Beginning the Long Haul North
August 31-September 1, 2026
Houston, Texas → Lindsborg, Kansas
WHERE IT ALL BEGAN
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In September 2025, a friend I'd previously attended a photography workshop with reached out to see if I'd be interested in joining her for a photography workshop in South Dakota's Badlands.
Of course, I couldn't resist.
I'd never been to the Badlands, and the idea of a road trip across the Great Plains sounded like an opportunity I couldn't pass up.
PLANNING THE ROUTE
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Excited, I sat down at my computer and began mapping out an itinerary in a spreadsheet. What I didn't realize at the time was that this would grow into a three-week road trip—and one of the most exciting journeys of my life.
A PLAN THAT TOOK ON A LIFE OF ITS OWN
What started as a simple spreadsheet soon grew into a three-week, 5,300-mile road trip. I had no idea just how big this adventure would become.
The original plan was to make the drive myself. Later, my husband thought he might be able to join me, but work and family commitments ultimately meant he had to stay behind.
And so, I found myself embarking on a solo road trip across the Great Plains and parts of the Mountain West. I reset the odometer just before pulling out of the driveway, and by the time I returned home, I'd logged 5,300 miles.
This is the story of that journey—not just the places I visited, but the experiences, the emotions, the things that went wrong, and the unexpected moments along the way.
Because not every moment is like a postcard.
THE DAY BEFORE DEPARTURE
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After months of research, I had finally finalized my itinerary. My spreadsheet was filled with destinations, estimated drive times, sunrise and sunset times, and even the best windows for photographing the Milky Way. I had accommodations mapped out, laundry days and grocery stops accounted for, and enough details to make my head spin.
But I knew better than to think everything would go according to plan. Weather changes, fatigue sets in, and sometimes that gut feeling tells you it's time to change direction.
The itinerary was my guide, not a set of rules carved in stone.
I also planned my stops along the way, typically every two to four hours, to refuel, use the bathroom, and give myself a chance to get out of the car and stretch my legs. I researched gas stations and towns along my route ahead of time, looking for places where I felt comfortable stopping. Safety was a big consideration, especially traveling solo.
If something went wrong with the car, I didn't want to find myself stranded in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest town or gas station. I wanted to know where I was, how far I was from help, and be able to provide emergency services with a nearby town, highway, or mile-marker location if needed.
A little preparation gave me some peace of mind. When you're traveling alone, you learn to think not just about where you're going, but what you might need if things don't go according to plan.
I'd also been keeping a close eye on the weather forecasts for weeks, trying to figure out what I'd need to pack. With a three-week road trip spanning several states and varying elevations, the weather could be all over the place.
So, naturally, I packed just about everything but the kitchen sink.
PACKING FOR THE JOURNEY
Three weeks on the road meant packing for every possibility. Camera gear, clothes for all weather conditions, and the essentials—somehow, it all had to fit.
Shorts and tank tops for the hot days. Thick jackets, long-sleeved shirts, and pants for the cold ones. And, just in case the temperatures really took a nosedive, hand and toe warmers.
I mean, honestly. How do you pack for a trip when you could be sweating one day and freezing the next?
By the time I was done, I had clothes, camera equipment, cooking supplies, a cooler, jugs of water, and a duffle bag competing for space in the rental car.
I picked up the rental car the day before departure. I wasn't entirely sure the vehicle category I'd selected would accommodate everything I planned to bring, so I spent some time pre-packing at home, figuring out where everything would go and familiarizing myself with the vehicle.
This car would be my home on wheels for the next three weeks, even though I'd be staying in a variety of accommodations along the way.
Of course, the rental car came with a few surprises of its own.
One thing I wasn't thrilled about was having the headlights controlled through the LCD screen rather than a physical button. Trying to locate the light controls quickly, especially when driving through safety corridors, wasn't exactly ideal.
Then there was the DC outlet. It took me nearly an hour to find it hidden in the back of the vehicle. I needed it to connect my inverter and charge my Jackery power station.
As it turned out, the vehicle didn't provide enough power to keep the Jackery charged while running my Starlink Mini. I eventually plugged the Starlink Mini directly into the inverter instead.
More on that little adventure later.
DEPARTURE DAY – HOUSTON, TEXAS · 5:30 AM
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The alarm went off at 4:30 AM.
It was finally happening.
After months of planning, I was about to set off on a three-week solo road trip. I packed the last of my things, said goodbye to my husband and my three cats, and headed out at 5:30 AM.
I was excited, of course, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous.
11 hours is a lot of driving, especially when you're doing it alone. What if I got a flat tire? What if I ran into reckless drivers? What if something went wrong and I had to figure it all out myself?
My husband had a way to track my location in case of an emergency, and I had my Garmin inReach Mini 3 Plus with me as well. I'd put some thought into safety while planning this trip, and I'll get into those details in a later installment.
Before pulling out, I reset the car's odometer to zero. I wanted to know exactly how many miles I'd driven by the time I returned home.
I set Apple Maps on CarPlay to my first stop, Madisonville Buc-ee's, while keeping Google Maps open for the overall route.
I'd originally planned to grab a Starbucks latte, but I changed my mind. Instead, I stopped at a nearby Buc-ee's to fill my cooler with ice. With the summer heat, I didn't want to take any chances with the food I'd packed.
And with that, I was officially on my way.
