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The Vagabond Identity
Where are you all from? How do we answer that?!
Where are you all from?
We get that question daily. For a while we would stumble over our answer. How to you explain that you were born and grew up in Minnesota, went to school in Iowa, have residency in South Dakota even though you never lived there and the most recent place you lived that didn’t have wheels was LA. To make it harder you don’t feel super tied to any of those places. I’m not Minnesotan, not Iowegian, sure ain’t South Dakotan, and will never consider myself Californian.
Home is currently the van. Yes, home. When texting on the trail I’ll tell Jake that Leinie and I are on our way home, meaning the van, not any set location. Home is where my immediate family is, my partner and my dog. For a time, that was Anoka. For several years, RPV. Now, it’s a yellow Econoline with a mattress and xbox. But when posed the question, do I point to the van?
It makes me curious why the question is such a constant. Does everyone camping get the question? Is it reserved for vehicle-dwellers? Or is it our strong accents that we will apparently never shake that give our non-local status away. I dropped the pop for soda, but can’t seem to shake a good “ope” when necessary, if you’re curious. But if that’s the case, when you hear a strong southern or Boston accent, do you ask the question?
Ultimately, I don’t believe anyone who has asked us this has anything but good, curious intention and just trying to make conversation. We will likely continue to stumble over our answer and at times Jake will say one thing and I another. At times one of us may say something about originating from Minnesota. Depending on the city or person, we may feel necessary to leave our stint in California unspoken. Other times I feel rebellious and just state South Dakota despite none of our license plates stating such.
Where are you all from?
Lots of places, but currently here.
Short Essays From The Road
Don’t Panic
At five months into an adventure year, our heroes are in crunch time for trail preparations to their biggest backcountry adventure to date. Grab a paper bag and don’t hyperventilate.
Month Five: Don’t Panic
8/5/2023
Minnesota - Wisconsin - Minnesota
Month five has been hands down the fastest month thus far. We arrived in the Pork Pond, Minnesota, settled into temporary house living and gave ourselves through the weekend to relax prior to the chaos of trail preparations. And when I say chaos, it was full-blown, true-to-form, arm-flapping chaos.
Prepping for a weekend backcountry trip (i.e. Maroon Bells or Trans-Catalina) is a hassle when everything goes smoothly. Prepping for a week-long trip (i.e. High Sierra Trail) is an anxiety-ridden marathon. For our planned epic thru hike (Superior Hiking Trail + Border Route + Kekekabic) we will be in the backcountry for roughly 30 days. I feel on the verge of an aneurysm daily. There is just so much to do. Getting in hiking shape (we plan to average 15 miles daily), getting a trail doggo into shape (he will be with us each step of the trip), get replacement/additional gear ordered and tested, and do not get me started on the food. I’m rather shocked Jake’s mom didn’t kick us out as we rapidly took over their dining room for the base of Operation Menu. (Thanks Deb! We owe you!)
Weekends were saved as breaks from trail prep and attempts to relax. There is an old Minnesota tradition known commonly as “The Cabin”. Yes, everyone in Minnesota refers to their cabin, or their friend’s cabin, or a family member’s cabin, or even a rental as “The Cabin” as if there was a singular cabin all 5.7 million of them to share at once. After living in LA, that number doesn’t seem as large anymore. I’m crying and laughing at the same time. We went to the “The Cabin” four of the five weekends.
Back in the land of lakes, loons and Leinies
One of those weekend trips to “The Cabin” was to celebrate another trip around the sun for myself. If you haven’t guessed, my all time favorite beverage to grace this planet is Leinenkugel’s Honey Weiss. It is the Reeses peanut butter cup of beers. Nothing could possibly improve it, it is perfect as is and will be a great beverage in any situation; cold, hot, sweaty, frigid. I mean, I am such a fan I named my dog after this brewery. So we mecca journeyed to Leinie Lodge. This used to be an annual birthday tradition until the commute from SoCal made it a bit tricky.
Leinie Lodge aka Beer Heaven
Anywho, backstory aside, Leinie Lodge was shockingly busy and the tours (I am undefeated at the trivia for the free prize) are now reservable and the next one wasn’t for four hours. Ok, don’t panic. We decided to skip the tour, despite my unbeatable trivia record reputation and just enjoy some sample pints instead. Honey Weiss was still the most perfect beer to froth a glass and I savored mine with the biggest smile on my face.
The trip was hosted by Jake’s sister at her version of “The Cabin” where we fished and Leinie shocked everyone by dock diving.
Mother Nature decided to send me a gift and I ended up with a whomping poison ivy rash on both feet and ankles. Antihistamines, topicals and beer help soothe the burning while I pointedly did not look at the dwindling days until my feet would be stuck in wool socks and boots for a month straight. Woosha.
While nursing the rash, another old tradition was brought back to life. My girl Angie and I celebrated a belated Half Xmas with “The Cabin”, this time it was my parents’ summer rental in Central Minnesota lakes country. We relaxed, drank, floated, and attempted beer yoga. All in all another successful Half Xmas for the books.
Returning to trail prep, someone turned the thermostat way up so the training hikes were put on hold while food prep took center stage. Dehydrating and freeze drying complete (Thanks Steph!), up next was meal assembly. Ever seen a month’s worth of oatmeal before?
64 of them bad boys
You’re welcome.
As the meals were assembled, the days were grouped together into the various resupply boxes. Attempting to work smarter not harder, I got mailing boxes the same volume as our bear keg. If the resupply has to fit in the bear keg, and the box being the same space, if it fits in the box it will fit in the keg. Until it didn’t. Cue paper bag breathing.
Jake did his trail tetris magic and we were back in the clear. If I don’t end up grey by the start of this trip, it will be a miracle.
Meanwhile amongst all the food preparation our weeks looked something like this: daily 5 mile walks with Leinie, gym for strength training 2-3 days, non-gym days were training hikes with full pack weight and mileage, and throw in some yoga for balance ‘cuz I was blessed with the weak family ankles. Gotta replenish the emergency van fund so Jake helped out at his dad’s job site and I picked up some pet sitting gigs. I also signed up months before embarking in the Yellow Submarine for some speaking engagements in October and presentations don’t make themselves. Don’t forget to meet up with family and friends and enjoy the weekly Pancheros visit to make up for lost time as they don’t exist in SoCal (basically a better Chipotle) and we have to sleep at some point right? Told ya we were busy.
Started with 6.5 miles and were doing 15+ miles by trail time
As the trail prep winds to a close, presentations created, some money earned, Pancheros eaten, the panic has started to abate. I feel very tired and may celebrate with a good, hard nap followed by a cold beer.
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Utah
The second installment of the Beer Enthusiast’s Roadmap to America, Utah.
