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This month, I set out to photograph Acadia National Park — one of the most iconic and beloved landscapes in the United States. I expected early mornings, quiet trails, and those transcendent moments of light that make the long drives and pre-dawn wake-ups worth it. Instead, I found packed parking lots, gridlocked traffic, and a level of crowding that made even entering the park a challenge.
I’m not alone. As national park visitation continues to rise — especially during peak season — more and more photographers are discovering just how difficult it is to create the images they’ve envisioned.
This post explores the growing challenge of overtourism in America’s national parks — why it’s happening, how it affects us as photographers, and how we can navigate it more thoughtfully.
The Reality at Acadia
Acadia in July was overrun. I arrived with a detailed shot list: dramatic coastlines, historic carriage roads, and soft morning light over Jordan Pond. I’d planned to photograph sunrise from the summit of Cadillac Mountain, one of the East Coast’s most iconic vantage points. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize until too late that a timed vehicle reservation was required. By the time I checked, all advance permits were sold out. A few passes are released 48 hours in advance, but I was off-grid, camping without Internet access — making it impossible to secure one.
The Island Explorer Shuttle offers access to Cadillac’s summit, but it doesn’t begin operating until 9 a.m. — well past the ideal window for sunrise photography.
I pivoted and aimed to capture sunset instead, hoping for that rich, golden-hour light from Cadillac’s summit. I left myself enough time to explore the park loop before my reservation window, but every parking area was full. Without a place to leave the car, even accessing the shuttle became impossible.
Ultimately, I didn’t photograph any of the landmarks in the east side of the park. Every viewpoint was packed. I didn’t see anything except traffic. Eventually, I gave up on the east side entirely. I left without a single image — and with a lot of ideas about how I’ll approach future trips.
This wasn’t just frustrating. It was eye-opening. I realized how many visitors must face the same situation — and how few are prepared for the level of congestion these parks now face.
The Growing Crisis of Overtourism in U.S. National Parks
Overtourism has become one of the most pressing issues facing the U.S. National Park System. For photographers, it doesn’t just mean longer lines or crowded trailheads; it can fundamentally alter the experience of place. The solitude that brings depth to an image — the hush before a fog lifts, or the sudden appearance of wildlife — is harder to find.
Crowding doesn’t just create inconvenience — it leads to real, lasting consequences for the land, the people, and the parks themselves.
Environmental Impact
Trampled vegetation, eroded trails, and rising noise levels harm both the environment and the images we strive to create. As photographers, we’re often drawn to these places because we care deeply about them. That gives us a unique responsibility — to observe, document, and speak out when overcrowding threatens their integrity.
Infrastructure Overload
Most parks were never designed to accommodate millions of annual visitors. Parking, shuttle systems, and trailheads are all strained. Even basic logistics — like finding a restroom — become stressful.
Diminished Visitor Experience
When nature starts to feel like Times Square, you lose more than a photo-op. You lose the connection that draws people to your work in the first place. Popular overlooks are mobbed. The serenity of sunrise gives way to a chorus of idling engines, selfie seekers, and raised voices. The slower pace that fosters reflection and creativity disappears.
Strained Local Communities
Most gateway towns are small, seasonal, and rural. While tourism is vital, local residents and park staff bear the brunt of overtourism. Housing prices rise. Roads clog. Public services are stretched thin. There’s a delicate line between welcoming visitors and protecting the quality of life for those who live and work in these towns year-round.
Why It’s Happening: Demand, Social Media, and Access
Visitation to national parks is surging. In 2023, the National Park Service reported over 325 million visitors — nearing pre-pandemic highs. But it’s interesting to note that the top 10% of parks now handle over 64% of all visits.
Social media has played a major role — Instagram and TikTok have turned some spots into viral photo destinations. It’s exciting that more people are discovering the beauty of public lands, but the influx in popular parks outpaces park infrastructure.
How the NPS Is Responding
To combat overcrowding, many parks have implemented timed-entry systems, permit lotteries, and shuttle-only access to high-traffic areas.
