Traveling with a toddler has taught us that trips rarely go exactly as planned. Sometimes that means discovering hidden gems, and other times it means accidentally ending up in the wrong border crossing lane with no cell service while trying to navigate international travel. Over the course of two weeks, we somehow managed to do both.
Memorial Day Weekend: Ensenada, Mexico
Over Memorial Day weekend, I finally convinced Grant that we should take Ripley to Ensenada. My entire sales pitch centered around one thing: I really wanted to visit Pai Pai Ecotourism Park.
Ensenada has long been one of the easiest international escapes for Southern Californians. Located about 80 miles south of San Diego, the city has historically been known for its port, cruise tourism, seafood, and growing wine region. For us, however, this trip was less about wine country and more about finding activities that a two-year-old would enjoy.
We woke up early, packed the car, and headed south. Ripley was in a great mood, Grant was optimistic, and crossing the border ended up being surprisingly easy. We had directions loaded on our phones and figured we were prepared.
Then Mexico reminded us who was actually in charge.
Our cell service stopped working.
Pai Pai Ecotourism Park sits outside Ensenada and markets itself as an interactive wildlife experience focused on education, conservation, and close animal encounters. The park houses everything from exotic birds and reptiles to large cats, primates, and kangaroos. Upon arriving, however, we learned that everyone is required to participate in a guided tour before exploring independently.
I am going to be honest—I thought this part was unnecessary.
The park itself is not particularly large, so requiring a guided tour felt more like a revenue-generating strategy than a necessity. Once we finished the tour portion, though, we were finally able to wander around on our own and actually enjoy the experience.
The animal encounters ranged from affordable to absolutely wild. Some families were paying nearly $300 USD for experiences with baby jaguars and lions. We decided to keep things simple, purchased the cheaper admission package, and spent extra money for the kangaroo encounter instead. That ended up being the right call because Ripley loved it.
After Pai Pai, we decided to head toward La Bufadora.
For anyone unfamiliar, La Bufadora is one of the world’s largest marine blowholes. Located south of Ensenada on the Punta Banda Peninsula, it was formed when ocean waves carved out sea caves beneath the cliffs. As waves crash into the cave system, compressed air forces water upward through the opening, creating massive sprays that can reach over sixty feet in height. It has become one of Baja California’s most recognizable tourist attractions.
Finding it without reliable internet, however, was significantly less impressive.
Our navigation kept cutting out, we repeatedly questioned whether we were heading the right direction, and frustration levels between Grant and me steadily increased. Eventually, though, we made it.
Ripley absolutely loved watching the water explode into the air. We wandered through the vendor stalls, watched the waves crash, and tried not to think too much about how much easier this entire trip would have been if our phones worked.
The real adventure started when it was time to head home.
Internet briefly returned just long enough for me to navigate toward the border crossing. Unfortunately, instead of directing us toward the SENTRI lanes, it led us toward pedestrian crossing traffic. Not ideal. We eventually realized our mistake, drove from the San Ysidro area over to Otay Mesa, found the SENTRI entrance, and crossed back into the United States without any problems.
Looking back, it was a genuinely fun trip. Stressful at moments, absolutely. But traveling with toddlers seems to always exist somewhere between chaos and great memories.
Two Weeks Later: North Carolina
Two weeks later, we traded Baja California for North Carolina.
We flew from San Diego to Raleigh knowing surprisingly little about the area. Every time I researched activities beforehand, the recommendations felt generic and uninspiring. Eventually, we decided the trip would simply unfold organically.
That strategy worked. Sort of.
Our first impression of Raleigh was not particularly strong. We tried to take a photo at the airport, and a security guard set off an alarm to try to get us to move. The rental car experience immediately felt like a sales pitch disguised as customer service, and after repeatedly declining upgrades and add-ons, we finally escaped and headed toward dinner.
Our first stop was The Pit BBQ.
The Pit has become one of Raleigh’s better-known barbecue destinations and helped popularize traditional whole-hog barbecue for visitors unfamiliar with North Carolina barbecue culture. In North Carolina, barbecue is serious business, with long-running debates about sauces, cooking styles, and regional traditions.
The restaurant quoted us a forty-five-minute wait.
So naturally, we left.
Nearby, we discovered a Pride event taking place downtown. One thing we noticed throughout the weekend was that North Carolina really seemed to embrace Pride celebrations. We repeatedly stumbled into events throughout the trip, though most were fairly small community gatherings.
After about fifteen minutes, I checked reservations online and somehow found immediate availability. We walked back in. “Actually, we’ll take a table now.” The barbecue itself was good—not life changing—but the sides absolutely carried the meal.
