My journey home to Missoula put about 35,000 miles on my car.
It started with a cross-country move for grad school. Having lived all my life in California, I was determined to go elsewhere to continue my studies. New York University’s scholarship offer was both an academic investment and a chance to experience life in a new place. So my then-boyfriend and I packed my car to the gills and made for Brooklyn.
That first long drive, we took a fairly direct route, mostly staying on I-80. We stopped at some classic roadside attractions like the Corn Palace and Wall Drug, both in South Dakota, and the World’s Largest Truckstop, in Iowa. We spent about two hours hurriedly taking in the Tetons, and we shuffled past the Liberty Bell with a bunch of other tourists.
By the summer after my second year, we had gotten wiser. Faced with two cross-country journeys, to and from San Francisco for my summer job, we decided to invest enough time to see more of the country and do things we thought we would enjoy. We planned a meandering journey that veered north on our way west, encompassing New England, Montreal, time with family and friends in the Midwest, and Moab, Utah; then south on our way back east, pausing in Utah again before continuing on to Santa Fe, Austin, and New Orleans. I think of it as the 10,000 Mile Summer but in truth it was probably even farther than that. So once again, while classmates jetted off to Ibiza to make the most of limited downtime between school and work, we squeezed back into my car.
Moments that stand out:
Hiking Angel’s Landing, in Zion National Park for epic views during a lightning storm (I do not recommend). Luckily we were fine, and it remains one of my favorite hikes in the world.
Lying on the picnic table of our campsite between Zion and Bryce National Park, gasping in awe at almost continuous shooting stars during the Perseids meteor shower.
Eating étouffée in pie form at Bon Temps Grill in Lafayette, Louisiana, on the recommendation of a colleague from my summer job.
Listening to The Mortified Podcast, also on the recommendation of a colleague, forever immortalizing “PEACE ONE LOVE” as a catchphrase in our relationship.
Arriving after dark to our campsite in Mammoth Cave National Park, where my grandfather once worked, and waking in the morning to finally glimpse our surroundings. I have similar memories of waking up on the ground in Yosemite, Moab, and Glacier, and watching in wonder and excitement as the sun rose over towering cliffs.
Rediscovering North Cascades National Park. Now, I have to flashback here for a moment. My family had visited when I was a child and hiked to Pyramid Lake. Climbing almost 1,500 feet, the hike is not easy. Upon arrival at a log-filled pond that we eventually realized was, in fact, the main attraction, my family rechristened it Pyramid Puddle, and to this day the term evokes a hike for which the eventual reward of the destination is not worth the corresponding effort to reach it. This trip, we chose Cascade Lake, and, with an assist from perfect weather, I now have a much more favorable impression of North Cascades.
Hiking Glacier National Park’s Highline Trail, another one I had done as a child. (Shout-out to my youngest brother, five years old at the time, who hiked over 11 miles on his own little legs!)
Departing Congaree National Park after walking along the nature trail mostly alone, but turning around when we realized many people, mysteriously, were just arriving as sunset neared. We were astonished as, out in the darkening forest, thousands of fireflies began to blink in unison. The internet informs me a reservation is now required to see this spectacular light show, which only happens for a couple weeks each year.
Back in Brooklyn, we figured we had one more year to explore the Northeast, since we didn’t see ourselves living there after I finished school—not enough mountains. We had decided paying for a parking spot was worth the investment. I was told this was “so Californian” of me, but I prefer to think of it as “so Western half of the US.” In parts of the country where things are spread out, we like our cars!
That fall, we took a leaf peeping trip, did an heirloom apple tasting at Scott Farm, and explored the Vermont Cheese Trail. Then in October, two notable things happened: we got engaged, and I accepted a job in the farthest away state to drive to—Alaska. So that summer, after detours to California and Colorado for the wedding and bachelorette party of two of my closest friends, we headed north.
During the year we lived in Anchorage, we made sure to visit all eight of Alaska’s iconic national parks. A few don’t even have roads, let alone a visitors center. To reach Gates of the Arctic, our pilot had to fly in circles and wait for a brown bear to vacate the spit of rock he had selected as our runway.
It was only on our drive back to California from Alaska that we finally made it to Missoula. (I know, I know… it’s not on the way at all. By this point we just loved driving around together.) We spent only one night but we knew immediately we were in a special place. Still missing Anchorage’s mountains, but thinking the winter produce might be slightly better here, we resolved to return and invest more time exploring Missoula.
At the time, though, we headed onwards to North Dakota—my fiancé’s 50th state. We were floored by the beauty of Theodore Roosevelt National Park, complete with wild horses, and Bismarck was surprisingly charming. One big takeaway from all our driving was how many wonderful small cities dot this country. We are very grateful to live in Missoula today, but I know now that we could be happy in any number of places. As long as there are mountains.
North Dakota was only my 48th state, however, a fact which my husband lorded over me in his wedding vows. I still had Florida and Hawaii to go. I ended up flying to both for weddings. So yes, that means my car, a 2009 black Prius, traveled to 48 states before I sold it in Missoula last year with my third child on the way.
Now a family of five, we continue to explore the diversity of America by wheel. Over New Year’s, we drove to visit family in Arizona, logging four states for each of my kids’ nascent lists. Perhaps one day, they will make it to all 50, too.
"One big takeaway from all our driving was how many wonderful small cities dot this country."