S2, E8: A Grand Adventure Through National Parks

In early 2020, journalist Emily Pennington embarked on a year-long road trip to explore all 62 national parks across the United States. However, just a few months into her journey, the pandemic hit, upending her plans. She details her experiences in her new memoir, Feral (Little A, February 2023). In this episode of Unpacked, Emily discusses her adventure, the significance of our national parks, and what motivated her to keep moving forward when it felt like everything was falling apart, metaphorically speaking. (Gizmo was perfectly fine.)

Transcript

 Emily Pennington, author: The pandemic was in full swing. I was literally navigating a breakup in the heart of the largest national park in the country. Technically, I had no home to go back to, yet I found myself amidst some of the wildest, most untamed landscapes—those without trails or roads and lacking visitor centers—available in the country, or even the world.

Aislyn Greene, host: That encapsulates Feral, a fresh memoir by journalist Emily Pennington that recounts her year-long quest to visit all 62 national parks in the United States. The journey was ambitious, at times perilous, and just happened to coincide with the pandemic. In short, it was an extraordinary adventure.

I’m Aislyn Greene, the associate director of podcasts at Dinogo, and welcome to Unpacked, the podcast dedicated to exploring a challenging travel topic each week. This week, we’ll dive into my conversation with Emily, where we chat about her reliable van, Gizmo, which took her on her adventures to nearly all the national parks. We discuss her motivation for embarking on such a journey, what our national parks symbolize—or fail to symbolize—and what inspired her to persevere when it felt like everything might fall apart, metaphorically speaking. Gizmo was perfectly fine throughout it all.

Before we jump in, just a quick note. Emily was recording this interview from her apartment in L.A., so you might catch some sounds from the city in the background.

Alright, let’s hit the road!

Emily, welcome to the show! I’m eager to get started. Congratulations on your book; I truly enjoyed it. What’s it like to finally see it out in the world?

Emily: It feels incredibly surreal. One thing I didn’t anticipate was how many others who have undergone intense or healing journeys would reach out to me. I really underestimated that, and I’ve found myself somewhat overwhelmed and inundated with heartfelt and profound messages from people who have experienced a lot.

Aislyn: Absolutely, it makes perfect sense. You share so much in your book that it’s natural for others to want to open up in return. To start off for listeners who may not be familiar with your story, you spent a year traveling across the U.S. in your van, Gizmo, aiming to visit all the national parks. What inspired you to take on this journey?

Emily: I’ve always envied those who could take a year off, save up, and go on a grand adventure. Back in 2016, I was at a turning point in my late twenties, just starting to embrace the outdoors. I began visiting local national parks in California, like Yosemite and Sequoia. I felt a desire to undertake something substantial and daunting that would span an entire year, something I wasn't sure I could accomplish. I believe it’s essential, at least once in life, to face something intimidating, if only to discover your true self and explore your own strength and resilience, even if the journey is chaotic and unpredictable.

Aislyn: And you kicked off this adventure at a time that surely invited the universe to present you with plenty of challenges. I admire how you persevered through everything the pandemic threw at you. What drove you to keep going during that period?

Emily: I was fortunate in that, following the two to three months of lockdown we all experienced, the outdoors became the safest space for many of us. I found myself on a unique frontier among travel writers and journalists, able to continue working when many of my peers could not. I was essentially traveling in my little mobile home, a minivan, exploring vast wilderness areas where social distancing was easy to maintain.

Perhaps it’s the Aries in me or my upbringing as a driven overachiever, but once we realized the outdoors were relatively safe, I had no doubt I wanted to see it through to the end. Especially after returning from Alaska, it's clear that I experienced a breakup while writing the book, which added another layer to my journey.

After returning from Alaska, I found myself without a home to return to, which felt like having the ground ripped out from beneath me repeatedly. It became essential for me to embrace the reality that this van truly was my home. This realization added a sense of urgency to my journey that I wasn’t willing to shy away from.

Aislyn: Do you still have your van? Is Gizmo still with you?

Emily: I kept her for about a year after my trip wrapped up. Eventually, I found myself fantasizing about using my book advance to upgrade to a van with a refrigerator, so I got another minivan that’s a bit more professionally outfitted. I named her Doris.

Aislyn: Doris, I like it! Is there a story behind her name?

