Road Trip Wrap-up: Observations, Insights, Reflections
This is the final installment of musings about my July trip to New England. This adventure was a practice run for the longer one out west I am planning for October. So it is important to reflect on what I’ve learned during my month on the road and apply that to my preparations for the bigger trip. Who knows, maybe the information will be useful to others as well!
Observations
This was my campsite for a week on the Cape, sharing precious family time with nephew Gabriel, sister Carol and brother-in-law David.
Here are some observations from my month on the road:
There is amazing beauty all around us wherever we are and whatever the weather or temperature. It is up to us to find and appreciate it.
Visitor centers are great places to get information about the area you are in. The people working in these places are cheerful and love helping newcomers discover favorite landmarks or fun activities.
Going “old school” can be a good thing from time to time. Having an atlas or other paper-based maps and info at your fingertips is very useful when cell service or internet access disappears.
Camping is a way of living your life. Like any lifestyle choice, there are both positive and negative aspects, and one must be willing to embrace the entire experience. Based on my own experience in July (and a lifetime of camping adventures over the years with family and friends), I think I understand the primary positive and negative factors that either drive people into camping, or drive them away from it. Some of you will look at my lists and say to yourself, “I don’t need to camp to get the benefits she’s describing. I can get that by having a house or cottage on a lake, ocean or in the deep woods, and it’s a lot easier than all the work that goes with camping.” That may be true, but I’m convinced there is something fundamentally different about intentionally “roughing it” than what you experience from a building that comes with all the modern conveniences. Camping in my camper is, according to some, still a compromise because I’m living out of a vehicle rather than actually on the ground. Maybe, but at the end of the day, we choose what we’re willing or able to do to mimic the experience of living a rustic lifestyle. Since I’m camping alone, I need to be able to manage on my own, without help. So I intentionally decided not to take on the burden of setting up and tearing down a tent, which can be pretty challenging (and will only get increase as I get older). Here are other pros and cons I’ve observed and experienced (feel free to add to my lists in the comment section!):
Why people love to camp: a) closer proximity to the beauty of our earth - trees, trails, water, scenery, etc. right outside your door; b) being self-sufficient by carrying your house and everything you need with you; c) enjoying the camaraderie among campers and making new friends and acquaintances; d) embracing the joy of living more simply in a smaller space, without constant access to electricity, plumbing, TV, internet, etc.; e) the laid back, relaxed feeling you get just by hanging out at the campsite puttering, reading a book, writing, talking to your neighbors, etc.; f) waking up to beautiful vistas right outside your window, which change with every new place you go; g) saving money on accommodations and using the savings to travel to more places.
Why people don’t like camping: a) feeling dirty even after you’ve taken a shower; b) sweating profusely all the time in the heat and humidity of a hot summer; c) mosquitos in the woods and nasty, biting flies on the beach (they’re everywhere all the time and even when you think you’ve protected yourself, itchy bumps and bites still appear all over your body); d) living everyday with your body coated in sticky sunscreen and smelly mosquito repellent; e) communal bathrooms and showers that may be an inconvenient distance from your campsite; f) being in close proximity to strangers and small children and the noise and lack of privacy that goes with it.
The trip with my dog Sadie will be a different trip than the one I took without her. With no dog, I only had myself to talk to but I was much freer to do certain activities, like biking, entering museums and stores, going into areas where dogs are not allowed. Sadie gets anxious when I walk away and leave her alone (translation: she barks), and I need to be mindful of heat building up inside the camper (where she feels safe and doesn’t bark) if I need to leave her to go into a store or restaurant. Many national parks and trails and even some campsites don’t allow dogs at all, so I’ll be adjusting my plans to accommodate those realities. On the other hand, I enjoy having her company along on the road, and I missed having her with me during my July trip. She also acts as my security alarm, which isn’t a bad thing.
I need a more efficient system for organizing the items stored in my “garage” (the area under my bed), and I need to be more thoughtful in what I bring on a trip. Certain things (that take up valuable space in a small van) I thought I would need I didn’t end up using at all. Some examples:
I had way too many shoes on this trip, and then I bought more along the way. Why would I do that?? Same with books.
