The open road.A softer landing.

I’ve spent the past ten years planning my own luxury road trips through the American West, drawn as much to the places between destinations as to the destinations themselves — the high passes, the desert corridors, the coast in the hours it keeps to itself. I like choosing a road for the view and letting the light set the pace.

I also love a very good hotel, a long dinner, and a room I’m happy to come back to. There’s a version of the road trip that’s about roughing it, and it’s an honorable one; it just isn’t mine. Those comforts don’t take anything from the adventure. They’re part of it.

That doesn’t mean every night needs to be extravagant. The best trips mix it: a day outside, an exceptional stay; a simple roadside lunch, a table reserved months ahead; the trailhead at seven, the long table at eight. Luxury is something to weave in where it makes the drive better, not a standard to hold every mile to.

Before this I built and ran Merchant Maverick, an independent publisher whose entire business rested on readers trusting that the recommendations were ours. I published everything and told readers they could bypass my links. Route House works the same way: the route is public, and the house earns only when you ask it to.

Route House grew out of that balance. It’s my way of putting beautiful drives, the right rooms, and well-timed stops together into something you can take yourself — with twelve copies of the first edition following a few weeks behind me. The route has a point of view. The freedom to enjoy it is yours.