The caravan (a love story, of sorts)
Very little gives me more joy, than an abandoned dwelling to camp in.
So you can imagine my thrill when I found an abandoned cabin I was told about. Ignoring that it was actually a dilapidated caravan… I went inside.
Verdict? A hard no.
It was chockers full of rubbish and rot, with smearings of every variety, and an amount of mouse poo I am not going to quantify because I want you to keep reading.
So I backed out of that hantavirus nest, looked at my tent, looked at the caravan, looked at the sky, and made a decision. Even I have limits.
…Then changed my mind.
Back inside after leaving the door open for 20 minutes (a trick I was taught in Argentina), I swept it out, cleaned every surface, got the bear vault sorted so nothing could get into my food as I slept, and heated water slowly on my stove to warm the space.
The sun was setting. Temperatures dropping. Ice already forming in my water bottle.
So just like that, I settled in.
Meanwhile, in the back of my mind the pressure of covering long distances before my visa ran out was mounting the way it does when you’re trying not to think about it. But I had four walls, a door that closed, and no bears immediately in the vicinity.
So to me, the cabin was a gift. A momentary sanctuary to relax for a night.
In summary, much less terrible than it sounds. Slightly more terrible than I’m making it sound. #adventurelife
Cold cramps, and other problems
You can probably sense the highs and lows.
Excitement about Bailey coming (if I’ve failed to mention this, Bailey is coming!). Visa pressure. The specific joy of a warm space, even a mouse-adjacent one. Leg cramps from the cold.
Cramps? It’s below zero weather and I’m still using summer equipment because resupply is tricky with gear strewn across the globe and even then, I marvel at how often volunteers will burden their travels (and baggage allowance) to bring me the gear I so desperately need.
By the end of the week the accumulation of small things going right after a run of small things going sideways had me feeling more resilient.
The visa situation was feeling more manageable. I was getting myself as far north as possible, Yellowstone in the distance, Bailey incoming.
For the record, bears are still ruining my mornings
I cannot eat in my tent because of them, which means eating in the cold, every morning, which I am getting genuinely sick of. And yes, I am tired. Sore. A little bit grossed out by myself. Possibly insane.
But I do take comfort in writing this from yet another “abandoned dwelling”. And if it’s a terrible idea (and it might be) it is still much less terrible than the rodent-infested caravan I slept in the other night.
And honestly? I made that caravan work. The sun set, the door closed, the stove ran slow and warm.
Sometimes that’s enough. 🤘
If you want to follow along properly — along side my decision whiplash overaccommodation with "character" — join Entangled. It's my inner circle and it's where a genuine community lives. Or if you just want to shout me a warm-up-coffee or a self-pity-hot-chocolate to keep me moving: same link.
Lucy + Wombat 👩🌾🐶
