Until we reached this crowded stretch of highway, our trip been as smooth as glass. As planned we’d picked the boys up right after school and hit the road. I had snacks, dinner, and plenty of activities all ready right in the car. Our goal was to reach Corolla, North Carolina – the northernmost part of the Outer Banks – by 9:30 p.m. To do so, we drove south through the entire state of Delaware, into Maryland, and finally onto this tiny and desolate spit of Virginia where the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel would carry us across 20 miles of water to Norfolk on the other side.

And then, just like that, with no warning whatsoever, the traffic came to a complete halt. We sat in the middle of numerous idling semis, trying to ignore the fumes and watched as ominous clouds rolled across the sky. After about twenty minutes, I pulled out Matt’s iPad and learned that the approaching storm and its high winds had caused a truck like the ones that surrounded us to tip over on the bridge. Until they could clear it, which they couldn’t do until the storm passed and the winds died down, no traffic would be allowed to pass.

Our predicament was obvious. We’d driven too far down the Delmarva Peninsula to think about turning back and trying to find an alternate route – the next closest bridge was the one in Annapolis, which at nearly 200 miles away was almost as far as we’d already driven. To backtrack and take that route would have meant driving all night. So if we’d managed to turn around our only option would have been to go home and call it quits on the entire weekend. And even doing that would have meant trying to cross a wide grassy median in fading light with all four of our bikes on the back of the car. We decided that we had to wait it out – maybe it wouldn’t be too long.

We started out, as one always does, cheerful and resolute. We told stories and read as the light faded. When the storm really hit, we had to roll up the windows to avoid getting soaked and the air in the car quickly turned soupy. Bickering started as we tried to decide what was worse – being stuffy and hot or being wet. An hour passed. Two hours. Finally the boys fell asleep, and, with nothing else to do Matt and I did as well, waking when the state police car arrived with its garbled explanation or when an especially strong gust of wind hit the car.

At 1:00 in the morning the state trooper returned for a slow parade with his bullhorn, clearly doing his best to make sure everyone woke up. It took another 25 minutes for traffic to start moving, and when it did, we realized just how close we were to the toll booths, probably about a mile from where we had been sitting. Once we got onto the bridge, the rest of the traffic seemed to disappear, perhaps into the seething water below us as we drove on the surreal bridge to nowhere. Descending into the illuminated glare of the tunnel halfway across did nothing to jar us back to reality and we rode like sleepwalkers until, just as we reached the opposite shore, we saw the truck that had caused all the trouble. It looked as if it had been cast aside by a petulant child and then stepped on, its trailer dented and torn.

I stayed awake with Matt for the remaining two hours of the drive, across yet another bridge at Kitty Hawk, up a narrow beach road into Duck and Corolla that was in places covered with water from Hurricane Irene and other recent storms. We arrived to find our welcome packet at our condo soaked almost beyond recognition (someone had left the lid to the box it was sitting in open to the elements) but I was just able to make our the code we needed to get into our house. It was only feet from the rental center, but in my exhaustion I mistakenly directed us back to the main road. Somehow we managed to figure out where to go, and once we got there, how to punch the code into the keypad by the door.

The boys, alert after their few hours of sleep, started to bounce off the walls of their room, which had two sets of bunk beds. Before things got too out of hand Matt actually said some choice things that may have involved the words “beat” and “cr-p” (who am I to judge? I put sunscreen on my toothbrush I was so tired) and inspired by fear they fell asleep immediately, as did we, the blissful dark sleep that only comes at the point of total exhaustion. The last thing I remember was glancing at the clock, which said 4:00.

Despite this, the weekend ended up being just fine – better than fine actually. Later that same morning after I dined on a Southern delight called The Big Meaty, we all played putt-putt golf, and the boys rode in go karts. In the brisk air of the Currituck Sound our long stay at the bridge seemed like only a bad dream. But that evening as we crawled into bed immediately after the boys did Matt pointed out to me that we had actually sat in our car at the bridge longer than we had driven. It was, in fact, the very definition of a road trip nightmare: The drive took more than twice as long as it should have. But you know what? Everyone survived. We had a great time. And now we have a story, one that can grow and become more elaborate over time. I’m sure that by the time Tommy and Teddy share it with their children, we’ll have been sitting on that highway for twelve hours and lightening will strike our car.

