Living in a Golden State of mind.

We have officially made it more than a month in the RV! It was a little rocky there for a bit, with our Expedition resembling the little engine that could while it chugged and dragged our heavy RV up mountain passes throughout California, but we slowly ventured down to San Diego, enjoyed our three-week stay, and made our way back up to Oregon.

While we were in the San Diego area, we stayed almost a week in a hotel in the city and took the kids to LEGOLAND, Sea World, and the San Diego Zoo and Safari Park. When we’d arrived at our campground in Jamul, about 20 minutes outside San Diego, we were unable to secure a site with full hookups (which a family of five definitely needed for a three-week stay), and the whole helter-skelter check-in and site selection process felt a lot like a Black Friday/Wild West mashup. So escaping to the city and enjoying the luxuries of a hotel—like hot water usage and city sewer and free breakfast—for six nights was very restorative.

Our kids, especially our middle son, have been begging to go to LEGOLAND for more than a year, and getting them there had us feeling a lot like Clark Griswold’s quest to attend Wally World with his family. Between car trouble, a last-minute RV repair, and a trip to the veterinary ER when our dog swallowed a bee and broke out in full-body hives (TWICE!) just after recovering from a bout of upset stomach from ingesting a foreign object, we could have starred in that movie ourselves. But we made it through, thankfully only slightly worse for the wear.

We opened and closed the park, staying a total of 10 hours. We rode every ride and visited every attraction at least once. The kids were absolutely euphoric as we dragged our worn-out bodies and aching feet out to the parking lot, their hands filled with mini figures and LEGO sets that they bought with birthday money, declaring that their visit to LEGOLAND was the absolute best day of their lives. (A big thanks to Kelley’s parents for funding the kids’ tickets as birthday presents this year.)

The San Diego Zoo and Safari Park days were some of the hottest in San Diego, with the most walking, especially when Eva left her Columbia sun shirt in a bathroom near the back of the zoo, and I half-walked, half-jogged the entire outside loop for a second time to track it down. (Unfortunately, it was long gone by the time we realized it was missing, but at least I got some great exercise in.) Our collective favorite part of the zoo was the Australian Outback area, which featured a handful of adorable koalas sleeping in eucalyptus trees. (Or maybe it was the misting stations that smelled like eucalyptus, which cooled us off and felt more like a spa than a zoo).

The best part of the Safari Park, which took almost another full day, was riding the open-air tram (included in admission) through the African savannah exhibit. It was the closest thing to a genuine safari that one can get without paying exorbitant African safari prices. From the tram, we were able to watch animals found on the African plains in their natural habitat (sans the apex predators; that would have made for an entirely different type of park.) And the extreme heat really added to the authenticity of the African-themed park. I was a little jealous watching the herd of elephants romp around in their cooling pool (with a splashy waterfall) munching on watermelon.

Sea World has always been a childhood favorite of Kelley’s, so we also took the kids to the San Diego location while we were there. Because of all the water involved, including a couple of rounds on some water rides, my phone mostly stayed in our rented locker, so I didn’t get many photos. But we thoroughly enjoyed the dolphin, orca, and sea lion shows (I might have teared up a little at the dolphin show finale—those creatures were having so much fun together!) and the Shipwreck Mountain rapids ride.

Liam and I even braved the new Emperor floorless free-fall roller coaster—which included a 14-story 90-degree vertical drop at more than 60 miles per hour. I’ve always been somewhat of a thrill seeker and have loved roller coasters since childhood, but it is a completely different experience riding it as a parent, watching your firstborn dangle his feet in 143 feet up in the air while being suspended at a 45-degree angle above the earth. I had the lady sitting on the other side of him holding on to him, too, lest his lanky little self slip out of his harness at any point, especially when I almost blacked out on the free-fall. Thankfully, we made it out alive, though a little lightheaded and nauseous.

In between theme parks, we had the opportunity to explore some of San Diego’s more popular neighborhoods, including dinner (and another lunch) at Cafe Coyote in Old Town and a stroll through Liberty Station, a former naval base turned artisanal neighborhood filled with restaurants, shops, and art galleries. There, we meandered through the old barracks and sampled some gelato at Parfait Paris and a variety of flavors at the Mini Donut Co. I wish we’d had more time at Coronado Beach, though we did the ocean-view drive through the peninsula one Saturday afternoon. I also would have spent some me-time window shopping at Fashion Valley, a higher end shopping mall where we stopped one morning and grabbed cold brews at Better Buzz Coffee. (The kids were bored with all the “grown-up” stores—Williams-Sonoma, Armani Exchange, and Prada, to name a few—so we made our visit brief.)

A few logistics that made our week in San Diego more enjoyable: we made a reservation for our dog, Ranger, to stay at the Petsmart’s Petshotel in La Jolla (close to Sprinkles cupcake parlor, which we of course partook of—they were absolutely the best cupcakes we’ve ever had), and I can’t say enough good things about the place. They were genuinely excited to see him, and he was pampered all week—playdates, bubble machines, indoor playground time, and a bath and nail trim including cologne for when we picked him up. We booked the Comfort Inn and Suites on Hotel Circle with our Capital One travel points, which, although I can’t really recommend the outdated, under-serviced hotel, it was a central location allowing easy access to each destination on our trip (and they had free breakfast and comped our garage parking—I don’t recommend the free street parking). I was impressed at how accessible every park or neighborhood was, and it only took about 10-15 minutes to get anywhere we wanted to go.

One thing we’ve started doing on trips like this is washing all of our laundry in the hotel laundry room the night before we check out of the hotel. That way, we aren’t heading home with loads of laundry awaiting us. All of our clothes from the week were clean and already folded when we arrived back at our RV campground.

We also found a nearby grocery store and grabbed easy meal items for the hotel to cut down on dining expenses, saving our eating-out budget for places we really wanted to try, rather than just fast food drive-thrus for last-minute meals. I bought stuff for cold deli sandwiches and kept plenty of fresh fruit and veggies, Once Upon a Farm smoothie pouches, packs of nuts, Good and Gather gluten-free bars, and string cheese on hand for snacks. Our mini-fridge was stocked full of healthy items to last us through the week.

Literally the best cupcakes we’ve ever had, right around the corner from where Ranger stayed.

The strawberry cupcakes at Sprinkles were melt-in-your-mouth delicious. The boys tried the gluten-free red velvet with cream cheese frosting.

We packed as much as we could into our time in San Diego, and I still feel like there was so much more to see, much more that we could have done. It’s a culturally diverse city with rich history, natural beauty, and endless fun, and I have a feeling this visit won’t be the last.

Two weeks in.

Since our first two weeks in the RV are in the rearview mirror, I thought I’d answer some common questions and recap how it’s going and what we’ve learned so far about RV travel:

• RVing is dirty. Seriously, there is dirt everywhere. That has been enhanced by the fact that we have a dog and three kids. One of our first purchases so far has been a vacuum (a battery-operated, pet-specific Dyson that disassembles for easy storage), and we pretty much use it every day. The broom just wasn’t cutting it; besides, we are constantly using the broom to sweep off our outdoor rugs. Our daughter perpetually looks as if she’s been eating dirt. Our white towels are quickly becoming dingy, and no amount of bleach can counteract it. Cleaning is a constant thing.

