Today's a bit of a break from the update episodes, which have been quite heavy on the touchy-feely
side of things.
I want to talk about some of the variables that are worth considering when hitting the
road to travel on a long-term basis.
It's not to say that I didn't consider these things to begin with, but having them
in words as statements is a completely different experience to actually living it, and when
the reality becomes very apparent in a way that is not something you can ignore.
I want to preface this by saying this is not intended to be worded or formatted in a way
that is being negative.
It's more so to have a discussion about things I found less glamorous, and yeah, I guess
it isn't the positive side of things.
I like to look on the bright side most of the time, but these are definitely factors
that are important to consider.
If this is something you're hoping to do or try out on a longer-term basis, it's definitely
great, but as we know, we only see the positive, fun side of things.
The good, the happy moments.
It's not pleasant, and people don't enjoy sharing messy parts of it, but you know that
I do.
I like to be completely honest.
I think we're all struggling through the not-so-pretty side of lives on a regular basis, and that's
just reality.
There's no point denying it.
I didn't know how these things would impact me and my experience as a person, and these
are just the downsides of always being gone, always being on the road.
It's fascinating when you think about it.
We all want to live a life where we feel free, as though we can freely do whatever it is that
we want at any time.
No timeline but our own, only our expectations to live by.
The thing is, when we're dreaming out loud like this, do we really think that this is
something we would aim for on a consistent basis?
A life that's filled with crazy excitement, invoking thoughtful moments, the big picture
bucket list items on a non-stop basis?
Let's relate this to me.
You see me on this adventure, a road trip, living full-time in a trailer, where I frequent
all these parks, share all these amazing hikes that I'm very fortunate to get to go and complete.
If I'm being honest, there's way more that I could be doing, but I don't have the capacity
for it.
I used to dream and wish that I could do all of these things all of the time.
Wake up every day, try something different every single day.
A whole list of wonderful things that sound great, that look fantastic, especially when
you put them down on paper.
At first, it feels so liberating for the soul, and it is.
Especially when coming from a mentality of feeling trapped within the clutches of society
and its structure.
Where you feel as though you want and need to harness control over your life, rather
than surrounding control to a space that dictates much of how your time is spent, where your
attention should be directed.
This looks like a job with a set schedule that is decided for you, that only allows
for small pockets of time for yourself, where you likely fill those in quickly, with as
much as you can, hungrily, or maybe you allow yourself to rest.
The goal, though, the ideal scenario would be to go and do all of the things that you
want whenever you want.
Non-stop, no bars, no limitations.
So I did that.
I honestly thought it would be the greatest thing to ever happen to me.
Of course, this would not be a good story or one worth telling if there wasn't a perfect
opportunity such as this to add in a but, which comes next as realization sets in, as
realization occurs.
But I realized it is exhausting.
Even in living for me, doing the things that I want.
Even if I wasn't requiring validation and the sharing of my journey, it's truly exhausting.
It's exhausting to constantly be on the go.
It sadly reminds me of the trap of being stuck in hustle culture.
But this time, I'm desperate to feel free, as though there's only one chance to live.
So the behavior results in piling on all of the things into my to-do lists that are
fun for sure.
But how exhausting.
It's a lot, not only physically, the hiking, the traveling.
It emotionally takes a toll as well.
It's hard to fully sit with and take in the places that you visit if you're constantly
worried about maximizing fun and gaining experience.
What a conflict as I put this out there, because I acknowledge openly that in some ways, I continue
to hustle mentality and culture that has caused me burnout in the first place.
Though I preach that I have changed, so I'm finding myself questioning, scratching my head.
I had goals, I said them aloud.
You know, I would like to be more present, more in the moment.
A part of that would involve bringing a journal or a notepad with me to the peaks of mountains
I'd hike or to stop at the lakeside.
I'd bring a tasty snack and I would pause, I would exist, I would journal while I enjoyed
the snack, I would soak in the silence, the moment of hand.