THE ROAD NORTH
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I pulled onto the freeway and immediately found myself in bumper-to-bumper Houston traffic.
So much for leaving early to avoid it.
It seems like no matter what time you leave Houston, you're bound to run into traffic somewhere. I'd planned my departure around getting through Houston and making it past Dallas before the rush-hour congestion, but Houston had other ideas.
Eventually, I made it through the traffic and continued north. The sky was still dark when I started out, but gradually, the first signs of dawn began to appear.
THE ROAD BEFORE SUNRISE
Miles of highway as the first light of dawn begins to break.
There's something comforting about watching the sun awaken a new day, especially when you're heading into the unknown. The sky began to brighten, and before long, it was a beautiful day, with little puffs of clouds scattered across the sky.
I arrived at the Madisonville Buc-ee's, topped off the gas tank, took advantage of the clean bathrooms, and made it a quick stop before continuing north.
For a while, the drive was mostly uneventful. I settled into the rhythm of the road, taking in the scenery as the miles passed.
Then came Dallas.
DALLAS, HEADING NORTH
The Dallas skyline comes into view as the road trip heads north and the miles begin to add up.
My next goal was to get through the Dallas traffic and make it to Denton for another gas stop and grabbed myself a Cobb salad from Chick-fil-A to have for lunch or dinner later.
CROSSING INTO OKLAHOMA
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Somewhere along the drive, I apparently crossed into Oklahoma. I didn't see a Welcome to Oklahoma sign. No fanfare, no indication that I'd crossed a state line. I only noticed when the mile markers suddenly reset to zero.
What the ….? Did I miss the sign entirely?
I continued on to a Love's Travel Stop in Perry, Oklahoma, for another break before getting back on the road and making my way toward Lindsborg, Kansas.
FINALLY, LINDSBORG, KANSAS
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Why Lindsborg, you ask?
Well, after doing a fair amount of research, I thought there might be a chance to see some sunflowers in bloom after reading some information from the Kansas Tourism website. One of the places I'd looked into was Peterson Farm Brothers, but when I visited their website, I found a message saying they wouldn't be participating in the sunflower trails this year because of family commitments.
What a bummer, but family comes first. I completely understood.
Many of the sunflower fields were located in the eastern part of Kansas, which would have taken me out of my way. I needed to head north the following day, so making that detour just wasn't in the cards.
I guess the sunflower hunt was going to be a bust on this trip.
Still, it was a chance I wanted to take—even if it meant viewing sunflowers in commercial fields rather than at a designated attraction. Sometimes, you just have to see what's out there and hope for the best.
By the time I reached Lindsborg, I was ready to be done driving for the day.
What was I thinking?
Umm… is this Lindsborg?
I pulled into a gas station and topped off the tank, wanting to be ready for the following morning's early start. Across the street, I spotted the Viking Motel. I took a deep breath. Finally. I'd made it to my overnight stop.
The room was nice and basic. A comfortable bed, a refrigerator, and a microwave—everything I needed for one night. The electrical outlets, however, could use some attention. The outlet near the nightstand didn't work, so I plugged my power strip in near the fridge and called it good.
Since I was only staying one night, I kept unloading to a minimum: my overnight bag, camera gear, and a few food essentials, including my salad and the protein drink I'd need the next morning.
Once I had everything settled, I headed out to Coronado Heights Castle, about a 10-minute drive away.
CORONADO HEIGHTS CASTLE
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Apple Maps had me making all kinds of turns, and I started to get a little concerned.
I'd had a navigation experience on a previous road trip that made me wary of unexpected detours. While driving from Alamogordo, New Mexico, toward Guadalupe Mountains National Park located in Texas, my navigation suddenly changed course and began directing me toward Juárez, Mexico.
Yes, Mexico.
Luckily, I had my passport with me, but that certainly wasn't where I wanted to end up. But that's a story for another time—perhaps one I'll tell when I write about that Southwest road trip.
Back to the castle.
Eventually, I caught sight of it in the distance. Perched on top of a hill, the structure stood against the soft, golden light of the approaching sunset. A slight mist hung in the air, giving the scene a peaceful, almost dreamlike quality.
Coronado Heights Castle overlooking the rolling Kansas prairie.
The drive up was a bit of an adventure in itself—windy, gravelly, and dusty.
Little side note: Coronado Heights Castle was built in 1936 as part of a Depression-era public works project. The stone structure was designed to evoke a Spanish castle and now serves as a picnic shelter and scenic overlook.
As I made my way around the castle, cicadas buzzed and darted through the air. One decided to land right on my top, startling the crap out of me. Apparently, I wasn't the only one enjoying the evening.
Golden light cicada
A cicada enjoying the last of the day’s warm sunlight.
I climbed the stairs to the upper level, hoping to find a good vantage point for sunset photography.
But as I looked toward the horizon, I noticed the clouds.
Well, there went my hopes for one of those epic, fiery sunsets.
I stuck around anyway, waiting to see if the sky might surprise me. Unfortunately, neither the horizon nor the surrounding clouds offered much in the way of color.
Golden-orange evening light stretches across the prairie, illuminating layers of distant hills and silhouetted rural landscape.
It wasn't the sunset I'd hoped for, but there was something peaceful about being up there after a long day behind the wheel. The light was fading, the air was settling, and I finally had a moment to slow down.
It was a quiet end to my first day on the road.
To be continued…
