Stunning petroglyphs sprawl across those cliffs. Mesmerizing murals of deer, birds, figures, designs and more are immortalized on the sandstone rock wall. An entire herd of deer gallop above a picture of a curious figure with an elaborate headdress atop his triangular body. Another rectangular figure sports tiny arms on a huge torso. A long string of zig-zag carvings, similar to lightning, slash the rock near an elaborate spiral. Hundreds of creations sweep across the wall, some barely discernable due to eons of erosion. These priceless records of centuries-old art left by native residents remained unmarred — until NS and DS came along.

“There were plenty of untouched areas where you could have carved your initials (I would tell them) if defacing rocks amuses you. But no, you chose a spot where your awful ‘artwork’ destroyed an ancient person’s priceless record. You might have been ‘inspired’ by other defacements created by people with similar mindsets — ‘WN’ and ‘B.S.’ and that attempt by a talentless delinquent to mimic the precious relic with a pathetic stick figure seated on a headless horse.” (A total failure.) Fortunately a chain link fence now protects the cliff face from any more NS’s or DS’s or their fellow desecrators.

I left the cliff conflicted with gratitude for the petroglyphs, and resentment for NS and DS and others like them. It reminded me of another experience.

Delicate Arch, one of Utah’s most recognized icons, graces the state’s license plates. Years ago my husband and I took our four young children on the challenging hike to the massive, stunning arch. It stands in a bowl-shaped setting, somewhat like an amphitheater. Upon entering that area, hikers instinctively dropped their voices to a whisper and reverently sat in the bowl, staring at this distinctive, other-worldly formation. And then — THAT family arrived. Oblivious to the reverent setting, they chattered loudly, rambled around the bowl, and noisily posed under and around the arch for photos, decimating a hushed, ethereal moment for the rest of us there.

Their finale featured one of the kids dropping a metal water bottle that clonked and tumbled down the bowl until it rolled over the edge and dropped into the area below, beyond the grasp of the kid who screamingly chased it all the way to the edge. I know I wasn’t the only visitor who imagined him following the bottle all the way to the bottom.

I still cherish the stillness and beauty of the Arch and its surroundings. Sadly, I’m unable to entirely forget that invasion. It marred my experience.

There is a way to avoid all that. Our kids are almost out of school, and then we’ll haul them on vacations to everywhere. A 10-minute discussion with them about what we do and don’t do when we visit a new and strange site can make the difference. Some thoughts to get that conversation started: When you visit a site, pay attention to other visitors and take cues from them. Don’t take anything else though, like plants or rocks or sticks or fossils. Do take everything you bring with you, especially trash–and noisy water bottles.

Don’t pick wildflowers, ever. Their seeds provide next year’s beautiful scenery–unless someone steals this year’s flowers.

For heaven’s sake, don’t chase any animals. Trying to persuade a moose or a bison to photo-bomb your selfie is a really bad idea.

Stay on marked pathways and trails (especially in Yellowstone!).

Don’t throw anything into lakes or streams (skipping stones excepted).

And please don’t carve into anything anywhere. Not in a tree’s bark, a campsite’s picnic table, a restroom’s wall, or especially an ancient rock cliff.

Leave places you visit the way you find them. Take only photos and memories with you.

Immerse, explore, and enjoy your wonderful adventures.

Just don’t be THAT family.