But I'd get there and I'd feel pressured to continue to keep going.
Why is that?
What's the rush?
Why do I feel restless and like I won't be able to settle until I finish the hike in
an official documented manner?
I made excuses, it's too hot, I didn't bring enough to eat, I didn't prep properly.
Maybe I was uncomfortable in a physical sense, maybe I was tired that day and just wanted
to get it over with.
My mindset, it needs an overhaul.
I need to find a way to look at it as an opportunity to go out and enjoy the present moments, not
a check mark on a list, to enjoy the weather, the hike.
But the hike would not be the primary purpose though.
I felt fail at the beginning of each day I set out, I told myself, I am doing this hike
and I couldn't switch off that mindset.
I couldn't sit, I couldn't relax.
A thought occurred to me that perhaps it's been challenging to get comfortable or used
to the way in which I've regained energy in resting my soul.
I'm so used to existing in a depleted state that once I got the engine warmed up and started
the hike, I had a feeling I had to keep going or I feared I would lose the momentum that
was propelling me forward.
Subconsciously, I was worried I wouldn't be able to finish the hike if I stopped, that
once I was ready to go, I would not be able to regain the energy levels required to finish
it and to get back to the trailhead.
I'm not a professional hiker, I don't train for this.
I go hard at most things I do, which is another bad habit of mine.
I might consider that I need to learn to do things in a more leisurely fashion, to learn
to adapt to a new pace, that I am now able to provide for myself, that I am privileged
to be presented with the ability to do so, or to learn to grow into this.
I have some energy, some capacity, I didn't in the past.
On to the next.
It is tiring to be constantly stimulated by new events, scenarios, and even beautiful
things.
I still find I require a lot of downtime from even the beautiful things in life, even the
things that make me happiest.
I reflect and I note I would have been just as content to sit in a state park in my camp
chair and read for days on end.
It would have been justified as an excellent use of my downtime.
On the other hand, the reality of this venture is I just desperately wanted to experience
the complete opposite of what it is that I had felt before.
The despair, the stuckness.
I craved complete freedom at the other end of the spectrum, all the good, all the happy,
the rush of positive emotions all the time.
The good things that this opportunity has provided me with, that I wanted to feel ever
so deeply.
The deprivation had been too long from these exact things.
In doing it this way, I ended up depleting myself in a different way for different reasons.
I find myself being tired, but not in an energy way, in a mental being sort of way.
The same sense as the phase of healing that require you to cocoon, to wrap up in yourself,
into your nest, to love yourself through difficult times of growth.
In this adventure though, it seems as though I would also need a recovery phase, a cocoon
phase from all of the goodness, the joy, the happiness I've seen in the world.
It seems I may be discovering that there is too much of a good thing after all.
I am painfully aware and reinforced in the fact that I truly do not have a solid grasp
on what balance is in the first place.
I don't even know how to have boundaries in place for balance to exist.
It's a black and white scenario, one extreme to the other, whether it's good, whether
it's bad.
It's never just a nice melding of shades along a spectrum, evening out in tone.
How interesting.
For once, I find no shame or embarrassment in admitting this, because it's the truth.
I'm not afraid of judgment, but I never would have believed this to be fact.
If someone had told me before I went away that this is how I would feel, that this is
what would happen, I would have laughed.
What the fuck, seriously?
You get to go live your life in the way you want, what are you even complaining about?
With my goal, having been healing, finding balance, restoring my life in a homeostatic
way both physically and mentally, now that I'm in the thick of it, I recognize the way
I'm doing it, followed by the pace at which it's occurring, it is just not where I'm
going to find any of that.
Don't get me wrong, it's been great, 100%, I do not regret this at all.
I believe everything had to happen leading up to now, in this exact way, for a reason.
I can also see this isn't a sustainable way of life, it's not a sustainable way of achieving
balance that I'm looking for in the long term.
