One Month
Today officially marks one month of van living. At some point last week, I felt like I really rounded a corner. I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but sometime between when I was lost in the middle of a cow field (like literally in a farmer’s field fenced in amongst the cows) in West Virginia to being parked along the dunes of the beach on Ocracoke Island in the Outer Banks, North Carolina, I realized I’d gotten the hang of this.
It hasn’t been easy. There’s constantly figuring out to do, decisions to be made, directions that are hard to follow, trails that aren’t well marked, and scavenger hunts for water and places to sleep. I’m constantly on my toes. But, everyday there’s a moment when I reach the top of a hike, wake up early to see the sunrise, am gifted with a rainbow after a stormy afternoon, run down the beach into the sunset, or see the full moon rise up over the ocean, where I say to myself, “Wow, this is the best day ever.” Everyday I find myself saying it, and then I say it again the next day. I’ve strung together a month of the best days ever and I have to remind myself that I’m still on the East Coast. Oh baby, I got a lot more good stuff ahead.
Instead of worrying too much about where I’m going, I’ve started to have more faith in that wherever I end up is where I’m meant to be. Last week, I pulled into the ferry parking lot just as one was about to depart and was told that there was a spot left if I wanted to get on. I drove right on to that ferry with no hesitation and it wasn’t until we were cruising out of the harbor, did I realize that I hadn’t even checked to see if it was going to the place I was trying to get to. What the heck, wherever it’s going, I guess that’s where I’m going. I did, indeed, end up on the island I was intending, I’m pretty sure that ferry station only goes to one place, but, still, look how carefree and go with the flow I’ve become.
Besides all of the amazing scenery and adventuring, this trip has also allowed me a chance to reconnect with friends who are spread out in different places. I’ve been lucky enough to be able to see friends at pretty much weekly intervals for much needed showers, laundry, social interaction, and a break from the road. A highlight of these (COVID safe) visits has been being able to have my friends show me around, get a peek into what they’re doing, catch up, and reminisce. I’m so grateful to everyone that has welcomed me and Churro in.
So much has happened this month. On this trip and in our country. It’s definitely been an interesting and eye-opening time to be traveling. The varying political signs in front of homes, in stores, on billboards and how they change from rural to urban areas, town to town, city to city, and state to state has been as attention grabbing as the most beautiful overlooks on scenic drives. Though this weekend granted a sense of relief, it is more apparent than ever to me that there is so much work to be done. Having lived my entire life in a very sheltered, privileged New England setting, I previously underestimated the vastness, the stark contrasts, and the opposing views throughout the country that have been made very distinct and obvious to me over the past month while driving even just around this small portion of it.
When it’s just me and Chur, I do a lot of thinking about life, what I’m seeing and what I’m doing. I’m not sure what my final destination is, or what I’m going to do when I get there. I don’t know if I’m driving towards something or from something. I constantly wonder how I fit into it all, and what role I can play in making the fragmented puzzle that is our country and society more whole. I easily get lost in these thoughts and my mind starts wandering in circles like I was around the West Virginian farmland. However, just as the callouses on my hands have begun to build up from the countless hours behind the wheel (I’m not kidding- I seriously have callouses from holding the steering wheel), so does my faith, trust, and hope that we’re headed in the right direction, which is sometimes all you can ask for. I’m already on the ferry, wherever I end up is where I’m meant to be.
Follow @ablazkicksaz and @travelswithchurro on Instagram for daily updates and pictures.
Leaf Peeper
Growing up in New England, I was spoiled by fall foliage. It wasn’t anything special to me. The summer came to a close, school started, the air got cooler, the leaves changed color. It just happened and young Annie thought nothing of it.
It wasn’t until I went to highschool in the Pioneer Valley of Western Mass, what I would later learn to be a fall foliage hot bed, that I began to notice the leaves. Well, not so much the leaves but more so the large groups of older people from all over the place that got bussed in to “leaf peep”. The leaf peepers would amble through historic Deerfield as I jogged from my dorm down Albany Road, late for soccer practice, laughing to myself and wondering how boring their lives must be to travel here just to admire leaves.
