by Missie Hills | Mar 24, 2026 | North America
After the stillness and vastness of Death Valley, Joshua Tree felt like stepping into a completely different kind of desert story. One with a lot of personality.
We rented the coziest little house in the town of Joshua Tree, tucked away just enough to feel secluded, but still close to everything. It didn’t take long before we realized we weren’t the only ones calling it home for the week. A small rabbit made regular appearances nearby, along with his roadrunner buddy. It was quiet in that very specific desert way. Still, but alive.
We spent two full days inside Joshua Tree National Park, and it didn’t take long to understand why people are drawn here. This park is a playground. Massive boulders stacked in ways that feel almost impossible, just waiting to be climbed. The kids scrambled up, over, and around them without hesitation, turning every stop into a new kind of adventure. It’s no surprise this place is considered a haven for rock climbers. Every formation feels like an open invitation. There was even a small oasis to explore, with tiny hummingbirds fluttering about.
And then there are the trees. The Joshua trees themselves are what give the park its name, but they’re more than just a visual signature. These unique, spiky silhouettes are actually a type of yucca, and they only grow in a very specific ecosystem within the Mojave Desert. Early Mormon settlers are said to have named them, seeing their branches as outstretched arms guiding them westward. Standing among them, you can see why. They’re strange and beautiful, a little chaotic, and completely unforgettable. No two look the same. I found myself constantly stopping to take photos… of the trees, the textures, the light, the way everything felt both harsh and delicate at the same time.
One of the most memorable moments came at sunset in the Cholla Cactus Garden. As the sun dropped lower, the cholla cacti began to glow—lit up in soft gold, almost like they were holding onto the last light of the day. It felt quiet and surreal, like the entire garden was exhaling.
Even with all of that beauty, Joshua Tree had a different energy than Death Valley. It was busy. Trails were full, parking lots packed, and there was a constant hum of people moving through the park. It shifted the experience just a bit, making it feel less like solitude and more like shared discovery. Because of that, it sits a little lower on our list.
But the sunrises and sunsets? They made up for everything. Mornings came softly, lighting up the landscape in muted pastels, and evenings closed out the day in deep, warm tones that stretched across the sky. And at night, we had our own quiet again. Back at the house, we soaked in the hot tub under a sky full of stars, muscles tired from climbing and hiking. We lit the fire pit, bundled up, and just sat together. No rush, nowhere to be. Just the desert and the stillness.
Part of the fun of this park, is actually in exploring the surrounding area. The shops were exactly what you’d hope for… quirky, creative, and just a little offbeat. There were aliens everywhere, handmade goods, vintage finds… the kind of place where you don’t go looking for anything specific, but somehow leave with something memorable.
We made our way out to Pioneertown, which feels like stepping onto an old movie set—and in many ways, it is. Built in the 1940s as a live-in Old West film set, actors would film during the day and stay there at night, blending Hollywood with frontier life. It’s now home to one of the most iconic desert spots, Pappy & Harriet’s, where we stopped for a meal. Equal parts restaurant and music venue, it carries that same rugged, lived-in charm as the town itself. And then there was Sam. All over town, we kept seeing flyers: Vote for Sam for Mayor. Naturally, we were curious. Sam, it turns out, is a goat. So of course… we voted for him.
Because that’s Joshua Tree. A little unexpected. A little eccentric. Completely itself. In the end, Joshua Tree gave us something different than Death Valley. Less quiet, more character. Less isolation, more expression. It’s a place where the desert leans into its quirks, where the landscape invites you to play, and where even a simple moment… watching the light hit a cactus or sitting by a fire under the stars… feels like enough.
Until next time,
by Missie Hills | Mar 21, 2026 | North America
This past Christmas, we made a decision that felt a little unconventional… and completely right. Instead of gifts, we gave each other an experience: A journey into one of the most extreme and beautiful places in the world—Death Valley.
And from the very start, it reminded us that the best plans are often the ones you don’t fully control. We arrived on Christmas Eve just as a rare storm rolled into the valley. Death Valley, the driest national park in North America, was suddenly touched by rain… a once-in-a-lifetime kind of moment. While it shifted some of our plans, it gave us something even better: a completely different version of the desert than most ever get to see.
We started the morning at sunrise at Zabriskie Point. The clouds hung low, softening the dramatic ridgelines we had imagined, but there was something peaceful about it. A quiet start. A reminder that this trip wasn’t about perfect conditions. It was about being there.
From there, we made our way to Badwater Basin, the lowest point in North America at 282 feet below sea level. Normally, it’s a vast expanse of cracked salt flats stretching endlessly in every direction. But this time, the rain had transformed it. A shallow, reflective lake had emerged across the basin, something that only happens after rare storms. It felt surreal, like the desert had briefly decided to become something else entirely.