Given that this was summer, I brought along way too much cold-weather clothing. I could have made do with just a couple of “might need” items but I definitely didn’t need an entire winter wardrobe. (I’ll have to consider this carefully for the fall trip - half of it will be in October in the South, which will likely be pretty warm, and the other half will be across mountains and through the Midwest to Chicago in November, which could be bitterly cold.)
Towels, of course, are important for many functions and you need a bunch of them when camping. That said, I didn’t need all the big, bulky, bath and beach towels or the heavy blanket that I brought along.
Managing my electrical system and keeping my “house” batteries charged is a constant process of learning, experimentation, vigilance, and attention. The true test of my ability to manage my system was when I parked the van for eight days and seven nights under trees with no electrical hookup. If you don’t understand the relationship between charging the batteries and depleting them (which I still didn’t at the beginning of July), then it can be very confusing when you think it should be charging up but the “state of charge” percentage keeps going down. I figured out (finally…) that if the appliances are using up the battery power at a faster rate than it can be replenished, then you will be in trouble sooner rather than later (I know, I know, it seems so obvious now). The helpful analogy that brought this home to me is the image of a bucket with a big hole in the bottom and water rushing out, while at the top of the bucket is a faucet trying to fill it using only a trickle. In my van the drain on the batteries was constant, the only questions being, 1) how much could I slow down the drain, and 2) how could I boost the charge when the batteries got too low for my comfort level (under 30% seemed to be my panic threshold). There are only two ways to boost the battery power when there is no option for plugging it in: running the engine and relying on the solar panels, neither of which by themselves was enough to handle the drain caused by running the frig and other electrical items nonstop at the campsite. So I did the following, experimenting until I felt that I was somewhat in control of my situation and had the right balance of using up power, regaining (charging) power, and preserving existing power:
I turned the frig off for long periods, using it only as a cooler. I also turned off my water heater.
I had the foresight to bring a Jackery power station with me, which meant I could turn off pretty much everything electrical in the van and still have a power source that could charge devices, heat water for coffee, etc. It served me very well and I was glad I had it.
I only used the van electrical system to run my water pump and the occasional light. In the evenings I used a lantern and LED rechargeable flashlights to light the inside of the cabin.
I maneuvered the van into a position between the trees that would maximize whatever sunlight was available during the day. When I can’t plug in, I need to be aware of where the sun is.
I idled the engine in place at the campsite for a couple of hours most mornings and again in the evening, trying to keep the charge above 50% at all times.
I tracked the changes in the battery and amp levels several times per day and made notes about weather, changes I made (turning things on or off, idling and for how long, etc.) and other factors. I plan to study that data while planning for my next trip so that I can better predict what the batteries need and when.
Insights
This is me waiting in line for the Deer Island ferry on my day trip to Saint John, New Brunswick.
Living as a solo traveler for a month taught me a few things about myself:
I like to explore the area I’m in beyond the confines of where I happen to be staying. When solo camping, that means I have to pack up the camper, put everything away, shut all cabinet doors tightly, and close the awning before I drive off for daily adventures. There seems to be some connection between this reality and my readiness to move on after just one or two (maybe three) nights at one campsite. The week on the Cape was different because I was camping with other people and had access to a car that could take us everywhere we wanted to go. But when traveling alone I’m either confined to the campground or perpetually in “get up and go” mode, which then creates a sense of always being ready to take off, which then seems to make me itchy to take off after a relatively short time in one location.
When living out of a small space such as a campervan, I need to put everything in its own place and keep the van tidied up. I discovered (to no real surprise…) that rearranging and reorganizing off and on during the entire trip, and repacking things in different places every time you put things away, has consequences. Inevitably, you will, after a fairly short time, have no idea where anything is. The place may look tidy, but it is just an illusion, as you will discover when you try to figure out which are the clean clothes and which are the dirty ones…
Music can do wonders to set a desired mood or lift spirits on a low energy day. While on the road I bought myself a small speaker for the camper (I don’t like earbuds or headphones). Music has a way of speaking to the listener, and has the power to reflect the mood you’re in, or change and shape your moods and emotions. It can be calming or energizing. Melancholy or lively. I learned that I need access to music during the trip not only when I am driving, but also when I’m not.
