A Year I Never Expected

If you told me at the beginning of 2025 all the things I would see and do over the course of this year, I would have been shocked and amazed.

It’s been a year filled with a wide range of emotions — some incredible highs, like finishing my National Parks quest, and some moments of deep sadness - and everything in between. It’s hard to summarize a year like this in a neat way, because it wasn’t neat. It was full, intense, meaningful, and at times heavy.

Each year I usually start out with some idea of the big adventures or trips I want to take. Early in January 2025, I knew I wanted to go back to Katmai, and I planned on doing whatever I needed to do to secure the permits to spend a full week there.

Beyond that, almost everything else this year happened spontaneously — last-minute decisions to travel to other states, visit national parks, or explore places along the way while driving to see family across the country.

When I step back and look at it now, I’ll have spent close to six months away from home this year — traveling to national parks, being in national parks, and doing the things that draw me to these places in the first place. Someday, I hope to be able to live this way continuously. But for now, 2025 has been a marquee year — a banner year — for living out this dream.

This year has been incredible, and it’s honestly hard to imagine how I could top it. I know I’ve said that before, after 2022 and again after 2024. Was 2025 better than those years? I don’t know if that’s even the right question. Some of the experiences I had this year were truly extraordinary, but I don’t think it’s healthy or appropriate to always be chasing a “bigger” or “better” year than the last.

What matters more to me is sustaining what I’m doing — continuing forward, staying curious, and being fully present during each visit rather than rushing toward whatever comes next.

One of my goals for the coming year is to return to Katmai, and this time to have my wife there with me. I had hoped to bring her this year and had actually planned on it, but work complications made that impossible. Seeing the bears in Katmai is a truly special experience, and it’s something I want her to experience as well. I feel incredibly privileged to have these opportunities, but I don’t want to always experience them alone. Having my wife with me when I completed my 63rd National Park meant a lot, and I hope to share Katmai with her in 2026.

This year also marked a shift in how I share these experiences. I’ve always shared my park travels online, but in January I decided to step away from Facebook and move to Bluesky. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I quickly found a welcoming parks community there — people who care deeply about parks, respect these places, and genuinely support one another.

In August, I also joined TikTok — something my wife had encouraged me to do for a long time. I was hesitant. I worried about the time commitment, and I had a certain perception of what TikTok was.

What ultimately pushed me to join TikTok was much simpler: my wife was going live every day at the beach, streaming sunsets. Since I travel so often, I wanted a way to see her, hear her voice, and support her while I was on the road. I joined in late August before a big road trip, and she encouraged me to try streaming myself.

My first livestream was from Slough Creek in Yellowstone. I had no idea then what that decision would lead to.

Over time, I found another community — people who care about parks and nature, who want to experience these places through shared moments. That was a huge surprise to me. I had assumed TikTok was mostly about trends, dances, or silly videos. I learned quickly that it’s much more than that.

Live streaming became something I continued doing as I moved through different parks. And then there was the day when Balin fell during my livestream — a moment that changed everything. Since then, I’ve been overwhelmed by the number of people who reached out with concern, shared how deeply it affected them, and offered support and encouragement. Many of those people are no longer just usernames to me — they’re people I now consider friends.

That support has meant more than I can adequately put into words.

I’ve learned that what matters most to me isn’t simply sharing these experiences, but the connection that comes from them. This year showed me that those connections are real. That’s what makes me want to keep sharing what I see as I move through these places.

I’ve always been a goal-oriented person. I like having something out in front of me — something that gives me focus, something I can commit time and energy toward. For years, that was my National Parks quest. Now that it’s finished, I’ve found myself asking new questions.

Do I start another epic quest?
Do I build something new?
Do I take the encouragement I’ve received seriously and begin laying the groundwork to become a backpacking or hiking guide?

All of those ideas are competing for my attention, and I’m still sorting through what comes next. What matters most to me is making sure I’m doing what’s best not just for myself, but for my family — while still giving myself goals, both long-term and short-term, that keep me moving forward.

So heading into 2026, I don’t have a single massive objective in mind. My goal is simpler than that. I want to sustain what I’ve been doing. I want to keep visiting national parks at the pace that feels right. I want to continue sharing these places with others. And most importantly, I want to make sure I’m setting myself up for happiness — sharing these experiences with my wife, my dog, my family, and my friends.

If I can do that, then I’ll consider 2026 a success.

Here’s to a happy, healthy year ahead.