Afterward, we headed back to a grocery store, where Ripely shopped for himself. Then to the hotel where Ripley eventually fell asleep after an hour of Scooby-Doo and snuggles.
The next morning, Ripley and I slept in while Grant spent time relaxing in the hotel room. I grabbed donuts for Ripley and myself, while Grant wanted actual breakfast food. After abandoning one barbecue restaurant because the line barely moved, we pivoted to an easier option.
At this point, we realized Raleigh itself was not really doing it for us.
So we turned the day into a road trip.
Our first stop was Vollis Simpson Whirligig Park in Wilson, North Carolina. The park preserves the massive kinetic sculptures created by farmer and folk artist Vollis Simpson, whose whimsical creations became nationally recognized pieces of American folk art.
We wandered through the park laughing at the enormous moving sculptures before stopping inside the museum. The museum employee proudly explained that nearly eight million dollars had been spent preserving and rebuilding the collection.
We were shocked. Eight million dollars seemed like an enormous amount of money for what we were looking at, although it was still a fun and quirky stop.
Eventually, we reached Carolina Beach. Carolina Beach has been a vacation destination for generations, growing significantly after World War II as tourism along the North Carolina coast expanded. Its boardwalk remains one of the town’s defining features and gives the area a classic beach-town atmosphere.
Grant immediately commented that it reminded him of Port Aransas, Texas.
The boardwalk was lively, concerts were happening nearby, and the entire area had a fun energy that we had been missing. The highlight of Carolina Beach, however, was Britt’s Donut Shop. Operating since 1939, Britt’s has become nearly mandatory for visitors. The donuts came out hot, fresh, and somehow tasted like a cross between a donut and a beignet.
They may have been the best donuts I have ever had.
Ripley initially remained cautious around the water after getting knocked over by waves in San Diego earlier in the year. Eventually, though, curiosity won out and he returned to splashing around happily.
For dinner, we drove into Wilmington, a city Grant already loved because of its long history with television and film production. Nicknamed “Hollywood East,” Wilmington has hosted productions ranging from Dawson’s Creek and One Tree Hill to numerous movies and television series.
We ate dinner at Rooster and Crow, which ended up being one of our favorite stops of the trip. The arcade-bar-restaurant combination gave Ripley room to run around while we enjoyed dinner. We met friendly locals with a five-month-old child who played games alongside Ripley while we ate fantastic shrimp and grits.
Unfortunately, we had made the decision to keep our hotel in Raleigh. That late-night drive back felt much longer than expected.
The following morning, we explored Raleigh a bit more, walking around the Capitol area and downtown. The city itself felt pleasant enough. Quaint. But not particularly memorable. It somehow made Sacramento feel exciting.
Grant’s cousin Kirsten drove from Fayetteville to meet us for breakfast. It was my first time meeting her, Ripley’s first time meeting her, and Grant had not seen her in years.
We chose Big Ed’s City Market. I would not recommend it. The portions were huge, but the quality simply was not there. Thankfully, the conversation was much better than breakfast.
From there, we headed to Durham and finally visited Duke University.
I had always wanted to see Duke’s campus. Founded in 1838 and later transformed through the wealth of the Duke family tobacco empire, the university is known nationally for its academics and stunning Gothic architecture. Security guards were redirecting visitors away from the chapel entrance, but I found a service entrance route instead. Grant stayed behind while Ripley and I explored.
The campus was beautiful.
But after walking around, we concluded that Ripley cannot attend because it is too far away and, frankly, we were not excited enough about the surrounding area to relocate there—even if Duke and Luke would make a funny pairing.
Durham itself never quite clicked for us. For a college town, it felt much smaller and quieter than we expected. We repeatedly struck out on attractions we wanted to visit and eventually accepted that maybe the city just was not our style.
Because we were running short on time, we skipped the water park and headed instead to Falls Lake State Recreation Area. The lake exists primarily for flood control, recreation, and water supply purposes, but our immediate impression was much simpler: The water was brown. Very brown.
Grant and Ripley had an amazing time splashing around while I spent much of the visit worrying after discovering a tick attached to me and immediately spiraling into concerns about Lyme disease.
Eventually we cleaned up, made it to the airport, and boarded our flight home. The flight itself was uneventful except for one important detail. Ripley refused to poop the entire trip home. He did, however, produce absolutely horrific farts for several consecutive hours.
Which feels like the most accurate possible ending to traveling with a toddler. Because family travel is rarely perfect.
And somehow, that is what makes it memorable.
