Our Thanksgiving getaway to Acadia National Park was a short one, but the two days away gave us a little escape from our routines and our four walls. Being in the Travato allows us a way to travel without really interacting with anyone else or with any public spaces, and our first experience boondocking with Boondockers Welcome was a success; the site, while really just a parking spot in a business lot, was perfect for our needs and offered a convenient base for us for our two nights in the area.

That same stillness and quiet in a typically bustling place is what draws us to Acadia National Park in the off-season, and in the winter in particular. While sharing the park, one of the most visited in the country, with so many others is certainly fun on some level of community and camaraderie, we’ve come to love the days and months when we can hear our only our own footsteps on a trail or when we share “hellos” with only a few others.

The trip to Hopewell Rocks was worth it, even with the less than ideal weather. Walking on the ocean floor, G said, was really cool. I reminded him that we do that all the time at home, when we walk on the beach at low tide. He said it was different. I said it wasn’t. But it’s the beach—not the ocean floor, he said. Now keep in mind that he’s the super-analytical one; I’m the one who says stuff that doesn’t always make sense (to me, yes; to others, not so much). But that’s what the beach is, I said—it’s the ocean floor (sand) at low tide. He then proceeded to tell me that I had ruined the magic.

Ah, Bar Harbor...the town that perhaps set this entire road trip in motion 19 years ago. Then, we had been married a year and looking to do something small but special to celebrate our first anniversary. We initially thought of driving to Nova Scotia for a few days; however, with the cost of the ferry and the additional expense of bringing our car over, we deemed the trip would be too expensive. So we decided to at least do the drive and stay in the town from where we would have taken the ferry—Bar Harbor. And so began our love affair with Acadia National Park, which, according to the National Park Service is the “Crown Jewel of the North Atlantic Coast.”

With our original plan of driving Highway 1 all the way down to LA thwarted, we took the opportunity to visit Pinnacles National Park. Pinnacles is a bit off the beaten path, and as you’re driving through farmland and vineyards, it’s hard to imagine that the road will lead to a park created by the eruption of volcanoes 23 million years ago.

I’m not going to lie: I love the California coastline, and the scenery on this particular stretch is truly awe-inspiring. For G, who is afraid of heights, it’s a bit nerve-wracking. He can appreciate the beauty, but winding roads on the side of a cliff and a massive bridge aren’t his ideas of a good time. I say this as I’m the one with my face pressed against the car window the entire time.

San Francisco is a city of contrasts—rich and poor, mansions and tents, skyscrapers and towering trees. It’s a bustling tech hub yet a nature-lover’s paradise. It’s a city teeming with people, yet it manages to maintain a neighborhood feel. It's a “big” city, all wrapped up in 49 square miles. One of my favorite places makes me feel as though I’m worlds away from tech giants and big stores, far from the crowds and noises of the city: Lands End, where trails wind through trees far above the sea and where sweeping views of the Golden Gate Bridge reward nearly every step.

I’ll confess: In all my travels to San Francisco, I had never made it to Alcatraz. Part of me wondered if it would be a bit “too” touristy and overhyped. Among all the other potential day trips and places to visit, Alcatraz simply never made it to the top of my list—that is, until this past March. The verdict: Wow. Just wow.

I was lucky enough to be exploring on a weekend, when the fort was open (in the spring, it’s open Friday-Sunday). For the next hour or more, I explored every nook and cranny. I wondered about what California must have been like years prior, when the fort stood guard even before the Golden Gate Bridge became the city’s sentinel. I wandered inside its arched walls as the rain slowed to a steady drizzle and, then stopped, making way for clearing skies. From within the brick walls to atop the fort itself, I took it all in—the bridge from every angle, including underneath!. From this incredible new-to-me vantage point, I wondered how I had never made my way here before.

To say that Muir Woods is “beautiful” is an understatement. Maybe “staggering” is more apt. It’s easy to feel so small and young among the tall and old trees. Coastal redwoods rise from the ground, stretching far into the sky. I craned my neck, pointed my lenses, and still, I could not do these trees justice. With the rain falling and the moist air, the clean, pure smells of the forest filled me. I felt grounded. Calm. With every step, I reaped the wonderful benefits of forest bathing.