Main Campaign: Utah
4/12-20/2023
Oh, Utah. You left us dizzy in the mixed signals. The only way to describe you would be as a session IPA. We like the look, the taste feels refreshingly light, but when you look below the surface we’re stuck drinking more and more in the hopes of catching a buzz that will never come.
You are beautiful. Zion left us speechless and loving the wonderful outdoor activities. As we progressed north, the mountains sang to our souls. Despite the cold, snowpack-filled trails, and potential of rain, we sought more and more hiking and biking trails. The red sand and dust covered our shoes and toes and filled the submarine with a layer I don’t think will ever come clean.
But your beer policy is a mess. Our livers craved the sweet nectar of craft brewing but you’ve scared away all but the most fool-hardy of breweries. The thought of paying for a pack of cuddling hooker IPA’s left us disgusted so we dished out for the mainstream, cheapo PBR to ease our sorrows. Do better Utah, do better.
Like any true love-hate relationship, we needed to leave. So we left, but it won’t be forever. We will be back, like a love-sick angsty teen. Maybe we need the hit of the drug-like effect that your backcountry leaves on us. Or maybe we just like the torture of mixed messaging. Regardless, we will be back. This is only the start of a Taylor Swift-esque romance.
A Beer Enthusiast's Roadmap To America
Slow It Down
Four months into their epic vagabond adventure and our band of heroes decide to slow it down.
Month Four: Slow It Down
7/5/2023
Colorado - Nebraska - South Dakota - Iowa - Minnesota
After the action-packed first three months, we sloowwwed way down for month four and spent the vast majority of it in Colorado. We left you while we were racing the clock for planned visits with friends…
We started this month nerding out over dinosaurs.
Plate-rod combo was my initial thought on repair…
What a most excellent way to return to a state we love dearly, Colorado. The last few states were hit-or-miss on how dog friendly each town and business was so it was a breath of fresh air when we arrived in Grand Junction and pulled up to a brewery that allows dogs everywhere. *Collective sigh*
We had some van appointments in Grand Junction so we spent three days exploring the town and the neighboring town of Fruta. It was friendly, lived-in, and relaxing…except for one night where we stayed in the least ideal camping spot of the trip yet. Let’s just say we had some entrepreneurs for neighbors.
Leaving Grand Junction we accidently stumbled upon a national park. Yes, we had no idea this existed here nor had we heard of this park before. Black Canyon of the Gunnison. Say that five times fast. It was compact, super pretty and we enjoyed an epic camping spot to boot. Ten outta ten recommend.
Jake doing his thing with a camera
While I love me beer, Jake loves him some mountain biking. So we mecca-journeyed to Crested Butte where it is rumored mountain biking was invented. We settled into our camping spot, made base camp and I attempted to not turn blue at 9,000 ft. It was Jake’s turn for an injury and got “biker’s knee” (patellofemoral pain syndrome for ye fellow surgical nerds). As such, he was taking it easy on the biking and joined Leinie and me for some hiking and town exploring.
Hiking in Crested Butte
My thoughts on Crested Butte? Umm, it rhymes with rusted nuthole while using the C and B. The town was expensive and rather…pretentious. And do not get me started on the trail dog atmosphere.
Ok, I’ll start. I love trail doggos, obv, I’m a vet tech. However, want to know the number one reason I see broken trail doggos? They’re off leash. Yep, I’m that person. If Jake would let me I would hand out freebie slip leads that state “my owner is a jerk and doesn’t know what a leash is”. On this trip I have encountered sooooo many off leash dogs that have zero recall, almost nill manners, and are usually followed by the phrase, “oh, they’re friendly.” Not the damn point. Leinie is a good boy, most of the time. He is also small and is so over being bowled over by larger dogs. As such, when he feels cornered (such as on a leash while another dog, two or three surround him) he becomes reactive. Instead of an apology from the jerk owner with the poorly trained dog, I am somehow the jerk for having a reactive dog. Not unrelated, if your dog jumps on me or pushes their nose in my crouch (usually off leash) I will push them down. No, I will not say “oh, it’s ok” when you give a half-assed apology. Train your damn dog. This shitty thought mentality was ten times worse in Crested Butte than anywhere I had yet experienced. We typically keep Leinie’s dishes outside behind the front passenger wheel and have him on a lead while at camp. We literally ran out of food because off leash trail dogs would come off trail, into our camp, and eat his food. Leinie ain’t dumb and would usually hunker down in the van rather than fend off intruders who were usually a lot bigger than him. The third time it happened, three off leash dogs from a hiking party were running amok in the campsite. I told the group that they needed to leash their dogs. Their response, “We aren’t in town. If you don’t like it, you’re in the wrong place.” Come again?! You know what also happens when your dog is off leash? It shits somewhere, you don’t see (possibly don’t care) and don’t pick it up. The trails were literally covered in dog shit. It was disgusting. Ok, I’m done.
Side note, our campsite was littered with bones. It had weird vibes akin to the movie The Ritual. Venture to Crusted Butthole at your own risk. They did have pretty terrific coffee though.
Not quite my personal choice for a Xmas decoration
Moving on, we moved towards the front range and made a pit stop in Salida where we had the absolute craziest amount of hail I have ever seen in a single storm. Not all days are glamorous, some mornings you spend three hours waiting to be able to do anything.
That ain’t snow
We arrived in Colorado Springs itching to explore the front range. We hit up Garden of the Gods and one of the coolest places to enjoy a beer.
Garden of the Gods
You can actually drink in a school!
We moosied our way along the front range heading north. Jake will always fangirl over Golden and I fell hard for Loveland. But the long rest for showers, a real-ish bed, and regaining hit points was in Fort Collins. Land of breweries, trails, patagonia sweaters and Adam.
We settled right on in with Adam for a little over a week that was rather action-packed. Brewery hopping, flooded biking trails, competitive games of Cataan, and fungi documentaries to name a few.
The tramily doing what we do best…besides hiking
We also packed Adam and Leinie back into the sub for a weekend excursion in Steamboat Springs. Adam became the official first guest of the Yellow Submarine root-tent-airbnb. His reviews were raving. Steamboat was idyllic. We hit town in time for the farmer’s market, enjoyed the core trail and explored their free botanical gardens. Jake and I actually ran into Steamboat Jeff who manages a part (maybe the whole thing) and invited us to his porch to show us moose and bear videos he had.
We ended the evening with a soak in some questionably dark hot springs that lacked showers and had a manager on a power trip. Apparently they offer clothing optional soaking after 10, we didn’t stay…
Then Adam got to experience a vagabond tradition, searching for a site on the weekend. We drove until after midnight before we ended at a site and were able to crawl into bed. The site ended up having terrific morning views and a butt load of mosquitoes.