Emily: Yes, somewhat. She has some quirky features—like Bluetooth, but no Apple CarPlay, her clock is always off, and even though she’s brand new, she doesn’t have a digital mileage speedometer. I thought a grandmotherly name would fit her, plus in the movie Almost Famous, the bus is also named Doris.

Aislyn: That's a great name. Very fitting. I noticed something you mentioned in the book: your schedule was incredibly ambitious, and you raced through many parks. In hindsight, would you have preferred to take more time?

Emily: Absolutely. A key lesson from my book is the importance of slowing down and following a pace that aligns with your physical and mental well-being, rather than forcing yourself into a strictly intellectual approach. I often joke that if I were to undertake this journey again, I’d love to have at least double the time to explore.

I definitely encountered some weather challenges, particularly in the Pacific Northwest during the worst wildfire season on record. And Glacier National Park—I'd love to revisit Glacier because I spent five or six days there thinking, 'I’ll go backpacking, I’ll have plenty of time.'

Unfortunately, it rained the entire time I was there. It’s one of the most stunning parks, yet I only saw gray clouds for all but one day.

Aislyn: Do you think you'd want to do this trip again, or would you prefer to focus on specific parks and return to them individually?

Emily: I’ve considered the possibility of embarking on another significant journey lasting six to twelve months. However, I’m not sure I’d want it to be as arbitrary as ticking off items on a list, even though that first experience was truly magical. I’ve been contemplating other adventures that focus more on landscapes or routes.

For instance, a road trip from the northern tip of Alaska at Red Hill Bay all the way down to the southern tip of Patagonia could be intriguing—

Aislyn: That sounds amazing!

Emily:—traveling from Alaska to Argentina might be quite the adventure. So, I’m brainstorming different ways to traverse vast landscapes that would be exciting but wouldn't require such a strict, mathematical schedule.

Aislyn: Absolutely. It makes sense to have a structured approach for your initial grand adventure, providing a framework or goal. Now that you’ve completed that journey and learned from it, do you think you’d adopt a more spontaneous pace, letting your current inclinations guide you?

Emily: Absolutely. One idea I had was this somewhat amusing notion of asking, "Can you overcome your type A tendencies in adulthood?" So, is there a version of this journey that reflects that? I remember there’s a book called The Year of Yes, and I thought maybe a road trip could be centered around saying yes to every opportunity that comes your way, as long as it generally aligns with your ultimate destination.

Aislyn: That sounds fantastic! You touched on this earlier, but your book dives deep into themes of disappointment, uncertainty, and plans gone awry. What advice would you offer to someone starting a similar journey?

Emily: My best advice would be to always have a plan B and perhaps even a plan C, especially when venturing into wilderness areas. This is crucial, even for a weekend getaway or a week-long national park road trip in Utah. As places become busier, you're bound to face weather delays, trail closures, or unexpected obstacles. It’s wise to have alternate plans that excite you, so you can adapt quickly when things change.

I also think it’s essential to maintain a balance between having a plan and not letting that plan dictate your sense of success. Human minds often struggle with cognitive dissonance, but to travel successfully for an extended period, you need to master that balance. Personally, even now as a travel writer, I keep a list of activities I want to do, but I don’t assign specific days to them. This allows for both flexibility and structure simultaneously.

Aislyn: I appreciate that approach—having some structure while avoiding a strict A, B, C, D format. You’re right; you can never predict what challenges you might face or how your feelings might shift from day to day, right?

Emily: Absolutely.

Aislyn: It’s important to allow for some serendipity. Shifting gears slightly, I was particularly struck by something you mentioned early in your book, especially after you left Los Angeles. Are you still living in L.A.?

Emily: Yes, I am. I plan to move to Colorado later this year, but we’ll see how that goes.

Aislyn: Got it. You noted that, "refueling in Coalinga reminded me of how many people in this country live: fried food, dented trucks and trailers, and housing for agricultural workers that are embedded in the town’s core. The maze of organic markets and vegan gelato shops in Los Angeles isn’t the norm.” This made me curious about how this journey shifted your perspective on the country and your view of L.A.

Emily: It truly opened my eyes to the bubble we often inhabit while living in a large liberal city like Los Angeles. While L.A. is incredibly diverse and we encounter many different people and lifestyles every day due to its density, there’s still a certain insulation that can occur.

