In Road Trip!

Three years ago I rented a car, borrowed a tent, and drove eight hours to Flagstaff, AZ to find out if I was cut out for this vandwelling thing I’d been reading about on the internet.

I discovered that I loved the smell, the feel, the sounds and sights of a small patch of forest in the mountains. And I found my people: a ragtag bunch of misfits who surrounded me with love and acceptance.

By misfits I don’t mean losers and dropouts.

These were smart, compassionate, hardworking Americans whose scales had been lifted from their eyes. After a lifetime of chasing the American Dream, they had come to the conclusion that it was all nothing but a big con.

Some had lost marriages, houses, and more. Others, like me, just wanted to travel but couldn’t afford to pay rent or mortgage too. So they opted out of the rat race and formed a loose band of gypsies that spread out over the country and came together again once or twice a year, like the mountain men of old and their rendezvous.

Now, I am back outside Flagstaff in the Coconino National Forest, listening to the caw of a lone crow and the occasional whistle of a train. Nothing else. No sirens, no horns, no hum of the big city. The breeze is cool. I can smell the pine trees that surround me. The golden glow of morning warms the air.

It is a moment of peace and contentment after a week of drama.

If you want to escape conflict, you have to avoid humans. Or die. I’d rather not, so I’ve resigned myself to living with occasional conflict, even among this mostly-peaceful band of introverted gypsies (more often between us and the outside world that often lumps us together with increasing numbers of tramps who live in the forest, starting fires and leaving trash behind wherever they go. We don’t do that, FYI.)

Drama is just part of life.

Three years. Hard to believe it’s been that long. I still feel like a newbie but I am an oldtimer now. Newcomers ask me for advice and, wonder of wonders, I have advice to give: make saving your emergency fund a priority, be sure to secure your stuff before you start driving, and keep yourself, your van, and your camp clean and presentable as much as possible. It’s good for your mental health and for relations with park rangers.

And try to learn something while you’re out here. About nature, about life, about yourself.

Photo Credit: Coconino National Forest via Compfight cc

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Showing 8 comments
  • Swankie
    Reply

    Girl, you sure can write, yes you can. Great post.

  • Linda
    Reply

    Great story! Happy Anniversary! I can see that you thrive as a Vandweller. Ready to lend a hand, share your experience, strength and hope. I am proud to call you my best friend.

  • Joe Leister
    Reply

    What a wonderful post. Nice to hear from you again. Take care and travel safe.

  • Gareth Naylor
    Reply

    I really enjoy reading your articles. To be honest, I find it more difficult to enjoy novels nowadays. But I love your writing. It is fresh and alive. I look forward to your next article. What you write is wonderful.

    • LaVonne Ellis
      Reply

      Thank you so much, Gareth! You have given me motivation to write more. 🙂

  • Cam Coogan
    Reply

    I admire you for actually doing what you wanted to. Three years is such a short time yet such a long time. I guess it’s all relative.. I think it’s really cool that you are out there and doing it, doing what you want. The solitude among the world of misfits sounds wonderful. I would love to learn more of the mundane day-to-day details. You have a plain white van. What do you eat, where do you sleep, where do you bathe/shower? Where do you empty your commode? If you write a book, I will buy it.

    • LaVonne Ellis
      Reply

      Thank you, Cam! I love having you along for the ride. And yes, I am TRYING to write a book with all the mundane details, lol.

  • Linda Buie
    Reply

    I’m glad you are doing this and sharing it here. You are an inspiration to me.

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