Great in the now, but not something that can be maintained forever.
I would honestly dare to question out loud if it were possible for anybody to sustain
this lifestyle at this pace long term.
I'm sure a few people exist to prove me wrong, but maybe this would be a situation where
you only get to see the part of the story they want you to see, in not knowing it would
be easy to assume when you're a failure because you can't keep up.
Maybe it could be different, maybe if it was my whole life, I could find balance in seeking
a more stationary approach, sitting in places longer and taking my time.
True internal understanding within myself that there is no limit, I guess it's not impossible.
I wonder if maybe every aspect of my life is consumed by the notion that I have to take,
take, and take, because of FOMO.
The mentality that it will not be readily available or accessible to me forever, I gotta
get it while it's getting good so to speak.
If it's there, take it.
In reality, unless I die or become disabled in a severely physical way, these things
are always going to exist.
They'll always be here.
I think of Oregon, somewhere I've badly wanted to visit for so long.
It's always going to be there, isn't it?
I can always come back to it later, even though life sometimes brings you unexpected surprises
that can act as a barrier to accessibility at any given point in time.
It doesn't change the fact that I can go back.
I will go back.
So how do I translate this into my feelings?
Because I don't feel that this is the case.
I do not trust that that is the truth, but my logical side knows that it absolutely is.
I have learning to do.
I have to learn that everything doesn't need to happen, or be done all at once.
I don't need to consume everything all at once.
This is really interesting to learn, and I hope I can come to terms with it.
I'm certainly opening up to acknowledging it within this venture, as I'm reflecting
and recording it here today.
Not all of it is bad, no, but it's the things you don't think will affect you until they
do that hit you the hardest.
There are countless things requiring constant consideration that live in the back of your
mind at all times when you're on the road.
Sometimes I don't necessarily always hold enough mental capacity for, but you don't
have a choice when you're alone.
What would make this a more reasonable, sustainable practice then?
Well, something that is out of reach for me, at least for now.
I don't have the ability or the capacity to boondock, which means essentially camping
off-grid.
I don't have a solar system.
I don't have a generator.
These are things that would be required depending on the time of year I'd be traveling.
It certainly ensures I can't be off-grid for a significant period of time, as I require
some form of electricity.
The alternative to that could be a more permanent rental space, full hookups preferably, as
it's a hassle to constantly need to haul to sewer sites.
And I don't have the money for a $300 honey wagon.
The prices of these spaces are often in line with Airbnb and hotels, which isn't what you
can afford when you're going for long-term sustainability.
It also means you're much closer to your neighbors, which imposes a sort of social community pressure,
even if you're someone who keeps to themselves.
In hopping from park to park, as I have done, I have been blessed with the ability to enjoy
a more quiet camping experience in nature.
Most of the sites have luckily been spread out nicely to offer a decent enough amount
of privacy, but the downside is you need to plan ahead.
For some reason, that is far beyond my comprehension.
It's somehow never occurred to me that others would be living their best lives out camping
on such an active basis or doing what I'm doing, avoiding the snow, the cold weather,
and maybe taking an extended vacation.
This resulted in struggles at times to secure spots on long-term basis, which resulted in
me having to move spots or find other parks nearby more than I would have liked.
I guess maybe I was hoping for an average of 5 nights per site if I really enjoyed the
area, but that becomes out of your control in these situations, and I just found myself
crossing my fingers hoping for more availability when I was searching.
The moving is annoying.
I have to hook up electric, water, sewer, if those are available.
I have to unhook my lines when it's time to leave.
Ideally, I could uncouple the truck from the trailer at each site, but in staying 1-2 nights
at a time, it's more of a headache.
Which means, if the park is large, I don't get to explore much.
You can't haul your trailer around to trail heads.
There's no parking to accommodate that.
When I could, I would use my bike, but some parks are just too large, and the exertionary
effort of biking to then complete a strenuous hike would leave me depleted for the rest
of the day.