As the weather began to clear, we hiked out to Natural Bridge, a quiet canyon where centuries of flash floods have carved out smooth rock walls and a hidden arch. Death Valley is full of these contrasts—harsh yet delicate, barren yet full of stories shaped over time.
By the afternoon, we found ourselves at Artist’s Palette, and it quickly became one of our favorite stops. The hills were streaked with soft greens, pinks, yellows, and purples—colors created by the oxidation of different metals in the rock. It looked almost painted, like someone had brushed the desert with watercolor.
We crossed the park and ended the day at the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes, which, without question, became the kids’ favorite part. They ran endlessly—up the dunes, down the dunes, over and over again… laughing, falling, climbing again. It was simple and perfect.
That evening, we leaned into the spirit of the place and had Christmas Eve dinner at the Last Kind Words Saloon, a spot that feels like it belongs to another era. Then we returned to our casita at The Ranch at Death Valley, an oasis tucked right into the heart of the park. And somehow, we made it Christmas. We decorated with paper snowflakes, a few lights, and a tiny paper tree. We drank hot chocolate, watched A Christmas Story, and wrote a note to Santa, leaving out cookies and milk like always. And guess what… he found us! The next morning, stockings were filled with hiking snacks.
We started our Christmas Day adventure with a six-mile hike through Golden Canyon. The canyon walls glowed in warm golds and oranges, shaped over millions of years by water and time. By the end, we were completely exhausted, but it felt like the best kind of gift. One earned step by step. We even spotted a coyote moving quietly through the park. A small, fleeting moment that felt like a gift in itself.
Before heading back, I made one more stop at the salt flats—this time without the rain. The second trip was well worth it, giving me even more beautiful photos of strange terrain.
Later that afternoon, we swam in the resort’s natural spring-fed pool, surrounded by palm trees and mountains. It felt almost surreal—this lush, quiet pocket of life in one of the hottest places on earth. Death Valley holds the record for the hottest temperature ever recorded on Earth, 134°F, and yet here we were, celebrating Christmas in cool air, wrapped in stillness and calm.
The next morning, we gave Zabriskie Point one more try at sunrise. And this time, it delivered. The clouds lifted just enough to reveal the full texture of the landscape and then, as if on cue, a rainbow stretched across the sky. It felt like the valley was giving us its final goodbye. We also drove up to Dante’s View, standing over 5,000 feet above the valley floor, taking in the full expanse of the park: salt flats, mountains, and all the places we had just explored. It’s one of the few places where you can truly grasp the scale of Death Valley.
Throughout the day, we explored smaller trails and learned about the park’s history: the borax industry, the famous twenty-mule teams that once hauled minerals across the desert, and the resilience it took to live and work in a place like this. At one point, we even found ourselves caught in a sandstorm, wind whipping across the valley, sand moving in waves around us. It was intense, unexpected, and strangely beautiful.
Later that evening, E and I took a quiet horseback ride through the valley, slowing everything down and taking it all in from a different perspective. We ended our last night in the simplest way, ice cream at the resort’s old-fashioned parlor.
Death Valley surprised us in every possible way. It challenged our expectations, shifted our plans, and gave us moments we could have never planned for. It’s a place of extremes, yes, but also of quiet beauty, resilience, and perspective. And now, it holds something even more meaningful for us. A Christmas we’ll never forget.
Until next time,
by Missie Hills | May 16, 2025 | North America
Our journey through Utah’s Mighty Five ended with Zion National Park, one of the most well known and talked about parks in our nation. Zion greeted us with low clouds, rain, and a dusting of snow, veiling its towering cliffs in a soft mist. The weather made it hard to take in the sweeping views the park is famous for, but in a way, it added a certain magic and stillness to our time there.
We began our visit by hopping on the shuttle and riding it all the way to the end of the scenic route, where we hiked the Riverside Trail at the Temple of Sinawava. The canyon walls rose dramatically on either side as we strolled beside the river, the rain adding a gentle rhythm to our steps. We reached the entrance to the Narrows, one of Zion’s most iconic hikes, but with the rain and risk of flash flooding, it wasn’t meant to be this trip.
Making our way back, we stopped at the Weeping Rock, in hopes of spotting the elusive California Condor. Though we didn’t see the endangered bird, we had a fascinating chat with a wildlife expert whose job is simply to watch for condors every day. Jason and I agreed… dream job material.
