We paddled ten miles that first day, stopping only for lunch on the rocky shore of a small island.
It started with an unusual noise, which you never want to hear at 65 miles per hour, and ended with a blown-out tire and my entire vacation sitting beside the road.
I was happy to pay extra for a sleeping car rather than try to figure out how to get kids to sleep in the coach section of the train.
I immediately bought tickets to go to Hawaii with a flexible return date.
En route to the airport on an icy black January morning, our daughter threw up in her car seat. Uh oh. Then she puked a second time. Oh no.
This is not a story about stumbling upon amazing airfare deals or subsisting on a budget of $10 per day.
The answer to all my problems came to me during a 3 a.m. feeding: we would become travel hackers.
What do we pay for the freedom to not nickel-and-dime ourselves?
It’s the old “spread your retirement throughout your life” argument.
It’s time to tally up how much I spent over the past (long) weekend, hanging out with friends at the Travelers’ Rest music festival in Missoula.