TINY HOUSE vs. #VanLife

Match of the Century!

As I spoke about in a recent post, I stumbled across the idea of a "Tiny House" not long ago, and was pretty convinced that was the path I was going to travel in terms of how/where I would be living in the future.

And it made all sorts of sense: just enough room for me and my greatly-reduced load of "stuff." All the comforts of home except, probably, for a washer and dryer. It would be mobile as long as I had a vehicle to tow it.

So, I had done some initial research into what it would take to build my own. I began the search for some sort of garage to build it in that would be a) tall enough at the door to allow the finished structure be towed out (i.e., a door around 14 ft.+ tall) AND which had electricity AND which, hopefully, would let me build my Tiny House in that space for free. Even better if this space was going to be in proximity to some place with access to craftsmen with woodworking tools, I began researching where I might be able to park my Tiny House once I completed it (a step that EVERY "how to" on Tiny Houses couldn't stress enough). I began searching for a truck to buy that would be able to tow the Tiny House any time I wanted to move it. I spoke at length with my contractor friend Donnie Young about the realities of trying to construct something like a Tiny Home AND, most importantly, how much it might cost to build.

In this corner: TINY HOUSE

After all that fact-finding, several key facts emerged:

• Building a Tiny House was going to cost me more like $30k (and that was for a kinda smallish one) rather than the $20k I was hoping for
• The truck I'd need to tow the Tiny House was likely going to be around another $20k
• I'd likely have to rent some sort of space in an RV park, at least for the foreseeable future, since there aren't really any places (subdivisions, etc.) which are made specifically for Tiny Houses to exist
• Due to the height and length of the Tiny House there were going to be places...possibly lots of places...where I wasn't going to be able to take it due to low bridges/overhangs/tight turns/etc.

On roughly the exact same day all of those facts started to become clear, I stumbled across (NOTE: I do a lot of stumbling) an Instagram page called #VanLife which, as I learned, is a relatively famous Instagram that started what is now being called, appropriately, the "Van Life" movement. I wouldn't say it was in any way new really (hippies in microbuses following the Grateful Dead, surfers living in a popup Vanagon on the beach, rock climbers living in the back seat of their old family GMC Safari in Yosemite all spring to mind, not to mention the legions of retired people living in RVs year-round), but the profusion of just "regular old people" who ditched their usual living arrangements in order to live in a van blossomed.

And in THIS corner: #VanLife

That was, I believe, in 2014. Not bad for me...took me less than three calendar years to find a movement going on in this country!

And from almost the first moment I learned about this idea of Van Life I knew that was a MUCH more realistic/doable path for me:

• Far, far more mobile
• No need for any kind of "space" in which to park it either on a permanent, or even semi-permanent, basis. While, yes, I COULD choose to pay for an RV space, there are many, many places I can just park it for the night, sleep in it, and then move on to Subway for breakfast in the morning, etc.
• I could still do the conversion myself, but could do it in my garage, not in some sort of industrial warehouse in town
• And, most importantly, I could be up and running for less than half of what the Tiny House/truck combo would cost me.

So, the decision to go the #Van Life route was made 6 days ago (i.e., last Wednesday). ANOTHER flurry of Internet research immediately began. What kind of van to buy? How large? What brand? What engine? How old? What price? What would I need/want in it? Could I even remotely hope to do this conversion myself? (I mean, seriously, I know NOTHING about plumbing, wiring electricity, running gas lines, etc. And in terms of carpentry skill....maybe, at best, beginner level)

By Friday I was the proud owner of this van:

Now, whenever anyone asks me "What do you do?" I'll reply "I'm in Sales & Service!"

A 2007 (badged Dodge in the US, built in Germany by Mercedes) Sprinter Superhigh, Extra Long cargo van with 142k miles and an extremely capable and efficient turbodiesel engine (gets around 15-18 mpg).

Here are some more pics of what is now the shell of my next home:

My blank canvas

The previous owners had no problems with motor oil spills

Check out that ratty driver's seat! 

No windows on either side = urban camouflage

Why this van specifically? Well, several reasons:

• Sprinter vans offer the largest interior cargo space of any vehicle that is rated as "Class C" by the DOT. That means I don't have to get a commercial drivers license to drive it while maximizing how much room I have to work with
• This model year, 2007 is one of only two model years in the Sprinter pantheon which features the Superhigh, Extra Long Wheelbase AND was built before they added some hideous piece of emissions equipment to the engine in 2009 that apparently every Sprinter afficianado hates
• Because it is the "Superhigh" version I CAN STAND UP INSIDE. Yep, of every single possible "Class C" van out there, this is one of the only ones I can stand up in.
• Because it has no windows (not to mention that supercool "Sales & Service" vinyl signage across the front) I'll be able to "boondock" in cities/towns/urban areas much more easily. "Boondocking" being parking the van somewhere not designated as an RV campground and sleeping in the van for the night.

So, in two days from the moment I decided "Hey, I think this might be a good idea" I was in Dallas negotiating with a small used car dealer who had just learned that used Sprinters were in high demand and had purchased this one at auction just a few days before I found it online at CarGurus.com. In fact, while I was talking to the guys who run the place, two other people came to look at it with hopes of buying it.

So, what next? Well, there is now a huge fire in my belly to get this conversion done as soon as I possibly can. There simply can't come a time when I've sold my house and need to move on and my new home isn't yet done. That would be bad.

What I Thought Was Right Is Now Going to be Wrong

Now that I've committed my entire pool of energy, thought and focus into creating a Gap Year Life for myself, some previous assumptions that have always...and I mean always...been in my life are no longer valid. And it is really making me wonder how to deal with that.

