Day 1

The crew is on the move again, this time bound for the grand old capital—Washington, DC, A city of monuments, power, and a history that feels just a little more alive with every step you take. The goal? Catch those cherry blossoms in their full, fleeting glory. The headlines say they’ll hit peak bloom next week, but we’re rolling in a little early. So, will we be greeted by a dazzling pink-and-white explosion or a bunch of sleepy buds still waking up from winter? Only time will tell.

TSA was a breeze—at this point, we’re practically C-list celebrities—frequent fliers. The airline staff recognize us, which is either a sign that we travel too much or that we’ve made a lasting impression (good or bad, still up for debate). Then, a little surprise: the Iowa Hawkeye Women’s Gymnastics Team rolls through the airport, all confidence and duffle bags. Camper Katie, never one to miss an opportunity, wheels over for photos and even gets them to do a countdown with her. If there were a trophy for seizing the moment, she’d be adding another to her collection.

We land in D.C., where the shuttle is waiting for the crew. We pile in, ride through the city, and check into our hotel. It’s home for the week, and the beds look way too inviting after a day of travel.

But first—food. Enter Andy Noma’s Pizza, the crew’s inaugural meal of the trip. It’s the place that doesn’t try too hard but gets everything right – greasy, crispy, cheesy goodness. Over slices and soda, we swap stories and lay out the plan for tomorrow: a pilgrimage to the Capitol, a walk through the National Mall, and if our legs hold up, more sightseeing than our feet are probably ready for.

An hour ahead, tired but excited, we call it a night. D.C. awaits.

Day 2

Here ye, here ye, the bell rings, a call to arms, or at least to breakfast. The Camp Courageous crew stirs to life, ready to conquer a day in the nation’s capital. Hotel breakfast is a battlefield of its own: waffles drowning in syrup and sausage links disappearing at record speed. In the group, some slept like babies, others fought a war with hotel pillows.

The itinerary is packed tighter than a Metro at rush hour. First stop: the Library of Congress. The grand temple of books, knowledge, and tourists with oversized cameras. But first, the Metro. For some, it’s a thrilling first-time adventure; for others, an anxiety-inducing puzzle of color-coded lines and mysterious station names. We descend into the underground. When the train arrives, we jump on like seasoned locals- well, almost.

The Library of Congress does not disappoint. The architecture? Something out of an art lover’s fever dream. But the real MVP? The gift shop. Because what’s a visit to a historic landmark without commemorative bookmarks and overpriced postcards?

Next stop: Senator Grassley’s office, where we get the golden ticket. A tour of the Capitol Building. The tunnels beneath the city make us feel like VIPs, or at least like we’re sneaking into somewhere we probably shouldn’t be. Two eager interns guide us through, pointing out rooms where history was made. The Rotunda is grand, almost unreal. The weight of history presses down, but so does the realization that America is still pretty young. 249 years is barely adolescence in the grand scheme of things.

We step into the Old Senate Chamber, where deals were made, arguments were had, and history was written. By now, our stomachs remind us that walking and learning burn calories at an alarming rate. Downstairs, the Capitol cafeteria serves up a much-needed meal. nothing fancy, but after all that walking, even a burger and tenders tastes like a five-star experience.

Rested and recharged, we chat about March Madness, Iowa State pulled off a win, and that’s enough to get a few cheers from the group. With full bellies and sore feet, we grab our bags and head outside for the classic Capitol photo op because if you don’t take a picture in front of it, did you even go?

The group splits; some head back to the hotel, lured by the promise of rest. The others, fueled by an endless curiosity (or maybe just caffeine), wander off for more D.C. adventures. By dinner, we’re reunited, tired but satisfied. A full day of history, politics, and thousands of steps logged.

Tomorrow? Another day, another adventure. But for now, it’s feet up, deep breaths, and maybe just maybe a decent night’s sleep.

Day 3

Rise and shine, day three in Washington, DC! The nation’s capital greets us with a crisp morning, a sky so clear it looks like it was painted on, and the scent of opportunity, or maybe just hotel coffee and questionable scrambled eggs.

Breakfast is the usual chaos. Waffles are drowned in syrup, someone attempts to make the world’s tallest yogurt parfait, and there’s a fierce debate over whether sausage links or patties reign supreme. Bellies full, we hit the Metro like seasoned pros… which means only one person almost gets their bag stuck in the door this time. Progress.

Our first mission of the day: Union Station. Like clockwork, we do what any self-respecting tourists do. we hop on a trolley tour of the capital. This is the ultimate way to see the city without destroying our feet. We cruise past the landmarks, waving at pedestrians like we’re minor royalty. Round one is the grand loop, the scenic route, a chance to take it all in before we get up close and personal.

But first—lunch. Because sightseeing is great and all, but food is sacred. Back at Union Station, we refuel, rehydrate, and regain the will to tackle the National Mall.

Next stop: The Lincoln Memorial. Honest Abe, looking as stoic as ever, watches over us as we climb the steps. The Reflecting Pool shimmers under the now-perfect sky, a postcard-worthy view. From there, it’s a whirlwind of history—the haunting beauty of the Korean War Memorial, the towering presence of the Washington Monument, and a bonus stop at a small island where, for reasons unclear, a George Washington reenactor appears from the past to grace us with his presence. Just another day in DC.

As we wrap up our tour, the inevitable siren call of gift shops lures us in. Magnets, postcards, questionable t-shirts, and souvenirs are secured.

Dinner? Chipotle. Because even after a day of history and culture, sometimes you just want a burrito the size of your head.

Exhausted but satisfied, we pile back onto the Metro and return to the hotel. Feet? Sore. Minds? Full. Hearts? Happy.

Tomorrow? Another day, another adventure. But for now, sleep.

Day 4

The last day in Washington, DC. There’s a certain bittersweetness to it, the city has shown us its best, and we’ve walked its streets, read its plaques, and stuffed our bags with enough souvenirs to question airline weight limits. But before we say goodbye, there’s still time for one last adventure.

Breakfast first, always. The usual spread of hotel fare, where waffles are slathered in syrup with the reckless abandon of someone who knows they’ll be walking 10,000 steps before noon. Then it’s off to the Metro, our home away from home beneath the streets. We’ve mastered the art of navigating the underground, or at least faking it well enough that no one notices when we briefly stare at the map like lost children.

First decision of the day: history or shopping?
The group splits into two factions. On one side, the history buffs and the morbidly curious, heading to Ford’s Theatre, the site where Lincoln met his untimely end. It’s hallowed ground, a place where history doesn’t just live in textbooks but in the walls themselves. A tragic, fascinating piece of the past, and some of us take it in with the quiet reverence it deserves.

The other side? The gift shop warriors. These are the people who understand that no trip is complete without an unnecessary yet deeply satisfying purchase. T-shirts, commemorative mugs, and Fridge magnet featuring Washington, DC in all its glory, there’s an art to this.

Eventually, both groups reunite at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. Dinosaurs. Giant squid. Glorious gems that could pay off student loans ten times over. It’s a temple to the bizarre and the beautiful, where everything from ancient fossils to a taxidermy elephant reminds us just how weird and wonderful this planet is.

Next stop: The Smithsonian Museum of American History. This one hits differently, this isn’t just history, it’s our history. Pop culture artifacts, groundbreaking inventions, the evolution of everyday life. Dorothy’s ruby slippers? Here. The original Star-Spangled Banner? Here. A collection of things that remind us where we’ve been and how far we’ve come. And, of course, one last gift shop raid.

By now, hunger is real, and DC delivers: food trucks. A glorious lineup of vendors dishing out everything. It’s the perfect send off, casual, delicious, and eaten in the shadow of the history we’ve spent days soaking in.

With full stomachs and heavier bags, we make our way back to the hotel. One last time on the Metro, one last walk through the lobby, one last night of repacking and pretending we’re getting more than five hours of sleep before an early wake up call.

Tomorrow, we leave, knowing that we squeezed every last drop out of this trip. DC, you were a fun ride.