Let’s be real. You can live a very solitary life in a fixed position or a mobile one. You can have a very social and involved life whether from a fixed position or a mobile one.

As an adult, I have been struck by how difficult it can be to make friends when you move somewhere new.  As geologists, we had plenty of chances to experience this with our many moves early in our careers. My tendency is more towards being an introvert than extrovert, so that does not help me to make new friends either.

Moving to our van, our home is where we park it, but now pretty much every place we are going to park it is going to be new for us. How is this shift going to work in terms of meeting people, making connections, and developing friendships while meandering about the country? Then came covid19…

We did not get off to the epic full-time launch we anticipated. The pandemic sweeping across the globe in wave after wave gave me pause for making such a change in our lives. (At times, it still gives me pause.) When asked online how folks were doing early in the first wave of the pandemic I posted:

Adjusting expectations, seizing the opportunity to perfect patience. Getting used to: nameless days that pass by, seeming like weeks; weeks that feel like months ago; and months that pack in a decade’s worth of change – all in a year that has been canceled.

Make no mistake, we are underway, in our own herky-jerky mode, exploring in a slower, more probing fashion, with a narrower radius and far more stays back at our family bases. It’s a slow rolling launch for sure. Yes, I miss being near my kids and friends from time to time on the road, but I also missed them when I rattled around in our old house. During our first lockdown, before we sold the house, we were just as isolated – being so close and yet so far was maybe worse. While we keep to ourselves, our quiet explorations are interspersed with the occasional crossing of paths with fellow van owners. Even physically distant, these shared times are priceless.

One thing is certain. We are part of a larger community now. We sought out this community’s knowledge as we pondered our van purchase.  What we could not know then was that they would welcome us with open arms. We were lucky enough to partake of really large rallies and then some more intimate ones.  Both have been great, but we gravitate more naturally to the smaller gatherings. These many vanlife people care about how we are doing, and we care about how they are doing.  We root for each other online and in person as best we can.  The support is phenomenal. We share tips, hiccups, good experiences and learned best practices often born from owner error.

This van life and travel community was something I was NOT anticipating at all. Frankly, it is my most cherished aspect of our vanlife.  I get most excited for the opportunities when we know we will get to cross paths with fellow van travelers. Not the epic vistas we are treated to pretty much anywhere we go in this country. Not the history that comes alive and gives us pause and new perspectives when we visit venues – be they well-known or hidden gems. Not the many roads and glorious trails we ride and hike; nor the scenic gentle waters we paddle.

In a time notable for its isolation and divisions, we enjoy a sense of belonging perhaps as great as when we were raising our kids. This new community is one of camper van travelers who educate us, lift us up, make us laugh, inspire us, share concerns. We learned from our old neighborhoods that it is not enough to have a common touchpoint – we have to follow through, meet up, break bread (more figuratively than literally just now) and take the time to share and actively listen and respond to each other. And when you make the effort, these interactions lead to friendships that are the real reward. While true anywhere, somehow this lifestyle seems to make that opening to new friendships easier, even for introverts like us.

The vanlife community that embraces us is what engages me the most as we amble along in fits and starts in our geomeanderings. We are two geologists, one van, with no deadlines, nestled among a community of van travelers wherever we go.