“Except. What is normal at any given time? We change just as the seasons change, and each spring brings new growth. So nothing is ever quite the same.” ~~Sherwood Smith
If I could put a tag line to my life, I think “It’s that time again,” may be it. My father might argue and say it’s Willie Nelson’s “On the road again…” Or Hank Snow’s “I’ve been everywhere.” I can agree with “On the road again,” but I haven’t been everywhere and I don’t know if I’ll make it to everywhere, before my time on this planet comes to an end.
Whatever way you want to look at it, it is that time again…to pack the bags and prepare for the next journey. One chapter has closed and another is opening. Welcome to a glimpse into my seasonal life.
I am currently in Aspen, CO. I’ve been here since mid January. I decided that it was time to learn how to ski and that is exactly what I’ve been doing for the last three months.
Aspen Ski Company is comprised of four mountains within the resort: Aspen Mountain, Aspen Highlands, Buttermilk, and Snowmass. The other day I was in Snowmass Village dropping off a co-worker at her apartment after going to a house warming party. As I was driving away, I passed a parking lot that called to me like an old friend. Now, why would a parking lot create nostalgia?
One thing I quickly discovered when I arrived in Aspen is that housing is a hot commodity. I arrived at about mid-season, so housing pretty much didn’t exist. I was lucky enough to have a friend’s floor to crash on my first week here. The plan was that this would give me enough time to get my feet under me and find a place to live.
As we all know, plans don’t always go as we…well, plan.
I arrived here pretty much in the red financially. Housing in Aspen does not come cheaply. The few places that were available were not in my budget. I didn’t know what I was going to do. It was coming time to make a move lest I over do my stay at my friend’s place. Aspen Ski Company provides housing at discounted costs for employees, but when I arrived there was nothing open. I was calling them every day. After seven days of harassment, I finally received an email stating that a room had become available come February 1st. Did I want it?
I sure did.
But…I had ten days to wait before I could move in. My free week on my friend’s floor was nearing its end. What was I going to do?
Over the last few years of romping across the country side, I have gotten quite adept at living out of my car. I had all my winter gear. I had a stove and fuel. I knew the backseat of my car provided just enough room for someone of my height to sleep in. I’d slept worse places. I didn’t think twice about it. I would park my car somewhere and live out of it until I could move in to the apartment on the 1st. Done deal.
This parking lot was near Snowmass Village. For ten days, I slept in my car in below zero degree weather. Thanks to a season in Antarctica, I didn’t think twice about the consequences of weather like that. It never crossed my mind. I had a zero degree sleeping bag and a plethora of down jackets and fleece pants. I was as cozy as a pea in a pod.
But I wasn’t quite sure if what I was doing was actually legal. Aspen is an affluent community. I was parked in the overflow parking lot of the Snowmass Golf Course. I didn’t know how they’d take to having a vagrant sleeping there.
Enter Operation Stealth.
Mornings I changed in the backseat of my car, the engine running to warm my boots up. I would sneak out before the sun was up to catch the bus into Aspen to go to work. After work, I visited the library, reading or writing since it was nice and warm. I’d leave when the library closed and catch the bus back to my car, sneaking in to go to bed under the cover of darkness.
As far as I know, no one suspected a thing. I might have surprised a few snow plow operators a time or two when I hopped out of the back seat of my car in the mornings, tooth brush in my mouth, in puffy pants, down jacket, winter hat, and down slippers. But nothing was ever said. I simply brushed my teeth, hopped back into the back seat of my car, changed my clothes, crawled out and walked off.
February 1st, I left that parking lot and moved into my apartment. I traded the coziness of my backseat for a “bedroom” in the living room sectioned off by a curtain from prying eyes. I was spending $475 a month to live in a space where I really had no privacy. Curtains are not sound proof and when you have a 21 year old roommate who likes to entertain into the wee hours of the morning, I began thinking that parking my car for the season and living out of it might have been a better alternative. I certainly would have saved a lot more money.
Either way, as I drove by that parking lot the other day I found myself smiling. I had a connection. It had been home for ten days. I found myself thinking about all the other spots scattered across the country where I had parked my car and slept in over the years. Rest stops along major Interstates. The back corners of Wal-Mart parking lots, remote dirt roads along the Alaskan Canadian Highway.
It hasn’t exactly been the most conventional or easiest lifestyle, but it definitely has been fun. I was inspired to map out the last few years to get some statistics.