• RVing is a lot of work. Don’t let Instagram fool you. What we #vanlifers and #RVlifers don’t show is the lengthy set-up and tear-down process every time we move to a new location. Hauling laundry to the on-site facility or an off-site laundromat every few days because you don’t have much space to store dirty laundry. How you have to empty your tanks almost every time five family members take showers. There is a lot of technical work involved, and most of it goes over my head. Thankfully, the Mr. likes to research and is figuring it out as we go.

• One of the concerns brought up to us is how our kids will adjust to being cramped inside an RV all the time. “Kids need a yard to play in,” they’ve said. I give you Exhibit A.

• But does it feel like home? Actually, so far, yes. We’ve learned that home is wherever we are together. Wherever we lay our heads and hang our proverbial hats. I love the challenge of making a place, however big or small, feel like a cozy, comforting abode. It doesn’t matter whether we are on top of wheels or a slab foundation. For us, home isn’t defined by the amount of square footage or material possessions we have. It’s the people who live there with us who make it feel like home sweet home.

• If you want to see what your marriage is made of, go on a road trip together. This is advice my best friend gave me before we left our apartment, and she has never been more right. Spending 24 hours a day together in a constantly changing environment will teach you all the things about yourself and your spouse/partner. For example, I’ve learned that the Mr.’s idea of rest is almost the complete opposite of mine. He decompresses by sitting around chilling, and I de-stress best with tough, physical activity. Our parenting styles are different. Our travel styles are different. Our methods of cleaning/organizing/strategizing are all different. So we’re having to learn how to be one as a married couple while maintaining a sense of autonomy. But whatever doesn’t kill us will only make us stronger…right??

• I’ve never had to care more about how much our stuff weighs. We spend 20 percent of our time enjoying the RV, and the other 80 percent calculating and balancing the weight of everything in our travel trailer. (Those numbers are completely made up, but you get the idea.) Since we aren’t just vacationing—we’ve technically moved in—we brought a lot of things from our home that we use on a daily basis. But switching out the standard RV mattress for our organic Avocado hybrid mattress and topper added a lot of weight to the trailer, and our Expedition has a finite towing capacity, so we’re having to compensate somewhere. Anybody want a set of cast iron cooking pans? Or a 65-lb ridgeback pup and his heavy duty crate? (I’m kidding…kind of.) Which brings me to my next point…

• Traveling with a dog is HARD. Well, probably traveling with a maltipoo or a pug isn’t. But traveling with a large-breed, naturally protective, athletic hound dog is. One who is technically a teenager and kind of a jerk sometimes. One who always wants to be where his humans are at all times and in every situation. He is sweet, but he’s clingy. And right now his massive self and his crate take up the majority of our floor space. He can reach the kitchen counter and wants to stick his nose in the flame of the gas stove, or lay his head on our dining table to beg for food. We had to eat lunch in our car yesterday while on the road because it was too hot to leave him in it while we dined inside, and we couldn’t take him in a restaurant. So, having a dog complicates everything. He’s mostly worth it.

• Campgrounds are a generally safe way to allow our kids to have some independence and show responsibility. They have to keep their belongings organized and out of the way. They have to pitch in and help prepare for travel days. Liam wakes early to take the dog out in the mornings. They have to stay together and practice safety protocols when they run off to the playground together. They are learning to identify and avoid danger and respond appropriately to inappropriate people. (Like the little girl who threatened to hurt Eva with a knife or the boy who announced he’d love to meet Satan. Never a dull moment on those campground playgrounds.) At the last campground, the boys practiced communication and business skills by pitching their horse-stall mucking services to the manager at the adjacent horseback riding attraction, and then learned how to handle rejection appropriately when the lady said no.

• Each campground is different, and not every one will be an amazing stay. Our Thousand Trails membership has been a great value so far. For about the price of three months’ rent in Portland, we have access to more than 200 campgrounds nationwide with full hookups and many amenities at no nightly fee. We can stay up to 21 days at each campground and move park-to-park with no downtime in between, for life. However, not every campground has a resort feel. The last campground we stayed in felt more like a cramped parking lot than an RV resort. A couple of campgrounds haven’t had sewer hookups, which requires more work for us. But for the most part, the parks we’ve stayed in have been safe, relaxing, and fun. Our current campground includes a mile-long walking trail, two pools, a fitness center, playgrounds, a dog park, mini-golf and yard games, and planned indoor activities for the kids. Which goes back to point number three—they are doing just fine without a proper backyard.

• Nothing worth having comes without hard work and sacrifice. We all are in the places we are in life because of the choices we’ve made or how we’ve responded to things outside our control, based on our values and priorities. Our family is able to take a break and travel for a bit because we have made a lot of sacrifices, prayed diligently, researched fanatically, and saved money over the course of five years to make this happen. We sold our home, most of our belongings, including our second vehicle, and said no to other things so we’d be in a position financially to travel without full-time jobs for a bit. We have been willing to embrace discomfort for the sake of something better. This didn’t come easily, and it isn’t easy. But for us, the payoff has been absolutely worth it.

Thirty minutes of fishing a day.

A successful businessman on vacation was at the pier of a small coastal village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The businessman complimented the fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The fisherman proudly replied, “Every morning, I go out in my boat for 30 minutes to fish. I’m the best fisherman in the village”.

The businessman, perplexed, then asks the fisherman, “If you’re the best, why don’t you stay out longer and catch more fish? What do you do the rest of the day?”

The fisherman replied, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, spend quality time with my wife, and every evening we stroll into the village to drink wine and play guitar with our friends. I have a full and happy life.”

The businessman scoffed, “I am successful CEO and have a talent for spotting business opportunities. I can help you be more successful. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats with many fishermen. Instead of selling your catch to just your friends, you can scale to sell fish to thousands. You could leave this small coastal fishing village and move to the big city, where you can oversee your growing empire.”

The fisherman asked, “But, how long will this all take?”

To which the businessman replied, “15–20 years.”

“But what then?” Asked the fisherman.

The businessman laughed and said, “That’s the best part.  When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions!”

“Millions—then what?”

The businessman said, “Then you would retire.  Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, spend time with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your friends.”

I’m sitting in our RV, at a campground surrounded by the high desert beauty of California, the sounds of our kids playing “Red Light, Green Light” outside, sipping a cup of Sleepy Monk coffee from the French press, and this parable keeps coming to mind.

Too many people we know spend their whole lives dedicated to their work, building up their retirement funds, so that one day, they will be able to live the life they dream of…tragically only to arrive at their retirement years in poor health and with estranged relationships because they neglected to take care of their bodies and nurture their relationships for years.

