The Things I Thought Would Matter Before Our Year on the Road — And What Actually Matters

Four months into a year of traveling with three kids, some of my priorities look very different

Before we left for a year on the road, I spent a lot of time thinking about what this year would look like.

I planned campgrounds.

National parks.

Routes.

Activities.

Hikes.

Places we wanted to see.

Things we needed for the RV.

I tried to picture what it would actually be like to take three kids, move into a motorhome, and travel around the country for a year.

Four months in, some things are exactly what I expected.

A lot aren't.

The funny thing is that many of the things I thought would matter the most really don't.

And some of the smallest things have become the things I care about most.

We're not even halfway through our year yet, so I'm sure this list will continue to change.

But four months in, here's what I thought would matter...

and what actually does.

I Thought Seeing Everything Would Matter

I am a planner.

If there are ten things to see somewhere, I want to know what all ten are.

I want to know where they are.

How long they take.

Which order makes sense.

And exactly how we're going to fit them into our time there.

Before this trip, I think I measured a successful travel day partly by how much we accomplished.

Did we see everything we came to see?

Four months later, I don't care nearly as much.

Some of our best days have included one hike.

That's it.

We get up early.

Hike.

Eat lunch somewhere beautiful.

Come back to the campground.

The kids ride bikes.

Jessie and the boys fish.

We make dinner.

Maybe we have a campfire.

Done.

There might have been six other things we could have seen that day.

And I'm finally learning to be okay with that.

I thought a great day meant seeing a lot.

Now I think a great day means enjoying what we actually did.

I Thought the Most Famous Parks Would Be Our Favorites

If you had asked me before this trip which national parks I expected to love most, I probably would have named the famous ones.

Yellowstone would have been near the top.

How could it not be?

It's Yellowstone.

Then we went.

And we didn't love it.

There were absolutely things we enjoyed.

The wildlife was incredible.

Seeing geysers and hot springs was fascinating.

We had friends and family with us for parts of our stay, and those memories were wonderful.

But the crowds, traffic, endless driving, commercialization, and sightseeing-heavy experience just weren't what our family loves most.

Then there was Grand Teton.

We loved it.

We hiked.

Fished.

Explored lakes.

Looked for wildlife.

Ate lunch outside.

Spent time at camp.

And when it was time to leave, none of us really wanted to.

That taught me something.

Famous doesn't mean favorite.

The best place isn't necessarily the one everyone tells you that you have to see.

It's the one that fits your family.

I Thought the Big Attractions Would Be What the Kids Remembered

We are taking our kids to some incredible places.

The Grand Canyon.

Zion.

Bryce.

Arches.

Rocky Mountain.

Grand Teton.

Yellowstone.

Glacier.

You would think those enormous landscapes would dominate every conversation about the trip.

Not always.

Ask the kids what they remember and you might hear about ice cream.

A fish.

A campground.

A funny thing someone said.

A bison walking past the window.

Their cousin surprising them.

A campfire.

The thunderstorm that soaked us.

A Junior Ranger badge.

Sometimes the attraction I spent hours researching barely gets mentioned.

I'm learning that I don't get to choose which memories are important to them.

And I actually love that.

I Thought Campground Amenities Would Matter More

When you're booking campgrounds online, it's easy to get pulled into the amenities list.

Pool.

Playground.

Laundry.

Store.

Full hookups.

Game room.

All of those things sound great.

And sometimes they are.

But four months of actually living in campgrounds has changed my list considerably.

Want to know what I really want now?

A level campsite.

Give us some trees.

Enough room that we aren't sitting on top of our neighbors.

A place for the kids to ride bikes.

Maybe somewhere to fish.

Walking trails are great.

A fire ring when fires are allowed.

And put us close to whatever we came there to experience.

That's about it.

Some of our favorite campgrounds have been incredibly simple.

I've learned that we don't need a campground to entertain us.

We need it to be a good place to live.

I Thought Full Hookups Would Matter More

I still love full hookups.

Let's not get carried away.

If you offer me water, power, and sewer at the campsite, I'm not turning them down.

But I thought they would be much more important to us than they've actually become.

Some of our favorite places haven't had full hookups.

Some haven't had hookups at all.

And we've been perfectly happy.

I'll take an incredible campsite in a great location without hookups over an RV resort farther away almost every time.

Before this trip, I probably would have prioritized convenience.

Now?

Location wins.

I Thought We Needed More Stuff

It's amazing how much stuff you can convince yourself you need before leaving for a year.

You're preparing for every possible situation.

Camping.

Hiking.

Fishing.

Hot weather.

Cold weather.

Rain.

National parks.

Kids.

RV repairs.

School.

Work.

Eventually you realize you're basically trying to pack an entire house into a motorhome.

Four months in, there are things we brought that we've barely touched.

Meanwhile, the things we use constantly are usually pretty simple.

Good shoes.

Water bottles.

Backpacks.

Fishing rods.

Bikes.

Basic outdoor gear.

Camp chairs.