Assumption 1 - "I have an address"
How many times have you completed something as basic and mundane as ordering something on Amazon and having it shipped to you? Well, the other day I was completing an online form and it asked for my address. That is an easy answer at the moment as I have an address. But I then began to wonder "What  happens when I no longer HAVE an address?

If I am, say, living in Tiny House and on the road, how am I supposed to answer that question? How can I get something delivered to me if I want to shop online? What do I list as my billing address for an entity like my bank who wants one for my checking account?"

My immediate thought was that, sure, I could simply list my mom's address, or maybe one of my kids (heaven knows family are the only people one could possibly impose on to the extent of having them handle both their own junkmail AND yours!). That wouldn't solve the problem of how to get something shipped to me if I'm on the road, but it would at least resolve the issue of having something as basic as a billing address for a checking account.

But how authentic is it for someone trying to live a flexible life to lean entirely on someone ELSE not living a flexible life in order to make one's own life possible? Yeah...that sounds like cheating.

No answers right now, but I remember the last time I was in one of those franchised UPS retail locations I saw a sign that said "Get A PO Box With A Real Street Address" and thought at the time "Hmm...I wonder how that would be useful?" because, well, at the time I was under the assumption I would always live at a physical address! Now...contemplating a more flexible/mobile life...I realize there is an excellent chance I won't have a physical address in the near future.

So, in checking out UPS Mail Services, I found that it could be a possible solution to this problem in many ways:

• When you rent a mailbox from the local UPS store, you can get a small box for $12/mo. And, it turns out that if you get more mail than your box can handle, they'll set up an overflow box for you for free. Not bad!
• That rented mailbox has...hugely important!...a "real" street address that UPS/FedEx/US Postal Service/etc. will ship to. No shipping company, on the other hand, will ship to a PO Box.
• They will forward your mail to you for a fee. Say, if I was going to be setting up shop in someplace like Alaska for a two months to learn how to be a musher for a sled dog team and there was something I wanted to specifically forward, they'd do it for me.
• You can call in and they'll tell you if you have mail in your box.
• They will set up a text notification any time a package arrives for you.

Could this be the home address I use going forward in life?

That brings up a corollary assumption which I've always automatically had without question:

Assumption 2 - I always have a permanent abode

When I meet someone new, eventually I'll get asked where I'm from. My typical reply is "I live in the Jackson, Mississippi area, grew up in Phoenix but I've lived all over the country and in Europe." But once I move to a flexible life, a big part of that will be living in a mobile fashion. Not that I am structuring my life so that I HAVE to go anywhere specific, but simply that I plan to live in a "home" that is on wheels.

And the simple fact that my future home will be on wheels means...to me at least...that I no longer HAVE to have a permanent abode, or "home base" as I've begun to term it in any kind of traditional sense. If I want to spend a week or two a year in each of the lower 48 states, what would I then say when someone asks me where I'm from? What would I then consider as my home base?

Or, more pointedly, which of the thousands of UPS store locations out there would I choose as the one that would be my physical mailing address?

And that is something I definitely don't have an answer for.

In the past, I've ALWAYS moved either for school or for a job. Now, for the first time in my life, l have the option of choosing any place in the country as the place I would...at some sort of interval...go check my mail.

And to answer that question, I think I have to have a much better idea of why, exactly, I wouldn't just call the Jackson area my home base. And, I'm not sure at the moment that I have sufficiently good reasons to switch my "home base" away from the Jackson area, though I know it is possible that with more thought a reason, or reasons, may reveal themselves.

What Do I Want My Life to Look Like?

So...just what is my ideal life?

I think I may have been one of the few people who actually LIKES meetings. In my old job world, I always looked forward to most of the meetings that filled up my calendar every day. It was a time to exchange ideas, talk over plans, debate different possible approaches and/or generate new ways of thinking and solving problems. In the best meetings I got to throw around some amusing anecdotes. A witty rejoinder or two.

In short, meetings fed the social beast in me.

But, now, those meetings are no more. I spent the first two months of my "Gap Year" riding solo across the country, so no meetings were going on during that time! Now that I've been home for about a month and trying hard to both minimalize my life AND, simultaneously, generate new income streams, I spend most of every day alone in my house either working at the computer or cleaning/organizing/selling. No meetings happening in my house either, so my former constantly-full world of meetings and social contact literally evaporated overnight.

And now I'm not only wondering whether or not I can't handle being alone most of every day in this fashion, I'm also wondering if I WANT to be alone most of every day in this fashion.

And, in the middle of the night last night, that question woke me up and kept me from going back to sleep for hours. And, in trying to answer it for myself, I began to see that the REAL question I needed to answer for myself is "what does my ideal life look like?"

Everything I've had in my mind thus far consists primarily of either 1) what I DON'T want to do (i.e., be tied down to a specific work location I have to be at physically all day every day, go back to a job in corporate America, etc.), or 2) a now-too-vague idea of what I would like to do (i.e., make money from writing in some way, or live a "flexible" life, etc.).

All of this thought and quandary came to me last night because I had read this article at RootsRated about something called "Dispersed Camping."

Hmmm...might this be what I want my life to look like?

Essentially, dispersed camping is when you camp at un-improved sites along the backroads of Bureau of Land Management (BLM), National Forest, or Wildlife Refuge Area lands (or their state-run equivalents) FOR FREE. Yep. For free. And even though there are usually limits on how long you can stay there (a typical limit is no more than 14 days out of 30), those limits are plenty lax enough to, essentially, allow you to camp for free throughout the entire year if you are willing to drive around a bit.

So, theoretically, my only expenses under the "dispersed/free camping" model (if I choose that route) would be, roughly: health insurance, car insurance, gasoline for the car, maintenance on the car, car registration, cell phone bill (which would also perform as my major source of internet access), food and entertainment (e.g., Netflix account, some books for my Kindle, etc.). All that means it fits my new attempt to drastically lower my expenses.

