Traipsing About, round two
On the road again, Airstream-style
This newsletter: shifting gears into a new life phase.
What up, Traipser! Dakota here with Traipsing About, my ongoing experiment in living creatively, traveling intentionally, and reflecting on what makes life feel meaningful.
In case you missed it: Last time I wrote about spending money on things you’ll actually use, not what others will see.
Traipsing About, round two
We’re on the road again! On December 1, we rented our house out and headed out for some traipsing.
For the past week, Chelsea and I have woken up in the silver embrace of our Airstream. I’m typing this from the Alabama Hills, land of giant boulders scattered at the foot of the snow-capped Sierras in California.
Beyond a family Christmas in San Diego, we don’t have any plans nailed down. But with bikes and hiking shoes in the truck and a digital piano tucked into the Airstream, we’ve got everything we need for a comfortable ramble.
I keep coming back to a line from Robert Louis Stevenson:
“I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.”
A different kind of trip
This round is different for a number of reasons.
Neither of us are working, for one. Not checking email first thing (no “problem du jour”) is a joy I don’t take for granted.
Also, we have running water and a toilet. Yep—the lap of luxury. Compared to the van, the Airstream feels like a tiny house: light pouring through big windows, a kitchen that actually invites us to cook, and just enough space to breathe. Vacuuming its 180 square feet only takes 3 minutes!
Oh, and we’re a decade older than during our 2013–2016 van trip, with new hobbies and a different sense of the world. How that plays out day to day remains to be seen, but we have a few ideas.
We’re aiming to travel slower: fewer places, longer stays. We loved our Sprinter van, but it was basic during our big trip—no running water, no toilet—and far smaller. We were always perched rather than planted, inertia carrying us forward: go, go, go.
Now we set up the trailer and leave it put. The truck is our 4x4 runaround rig, which means we can head out for a hike or a bike ride without packing up our entire house first. I can go crash around on my mountain bike while Chelsea lounges in comfort.
Why Not Just Stay Home?
Yes, there were (and are) reasons not to do this. The liftoff energy was real: prepping the house for rent, dismantling Chelsea’s astonishing plant collection, and trusting our space to strangers. We’re still wrung out like limp dish towels from getting out the door.
And yes, we could happily stay in Bend. It’s a fantastic place to live, and we love our friends and neighbors. But we’re both feeling the need for a reset, and this is the best way we know how.
So this is a midlife break—a quest for fewer life complications. (Says the guy who took apart the Airstream furnace two days ago to diagnose an issue.)
More time outside in beautiful places. Connection with people we care about. We want a pace that leaves room for passions (like piano for me), for taking care of our bodies with boring mid-life shit like physical therapy, and for prepping meals that aren’t just microwaved Trader Joe’s sushi.
Do It Now
As I’ve told Chelsea, I’d regret not seizing this opportunity. Between COVID, health stuff for both of us, and care for our now-departed sweet kitty Oliver, we are ready to cast off for a while. (More to come about Oliver.)
Our parents are healthy. We don’t have kids or jobs or anywhere we have to be…oh mah gerd does it feel delightful.
Chelsea encouraged me to dream about the future, so like a good nerd, I made a spreadsheet. It’s full of places and ideas, but the gist is simple: connecting with people we love in beautiful places.
Lewis Carroll’s quip also comes to mind: if you’re never exactly sure where you’re going, any road will take you there.
Through all the effort of getting out the door and the excitement of being on the road, I’ve also had the words of my dear mentor Duncan pinging in my brain. On his 70th birthday, when I told him about our plans, he told me:
Let it wash over you. Don’t rush to settle. The chance to be freewheeling in your 40s, while you’re healthy, is a gift. Treasure it.
And that’s exactly what we’re doing. This time feels rare, and we’re not taking it for granted.
Full speed ahead…slowly.
Desert textures
I’m a mountains and trees kinda guy and have spent most of my life living in and exploring those areas. However, there’s nothing like some winter desert sun.
One thing I especially love are the textures when you get up close to the gnarly, survivalist plants and scarred rocks out here. Here are some favs!
Faces from the road returns
Now that we’re rolling again, I’m bringing back a series I did years ago called Faces From the Road. This will be a snapshot of inspiring/cool/fantastic humans that we encounter while we’re out and about.
Kicking it off with Joe, a teacher from Ashland, OR who DIY’d this 1990s Nissan firetruck that he imported from Japan. The shell is made from fiberglass and reused fence boards. It “sleeps two if you like each other.” Basic, functional, awesome!
Beyond that, I dug his low-key attitude and obvious focus on life adventures. He’s been a river guide, bike toured New Zealand, and built out the truck for his latest passion, ski touring.
Cheers, Joe!
This Traipsing About newsletter is rolling outta the parking lot.
But first, a framing of travel that I love:
At its best, travel is embraced not as a flashy backdrop for our lifestyle ambitions, but as an act that touches every aspect of our being. Travel is not a swaggering declaration of self, undertaken to impress other people; it is a quiet inquiry, requiring awareness, resilience, and openness to change.
Rolf Potts, The Vagabond’s Way
That’s it, folks! Onward,
Dakota