Before we knew it, we were hugging Adam goodbye and were on our way to do some residency stuff in South Dakota. Along the way we passed through western Nebraska and stopped to enjoy Scotts Bluff and Chimney Rock. Why do those names sound familiar? Here’s a clue, they happen to coincide with dysentery and caulking a wagon to float.
The OG vanlife
Up next was a strange place called Carhenge. I get there isn’t a whole lot to do in Nebraska, but this had to have sprouted from next level boredom mixed with a healthy dose of hold-my-beer.
The vannus intermedius, the missing link between the covered wagon and modern vanlife vehicle
We continued our sight seeing as we entered South Dakota, hitting Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills, before reaching Deadwood.
Home, sweet home. Sorta. We technically are residents of Spearfish, but Lawrence County’s offices are in Deadwood. We rolled into town which was noticeably more crowded than when we came in winter and as it apparently happens in South Dakota, we got caught in stopped traffic due to a reenactment shootout. Once the gunpowder cleared we stopped in our now favorite casino Mr. Wu’s for cheapo tap beer.
The next morning I got fresh license plates for my car. After a quick pit stop at the post office (postcards!) I attempted to get a library card, and was denied! What in the actual hell?! This is clearly the root cause for the destabilization of society.
While I was brooding over the library card, Jake drove us to the Badlands where the mosquitoes took on a new level of demon possession. It was like my legs had chicken pox. We had a pretty epic camping spot and got hit by a crazy wind/thunderstorm that had us only slightly nervous.
Badlands National Park
We explored Badlands National Park the next day and the Minuteman Missile Site. Then it was a loooong day of driving. Originally we had hoped to make it to Des Moines in one shot but that was quickly thrown out the window when we rolled into Souix Falls at 7pm for a stretch. A walk to stretch the legs, a beer to stretch our livers, and we were back on our way to get some miles in before we called it a night.
We made it to Iowa and our friends, Nate and Ryan the next day to kick off our Des Moines short rest (1d10 hit die). We ate, we drank, we hit up a car show where we ate and drank some more. There were breweries and the guys’ first shot at D&D. Yes, the sickness spreads.
Naturally Ryan takes the picture when my eyes are closed.
The month was winding up and Jake had some work lined up in Minnesota, so we hugged Nate and Ryan goodbye just as people were getting heavy handed with fireworks. We weren’t a mile into Minnesota when we counted three, yes three, Lindahl billboards. Non-Minnesota friends, if you have no clue what I am talking about, count your blessings.
We made good time and arrived at Jake’s parents which would serve as our base of operations for trail preparations. We settled in, deep cleaned the van and out came the laptops for some serious crunch time trail organization.
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Suck It Up
Just like that, our adventurers are three months deep. What lows have they had to overcome and what highs have they enjoyed?
Month Three: Suck It Up
6/5/2023
Oregon - Washington - Montana - Wyoming - Utah
And just like that we are three months deep into our adventure. This month we slowed down and took our time exploring the PNW. In the midst of the forested woods, we learned a new theme: Suck it up. The scenery helped and so did the beer.
Bend. Oh, glorious Bend, our beloved brown ale. We spent over a week parked at a trailhead just outside town. We hit the trails in the morning and then explored town in the afternoon. And we drank beer. How could we not when the town has one of the highest breweries per capita in the nation. Sedona who?
Halfway through our stay, our monthly theme would catch me as I went ass over teakettle on Jake’s mountain bike and did an admiral impression of a rock skipping water except it was my face and the asphalt. And to ensure my ego wasn’t too intact after that, I slipped getting out of the van and tweaked the hell outta my bad ankle. Time to suck it up, buttercup.
I watched Jake hit the trails in the following mornings while I took vitamins (read: nsaids) and limped my bleeding and bruised self around camp until Jake returned and we explored town more. The ample opportunities for beer on tap helped with the pain and the fomo (Mom, that stands for “fear of missing out”).
We had a long, drawn-out farewell with our new favorite city. We slept in, made our way to a brewery and parked ourselves for several hours. Jake demolished the best smashburger of all time, made from the food truck outside. Finally, we sucked it up and returned to the road. We started this trip with the intention to explore after all.
Breweries visited: Goodlife, 10Barrel, Bend Brewing, Deschuetes
We headed west in the hopes of exploring Crater Lake only to find out that we should have researched ahead of time. It was currently under six feet of snow with a single driveable viewpoint of the lake. It was freezing cold at that elevation, the heavy traffic made the snow icy slick, and my swollen foot only fit in my moccasin still. Sucked it up and was awarded an amazing view of the lake. We will need to visit again in better weather and fitness.
Temp stand-in until a nice picture is downloaded from the fancy camera…
Continuing west, we came upon the Oregon Coast. We had no expectations for the area and were completely blown away. What is normally a six hour drive from point-to-point, we spread over five days. Just like a maibock, this area was for slow, sippin’ enjoyment. We ate and drank our way from Coos Bay in the south to Astoria in the north, with breaks for us to disc golf and Jake to bike. Still nursing a heavily bruised, swollen ankle and foot I completed both recent seasons of Love is Blind and Bridgerton within those five days as I had run out of available books on my kindle. We suck it up in our own ways, ok?
Obligatory hiking pic of Oregon coast
Rogue International HQ
Tillamook Creamery to eat our weight in dairy
Heeeey you guuuuys! Goonies beach.
Breweries visited: 7 Devils, Rogue Bayfront & International HQ, Pelican, Astoria, Buoy Brewing…also, Tillamook Creamery (disclosure: not a brewery, but just as awesome)
Oregon had been such a delight, from wooded, arid desert to moss-covered rainforests, dune-filled beaches, picturesque bays and harbors. In the midwest every town has a bar and a church, in Oregon it's a dispensary and two breweries. I kid you not. The state welcomes van-dwelling vagabonds with a hug and free sample of beer. We discovered that casinos will let you park for free and give you free slot play to boot. Both mornings we awoke hungover were directly following a casino evening, hmm. We had to remind ourselves that we needed to keep exploring, our adventure wasn’t over yet. So onward to Washington we went.
We weren’t ready to ditch the PNW coast yet and attempted to follow the Washington portion north. That ended with a few hours following a U-shaped road on a peninsula looking at sloughs (the fancy word for swamps) only to end up on the main highway north towards Olympic National Park.
Found Sasquatch
Olympic was … unlike any other national park we had visited. First, it’s huge. Something like a million acres? Second, there’s no gate where you show your pass, at least where we drove. It had us questioning if we were in the park or outside the park. Which is important with a trail doggo since the NPS doesn’t allow them many places in parks. A rant for another day. Within the park, there were private homes which was weird. There were also some campgrounds managed by the NPS and others by the state which required a separate pass. Sucking it up was rather frustrating.
