How we decide where to stay

Susanne is your driver for this post.

A few nights ago, we stayed up late planning our route for the next couple of months and posted some of our ideas on Facebook. One of our friends messaged us to ask how we go about selecting our destinations and campsites, so I thought I'd share our route-planning and campsite-picking process.

1. We have a long-term route in mind. Our overall plan is to mosey through New Mexico and Arizona into southern California before moving northward through NorCal, Oregon, and Washington. Everything is dictated by this long-term route, though we have no idea how long it'll take to implement said plan.

2. We think about people or places we want to see. For instance, a couple of months back, we traveled through Austin, TX because we wanted to visit our friends and housesit for them. At the end of September, we're going to Santa Fe: I hear it's just too good to pass up. After that, we'll be heading to the Grand Canyon because we want to give Sam the opportunity to see this amazing national park. Thus, specific attractions play a significant role in influencing where we go.

3. Climate. Although we made the crazy decision to spend most of our summer in Texas - mainly to establish residency there - we want to make a habit of following the weather to avoid extreme temperatures. That way, we won't have to overtax our (currently exhausted) air conditioner or rely too much on the heating system. 

4. Cost. Three months in, we're realizing that we feel most comfortable (and efficient, in a work sense) when we stay at campgrounds with full hook-ups, level spots, and good light. At the same time, we can't afford to pay an arm and a leg, and that's challenging. For example, KOAs offer loads of amenities, but many of them cost $40 or even $50 a night. That's way too expensive for us. We actively seek out RV parks and campgrounds that are more economical.

As part of our cost considerations, we look for Thousand Trails parks close to our desired destination. Because we're Thousand Trails members, we can stay in a Thousand Trails park for up to two weeks, with full hookups, on relatively level ground, at no charge (the only caveat is that we have to be "out of the system" for a week before returning to another TT park). If there's a TT in the general area, that's where we go.

5. Reviews from other RVers. If a campsite is in a good location and offers a reasonable price, our next step is to check online reviews to see what other people have to say about it. To research campgrounds, we check Campendium, RV Park Reviews, and Google reviews. Sometimes we also check with our full-time RVer forum on Facebook. These reviews are crucial: a park can be well located and look pretty in pictures, but if customer service is bad or if the utilities aren't working properly, we don't want to stay there.

6. Quality of Verizon coverage. Trent's work takes place entirely online, so he requires a strong, reliable Internet connection. We obtain our connection through our Verizon unlimited plan, so Verizon coverage is a major priority. Once we've found an affordable campsite, we research the quality of the cellular signal there first by checking the Verizon Coverage Map and then by scoping out reviews on Campendium. The Verizon Coverage Map is fairly accurate, but if a campground is "on the edge" in terms of signal quality, we can't always tell. That's when the Campendium reviews, which include very specific information and ratings of cellular coverage, are vital.

So that's how we do it! Sometimes it feels lot like putting together a complicated jigsaw puzzle or solving a Rubik's cube, but so far the effort has been worth it. We've generally enjoyed every place we've stayed. 

For other RVers: What's your typical process for deciding where you're going next and where to stay?

The benefits of living in a small space

As I mentioned to a friend on Instagram this morning, moving into our tiny space has involved a steep learning curve - not so much in terms of figuring out sewer/water/electric hookups or deciding where to travel, but very much so in terms of learning to live together in the smallest place we've ever owned.

Three humans and one cat cohabitating in a relatively modest-sized RV can be fraught with challenges, like when the dishes pile up (happens quickly, and can make the kitchen feel chaotic), or when someone's in a less-than-happy mood and doesn't feel like hanging out with family members, or when I reallllly want to get my yoga workout in but have to wait until Trent and Sam are off at the pool for an hour.

When the slide-out is out, this is where I do my workout. Right next to the kitty litter. Ommmm....

But! Even though it's frustrating sometimes, I see multiple benefits to living together in this little home:

1. We can keep only what we really need and/or want. There's simply no room for extraneous things we won't use or can't appreciate, so we carefully consider every single item we bring into our space. We did this before we moved in, but - because it was difficult to predict what we would actually use - we continue to evaluate our belongings. For example, the pretty serving tray that I carefully stowed into a cabinet for Pinterest-worthy dinner picnics is proving to be worthless, so it's not going to stick around. It needs to give up its home for something that we will actually utilize. 

