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Written and photographed by Jeffrey Brundage

Pre-production planning, in my line of work, is where the magic happens. Shooting photos and videos for a living, I rely on it to have a successful shoot. 

I treated this trip like that. I had all my ducks in a row to fly out to Minnesota to pick up a beautiful 10-foot mobile barrel sauna for a side gig rental business. The plan was to buy a truck out there to tow the sauna across five states back home to San Luis Obispo, California. Along the way, I would network with other sauna business owners and take the long way home through Montana, Washington, and my hometown of Bend, Oregon. Once I got home, I’d flip the truck to pay for the trip. 

I had the ruby-red Toyota Tundra picked out, the photo and camping gear packed, and all of my meet-up points planned along the way. Ahead of me were 10 days and 3,200 miles of hand surfing out the window. Now, you’d think that with the weeks of intentional planning, coordination, and saving, this would demand a flawless, on-budget trip. This was far from the reality I found myself in. 

The old pickup truck I purchased had some issues that were a humbling distance away from my capabilities. I wrenched on the truck day in and day out, trying my best to fix it. After three days, I had risen from the concrete floor of a garage and decided to pass it off to a local shop and pay the hefty $2,500 fee to get the truck into a sauna-hauling, road-ready condition.

This led me to my first lesson of the trip: preparation matters, but flexibility matters more. Although I had the truck all picked out in advance, I would have never been able to anticipate all the issues it would come with. The planning only gets you to the starting line; flexibility is what gets you home. And don’t be shy about asking for help when you need it. 

At this point, I’m 5 days behind schedule. The long way is no longer, and my plans are derailed, but hey, I’m on the road. South Dakota through Wyoming was an analysis of every bump, smell, and sound coming from my 23-year-old vehicle, accompanied by a slight smile every time I looked in the rear view mirror at my new sauna. It was long hours and flat straight miles - a plethora of local radio stations passing through the speakers like songs and conversations, trying their best to just hang on. 

Day 7 out of 10, Utah was on the horizon, my third-favorite state. Transparently, this was the first bit of excitement I had felt since the trip began. My good friend, Alex, flew in to join me for the rest of my journey and provided the morale boost that I needed greatly.

We found ourselves hammocking through national parks searching for petroglyphs, singing Waylon Jennings, and stopping creek sides for sauna sessions. It felt like we were the main characters of our own buddy film. 

This led me to my next lesson: morale is a real piece of equipment. When Alex showed up, that’s when this trip stopped feeling like a problem to solve and started feeling like an experience to live. Same truck, same road, same miles, but now with a new perspective. 

Somewhere along the way, we strung up the hammocks between two trees with no real agenda other than to rest for a minute, or hour, or three. When you’re moving fast, everything blurs together: gas stations, highways, exits, and turnouts. But lying in a hammock forced me to look up for a while. I noticed the way the wind moved through the branches, the quiet hum of history on the walls, and how far we’d actually come since that first day.

Later, sitting in our Lounger DL Chairs in the middle of a flower field, we didn’t say much. We just watched the sun drop and the dust settle. It reminded me that progress isn’t always measured in miles but more of moments where you give yourself permission to take a beat.

I finished the trip with one final lesson: slow down long enough to notice and appreciate where you are and how far you’ve come. 

Author Bio

Jeffrey is a photographer and filmmaker based on California’s Central Coast, and road trips are a big part of both his work and life. He spends a lot of time documenting outdoor adventures, so the journey to bring home a mobile sauna felt like just another story waiting to unfold.

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