LONG STORY SHORT By Kristine McGowan Despite how it looks on our Instagram, our life on the road isn’t all fun and games. To make it work, we’ve had to give up several modern comforts, many of which we took for granted when we lived in a home with fixed plumbing and a concrete foundation. Those sacrifices felt particularly striking over the last couple weeks, as we got back on the road after a three-month hiatus. To be clear, we do not regret hitting the road. We’d give up these comforts over and over again in exchange for just a fraction of the adventures we’ve enjoyed so far. Because that’s the thing about modern comforts: While they’re convenient, they also anchor us to a single spot, out of adventure’s reach. To give you a sense of what I’m talking about, here are seven comforts we gave up when we transitioned to life on the road. Each one may sound like a hassle—because it is—but it’s also been absolutely worth it. Access to Water Behold the elusive water hookup, available only at the more-expensive campsites we usually avoid. For most of our trip, we’re staying in national park, state park, and county campgrounds because they’re cheaper and closer to trails than most RV parks. That said, they typically don’t have hookups, so we have to find our water elsewhere.* Before getting to our campsite, we find a potable-water spigot, whether it’s at the campground or a stop on our way there, and we fill our freshwater tank. Then we ration our water during our stay. Now our showers feel like a race, where we use as little water as possible and then shut it off as soon as we’re done rinsing. Reliable Cell Signal/Internet Before embarking on The Big Trip, I couldn’t remember the last time I only got 3G, as I did here in Terlingua, Texas. This one’s no surprise, right? If you’ve looked at our route, you’ve guessed that we won’t have cell signal throughout our whole trip. We expect to have signal more consistently this year, but it can’t be helped in some places, like Big Bend National Park. Sure, we could have gotten Starlink, but at $599 for the hardware and $120 a month for the service, it didn’t seem worth the investment. After all, life on the road is temporary for us. We’ll just have to play cards or something. Access to Laundry Services Our “laundry room” is wherever I set up our laundry gear: a hand-crank WonderWash, a clothesline, and a bucket to catch graywater. Do you love your washer and dryer? You better, for my sake. Our washer is a hand-crank WonderWash, and our dryer is a clothesline, plus a drying rack if we’ve gone way too long without doing laundry. All of it’s lightweight and convenient for travel, but wringing out soaked clothes can be hard on the hands. By the end of each laundry day, my thumbs feel like dead stubs. Reliable Availability of Groceries and Supplies Some grocery stores have great finds, like New Mexico salsa, and some only have super-green bananas that no one wants to eat. (Jason bought them thinking I would eat them. The fool.) Not all towns have grocery stores, and not all grocery stores are created equal. Meal-planning takes on a whole new meaning when you have to consider not only the meals you’re prepping but also whether you can get the ingredients for them. Most of the time we can find what we need, but sometimes—as we experienced in Glacier National Park last year—the best you can hope for is a small convenience store that sells little else beyond firewood, rope, instant ramen, bacon, and cheese curds. That said, there’s a flip side to this. In our travels, we also come across grocery stores that sell items we’d never find back home. Case in point: authentic New Mexico salsa. Yum. Level Ground Our campsite in Joshua Tree National Park was beautiful, but it was also the most unlevel ground we’ve parked on in a long time. You never think about how level the ground is until you have to park your house on it. With our leveling blocks, we can level the trailer about 98% of the time at our campsites without a headache. The other 2% of the time, however, we’re digging out our yellow Camco blocks and steadily lifting one side of the trailer until our level’s itty-bitty bubble centers itself. Privacy, to a degree Ever seen someone doing bicep curls in a campground? It was probably me. Our trailer grants us privacy in the most important respects—namely, when it comes using the toilet or taking a shower—but not all. For instance, when I want to work out, my only option usually involves doing squats and lunges within about a dozen yards of our neighbors. Yes, it’s as fun as it sounds. Sometimes I feel self-conscious, but then I remember my health is more important than their odd looks. Proximity to Family and Friends “Comfort” doesn’t capture the significance of this one. Saying good-bye to family and friends is the hardest part of this trip. We always knew it would be tough, but that didn’t prepare us for the chest-squeezing moments when we drive away from our parents, siblings, and friends, knowing we won’t see them again for months. Let’s just say our niece and nephew better not grow up too much while we’re away. * Regular RVers may wonder why we singled out the water hookup and didn’t mention electric or sewage hookups. As for the former, our truck doubles as a generator, so we can power our trailer rather painlessly without a hookup. As for the latter, if we’re rationing our water, we don’t have to worry about filling our gray tank. (If we ever come close to filling our black tank, we must have bigger problems to worry about.)
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
|
Follow us on Instagram!
|