Washington thus far had the unfortunate luck of following glorious Oregon. It couldn’t win. The flying ant-bugs were horrible. It was sweltering hot, apparently unseasonably sunny and warm for this time of year. Campgrounds were small with limited sites that filled quickly. And we had the unwelcome return of the cockamouse. It felt like the roulette game of a wild-fermented beer and Lady Luck was just not on our side. If it wasn’t for an obligation in Tacoma we would’ve left then and there.
Jake, armed with a plastic bag and soup ladle, ready to wage war on the cockamouse
With a work “observation” in Tacoma, we hesitantly entered the Puget Sound area. From the north end of Tacoma with the view of the sound, it had us regretting our grumbling about the state and starting to get the feels again. But the town is waging war on the houseless and nowhere in town allows overnight parking, casinos and rest stops included. The travel center had hired private security to patrol and only allowed CDL drivers to spend the night. In a desperate race against time we lucked out with a county campground two towns over with super chill campground hosts.
A hurried morning and having to be “on” for five hours left me dehydrated, starving, and mentally exhausted. Beer and pizza later, we explored the weird McMenamis Elks Temple and hit up Dorky’s arcade bar in Tacoma. The city can be fun but it felt like downtown LA with more chaos.
Jake enjoying the McMenamis Elks Temple
The next morning we were en route to Seattle. I have always loved visiting this city prior and was excited to show Jake what I loved here, but it was never with a car or needing to drive. That challenge aside, we ate and drank our way through Pike Place Market, Pioneer Square and back. We met Barista Brandon who gave us free espressos and great recommendations for the next time we visit.
Eating our weight in seafood.
Seattle was a quick visit since parking was costing us as much as gas. So we found ourselves in traffic heading north. During a grocery and laundry stop we debated just heading straight east and scratching our plans to head north to Bellingham. Washington was still not sitting right with us. We decided to suck it up and give it one more chance, but held zero expectation.
Well, what would ya know? Even wild-fermented beers can turn out shockingly good. Bellingham was the best kept secret of the trip. A randomly stumbled upon town in a trail app that turned into a three day stay because we couldn’t pull ourselves away. It was Fort Collins without the Patagonia cult (though high 70’s isn’t conducive to the better sweater). It had the outdoor feel of Bend, but had an ocean to boot and better road infrastructure. Ok B-ham, ok.
The Portal, container park in Bellingham
So sucking it up wrought unforeseen reward. Noted.
We headed east and hit up the kitchy town of Leavenworth. For a town fashioned from Bavarian culture, spaetzle was surprisingly hard to find. I don’t know who out there needs to hear this: There is more to German food than bratwurst and pretzels! You’re welcome.
Touristy, no?
I attempted to suck it up, but spaetzle and schnintzle have a special place in my heart/gut, so I was rather pouty about it. The universe or the natural chaos that is wild fermentation must have heard me because I happened upon a few morels while peak bagging with Leinie. As anyone in our situation would, Jake and I enjoyed scramby eggs topped with … we’ll go with charred morels.
We hit Spokane for town chores and cheap movie theater tickets for Dungeons and Dragons. I cried from laughing so hard. Then before we knew it, we were waving goodbye to Washington.
Breweries visited: E9, Pike Place, Khulsan, Menace, Gruff, Boundary Bay, Icicle
Looking at the calendar, we realized that we had planned visits with friends quickly approaching…several states away. Oops. We had some dedicated driving days in our future. Time to suck it up, again.
Driving days were not this much fun
We did a hop and skip through the chimney of Idaho to reach Montana. We wanted to desperately enjoy Montana but limited time meant carefully picking spots to stop. Glacier was still under snow and constant on/off rain prevented biking and hiking. Our first pick, Missoula held the nicest laundry facility of our trip thus far. But no brewery patio in town would allow dogs so we were quickly back on the road.
Just past Butte, we parked ourselves in dispersed land on the continental divide. It happened to also be the Friday of Memorial Day weekend so naturally it was crowded as hell, with atv/side-by-side/dirt bike riding, gun totin’ free ‘Muricans. True story, we heard music blasting all night and Jake woke to someone shooting guns at 7am. Something about loud music and fear of a stray bullet passing through your vehicle isn’t conducive to sound sleep, I guess. We woke up feeling more tired than when we went to bed.
We packed up and went across the highway to the non-motorized portion of public land and placed some pawprints on the CDT. It’s a triple crown trail when paired with the PCT and AT. While we don’t plan on thru hiking these bad boys, we have hiked portions of two now. AT, looking at you.
Continental Divide Trail
We stopped in Bozeman for a break from the road miles where we spent a couple of glorious hours at the hot springs. One guy in our pool asked if we were the couple he met the previous night where he worked. The subliminal messaging must’ve worked because we ended up at his brewery a couple hours later by complete accident. Weird. Bozeman felt bougie, the California influx was palpable. A stark contrast to the previous night.
Montana’s landscape is glorious, but rain prevented us from hitting the trails. The time crunch left us with little time to stop anyway. We ended up clocking miles while discussing why we were left confused by Montana. It was hard to put a finger on it. I wanted to love it, the wild-ness of the landscape called to us but the settled population left me confused. You’re telling me that gun-totin’ free ‘Muricans are so afraid of dog hair in their food that they ban dogs from even being on an outdoor patio? It tasted like wort, Montana was having an identity crisis and needed to figure out what it wanted to be when it grew up.
Making good mileage left us with a few days to explore the parks in Wyoming and we scored the best dispersed (free) camping site yet on this trip.
10 outa 10 recommend for reading, working, and napping
Yellowstone was first and we spent two days exploring this crazy fenceless zoo filled with ominous holes.
Yellowstone is the epitome of the Floor is Lava game
Grand Teton was next up to bat and left me googling future backcountry trips. I am actively choosing to ignore the type 3 fun we had in Maroon Bells and telling myself it’s the type 2 fun of Whitney.
Is this even real?!
We took a break to stretch the legs in Jackson Hole before continuing on. And ohmigosh, the rain. So much rain. Since hitting trails was out of the question, we did some of our longest driving days yet. In one day we bounced from Wyoming to Idaho to Utah back to Wyoming ping ponged back to Utah before returning to Wyoming. Dizzy? So was I.
More intermittent rain left us with town days and plenty of naps. With so many days in a row of nothing but driving and listening to rain, it was getting very hard to suck it up. Jake was ready to throw in the towel and head straight to a couch and shower in Minnesota, but we persevered and were rewarded. We finally got some sunshine the last two days of our third month where we could hike around the border of Utah and Colorado looking at dinosaur bones. Hold onto your butts, month four is just starting.
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Sedona
Mildly buzzed ramblings on the first city crush of our trip, Sedona.
Short Rest: Sedona
4/4-9/2023
Hit Die: 2d10
When Jake and I pulled into the Sedona area and saw the LA-esque mob of cars and people, we found out too late in the game that April is prime tourist season. Oops.
