Although we are now two states away in Yellowstone National Park (more on that later), I didn’t want to skip over Idaho—something that I imagine happens quite a bit

Our three-day stop in Coeur d’Alene was planned as an opportunity to “circle the wagons” and take care of business. In preparation, we reserved an urban, discounted campsite; had a month’s worth of mail forwarded in c/o the RV park; and made plans to have our gimpy slide out serviced.

Two days ago, we made an unplanned lunch stop in Sandpoint, Idaho and ended up staying. According to census figures, this happens quite a lot.

We have made every effort, throughout this adventure, to remain flexible and work intuitively, letting serendipity be our guide. Tonight we are camped beside a tire and brake shop. Tomorrow we will decide whether to give Glacier National Park another chance.

Ski bums, river rats and smoke jumpers—you can't kick a hacky sack around here without hitting an adrenaline junkie

We drove from North Dakota to Montana yesterday, with only brief stops for gas and food. We call these, “commuting days,” and they’re really disorienting.

Although Grand Marias and points north were very high on my destination wish list, I ultimately conceded both to practical and logistical concerns.

The compromise route wound through Minnesota’s lakes region and past the Headwaters of the Mississippi River on the way to Fargo—where we caught up with family, mail and laundry

Solid midwestern folks sporting tank tops, koozies in hand, cluster in groups enjoying the lake breeze as they soak up the UV from their lawn chairs and pontoon boats. It’s a familiar and comforting scene for two people who spent their childhoods steeped in lake water.

The glaciers may have missed Wisconsin’s driftless region, but we did not.

Cross-country road trip odysseys often seem to be organized around a unifying principle. Our destination selection methodology has, so far, defied concise description. In thinking about it now, I’ll note that whim seems to play an important role in our process. A thought or opportunity will present itself, and lacking another plan, we go with it. Such was the case with our stay in Viroqua, Wisconsin—home of the Driftless Music Festival.

A few short days after leaving the "Grand Canyon of the East" we are back in the dunes. The frantic pace of the last loop—lots of 1 and 2 night stops—was a little dizzying. We covered somewhere between 8000 and 9000 miles in 73 days and visited 15 states.

I’m not sure whether to attribute it to timing (school’s out) or geography (we’re just a couple of hours from NYC), but somewhere along the way our campground neighbors have changed from the travelers and outdoor enthusiasts we’ve become accustomed to, to New Yorkers. How can you tell if you are camping with New Yorkers? Look for the following “tells”

The other night we pulled into a small private campground just outside Brattleboro, VT. When we woke in the morning, it had gone to the dogs.

We’ve been hitting it pretty hard for the last month or so. By “it,” I mean the gas pedal. Our last stay of more than 3 consecutive nights was 39 days and 8 states ago. Unrestrained wanderlust and an overly ambitious itinerary get at least some of the credit, but whatever the reason; on the night before our planned entrance into Canada I was reflecting wistfully on languid week-long visits in the Southwest.

The weather has been really very accommodating for most of our trip. Of course, a few bullets have been dodged—a tornado ripped through Oklahoma just behind our hasty retreat and threat of hurricane kept temptation at bay and our Outer Banks departure on schedule. I don’t think I had a chance to write about the morning that I awoke to find 5” of snow on the ground and more falling any minute? That’s a good story.

Few places have been as difficult to leave as North Carolina’s Outer Banks. Fortunately, I’m not talking about physically—it’s easy to imagine the 30-mile back-up that would ensue if an evacuation were required.

We're just two weeks into the second "loop" and it is now clear—ten months is not nearly enough time.

You can’t take a trip like this and NOT fantasize about being a camp host at some point. For those of you who don’t frequent publicly funded campgrounds, camp hosts provide maintenance, reception, concierge and property management services in exchange for a combination of rent, utilities and wages. You get to live in one of the most beautiful places on earth virtually rent-free, but in exchange, you may have to clean its bathrooms.

Our days fall roughly into two categories: Driving or Not Driving.

While other factors (working, weather, weekends) can have an influence, hours logged behind the wheel tends to define the day.