Our next stop was the The Grotto. We wandered along a trail to the iconic Zion Lodge, spotting wild turkey and deer along the way, unexpected companions in the misty quiet. And at the Zion Museum, we learned more about the park’s geology and history.
That evening brought an unexpected gift… a light snow, blanketing our guesthouse and turning Zion into a peaceful winter wonderland. As the family rested, I slipped outside into the quiet night and looked up to catch a lunar eclipse through the falling snow, a once-in-a-lifetime moment of stillness and awe.
The next morning, we ventured back into the park, this time greeted by clearer skies and a magical snow-covered landscape. We took the iconic scenic drive on the Mount Carmel Highway. We tried and failed to hold our breath through the tunnel into the mountainside. On the other side, we hiked the Canyon Overlook Trail, with snow dusting every ledge and branch. It became Evey’s favorite hike of the entire trip. Turns out he is an expert hiker after all.
Later, we explored the Emerald Pools Trail, where melting snow turned waterfalls into silver curtains tumbling over the red rock. We weren’t expecting the not one but three waterfalls that greeted us on the trail. We took our time to see them up close and personal… starting at the bottom, where the water crashed down into the emerald pools below, and then hiking our way up to the top, where the steady streams of water cascaded over the cliffs.
Our final stop was to the Court of the Patriarchs, a fitting last stop that left us quiet and grateful, gazing up at nature’s cathedral one last time.
Zion was our least favorite of the mighty five. Not because it lacked beauty… it definitely didn’t. Not because the cliffs weren’t grand enough… they definitely were. But perhaps because the weather kept us from experiencing the park at its fullest. Regardless, it still gave us something unforgettable… a different kind of wonder, quieter and more introspective. The snow, the eclipse, and the contrast of soft stillness after days of scrambling over rocks and exploring sun-soaked canyons gave us a unique experience we could call our own.
From the towering arches of Moab to the fairytale spires of Bryce, from the deep canyons of Canyonlands to the ancient stories carved into Capitol Reef, and finally to the misty cliffs of Zion… our Mighty Five adventure gave us more than we could have ever hoped for.
We saw ravens and fossils, hoodoos and arches. The boys became Junior Rangers in every park and created their own imaginative trail games, battling bosses and climbing like wildlings through rock gardens and canyons. They earned badges, found fossils, and adopted new stuffed animals who became part of the crew. We hiked over 30 miles, stood beneath natural cathedrals, and shared family moments we’ll carry forever.
And on the way to the airport, we made one final detour, Hoover Dam. A fitting, monumental end to an epic road trip.
This journey wasn’t just about checking off national parks. It was about connection. To nature. To each other. And to the part of ourselves that still believes in wonder.
Until next time,
by Missie Hills | May 13, 2025 | North America
If Capitol Reef was soft and serene, Bryce Canyon National Park felt like we had stepped straight into a fairytale.
From the moment we arrived at Sunrise Point, it was clear we were somewhere otherworldly. The hoodoos, those whimsical rock spires Bryce is famous for, stretched before us like the remnants of a forgotten kingdom. Some were thin and tall, others short and stumpy, and each seemed to have a personality of its own. It didn’t take long for us to start imagining that this canyon was ruled by fairies, goblins, and ancient stone spirits.
We began our adventure hiking down into the canyon via the Queen’s Garden Trail, one of the most magical hikes we’ve ever done. As we descended, we felt like we were shrinking, entering a secret realm far below the rim. The orange sandstone softly changed shades with every step, shifting from bright orange to soft coral to blush red. It was extra beautiful with the fresh dusting of snow covering the crevices between the hoodoos. It was easy to imagine that we walking into a fairy queen’s court.
Along the way, we spotted the regal rock formation known as The Queen, watching over her garden. We stared and stared looking for the queen, but we just couldn’t see her. After a couple of minutes of searching, she emerged like an optical illusion. There she stood, so regal, overlooking her court. As we continued on the Rim Trail, we were transported into forest, with the hoodoos as a backdrop. Finally at the end of the Rim Trail, we spotted Thor’s Hammer, standing tall like a mighty protector. We eventually ended the trail, exhausted from the long windy path up, at Sunset Point. It’s hard to describe how surreal the landscape looked, as if someone had painted it by hand. Even the wind felt enchanted, carrying the distant rustle of stories told by the hoodoos.
After a quick snack, we drove to Inspiration Point and Bryce Point, where we gazed out over the canyon from above. The sweeping views made us feel small in the best way, like part of a much larger story.
Before leaving, we made our way to the visitor center where the boys earned their Junior Ranger badges. It was a proud moment, especially when Evey went a step further and adopted a prairie dog through the park program. He named him Perry, and proudly carried his new plush prairie dog around the rest of the trip, our tiny, furry reminder of the magical day we spent in Bryce.