I love art and I love hanging out with artistically minded people, but it’s finally time to come to terms with the fact that I’m not an artsy/craftsy person who can spend hours alone working with her hands. There’s no shame in admitting that I just don’t have the patience or care enough to focus the time needed to master a particular skill that I think I want to know how to do (or even just get acceptably good at). Malcolm Gladwell tells us that we need to commit about 10 years or 10,000 hours working hard at a new skill to become excellent at it. The reality is that if I am willing to spend that kind of time getting better at something (especially at my age…), then I need to pick just one activity that captures my passion and imagination, not five or six that I have mild interest in, no experience, and no desire to spend hours and hours alone working on. During the month of July I did not get my crochet yarn out at all. I got my sketch pencils out once and was so disappointed with what I produced that I never got them out again. Clearly I’m not committed enough to spend time on either of those activities trying to get better. The portable watercolor set that I bought just before leaving on the trip (that I haven’t even taken out of its wrapper) falls into the same category. It doesn’t bring me joy to focus intense time and attention on something that takes me away from what I’d rather be doing, which seems to be almost anything other than crocheting, drawing or painting. Where does the banjo fit into my willingness to commit to 10,000 hours? Jury is still out, but I’m not ready to give up on that one quite yet.
Caveat to the above: A friend recently pointed out that just because I’m not interested in spending hours and hours by myself attempting to develop artistic or crafty skills doesn’t mean I’m not interested in spending any time on any art or craft projects. She pointed out that, in fact, I love dabbling in art when in a more communal group setting. This is true. She also reminded me that over the years I have found other, tangible, ways to express my creative energy (cooking, decorating my house/camper, gardening, writing, to name a few). I hadn’t thought about my “failed” attempts in this way, but I think I understand her point. You don’t have to be good at something or even be passionate about it to have a good time trying out new or unfamiliar skills, especially when you are with others who are encouraging and supporting your efforts. The end result doesn’t matter, and you have a lot of fun hanging out with other people. So when it comes to certain artsy and crafty endeavors, if it is a social event, then I’m all in. My insight is that now I know I don’t need to bring art supplies with me on a solo camping trip. Books and writing materials (and maybe my banjo) will be enough.
Reflections
I never got tired of the ocean and the bays.
When you travel alone, you have only yourself to keep you company. For this to be a good experience, I believe you need to:
Like the person you are, even with all your imperfections.
Enjoy spending time alone, and be able to make it a positive experience even when you are feeling a bit lonely or melancholy.
Take risks and try new things and see what happens. Be willing to push yourself since there is no one else there to do it for you.
Keep your thoughts grounded in reality and overall positivity. Fear, frustration, uncertainty are normal, but need to be balanced with joy, contentment and curiosity.
Get comfortable with being uncomfortable - that’s when some of the best experiences will happen!
Know your own limits and don’t be afraid to ask for help. There are many kind people out there, and campers are typically a very communal, helpful bunch.
Maintain contact with important people in your life while you are on the road. Having “check-ins” from time to time (or even every night), whether texting, zooming or phoning, can help you maintain your emotional equilibrium and keep you from feeling overly isolated. On this July trip I was meeting with friends and family face to face throughout the trip. This will not be true on my trip west, which has much higher potential for being isolating and lonely if I’m not careful.
Be flexible about what you decide to do and where you decide to go. It is very freeing to be able to spend as much time as you want at one place or another, or pivot on a dime to something totally different than you had originally planned.
Appreciate what you can accomplish on your own and without help. I backed myself up narrow pathways into campsites, removed and mounted my heavy and awkward bike and bike rack, loaded and unloaded my gear, prepared my meals, cleaned everything up, and set up and tore down my campsite all by myself. My camper Nellie Bly is just the right size for me, and the perfect vehicle for solo road-tripping. I’m pretty sure I’ll be ok when I take my trip out west in October and November.
I treated myself to a side trip to Niagara Falls on my way home. They were spectacular as always.
Now it’s time for me to revisit my Larson ancestors, research their history, and finish preparing for my next trip coming up in just a few short weeks!
