Pulling into Phelps West in Fuquay-Varina was nothing short of unsettling - it felt less like a campground and more like I had accidentally driven into someone’s front yard. The tiny gravel road led past a mailbox and straight onto what looked like private property, complete with several cars scattered around the house, and when I knocked on the door for guidance, no one answered despite it being the middle of the day. With kids in tow, the whole situation felt awkward and a bit creepy, and I honestly wasn’t comfortable staying; if you’re even considering this spot, definitely call or email ahead because showing up unannounced was not a family-friendly experience.