One dear friend that we knew worked tirelessly for decades in the same job, his workaholism glorified by those who knew him as a badge of honor that hung like a millstone around his neck. He developed cancer and passed away the year before his retirement.

Another man we know dedicated his best years to his work at the expense of his relationship with his children. He is now retirement-age and has no relationship with one of his adult children.

The richest man in the world has a child who doesn’t want anything to do with the man, to the point that they changed their last name to erase the association to him.

I’m not saying it isn’t wisdom to save for the future, but for Kelley and me, what is the point if we neglect our most important investment—people, specifically our children—in the process? And what good is it to make travel plans for retirement if chronic illness keeps us engaged in doctor’s appointments and paying medical bills by the time we actually get to have our late-life break? (If we even make it that far at all.)

In the book of Ecclesiastes, King Solomon, who was easily the wisest and richest man to ever live, discusses how meaningless it is to spend his whole life toiling and striving, to gain wealth that will be given to and enjoyed by someone else when he dies. And he doesn’t even know when that day will come—if he will even be able to enjoy the fruits of his labor, or if tomorrow, his very breath would be taken from him. At the end of the book, he concludes that the best strategy of life is to serve God and to work, yes, but to also enjoy the pleasures life has to offer along the way so that your work doesn’t become miserable. He cautions not to get caught up in the meaningless striving for more so that we waste our youth, our best years, on the things that are here today and gone tomorrow.

What good is it to gain the whole world if we forfeit our souls, our relationships, and our mental, emotional, and physical health along the way?

We decided we want to instead give our children our best years. We want to make memories together while we have them under our roof (be it stationary or mobile) and create bonds with one another that will carry our children well into their adult years while we have the strength and energy to. We want to invest first in those relationships, and in our marriage, so that one day, when we are far along in life, we still enjoy each other’s company and haven’t grown into strangers. We want to move and challenge our bodies, focusing on strength and longevity, and then rest when it’s necessary, so that we can finish our race well, rather than having to bow out early.

This is our why.

It’s why we are taking a break. This is largely why Kelley resigned from his job that was deteriorating his physical and mental health and took a sabbatical. This is why I decided to focus my energy and time on educating and training my children to be wise, positive contributors to society, instead of jumping into another full-time job. There are always ways to make more money, but I want to spend every second I can with them while they are in my care, so that we have a solid foundation for our adult-adult relationships later on. And when I’m gone, the deposits I’ve made in shaping their character will hopefully continue to reap a harvest as valuable assets in their lives.

Retirement is a good investment, but for us, it isn’t the only, or even most important one, that we have been entrusted with. I’d rather the magnitude of bonding I have with my family be substantially more than the size of my 401K.

And for us personally, our ambitions aren’t to amass wealth and status, anyway. We don’t need or long for much. We aim to live a quiet life, having what we need but also being able to enjoy the journey along the way. We want to have plenty of sunshine, fresh air, and nature to surround us and the health to enjoy it. We want our physical bodies to be strong for the task at hand. And we are committed to keeping margin so that we have the time and mental and emotional space for the people in our lives.

We want to major in the majors and minor in the minors.

This is our why.

Strangers in this land.

We had hoped to hit the road at the start of this month, but our RV is still in the shop. All is well; my eyes can be a bit too big for my stomach when it comes to my appetite for adventure and travel, and the universe in all its wisdom has held me by the shoulders, forcing me to slow it down a bit. So we are squeezing every drop of enjoyment from these last days in our stationary home, soaking up the sun at the pool, sweating away stress in the gym, serving up all the food that’s left in our freezer and pantry, selling off our possessions to the highest bidder, spinning loads of laundry while the machines sit in our bathroom instead of a quarter-mile across a campground.

I have enough self-awareness to know that it probably seems like we’ve completely lost it. Last year, in a climate where everyone was playing the real estate market, we sold our home and our only source of equity, paid off debt, and moved into a temporary apartment. In the shadow of a recession, we walked away from our only source of income with no other job lined up and bought an RV. While inflation hangs in the air like a curse word, we’ve sold most of our possessions. In a world that’s getting lonelier by the minute, we left our church community clinging to our hope of finding something that looks a little more like the Gospel, pure and simple..

But then again, following God’s lead can look pretty foolish at times.

We’ve had a lot of people ask us where we’re heading, and honestly, I have absolutely no clue. We’ve changed our plans so many times I’ve lost count. We’ve interviewed for jobs in Oregon, Washington, Alaska, and Pennsylvania. Our current plan is to hang out somewhere in California while we wait on word from a job opportunity for Kelley in west Portland, but that plan keeps shifting with the wildfire map.

Never have I ever felt more like an alien on this planet than I do now. Today’s world is almost completely unrecognizable to me. When I look around at all of the things shouting out for our time, our attention, our affection—cryptocurrency, custom Nikes, Teslas, the latest tech, political parties, even influence and followings—it all seems so foreign to me now. While I once would have aspired to attain a beautiful house and beautiful things to fill it with, while I once would have associated success with more and not less—that just isn’t feeling quite right these days.

The more I read about the life of Jesus, the more I discover how transient his lifestyle here on Earth was. The more I realize just how much he encouraged people to lighten their loads rather than gather up more, to get their eyes off possessions and status and influence and onto the things of Heaven, and to walk through this life with a healthy dose of detachment to the temporal. He knew that most often, worldly possessions and success only served as a distraction to keep us majoring on the minors and focused on self. He had nothing of this world to distract him from the people He was called to reach for the life beyond this one. People are eternal; everything else is just made of sand.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Matthew 6:19-20

As I dismantle this life we built in Portland and sell it off piece by piece, strangely it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Over the past several years, I’ve been learning the difficult discipline of holding the things of this world with an open hand. It’s a lesson that’s painful in the prying, cramping from fingers wrapped tightly around the things the world tells me are most important. The letting go isn’t comfortable, but then, magnificent, eternal things rarely come to the doorstep of our comfort zone. No, we must step out for them, even if we can’t see what we’re stepping out onto. We can’t see where our footing will come from, but we trust it will come nonetheless, and if it doesn’t…well, we know we just can’t stay on this ledge forever, tucked away in our comforts, wrapped warmly in our status.

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” C.S. Lewis

This world is not our home, which may explain why nowhere feels like home to me at the moment. When we moved to Portland, it was because the Lord laid this land on our hearts after a period of feeling like we were wanderers in the wilderness, so maybe a new land is just over the horizon. Or maybe, what He wants from me now is to find my home in Him, right where it was created to be. Maybe I will continue to feel like the wandering alien until He returns to take me to my eternal home.

So I’m here, open hands and light burden. Resolving to plant my feet firmly in His Word instead of my circumstances, embracing discomfort for the sake of something even better, something more sanctifying, something that’s eternal.

