Introduction: Why Some Parks Just Stick

People always ask me what my favorite national park is. And every single time, I freeze. How do you choose just one when the parks are all so different—some dramatic, some peaceful, some full of mystery, and some that feel like home?

But after weeks of driving, hiking, learning, and trying to rank them in my head (and then re-ranking them five more times), I’ve finally landed on my top three. These are the parks that stayed with me—the ones that taught me something, slowed me down, and made me feel really, truly alive.

This list wasn’t just about pretty views (although trust me, they delivered on that too). These parks stood out because they became part of my homeschool story. Each one reminded me that real-world learning in nature is sometimes better than any textbook or lesson plan.

Before we dive in, I have to give honorable mentions to Redwoods, Dry Tortugas, Crater Lake, and Zion—you were strong contenders and I’d go back in a heartbeat. But for now, here’s my personal top three.

Let’s start with number three.

#3 – Glacier National Park: Trails, Glaciers, and the Gift of Perspective

Glacier is one of those places that leaves you a little quieter than you expected. Not because there’s nothing to say—but because there’s too much to say, and most of it doesn’t fit in words. From the moment we pulled onto the Going-to-the-Sun Road, I knew this park was something special. The cliffs, the clouds, the wildflowers peeking out between rocks—it’s like nature decided to show off a little. And honestly? I didn’t mind.

We spent a morning at Logan Pass hiking the Highline Trail, which felt like a movie set for a fantasy novel. The boardwalk climbs, the wind howls, and if you’re lucky, a mountain goat might wander past like you don’t exist. I loved how the trail didn’t just move forward—it moved upward, slowly unfolding views that got better with every step. That hike taught me patience, and how powerful it is to look behind you every now and then.

Later, we explored Many Glacier, and that part of the park felt quieter—more tucked away. There were fewer crowds, more reflection. The lake shimmered like glass and the mountains reflected back like they were proud of themselves. And they should be. It was the kind of beauty that makes you pause without meaning to.

Glacier reminded me that learning doesn’t always look like holding a pencil or typing up notes. Sometimes, it looks like standing still in the middle of a mountain valley, breathing hard from the climb, and realizing you’ve never felt so small—or so in awe. I didn’t need a quiz to remember what I saw here. The lessons were already written into the landscape. That’s what real world learning in nature really is—being present, being curious, and letting the wild places shape you.

#2 – Olympic National Park: Mist, Mountains, and a Coastline That Teaches You to Watch

Olympic surprised me. I thought I’d fall in love with the trees or the rain or the silence—and I did. But what really stuck with me were the edges. The places where things crash and clash and somehow still belong.

We started at Rialto Beach, where the sky was gray, the rocks were slick, and the waves smashed into the coastline like they had something to prove. It was wild and kind of moody, but in a way that felt honest. I stood with the wind in my face and thought, this doesn’t have to be sunny to be beautiful. And that felt like a lesson in itself.

Then came the hike to Hole in the Wall, which was probably one of the coolest beach trails I’ve ever done. We had to time it with the tides, which added a whole layer of adventure and urgency. I remember hopping over driftwood, scrambling across wet, black, pebble/stones, and finally reaching the archway carved right out of the rock. It didn’t feel like a regular hike. It felt like something you’d only find if you were really looking.

And then there was Hurricane Ridge—and wow. The clouds cleared just in time for us to see the mountains stretch out like they were trying to reach the sky. It felt quiet in a deep, steady way. Like the kind of quiet that teaches you something without saying a word.

Olympic taught me that variety is a kind of beauty all its own. One park gave me crashing waves, alpine views, and tidepool tunnels—all in the same few days. It made me realize how much the world has to offer when you’re willing to step into different spaces and just be there. No two trails looked alike, and neither did the lessons. It’s the kind of place that reminds you to stay curious, because there’s always more than one way to learn.

#1 – Grand Teton National Park: Stillness, Peaks, and a Kind of Awe You Don’t Forget

If there’s one place that keeps coming back to me—long after the hike is over—it’s Grand Teton. These mountains aren’t just dramatic, they’re grounding. They don’t shout for your attention. They just are. Strong. Still. Steady. And maybe that’s what I needed most when we were there.

We hiked part of the Cascade Canyon, and honestly, I didn’t want it to end. Even though it’s long I felt like I could go on forever. The trail winds between towering cliffs, with a stream running alongside like a soundtrack. Wildflowers lined the path. Every once in a while, we’d stop and just... listen. Between that and the clouds weaving their way through the mountainsides, it was unforgettable for me. There’s something sacred about walking through a place that feels older and wiser than you. 

Earlier that day, we visited Mormon Row, where weathered barns and wide-open spaces make you feel like you’ve stepped into a postcard. It’s quiet there, but not empty. I remember staring at the Tetons rising behind those old buildings and thinking, this is what courage looks like. People built lives here in the shadow of those peaks. That kind of boldness sticks with you.

