The Power of a Summer Pilgrimage

The Classic Summer Moment You Don’t Want to Miss

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes." — Marcel Proust

As someone who loves to travel and experience new things—and who also cherishes seeing familiar surroundings with fresh perspective—I’ve always loved the Proust quote above. You don’t need to go anywhere to have a travel experience. You can have one right in your own backyard.

Each summer, I feel a quiet yearning to experience at least one classic moment that feels quintessentially like summer. Even as adults, we still long for that summer vacation feeling of being immersed in the moment, free from the world’s weight.

These experiences can be even more meaningful when you think of them as everyday pilgrimages.

What’s a classic summer experience you want to fit in before the season fades? Share it with me—I’d love to hear.

Traditionally, a pilgrimage is a journey to a sacred site—a place revered for spiritual or historical significance. But today, a pilgrimage can be quieter and more personal: an intentional journey to a place that holds meaning for you.

It’s not about designated importance. It’s about the intention you bring and the openness with which you arrive.

You don’t need to travel far or follow a tradition. You just need to show up—with curiosity, presence, and the willingness to let the experience shape you. The journey becomes sacred not because the site is extraordinary, but because you made it so.

Anywhere can become a “voyage of discovery.” Some of the most powerful moments happen in the simplest places—especially in summer.

The Power of Ordinary Summer Moments

Summer rituals may seem simple, but they ground us—and stir something deeper.

Here are a few of my summer classics this year:

  • Picking vegetables, berries, and flowers at my farm share (Just Roots—the best!)

  • Reading a novel in the hammock by the brook ( finally reading “North Country” by Daniel Mason)

  • Swimming in a lake

  • Eating outdoors at a restaurant

  • Planning to attend the Heath Fair (a beloved local tradition.. now in its 107th year)

  • Finally checking off a longtime bucket-list item: lawn tickets at Tanglewood

These are not just activities for me. They’re touchstones of presence, memory, and meaning.

A Visitor Pilgrimage

For many people, a visit to a park, museum, or heritage site is part of their summer yearning. There are many reasons people choose to go to places, but in my own life—and through working with sites across the country—I’ve noticed there’s often an element of pilgrimage.

To see the real thing. To be where it happened. To experience it firsthand.

From the Liberty Bell to the Grand Canyon, visitors are motivated by many things: to witness history, to feel what it’s like to stand in a particular spot, or to learn and explore. Recreation, restoration, and renewal are often part of it too.

Many of these places are considered part of our collective heritage, yet they remain under threat—mining, development, and other pressures put their preservation at risk.

There’s a deeply human element that often gets lost in debates over land use and value: the emotional, spiritual, and physical restoration these places offer. You can’t put a price on that. But we know it when we feel it. That’s the power of pilgrimage. And that’s why these places matter.

If you’re interested in helping people find their deeper connections to places, and work in the field of interpretation or storytelling, check out my interpretive training offerings. Read about my next training at the bottom of this blog, or visit my training page.

A Heritage Pilgrimage

Earlier this summer, we set out to fulfill a lifelong dream of finding a family grave site. Liz had traced her mother’s family back to a group of Mennonites who settled in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, in 1715. Somewhere in the woods, tucked behind cornfields, was an old family graveyard—long abandoned, almost forgotten.

We went on a pilgrimage to find it.

It was a hot July day as we travelled past amusement parks and ice cream shops. We followed old maps and land plots, and when we reached a home on former homestead land, the owners pointed us toward the woods and said, “It’s back there somewhere. An old man used to take care of it, but we haven’t seen him in a long time.”

We followed the edge of a cornfield until the trees thickened… and then we saw it—a single gravestone peeking out from under the leaves. And then another. A small cluster of moss-covered markers, bearing her family name. The whole day felt like something out of Nancy Drew—part sleuthing, part reverence.

For Liz, it was tangible proof of deep roots.

For me, it was a connection to a place layered with time and story. A world hidden beyond the glare of tourism.

We ended our journey with a malted milkshake at the Amish-run Katie’s Corner, served by descendants of original settlers—still practicing their way of life today.

The Hill and Heritage Where We Live

Next weekend, I’ll be giving a keynote of songs, stories, and reflections for the Catamount Hill Association’s 150th reunion in Shelburne, Massachusetts. This group is made up of descendants of early settlers who once lived on the hill just behind our home. This event is free and open to the public and you’re invited to attend!

Though I have no blood ties to that hill, though we’ve lived at its base for 23 years, beside a rushing brook. Over time, we’ve come to think of ourselves as gatekeepers—not owners, but as appreciators of the land and the stories it holds.

The hill is full of traces: cellar holes, stone walls, ancient roads, spring daffodils, and apple trees that still bear fruit. Even before I knew its history, I felt called to it—especially to McLeod Pond at the summit. The first time I visited, it felt like home. Quiet. Familiar. Welcoming. I’ve returned to that pond in every season.

I even wrote a song about it, “To Deep Water,” long before we moved to our house. I’ll be performing this song at the reunion—and you can download it here for free as a summer gift from me to you.

The people gathering there are on their own pilgrimage—one rooted in ancestry. I’ll be there too, carrying a different kind of connection: emotional, experiential, creative, storied.

That, too, is a kind of belonging.

You Can Belong Where You Are

As summer starts to fade, I’m thinking about all the ways the season invites us to live with more attention. We notice. We savor. We linger. And maybe, we carry that forward.

Because here’s what I’ve learned through a lifetime of loving places—and helping others connect with them:

You don’t have to be from a place to belong there.

You don’t have to travel far to find meaning.

You can be open to discovery.

You can choose to see with new eyes

Not everyone has a gravesite to visit or a hometown to return to. But everyone can connect and care. And caring is what turns a place into something sacred.

Wherever you find yourself this season, may you walk with intention. That’s what makes it a pilgrimage and an experience that lasts. egiste by Sept 1 through NAI (National Association of Interpretation)

Upcoming Interpretive Training This Fall!

Want to Inspire Place Connections Through Interpretation?

If you want to help others feel these kind of connections—through storytelling or giving guided tours, I invite you to check out my upcoming training.

During Sense of Place and the Art of Interpretation, we’ll explore how to help people feel connected, grounded, and in relationship with the places they visit or call home.

And in doing so, we remember: We’re on a pilgrimage too. In our work. In this season. In our search for connection, purpose, and home.

Whether you’re a seasoned interpreter or just starting out, my approach will support and inspire you

Sense of Place and the Art of Interpretation Training (Online through NAI- National Association for Interpretation) September 9th -October 14th [Register by Sept 1]

Learn more 


erica looks forward with rays of sunshine in the background

About The Author

Erica Wheeler is an award-winning singer-songwriter, TEDx speaker, professional development trainer, and creative mentor. She’s the creator of the Sense of Place and the Art of Interpretation Training and has worked extensively with the National Park Service, supporting over 45 sites to date. Erica also mentors writers and creatives through online classes and onsite workshops. Her music has charted in Billboard’s Gavin Americana Top Ten and been featured on NPR’s All Things Considered.

Check out Erica’s writing classes, events, and interpretive training programs.


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Fall Back In Love With Where You Live (The Power of Appreciation.)