And I’ll never forget that silent drive across the bridge when the world seemed both vast and miniscule as I watched my husband in profile and caught glimpses of the roiling water underneath. We were allies in that moment, fellow travelers on an adventure.

To me this story shows that even when the unpleasant and unexpected happens, it’s still worth hitting the road. Although I could have done without the truck exhaust and stiff neck, I’m not sorry we embarked on this adventure. And now it’s your turn. Have your family travel plans ever gone awry enroute?

Photo courtesy of Fire at Will via Flickr.

That doesn’t mean I’m in any way ready to give up on blogging. But it has led me to take a step back and start thinking about how I can make sure what I’m doing is worthwhile for me, for my kids, and for my readers. With that in mind, I do have a number of resolutions this year, but they relate less to the actual act of traveling (I’ve already got lots of trips planned, so any goals in that direction are well accounted for) and more to the act of blogging. I don’t usually spend a lot of time writing about blogging, but if you’ll indulge me, that’s what this post is going to cover because it is what has been on my mind these first nine days of 2012.

(Prefer the straight family travel side of things? You might instead enjoy my recent series of posts about our trip to Baltimore.)

So without further ado, here are my 2012 blogging resolutions:

1. I’ll add new types of content. One of my stated goals from 2011 was to visit every state park in Delaware. What didn’t happen last year has become this year’s opportunity as I plan in the upcoming weeks to launch The State Park Project, where I not only visit (and write about) all of the state parks in my home state but invite other bloggers and readers to share their own experiences with state parks around the United States. I hope to increase awareness of these gems to be found in our own communities, especially in the face of budget cuts that are leading some of them to close.

In 2012 I’ll also add a new section called Itineraries where I offer suggestions of places to stay and eat, things to do, and other family-friendly information for some of the popular destinations I’ve visited. I plan to offer printer-friendly pdfs of these posts and even aspire to eventually offer versions that will be accessible on mobile devices.

And I know it will make some of you sad to hear it, but after more than two years of dedicated posting, I feel that it’s time for my Mondays are for Dreaming feature to say farewell. That isn’t to say that I won’t ever share any of my travel dreams, but I’m not going to do it regularly and will no longer be including the linking tool. If you feel nostalgic, you can of course read the archive of over 150 dreamy posts.

2. I’ll spend more time hanging out with my readers. I’m so grateful for each and every one of you that reads my site, but I’m afraid that in my attempts to find still more readers I don’t always show it. And so it is that in 2012 I promise to spend more time answering your comments instead of trolling the Internet for tips on growing my traffic. I’m also going to introduce a new weekly theme called Family Travel Questions. Every Thursday I’ll share a question having to do with travel and will offer my own answer. Then I’ll open up comments on my site and on my Facebook page and Twitter stream, where I hope we can create some meaningful conversations. If you’ve got a burning travel question or need advice in planning your next trip, feel free to drop me a line so I can feature it.

3. I’ll blog like no one is reading. Although I’ve listed this last, in my mind it’s actually the most important of my resolutions for 2012. You’ve probably heard the Irish proverb, commonly trotted out at weddings, “dance like no one is watching.” I’ve decided to apply that very principle to my blogging life. You see, it’s easy as a blogger to get caught up in the popularity game – How many unique visits do I have in Google Analytics? What’s my follower count on Twitter? Are people talking about my posts on Facebook? Did I get listed in the latest “Best of” contest? Do I have Klout? I’d be lying if I said that this Internet version of those high-school yearbook contests didn’t sometimes often affect me.

Would I like to be the Number One Family Travel Blogger with a million followers and advertisers beating down my door? Yes. But only if I could achieve it by creating the kind of content I find compelling. And the simple fact is that my traffic numbers and my presence as a social media superstar have not one thing to do with writing blog posts that contain the kind of quality writing I aspire to.

And so I pledge anew in 2012 to focus on what truly matters: Offering inspiration for family travelers everywhere by sharing the best stories and essays that I know how to craft.

For my readers this may ultimately mean fewer posts, a bit less advice, and not as many product reviews or contests. On my end, it means more time writing and less time checking my blog stats. But hopefully the end result will be happy for all of us: Meaningful content that reminds us that every part of our planet – from the park up the street to the much-loved summer house to the faraway palaces we dream of visiting – offers us a chance to experience the world with our children. I feel that no matter how rich or poor we are, these experiences are our true treasure as parents. And they are a treasure I hope to continue to humbly share with all of you.

