And you may ask yourself
Where does that highway go?

With all apologies to the Talking Heads we know where said highway goes – wherever we want.  Eat that train tracks!

I put out a call to our Vacations staff for photos of summer and all that it entails.  The following are their contributions.

Don’t worry, if your favorite writer didn’t submit a photo as they’ve probably got their own story brewing, or they’re just lazy, but probably the story thing.

Ed:

Hatteras, NC

What I did on my summer vacation (in 53 words or less). Read More »

The Old Faithful Inn, in Yellowstone National Park.

The Old Faithful Inn is everything that all of the documentaries, Travel Channel specials, magazines, and hundreds of publications say it is. It’s beautiful. Picturesque. Stunning. Historic.

It’s also a darned uncomfortable place to spend the night.

I must say that when my husband and I first set off on our Epic Road Trip, we didn’t expect our stay at the Old Faithful Inn to be the lowlight of our vacation. So here’s a perspective you probably won’t hear very often:

Four Reasons NOT To Stay at the Old Faithful Inn:
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Road Trip - photo by wili_hybrid

(Continued from Part One, Part Two, and Part Three.)

Back when my husband was about ten years old, his family took a road trip from Arizona to Wyoming to visit some family. Picture, if you will, the family packed in the old woody station wagon – Mom, Dad, my husband, and his two younger sisters. Picture, if you will, all of the luggage and gear that said family would require, also packed into the aforementioned station wagon. And, picture (again, if you will) two 150+ pound German Shepherds gleefully sprawled among the children in the back seat, tongues lolling, drool a-spraying. All crammed into this one station wagon. For fifteen hours straight (his dad didn’t believe in pit stops), and nearly a thousand miles. One way.

It’s a wonder my husband didn’t need therapy for this childhood experience. But, not only did he come out the other side of it (basically) normal, he’s willing to repeat the experience. Sans the station wagon. And the other family members. And the dogs.

Read More »

Grand Teton Nat'l Park, Photo by Circumerro

“Babe?” I said to my husband one weekend morning. Laptop at hand, I had the road atlas by my side, a Word document going that I was using to record our plans, and MapQuest queued up in my web browser.

“Yep?” He replied, absently reading the paper.

“We’re stuck in Cody, WY.”

“Hmm…” he mumbled.

“No, really, hon. We’re stuck in Cody and I don’t know where to go from there.” I rustled the edge of his paper to get his attention. Clearly, he wasn’t understanding my sense of urgency.

“Sorry, what?” He looked up from his paper and blinked at me. Because, obviously, we were sitting quite happily in our living room, and not stranded at the side of the road in some random corner of the mid-west.

“Okay,” I explained patiently, “Here’s the plan so far. Phoenix to Salt Lake City, spend the night there, then three nights in Jackson Hole. I’m going to try to get us lodging in Yellowstone itself for two nights, and from there we’re going to Cody to spend one night. After Cody… well, I don’t know which way to go to get us home.”

After I finished this little speech, my husband replied with, “Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” and went back to peacefully reading his paper. Which you might think is inconsiderate, but my husband knows I LOVE this stuff. So really I wasn’t expressing an issue so much as looking for validation of all of my hard work.

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