One thing that stood out to me, particularly since so much of the journey occurred during the pandemic, was realizing how many people around the world didn’t have the luxury of working from home. Everyone I knew in Los Angeles had the option to retreat indoors, and while it was undoubtedly uncomfortable and traumatic, they could still enjoy many comforts of home.

In contrast, many of the places I visited that year, especially the gateway towns near national parks, are more rural. People there continued working on farms, caring for their horses, or taking retail jobs. I developed a quiet respect for these individuals, who often go unnoticed, a sentiment I didn’t fully appreciate before my travels.

Aislyn: That makes a lot of sense. Did this experience help moderate your perspective? There’s such a stark divide in discourse across the U.S. now, especially during the pandemic. It seems that traveling through different communities offers a broader understanding of various viewpoints.

Emily: That’s an intriguing point. While I hold strong beliefs in science and vaccines, particularly as a travel writer whose actions could influence others, I find myself feeling more empathetic toward those living on society’s fringes or in remote communities where misinformation can spread rapidly.

Even if I don’t agree with their views, I have developed a deeper compassion for people with vastly different beliefs. I understand how they arrived at those perspectives and have the patience to engage in conversations, sharing my viewpoint in a calmer, less divisive manner.

Aislyn: This really highlights the transformative power of travel, doesn’t it? It opens our minds and nourishes our souls. On a more practical note, which parks are you eager to revisit? You mentioned some at the beginning of our conversation, but have you gone back to any since then? It’s been a couple of years now.

Emily: Yes, it has been a couple of years. I wrapped up the book nearly a year and a half ago, so it’s hard to believe it’s only just being released. I've revisited several parks already. I went back to Capitol Reef in Utah almost right after my initial trip ended.

Aislyn: Oh wow, really? What prompted that?

Emily: I returned about three months after my trip officially concluded in Hawaii. I wanted to experience Capitol Reef during a warmer month and take on some slot canyons with a friend for safety, just in case I fell into one of them. Having someone there made me feel more secure.

That trip was incredible! I highly recommend exploring the slot canyons in Utah; they’re breathtaking yet a bit intimidating. Capitol Reef tends to be one of the lesser-known parks in Utah compared to Arches, Bryce Canyon, and Zion. It's located more in central Utah, amidst stunning Red Rock terrain. I'm currently planning a trip back to Alaska this August. I’m really looking forward to trekking and possibly river rafting near the Arctic Circle.

I embarked on a bit of a punk rock adventure, deciding I didn’t want to take a conventional road trip. Instead, I aimed for a more rebellious journey up to the Pacific Northwest. This was back in November, and I felt overwhelmed by the relentless sunshine in Los Angeles. I was craving the experience of being surrounded by towering trees, specifically in the midst of rain and weather that Southern California lacked. So, I ventured all the way to Olympic National Park and Redwoods National Park in November, seeking a different atmosphere than the more pleasant conditions I encountered during my previous visit for the book.

Aislyn: Did you get that moody, rainy vibe you were after?

Emily: Absolutely! Perhaps even a bit too much, but I had an amazing time finding my footing in Portland. I rented an Airbnb for a few days to relax, indulge in good food, and then continued my journey up to Olympic. The fall colors were stunning, and they seemed to be peaking later than usual last year, which I was really thankful for.

Aislyn: That sounds incredible! Did you do that trip solo?

Emily: No, I was with someone I was dating at the time. While I’ve enjoyed plenty of solitude and am quite comfortable traveling alone, I find that having a companion for my travels adds a special layer of enjoyment. Given how much I travel for work and writing, it’s a joy to have someone along. It creates more memories, and another personality adds an unexpected twist to the journey—like a delightful wrench that can bring laughter and smiles into the mix.

Aislyn: I love that—a good wrench indeed!

Emily: Exactly! Let’s just throw a good wrench into the mix here.

Aislyn: Speaking of wrenches, we’re going to take a short break. When we return, we’ll dive into the topic of the stoicism movement, body image in the outdoors, and so much more.

I was intrigued because there’s a recurring tension in your book—those moments spent alone in nature contrasted with feelings of loneliness, longing for food, or craving technology. Yet, you seem to have grown from those experiences. What do you think makes time spent alone in nature beneficial for us as human beings?

