Meeting Tilly

Meeting Tilly

In Yosemite National Park, I pulled into El Capitan Meadow and parked behind a dusty Honda Prius. That’s when I first saw Tilly—sitting on the edge of her open hatchback, legs dangling, taking a break from the day's adventures. The scene was almost poetic, framed by the golden afternoon light filtering through the trees. I had my camera slung over my shoulder, and I noticed she was snapping pictures too—but with an iPad. That was enough to spark a conversation.

As we talked, I couldn’t help but notice that her car looked well-lived-in. “Are you car camping?” I asked. She smiled and nodded before launching into her story. Tilly was 81 years old, from Westminster, Georgia, nestled along the Chattooga River Trail. She had been married to Marvin, a civil engineer, for 59 years. After he retired, they bought an RV and visited every national park in the lower 48 states. They had a beautiful life together. But when Marvin passed three years ago, her kids insisted she move into what she called “a retirement village for old people.” She hated it. So last year, she left a note for her kids: I’m going to visit all the national parks again before I die. And just like that, she hit the road.

Tilly was my hero. Listening to her, I saw exactly the kind of person I wanted to be at 81—fearless, independent, and unshaken by the expectations of others. She had taken control of her life in the most inspiring way possible. She wasn’t just visiting these parks; she was reclaiming the joy and adventure that had defined her best years.

We sat there in her makeshift home-on-wheels, sharing a ham and cheese sandwich and a simple salad. The conversation flowed like we had known each other forever. We talked about life, loss, love, and the beauty of chasing what makes you feel alive. Time slipped away unnoticed, lost in the warmth of newfound friendship.

As the sun dipped behind Yosemite’s towering cliffs, I finally stood up to leave. Tilly grinned, her eyes bright with the spark of someone truly living. “Safe travels,” I told her, feeling my heart swell. “You too,” she said with a wink. I walked away with my camera full of pictures, but more importantly, with a heart full of something even better.