Obviously very little about your time in Croatia turned out as you planned it. What was the biggest surprise for you?

Isn’t how that always is for a mom? I think the biggest surprise was how hard it was to adjust. I’ve been a travel writer for a decade now, and I thought I’d be the one leading my family around. Oddly enough, it was the exact opposite. I had culture shock, jet lag, the bends (not really). But pretty much every made-up travel ailment you can come up with. Meanwhile, my architect husband and my two very young children went skipping off into the mountain meadow, and I didn’t see them until four months later. I’m fairly certain this is because they had no expectations. And I had too many.

One of my favorite scenes in the book is when you arrive in Mrkoplaj to find the apartment yo were to live in unfinished. You felt responsible for your children and guilty that things were so topsy turvy and uncertain. But they ended up being fine that night and the next morning. Do you think this speaks to the ability of children to adapt in new situations?

I put a lot of heavy baggage on myself that whole first week in the village. Iowa is a conservative place, and I heard a lot of questioning about my decision before I left. “Isn’t that the country that’s in a giant war?” Well, yes it was. Fifteen years ago. And now it’s over. But things like that work on your psyche when you’re under stress. So that things weren’t as settled as they are at home made me worry for my kids. Was I a horrible mom to give in to my wanderlust and drag the kids along like this? I don’t know what I was expecting. Of course they’d be unsettled in a different country. And I would, too.

And you know what? They did great. I think we spend a lot of time trying to help our kids have perfect lives. I’m not so sure that’s good for them. My kids really grew and thrived in Mrkopalj because not only did they have challenges there, they had their parents close by to teach them how to deal with challenges. As long as you’re there for your kids, loving them and giving them support and attention when they need it, they can pretty much deal with anything. And couldn’t we say that about humans in general? That’s why travel is the ultimate growing experience. Every moment you get a new thing thrown at you. And funny enough, you deal, and often, you thrive.

It interested me how freedom much children had in Croatia. Did this benefit them? Has it affected them now that you’re home?

We did let them roam the way the kids in the village roamed. They were pretty much in eyeshot of us all the time anyway. It was good for them, and for us. I feel like our generation does more face time with their children than any before us. It’s tough on everyone. Because here’s this mom with a master’s degree who spends her days cleaning up Cheerios and having full conversations with a rear-view mirror. That’s a good thing, yes, because kids rock. But there’s so little separation between kid world and grownup world, I think it hinders the independence of both.

Can you share a bit about the traveling you did after you left Mrkoplaj? What did you see? How did it go?

We were in a compact car with two small children and two antsy adults for three full months. Let me reiterate: Compact car, three months, family of four. Sometimes I can’t even believe we’re all alive and relatively unscarred. Essentially Jim and I made a wish list of cities in Europe we liked, and the kids added to it with things they’d studied with Jim in homeschool. Then we hopped in the car and ticked every single place off the list: Lausanne, Switzerland; south of France; Paris; Lisbon, Portugal; London; all around Spain but especially San Sebastian, Barcelona, Bilbao. It was awesome and awful at the same time! Moving to a new currency, new language, new set of streets every few days is totally exhilarating. On the other hand, you’re doing that in Mommy-Daddy mode, so it’s probably four times as stressful. Or maybe eight jillion times more.

Still: There are so many inside jokes we now have as a family because of that time. And so many memories that are part of our in-house language here. I feel like that road time cinched us together as a family in a way that we’d have to work pretty hard to loosen. We became a team then. Or maybe a troupe of clowns. Either way, that feeling is still with us. And that’s what I’ve always dreamed of in a family.

What was it like to come back to the United States? How did your children adjust?

We were never more grateful to be Americans than we were on that first day home. We live in the greatest country in the world. We really do. And the fact that we were back with family and friends, in a place where we knew all the good deals again and how to get half off at the deli counter at our local grocery, was exhilarating as seeing the Eiffel Tower. As Grant Wood said, “I had to go to France to appreciate Iowa.”

What have you been up to since you came back to the States? Any future travel plans?

The first year was spent with our heads down, working to recover financially. We like to have a savings account built up, so we really focused on that, because you never know when that wanderlust will hit again. We’ve talked about following Jim’s roots, which are really interesting. His people are from a fishing village on the fjords of Norway (how awesome would that book be?) and from the Alsace-Lorrain region of France (training grounds of Thomas Keller; also awesome).