Emily: I think we’re witnessing a significant interest in stoicism these days. Tim Ferris often discusses it, and it’s a topic many in Silicon Valley tech circles are drawn to. What I mean by that is we’ve engineered our modern lives to be excessively comfortable all the time.

People have become so accustomed to comfort that seeking out less comfortable experiences feels like a refreshing escape or vacation. This is why trends like glamping are emerging—people desire the blend of comfort with the outdoors. Similarly, the rise of van life reflects a desire to downsize; it’s as if life has become overwhelmingly large and comfortable, and now we’re striving to simplify it, to fit a modern lifestyle through a narrower lens and emerge with a more streamlined, minimalist existence. However, there's also a lot of mental busyness that arises when surrounded by human-made things. For instance, at this moment, there are probably four or five different sources of white noise in my apartment, and we tend to overlook that. Yet, when you immerse yourself in nature, you encounter a level of silence that is unlike anything in a city, even during its quietest times.

Moreover, I discuss in my book a profound quote by Eckhart Tolle about how walking through a city—even when observing something as simple as a garden—everything is arranged, manicured, and designed with right angles. Your mind is constantly processing these artificial structures and forming language as you navigate the urban landscape.

In contrast, in a forest, the density comes from wild, twisting vines, diverse bushes, vibrant flowers, and trees that have grown together organically. There’s a certain meditative quality in that chaos that’s visually and mentally essential for us to experience.

Aislyn: And the sheer scale of it can make you feel wonderfully small, right? You’ve shared quite a bit about your own path to gaining confidence in the wilderness. What advice would you offer to women just starting their own wilderness journeys? Any encouragement, tips, or reasons to persist when faced with challenges?

Emily: Absolutely! Embracing the wilderness is all about building confidence in yourself and your abilities. Start small, and don’t be afraid to seek help or join groups where you can learn from others. Remember, every little step outside your comfort zone counts. Celebrate your progress, no matter how small, and remind yourself that the challenges will only make you stronger. The more you immerse yourself in nature, the more you’ll realize it’s a nurturing space where you can grow, learn, and ultimately thrive.

Emily: I believe that spending time in nature, whether it’s solo or with trusted companions or even a guide, holds particular significance for those who identify as female. Given the constant barrage of body image issues we face daily, engaging in activities that rely on our bodies—not for their appearance, but for their strength and resilience—can be profoundly healing. I personally struggled with an eating disorder during college, and it wasn't until my late twenties, after having recovered, that I truly felt at home in my body. It was through mountaineering, hiking challenging trails, and undertaking extensive solo backpacking trips while carrying a 40-pound pack that I discovered what my body is capable of.

While my body can adapt to urban life, where I might wear dresses and makeup, it also serves as a remarkable tool for accomplishing extraordinary feats. It may sound cliché or overly simplistic, but many people echo the sentiment that tackling significant challenges outdoors can be transformative. In those moments, no one cares about your appearance, whether you're wearing makeup, or if your arms are speckled with squashed mosquitoes after a long evening outside. It’s liberating to appreciate your abilities in such an authentic way.

Aislyn: Absolutely. It’s incredibly empowering, isn’t it?

Emily: Exactly! That’s the perfect word to describe it.

Aislyn: I recall your friend Kate discussing this ancient journey of hermetic wandering, suggesting that this exploration in nature is essential for many women in their thirties, especially as they come to terms with not being 25 forever. Do you think this journey could have been beneficial for you at an earlier stage in your life?

Emily: That’s an interesting question. My instinct tells me that if I had embarked on this journey earlier, I might have lost interest midway or turned to substances to cope more than I actually did.

I spent most of that year sober, with only a few instances where I enjoyed a glass of wine with a friend or had a beer. In my younger days, I was much quicker to seek out distractions to escape discomfort. A significant theme in Feral revolves around confronting discomfort to the point where it can feel overwhelming at times.

Aislyn: And emerging from that, right? Recognizing what you’ve learned or what lies ahead, and understanding that you don’t necessarily have to numb yourself during those challenging times.

Emily: Absolutely. I’ve encountered similar ideas from monastics during meditation retreats. They suggest that when you feel something like, Oh, I’m cold, you don’t have to get up and grab a jacket immediately. Instead, you can acknowledge, This cold is just a sensation I’m experiencing right now; it won’t harm me. In 15 minutes, when I finish meditating, I’ll fetch something warmer. This mindset reflects a tiny fragment of the philosophy I aimed to embrace throughout the year.

