It's been almost three years since we published our last video on YouTube. A lot has happened since and while we'd always wanted to make one last video to conclude vanlife, we haven't found the time or motivation. We've returned to corporate, 9 to 5+ roles with plenty of screen time, which naturally means a deep aversion to any additional minutes straining our eyes to edit videos. We're finally finding a bit of time to tie up some loose ends (and thank you to those that have reached out to check in on how we're doing)! 

In this post, we'll share why we stopped living on the road, how life changed after going back to a more conventional lifestyle, and what we've taken from vanlife into our current lives.

We left you off leaving Kentucky and making our way back to Toronto. It was a bittersweet journey. The weather was gloomy and cold as we headed north and of course, we felt the uncertainty of how life would feel returning to a regular job and living in the city with all its boundaries and rules. At the same time, we were looking forward to finding a place we could call home, not having to wonder where we could sleep each night, where we could find water, and wondering, "Will it be quiet?"

The Journey Back

We went through the Detroit border to return to Canada. The separate RV lane saved us some time because who travels north with an RV in April? Crossing the border into Canada was a friendly interaction and only took a few minutes. In Canada, we spent our first night parked at a trailhead. This wasn't prohibited, but it probably wasn't encouraged, so for peace of mind, we used Harvest Host for the next two nights.

We stayed with Red Barn Brewing and the owner invited us to their group of regulars along with the brewmaster himself. You all know I'm into beers and so I had a great time trying out the entire tap. The morning sun finally made its appearance again and a food truck had showed up at the barn where we got ribs, chips, and coleslaw.

The next night, we stayed on an eco farm, parked next to a pig sty with cows and chickens in the distance. It was the first warm day of the year, around 20 C, and windy. We had been planning this step for many months, but the gravity of the commitment made us (mutually) keep pushing off the decision. Somehow, everything felt right this very day and we decided to become engaged! Sachiko had requested a picnic and a gazebo of sorts, so we picked up some burlap from Home Depot the night before and I got to work setting everything up with our clip sticks and bungee cords.

 

It was the perfect day and we stayed up late, watched a movie in the warm spring breeze with Cubert keeping us sheltered.

As reliable as Cubert had been, disaster finally struck. Throughout vanlife, we constantly carried the fear of our van, our home, breaking down on us.

You witnessed us struggle with our leaking steering rack in our Van Life Takes a Turn episode.

Then, we struggled with a leaking skylight, water damage, and a bad alternator.

Driving on the highway that one fateful night, we were an hour away from our destination. The rattling under the hood that no mechanic was able to diagnose reached peak volume, and then a loud clonk. The headlamps flickered and the smell of burnt rubber filled our cab.

With the hazards ticking, I donned my safety vest and stepped into the pitch black darkness of the night. This stretch of the highway had very few streetlamps. Upon inspection, something seemed off with the serpentine belt, but I couldn't diagnose the problem. On a regular vehicle, you could still limp to the next town to find a mechanic. But on this particular vehicle, the serpentine belt powers the steering pump and the steering pump powers the brake booster (it's called the hydro booster). In layman's terms, without these parts, slowing or stopping the car is fully reliant on your strength.

I didn't dare to continue driving without this critical part functioning.

We ordered a tow truck. Something got lost in translation and they ended up sending their biggest towing rig. Imagine their surprise when they showed up expecting a 40 tonne vehicle, not 4 tonnes. The company was very kind and only charged us the regular towing fees since it was a miscommunication. And the unexpected advantage of having your van towed is you can sleep in the parking lot of the auto shop.

In the end, the mechanic discovered that an idler wheel had popped off the serpentine belt system. We had been diligent about this rattling noise, having asked mechanics to look into it on several occasions, but no one was able to figure it out until we were stranded. Thankfully, it was a quick fix and we were safe, but by then, we were extremely worn out by the uncertainty of vanlife.

Settling Back into House Life

Goals in life shift. We started our adventure looking for freedom. We wanted more autonomy over our time, to live a self-directed life away from the corporate hamster wheel. To be wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted. 

We found a lot of what we were looking for.

And we also found that when we arrived "there", our "freedom" was now being controlled by different circumstances. Our environment had changed, the challenges were different, yet the same.

While we ran away from the heaviness of constant consumerism, we found we were still tied to the grid and to Costco parking lots. We replaced the consumption of goods to the consumption of energy in the form of fuel, the most earth-draining resource.

Our autonomy over time meant peaceful, slow, unhindered moments. And that also meant unbearable boredom at times, hindered by self-doubt, questioning our contribution to society, and wondering what's next. Yet, we were unable to plan ahead as every few days, our "home" would change.

