By Jamie Strickland
There’s something powerful about seeing a place with your own eyes — especially one you’ve heard about your whole life. You think you know what to expect. You’ve seen the pictures, heard the stories, imagined how it might feel to be there. But until you stand in the middle of it, breathe it in, absorb the details for yourself — you don’t really know what your own perception will be like. That first encounter can affirm everything you imagined, or it can surprise you completely.
I remember going to California for the first time on a big family trip in my early 20s. I was so excited to see Hollywood. I guess I expected glamour and that sense of movie magic. But what I found was far less enchanting. It was crowded, chaotic, and frankly, pretty grimy. It wasn’t what I expected — and I left wondering how something so iconic could feel so disappointing.
And yet, a couple of weeks ago, I had nearly the opposite experience in Yellowstone National Park. It’s a place I’ve always wanted to see, and I went in with general expectations. I’d heard of Old Faithful, of course, and I knew it would be scenic. But I was unprepared for the sheer scale and the variety of what I saw. Geysers and hot springs, yes — but also surreal geothermal landscapes I didn’t know existed. Dragon’s Mouth, with its churning, steaming waves, felt like something out of myth. And Artist Point, overlooking the massive canyon and waterfall, looked almost too beautiful to be real. I literally stopped in my tracks as I caught the first glimpse of it walking up to the overlook.
It’s no wonder that paintings of that very spot inspired the creation of Yellowstone as the very first National Park. I’m so thankful our nation preserved such magical places.
I had no idea how diverse it was and how much the landscape and the viewpoints could change just a few miles apart from each other. The sheer immensity and the scope of it all was just…amazing. I now understand why they call Wyoming and Montana “big sky country.”
Visiting some of the National Parks in Arizona and Utah a few years ago gave me a similar feeling. I felt like I had landed on another planet. Towering cliffs, sculpted arches and canyons, and so many different shades of red and orange. No photograph had ever captured it in a way that prepared me for what it was like to stand in front of it. Being there, seeing it, feeling the dry air, watching the way the light changed the landscape was a multisensory experience.
These experiences have stayed with me, and they’ve shaped my aspirations to travel to even more new places. I’ve come to realize that what drives me — more than a specific destination — is that feeling of seeing something for the very first time. There’s a particular kind of clarity and excitement that comes with it.
There’s comfort in returning to familiar places — in revisiting a trail you know well or watching a favorite film all over again. But there’s nothing quite like that first encounter. That moment when everything is new and your senses are fully engaged.
At this point in my life, I find myself drawn more and more to those moments. To places I haven’t yet stood, and views I haven’t yet seen. I hope there are a lot more of these firsts yet to come. The world is vast, and I’ve only seen such a small amount of it so far.