Sedona. The amber ale, obv. The cool, popular, super attractive kid in class that also is nice to everyone. I wanted to despise Sedona. I mean, we left the crowds, the lines, the traffic back in LA. I couldn’t, I was incapable of anything besides crushin’ so hard on Sedona. Despite the dispersed camping meant being five feet from your neighbor and driving to and from town every. single. day., and don’t get me started on the prices of some stuff.
Sedona was gorgeous, Leinie-friendly and had more trails within easy access of any part of town. And the fellow trail peeps that were five feet from us, super chill and cool people, if a bit weird. While some trails were very, very busy (devil’s bridge, I’m looking at you), others were so quiet I thought I had gotten off trail.
Trail doggo and his human in their natural habitat
It is also home to the absolutely coolest dog park I or Leinie have ever experienced. There were four sections all interaccessible. A small and a large normal-type areas and then two hiking/elevation areas for both sizes. Leinie loved it.
As the weekend approached, rumors spread of it getting even busier. Jake and I couldn’t find any place to shower and we were quickly running out of clean clothes. The choice was made for us to continue on after four days of crushin’ on the popular kid.
A Beer Enthusiast’s Roadmap to America
Gettin’ Our Asses Outa Here
Two months in and our heroes have taken the road less choiced by the horns. Where have they been, what have they seen?
Month Two: Gettin’ Our Asses Outa Here
5/5/2023
Arizona - Utah - Idaho - Oregon
Month Two Done! Ohmigosh! Where’s Charlie Berens when you need him? Don’t mind me and my bowtonk midwest humor….Wow that spiraled. This month was all about gettin’ our butts outa the comfort zone and on the road.
Sedona. The amber ale, obv. The cool, popular, super attractive kid in class that also is nice to everyone. We crushed so hard on Sedona. A whole two breweries (Oak Creek & Sedona Beer Co.), LA-esque crowds & traffic, the lack of showers. Despite that, we stayed a glorious four days. Short rest to regain 2d10 hit die.
Devil’s Bridge
On this month’s vanlife reality topic: ‘gram pics.
Ever wonder about those epic ‘gram pics that make you crave adventuring and traveling. Something like the one above? Here’s the reality. We waited over an hour and half for our turn to take said super epic pic.
Over an hour and a half!
Despite our major crushin’ we left after hearing rumors of an extra busy weekend crowd approaching and in desperate need of showers. Full disclosure, it was mostly due to the crowds. Embrace the stench, my friends.
Flagstaff held showers (for all of us, Leinie included), laundry, and a lounge at a travel center.
Leinie does not and never will enjoy water
Squeaky clean and smellin’ fresh, we made our way to the Grand Canyon just in time for Easter brunch. We meandered along the rim trail, but snow pack and unfriendly doggo rules (but mostly snow pack) kept us from exploring below the rim.
Easter brunch in the making
We met another cool vehicle-dweller, Apocalypse Jane Doe. She dwells outa a badass Lexus suv. You’ll need to forgive me, but expensive car breeds are not my forte. Jake’s eyes were super big if that says anything. His commentary, “That vehicle is sweet.” We must’ve looked hungry, because she gave us a can of onchilada sauce. Foresty Forest anyone??
Keep ‘er moving.
A few suggestions from LA coworkers (thanks guys!), we found ourselves in Page, AZ. Unfortunately the super viral Antelope Canyon was not within our financial means (~$100/person before fees and taxes!). We did see some pretty cool things, hiked along the rimview trail and drank some beers at the Grand Canyon Brewing & Distillery.
Horseshoe Bend
Then we got our butts outta Arizona and into Utah.
Utah. A session IPA if I ever met one. Yes, you sure are pretty. But looks can be deceiving, because on closer look your beer policy made my liver cry. 5% lager, 5% IPA, 5% porter, 5% stouts, 5%, 5%, 5%. Like decaf coffee, or a hooker who only cuddles, what is the point?
Anywho, we didn’t just zip on through. Why? Zion.
Is this even real life?!
The narrows were closed, our permit for Angel’s Landing didn’t make the lottery. We ended up staying six days parked on sweet, sweet, free BLM land. Exploring trails, lounging away, listening to river music, drinking 5% beer and we met Utah Rick and Hazel. A nice long rest to regain precious spell slots.
Then we moved our butts to Bryce Canyon, the land of Hoodoos. Compact and surprisingly lacking crowds. Digestible.
Hoodoo’s galore!
But we woke up to our butter frozen. We were chasing spring north. Butter melts, head north. Butter freezes, head south. Time to get our asses outta here, to lower elevation, warmer temps or both. But where?
Our archnemesis, indecision. It was crippling, my friends.
Our temporary solution while we thought it through was Cedar City, UT. Warmer, plenty of close-to-town BLM land, trails, disc golf and a brewery! Utah, stop playin’. I could’ve lived at Policy Kings Brewery. Want something more than 5%, sure thing, we’ll crack a can (loophole!), Thurs Drag Trivia, yes please!.
Hands down, most beautiful disc golf course I’ve ever seen.
Drinking real beer again gave us perspective and the decision was made. Get your ass outta here.
Hello Idaho!
If God took a piece of the midwest and planted it squarely in the west (real west), it would be Idaho. Straight up an all american lager, drinkable and familiar but almost too comfortable. It’s as if we had never left the midwest.
First pitstop was Twin Falls, or as Jake dubbed it,“the Bigger Anoka”. He couldn’t have been more accurate. We saw some waterfalls and drank some beer. Frolfin left us in mourning for my main man Trevor, hopefully he is chasing foliage in a better place. Then we lost Cole and gained free agent Peyton. I’m not a driver gal, but Trevor left me needing to diversify.
Shoshone Falls
Then we got our butts to Boise. Oh Boise, you do not like the van-dwellers. It was hard to enjoy your attributes when you want us to not stay there. We gave it the ol’ college try. We tried Lost Grove Brewing Co. and did some disc golfing. We discovered your beautiful, flooded river green belt. Leinie and Jake enjoyed real grass since…oh, god how long has it been?? And the best IPA to grace this planet. A moment of silence for the queen of IPAs, please.
Real grass!!
We didn’t set off in the Yellow Submarine for a re-imagined midwest though. So we got our butts moving.
Into the promised land, Oregon.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. So many, oh so many people have herald the wonders and magic of Oregon. More specifically, Bend. We have tried, likely in vain, to hold our hopes and expectations in check. Maybe it was magic, maybe it was a long drive, maybe it was nothing at all. But crossing that border and entering Oregon had both Jake and I taking a big sigh.
The scenery changed, the feeling changed. We spent two nights en route to Bend and then held our breath as we entered the city that so. many. praised. We braced ourselves for disappointed, failed expectations. We stopped at the brewery closest to the camping site we picked. If first impressions matter, Bend is king.
