Olympic National Park Through My Eyes
There’s something different about this place—something almost otherworldly. Walking through the ancient forests of Olympic National Park felt like stepping back in time. Towering trees, their trunks thick with age, stood like guardians of history, their branches draped in layers of moss, whispering stories of centuries past.
The trails wound through a world untouched, where every step felt sacred. The air was thick with the scent of earth and rain, and the silence—so rare, so absolute—was the kind that settles deep in your soul. No hum of traffic, no distant chatter. Just the rustling of leaves, the occasional creak of a tree, and the steady rhythm of my own breath.
It was humbling to be surrounded by something so ancient, so wild, so completely itself. A reminder of how small we are in the grand story of time—and how lucky we are to witness even a fraction of it.
Nature like this doesn’t just exist—it endures. And I’m endlessly grateful to have walked among it.
