I have shared many stories and pictures of the travels I have enjoyed since moving to the Western US. I’d like to take a step back from this magical life and shift attention to a tale of lesser enchantments. 

When I moved out here two years ago, I brought with me a close friend. This companionship proved a deciding factor for the move, knowing at least one person in my new home state. That former friend decided to abandon our new lives 5 months into a 12-month lease, completely shattering plans for the massive life adjustment and wrecking my mental state (it did, however, motivate me to reach out to a new, growing community of similar-minded (mostly) transplants also looking to meet new people, so I guess some good came out of it). I suspected his dissatisfaction with our move as early as the road trip across the country before we even secured our new home but hoped that Utah’s gems could alter his perception of our new lives. I tried showing him all Utah had to offer, curious as to how anyone could be depressed among the peak of Nature’s beauty, yet my efforts inevitably failed. 

When it came time to renew our lease, we replaced that initial friend with a stranger online. On paper, he possessed the traits of an ideal roommate: had more than enough money to cover his portion of the rent, shared similar interests to both of the current tenants. The future looked brighter. Until it didn’t. 

I don’t want to spend this time ranting about all the things I didn’t like about him. That is not the point of this tale nor is it decent for a public setting (though you are free to reach out to me if I feel comfortable enough to share it). All I’ll say on the matter is that even a few months in saw heavy tension between us which gradually depleted my mental state further until one of several possible outcomes I had feared all year wreaked havoc next renewal season. 

At the end of my second year lease, I abandoned ship. A chain of unpleasant living situations drove me to not renew my lease despite having no new lease to sign elsewhere. Initially evicted due to behavior from this newest roommate, which they later revoked, the other had already committed to leaving and had his possessions packed away that weekend as he’d be out of town for the remainder of our lease. I was not going to endure another year with the other despite having no backup plans, so eviction or not, I opted to move anyway. 

Initial panic questioned my desire to remain in Salt Lake. With two years of almost nonstop tension with living situations, I hadn’t been able to find the homeliness factor I sought. I immediately reached out to family in Portland, requesting if I could stay with them for a few months. I reached out to a friend in Denver with the same request. At the very least I knew I’d want to stay until at least October for a concert, but I inevitably chose to remain long term. I am not done with Salt Lake yet. Perhaps, even, my life here can finally start. I never really even fully committed to Salt Lake. The initial plan was to only live here for 3 years and I believe that has subconsciously restricted me from committing to true friendship as well (though I guarantee that’s not the only reason I have struggled with friend developments). I now think it’s time to give Salt Lake the full attention it deserves. Moving here has presented opportunities I feel I cannot ignore. I have starred in a movie, with another on the way, I have discovered screenwriting organizations and networking that could help finally launch a career, and for these reasons alone I need to stay. That’s on top of the 5 nearby National parks I have yet to explore, plus a handful of other points of interest saved on my various traveling itineraries. But with no lease signed, I had to discover a way to seize these opportunities available.

I want it noted that I chose this reactive situation I now find myself in.  Several friends offered their couches until I found another place but in pursuit of exploring a lifestyle I have dreamt about for years, I embraced the nomadic life.  I saw this as an opportunity to test my compatibility before devoting time and energy to transition into a full-time nomad. And the truth is I grew up not fond of people. Understanding the importance of interpersonal relations, I have tried to rectify that but these recent events have thrust me back into a void somewhere between the two. I could perhaps use a break, live on my own for a bit, disengage from all social communities until I felt I had recovered from these recent turmoils. I have also grown fond of adventures over the years and figured this had the potential to be one of the more memorable experiences in my life, a learning experience and journey of self-discovery. 

I was terrified for days before the lifestyle change but now that I understand deeper how my routine must shift, my comfort level has improved. I’ve been a nomad hybrid (I still have an in-person job preventing me from straying too far from the city) for just over a week and a half now at the time of writing this portion of the story – though I have extended the story as my journey evolved – and it’s already been a bit of an adventure. 

I already owned an inflatable mattress for weekend camping trips so “how am I going to sleep” proved an easily answered question. Unfortunately, for the first several days the mattress constantly deflated and it wasn’t until the third night did I identify a leak, though I still needed to locate it. As comfortable as the mattress is, I had considered patching it up but its massive size in an already relatively small container lured me to replace the mattress with a camping pad to provide more efficient storage. 

