In 2018, I packed up my gear, tossed some extra socks in my duffel (just in case), and headed out for a week in Yosemite Valley with my dad. No big agenda—just some hiking boots, a tent, and a mutual love for the wilderness.

There’s something really grounding about being in the Valley. Maybe it’s the way El Capitan looms above you like a stone cathedral, or the sound of the Merced River at night as you fall asleep in a tent you barely set up correctly. Whatever it is, it gets under your skin in the best way.

We woke up well before the sun most days, sipping coffee as the mist rolled off the granite walls. Each hike was its own little journey—some long and winding, others short but steep. We got lost once (well, “briefly disoriented,” as my dad would say), but that just gave us a chance to laugh and share stories from when I was a kid. Somehow, being out there brought those memories closer.

The best part? The simplicity. No phones buzzing. No rush. Just the crunch of dirt under our boots and the quiet companionship of father and son, side by side on the trail.

By the end of the week, we were sore, a little sunburned, and completely filled up in ways I didn't expect. Yosemite has a way of doing that—reminding you what matters most and helping you breathe a little deeper.