By Hannah Beil

For 138 years, the National Geographic Society has defined the spirit of discovery. This Friday, June 26, that legacy takes physical form in the new 100,000-square-foot Museum of Exploration. Rather than simply displaying the world, the museum asks visitors to step into it, organizing its galleries around the process of an expedition and transforming guests from spectators into explorers.

The experience begins before you even enter the building. A towering yellow frame — a nod to National Geographic’s signature magazine border — welcomes visitors into a courtyard that recreates six global ecosystems: tropical and temperate forests, grasslands, deserts, polar regions and oceans.

Native D.C. plants, tactile animal tracks, immersive soundscapes, life-size sculptures and an augmented reality experience blur the line between exhibition and environment, setting the tone for what’s inside.

Crossing the threshold, I found myself looking up almost immediately. Massive screens pulse with wildlife imagery while sweeping wooden beams curve overhead like a forest canopy. The effect is stunning, made even more meaningful by its origins: the ash timber was salvaged from a New Hampshire farm devastated by invasive beetles, transforming an ecological loss into a symbol of renewal.

Then the museum asks you to look down. Glass portals embedded in the floor reveal relics from legendary expeditions, from the marble ruins of Aphrodisias to a recreation of the ruins of the Titanic. It feels as though you’re walking across the timeline of human discovery.

Instead of separating its collections into isolated galleries, the museum builds its story around five interconnected experiences: Rolex Explorer’s Landing, In Focus, Photo Ark, The Archives and Geoverse. The spaces flow naturally into one another, creating a narrative that mirrors the curiosity-driven journey of exploration itself.

Rolex Explorer’s Landing is the museum’s heartbeat. Following an expedition from its first spark of inspiration to its lasting impact, the gallery pairs scientific process with tangible history through artifacts like the 1935 Explorer II gondola and the JIM suit that Sylvia Earle wore to the floor of the Pacific. Rather than celebrating explorers as untouchable heroes, it makes their work feel accessible, suggesting that discovery begins with a single question.

Downstairs, In Focus serves as a visual diary of National Geographic’s history. Permanent classics line the perimeter while rotating exhibitions in the center promise fresh perspectives every six months. George Shiras III’s haunting 1890s camera-trap photographs sit beside Michael Nichols’s portrait of a 1,500-year-old redwood, reminding visitors that photography can preserve not only moments but entire ecosystems and histories.

The museum reaches its emotional peak in Photo Ark. Joel Sartore’s portraits of more than 17,000 species fill the gallery, each animal isolated against a stark black or white background. Stripped of context, every face of every animal, big or small, demands attention. I spent more time here than anywhere else, unexpectedly lingering with creatures I had never seen before. It is the museum’s simplest gallery and its most powerful.

My experience concluded with The Archives and Geoverse, near the 16th Street entrance. The Archives offers a treasure trove of physical artifacts and interactive records documenting National Geographic’s history, while Geoverse surrounds visitors with a 15-minute cinematic journey that turns exploration into spectacle. It is an energetic finale, and one that reinforces the museum’s central message: geography is alive, constantly changing and deeply interconnected.

The Museum of Exploration succeeds because it refuses to let visitors remain passive observers. Every projection, artifact and photograph is designed to spark curiosity rather than simply display achievement, reminding us that discovery is an ongoing process, not a completed story.

In an age when the world often feels entirely mapped and endlessly accessible, this impressive facility conveys the message that exploration is less about finding new places than seeing familiar ones with fresh eyes. The new museum is not only a celebration of National Geographic’s past, but — more important — an invitation to become part of its future. The next great explorer, it tells us, could be anyone willing to step through the yellow frame.