The camping pad came with its own list of flaws however. Firstly, it’s too long to fit firmly in my Kia Sportage, making for some repositioning throughout the night. Luckily, I have watched several videos already on others modifying their similar vehicles to adjust this challenge accordingly. I lifted half of my back seat to rearrange my gear and allow the folding of my passenger seat only to discover the seat does not fold. I realized my other option is to remove the seat entirely, but that is a video I have not yet seen and more a better plan for long-term nomads anyway and I hadn’t yet decided for how long I’d adopt this lifestyle. Ultimately, however, I do feel the camping pad is efficiently superior to the vehicle-wide air mattress. In my personal opinion however, if you have an interest in the set up, steer away from inflatables. If at any point in the future I return to this lifestyle long term, I’d much rather install a small mattress. 

As for the daily routine, I adjusted to that easier than I anticipated. I was essentially forced to start a membership at a local 24-hr climbing gym for the usage of showers and lounge areas where I could continue writing these stories (I have spent much of my free time in cafes as well for this same reason). That works out well for me because finding motivation to climb has been another constant struggle for me since moving out here, its former priority overtaken by pursuit of travel and experiences. Now I can both afford the membership and have a necessity to pursue the sport again. I do worry about staff confrontation every time I enter the building for a purpose unrelated to climbing and more related to dental hygiene (it’s really frustrating that their motion-sensored sinks and soap dispensers never seem to cooperate), but so far nobody has responded to my daily attendance nor my nightly occupation in their parking lot. Despite its 24-hr access, I restricted myself use of their showers to nighttime hours in an attempt to reduce unwanted exposure to, well, exposed skin. Nearly successful, I experienced only one instance about a month and a half into my nomadic exploration.

Since I essentially lived in cafes now, I went into the lifestyle dedicated to pursuing the aforementioned opportunities. I entered September with the daily goal of reading a screenplay. I discovered it an ambitious goal, for the time to read a screenplay is equivalent to the duration of a film, which meant reserving several hours a day. But when you are often trapped at work for sometimes 10-11 hours a day due to staffing, the desire to prioritize that goal diminishes, and I lasted only 5 days. I still read and wrote scripts, attended industry events, and pursued the career at a lesser extreme than I intended, but in a way that allowed me to also focus on the experience of a nomadic life and tell this story.  

I have had to resort to coin operated laundromats since before my official move out as a roommate transported the washer and dryer away early, so that challenge has granted me more time to adjust too. I have learned from a fellow nomad as well that I am paying double than what I could be so I required more trial and error in exploring different laundromats. I realized that different machines cost different prices, but there have also been instances of the machines not starting despite the acceptance of payment, leading to double payments. I discovered the start-up delay was caused by improperly closing the washer door and that I had paid for the machine to wash my clothes for twice as long. My major saving grace for that mistake was the added time for reading my book or another screenplay and I ended up not too bothered by it at all. During some stops to the laundromat, I also served as a distraction for a kid while his father took care of his business.

The biggest obstacle in living in my car has been navigating a food situation. Without the capacity for storage, I can’t buy most products I usually favor. I’ve needed to eat out every day for the past 11 days with a targeted average of $10 a day which adds up. Now, you’re probably wondering how I manage that price tag. It helps to work in a grocery store, where I have access to not only purchase the food but also microwave it, allowing me to rely on cheap frozen products several days a week to save money. I have treated myself to several restaurants, however, so I imagine I am still well over that $10 average. Though not nearly enough over budget to cancel the savings from a lack of rent, optimizing a food plan is one of the higher priorities for me right now. Still, I do have contingencies for breakfasts at least, and healthier options. I started storing a box of cereal and utilizing the camping bowl and fork I purchased years ago; I never ate cereal with milk anyway. The big problem is that I had not yet known if this nomadic lifestyle was a short term adventure or a long term goal, and thus investing in a cooler or fridge, a power station, a camping stove and tools to efficiently wash dishes might have canceled out my initial plans of saving money this month, the initial minimum duration I’d be a nomad. I have outlines of how to modify my vehicle if this lifestyle passes the compatibility test and the calculated financial benefits prove satisfactory. Both my gym membership and storage unit were discounted their first months, however, so it’s possible I wouldn’t be saving hardly any money at all once those prices normalized and it wouldn’t be financially beneficial for me to pursue a nomadic lifestyle at this time. I do like the freedom of being able to leave whenever I desire, however, to job search in whatever interested city without the need to wait for another lease ending. I had an interview for a hotel resort company with locations set up around various national parks and other high-profile natural environments offering employment that could support living nomadically.

