Mostly Nomadic

Esther and I are 'mostly nomadic' – think part modern-day hippies, part responsible adults! It means we follow the whispers of curiosity in "Big Dumb Van," exploring wherever the vibe feels right, while still honouring the work, family, and friends that keep us anchored in Ontario. It's about balancing the spirit of adventure with the pull of community.

Trading a house for our off-grid haven, Tulip Town, and our rolling home, the van, really made this possible. Escaping the rent cycle meant we could actually afford to chase the sun down to Mexico when Ontario freezes over! The van’s our funky sanctuary on wheels, always ready for the next journey, and even doubles as Esther’s practical airport pad when needed. It’s our ticket to living life a little differently, embracing the detours.

An easy choice

Choosing to be mostly nomadic is, for us, an intentional step away from the constant hum of anxieties we can't control – the political climate, the housing market, the daily news cycle. Our decision to live child-free further shapes our perspective, allowing us to engage with the world on different terms than many. This lifestyle necessitates a degree of minimalism, which we find deeply liberating; the less we possess, the less possesses us. Rather than seeking stability only in sameness, we embrace the constant variety inherent in navigating life day-to-day, week-to-week, finding a unique richness in the flow of change.

The Big Dumb Van

Life in our "Big Dumb Van" has its own distinct rhythm and energy. The compact living naturally encourages us to be less inactive – the small space quite literally pushes us out into the world. We find it harder to hide away, which actually supports our morning routines, getting us up and ready to engage with the day. Plus, the ever-changing scenery outside our door, depending on where we park, offers a constant stream of fresh inspiration.

Of course, the practicalities demand a different approach. Personal hygiene and bathroom logistics become their own unique puzzle to solve! Moving around together in the confined space requires a certain choreography – it truly is a dance. Minimalism isn't just a philosophy here; it's a necessity. Every item we carry must have an intentional home, forcing us to constantly prioritize and value the few things we keep.

Interestingly, we often feel more creative in the van. The easy option to just zone out in front of a TV isn't there. While phones remain a potential rabbit hole, the small space makes hiding from each other difficult, often sparking interaction instead. There’s definitely a laid-back, groovy feeling that hits you as soon as you enter. And driving the van itself on an adventure? It’s surprisingly comfy, always thrilling, and three hours can evaporate as we follow our curiosities down the highway.

Embracing the Unpredictable

We kicked off life in "Big Dumb Van" by fully embracing the unpredictable. The plan seemed simple: fly to Kelowna, buy the van we found online (sight-unseen), swing by Shambhala Music Festival, then drive back to Ontario to pack up our house. Twenty minutes into owning Dummy, on a record-smashing heatwave day, the radiator dramatically disagreed with the plan and spewed black water out the front of the grill.

Despite repairs and careful driving, Dummy eventually gave up near the peak of the Crowsnest Pass. Our second night of van ownership was spent roadside, on a mountain. So, we adapted: got towed, left the van for a lengthy repair, hitched a ride to Shambhala, found a spare tent, and enjoyed the festival. We flew home, emptied our house right on schedule, then flew back for the van. That eventual cross-Canada drive home wasn't just a trip; it was a crash course in navigating the unexpected with curious excitement, learning to live and travel together with our Big Dummy.

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