How Not to Visit Nature

I hate to stereotype. But is there really such a thing as a Jew who feels comfortable sleeping outdoors? Centuries of urban living have conditioned us to feel anxious around vast open spaces, bugs that bite, any wildlife, and extreme weather situations. I can’t relax in a vacation spot that’s more than 15 minutes from a quality cappuccino.

The national parks are a reliable way to spend time in nature. My husband and I have visited the pink sandstone ziggurats of Zion, the cracked black nothingness of Death Valley, Yosemite’s majestic peaks, and that world-class hole-in-the ground, the Grand Canyon — where people hike and die each summer. To experience them in person is unforgettable. 

My husband (Mr. Indoors) is so enthusiastic that he signed up for the senior national park pass upon retirement. An aspirational outdoorsman who had been stuck inside for most of his life, he looked forward to communing with nature while racking up points at REI. Though I didn’t share his excitement, I indulged his fantasies with the stipulation that sleeping on the ground was non-negotiable. In retirement, we started visiting the parks as civilized oldsters — with reservations at the lodges and some meals at the historic dining rooms. Three days was my limit.

When another couple — dear, old friends from the Bronx — suggested we plan a trip to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks together it sounded like fun. We enjoyed getting together a few times a year for dinners at stylish restaurants in L.A., where we sipped cocktails and caught up on our grandchildren’s accomplishments. What could go wrong on an excursion that included 10 days of air and car travel, sharing a rental car, and hiking in the woods? We rolled the dice and let the men plan it.

To be clear, my husband and I are not the most social. At this point, we pass on community potlucks, neighborhood barbecues, open houses of any kind. Gatherings that call for lots of chit-chat fell off my to-do list with parent-teacher conferences. Mostly, I am a solo traveler. He’s a curmudgeon. Needless to say, the other couple, a former marketing executive and a teacher, are more social.

My French teacher, aka my life advisor, warned me that the outlook wasn’t good. “Never take a car trip with another couple. It’s a catastrophe!” she warned me. The French know this, in the way same they know not to serve red wine with fish. It’s in their DNA.

I knew we were headed for trouble as soon as we landed in Montana, when my dear friend pulled me aside and confessed, “I’m not really an outdoors person.” I sympathized because neither am I. But the extent to which she wants to be indoors is on another level. It didn’t help that there are wild animals in these parks, the main reason most people come.

As a sensible woman of the Bronx, not only does she not want be anywhere near a bear, but also she wishes they would all leave the park immediately. Since Mr. Indoors had the bear spray, she shadowed him on our very short hikes. That meant my stoic husband had to forego his usual idea of fun — trekking straight uphill, with his head down, never stopping to snap a photo or speak till he reaches the top. In short, a death march.

Did we ever see a bear? I don’t remember but I saw enough bison in two days to last forever. When I suggested to my friend’s husband, our driver, that he just keep going rather than stop to gaze at more wildlife or take yet another picture, he shot me a withering look as if to suggest that I lacked curiosity. Ouch!

Did we ever see a bear? I don’t remember but I saw enough bison in two days to last forever.

As for geysers and other gaseous outpourings, I soon lost interest. After seeing a few, it’s the same old stinky, sulfurous stuff—and that includes Old Faithful, where accidents happen every summer. Being smashed against many inebriated visitors on the viewing deck for the scheduled “show” ruins the whole idea of wandering in nature.

For my Bronx friends the greatest indignity had to be the food. I had warned them it wasn’t about cuisine at the parks. They needed to understand that we would be eating from giant batches of industrial American food product served with exactly nothing fresh. Zero, not even a fresh strawberry! To make matters worse, my female friend is gluten-free, an impossibility in the parks. 

To be honest, 10 days was just too much nature and togetherness. By day nine, my friend had a stomachache, her husband was grumpy, Mr. Indoors got COVID and I just wanted to be alone: at home, in a dark room.

My thoughts on group travel? I would try it again, preferably on an excursion where a professional does all the planning while we, the guests, take in the scenery (with or without taking photos) while chatting. Good food and wine would be part of the package. Sounds like a cruise, doesn’t it?

Los Angeles food writer Helene Siegel is the author of 40 cookbooks, including the “Totally Cookbook” series and “Pure Chocolate.” She runs the Pastry Session blog.