Monday, June 23 – Northbound and Blasting Tunes!

OK, Monday kicked off strong—we hit the road early (again! Who even is this organized version of me??), heading north into the land of pine trees and peaceful roads. With less construction than Sunday, the drive was way more chill. The scenery definitely helped too—there’s something absolutely magical about Northern Wisconsin once you leave the chaos of the Dells behind. The trees get taller, the skies get wider, and suddenly you’re breathing deeper without even realizing it.

Bonus: Monday traffic was light, so we basically glided into Minnesota with the windows down and the radio up. Speaking of loud music—OK, confession time. Most people think I’m a “blast the speakers” kind of driver. But the truth? It always starts with one great song. I crank it up just a little. Then another banger comes on. The volume creeps up again. Before I know it, I’ve hit max volume and the radio literally tells me “no.” That’s it. That’s the whole science behind my rolling concert halls.

Minnesota greeted us with blue skies and, honestly, some of the best rest stops you’ll ever see. Wisconsin and Minnesota are neck and neck in the rest area game. Clean bathrooms (bless), short nature trails, dog-friendly paths, picnic spots—rest stops done right, folks.

We finally landed in Grand Marais, which, in my totally unbiased opinion, is one of the greatest places on Earth. First stop? A walk out on Artist’s Point, where the lake air hits just right and everyone’s in a good mood. We chatted with a few friendly strangers (as one does in Grand Marais), then headed to The Fisherman’s Daughter for dinner. If you’re into fish and chips or smoked trout and cheese (and if you’re not, are you okay?), you’d be in absolute heaven.

Finally, we rolled up to our cabin in Hovland, nestled sweetly right on Chicago Bay. It’s got everything: epic views, cozy vibes, a fire pit, and all the creature comforts—just scaled down to a simpler, quieter life.

Kenobi and I inhaled dinner like champs, curled up, and passed out faster than you can say “road trip recovery.” Cross-country driving is no joke—but man, is it worth it.