Along the same lines, until we started preparing for RV life, I didn't realize how much random crap people are constantly trying to pass on to one another, such as the little towels that our campground gave us as a "welcome present" (they're not large enough to dry off with and not absorbent enough to dry dishes with), or the mini-frisbees and beer koozies available as "gifts" in the activity center this morning. It's tempting to take and keep these, but we don't need them and ultimately they're just going to serve as dust-catchers. Not worth it. MUST. RESIST. FREE. STUFF.

2. We have a better appreciation for what we do have. This sounds silly, but every morning I look at my coffee pot and think, "Man, I love this thing." I like its design, I like how easy it is to clean, and I like that it produces my favorite caffeinated beverage. I look at it and I appreciate it, whereas before this journey, I owned a lot of things that I walked by every single day and barely even noticed, much less acknowledged.

Coffee pot and rooster mug: Key players in my morning ritual

3. It's easy to clean and organize. Sam - the most organized person in our family - will tell you that I have a lot of opportunity for growth here, but overall I think we do a good job of keeping Clark tidy. And because Clark is small, it really doesn't take all that much time and effort. We can go from kitchen disaster zone to Instagram-worthy countertops in a matter of minutes. (Not saying that lasts long, but whatever.)

Post-breakfast is always messy, but it takes minutes to clean it up.

4. A small space requires less energy to heat and cool than a traditional home. It's hot here in Texas, so yes, we have our fan or A/C on most of the time. That said, it doesn't take much to cool the place down. Of course, our goal is to eventually "follow the weather" and get solar panels so that we can further minimize the use of fossil fuels for heating and cooling. At the very least, we're more aware now of what it takes to bring our space to a comfortable temperature. It encourages us to think about the resources and processes required.

5. We're forced to deal with interpersonal issues right away. This is a tough one even for a family that generally gets along. Sometimes our RV is like a pressure cooker! Things I've been trying to work on: not getting bent out of shape about the way Trent does the dishes (yes, I realize I'm crazy), being more patient when I need space but can't have it immediately, and talking through problems as they happen instead of letting the issues build up. This was my idea, and yet of anyone in the family, I'm the one who is most attached to the concept of a personal bubble. That part is tough for me, and I'm figuring out how to navigate that particular issue. So... yeah. Definitely a learning experience. 

6. I get to spend more time with my family. I love that. Sometimes it's really nice to hang out for hours in the same tiny room with them. As I write this, Sam is sitting across from me with a pad of paper, a ruler, and a pencil, designing a new hotel for his Minecraft world. I type, he draws, and we share ideas as we go. That kind of experience makes this wild journey totally worth it.

RV Vegan?

Yes we are! 😜

Get it? 

It was a joke. A bad one. I blame the influence of Trent's side of the family. They have the best bad jokes ever.

Anyway, in a previous post I mentioned that we've adopted a vegan lifestyle. A "plant-based" lifestyle is a more accurate way to describe it, as a) we are currently using honey, b) I'm guessing we have some leather somewhere amongst our belongings, and c) our child is still eating some meat and cheese.

Back in the day - before we moved to the middle of nowhere in Montana and before we had Sam - Trent and I were vegetarians. If I recall correctly, Trent's reasons were primarily ethical, whereas my reasons were... Trent. He identified as vegetarian and so I wanted to do the same. The truth was, I could watch those horrible videos of animals being hurt and tortured and still think, "Hmm, if I weren't vegetarian, I could totally go for a hamburger."

In Montana we went back to eating meat. Finding fresh veggies and fruits in our tiny town was difficult, whereas finding fresh meat was easy. Everyone hunted. Everyone grilled. The meat was usually top quality. It smelled good. I got pregnant and hot dogs tasted divine (whereas vegetables were nausea-inducing). 

So for the past nine years, we've been omnivores, and to be quite honest, we didn't give a lot of thought to it. Sometimes we purchased grass-fed beef; sometimes we purchased whatever was on sale at Kroger. Sometimes we bought organic eggs; sometimes we didn't. It really varied. We ate a fairly healthy diet and had a "We're doing our best" mentality.