What’s your advice for parents who are planning long-term travel with their kids?

Prepare for baptism by fire when it comes to preparing for the journey. But when you make it through that, you’ll know that your desire to go was pure, and you’ve just earned the most amazing experience of your life. Also, buy Elisa Bernick’s The Family Sabbatical Handbook. I can tell you about the emotional roller coaster of excellence in Running Away to Home, but Elisa will give you logistics. We followed it to the letter.

Purchase Running Away to Home or visit Jennifer Wilson’s site where you can see video and more photos from the family’s trip.

If you’ve ever dreamed about cashing it all in and taking off with the kids, here’s the story of a family that did just that. After losing half their savings in the stock market crash of 2008, Wilson and her husband Jim Hoff decided to upend their comfortable, consumerist life in Des Moines and take a family sabbatical with their son Sam and daughter Zadie, spending a good portion of their time in the home of Wilson’s ancestors, Croatia. And not the increasingly glamorous Croatian Riviera that has recently become a popular tourist destination. Instead, they headed for Mrkopalj, a village of 800 people in the mountains near the Slovenian border.

Settling into a quiet life in the Croatian countryside does not prove to be quite the simple affair that Wilson had envisioned however. For starters, the apartment they were promised on arrival is unfinished, and the entire family has to move into a one-room loft with questionable plumbing. Small things – like visits to the grocery store – are a challenge because of the language barrier.

Wilson is funny and realistic about the challenges of traveling with her children in tow. She fearlessly and critically admits her own lapses, which include a harrowing scene where she and Jim realize they unthinkingly came close to driving their children off a cliff. She’s also relentlessly honest about her own struggle to fit in. Although Croatia is the home of her ancestors (and she writes lovingly of her grandmother and great aunts who led her to want return in the first place) it is Jim and the children who find it much easier to settle into life in Mrkopalj. Wilson spends the first part of the book casting about for a way to settle in and meet people, to truly explore the new place she has come so far to visit. She eventually gives herself over to the experience and culture, gardening, baking, and drinking with her neighbors, and the book is as much about her transformation as about her children’s.

As Wilson becomes more comfortable in Mrkopalj, she reaches out to various villagers in search of her family’s history, a search that ultimately leads her to meet some of her remaining relations in the area. Again, Wilson doesn’t flinch when she describes these emotional meetings, some of which were hard for her children and none of which really provides the simple answers she thinks she is looking for. In fact, nothing about Croatia proves to be simple, the history muddied almost beyond comprehension. Wilson discovers that simple ideas about “good guys” and “bad guys” become immaterial when asking villagers who lived through World War II and the conflicts of the later 20^th century to discuss their experiences.

What does happen, however, is that Wilson and her family step altogether outside the modern American way of living. Adults and children alike abandon structure and schedule for endless playdates and long coffee breaks. Unbelievable amounts of grilled meat and homemade liquor are consumed. (Wilson’s descriptions of food are another strong point: “Jim and I ordered hunter’s stew and bacon with a side of sausage and sauerkraut over boiled potatoes. It was an oily mess of goodness that we ate until our faces were slick.”) Zadie and Sam, who on the first day are chastised by their parents for trying to cross the village road by themselves, end up running and playing freely with Robert’s children. Wilson doesn’t exactly look on the experience with rose-colored glasses – she’s well aware of the limitations and frustrations that life in the village presents (especially since the men are mostly hard drinking and the women do much of the work). But she clearly delights in the ways her children change – Zadie abandons her tendency toward tantrums and starts to read. Sam learns to play pretend games using only his fingers. Both children become less demanding as they are treated to continuous access to their parents and the other adults in the village.

Wilson’s real genius is for writing about people. Whether she is describing encounters with more incidental characters like the ancient priest who requires a bribe before he’ll let her look up her ancestors in the church’s genealogy, the Book of Names, or lovingly showcasing her husband Jim’s easy competence as he makes American hamburgers for their friends in Mrkopalj, it is Wilson’s people who center her story and make it meaningful. With the exception of the extremely likeable Jim, the most compelling person in the book is the family’s landlord Robert, a drunken father of three who owns a café in Mrkopalj and whose dramatic and outsize personality dominates the narrative. Moody Robert, a one-time singer in a rock and roll band is bawdy, disorganized, generous, sexist, and intense. He also speaks English, leaving the family reliant on him for help in navigating their new surroundings. Robert barrels through the book, now joyous, now too blue to make a proper cup of coffee, a singing, staggering metaphor for Croatia itself.

