Crazy Brave Adventure

By Perri

After a luxurious few weeks in the suburbs (both in Michigan and Ontario) we are back on the road.

And not a moment too soon. We easily fell back into house-style living, showering whenever, eating whenever (and a lot). Other than a casual remark, we hardly paid attention to the weather outside. Heat? Cold? Rain? Cool-cool, whatever.

We even had toast!

After more than seven months living out of our not-so-glampy van, it was cushy and comfortable… and sort of depressing to move back into a house.

We loved spending time with family. We celebrated birthdays, cooked in an actual kitchen, visited dog parks and soccer games, strip malls, and box stores….

Time expands when your needs are met so easily. One of us–Dan– got a lot of work done for his job. One of us binged on wifi, spent almost an entire day exploring new music and adding to playlists on spotify. Another long stretch was squandered in researching Aaron Burr, because I found a random, interesting mention of him in a book I was reading. (Quite a character that guy!)

We saw two of our kids in Ontario and huuuunnng out so slothfully! The pinnacle of which was when we ordered a ridiculous amount of Thai food and watched the whole first season of Ted Lasso in a single night. It was…. lovely.

But comfort has its price.

Time clogs and clots when there is so much of it, with nothing immediate or vital to do. For us, nomadic living is engrossing in itself. We are still learning the ins and outs, working out wheres and whats and hows. We engage in endless discussions, maps and camping apps, and ever changing daily planning.

“Van life” is a flurry of short term purposes in new environs, interspersed with moments of discomfort, adventure and uncertainty. There is always a goal. Even if it is just to find a safe place to sleep.

In a house you must create purpose (Aaron Burr much, Perri?)

House living is just too darn easy. Which, ironically, makes it sort of hard.

If we were still enmeshed in our own community, commutes and childrearing, dinners and events, we’d welcome the comfort of a house. A settled, comfortable lifestyle frees up space for all the rest of “life” to happen.

Do we miss it? Not especially

Over our little van-life hiatus, my inner dialogue quieted as the daily challenges I’d become used to faded. An overwhelming sense of ennui slid in to replace it. Ease is not really easy.

Eventually, van-travel itself will feel easy– or easier anyway– and I will divert some of my attention to other things: writing, hopefully, and volunteering or paying work. As Duwan, of the excellent van travel blog Make Like an Apeman notes, it is important to have a purpose when traveling. I’m not sure that this lifestyle will be sustainable over the long term without more focus than the next spot and the next trail and the next meal. But for now, these things are still pretty awesome.

Right now, we are camped in Ohio’s Mohican State Park, just returned from a walk in the cold spring drizzle. The dog is muddy and wet, wrapped in his dog blankets and snoring. Our drenched jackets hang by the door, above equally drenched shoes. The windows are a misted-over blur. Despite our emergency Mrs Meyer’s Lemon Verbena Jar Candle the van smells exactly as you’d expect. The portapotty up the way is not real pleasant either. And there’s no cell service here at all. Even so, I feel more at home, more in touch with the world outside, than I have in weeks.