So what changed?

People usually adopt a vegetarian or vegan diet for one of three reasons: ethics (by questioning whether we have a right to raise and kill other animals for food), health (because plant based diets have been shown time and time again to be much healthier than meat based diets), or environment. For me, it was the environmental considerations that did it.

During the winter term that started in January of this year, I taught an Environmental Geology class. For every course I facilitate, I try to identify one or two themes that connect key concepts throughout the semester. This time the theme focused on individual actions: what can one person do to help cultivate a healthier planet?

I had my students use the Ecological Footprint Calculator to determine the number of Earths needed to support their habits and lifestyles as well as the tones of CO2 they produced each year. Most of them ended up with 4-5 planet earths and somewhere between 16 and 22 tones of CO2. 

Then we talked about what we could do to narrow the footprint.

Honestly, I thought I knew the answer already. I talked about reducing electricity use, conserving water, recycling, and walking or biking versus driving. I talked about the role that technology has started to play in conserving resources - the development of Energy Star appliances, for example. 

But when I sat down to put numbers to those calculations, I discovered that for kids living in rural mid-America, who don't travel that much and aren't driving enormous distances to work and school, whose water usage is a literal drop in the bucket compared to what's used for agriculture, none of those things made much of a dent. Even if my students were to make massive changes in these areas, their footprints would decrease by only a small percentage. Not to say that the efforts wouldn't be worthwhile... But I felt discouraged. I didn't want them to finish the class feeling hopeless about the future of the planet. 

Then I stumbled upon some articles about vegetarianism and veganism, and in reading them, I found out that adopting a plant-based diet is one of the most effective ways for an individual to ease up on the Earth. So much of our land is used to grow crops for animal agriculture, so much forest is cleared for said animal agriculture, and so much pollution is produced as a result of animal agriculture that I felt like I, especially as an earth scientist who loves and appreciates the earth and its resources and history, had the responsibility to change my own habits.

 

So on Earth day, we did. We officially went plant based (or plant powered, as I like to put it!) Trent has decided to eat vegan at home but will eat whatever strikes his tastebuds when we are out. As for Sam, he's never eaten a whole lot of meat, but he definitely likes cheese and yogurt. He's nine. He's old enough to make his own decisions about what he will and will not eat, and I don't want to force any ideas on him, especially because I don't want him to develop any issues around food. We will set an example and he can follow suit when and if he is ready.

Cooking vegan meals in the RV has been pretty easy so far. Breakfast is usually cereal, fruit, oatmeal, and/or smoothies. For lunch, we have sandwiches, veggies, hummus and carrots, wraps, or leftovers. Dinner has included spicy baked tofu, beans and rice with fixings (avocado, peppers, etc.), roasted eggplant and peppers, stews, veggie burgers, big salads, and stir fry. It's nice not having to worry about making room for and storing meat in our tiny fridge.

I feel really passionate about this issue, so I'll probably write about it periodically. I don't want to be annoying or fanatical. That said, if this issue is of any interest to you, I encourage you to watch the documentary Cowspiracy. It's currently available on Netflix and does a great job of presenting the facts.

Thoughts on jobs, status, and doing something different

Today I taught my second-to-last on-ground class of the semester (or maybe ever? Who knows). I was leading a discussion about how people respond to natural disasters, trying to get my students to consider the economic, political, social, etc. effects of unpredictable, high-impact events like volcanic eruptions.

In one of the scenarios we examined, the (imaginary) owner of an (imaginary) sandwich shop was explaining how a small nearby eruption had hurt his business. Here's a paraphrase of the off-topic discussion that ensued:

Student: Who cares about a sandwich shop? Maybe he should have tried owning a real business.

Me: ...That IS a real business. Think about all of the restaurants and cafes you've been to. Those are all real businesses. This person could have a business degree. Maybe he's making six figures a year. Who knows?

Student: Yeah, but a sandwich shop is just so... sad. That person could have done so many other things with his life.

And then several other people nodded in agreement.

I was flummoxed. To me, owning your own business means creativity, hard work, persistence, frustration, and careful money management. It's a meaningful and important responsibility. I don't approach the cashier at a store and think, "Your life sucks, and that's why you work at a deli."

