Travel Gear We Actually Use

This little sound machine has saved more hotel-room naps than we can count. It clips onto the stroller or travel crib, runs all night on one USB charge, and drowns out hallway noise so everyone actually sleeps on vacation.

When Evan and Olivia were babies and toddlers — think our early trips around 2013 to 2016 — a strange hotel room at bedtime could unravel a whole good day. We'd clip this to the pack-n-play and the steady hush covered the ice machine, the hallway doors, and the couple next door. It's the single biggest reason our little ones slept in a dozen different beds without a fight, and honestly we still toss it in the bag.

At just over nine pounds, this is the car seat we grab when a trip involves rental cars or rideshares. It's FAA-approved for the plane, installs quickly, and fits three-across in the back of almost anything we've rented.

Once we started flying to our trips and renting a car on the other end — Alaska in 2014, the Pacific Northwest in 2017 — we needed a seat light enough to carry through an airport on top of everything else we were already hauling. This one weighs almost nothing, went in and out of rental cars in minutes, and kept first Evan and then Olivia safe from the toddler years all the way up.

Volume-limited to 85dB so little ears stay protected through a whole movie marathon at 35,000 feet. They work over Bluetooth or with a cord for seat-back screens, and the battery has outlasted every long-haul flight we've thrown at them.

We bought our first pair when the kids were in early elementary and screen time on a plane went from luxury to survival tool. The volume cap was the whole point — little ears shouldn't take a five-hour flight at full blast — and these have stayed in the carry-on right into the teen years, when Evan and Olivia now argue over who gets the good pair.

Our favorite cheap-and-cheerful travel stroller: light enough to gate-check without a second thought, with a real recline for airport naps and a snack tray that earns its keep on long layovers.

This was our airport workhorse from about 2013 to 2017, back when Olivia would crash into a nap the second we stopped walking. It folded one-handed at the gate and was cheap enough that we never winced when it came off the jet bridge looking abused. It carried a tired toddler and a mountain of snacks through more terminals than we can count.

The ultimate mess-free plane and car activity: fill the pen with water and the pages magically reveal color, then dry out for endless reuse. We stash one in every backpack and it buys us a blissfully quiet stretch on takeoff and landing.

When the kids were preschool-aged, takeoff and landing were the danger zones — no screens allowed and a lot of wiggling. These reusable water-pens bought us fifteen quiet minutes at exactly the right moments, with zero mess and nothing to lose down the seat. A tiny thing that rescued a lot of flights around 2015 and 2016.

These spill-proof snack cups let little hands help themselves without redecorating the rental car in goldfish crackers. They fit standard cup holders and have survived years of our road trips, flights, and stroller rides.

In the baby-and-toddler years, roughly 2012 through 2016, a dumped cup of goldfish in a rental car was a genuine crisis. These let Evan and Olivia feed themselves in the back seat without redecorating the upholstery, and the lids fit the cup holders in every car we ever rented. Cheap, indestructible, and worth their weight in quiet.

Our answer to the dreaded hotel-room sleep shuffle: it inflates in about thirty seconds with the included pump, and the raised bumpers keep restless sleepers from rolling out. It packs down small enough to bring on almost any trip.

Hotels and rentals rarely had a safe spot for a toddler to sleep, so from about 2014 to 2017 this inflated in thirty seconds and became Olivia's bed everywhere from a Blue Ridge cabin to a condo out west. The raised edges kept a rolling sleeper up off the floor, and it packed down small enough to fly with — which is exactly what a family bouncing between beds needs.

The pack that turns nap-prone toddlers into trail companions. A folding frame that packs flat for road trips, a built-in UPF 50 sunshade, and enough torso adjustment that mom and dad can trade carrying duty mid-hike.

When Olivia was little — she was three on our big 2017 Pacific Northwest summer and good for maybe half of any given hike — a carrier like this is how she still summited with us. One of us wore her, the sunshade kept the alpine glare off, and we could hand her off mid-trail when arms gave out. It's the reason nobody ever got left behind at the trailhead.