View from our Bend basecamp
Within 48 hours, we had an amazing campsite, a gym membership for regular showers (bye stench), and a brand new city crush (sorry Sedona). It fits perfectly that Bend is where our month closes out, cuz we certainly didn’t get our butts outa Bend for a bit.
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Gettin’ Our Ish Together
Our heroes are one month into their epic campaign. What lessons have they learned along the way?
Month One: Gettin’ Our Ish Together
4/5/2023
LA - Phoenix - Sedona
We are one month in from the official start of our sabbatical year. One month! If this past month in the Submarine had a theme it would have been: Gettin’ Our Ish Together.
Prior to our sabbatical start we had already dealt with a dead engine battery and getting ourselves locked out of the Sub.
We were bound to complete the trifecta of vehicle hell at some point, why not the first week on the road. We found ourselves in Phoenix with the flattest of flat tires. Naturally, our tires are so old that no tire shop would touch them so we dipped into our precious Van Fund for a set of brand spankin’ new tires.
Sexy tires, no?
En route to Phoenix we had originally planned on staying in Joshua Tree for a few days. However, we pulled up to some nice (read: free) BLM land and after settling into base camp mode, had no ambition to move.
We saw a few sites like the Salton Sea and Slab City and met a real cool guy we dubbed Desert Scott. He mentioned us on his website here!
We adjusted to sun time versus clock time. We woke up when it got bright, ate when we were hungry, slept when tired, and went to bed at dark.
Tired trail doggo
Even though we were settling in nicely to a mini retirement, as the theme states, we still had ish to get together. We had to learn to live on limited resources because batteries don’t last forever in the desert. We needed to eliminate waste because trash stinks in your living room/kitchen/bedroom and we be broke af (so you had better finish that spinach at $1.69 a bag). A big fight had us learning super quick how to coexist in 53 sq ft.
Then there were the super sexy things like storage items to be stored, new residency to obtain, taxes to file. So after dropping Leinie with his grandparents and putting the Sub into temp storage, Jake and I trekked to the midwest to drop off storage items and gain new residency.
We made a pit stop in Colorado to visit Adam.
Gang’s back together
Gained a new hometown in South Dakota and tried the local watering hole.
Spearfish Brewing Co.
Dropped the car and storage items off with my brother, Dan, in Nebraska where we tried Site-1 Taproom and Upstream Brewing Co.
Site-1 Taproom
Upstream Brewing Co.
Hitched a ride with Ryan and Nate to Iowa, where we ate, but mostly drank our way around Des Moines, stopping at Barn Town Brewing, Exile Brewing Co and The Iowa Taproom.
Barn Town Brewing
Exile Brewing Co.
The Iowa Taproom
Then it was a flight back to Phoenix to get back on the road. Except our van’s battery was dead. Super dead. Like three attempts to charge it and move it, then leave it plugged in for 30 hours dead.
Attempt two of three
Our first difficult choice was which area to scratch from the itinerary due to the van needing shoes and meditation time. The crippling indecision was cut short when the lack of free camping and dog restrictions of the southern peaks was discovered. The Superstition Wilderness whispered, “Dogs Welcome” and “dispersed camping” in our ears and we were hooked. Battery almost fully charged, we waved adios to the fam and headed off for adventure.
If the Superstition Wilderness was a beer, it would be a crisp pale ale. It’s easy on the eyes and soul. One day of over indulgence with a hike to The Flatiron, left us bruised and questioning our life choices. But with the hair of the dog the next day, it soothed our grumpiness with an amazing hike to Fremont Saddle. Yes, I would drink in this wilderness area again.
The Flatiron
Weavers Needle from Fremont Saddle
A quick pitstop back at the folks to use laundry and a dishwasher. While listening to our stuff get squeaky clean, Jake and I took a peak at our bills. Flatiron hurt, the bills from the last few weeks hurt just as bad. Time to get our financial ish together.
A tough discussion on spending and saving had us grumbling, but we figured out a game plan going forward. Quick note to any impressionable readers: Living with someone is hard, especially in 53 sq feet. Sharing finances with someone is hard, especially with no income. Bottomline: vanlife is very, very hard at times and we’re only one month in. Look past the rose-colored lens that is plastered everywhere due to Algorithmic Big Bro.
Soapbox off, back to normal broadcasting.
Financial plan in place, a battery hopefully charged, and no more major hiccups in the works (someone knock on wood, fast) and we were back on the road. This time heading north, our sights set on the Grand Canyon.
Jake came up with the genius idea to take the winding road there, so at this time we are still en route to the Grand Canyon. We looked around Vickenburg and Prescott before regaining some hit die in Sedona.
A month-long learning curve to get our ish together. Our life resembles nuggets more than ducks. It’s less in a row and more running amok with one rogue nugget neurotically circling, squawking at random. RIP Digger, you were our very special nugget.
One final note, as part of our financial ish, we started a Patreon. We love drinking beer and sending postcards full of Leinie love. If you do too, please consider joining our patreon as postcards and stamps ain’t free. This is not a plea to finance our life choices, this is a we would love to share our journey in another way and is completely optional. Link is below. We will love y’all the same either way.
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The Living Room
For as much as we love the outdoors, we also love a good lazy Sunday.
Full disclosure, I named my xbox Zeke back in 2011 and we have been together since.
Ten points to Gryffindor if you get the reference.
When Jake originally broached the idea of vanlife, I stated I would only consider it I had a couch and Zeke.
First we needed to find a tv, or monitor, or some sort of viewable screen. My solution: find a cheapo small tv on Offer Up. Jake’s solution: scour all electronic stores for the highest resolution on the largest screen possible that would fit along the side of the Sub. The compromise: a budget of no more than what we sold our big tv for (hence a nice financial wash) with a screen no larger than 27” since anything larger would be obscene (our faces are only several feet away from it anyway) and Jake could pick whatever he wished within those parameters.
We went to Best Buy not less than a half dozen times before bringing something “home”.
Jake mounted it on a swing arm which was genius. Then we were left contemplating how Zeke would live with his new roomie. Mounted, but where? Hidden with electrical, but how? What about the road bumps, he isn’t the young buck he used to be. Conclusion (for now): he lives in his cozy car box while we travel and gets a nice lil’ basket to sit in when at base camp.
So my friends, I have a couch and Zeke.
Yes, it is the mattress and bed frame. But you see, when the pillows are along the side of the van it is couch mode. (Pillows at the rear doors = bed mode).
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The Kitchen
The kitchen is the heart of a home and our Yellow Sub needed it’s soul, asap.
Hangry is a very real emotion in this family, so we needed to create a space to cook and eat. Asap.
With the bedroom situated, our sights were set on the kitchen. The first step: propane or electric.
