From Towpaths to Timeless Tales—Explore the Erie Canal’s Living Story
Our Journey - From One Vehicle to Two
A story of love, loss, lessons, and the road that still calls our name.
Phones - What Are They Good For
It's October, and if you're an RVer in a colder climate, you're facing one of the biggest decisions of the year: Do you winterize your rig and hunker down for the season, or do you pack up and chase the sun south? This isn't just about avoiding cold weather. It's about money, lifestyle, and a commitment that will shape your next 3-6 months. Get it wrong, and you could blow your budget, stress your family, or find yourself stuck somewhere that doesn't feel right. Get it right, and you'll discover why thousands of RVers make this migration every single year. I know many of you might be thinking it's too late to make this decision, and for many things you are right, but there are still options out there if you haven't made your decision yet, the key is being flexible. If you are full-timer either you move south where it is warmer or stay put and battle the cold. If you are a part timer then either you move south or figure out how to winterize your RV, see our guide to Winterizing your RV here . Why this decision matters more than you think: Financially: Southern migration isn't just about avoiding winterization costs. You're committing to 3-6 months of campground fees, fuel expenses, increased wear on your RV, and daily living costs in areas where prices may be higher than home. A poorly planned migration can cost $5,000-15,000+ more than winterizing and staying put. Lifestyle-wise: Spending winter down south means being away from family gatherings, missing grandkids' school events, potentially complicating work situations, and navigating healthcare needs far from your regular providers. It also means incredible experiences, new friendships, perfect weather, and the freedom to explore. Commitment-wise: Once you head south, turning around isn't simple. If you've booked three months at a campground and realize it's not working out, you're often locked in. If a family emergency happens back home, getting back quickly with an RV in tow is complicated and expensive. This guide isn't to scare you off from the idea but to prepare you so that should you choose to head south for the winter you can enjoy yourself! This guide is for you if: You're considering your first snowbird winter and don't know where to start You're working with a tight budget and need to know real costs, not fantasies You're weighing winterization versus migration and need concrete numbers You need to know when to book, where to go, and what mistakes to avoid Not sure if migration is right for you? Read our complete winterization guide first. It walks you through every step of proper winterization and helps you calculate the true costs of staying put versus migrating. Want to hear real stories about winter RVing? Check out our RV Winterization Podcast where Jennifer, Tasha, and I share their experiences with cold weather, southern migration strategies, and lessons learned the hard way. The truth is, there's no universal "right" answer. Some RVers thrive as snowbirds. Others prefer to stay close to home, winterize properly, and take shorter trips. The key is making an informed decision based on YOUR finances, YOUR family situation, and YOUR goals.
This is my absolute favorite picture from the teen camping trip this weekend because it captures such a sweet and important moment. Every time we do a Teen Connect Adventures camp at La Joyita, we partake in the canyon adventure on Saturday. It’s a hike/swim through a beautiful canyon of marbled purple and cream-colored rocks. Some portions can be hiked or climbed, and others require swimming through corridors of extremely cold spring water. Swim through a pool, climb up a cascade. Swim through a pool, climb up a cascade. Repeat. It’s challenging, and unless they are experienced climbers, it requires teamwork on the more difficult passages. Any teen who has completed the hike knows it’s a rite of passage. Many times, younger teens don’t complete it the first time they try and are eager to return the following season to give it another go. Depending on the season, sometimes the river is just a trickle outside of the seven pools of water you have to cross. Other times (like this one), rainy season increases the quantity and flow of the water, and there’s a lot more in the creek. This waterfall was particularly challenging to get up and down because the cascade was rushing over the rocks, making it impossible to see where to put your hands and feet. We had to feel under the water for good holds. In this shot, my son Connor (12) is being guided and supported by Justice (17). It truly captures my two favorite elements of the canyon hike: older teens stepping into leadership and supporting their younger peers, and younger teens trying things that scare them a little... building confidence while being encouraged by the whole group. We can teach our teens about leadership, courage, kindness, and responsibility, but teens (and all other human beings) learn best by doing, not by hearing, reading, or being told. We need to give them opportunities where the situation itself calls them into action. In these moments, they do and they learn simultaneously. They instinctively recognize that they are needed, and they step up. Nobody has to tell them. The feeling of satisfaction when they know they’ve made a difference teaches more than our words ever will. The same goes for the younger ones who are still building their confidence. Teens NEED to take healthy risks in order to grow. It’s something they have to FEEL in their bodies. You can’t learn confidence in any other way than by doing hard or risky things. This is what our teens need to combat anxiety and fear. And the cool thing is that it’s not even about succeeding or failing. When they try hard things... even if they don’t succeed the first time... they’re more equipped to try again and again than if they never tried at all. This photo was taken on the way back down the canyon. Climbing up wasn’t a problem, but climbing down was scary and Connor wasn’t sure he could do it. If they stop in those moments and don’t even try, they start telling themselves a story that they can’t do hard things. But with encouragement and support from an older teen... who first set the example, showed him how, and then offered a hand... he did what felt impossible. And THAT is the moment magic happens. These little successes help form identity and self-talk. And they don’t have to be big physical challenges like climbing waterfalls at camp (although that’s powerful). It’s the everyday opportunities teens need: taking the bus on their own, cooking a meal, starting a business, performing in public, finishing an art project, or teaching a younger kid how to do something. Our teens need more opportunities to do things rather than just consume information. Learning happens in the doing... in real life. These are the opportunities I try to give my kids as a mom and to the teens who come to our camps. It's intentional and never fails to take my breath away. You can learn more about our teen connect adventure camps here.
