Smells Like Nomadic Travel
(Not Teen Spirit)
It’s not that nomadic travelers all smell that bad.
While it’s true that full-body showers can be few and far between for those who live on the road for days, weeks, and months at a time, some of us are smart enough to incorporate fabrics like Merino wool or even Sterling into our meager wardrobes. With the antimicrobial properties of these fabrics, the same clothes—even shirts and socks—can be worn again and again without the typical body odors building up. This is indeed great news, not only for nomads traveling together in close quarters, as my husband and I are setting out to do, but also for those who love them. This clothing can be expensive, yes, but second-hand finds—either in local thrift shops or on eBay—can get you through in a pinch.
“Smells like nomadic travel”, however, is not about body odor caused by lack of proper hygiene, nor is it an overt tip of the hat to Kurt Cobain (though his disdain of the commercial and his tragic quest for real significance has undoubtedly contributed to my sensibilities over the years). Since November 2022, our excursions—though they have all been by airplane—have smelled faintly reminiscent of nomadic travel. Sometimes an activity or series of activities emits a distinct whiff of our future as nomads, full-time travelers without a home base. The closer we get to hitting the road, the more I have begun to recognize this unmistakable scent. Even a conversation with a stranger at a coffee shop can trigger this, but on the bigger trips is when we really sense it.
In the past seven months, we have spent a few weeks in Puerto Rico, a few weeks in Zambia, and just this past weekend we flew to Santa Barbara, California, my husband’s hometown, for a few days to attend a very special wedding. Flying is not the way we prefer to travel; we are overlanders, serious road trip fanatics, but sometimes time is of the essence. With us trying to finish our travel rig so we can finally get on the road, this weekend was one of those occasions. While we were in Santa Barbara, I couldn’t help but notice the connections between our current lives and what we anticipate for our future.
Sometime after our plane landed in Los Angeles, after we had picked up both a rental car and some In ‘N’ Out burgers for a picnic in a park, while we were sitting in traffic on the northbound 101, Andy mentioned that our plans had changed; we were not staying with our old friends after all, as had been previously arranged. Our friends’ house was full, but they didn’t want to stick us with the typically outrageous Santa Barbara hotel prices, so they had partnered with some of their friends—people we’ve never met—to host overflow guests. Surprisingly, I didn’t even flinch at the news. Even when we arrived at the designated address and got the text message that our hosts were out and had left a key under a flowerpot in the back yard, it didn’t occur to me that I should feel uncomfortable. The door unlocked easily, and we saw a sticky note on one of the bedroom doors marking which room was ours. No problem. We trusted that they were friends of friends, so everything would work out—and it did. That level of trust smells like nomadic travel.
Beyond our hosts, who turned out to be lovely people, we also had several impromptu meetups with people we barely know. When my husband mentioned on Facebook that he was in town, then posted a few photos of him at his old high school on a school alumni page, quite a few people expressed a desire to see him. Although they’d had no interaction for the past 37 years, they remembered him and wanted to get together for a beverage, a meal, or just a quick visit. And although we were only in town for two days, we went to half a dozen such spontaneous get-togethers, some of them back-to-back-to-back. We are extroverts, no doubt about it, but this was extreme, even by our standards. Every conversation, though, was significant in some way and ended with hugs and a desire to stay in touch, plus the promise of a deeper base of global contacts—both with them and also their family and friends worldwide. That network of connections smells like nomadic travel.
Some of the conversations turned into unexpected blessings—literally. In one home, an old friend and her elderly mother suddenly announced they would like to pray for us and took turns blessing us as we prepare to go out into the world—commissioning us to be ambassadors of God’s love and the hands and feet of Jesus wherever we go. Their prayers carried the confidence and authority to give us both the sense that they have a direct line with God. Out on her little Colombian mother’s patio, under the cover of the shade umbrella, we felt like we were on holy ground. Serious goosebumps. Meeting fellow Jesus-followers around the world, learning from them and being blessed by them—that smells like nomadic travel, at least the version of it we hope to do.