I spent too much time today

on things that don't mean much

The world around me groans under its tyranny of touch

Every wasted thought

and every battle left unfought

All are testimony to my need of you

I'm a stranger in this land

Won't you take me by the hand

I can hear that distant band

But I'm still a stranger in this land

Some days at the strangest times

I feel a sense of loss

A bite or two of stolen fruit

and we all suffer from the cost

But every longing for my home

Even when I'm not alone

Stands as testimony of the coming day

All I've got to do

is to believe on You

Then every struggle seems worthwhile

I can see the promise of Your smile

Stranger in this Land, Waterdeep

Snowshoeing on the Mirror Lake Trail

Tucked away neatly off Mount Hood Highway 26 between Welches and Government Camp lies the unassuming entrance to the beautiful Mirror Lake Trail. It’s the good-natured wingman to Mt. Hood Adventure Park—the quiet but cute counterpart to the boisterous, showy life-of-the-party originator of cosmic tubing and night skiing. But that’s the thing about wingmen—they are most often the ones actually worth getting to know. (I should know; I married one.)

While Mt. Hood Adventure Park may be full of obvious fun, the trail that shares its entrance doesn’t need all the bells and whistles. Instead, it relies on its understated but breathtaking natural landscape to lure in visitors—teasing views of neighboring mountainsides, sounds of water bubbling over rocks, glimmers of sunlight dancing on top of gleaming, crisp white billows of snow. It’s absolutely magical, awe-inspiring and drool-worthy for this Southern-born brood.

Our family spent the better part of New Year’s Eve breaking in our newly unwrapped snowshoes, sweating off our abundantly consumed holiday treats in a 22-degree winter wonderland on a two-mile stretch of the trail. While other families sipped champagne to bid sayonara to 2021, we sipped piping hot soup in Stanley canisters in our heated Subaru after trekking two-and-a-half hours almost four miles round-trip on a two-foot-wide path through a maze of powdery alpine snowdrifts.

The kids enjoyed the Yukon Charlie Snowsquall kids’ snowshoe kit from REI.

Our snowshoeing day trip sparked the beginning of a whirlwind romance; it was love at first try. Though our family of five initially looked more like newborn foals finding their legs, clonking and clapping through the icy parking lot, leaning a little too heavily on our poles for support, we quickly got the hang of it and slid single-file into a leisurely rhythm through the woods. With snowdrifts up to our shoulders in places, picturesque powder-piled bridges laid across bubbly brooks in others, we had left Portland in the rearview mirror and once again traversed the wardrobe into Narnia. All that was missing was a lamppost and friendly fawn.

The trail was so well packed that snowshoes probably weren’t necessary, but they added to the rigor and increased our trail-cred among the other outdoor enthusiasts we encountered. And there were plenty; it seemed we weren’t the only ones who unconventionally venture outdoors on holidays. We bid a Happy New Year about every five minutes to other snowshoers and cross-country skiers on the trail. One couple even brought along a bottle of wine for their hike and toasted to an exquisite mountaintop view through the treetops. The thing about outdoorsy people is they are almost always happy.

Breaking in the MSR Revo Explore women’s 22-in. snowshoes from REI.com. They wrap around my old hunting boots just fine. (You can take a girl out of the South but can never take the South out of the girl.)

The Mirror Lake Trail is wide enough for one person, but you’ll be hard pressed to find hikers who aren’t more than willing to cheerfully step aside for passersby. Everyone we encountered was high on holiday spirit and endorphins.

The question I get most often from friends is, “Don’t you get cold out there?!” Honestly, we don’t. The good thing about snowshoeing in a forest is that the trees block the wind, so it doesn’t feel as cold as the thermometer registers. (I personally haven’t been cold since I birthed my third child.) If anything, we overdress for the activity and need to shed layers. The kids started out with full head-to-toe coverage and eventually shed their balaclavas (bonus points if you can tell me how to pronounce that word), toboggans (or beanies, for you PNWers) and gloves and unzipped their 3-in-1 jackets. With winter outdoor activities, the trick to staying comfortable is to keep snow from touching your skin; waterproof (not water-resistant) gear is essential for enjoying long days out in the PNW alpine winter.

The only drawback was that we failed to realize the trail wound up a mountain. (I naively thought the lake would be at a lower elevation. I blame my near-sea-level Alabama upbringing.) Even though the temp was in the 20s, we huffed and puffed and shed layers along the trail. I personally cursed those extra helpings of Christmas cookies and creamy dips that made every step a painful reminder that I had foolishly foregone exercise over the holidays. Even after a snack break, we didn’t quite make it to the lake; we stopped about a half-mile short when the trail narrowed and the slope of the mountain steepened. Our 6-year-old had tired out and was beginning to lose good walking form, and I started having visions of violent avalanches and kids tumbling down the mountain like boulders. But the outing was magical nonetheless and earned its place on our list of Oregon destinations to revisit regularly.

First snow of the season + how to prepare for a family snow day

The most anticipated day of the year in our household finally came this past weekend.

No, it wasn’t anyone’s birthday. Nor was it a special holiday. But you’re getting warmer (or perhaps I say colder?)…

Saturday was our first day trip to Mount Hood to go sledding, hiking, and basically just rolling and stomping around in the first big snow of the season.

We are fortunate enough to live in an eastern suburb of Portland that is about an hour-long drive to the notorious snow-covered peak, and we’ve been keeping an eye on the weather for more than a month anxiously awaiting the day that we could dig out our snow gear from the back of our closets and plan a day trip to the mountain. It’s one of our favorite outdoor activities.

There are plenty of sno parks and ski lodges to choose from in Oregon, but our favorite spot on Mount Hood is White River West off Highway 35. It’s a massive (normally rocky) area where a rushing creek slices through the middle of a wide-open space between two treelines, and it has the perfect hills for sledding and trails for hiking or snow-shoeing or cross-country skiing—basically any activity you’d love to do in the snow. And it’s rarely overly crowded.

And this past weekend, it got dumped on.

We grew up in the South, so for us, cruising down the 26 until we enter what feels like the portal to Narnia is magical every time we do it. I mean, this ain’t no Alabama dusting or sporadic ice storm. Back home, if we’re lucky enough to see even a few snowflakes, we can head outside in jeans and a T-shirt and not shiver once. But in Oregon, we’re talking waist-deep snowdrifts. Initially, we felt way out of our depths when it came to preparing for snow sports here. And we’ve learned the hard way that the secret to actually enjoying a day in the snow, rather than shivering your buns off, is all in the preparation. So I’ve put together a few tips that will ensure your day in the snow doesn’t turn into the Great Meltdown (figuratively and literally).

Invest in the right clothing. While this is true of most outdoor activities, it’s especially important in extreme weather. Having snow creep up your pants leg or your own sweat freeze against your skin would mean game over. So, we layer this way:

1. A base layer that wicks moisture away from the skin (don’t even think about cotton; think wool or poly blend, or even activewear with wicking technology). You can make economical choices here; I wear my Calia running tights with a thermal base layer top that I bought at Target. The Mr. and the kids wear basic All in Motion brand thermal sets, also from Target.

