Gain 10+ years of RVing experience in 10 minutes a week—so you can RV without wasting time, money, or memories.
Share
99% of RVers Never Make it to this National Park
Published 16 days ago • 5 min read
Hensley was green.
Marissa looked like she was about to lose it.
I was gripping the railing of this ferry, watching my family suffer through 4-6 foot swells in the middle of the ocean.
We were only an hour and a half in. We still had another hour to go.
Hensley had already thrown up once. Marissa was fighting it. I was groggy from Dramamine, barely able to think straight.
All I could think was: "This is nothing like the videos."
What We Expected
We'd spent ten years watching other people visit Dry Tortugas National Park.
Crystal clear turquoise water. Dolphins swimming alongside the boat. People snorkeling through schools of tropical fish around a jaw-dropping historical fort. Warm sun. Perfect weather.
Every video, every blog post, every Instagram reel showed the same thing: paradise.
70 miles off the coast of Key West. Only accessible by boat or seaplane. Remote. Beautiful. Magical.
National Park #50 on our list. The one we'd been saving for the perfect time.
What Actually Happened
It was 60 degrees and windy. Not the 80-degree paradise from the videos.
We watched maybe three people actually get in the water to snorkel. Three. Out of 300+ passengers.
Those Instagram videos of people snorkeling with sea turtles? Either they froze doing it, or they didn't go in January like we did.
We left at 5:45 AM, got back at 8 PM, cost us over $1,000 for our family of four, and took us 2 days to recover.
And it was absolutely nothing like what we'd seen online for ten years.
The Thought That Kept Running Through My Head
"We're doing this wrong."
Everyone else made it look so easy. So magical. So perfect.
But we were miserable.
It felt like we'd failed. Like somehow we'd picked the wrong time, made the wrong choice, didn't plan well enough.
Because if this was such a magical place, why weren't we having a magical time?
And then I realized something.
What Nobody Shows You Online
The videos you watch? Those are the best version.
The perfect weather day. The calm seas. The one moment the dolphins showed up. The 10 seconds of snorkeling footage edited from 3 hours of floating around.
That couple who made it look effortless? They probably went in July. Or went on a seaplane and only showed aerial shots. Or got lucky with weather.
Puffer Jacketting Dry Tortugas 😆
Your experience won't look like the highlight reel. It's going to look like your version of it.
And here's what took me years to understand:
That's not a problem. That's the actual journey.
A Journey Without Struggle Isn't a Journey At All
We made it to Dry Tortugas.
It was hard. It was cold. It was rough. It wasn't what we expected.
And it was still incredible.
The fort was stunning. The remoteness was real. The history was fascinating. The fact that we were 70 miles off the coast in the middle of the ocean was surreal.
Hensley threw up, but she also explored the fort with us. She helped gather some of the largest conch shells I've seen in my life while walking the beach. She experienced something most people never will.
Marissa felt terrible on the boat, but she was right there with us, soaking in a place we'd talked about for a decade.
The struggle wasn't a deviation from the journey.
The struggle WAS the journey.
If it had been perfect (calm seas, 80 degrees, dolphins on cue) it would've been nice. But it wouldn't have been real.
We would've come home with pretty photos and no story.
Instead, we came home with something better: a real experience. One that tested us. One that didn't match the highlight reel. One that reminded us why we do this in the first place.
Not for the perfect Instagram moment.
For the journey. Messy, hard, imperfect, real.
What This Means For Any Destination You're Dreaming About
Whether it's Dry Tortugas, Glacier National Park, Alaska, or just that campground you've been wanting to visit:
What you see online is the outlier, not the standard.
When you finally make it to that place you've been dreaming about, your version is going to be different.
It might be colder. Or hotter. Or rainier. Or more crowded. Or more expensive. Or harder to get to.
You might feel sick. Or exhausted. Or frustrated.
Your kids might complain. Your spouse might want to leave early. You might wonder if it was worth it.
And all of that is okay.
Because you're not trying to recreate someone else's highlight reel.
You're creating your own journey.
A real journey? That's the one where something goes wrong. Where it's harder than you expected. Where you question if you're doing it right.
That's the one you'll remember.
That's the one that changes you.
The Five Things I Learned Spending $1,000 to Watch Hensley Throw Up
1. What you see online is the best version — your version will be different, and that's okay. Nobody's posting the rough boat ride or the cold weather day. They're posting the one perfect moment. Your experience won't match that, and it's not supposed to.
2. If it was easy, everyone would do it. Only 1% of RVers make it to Dry Tortugas for a reason. It's hard. It's expensive. It's challenging. That's what makes it worth doing.
3. The struggle IS the journey. If everything went perfectly, you'd have a nice photo and no story. The hard parts aren't deviations from the journey — they ARE the journey.
4. You don't fail by having a different experience than what you saw online. You fail by not going at all because you're waiting for the perfect version that doesn't exist.
5. The memories aren't made in the perfect moments. They're made in the moments where something went wrong, where you pushed through anyway, where your family was right there with you figuring it out together.
Would we go back to Dry Tortugas? Absolutely.
Would we do it differently? Probably. We'd consider the seaplane. We'd check the weather. We'd plan for cold.
But would we change the experience we had? No.
Because that's the one we'll remember.
Not the Instagram version. Not the highlight reel. The real one. Struggle and all.
Because after all, it's all part of the journey :)
Until next time, see you down the road!
— Nathan
P.S. If you're looking for a way to take an epic journey AND make friends along the way, we're co-hosting a group cruise with our friends @findingoursomeday leaving from Rome October 18–25, 2026, exploring Italy and Greece together. 7 nights, 8 days.
Ocean balcony rooms
Built-in excursions
Smaller group (part of the Sail Away Reserve Collection), which means limited spots.
The moment we decided to live in an RV, I thought the hardest part was going to be the purge. We were living in 2,000 square feet and moving into a 400-square-foot fifth wheel. That gap meant selling, donating, or throwing away nearly everything we owned: furniture, tools, clothes, kitchen gadgets, boxes of stuff we hadn't opened since the last move. It was painful and exhausting. Marissa after our latest downsize There were moments where Marissa and I looked at each other and genuinely...
This week marks 15 years since Marissa's dad, Stan, passed away from cancer at 52 years old. He worked hard his whole life. Raised seven kids. Held multiple jobs, everything from preaching to driving a bus. Did everything right. He had plans for retirement, that magical "someday" when he'd finally relax, travel, spend time with his grandkids. He never made it. Stan passed away before he could meet Hensley or Judah. Before he could take that dream trip. Before his someday ever came. His death...
I received an email from Christina this week that I hear all the time: "We're retiring in April and plan to purchase our RV just before we hit the road. We've looked at several models and like fifth wheels, but prices are over $100,000. How do you go about selecting the right RV? Should we travel to neighboring states to see what dealers have on their lots?" Here's what makes this question so stressful: you're not talking about a $100 mistake. You're talking about potentially tens of...