Family Adventure Travel: When Plans Change

It’s the first day of July and our 17 year-old Chevy Tahoe is showing signs of it’s age as we climb up Highway 91 in southern Vermont. The outside thermometer reads 99 degrees and our trusty SUV is struggling to keep up it’s steady stream of cold air inside. We pull over to a rest stop – the cutest ever, complete with a bake sale – about halfway through our 4 hour drive to let the car rest and refill our water bottles, hoping that the AC will step it up after a disco nap. But, we’re back to climbing the hills of the Green Mountain State and are all in need of a lengthier resbit. As if on demand, we exit and immediately spot the signs pointing us toward the mother ship of hot day recovery – the Ben & Jerry’s factory! It seems that everyone in a 100 mile radius has also decided to comfort their sweat-drenched souls in some delicious ice cream. We have officially arrived in Vermont during one of the strongest heatwaves in history.

When Something’s Not Right

We tell ourselves that our Airbnb rental just 20 minutes south of the Canadian border will be much cooler, as it never gets this hot that far north. Wrong. The temp dips to 95 degrees as we roll into town around 5 pm. And did I mention our rental does not have air conditioning?! (Again, it never gets this hot, so why would we need AC?) I rationalized that it would be cooler inside the apartment regardless of the temps outside while fumbling with lock of the apartment door. WHOOSH -the door opens and I’m hit with a wave of hot air. With no shade or trees in sight, the building had no chance to get cool during this onslaught of heat. Still, we had a car to unload and kids to feed, so we brought in our bags and set up shop the best we could in our state of heat-induced delirium.  The slanted floors and general dingy-ness of the space hit me like a second heatwave as we settled into dinner. Our next discovery ended up being the final nail in the coffin of the ill-fated rental – there was no cell service in the entire town. And that’s when my downward spiral of anxiety and general freaked-out-ness began. I spent the next three hours beating myself up mentally for booking this place – a remote, non-climate-controlled apartment with no connectivity.

The next day, armed with a list of nearby swimming holes recommended by our hosts, and the address of a library where Neils could work, we put a plan into action to make the best of it. We dropped Neils off and then drove half an hour to a swimming hole. The boys played in the cool creek while I took a deep breath and felt honest gratitude for being there. A few hours and bug bites later, upon his sister’s suggestion, we headed to the town of Burlington about an hour and a half away. The ultimate college town on beautiful Lake Champlain was bustling and full of life. Neils finished up his work at Starbucks while we strolled a cobblestone street lined with shops. It was the Vermont we’d been hoping for when we booked this leg of our trip. At dinner (in an air-conditioned restaurant), we decided that our rental up north was not going to work. Besides the general funkiness of the apartment, the heat and tiny town with no connectivity, we just all felt that it was not where we wanted to spend our time. It was apparent that we thrive as a family in a less remote space where community is both alive and engaged. Burlington checked all those boxes, but with our housing budget for July already spent, we had no idea how we’d recover from this booking misstep. Sure, we could afford a few nights in a hotel, but not a whole month.

And then family saved the day. Our brother-in-law’s parents were leaving for Europe on July 5th and offered up their Western Massachusetts home for us to house sit while they were away. And they have air-conditioning AND a pool! This also meant that we’d get to spend more time with Abbe, Joe and their girls so, we checked out the next day and booked the nights of July 3rd and 4th in Burlington, arriving just in time for their annual Independence Day celebration. I tell you what – New Englander’s know how to do the 4th! We watched a spectacular fireworks show over Lake Champlain with thousands of onlookers on July 3rd and happy tears filled my eyes with the realization of the memories we were making. I felt so thankful that we were together, staring at the sky in awe, that I finally let the criticism I’d been doling upon myself melt away.  The next morning we watched a parade in a neighboring town and then swam in the lake. It felt like a classic East Coast holiday.

Moving On + Figuring it Out

Leaving Vermont on the 5th, we felt better about our decisions and ready to spend some quality time with family. Though not in original plans, our time in Massachusetts was truly what we needed. Daily visits with cousins, pool-swimming and BBQ’s were like a salve to our homesick souls. We even went on a double-date with Abbe and Joe and got some much needed adult time noshing on Eastern European cuisine and capping the night with a visit to the local brewery while their babysitter watched our kids. Endless poolside ice cream parties filled our evenings as we collected ourselves and prepared for the remainder of our trip.

It was during our time in Mass. that we came to a decision that had been looming since early on. We were homesick beyond our expectations and began to see how many intangibles and more importantly, people, we took for granted back home. Of course, we’ve always been grateful that we live near both my mom and Neils’ parents back in California, but we really grasped their meaning in our lives during these weeks away. Our community, the weather, and our pedestrian-friendly town were also deeply missed. How was it that we’d been so blind to all of these things when we sketched out this trip?

So, we decided to shorten our trip with no real return date, but knowing that we’d likely be back in California by September. After coming to that conclusion, the planner in me felt ready to move on. I booked a beach condo in New Hampshire for the last week in July and headed off to Portsmouth, NH with the boys as Neils headed back to Minnesota for an annual golf trip.

