I can see why so few people do this: sell or give away everything they own, whittle their lives down to an RV and a backpack for full time travel. It’s not just that society says it’s weird. It’s that it’s hard physically and emotionally and even spiritually. We are neck deep in giving away 95% of everything and selling the remaining 5%. That means a ton of work preparing the house inside and out, a ton of work sorting out what earns a place in the backpack and what does not. It means learning to let go of childhood treasures, comfort items, family heirlooms, and sentimental items. It’s easy for me to go through my closet and give away clothes I have not worn in a year. But try that with things that mean something to you.
Of the many awesome people who have written about extended travel, most of them put some things in a storage unit. When we first started planning, we intended to get a storage unit and store the motorcycles, some art, files, and assorted keepsakes that we just couldn’t part with. We could get an appropriately sized storage unit for $150 per month. If you do the math, over ten years that is $18,000. I could buy it all back for less than that.
So we decided to challenge ourselves. When we leave, we will have our 24 foot RV, towing our 1987 Jeep, our backpacks and of course, our Frenchie, Maxwell. And that’s it. We don’t want to overstuff the RV either. At 144 square feet (most of which is the bed, bathroom and kitchen, we cannot psychologically afford a cluttered space. Having travelled internationally on a backpack before, we know it can be done, and we have a pretty good idea of what our kit will look like. Super super minimal.
So the challenge was laid out: essentially, you get a backpack… and that’s it. Everything that is not part of the official minimal kit has to go. It was time to put up or shut up.
It started with scanning seven years of bills, tax documents and the like. According to the IRS, one should keep seven years of most documents. To fit that in a backpack means they had to be scanned to PDF format and stored in a secure cloud storage system where we can get at them. That is a level of grind that would intimidate the most ardent gamer. The originals will then need to be shredded or burned. I have completed the scanning (yay!). We are planning a burn party for later this Fall.
Then, it was time to focus on the outside of the house while the weather was still warm. Hot was more like it. A nine day long blitz of all day every day was not enough to make it all happen. What we thought might look like a week has taken a month. We are finally almost done with the outside. Just a couple more days to go. Although we could sell the house as-is, we would really like to maximize our sale price as the proceeds become our life insurance policy and future home buying fund, IF we ever decide to settle down somewhere. So here we are, working our butts off for what already feels like someone else’s house.
Then, still looming, is the inside of the house. Repairs, painting, and giving away all those decades of stuff. I sat down with my jewelry collection. Beautiful pieces that I used to wear with formal gowns, and all manner of pieces that each had their own story in my history, challenged me to let them go. There is a wonderful jewelry store just a block from my house and they take consignment pieces of good quality. What could be easier? What could be harder? Even the walk there felt like trepidation. What does it take to let go of the past to make room for the future? It’s takes courage. It takes knowing that what lies ahead is worth letting go of what lies behind. Someone somewhere will love these big beautiful amethysts and dainty chains and earrings and bracelets and … and there is grieving in me for the history that, for my own growth, I need to let go of. It does feel like some kind of loss before it feels like freedom. Letting go makes you feel lighter and free, but not before you first pass through the gates of fear and grief.
My motorcycles are up for sale, ending an era and part of an identity as the badass biker hippie. It’s time to be something more. I think we overpriced them. Nobody is coming to see them. And that part of my identity feels slighted.
It’s a little demoralizing. Sometimes we feel trapped, like it’s never going to happen. At the same time we are motivated that this will freaking happen, come hell or high water. That breeds frustration, and moods that cycle from frustration to dejection to resolute determination to excitement and back again to frustration. It’s hard to imagine doing what you have never done. It’s even harder to imagine being what you have never been. We have never been this kind of free. No house to worry about, no kids to worry about, no real bills, no chores, no excuses for not chasing your dreams.
We are systematically dismantling ourselves through our belongings. We are stripping away any part of us that is tied to these things and this place to find what we are without it. I don’t know what that will be, but it will be something larger and better than I am now. When it comes down to just me and him in this world, unencumbered, who will we be? The true heart of ourselves, I believe.