2. Wool winter socks. Technically, this is still a base layer, so again, think moisture-wicking to prevent clammy, cold feet.

3. Waterproof bibs. These really are the secret sauce. We invested in good-quality snow bibs, and they haven’t failed us yet. The Mr. and I have these and these Burton bibs from REI.com, and the kids each have this one from Columbia (in black, so we can pass them down to the next kid when the older sibling outgrows theirs). The benefit of buying bibs is that, unlike pants, you don’t have to worry about snow creeping down into your waistband. Our kids literally roll around and crawl in the snow and stay completely warm and dry for hours.

   The kids’ bibs are insulated; the grown-ups’ are not. I’m pretty hot-natured, so this combination works for me. But waterproof technology (rather than water resistant) is the key. Bibs are specifically designed to have an additional inner layer that cinches at the bottom of the leg (called a cuff guard) to prevent snow from creeping in. I love that the kid’s bibs were also designed with Outgrown technology, meaning we can let the seams out and extend them to get another year or more of wear out of them. Bibs can be expensive, so we raided our local Columbia outlet and found these at a fraction of the cost.

4. Insulated, waterproof outer layer. We prefer the 3-in-1 interchange coats from Columbia. Like the kids’ bibs, their coats also have the Outgrown expandable/extendable technology to extend their wearability. We also like that the inner shell is insulated, and could be taken out depending on the outside temp, but the outer layer is completely waterproof. We also like Columbia’s insulated and waterproof gloves, which have clasps to fasten them to each other and cinch around the wrists. Another outlet find for the family bought with a BOGO deal. (Columbia is basically our favorite go-to for most outdoor activities. Not an affiliate; just a true fan.)

5. Insulated, waterproof boots. We bought these for the kids, and the Mr. and I use our hunting boots, which keep our feet toasty warm and completely dry.

6. Hats, gaiters, headbands…This is all personal. Our daughter and I like fleece headbands or wool toboggans (or beanies, as they call them in the PNW); the guys all wear beanies. Sometimes, if it’s snowing or the wind is blowing, we’ll add gaiters, but usually we don’t need them. (Our jackets also have built-in face guards.)

Take the right supplies. Depending on the actual snow sport you enjoy, the list of necessary supplies will look different. But for a typical day out in the snow that includes sledding, hiking, building a snowman, etc., these are the things we take with us:

1. A backpack. They make backpacks especially for snow sports, but we found our hiking backpacks are the best option for us. (They’re from Osprey; I have the Mira and Kelley has the Manta.) They are water resistant and include a rain cover if it's pretty wet out; they include all the best pockets and storage and even a water reservoir, and they are ergonomically designed to be worn comfortably for extended periods of time.

2. Trekking poles. You can spend a small fortune on trekking poles, but we found these on Amazon that work perfectly. They include mud and snow baskets, tips for concrete or rocky surfaces, end caps and a bag for storage, and the ability to adjust the length to accommodate both my 5’2” self and my 6’ husband. And since they’re made from carbon fiber, they are lightweight, and the ergonomical cork handles are also a plus. They make all the difference when hiking through thigh-deep snow and are a knee-saver when traversing hills.

3. First aid kit. We’ve had our share of minor injuries while out in the snow and learned our lesson the hard way how important it is to be prepared. (I’ll never forget having to wipe my daughter’s bloodied nose with her COVID mask.) We have this one and this one.

4. Water. Even though it can be a pain to haul around filled stainless steel water bottles for a family of five, it’s definitely a necessary thing to have when you’re huffing and puffing out in the middle of the forest. It can get really chilly trying to quench your thirst by eating snow. (And there is always the less heavy water bladder option.)

5. Snacks. Packs of trail mix or granola bars can extend the amount of time we can spend with the kids out in the snow before we need to grab a decent meal. Playing in the snow is excellent exercise, and they can work up quite an appetite, even if they don’t break a sweat.

6. Hand and toe warmers. These pocket-sized instant warmers are nice to have on hand.

7. Chapstick or petroleum jelly. Spreading a thin layer of Vaseline on our faces before heading out in the snow helps prevent wind-chapped faces, and keeping Chapstick handy is also beneficial for the same reason.

8. Odds and ends. We always take a flashlight, a pocket knife, hand sanitizer, a compass, an emergency whistle, travel microfiber towels, and sunscreen in our backpacks as well. In fact, these never leave our bag, so they’re always on hand if we were to need them when we venture outdoors.

9. Snow toys/tools. Our family shares three sleds, and we take a shovel with us to help shovel out a sled path and “steps” to help the kids climb back up to the top of the hill.

Set appropriate expectations. With any outing we enjoy as a family, we prepare our kids beforehand by reminding them of the possibility that plans may fall through, and that flexibility is essential. We also give details of our plan for the day so that our kids know what’s coming next, and the rules for how we expect them to behave. This kind of priming helps prevent bad attitudes before they start. Also, as parents we aim to have realistic expectations of what our kids can handle. (They probably won’t enjoy a two-hour hike as much as I do, and they probably won’t be able to walk in the snow as fast as Dad can.) We try to move at their pace as much as possible while also encouraging them to try things out of their comfort zones. But respecting their capacities makes adventuring as a family more fun for everyone.

What is your favorite snow activity? Are there any essentials you would add to this list?

The day I finally saw in color. (Baker Lake, Washington)

I disabled the last of my social media accounts this week. It might be the most freeing thing I’ve ever done.

I don’t know exactly what’s gotten into me lately, to be honest. Gumption? Sensory overload? Pandemic fatigue? Whatever it is, I’m just a completely different person than I was pre-pandemic, and there’s no going back to life as I once knew it; that includes my social media habits.

I think I noticed that something was different while we were on our recent trip in September. After our day in Port Townsend (see previous post here), we traveled by ferry to Burlington. We spent the next day driving through Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest until we reached Baker Lake to go paddleboarding. (When we Thompsons discover a new hobby, we really commit to it.)

I thought it couldn’t get any better than Lake Crescent, but I was wrong.

Baker Lake is utterly otherworldly. It was like I had been seeing in black and white my entire life and was suddenly seeing color for the first time. The lake was a translucent, bright, almost blinding turquoise under a cerulean sky, surrounded by fuzzy green forest and snowcapped mountains. It was too perfect to seem real. As the influencers say, no filter needed.

And I didn’t really feel the impulse to post it online.

In the moment, all I wanted to do was just be. Be present. Be still. Be in the moment and soak it all in through my eyeballs and not a smartphone screen. I realized that, up until that day, I had always felt so much pressure to document our experiences that I forgot to actually experience them. But Baker Lake was different. I still took some pictures and video, but I no longer felt the pull of social media calling me out of the moment and into a lesser virtual reality. It had lost all of its appeal.

