Embracing the Obvious

Driving east on our way to Boston, we detoured briefly to Yellowstone - that quintessential national park teeming with families and RVs, where campsites are packed in tent-to-tent and the lodges are booked up a year in advance. We entered the park through the popular northern gate, making our first experience in Yellowstone the hordes of families at Mammoth Hot Springs - like Disneyland, but with steam vents.

Like many of our generation and temperament, I disdain the obvious. I do not follow well-trod paths; I like to feel original, to have "real" experiences when I travel (by which I mean, experiences not clogged up with other tourists). In an ideal world, I like my trips to be just un-mainstream enough to provide me with decent anecdotes for yuppie dinner parties. Yellowstone is as mainstream as it gets. 

But here's the rub: places are usually popular for a reason. Sometimes the collective does know best - consider, for example, crowd sourcing and (more often than not) juries. What Yellowstone lacks in obscurity, it makes up for with super-amazingness.

Loving Yellowstone

The park has everything: hot springs, boiling mud, and geysers, yes, but also a massive Alpine lake; a grand canyon with dramatic waterfalls; mountains; forests; grasslands; and my personal favorite, soft vistas of curving rivers.

And talk about crowd sourcing: the first thing we learned in Yellowstone (other than to maintain a safe distance from the bison) was to pull over when everyone else pulls over. Yes, the contrarian in me wanted to keep driving, but our willingness to follow the herd (pun intended) turned our trip into an American safari: a pronghorn pausing at a bend in the river, a black bear digging through the fire ring of an empty campsite, a bison perfectly poised at sunset in the Hayden Valley. 

After we continued past Mammoth Hot Springs, we were also reminded that "popular" and "crowds" doesn't always mean "crowded," at least at all places at all times. This is definitely true in Yellowstone, bigger as it is than some east coast states. Besides which, the enjoyment of a certain view or a certain moment is not always a zero-sum game: the collective gasp or quiet comment of appreciation from a stranger, or simple silence, can add a shared profundity of experience greater than any solitude when re-discovering the natural world.

Loving Maui

We learned the same lesson a year ago in Maui. Honeymooning in Hawaii does not get you props for originality, but we loved it. Granted, I had to get over my desire to do one thing, eat one meal, find one beach that wasn't already written up in countless guidebooks - a futile task someplace like Maui where the only real industry remaining is tourism. So I learned to stop worrying and love being obvious, just like everyone else.

Black sand beach along the road to Hana.

So what if everyone else is also driving the Hana Highway? That just means all the best waterfalls and pitstops have been mapped out for us in exquisite detail. (Maui Revealed has the most meticulous recommendations.) 

So what if almost every restaurant on the island caters to tourists? I can still enjoy my plate lunch of hearty (if somewhat uninspired) local food at Aloha Mixed Plate, dining al fresco next to the ocean. 

Dinner at the Old Lahaina Luau

I loved the Old Lahaina Luau, with its crafts for kids at sunset and giant buffet and hula dancing in front of the surf at twilight. I loved sitting on tropical beaches watching my husband snorkel with sea turtles. I even loved the Spa Grande at the Grand Wailea, often accused of being overrated: $55 for two hours of soaking in scented baths, sitting in saunas, and resting on the quiet lanai overlooking the ocean seems a fair price for a different sort of paradise.

Yes, the drinks at the Hula Grill along Kaanapali beach are ridiculously overpriced: but what price can you put on watching the sun set over the ocean, listening to live island music with a tropical drink in hand, your toes in the sand, and a gentle breeze against your cheek?

There's a lot to be said for the obvious. 

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So you're ready to embrace the obvious and head to Yellowstone or Maui. Now what?

On the Beartooth Highway

Yellowstone: (1) The lodges in the park are surprisingly affordable - but they book up literally a year in advance. Reservable campsites also fill up months in advance. Plan ahead. (2) Bring binoculars. (3) You need at least two full days: a day for the geysers and hot springs to the west, and a day for the grand canyon and the valleys to the east. (4) Don't skip the Roosevelt/Tower Lodge area to the northeast - it has beautiful rugged terrain, denser wildlife, and fewer people. (5) Leave or come via the Beartooth Highway (which connects to the northeastern corner of the park, also satisfying (4)). 

Maui: (1) Consider not staying in a hotel or resort. Renting a condo or finding a B&B might not be as glamorous, but it can significantly reduce the Disneyland feel of the tourist economy, in particular by letting you eat some of your meals at "home." (2) Not all beaches are crowded. Right above Kaanapali is Kahekili beach park: smaller and a bit windier than the popular Kaanapali, but mostly empty and with a free parking lot to boot. We also had DT Fleming beach park mostly to ourselves - and the sea turtles. (3) Leave early for the Hana Highway, use Maui Revealed, and don't back track - drive the full loop around the bottom of the island. (4) And when the crowds and/or the heat wear you down, we were fans of Local Boys Shave Ice in Lahaina.

DT Fleming beach park