Long lists of food, clothes and what not to forget crumbled in my hand, I double-checked to make sure all of our life’s necessities were with us as we loaded the truck and trailer for our cross-country voyage.

My husband Rick and I had been planning a whirlwind, month-long trip through some of our country’s national parks with our friends, Mike and Michelle Beebe of Longview, for the past few months. Fall is a favorite time of year for us to travel, but we would be racing winter weather.

A 38-foot fifth-wheel and a 30-foot motor home guaranteed us all the comforts of home away from home while having a grand change of scene daily. A comforter covered the memory foam pad in the back seat of our truck for Bob, our black lab. Mike and Michelle brought walkie-talkies, great for communicating at food stops, rest stops and fueling stops.

As our traveling homes pulled in alongside each other at a rest stop near home, the buzz to begin another great adventure was in high gear. We were on the move; the wagons were rollin’.

We caravanned up White Pass and through the Yakima Valley. Our first night would be spent in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. Even after many previous trips, this route remains a beautiful drive. Early morning, going toward White Pass with the fog just hanging above the beautiful mountains is always breath-taking. Evergreens become sparser as we trail down the other side of the pass, and the land’s lush green gives way to fields of fruit trees and crops. I always feel that this is really the beginning of the trip; like being shot out of a comfortable space station to the unknown. You just never know what might lie around the next corner.

Coeur d’Alene

Coeur d’Alene is a beautiful place. Giant fir trees surround the town, and there is plenty to do. Barbara Walters called this city “a little slice of heaven,” and Patricia Shultz listed Coeur d’Alene in her book “1000 Places To See Before You Die.” That it is.

Coeur d’Alene has one of the country’s largest Christmas tree lighting ceremonies, it’s close to Silverwood with its huge wooden roller coasters, and the city sits on the edge of beautiful Lake Coeur d’Alene, which offers boating, fishing and camping.

At around 500 miles from Kelso, this is a great, relatively short trip for a nice family vacation.

We checked into our RV park and prepared to nestle in for the night. Mike and Michelle are nestled much quicker than we are. A motorhome just seems to be ready when you stop. On the other hand, a fifth-wheel requires some assistance to be ready: stabilizing feet down in front and back, slides out, and if we were staying, we would need to unhitch from the truck. After rolling out the home, it is always our pleasure to get the lawn chairs out, have a beverage and take in our surroundings. Bob, waking from his day-long nap, is also ready for a breather.

The next morning, we dismantled as quickly as we could while our co-travelers were ready to go in seconds. Onward to Glacier National Park. We had a list with phone numbers of places we planned to stay, so as we traveled, I phoned ahead to make sure we had two spots … one of many reasons to have a cell phone on the road.

Going through Idaho and into Montana is always a deep-breath moment for me. “Big Sky” is so true of Montana. The minute we cross the Continental Divide, I swear the sky is bluer and the air is purer. Born in Montana, I always feel a certain ownership of this state and certainly a feeling of “I’m home.” Lamenting, I chatter on and on about the days of my youth, the mountains I climbed and all the things I did in Montana. The warm and fuzzy feelings always return and I feel lucky to have lived in this state when I did.

It’s about 200 miles from Coeur d’Alene to West Glacier. Passing Flathead Lake, the largest natural lake in the western United States, we made our way to our next stop where we will stay two nights. The RV park is rustic and even with our traveling Hiltons, really made us feel like we were “camping.”

Glacier National Park

There are 50 glaciers in Glacier National Park, which contribute to the clear, bubbling creeks which gurgle and curve around beautiful rock formations. We all kept our fingers crossed that we would see one grizzly bear, mountain goat or deer. As plentiful as they are here, we must have been too noisy for we saw no animals.

Not for the faint of heart, the “Going to the Sun Road” is an engineering miracle. Almost 100 years old, the tiny two-lane road skirts tall cliffs and winds to the highest elevations of the park. Our truck, one inch over the guideline for vehicle size (21 feet by 7 feet), was in good hands. Rick maneuvers it around like a VW. Michelle and I in the back seat, with Bob between us, covered our eyes and held our breath more than once as the edge of the road seemed way too close for our big tires.

The mountains are magnificent and breathtaking as we wound our way up. We could see several glaciers across the valley, miles below us. We sucked in our breath as we passed trucks and cars on narrow turns. If we went over, it would be a long ride down.

After lunch at the lodge on the other side, we travel back down “camp” for the night.

Sad to leave this beautiful place and hoping to hold each moment of awe, we lift our trailer feet, pull in our slides and make sure Bob is nestled. South 400 miles to Yellowstone, with a stop in Bozeman, Mont., my hometown.