At one point during our weekend, we found ourselves with an hour to kill. It was lunchtime and we were getting hungry. Instead of being good, reasonable adults, however, we opted for ice cream—enough to call it lunch. We drove to a local icon, Mission Street Ice Cream for some famous McConnell’s. The scoops there are generously sized and can be divided in half to further increase your flavor options, so when we had a hard time deciding, we opted for split double scoops in waffle cones. Who does that, as a middle-aged adult? Not us—usually. But this time we decided to take a risk. To be honest, it was too much. We wouldn’t do it again—kind of like the time we ate massive donuts when we should have shared one—if any. But we took a chance at something out of our comfort zone and came out the other side wiser for it. No regrets. As Jason Mraz says in one of his songs, you win some; you learn some. This also smells a lot like our future of nomadic travel.
Our trip home from Santa Barbara involved a crack of dawn flight out of Los Angeles, a two-hour drive to the south. The alarm clock chirped at two o’clock in the morning to get us there on time. It was painful. By the time we landed in Missoula at 9:30 AM, we were both exhausted and hungry. Our little apartment was still 45 minutes away and we knew the refrigerator there would be quite empty, so we opted to go out for breakfast. While we ate and sipped, we got a message from some other traveling friends—they would be driving through Missoula soon and wondered if we could meet them for lunch. We smiled at each other. Yes. The answer was yes. Fellow nomadic travelers share an intense bond over a common lifestyle that others just can’t understand. We couldn’t miss out on this chance. With a couple of hours to kill in town after breakfast and before lunch, we found a shady parking lot behind a business, tipped back the seats in my little Honda, cracked open the windows and locked the doors, then passed out for a much-needed nap. Napping in the car while we wait for a meet-up with friends? Smells like nomadic travel.
We aren’t there yet. We haven’t finished our rig so we can hit the road permanently, but we have lived on the road for months at a time, for years on end, in the past. We understand long-term overland travel. Our mindset is shifting to a nomadic mentality and our future travels are so close. From where we are now, it’s like the BBQ next door—we can’t taste it, but we can at least smell it, and the smell is enough to drive us crazy.
Have you ever decided to trust someone you didn’t know? What influenced your decision? How did it turn out?
Have you ever had someone pray for you with such confidence and authority that you felt like you were on holy ground? I’d love to hear the story.
Who are the people in your life who understand a part of you or your life in ways that no one else can?
What are you looking forward to—so close you can almost taste it? Do you get a whiff of it occasionally? Does it keep you focused on your goal?
Boondockers Welcome
Boondocking is not for everyone, that’s for sure, but our anticipated upcoming life as nomads will involve quite a bit of it. Basically, boondocking is simplified camping—no developed campground, no services or facilities to speak of, no reservation system, and best of all, no fees to pay. Boondocking is free. Just find a spot where it is legal to camp and set up there for the night. Simple. The complication, however, comes in finding places where dispersed camping is legal—and, in our case, accessible by road.
National Forest Service and Bureau of Land Management (the other BLM) lands are generally fine for boondocking—thought they have limits on how many nights in a row you can stay in one place. Some chain store/restaurant parking lots or truck stops, even casinos, are also legal to camp, though they are only recommended as a last resort—not usually a pleasant place to sleep. There are also numerous phone apps designed to help people find places to boondock. They are helpful, but also prone to misinformation and change.
One of the newer ways for would-be boondockers to find a safe and legal place to camp (vehicle-based camping, not tent camping) is the site called Boondockers Welcome, a subsidiary of Harvest Hosts. The program is broken into two parts—hosts and guests—and both receive user reviews and ratings, very much the same as eBay or AirBNB. Hosts—who don’t pay anything to list on the site—offer their yards or driveways or pastures for free. Guests who want to find and utilize these free camp spots then pay to use the service and search the database. The price to use Boondockers Welcome as a prospective guest (at least at the time of this article, summer 2023), is $79 annually. It is worth it if you camp several nights per year or more and would otherwise be paying campground fees. For that $79, you can search the map and find thousands of places to safely camp for free—many of them in scenic locations with lovely people to meet. Guests can request as many reservations as they wish during their year of membership.
