After years of sitting on my bucket list, the day had finally arrived—I was going to explore Mendocino. The drive would take about two hours, but my excitement wouldn’t let me sleep. Like a child with nerves before Disneyland, I was wide awake by 3:00 a.m., scrolling through research and sketching out a loose plan for the day.

Traveling has taught me that planning is both a blessing and a trap. Without a plan, I scramble last-minute for accommodations, which have ended in disappointment. With too much planning, I find myself stuck—committed to stops that maybe didn’t need to happen at all. It’s a delicate balance I still haven’t mastered.

Yesterday was bliss. I stayed tucked away in my Airbnb haven—catching up on laundry, cooking simple meals in that huge kitchen, taking long hot showers, and even playing fetch with Max inside the spacious king studio. We curled up with Netflix in the evening, and for a moment, life felt wonderfully still. It truly was “home away from home.”ward Mendocino.

Ashland was a lovely, short stay. The inland detour brought a welcome change—swapping the cool, misty coast for the heat of southern Oregon—but today marked the beginning of my return home. I backtracked from Ashland to Grant’s Pass, then pointed my car toward Crescent City, ready to greet the redwoods and the cooler coastal air again.

I woke up early with one goal in mind: pack quickly and get on the road toward Ashland. I moved quietly, careful not to disturb my host whose door was still closed. By 9:30 a.m., I had my things in the car and was on my way out. It felt like a small relief that the uncomfortable conversation from the night before hadn’t escalated to the point where I needed to leave in the middle of the night. Still, the experience was enough for me to decide that shared-home Airbnbs are not for me. Before pulling away, I sent her a thank-you message in the app—more out of closure than courtesy—and turned my focus toward the rest of my travels.

Today I plan to return to REI for my Yakima EXO Gear Locker and hopefully also pick up the TopShelf, BackDeck, and a few smaller items I ordered, like a fanny pack and a picnic table. First, though, I had to check out of my Airbnb. Tonight’s stay would be different, my first ever reservation of its kind: just a single rented room in someone’s house, chosen for one reason—driveway parking. Not my ideal setup, but after weeks on the road, being able to safely park and organize Ashley mattered more than privacy.

The final days of chasing down gear for Ashley had arrived. After weeks of tracking REI orders from store to store, I was finally in Eugene where everything had come together. Waiting for me: the Yakima EXO SwingBase Hitch and its trusty companion, the EXO GearLocker. Both had landed since I placed the order five days ago. Of course, a day later I caved and added more accessories to the mix—the EXO TopShelf and EXO BackDeck—because when they go on sale, why not?

Today I left the coast behind, heading south along Highway 101 before cutting inland toward Eugene. I’d been curious about the city for some time—smaller than Portland, supposedly more affordable, yet still with many of the same conveniences: an airport, rivers and parks, and a modest but growing food scene. Mostly though, Eugene was my last attempt to collect all the REI orders I’d been chasing up and down the state for my car camping setup.

After a full night’s rest, I woke up refreshed and ready to continue my journey south along the scenic Highway 101 toward Yachats, Oregon. I’d never heard of this small coastal town before, but in my research it kept appearing as a hidden gem—rumored to have the most breathtaking stretch of coastline in the region.

I was so exhausted—and the bed at Salishan Lodge so deeply comfortable—that I slept in for the first time in years. Really, it was more of a drifting in and out of dreams from 6 a.m. until I finally rose at 10 a.m..

This morning, I remembered to call home and check on “Henry”, my plant. With the heat wave stretching from the Pacific Northwest all the way down to Southern California, I worried he might have wilted, yellowed, or worse. I had unlocked my door remotely for my neighbor, and when she went in, she told me my neighbor across the hall joined her.

I was relieved to check out of the dreadful Newport motel. The room had hard, clean floors at least, but it still wasn’t a place I wanted to linger. That morning slipped away while I finished some last-minute shopping on REI, racing the clock before their Labor Day sale ended. By the time I clicked “checkout,” I was nearly late myself—bags packed, Max barely squeezed in for his morning walk, and checkout at 11 a.m. looming.

It was just past midnight and I was three hours into trying to sleep in the back of my Honda Passport. My first attempt at “car camping” wasn’t going smoothly. The night was hot, the little fan I brought pointed at Max, and I lay restless, thoughts swirling: What if Max barks? What if I get caught? What would I do if someone notices?

Today was daring. I woke up knowing I had to check out of my Airbnb, but I hadn’t booked another stay. No hotel, no backup plan. Just the day ahead, wide open.

I told myself the shower I took that morning might be the only one I’d get today. Oregon had “extreme heat warnings,” pushing toward triple digits, so I thought maybe I’d escape to the coast. But first—REI.

I spent Day 23 tucked away in my Beaverton, Oregon Airbnb. The heat was relentless, the kind that makes you grateful for air conditioning and excuses to stay inside. With no real plans until the evening, I let myself sink into the comfort of Netflix, finishing episode after episode of a series that had me hooked. Sometimes travel days look like this—quiet, indulgent, and still.

I checked out of my Airbnb in Vancouver, WA and crossed the bridge back toward Portland. I wanted to stop in the Pearl District and find a dog-friendly spot for brunch. A few years ago, I’d been to this amazing farm-to-table restaurant with outdoor seating and incredible food, and I thought maybe I’d stumble upon it again. If not, I had a backup in Slabtown that I’d bookmarked.

When I pulled into my Airbnb yesterday, I didn’t know what to expect. The listing looked nice enough in photos, and at $360 for three nights—with laundry and a kitchen included—it felt like a good deal. But the place was right off a main road, and the area itself felt a little sketchy. Still, I wasn’t planning to go anywhere for the next few days. I wanted rest, groceries, and a reset.

As I left the waterfront hotel along the Columbia River, I realized I had been on the road for almost three weeks. Today, I checked into an affordable Airbnb inland, where I plan to stay for the next three nights. Max will get a little rest from the constant motion, and I’ll have time to catch up on my writing. Slowing down, I finally have space to reflect.

I woke up with the quiet excitement of checking out of this hotel and moving on to explore Washington again. Today’s plan was to give Max a bath at my friend’s building dog wash, so I packed up early and was ready to leave by 11 a.m.—right at checkout time.

I decided the best way to survive my stay was by not being in the hotel as much as possible. In the morning, I did a little stock trading, then started getting ready to head out when I heard a knock on my door. Two men stood there saying they needed to clean the A/C. I remembered seeing a note taped to my door when I checked in last night, but I thought it was for next week.

I woke up early to check UPS tracking for my Costco order, and sure enough—it was scheduled to arrive today. At 9:30 a.m., I called Costco to ask how long it usually takes from delivery to processing. The woman told me UPS comes around 10:30, so to check back then.