The narrative in this book isn’t linear and it is complicated with Croatian words (despite persistent – and somewhat distracting – attempts to include pronunciation, I concluded from reading it that Croatian is mystifying and about as dense with consonants as a language can be) and Wilson’s ongoing epiphanies about herself and the place. She learns multiple lessons as the book unfolds, and the reader comes along on that ride with her. I sometimes wished for a bit more of a clear timeline or sense of what Wilson was trying exactly to accomplish, but I think that ultimately I’m glad she left things a bit disorganized, because it lends credence to the entire experience. This is not a tidy travelogue about going from points A to Z. Instead it is a messy exploration of what it means to visit an alien place and to find the ways you are meant to fit in.

This engaging book would make a nice gift for anyone who is thinking about long-term travel with their children – especially anyone who is planning to visit countries where the culture, landscape, language, and food are unfamiliar. But it also is a great read for the armchair traveler or the parent who is interested in examining contemporary American family life. Wilson asks some hard questions about identity and while she may not have all the answers, Running Away to Home definitely offers a rich exploration of what it can mean.

Purchase Running Away to Home or visit Jennifer Wilson’s site where you can see video and more photos from the family’s trip. And for another take on the book, read the review at A Traveler’s Library.

I received a free review copy of Running Away to Home. The opinions expressed here are, as always, my own.

So in case you hadn’t noticed, because perhaps it snuck up on you, next week begins the holiday travel season. My first-born (who is now on the downward slope of nine heading for ten so fast it makes my head spin) was half a year old for his first Thanksgiving and Christmas. At that time, blogs were in their infancy and I also hadn’t quite reached the stage in my relationship with the Interwebs that I automatically sought parenting information there. Which is to say that I never once looked up anything online about traveling with small children at the holidays. Some of this may have been hubris because we had taken a six-week road trip with Tommy during the preceding summer and I thought I knew it all. Some of it may have just been willful ignorance. And some of it may have been blinding fatigue.

In any event, I don’t remember seeking advice about planning or packing or gear or any of that – we just piled things into the car and went. Looking back now I realize that we had enough with us to amuse, clothe, and feed a flotilla of babies. My methodology was less “what essentials should I bring?” but “why shouldn’t I bring diapers for a month? Give me one good reason!”

I do wonder now at our fearlessness and energy. For Thanksgiving that year, we drove 9 hours each way to and from Vermont. And this was only a warm-up for Christmas, when we drove (in our small, smelly, stick-shift Saturn sedan) from Delaware to Wisconsin and back again. If you’re counting, that’s about 14 hours each way, probably more like 17 if you add in stops for nursing and diaper changes and so forth. My favorite part about this latter journey is that Matt and I decided there was simple no way we could go for ten days without Tommy’s exersaucer, which he loved to play in. So we actually borrowed a box to strap to the top of the car for the sole purpose of carrying this unwieldy piece of equipment. Could we have borrowed one in Wisconsin? Purchased one and donated it to a church for less than we paid in extra gas? Simply done without for that vacation? I’ll never know the answers to these questions, but I do know that the poor handling of the car gave us something to bicker and complain about for the duration of the drive.

It’s obvious that I didn’t need any travel advice!

Now that my children are older, it is in many ways much easier to travel with them. They are both used to long car trips (as I think I’ve made clear here, we started them young) and complain little even during marathon sessions on the New Jersey Turnpike when things have slowed to a crawl. They don’t require nearly as much special gear – huge car seats have been replaced with small boosters, there are no bottles or jars of baby food to think about, and diapers are of course a thing of the long-ago past. And (Hallelujah!) they can both read to themselves.

But if the physical side of family holiday travel is easier, the emotional side is less so. Like me, the boys now have memories and expectations. They want things to be the same from year to year – even when that is not possible. And they now pick up on the inevitable tensions that arise when lots of family members who don’t share the same opinions about much of anything are under one roof for days at a time. I love our holiday trips. But the shedding of baby gear has not necessarily meant that they any less complicated.

In any event, I’m grateful to all of those wonderful bloggers out there now telling parents how best to travel with their children at the holidays. There are so many amazing and practical tips that truly will make your life easier! But I still stay that the most essential pieces of holiday travel advice I have to offer those of you with little ones are these: Fear Not and Live In The Moment.