Last year, we discovered that one of our kids wasn’t just gluten sensitive—they are truly gluten intolerant. That has shifted everything. Suddenly, our roadschooling rhythm, our cozy fall traditions, and our beloved holiday treats had to be reimagined. And let me tell you: learning the ins and outs of gluten-free living while traveling full-time in an RV is no small feat. Our teen was 17 when we discovered they needed to shift to a gluten-free lifestyle. Older. Wiser. You’d think that would make it easier to navigate. But in many ways, it made it harder. Seventeen years of favorites—comfort foods, family recipes, traditions—suddenly felt off-limits. And as an Italian family, that shift hit especially hard. Pasta nights, crusty bread with olive oil, holiday baking—all of it had to be reimagined. It wasn’t just about changing ingredients. It was about mourning the loss of what felt familiar, safe, and celebratory. Watching our teen navigate that grief with grace and resilience was humbling. We’ve since found new favorites, new rituals, and even gluten-free pasta that doesn’t taste like cardboard. But that transition wasn’t instant & often it was layered with strong emotions. Six Weeks In: The Cookie that Changed Everything Waking up six weeks into our gluten-free journey, we realized just how much had shifted. Our routines, our pantry, our mindset—it was all different. We were no longer just “trying” gluten-free. We were living it. And while the learning curve was steep, something unexpected happened that morning at a local farmers market. We found a cookie. Not just any cookie—a gluten-free cookie that tasted like a real cookie. Soft, warm, perfectly spiced. The kind of treat that wraps you in nostalgia and makes you forget, even for a moment, that anything was missing. Our kiddo took one bite and literally cried. Tears of joy, of relief, of recognition. Because in that moment, it wasn’t just about food—it was about belonging. About knowing that our family could still experience the magic of fall, the comfort of tradition, and the sweetness of the season… without compromise. That cookie reminded us that joy is still possible. That even in the midst of change, we can find new favorites, new rituals, and new reasons to celebrate. You’re Not Alone—We’re Cheering for You If you’re navigating this hurdle—whether it’s a new diagnosis, a tough travel day, or just trying to make gluten-free feel like home—please know: you’re not alone. We see you. We’ve been there. And we’re cheering for you every step of the way! Gluten-Free on the Go: Lessons from the Road RV life already demands flexibility. Add dietary restrictions, and you’re juggling a whole new set of logistics Cross-contamination concerns in tiny kitchens Limited pantry space for specialty flours and ingredients Finding safe options at roadside diners or campground potlucks Navigating grocery stores in unfamiliar towns We’ve had our share of missteps—like realizing halfway through a travel day that we didn’t pack any gluten-free snacks, or discovering that a “gluten-free” label didn’t mean safe for celiac. But we’ve also found joy in the challenge. It’s made us more intentional, more creative, and has made us more connected as a family. Hidden gluten is everywhere—and it’s sneaky. You’d be surprised how many everyday foods and condiments quietly contain wheat, barley, or rye. Soy sauce? Most brands use wheat unless specifically labeled gluten-free. Salad dressings and gravies often rely on wheat-based thickeners. Even ketchup, mustard, and barbecue sauce can contain malt vinegar or other gluten-derived additives. Deli meats, hot dogs, and pre-marinated proteins sometimes include gluten as fillers or flavor enhancers. Snacks—certain potato chips, candy bars, and even chewing gum can harbor hidden gluten. It’s not just about avoiding bread and pasta anymore; it’s about becoming a label-reading detective. When We Find a Good Gluten-Free Grocery Store… We Stock Up Like It’s the Apocalypse One of our golden rules on the road: never pass up a good gluten-free grocery store. When we stumble upon one—whether it’s a co-op in a small town or a well-stocked health food store—we go into full-on supply mode. Multiple bags of gluten-free flour blends (because you never know when inspiration—or a craving—will strike) Shelf-stable snacks for travel days: crackers, granola bars, and those elusive cookies that actually taste like cookies Specialty items we can’t find everywhere: tamari, gluten-free soy sauce, baking mixes, a favorite pasta brand and safe oats We’ve learned to treat these finds like treasure hunts. And when we hit the jackpot, we stock up like we’re preparing for a blizzard—even if it’s 75 degrees and sunny. It’s not just about convenience—it’s about peace of mind. Knowing we have safe, delicious options tucked away in our RV pantry means fewer compromises and more freedom to enjoy the journey.
When Do You NEED to Winterize?
Tips for traveling to western Canada and Alaska:
