Van Life – At Home On The Road

In today’s fast-paced world, anticipation is often synonymous with anxiety. We’ve become so conditioned to know exactly what to expect from an experience, and so obsessed with how we capture and share an experience, that we lose sight on how to be present in a moment. A road trip is the antidote to this usurped version of anticipation. It invites us to find comfort in the unknown instead of shying away from it, to crave spontaneity over predictability, to take in each moment for exactly what it is, and to find peace and freedom and joy in the simple details like the smell of wild sage or the tiny tracks left by a dung beetle walking across desert sand. Travel nurse Kellie Hall and freelance designer Pete Johnson live for life on the road. So, it is no surprise that they make the most of their flexible work schedules by adventuring around the American west in their 1976 Dodge Sportsman Camper van (enthusiastically called Uncle Rico).

In anticipation of spring, joined by their traveling terrier Roxy, Kellie and Pete took the long road from Palm Springs, California, to hunt trout on Arizona’s Colorado River. Along the way, they scrambled over granite boulders in Joshua Tree National Park, sang karaoke with locals in southern California, ran down the Kelso Dunes in the Mojave Desert, watched California Condors in flight in Glen Canyon, and caught the sunset at Horseshoe Bend. Each day they were reminded of how much of life is hidden until you slow down and give nature time to share her secrets with you.

From the uninviting yet tempting deserts of California to the red Navajo sandstone of northern Arizona’s canyons, Kellie, Pete, and Roxy never hesitated to take the long road, to stop and explore, to be driven by impulse, to stray off the beaten path. They blurred their eyes to find animal shapes in the boulders of Joshua Tree, then sharpened their vision to discover the many shades of purple in the desert cacti. They embraced the mythical and hallucinogenic nature of the desert as they wandered among shaggy Joshua Trees, and skidded on their heels down the sand dunes in the Mojave. They took the time to watch the moon rise, even when it meant having to set up camp in the dark. And they gave themselves space and silence to appreciate the perspective offered when you watch a setting sun transform the colors of a canyon wall. They began each morning drinking coffee, observing the world wake up around them, and ended most evenings drinking draft beers with locals or sipping bourbon while studying maps. They approached the open road with the same patience that they do a river and embraced the road trip for its greatest offerings: the joy of expectation, the excitement of first impressions, and the freedom of spontaneity.

The adventure ended, where it often does, with a day on the water. They floated and waded the Colorado, chasing rainbow trout from dusk till dawn with stops to watch bighorn sheep scale the canyon walls, to visit ancient petroglyphs, and to dig into a fried chicken picnic lunch on a sandy river bend. At the day’s end, they unloaded the boat, hung their waders on Uncle Rico’s rearview mirror to dry, and swapped out wading boots for Chacos.