A few summers ago, when we first began planning for our own nomadic life on the road, we decided to become Boondockers Welcome hosts, opening our property for free to travelers who are just passing through the area. We figured it would be a great way to learn about the off-grid travel lifestyle, while making connections with other like-minded people from around the country and the world.
We were right. It was a great plan. Over the past few summers (no one wants to boondock on our property, at the top of an icy hill, in the winter, haha) we have hosted dozens of individuals, couples, and families who are either vacationing or living in their RV, trailer, or camper van. We have been able to spend at least a couple of hours with nearly all of them, either over a picnic or a campfire, and have learned so much along the way.
Guests from Boondockers Welcome inspired us to check out recycled Tesla batteries as a power storage solution, taught us about composting toilets, introduced us to the many reasons to make our official domicile South Dakota (more on that in a subsequent article), and showed us the value of cell signal boosters. And our Boondockers Welcome friends (we do count so many of them as friends now) have significantly extended our network of connections around the United States; many have offered to host us on their property whenever we are passing through their necks of the woods. It’s been a win-win!
Recently, though, our time as Boondockers Welcome hosts has paid off in an unexpected way. The company recently upgraded its host rewards program: anyone who hosts 50 or more boondockers is now awarded a free lifetime membership to Boondockers Welcome as a guest. Guess who just hit fifty? The Chids did!
Although our travel rig will be capable of navigating the rough roads and tight turns that are often found in the National Forest Service and BLM lands, it feels great to know that we also have thousands of nice folks out there who would welcome travelers like us to park on their property for free if we are passing through (sites vary between one and five nights maximum stay). Our property has sold now, so we can no longer host, but we are about to hit the road full-time, permanently, and have Boondockers Welcome guest access for life! Who knows how long the company will be in business, but we will use this benefit as much as we can, for as long as we can.
Another reward of our new status as “Extraordinaire Hosts” is that we have a few gift codes for a complimentary membership ($79 value) to give away to our friends and family. Who wants to try Boondockers Welcome for themselves? If you like to camp in your RV or trailer, or if you are trying out van life, either part or full-time, and you don’t require electricity or water every night (though some hosts are able to offer these things—either for free or a $5-10/night charge—it will say in their profile), then hit me up. The first three to ask me about this will get a free one-year membership. Check out the site; see if it would be helpful for you; contact me. Simple.
And, if you are not a camper, but have the space to welcome someone else, I would highly encourage you to sign up as a host, for free. We have thoroughly enjoyed hosting and have met so many truly wonderful people with unique stories over the past few years. Hospitality is as good for the giver as the receiver. And if you are Jesus-followers like we are, you know welcoming strangers and showing love to them is kind of a big deal.
Are you an RVer or Van Lifer who has used—or would like to use Boondockers Welcome? I would love to hear about your travels, or your plans to travel.
How have you been blessed by offering hospitality to others? How has the hospitality offered to you blessed your life? Please tell us your story.
To Thread or not to Thread
I thought I would jump ahead of the curve and try my hand at being an early adopter, so I joined Threads, the new rival to Twitter, after it had only been live for less than 24 hours. By the time I registered, however, I was already user number 35 million-ish. Amazing. So far, I am using it to seek out and deepen connections with other travelers, focusing on those who overland and/or are primarily nomadic. I hope it will be a place to develop some community—more people to meet up with on the road, and more networking connections worldwide.
Are you using Threads? I would love to hear your thoughts on it. We are @nomadic.midlife, same as our Instagram handle.
We would love a code! How fantastic thank you
How exciting! I can't wait to hear more about your travels, especially as you head out in your new rig. We recently purchased a campervan and have already had one fun experience staying with a HarvestHost. We'd love to try out Boondockers Welcome. :)