There’s a magic that flickers at the beginning of every Detour. A hesitation that finally tips into “yes.” This past month, I got reacquainted with that feeling over4 21 days on the road — Montana, Oregon, Washington, British Columbia, and Alberta— my van carrying me to visit family, familiar faces, wide rivers, gorgeous campsites, and surprising peace.

This was the longest I’ve ever been away—ever. Not even on honeymoon, for work, for anything have I been away from my home for over 3 weeks. And as I pulled back into my driveway in Bozeman, I couldn’t help but ask myself: “What in the world was I waiting for?”

Learning My Van

One of the things I appreciated the most from this trip was getting to really know my van, Gypsy Rose. How she corners on winding highways, where the light creeps in just before dawn, how much space I need (and don’t need) to feel comfortable. This trip was my first real “test run” of being fully out on my own, off-grid for much of it, for nearly three weeks.

I didn’t anticipate how much my little home on wheels would open the doors to connection while also supporting my independence. My friend Yvonne tagged along for most of the Canada stretch, and it was so easy—intimacy when we wanted it, space when we needed it. The same was true when I stopped in Whitefish on a lark, staying with my dear friend Sydney. With the van, I could slip in and out: present, but not imposing. I felt grateful for the flexibility and for people who invite me into their lives with such warmth.

My morning coffee hits different on the road, and having a full coffee setup is something I was super happy with. By full coffee setup, I mean easy access to my moka pot, coffee beans ground perfectly, filtered water, and half + half. My stove top runs on camp stove propane, so having a backup tank was the key for my morning peace of mind. And I was so glad I took the time to fully understand my water system, which I thoroughly cleaned and filled with filtered water before I left. Having access to clean water in the safety and privacy of my van in the early mornings and before going to sleep was huge, especially while I was traveling solo.

Oregon, Washington, & Montana: Family, Friends, and Everything In Between

One of the gifts of slowing down is having time to really see people. Where they’re at in their life, all the small victories and daily struggles. I found myself deeply grateful for evenings around a campfire, walks along rocky shores, and rambling conversations with the friends and family I visited. I kept thinking about how these connections tie in to Dare to Detour—the ways we can reimagine community as something layered and fluid, always there, but never trapping.

I had a lot of windshield time on my road trip, which granted a lot of self-reflection. Turning 60 is hitting me. I want to really be intentional about what I spend my time and energy on in the next decade in my life, so I came to a big epiphany on this trip and announced last week that Montana will be my last retreat for a while. Sometimes, Detours show you not just where you want to go, but what you’re ready to lay lovingly down.

Canadian Kindness & Seriously Clean Campsites

Out of everything, the Canadian campgrounds were a revelation. Outside of Kamloops, I rolled into the cleanest campsite I’ve ever seen—perfectly raked, not a scrap on the ground, firewood ready, and axes supplied. Not one thing was handed to me in plastic. It’s funny, the things that stay with you.

And safety? I never felt off, not even once. The other campers were present but not overbearing. Rolling into Jasper, I was so impressed by the recovery there so soon after the devastating fire. Whole campgrounds, once blackened, are now thoughtfully redesigned and thriving.

Public lands felt like public treasure. Parks in Jasper and Banff were free, and every gesture, down to tourist discounts for the summer of 2025 and encouragements to use local firewood, felt like a nudge from the universe: Come see beauty, and while you’re here, rekindle your own spark, too.

Banff: Fashion, Teenagers, and Great People-Watching

Banff gave me the best people-watching I’ve had in ages. International travelers in every shade and style, teenagers dressed as animals (because of course, why not?), selfie sticks held at every angle, keychains jingling from bags. This was definitely the most touristy section of my road trip, but I loved it!

Pro tip: Order the Tagliatelle Bolognese pasta at Pizzeria Sophia in Banff. It was one of the best Italian meals I've had in a long time.

What I Learned, What I’ll Carry Forward

Highlights:

Time to myself, to think, to slow down.
Canada’s wild, immaculate campgrounds.
Camp-girl dinners
Connecting with family and close friends
My Trelino composting toilet, seriously
Jane Fonda's autobiography "My Life So Far" on Audible

Lowlights:

The occasional lonely patch, when the road stretched on or the rain wouldn’t let up.
Logistics—border crossings, restocking supplies in out-of-the-way places, and figuring out how to pump gas at the Canadian gas stations.
I wish I had brought my bike with me!

What to Be Prepared For:

I decided to bring my Yeti cooler and thank goodness I did. My fridge stop working the last few days of my trip
Trust your gut. When a campground or a stop feels right, follow the nudge. When it doesn’t, keep moving.
Know how your gear works, and where you can find support along the way if needed.
Make sure you have actual maps and atlases as a backup for GPS/Google Maps.

My Epiphany: I Need More of This

If you hear nothing else, let it be this: What are we all waiting for? Twenty-one days in my van invited me back to myself. I need more of this—not less. There’s life out there, full of Detours, and every bend in the road is an invitation to remember: you are bravest when you listen to what you need, even if it leads somewhere you’ve never been before.

Here’s to what’s next, to gathering wandering women and wild hope, and to always saying yes to the road ahead.

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