I GREW UP IN THE SUBURBS. When I was a little kid, the closest thing we had to adventures in the wild was a spot in the bushes at the far back corner of a neighbor’s yard, or venturing way over to the other side of the next block to play in the creek. I couldn’t wait to be a Boy Scout so we could camp in a distant forest, be like Davey Crockett and Daniel Boone. Alas, it turned out my troop wasn’t very good. Our campouts were rare, and not very wild.
So there I was, in my sixties, heading out in my freshly tricked out cargo van to live in wild places. Goodbye suburbs! Goodbye paved and mowed masterplanned orderliness! I’m a full-time Boy Scout! Or Old Man Scout. Whatever.
The first night I stayed in a state park near Cincinnati. Not exactly the wilds. Baby steps.
The next night it was a gas station in Iowa until it was too hot and humid to sleep. I decided I might as well keep driving. I finally hit the wall of fatigue in Minnesota, at a truck stop on I-95.
I spent the next few nights “camped” at the curb of my mail forwarder in South Dakota.
Next, a truck stop in Billings, a Walmart in Idaho Falls, a friend’s place in Boise, a state park near Twin Falls, a Walmart in Blackfoot, a relative’s driveway in Salt Lake City, another Walmart and another truck stop. My wilderness quest had taken me three-quarters of the way across the country without really leaving the suburbs. Baby steps had been more like baby crawling.
But the day came when I was finally “out there,” at a spot I’d found on FreeCampsites.net, between Bryce Canyon and Grand Staircase-Escalante. Down an overgrown two-track, among cottonwoods, by a stream, next to a towering sandstone cliff. No lights, no people, no noise, no cell signal. Totally alone.
It felt very weird. It’s okay to just set up camp here? Without paying? Without a permit? Without a numbered space? Without an authority figure or at least a sign giving me permission? That’s not… normal?
No, it’s not normal compared to how most people live. And that’s a good thing. Being a valid member of normal society means conforming to its norms. The norms of our predominantly consumerist society say nothing is free, you have to pay. The authoritarian norms say we need permission. I grew up among authoritarians, so my first true boondocking experience was weird. And wonderful. Just me, in an attractive location, being myself, totally unsupervised. Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh…
I sat back, listened to the creek and the breeze through the cottonwoods. I watched the light move across the cliff face and the sky darken. I cleaned up from dinner. Time to turn in.
Then I started imagining banjo music.
I imagined bored and possibly drunk country boys out for some excitement. Locals pissed off at strangers invading their turf. Dudes who like to shoot up stuff. I put my flashlight and chef’s knife within reach. I didn’t sleep well.
But nothing happened.
It didn’t take me long after that to adjust to this new normal. Boondocking is great! Being alone or with select friends away from the craziness of society is wonderful! I hadn’t realized before that this is the way I’m supposed to live—the way I need to live. Boondocking brings me peace. It’s the “normal” world that freaks me out.
I’m the exact opposite.
Glad you are now too.
I was raised up with the forest and wilderness in my back yard.
I’m very much out of step when I’m in the ‘burbs.
?this land is your land, this land is my land?
Thanks for sharing your story, Al. It means a lot coming from someone who is apparently from the northeast. The only places out west I’m interested in are the western mountain states. Aside from that, I’m comfortable ranging between upper NY State, and SC. Thanks and keep on writing!!
I lived in the Washington DC area until I was 16, Salt Lake City until I was 22, California (LA and SF) until I was 42, North Carolina until I was 61 and hit the road.
Can’t wait until I can do this. In my case I really wanted to stay in the north but I am rethinking things.
Was also hoping to be nomad life style by the end of May. That has gotten push back to the end of August.
I am nervous about starting the journey I must admit
Sandra, I am totally with you on this.
Been fixing up my class C for the last 10 years in Arizona, while living in it, parked.
It is finally nearly ready to go.
My first trip — solo — will be from Tucson to Tacoma, WA, where my family is.
I have no idea what I’m doing. I, too, am in my 60s, getting a late start in life as a free woman.
I wish you luck. I know what it is like to have my journey getting pushed back again and again. Hopefully, this year. For both of us.