There’s just something about marveling at something marvelous in real time, in real life, that will free you of any inclination to settle for a two-dimensional replica in a tiny Instagram square, hashtag blessed. It makes anything else seem dull. Sitting in the middle of the lake with no one but my family around me, with nothing but the sound of rippling waves and the occasional trout jumping out of the water, I just knew I couldn’t go back to all the societal noise when our vacation was over. All the soundbites and opinions and influencing and ambition and flaunting and bullying and trolling and clickbait and doomsday reporting and bickering over all the current things no longer seemed entertaining or relevant or even desirable.

We had an enjoyable simple picnic by the lake after more than two hours of paddling, and I decided then that my smartphone and social media habits had to change. This was the kind of high-definition I needed. I needed to be more connected to nature than the Internet. I needed more unplugged, adventurous moments like this. I needed to make a regular habit of marveling at the marvelous.

I’m not the only one in our family who felt like a new person after that trip. The best highlight of the day? Our middle son asked if he could be baptized in the lake. He had been considering it for a while, and we’d had many conversations about what it meant, but his anxiety would creep in and he’d back out. But he decided that was the perfect time and place, so Kelley baptized him beside the boat dock with a handful of strangers looking on.

I did unashamedly video that moment, and you can watch it here:

Exploring the Olympic peninsula

“To walk in nature is always good medicine.” Sam Gribley, On the Far Side of the Mountain

During our family read-aloud time last night, this quote jumped off the page at me and perfectly sums up our recent trip to northwest Washington state. 

This month was the first time ever that the Mr. and I chose to take a full, two-week vacation time. We’re late to the party I know, but better late than never; I highly recommend it if you can pull it off. In almost 18 years of marriage, we’ve only ever afforded ourselves a long weekend here and there, or once, a full week. But that has always left us feeling as if we needed a vacation to recover from our vacation. And there’s just something about the pandemic that has had us reprioritizing rest and play and quality family time. A full two weeks was just right, especially since we spent most of that time outdoors.

We had initially planned a camping trip to Bend, Oregon, but with fire season leaving central Oregon too smoky for our comfort level, we decided to err on the side of caution and explore the Olympic Peninsula instead. I’ve wanted to visit the area for more than a decade, ever since my best friend coerced me to watch the newly premiered Twilight movie. (While everyone was falling in love with Edward and Jacob, I fell in love with the Olympic National Forest). I’m so glad we changed our plans; Washington is even more beautiful in person!

These duffel bags from Walker Family Goods made packing for our trip so simple and easy.

From paddleboarding on Lake Crescent to hiking up the trail to Marymere Falls to watching orcas breaching the waves of the Puget Sound, we packed as much as we could into our week of exploring Washington. (After the peninsula, we spent a couple of days visiting Baker National Forest and Anacortes, but I’ll save that for another post.)

We started the trip with a drive up Highway 101 to Port Angeles, where we camped at an outlying KOA campground. While I was anxious that our tent site might be invaded by a bear or cougar, I didn’t think to beware the stray Highland calf that broke free from its nearby pasture and ran through the campground. Fortunately, that was the only wildlife that visited our site, but unpredictable rain patterns once again threw off our plans, delaying our trip a day (if you weren’t here for the last rainy camping experience, read about it here), and then causing us to transfer our things to a small onsite cabin for the last night so we wouldn’t be packing up camp the next day in a rain shower.

Check out the view of Olympic National Forest from our campsite outside Port Angeles. Also, typical sun-in-the-eyes photo taken by yours truly.

The day after we arrived at Port Angeles, we took a scenic drive along the coastal 101 that runs along the northern border of the peninsula, parallel to Vancouver Island, B.C. (We got so close to the border that we received text messages welcoming us to Canada.) We had to turn around at the Makah reservation, which was closed to the public due to COVID, so we drove through the Olympic National Forest to Forks, where I took pictures of all the Twilight memorabilia I could for my best friend back in Alabama.

After our second night of camping/glamping, we transferred our things to a nearby harbor-side hotel in Port Angeles so we could get some real sleep before moving on from the area, and so we would have hot showers after a day on Lake Crescent. The only local gem we found in Port Angeles was the Blackbird Café, where we had lunch after we said goodbye to the campground Wednesday and drove down the foggy, tree-lined Highway 101 until Lake Crescent greeted us out our window. (If you’re ever in Port Angeles, stop by the Blackbird and grab a gluten-free lemon vanilla cupcake and a latte. You’re welcome.)

Lake Crescent Lodge is a great place to spend the day. There is an upscale restaurant and lodging, but it’s also open for day use and provides multiple hiking trails and plenty of open shoreline for wading, swimming, lounging, or even putting in paddleboards or a kayak. We chose the almost 2-mile trail loop to Marymere Falls and back, traipsing through the forest and over handmade bridges and stairs up to the waterfall. This was such a beautiful hike with plenty of wide, flat trails to make it doable for kids. After the hike, we woofed down granola bars and then shimmied into swimsuits in our darkly tented SUV and headed to the lake to paddleboard. Lake Crescent is a glacier lake, and the water is so clear and blue. There are plenty of areas around the 11-or-so-mile perimeter to explore by water, and we took our time taking it all in.

The next day, we left the hotel early to head to Port Townsend and board a whale watching boat. We purchased tickets for the Puget Sound Express, and since the kids have been learning about all about wildlife and indigenous tribes of the Olympic peninsula, our charter school (which serves as a cover for homeschoolers) reimbursed us for them as a field trip. Our tour was four hours of boating in the Puget Sound, and we passed by several harbor seals and observed two different pods of orcas. Seeing the giant dorsal fins emerge from the water and draw a crescent in the air before descending again in a buttery smooth, synchronized motion was surreal!

The crew aboard the Puget Sound Express was phenomenal. They were incredibly friendly and knowledgable, and the kids loved hearing about the different orca families the crew identified and how they recognize the orcas by specific markings. They also bake a mean blueberry buckle aboard the ship, which makes the entire cabin smell delicious—not at all what you’d expect on a whaling boat.

After our tour, we lingered in Port Townsend for lunch at the Silverwater Café (gluten-free shrimp scampi for me, Pacific cod fish and chips for the Mr., and burgers for the kids; everything was delicious!) and hand-dipped ice cream at Elevated Ice Cream Co. along the waterfront. Port Townsend is just adorable—historic buildings line the street and offer eclectic, unique shops that are perfect for hours of aimless browsing.

Perhaps my favorite part of Port Townsend, however, was the one place photography wasn’t allowed: Forest Gems Gallery on Washington Street. Before and during our trip, we had been reading as a family Written in Stone by Rosanne Parry, a book about a Native American girl named Pearl, part of the Quinault tribe, who longed to be a whaler like her father. We read in detail about the abalone shell button she kept from her mother’s blanket, her father’s raven regalia, and all about the areas her tribe traveled on the peninsula and the nearby tribes they visited. We read about potlatches and ceremonial elements, and Forest Gems Gallery curates a collection of many of the indigenous tribal pieces we’d read about. You can feel the somber atmosphere where the actual hand-carved, sacred ceremonial masks that the book describes are on display. I pointed out the abalone shell embellishments on the artwork just like we’d read about. We browsed the collection of carved wooden animals and identified ravens and eagles and bears. It brought not only the book but also First Nations tribal culture to life for our family and was a learning experience we won’t forget.