But how lonely will it be? Can I manage that?

Not sure at all what the answer is to that.

Why Now?

Part IV

Financial Means
Ok, let me start by saying I am NOT wealthy. I've had some excellent jobs with great salaries, but I was also the sole wage earner for my first marriage of 24 years and raised four kids, and meeting ALL the needs of six people took all the money I could ever earn. I've also been divorced three times, have done my part to put four kids through college and have lived a lifestyle commensurate with making good money (eating out, new cars, big ol' house, etc.).

That said, by my calculations I have saved up enough over the last few years to last at least a year...as long as I downsize to having no debt at all. Thus, the following ideas/moves were born:

• Sold my Harley: one debt gone
• Selling my home: another, major, debt gone. To replace it, I am going to either build a Tiny House to replace it (currently trying to do that for $20k...we'll see!) OR buy a small travel trailer (around $10k).
• Selling my car: one debt gone as I plan to by a used truck capable of towing my Tiny House.
• Selling ALL my furniture: I won't be able to fit any of my current furniture in my Tiny House so it can go.
• Selling almost all my other household furnishings: Why would I need a patio table and chairs in a Tiny House? Or an air compressor?

My motto: Get Rid!

No human being has ever sat at this table for any reason. Is that not idiotic?

Now, admittedly, the scariest part now is the idea of using some of my "I could live for a year" cash reserves on a Tiny House and truck to pull it. My other option is to keep my current car, make the payments and just buy a small trailer. The benefit of that is that if I don't like this minimalist/downsized life, I've not put a ton of cash into it...just enough for the trailer. And, if I did decide to simply go back to a regular ol' life I could sell the trailer and probably not take too much of a loss.

So, readers, I'd love any opinions any of you have on THAT dilemma!

Why Now?

Part III

No commitment to job/career
In my "epilogue" post a month following the end of my bike journey across the country, I spoke to the idea of not being happy in my old working life and seeking a new one. That is the way I felt back in December, and that is still the way I feel about my old life now.

But let me tell you, it is a scary thing to not have steady, regular income arriving twice a month, no matter how much money I've saved up to help me with my transition. Now, don't get me wrong: no job anywhere, ever is "guaranteed." Market forces, the economy, whether or not a new boss arrives on the scene...all kinds of factors can mean the end of work that you may once have thought of as "going to be in this job until I retire." But, having a job in which the business is relatively established and which has been paying people just like you regular wages for months/years/decades is an extremely comforting situation.

And what I've consciously chosen is a severe degree of discomfort.

Waking up in the morning now is a LOT different than it used to be. Now, rather than know exactly what time I'll get into my office, exactly what meetings are on my schedule for the day, what work I need to get done for the day and roughly what I'm going to be doing that evening I get up and think:

OK...of all the many things I COULD be doing today, what is going to get me furthest towards my goals?

For the first time in my working life, no one but me is putting items on my calendar. No one but me really knows where I am or what I'm doing on a day-to-day basis. And no one cares. No one is wondering "where is David?"

I think it should feel more exhilarating than it does. But, right now, it just feels really scary. There have been times of the last week where I'm really questioning whether or not I'm doing the right thing. There was a time this morning as I was out running errands at 11am (something I NEVER could have done in the past several decades because I'd have been at work) when I started to panic. Started to feel the heavy burden of swimming against the tide.

Then I saw this Hyundai coming at me down the street.

 

"Yes, Hyundai undoubtedly employees tens of thousands of employees just in the US alone, not to mention around the world. But, at some point, Mr. Hyundai was just like me: a guy, alone, trying his best to do something different than what he might have been used to. He probably had lots of panic moments too. But look at that car now: he made it through."

And so, today at least, I'm still going forward with the idea of trying to forge a new path for myself in which I don't go back to my old career path. All thanks to Mr. Hyundai.

So, while I don't have a commitment to a job/career, in the traditional sense, I DO have a commitment to a job...just one I'm making up for myself as I go along. But more about my attempts to create new income streams in an upcoming post :)

Why Now?

Part II

"No one left depending on me financially" certainly applies to my kids all being independent now, but it also applies to the fact that I have no spouse to support either. Now, I get that not everyone who is married is responsible for financially supporting their spouse. In fact, my experience may be pretty rare. But, in all three of my marriages I've had the responsibility of financially supporting my spouse to at least some degree. In my first marriage of twenty-four years, my wife (and mother of all four of my children) was a stay-at-home mom. I'm not complaining about that as that was the choice we made at the time and I have no regrets. But supporting six people isn't easy in today's world, and I was in full-on "support" mode beginning three days after I graduated from college.

So when other folks were off living out their gap years...or, at the very least...the life of a single person or childless/two-wage earning couple, I was earning money to support myself and one other person. Then two others. Then, by the time I was 28, five other people. So there was never a time in my life when I could do the things that other people do when they are young: travel, have adventures, volunteer in remote places, etc.. I was working hard, long hours to feed, clothe and house everyone. No complaints! Just the reality of my life at the time.

Then came my second marriage. For a while I wasn't responsible for anything but my half of the collective expenses for the household. But, that included both my favorite ex-wife AND her two sons. Again, I was happy to be a part of their lives and have no regrets or complaints, but the fact is, I was responsible for more than just myself. And, eventually, when we moved to Mississippi I become responsible for solely supporting everyone again. And, of course, with two fine step-sons still living with us there weren't any chances for a Gap Year.

