Ocarina Across America: The National Parks Project

America is bigger than most of us ever expect it to be. You can drive for hours and feel like the land is still unfolding, especially if you live in Texas. There are deserts that stretch past the horizon, quiet valleys, places where sound doesn’t bounce back at you right away. Over the years, those spaces started to feel like the right places for music. The ocarina, after all, is an earthy instrument. Made from clay, ceramic, wood, or metal, it comes directly from the ground beneath our feet. Playing it out in these landscapes doesn’t feel staged or dramatic, it feels natural, like the sound belongs there. A little over three years ago, without really knowing where it would lead or whether we could sustain it long-term, we started bringing an ocarina into America’s National Parks and filming music where the land itself could be part of the story.

Why We Waited

We didn’t announce this project when it began. For the first few years, we weren’t even sure it was a project. It started quietly, one trip at a time, one video at a time, without a clear finish line. Filming in National Parks takes time, patience, and a lot of things going right—weather, access, equipment, and sometimes just the energy to keep going. We wanted to make sure this wasn’t a one-off idea or a short burst of inspiration. After more than three years of returning to these landscapes and continuing the work, it became clear that this was something we were committed to seeing through. Only then did it feel right to give it a name.

Filming in the Wild

Filming in nature is never a large production for us. Most of the time, there are only three people: one performer, one videographer, and one person handling everything else that needs attention. There’s no crew to rotate, no extra hands waiting off-camera. Time is just as limited as manpower. These trips have to fit between conventions, order fulfillment, and the day-to-day work of running a small company. Every shoot is about making the most of a place and a few available hours, before it’s time to pack up and return to the responsibilities waiting back home.

What We’re Building from Here

We don’t expect everyone to follow every stop or watch every video. That’s not what this is about. What we hope is simpler: that from time to time, you’ll come across one of these performances and feel like you’ve stepped into a place you may never visit in person. Maybe it’s a park you’ve been to once and still remember. Maybe it’s one you’ve only seen on a map. Over time, these videos will form a quiet collection—something you can return to when you want a few minutes of calm, a sense of space, or a reminder that music can exist without an audience, just for the moment it’s played.

Where We’ve Been So Far

This project didn’t begin with a grand destination in mind. It began with proximity. When you’re unsure how long something will last, you start close to home. Over time, these early trips became proof, not just that filming in the parks was possible, but that it was worth continuing.

Hot Springs National Park, Arkansas — November 2022

Hot Springs National Park was our first stop, chosen not for spectacle but for practicality. It was the closest National Park to us in Dallas, and at the time, we weren’t sure whether this project would survive beyond a single trip. Starting nearby meant fewer unknowns, less risk, and the ability to learn without overcommitting. It was a quiet beginning with no expectations, no sense of scale yet, just the simple act of bringing an ocarina into a National Park and seeing what it felt like to play there. Looking back now, that first visit set the tone for everything that followed: start small, stay curious, and let the project earn its own momentum.

(Ocarina in the video: Double Ocarina in C Major with Two Octave Range)

White Sands National Park, New Mexico — April 2023

White Sands National Park was our first trip that required a bit more commitment. We flew into El Paso and drove north, watching the landscape slowly give way to something unexpected. Stepping onto the dunes for the first time, barefoot, surrounded by miles of white sand, felt almost unreal. The ground was soft and cool beneath our feet, quiet in a way that changed how we listened. Playing the ocarina there felt less like a performance and more like a conversation with the space itself. It was the moment we realized this project could reach places far beyond what we initially imagined.

(Ocarina in the video: 12 Hole Zelda Bass Ocarina)

Zion National Park, Utah — February 2024

Zion National Park was our first truly grand landscape, the kind that makes you feel small the moment you arrive. Towering cliffs, narrow canyons, and a sense of scale that’s hard to capture on camera. We visited in the winter, when the crowds thin out and the cold settles in. Filming in 25-degree weather was a challenge—fingers stiff, breath visible, equipment slower to respond—but the stillness made it worth it. The sound carried differently in the cold air, and the quiet between notes felt just as important as the music itself. It was the moment this project began to feel bigger than anything we had done before.

(Ocarina in the video: 12 Hole Blue and White Porcelain Tenor Ocarina in C Major)

A Note on Places Beyond the National Parks

Not every meaningful stop along this journey fits neatly into the title. Before this project had a clear shape, we also filmed in places that weren’t officially National Parks, but were no less demanding or inspiring. These experiences helped define how we work, and why we approach each park the way we do now.

Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, California — July 2024

Anza-Borrego was one of the most physically demanding places we’ve ever filmed. The summer heat was extreme, pushing well beyond what felt reasonable, and the desert offered little relief. Filming there required constant adjustment—short takes, careful pacing, and knowing when to stop. It wasn’t part of the National Parks project in a formal sense, but it shaped our understanding of limits, preparation, and respect for the environment. In many ways, it prepared us for the challenges that would come later.

(Ocarina in the video: Purple Clay Tenor C Major Double Ocarina)

Death Valley National Park, California — March 2025

Death Valley is often described as the hottest place on Earth, but visiting in early spring tells a different story. The air was calm and surprisingly pleasant, the kind of weather that lets you slow down and really look around. One of the most striking places we filmed was the Devil’s Golf Course, jagged, sharp salt formations stretching out in every direction, shaped by evaporation and time. Standing there, it’s hard to imagine that much of Death Valley was once covered by a vast prehistoric lake. Yet thousands of years ago, water filled this basin, slowly retreating and leaving behind the landscape we see today. Playing the ocarina in that space carried a strange sense of deep time, music passing briefly through a place shaped over millennia.

(Ocarina in the video: 12 Hole Zelda Wooden Tenor Ocarina)

Big Bend National Park, Texas — May 2025

Big Bend National Park felt both familiar and entirely new. We flew into Midland–Odessa and then drove for four hours, watching the city give way to open land that seemed to stretch without edges. It was the first time we experienced Texas beyond its urban centers, and the scale of the park was immediately apparent—vast, quiet, and humbling. We filmed at Balanced Rock, a formation that looks almost impossible, poised delicately against the desert sky. Standing there, with so much space in every direction, the ocarina felt small in the best way—its sound carried briefly, then disappeared into the landscape, leaving only the place behind.

(Ocarina in the video: Zelda Double Ocarina with Range of Two Octaves)

Sequoia National Park, California — June 2025

Sequoia National Park has a way of recalibrating your sense of scale. The trees rise so high that it’s difficult to understand their size until you’re standing beneath them. We visited the General Sherman Tree—the largest tree in the world by volume—and found ourselves instinctively looking upward, quieted by its presence. Filming among the giant sequoias felt different from anywhere else we had been. The ocarina’s sound didn’t compete with the landscape; it simply existed within it, brief and fragile next to something that has stood for thousands of years. It was a reminder that this project, like the music itself, is small by design—and that there’s value in that.

(Ocarina in the video: 12 Hole Tenor Ocarina with Zelda Songbook)

Looking Ahead

This is only the beginning. There are many more parks we hope to visit, and many more landscapes we haven’t yet had the chance to stand in with an ocarina in hand. We don’t know exactly when each trip will happen, or in what order, but that’s part of the nature of this project. As Ocarina Across America: The National Parks Project continues, we’ll share new performances as they happen and keep this journey updated along the way. If you choose to follow along, we’re grateful to have you with us, listening, one place at a time.