We've spent a great deal of time on the road this summer.  After a few false starts we are getting into the RV groove. What follows is from the notes I was keeping during our first trip pulling the trailer.

Our first night in the RV was picture perfect. We found space at an RV park nestled on the prairie with rolling mountain ranges in the distance.  The grounds were manicured and our neighbors were mainly easy-going retirees on the move with their full-time rigs.

I got to work making a well-balanced campsite dinner. I took pictures of my clever campsite dinner.  I was rocking this camping cooking thing after all.  

The boys finished setting up with their dad and they sat down with the girls to play a board game.  Tip #1 for idyllic camping? No phones.  The boys were heading to an unplugged camp and didn't have their phones with them.  While they did grab mine when they could, it cut down usage considerably and they looked to each other for entertainment.  And hey, we are nothing if not entertaining.  #wedowhatwecan

My husband and I snuck out before dark and walked the perimeter of the grounds. We were treated to a stunning Montana sunset.  If there is an ideal summer vacation night, this was it. 

Once the sun went down the temps followed suit.  We slept with the windows open and cool air blowing in.  Perfect.  We moved on with a bit of false confidence.  We had done our research, made good reservations, had this ALL figured out.  You know, after one whole night.   

Our second stop was less idyllic.  It actually goes down in the books as "that breaking bad" night.  Not even kidding.  We picked an RV park from an RV club guidebook.  It immediately looked…urban… as we pulled in but you couldn't really see much from the office.  Perhaps it was just a rough first impression?  As soon as we drove in however all my sketchy radar was on tilt. 

After passing trailer after trailer looking much like the above, we pulled into our spot and I began surfing for RV park crime and this park specifically.  We found reviews which euphemistically mentioned that there "were a high percentage of permanent residents."  Translation? It was a trailer park full of "residences" that hadn't been road-worthy in more than a decade and never would be.  As the sun was beginning to set more people were arriving home in various states of undress and intoxication.  

Husband started hitching us back up and trying to find other options, late as it was.  Being the scrupulous, self-punishing sort I was scolding myself that people live here every night and I can't manage to stay for one?  Shouldn't I feel some sort of solidarity with my fellow man.  Because I have to make a camping decision an assessment of my missed opportunity to reform an entire community in a single night.  Or something.  Sigh.  Be glad you aren't my husband and don't have to listen to my internal battles for miles on end.  We were soon on the road again, my scruples notwithstanding, and found a great place for the weekend near our friends and began a weekend of visiting and sightseeing. 

The return trip brings us to "that time we were gonna dry camp at a state park." Because I love Instagram and fancy myself to be uber adventurous. Because we are NOT white bread, air-conditioned suburbanites, right?  Because we are CRUNCHY after all, people.  We like nature and stuff.  We like parks. We like $5 per night. Hello? So off we went full of high expectations, visions of plaid shirts and rocky streams and hiking boots populating my imagination. Instagram, here I come!  Even Tess was all about it. Water.  She wanted to sleep right by the water. 

The website indicated the park campground was accessible by a "gravel road suitable for privately owned vehicles."  So….yeah.  "Accessible" and "suitable" and "vehicle" may be up for interpretation.We drove for six miles on said road. 

The drive – and us on it – was increasingly resembling  a scene from the Long Long Trailer. Got a visual of my face now? I am channeling my inner Lucy.  

At various junctures we navigated around cattle and deer and chipmunks and rabbits hoping to find either the campsites or a place to turn this beast of a tin box around. 

We finally spotted the campground.  I guess we were expecting campgrounds we have seen while hiking- bustling places full of families, campfires crackling, the smell of s'mores in the air.  Not so.  Like, this looked like the Armageddon of campgrounds – desolate.  We drove around seeing no one.  Zip. Zero people. No humanity to be found in the half hour we had been driving through the park.  Just when we were sure we were completely alone out there, we passed a guy who peered out under his hat from a campfire while his clothes dried on a tree.  Further down the road two young men waved near a pup tent.

But still it was just our three parties total.  We were many miles off-road in the wilderness with no cell phone service and no options for protection, should it be called for.

As it turns out I AM a white bread, suburbanite camper - at least when I have two little camper girls with me.  The second set of men were shaggy, bearded biking guys who very likely were filling up their own IG feeds with excellent adventures.  Go them!  Guy #1 could have gone a lot of ways. Google experts suggested remote camping was, as a rule, really safe.  You should just "keep your Spidey eyes open" people said. (Say what?)  Except for that serial killer that targeted lone campers, your odds of meeting certain death were slim, they pointed out.  In case you did meet up with such a dude, it was suggested you had a cell phone and perhaps were packing. We couldn't and weren't.

In the end I couldn't do it.  We found another wonderful, quiet, rural park full of nice retirees where Tess beat us at Sorry and I made her Pillsbury rolls from a can to make up for the extra 40 minutes in the car and the no water's edge site. 

You find out a lot about yourself while traveling.  I felt like a bit of an IG adventure fail.  Still this isn't Holiday Inn with room service and video games. We are out in the fresh air all night.  We have breakfast under the sun and watch the birds wake up. There are lots of grandmas and grandpas nearby and the occasional very young family with toddlers running laps around the park and we like them.  A lot.  While we haven't hung our clothes on a tree or pitched the pup tent or taken up impromptu street counseling, we have had many evenings that look at a lot like this….

We are finding our place on the road. There are lots of options. So many ways to do this depending on your calling and charisms.  The important thing is to keep exploring together and finding that sweet spot between cushy and terrifying, which is going to be different for all of us. Whatever your sweet spot is – be it room service or roughing it or s'mores in your own backyard – I hope you've had some excellent adventures with the people you love this summer.  I look forward to sharing more of ours.