On the road again!
We're celebrating our 3-year anniversary as nomads where it all began: in our camper and on the roads of the U.S.A.!
As I sit at our dinette, I glance at the bed and smile at our two dogs napping in the sun. I look ahead at my husband, an arm’s length away, as he types on his laptop. Our sunny workday is interrupted by the sound of a monster RV pulling in. A peek under the curtain reminds me that, Toto, we’re not in Mexico anymore.
Greetings from the U.S.A.!
Noah and I are back on the American roads after a three-month adventure in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. If you’re new to this newsletter, welcome! If you’ve been reading for a bit, welcome back! I took a break from writing to savor Mexico, but now, we’re back in the U.S. and in our camper, “living” at the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains.
This week, we’re particularly grateful to be back in our camper, as we celebrate our three-year “nomadaversary!”
Over Memorial Day weekend in 2019, Noah and I moved into a fiberglass egg called a “Casita” travel trailer. As I reminisce, I’m grateful and humbled by how much we’ve seen and how we’ve grown. To honor this very special anniversary, I invite you on a quick tour of our last three years.
Year 1: The year of uncertainty
We had five months to empty our 750 sq. ft apartment in Dallas and on the last day, we weren’t yet done. We scrambled to give away our final belongings, as it dawned on us that our new home wasn’t small. At 84 square ft., it was diminutive.
I was excited and sad as I left our apartment of 7 years. I’d mostly miss our washing machine and garden tub (what luxuries!). I knew I was adaptable, but moving into a camper invited uncertainty:
Would I wreck our new home when I towed it behind us?
What if I didn’t properly hitch up and dropped our camper on the highway?
Would I be too grossed out when cleaning our tanks?
Nothing made the fear as real as when I left our old home. As I locked the door, I took a deep breath and smiled. I was about to learn a lot about myself!
Freedom. We tasted it quickly. At first, we were timid and stayed at a Dallas area campground, but after a weekend in Caddo Lake, TX (a Louisiana-like park with mossy bayous), we were hooked. No more urban campgrounds - it was time for the road!
In July we waved goodbye to Texas and pointed our GPS to Salida, Colorado. There, we coincidentally parked next to a group of RVers who were also working full time and hanging out for a week. They invited us to join their RV club, which opened our eyes to a community for people like us. Since then, we’ve never felt alone on the road.
After that meetup, our confidence grew, as we proceeded to drive across 11 states, including to New York, and back to California. Not ones to slow down, we headed further south and spent Christmas on the beach in Baja California, Mexico.
We lived a lifetime during the first 10 months in our camper: we drove thousands of miles, camped on mountaintops, lakes, and beaches, learned to “boondock” (camp with no water or electric connections), hiked a Colorado “14er” (a 14k ft. mountain), saw friends we hadn’t seen in years, launched a YouTube channel (and got 56k views on this video!), abandoned that YouTube channel (too time-consuming!), and visited numerous national parks. Did I mention we also worked full-time?
By March of 2020, like the rest of the world, we slowed down. The pandemic created uncertainty for RVers as campgrounds (our source of water) closed. We planned to hide in the New Mexico forests while the world settled, but Noah’s brother insisted we drive to Pittsburgh to stay with family.
Good thing we decided against hiding in the forest. We didn’t just slow down our travels. For the next four months, we completely stopped.
Year 2: The year of confidence
“Should we buy property?” This question circled our minds early in the pandemic, as we craved outdoor living in a sustainable, self-sufficient way. But the more properties we visited, the more we resisted buying, and instead, we took short trips in the Northeast. Each trip confirmed what we already knew: we were meant to be nomads.
In August, our confidence to travel cross-country returned and we headed West. By now, office-turned-remote workers had caught wind of our lifestyle, and parks in Wyoming and Montana were full of new RVers. We resented crowds, but also admired how people had turned a challenge into an opportunity to fulfill their RVing dreams.