Aislyn: It was a profound experience. Your discomfort resonated through the pages; it felt very visceral. Shifting gears completely, I wanted to ask about Instagram. Perhaps a different kind of discomfort, but when you were in Death Valley, you described being at a location with many people competing for the perfect photo. You shared how planning your itinerary around capturing that perfect moment often leads to dissatisfaction. How do you think leaving the camera behind allows us to engage more deeply with nature or life itself? What’s your perspective on this?

Emily: I really appreciate this question! I often embark on hikes without taking any photos, which I refer to as my "just for me" hikes. When you're a big Instagram user or your job revolves around travel, it can become quite challenging to truly take a vacation since what you love is also what pays the bills.

Creating personal boundaries in your life becomes essential. I also want to address the issue of overcrowding in certain areas that have become popular on social media or Instagram, particularly within national parks. I’m friends with Chip Jenkins, the superintendent of Grand Teton, who is absolutely wonderful.

He often reminds travel writers like us, "You have no idea how much influence you have. If you write about a place in a major article, people will flock there." They see this happening in places like Jackson Hole, which is heavily affected by tourism due to the stunning mountains and national parks surrounding it.

To cope with the feeling of, oh, Every trail seems overcrowded or I just found these three blogs all recommending the same five trails, it’s clear there must be more hidden gems out there beyond those five. It’s a common concern.

And here’s a tip that might sound simple and a bit cheesy, especially for anyone who’s not a millennial listening in: just talk to a ranger or call the ranger station! I’m not a fan of picking up my phone, and I felt apprehensive during the pandemic about approaching someone while wearing a mask to ask, "What trail would you suggest?" But honestly, I’ve received some of the best recommendations for less crowded spots. Rangers have explored every corner of the park and will know which trails are busy. They'll likely advise you to go at sunrise or later in the day.

If there's a popular spot you're eager to photograph, the rangers can suggest several other similar landscapes for you to explore and capture without dealing with the crowds.

Aislyn: I really appreciate that. It’s such a valuable tip, and I can see it being an underutilized resource. You're absolutely right—travel writers and editors hold significant influence, so I admire your awareness of this in your work. This leads me to another question: What do you think the significance of America’s park system is in 2023? That’s quite a big question.

Emily: It’s not a question I get often. Let me ponder it for a moment. I believe the national parks and the outdoor industry as a whole have been undergoing a significant reckoning over the past three to five years. Initially, the focus was on amplifying diverse voices, particularly those of female writers and adventurers. Then the conversation expanded to encompass LGBTQ issues and the representation of people of color.

Currently, there’s a strong movement within both the outdoor industry and the park service aimed at elevating Indigenous voices and promoting tribal co-management of national parks. For instance, Joshua Tree, often among the top 10 most visited national parks, recently made progress with the approval of its first official step toward tribal co-management just a month or two ago. This is a significant development for 2023.

I’ve mentioned some of the improvements being made regarding access, equity, and the importance of telling the comprehensive histories of these lands, which were largely taken from Native peoples. Now, there’s ongoing dialogue between the National Park Service and various affiliated tribes, allowing for practices like subsistence hunting and fishing, as well as co-management of specific parks and territories.

Aislyn: Returning to a specific place or park, it seems that Alaska was a significant turning point in your journey. So much unfolded there. In what ways did it serve as a pivotal moment for you, and how did the Alaskan landscape contribute to that?

Emily: Alaska is one of my favorite topics to discuss, so I'm thrilled you brought it up. You’re correct; during the pandemic, I found myself in the midst of a breakup while exploring the largest national park in the country. I didn't have a permanent home to return to, yet I was surrounded by some of the most remote, untamed landscapes in the world. The profound sorrow I felt personally seemed to resonate with the relentless expanse of the landscape around me. It felt harsh, yet not cruel, and it was incredibly captivating and healing in a way I never anticipated. I could have easily been intimidated by such vastness, but instead, its mystery and beauty sparked my curiosity and led to what I hope will be a lifelong love affair with Alaska.

I grew to appreciate how the land must have looked in its natural state. Living in the Lower 48, we’re somewhat spoiled with parks that have trails, visitor centers, and even WiFi. In contrast, Alaska boasts parks spanning millions of acres with only one road and no designated trails. You can explore different regions, but you must adapt to the land rather than the land accommodating you. There are no bridges over rivers or trails across muddy fields.

