Over the years, our family has shared countless adventures, but the summer of 2022 was supposed to be our ultimate journey: a three-week, multi-state road trip. Leaving our home in Colorado, our ambitious route cut through Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota, Montana, and Wyoming. We had caught the National Park bug. Our itinerary boasted eight different national parks and monuments, including Mount Rushmore, the Badlands, and Theodore Roosevelt National Park. But the crown jewels of the trip were saved for last: Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons.

Our six-year-old son, Seth, could talk about nothing else. To him, Yellowstone was the greatest place on Earth, and seeing Old Faithful would be the grand finale.

The early leg of the trip delivered unforgettable memories. We walked along authentic Oregon Trail wagon ruts, explored ancient fossil beds, helped raise a Native American teepee, and explored our now beloved Black Hills. The Badlands, however, gave us our first real scare. South Dakota’s notorious wind snatched my daughter, Natalie’s favorite hat and whipped it over a cliff. Chasing it blindly, she came within a foot of the sheer drop before we grabbed her, pulling her back just in time. We bought a replacement at the famous Wall Drug, but to this day, she insists the Badlands are aptly named.

After taking in the stunning landscapes of North Dakota, we crossed into Montana. We arrived at Pompey’s Pillar to see William Clark’s historic signature carved in sandstone just as ominous storm reports rolled in. Even as we climbed the staircase, park rangers were already stacking sandbags along the riverbanks to fight the rising waters, and dark clouds could be seen in the distance.

Still, we pressed on.

That night, we were scheduled to camp at the Buffalo Bill Reservoir, less than an hour from the Yellowstone entrance. As we drove toward Cody, the highway tracked alongside the river. Though the sky above us was clear, the river next to us was swelling rapidly. I kept telling myself that if we could just outrun the water and reach our campsite, we would be safe.

Then the skies finally opened above us. We pulled into the campground drenched, stressed, and just in time to receive devastating news. For the first time in its 150-year history, Yellowstone National Park was completely closed. Historic, catastrophic flooding had washed away entire roads, leaving the gateway to Seth's dream, and the Grand Tetons, completely impassable.

We stayed for a week, holding onto a fragile hope that the park might somehow reopen, but it was to no avail. For the first few days, nature refused to let up; the wind howled with such violent force that I genuinely feared our camper would tip over. To fight the gales, we strategically huddled together on one side of the trailer, trying to use our own body weight to keep it anchored to the ground.

When the storms finally passed, we resolved to make the absolute best of our time in Cody. We explored the reservoir, toured the impressive Buffalo Bill Dam, ate far too much pizza, and played some mini-golf. We also visited the local museums, where we captured a moment that was both heartwarming and heartbreaking: we took a picture of Seth standing right next to a photograph of Old Faithful.

It wasn't the adventure we had planned, and to this day, that museum photograph is still the closest he has ever come to the real thing... yet. Every trip we've taken has had its ups and downs, but that's what makes them unforgettable adventures.