Several years ago a buddy and I set out on a spur-of-the-moment, back-roads-only road trip to the land of the Delta blues and almost by accident stumbled on a recently renovated campground we had yet to discover. Out on Arkansas Highway 44, just past the sleepy town of Marianna (Lee County), Mississippi River State Park sits totally content all by itself, just begging newcomers to drive down the gorgeous one-lane road into the campground.

We explored around a bit and vowed to come back as soon as possible with our families, and a few weeks later we did exactly that. Pulling into the park, it’s the diminutive size that catches your eye first. With only 31 RV sites, it feels almost like private property, which is amazing. We snagged the last two sites on the loop and settled in for a long weekend.

The ladies spent the afternoon casually strolling the campground loop and chatting with other campers, while my buddy and I threw a couple of kayaks into Bear Creek Lake and paddled out to see if we could find a few largemouths that were up for a friendly fight (there were plenty).

The kids took off immediately and we hardly saw them all weekend. They caught toads and fireflies, picked flowers and generally acted like they had never really seen the outdoors before.

The big winner that weekend was the $20 set of walkie-talkies someone thought to grab on a whim at Academy Sports and Outdoors the day before. We taught the kids a bit of radio lingo and they were off to conquer the world. The best part was that we kept a third radio at the campground and listened in on all their secret plans to scare us. They couldn’t believe it when we successfully carried out a preemptive retaliatory scare of our own.

At night, especially in the fall when you can let the crisp fresh air come in through the mesh windows on your tent, the critters sing you gently to sleep. You are unlikely to hear a single car drive down Highway 44 in the distance.

During a free morning at the campground while chatting about lunch plans, someone mentioned Jones Bar-B-Q Diner in Marianna and a plan was set in motion. We slowly rounded up the troops and rolled into town for one of the best white bread pulled pork barbecue sandwiches this world has to offer. Mr. Jones even has a forgotten James Beard Award hanging cock-eyed on the wall to remind you he’s legit.

Back at camp, we napped off the barbecue coma until the kids woke us up begging for a ride in the back of the pickup truck, which has since become a fun camping tradition of ours. So we loaded up the crew in the back, pulled onto a long dirt road, rolled down the windows, cranked up some J.J. Grey and Mofro, and slowly cruised through the St. Francis National Forest. Nowhere to go, nothing to do, just driving. It’s something we all used to love but rarely get to experience these days.

We drove and laughed and stopped and explored all afternoon, eventually checking out an unnamed trail weaving its way through the forest. There, we found discarded hiking sticks and animal skulls and all the fun oddball stuff you find in the woods. We even kept an eye out for the elusive (and seemingly nonexistent) ivory-billed woodpecker.

As the sun began to set, we drove slowly back to camp, this time with Bruce Hornsby on the speakers, joyfully singing about pastures a-plenty. We stoked the fire back to life and sat there as free as pioneers on the way to a new land until it was time to nod off to sleep, dreaming about the next adventure.

That’s what camping is all about, for me, anyway. It’s about dreaming. It’s about getting back to your roots, returning to your youth, finding freedom. Being a kid again.

The adventure we shared was eight years ago already and it started a big adventure for our family that we are still steadily pursuing. Since then, we have found new places, and exploring them together is as specific as the mission gets. We’ve only just begun.

Is it easy all the time? Nope, but it’s always worth it. I encourage you to find the time and make it happen.