Tacoma, huh?
Lived there from 87 to 09.
My son was murdered by the Blood gang members, there on 25th St. 15 years old.
No matter where I am, I still feel unsafe, but I try not to let that cripple me from getting out and having some fun.
My deepest condolences on the loss of your son. Sending love your way.
Toni, I am so sorry to hear this. I hope you will find peace and feel safe. The nomad community is a safe play to be and very welcoming. Blessings on you.
I grew up in the mountains of the west, even eventually becoming a logger, and still yearning to be “Grizzly Adams”. I still have not left yet, since my love does not want to do it yet. I am imprisoned in my head about being in CA central valley, and dream of the day I can fire up the ‘80 quadravan diesel to live in, even at 70 years old.
Thank you, Al. You make it all seem possible.
This was a fun read. I wanted it to keep going! I am a future nomad.
What a great report! And I love your “unsupervised” shirt as well.
Yes! Unsupervised is a great way to live. Even better when done near a few like-minded people but not too near.
OUTSTANDINGLY HONEST AND FUN. GREAT article!
Thank you!
In 2017 I took my 89 year old mom on a 2 month vacation from Florida all the way to Montana and back. We stayed a few nights in different parks but most of the time we boondocks. We were raised in the country and camped when I was a kid. I am in Alabama now and will be heading out West in a couple of months. I can hardly wait to get back out. P. S., I’m in my 60’s also ❤️
You might consider upgrading your self defense choice from a chef’s knife. Something less up close and personal.
Wonderful article. Keep writing for everyone’s pleasure. You write from your heart and soul, plus you are articulate.
Al, your posts are among my favourites, thank you. Although I’ve done month-long trips here and there since 2018, the dream of full-time still awaits and you keep it alive. Your poem “Divested” graced the overhead storage bin of my office until they “let me go” two weeks ago, and now it graces my fridge… and the wheels are truly in motion. Thank you.
Thank you
Thank you.
I love your posts and writing style, Al. I’m 65 and for the last 6 months have been urban stealth camping while working and saving for climate migration to Colorado this summer. Its so encouraging to see other mature folks striking out into new territory, whether from necessity or desire. My best to you!
Hey Al thanks for this. It really struck a chord. I also few up in the suburbs. I remember camping in a plastic pup tent (no floor and open on both ends) in our backyard under a catalpa tree . My mother safety pinned a blanket into a sleeping bag. I would imagine I was camping in the African jungle. I would have slept out there every night, if I could have.
I’m just getting ready to leave . Sold everything. I need information about vehicle registration and driver’s license. In a state that doesn’t hit you with personal property tax every year you renew. I was looking at SD, but can you have a PO box as your address on your license? I’m excited, 68 yrs old, and plan to live out my life “out there”. Just have to get all these little things wrapped up. Any information would be appreciated. Thanks!
Yes. SD lets you use the mail forwarding address on your driver license. Banks and insurance companies accept it too. That’s how I did things when I started out.
The only problem might be if a Forest Service ranger challenges you and claims you’re living in the forest (illegal) rather than camping. They’ll want proof you have a house/apartment. They say a DL that shows a PBM number (postal mail box) means you don’t have a home base you’re visiting from. This kind of challenge is very rare, though.
Growing up in the 60s and 70s, we spent 6-8 weekends and a 4-5 week road trip each year “dispersed” camping in a truck camper (with occasional stays in campgrounds).
When my my dad retired in 1978, my parents camped in a little Class C at least 6 months out of the year. No body thought it was unusual; by then it was already the quintessential middle class retirement lifestyle.
We first heard the term boondocking in the 90s. After looking in the dictionary, we laughed that car campers thought they were “camping in very remote areas”. (Now of course, boondocking is just a synonym for “free”, as in “boondocking at Walmart” or “boondocking at the casino”.)
When “vanlife” exploded I was mystified. I know everyone didn’t grow up camping and traveling. But car camping and vehicle living are a old as the Model T and as prominent in the American psyche as baseball and apple pie. Somehow people now think full or part time RVing (even in a “cheap RV”) is something new? Something they’d never considered until Bob Wells or someone on YouTube told them they could? What?