Our do-everything family daypack: 22 liters swallows snacks, layers, and everyone's 'can you carry this?' requests, while the adjustable harness and hipbelt keep it comfortable from trailhead to summit.

This is the one bag that's been on nearly every hike we've taken, from Georgia waterfalls to the trails around Mt. Rainier. Twenty-two liters is the family sweet spot — water, layers, the first-aid kit, and all the 'can you carry this?' handoffs — and it rides comfortably enough that whoever's wearing it stops noticing it's there.

Under two ounces of peace of mind. Toss one in each pack and any stream becomes a backup water source — kids think drinking straight from a creek is the coolest part of the hike.

We tuck one in each pack as a just-in-case on longer hikes, especially out west where a planned water source can turn out bone dry. The kids, meanwhile, are convinced that drinking straight out of a mountain creek is the single coolest thing we've ever let them do — which makes it a surprisingly easy way to keep tired legs moving.

Sturdy aircraft-grade aluminum poles with comfy cork grips that adjust small enough for big kids and tall enough for grown-ups. Perfect for steep descents and creek crossings with little ones in tow.

Steep descents and rock-hopping creek crossings are where these earn their keep, and as Evan and Olivia grew from little kids into teenagers they went from being 'Dad's poles' to their own. They collapse down small enough to strap onto the daypack the moment the trail flattens out and nobody needs them anymore.

A waterproof first-aid kit built for exactly the scrapes, blisters, and bee stings a family day hike produces. Light enough that you'll never talk yourself out of packing it.

A family day hike reliably produces a skinned knee, a blister, or a bee sting — usually all three before lunch. This waterproof kit is light enough that we never leave it behind, and it's turned a handful of trailside meltdowns, from the Blue Ridge to the Cascades, into a two-minute patch job and back to walking.

The 'sunset ran long' insurance policy. 400 lumens, waterproof, with a red night-vision mode that won't wake a sleeping kid in the backseat — one for every hiker in the family.

Every so often a hike runs longer than the daylight does, and this is the insurance policy for exactly that walk back to the car. The red night-vision mode is the sneaky-good feature: we can check on a kid who's fallen asleep in the back of the van without blasting everyone awake. We keep one per person so nobody's caught out.

Kids drink way more water when it comes through a tube on their own back. Sized for roughly ages 3-12, with a safety whistle, reflective strips, and a leak-proof valve small hands can actually work.

Through the elementary-school years — roughly when the kids were five to eleven — getting them to drink enough water on a hot national-park hike was a constant battle, until the water came through a tube on their own back. Suddenly they were 'in charge' of their own pack, and the built-in whistle and reflective strips gave us peace of mind on busy trails.

Nine pockets per seat, a clear touch-screen tablet sleeve, and a kick mat that saves your upholstery from restless little feet. Snacks, crayons, headphones, and the movie all stay within arm's reach of the back row.

Our road trips run long — one summer out west topped 4,900 miles — and this is what keeps the back seat civilized. The clear sleeve holds the movie at eye level, and every snack, headphone, and coloring book gets its own pocket, so 'I can't reach it' quietly stops being a thing somewhere around hour three.

All the multi-day ice retention of a premium rotomolded cooler at 30% less weight, which your back will thank you for at every rest stop. Big enough to feed a family from one state line to the next.

On a multi-day drive, eating out of a cooler instead of every drive-through saves money, time, and a lot of grumpy stomachs. This one holds ice for days without the back-breaking heft of the pricier rotomolded coolers, and it's fed our family of four from one state line to the next more road trips than we can count.

Press your phone in one-handed and the arms lock around it automatically, so the navigator stays focused on the road ahead. The telescoping arm puts turn-by-turn directions exactly where the driver needs them.

With one of us forever asking the other 'left or right?', having navigation locked at eye level keeps the driver's eyes on the road instead of a phone in a cup holder. You press it in one-handed and the arms grab on — no fumbling at a stoplight — which matters a lot on the unfamiliar mountain roads our trips always seem to find.