Then came the crazy third marriage. For a variety of reasons I was, once again, back in "full support" mode. At the time I thought that would be a temporary situation until she became employed, but as I eventually learned, the entire point of marrying me was so that I could entirely support her (and preferably in the high-life manner she preferred!). I think I'm just a magnet for women who want to be fully supported. Even when I was dating before I got married the third time, one of the women I dated who had a successful, decades-long career underway, asked if she could quit working and stay at home to contribute in other ways to our relationship other than financially. I never figured out what, exactly, those other ways were but as you can see, they sensed I was a guy who would generally say "yes" to that kind of thing.

Then came the great "Jerry Springer" moment of late 2016: the Facebook engagement announcement of my third wife to another man while still married to me. After trying for 14 months to get her to agree to a divorce, I finally had the "smoking gun" required to end this sad, bizaare chapter in my life:

 

 

So....for the first time in my life...it is just me. Now, don't get me wrong; I'm no Ted Kaczynski who just wants to live a hermit existence in a tiny cabin deep in the woods writing anti-government manifestos all day. I very much prefer the idea of having a partner to go through life with. But, since that isn't currently my situation, I find myself able to even contemplate something like a Gap Year.

Why Now?

Part I

To understand how I could ever even contemplate turning 2017 into a Gap Year, I probably need to provide some background. And, boy, do I love me some background!

In fact, I love background (or as I sometimes call it "backstory") so much my kids usually asked me questions with a preparatory wince on their face. They had learned to brace themselves for backstory.

In the usual course of things, young people are typically able embark on a Gap Year journey because they meet all of the usual Gap Year criteria:

1. No one they care about is depending on them to be wherever they currently are on an every-day basis. That means no kids. No contrarian spouse who is saying "you are doing what? leaving our home AND ME for a year??" (Now, don't get me wrong. Some spouses might go with someone contemplating a Gap Year. Others might say "sure, see you in a year!" But, in my experience, both of those would be a pretty rare occurrence. NOT impossible...but rare)
2. No commitment to a job/career
3. The financial means to, generally, not work for a year and still meet whatever financial obligations they may have. And since Gap Years are typically undertaken by people just graduating from high school or college, they have precious few financial obligations: no mortgage, maybe no car payment, no orthodontist's bill for their kids' braces, etc..

So, at 54 years old, how is it that I meet all of the above criteria? Well, here is the backstory:

No one is currently depending on me
When I graduated from college in 1984, I got married three days later. Now, getting married doesn't always mean having kids right away. In fact, these days, many couple choose to spend several years as "just them" before they begin their families.

Not us.

At the time I was an Army officer. We were also Mormons. The combination of those two cultural influences meant that EVERYONE we knew was newly married and having their first child. Now, we didn't start having kids simply because "everyone was doing it," but it is true that there wasn't anyone telling us to slow down either. No, a big part of my personal reasons for wanting to start having kids right away was that my father was a bit older when I was born (37), and the entire time I was growing up he frequently didn't want to do things like play catch because he complained about "being too old." That had deep impact on me and created a burning desire to be a YOUNG man when my kids were growing up.

My first child...our oldest daughter Caitlin...was born when I was 22 years old. My oldest son Zach was born when I was 24. My youngest daughter when I was 25. My fourth and final child, Ethan, when I was 28.

Let that sink in a bit. In today's world, having four kids by the age of 28 is as rare as a lottery win.

But that start lead directly to today in that when my youngest son graduated from college, I was DONE in terms of the major "commitment" portion of raising a family and doing all I could to fund their educations. All of my kids weren't simply "out of the house;" they were all self-supporting and on their own career paths.

2015. My oldest son Zach and I posing with Ethan, my youngest son, just after he graduated from the University of Utah with his software engineering degree.

So, by the time I was 52 years old, I had no children left to financially support. Nothing is more critical to the complicated answer of why I can contemplate a "Gap Year" now than that.

But that, in and of itself, still didn't push me completely into the Gap Year zone...

{stay tuned tomorrow for Part II: my marriages and how I'm not married}

Trust & Hope

While riding home from San Diego on the train I met a young woman who I had the good fortune of striking up a conversation with. Not surprisingly (given the way the Universe has been busy in my life lately) I learned that she was going through some of the same decisions in life that I was. Facing some of the same fears.

Living in LA, she had been working for a production company until relatively recently when she was let go. Yes, the production business in LA (well, anywhere really) is pretty volatile but, interestingly, she was let go because the owner felt that...essentially...her heart wasn't in the work. And, she admits, he was right.

And while she admitted that being let go was really a great thing in the end, she still had lots of anxiety about how to support herself trying something she had always wanted to do: write. Over the months just before I met her, write she did! And, all credit to her, sold her old bosses on a screenplay she'd written. A sale she made when she was, literally, down to her last few dollars in the bank.

Now, you would think that she would be ecstatic. Delirious! She'd powered through and made it out of the tunnel of darkness and into the light! And, yes, in many ways she had.

But that commercial success wasn't nearly enough "good karma" to counterbalance what really was weighing on her mind: grief over the loss of a relationship she deeply cared about.

In speaking with her about how in the world she could possibly...even after a year...escape from the deep despair she felt and end the longing she felt for what had been, our conversation began to touch on the topics of trust and hope. During our chat, I offered up the following thought:

 

Just remember that hope is free, and that what you are trusting in is the future sorting itself out in a way you can't even imagine now

 

 

As I wrote about the terror that will, and has, surrounded my attempts at forging a new path for my life, that thought came back to me yesterday. There is every reason to hope that my hard work and my efforts will bear fruit some day. I mean, why not? People DO get what they hope for at times. Steph, for instance, got a screenwriting sale she'd been hoping for at the very last possible moment before she was about to start living on the streets.