And then there’s Jackson Lake Lodge, where we sat outside drinking hot cocoa (because it was freezing, in the best way) and watched the sun dip behind the mountains. The air was still. The sky was doing that soft pastel thing. And for a moment, nobody in our family said anything. We just looked. And I think that might have been the best learning moment of the whole trip.

Grand Teton didn’t try to impress me with noise or flash. It didn’t have to. What it offered instead was space—to think, to rest, to just be. I learned that you don’t always need a big moment to walk away changed. Sometimes, the quiet ones do the most work. The Tetons taught me that beauty can be bold and still feel peaceful. And honestly, that’s a lesson I’ll carry with me long after the trail dust fades.

What These Parks Taught Me Beyond the Trail

Every trail had its views. But the parts that stuck with me weren’t just the pictures—I mean, those were cool too—but it was the in-between stuff that taught me the most. Like how it feels to keep walking when your legs are tired. Or how silence can be just as important as a spoken answer. Or how a canyon, a tidepool, or a lake can completely shift your perspective without saying a word. I feel so lucky to be working my way through college classes while having such amazing experiences…more on that later.

In Glacier, I learned to slow down. To look behind me and remember that the view changes depending on where you’re standing. In Olympic, I learned that no two places—or people—are exactly the same, and that’s a good thing. And in the Tetons, I learned that strength doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it stands still and waits.

Nature has a way of teaching you without trying. Studies even show that students who learn outdoors retain more, feel calmer, and build stronger thinking skills. But I didn’t need statistics to tell me that. I felt it. With every step, I felt a little braver, a little more curious, and a lot more open.

Real world learning in nature isn’t about memorizing facts. It’s about stepping into a space where everything is new and letting it teach you something you didn’t expect.

Spiritual Reflection: Closer to Creation, Closer to the Creator

There’s something about being in nature that makes you feel closer to God. Not because the sky opens up or you hear a voice from the clouds (although that would be wild), but because creation just whispers His name. You feel it in the sound of wind through the trees, in the stillness over a mountain lake, or in the way a sunset wraps the world in gold.

These parks—Glacier, Olympic, and the Tetons—taught me about more than just landforms and ecosystems. They showed me something about the One who made them. I remember standing on the edge of Jackson Lake, just staring at the mountains in silence, and thinking, How can something this strong also feel this peaceful? And then I realized—that’s exactly what God is like.

Romans 1:20 (ESV): “For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made.”

It’s all right there. The peaks, the tidepools, the rivers—all shouting that He is creative and powerful and present. And even when I felt small, I never felt forgotten.

Psalm 19:1 (ESV): “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.”

Every time I lifted my eyes to the sky in these parks, I felt it. His handiwork. His glory. His reminder that He’s not just the Creator of mountains—but the One who walks beside me on every trail.

Learning That Moves With You – Thanks to NCC

I’ve learned a lot on this trip—and not just on the trails. While we’ve been hiking, exploring, and learning in the wild, I’ve also been earning college credit through Northwest Iowa Community College, and honestly? It’s been the best mix of structure and freedom.

Because of NCC’s flexible online setup, I get to take my learning with me. Whether I’m working on a paper in the RV, watching a video lecture after a hike, or typing out discussion posts from a picnic table with a national park view, school still fits. It’s not always easy, but it’s doable. And that makes all the difference.

NCC lets me stay on track with my goals while actually living out the things I’m learning—whether that’s geology in Glacier, environmental science in Olympic, or even just time management on the trail. I don’t feel stuck behind a desk. I feel like my education is traveling with me.

🌿 Want to explore the world without pausing your education?  Request more information from Northwest Iowa Community College today!

Conclusion: Homeschooling, Hiking Boots, and the Lessons I’m Still Carrying

If you had told me that some of my biggest homeschool lessons would come from national parks, I probably would’ve laughed. But now? I totally get it. These parks—Glacier, Olympic, and the Tetons—each gave me something I didn’t know I needed.

Each park left its own kind of mark. Sometimes it was the view. Other times, it was a quiet moment I didn’t expect. Like laughing with my family on a trail we thought would be short (it wasn’t), or standing in total silence while the wind rushed through the trees. I didn’t just learn about these places—I learned because of them. They reminded me that the world is big, learning is everywhere, and wonder is something worth chasing.

They weren’t just trips. They were classrooms. Cathedrals. Quiet places that challenged and changed me in ways a textbook never could. And while the trails may be behind me now, the lessons keep showing up—when I’m studying, when I’m writing, when I’m figuring out what comes next.

So if you’re wondering if real world learning in nature is worth it? Let me say this: bring some hiking boots. The best kind of education might just start on a trail.