Visiting Yosemite National Park in Winter
Head to the Grand Canyon or Yosemite National Park in summer and “forever wild” might feel more like “forever congested.” Come winter, these same parks are virtually uninhabited, almost returning to their original state. Cold weather can add a sense of wild enchantment—a layer of frost on the Canyon’s North Rim, icicles hang from Yosemite’s granite grandeur, the mixture of fresh snow and the briny Atlantic at Acadia. So grab your hiking boots, snowshoes, or cross-country skies and check out the country’s most scenic spots the way Muir and Abbey did, alone in their own private playground.
First stop, Yosemite National Park. Yosemite is a winter wonderland where you can play amidst sheer granite cliffs and domes, iced-over waterfalls, and towering trees. To truly savor the feeling of being alone in a national park, make snow angels at the roots of 200-foot sequoia trees in Yosemite’s Mariposa Grove. A 2-mile snowshoe trek in and you’re staring at these titanic trees, their shaggy orange bark a striking contrast to the frigid whiteness that envelops the rest of the forest. Cross-country skiers cherish the ten miles of groomed track that leads to 7,000-foot high Glacier Point. Here, a backcountry hut offers accommodations and a thrilling view of the Yosemite Valley. The sheer walls of the silvery Half Dome plunges some 4,500 feet down to a handful of figures swirling on the luminescent orb otherwise known as the Curry Village ice rink. The park is also home to one of the oldest downhill ski areas in California, Badger Pass, built in the late 20s in a bid to get the 1930 Winter Olympics. The bid failed but the resort, with a vertical drop of only 800 feet, is now one of the best places in the West to learn how to ski. At night, take refuge around the massive fireplace in the Ahwahnee Hotel’s Great Lounge. This spacious lodge was built of heavy timber and stone in 1927.
(Photograph by the talented Benny Haddad)
I’ve been thinking a lot about the South Pacific this week. Perhaps it’s the frost on the windshield of the car this morning forcing me to deal with Father Winter or flee to the tropics. Similar to Africa, the South Pacific is one of those places that get under your skin, coaxing you to return as often as possible. Unlike the majority of the Caribbean isles, which can only boast a white strip of sand, the South Pacific isles are jaw-dropping jagged peaks that rise straight up from the ocean, carpeted in emerald green overripe foliage. For me, this is paradise. 
A mere hour north of the hustle and bustle at Waikiki Beach is the North Shore. This is the Hawaii of yesteryear, home to the Banzai Pipeline and charming towns like Haleiwa, where folks will happily wait in line to try the shaved ice at the local favorite, 
In the May issue of Sierra Magazine,