 

And, I feel even more importantly, I am more ready than ever to trust that my future will sort itself out in a way I can't even imagine now. Yes, I'm trying to work on a plan...my "Gap Year" plan...but I'm pretty convinced that all that will be is the basis for the changes the Universe will make to my plan. A template that I'll be able to look back on and say "well, it certainly didn't turn out the way I expected"

 

And then smile :)

 

You can see Steph's artistic stylings here and on Instagram as move_like_magic

The "Gap Year" Idea is Born

One of the questions that arose in my mind on the very first day I was back in my house...journey over, no job or "regular life" to go back to...was this -

 

"What if I consider my bike journey the start of a fabulous year vs. just a singular event that happened and is now done?"

 



That immediately spawned this thought -

 

"Why don't I call 2017 my 'Gap Year' and do the kinds of things that people do in their 'Gap Year'?"

 

For those of you unfamiliar with the term "Gap Year" here is what Wikipedia says about it:

 

In the professional or career world, a gap year is a year before going to college or university and after finishing high school or taking a year off before going into graduate school after completing a bachelor as an undergraduate. It is also known as a sabbatical year. During this time students may engage in advanced academic courses, extra-academic courses and non-academic courses, such as yearlong pre-college math courses, language studies, learning a trade, art studies, volunteer work, travel, internships, sports and more. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gap_year

 

That sounded like a revelation! I could take my one adventure, add to it and...perhaps...have enough for a book. My initial thought was to call my book "Living Life Backwards: My Gap Year at 54"

 

And the very first adventure I knew I wanted to try and add to 2017 was a thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. It had crossed my mind during my journey and the desire to accomplish the feat was fresh in my mind. I'd always wanted to hike the Northbound route (NOBO on the AT) and I knew that the general starting time was early March to early April...right around the corner. I also knew it usually took most folks about 6-7 months to complete, so I would be done around early October.

 

Might one of these be mine this year?

 

But then another thought came to me -

 

"What if I completed some other Gap Year activity AFTER my AT thru-hike? And, to forge a wonderfully symbolic end to my Gap Year, what if I came back home on the exact day...the day after Christmas...that I had left for San Diego?"

 

Perfect idea! But what to do? In looking back over what a Gap Year usually entails, the words "volunteer work" sprung out at me. Then, like a thunderbolt hitting me, I suddenly knew my Gap Year could be a trifecta of adventures:

 

Bike, Hike & Help

 

With that terrific thought in mind, I began to consider what kind of volunteer opportunity I might be able to pursue for a few months at the end of this year. After some initial research I quickly learned that while there were lots of volunteer opportunities out there, most of them charged you a pretty hefty "management" fee in order to participate on top of the travel expenses that you have to cover yourself. That didn't really sound all that appealing so I became more interested in an organization called Worldwide Opportunities for Organic Farming, or WWOOF.

 

The idea of WWOOF is simple, and is much like Warmshowers.org: it simply matches up volunteers with potential host farmers. From there the volunteer works directly with the farmer to determine how long they'll be volunteering. The farmer provides room, board and whatever training would be required and the volunteer provides labor and covers their own travel costs. I was particularly interested in this opportunity: Herding Sheep in Mongolia

 

Ever since I read the novel "Golden Hawks of Ghengis Khan" as a boy, I've wanted to visit Mongolia

But to do this I had to be able to not earn any real income for a solid year. How was I going to make THAT happen??

 

 

Today

Epilogue

And Now For the Rest of the Story

 

 

I suppose it would be a terrible thing if a journey like I completed a month ago didn't help me grow into being a better person in some way. Not that I embarked on the journey for that specific purpose, but you'd think that it would have SOME impact on my life, right? I mean it wasn't like this was my 20th bike tour or something. It was my first. And, it occurred at a huge juncture in my life. I'd just left my job AND my divorce finally...finally!...came through.

 

Well, as it turns out, this bike tour changed my life. Changed it in ways I could never have imagined when I first set out from my driveway the day after Christmas. The solitude and time to think brought me clarity about my life...and about myself...that I realized I desperately needed.

 

Realization 1

My old life had not been making me happy. Not at all. Now, there was a time when I thought that I had "made it" in life: I had all the requisite "stuff" one should acquire: a beautiful home, a corner office, expensive toys, loads of money to travel or buy more stuff...whatever. But increasingly during the course of 2016 I began to feel a sinking, hollow feeling. The "stuff" and symbols of status that I'd acquired...now that I had them...weren't bringing me joy. Sure, my life was comfortable in every way; but it was NOT fulfilling.

 

Realization 2

I needed a new life that was focused on experiences...living a full rich life...and NOT on acquiring more "stuff." My life for decades had consisted of climbing the corporate ladder to get higher and higher salaries to get more and more stuff. But over the course of my ride I finally...like many other have before me...figured out that I was on a hamster wheel that wasn't getting me anywhere. More money meant more stuff. More stuff necessitated more money. Round and round.

 

Now, it is all well and good to learn that your old way of doing things wasn't working. I feel lucky to have learned that. But the trick, of course, is figuring out how to live one's life going forward. So, over the past month since the end of my tour I've spent a great deal of time figuring out an answer...or at least a few possible answers...to the question of "what next?"

 

Right now, I'm working with these three resolutions as the guides to my new life:

1. I want to live what I'm calling a "flexible" life. By that I mean not having income that is dependent on reporting to a specific location each and every day and working a relatively set schedule each day all year. My goal is to be able to be mobile and work from anywhere if I wish.
2. Some day I want to earn income from a business that I start. It is something I've always been afraid to try (primarily out of a fear of failure), but it is also something I would like to say I've done. What kind of business I don't know, but I have some initial ideas :)
3. I want to earn money...somehow!...from writing. I have so thoroughly enjoyed this journal-writing experience (and have received such a strong amount of positive feedback and interest in my journaling efforts) that I want to keep going.