4 years later, the leaf peepers followed me up I-91 North to Hanover, NH for college. Here, obsessions over foliage were prevalent, yet also had a humorous undertone. Hiking Guile during peak foliage was a must as was posting pictorial evidence on Instagram (guilty). The foliage in Hanover was hard to ignore. It flooded social media feeds, painted the green in color, and echoed a satisfying crunch as you walked around campus.
This year was different, however. The summer came to a close, school for the first time did not start for me, the air did get a little cooler, but as I worked on finishing the van at our home in Rhode Island, I didn’t see any leaves begin to change color. You could say that I became “seasonally confused”. I’m sure others can relate to the time warp sensation I have felt since the beginning of COVID and quarantine madness. Last time I checked, it was mid-March and since then everything has blurred. Summer felt endless, and fall? Were we still going to do that this year? I found myself missing and yearning for those red, orange, and yellow leaves that used to line the roads and speckled the undulating hills that surrounded me on campus.
When I first started planning the van build and this journey, I was under the assumption I would be leaving mid to end August. The build took way longer than I expected. But, I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, and I have now found myself on the ultimate peak foliage leaf peeping tour. My 16-year-old self would be rolling her eyes in the quintessential Annie fashion and muttering under her breath about how boring my life must be to be so intrigued by leaves. Maybe I’ve matured, or maybe life these days is truly that boring that I am so easily excited about colorful leaves.
As I looped my way up north through Deerfield, Hanover, Burlington, into the Adirondacks, and then south down through the Catskills, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and, now, as I’m moseying my way through Virginia, I think I finally understand the hype. I mean, man, the foliage is unbeleafable. ha ha ha. But seriously, I could not have timed this better if I had tried.
Besides the beauty of it, there is something so satisfying about this outward manifestation of the passage of time. While so much of our normal lives feel like they have been put on pause over the course of the last months, the seasons are still changing, time is passing, the world, for now, is still spinning forward. I don’t know if it is all the foliage and leaf peeping I’ve been doing over the last two weeks, or that I left the bubble I had confined myself to since March, perhaps, a combination of the two, but I feel like I finally escaped the time warp. I’ve been reminded that there is no pause button, time moves on and the seasons change. However, instead of standing still and watching the change happen around me, I’m moving with it. Following the peak foliage as it makes it way down south, chasing the sun, and leaf peeping along the way.
Day by Day
Today marks my first official week of living in the van. And, what a week it has been. I must admit the first few days were kind of cheating. I was with friends in two of my favorite places. There was a sense of familiarity and a certain level of comfort. I’m not going to lie though, I did have a hard time leaving home last Tuesday. Despite feeling that it was time and I was ready, there were some tears shed when saying goodbye and pulling out of the driveway not knowing when I’ll be back hit harder than I expected. But, that’s growing up. Even if I weren’t living in a van, this is the point in my life where I’d be moving out and going out into the world fully on my own. But, the whole act of actually driving away in my new home with all my possessions and Chur (@travelswithchurro) and starting this journey made that transition feel very dramatic and extreme.
I’m grateful to my friends for helping me get off to a good start on this adventure. It was so special sharing the initial excitement with people I love in places that mean so much to me. But, after a few jam packed days it was time to say goodbye again. I’ve realized how much I hate saying goodbye, especially open-ended ones, but sometimes you just know it’s time to leave and that the people you care most about will pop up again somewhere down the road.
On my first real day on my own, it rained. Churro and I sat cooped up in the van as I did my work and then I called my mom in tears. Yeah, I know I’m 23 years old, but, in my book you’re never too old to call your mom for a good cry. I had a what the heck am I doing moment, I felt trapped in the van, I thought Churro was mad at me, I didn’t know what to do. I took my mom’s advice, stalked up on groceries and got moving. Despite the drizzling rain, it was a beautiful drive. Somewhere on my way through Vermont farmland, over Lake Champlain and into the Adirondacks, all of the doubt and worries that I had been feeling that morning washed away. Churro rode peacefully in the passenger seat listening to my terrible singing as we ventured out together into the unknown. I don’t have a set itinerary of where I’m going or what I’m doing when I get there, I’m just taking it day by day.