For ultimately, no matter what you forget, or how runny your child’s nose is, or whether or not naps get missed, or even if you have to listen to hours of yelling in the car, you will inevitably be glad that you went and you will remember and by grateful for the good and simple things. As I page through the photos of Tommy’s first holiday season and see him pictured with loved ones, especially those who are no longer with us, I know that this is true. And there is part of me that longs for that time, when I indulged in hours of worry about his sleep schedule and the ability to find the right brand of organic baby food, when wrapping paper was a toy, and when the holidays were distilled into the simple essence of a baby’s smile.

Any time I meet a mom who embraces family travel like I do, I’m curious to know her back story. How did she develop this affinity for traveling the world, and why…WHY?!…does she make the Herculean effort to bring her kids along? More often than not, I find that she grew up traveling, and recognizes the impact it makes on a young life.

That’s how, where, and why my own journey began.

Along a life’s path, there are serendipitous moments when a single action changes its course. Like something as simple as opening a newspaper. On a Sunday morning in May, 1976, my dad sat at our kitchen table, regarding the New York Times classifieds. He decided to respond to an ad, seeking employment with the Aramco oil company in Saudi Arabia. This simple action meant that at the age of seven, I moved halfway around the world, to live with my family in a trailer set on a dusty piece of desert.

My vivid memories of that first night in Dhahran still invoke tears from the fear of the unknown, the uprooting from friends and family, the physical exhaustion and jet lag. That girl did not want to be there. She was not yet a willing traveler.

Over the next seven years, my parents, brother, and I lived on a protected compound. I attended American-style schools and made friends with other westerners. It was a life resembling a normal American upbringing, like a movie filmed on a set of building façades and sand dune backdrops.

One of the best parts of my childhood living abroad was the frequent opportunity to travel with my family. We covered Europe, explored Asia, and checked quite a few U.S. states off the list as well.

Granted, as a child I resented being dragged around to see ruins and churches. I have very few specific memories of these individual sites. I do, however, remember my brother throwing my stuffed animal down the Spanish Steps in Rome, and convincing my parents to spring for room service milkshakes in Bangkok!

It was the act of travel, really, which seeded my adult yearning to get out of town and explore. That was one of many gifts my parents gave me, and one which I hope to pass along to my children.

Where did your journey begin?

The Four Seasons understands not just what makes a stay luxurious but also what makes it fun and meaningful for families. And here’s the really good news: Right now you can enter to win a stay at the Four Seasons Resort Vail, the Four Seasons Resort Nevis, or the Four Seasons Hotel Boston. These prizes aren’t just hotel rooms either, but range from extras like Sea Turtle Camp to an in-room visit from the ice cream man. (I don’t know about you, but my kids are full of glee and surprise when the ice cream man drives through our neighborhood – can you imagine a personal visit in your hotel room?)

So whether you want to ski in style, lie on the beach with a fruity drink, or relax in your swank digs after walking the Freedom Trail, this contest is for you. It’s open until October 17 but what are you waiting for? It’s Wednesday! You know you need a pick-me-up!

Find all of the details about what you can win and a link to the Facebook treasure hunt that will enter you at Ciao Bambino!, which is one of the sponsors of this contest.

Please click on the photos in this post to see and scroll through full-sized versions with captions.

I love the Mad River Valley like I love no other place. Its geography is as familiar and as beloved to me as my children’s faces, and I constantly trace its contours in my mind, assembling a happy list of barns, bridges, dirt roads, glacial rocks, lakes, blueberry bushes, and maple trees – with no stoplights, traffic jams, or worries.

I love the Common Road, where we always encounter an animal friend or two. The mountains line the distance, old farm equipment is sculpture, and the Skinner Barn with its lovely lawn and small stream are a happy place to explore and maybe throw a rock or two into the water.

I love Mad River Glen, where I first learned to ski and where the rest of my family has now joyfully followed suit. One of the few places left without snowboards or high-speed lifts, it is an old-school bastion of the best in Eastern skiing and natural beauty.

I love the Long Trail and Sunset Rock, where my children both first had the satisfaction of finishing a “real” hike, complete with a rewarding view all the way to Lake Champlain and the Adirondacks beyond.

