Image Not FoundImage Not Found

  • Home
  • Sustainability
  • 9 U.S. National Parks That Feel Like Another Planet: Emily Hart’s Guide to Surreal Landscapes and Otherworldly Adventures
A woman with long hair sits on a rocky ledge, gazing at the colorful, layered hills of a desert landscape. She wears sunglasses and a patterned sweater, enjoying the scenic view.

9 U.S. National Parks That Feel Like Another Planet: Emily Hart’s Guide to Surreal Landscapes and Otherworldly Adventures

America’s “alien landscapes” as a new frontier for experiential travel economics

Veteran traveler Emily Hart’s selection of nine U.S. national parks reads like a catalog of Earth’s most un-Earthly terrains: hoodoo amphitheaters, shifting gypsum dunes, volcanic calderas, polar sand seas, and heat-sculpted basins. Yet the deeper signal for business and technology leaders is not merely aesthetic. These parks are increasingly functioning as high-demand experiential assets—places where visitors pay for rarity, scale, and sensory immersion, and where gateway communities monetize a growing appetite for “once-in-a-lifetime” travel.

The commercial logic is straightforward: landscapes such as Bryce Canyon (Utah), White Sands (New Mexico), Kobuk Valley (Alaska), Hawai‘i Volcanoes, Haleakalā, Great Sand Dunes, and Death Valley (California) offer experiences that are difficult to substitute with conventional leisure. Hart also highlights how each destination supports distinct “modalities” of consumption—scenic drives, sunrise reservations, sandboarding, long hikes, and even aerial access—which creates multiple revenue pathways for local operators, concessionaires, and adjacent real estate.

At the same time, the very qualities that make these parks feel “off-planet”—remoteness, fragility, extreme weather, limited infrastructure—are precisely what turns them into living laboratories for next-generation tourism systems.

Immersive media and AR wayfinding move from novelty to operational necessity

The next wave of travel differentiation is increasingly digital, and Hart’s “alien world” framing maps neatly onto a market already primed by gaming, streaming, and spatial computing. For technology providers, national parks represent a rare combination of high intent, high emotion, and repeatable storytelling—ideal conditions for immersive platforms that can be monetized before, during, and after a visit.

Several practical use cases stand out:

  • Pre-visit “test-drive” experiences: High-resolution LiDAR scans, photogrammetry, and 360° drone footage can enable virtual previews that help travelers plan routes, understand terrain difficulty, and set expectations. This is not just marketing; it can reduce rescues, improve preparedness, and smooth peak-time demand.
  • Real-time AR navigation and crowd intelligence: On narrow or iconic routes—such as Bryce Canyon’s Queen’s Garden/Navajo Loop—AR wayfinding can provide turn-by-turn guidance, crowd-density overlays, and “soft” nudges toward less congested alternatives. Done well, this becomes a conservation tool disguised as convenience.
  • Interpretation at the point of wonder: AR can overlay geology, ecology, and cultural context without adding physical signage that can degrade wilderness character. For parks, this is a way to scale education without scaling built infrastructure.

The strategic implication is that immersive media is shifting from a “nice-to-have” enhancement to a capacity-management instrument—one that can protect visitor experience while also protecting the resource itself.

Connectivity, remote sensing, and the business case for resilient park infrastructure

Hart’s list underscores a hard constraint: many of the most compelling landscapes are also the least connected. Kobuk Valley’s access challenges, for example, highlight how safety, search-and-rescue, and environmental monitoring increasingly depend on modern networks. This is where the business case for low-Earth-orbit satellite broadband, selective 5G edge deployments, and ruggedized IoT becomes clearer—not as consumer luxury, but as operational backbone.

Key technology vectors emerging across these environments include:

  • Remote sensing for volatile landscapes: In active volcanic zones such as Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park, drone-enabled surveys and thermal monitoring can feed predictive models for eruptions, fires, and air-quality hazards—supporting faster closures, better routing, and more credible risk communication.
  • Data-driven conservation in dune systems: Dune parks like White Sands and Great Sand Dunes are dynamic and delicate. IoT water-use monitors, biodegradable trail sensors, and habitat tracking can help managers quantify impact and adjust access without blunt restrictions.
  • Off-grid energy as a visitor-experience enabler: High-altitude and extreme-heat parks—Haleakalā and Death Valley—are natural candidates for solar-plus-storage microgrids that can power trailheads, lodges, and EV charging with minimal ecological footprint. For concessionaires, energy resilience is also margin resilience.

For infrastructure investors and operators, parks are becoming a proving ground for climate-resilient, low-maintenance systems—the same systems that will be demanded across remote industry sites, disaster-response corridors, and rural communities.

The emerging “geo-tourism” tech stack—and the competitive race to steward it responsibly

The economic halo around these parks is already visible in gateway towns: lodging, guiding, equipment rentals (including niche categories like sandboards), and specialized transport. Two macro trends amplify this: post-pandemic experience prioritization and the normalization of remote-work flexibility, which can extend stays and raise per-capita spend.

But growth brings pressure. Rising labor and fuel costs strain concessionaires and public budgets, increasing the likelihood of:

  • Higher fees and service charges, or
  • Dynamic pricing models designed to balance access with revenue and conservation needs.

For industry leaders, the most durable opportunities sit at the intersection of partnership, data, and ESG credibility:

  • Cross-sector partnerships: Co-creation between park services, technology firms, conservation NGOs, and local tribes can produce platforms that are innovative without being extractive—embedding cultural stewardship and authenticity into digital layers.
  • Data as a competitive asset: Aggregated visitor flow, safety incidents, and environmental conditions can support predictive staffing, infrastructure planning, and emergency response. GIS firms can monetize specialized subscription layers—geology, habitats, visitor footprints—serving consultants and tour operators.
  • ESG as measurable practice, not branding: Companies that fund habitat restoration, carbon reduction tied to transport, or volunteer programs can demonstrate tangible stewardship—especially important as visitation climbs and climate stressors intensify.

Over the next five years, what looks like a travel trend may harden into an industry category: a “geo-tourism” technology ecosystem combining immersive media, mapping analytics, resilient connectivity, and regenerative infrastructure. The winners will be those who treat these landscapes not as backdrops to be consumed, but as high-value, high-vulnerability systems—where innovation earns its place by improving safety, reducing impact, and keeping the wonder intact.