My road trip MVPs

Everything that makes me feel at home when I'm on the road

On The Cusp is about becoming the next version of ourselves. That means experimenting with the breadth of our interests, exploring the depths of anything that captures our imagination, and learning to embrace uncertainty along the way.

Welcome! This is letter #53.

Mt. Hood, captured on Kodak Portra 400 film

From the moment I got my first car—an inherited, decade-old Honda CR-V—I’ve been planning my next road trip.

Since then, my vehicle and departure city have changed twice and thrice, respectively, but my giddiness at the prospect of an open road and the perfect soundtrack has not.

On my most recent road-plus-car ferry trip to British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast, I realized that, organically and over time, I’d gathered items and approaches that make all of my road trips better. I’m sharing them with you in hopes that something here makes your next adventure a little bit better, too.

What makes something a road trip MVP, you ask? It’s got to fit into one of these three categories:

✅ It’s an item that’s easy to throw into my trunk, but takes up just enough room that I might not pack it in an airline carry-on.

✅ It’s especially great for the Pacific Northwest trips I’m taking in my own car, either because of the climate (our summers are relatively cool) or the activities I tend to prioritize when I’m exploring the region (think: anything outdoorsy!).

✅ It pairs well with the low-key nature of car travel. Road trips lend themselves beautifully to caring less about travel optimization because, at least in my experience, the pressure to “make the most of” a trip is correlated to the amount of money and energy you’ve spent getting there.

Recently, I’ve been living in the cropped, fleecy Retroplush Revive Crewneck Sweatshirt from Athleta, which transitions seamlessly from a shady hike (paired with high-waisted Oiselle leggings and my ancient L.L.Bean daypack, above) to a breezy oceanfront dinner (paired with Madewell’s ’90s Straight Jean).

I’m in love with the fleece-lined—do you sense a theme?—Gripper Slipper Booties from Bombas, which do double duty: protecting my feet from questionable Airbnb flooring, and keeping my toes toasty when the temperature drops at night.

As a fair-skinned redhead, I can’t afford to be lax about sun protection on the road.

• Since I’m allergic to chemical sunscreens, I’ve tried approximately one zillion mineral options in search of the least-worst ones. Paula’s Choice Super-Light Wrinkle Defense SPF 30, with its slight tint and matte finish, is the only one I genuinely delight in wearing every day.

• If I’m hiking in the sun, I’ll sub in something stronger: EltaMD UV Restore Broad-Spectrum SPF 40 for my face and neck, and EltaMD UV Pure Broad-Spectrum SPF 47 for my arms and legs.

• Dermatone makes the only mineral lipscreen worth buying.

• I’m never without my Roka Phantom aviators—I bought them for running, so they’re blessedly nonslip—and my Storied baseball cap.

Everything goes into my Tom Bihn Aeronaut 45 duffel (via matching packing cubes). It’s flexible, borderline indestructible, and still looks as new as the day I bought it seven years ago, based on this recommendation from

Erin Boyle

.

The Footpath app is my new favorite hiking companion—I’ll start a GPS track at the beginning of my walk (or use an AllTrails GPX map that I’ve uploaded and saved for offline use), then bask in the knowledge that I’m not in danger of getting lost in the woods. I can’t tell you how many times it’s helped me find a poorly-marked trailhead, or helped me confirm which direction I need to turn.

When it comes to choosing my next adventure, I highly recommend talking to strangers. Chatting up people I don’t know is more fun when I’m not fresh off an airplane—or worse, jetlagged!

And, of course, locals consistently have the best tips on how to spend quality time in their hometown. Ask me about the four new Canadian friends I made at a communal lunch table in the adorable town of Gibsons, and how—fueled by two pitchers of margaritas—they proceeded to plan our entire trip for us.

I’m a huge proponent of vacation hobbies: that is, hobbies you do (mostly) on vacation. Your vacation hobby might be reading or watercolor painting or—if you’re more of a takeout person back home—something as simple as improvising dinner from a farmers market haul.

My vacation hobby? Photography. I always intend to pick up my cameras more often in day-to-day life. But spurred by the novelty and excitement of a new place, blasting through rolls of film is a friction-free pleasure. (The bonus: my hobby doubles as a memory-capture device.)

I prefer shooting film for many reasons. Here are two: I don’t return home overwhelmed by thousands of photo files. Also, it’s simple to get physical prints made while my film is being developed and scanned.

You might not be ready to try a higher-maintenance film camera, like the foldable Mamiya 6 I used for these color shots, or the Canonet QL17 GIII I used for the black and white ones.

But anyone who’s in the mood for easy, fun snapshots can experiment with the Fujifilm Instax Mini. Its Polaroid-like film is delightful, and when the trip is over, the results slide neatly into these magnetic frames to display on the fridge.

As for toting everything around? I love my Claremont bag from Lo & Sons because it’s a camera bag that doesn’t look like a camera bag.

Booking an Airbnb I don’t want to leave. When it’s raining, or I’m in the mood for a quiet evening, or I have extra time between activities, I love being somewhere with a view…or a fireplace…or a hot tub. If I never leave the premises, the trip was still a resounding success.

Becoming a temporary regular. If you’re cynical, you might call this “doing the same thing over and over again,” but I take pleasure in getting coffee at the same place each morning of my trip—and getting to know my barista in the process!—or going back to try a different entrée at a restaurant I loved. (Recommendation culture, which nags us to try as many new places as possible in the shortest amount of time, doesn’t know what it’s missing.)

Rethinking the beach read. I have no shame about devouring so-called “beach reads” any day of the year. The newest frothy EmHen novel? Honestly, it’s ideal for picking up in the bleary, scatterbrained ten minutes before bed: easy to get into, and easy to pick up again the following evening.

I love exploring the Pacific Northwest coastline, and when I do, my MO is choosing a beach read that’s actually a bit more dense than one I’d typically read at home.

With zero residual stress from daily life, coupled with a beautiful view and an unhurried afternoon unfurling before me, it’s the perfect time to pick up a biography—one I know that I’ll love, but wouldn’t usually have the attention span for. (This time, it was Sara B. Franklin’s The Editor: How Publishing Legend Judith Jones Shaped Culture in America, and I was a woman obsessed.)

A dinner framework. I’m all about this foolproof improvisational approach to pasta, which pairs perfectly with road-trip spontaneity. On the first day of our trip, we stopped by Claytons Heritage Market in Sechelt and bought every random ingredient that looked appealing; we were completely set for dinner each night we stayed in.

A practical souvenir. I’m partial to something that reminds me of the trip and is genuinely useful. And when I’m traveling by car, there’s enough empty space in the backseat to get creative.

By the time I embarked for the Sunshine Coast, I knew I’d be making a lot of salad in 2024, and also that I lacked a salad bowl sized for two people. So I looked up local ceramicist Beth Hawthorn, visited her studio in Roberts Creek, chatted with her about life on the Coast, and brought home a work of art.

Give me enough time, friends, and I just might cobble together an entire set of road-trip dinnerware.

As always, I’d love to hear from you. What are your road trip MVPs?

Warmly,
Maddie