Adventure Magazine December 2019/January 2020

All the benefits you see on social media #vanlife posts are real: the gorgeous places you go, the immersion in nature, the pursuit of the activities -
climbing, surfing, hiking, mountain biking - that make your heart sing.
On my last night at the Upper Pines, I was
happily in dreamland when a Yosemite ranger
knocked on my door. When I opened it, she
asked me simply if this was my campsite and
whether I had paid for it.
I am a terrible liar.
“No,” I replied with sleepy resignation.
She told me I had to leave before the
arrival of those who had paid for the site. It
was 1am, and the conversation became a tad
prickly when I asked if she thought that the
arrival of said happy campers was imminent,
or likely at all. She thought it was. I did not.
A stand-off ensued, but my friend’s sixth
sense kicked into gear. She had been sleeping
in her car parked next to my van and, sensing
that a fine was about to be flung, she quickly
opened her door and told me roll out.
The only other testy exchange I
encountered on my vanlife adventures was the
policeman in Sandy, the one obsessed with
how “weird” my presence was in the public
library carpark.
If he had found my facetious offer of candy
humorous in any way, he was hiding it well.
I tried reason: I only had candy in my van
after seeing the disappointment from those
who had approached in the hope of finding
lolly-filled streets.
(There was even a time when I saw
children waiting by the van for the owner to
return, which compelled me to walk by as if I
had no connection to the van whatsoever.)
I tried blaming others: a friend had written
the words “Free Candy” on the van despite my
avid objections. (This was untrue, and I had
consented without really considering how it
might paint me as a potential paedophile.) I
asked what law I was breaking.
The cop was having none of it. He talked to
me like I was a second-class citizen. The fact
I was clad in my sarong may not have helped
matters.
I eventually resorted to flattery. “You’re
right, it is pretty weird.”
He ordered me to leave the carpark
and, while the whole exchange left an
uncomfortable mess in my gut, it was a tiny
blip on a glorious vanlife adventure spanning
five vehicles and more than a decade.
"Vanlife shrinks
the number of your
possessions as you
realise the things
you don’t need."
56//WHERE ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS/#217