RV Resorts, Campgrounds & Boondocking: Know Your Options

After years on the road, we've slept in all of it — polished RV resorts with swim-up bars, campgrounds where the electric pedestal sparked when we plugged in, and wide-open desert flats where the nearest neighbor was a coyote. There is no single right answer. But there is a right answer for each trip, and knowing the difference between your options makes all the difference.

Here is our honest take on all three.

Resorts are the premium tier of RV camping, and when they're good, they're really good.

The amenities are the obvious draw — pools, hot tubs, restaurants, bars, camp stores, laundry facilities, and often a full slate of rentals: side-by-sides, kayaks, paddleboards, bikes. Good resorts are also strategically located near major attractions, which means less driving once you're parked.

When you pull into a well-run resort after a long travel day, there's something genuinely nice about knowing exactly what you're getting. The hookups work. The bathrooms are clean. There's a place to grab a drink without unhitching.

Cost is the obvious one — resorts run significantly more than a standard campground, and the price can climb fast during peak season or near popular destinations.

The bigger issue, honestly, is the neighbor lottery. Resort camping draws a wide mix — some of the most fun, down-to-earth people we've ever camped with we met at resorts. But the same setting also attracts folks who treat their rig like a status symbol and the campground like a competition. You'll know them when you meet them. The good news is the good ones usually outnumber them.

Space is also hit or miss. Some resorts give you a genuinely massive pad with room to breathe. Others cram rigs in shoulder-to-shoulder to maximize bookings. Read the reviews before you commit.

State parks, county parks, independents — campgrounds are the middle ground, and they cover an enormous range.

The wallet appreciates campgrounds. You can find genuinely excellent spots at a fraction of resort pricing, and state parks in particular often deliver stunning scenery with well-maintained facilities. Reservations are typically available, so you're not rolling the dice on availability.

Some of our favorite stops have been campgrounds we stumbled into that turned out to be absolute diamonds — great sites, friendly neighbors, beautiful surroundings. We typically stay 3–10 days at a destination, and a well-chosen campground can be the whole experience. The unexpected find is part of the fun.

The unknown is real. A campground can be modern, clean, and well-spaced — or it can be old, run-down, and packed so tight you're practically sharing a picnic table with the rig next door. You won't always know which one you're getting until you pull in.

Fellow campers are a wildcard too. Some campgrounds feel like a community. Others feel like a last resort (and not the fun kind). The spectrum runs wide.

Hookups are another gamble. Does the water pressure actually work? Is the electric pedestal going to trip your breaker at 2 AM? Dog parks and common areas, when they exist, are often neglected — both by the owners who don't maintain them and by the campers who don't clean up after themselves. Watch your step. Literally.

This is camping the way camping was meant to be — out in it, away from it all, on your own terms.

Freedom. That's the word. Freedom to park where you want, wake up where you want, let the dogs run without a leash law in sight. Whether it's a forest dispersed site, a desert flat, a lakefront pull-off, or a mountain meadow, boondocking puts you right there — not a manicured campground a few miles away from the actual thing.

It's also usually free, or close to it. BLM land, national forest dispersed camping, and similar options cost little to nothing. That adds up fast over a full season.

And there's something about the quiet. No generator hum from the next site. No resort DJ. Just whatever is actually out there — which, in our experience, is usually something worth waking up for.

Finding the spot is the hard part, especially with a big rig. Scouting a new boondocking location for a 40'+ fifth wheel is a completely different challenge than finding a campsite for a tent. Dead ends with no room to turn around, low-hanging branches, and unmaintained roads are real hazards. We've donated more than a few tires to rough forest roads over the years.

The scouting stress compounds after a long travel day — and it gets worse if you need to be logged in for work the next morning. The ebikes help enormously for scouting ahead of the rig, but even they require loading and unloading, which adds time and effort. (Any ebike will do the job, but Soul bikes look good doing it.)

Then there's the reality of being truly off-grid. Water, electric, food, and supplies are only what you brought. There's no store for a quick restock. If the truck or trailer breaks down on a rough forest road, you're handling it yourself — and rough forest roads have a way of finding your tires. Medical situations and safety are on you to manage. That's not a reason to avoid boondocking — it's just a reason to go in with eyes open.

There's no wrong choice here. Most of our trips end up mixing all three — a resort near a major attraction, a campground when we want hookups and a few days to settle in, a boondocking stretch when we want to disappear for a while.

The key is going in with realistic expectations. Know what you're paying for, know what you're giving up, and make the call that fits the trip. The road has room for all of it.

We'll see you out there.