Why vanlife?

 When people ask me why I chose vanlife, I think of a quote from the great lyricist Tupac Shakur, 

“I didn’t choose the thug life, the thug life chose me.”

I had no lofty goals or life dreams to live in a van, to be homeless, to be in a constant state of wandering feeling no attachment large enough to a place to call it home. Feeling like I no longer have a place where I fit just well enough where I don’t fall. 

Some situations we find ourselves in force us to make a choice, force us to decide, force us to keep moving, even if it’s at a snail’s pace. When the divorce was in process, I made quick moves and quick decisions. There were things I knew I didn’t want to go through for a multitude of reasons. I didn’t want to live under his roof anymore, I needed separation. I needed to get out of Flagstaff, as much as I love it there, it would feel different now, I didn’t want to constantly have good and bad memories triggered by a road, a trail, an intersection, a bar, the whole damn place was filled with them. Most of all, I didn’t want to see him. 

Within days I was moving in with friends for a few months. I had made plans to move up to Seattle to live with a college friend, Stacy. I planned to finish the Hayduke Trail during spring season, I’ll stay in Seattle until at least then, maybe put stuff in storage as I hike the Mogollon Rim Trail and the Colorado Trail over the summer, then I can go back to Seattle and settle, find work, make a life for myself somewhere new.

I like coffee. I like coffee shops. I like hiking. I like the water. I like exploring. I like culture. I like running. There were so many things for me in Seattle. There were somethings I couldn’t control, like the pandemic and restrictions, my hives reminding me, relentlessly, that I break out when my body temperature drastically fluctuates, and the record-breaking amount of rain. 

I didn’t know anyone there besides Stacy, her friends, two thru hiker friends, and someone I grew up with but hadn’t seen since high school. I have always needed people around. Being alone with a brain that never slows down, never eases up and is filled with endless chatter, I need positive interactions to break up the negative whirlwind. I can be ok alone, when I am busy and having adventures I enjoy, it’s ok, but when there’s so much down time in between, from driving, from hours indoors because the rain has not let up, to the hours that tick away as I have trouble falling asleep, I got sucked further and further down into depression, a lifelong battle I usually can handle.

My childhood friend and I were only able to connect once. For our second meetup she cancelled and then never responded about making new plans. I reached out to one of my thru hiker friends about getting together being an option, outdoors 6ft socially distanced, whatever would work. The only response I got from them was, “With regrets, I cannot.” Without any further reason or explanation, the words were stinging, combined with my brain telling me no one cared, and no one wanted me around, it was all starting to make sense. My other thru hiker friend had, seemingly, fallen off the face of the planet or at least the social media planet. Just no contact from them since right before I moved. 

Stacy was busy with work during the days. I was starting to feel as if my support system back home was becoming more distant. I burrowed deeper into my depression hole. Even things that brought me joy-running, hiking, trash pick up-were just blips on my happiness meter. Binge eating for a blip of happiness wasn’t good for my health, either. Once I was done, I was sad and alone, lonely and felt like I had no one really. 

A conversation with my doctor lead me to leave, she didn’t think it was the best place for me. So I decided to leave earlier than planned and just make my way back down to the southwest to be in a good location to get back to Escalante on April 10th. I had my permit for the long stretch within Grand Canyon National Park, finally, so I could set that date. I bounced around the northwest and visited touristy places and family I had never been out to see.

A visit to my Tia’s house in the Ashland area of Oregon lead to a few great nights chatting about my dad and family history. During the visit she asked if I’d be interested in watching her house in June while she visited her daughter and family in Arizona. It didn’t take me too long to agree to it; Oregon in June vs central/southern Arizona in June, new places to explore, a break after the Hayduke before heading out to hike more, sounds amazing! 

Flash forward a couple of weeks, I’m in southern Arizona on a short walk around Sabino Canyon area and on a foot high step I feel the pain of a tearing calf muscle. It was March 29th. I had just locked in all my gear, had a plan for getting to Escalante. Now, I had to schedule doctor’s appointments, physical therapy, and rest. I lied to myself for a bit thinking the doctor would tell me it wasn’t that bad, I didn’t get that, I got, “You definitely will not be hiking 500 plus miles any time soon.” Regretfully, I knew she was right. The next few weeks were filled with physical therapy, car camping, a lot of sitting, a lot of coffee shops and writing. Soon enough, it was almost June and I packed up the taco (my 2010 Toyota Tacoma crew cab with a shell) to head back to Oregon to watch my Tia’s house. 

