It still seems like a dream. It’s barely a week since we returned from our trip (of a lifetime) to a number of National Parks, but the surreal visions, no, the hints of the sublime experienced along the way, still inspire. For all the daunting, overflowing electronic email boxes, and chores beckoning, it is hard to put aside this trip. It is good to be home in Blacksburg. But..memories like screens on a I-Touch flow serially.

We descended into Roanoke last Tuesday evening after two extra circles around the airport. Hmm, I wondered. I want to be home, unpack, put my feet up, and listen to what’s been happening in “the real world.” I suddenly had a headache from the low pressure. The rain looked a bit worse than usual. And then I thought I saw a small funnel cloud. Nah, I thought, it didn’t look that ominous, but close. We learned later that what I saw was indeed a funnel cloud.

Finally we landed and almost immediately the hail pelted the aircraft. We sat in the plane for awhile, waiting for the bouncing ice to relent. And passengers ran for the indoors and our soggy carry-ons, appropriated plane-side in Atlanta.

Twelve days earlier, we traveled through Atlanta to Albuquerque, unaware that 23 fellow passengers on that flight were to be our travel mates for our nearly two week journey. They were from far and wide: From East to West and North to South. They arrived from Scotland too. And before long these strangers all bonded as we awed and exclaimed over our National Treasure: Our National Parks.

From Albuquerque, we traveled to Sante Fe, where we sampled Indian and Hispanic culture of the city, the Georgia O’Keefe Museum, local food, and a bit of shopping. Then it was on to Durango, CO for Lunch (in a French Pastry shop!), and Mesa Verde for dinner and a night in the cabins there. At about 8,600 ft. above sea level, Mesa Verde sits atop a 360 degree vista. From afar, its treasured cliff dwellings and archaeological sites keep their secrets. By day, step-on US Park Services tour guide, Alan, gave us the best tour of Cliff Dwellings imaginable.

And then it was onward to the Four Corners and Monument Valley, where you can imagine yourself in a Western Movie. Two days at the Grand Canyon are not enough, even for those of us who’ve been there before. You cannot see it often enough. And already we are planning our return: Next time we’ll do a float trip. We still haven’t done the helicopter-over-the-canyon either. Hiking the rim, or rather a couple of sections of the South rim, we got different glimpses from a previous time when we relied on scenic overlooks.

On the way to the Zion, we also saw Glen Canyon Dam, with its houseboats dotting the watered-and-red-rock landscape. There you can put down to float the Colorado all the way to Marble Canyon and beyond. One of the highlights was an optional jeep trip into Antelope Canyon. The slot canyons bend and twist the light, so glittering through the cracks and crevices, you can understand why indigenous people thought the earth was/is God. Our photographs with their light-cathedrals reach upward and nearly leap off the glossy paper.

With respect to the Utah leg of our trip (Zion, Bryce and Salt Lake City), I can only say this sampling made us want to return. Our hotel room in Zion opened up to views of the steep red rock faces. I loved the hike along the rim at Bryce. And the charm and welcoming citizenry of SLC struck a welcome cord. Our visit to Yellowstone was wonderful, but much too short. We wheeled 2,264 miles together, enjoyed traveling with new-found travel-buddies, as we explored our own “back yards” in the US, our spectacular national park. We bonded as we oohed, awed and watched the sunset together at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. We wrapped up our many camera-moments with a float trip down the Snake River, paralleling the Grand Tetons. And I wondered that our world can be so beautiful. And anyone should be so blessed as to experience this. There are no words.

Back in Blacksburg, I almost immediately saw the bumper stickers reading, “A Special Place.” It is. And it is a lovely town. But somehow when you refresh in the majesty of the western mountains, our mountains never look quite the same again. Molehills , I once said, early in our twenty-six-year time here. I had once lived within a smog-less day’s view of the mountains in So. Calif. I also lived in Washington state, where I explored the mountains, including Cascades and Canadian Rockies. It is great to be home. But there is nothing quite like a tour of our national parks to keep our perspectives wide, our egos in check, and our hometown reflections humble.

Kathryn Welch is a free-lance writer and retired industrial-organizational psychologist from Blacksburg.