"May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view." - Ed Abbey

Salty Ocean Tears

The chapter of van-life is (too) quickly drawing to a close for our team.

I stick by what I shared last time – I want to end our nomadic living – but that’s not to say that I don’t have some apprehensions. This really WAS a lot of fun! In some ways, it was better than I expected. I knew we’d have fun tooting around the island in our retro ride, flashing peace signs to all fellow vanagon drivers. But I didn’t expect to actually have fun and enjoy some of the sacrifices of this lifestyle.

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Flashback to the early days, when I was a timid mess who hardly slept a wink for fear of the cops knocking on my door…or window…or side panel. That was hard, and intimidating, and frustrating at times. We managed to stay (mostly) clear of the police, and I thank God for that. But while it was kind of nerve wracking and stressful, it was also neat. No, not the cop dodging part, but the part where we never really knew where we’d end up sleeping that night, or the part where we said yes to more concerts, social events, and even quiet nights out for coffee. There was a trade off – less security and stability, more free time and freed up money and freed up spirits. I’ve always considered myself a free-spirit, but I think this van living took that to a whole other level.

Then there was the weekends. Glorious, anticipated, planned getaway weekend after weekend after weekend! But that doesn’t need to change just because we will be living in an apartment like regular folks. The wild runs strong and the wild runs free and it runs in me!

Which brings me to this past weekend. Our last. The finale. The icing on the cake. The final dance.

Encore! Encore! My soul cries for more. For more freedom, more adventure, more nomadism.

But a van-dweller who lives in a van temporarily is a temporary Van-dweller. The end was inevitable, and I knew it was coming.

We pack-up Hobo the van with our surfing gear, toot down the curving, bending island roads to one of our favourite getaways – Tofino. We’ve been here so many times…but I am always beyond happy to be back. To surf, to walk the beaches with my dog, to hula hoop by the crashing shore, and the spend time with my partner.

Dan's sure getting the hang of it...
Dan’s sure getting the hang of it…

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On the second day, despite very cold water and incredibly choppy seas, I manage to take the board for a surf. I don’t last long…its frigid!…but I feel like I have died and gone to heaven. This place! This ferocious wind! The toppling waves! I feel so alive. I feel charged with joy and pure enjoyment. I even started crying when I was out there because I never, ever, EVER wanted it to end. My toes were froze, my face was numb, but my heart was oh so warm.

The moving out of, and selling of Hobo the van does not necessarily mean we won’t make it back to Tofino, but it also might. We have a lot of hobbies, and part of the appeal of surfing was having a warm, comfy pavement dwelling home to come back to. So it may be good-bye for Tofino for a while, and that hurts.

But we look ahead, to the future. All the meals I can cook in an oven! All the showers I can have whenever I want! And a space to cuddle up, inside. TRULY inside.

But before you go thinking that WOW we got lame to settle down all of a sudden…I will inform you that our apartment is only housing us for two months. Yup. That’s it.

Then the next true adventure begins. An adventure of tenacity, of grit, of nomadism…

But that story’s for another time.

Stay wild my friends. Peace.

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