You can always back up and start again

I am a terrible parker. All the dents on the van are from parking. All the dents on my car back home are from parking. All the dents on the minivan I sold years ago were from parking. And this post is about parking. But it is also about a reset. Taking a moment to start again.

The first couple weeks of this journey had their ups and downs: beautiful places, but seeing them alone. Making plans, and those plans falling apart. And then the little things of life in the van: constantly monitoring power and water; wondering what that little sound or creak was; having little plastic devices break in your hand and knowing there is no way to duct tape them.

But I knew that if I took a day, or days, of not worrying that I might miss a beautiful sunset or scenic byway, if I took the road MOST traveled, if I slept and did laundry and took care of chores on the van, I could get back on track. I could adjust to VanLife.

And it’s happening: I’ve noticed that I haven’t hit my head on something for a few days, or gotten a new bruise, or broken another fingernail. When I go looking for something, I actually find it. And I’m getting better at remembering the mental checklist of things to do before I start driving: lock that cabinet, fasten that strap, put the stepping stool away.

In the years of having this van, I have run over FOUR stepping stools that I use for getting in and out of the van. I forget to bring the stool in, I start driving, I hear a horrible crunching noise, I get out and find the crushed stool, I go to a hardware store and buy a new one. Thankfully, in van-versus-stool, the van always wins. I hate to think what damage could have been done to the van by a stronger stepping stool.

Parking Tales

Parking saga #1: The week after plans for where to stay fell apart, I ended up on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State, near Olympic National Park, for an entire week. I really, really, really needed to stay in one place for a while. And this RV park turned out to be a great spot. I had a most wonderful, shady, hidden parking spot. But I had to convince them that I could park in it even though I was over their maximum of 20 feet. The van is 23 feet. So the fact that I nearly lost a side mirror, and possibly more, to a giant tree (and on my 4th day parking there, when I should have had the hang of it) is probably not something I should publish.

Amazing parking spot. Evil tree.

Parking saga #2: The day after the showdown with the tree, I threw caution to the wind and decided to back into a parking spot at a trailhead inside the national park. At 23 feet, the van pretty much blocks traffic in all directions when positioning it to back in. So I had an audience. Given my track record, I think it was one of my best parking jobs ever. I rolled down my windows to give some apologetic waves once traffic could pass, and I got some “good jobs!” and even some applause.

Look at that parking job! Just look at it!! Plus: gorgeous view from Hurricane Hill Trailhead in Olympic National Park, and the path most taken (though it doesn’t look like it from this photo)

Parking saga #3: I was very anxious about driving the van onto the ferry that would take me across to Vancouver Island in Canada. I knew that if I made one wrong move while being directed into the bowels of the ferry, it could be utterly humiliating, as well as expensive. I got there early and was in the front row as we waited: huge cargo trucks, many RVs, and trucks with tow vehicles. The van was actually small compared to some vehicles boarding. I did exactly as I was directed. But the man directing traffic stopped a moment and looked at me intently. I know he did. I saw it: He gave me the evil eye. “What?!?” I thought. He moved on to other vehicles, but I sat in the van, looking left and right. “What’d I do?” Then I had an irrational fear that the van was still running because the ferry hold was so loud and vibrate-y. I checked it three times. I wanted that little bit of reassurance, from someone, that everything was OK. I had turned off the van. I had parked exactly where I was supposed to. It was OK. Everything was OK. So I gave it to myself: “Everything is OK, Erin. Everything is OK.”

My parking spot inside the ferry. Leaving the US behind.

Another round of applause

So I am here on Vancouver Island, and I have spent most of the week at a quiet beach campground on the southwest side of the island. I’ve wandered on the rocky beach; seen a beautiful sunset; taught many, many classes; and had a peaceful, but somehow still exhausting, week. The beach is made entirely of rocks, all worn smooth by the ocean. When the waves wash up over them and then recede, the rocks knock against each other and they sound like they are applauding. I love it so much. I’m going to go listen again, before I leave this lovely spot for the next adventure.