The last nine years looks something like this:
Spring 2004—Age 23—Left college and moved to Virginia to complete internship and work at Wilderness Adventures at Eagle Landing as full time staff teaching outdoor education (My first job in the industry)
Summer 2005—Graduated college but I didn’t attend my graduation. I remained in Virginia running outdoor trips
Fall 2005—Left Virginia for my first major road trip across the U.S. to Utah to try to work in the Wilderness Therapy industry—realized it wasn’t my cup of tea and after a week was on my way back to Virginia—this road trip was just the beginning of many journeys with my car Minnie Mouse
Spring 2006—Left Virginia and flew to Oregon to complete a 11 month AmeriCorps term of service running a backcountry trail crew on the Pacific Crest Trail
Fall 2006—Returned to New York for a couple of months
January 2007—Flew to Arizona to run backcountry trail crews for the Southwest Conservation Corps
Spring of 2007—Completed a NOLS Instructor Course in New Mexico—was a major turning point in my career as an outdoor educator
Summer of 2007—Worked in Southern California, Idaho, and Wyoming teaching outdoor education and backpacking courses
Fall 2007—Flew back to New York to be closer to family and worked at a camp in the Adirondacks as full time outdoor educator staff
**From 2006 to fall of 2007 I lived out of my backpack with no car**
Winter 2007—Realized my heart and soul had been left out west while I was on the east coast—resulted in an impetuous long distance road trip back to Arizona to run backcountry trail crews once again
Spring 2008—Worked in Arizona running backcountry trail crews
Summer 2008—Worked in Idaho, Montana, Wyoming instructing backpacking courses
Fall 2008—Drove back to Arizona instructing backpacking courses and another season of backcountry trail crews
Winter and Spring 2009—Arizona running backcountry trail crews
**From Winter 2007 to Spring 2009 lived out of my car all over the west coast as I drove from seasonal job to seasonal job**
Spring and Summer 2009—Flew to Alaska to work as a sea kayak guide for Kayak Adventures Worldwide
Fall 2009—Flew to Arizona and drove up to Alaska and settled in Anchorage—becoming an official resident of Alaska (I was determined to “settle” in an area for a while—lasted three and a half months in the city)
January 2010—Drove to Haines, AK and took a ferry to Juneau, relocating there
Spring\Summer\Fall 2010—Worked as a Field Coordinator for SAGA in Juneau—had the opportunity to explore the majority of Alaska Southeast
December 2010—Left Alaska on a three day ferry to Bellingham, WA—drove cross country to Minnesota in pursuit of love
Winter 2011—Three months in Ely, Minnesota experiencing for the first time what unemployment was like (Not a highlight of my career)
Spring 2011—Fled Minnesota and drove back to Alaska via the Alaskan Canadian Highway (ALCAN)—Second time driving the ALCAN
Summer 2011—Second season as a sea kayak guide in Seward, AK
Fall 2011 and Winter 2012—Spent a season working as logistical support staff in Antarctica for the United States Antarctic Program (A once in a life time opportunity and a major life changing experience)
Spring 2012—Explored New Zealand’s South Island with just a backpack
Summer 2012—Third season as a sea kayak guide in Seward, AK
Fall and early winter 2012—Three months teaching outdoor education in Hong Kong while living out of a backpack (My car was driven down the ALCAN for the third time by a friend and parked in Hood River, OR to wait for me)
December 2012 to January 2013—A month traveling Singapore and Indonesia
Winter 2013—Returned to the states—picked my car up in Hood River, OR and drove to Aspen, CO
Winter and Spring 2013—Age 32—Aspen, CO to learn how to ski and experience the resort lifestyle
And now for the big question: What’s next?
NORTH TO ALASKA
I am packing to return to Alaska for my fourth season as a sea kayak guide. This season I return as Multi-day trip Manager. I’m nervous and excited about this opportunity. This April marks my fifth summer season there. This will be the longest I’ve spent anywhere since college. It’s the one sign of stability that exists in my life.
To many, these years might look like a fear of commitment, fear of stability, recklessness or a lack of responsibility. And it probably is. I don’t really know what drives me to keep moving as I have. I haven’t ever really thought about it until now. Since 2004, the longest I have lived in one area for a consistent period of time is two years. Arizona and Alaska are the only locations that I have returned to consecutively.
I was born and raised in New York. I’ve been a resident of Virginia and I’m currently a resident of Alaska, although I haven’t lived there full time since December, 2010. But it’s home to me. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to having a home of my own. Even when I’m not there, my heart is there.
In some ways it feels like it was just yesterday that I packed that rusty, beat up Ford Tempo and hit the road for the first time. I had flown the nest for good.
Nine years later, but it’s not all that different. Yeah, a different car, better gear, a bit more experience and knowledge, and fractionally more money in the bank. But one thing has not changed.
The drive for adventure is as strong now as it was then. Over the past three months I have seen men and women in their 80’s and 90’s skiing as aggressively as they did when they were in the prime of their lives. I hope to be them some day. I hope to have the pulse of the mountain and the smell of the sea in my veins when I’m 100. I hope to have more locations where I have parked my car and slept like a vagrant on the street.
I truly am homeless when it comes down to it, that’s the reality of this seasonal lifestyle. But I don’t feel homeless. I feel blessed to have had the opportunities I’ve had.
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