Some of our most spectacular national parks are the result of exploration. Once they’ve become a dot on a map, however, we stop looking further even though there’s so much more we could discover.
Our first national park, Yellowstone, was designated after survey parties spent years scrambling across the difficult terrain to see what other curiosities it may have to offer. But now most of the geysers, pools, and waterfalls have been marked. Roads and short, easy trails grant access to the features deemed most amazing. Who wants to venture any further? Virtually no one. The park estimates that 99% of visitors never get more than 10 minutes from a parking lot.
It seems counterintuitive that this thing that is supposed to satisfy our craving for wild adventure is just another heavily curated experience, not unlike a Netflix playlist. But it makes sense given that we’re wired to produce results. Few grant themselves the freedom to just see what’s over there. We don’t have time. A 3,500-square-mile park must fit in a brief vacation window.
Over the years, however, I’ve learned that I don’t need to be in a national park to explore. I also don’t need weeks of uninterrupted time. I just need to be more intentional with the time that I do have.
Several months ago, I found myself in Nebraska with time to explore a cave. Because of erosion and site restrictions, the cave ended up being underwhelming. The Missouri River, though, was close by and I made the short walk out to see what I could see.
At first, it looked like any river. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind yet.
Then I tried concentrating on its flow. There were occasionally bubbles or leaves that passed by and I would track their path. At this part of the river, there was a short side channel, the result of a small gravel bar.
It is often said that there are no straight lines in nature, and that was also true of the water’s path. Water tended to flow toward the center of the side channel. A hundred or so feet later, a fair amount of it would begin to curve toward the nearest bank. It would make a circle and then continue downstream.
The more I studied the water, the slower it seemed to flow. It didn’t actually slow down, of course, but it felt leisurely. I probably watched it for 10 minutes before I pulled my camera out of its bag. I spent another half hour making long exposures to try to capture the perfect patterns.
People sometimes say that “time stood still.” Given how busy modern life is, this was a welcome break.
This is the spirit behind my latest exhibit, which is titled Seeing Slowly. It will be on view at Gallery Belltown in Seattle until April 23. Contact me for a private viewing.
(Kevin’s book, Five Minutes in Nature, collects images and stories about his experiences in the wilderness, curated to help you have deeper encounters of your own. Preview and order it here. Prints of his images are available through LivingWilderness.com. Learn about new work by joining his mailing list.)
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