 

I am going to try to do all I can to avoid having to go back to corporate America in order to provide income for myself. And the first step in that effort is to seriously "Minimalize" my life. To that end, over these past weeks I've been home I've begun the process of selling pretty much all my stuff. I'll keep only those items I absolutely need in order to live my life and everything else goes. I've included pics of some of the main items (my house, my Harley), but I'm going down to a tiny fraction of the "stuff'-filled life of my past.

 

There are many benefits of this plan, but the primary benefit is to reduce my costs down SO MUCH that I can afford to live that "flexible" life. I can afford not to have to go get another big corporate job in order to fund all this "stuff" in my life. My goal is to reduce my expenses so drastically that I might be able to earn what I need to earn for the year in, say, the summer months, and then use that money to power my life throughout the rest of the year so that I can...like Iris who I met on my journey...could bike tour during the winter months if I wished.

 

So...with this new two-pronged strategy (new income streams AND significantly reduced living expenses) I hope to achieve the new goals I have in life.

 

I have no illusions that this will be easy. In fact, I expect to feel total panic on an every-other-day basis. For instance, when my house sells I'll be homeless...and I currently don't exactly have a plan for where to live when that happens (though I have some ideas). That has already produced some bouts of terror let me tell you!

 

But I'm just as committed to turning my life into one more full of joy as I was committed to finishing my ride to San Diego. I hope this next journey turns out just as well as my last one did :)

 

 

 

 

 The Harley I loved at one point, then stopped riding when I got my bicycle.

I've now sold it.

 

The home I'm in the process of selling as part of my massive "downsizing" effort so that I can live a simpler, more fulfilling life.

 

This is me the day I bought my road bike in early 2014. That simple decision was the start of a new path in my life.

 

In early 2016 I decided to try and get in better shape. My goal was to be able to "go out and do" any activity I wanted to without having to worry...at all...about whether or not I was in shape to do it. This photo is of me, in early April of that year, finishing the first 5k I've run since I left the Army in 1992. This decision made it possible to decide to go on a 2,300 mile bike journey and then depart one week later.

 

Compare this pic of me the day I rode into Austin Texas to the other two photos! There is no way to overstate how terrific cycling has been for me.

 

(February 12 to 17)

The Trip Home

What Now?

During my short stay in San Diego, I rode my bike down to the harbor to enjoy the tourist sights. I've always loved the "wooden ships & iron men" era of naval history!

 The view of my coach seating car. As you can see, the train wasn't all that full for most of my trip East.

My "Sunset Limited" Amtrak train at its stop in Houston, TX. It was nice to be able to get out of the train occasionally to stretch my legs and get some sunshine.

 

I was amazed to be greeted at Union Station in New Orleans by a group of my cycling friends from home!!

 

From L to R:
Karen Haskins, Jan Clark, Kellye Carlisle, Leslie Robinson and Elizabeth Spooner.  

 

Monty Clark, a cyclist I hope I can grow up to be someday.

 

San Diego Interlude

It won't surprise you to know that on the first day...well, the first few days really...following the end of my journey I really struggled to adjust to not being on a bike tour any longer. No more was I able to answer the question of "what am I going to do today?" with "ride my bike West!"

Yes, I did have some errands to run to get ready to return in that I needed to ship some of my gear home that I didn't want to have to carry on the train, and I needed to get some new tires for my bike. Luckily, my good friend Lisa Girolamo no only let me stay on her couch for three days, but also let me borrow her car to get things done.

 

And, yes, I did do some tourist-y things like visit the harbor, get some donuts at the world famous Donut Barn, etc., But, I'd lived in San Diego for six years and worked downtown near where Lisa's place is so there wasn't much I hadn't already seen.

 

And, I did visit my favorite ex-wife Denise, her two boys Jordan and Owen and my good friend Punkee...which was an awesome time.

 

And, I did start applying to some bike tour companies for one of the things I thought I might do once I'd returned to "real life": bike tour leader.

 

But mostly I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what I would do next. I mean, I was unemployed. And, while I had money to take care of my needs for a while, it wasn't going to last forever and I needed to get start earning money in some fashion. One thing I knew, however, is that I was committed to NOT going back to the old corporate world I'd come from. I was going to do my best to forge a new path.

 

Amtrak Train Journey East
I made the decision to get back home via Amtrak because they offered me the chance to have my bike travel on the train without needing to check it as baggage. No boxes, pedal removal, etc.. And it was a great decision. I loved how easy it was to get my bike to where it needed to go.

I so love train travel! Unlike traveling on a plane, there is no security to worry about and you can get up and walk throughout the train whenever you wish. You can eat in the dining car, go down and grab a snack from the snack bar, go sit in the viewing car or simply stay in your seat. So informal vs. an airplane trip! I really enjoyed meals in the dining car because you get to meet all sorts of new folks who end up sitting in your booth with you. Now, admittedly, it was hard for me to sleep comfortably in my coach seat (and when I do this again I might spring for the extra money and get a sleeping berth), but I managed. And, I think I'd bring some extra snacks with me just to cut down on the cost of food given its relatively expensive to buy it on the train. But as a way to get to and from a bike tour in the US, I'd highly recommend it.

 

Homecoming
I want to send a BIG shout-out to a group of my cycling friends who drove down to surprise me at the New Orleans train station! I was amazed and humbled. It was the perfect ending to the journey of a lifetime. Not only did they do me the honor of a surprise greeting when I stepped off the train and into the station, they'd planned an entire "day" of fun beginning with dinner that night and a ride on the beautiful Tammany Trace in Slidell, LA the next day. Every epic journey needs an epic homecoming and mine was fabulous!