Plugs into the 12V outlet, tops off a low tire in about a minute, and shuts itself off at the pressure you set. The kind of glovebox insurance that turns a roadside scare into a five-minute pit stop.

We've had a slow leak show up in the middle of nowhere more than once, hours from the nearest station with a car full of kids. This lives in the glovebox, plugs into the 12V outlet, and airs a tire back up in about a minute — turning what could have been a stranded afternoon into a quick, uneventful pit stop.

A leak-proof, lidded bin that hangs off a headrest and swallows every wrapper, juice box, and apple core the back seat produces. Side pockets hold wipes and hand sanitizer right where the mess happens.

Four people eating in a car for days generates a startling amount of garbage, and this lidded bin contains all of it instead of letting wrappers migrate under the seats. The side pockets hold the wipes and hand sanitizer — which, in the snack-heavy little-kid years especially, got reached for about every twenty minutes.

Static-cling mesh shades that block glare and UV so afternoon sun never wakes a napping kid mid-drive. They go on in seconds, stay put, and stash flat in the seat pocket when the clouds roll in.

In the baby-and-toddler years, around 2013 to 2016, the afternoon sun swinging into Olivia's window would end a nap and, with it, everyone's good mood. These cling-on shades went up in seconds, cut the glare and the UV, and bought us the long, quiet drives that only ever work if the little one actually stays asleep.

Three ports and 67 watts from one 12V socket means phones, tablets, and headphones all charge at once, and the are-we-there-yet movie never dies at 40%. Comes with a USB-C cable so you are road-ready out of the box.

These days the back seat runs entirely on batteries — two teenagers' phones, a tablet, a pair of headphones — and one weak car charger simply can't keep up. Three fast ports from a single socket mean nothing dies at 40% halfway through the drive, and the movie reliably survives all the way to the destination.

The heart of any family campervan setup: a 1070Wh power station that quietly keeps the fridge, laptops, and kids' devices running for days off-grid. It recharges in about an hour at home or tops up from solar while you hike.

When we started renting campervans for our western trips around 2019 — after years of eyeing them at the end of hotel-heavy summers — a power station like this became the heart of camp. It quietly runs the fridge, charges everyone's devices, and keeps a fan going overnight, all off-grid, then tops back up from the van or a solar panel while we're out on a hike.

Nobody sleeps well in a tilted van. These interlocking blocks stack like giant LEGO bricks under your tires so the whole family rests level, and they nest into their own zippered bag when it's time to roll.

Campsites are never as flat as they look, and nobody in a family of four sleeps well when the whole van is tilted. These stack like giant LEGO bricks under the tires until everything sits level, and they snap into their own bag so they're not sliding around the cabin at every turn in the road.

A real compressor fridge that runs off your van's 12V power, so string cheese stays cold and popsicles stay frozen without a single bag of ice. The budget-friendly workhorse van families rave about for keeping road snacks fresh.

A real 12V fridge changed van trips for us — string cheese and yogurt for the kids, cold drinks for the grown-ups, and popsicles that actually stay frozen, all without hunting down a bag of ice every single day. On a week away from the nearest store, that's the whole difference between real food and gas-station food.

Drop the pump into any bucket of water and this little rechargeable shower delivers a steady, gentle stream — perfect for rinsing sandy kids, muddy boots, or the dog before everyone piles back into the van. One USB charge lasts for days of quick rinses.

Between sandy kids, muddy hiking boots, and the general grime of van life, a quick rinse before piling back inside keeps everyone civil. Drop the pump into a jug of sun-warmed water and it delivers a real shower's worth of pressure — we've used it at trailheads and lakeshores all over the west when the campground facilities were a long walk away.

A full family kitchen's worth of pots and pans that nests into less than half a cubic foot, which is why van and boat cooks swear by it. Removable handles mean real dinners, not just instant noodles, in a tiny galley.