The Coast

Portsmouth, NH is just the cutest New England town. Just across the Piscataqua River from Maine, this bustling old village is a real draw for visitors. We were lucky enough to have dear friends from California come visit us and they rented a house near the historic downtown. Arriving on Wednesday afternoon, the boys and I joined up with Nina’s family and set out to explore on foot, immediately discovering a Where’s Waldo scavenger hunt hosted by the oh-so-cute local toystore, G. Willikers. Since we have experience with our local Petaluma Waldo hunt, the boys led our charge around town, quickly dashing in to find Waldo before running full throttle to the next store. We drank fresh-squeezed lemonade from a sidewalk vendor, peered at 17th century homes, and generally soaked up all Portsmouth has to offer. A day trip to Ogunquit, ME the next day was the icing on the cake. Starting the day at Nubble Lighthouse, climbing rocks and chatting with other tourists, we lived out the experience we’d been seeking when dreaming up this trip. Spending the remainder of our day at the crowded beach, watching the kids build sand castles, catch (and release) crabs and play in the water with abandon was just what I’d needed to calm the eff down. It was so wonderful that I honestly didn’t want to leave the beach, which is truly something since I’m generally not a fan of sand. Lobster roll in hand, I felt happy for the experience we were having without a thought of when it would end.

Upon Neils’ return, we spent the remainder of July in North Hampton, NH in a condo just one block from the Atlantic Ocean. Our days were ruled by the tides and passing rainstorms. The boys learned to boogie board and I actually got in the ocean, something I never do in the Pacific due to the dangerous riptides. Cousins visited and the boys and I delighted at their giggles and screams when the waves splashed into their little bodies. Neils and I even got a few minutes to ourselves while walking the half-block to the beach coffee shop each morning. It was a breath of fresh, salty, air for us all. We felt that if we could stay anywhere the remainder of our time, it would be in this small beach community on the Atlantic coast of New Hampshire. But, and this is a big one, the week in NH was as costly as our entire month’s rent in Vermont. It wasn’t in the cards to stay, so onward we drove to New York State’s Catskills Mountains.

Making a Decision

We arrived in the town of Woodstock, NY at 9:30 P.M. after driving across New Hampshire and Massachusetts with a brief stopover in Western Mass. for a family dinner and cousin playtime. It was dark and wooded and we were the easy to spot out-of-towners with California plates. The feeling of displacement enveloped me. The cicadas hummed as we unloaded our sleepy troupe and tucked them into foreign beds. Awaking the next morning, we tried in vain to shake the sticky air from our skin as we set out to check out our August locale. Rain, more rain, and humidity would mark our days in the Catskills, we soon found out.

Our time in New York was definitely not terrible though – we spent time along the Hudson River, walking over it on a former railway bridge and spotting a bald eagle swooping down to the behemoth waterway. We toured FDR’s home in Glen Park (now a National Historic Site), swam in a giant swimming pool in Bear Mountain State Park and took a weekend trip to NYC (two for me!). The boys saw their first Broadway show – SpongeBob SquarePants – and we played in Central Park with our family. We even got to go backstage and on-stage at Kinky Boots, where Joe’s cousin performs her role as Nicola. We ate sushi and soaked up the big city summer vibes, agreeing that we loved our time in NYC, but are happy to live in a smaller ‘burg.

The bulk of our time though, was spent trying to figure out what to do with ourselves in the near daily rainstorms and humidity that was permeating both the outside and inside of our rental. The house was removed enough that we had to drive everywhere and the upstairs was too hot to work in, so we were again left with the continuing debacle of working remotely (for Neils) and occupying the boys need for activity. With all the rain, we were truly left at a loss. It was during early August that we finally came to a decision about our trip. After a family meeting where we each shared our feelings about our trip’s highs and lows, we agreed that we’d like to return home. And the boys all agreed that arriving home in time for the first day of school was a priority. We still had our upcoming visit with my sister and mom to look forward to and Calan’s birthday on the 11th, so the days began to fill themselves and we found that once we made our decision, everything felt lighter.

Lessons Learned

The teaching moments of our two month road trip across the US are numerous enough that I’m planning a future post on the topic. But, I have a few quick notes I’d like to share before then. I realize that many of our experiences sound amazing and fun and wonderful. And they were. I also know that the negative experiences felt even more so because we were away from our comforts of home. Those feelings co-existed and honestly felt more raw because of our travels. The lack of our safety net of home underscored every emotion – at least for me and two of our boys. It was literally an emotional roller coaster. That said, we found out how much our community and home mean to us. Of course, we knew how much we loved our Sonoma County life before we left, but the daily grind sometimes gets in the way of seeing reality as it truly is. My mom lives right behind us and her presence is a gift to us all, but we realized how much so when we were away. Neils’ parents are 15 minutes away and we missed our regular Sunday dinners and afternoons in their garden. The many friends that we can reach within a 5 minute walk or a 20 minute drive were missed wholeheartedly. Our tomato plants, plum and fig trees and our neighbors green beans were all things we’d never think to miss when we’d planned our travels, but miss them we did.

I say all of this not to dwell on what we missed from home, but more remind myself that I have so very much to be thankful for in this life. My adventurous spirit will never fade but neither will my longing for simplicity and community. And that’s what I’m taking forward from this experience. I love home and I love to travel. I love a big city and a small town. I love the feel of waking up in a new locale with fresh places to explore and I love my local hikes with friends. This is me. This is us. We’re figuring it out as we go along.

So, where should we go next? 😉