It’s only been 7 days, but it feels like I’ve been gone for a year. My days feel longer than they did at home, there’s more to do and something new to see around every corner. I’m not even that far from home or in states that are that foreign to me, but it is as if I’m on a different continent. Though every day is different, I’m beginning to settle into a routine. It’s definitely been an adjustment week for both me and Churro, but we’re finding our stride and figuring things out along the way.
Before I left, my mom gave me a book of daily meditations, “Journey to the Heart” by Melody Beattie, that she reads every morning as part of her routine. The book was written as the author, herself, was traveling cross country and the daily affirmations have been helping me start off each day with positive intentions- even if I’m freezing my arse off. This week one stuck out in particular:
“Honor This Time of Change
Drive across the bridge. You don’t have to understand it all right now. Information and understanding will come later. You’ll get to the other side. For now, trust and experience what you’re going through. Know that this time of change is sacred, too.” (p. 301)
There has been a lot of change lately and I’ve crossed a lot of bridges, literally and figuratively. I’m embracing it: the changing scenery, the changing weather, and the personal growth. Part of me wants to find some deeper meaning, have a great revelation, make sense of it all, but, for now, we’re just going day by day, driving slow, and soaking it all in.
This is it
14 weeks ago I started working on Ody, my tiny home on wheels, with big dreams of moving out west. On Tuesday, October 13th, I’ll be getting behind the wheel, pulling out of the driveway, and hitting the open road. Who would have thought that my first major milestone as an adult would be moving out of my parent’s house into my car?
I’m currently in disbelief that this is actually happening. Being in Ody and looking at all the work I put into it over the last months, every detail, the paneling, my multifunctional bench, the lights, cabinetry, the bed, kitchen, not to mention the three layers of insulation and framing beneath everything and all of the logistics and planning that went into making it happen, practically makes me emotional. I can’t believe I did that.
I’ve done things that I’ve considered hard in the past 23 years of my life, but nothing has tested me to the same extent or been nearly as rewarding as this van conversion experience. Not everything is perfect, in fact there are many imperfections. But, while building I accepted them and then learned to love them. My crooked cabinets, the drawer that needs to be shimmied to the right to open, and the angles I couldn’t get quite right make me laugh a little now remembering the hours, the energy, and all the expletives that went into making them. A few months ago, Ody was a dream of mine, just an idea. Now that dream is my home… that I built… with my hands… I still can’t quite get over it and don’t know if I ever will.
Over the course of the conversion process, I enjoyed sharing my progress on Instagram and was blown away by the outpour of support and encouragement I got along the way from friends and more distant acquaintances. However, the most loyal followers throughout my build were the Home Depot employees I visited nearly every day, neighbors, the mailman, and our lawnmower who excitedly tracked my progress as I worked away in the driveway.
Though this build was pretty much a one woman show, there were many people who helped me along the way that I am so thankful for. Buck at Watch Hill Garage advised me when I was originally looking at vans and removed that darn stripped screw way back in the beginning of the build. Nick and Matt at SoundFX took on the electrical project even though it was out of their realm of expertise and treated it as if it was their own van. They thought of things that I hadn’t and set me up with a very reliable electrical system. I’ve talked about the Home Depot employees a lot, but they are truly amazing. I steadily worked my way through almost every department of that store over the last few months and was met by countless friendly and knowledgeable employees more than willing to help and also curious and invested in what I was working on. Prior, an ophthalmologist, took me to his office at 7pm one night to remove a wood particle that got embedded under my eyelid while sanding one afternoon. That was a dozy. And, I don’t know how to thank the people who made all of the YouTube tutorials, but god bless ‘em. All of the work I did was essentially based off of some tutorial I found online. That’s pretty crazy.
As I said, the build tested me. Mentally, physically and emotionally. 14 weeks is a long time to be completely consumed by any sort of project. I had to teach myself new things, experienced delays and frustrations, had a few mental breakdowns, and, the last three weeks, I nearly worked myself into the ground. On those hard days, it was my family that rallied behind me, offered to help, made me a snack, and got me back out there ready to go. They were also there at the end of the day to ooo and ahh at the progress and celebrate the little victories. They were on the roller coaster with me, and I am beyond thankful to all of them for coming on the ride.