There’s something profoundly humbling about that, evoking a sense of ancient importance. Yes, you might end up with painful blisters and cold nights in your tent, but you also witness what the Earth is truly meant to look like. The abundance of wildlife is remarkable, and it almost makes me sad that you don't encounter such diversity in the Lower 48. I suspect that this is what it was like before development took hold, allowing wildlife to roam freely in those vast, untouched spaces. It's bittersweet, but I’m thankful for the vast protected lands we still have up there.

Aislyn: It truly is a magnificent place. I found it interesting when you mentioned a park you could only access by plane due to the pandemic. Which park was that?

Emily: There are, I believe, four or five parks in Alaska that can only be accessed by plane or boat. The state's geography doesn’t really allow for roads due to its unique fjords and rugged mountain ranges. The two you might be thinking of are Gates of the Arctic and Kobuk Valley.

These parks lack roads and trails, so your only option is to hire a guide who will land on a gravel riverbank. Then, you simply get out, watch the plane take off, and hope you packed enough snacks for the next five days.

Aislyn: That must be an incredible experience to see so much land from the air! What was that like?

Emily: It was absolutely mesmerizing. Coming into Gates of the Arctic in early September was particularly breathtaking as the tundra undergoes its stunning color transformation during the brief summer. The expansive mountain ranges in the Brooks Range display undulating peaks that shift into vibrant shades of crimson, yellow, and marigold.

It felt like descending into an artist’s canvas splashed with color, where the different hues represented the diverse trees and shrubs that thrive in the tundra. However, it was also somewhat bittersweet to realize how vast the Earth is and how significantly we have impacted it. Even though we might perceive ourselves as small and insignificant in the wild, our effects are undeniable.

It may sound simplistic, but witnessing a landscape spanning millions of acres, completely devoid of roads, trails, buildings, or any artificial light, is truly eye-opening. It makes you realize that there might be a balanced way to coexist with nature that we haven't yet achieved in some of the more developed Western states.

Aislyn: Stepping back a bit, this may be a nearly impossible question to answer, but I'll ask it anyway. If you had to choose a single lesson or a few lessons from this journey, what would they be?

Emily: When writing Feral, I wanted to convey that a transformational journey isn't a neatly packaged narrative like we often see in movies or television, with their clear three-act structures. Books allow us to delve into the messier aspects of life and the complexities of our experiences.

My own path to healing and transformation was a chaotic, humorous, and unpredictable roller coaster of a year. Accurately depicting this in my book helped me grasp the lesson that life is both beautiful and perilous at the same time.

I touch on this concept in the last national park I visited in Hawaii, where I looked out over vast lava fields and observed the creation of new earth. Despite the noxious gases that could be deadly and the inhospitable landscape, this harsh environment is responsible for the very elements that sustain us. There’s something profoundly beautiful yet dark about that. One of my key takeaways was learning to embrace discomfort, recognizing it as a natural part of life. The earth itself undergoes similar processes, so many of our emotions are ancient responses shared by the planet. Understanding this can foster greater patience with ourselves on our chaotic and transformative journeys toward wholeness.

Aislyn: Without giving away too much about the book's conclusion, I really appreciated the strong, centered tone it ended on. It felt quite empowering. You've touched on what has happened since; what does your life look like now?

Emily: My life has become much more focused on prioritizing my mental health. It's crucial to keep our minds healthy and happy as we navigate adulthood. I also travel extensively now, exploring more international national parks. I'm eager to learn about biodiversity and how climate change is impacting various communities, landscapes, and wildlife worldwide. I aim to advocate for nature not just in my own country but on a global scale.

Aislyn: Are there any specific international locations you’re currently focusing on?

Emily: Yes, definitely. I recently visited Antarctica for the first time, where I learned about a hole in the ozone layer and the efforts of the tourism board to regulate the number of cruise ships visiting. Unfortunately, tourism is rapidly increasing there. I'm conducting some research on the sustainability of Antarctic tourism because, even more than Alaska, it's a vast, relatively untouched region teeming with wildlife, fish, birds, and whales. It's essential to keep such areas protected.