Let’s gloss over the hours and hours of discussion Jake and I had over this matter and skip to the decision: electric. Bottom line, it has been deeply ingrained in me that combustible gas and flame in a contained room is not conducive to living. I have a distinct memory of losing my entire arm of hair after a close call with fire in college.
Once the electric decision was made, it was pretty clear the items we required for food storage and cooking: coffee maker, fridge, countertop and stove (in that order).
The fridge and stove were an easy find. The most affordable fridge that maximizes the space we have. Answer: our lil’ dometic powerhouse. It runs on 12 volt (which I am told is important for the electrical system we have) and while we will have to eat any ice cream on purchase it can hold a full case of beer…or four tall boys and enough groceries to feed us for a few days.
The stove was the most affordable induction top Amazon could provide that allowed for variable wattage (also important for our electrical system, I was told). Nuwave, coach says you’re in, hope you’re ready to play.
While Jake was left to research and decide on his mode of brewing coffee, we installed our kitchen. We yardsale’d at the local big Orange and got to work.
Jake scored us a cheapo board and we performed top quality butcher block finish (read: mineral oil).
For long-time fans, you know the struggle of indecision that riddles 50% of the human part of this group. Deciding how to brew coffee in the Sub, landed squarely in top 5 of worst indecisions. My requirements for Jake were that it had to take up very little room and could not break if it fell while driving. I do not kid when I say he debated internally for a few weeks and considered every single possible option.
It was finally settled on the cadillac of all coffee grinders (or so I am told) and an aeropress. I am no coffee connoisseur, but as a beer snob I can appreciate the level of dedication and research contributed to this decision.
A quick coat of paint and the kitchen, the heart of a home, the soul of this Sub was completed.
For those confused, the picture hides the electrical system.
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The Exit
We are leaving…
We interrupt your normal posts with a special announcement…We are leaving.
Yellow Sub lookin’ all sexy
Our jobs that is. And our apartment. And California for that matter.
We are taking a year sabbatical, moving into the Sub and traveling around the great US of A. Our goal is to take the time to reset ourselves and our priorities.
First, we need to finish out our resignations and acclimate to full-time vanlife.
Stay tuned…
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The Bedroom
They say you spend a third of your life asleep, so we had better get this right.
We needed to hustle, and hustle we did.
If you know Jake and myself, you likely know the story of the receipt deception scheme.
Basically, Jake loves his receipts which is very smart and financially safe of him. I enjoy not seeing paper laying around and have him store them in a bin. Every couple months I will on the sly move those receipts to a ziploc gallon bag and place it in the dark corner of a closet. In a couple months time, I replace the ziploc gallon bag with a new bag of receipts and the old bag gets recycled. Jake keeps his peace of mind, mostly because I have only recently told him I have been doing this. And the tsunami of receipts is kept to wading pool depth, keeping my peace of mind.
There is a point to the story, I promise.
At 53 sq ft, our sub is on the smaller size of vanlife vehicles. Some may call it cramped, I am going with cozy. And I was willing to die to make it such. That meant I needed a serious game plan for things that I may not find important but my partner does and vice versa without it leading to tears and hurt feelings. Solution: his and her closets.
While many influencing vanlife couples tout a solid couples goal of sharing totes and space with each other’s clothes and stuff, I don’t believe it for a second. While good fences make good neighbors, separate storage strengthens normal couples. Jake could keep his receipts and whatever else he deemed necessary for his happiness and existence in his storage bin and I could keep anything I pleased in mine. Our only rules: no extending out of your personal bins and no judgment passed on what the other chose to use that space for.
Yes, the closet is loosely defined. We invested in his and her rooftop cargo bins. Next up, in-sub storage bins.
To maximize underbed storage, we elected on a fixed bed platform instead of a futon-style. We just needed to decide on how high to place the bed. We wanted to be able to sit up in bed, but still needed to ensure as much storage space existed under the bed.
We used the very scientific method of having me sit on the floor and measuring the top of my head to the ceiling. Subtract the mattress thickness and save some inches for the frame and we were left with around 13 inches of space. I am at my core a scientist and number-lover, so I had faith in my method and math and left Jake to ponder the frame while I scoped out storage totes and schematics.
Again, more math and diagrams made on napkins and we ended up with an organizational setup we thought would work. All in all, Jake and I each get an always-accessible half bin at the front of the bed and a full size, pain-in-the-ass-accessible bin in the middle of our tote scheme. Leinie gets his own always-accessible half bin and a space for his extra kibble in the garage (very back space of the sub that is accessible by the rear doors - an actual, technical vanlife term).
In a desire for color, I made the executive decision to paint the bed frame. Dreading the crippling indecision that was bound to come from having to pick a paint color, I blindly went for my fave paint brand’s color of year. I flashed the color to Jake for approval, and took his preoccupied grunt for consent and got to painting. It looks fantastic, if I do say so myself.
A mattress, new sheets, and freshly washed afghans and my goal of cozy was met.
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The Walls
Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was the Yellow Submarine.
No, we didn’t quit the Submarine.
We took a hiatus, mostly due to traveling and weird work shifts. It also gave us time for more supplies that we couldn’t get at Big Orange to arrive. Like my wool.
Buying this submarine, we thought the build would be pretty rapid and straightforward. Joke’s on us. Decision-making is not this group’s forte and coupled with the sheer volume of options and information available, and add some lessons learned along the way (*cough spray foam cough*). I have come to the conclusion we will never finish.
Anywho, back to my wool. I watched a two minute long tutorial video and had taken a sheep science class at college. Confidence, I was not lacking. I proudly waved Jake off van duties while I took the wheel on this one.
It took multiple days to stuff every single metal hole and gap in the submarine and an entire box of wool. I am convinced at least a third of it was stuck to my clothes, in my hair and I likely swallowed some. Leinie loved it though.
Jake framed out the long wall using a complimentary pallet. Following behind his progress I added wool battens using the super technical technique with scissors and masking tape. While not fast going, it was starting to look like a real wall and we finished the weekend pretty satisfied.
Until driving, which caused all the battens to fall down. Ugh! Jake finished framing the ceiling and short wall and installed our ceiling vent during the week while we discussed walling options.
It was almost as debilitating as insulation, almost. The most common, clique choice would be tongue and groove. Everyone and their cousin have tongue and groove in their vanlife vehicle. Final decision, tongue and groove. Call us sell outs, but in all the influencers’ defense t&g is a logical choice for work ability and financially.
We got a nice, actual early start on the day (before noon). We started with the middle of the ceiling and moved outward, adding wool battens while my hands could still fit behind the boards.
It was pretty straight forward and the instant visual results made the task rather fun and motivating. The first day, we were able to complete most of the ceiling. We strung some wires through the light holes. We were pretty proud of ourselves.
