This post may contain affiliate links.

I still remember that summer morning in Emmett, loading up the car for what I thought would be a relaxing three-day camping trip with my kids. It was our first time camping without any other adults along—just me and my two little adventurers. I had picked a site on an app that promised availability and water access. In my mind, that meant easy swimming, paddle boarding, and lazy afternoons by the lake.

I didn’t realize until much later that the campsite—Dent Acres in Orofino, Idaho—was nearly five hours away. I actually laughed when I finally noticed the distance. I remember posting on Facebook, half-jokingly, asking if I should even go. The response from friends was a unanimous yes! They knew me well enough to know that once I set my mind on something, I go for it.

So, we packed the car like pros. Snacks, activities, dolls, and games for the kids, my paddle board strapped securely on top, and every camping essential I’d learned to never leave behind. Over the years, I’d perfected the art of long road trips with kids—the right balance of freedom, structure, and snacks that feel like an event in themselves. Honestly, long drives have never been a problem for us. It’s when the laughter mixes with the music and the open road that we feel most at ease.

A Different Kind of Adventure

When we finally arrived, I realized Orofino might as well have been a world away from Emmett. The air was heavy with summer heat, the trees taller and thicker, and—surprise—we had crossed into a new time zone without realizing it. My kids thought that was hilarious. I, however, was starting to feel the weight of being the only adult on the trip.

I had booked the site because it promised water access, but the reality was far from what I pictured. The lake was deep and beautiful, but the only easy access points were the boat docks—and they were constantly busy with larger boats coming and going. I didn’t feel safe trying to launch my paddle board there with kids in tow. The other option was a steep set of steps leading down to the rocky shoreline. We gave it a try once, hauling gear down carefully, my paddle board bumping against my leg with every step. The rocks were slick, the incline intimidating, and the water dropped off quickly into deep blue. I couldn’t shake the fear that I might scratch or crack my board (not this one, but if you’re looking for a good inflatable: Inflatable Paddle Board) or worse—that one of us might slip.

So, we did what any resourceful family would do. We adapted.

We played games at the campsite and made up new ones when the sun got too hot. We used our Portable Camping Stove for simple meals—the kind that taste better when eaten outdoors, even if they’re nothing fancy. My kids took turns being the “camp chef” and proudly served their creations while I sat back in my folding chair, smiling at the chaos and joy that only motherhood can bring.

One thing I wish I had brought along was a better way to organize our essentials. It’s funny the little things that make a big difference—like a Toiletry Organizer Bag to keep sunscreen, toothbrushes, and bug spray from rolling around the tent. At the time, we made do, but it’s one of those lessons you don’t forget.

When Plans Shift

After a few days, though, the truth became clear: this wasn’t the relaxing lake trip I had imagined. We had done everything we could—explored, played, eaten well—but there was no way to fully enjoy the water or the setting without constant tension. On the fourth morning, I looked at my kids, and we all quietly agreed: we were ready to go home.

There was no shame or disappointment in that choice—just a quiet understanding that adventures don’t have to go as planned to be meaningful. Packing up early didn’t feel like giving up. It felt like listening. Listening to our instincts, our comfort, and our energy. It was the moment I realized that flexibility is just as important as bravery.

Before we hit the road, I made sure our Travel Cooler was packed for the drive home. We didn’t have a way to charge our gear like this Power Bank—but wish I had. We decided to have a quick meal in the road and then we turned the car toward Emmett, feeling lighter and, in a strange way, stronger.

The Real Lesson

That trip taught me more than I expected. It reminded me that being prepared isn’t just about having the right gear or the perfect plan. It’s about trusting yourself to make the right decisions in the moment—even if that means changing your plans entirely.

I didn’t feel defeated driving home; I felt proud. Proud that I had taken my kids on an adventure, navigated challenges on my own, and modeled for them what confidence and adaptability look like. Since then, we’ve gone on countless other trips—each one better informed by that first big solo outing. I now know how to read lake maps, double-check terrain, and choose spots that match our kind of adventure.

It’s funny how one imperfect trip can become the foundation for so many better ones. Because that’s what motherhood (and adventure) really are—a series of lessons in grace, resilience, and faith that we are capable of more than we imagine.

If you’re planning your next camping season, you might enjoy my post on How to Plan Next Year’s Camping Trips Without the Stress. And if you’re dreaming big for your family, check out Our Family’s 2026 Adventure Goals (and How We’re Actually Planning Them).

Because the best adventures aren’t the ones that go perfectly—they’re the ones that teach us who we really are along the way.