 

(February 11)

Day 48 - Pine Valley to San Diego CA

It's Not Over 'til It's Over

 

The unappealing start to my riding day in Pine Valley.

 Changing my back tire in Lakeside California. I was glad that this tree was right there as it covered my gear and I completely from the rain while I made the repair.

 The final few miles of my entire journey: the Ocean Beach Bike Trail which runs along the San Diego River. In the distance to the far right of the pic, that tower you see is Sea World.

 Why do my sunglasses always go awry when I smile for selfies? Anyway, the culmination of the greatest journey of my life...so far! :)

 Dipping my front wheel in the ocean...a tradition as I understand it. There is no accompanying pic of my back wheel dipped because I didn't start on the Atlantic side of the route.

 

 Last night I was picturing today. A lazy, pleasant day spent coasting downhill for roughly 50 miles until the descent deposited me right at the ocean. Just as it had been for a couple of weeks, it would be sunny and warm. No more climbs to worry about, just letting gravity propel me to the beach.
Except not.

Overcast all day. A steady rain all morning. Chilly...down into the low 40s. A big climb I wasn't expecting as soon as I departed Pine Valley. And while there was a LOT of downhill riding, the problem became my soaked clothes, when combined with the 25mph+ speeds I was traveling at, made me freezing cold!

So, picture this: I'm soaked. Shivering. My hands and face are numb. And I'm thinking "but THIS IS SAN DIEGO!!!" This was supposed to happen in OTHER states. OTHER towns. San Diego is world famous...justifiably so...for its warm, pleasant, sunny weather.
And then I got a flat tire.

By this time I was laughing out loud at how my future always turns out quite a bit differently than I imagine. Wildly different most of the time. The universe LITERALLY rained on my parade.

But, in the end, it didn't stop me. I put up with it all and enjoyed my ride anyway. And if I've learned anything on this trip it is that you'd better be ready for things to turn out unexpectedly...and be happy they did. Because it wouldn't have been anywhere near the adventure of the lifetime that this journey turned out to be if everything had gone according to plan.

(February 10)

Day 47 - Ocotillo to Pine Valley CA

The Queen Stage

 

Departing for my big day well before dawn.

After a breakfast of yogurt and chocolate-covered donuts at the Chevron, I began my ride just as dawn broke in the Western sky.

The climb up In-ko-pah is so steep, cars in the summer who run their A/C frequently overheat. Thus these reservoirs of radiator water. There were 19 reservoirs on my first, worst climb.

 

In pro cycling, climbs are rated as "Categories" based on what gear a car would need to be in in order to climb it. I'm changing that to classify climbs by how many radiator water reservoirs are required. So, I completed a 19RR climb today.

Patrick, my fellow tribesman. I met him just outside Live Oak Springs as he was headed, vaguely, towards New England. Patrick was quite the outdoor chef in that he had a roast chicken from Wal Mart in one of his front panniers that he used as the fixins for dinner on three consecutive camping nights. Roast chicken!

Ron Staschak from Maine...another tribesman! I met Ron just outside of Pine Valley and our very first topic of conversation was what a horrific day of climbing we had each experienced. Ron has been bike touring over shorter distances for a long time, but this is the first time he's touring for this kind of distance. His plan is to ride the Southern Tier and THEN head north to Maine and home.

Ron's "noseless" saddle. It's the first one I've ever seen (had no idea there was even such a thing before today) and I was immediately interested in it. Ron says it is "like sitting on a park bench." I can state without hesitation that I really wish I'd been sitting on a park bench for the last 2300 miles.

 

 

In the big pro cycling stage races...like the Tour de France...the toughest, most demanding stage of the race (also the one which carries the greatest prestige) is called the “Queen Stage.”

 

Today was the Queen Stage of my journey. I’ve never had a more difficult day on a bike. Not that I’m all that experienced as a cyclist (I’ve been riding only about 18 months or so), but it was so tough, I was almost staggering with fatigue when I checked into the motel in Pine Valley. Only 47 miles, but there was 5500 feet of climbing. And the first 10 miles...from Ocotillo up to In-Ko-Pah Road...was ALL uphill at an almost-entirely 6% grade. If I hadn’t ditched the trailer I would have never made it. As it stood, I still had to stop twice to take a drink and walk around a bit before I could keep climbing. And that was just the first of THREE long, steep climbs of the day.

 

As you all read in my post yesterday, I feared today. It was my Goliath. Having lived in San Diego for six years, I had a pretty good memory of these mountains. I knew it would be a righteous endeavor even on my road bike...not to mention doing it with my touring rig.

 

I won’t lie...it took all I had physically AND mentally. There was a point...about 2/3rds of the way up the first, worst climb….when I was, literally, crying at how hard it was to keep going. I’m sure that for better riders it wouldn’t be that hard, but for me at my level of fitness it was a supreme challenge.

 

But I made it. I didn’t walk any of the hills...I rode my bike up and over everything the route put in front of me including some headwinds along the way that a local rider turned back from and warned me against as he went back by me the other way not long after having passed me going my direction.

 

I know that tomorrow is technically my last riding day, but in reality today was the culmination...the literal and figurative peak...of my odyssey. All of the ghosts that started with me were exorcised. All of the long days of pondering and thinking about the future coalesced into one crystal clear vision on that first, worst climb. All of the fears and doubts which had dogged me these last several weeks escaped my mind and soul as the tears streamed down my face on that first, worst climb. I achieved what I didn’t even realize I wanted or needed when I started: peace..

