Feb. 21, 2024
“That is the magic of travel. You leave your home secure in your own knowledge and identity. But as you travel, the world in all it’s richness intervenes. You meet people you could not invent; you see scenes you could not imagine. Your own world, which was so large as to consume your whole life, becomes smaller and smaller until it is only one tiny dot in time and space. You return a different person.” – Kent Nerburn
Today’s quote truly resonates with me and my current reality. I began this adventure nearly three years ago, because I had an overwhelming desire to squeeze every drop out of life. I imagined a nomadic journey would reveal just how strong and capable I was, allow me the privilege of living multiple lives, creative freedom, and, most importantly, give me something to write about.
This seed was planted in February 2020, at the end of an epic South and Central America backpacking trip. I had taken a huge risk and quit my job to end a hard year on a high note, and it had been the most magical, surreal trip I’d ever experienced. By the end of it, I was a firm believer in manifestation, and I had also decided that I would be focusing on my art and photography when I returned home. On the final week, I went to a carnival in Mérida, where I met a group of van-lifers. I remember feeling so swept up by their energy. They were complete maniacs, full of life, creating videos of themselves jumping off of cliffs for YouTube, and making their way around Central America together. I admired their intense and care-free spirits, and I envied their freedom, as I still had an apartment to fly back to in San Diego.
Upon returning home, a number of other invisible forces helped guide me towards this path. At this point in life, I had gone through a total of three near-death experiences, and I was growing bolder, taking more risks. I had also been silently coping with the unexpected death of a loved one, recently quit my job to pursue my dreams, and suddenly, the world came to a screeching halt.
The Pandemic was a cold hard slap in the face that reminded me of the impermanence of it all. It shattered the illusion of control over my health and my body, and I watched in amazement as people’s true colors came out. For two months, I poured my energy into art by reconnecting with music, building canvases, and even organized several collaborative photo shoots. Then I saved up, bought my very first car, (all I’d ever owned was a motorcycle) my first tent, paid three month’s rent, and hit the road.
Remembering all of this makes me laugh; I had no idea what I was doing-I was a city girl. I had never even set up camp or cooked outdoors. Thankfully I didn’t let that stop me, but it wasn’t very well planned. All that mattered to me was that I’d finally be able to see a redwood tree, and explore Yosemite, Big Sur, and Oregon. The day I saw a redwood was a very emotional one. Needless to say, after that trip, I was hooked.
When I returned, I decided if other people could work and travel while living out of their cars, then I could do it. I began donating/selling all my belongings, rented a small storage unit for my art and motorcycle, and decided to buy a periwinkle 4runner, which I named Luna. As I was going through these transitions, I would envision myself doing all the things I loved on my upcoming adventure; painting and playing my guitar in the woods, drawing in cafes, capturing marvelous photos, filming all of my travels, meeting fascinating people, and allowing my intuition to guide me. It all sounded so incredibly romantic to me.
On August 1st, I finally turned in my apartment keys. This had been my favorite apartment for many reasons. As a San Diego local, I’d always dreamed of living near Balboa Park, and somehow I’d gotten lucky, finding this dusty rose 1920’s building a block away from it. It was a Spanish colonial style apartment complex, adorned with delicate flowers and vines, giving the place a lovely European feel. My place was quaint, with an abundance of natural light, a walk-in closet, wooden floors, and the most adorable vintage kitchen. Right outside my door, there was a fire escape leading to a rooftop that had the most spectacular view of the San Diego skyline I’d ever seen. I’d spent countless mornings and evenings watching the planes land, with a cup of tea or glass of wine in hand. There was a drop of sadness as I closed the gate, but I mostly felt the tremendous wave of relief to leave that part of my story behind.” Well, no turning back now.” I thought, as I took one last look at the place that stored so many warm memories. It was a gorgeous sunny day, and I was brimming with happiness. A friend had came over, and as we got into my car, I remember glancing at the back, seeing the platform bed I’d put together, what was left of my belongings, and thinking, “Wow, I did it.” I’d drawn out the way I wanted my mini conversion to like look like at the beginning of that year, and it was amazing to see it all there now.
I’d always had an adventurous spirit, but I had never pictured myself being on the road alone, or living out of a car. I wondered how long it would take for me to get used to my new lifestyle. In the past, I’d been able to adapt and embrace the rawness of travel, discomforts and all, but I also loved staying clean. I had always had an array of clothes and shoes, and many breakfast/dinner rituals, which I paired with fresh homemade smoothies, or fine wines. Now my wardrobe was very limited and I wondered if the minimalist lifestyle, or finding showers would grow to be a problem for me. Not only that, I used to regularly visit my chiropractor and massage therapist, and I loved my candle-lit bubble baths. As a city girl, my entire life was based on convenience, and I happily indulged in the comforts of modern living. This wasn’t a doubt about the decision itself, however I was curious as to how it would all affect me as a person.
Fast forward to 2024 and I now know just how capable I am. Sure, at this point it’s been nearly three years, so I do sometimes miss having a collection of beautiful clothes and things, but I have never regretted getting rid of everything. Someday I will build a new collection. I also had no trouble finding showers, have become more fit, meditate daily, and have grown to love the minimalist lifestyle. It has been a total of 935 days, and I have not lost my femininity or taste, however I certainly feel more rugged. I suppose cooking with a camping stove, and wandering/showering in the wilderness for months can do that. However, my journey hasn’t been strictly in the wild. I also car camped in the largest city in the country for a year, and managed to find unique routines that worked in several large cities throughout the US. It is entirely possible to live in a car in either rural locations, or busy cities, and as you can imagine, they both have their pros and cons.
I’ll finish this by stating that I firmly believe that every woman should try traveling alone at least once in their lifetime. Traveling alone has taught me how kind and generous people can be, and how things can miraculously fall into place once you decide you want change. When you’re alone you’re less distracted, more approachable, and with time, you gain a better understanding of yourself. Also, if you ever feel like you’ve lost all faith in humanity, traveling will likely place some incredible people in your path to restore it. My mission isn’t to convince every reader to quit their job, sell their things, and hit the road. Instead, I’d love to share what I’ve learned so that others can feel inspired to plan out their own solo adventures, at whatever pace aligns with them. We are all on entirely different journeys, what makes me happy may not make you happy, and vice versa… but if there’s a major life change that you’ve been mulling and fantasizing over, maybe it’s time for you to take a risk. We’re all trying to figure it out… running out of time every day. Focus on your growth and I guarantee you, you’ll surprise yourself.
