I’ve been returning to this document frequently over the past two weeks, trying to write, add ideas, edit, just to hit save and close it again– not knowing what to say or how to say it. It would be practically impossible for me to sum up this past year or to do the 30,000 mile journey in Ody justice in a video, pictures or with my words. I think the difficulty stems from knowing that the past 15 months- since I began converting the van to then living on the road- have been a defining moment in my life, perhaps life-altering, and will be ones I will continue to reflect on going forward.
Having returned home to visit my family in Rhode Island over Labor Day Weekend, I found myself back in my room, sitting in the very spot where I spent hours researching van conversion information, planning, dreaming of the places I’d go, and the adventures I wanted to have. Now, scrolling through my photos and videos from the past year I’m somewhat in disbelief of everything that has transpired.
I did it.
Through it all, I continually disproved and redefined what I previously believed were my limits and what I thought I was capable of. I told myself “I can” before I even really truly believed it and then discovered that I could.
It was a year that opened my eyes wider and set my gaze farther. It was a chance to look inwards, figure myself out and who I want to be, as well as outwards. I examined the world around me, the environment, nature, our society, and the messy interconnectedness of it all. I faced the harsh reality of our country head on and am embarrassed to admit how oblivious I was to the injustice that is so prevalent throughout it. In that chair in my bedroom in Watch Hill, Rhode Island, I dreamt of the National Parks I’d visit, the mountains I’d ski, and the waves I’d surf- I was idealistic, optimistic, and ignorant. I didn’t even consider the desolate towns I’d pass by, the homelessness I’d encounter, the drought I’d endure, and the smoke and smog I’d inhale. While I met many people on the road living similarly to me, there was also an overwhelming population of vans, nomads, and vehicle dwellers not driving Mercedes Sprinters, not doing this for fun, not living this way by choice.
Any discomforts I had while living full-time in Ody were temporary and part of the adventure, whereas for the transient community the same daily tasks of survival are their reality. The immense privilege of my situation was something I grappled with on the daily. Compared to my lifestyle back home and my friends in New York City or Boston, I thought I was being a minimalist. But looking around me and sometimes sharing overnight spots with derelict school buses, old cars with tarp lean-tos, and permanent tent set-ups, in my reliable van with new appliances and a beautiful home and supportive family to return to at the end of it all, I was struck with guilt. Living this way under the guise of minimalism was a luxury in itself. I treaded carefully in these situations not out of fear of the people, but out of respect.
Even the most beautiful places I visited were tainted with sadness embedded in their history like National Parks resurrected on land stolen from Indigenous groups now contained to reservations. As I fell in love with the majesty and diversity of the natural landscapes of this country, my resentment grew for how we have decided to manage, divide, and take care of this land that was home to many prior to us.
I’ve never been so sure of myself, yet so unsure of our future as a whole. This country is splitting at the seams- the environment, the pandemic, politically. I think at my age and at this point in my life, I’m supposed to feel like I have this expansive future ahead of me. Yet, I feel like everything could just implode. Devastating hurricanes, uncontrollable wildfires, food deserts and droughts leave me wondering if Earth will even be a hospitable environment for human survival in 50 years? It’s nihilistic, it’s dark, you can tell me I’m being dramatic, call me a dooms dayer, but if you look around, look at what’s going on and the little change that is being done, the end doesn’t seem that far off. If the economic system we subscribe to is actively destroying the biosphere and failing to meet most people’s basic needs, what’s the point?
Waves of nerves and uncertainty during my time in the van often had me rubbing the blue glass pendant around my neck. The evil eye which I’ve been wearing since I began building the van is a talisman of protection. The moonstone crystal on my dashboard promotes strength, inner growth, and safety during travels. My pepper spray was always within reach, but remained unused. Though many expressed concerns of safety at the idea of a young woman going off on her own alone in a van, both me and Ody returned home with no scratches…well, maybe I had some scratches, but only the standard ones from hiking in the woods. The recent media coverage of Gabby Petito, a 22 year old female van traveller who went missing and was later found dead, has me feeling grateful for my own experience of safety while on the road. Not to make light of the tragic situation, but perhaps going solo wasn’t such a bad idea. Sadly, in the same area Gabby disappeared, over the past decade over 700 Indigenous people, mostly girls, were reported missing according to a January report published by Wyoming’s Missing and Murdered Indigenous People Task Force. For these women and girls, there has been no national news coverage, no large scale search parties or investigations, no justice. It’s heartbreaking to think we live in a country that protects people based on skin tone and gender. And, it’s even more devastating to know it.
The only knocks I got on the van were from local police officers and National Forest patrollers who were ensuring my safety. When hearing a knock, I’d panic thinking I’d be reprimanded for being parked somewhere I wasn’t allowed. However, upon seeing me in conjunction with the type of van I was in, they’d give me a business card and tell me to call if I had any troubles, direct me to a safer spot to spend the night, or let me stay at the town park even though it wasn’t allowed. I know the same generosity would not have been extended had I not looked the way I do.
I hope that the missing and murdered Black, Brown, Indigenous and LBTQ+ women will receive the same media attention and public support that Gabby and white women like me do. And, I wish that everyone benefited from the same sense of security I received from police officers throughout my travels.
The last leg of my journey from Oregon, Washington, Alaska, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, to finally parking the van in Denver, Colorado was with my Mom by my side. I’ll include a shameless plug to her blog post about the three weeks we spent together covering seven states, visiting six national parks, and devouring countless Annie’s Special Creation Buddha Bowls for dinner.
It’s been an adjustment landing in Denver. But, I’m reminding myself that it’s not the ending, it’s just the arrival. After the time with my Mom and then visiting with the whole family back home, it was hard to once again head out on my own. Well, not entirely on my own as I have Churro by my side once more.
I’ve had to reteach myself how to stay put as the van parked outside of my apartment beckons me back to the open road. Not just me, but Churro, too, stops at the van whenever we’re out for a walk, sits and looks at me as if asking if it’s time to go yet. Putting down roots, finding a community, making friends, and starting over in a new place is a different type of challenge than anything I faced in the van. Though I’ve had days in the past few weeks since being in Denver where it’s seemed like too large of a feat, I remind myself how I started out in the van- just taking it day by day and having faith that it will all work out.
If you’re reading this, thank you. Thank you for following my journey. As much as it was for me, my hope in sharing bits of my experience during this chapter of my life here and on Instagram was to inspire others to look at the world around them differently, more carefully, and critically. To challenge yourself in your own way. To take a risk or follow a dream. To encourage you to take the time to get to know yourself better.
Life is fragile, impermanent, and unexpected. So, make every day– no matter where you happen to find yourself– the best day yet
Until tomorrow.
Annie
ABLAZ 
Thank you for sharing!
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