What I've Learned From 8-Months of Camper Life
Travel has a way of exposing what we once didn't see.
(A word from me),
Hey there!
I hope you’re having an excellent week so far. I wanted to first apologize for how long it’s taken to send out a post. I came down with a nasty sinus cold which kept me handcuffed to bed for a few days.
And no, it wasn’t COVID. I know that’s the first thing we thing of these days. But no, it was just a combination of crazy weather changes, extreme dehydration, and as someone who never eats sugar, I over-indulged…and that just pushed me right over the edge (of course at this point if I eat a Pop-Tart I get a headache because my body has no clue what to do with the sugar…I knew that going in so that was my fault).
But being cooped up in a camper with two dogs, parked in a Walmart parking lot for several days got me thinking about some of the things I’ve learned while on this wacky travel-the-country-in-a-camper journey.
Here’s one of those thoughts.
Hope you have a great day-
Greyson
What I’ve Learned From 8-Months of Camper Life
You don’t truly know someone until you’ve traveled with them.
The unexpected surprises, the nightmarish afternoons, the sudden problems, and the random successes, travel has a way of exposing our faults. It spotlights our actions when we’re most exposed. When we are vulnerable. Do you panic when in a foreign train station and don’t speak the local language? Do you grow angry when fractured conversations with a taxi driver go nowhere? Do you give up, throw your hands in the air, and curl up in a ball on the hotel room floor because of a sudden change of plans?
We’d all like to answer one way, but sometimes that’s just not the case. And sometimes it matters who we’re with. Travel lets us not only discover more about someone but more about how we work with someone. I’ve been with people who, on paper, I should make an excellent travel partner with. In reality, that paper ripped in half and flew out a car window.
You learn a great deal about that person you’re traveling with, even if that person is yourself.
Especially if that person is yourself.
A New Sense of Dependability
Halfway through 2020, I decided to buy an old 1960s camper, renovate it, and travel the country. It wasn’t a luxury decision. In more ways than one, it was a backed-into-a-corner decision. But it no longer matters why. As I continue with my eighth month of continued camper life, I’ve learned I can’t dwell for long on what cause may have led to what effect. Instead, I need to focus on the effect.
Because whatever happens, there’s nobody out there to turn to. There’s no helping hand. There are no days off. There’s just me. And I have to depend on myself.
Depending on yourself can be terrifying. When it’s you and only you.
I’ve lived on my own for much of my adult life. I’ve moved to places I didn’t know a soul in. I’ve traveled to countries for weeks or months on end. But with each of those times and destinations, I was never fully alone. I could order something and have it delivered to the house. If I couldn’t figure something out I could take a break, put it aside, or call in a pro.
But with this, I had me and the watchful eyes of two dogs who depend on me for everything. Eventually the terrifying falls away and it’s just what needs to be done.
Because I’m the only person who can do it.
And when you’re the only person who can step up to do it, there isn’t much of a choice.
It’s a powerful discovery to learn you can fully and completely depend on yourself. To know whatever happens you’ll make it out to the other end. It gives you confidence the world can do what it will, because you don’t depend on the world. You depend on yourself.
I Don’t Need Anyone...But It Would Be Nice
Eight months on the road. Eight months on the road and counting. There’s an end game, so it’s not forever. The road to Oz is quickly approaching its final destination. With this much time traveling back roads, sparse Maine coastal cities, miles of nothing desert between more miles of nothing desert, you become accustomed to what’s around you. What’s in the vehicle with you. For me the dogs, the camper, and the truck itself. All are part of an eclectic roadway family.
As the only human (despite what one of the dogs might think) I might talk out loud, work through an idea, or just sing back to whatever lyrics of a song I can remember. I’ve made it eight months without any counterparts or co-pilots.
But it would be nice.
I don’t know if humans are necessarily made to be with other humans. I’ve seen many thrive while being on their own, away from the world. Maybe different humans need different things, and that alone is what makes them human. Having someone along for the journey wouldn’t have been required. In fact, I wouldn’t be writing this if there had been. I wouldn’t have learned about myself because I wouldn’t have traveled by myself. The stronger understanding of who I am wouldn’t have developed.
And yet there have been times where that’s what I’ve thought of. Getting lost walking the few random streets in South Padre Island or riding a bicycle up to the Grand Canyon, there were times where I would have loved to have someone there to take it in with me. Sometimes there’s just more to absorb in the moment than what one person can take in.
I can continue on, without someone there. But there will be times where I know it would be nice if someone was.
A Concrete Foundation
Should someone eventually come around, I’ve learned this entire experience has made me better for it? With the understanding of who I am, I know what I lack. I know where I fall short. There are fewer guesses and more concrete answers. And every relationship needs to have a concrete foundation.
Hard to have that concrete foundation when you don’t fully know who you even are. Because how do you know what works with you when you don’t know what makes you?
It becomes a relationship built on shifting sand. And even if that sand starts out flat, it’ll shift over time, cracking the construction of any relationship sitting on top. And it’s not necessarily because of what you didn’t see in the other person. It’s what you didn’t see in yourself.
It’s been a long journey so far. But a journey that has opened me up to one important thing: me.
A better understanding of who I am.
It’ll help me with wherever I go next. And it’s given me some killer conversation material.
What a gift you’ve given yourself—time to explore the person within. That dot connecting journey adds color to the meaning of our life. 🙏🏻