2020 in Retrospect: Van Life in a Pandemic

2020 Van Life Intentions

As we prepared to depart the Northeast and get back on the road for a new phase of van life – just as COVID-19 was beginning to be taken seriously in the United States – we thought about our 18 months experience living and working remotely full time in our Sprinter van RV.

Building on what we had learned, we expressed our intention to spend more time stationary in 2020, for example at campgrounds, or even hotels or Airbnbs. This time, more basecamps and less driving.

We felt we needed more stability for successful workdays and less stress.

Looking Back on 2020

We spent most of spring in Sedona, Arizona. We travelled a bit mostly in Montana, and then in early summer we arrived in Boulder, Colorado.

Whereas the first phase of van life was an extended scouting mission to see as many places as possible, in 2020 we revisited a few favorites and soaked them in – mission accomplished.

Current Events

Now in January 2021, as we look back and reminisce about 2020, we are grateful that the pandemic was aligned with our intention to be more stationary and stable.

Due to circumstances beyond our control (e.g. Covid) we have continued living here in Boulder, which as it turns out, has been a lovely place to be “marooned”—and—moored.

We thought it would be fun to recap 2020 “by the numbers” – according to how much time we spent in each place, as a percentage of the year. Enjoy!

2020 By the Numbers

2 months (17%) – Northeast (Connecticut, New York, Maine, Massachusetts)
December 2019 - February 2020 (Winter 2020)
2 months (17%) – Sedona, Arizona
March 22 - May 29, 2020 (Spring 2020)
Grand Canyon re-opening Memorial Day weekend
2 months (17%) – Montana (Yellowstone, Gardiner, Bozeman, Missoula)
1 month (7%) – Oregon, Utah, Washington, Wyoming (various Winter, Spring, Summer)
5 months (42%) – Boulder, Colorado (Summer & Fall 2020)

Refuting or Reconciling Slogans

His t-shirt had read:

GUNS
GOD
&
TRUMP

Ashleigh observed as we started our walk.

I had noticed an incendiary message set in a heavyweight font, but I hadn’t scrutinized it. Based solely on subtle conversational signals, our new neighbors at the next campsite had seemed like relatable people while exchanging pleasantries with us a few minutes ago. The bold triple heading emblazoned on the guy’s shirt did call for further investigation, but he would have seen me reading it, and I didn’t want to provoke a longer conversation; I just wanted to go for a walk.

Bolding a dumb phrase like “Guns, God & Trump” is a pitiful attempt to add weight to a wire frame.

A delusional conspiracy theorist proclaiming nonsense – with feverish conviction. Breathless froth not enough? Add VOLUME.

🔥
(If only a disinfo mind virus spiked an actual fever, or profile of symptoms to indicate the psyche had caught a spark of madness before a malicious meme could have a chance to light up the nervous system like a Christmas Tree…)*

---

When Ashleigh told me the shitty slogan displayed by this seemingly-decent human, my instinct was to invent an internally consistent backstory to reconcile his congeniality with his apparent ignorant-ass beliefs.

I thought: they were so… nice. And… normal?

“He’s Dutch,” Ashleigh mentioned – on account of something to do with the dog’s name.

“Huh. It doesn’t make any sense,” I needlessly remarked, flummoxed. Then a moment later I told her, “I got it: the next time I see him, I’m going to say, ‘I was wondering about your shirt. I can only assume you mean it ironically, because we had such a lovely conversation earlier.’ And he will laugh and high-five me and say ‘no one has ever figured it out so quickly.’”

But I did not approach him with that theory…

Because I did not want to get shot…

---

His t-shirt, when I saw him next, was – albeit an upgrade in cleverness – equally depressing in its message. The new slogan read “ARIZONA” in all caps, along with a threatening silhouette: the unmistakeable side profile of an AR-something-something assault rifle.

ARIZONA
🔫

More guns, this guy. Not a good sign.

His t-shirt completed its cute little quip:

“California” (title case), telephone icon, “911”.

California
☎️ 911

Hmm.

“I think he’s an actual Trump supporter,” I tried.

I thought… it’s either that, or he gets how stark a self-caricaturization these numb-skulled, chest-thumping, pro-Trumpers are. Could he be a walking, talking, in-real-life internet troll? Maybe…

But doesn’t that seem a little… far-fetched?… I asked myself.

What a mess it is making sense of anything.

It’s no wonder that misinformation finds such a foothold. But let’s not let these weaponized numbskulls – toting guns – form a stronghold.

Let’s not let civilization be a footnote.

Let us not let disinformation find purchase.

Instead of proclaiming aggression on your chest:

Try wearing your heart on your shirtsleeve.

---

Arizona
❤️

California
💚

U.S.A.
💙

---

Make
Earth
Sane
Again

Vote
2020

---

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* “Gerry, you’re running a high temperature localized in the cerebral cortex. We think a political ad ran a denial of service attack on your critical thinking process. We’ve loaded the recovery room television with a regimen of Stephen Colbert, John Oliver, Bill Maher, Chelsea Handler, and Ellen. You’ll find them on channels 1-12. Nothing is on Channel 13 because we’ve found it’s helpful to illustrate the futility of superstition. After sundown, the screen turns off. There is no override – but not to worry, there is of course an audio program available anytime in binaural surround sound, featuring a series of guided meditations from Tara Brach and Sam Harris.”

“Wh— what happened?” Gerry finally speaks.

