Things We Learned In Our Second Month On The Road: The Reality Version

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Things you learn and things you experience can be different, even when they’re wrapped up in each other, so while our blogs are usually about the things we’ve experienced, this one is the second in our monthly installments about the lessons we’ve learned. Here are our our second-month reflections:

You need community. You need people who will invite you to sit around their campfire and talk about your triumphs and your challenges. You need people who will talk you off the ledge and help you inch your way forward again when things are tough.

Those comments you blithely tossed about before you left home, along the lines of, “We’ll probably get to the point where we want to quit, and that’s normal, so we need to push through it” will stare you straight in the face at some point, and it won’t be cute or funny. It’ll be harrowing, upsetting, heartbreaking, and grounds for ugly crying. Whatever decision you make as you work your way through it is the right decision, even if only for right now.

Carry nut snack bars in your car at all times, because when you’re out experiencing something incredible in the middle of nowhere, normal lunch and dinner times won’t be a thing. And if an ice cream shop is all you can find in some backwater town, it counts as a meal.

It’s okay to take a look at your itinerary and re-evaluate. Maybe you don’t have to see everything, even if it’s all really appealing. It’s exhausting to move every few days, or even every week, and a re-think of your bases from which to travel by car can ease that pressure and stress.

You started this whole process with a desire to see the country. If you can, put some distance between yourself and your rig when you’re having a rough day, and go out and find a scenic drive by car. When you come across that gorgeous valley, or surprising wildlife, or that amazing hike to a waterfall or overlook, it will be the reminder you need about why you’re doing this.

Emergency Rooms in Montana aren’t as busy as they are in big cities, but even though they’ll get you in within 2 minutes and they’ve seen that racing heart rate and high blood pressure a million times in fried, overwhelmed people just like you, it’s better to slow the hell down before you have to meet Montana’s front-line workers.

It’s okay to sniff your clothes to see if you can wear them for another day. Even underwear, in a pinch. Once your socks smell like Fritos, do everyone a favor and wear fresh ones.

By now, basic logistics are becoming a little bit easier as habits are forming. You know how to break down and set up camp quickly, and you’ve started to find your groove when it comes to touring and staying home. When the UV water filter works or doesn’t work, however, will remain a mystery.

You’ll spend a lot of time greeting your neighbors by saying, “Your rig is beautiful,” and you’ll mean it every time. It’s the pathway to spending a happy half hour or more hearing their stories and sharing yours. If their rig isn’t beautiful, compliment their dog. Same happy result.

You’ll bring all your emotional baggage with you when you make this journey. Whatever pushes your buttons at home – both good and not so good – is going to push your buttons on the road. Part of the learning process is figuring out how to push the good buttons as often as possible.

If your emotional baggage includes a deep, deep fear of heights, don’t take the Dunraven Pass in Yellowstone National Park. Those tight curves around the mountain, with no guardrails and a hideous drop-off, will only result in lots and lots of that ugly crying we mentioned earlier. Take the long route and save your sanity.

When you see a bear grazing in a sun-dappled field filled with the sweet, sweet scent of clover, and there are only a few other people there to witness it with you, all will be right with the world.

Buy the T-shirt.