On the other hand, I could kind of see where they're coming from. When I was in college, I thought I was going to be the most special of the special snowflakes.  I was going to graduate, attend grad school, get a great job that I loved, spend my career moving up in rank and salary, make a difference, change the world, maybe appear on Oprah, and retire with a healthy bank account. Why wouldn't I think that way? That's what everyone tells kids they can and should do. Nobody ever says, "Wouldn't it be so cool if you grew up and made turkey club sandwiches for cranky tourists?"

Just for context, I'm pretty sure most of my students are a little loopy with end-of-semester madness, so I don't want to judge their sleep deprivation-induced commentary too harshly. But it did make me wonder what they'd think if they knew that I'm quitting my job to go live in an RV, homeschool my kid, travel around the country, and not work a 9 to 5 gig. 

My almost-empty office

I feel like people in the United States are obsessed with work and status. Apparently, even my students are obsessed with status, even though they haven't graduated yet and may not be fully aware of just how challenging, stressful, and limited the job market can be. If you're a lawyer, a doctor, a professor, a successful entrepreneur, or an engineer, people automatically assume you're smart, dedicated, and SOMEBODY. If you're 50 years old and bagging groceries at Kroger or pouring coffee at Starbucks, they assume that either you couldn't cut it or you're on your way to something bigger and better.  

(Side story: After I earned my Master's degree, I took time off from school and worked as a Starbucks barista. I was burned out on academia and wanted to have a new experience. On at least two occasions, people who had no idea of my history or personal life took it upon themselves to encourage me to "go back to school" and "make something of myself." "You're still young," one older man said. "You should at least get your college diploma."

I can't recall, but I hope I decafed him for his ignorant commentary.

And yes, baristas do that sometimes - if a customer is a jerk and the all-powerful Starbucks Big Brother isn't watching through the security cameras. Be respectful of the person who wields the caffeination power!)

One of the best places we've called home is Santa Cruz, California, where people truly seem to work to live. Rarely did anyone ever ask us what we did for a living. They seemed more concerned with whether we surfed and how we felt about social issues. Nobody cared whether you earned money at the local pizza parlor or in a fancy office building in San Jose. It just didn't matter, and it was refreshing to have entire conversations in which nobody ever mentioned their career or how they were planning to move up in the world.

I'm tired of the job/work obsession, and I wish that our country would be less focused on that aspect of life. Is it so awful to have a job that's just a job - nothing more? If you're not stressed out, exhausted, and anxious all the time, does that mean you're not earning your keep? Is it so terrible to not want to move up a career ladder or become wealthy and "important" (in quotes because really, even if you think your job is important, is it really that crucial?) 

I'm not saying we should do nothing and mooch off everyone else. I'm certainly not saying that income isn't important! Trent and I do worry about that, and we strategize all the time. I'm just saying that I'm looking forward to exploring what life is like when my life doesn't totally revolve around my job. 

The kitchen gear not voted off the RV island

We've made amazing progress in reducing the amount of STUFF we own and identifying what we want to take with us. Today it was all about the kitchen gear.

Here's a rundown of what we decided to take with us on the road:

1. Utensils: Four regular knives, four forks (one currently in use), four spoons, two serving spoons.

2. Knives: We like to cook, so these are important.

3. Dinnerware: Three plastic bowls, four plastic plates, four small bamboo plates, one small bamboo cereal bowl.

4. Pour-over coffee maker: We had a press pot, but cleaning it is messy. On our last shakedown RV trip, I managed to spray a full cup of soggy grounds all over the interior of our rig. This coffee maker is much easier to wash.

5. Variety of necessary kitchen paraphernalia: Stirring spoons, measuring spoons, measuring cups, bottle opener, bag clips, grater, peeler, spatula, etc.

6. Mugs and cups: So far we've got it narrowed down to four ceramic mugs, two plastic camp mugs, one beer glass, and three juice glasses. This is a small percentage of the glassware we previously owned. We need to make another cut here, but for some reason I'm having trouble letting go. Of drinking glasses. Yeah. 