The woman in the white coat answers: “I mean– well, in medicine we have terms for this. You– basically, your friends noticed you were spewing nonsense.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.” Gerry still has trouble processing.

Pausing; trying not to show pity, the woman retrieves the remote from a pocket in her white coat, and turns on the television. The screen is dim and slowly brightening. “Colbert just started his monologue.”

Originally written Spring 2020 in Sedona.

Ahead of the Curve

Since we got back on the road, we’ve been just ahead of shutdowns and outbreaks. (From another perspective, it looks like we’ve been leaving a trail of Covid in our wake. But that’s correlation – not causation. To the best of our knowledge we have not spread any Coronavirus.)

The Very Beginning – March 2020

We departed New York only a week or two before the novel coronavirus would fully emerge. We had been residing in Fairfield County, Connecticut – next door to the county which a mere week after leaving would be the origin point of one of the first known big outbreaks. And being close to NYC, our home base encountered COVID-19 head-on, early on in the pandemic.

We knew to take it seriously, but not before we departed the northeast and headed west.

First stop, Portland

We arrived in Portland to an Airbnb expecting to spend a long weekend with friends and see live music (our favorite band, TOOL), the first week in March 2020. Instead, we got sick, and our friends’ flights were canceled. Coronavirus was upon us, despite “guidance” from “leadership” to the contrary.

We heard about the nursing home in Seattle, the cruise ships, the San Francisco Bay Area being the first to shut down, the emerging cases in Oregon, and so on as the news developed. We then thought: “yeah… let’s get away from the West Coast and any hot spots.”

Onward and inland

We had to decide where to go for quarantine, where we could “hunker down and ride out this pandemic virus.”

But first, we had to find somewhere to spend the workweek. We settled quickly on Ashland, Oregon – at least temporarily – because it got us moving in the direction we wanted to go (which was South), and it was a city that we felt we knew well enough, politically and logistically, from past visits, and therefore knew it would be conducive to van life.

But beyond that, where would we go to ride out this virus for the next month (!) or more? Sedona! It was decided.

Sedona, Arizona - Spring 2020

We surfed Sedona’s energy vortices for ten blessed weeks. We emerged with the resolve and knowledge that – by way of a vow, with care and consideration – we could get through this.

Together.

We got to go to the Grand Canyon, on its reopening for Memorial Day weekend, May 23-24, 2020 – on what must have been one of the most sparsely-attended days since the invention of the Interstate Highway System.

Things were opening up a bit, and we felt it was time to move on. We left Arizona at the end of May 2020.

state Transition

We wanted to go back to Yellowstone, so we headed for Utah and stayed in Park City for a workweek before landing in Montana. We spent a few weeks mostly boondocking and camping in Forest Service campgrounds in Gardener and Bozeman. This gave us time to explore more of Yellowstone National Park. There were very few if any cases, and they had just reopened to travelers from other states without requiring a quarantine. We were still careful, as always.

But like in Sedona, we were the weirdos with masks. Some people apparently didn’t “believe in” masks. (Note to those people: it’s not about belief; it’s science. Germs are real. Masks work. This is not debatable. Germ theory is real. Germ theory is a theory like gravity is a theory.)

We spent a month in Montana and then we left, by way of Wyoming.

Cody, Wyoming

On the way out of Yellowstone, we had brunch with a family friend, Joe’s Godfather Frank, and as it happened, we were exposed to one of only three known COVID-19 infections in Cody, Wyoming at that time. Frank ended up spending a fair amount of time in a hospital in the closest city, and thankfully he recovered. We only learned that we had been exposed a week later, shortly after arriving in Boulder – too late to avoid potentially exposing our friends here. Thankfully, we tested negative (in the logical sense) – and felt pretty positive about it.

Boulder, Colorado – Summer & Fall 2020

Boulder has been a great home base for us – thanks in part to our very affordable, well-placed, short-term apartment, as well as to our friends here, and the culture too.

In Boulder, everyone wears masks – allowing everyday life to remain fairly constant …so far.

People walk, run, bike, skateboard, one-wheel, scooter, glide, ride, and drive to get where they are going just like anywhere. And often doing all of the above in masks (due to the pandemic).

We left Boulder for about five weeks at the end of Summer 2020. I noticed that on the day we left Boulder the first leaves were falling.

On our late summer van trip, we saw some amazing things – like North Cascades National Park in Washington – and did some awesome hiking in Wyoming. Unfortunately, we got smoked out of our original plan to spend a couple weeks on the Olympic Peninsula due to heavy wildfires.

We realized that it was hard to go back to living in the van. Work-wise, it felt like having one hand tied behind my back. It didn’t help that only a week into our trip, quality of life was halved after our bed broke (our convertible bed-sofa became a permanent sofa). We paused van life (#brokenbedvanlife #nofun) with several multi-day stays in Airbnbs because we learned that a permanent desk is irreplaceable and a decent bed is essential.

We limped home to Boulder to rendezvous with Amy (who had been living in our apartment in Boulder for several weeks) and Will (who had arrived a week earlier). Such a privilege to see family and friends and especially to travel together, in these pandemic times. We celebrated Ashleigh & Amy’s birthday in Rocky Mountain National Park.

November 2020 Update

For now, we have decided to remain in Boulder through Summer 2021, aside from a few months this winter when we’re planning to be back in the Northeast. We feel set up to ride out the ongoing pandemic amid the increasing concern that’s likely not letting up until the spring.