. 

Best hikes and sights:

Mammoth Hot Springs

Palette Spring, Mammoth Hot Springs.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

You don’t need to travel lightyears to find alien landscapes. They’re in our relative backyard, at Mammoth Hot Springs. 

Here, streams of hot water flow gently over the hillside, depositing limestone sediment in small doses to form travertine terraces — delicate, multicolored cups, wedges and slabs, their shades of brown, white, gray, yellow, orange and green swirling like melted ice cream. The structures are like living sculptures, ever-changing.

Mound Spring, Mammoth Hot Springs.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Walking the lower terraces of Mammoth Hot Springs was the top experience of my trip. 

Grand Prismatic Spring

Grand Prismatic Spring.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Grand Prismatic Spring in Midway Geyser Basin is a stunner for two reasons: its immensity (at over 200 feet wide, it’s Yellowstone’s biggest hot spring) and intense color. The spring is like a rainbow amoeba wreathed in fire — ringed by bright yellows and oranges, with red tentacles reaching across barren flats toward scorched “Bobby sock” trees.

Marvel at the intricacies of the spring’s bacterial mats from the basin’s boardwalk, then head to the Grand Prismatic Spring Overlook to appreciate nature’s artistry from an elevated perch. If time permits, continue from the overlook through a lodgepole pine forest to the foot of Fairy Falls, the park’s tallest front-country waterfall.

Upper Geyser Basin

Old Faithful (foreground) lies dormant between eruptions.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Yellowstone is home to about 500 geysers, a whopping 60% of the world’s total. The park’s largest grouping is in Upper Geyser Basin, where there are at least 150 within one square mile. Each has a memorable quirk. 

Old Faithful, Yellowstone’s celebrity, is reason enough to visit. True to its name, the famed geyser erupts a 100-foot column of boiling water on a remarkably consistent schedule, every 90 or so minutes. (Park rangers currently predict eruption times for just five other geysers.) 

Morning Glory Pool, Upper Geyser Basin.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

Old Faithful is the most regular of the big geysers, but it isn’t the biggest or even the most frequent. Walk the boardwalk to Morning Glory Pool, Black Sand Basin or Biscuit Basin to see the others. Some may catch you by surprise.

Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone

From Artist Point, my sister and I got the best look at the Lower Falls of the Yellowstone River.

A park ranger described the vista from Artist Point as Yellowstone’s finest. I’d be hard-pressed to argue.

Visitors get unobstructed views from the south rim of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, a multi-hued mish-mash of pale-yellow, orange and pink spires and hydrothermally altered rhyolite, culminating in the 308-foot Lower Falls of the Yellowstone River.

Next, head to the canyon’s north rim and walk the Brink of the Lower Falls Trail, which sits just above the lip of the roaring cascade. 

Hayden Valley

Herd of bison in Hayden Valley.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

After exploring the Grand Canyon, my sister (who joined me for four days in Yellowstone) and I drove a short distance to the Hayden Valley, which, at 17,000 acres, is the park’s largest.

A buffalo herd, hundreds if not thousands strong, grazed leisurely along the valley road in the early evening, giving an up-close peek at the country’s largest bison population on public land. (The Lamar Valley in the park’s northeast, which we didn’t have time to visit, is also known as a top area to see wildlife, including wolves.)

Electric Peak

Electric Peak beckons in the distance.
Photo: Greg Iacurci

The odyssey to Electric Peak will make your hair stand on end.

The first seven to eight miles of the 20-mile butt-kicker are deceptively easy, meandering through serene backcountry that alternates between forest and meadow. But your target — the 11,000-foot rusted-red summit — looms ever larger. The last few miles contain almost all of the trek’s elevation, making this the steepest and among the most physically demanding hikes I’ve ever completed.

But it’s a Yellowstone classic for good reason. The final push is especially thrilling — the scramble to the peak, and the infinite views it yields, will make this an adventure you remember forever.

The chariot and I in Grand Teton National Park.
Photo: Jenna Urban