- Rocky Mountain requires timed-entry permits for Bear Lake Road and surrounding areas during summer months.
- Yosemite has experimented with peak-hour restrictions and advance day-use reservations.
- Arches instituted a timed-entry program from April through October.
- Zion uses a lottery system for Angels Landing to prevent congestion on the narrow hiking trail.
Acadia has so far resisted a full timed-entry model, though a reservation system is required for Cadillac Mountain. If crowding continues, more reservations may follow.
These policies can frustrate spontaneous travelers. But they’re increasingly necessary to protect both the visitor experience and the landscape.
Meanwhile, timed-entry systems have added a new layer of complexity for photographers — rigid schedules don’t always align with light and weather.
The Spirit of the Parks Is at Risk
At its heart, overtourism erodes something deeper than access: the spirit of the national parks. These are sanctuaries meant to foster connection — with nature, and with ourselves. They offer something increasingly rare in the modern world: stillness. When these wild spaces begin to feel more like busy tourist hubs, something essential is lost.
That raises a critical question: What do we want our parks to be? And what are we willing to change to protect that?
What Photographers Can Do
For travel photographers, overtourism doesn’t mean giving up on our national parks — it means approaching them with more intention:
- Visit in the shoulder seasons. Late spring or early fall offers better light and fewer crowds.
- Start early — really early! In high-traffic parks, arriving well before sunrise may be your only chance to beat the crowds.
- Hike farther. Crowds thin quickly the farther you get from the trailhead.
- Know the logistics. Research permits, trail conditions, and parking rules. Have maps and reservation details downloaded in advance.
- Use park shuttles when practical. They ease congestion and allow for flexible drop-offs.
- Explore less-visited areas. Every park has them. At Acadia, consider the Schoodic Peninsula, Ship Harbor, or the west side of Mount Desert Island.
- Stay strategically. Lodging near quieter entrances can open up access to golden-hour light.
- Keep your gear nimble. Lightweight setups allow faster adjustments and less frustration in tight or crowded situations.
- Adapt your vision. If your vision was a wide-angle empty vista and it’s full of people, embrace the crowd and tell a new story.
- Stay flexible. Have backup plans. My favorite shots on this trip came from Plan B.
Alternative Parks for Summer Photography
The best summer strategy may be the simplest: go where fewer people go. Over 400 national park units exist, yet most visitation is concentrated in only a few.
Instead of Acadia …
- Isle Royale (MI) – Remote, moody, and surrounded by water.
- Baxter State Park (ME) – Rugged peaks, moose sightings, and fall colors.
- Schoodic Peninsula (ME) – A quieter part of Acadia, without the crowds.
Instead of Yellowstone …
- Lassen Volcanic (CA) – Geothermal wonder with alpine views.
- Theodore Roosevelt (ND) – Bison, badlands, and open skies.
Instead of Yosemite …
- Great Basin (NV) – Bristlecone pines, dark skies, and solitude.
- Kings Canyon (CA) – Deep canyons, big granite, and waterfalls.
Instead of Zion or Arches …
- Capitol Reef (UT) – Brilliant rock formations with room to breathe.
- Canyonlands (Needles District) – Rock spires, desert drama, and silence.
- Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument (UT) – Expansive and wild.
Instead of Rocky Mountain …
- North Cascades (WA) – Glaciers, mossy forests, and moody light.
- Great Sand Dunes National Park (CO) – Abstract beauty and changing light.
- Denali (AK) – Remote and expansive — a minimalist dream.
Loving the Parks Means Planning Thoughtfully
We’re all chasing that fleeting combination of light, stillness, and connection. As our parks grow more popular, those moments become harder to find — but not impossible.
Overtourism is a complex problem, but photographers are uniquely equipped to respond with care. We can adapt. We can share new stories. We can help protect the places we love by approaching them with humility, awareness, and intention.
Have you encountered overtourism while photographing national parks? How did you adapt your plans or mindset? I’d love to hear your experiences in the comments below.