7. Pyrex measuring cup: I think we've had this since we got married. It's awesome for measuring liquids as well as heating up water in the microwave. It's coming with us.

8. Pots and pans: One wooden salad bowl, one plastic mixing bowl (with handy gripper base), Pampered Chef mixing bowl (I can't part with it - I use it almost every day), saucepan, 8 x 8 glass pan.

9. Instant Pot: This thing is amazing. Every 5-star review you've seen is totally justified. Beans go from dried to fully cooked in less than 30 minutes, and it has a crockpot mode for soups and stews.

10. Our beloved, grimy toaster oven: We really thought about giving this away, but we use it all the time. We make toast in it, bake bread in it, and roast vegetables in it. We'll house it in one of the storage bays, pull it out when we're in camp, and use it as part of our outdoor kitchen.

Going through our belongings to figure out what we need to take, what we want to take, what's easy to let go of, and what we find ourselves attached to has been an interesting and informative experience in itself. What does it say about me that I have a death grip on a coffee mug? (Although come to think of it, maybe that's not too surprising...) What does it mean when we are desperate to sell things we thought we just HAD to have when we purchased them? Should we be giving out plastic- and candy-filled goodie bags at the end of every child's birthday party? (Answer from someone who just spent an hour tossing these foot-piercing pieces of cheap crap: NO! STOP WITH THE GOODIE BAGS.)

One thing I've realized is that I want to become a more thoughtful consumer. I want to spend more time weighing the pros and cons of my purchases - not only in terms of cost, but also in terms of space, emotional aspects, environmental effects, and social impact. Am I buying things because I truly need them or because I want to keep up with the latest trends I see on Instagram, Pinterest, and HGTV? Are the things I'm buying worth the price and the space? What is the cost of disposing of something that looks kind of ugly but that is still completely usable? 

Holding pattern

We leave in 2.5 weeks! [insert googly-eyed emoji here]

Until then, we're in a bit of a holding pattern. Our focus right now is on cleaning up the house and figuring out what we want to save and what we still need to recycle or throw out. Currently, though, the house is a bit of a disaster area. This photo makes the situation look better than it actually is.

Although we're in disbelief that our departure date is so close, we're definitely excited. I interviewed Trent, Sam, Biscuit, and myself (can you interview yourself? I say yes) to get their thoughts on the impending move into the RV:

Q: What are three words you would use to describe our impending travels?

Sam: Do we have to do this right now? [I think he meant the interview.]

Trent: Unknown. Different. Exciting.

Me: Adventure. Nature. Problem solving.

Biscuit: My. Moving. Palace.

Q: What are you most excited about?

Sam: Everything, except the parts where we get really mad at each other.

Trent: A change in lifestyle, and the fact that it'll be easier to move when you get bored. [Me: And by "you," you mean... Trent: I mean you. Susanne.]

Me: Experiencing new places and being closer to nature.

Biscuit: Looking at hot guy cats out the window. Meow.

Q: What are you most worried about?

Sam: The water not functioning and you getting really mad. [Me: And by "you," you mean... Sam: You. Mom.]

Trent: Money.

Me: First of all, I don't know what you mean by "really mad." Second, I worry about RV issues, like the roof leaking and damaging everything and then we have to live full time with Biscuit in a tent because that's all we have left.

Biscuit: I am not living in a tent. Sorry.

Q: What's our biggest hurdle before we leave?

Sam: Please stop asking me questions. I'm trying to relax.

Trent: What Internet setup is right. Also, how are we going to get rid of our broken treadmill?

Me: What do we do with our gross old mattresses?

Biscuit: Catching all the bugs you've let into the house over the last few days.

Q: What is one thing you can't part with - something you have to take with you even if it isn't practical?

Sam: Biscuit. [Me: I meant other than members of the family. Sam: Biscuit. That's my final answer.]

Trent: My frisbees. I don't want to get rid of any of them, but I have six of them.

Me: Real glassware and my two favorite coffee mugs.

Biscuit: My eight bajillion cat toys. Even though nobody ever plays with me and I'm the most neglected, misunderstood cat ever.

Biscuit's first RV adventure

This Friday and Saturday, we took Biscuit the cat on her first RVing adventure at our local state park.

