When the Road Turns Home: Choosing Chicago Over Alaska

Alaska was supposed to be the crown jewel of our year on the road. When we first planned our RV adventure, we imagined finishing it off with sweeping mountain ranges, wild tundra, and that surreal feeling of standing in a place that feels almost untouched. But sometimes the road whispers a different plan, and you have to listen.

Why We Didn’t Go to Alaska

That year, the Western U.S. was buried in record snowfall and flooding, and we had already experienced it firsthand on our RV journey. After months of navigating storms, snow, and rough conditions, the thought of heading further into Alaska—where the roads can be unforgiving even in good weather—just felt like too much. We weren’t sure what we’d face, and with so many unknowns, it didn’t feel like the right time.

Adding to that, our grief was still raw. Losing Indy, our soul dog, left Piper without her lifelong buddy. She had always leaned on Indy to show her the ropes, and without her, she was utterly lost. We thought we’d wait a year before bringing another dog into our family, but Piper’s loneliness made it clear we’d have to rethink that timeline.

The Reality Back Home

As if the emotional weight wasn’t enough, reality started knocking. Back in the Midwest, the winter was brutal—snowstorms, ice, and more snow. Our house sat empty without property management in place, only amazing friends who checked in when something big happened. It started to weigh on us that we had been gone almost a year without really knowing how the house was holding up.

That’s when the decision became clear: as much as our hearts wanted Alaska, our heads—and maybe our gut instincts—told us it was time to head home.

The Shift in Energy

Making the call was gut-wrenching. For months, we’d been saying “what’s next?” with excitement. Now, once the decision was made, the only thing we wanted was to be home. The road shifted from adventure to mission, every mile pulling us closer to Chicago.

Our first stop on the journey back was Little Bighorn, a place heavy with its own history, and it matched our mood in many ways. There was a quiet weight to walking the grounds, reflecting on the past—ours and the world’s. It wasn’t Alaska, but it was a reminder that every stop, no matter how unexpected, holds its own story.

This is the home of Custer's Last Stand

This wasn’t the blog I thought I’d be writing when we set out on this adventure. But part of traveling is knowing when to keep going and when to turn back. And in this case, turning back didn’t mean failure—it meant honoring our grief, taking care of Piper, and facing the life we’d left waiting at home.

Sometimes the hardest roads aren’t the ones with snow and potholes—they’re the ones where you admit the journey you dreamed of isn’t the journey you need right now.