It’s getting real – the end of full-time van life is near.
I’m moving to Taos, New Mexico in September which means I have about a month left of living in the van. I am on the coast of Oregon now, but soon I’ll be on the road again, chipping away at the 24-hour drive that stands between me and my new home.
When I started this adventure, there was no end date. All I had was a vague notion that I would be in this life for no more than two years, and probably less. Since that day in March 2023 when I cleared out my apartment and packed my life into this vehicle, I have lived life intensely.
Bevy has taken me to 32 states and counting. I’ve traveled thousands of miles up and down the East Coast, across the Midwest, and up the West Coast. I’ve looked up at the wood-paneled ceiling most every night and felt the cool air (and sometimes downright hot air) coming through the rooftop vent fan. The wind has rocked me to sleep and awake again. Rain has leaked through tiny cracks in the seals on my roof and my van has been coated in mud and dust for more days than not.
Here on the rugged Oregon coast, life is slow for me. I spend most of my days and nights oceanside, coming inland only for groceries, the library, and the mechanics. I take Diamond on walks through the sand and feel the cool roughness beneath my well-calloused feet. I watch the sunset over the ocean. Dense morning fog keeps temperatures low and ravens are my frequent companions. I eat pies baked by locals, go for hikes, and sleep in on the weekends.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about all the things I will miss about this life. The constant immersion in beauty. The cool night air blowing on my face. Seeing, really seeing, how people live in this country. The unexpected visits from wildlife and letting my dog run loose in the woods.
And, if I’m being totally honest, the interest from people. This is an unusual way to live, but it’s one that I find many people have tried in some way or another. I hear often from people that they lived in a van years ago, or packed their family into a camper and hit the road, or live in a tow-behind in the woods not far from here. Van life is a conversation starter. People approach the van to ask questions. It’s a love-it-or-hate-it topic, but either way, people want to know more.
But I am also tired. Tired of constantly needing to move. Tired of considering the solar levels and our ability to recharge based on the weather forecast. Tired of watching the levels in the water tank and letting dishes sit when we run low. Tired of dumping the grey water and the liquids section of the toilet (affectionately referred to in the van as the “piss jug”.) Tired of counting my go’s and planning my days around where else has public bathrooms. Tired of having a home that moves.
I’ve been impatient for a while to get something moving in my next chapter, to have a firm plan to move. Now that it’s solidifying, I can relax and relish these last weeks.
I am most certainly not done with van life entirely. Bevy will remain as my vehicle and allow us to enjoy shorter trips south in the winter and north in the summer, with a stationary base to return to. My husband and I discuss our next van, the things we would do differently, the gear storage we would have. But I am done with full-time van living for the foreseeable future. As they say, you have to make room in your life for what comes next. More room is exactly what I’m after.
