A hard start to vanlife
(First published in Issue 3, August 2021) Vanlife didn’t come naturally to me. The idea came quite easily, though. It wasn’t a long-drawn-out plan; I just kind of got the idea and thought, “sure.” And that was that. Moving into the van was a whole different story. It didn’t feel right. In my mind, it was like a holiday, and I would go back to “real life” soon. Only I didn’t have a “real life.” I had just moved back from overseas due to the pandemic, wasn’t working, and didn’t have a place to live. This WAS my real life. I got the van in mid-October and spent five days in my little sister’s driveway moving my stuff in. I left her house and drove to Banff National Park. My first four days living in the van, it was -20°C and snowy. I was too scared to sleep with the heater on. The van was horrible driving in the snow. And I was in denial that this was my life.
A few days later on the highway, I heard a thump. I pulled off at the next exit to find my solar panel smashed and just about to fall off the back of my van. A guy at the gas station helped me get it off my roof and into the van. The roof rack was dented, and the solar panel was useless. I spent the next two weeks at my parents' house painting, sealing wood, and waiting for my builder to organize a new solar panel and roof rack replacement for me. One night, as I was driving, the van just stopped in the middle of an intersection. My fuel injector had gone. Off to the dealership we went. A few days later, I was getting a battery charger so if needed, I could jump my own battery. My dad suggested they test my battery for me, “it’s free after all,” he said. Turns out I needed a new battery. A big, heavy AGM battery that cost almost $300. “Not feeling very free” was my reply.
With the solar panel now replaced, a new fuel injector, and a new battery, I decided to leave the city and head back to my home base on Vancouver Island before anything else needed replacing. I checked into a campsite and officially started my vanlife. A few days into it, I freaked out. Everything felt hard. Everything felt unnatural. And nothing felt right. I also felt guilty that I wasn’t boondocking in the wild like “you’re supposed to.” My friend told me, “nobody expects you to know how to live in a van right away.” It was a statement that smacked me across the face. I expected me to know how to live in a van right away. I thought it would just be like a small apartment. So, I sucked up my pride and booked the campground for two more weeks and ran myself a vanlife bootcamp. I gave myself grace and time and just learned how to do things. How to change my toilet. How much water I needed. How to hang my wet laundry and do my dishes in a small space. How to live in a van. But there was one thing that I couldn’t figure out: the propane tank. Since those first days in my sister’s driveway, whenever the propane tank was on, I could smell gas. Finally, I decided that wasn’t right, and I started to look for people to help me. It took four mechanic shops, multiple conversations with my builder, and three months before I found someone that believed me, someone that could help me. My propane tank was deemed faulty, and it was finally replaced. Those first four months of vanlife were hard.
And to make matters worse? It was winter. In Canada. My first winter back after living in Australia for almost eight years. I was miserable with the van. I was miserable with the weather. But I was stubborn enough not to let it break me…though it came very close some days. I almost sold the van during those first few months. It just seemed too big for me to handle on my own. Too many decisions. Too hard. Too EVERYTHING.
But something in me stuck with it. Maybe it was stubbornness or maybe a nagging idea that one day it wouldn’t be so hard. I’m not sure what, but whatever it was, I’m thankful for it.
It’s starting to get warmer, and the days are longer. The van (knock on wood) hasn’t had too many issues lately, and I’ve even had some upgrades done. It’s feeling easier and more natural. It feels like home. And it feels like where I’m supposed to be. Vanlife didn’t come naturally for me. It wasn’t an easy start. I’m still learning new things every day. But without the hard start, I don’t think I would have appreciated it as much as I do now. I’m thankful for my van. For a safe place to live. A safe car to drive. And a space that I can call my home.
Everyone’s vanlife story is unique to them. It may be easy, or it may be hard. It may be boondocking, or it may be parking lots or friends’ driveways. Whatever it is, it’s yours. And I’m so glad this is how my vanlife story has started.