Either way, my life has made an adventurous turn that has brought with it new memories to cherish forever. One weekend I escaped into the wilderness in pursuit of a dream experience, the core of my interest in the Nomad life: setting up camp away from civilization, among the blessings of nature, off the grid. I discovered that without the distractions having internet access provided, the productivity of my writing skyrocketed. In the time it usually takes for me to write 2 pages of a screenplay, I wrote 3. On the contrary, I was also reminded how fast and drastic temperatures can change in the mountains. I hadn’t researched my destination beforehand and failed to realize its 10000’ foot elevation and 45° difference from the valley. I was not as prepared to sleep through the night as I would have liked. 

When I felt I had sufficient sleep despite the cold, I returned to the road and the car’s heater toward Midway, Utah, a town I have only ever glimpsed at night but had heard of its picturesque Swiss-inspired beauty. The Cafe Galleria has historically popped up on my social media feed so I took the opportunity to finally experience this iconic restaurant. It was here I weirdly realized that I hadn’t registered seeing a bee (despite Utah being “The Beehive State.” They exist, I saw plenty after this weekend in the valley. I just hadn’t for some reason registered it until now) in the two years I have been here, and where I shared my meal with three of them. I spent more time than needed exploring the small town’s bookstore, furniture store, and city hall before returning home.

About a couple weeks into this journey I had the experience I feared most about the lifestyle, illness struck me. I didn’t know how to best efficiently recover from the illness. I couldn’t rely on better sleep; the weather in the valley remained over 90 degrees until as late as 11 pm, too hot for slumber. I fled into the mountains in an attempt for cooler weather, pulling over along the road up Emigration Canyon. I found the ability to sleep easier up there and managed a full nights’ rest. However, when I woke up, earlier than I usually do, I spent too long chilling on my bed eating that cereal, watching videos on my phone, and heard a vehicle pull up behind me. From a small slit of the back window uncovered by reflective tape, I saw the unflashing lightbulbs of a police car. I imagined I wasn’t in too much trouble and quickly dressed and hurried to my driver’s seat before the officer walked up. Sure enough, he simply informed me camping up here was not allowed and let me on my way when I assured him I was heading off. I would have been really pissed had he fined me, for I had been awake for about an hour by that point, but the purpose of the venture proved successful as I returned to the valley free of sickness.  

A couple days later I took a brief break to visit family back home for a week. I found salvation in the comfort of my childhood bed, peace in my family cottage, and reinvigoration during a family reunion. I partially worried that recalling the comfort of an actual bed would turn me against returning to the less comfortable situation I had adopted in Utah. To be honest, before departure, the whole concept of the reunion terrified me. I wasn’t certain how much of my family knew about my situation but I knew that the people who were aware of it were not in support of it. I feared an inevitable conversation with an insufficient explanation. I wondered how people who have known me for all 31 years of my life could not understand my decision to play nomad when others who have known me for less than a year could. I questioned if my move across the country so disconnected me from my family that I had to rely on the band of companions I have bonded with in Salt Lake to maintain some sense of belonging. Then I questioned my capacity to pursue the development of these bonds given the stress of recent events and growing disinterest in people. 

The ‘inevitable’ conversation thankfully never happened, a discussion I was certain was going to alter my decision one way or the other toward pursuing the nomad lifestyle longer term. I was enjoying my life as a nomad with its peaceful, stress-free environment. I cherished that break from people, from a social life, focused completely on myself and my writing, saving hundreds of dollars every month I had no lease. But I still returned from that trip with a decision. 

I met briefly with a few friends on the last day of my visit. Before my move, we had this tradition of gathering every other week and drinking cocktails. A couple of us had experience mixing, so we all met up at the host’s place and pitched in with common cocktail ingredients for the mixers to serve and we hung out and chatted on a deeper level than the conversations at the climbing gym, our usual place of meeting. It was a tradition I knew I was going to miss even before leaving, a true sense of companionship I was abandoning. But during my visit I learned that that tradition died with my departure. Not only that, but the individuals of that cocktail group also don’t hang out nearly as frequently as they did back then either. I would never call myself an anchor of any group; I don’t believe I have a qualifying personality to serve that role. So this news came as quite a surprise and I am frankly unsure how to proceed with that news. Honored, I guess? 

Despite enjoying the solitude of nomad life, this discovery brought the clarity I needed for my life back home. I started believing I was spreading myself thin by going to these big attendance events hosted by that community of similar-minded transplants who were more acquaintances than friends. I shifted toward focusing on smaller group outings, with people I believed I have bonded with the most. I now had an idea to show appreciation to those individuals but lacked the means to see that idea through. So upon return to Utah, I made the decision to end my nomad experience and secure a place I could host cocktail nights of my own and perpetuate the tradition created by my friends back home. 

