You might think it was the night of the living dead in MAD-rid, New Mexico that ended our #tentlife journey. A few zombies don’t bother us. In truth, we were already heading east towards home, at the mercy of the ruthless weather. If anything is to blame, it would be the Hatch chilis. On a seems like forever ago trip through New Mexico, we had brought home a small supply of the spicy green condiment and have been jonesing for a replenishment ever since. The problem was that Hatch is in southern New Mexico and once you drop 200 miles south, you’ve committed to the southern I-10 return route, which is currently in a triple digit heat wave.
Our stomachs and love of Hatch chilies won out. Once we abandoned the cooler northern route, tenting was out of the question. We can camp in the cold, even under blankets of snow. We cannot camp in heat as we cannot sleep when we’re being air fried. Pedal to the metal, it was three 500 mile treks to Best Westerns off of I-10 from Texas to Florida, stopping at every H-E-B Plus to stock up on St. Arnold Tarnation, our favorite unreasonably strong Texas brewed ale.
The truck is filled with well worn gear and a mishmash of collectibles, from beer and Hatch chilies to pottery, art and puzzles from western thrift. The white paint is dingy grey, front end splattered and stained by bug guts; the interior covered in dust and crumbs. Everything is beyond dirty and we are out of clean underwear and coffee. It’s that serious.
Our fifth 30+ days in a tent journey is the end of this era. Taking a shower out of a bag hanging from a tree, toileting in a plastic grocery bag clothespinned to a milk crate and half sleeping inside a piece of nylon on 30” wide foam has run its course. It sounds awful when we think about it, becomes normal when we do it and feels awesome when we look back on it. A cold night with the wind and rain pelting the tent while we slip into our warm and dry sleeping bags, is unlike any feeling we experience in regular life.
30+ days in a tent was a radical experiment in self-reliance, self-expression, and adaptability. If sh*t hits the fan, we’re ready, at least for a month. Short of a mini-apocalypse, it is unlikely that we will find ourselves journeying in a tent again. In an exercise of reverse progress and comfort, we have moved from Class A to towable to nylon shell. We think we have reached the end of the degression.
For the long road days that knocked off 500 miles or more, we modified our #tentlife contract and picked the Best Western Plus chain of hotels as our late arrival-early departure alternative to the laborious task of making and breaking camp for a single short night. As we partake of the ubiquitous complimentary breakfast, we are appreciative of how experiencing alternatives does so much of the mental health heaving lifting. A freshly made breakfast with a hot cup of coffee overlooking The Playa is physically hard to pull off. We appreciate how the BW comparison defines the term “worth it.”
As each Journey ends we cannot help but wonder what’s next. We’re not sure, but we’re talking about more and no more, what if and why not? More checking out trending topics, no more 4×4 rough road destinations. More public transportation, no more cross-country driving. What if we bought land and built an off grid compound? Why not ride a train all over Canada or Europe? What if we sold the truck or turned the lounge into a desert themed creative flex space? Why not try out space available, aka MAC (military aircraft command) travel? Or fly to all 34 non-stop destinations on Allegiant out of Sarasota and blog about them. When you live in our heads, the possibilities are endless.