Yellowstone National Park

On the road we see geothermal activity everywhere with rolling, boiling pools of deep blue water and multi-colored bubbling mud pots. Steam rises from the boiling pools, as a nearby herd of buffalo grazes, ignoring the tourists lined up on the roadway for picture taking. Buffalo can be cranky and there are warning signs to give them plenty of space. Years ago, you could see bear on the side of the road everywhere in Yellowstone, meandering from car to car looking for a snack. No more. We didn’t see one bear — or wolf. Lots of Bison and one elk.

On reaching Yellowstone Lodge, there is plenty of room to park our rigs in the immense lot. The lodge was build in 1904 and is the one of the largest buildings made of logs. Benches are located all around Old Faithful so people can sit and watch her erupt her steamy hot fountain of water. The average height of the eruption is 145 feet and it erupts every 45 to 125 minutes.

To fully experience this park, we would need at least a week. Again, happy we stopped but sad to be done, Jackson Hole, Wyo. and the Tetons are our next stop.

Jackson Hole

Between Yellowstone and Jackson, road construction is heavy. I spent the time we weren’t moving taking pictures of the beautiful fall colors. Quaking aspen are scattered amidst the firs, showing off spectacular fall gold.

We begin to see the Tetons getting closer and closer. Magnificent is a small word for these mountains. The Grand Teton has an elevation of 13,770 feet. The abrupt mountain range takes your breath away with its majesty and beauty. The air is fresh and brisk. This area makes you glad you are alive and wish you were 20 or 30 and could do it all.

Breakfast at Jedediah’s Original House of Sourdough is a must. After gorging, we walked through as many of the western and Indian art shops as we could. I was anxious to see the Silver Dollar Saloon and its saddle bar stools.

Jackson Hole is full of year-round activity and a place to spend lots of time. Walking, eating and sight-seeing are a recipe for early bed and deep sleep. Around 2 a.m., I am awakened by cold hair. Yes, it is so cold in our traveling Hilton, my hair is near frozen. Bob has curled up basketball size and is not moving. I fumble to the thermostat. Huh? Not working. I figure that by morning, we will dig out and figure it out.

We had run out of propane! Water frozen, everything frozen. Rick was layering up for a trip to the propane store. There are a few things that have to be taken care of even when on vacation…..

Thawed, Bob’s tail wagged as he fluffed up his memory foam bed. Slides in, diesel engine humming, we left beautiful, frozen Jackson Hole for Cody, Wyo.

Cody, Wyo.

Cody is a real cowboy town, with the graves of several cowboys and girls, including Jeremiah “Liver Eating” Johnson. This was a hide-out for Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid and home of the great Buffalo Bill. Every evening, a gun fight is staged between cowboys good and bad.

Another long travel day ahead, we had to go over the Big Horn Mountains and Powder River Pass. The highest elevation point was 9,600 feet. Our truck is huge and the fuel gauge drops by the minute as we zip up and over large passes. Passing through the tiny town of Thermopolis, Wyo. I made a note to come back. The mineral pools look so enticing.

Rapid City, S.D.

Rapid City has a lots of sights for adults and kids: big water slides, a reptile garden, Bear Country — weeks of entertainment.

The city is a mix of old and new, with bronze statues depicting a famous American on each corner. Having been here before, it is exciting to show and tell to Mike and Michelle.

Every American should see Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse. Both are magnificent man-made accomplishments with the spirit of America in the air.

We went to Mount Rushmore in the daylight and again in the evening where they have a very moving light show honoring the veterans of our country. The lights shine on the faces of Presidents Roosevelt, Lincoln, Washington and Jefferson, while on the grand amphitheater stage, all men who served in the armed forces are called down to touch a folded American Flag. It is very emotional; your heart is filled with gratitude and pride. Rick and Mike both participated — the stage was full.

The Buffalo Run

At 4:30 a.m. the next morning we layered up, filled two Thermoses with hot chocolate and Bailey’s, grabbed our lawn chairs and Bob and wound our way up the hills to Custer State Park and the Buffalo Run. Custer Park can only sustain so many buffalo, so each year, the animals are herded up and auctioned off. Horse riders from all over the world participate in a lottery to be able to round ‘em up; 25 riders are chosen.

A few years ago, a crowd of around 15,000 saw the dawn of day, and the thrill of thundering buffalo. This year, we went a little early so we could eat the pancake breakfast and get front-row seats. The sagebrush-covered hills surround a small valley where the buffalo are herded, so it’s best to sit as close to the perimeter as you can; you need to feel the ground shake.

Field glasses out, we watched the horizon for the first sign of buffalo or rider. There they are! We are ready. Thundering on the hill across from us, 1,000 buffalo are on the run. Just as quickly as they appeared, the herd stopped and slowly meandered down the hill, catching a bite of grass along the way. Some trucks appeared to separate the buffalo and riders. What — no thundering?