Though I made the decision a month into the lifestyle, it would take longer still to return to normalcy. I had a roommate I believed I could feel comfortable with but not yet the place. He had a deadline of locating a place by the end of September, almost exactly 2 months after my nomad journey began; I had a bit more lax deadline. I was saving a lot of money not having to worry about rent and I wasn’t in any particular hurry to move in somewhere if it meant further savings, which meant a lower motivation to look than him. I just wanted to move-in somewhere before it got too cold, which, by Mid-September, I could tell was approaching. Sure, I was growing annoyed that my camping pad was now deflating consistently (the reason, I believe, being the decreasing temps and change in air pressure), annoyed of waking up with neck aches, of feeling endlessly exhausted from waking constantly throughout the night to adjust and re-inflate the bed. I was easily convinced to target the end of September as well as a result but in truth I felt I could endure another month if I retrieved my borrowed sleeping bag from a friend. 

My future roommate and I almost secured a place in early September. During the tour of an ideally priced and located unit, we heard words neither one of us thought we’d ever hear: we made too much combined income for the unit. We both work in retail, not exactly among the higher paying jobs, and we made just under $5k more than the standard median allowed for the complex to call itself ‘affordable housing.’ I suppose it’s a blessing to not be considered poor, but annoying to not be rich enough for the other units we have found either. 

Eventually, 58 days into my nomadic exploration, I signed a lease for a new place I would move into 7 days later. Unfortunately my move was decided more by necessity than want and the same fear that met me when first exploring that lifestyle returned as I saluted goodbye to the nomadic life. As the day approached I worried I made the wrong decision. I suppose we could call my pessimism caused by “cold-feet” but details I will not divulge (for certain parties reading this may be affiliated with individuals involved) have revealed themselves and lowered my hopes that moving into a place was the right decision. I know I seek to offer more value to my friend circle and I can only offer what I have granted myself: a wealth of experiences and memories that hosting gatherings can provide. This goal remains the driving force behind my decision, something I felt I needed to try. But few parts of me wanted to spend all the money I just saved up the past couple months without rent to return to a lifestyle that has been the primary source of stress for the past two years. And I am in a mentally fragile place right now. As much as I don’t want to give up on people yet, if this doesn’t work out, the damage could be irreparable. 

Though I had made the decision to move-in with someone, although I knew I needed to move-in somewhere to pursue the strengthening of aforementioned bonds, I learned to love the nomadic lifestyle. It brought me peace and an almost stress-free break from people. It could allow me to take a short trip to Colorado for a mid-week concert and not have to worry about returning to SLC for work the next morning*, a scenario that I have unfortunately found myself in. It’s ironic that despite my initial worry from the family reunion that re-experiencing a mattress would deter me from van life, the opposite came true. I thought the exploration was short-lived -I finally only days prior solved the deflation problem- and felt conflicted to commit only on behalf of other parties. My initial panic when evicted brought me to reaching out to a friend to move in with, and thus an obligation to follow through with those plans also dictated my decision. We were much too far in the process and he needed a new living situation immediately, so backing out now would have turned me into the idiot who put me in my position in the first place. 

I also felt I was moving in for the sake of my family, who has regularly voiced their opposition to my adopted lifestyle, and I wanted them off my back. Although it’s not fair to myself to cater to the opinions of others, even family, their consistent negative comments have lured me to second guessing every decision. That’s not healthy either. On the other hand, this whole exploration was meant as an experiment to test my compatibility with the lifestyle. Now that I understand that compatibility, I can take this time house-living to prepare for round 2. I can wait a couple years investing in a more comfortable bed, long-term gear, and securing a remote job so that when next I shift to nomadic life, I’ll have the preparation to pursue true freedom. 

When I first moved out of my last place, when first deciding whether to remain in Salt Lake or leave, I received a recommendation to write a pros and cons list. While I never physically wrote that list down, I feel this story has efficiently detailed the list for me. I believed the quantity of the cons greatly outweighed the pros in favor of remaining a nomad: continue saving money, freedom, and never knowing what tomorrow will bring. But I also believed that the quality of the pros outweighed the cons: I desired a place to host. So, here’s hoping for good fortune.

*Interestingly, I was grateful to have a place to efficiently rest after the exhausting concert and readjusting after ever-changing plans. But more on that later…