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.

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 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.