A native South Dakotan explained that in a previous year, one of the riders and his horse were injured by a buffalo, thus the auto-protection. Buffalo are mean, so they keep the trucks in front of the horses for protection. Around noon, we were finally directed down the hill with thousands of other cars. Think we’ll have a buffalo burger for lunch.

On the way to Moab

After a 4:30 wake up call, bedtime was really early. Guaranteed heat and a good night’s sleep, we were excited to go through Nebraska to Moab, Utah, land of the four-wheelers and the great natural monoliths of stone.

It’s 757 miles to Moab. Stopping in Sterling and Glenwood, Colorado, it would be a three-day trip, made more interesting by the discovery that our trailer hitch no longer wanted to part with the trailer. On our one-night stops, we just stay hooked up. Where we need to get around, it’s a group effort to get unhitched. Finally, we stopped at an RV repair shop to learn that we need a new hitch.

Going through Nebraska, I finally made it to what I thought of as Midwest — really flat farmland.

Moab, Utah

Everywhere you look in Moab, Utah, you see the creator’s masterpieces. Millions of years of rain, ice and groundwater have left a beautiful showcase. Massive big orange rock formations balance on little ones, arches since time immemorial. How do those rocks balance on each other?

This is a hiker’s heaven as well as a great place for four-wheelers, which are everywhere. Moab is a central location to see the sights in Arches and Canyon Land National Parks. Miles and miles of hiking trails where you get special views of this land of Mother Nature’s best. I wish I had paid more attention in geology.

Bryce and Zion

Zion National Park is also a hiker’s mecca. The visitor center offered tour buses to parts of the park where the public is not allowed to drive. Note: come back.

We drove our truck as far up Zion as we could, which entailed paying an additional $15 for traffic control on one of the tunnels. More than a mile long, deep under the mountain, this tunnel has giant picture window-type portals throughout. Rangers stopped traffic on both ends while we took up the center lane; whew. I would not want to skirt the edge of this cliff or have to back out.

As we went through the park, we were realizing more and more that we would have to make this trip again with more time. We could feel a race against approaching winter. Our RV site was awaiting us back at Bryce Canyon. Camping neighbors warned us that it would freeze that night; we must pull our water hoses in.

Like Canyon Land and Arches, Bryce Canyon is beyond words in beauty. Standing on the edges of magnificent cliffs you can see the whole world. A sense of awe and insignificance are with us all. The air is the most pure in the United States in Bryce, and on a clear day, you can see as far as New Mexico! But sad to say, a smoggy haze still hangs over the lower mountains and valleys everywhere we go.

A taste of Salt Lake desert

Early the next morning, the 19th day of our trip, Michelle and Mike ended the caravan to visit relatives in Oregon on their way home. We would miss them. There is comfort in another rig following you, watching your back. They were always ready to give aid when Murphy made his showing and to share in the joys of our beautiful country.

Onward we went, no longer a caravan. Our next stop for the night would be Elko, Nev., on our way to Lassen Volcanic National Park in California as well as Crater Lake. I love race cars and speed when I’m driving, so stopping at the Great Salt Lake Desert and the Bonneville Speedway was on the itinerary. This is where speed records have been made and broken on the salt pavement, though no events were in progress.

After feeling the salt, onward we went. The road is like a washboard and we would probably opt out on a future trip through Nevada, east to west. Taking the captain’s chair, I felt comfortable going straight as far as the eye could see. I plugged in a Toby Keith CD and sang my way across to Susanville, Calif.

Lassen National Volcanic Park

Lassen is spectacular. It’s the only place you can see several volcanoes that all have a different type of cone. Up, up we climbed, stopping to take pictures of thermal pools with steam flowing from the crevasses in the rocks. I was surprised and didn’t realize anywhere other than Yellowstone had this activity. As we left the park, Mount Shasta with its majestic beauty overshadowed us.

Crater Lake, Ore. is our last stop before home. Again, we climbed and marveled at overwhelming beauty. Crater Lake Lodge is elegant and served one of the two best breakfasts we’ve ever had. While dining in elegance, we gazed at pristine Crater Lake. With lots of trails to hike, summer is the time to do it. Not all of the areas of this park stay open in the winter.

From beginning to end, as we traveled through forests and deserts and over huge mountain passes, we marveled at what the pioneers had to endure and wondered how the population ever got to the Pacific Northwest.

They were truly amazing people with a spirit that is beyond imagination and long-gone. With melancholy, we rolled onto I-5 , homeward bound. Driving 5,741 miles through our beautiful country over almost four weeks whets our appetite to do it over with more time.

Each national park is special in its beauty and full of surprises. If it’s a national park, it’s well worth seeing.

However, as we approach home, I am again reminded of the breathtaking beauty of the Pacific Northwest. There is no place more beautiful.

Becky Bell, a semi-retired insurance agent who lives near Castle Rock, loves to write and is working on two novels.