Getting her into the RV was pretty easy: we tossed her favorite toy into her cat carrier, she ran in, and Sam closed the gate. Trent drove the RV (Biscuit's litter box was safely stowed and latched in the shower for the trip) while Sam, Biscuit, and I followed in the car. After arriving at the park and setting up camp, we released Biscuit into her new abode.

This was the first safe spot she found: in the bedroom right below the "closet." She seemed happy enough.

It eventually dawned on her that something unusual was going on in her life, so she hotfooted it up to the cab and squashed herself under the driver's side seat. For hours. We were relieved when she made an appearance to use her Modkat kitty litter system, which we placed in the cab in order to keep it out of the way yet still accessible for her.

We pretended we didn't notice, but silently, all three of us were cheering. Biscuit is unpredictable when she's uncomfortable or unhappy. A couple of weeks ago, she peed on our bed (while we were in it!) for reasons that are still unclear and that, according to the vet, were entirely unrelated to her physical health. We hope that was a one-time occurrence but with her? Who knows. So the RV Modkat use so early on in the trip was a victory for everyone.

The situation went a bit downhill when, at bedtime, Biscuit hopped up on the bed, made a horrible yakking sound, and proceeded to throw up all over the duvet. A few minutes later she knocked over her water dish and created a mini-tsunami that rolled through the slightly-tilted rig. We dug out a few rolls of paper towels and all was well again. 

Sam was wondering whether Biscuit - who's not the most coordinated feline you've ever met - would dare to hop up into his bunk space. She waited until everyone was settled down, gave her best leap, and made the jump from the table to the loft. Then she gazed down upon us as if to say, "I will allow you to stay. For now."

I'd call that a success. It might sound silly to be so worried about a cat, but she's a part of the family and our happiness is somewhat dependent on her happiness. If she can't get on board with our new lifestyle, that's going to be a problem.

So far, though, all signs point to a cat that will be ruling the road the same way she rules the house.

Welcome to the adventure, Biscuit!

The Great Stuff Purge, Part 2

Trent and I spent a big chunk of this morning paring down our wardrobes and other belongings. We did so for several reasons:

1. Clark can hold only so much stuff. Closet space is particularly limited. Trent and I will have a total of one decent-sized wardrobe in which we can hang stuff up. Otherwise, we'll be relying on plastic bins stored in relatively small cabinets.

2. We won't have a washer and dryer... Which means we'll be going to laundromats... And the fewer loads of laundry we have to do, the better. 

3. We're hoping we won't need a lot of cold-weather gear. The plan is to move with the seasons so that we're never freezing and never broiling. If this works out, the big puffy coats and thick sweaters won't be necessary.

So I'm all for getting rid of stuff, but this exercise was not easy. Apparently I have an inner hoarder. Conversations I had with myself during the purge-fest:

Me: This underwear is going into the trash.

Myself: No!

Me: ...Why? It has holes in it. 

Myself: But I've had that pair since 2004! It has sentimental value!

*

Me: What the heck is this? Where did you even find it?

Myself: ...Bronzer. It was in the dresser.

Me: BRONZER. Are you kidding me? Are you a Kardashian? I'm pretty sure a grand total of NOBODY trusts you to use this stuff correctly.

Myself: But I might need it. What if I have to look nice?

Me: Then this is not the way to go. 

*

Me: This sock is on its way out.

Myself: NO.

Me: It's not even your sock! It's like a size extra large! It's missing its mate!

Myself: But what if there's an emergency?!? You never know. Remember the Apollo mission?

Me: You have issues.

And then there was the pile of orphan socks I ended up with:

Where did their friends go? No idea. They're just gone.

I have had a lot of clothes. I didn't like at least half of them, and many of them I never wore more than once or twice. Why do we hang onto things we don't want or need? Why do we buy them in the first place? Why do we feel like we have to wear something different every day of the month? 

Here's the haul we took over to the reuse facility:

To top it all off, we carted a bunch of books to the library. The house is looking a little bare in places - and that's totally fine by me.

Our plan from here on out is to only carry what we need, will use, and already have. Only when we actually need a new item will we purchase one. Will we be winning any fashion awards? No, but we were never going to, anyway. Obviously.