And what if I needed to fill up on some groceries?
All things to consider.
It's a lot.
It's a lot to do long-term.
At this point, I've been at it over 50 days, and it's getting to be a bit much.
To be constantly thinking, to be constantly worrying about all these variables and all
of these factors.
In looking ahead, how far am I going to drive today?
How far do I want to drive?
Where am I staying?
Okay, where am I going to be able to find somewhere to stay?
Especially in driving more south as the weather cools down, the snowbirds are arriving for
the season.
If I wasn't so worried about the fridge, which I've been running on electric, it may
have been a bit easier.
Sure, I could opt for travel centers with full RV hookups, but that's not an ideal
experience.
I'm not above roughing it, but living in a Walmart parking lot isn't my go-to either.
More considerations crop up.
In hot locations, in hot weather, air conditioning is a necessity.
I couldn't imagine being somewhere where the outside temperature reads 36 degrees while
I roast like a chicken in the equator in the trailer.
In reflecting, I would have surely died of heat stroke in San Antonio if I had not had
electricity to run the air conditioning unit within the trailer.
RV specific generators are quite expensive, and I cannot afford one right now.
And there's no other way to run this component.
It doesn't run on solar, it doesn't run on battery.
You need a high voltage outlet, one that is powerful enough to sustain RV electrical demands.
A regular house outlet struggles.
We blew the breaker at Tanners on repeat, attempting to use it for more than a few minutes
at a time when we were testing it prior to departure.
These are not necessarily things that I realized or recognized, we're even things to be aware
of prior to all of this.
You think it's fun, not realizing how much work is truly involved, how much thinking needs
to be done and executed, and alone, way more work.
With a partner or a friend, where someone can help you with some of the tasks, it could
be more manageable, but I could still see it getting tiring.
During Tanners visit, we had a good system.
We grabbed a task, did what needed to be done, and things got done in half the time.
Sure, over time, you gain a level of comfort with the tasks, and you become quite efficient
at doing them.
But it's tasks that need to be completed all the same.
You develop an internal checklist to ensure safety and readiness.
You wouldn't want to damage the trailer, or lose anything because you missed a step that
was simple enough to be completed, but absolutely crucial.
Then there's trailer checklists.
You have to check your tires before leaving, circle checks, checking your lights, your
brakes.
It can, and it does become second nature, but as an overthinker, it compounds as you
are constantly thinking of that which you need to be mindful of.
In heading back north, though it is possible to do winter and cold camping, which kudos
to those people, it's not what I'm about at this time.
It requires that I be consistently checking weather to ensure that I'm not going to be
in a situation where freezing temperatures will hit and compromise the plumbing of my
unit.
That would be a substantial bill to contend with, and I wouldn't want to risk leaks,
further risking mold or other issues within the housing of my unit.
I've also really loved using my indoor plumbing, and traveling further north, day by day, I'm
encountering state parks with very limited services.
Some have no public showers open at this time of the year, no water lines, and are limited
to only electric.
Other small considerations involve endorsing proper setup and securement of items in the
unit itself.
There's panels and latches that I already need to replace as they don't hold shut like
they did when I first left home.
Normal wear and tear.
But this means I need to further secure things to prevent them from bouncing around damaging
the internal fixings of my trailer.
It isn't a solid foundation like a house would be.
They're designed cheaper, not intended for full time residency even if you do get a high
quality rig.
I can't keep everything in the trailer as is and as I need it, so you have to build
a system on how you put things away neatly and where they go while in transit.
Because of this, it leads to other inconveniences that I really didn't anticipate.
The amount of time and effort required for me to go into my storage unit to grab my
painting supplies to put them out in a way that doesn't impede on my space limitations
is quite challenging.
It means I need to put them away after each and every use.
This makes for more work, which makes it challenging to build up the energy or desire to bother
in the first place.