Bryce Canyon may be one of the smaller parks in the Mighty Five, but it cast one of the biggest spells on us. In just one day, we found ourselves enchanted by its beauty, its mystery, and the feeling that anything, dragons, fairies, even talking rocks, might be possible here. We said goodbye to the magical land and then set our sights on our last park, Zion…
Until next time,
by Missie Hills | May 13, 2025 | North America
After our playful afternoon in Goblin Valley State Park, we rolled into Capitol Reef National Park ready for a slower pace and found ourselves completely enchanted. From ancient carvings to vibrant rock formations, sage-scented trails to volcanic boulders, this park offered a little bit of everything.
We kicked things off that first afternoon by stopping to see the Fremont Culture petroglyphs, rock carvings etched into sandstone walls over 1,000 years ago. The figures depicted people, animals, and abstract shapes, giving us a glimpse into the stories of the people who once lived in this rugged desert. It was humbling and mysterious, the kind of sight that sparks both wonder and curiosity. We wandered through the historic settler orchards, still covered with fruit trees and tucked into the greenest pocket of the park. It was a reminder of the resilience of those who chose to farm and live in this isolated canyon. We spent the rest of the afternoon hiking the Sulphur Creek Trail, where the desert came alive with color and scent. I kept catching whiffs of something earthy and sweet. We later identified it as wild sage growing along the river. That smell became the heartbeat of the park for me. It was a beautiful contrast to the dryness of the surrounding cliffs.
We closed out the day with a short hike to Sunset Point. The weather was perfect, cool, clear, and calm. Even though we arrived before the sunset, the view was still full of so many colors shining on the rocks ahead.
The next morning, we started strong with a view of The Castle, a stunning pink rock formation that looked like it belonged in a fantasy novel. From there, we headed out on the Hickman Bridge trail, a 2-mile hike that quickly became a favorite. Along the way, we passed black volcanic boulders, carried to the area from ancient glaciers. The kids were fascinated. When we reached Hickman Bridge, we tucked under the massive natural arch for a snack. Throughout the hike, we could see the white dome-shaped rock formation that inspired the park’s name. Some say it looks like the U.S. Capitol building.
In the afternoon, we drove the Scenic Drive, winding through canyons, cliffs, and colorful rock layers. We made a stop at an old uranium mine before ending up at the Pioneer Register Trailhead. This 2-mile hike was something special. The trail followed an old path used by early settlers as a detour around the rocky cliffs. Along the walls, we saw names etched by pioneers, carved deep into the stone more than a century ago. At the end of the trail, we reached the Pioneer Tanks, large natural water basins that once stored fresh water for travelers. The dry creek bed we followed was full of surprises. We even spotted a few fossils, which we admired and left in place. After all, the boys are Junior Rangers now and take their duties seriously!
By the end of our stay, Capitol Reef had quietly worked its way into our hearts. It wasn’t as dramatic as Canyonlands or as iconic as Arches, but there was something gentle and grounding about this park. The smell of sage, the pink cliffs glowing in the sun, and the quiet stories etched into the stone. Those are the memories I’ll carry with me the longest. Our family waved a heartfelt goodbye to the beautiful park as we made our way to park number 4, Bryce Canyon.
Until Next time,
by Missie Hills | May 12, 2025 | North America
Tucked between the big names of Utah’s Mighty Five, Goblin Valley State Park was a lesser known stop on our itinerary. But from the moment we stepped into the valley, we realized we’d stumbled onto something magical. By the end of the day, all four of us agreed: this was one of our favorite parts of the whole trip.
Unlike the national parks, Goblin Valley doesn’t have structured trails or strict boundaries. Instead, it offers a giant open playground of strange and whimsical hoodoos, rock formations that really do look like goblins. The freedom to roam was a breath of fresh air. There were no signs telling us where to go or what not to do. It was pure exploration.
For three hours, we let our imaginations run wild. The boys played endless games of hide and sneak, ducking behind the rock goblins and jumping out with giggles. At times it felt like we’d landed on another planet, with reddish-orange rock stretching in every direction, casting long shadows as the afternoon sun moved overhead.
There was something so liberating about the unstructured adventure here. No trail maps, no hike mileage to track. Just open space, wild shapes, and the chance to be fully present in the moment. We climbed, we wandered, we made up stories, and we soaked in the quiet, otherworldly beauty of the valley.
It was a reminder that sometimes, the unplanned stops become the most memorable ones. We left energized and excited to explore our next stop, Capital Reef National Park.
Until next time,
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