 

And, more, I gained a belief in myself that...despite some very tough challenges in the past which I’d successfully conquered...I’ve never previously had. I know for a fact I’ve never previously believed I had this kind of courage in me. I didn’t ride out of my driveway to find courage per se, but I now realize that somewhere, somehow I was seeking confirmation that I had some. Maybe more than anything I’ve wanted for a long time, I wanted to prove...to myself...that I had the “right stuff.” I know that will sound strange to many reading this who know something of the things I’ve already accomplished in life, but this was different. This wasn’t done as part of some structured program where I “graduated.” It wasn’t simply having lost a certain amount of weight. Etc..

 

No, this was being deeply fearful on Christmas Day about what lay ahead. Seriously afraid it was going to prove more than I could handle and failing somewhere along the way. Worse, having to go back home and tell everyone that I, well, didn’t actually make it to San Deigo. I dreaded the shame and humiliation that I’d feel if I couldn’t make it. And STILL leaving my driveway that first morning anyway.

 

• This was me knowing the wind was going to be terrible….but STILL going out anyway.

• This was me failing to keep rule after rule. Meeting many other tourists who were camping every night, cooking every meal, etc....in other words, being the kind of bike tourist I had pictured as my ideal...and being forced to admit I was exactly what I feared I really was: a candyass. Knowing I didn’t measure up and feeling terrible about myself because of that knowledge. But STILL continuing my journey anyway.

• This was me fearing today’s huge riding challenge for over two months...and STILL making my way to the base of that hill this morning and beginning the ride up anyway.

• I have no idea what the future will hold for me, and I have many doubts as to whether or not I can make it all happen the way I envision it...but I’m going to damn well try anyway.

P.S.

I wanted to send a shout-out to Jim Ralph, my road angel today. Despite being former Navy, he was extremely kind to me, a former Army guy! He not only had offered to provide SAG support for me if needed (up to and including any kind of emergency, “I Can’T Do This” transportation in the back of his truck as far out at Gila Bend AZ!), but today he took a scenic drive out toward Jacumba just in case he could find me...and he did, in Live Oak Springs...and bring me some cold water and snacks for my ride. We had a wonderful conversation about bike touring in all its facets. Jim is planning to ride the Southern Tier later this year and had found my journal as part of his research for his trip. I’m pretty sure that I’ve made every mistake there is to make when it comes to bike touring, so I hope my misadventures help make his own tour as smooth as silk :)

 

 

(February 9)

Day 46 - Brawley to Ocotillo CA

And I Thought Two Wheels Were Tough

 

Everything in under these roofs and tarps...all the way into the far distant horizon... is hay. All hay. Enough hay, I think, to feed all the cattle in the state for a year.

For anyone traveling from San Diego to Phoenix, this gypsum plant in Plaster City is an iconic landmark off in the distance.

I had to travel over 2000 miles to find the WORST paved surface I'd ridden on during the entire trip. 12 miles of this, all over the road (and thus unavoidable) from Plaster City to Ocotillo.

The friendly environs of the Ocotillo Motel and Trailer Park.

 

So, today just a few hundred yards outside Ocotillo CA, my final destination for the day, I see a figure in the distance that isn’t a car. I usually have to wait a beat to determine just how fast the object is moving to know whether or not it is a motorcycle. So, moments after spotting the object headed my way I know it is a bicycle and start my “meet my tribe” protocol: slow down, turn off my audiobook and prepare to turn onto their side of the road for a quick chat.

 

Normally, the cyclist coming from the other direction is also slowing down. And/or waving. And, of course, I can detect these things happening so I know we’ll be meeting up on the side of the road in mere moments. But...quite strangely...I note that the other figure isn’t slowing. Undeterred, I go ahead stop on my side of the road and prepare to wave and hail my fellow bike tourist.

Except, in a flash, I realize this person isn’t a BIcycle tourist….he is a UNIcycle tourist.

 

Yep, the guy is riding a UNIcycle that was, hands down, one of the strangest wheeled contraptions I’ve seen. I honestly didn’t get any kind of good look at the guy (it was a man) because he just kept riding by me without slowing, but the single wheel was at least 4 ft. high.. He was, somehow, hunched over with his arms/elbows in what looked like aero bars. What in the world they were attached to who knows! There seemed to be no carrying bags attached to the unicycle of any kind (although, admittedly, I might have missed in my haste to figure out if what I was seeing was what I was really seeing).

 

And as he passed, he simply shouted out “where are you coming from?”...again, without slowing. I shouted back “Mississippi” but I’m not sure he heard me; and I definitely know he didn’t here my “what the hell are you riding?” question which immediately followed.

 

Other than that, it was a relatively relaxed riding day. Only 47 miles, but pretty flat all in all. Yes, the temperature did rise to 98...yes, in early February, 98!!!!...but the wind was not a factor today. And, yes, the final 12 miles from just outside Plaster City all the way into Ocotillo featured the WORST….and I’m not exaggerating….road surface I’ve experienced since I started this ride over six weeks ago. I had to take a picture of it just to even have a hope of anyone believing me. It’s a very good thing The Beast is bombproof, because any less-sturdy bike would have been destroyed by those 12 miles of pitted, cracked, holed, rocky, gravelly roadway.

 

I even had a moment of feeling really decadent when I woke up AT dawn rather than well BEFORE dawn, and then didn’t even get on the road until just before 10 am. I knew it was a relatively short riding day (only 46 miles), so I didn’t want to arrive in Ocotillo far too early to check into the lone hotel there. Not that I should have worried. Now that I’m here I realize they don’t really operate this place like corporate, chain-owned hotel and would hae let me check in whenever I arrived.

 

So, now I have all the hours until I head to sleep to worry and fret over my big climb tomorrow. I’ve dreaded this climb since before I left on the trip. But, I’m tired of dreading it and want to just get started and get it done. Time to slay the beast so that it won’t haunt my thoughts any longer!