To the trees.

This was my first time seeing the California redwoods. We only decided last-minute to drive down the coast over the state line because it was pouring rain, and we were back to the drawing board, scribbling frantically to write up a new vacation after our camping trip literally drowned. “Why not?” I asked. “We’re only an hour or so from the state line.” It was just over an hour to Jedidah Smith Redwood State Park, two hours to Redwood National and State Park, so we ventured to both.

First off, the drive down Pacific Coast Scenic Highway 101 is simply one of the best road trips. The views are of such magnitude that I felt we should have to pay money for them. The coast is visible through sporadic stretches of rainforest, and each view offers something unique to the previous one. It was the perfect drizzly day for a leisurely drive sipping a latte from Port Orford’s Battle Rock Coffee and listening to the sounds of Johnny Swim.

We’ve only ever seen the parts of California that are visible through the windows of LAX, and Northern California is really more like an extension of southern Oregon than Los Angeles. It’s BEAUTIFUL, and when you start seeing the redwoods above your dashboard, it just keeps getting better and better.

We drove through Jedidiah Smith State Park, which is a beautiful stretch of road and then got back on the 101 past Crescent City to make it to Redwood National Park. Around Klamath, we found the Trees of Mystery attraction, where you can enjoy a treetop skyrail tour of a redwood forest; we opted instead for a picture with the true-to-legend-scale monuments of Paul Bunyan and his trusty ox, Babe, and a round through the gift shop, where we decided commemorative lapel pins made sufficient and inexpensive souvenirs for the kids. (I paid, and the kids paid me back with their money when we got to the car; at this point, Eva learned a hard lesson in commerce and expressed she didn’t like that I took all her money (a dollar and some change) and tried to give me back the lapel pin. Poor girl. As it turns out, she likes how her shiny Babe ox pin adorns her pink sparkly backpack after all.)

Klamath, California, is also home to the tourist trap, The Tour-thru Tree, through which we paid five bucks to discover our massive Ford Expedition would not in fact fit. We snapped a picture anyway and decided a $5 bill was a small price to pay for the laughs and the memory. (That’s what you get when you trust an attraction that can’t spell.)

Then came the elk. And I mean, a LOT of elk. We pulled over to watch them until so many other cars did the same that the elk began to spook. I never get tired of seeing deer and elk, and it was a nice surprise for Kelley’s birthday, considering every other plan I’d made got rained out.

The kind of velvet I love to see.

While our GPS Maps app led us to a key-card-access-only gated road several miles into the Redwood National Park, and we didn’t venture any further south to find another route, we did pull over at the Lady Bird Johnson grove area, which featured a beautiful mile and a half or so walk through the forest. It was raining, we were wearing the wrong kind of shoes, and I discovered my apparent fear of bears and cougars, but once we got over the irritation of being unprepared and resigned ourselves to getting drenched and muddy, we soaked up not only the rain but every inch of the trail we traversed; the kids made forts out of the massive trunks of the redwood clusters and hid in hollowed out trees.

Like snowflakes and fingerprints, each redwood has a completely unique bark pattern, and when I imagine how many redwoods there are in the United States, the thought alone leaves me breathless and full of wonder and gratitude. And my life has been like the bark on those trees—knotted in places, rough and broken in others, aimlessly winding and curving occasionally, but still always coming back to the path upward.

After we got cleaned up from our hike, we ate a picnic lunch beachside just south of Orick, California, before heading back up the coast to our hotel in Gold Beach. (We snagged a beachfront balcony view room last-minute at the Pacific Reef Hotel and Light Show. Though the light show was slightly anti-climatic, the place didn’t disappoint.)

My one regret is that we never did find a place to drive through a redwood, which I feel like is a quintessential thing to do when one visits a park like this. But maybe I’m thinking of the sequoias? Next time we’ll find the bigger trees and perhaps drive a smaller vehicle. Nonetheless, I consider this one item checked off our bucket list!

Must-sees along the southern Oregon coast.

When our camping trip was rained out and morphed into a beachside getaway, we discovered so many hidden gems along Oregon’s coastline that I’m eager to share with y’all.

The Pacific Northwest coast is by far my favorite beach I’ve visited in the United States. As Southern natives, we our first love was Destin, Florida, for its powdery white sand and clear turquoise water, but the heat and humidity of the Gulf Coast are bullies for a fair-skinned and fair-weather family. And the few times I’ve visited Myrtle Beach on the east coast, I got so blistered I couldn’t put on clothes and was resigned to stare at the sliver of beach I could see from the angle of my condo balcony for most of our stay.

The Gulf Coast is like the stereotypical chipper blonde cheerleader of high school—peppy and bright with a bubbly personality, though maybe a little shallow and, for an introvert, tolerable in limited amounts. (I’m personifying here and mean no offense.) But if the Gulf is the pep squad captain, the Pacific Coast is that dark and mysterious brunette who sits in the corner of the library in her combat boots and blunt cut reading Tolstoy. Her beauty isn’t as obvious but just as alluring, and her aloofness is intimidating. You know she’s smart, probably more so than you, and she projects a sense of danger and secrecy and depth that draws you in. She’s breathtaking but not as inviting, and as you get to know her, she seems even more inaccessible, like you’ll never discover all there is to her but you’d commit to die trying.

On a flatter note, I like that I can forego the dreaded bathing suit at the Pacific. There is no scantily clad sunbathing here; no lathering up wriggling sand-peppered preschoolers every 30 minutes. The cloud cover is a welcome friend for these gingers, and regular clothes with waterproof Chacos are completely appropriate. (Though I do have those signature sandal sunburn lines on my pale feet. Should have worn sunscreen.)

These are a few destinations along the Pacific Coast that make our list of must-sees:

1. Sisters Rock, OR. This hiking area is right off Pacific Highway 101, a seemingly lone rock jutting out of the sea in front of a generous parking area; it would be easy to miss the prime hiking trail leading to this landmark. After about a 10-minute walk through a narrow path cutting through local vegetation dotted with vibrant wildflowers, the path opens up to an expanse of rocky terrain that leads to the shoreline on your left and right or a cave up ahead where you can watch the tide rush in. It almost feels like a foggy wasteland, driftwood piled on rocks below hazy cliffs. Like some forgotten Scottish highlands, you’ll see turkey buzzards looming overhead, looking for carrion and carnage. It’s mysterious and a little eery, but in an absolutely appealing way.

When the path opens up.

The shore below.

Pretending to be pirates on the beach.