Additionally, I took my first trip to Africa last year, which was incredibly enlightening. I learned about the management of poaching and various wildlife parks and protected areas. This experience highlighted the critical role these lands play in maintaining biodiversity. It’s fascinating to discover that there isn't a one-size-fits-all solution to preserving land effectively.

I’m not sure if you’ve heard about the 30 by 30 initiative that President Biden and several other world leaders have endorsed, but it’s a vital movement aiming to protect 30 percent of the planet’s lands and waters by 2030 to avert significant species extinction. Preserving these areas doesn’t always mean establishing completely untouched national parks; it could also involve farmers designating portions of their land for wildlife corridors to facilitate migration. It’s fascinating to observe how other countries are innovating conservation methods that differ from our own while still being effective.

Aislyn: Absolutely, collaboration is crucial, right?

Emily: Exactly! While national parks are often hailed as America’s best idea, owing to our inherent sense of American exceptionalism, it’s essential to recognize that other nations are making remarkable strides in conservation. For instance, in Chilean Patagonia, they have successfully connected several parks and previously farmed lands that were once used by cowboys. Now, it forms an extensive coastal fjord landscape stretching for many miles, allowing wildlife to migrate freely between areas, which is fantastic.

Aislyn: Those are the promising developments we’re witnessing.

Emily: Yes, definitely! It's inspiring to see these advancements in conservation efforts worldwide.

Emily: Absolutely! We need to introduce more innovative solutions, like expanding unspoiled wildlife corridors. In Los Angeles, for example, there’s been a lot of discussion following the tragic death of a celebrity mountain lion, P 22, a month or so ago. People are advocating for wilderness bridges over the major highways to help large mammals, including big cats, migrate more easily to the dwindling wild areas within the city.

Aislyn: That's fantastic! It's encouraging to see major cities taking such initiatives and finding practical ways to integrate nature.

Emily: Exactly! This approach might have been inspired by practices in Europe, where wildlife crossings are more prevalent. It’s a great example of how we can learn from other countries’ experiences.

Aislyn: Yes, Europe has some great ideas! Is there anything else you’d like to share or any additional wisdom you want to offer?

Emily: Just this: If you’re considering embarking on a life-changing journey that scares you, I highly encourage you to go for it. Make sure to inform someone about your plans and have a safety net in case things go awry. Remember, you’ll never be younger than you are right now, and there’s no better time than the present to challenge yourself in the beautiful, unpredictable, and often tough landscapes of the American wilderness.

Aislyn: Great advice! Emily, where can people learn more about you?

Emily: You can find me on Instagram at @brazenbackpacker. I also write a column for Outside magazine, where I share insights about parks, including trail and accommodation suggestions. My book offers a more personal, PG-13 rated exploration behind the scenes of that column.

Aislyn: Sounds fantastic! Thank you so much for joining us today. I really appreciate it.

Emily: Thank you for having me! It was a pleasure.

Aislyn: And that wraps up this week’s episode. Thanks for tuning in, everyone! Emily shared her social media links, which you can find in the show notes, along with a link to purchase her book and her audiobook. You can also explore more about Emily on her website, brazenbackpacker.com.

Before we wrap up, I’d like to introduce a new segment we’re testing, inspired by our popular travel trivia game featured in our newsletters. Our copy editor, Pat Tompkins, who nearly appeared on Jeopardy, creates these tricky quizzes, so any tough questions are on her! This week’s trivia: Which country boasts the most islands? Is it Canada, Indonesia, Sweden, or the Philippines? I won’t spill the answer just yet. Sure, you could look it up online, but if you’re too busy or feeling patient, we’ll reveal the answer in next week’s episode. Stay tuned!

Ready for more discoveries? Check out Dinogo.com and don’t forget to follow us on Instagram and Twitter. This season, we want to hear from you! Do you have a travel dilemma, topic, or trend you’d like us to delve into? Visit Dinogo.com/feedback or drop us an email at unpacked@Dinogo.com to share your thoughts.

If you enjoyed today’s journey, I hope you’ll return for more fascinating stories. You can subscribe to Unpacked on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your favorite podcast platform. Also, please rate and review the show; it helps other travelers discover us. This has been Unpacked, a Dinogo Media production. The podcast is produced by Aislyn Greene and Nikki Galteland, with music composed by Chris Colin.

And remember, the world is complex. We’re here to help you unpack it.