A tiny van galley punishes bulky gear, and this whole nesting set collapses down into less than half a cubic foot. That's exactly what let us cook actual dinners on the road — not just another night of instant noodles — even with a full family's worth of pots and pans crammed into a single drawer.

In a van, every drawer is prime real estate, and these durable mesh-window cubes give each family member their own tidy slice of it. Clothes stay sorted and findable, so nobody dumps the whole cabinet hunting for a swimsuit.

In a van, every drawer is prime real estate and a rummaged-through cabinet is instant chaos. Giving Evan and Olivia each their own cube means clothes stay sorted and findable, and nobody empties an entire shelf hunting for one swimsuit ten minutes before we're trying to leave for the trailhead.

Our pick for a first family basecamp: pre-attached poles mean it's up in about five minutes, and the near-vertical walls fit two queen air beds so nobody wakes up squished against a sidewall.

This was our on-ramp to family tent camping — up in about five minutes even with kids 'helping,' and roomy enough for the four of us plus the pile of gear that always migrates inside by nightfall. The near-vertical walls mean grown-ups can actually stand up to get dressed, which your back appreciates by the second morning.

The budget-friendly bag we'd buy in multiples for the whole crew — roomy, machine washable, and the snag-free zipper spares you the 10 p.m. tent-wrestling match with a stuck kid.

We buy these in multiples because they're warm enough for a genuinely cold mountain night, cheap enough to replace, and — crucially — machine washable after a kid climbs in with campfire-and-marshmallow hands. The snag-free zipper has saved us from the 10 p.m. tent-wrestling match with a stuck bag more than once.

Two inches of self-inflating foam that turns a lumpy tent floor into a real bed — unroll it, open the valve, and it does most of the work while you get the campfire going.

The difference between a miserable night on tent-floor rocks and actual sleep is a couple of inches of foam, which is all it takes to keep the whole family camping happily instead of counting the hours till sunrise. This one self-inflates while we set up the rest of camp, and it's comfortable enough that even the adults stopped dreading the second night.

Bright enough to light the whole picnic table for late-night card games, and it doubles as a power bank for dying phones — with a hand crank backup for when everyone forgot to charge it.

It lights the whole picnic table for the after-dark card games and s'mores that the kids now count as the best part of any camping trip. Doubling as a power bank for a dying phone — with a hand crank for the night we all forgot to charge everything — means one less thing to worry about once the sun goes down.

The pancakes-and-bacon workhorse that's been on half the campground tables in America for good reason: two burners, wind shields, and zero fuss. Just don't forget the lighter.

Camp pancakes and bacon are a non-negotiable family tradition, and this two-burner classic has cooked them at campgrounds across the country. It's simple, it shrugs off a morning breeze, and it just works trip after trip — the only way to ruin the ritual is to forget the lighter, which we've done exactly once.

A roomy, padded camp chair with a sneaky-great feature: a built-in cooler pouch in the armrest that keeps four cold drinks within arm's reach while the marshmallows toast.

Everybody needs a seat around the fire, and the built-in cooler pouch in the armrest keeps a few cold drinks within reach so nobody's up and down all evening. Roomy and padded, it's just as at home parked in the sand at a lake day as it is at the campsite while the marshmallows toast.

Telescoping stainless steel s'more skewers that keep little hands a safe 32 inches from the flames — and the two-prong tips mean fewer marshmallows sacrificed to the fire gods.

In this family, Evan genuinely believes a hard day of hiking must end in s'mores, and honestly we've stopped arguing. These telescoping skewers keep little — and not-so-little — hands a safe distance from the flames, and the long reach means fewer marshmallows lost to the fire when the whole crew is crowded around one log.

The shade setup you see dotting every family-friendly beach for a reason: it packs down small, sets up in minutes with sand-filled anchor pockets instead of fussy poles, and casts a big patch of UPF 50+ shade for the whole crew.