In Year 2, we made more of our traveling dreams come true too. By now, we felt confident in our roles, Noah focused on outdoor needs (like hitching up and tire maintenance) and I focused on interior organizing and cleaning. We got faster at setting up and tearing down wherever we went, which by November included national parks like Glacier, Yellowstone, and Grand Teton, and states like Idaho and Utah.
By December, we craved a break, so we joined friends for two months in Presidio, a small Mexican/American bordertown in West Texas. From there, we explored Big Bend National Park and the artist community of Marfa. We also met fascinating folks at our campground from all walks of life and ideologies. Our happy hours proved what Presidio already knew: the beauty of a community lies in appreciating its diversity.
Our second year ended on a trying note, as we experienced a terrible freeze in Texas. By February, we were on the Gulf coast, where we learned to fully appreciate our off-grid amenities. While people lost power and water in their homes, we stayed warm and hydrated with our gas heater and full tanks. Our camper comforted us during a dark moment, and by the end of year two, we couldn’t imagine living in anything else.
Year 3: The year of restlessness
We survived the Texas freeze and headed back to the Northeast to visit family. One unexpected perk of being a nomad is seeing family for as long as we want while living in our own home (parked in the backyard). When we lived in Dallas, we might have seen our families once a year for two weeks, while we now visit for months.
Perhaps the Texas freeze rattled us, or perhaps it was too long of a summer with family. Whichever the cause, the feeling was real: we were restless. It wasn’t a restlessness to drive more; it was a restlessness for a different adventure.
By August, we figured it out: we’d travel abroad. In light of COVID, we would play it safe and visit Mexico, where I was born and raised. Specifically, we’d spend time in San Miguel de Allende in Guanajuato, dubbed the “best city in the world”.
Plane tickets in hand, we awaited our global adventure by driving across the country for a wedding in Park City, Utah, and to see friends in Washington. There, we checked off one of my biggest bucket list items - whale watching! It was a whirlwind of a trip that fueled our adventurous spirit. But nothing felt as exhilarating as knowing I’d soon be returning to my beloved Mexico.
Where are we now?
Physically, we’re in Tennesee. Mentally, we’re in limbo. Our time in Mexico was incredible. There, I wrote about San Miguel de Allende plazas here and about Mexican pride here. I felt deeply connected to my roots and Noah’s Spanish is better than ever. We’re happy to be back in the U.S., but Mexico ignited a fire we can’t ignore.
For now, we’re off to Texas and will spend the summer in Colorado. But by fall, we may just point the GPS, not to another American destination, but back to Mexico. As we usually say, “we’ll play it by ear.” Our laissez-faire attitude to planning drives some people nuts. But to us, that’s the beauty of a nomadic life. No expectations usually means great delight.
What have we learned?
As I closed that Dallas apartment door for the last time in 2019, I knew I was about to learn a lot about myself. Three years later, here’s what Noah and I know:
The timing will rarely be “just right” to chase your dreams. Go for them anyway. You’ll figure things out as you go.
It’s good to dream and research before making a big life change, but at some point, you need to take real action (setting a deadline is useful).
Share your dream with the world. Most likely, others will support you and cheer you on as you go for it. If you’re lucky, you’ll even inspire others to follow.
Amidst ugliness, the world is also full of amazing, kind people. Don’t lose hope in humanity.
Say “hi” more often. It’s easy and can lead to the best of friendships.
RV life isn’t for everyone. “Normal” homes aren’t for everyone either.
Until next time!
Karla is a Mexican/American travel and fiction writer. She’s also a life and career coach for women. Karla is one-half of Aventura Road, a married couple of nomads who live in an RV and travel full-time. Karla writes, while Noah photographs.
Follow Karla on Instagram @karlaexploradora.
Follow Karla & Noah on Instagram @aventuraroad.
Welcome Home to the Road Karla ! And thanks for inspiring and encouraging me, as I reach that special deadline I set myself, sleeping my very last night in my very empty house tonight !!! See you on the road ! If we cross continents someday :))
Great article. I reflected the places we met in your article and the wonderful happy hours or happy nights!!!!!