I love the Farmers’ Market where the boys stuff themselves on samosas, amazingly rich homemade maple ice-cream, lemonade prepared in a huge crock, cookies shaped like flowers. I love the beautiful produce – has anyone ever seen such amazingly perfect patty-pan squash, such paragons of heirloom tomatoes? Rupert cheese, dark-chocolate peanut butter, fig-anise bread, maple syrup sold by the gallon, huge sunflowers – a dizzying array of pleasures. And while we walk and shop and eat someone on the stage sings “How Can I Keep From Singing” and neighbors greet each other, all smiling.

I love maple creemees from Maynards.

I love American Flatbread, where children catch snails and play volleyball and turn cartwheels while grownups feast on pizza pulled sizzling moments before from huge beehive ovens, the carmelized onions and sausage, the kale and gruyere, the simple basil and tomato sauce all perfect accompaniments to that blackened crispy crust. I love Lawsons Finest Liquid, a local beer brewed in small batches using maple sap and served here. I love the cool of the evening, the warmth of the fire pit, the smiles on everyone’s faces.

And although this week it has been the source of so much destruction, I love the river itself, winding its crazy corkscrew path through the heart of everything, offering hours of simple pleasure and beauty on summer afternoons as long as my children’s memories. I love the river rocks we’ve found there and now keep all around our house as talismans and good luck charms, their smooth faces a pleasure to touch. I love the covered bridge – still intact despite the battering it just took! – and the children who jump from it into the water below.

There are so many businesses that I love too: The Warren Store, where we’ve bought everything from gummy worms to beer to sandwiches; The Green Cup, purveyor of the best scones I’ve ever eaten; Mehurons Supermarket, which magically, always has everything I want and then some even though it is half the size of the behemoth suburban markets I shop in at home; the Artisans’ Gallery, a gorgeously curated shop full of locally made art and objects inspired by the natural beauty all around.

And of course, most of all, the Millbrook Inn, where I spent so many childhood summers, where I was married, and where I return, joyfully, with my boys whenever we can. Much has changed there in the past year of course, but it is still open for guests, as is the Octogon House, perfect for families (it’s where we stay in the summer).

The photos you see in this post were all taken before the considerable destruction wrought in the Mad River Valley by Tropical Storm Irene. No one can ever completely undo that damage of course. But I’ve been amazed and inspired by what has happened in the community there during the past few days. This is perhaps the number one reason to offer the Valley a love letter: The people who live there and know that they are stewards not only of the place itself but of their neighbors.

By following many friends on Twitter and Facebook, I’ve been able to see so many incredible images of the volunteer effort that has gotten much of the town up and running again. Every business I mention with the exception of The Green Cup will be open by this weekend. The Farmers Market is scheduled to take place as usual this Saturday morning. The annual Craft Fair will be set up in town for the 41st year in a row and the Green Mountain Stage Race will be cycled.

If you don’t have any Labor Day plans, I hope you’ll consider a visit to the Mad River Valley. And if you can’t go this weekend, maybe another weekend this fall as the leaves turn the most spectacular shades of crimson and gold. Or maybe this winter for some skiing. I promise, once you’ve been it will fill your imagination as it has mine – and you’ll want to go back as much as I do.

For more information about what’s going on; what’s open and what’s closed; and what the best routes into the Valley are, as many roads in the area remain closed please visit http://www.madrivervalley.com/. I’ll also be posting links to businesses that are open and accepting reservations in my Twitter stream. If you’d like to send money to help farmers, small business owners, and residents of the Mad River Valley, a great place to do so is by donating to the Mad River Valley Community Fund.

I started blogging here just over three years ago, without much of a plan. What started as a creative outlet in the face of an unsuccessful attempt to sell a conventional book about traveling for 13 months with a toddler quickly turned into a life-changing force in my household – one that’s kept us traveling and offered me more opportunities than I ever could have imagined it would. As I approach my 500^th blog post (this one is number 491), it’s fun to take a trip down memory lane. I hope you’ll enjoy reading these posts as much as I enjoyed choosing them. And many thanks to Tripbase and the bloggers who tagged me for inspiring this post.

Most Beautiful Travel Post – Paris is our oyster

This post captures everything that I loved about our family visit to Paris – the magic of the Eiffel Tower, ice cream on the Ile Saint-Louis, and most importantly, the way my children fell as wholeheartedly in love with the city as I had nearly 20 years previously. This was our first family trip to Europe and the first trip I blogged about too, so it brings back so many happy memories.