Back in May, I had lunch with my grandfather, Tom, and he asked me what my plans were post-graduation. I was already in the process of looking at vans, but was unsure what he would think of the van life idea. So, instead I gave a vague response. A week later, I got the van and a message from Tom, “I heard you bought a van, give me a call”. I explained my plans for the conversion then traveling and, to my surprise, he thought it was the greatest idea ever. His engagement during the build and our shared enthusiasm for the upcoming adventure has been a highlight. He has a hunch that I am going to become a Park Ranger. I’m not sure about that, but we’ll have to wait and see.
Though my brothers resumed their real lives back in NYC and Boston before the bulk of intensive building began, they have always been my biggest supporters and have been encouraging of the project from the start. It was so special being able to share little van trips with them throughout the summer, whether a surfing excursion or a short rOdy to see Mt. Joy. They have an open invite to meet me anywhere out on the road. They’re coming home to watch me pull out of the driveway, and I’m so excited to show them the final product.
It is impossible to express how thankful I am for my parents. They were truly the ones right beside me and saw the whole thing through from the beginning to end. I am beyond grateful for them, their support of this dream, and their willingness to always lend an extra set of hands throughout the build. They were almost as invested in this project as I was. Dinner conversations the past few weeks have been consumed by logistics and creating lists of items I need. There have been flat tire changing lessons in the driveway and safety speeches. And, they’ve sat in the van with me soaking it all in. My mom jokes that she is going to stowaway in my “garage” right in between my bike and storage bins, because she wants to come on this trip too. I plan on keeping Ody in tiptop shape, so there will be many adventures for years to come. And, I’ve promised Mom and Dad that they can have their turn at van life in Ody one day. Thank you two for your constant support, love, and for putting up with my insanity. I’m looking forward to running into you on the road this spring 😉
And, finally, Churro. I’m sorry I haven’t had time recently for our walks and as many cuddles during the day, but thank you for always being my little squirmy bundle of energy, positivity and love. No one quite lifts my spirits, calms me down, and makes me as happy as you do. I know you have absolutely no idea about what you’re getting into, but no adventure would be complete without you by my side. I’m well stocked on dog food and your favorite bones, your car seat is all set up, and I will carry you on my back up every mountain if your little legs get tired. Thank you in advance for being the best van dog, copilot, adventure buddy, and guard dog.
Despite how comfortable and home-y I’ve made Ody, it is minimalistic and there are a multitude of daily life items I’ll be doing without. I’ve been taking my time in the shower this week, sitting for a little longer on the toilet, relishing in the ease of doing laundry, enjoying the well-stocked fridge and treating myself to the luxurious ice cream in the freezer. Deciding what to pack has been a challenge. What do I need, what do I want, and what will fit. I’ve seriously had to Marie Kondo my possessions. But, there is something very appealing about this simple existence that I’m excited for. The ability to do more with less. I’m letting go of this sense of attachment to items that once defined me in exchange for experiences that will more impactfully shape who I am. I might have a little greasy hair along the way, but that’s what hats and dry-shampoo are for. And, luckily, I rock a good baseball hat.
Once again, thank you to everyone who followed along, helped make this happen, and encouraged me throughout the build, but we’ve ain’t seen nothin’ yet. The real journey is just beginning. I hate to leave you at a cliff hanger like this, but I have no idea about what’s about to happen either. In the words of David Bowie, “I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I promise it won’t be boring.”
Beginner’s Mind
Last Friday, I picked up Ody all outfitted with the electrical gear and got down to work. In just a week, I fully insulated, framed and put up the wall and ceiling paneling. I woke up early before work, squeezed in hours between phone calls, and spent my afternoons laboring away. Each day presented a new challenge. By 6pm, I typically found myself staring at something I couldn’t figure out or get quite right. I’d call it a day, shower off the paint and saw dust, eat dinner, and spend the evening doing research, watching videos and tutorials, trying to figure out what I was doing wrong. In the morning, I’d go at it again. Refreshed and with a better attitude, what seemed impossible the day before, suddenly wasn’t that hard. With every step of progress forward, I’m faced with another challenge, a task I’ve never done before, and new things to figure out.