Whether it's an actual beach or a rocky lake shore, a patch of shade is what lets us stay for the whole afternoon instead of retreating the moment the sun turns brutal. This one anchors with sand pockets instead of fighting poles in the wind, and it's held up on breezy days that flattened the umbrellas around us — worth every bit of space it takes in the trunk.

The roll-top dry bag we toss phones, wallets, and dry clothes into before anyone gets near a kayak, waterfall trail, or splashy shoreline. It doubles as a wet-swimsuit hauler for the ride home.

The Pacific Northwest handed us waterfall after waterfall, and this is where the phones, wallets, and a set of dry clothes ride whenever we're scrambling around the spray or climbing into a kayak. On the way home it flips jobs and becomes the wet-swimsuit bag that keeps the whole car from smelling like a locker room.

A parachute-nylon beach mat big enough for the whole family, with corner sand pockets and stakes so it stays put in a breeze. Sand shakes right off instead of hitching a ride back to the car, and it stuffs down to about the size of a water bottle.

Big enough for all four of us, it stakes down in a breeze and — the real magic — the sand shakes right off instead of coming home in the car with us. It stuffs down to about the size of a water bottle, so it lives permanently in the beach bag and nobody ever decides it's not worth bringing along.

Quick-dry water shoes with a wide toe box and grippy soles that let kids scramble over slick lake rocks and hot sand without a single 'my feet hurt' complaint. They slip on and off easily enough that kids manage it themselves.

Slick lake rocks and scalding midday sand are the two fastest ways to end a water day early, and these quietly solved both. The grippy soles let the kids scramble around waterfalls and shorelines with confidence, and they slip on and off easily enough that Evan and Olivia have always handled it themselves without a parent kneeling in the surf.

The cheap insurance policy of family water days: an IPX8 pouch that keeps your phone dry through cannonballs, waterfall mist, and kayak flips while still letting you shoot photos through the clear window. One lives in our beach bag year-round.

For the cost of almost nothing, this is the reason we still have photos from the splashiest parts of our trips. It's kept a phone dry through cannonballs, waterfall mist, and one memorable kayak flip, and you can still shoot pictures right through the clear window. One lives in the beach bag permanently and comes out any time water is involved.

A roomy mesh tote that swallows towels, snacks, sunscreen, and sand toys, then lets the sand sift right back out where it belongs. It dries fast, folds flat between trips, and the open weave means no mystery damp-towel smell in the trunk.

Towels, sunscreen, sand toys, and snacks all go into one open-weave bag that lets the sand sift right back out where it belongs instead of coming home with us. It dries fast and folds flat between trips, so there's never that mystery damp-towel smell waiting in the trunk a week later.

The fastest way to turn one big suitcase into a tidy dresser for the whole family. Each kiddo gets their own cube, and the set even includes a shoe bag and laundry bag so everything has a home from day one.

Living out of one big suitcase as a family only works if everyone's stuff stays separated, and giving each of us a color turned packing from a fight into a system. As Evan and Olivia hit the teen years, the biggest win is that they now pack their own cubes — and can actually find their own clothes in a shared bag without unpacking the whole thing.

When winter coats, hoodies, and that one stuffed animal that absolutely must come along threaten to burst the suitcase, these zip down and buy you precious inches. The second zipper squeezes bulky layers flat without any vacuum tricks.

Our western trips mean cold mornings even in July, so the puffy jackets and hoodies come along and eat suitcase space fast. The compression zipper squeezes all that bulk flat without any vacuum gadgets or an outlet — which is exactly how we've fit four people's cold-weather layers into a bag that still closed.

Hang it on the hotel bathroom door and suddenly everyone's toothbrushes, sunscreen, and hair ties are visible and off the counter. The swivel hook and clear pockets make morning routines with kids so much less chaotic.

A hotel bathroom counter disappears fast under four people's toothbrushes, sunscreen, and hair stuff. Hanging this on the door puts everything in view and up off the counter, which makes the morning scramble to get everyone out the door and onto the trail a whole lot calmer than it used to be.

