I’ve been on the road again for about two weeks now. I wasn’t sure what to expect on this trip, but something told me it could be a farewell tour to van life – and that’s exactly what it is.
When I first bought this van in October 2022, I knew a world of adventure awaited me. I wanted to embrace the unknown with open arms, to live wildly on the road, to swim in rivers and watch sunsets with awe. And for the better part of 18 months, I did.
Life on the road is life amplified. The highs are higher, the lows are lower, and everything comes at you faster. It is beautiful but it is exhausting. There are people who live this life for years at a time, no end date in mind, but I suspected that would not be me. By the time my second summer in the van rolled around, I was ready to be done.
Part of the reason I wanted to settle in Taos was because it had access to the rest of the American West. I spent the better part of a calendar year on the East Coast in the van, but spent most of my brief time on the West Coast sweating in California. This was a part of the country I was unfamiliar with, one steeped in lore and history and grandeur.
So I planned a trip to two of the most iconic western states, Wyoming and Montana. It was months in the making and yet the departure date still snuck up on me – I was packing the van up until the moment we left. But as the date to leave drew closer, I found myself filled with dread. Not dread for the adventure, but dread for the drive. For working in the van. For existing in such a small space with another person and a dog for weeks on end, without access to hot water or showers.
The dread didn’t abate until I arrived in Grand Teton National Park and saw the mountains looming over me. It all came rushing back – this was what I did this for. The incredible beauty, the sheer majesty of the land. Immersing myself in nature, seeing new, wild places, and going for long hikes in the woods.
It was an incredible week exploring this park and as I write this, I’m getting ready for another incredible weekend in Yellowstone. None of this is to say that I’m not grateful for the opportunities afforded to me.
But every life has chapters, and I feel the end of my van life chapter coming quickly. For a while, I held onto the van tightly because of the freedom and opportunities it represented. But in the throes of this road trip, I find myself dreaming about a normal car and several uninterrupted months at home.
Part of it is road weariness. Though I have a home in Taos, I still had to travel back to New York late last year in a trip that took two weeks to complete. That trip had several unexpected emotional and physical detours that left me drained and dreading future road trips.
When I first left New York, everything was new and exciting. But when I get on the road now, I am bringing with me all that has happened in my time during the van – and some of that is heavy.
Another part of it is simply the constant of change. Rarely do we want the same thing for our entire lives. I wanted adventure and I got it. Now, I want routine and stability at home. I find myself more easily able to let go of the dreams I had for van life and more readily accepting of what my heart is calling for next.
It is not easy to let go of one dream for another, but when we trust ourselves enough to see things through, it becomes easier to exist in the transition of desires. To know that all things are ephemeral and there is nothing wrong with letting go of something you once wanted fiercely.
I also find myself asking how much my life on the road has affected me in ways I understand and in ways I don’t. Do physical trips need to be integrated like psychedelic ones? Do we need time to let the lessons and events of the road percolate? Every adventure shows us a piece of ourselves, big or small.
I went from a life with an office job and an apartment home that I rarely left to a life on the road, self-employed and rarely staying in the same place for more than a few days. I wanted something wild and new and different and now I want something familiar. I wanted to move and now I want to be still.
This trip is asking me to be present in the moment while embracing an upcoming transition. It is testing my ability to accept what’s coming without fixating on it, to enjoy the present moment, and to embrace what is and what will be at the same time. I am eagerly looking forward to getting back to Taos and my quiet routine there. But at the same time, I am not wishing away my experiences in these parks or in Montana.
I will always be grateful for what my van life taught me – and perhaps one day, down the line, I’ll want to adventure like this again. But in the meantime, I’ll be enjoying the west from north to south, and cherishing my warm bed and hot showers.
