The road less traveled

I'll never forget the day my parents told me they were purchasing a cabin in Wyoming. What a waste, I thought. My stepdad had been flying there to hunt elk for years, but I had absolutely no interest in visiting myself. I was a senior in high school, so my mind was on more important things, like the dress I would wear to prom, or the fabulous time I'd soon be having at college. If I were to take a vacation, I'd go to a warm beach, where I could put my toes in the sand and let the crash of the waves lull me to sleep. Wyoming, to me, was a bleak, colorless place with nothing to offer but a bunch of billy goats, tumbleweeds and an outrageous amount of snow.

I was entirely mistaken.

After the house was purchased, painted and furnished, a family vacation was planned for June 2013, and my parents managed to drag me, my sister, my brother and my boyfriend on a plane to our little home in Etna, Wyoming. The view from the plane was breathtaking. The Rocky Mountains were monstrous and incomparable to the molehills we have here in Pennsylvania. Despite the 80 degree weather, their peaks were frosty white.

Etna, with a population of just 200, was exactly what I had pictured the West to be, but instead of the dismal plain I had imagined, it was actually endearing. Our drive to the cabin took us along a straight, narrow road, lined with the quintessential general store, post office and tavern. Horses and cattle grazed behind wooden fences, and prairie dogs poked their heads from their holes, wary of the massive birds whose nests were perched atop telephone poles, large enough to comfortably fit five humans inside them. People were so friendly, from the waitress at the Yankee Doodle Cafe to our neighbor, Noe, who showed us his secret fishing spots and invited us to share dinner with his family. The mountains served as a backdrop to the ideal scene, somehow making the sky look wider and bluer. That week, I had never felt so small.

We spent our time hiking around Jenny Lake, riding a gondolier to the top of the Teton Mountains, fishing along the Snake River, watching Old Faithful spew from the ground, and roasting marshmallows over a fire pit we built in our backyard. There are no words to explain how astounding the landscape was. There are no pictures that do it any justice whatsoever. All I can say is to never underestimate a place you've never been to, and keep an open mind.

It's hard to convince people of its beauty. My grandmother refuses to go, claiming it's not worth the plane ticket. My friends want to spend spring break along the coast, while I'm itching to head West again. I once mentioned to my professor that we now vacation in Wyoming, and with a puzzled look, he asked, "Why in the world?"

Those who have seen it, however, know exactly why. This summer, I interviewed a man from Lehighton who told me he's been to every state. When I asked which was his favorite, he said, "Wyoming," without hesitation. That made me smile.

When it comes time to take a vacation, it's easy to be lured by commercialism to places such as Florida or Jamaica, but there is so much more to see in the other direction. I pity those who will live their entire lives without seeing what the West has to offer. Nature lover or not, it'll show you what peace really is.