Nine days ago, we visited the Flight 93 National Memorial, the site of the plane that crashed en route to the Capitol Building on September 11th, 2001. This was my second visit, and it hit just the same as my first time there.

As you’d imagine, it’s an incredibly somber place, especially for anyone who remembers that day. The exterior of the memorial is angled to align with the flight path, capped by a memorial plaza and a solitary stone in the field where the plane crashed—killing everyone on board, but saving so many others.

The visitor center is relatively small but quite powerful; it feels weird to have a park bookstore there, or even a passport stamp available. No photos or videos are allowed inside, and most people have shed at least a tear or two by the time they depart. I opted not to listen to the phone calls left by those on the plane this time, a good call given how it crushes rushes you.

The approach

The end of the approach, overlooking the memorial plaza and crash site in the distance

The angles here are piercing. This is the edge the visitor center, as seen from near the end of the approach above

Along the memorial plaza walkway

Deer wander near the crash site, denoted by the large boulder

The Wall of Names, Ceremonial Gate, and boulder in the distance

The Wall of Names, looking back up at the visitor center and approach. The gate and boulder are behind you, all lined up with the flight path.

The Ceremonial Gate, with the boulder visible in the distance.

Two of several outdoor interpretive displays near the memorial plaza—a small nod to the more complete interpretation in the visitor center museum.

The Tower of Voices, which had yet to be built during my 2016 visit. This was designed as a musical instrument, built with 40 wind chimes to sound in the breeze. Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough sustained wind to hear much during our visit, though you can hear what it sounds like thanks for a nearby push-button speaker.

There’s more to the site, of course, but I didn’t capture it on this visit. Besides, photos don’t relate the feeling you have in reliving this day, you just need to go there yourself. So if you find yourself in western Pennsylvania, I recommend you stop by.