I’m standing on an ice cold tile floor in a campsite bathroom, naked from the waste down (but not from the waste up) and trying to figure out how to balance my clean clothes on the handle of the door so they don’t topple to the floor to mingle with what I can only hope is water and mud. Iza is in the other corner carefully wiping herself down with a Burt’s Bees wet wipe. We look at each other with a blank glare as she says:
“So, this is what being homeless is like.”
Our first night away from the comforts of home was by all accounts a wildly successful one. We rolled into our campsite early at Cape Perpetua, met our lovely Canadian neighbors, Chris and Morgan, then took a brisk stroll down to the beach where we were confronted by the awe-inspiring power of Thor’s Well. We made marinated chicken thighs and jasmine rice for dinner, slurped down a couple of glasses of boxed wine, and went to bed before the sun went down.
But, between all that blissful wandering were a couple of untested outdoor adventure rookies fumbling with a whole new kind of hard work. We never thought this would be easy, but after one day we are slowly coming to terms with just how jarringly different life is when it’s being lived out of a four door hatchback.
Here are a few things we learned from our first day on the road:
- You’ll never appreciate how luxurious a sink is until you don’t have one to wash dishes in.
- Mosquitos can and will bite you through clothing.
- The Oregon Coast is one of the most beautiful places on planet earth.
- A wet-nap shower coupled with a fresh pair of underwear feels surprisingly refreshing.
- Adding ‘anal’ to the beginning or end of the name of an RV is admittedly immature but always funny (thank you Jesse and Mallory).
- Packing, unpacking, and repacking your car gets older after about the first time you do it (and certainly the 40th).
- We still have way too much shit, and need to do something about it immediately or we might end up ghost-riding the car into the Grand Canyon just to rid our lives of the cluttered mess of gear, food, and clothes we’ve created.
In the morning after our first night under the stars, as we sip on our freshly brewed espresso (we are from Seattle, after all), we have a moment where it all sinks in and finally feels real. After almost a year of planning, worrying, anticipating, and excitement we are actually doing that thing we always wanted to do.
We are sure to stumble and maybe even fall as we blindly search for our footing in this brand new chapter in our lives, but if there were every any doubts that we might be making some huge mistake, they’ve been lost in the dust we left behind.