Take Detours, Jump Fences, See the Unexpected: 20 Ways to Have a Great Vacation—Abridged Version

By Kristen Ankiewicz

These travel stories are for all those whose curiosity and wanderlust leads them off the beaten track. This book is for everyone who loves road trips, road food, and road life as much as I do—for those drawn to the weird little towns, lesser-known parks, and kooky attractions that others overlook. It is for people who think the journey matters more than the destination.

Whim and curiosity are vital to my happiness. I don’t have a specific schedule when on vacation, so I often stop and take a look at whatever catches my fancy. I like to take detours. It makes my trips longer, meandering, and incredibly satisfying.

I prefer staying a little distant from the noise of the crowd. America is rich with largely undiscovered resources. There are so many parks, caves, gardens, and tours that one never need lack for something to do. The best way to travel is to follow your heart, your whim, and your instinct.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristen Ankiewicz
• Release date: Mar 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311610782

Kristen Ankiewicz

I got my art and literature degree from Harvard University, which left me with a life-long love of pictures and words. Moreover, I'm an adventurer. I have been taking road trips for two decades and spent many years exploring caves on both east and west coasts. I love being in nature and connecting connecting with other people who do the same! I hope you get a good laugh out of my stories.

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Take Detours, Jump Fences, See the Unexpected:

20 Ways to Have a Great Vacation—Abridged Version

By Kristen Ankiewicz

Smashwords Edition | Copyright 2015 Kristen Ankiewicz.

All Rights Reserved.

PROLOGUE

This is a story about vacations I have taken and how you can have an awesome time by winging it, too.

My parents are a big inspiration for these travel stories. They love to travel as much as I do. They especially love road trips. They have travelled from their retirement home in Florida to New Orleans, Massachusetts, Georgia, San Francisco, and Alaska. They have visited every state of the country except for North Dakota and Nebraska—and I’m sure they’ll correct that oversight soon. Like me, they prefer boats to planes, but they enjoy the freedom of the road most of all.

Also like me, they feel compelled to keep a photo record of their travels. My mom photographs what she eats on vacation with exuberance and reverence. My dad photographs every cup of coffee he drinks on his trip as though it were a special occasion. Each wild animal gets its fifteen minutes of fame. Every park sign is an excuse to strike a pose.

They generate endless and hilarious selfies: park sign selfies; mountain selfies; car selfies; squirrel selfies; blooper selfies. My parents are outgoing, outdoorsy, and incredibly goofy. I crack up at their photo antics. They always look so happy.

Like my parents, I too am a hopeless selfie-taker. I feel obliged to put myself in my own vacation photos. I meticulously catalogue every road trip with nature photos and self-portraits. I also am extremely outgoing, outdoorsy, and goofy. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

My parents instilled a great sense of adventure in me from an early age. When I was a kid we had a big blue 1960s Volkswagen Van. They took out the seats from the back and put down a mattress. My brothers and I stretched out comfortably while my parents drove from our home in Massachusetts to various parts of New England and Canada. It was terribly dangerous and terrifically fun. I have many fond memories of bouncing around on the mattress in the back seat while we drove up and down the east coast. I loved those trips. I loved the sense of freedom. I loved tooling around the east coast in a big ol’ boxy van.

When I was five years old, we visited an alligator pond in some park in Florida. It might have been Busch Gardens; I can’t recall. I loved animals, petting zoos, and animal parks. There was a fence around the alligator pond. I was wearing a red sundress and black shoes. I wasn’t dressed for it but adventure still guided my heart. Mischief was my middle name.

My dad, in typical Dad fashion, hopped the fence and started walking nonchalantly around the alligator pond. Naturally my five-year-old self followed suit. I always had to go where my dad went, regardless of how dangerous or ill advised. I didn’t expect to fall right into the pond. I hadn’t learned to swim yet. Oh no! My feet couldn’t touch the bottom! Were alligators going to nip at my toes? Was I going to drown? Was this my last adventure? Would I ever see more alligators?

Someone pulled me out of the green mucky water. I was a very drenched and grumpy little girl for the remainder of the animal park outing. My adventurous tendencies were not squashed, however. My curiosity was as strong as ever.

These travel stories are for all those whose curiosity and wanderlust leads them off the beaten track. This book is for everyone who loves road trips, road food, and road life as much as I do—for those drawn to the weird little towns, lesser-known parks, and kooky attractions that others overlook. It is for people who think the journey matters more than the destination.

Whim and curiosity are vital to my happiness. I don’t have a specific schedule when on vacation, so I often stop and take a look at whatever catches my fancy. I like to take detours. It makes my trips longer, meandering, and incredibly satisfying.

I prefer staying a little distant from the noise of the crowd. America is rich with largely undiscovered resources. There are so many parks, caves, gardens, and tours that one never need lack for something to do. The best way to travel is to follow your heart, your whim, and your instinct.

1 HAVE SOME COFFEE

When I was a kid my family visited the cold winters of Moncton, Canada, where I experienced what might have been frostbite for the first and only time in my life. My cheeks didn’t actually fall off, but for the purposes of this story I’m going to say it was frostbite.

Moncton is a beautiful city in southeastern New Brunswick with an active French-speaking Acadian population. We often went to visit my mom’s French-Canadian relatives there. I never understood why we went in the winter. If you visit Moncton, go in the summer. It’s lovely in the summer. Nobody gets frostbite in the summer.

My dad and I wanted to go to the local mall to get some coffee. We thought we’d just pop over for breakfast. It was the middle of December. It was snowy, windy, and hovering close to zero Fahrenheit. Wind chill pushed it well into the negative. I wore a black scarf wrapped around my face and a hat, so that the only exposed skin on my face was the small space behind my eyeglasses. Why did we go to Moncton in the winter? Why??

That little bit of exposed skin took all the force of the wind. The cold only hardened our resolve. We refused to give up. We forced our way against the wind like mountain climbers on Mount Everest, desperate to reach the mall. Hot coffee was just across the street. The wind howled crazily about. We would not be deterred! Coffee was so close! So close!

By the time we got to the other side of the street I had two pink and blistered triangles of skin where the wind whipped at the