It tempts me into doing simpler things that are easily accessible.
That's really sad.
I wanted to spend time indulging in my painting.
Maybe if I had planned ahead somewhere I could park longer term, it could have worked out
differently.
It's just another factor increasing the exhaustion.
On the tail end of things, I found myself waking up knowing I had to move from where
I was and just saying out loud, I'm getting really tired of this.
The moving, it's getting old.
At that point, I started to consider that maybe this isn't the part I'm supposed to
be at in my journey anymore.
Maybe this is telling me something.
Similar alert, it absolutely was.
It just took a few extra things to fall into place to allow me to fully realize it.
I just didn't want to keep going anymore.
The night before my anticipated departure to California, without a plan in sight for
the future, I found myself laying in bed, feeling a sense of dread.
I don't want to keep going.
I don't want to.
Even though the pictures promise beautiful scenery and the hikes look amazing, I just
don't want to.
So, I didn't.
Instead of forcing myself to do something that I didn't want to, a boundary I'm trying
to reinforce, I told myself, okay, we won't do it.
What if we think about heading home?
I found myself feeling really good in my body when those thoughts arrived in my head and
I decided, yeah, that's it.
Then it settled.
I canceled my booking at the site I had reserved and I got most of my money back.
I then started the trek back home.
Things I realized I hadn't previously thought of included the weather and how it would impact
me.
I've always been someone who struggled to stay warm.
It's not uncommon for me to complain about how cold it is, even in the summer.
Unless it's 26 degrees or warmer, you can bet that the seat warmer and heated wheel
are on.
My limbs are perpetually cold.
So the temperatures of 32 plus were a bit much.
I figured I should enjoy it rather than complaining for this reason alone.
As time passed, I found the temperatures in the southern states started to drop significantly,
where the locals could be heard being excited to get cooler weather.
I was less than impressed.
It wasn't often above 26 anymore and I was wearing sweaters and sweatpants.
I was surprised, but I'm not really sure why.
It's just not as warm as I hoped it would be.
There's frost at night, the temperature drops drastically to near freezing despite it being
in the low 20s during the day.
That drastic shift in temperature from night to day is not a pleasant experience in my
body.
My body would like to say, what the fuck is going on here?
The cooler weather presented a challenge, colder than I would consider being an enjoyable
level, rendering it more unpleasant and made the thoughts of enduring winter back home
much more bearable to contend with.
I know winter, I know what to expect, I know it will be cold, and I've done it for so
many years now, I'm well prepared.
Though it will be cold, I will no longer have to worry about aspects of maintenance and
moving and all that is associated.
What about the cost?
It is not cheap to do van life or RV life.
It's actually really expensive, probably more expensive than living in a house if I
had to guess.
Maybe if you're boondocking it might not be so bad, but even gathering the supplies
for that, it's costly.
State parks run around $20-$30 a night.
The fuel on my truck, oh man, she's made to haul, yeah, but the gas mileage is awful.
And it's been way more expensive than I thought.
For perspective, it took $600 to haul from Tanners to my parents, a 3 day drive, 2100
kilometers.
A normal drive between these destinations without the trailer would cost around maybe
$200.
Yes, the cost of diesel is more expensive than gas, but I don't know if I'll admit
out loud or to myself what the total cost of being on the road was.
It certainly was not what I thought it would be.
It's amazing how quickly things add up over time.
I had just decided I needed to hit the road so badly that I thought I'll just figure
it out later.
While this isn't what resulted in my departure back home, it's something I underestimated
to be sure.
Of course you've got other nuances.
The prices of food, the Canadian dollar being virtually worthless compared to the American
dollar, there's also vehicle maintenance, oil changes, any unexpected breakdowns, the
tanks and toilet in the trailer require additives and special toilet paper to ensure it continues
to work optimally, which of course adds to the cost.
People can do it cheaper.
Yeah, warmer locations can allow you to stay in your vehicle.