The things that let us go do something.

I've become much less interested in having everything we might possibly need.

Living in a small space will do that to you.

I Thought Our Youngest Would Limit What We Could Do

With three kids, it's easy to look at the youngest and assume that's where the entire family's limit needs to be.

We've learned that's not always true.

Sometimes we adjust the adventure.

Sometimes we shorten it.

Sometimes we split up.

Sometimes one kid gets to do something the others aren't ready for.

And sometimes Lincoln surprises us and does far more than I expected.

All three kids have.

That's been one of my biggest lessons from this trip.

Kids become capable by doing things.

They hike.

Then they can hike farther.

They fish.

Then they learn how to fish.

They camp.

They travel.

They adapt.

That doesn't mean every adventure is appropriate for every child.

But I've become much slower to automatically say:

“They can't do that.”

I Thought We Needed to Stick to the Plan

This one hurts a little.

Because I really like a plan.

And I'm good at making one.

But some of our best days have happened because the plan completely failed.

At Jenny Lake in Grand Teton, we planned to take the boat shuttle across the lake.

The wait was more than an hour and a half.

So we changed plans.

We walked.

The kids were not thrilled about this development.

But we hiked around Jenny Lake, past Moose Ponds, reached Hidden Falls, climbed to Inspiration Point, and ended up having one of our favorite days.

The plan is still important.

I haven't given that up.

Planning lets us understand where we're going, what we want to do, what requires reservations, where parking will be difficult, and what our alternatives are.

But I've finally learned:

The plan is a tool. It isn't the trip.

I Thought More Activities Would Mean More Fun

This one seems obvious now.

It wasn't before.

When you're traveling somewhere you may never visit again, there's a strong urge to squeeze everything in.

We're here.

We should see it.

Just one more overlook.

One more trail.

One more attraction.

One more stop.

We've learned that there is definitely a point where one more thing makes the day worse instead of better.

Sometimes the kids are done.

Sometimes Jessie and I are done.

Sometimes everyone would rather go back to camp.

And sometimes that's exactly what we should do.

I'm learning to end a good day before we ruin it trying to make it better.

I Thought the Destination Would Be the Important Part

This might be the biggest one.

We left home to see the country.

And the places we've seen have been incredible.

But when I think about these first four months, my favorite memories aren't only the destinations.

They're the things that happened there.

Hudson looking at Jessie after catching a fish and saying:

“I think I'm finally getting it.”

The kids opening the car door in Yellowstone and realizing Shelby had come to surprise them.

Barrie and Keri coming to Zion.

Spending time with longtime friends in Fort Collins and then having them continue part of the trip with us.

Hudson and Jessie hiking into the Grand Canyon before sunrise.

The kids laughing during bison jams.

Campfires.

Fishing.

Ice cream.

Rainstorms.

Slow mornings.

Kids riding bikes around the campground.

Those are the pieces I think about.

The Grand Canyon is incredible.

The Tetons are incredible.

Zion is incredible.

But the places are becoming the backdrop to our family's story.

And I didn't fully understand that before we left.

I Thought We Were Going on a Really Long Vacation

We're not.

That became obvious pretty quickly.

You cannot vacation for a year.

There is still laundry.

Grocery shopping.

Work.

School.

Cleaning.

Cooking.

RV maintenance.

Bills.

Bad moods.

Sibling arguments.

Days when nobody wants to do anything.

Days when Jessie needs to work.

Days when we simply need to stop.

This is our life right now.

It just happens to be moving around the country.

Once I stopped expecting every day to feel like vacation, I think I started appreciating the ordinary days more.

Sometimes nobody needs another national park hike.

Sometimes we need groceries and laundry.

And that's okay.

What Actually Matters

Four months into this year, my list has gotten much shorter.

I want us to spend time together.

I want the kids outside.

I want them trying things.

I want them learning that they can do hard things.

I want Jessie and me to actually enjoy this too.

I want enough of a plan that we don't waste our opportunities, but enough flexibility that the plan doesn't control us.

I want to see incredible places.

But I don't need to see every incredible place.

I want our kids to remember some of this.

But I've stopped worrying about whether they'll remember all of it.

And I want us to finish this year feeling like we actually lived it, not like we spent twelve months racing through a checklist.

We Still Have Most of the Year Ahead of Us

That's the strange part about writing this now.

We've been on the road for four months.

It feels like we've already done so much.

And we still have most of our year ahead of us.

There are more national parks coming.

More campgrounds.

More hikes.

More states.

More things that will go wrong.

More plans that will change.

And I'm sure more things I think I know right now that I'll laugh about eight months from now.

Maybe that's one of the best parts of doing this for an entire year.

We're getting enough time to actually change how we travel.

We're learning what our family likes.

What we don't.

What matters.

What doesn't.

And what we want to carry forward after this year ends.

Before we left, I thought this year would mostly be about where we went.

Four months in, I don't think that's going to be the story at all.

I think it's going to be about who we became while we were going there.

-Kayla