Grand Canyon, Glacier, Yosemite, Yellowstone, Grand Teton, Bryce Canyon, Zion, Sequoia, Big Bend, Black Canyon on the Gunnison… In no particular order I’d have to put those National Park as my 10 most favorite of the 40 I’ve been visited.

It’s a little challenging to rank them in a perfect hierarchy, because each of them should be judged by different criteria.

In terms of hiking, I’d put Glacier at number one. Those enormous, Swiss-looking mountains of the Lewis Range still covered with glaciers makes me understand why a man called this place “the Crown of the Continent”. It is breathtaking.

But so is Grand Canyon. As you go south from Montana towards Arizona, you’re entering the Colorado Plateau. The red rocks across Utah form canyons that seem to get bigger and bigger, and promise an awesome grand finale, which they deliver in Arizona. In terms of raw photogenic power, I put Grand Canyon at number one. It’s unbelievably huge.

However, in terms of an unbeatably pleasant and beautiful setting, I’d put Yosemite at number one. Indeed, I am hopelessly partial to California’s Sierra Nevadas, which John Muir called the Range of Light. But I too have seen that light, and it is beautiful. So are the waterfalls that plunge thousands of feet into the Merced River, from snowy Sierra crags, and flow through a green valley called Yosemite. I understand why Yo-che-ma-tee fought tenaciously to retain their home from white settlement.

In terms of defying expectations, I’d put Big Bend at number one. A lot of Texas is flat, hot and boring. A lot of Texas makes you wonder why so many people live in the Lone Star State? It ain’t because of Big Bend. Most Texans don’t visit here. However, as you make your final approach into that Rio Grande bottomland with those Chisos soaring above the desert floor, you will know you are in a special part of Texas, and you should love it. All Texans should love it, and those who haven’t seen it irritate me.

Anyways, I spontaneously started writing these words to make the point that the landscapes of Western America are almost unbelievably grand. There is grandeur out West that simply doesn’t exist in the Eastern United States.

Now, I’m not belittling the East. It’s green, lush and filled with rivers and waterfalls. It has a wonderfully pleasant ambience for any outdoor recreation. Millions love the Appalachians and Atlantic Coast, and not in a million years would I imply such sentiments are misguided. They’re not.

Wherever you are, if you’re happy there, that is a blessed thing. Happiness can be hard to find. I’d be a malevolent character to denigrate another for the happiness they’ve found. May God bless you wherever you are in the United States of America.

Nonetheless, I don’t feel I’m being pejorative to state that the East simply lacks the grandeur of the West. I mean it as a purely rational component of reality.

The size of the mountains and canyons, and the enormity of their views from atop; the blue skies above the colors and forms of igneous and sedimentary rocks comprising those vast landscapes; evergreen forests of pine, fir, spruce, and cedar in the high country; anomlies like giant redwoods, and giant sequoias, and 4,000+ year-old bristlecone pines; and some of the most scenic roads on Earth to see it all; indeed, I say “grandeur” describes it all.

I just don’t understand why most Americans don’t prioritize seeing the West. I don’t understand why they’d rather see Europe or the Caribbean or Mexico. The marvels out West are awesome.

Well, I guess I do understand: it’s because they don’t know how it FEELS to see Western Grandeur in the first place.

They don’t know how the West can make you FEEL.

So be it.