The two-second check that saves you from the dreaded airport shuffle of moving souvenirs between bags at the counter. Hook it on, lift, and know exactly where every suitcase stands before you leave the hotel.

When you're flying to a trip, the last thing you want is the check-in-counter shuffle of moving souvenirs between bags to dodge an overweight fee in front of a long line. A two-second hook-and-lift back at the hotel tells us exactly where every suitcase stands, so there are no surprises when we hand them over.

One little pouch for every charger, cable, and pair of kid headphones, so nobody is digging through seat-back pockets at 30,000 feet. The elastic loops keep cords untangled from the first flight to the last hotel.

With two teenagers now, the family travels with a tangle of chargers, cables, and battery packs that used to live loose in the bottom of a backpack. Corralling all of it into one pouch means nobody's digging through seat-back pockets at 30,000 feet hunting for the one cable that actually matters.

It packs down to the size of a sandwich, then swallows a full week of beach-day and playground-worn clothes. Keeping the dirty stuff sealed away from the clean makes unpacking at home almost painless.

By day four of any trip, the clean-versus-dirty situation inside a shared suitcase gets grim. This packs down to sandwich size, then swallows a full week of beach-day and trail-worn clothes, and keeping the dirty stuff sealed off from the clean makes unpacking back home almost painless.

Drop one in every checked bag and watch your family's luggage travel across the map in the Find My app. That moment when your suitcase goes missing at baggage claim is a lot less scary when you know exactly where it is.

Now that we fly with checked bags more than we used to, dropping one of these in each suitcase means we can watch our luggage cross the map in the Find My app the whole way. The one time a bag doesn't come out at the carousel, knowing exactly where it actually is turns pure panic into a manageable problem — well worth it for the peace of mind alone.

The suitcase flight crews actually use, light enough that a tired parent can hoist it into the overhead bin one-handed. It expands when the souvenirs multiply and rolls smoothly enough for a kid to pull their own.

It's the bag flight crews actually use, and it's light enough that a wiped-out parent can still get it into the overhead one-handed at the end of a long travel day. It expands when the souvenirs multiply on the way home, and it rolls smoothly enough that even a kid can pull their own through the terminal — which is exactly what you want once they're old enough to help.

A dead tablet at hour two of a five-hour flight is a family emergency, and this palm-sized battery is the fix. It's TSA-friendly, weighs about half a pound, and keeps phones and tablets running through delays, layovers, and one more episode.

A tablet that dies at hour two of a long flight is a genuine family emergency, and this palm-sized battery is the fix that lives in the carry-on. It clears TSA without drama, weighs almost nothing, and keeps phones and tablets alive through delays, layovers, and the inevitable 'just one more episode' before landing.

The rare neck pillow that actually keeps your head from doing the dreaded forward flop, thanks to straps that clip to the airplane seat. When the kids finally doze off mid-flight, you deserve to sleep too.

On the long hauls — the flights to Hawaii and Alaska that bookended some of our biggest trips — this is the difference between arriving rested and arriving wrecked. The straps clip to the seat so your head doesn't do the awful forward flop, and once the kids finally doze off, a parent actually gets to close their eyes too.

Sturdy little combination locks that TSA can open with their master key instead of bolt cutters, with a pop-up indicator that tells you if your bag was inspected. One for each big suitcase and you can stop worrying about zippers wandering open.

One goes on each checked bag so the zippers can't wander open somewhere between the curb and the carousel, and because they're TSA-approved, an inspector opens them with a master key instead of cutting them off. The little pop-up indicator even tells us afterward whether a bag was opened along the way.

Clips onto the seat-back tray table and holds a phone at eye level, turning every seat into a tiny movie theater. Pocket-sized, no tools needed, and it buys parents a blissfully quiet stretch of flight.

This clips onto the seat-back tray and holds a phone at eye level, turning a cramped economy seat into a tiny private movie theater. It got us through the squirmy younger years and still earns its spot today — pocket-sized, no tools, set up in seconds, and good for a genuinely quiet stretch of any flight.