On the 22nd of June while in Oregon, I had to do a trash pick-up for the work I do with Keep Nature Wild. I looked up the Rouge River and found a close enough access point at Touvelle State Park. I walked along the water; the sun was out with sporadic clouds throughout the sky. After about 30 minutes I was about to call it good when the clouds turned dark and it started to sprinkle, that’s fine I thought as I captured a video about my pickup. I’m finishing up and the rain starts, then the wind kicks up, then it’s pouring, and hail is jabbing my exposed skin. This was all within minutes. I’m about 15 seconds away from my truck and the ranger stops to offer me a ride on his golf cart to my vehicle, I decline and say it’s fine, my vehicle is right there. He turns to go to the Ranger shack and I am rapidly walking to the truck. I start a video to capture the weather madness taking place. I hit stop and as I do I hear a loud cracking next to me, instinctively, I push record, I try to angle my camera up but I’m also retreating as a large tree topples down onto my truck right in front of me. Generally, all on video, mind you it is shaky and you only can really understand what happened if you knew the details first. 

The ranger shows up almost immediately, he heard it crack and turned his cart around. My truck is covered in branches, leaves, twigs. I’m soaked, my brain still isn’t working right ever since I hit my head on the 20th, I’m having trouble completely processing all that is going on. He needs me to fill out a statement, I need to call my insurance. They need a person with the right training to come with a chainsaw to release my truck. When all of it was done, my truck still ran, and it only looked like it was in an accident from the passenger side.

The following days were a blur, my unrelated head injury had happened a few days prior while summiting Wagner Butte for Father’s Day. The hike was more strenuous than I planned for, I had failed to consider I hadn’t really been hiking much due to my injury, a hike which normally wouldn’t be too hard was kicking my butt. I checked my maps and times often, continuously running behind what I felt like I should be doing. I considered turning around, I considered giving up, but my I could feel my dad encouraging me to keep going, know my real limitations and if I haven’t hit them, then keep going. I pushed on and came to the boulders and rocks which made up the last 20 or so yards of the hike, some general scrambling and high steps was all I had left to get to the top. I was feeling weak, and emotional. I was watching my feet as I wedged my shoe in between two rocks to step up. I had my left hand on the boulder to brace and guide myself up, I watched my feet and I pushed up. Looking down for this step I had failed to realize the boulder actually jutted out just past where my hand was, and I slammed my temple into the boulder. I was shaken up and stumbled the last 15 feet to the top so I could finally sit down. I was able to safely make my way back down and the following days I assumed I felt so out of it because of the totality of the entire situation: former anniversaries, Father’s Day, emotions, longest hike I had done since March, etc.

By that Friday, the 25th, I had obtained an estimate for the repairs for my truck and the plan was to return to Arizona after my family was back and get it repaired there. My headaches, nausea, memory loss, weakness, and inability to do anything really had really hit a high point, and I decided to go to the emergency room. While parking I heard a pop in the engine of the truck and steam started coming out from under the hood. I quickly turned off the vehicle and popped the hood. I called my insurance and after a while they actually determined based on the estimate I had previously provided them that my truck will actually be totaled. They will tow it to my aunt’s house, get me set up with a rental car and move forward with totaling the vehicle. A diagnosis of a closed brain injury and concussion left me with answers but no real resolution besides rest. 

My family returned, I picked up a rental 2020 Nissan Altima with less than 2,000 miles on it and the truck was picked up to be taken the salvage yard. I went from part time living in my truck to full time living in a sedan. I headed back to Arizona where insurance called and said they could actually repair the truck! Life was on hold, I had planned on getting a short term rental until my remote job was to start in October but now I didn’t want to pay for a place if I was going to leave to Oregon to go pick up my truck at some point. I bounced around Arizona visiting family and friends. Then the mechanic called about my truck, he was shocked my insurance had claimed it was repairable. He said he took a glance at it and considered it totaled. Then there was about a week of time where my insurance was debating on what to do. Finally, they agreed, it was to be totaled. They will get me a check soon. The car rental coverage was going to expire even before the money was set to deposit. I was soon going to be homeless and without a vehicle to live in before a payment was made. I extended the rental a few days, since I had no plan, since until a few days prior I thought I was going to get my truck back. 