In Buddhism, there is a term “Shoshin” or “beginner’s mind” used to describe the mindset of a true beginner. With a beginner’s mind, one should be free of preconceptions of how things work, free of expectations for what will happen, filled with curiosity, and open to a world of possibilities. By cultivating a beginner’s mind, you are given the opportunity to see the world around you with fresh eyes.
One of my favorite parts of the building process has been the 5-year-old-like excitement I get after figuring something out. But, you don’t need to have just discovered how to cut the perfect hole with a circular saw or put up ceiling panels to feel that rush of “I’m about to pee my pants” giddiness. While I am truly a beginner at the tasks at hand, the beginner’s mindset can be applied to anything including aspects of our daily lives we are already familiar and comfortable with. Being able to see thing anew brings fresh perspective to old sights, and opens up a world of intrigue and possibility in every day.
Check out this week’s YouTube video for a behind the scenes look at the work I did:
Electrical Installation
Check out my in depth YouTube video for an overview of my electrical equipment and the process I went through to get it installed:
Phase 3: The Grind
My older brother, Charlie, often refers to the story of the two woodcutters. If you haven’t heard it, it goes something like this:
“ Once upon a time, there were two woodcutters named Peter and John. They were often at loggerheads over who chopped more wood. So one day, they decided to hold a competition to determine the winner. The rules were simple—whoever produced the most wood in a day wins.
The next morning John showed up bright and early and began chopping away at his fastest speed. To his surprise, Peter was nowhere to be seen. Already feeling a sense of victory, John continued chopping into the afternoon. Only then did Peter arrive.
“Where have you been!?” exclaimed John.
“I spent the morning sharpening my axe” replied Peter.
That afternoon, Peter swiftly chopped down trees with ease as John struggled with his dull axe.
At the end of the day, Peter was victorious. “
I’ve never chopped down a tree or actually held an axe in my hands- though, I am planning on bringing an axe in my van as my protection weapon of choice, along with pepper spray, and nunchucks. However, the moral of the story is that the more well prepared opponent is able to execute the task faster.
Over the past month, my build has been delayed by the installation of my electrical equipment. It has been frustrating not being able to make much progress on the actual build, but I used the time to sharpen my axe, do research, and plan. I have watched almost every YouTube video out there, read every blog, and looked at build books about how to go about the rest of my conversion. I have drawn out my plans, redrawn my plans, made a 3d computer models of my layout, and have thought endlessly about the steps I need to take once the van is back in my hands.
Today marks the beginning of the final stage of my van conversion. The first stage was the foundation and flooring; the second stage was the electrical; and this third and final stage is the grind everything else out as fast as I can. That will include finishing the insulation of the van, framing the interior, putting up my walls and ceiling, building the furniture, and adding the finishing details.
In addition to doing research and planning the last few weeks, I’ve spent a lot of time working and saving up gas money, and set aside time to relax and enjoy the beautiful end of summer weather, knowing that once phase 3 starts all of my energy is going into this van until it is done. I’m excited to see everything that I’ve planned and dreamed of begin to unfold. It won’t be easy, I will be working my arse off, but it will be so worth it.
Besides planning out the actual van build, I’ve also put together the beginning of my travel plan. I’m not making a strict itinerary, because part of the beauty of the van lifestyle is being able to go wherever I want, when I want. But, I have generated a list of places I don’t want to miss and people I want to visit as a I slowly make my way westward. I don’t have a timeline, an end destination, or any expectations. I want to see where the road and this journey takes me. My only real plan is to head west via a southern route, everything else is subject to change.
I am so appreciative of everyone who has reached out with suggestions, ideas, and sent build inspo along the way- keep ‘em coming. Also, thank you in advance to the people who have offered showers, meals, and driveways to park in along the way- Churro and I will be taking you up on those.
