From Scout Tents to Cross‑Country Adventures: A Dad’s Guide to Planning Camping Trips (With Only Mild Chaos)
Growing up, I spent most of my childhood in the Boy Scouts. I went from a Wolf Scout in 2nd grade all the way to Eagle Scout, eventually becoming an adult leader—because apparently once you know how to tie knots, you’re never allowed to leave. Camping was a huge part of my life, and I got pretty accustomed to sleeping in just about anything: tents, bunkhouses, chickees, and occasionally situations that probably shouldn’t be legally classified as “shelter.”
I kept the tradition alive with my family, taking them to Mammoth Cave National Park, the Great Smoky Mountains, and various state parks. When my kids got older, we decided it was time to level up: we bought a new tent, loaded the car, and returned to the Smokies. That trip inspired me to think bigger. Much bigger.
I wanted to go west. Like, “wagon trail but with air‑conditioning” west.
- The City Museum (St. Louis)
- Badlands National Park
- Wind Cave National Park
- Jewel Cave National Monument
- Mount Rushmore National Memorial
- Custer State Park
- Mesa Verde National Park
- Palo Duro Canyon State Park
- Petit Jean State Park
Honestly? It became one of the best trips of my life.
This experience eventually turned into a system I now use for all my major trips, and I’m sharing it here—dad jokes included—so you can skip the stress and jump straight into adventure (and questionable campfire cooking decisions).
Planning a Trip
Choosing a Destination
I start with one major destination. Anytime I see a cool place online, I save it in Google Maps as “Want to Go.” My map now looks like I sneezed pushpins all over the United States.
I look for clusters—usually around a big national park. Yellowstone, Acadia, Glacier, the Black Hills, Southern Utah… basically anywhere with mountains, wildlife, or the chance of spotty cell service is fair game.
Once you pick your destination, figure out how long you want to go. My rule of thumb:
You need twice as many activity days as driving days.
Otherwise, you’re just paying money to… sit. In a car. Possibly with cranky children. I love my kids, but no thank you.
Reservations
After you have your rough draft itinerary, start booking the tough stuff first. Many parks open reservations 6–12 months in advance. If it’s a southern state, assume it books up faster than a roller coaster seat on opening day. If it’s a northern state, winter might still be melting, so you can usually book a little later.
Always secure reservations for the primary destination first. Don’t build your trip around the World’s Largest Ball of Twine unless that truly speaks to your spirit.
- https://www.recreation.gov/
- https://www.reserveamerica.com/
- Check local state parks websites for reservation options!
Budgeting
Budgeting is the backbone of a successful trip — or, as I like to call it, “Preventing Future-Me From Having a Panic Attack.” I keep everything in a spreadsheet because nothing says “family vacation” like dad opening Excel.
Here’s how I break it down:
Gas
I calculate the distance for each day using Google Maps and round up. Way up. If gas were free, I’d still somehow spend too much on it.
In the past, I even used a dedicated card just for gas. It made me feel responsible, like a man with a plan, or at least a man pretending to have one.
Food
I budget food in two parts:
Eating out
I estimate $150 for dinner for a family of four and $40 for lunch. If we decide to go fancy for lunch, congrats—that’s now a “dinner” because I said so.
Groceries
Camping groceries are just regular groceries but… expensive. Everything costs more when it’s labeled “ready-to-eat,” “camping size,” or “organic wild‑caught granola harvested by moonlight.”
Don’t forget water, Gatorade, and beer (for medicinal purposes, obviously). Out west, you often need to bring your own water—Mother Nature is beautiful, but she’s not handing out free refills.
Activities & Miscellaneous
Tours, museums, park fees, theme parks… they all add up. My family love's theme parks, so if there's one vaguely on the route, guess what? We're stopping.
Also, budget for:
- Ice
- Firewood
- Propane
- That one thing you forgot and have to buy at the park store for 300% markup
Preparing for the Trip
A few days before the trip, I print all our reservations and tickets. Yes, it’s 2026 and I still print things. But you know what doesn’t drop its signal in the middle of nowhere? Paper.
I also pack with the essentials in mind:
Something to sleep in, something to eat/drink, something to wear.
Also: a swimsuit. Always a swimsuit. The one time you don’t bring it, you’ll regret it.
During the Trip
Every night, I update my spreadsheet to track how we’re doing budget-wise. It’s like a financial diary, except instead of emotional introspection I’m writing things like “Spent $12 on emergency churros.”
My spouse and I also text each other what we buy each day. Nothing says romance like “I bought ice again.”
Before leaving each morning, I double-check our plan, add an hour for every five hours of driving, and mentally prepare for the inevitable bathroom breaks that will occur exactly five minutes after we already stopped for a bathroom break.
If we’re ahead of schedule, I love surprising the family with a spontaneous stop. It’s the dad equivalent of a plot twist.
Retrospective
This trip remains one of my all-time favorites. But will I ever take another multi-week trip in a tent?
Absolutely not.
Setting up and taking down a tent over and over again is basically CrossFit but without the gym membership or bragging rights. Everything gets wet. Everything. Even things that shouldn’t logically be wet.
Since then, we don’t stay anywhere for fewer than three nights unless it’s just a travel stop. And after this trip, I upgraded to a pop-up camper—because at some point a man just wants a mattress and walls that don’t blow around in the wind.
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