But first, maybe I should share my definition of car-camping for the purposes of this blog. In my case, car-camping meant loading my my car with almost everything I would require for two months on the road, driving said car to campsites, and sleeping in that car most of the time. I did bring a tent, but I only used it twice, I believe. I also resorted to hotels in a pinch but that was the exception to the rule.
So, why did I do it? Long ago during a summer between college years, full of courage and idealism, I announced my plan to drive my beat-up old Subaru coast to coast. My mom, aware of my lack of savings, did not share my enthusiasm. She thought my time would be better spent working and threatened to cut off my college funding if I chose to drive west. I did not go. Instead, I worked at the clothing store at the mall. I never gave up the dream of going. I told myself I would go...later.
Later there was work, a mortgage, cats, children, aging parents, and a dog. There were so many reasons I could not go. I had the chance once and didn't take it. Then I was too busy being a responsible adult to merrily traverse a continent.
After many years, my kids graduated, got jobs, and moved out. I no longer had a husband or pets. The stress of raising kids as a single mom, running two small businesses, and always worrying about making ends meet had taken their toll. I felt anxious, restless, and out of sorts. I had lived in the same house in the same little town for 26 years of my life. I was tired of walking the same old trails, seeing the same sights, going the same places. I was stagnating. I was in a rut. It was time for change and discovery.
The open road was calling and was prepared to answer the summons. I wanted to take a pause from worry and busyness and see the most beautiful places in America. Traveling lightly was important to me, and that meant having minimal possessions and zero debt. I didn't want to have complicated plans and schedules. I had had enough of that already. I also wanted to travel cheaply.
So I packed up the most essential, required elements and wrapped up my business affairs. With a vague notion of the circular route I would take, a list of national parks I wanted to visit, a few necessary supplies (packing list will be shared later), I began driving. There was no expensive travel van, no backseat rebuild, and no detailed itinerary. I would car-camp across the country with a back-up tent, a cooler, a rechargeable fan, and some other rudimentary supplies. I had a loose budget for the trip and almost zero up-front cost.
Traveling by car allows you to see the country very differently than flying into destination cities. On the backroads, you see the real story. You see acres of farmland, abandoned storefronts, rural communities, idyllic small towns, factories and mines, awe-inspiring sights of incredible natural beauty, drug-scarred cities and the empty spaces in between. Contrasted with the incredible beauty of our national parks, large swaths of America are sparsely populated, covered with cornfields, crops and oil fields, and dotted with trailers and small shacks. The stark reality of poverty, the forgotten people, and the filth and decay will also be clearly visible.
You can listen to the small town radio stations as the miles pass by and talk to the locals to learn how people really live and work in each region, the unique issues they face, and the melodies they like to hum.
In all honesty, when I started traveling away from North Carolina on day one, I was scared. I imagined terrifying scenarios involving serial killers, blood-thirsty wild animals, getting lost, my car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, and various hiking/car accidents. I had no idea if I would be able to handle being alone on the road, sleeping in my car, or driving long distances. I gripped my steering wheel so hard I got blisters.
And if you were wondering why I chose to car camp with a regular old car without space big enough to stretch out my legs; it came down to mere economics. I considered purchasing a travel van, but I needed to save my money for buying a house without wheels when I returned. In retrospect, I am very glad I didn’t buy a van.
I'm back in North Carolina now. After two months on the road alone, I feel like I was emptied out and filled back up again. I was thrilled, terrified, amazed, and humbled. My shoes walked through golden prairies, forests of the tallest trees, rocky seashores, muddy rain forests, deep caves, lava fields, and parched deserts. I stepped away from the rat race, embraced simplicity, tuned out the noise, and lived in the moment. I learned a lot and I'd like to share it with you.
It started with a heat wave, a nearly deserted campground surrounded by corn, a guy on a motorcycle in a speedo, and a tremendous storm... (read all about it in my bookt).
If you enjoyed this post, consider purchasing my book,
Solo Car Camping Across America, An Adventure in Courage, Solitude, and Questionable Bathrooms in America’s Most Beautiful Places, available on Amazon Books. 235 pages with full color images. Itinerary, packing list, helpful tips, and do’s and don’ts included. Free shipping for Amazon Prime members. Kindle edition also available.
