I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief detour from actual trip planning. I know I have. Unfortunately, even I have to admit that I’ve been screwing around long enough, so it’s time to get back to the serious business of figuring out how we’re actually going to get to Alaska.
When I ended the last post, we were in Deadwood, South Dakota. From there, I looked west, squinted a little, and decided that charging headlong toward Alaska like an overcaffeinated squirrel probably wasn’t the best idea. Instead, we’ll ease our way across the plains of Montana, keeping the daily mileage reasonable and firmly within the Weeble Rules of Travel. These rules exist primarily to prevent exhaustion, bad decisions, and statements that begin with, “Well, we’re already this far…”
With that in mind, our next stop will be Theodore Roosevelt National Park. It’s about a 200-mile drive from Deadwood, which puts it comfortably below the danger zone and well within the range where we still like each other at the end of the day. On the way in, we’ll do a drive around the park—because nothing says “relaxed travel” like deciding not to rush straight to camp.
This is also where things start to feel a little more adventurous. We’re entering a part of the country where dispersed camping becomes an option. That means I’ll be consulting iOverlander and The Dyrt, which usually involves scrolling, zooming, muttering “maybe,” and wondering how confident I really feel about dirt roads at the end of a long day. If dispersed camping works out, great—we save some money. If it doesn’t, there’s a campground in the park, and I refuse to believe that staying in an actual campground disqualifies us from being adventurous.
At the moment, I don’t even know which day of the week we’ll arrive. That means I also don’t know whether reservations will be required, optional, or laughably unavailable. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure Mrs. Weeble or I are fully comfortable with the whole “we’ll just figure it out when we get there” approach. I see other RV bloggers do that all the time, and I admire their confidence. I also admire people who eat gas-station sushi—but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to commit to it every night. One thing I do know is that stopping earlier in the day beats driving around tired, hungry, and slightly irritated while arguing over campground reviews.
Then there’s laundry. We won’t be bringing enough clothes for the entire trip, because we are traveling to Alaska, not relocating a department store. Sooner or later, we’re going to need a washing machine. Once you accept that reality, you also accept that laundry will quietly influence our stops, our timing, and possibly our mood. Scenic overlooks are great, but clean socks have a way of climbing the priority list when you’ve been on the road long enough.
That’s really why I’m planning this route in advance. Not to lock everything down—but to reduce the number of surprises that involve stress, exhaustion, or asking, “Why didn’t we think of this sooner?” The road will still throw us a few curveballs, but at least we’ll see most of them coming.
What do you think?
Have you ever “winged it” with camping or route planning—and lived to tell the story? Drop a comment below and let me know how you handle the balance between planning and improvising on the road.