I had arranged for a copper enameling class on my first day in New Orleans. I couldn’t decide how to approach a town with such an outsized reputation. Feeling intimidated, I spent a big chunk of my first day wrapped in a cocoon of art.

Seaside Florida looks like a glossy, over-produced version of a coastal village, bleached by the blazing sun and set on the sugar-white sands of the Gulf. It’s all whitewash and effortlessly chic high-end retail. But most importantly, it’s an easy bike ride from our home of the moment.

Free or Cheap (FOC) campsites are one of the four legs upon which our adventure is supported—the other three being:

• The generosity of friends and relatives;
• Looser standards for personal grooming; and
• A willingness to embrace the whims of fate.

Named for a Quaker merchant who shipwrecked nearby in 1696, Jonathan Dickinson State Park’s 10,000 acres include two campgrounds, cabins, a very nice nature center, globally imperiled ecosystems, a number of historical sites, and several miles of the Loxahatchee River.

For the past several years, my mother has joined thousands of other mothers (along with grandmas, nanas, mawmaws and bubbies) in an annual migration to North America’s southern states. A hundred or so end up here, at Shady Acres RV Park, in Fort Myers, Florida.

Tonight we used our Harvest Host membership to spend the night at a local business—Endless Summer Vineyard & Winery, located between Vero Beach and Fort Pierce, Florida. As I write this, a live cover of the Grateful Dead’s, “Friend of the Devil,” is floating over the darkened landscape through our open windows—the Junior League is having their fundraiser here tonight.

At the end of a spit of sand jutting into the intercoastal waterway near Ormond Beach stands a 40 foot Indian named Tomokie. There’s not much information about this enormous piece of outdoor folk art at the State Park where it is located, so I dug up a few facts online.

Mount Dora is a vibrant small town in central Florida that I had no intention of visiting. We ended up there by default when the towns we passed through earlier in the day turned out to be duds (I’m looking at you Leesburg).

I captured dozens of images depicting the natural beauty of Rainbow Springs during our paddle from the state park campground to the headwaters, 1.5 miles up river. But the juxtaposition in this photo speaks volumes about the history of this place—and the notion of nature as entertainment.

Last time we were here, they plied us with a variety of brined and smoked meats so memorable that we routed our itinerary with O'Possum's in mind. It's an improbable find—an Irish gastropub located in a Murfreesboro, TN strip mall. Tucked behind Jack in the Box.

With just a few short weeks until we hit the road, I’m feeling more than a little giddy. There’s a hint of promise in the air and an impending lightness of being that makes me blurt my plans to anyone who will listen. That’s how I ended up talking with Dot Kesling, proprietress of the Luxe Wagon.

I work at an environmental education camp located inside a national park. I spend my days telling people about the many benefits of time spent in nature.

When headlines claiming that, “sitting will kill you” started to sound like they were written just for me, I reasonably and responsibly looked online for stand-up desks. I bought an activity monitor, parked further from my office and scheduled walking meetings. It wasn’t enough.

I’d never camped at Grand Haven’s lakefront state park, but when 80 degree temps and sunny skies were forecasted for a late-September weekend, I thought it would be a great place for a shakedown cruise.