Let's Go, Jane!

What a week. On Saturday morning I loaded up the van and hit the road. I had about 1,100 miles to cover and decided to break it up into six evenly-spaced segments. In retrospect, I don’t think that’s the way to do it, since it meant that every day was a travel day. I’m learning as I go.

The first surprise was that moving into the van meant moving out of the backpack. I’ve essentially been living out of my beloved Osprey backpack for the last 10 months. It’s organized, contained, and I know where everything is. Moving into the van felt strangely chaotic, like my belongings were suddenly sprawled everywhere. It’s all relative, as I am now living in 70 square feet of space. But it was an adjustment.

I was determined to reach Georgia the first day, or maybe I was determined to leave Florida. Either way, I had made a reservation to stay on a blueberry farm for the night. Once I reached the highway it started pouring rain and didn’t stop for the rest of the drive. Isn’t rain supposed to symbolize change in the movies? Or new beginnings? It felt very fitting. I reached the farm around dusk and found a place to park alongside a big pond. It was so peaceful. In the morning I walked around the pond, and purchased a loaf of sourdough on my way out, still warm from the oven.

My second day on the road I made it as far as Charleston, SC. This was more of an urban stay, in a paved parking lot. There was another van parked along the edge of the lot, and when I walked into the brewery I met this young couple and their dog from Massachusetts. They invited me to join them (or did I invite myself?) and we spent the evening drinking hazy IPAs and talking about life on the road.

Next, I made my way to Carolina Beach in North Carolina, where I spent the night in a private driveway. My host, Sheila, was so kind. Between loaning out her driveway, hosting an Airbnb, and being a boat captain, she meets a lot of interesting characters. In the morning I walked down to the beach. It was cold and windy, but scenic nonetheless. I realized that I had packed away most of my warmer clothing in the back of the van where I couldn’t reach it. Lulled by all that Florida sunshine, I’d forgotten that it’s still cold in the northeast.

Day four I made it to Virginia where I had arranged to stay at a vineyard. Once again, there was another van in the parking lot, with an older couple from PA. The vineyard happened to be closed that day, but the proprietor gave us a private wine tasting and we were able to explore the grounds on foot. As I was preparing for bed that night, I happened to look out at the sky and see that it was incredibly clear with millions of stars. I stepped outside and walked into the field of grapevines, where fireflies flickered here and there.  It was magical. This is why I’m doing this, I thought.

My final night was spent in the driveway of a dear friend from high school who lives in Philly. It was wonderful to catch up, and I felt like the easiest houseguest ever. I bring my own bedroom. I put my new Planet Fitness membership to use a couple times this week. One day I jogged a few miles on the treadmill before showering; another day I stopped for a hike first and then cleaned up afterward.

I am now comfortably parked in my sister’s driveway in Connecticut, and I am planning not to drive a single mile today. It feels good to be back in the northeast, aside from the awful traffic of the last two days. I forgot until I was crossing the George Washington Bridge that I can’t take a lot of the parkways in New York because of the low clearance underpasses. I had to dig out my old trucker GPS app to make my way. This road trip may be over, but the learning curve is clearly alive and well.