All possible.
I've just accepted that I'm someone who has certain standards and expectations and
I need to attain a level of comfort that I need for myself and that doesn't involve
tenting it.
I needed to know I would enjoy my journey to the fullest and have the non-negotiables
present.
A good bed for great sleep, a shower, a toilet.
These were comforts I determined were worth the investment.
I found I became hyper aware of the implications of traveling alone independently and how daunting
of a task this entire venture was when I got sick.
It made me realize I would be screwed if I had needed to be admitted to the hospital.
I was thankful things worked out when I did get seen, but there were moments that I was
scared.
I wasn't feeling well.
I was all by myself.
I couldn't just go to the hospital.
I had to check out of the campsite by a certain time.
There was no grace or leeway.
Someone else had booked and paid for the site in advance for that day.
I felt real sick, real unwell, and I needed medical attention.
So it was eye-opening.
I realized that maybe being super independent and going at it solo wasn't the smartest
idea.
It can be great to go it alone, so you don't miss out on the things you truly want to do
in life and there's a lot to be proud of if you're able to do these things alone.
But this was a time when it became very real, all the considerations that needed to take
place and the possible consequences.
It was scary in the moment to try to figure out.
I could have been way sicker and thankfully I wasn't.
It doesn't mean I won't brave the road solo in the future, but it was a moment in time
that hit me in a certain way and made me think, huh, this is something that definitely needs
to be well thought out and considered in the future.
I had secured health insurance prior to leaving, thank goodness.
It's just a shitty experience to be sick when you're alone.
You only have you to take care of you.
No one can comfort you with chicken noodle soup or helping with chores or obligations.
If something needs to get done, it's gotta be by you.
It's the reality of it and yeah, it's shitty.
A later adventure for me would likely be traveling on Canadian soil, mapping out an idea of what
I'm looking to accomplish.
Where I want to go and to have some idea of how long I want to stay in each place I plan
to check out.
As much as I tell myself I like to wing it in life, I know I can't.
Knowing where you're going and what's around to see, that type of planning is actually very
helpful and it helps save time and energy.
I suppose then it would be a trip with a purposeful intent to be outdoorsy to explore.
I'd certainly plan to incorporate more rest days than I did here because the goal going
forward is balance.
My mindset at the time was focused on lifestyle, not simply a vacation, and I found it hard
to meld the two together.
As I think about it for the future, realistically looking at what my life looks like now versus
what I want it to look like in the next few months, this would affect my plan and how
it would look.
Right now I'm blessed and happy to have an incredibly supportive partner who wants to
build a life together, who I want to do life with.
He's not at a point in his life where full time road travel is doable and I don't even
know if that's something I would want for the both of us.
I'm at a point where I hope I get to start building this life together with my person,
while knowing I still have the freedom to do things like this.
But I will aim to do them more consciously and allow for our life to be where I rest
and reside in the moment.
Maybe it would have looked differently had I started out full time as a traveler in a
trailer, but where I'm at now, it's not a direction that looks like where I want to
be.
I don't know what the next few years will look like, but the future is ripe with possibilities,
even when I can't imagine or dare to dream.
I want to focus on my projects, writing, podcasting, content creation, painting.
These are things I'm recognizing would work more optimally in a stable home environment.
It would allow me to be in a home space with my partner.
His job will offer me the balance I need due to his schedule, where I can power through
my projects, get work done, and also enjoy quality time when he is home.
So for now, I leave you with this.
I had a great run.
I learned so much in such a short amount of time.
I hope that in sharing the realities that I had been previously under considering will
allow you to understand a bit more about the realities of the lifestyle I embarked upon.
I don't discourage you from trying, from going out and seeing for yourself if it's
for you.
I just hope that you can get some good takeaways, and maybe it can help serve as reminders for
your own physical travel journey, should this be the one of your dreams.
May you be better prepared as a result of my imparting wisdom.
Talk soon.