I was trying to buy myself time but it was overwhelming. I didn’t know what to do and buying a vehicle is a big purchase, no matter what your life looks like. Did I want to just have a vehicle and use the money to establish somewhere? But where? Nowhere feels like home still. I have nothing pulling me anywhere, I have nothing to stick around for, everyone else has their own lives now. Even if I live where my friends are, I will still feel and be alone so why commit to a place. This combined with everything else I was burdened with was too much. I wanted an escape. I drove to Flagstaff, dropped off the majority of my belongings, only taking necessities. 

I started driving north. I crossed briefly into New Mexico then at the border of Colorado I parked the car in an open lot and fell asleep. When I woke up, I kept driving. I arrived in Denver. I booked a hotel room, went to Walmart for last minute provisions and spent the night prepping and organizing. No one knew where I was but, then again, no one was asking or checking.

In the morning I loaded up my Hyperlite pack then hit the post office, loaded a box and addressed it to my mom. I called her to let her know it was on its way. I drove to the Enterprise office and returned the rental, a day early actually but with 3,000+ miles on it in about three weeks, thank goodness I have great insurance. I requested an Uber and was dropped off at Waterton Canyon, the terminus of the Colorado Trail. I wasn’t out there to thru hike; I was out there to figure things out. 

Initially, I was thinking of just getting a different Tacoma, I love the trucks and it had been so great and functional for the six months or so I lived and traveled in it. Then I started to think about how in those months I had never modified or built it out to make life any easier. I had plans, I had layouts and designs for how I wanted it to be, I had saved YouTube videos for the type of bed and drawers I wanted and I was putting money aside for an Overland Camper, yet I had never pulled the trigger even after I put money into the basic drills and tools I would need. Essentially, all I needed to do was purchase the wood and build it. Then it hit me. Could I buy a built-out van with this money?! 

On trail I felt the freedom of all the problems of the world and my life which had bound me and kept me stressed and in limbo for the year. I could figuratively breathe, literally I was having trouble breathing. I took my time on trail and took an extra day off at one point to look at van options. I found myself allowing distractions to be my driving force and avoiding facing the realities of my life. I had a job starting soon and couldn’t be completely without a home or vehicle.  After a terribly rough breathing day on trail and accepting I had to face my problems before I really end up in a bind, I called my mom. I was getting off trail, going….going where? I had yet to verbalize I had nowhere to go, no place like home or a place I belonged. She offered to be a brief respite from it all. 

Within a week of being back in Arizona I had picked up a hooptie to get me around and live in. A 2003 Subaru Legacy was now my house. I continued researching and evaluating options online. I had looked at a van in Tucson one day, it was nice, a new build with so many fancy features including a high roof. It just didn’t feel right, price was high for the age and some unknown engine issues had me concerned. A couple of weeks contacting owners but never committing had me backed into a corner completely self-imposed. Then I saw a van I had originally been interested in was now listed in Utah and not the Pacific Northwest. I reached out. She was detailed and honest about the vehicle and the situation. We had a lot in common and within a few days I was flying to Provo.

A night of stealth camping in the van before signing off and paying for it. I couldn’t think of a reason to say no. The next morning she was all mine. She has earned her name, Chaos, by keeping me on my toes the first month and a half, the idea stemming from a random encounter. 

Now, I can’t imagine life without Chaos, the van, as my life now makes so much more sense. I don’t know when I may live in a more traditional home but I am completely content with the opportunities and freedom this has provided me. Roughly 10 months of living the majority of time in vehicles and I know my way around things, I have adapted so well as I leveled up to built-out van status since I know what it is like to be in a small car. 

Even though vanlife chose me, I wouldn’t have it any other way right now. I now have goals to modify my van, dreams to see more places in my van, to be homeless but not houseless, to be in a constant state of wandering and if I feel an attachment large enough to stick around for awhile, I can. Feeling like I can adjust to a place where I fit and if I fall, I know how to get back up.