2. Meyers Beach, OR. This little hotspot off PCH 101 offers a brisk downhill walk and a brief climb over rock piles down to the beach. On this coastline, you’ll see a splattering of rock formations jutting out of the ocean that are prime climbing spots when the tide is low. I perched atop one and watch my kids play tag with the tide. (Just be respectful of the barnacles that make their homes on the surfaces of these rocks.) The sand beach here is expansive and smoother with fewer rocks, though closer to the cliff leading to the highway you’ll find a driftwood jungle gym amidst hot-spring-like tide pools and a waterfall that lends its power to a rushing rockbed creek flowing into the ocean. It’s one of nature’s perfect playgrounds.

One caveat to these coastal destinations: there are no public restrooms. So if you, say, grab an almond milk latte to sip on while you drive down the coast and find you have to go as soon as you’ve arrived, don’t expect to find a row of Honey Buckets somewhere off to the side. You’ll have one of two options: hold it like it’s a quarter between your knees, or duck down somewhere in the rock piles and hope no one sees. This was a little easier for our son; when we got to the bottom of the rock piles and our daughter decided that was the time to announce she needed to go number one, the Mr. rounded his arms into the shape of a toilet seat and…well, this is just the honest journalism you won’t find elsewhere, folks. You’re welcome. (And he’s getting a big Father’s Day gift this weekend, believe you me.)

3. Gold Beach, OR. Gold Beach’s name is a nod to the historic Gold Rush, and some believe you can find remnant treasures if you look hard enough. Though we didn’t go gold mining, we did comb the beach for agates, which is another treasure this beach teases about. We collected handfuls of quartz and other glittery stones, but I’m not sure we ever really learned what an agate actually was. Still, it was a childlike fun to search for cool and unique rocks with our kids, someone yelling every few minutes, “Hey, look what I found!” This was a beautiful stretch of stony beach with a plethora of little rushing rivers flowing into the ocean. And if you visit Gold Beach, you have to try the Spanish omelette at the Indian Creek Café. If you’re of the gluten-free kind, the pineapple and Canadian bacon gluten-free pizza at Sunny’s Family Pizza was the best, flaky, wheat-free pizza crust I’ve ever tasted. It’s extra delicious paired with a Hallmark movie and delivered straight to your hotel room after a long day of driving.

When camping goes south.

We had been planning for weeks. The camp reservation at Humbug Mountain State Park in southern coastal Oregon was booked; we’d even bought a new tent and sleeping bags this year to add to our camping supplies. An upgrade from our 8-person tent that the Mr. and I bought before we even had kids, our new 10-person tent had a room divider and blackout walls. The one thing it wasn’t, as we’d find out the hard way, was waterproof.

The night before we headed out, we checked the weather one more time. For weeks, the forecast predicted the perfect camping weather—around 60 degrees and sunny. But this time, we learned it was going to rain for the next three days, for 3/4 of our trip! At the last minute, we put in a pickup order at a local sporting goods store for a pop-up canopy with a zip-up netting and decided we would keep our plans but bring a few more games to play under cover from the rain.

Before the rain.

We arrived at our campsight, set up fairly quickly, and decided to have sandwiches for dinner. Right after we built a fire for s’mores, the downpour announced its arrival by putting out our fire and soaking our campsight. After three returns home to fetch forgotten items and several hours of driving and wound up kids and water everywhere, I told Kelley, “I just want to go to bed and be done with the day.” So, we got ready for bed and started to get in our sleeping bags when I noticed water dripping on my inflatable pillow. We looked around and our hearts sank as we discovered water was coming in at the bottom seams of the tent and forming pools all around our sleeping gear. Defeated, Kelley scurried to throw our sleeping mats and bags back in the car while I hunted down a motel with a vacancy. We pulled into our motel six miles down the road around 9:45 the first night; we never even got to sleep in our tent.

Sometimes, things just don’t go according to plan. It doesn’t matter how much in advance you investigate conditions and prepare, or how much gear you have—there are going to be times when you just have to abort mission. As we settled in our beds in our motel room from the 1950s (managed by, as it turned out, a fellow Birmingham, Alabama native!), our middle son complained because he didn’t understand why God didn’t help us. He’d kept saying as we frantically packed up our tent, “We can just ask God for help; He says He’ll help us.” To him, sleeping in a dry motel rather than our tent wasn’t the kind of help he expected.

We had a family meeting that night and discussed that when plans don’t work out, oftentimes it’s either God’s protection over our lives from something we may never even find out about, or it’s because He knows what we actually need and has something better in mind for us. In this case, it might have been the former, but it was definitely the latter.

Shoreline at Sisters Rock

If we hadn’t gotten rained out, we would never have decided to drive down the coast to the redwoods of California. We wouldn’t have had the unexpected pleasure of hiking through the Lady Bird Johnson grove in the rain, encountering massive trees that took our breath away with their sheer size. We wouldn’t have seen herds of elk grazing by the mountain roadside on Kelley’s birthday. We definitely wouldn’t have had beachfront views from our hotel room balcony in Gold Beach, nor would I have shared about Jesus and homeschool while combing the beach with a local young mom while our kids hunted for agates. There were little surprises everywhere, unexpected blessings surfaced out of what seemed to be a major hiccup in our plans.

Meyers Beach all to ourselves.

Camping is fun, but it’s also a lot of work. Everything is set up and torn down repeatedly. It takes work to keep food stored at the right temp in the cooler. Activities are constantly interrupted by trips to and from the bathroom with young kids. You’re doing all your own cooking with portable cookware and then hand washing everything with a limited water supply. It’s exhausting. And we were already exhausted.

Our Heavenly Father knows what we need before we do. He knew that although we chose camping because it’s economical, what we needed was rest. So He graciously provided a way for us to experience a relaxing beachside getaway, retreating to the comfort of a warm, dry room after meandering in nature every day. Our campground was nice and cozy, but the expanse of the beach with its sparkling quartz rocks, craggy rock landforms, rushing creek beds, and driftwood jungle gyms were the perfect playground for a family of energetic explorers.

We discovered Sisters Rock with its foggy floral paths, rocky beaches, and hidden cave. We spent hours collecting agates and quartz on the shoreline of Gold Beach and played in a rushing, waterfall-powered creek on Meyers Beach, which we had all to ourselves. The kids imagined forts at the foot of giant redwoods in a forest that smelled of rain and moss. We had a picnic beachside and stood at the foot of enormous Paul Bunyan and Babe statues somewhere in Northern California. We counted elk antlers in a herd grazing roadside on our way to eat pizza delivery and watch the Hallmark channel from our beachfront room. (We were really roughing it, yeah?) We drifted to a dead sleep with the lullaby of crashing waves. We took the scenic route home and listened to the guttural bellows of sea lions piled on top of one another in a dark, smelly cave and admired them perched on jagged cliffs beside a turquoise shore.

Beachcombing on Gold Beach

All in all, we’re grateful our plans were foiled. We came home refreshed and with a renewed sense of peace instead of exhausted from living outdoors for four days. I would say it was a trip of a lifetime, but honestly, and more accurately, it was just another week living in beautiful, picture-esque Oregon.