We stayed wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted, or so it seemed. We were still bound by the limitations of time, our energy, our tolerance for safety, travel restrictions, by-laws, and relationships. Since 2022, it has become even harder to find boondocking spots. Many spots where we stayed via iOverlander have closed. New by-laws in certain cities have been enacted and enforced. 

Financially speaking, we had saved up for this adventure with our hearts open to this becoming full-time, if we could somehow earn a living on the road. But several episodes of our life allowed us all to witness how difficult it is to work on the road. Survival comes first and the constant barrage of where to find daily necessities ate up all our energy and prevented us from solving more complex problems -- problems that companies and people pay you to solve.

Lots of folks ask this so we'll disclose that we barely worked while traveling. Our only source of reliable-ish income was Sachiko's online gig work (coaching, teaching, consulting). YouTube was enough for a tank of gas or two per month. I think we calculated that we earned less than $1/hour from YouTube when we factored in the hours we put in. It was fun nonetheless and we loved creating all our videos.

Last, but certainly not least, relationships. Community. We missed so many milestones while we were on the road. Weddings, housewarmings, birthdays, witnessing children of dear friends growing up. Just witnessing people close to us change and grow and having them witness us too. Living such a transient lifestyle meant little continuity in the lives of people we loved and cared about. We lived for the candid, mundane moments of the day-to-day, but our transient lifestyle meant we were left out before moments even began. We all felt this during the pandemic. When all of our lives continued, but stopped at the same time. The lack of continuity being witnessed by long-term loved ones left a pronounced void in our timelines, like a squiggle on the x-axis of a graph (yes, it's called a squiggle!). (We're still grappling with why the fulfillment of being witnessed by long-term friends and family feel better, so if you have any wisdom, please message us.)

It was very, very lonely.

We missed our friends, family, routine, stability, security. We missed making plans, doing big projects (that required planning), and being a part of something real, not just parasocial like online relationships. We missed feeling excited for the future.

So with a sigh of relief, we went back to house life.

I (Moritz) returned to my corporate job. Interestingly enough, the adjustment was quite easy. Having spent my entire professional life in my field of work, taking 12 months off felt like no interruption at all. If I could go back in time, I'd tell my younger self to not worry and that taking this long break from work would not be detrimental to my career. In fact, the long break gave both of us some much-needed clarity to pull ourselves out of the weeds. I could now see the bigger picture of my contribution at work, which led to more confidence, which led to promotions at work within the first few months of returning.

The biggest adjustment was returning to a system of slower rewards. In vanlife, micro-tasking chores like taking our waste out, making breakfast, hiking/climbing, cooking, and driving provided instant gratification. Rarely were there tasks that went on for more than a week, with most taking only a few minutes to a few hours. In my job, however, the reward of the grind was hardly visible. Projects take weeks or months, until hand-off, which felt just as rewarding as publishing a new YouTube video. The difference though was publishing a few videos a month, whereas I'd only finish one project in the month at work.

I (Sachiko) returned to my first career path, a path I thought I'd never walk again, but this time, I found joy in the work. Van life unwound my identity from work, which helped me stop measuring my worth on how perfectly I was able to perform. The unexpected byproduct of this was that I was actually able to handle more breadth, volume, and complexity in my work. In other words, van life helped me build the confidence I needed while washing away so much self-doubt.

We realized that the amenities of house life were crucial to productivity. When you don't begin every day dumping out pee, packing up your home, and searching for cell signal, you could begin deep work right away. You could also work longer hours without the urgency of finding a safe sleep spot and arriving there before sundown pressing at your heels. It seems obvious now, upon reflection, but we were so naively determined to make it work during vanlife.

People tend to ask us, "Would you do it again?" And our answer, without hesitation, has always been, "Yes, but we'd spend more time staying on established campgrounds."

Farewell (For Now)

Since returning to house life, we did a big move out to the Rockies in Canada, got married, and now have a little one. Yes, we still have the van. We stayed in touch with Lauren, Diego, and Kira, who continued to travel south with their van, doing what we didn't have the guts (or timing) to do! They've been on the road for three years now (!!) and we all got to explore Guatemala and Peru together. So don't let our story influence you otherwise as it's very, VERY possible to do this long-term and travel great distances. 

We hope this blog was interesting for you and helps you understand why we decided to end vanlife. Our plans for our YouTube channel is to release some unseen drone footage from our travels. Until then, take care and we'll see you on the road to pitches.