There’s a sense of untethered freedom when you drive your self-contained home down an unfamiliar road with no idea of where you are going to park for the night. There’s no place you must be and no schedule you must keep. For some, this uncertainty could be too much to bear. Yet for us, it is exhilarating with the main downside being that where we stay may well be for only one night, either out of necessity or choice.

After a while, you wish to “settle down” and stay someplace longer. With the comforting certainty of an extended stay comes the requirement of routes to plot and schedules to keep. This may call for planning weeks or even months in advance. Settling down for even a week has other advantages though. You don’t have to be on the go; you can just be. Wherever you are, you have time to let it soak in.  

Julia and I ponder this tradeoff with every trip, striving for the right balance between the wandering days of getting there versus the relaxing days of being there. Yet, we are discovering the necessity of more planning with RVing exploding in popularity. We witnessed this phenomenon last summer with some Yellowstone campers living out of U-Haul trucks because there was a shortage of RVs to be had. Or maybe they just liked the cold, sleek interior of a moving van. Regardless, RVs and campsites are in high demand these days.

Our feelings haven’t changed though. We are getting antsy to hit the road, having been home since early December. And we have a renewed appreciation for what drew us to this journey in the first place. It’s not just the mountains or the beaches, although these are places where our van is most happy to park. Besides breathtaking scenery, the sounds of waves slapping the shore or winds whistling through the pines are exceptional sleep aids.  

It’s not just the local diners or food stands along the way either, although my stomach would rank these first and second. There’s a bakery in Montana that makes plate-sized cinnamon rolls so light you would swear you could eat two in one sitting. Or the hamburger joint in Wyoming that had Julia coveting my onion rings. Or both of us coveting each other’s apple cobbler in the Cascades of Washington. Then there are the peach orchards in western Colorado that are worth the drive from just about any starting point.     

Yet, it’s also so much about the people we meet and communities we become acquainted with. There is truly something memorable about getting to know a farming couple whose family has been tilling the same land for over 100 years or meeting a younger couple, working full-time as nomads traveling the country in their own van. Or the young East Coast transplant living in Medicine Bow, Wyoming, giving us a tour of her adopted town’s train museum. Or simply catching up with friends and family spread across the country.  

Like you, we have spent much of this past year sheltering in place. When we were on the road, we also spent much of our time keeping to ourselves. No hanging out in the local diner, talking to anyone who would talk to us. Nor visiting with many strangers along the hiking trail. Most everyone preferred to keep their distance in the campsites as well, often acknowledging each other with a friendly wave that also signaled no eagerness to stop and chat. Even checking into many RV parks became no-contact events.

Like I said, we are ready to point the van in any direction and drive. But perhaps the strongest feeling is a renewed desire for human contact along the way.  

Cheers,
Bob and Julia

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