Most Popular Travel Post – LEGOs in Paradise

I think that lots of people must be interested in both LEGOs and visiting the Atlantis Resort in the Bahamas, because this post about my trip there with Teddy is consistently in my top ten posts. The entire trip was amazing – we swam with dolphins, spent lots of time looking at marine life, and enjoyed the many pools Atlantis has to offer. But it was the partnership with LEGO that was one of the best aspects of the trip. Teddy loved helping to create the huge mural, “meeting” the giant LEGO scuba diver, and also going on the scavenger hunt. Atlantis Resort continues to offer many of these activities at their summer fantasy camp; I haven’t shared that fact with Teddy who would head back there in a heartbeat.

Most Controversial Travel Post – True confessions of a traveling mom

This was really a stretch for me because I don’t really “do” controversial here. (Which begs the question readers – would you like me to? If so, feel free to tell me in the comments). It’s not that I don’t believe in the value of controversy or even have strong opinions, but since my main goal is to inspire not agitate, I think I tend to keep my more strident thoughts to myself. That said, I consider this to be my most controversial post because it’s one where I admit something about myself I’m not very proud of. And if you’d like to find out what that is, you’re just going to have to read it.

Most Helpful Travel Post – How to pack only carry-on bags for air travel

When I published this post, a support group I could have called Overpackers Anonymous basically started on my Facebook page. I was shocked to see how many other travel bloggers admitted to packing too much when they travel! My report from the trenches after two weeks in Great Britain with only carry-on bags has all the tips you need to get through security and onto an airplane with both your kids and all the toiletries and shoes you’ll need for that family vacation. I’ve sworn off checked luggage and urge you to do the same.

Travel Post Whose Success Surprised Me – How to take kids to an art museum

Going to art museums with my kids has always felt so natural to me, but I wasn’t sure how interested other parents would be in this topic. I was surprised – and pleased – to see the enthusiastic response I got to this post where I offer tips on helping children enjoy looking at art. I also love all the suggestions in the comments, which I think really add to the post and will help any parent who wants to take children to an art museum.

Post That Didn’t Get the Attention It Deserved – Road trip tip: Eating on the road

I’m sharing one post here from my Road Trip series, but I really feel like all of these posts offer lots of great information about how to take long driving trips with kids. We’re genuine, old-school road trip veterans over here – my children have circled the Midwest multiple times in small, uncomfortable vehicles without screens. And most importantly, they’ve liked it.

Travel Post I’m Most Proud Of – What my mother taught me about travel

I am proud of this post because it contains my late mother’s lovely sketches; sharing her legacy is important to me. But the post also captures an important piece of what makes me a traveler and a blogger today – and also what I hope to share with my own children.

Tag! You’re it!

Like a chain letter, each of us has been asked to tag other bloggers so we can read what they have to say. I’ve picked some of my favorite bloggers from Best Family Travel Advice whose blogs I admire and I can’t wait to see what they excavate for us. Without further ado, the baton goes to:

Amy Whitley of Pit Stops for Kids

Colleen Lanin of Travel Mamas

Michelle Duffy of WanderMom

Anne Patrone of 500 Places With Kids

Meg Keough of Backpack to Buggy

The boys were impeccable hosts. Teddy made each of them a picture – Raouia got a parrot and Manale a rocket ship and had them waiting at the table, which he carefully set. When our guest arrived, they were first required to try their hand at throwing an American baseball into Tommy’s pitch-back.

This was followed by a full tour of the premises (so they could see what an American house looks like of course). Over dinner we discussed what flavors of ice cream they have in Tunisia and Lebanon and when they eat lunch.

Then we all had to look at Google Earth together. The boys wanted to show Raouia and Manale how they had looked up their home countries that morning. And we had to show them some pictures of Vermont.

It’s always a pleasure to meet the young people who come on these programs. They arrive eager to learn and optimistic in spite of considerable challenges. Raouia, who studies English literature in Tunisia, had to endure disrupted studies during this past year’s political upheaval. And Manale, who was selected for the program because she is one of Lebanon’s top university students (she studies medical law) is a Palestinian refugee. She showed us that her refugee status is clearly stamped on her passport and explained that this means she is denied full citizenship and voting rights – despite the fact that her family has been there since 1948. Both expressed an eager desire to change the situation in their home countries and gratitude for the chance to spend time in the United States. And they loved the boys. I think the feeling was mutual.

I ask you – if this is our future, how bad can that future be?