Shoebox
This Fall, for the first time since I can remember I won’t be going back to school. And, for the first time in eight years I won’t be moving into a dorm room. One of my favorite parts about going back to school has always been decorating my room. I loved creating a little oasis filled with my favorite artwork, pictures, hats and mementos that could bring me joy even on the bleakest winter day. I’ve come to view one’s dorm room as a type of self-portrait. The configuration, style, and décor of each little shoebox room on a hall is so different and acts as a reflection of its inhabitant. I love seeing how people put together their little home away from home.
Over the course of my eight years moving in and out of dorms, I’ve accumulated items that I’ve grown attached to and that became my dorm room staples while others were thrown away or replaced the following year. My room this past year was one of my favorites, but it took me eight years to get it to that stage.
At 15 years old, I moved back from Switzerland with my parents after completing middle school there. I was so excited to be coming home and eager to start boarding school. I did not know what to expect, what to bring, and had never seen the inside of a typical girl’s dorm room. My only insight into life in a dorm room was from visits to my older brothers’ rooms which were decorated with movie posters and sports memorabilia. Their advice was to get some posters.
On the walls of my freshman year room at Deerfield hung two posters. One was my favorite Salvador Dali painting, “Meditative Rose”, and the other, my favorite movie at the time, Bridesmaids. What a combo. The two posters in juxtaposition pretty much summed me up: nerd with an okay sense of humor.
Starting at Deerfield after living abroad for a few years was a culture shock. I felt out of place, behind, and clueless to what was considered “cool” and “popular”. I quickly learned that in order to fit in, one needed Roberta Roller Rabbit bedding, shin splints from wearing Jack Rogers, blisters from Frye boots, a Barbour jacket, and other such items.
I vividly remember sitting at my desk in my room on Mac 2 freshman year during study hall, when the senior squash captain decided to pay me a visit. She was quite possibly one of the most intimidating people I have ever met. She said hi, walked into my room, sat down on my bed, and just stared at my posters. “Those are… nice.” In this moment, I most definitely broke out in my signature splotchy red rash which I get when I’m embarrassed, nervous, flustered, or have been drinking cheap alcohol.
The next year, I put in a little more effort into my room decoration. The Salvador Dali poster was thrown away. But, I kept Bridesmaids up. I stand by that being one of the funniest movies ever. I hung my favorite pictures from that summer in matching white frames which stayed with me for the long haul until they were shipped back from Dartmouth a few weeks ago broken. I eventually conformed and got a Roberta Roller Rabbit (actually though, what type of name is that) quilt, which I now plan on reusing in Ody. I doubt Roberta ever thought their bedding would be used in a van, so that makes me laugh. And, by the time I got to college I was a pro at moving into dorms, I knew what I needed and had mastered my set up.
Though a part of me over the years wanted to fit in, have what was considered popular, and have a room that looked cool, I learned that I can create a space that is still a reflection of me and what I like without conforming to some type of mold. Though the Salvador Dali and Bridesmaids posters were no longer featured in my room, I’m still that girl, the nerd with an okay sense of humor.
My favorite addition to my room this past year was hanging my own Ablaz Design Co. prints. Waking up to those in the morning brought me so much joy. I prided myself on having a room friends liked hanging out in and that when new people came in, looked around, and asked about different things, didn’t turn me splotchy red.
Over the past eight years, I grew to love curating my space, and it’s one of the stages I’m looking forward to most about my van build- turning the inside of Ody into my home. I’m excited to decorate, but I also plan on leaving space for things I find along the way. One of my favorite things is collecting art from places I visit. I envision the inside of Ody as being an ongoing portrait of where I’ve been and changing over time, just like my dorm rooms.
Many of my friends and peers have upgraded their square footage and are experiencing the excitement of moving into and decorating new apartments. And, though I might not be moving back into a dorm room this fall, I’m excited for my new little shoebox home. The past eight years have trained me well for tiny-home living.
August Collection
The August Collection is now available on Society6- shop it HERE. This collection features a lot of photography from adventures around town, Block Island, RI, and Maine.
ABLAZ 