The next weekend we got another relatively early start, before 11am this time(!). Having thrown a few ideas for the ceiling to wall transition we gave up and decided to start with the wall base and move upwards instead. It went quickly with the battens already heavily taped in place. We had to stop a few boards short when we ran out of wool.
Fast forward a couple weeks, a new box of wool and still no decision on the wall-to-ceiling transition. We started our now typical Vanlifing Sunday Funday with the short wall. Jake had installed our electrical system earlier in the week and would jump between ceiling lights and t&g install while I insulated and drank beer. We finished just as the sun was setting and decided to bask in the coziness of our submarine.
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The Floor
If the floor is the foundation, we may be in trouble…
Say the word insulation and I may very well take off running in the opposite direction.
The flooring was supposed to be an easy step. (I feel like this may be a new running theme throughout this build). We need to frame out the bottom with furring strips, fill with insulation and lay the subflooring. Easy.
What type of insulation? I feel like I have been drowning in the sheer amount of information regarding insulation and vanlife. There’s rockwool, thinsulate, spray foam, reflectix, xps board, the other rigid board kind, sheep wool and, omg, I want to pull my hair out.
Found out you also have to be concerned about mold buildup in RV’s and vans. Didn’t know that, so let’s add that to the list. And don’t blow your budget.
Too much, yes? Welcome to my life now.
After much discussion and a few beers, we decided for the floors we would prime with mold resistant Kilz and utilize XPS boards for insulation. If needed, we could add some spray foam around the gaps.
Sunday morning we lazed around for a bit to reset our engines for the day of hole plugging and priming. After a good homemade brunch and plenty of coffee we set up at the shop with our beer, beach chairs, radio and a Leinie Trail Dog supervisor.
Jake started plugging holes in the floor with sealing tape and I got to it with priming. I learned very fast that the cheap roller that came with my paint tray was useless on metal. Not that it would have been that beneficial with all the dips and divots in the sub. So paintbrush it was and I had my trusty ol’ 2in angle brush with the comfort grip. Beer cracked and cold. Put me in coach, I’m ready to play today.
While some find painting tedious or down right horrible, I enjoy it, alot. I zone out and find it peaceful. There are a few things I’m rather decent at in life and cutting in without tape is one of those, thank you very much. It took almost the entire day. Jake jumped in close to the end to help speed up the process. Keep in mind, primer is not paint. It is not meant to be pretty and most of the time it’s downright ugly. But I am rather proud of this job, if I do say so myself.
That night I was woken up at 2am with a screaming claw hand of death from paintbrush painting for six hours. Aspirin and a cold pack allowed me to fall back asleep but that was a new experience for me.
Monday we hit it hard with the framing. Our furring strips would sit in the low grooves of the floor but as most things that require power tools, our floor was not flat or level. It wasn’t even close.
While Jake concentrated and cursed that the full length furring strips were not staying adhered to the floor, I attempted to cut our cross framing pieces. If you know the two of us, you’ve probably heard about the chicken coop story. Long story short, I apparently don’t hammer the right way. I fail to see how one can hammer incorrectly, but I am not the expert. You can probably see how this was a very risky move to attempt cutting our strips.
The verdict, I don’t cut the right way either but the pieces were close enough and the time limit narrowing fast enough that Jake accepted my cuttings.
Jake continued the framing during the week and on Friday I joined again after work. Some last furring strips were cut and glued.
Jake began on the XPS board and spray foam filler. I traced the cardboard outline he had made earlier on our plywood subflooring.
Being bold, I said I could start the cut with the new miter saw. I could see the panic at my cutting ability and the closing window of light playing out in his eyes. Either he was drunk or starting to trust my construction abilities because he gave in and let me miter cut the board. (I’m so full of proper construction terms).
Correction: Jake has informed me it was a jig saw, not a miter saw.
Well, it was a learning curve, but I didn’t cut into the outline and stayed on the lines, which is a step above my coloring skills. We were quickly running out of usable light and Jake decided to place our first cut piece of subflooring in, adhesive and all without fitting it first. He must have been drunk, even I didn’t trust my cutting skills to cut it right to size on the first go. But in it went, with a few bends and bumps with the mallet. And wouldn’t you know, it fit.
Fast forward a couple days, we were heading out to catch the ferry to Catalina Island and made a pit stop to check out the subfloor.
Yep, that happened. Lesson learned: do not go hog wild with spray foam, you will regret it.
Jake powered through re-gutting, re-framing, re-insulating, and re-installing the subfloor over the next couple days.
I joined after work on Friday to miter saw jig saw the second subfloor board. It fit even better than the first board. Jig saw queen over here.
Another trip to Big Orange and Jake had the last piece installed the next morning. There was sweat, there was metaphorical tears, there was def some blood from scraped knuckles but our floor was in.
Up next, the walls.
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The Bones
Getting down and dirty with the Yellow Submarine.
Gutting & Cleaning. We needed to take the Sub to its bones.
Jake powered away for most of his Friday, gutting the sub of its cargo paneling. He had to grind out rivets and remove holds.
I showed up after work, ready to drink a beer and be motivational support. I excel at motivational support.
Saturday morning, we showed up bright and early (read: around noon) at our local Big Orange for some serious supplies. We were ready to get to it and our goal for the end of the day was to have the van deep cleaned and primed, ready for flooring the next day.
Leinie captained us around the store and we got wood, insulation boards, adhesive, caulk, painting supplies and primer.
Next up was the good ol’ Costco for cleaning rags, beer provisions, and gas. Man, we were killing it so far.
We arrived to the shop at a reasonable drinking time to begin the cleaning process. Beers open, rags handed out, scrubber in hand. We sprayed, we scrubbed, we wiped. Jake found more rivets to pull. Leinie supervised. I tried not to vomit at the sheer amount of dirt and grime.
Half our beer gone, the sun setting and we had only just started to finish the deep clean. I had flecks of stuff I did not care to know the identity of in my hair, clothes and likely mouth. I despise cleaning dishes at home and I was over cleaning the sub, my patience for the not fun part waning. This build was supposed to be fun. I’m not dumb or naive, I know its not all sunshine and rainbows. I just didn’t expect the first day to suck so much. Our timeline was trashed. The sheer amount of work was setting it, overwhelming my brain. I said as much to Jake and went to bed salty and disappointed in the experience.
Next step: the floor.
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The Plan
Where are we taking this Yellow Submarine?
Let’s talk about the plan for the Yellow Submarine.
If you gram, youtube or google vanlife builds or anything of that nature you will get a literal shit ton of posts, videos and pictures of conversions. Most of which are in the double digit thousands for the buildout in an extended cab with elevated ceiling.
We have two big dilemmas factors that are dictating our plans.
First, our budget. We started with a total budget (van+build) of $10k. Six of that went to the vehicle and another 500 to legal stuff (smog, titling, etc). That leaves us with roughly $3500 for our build, def not double digit thousands.
Second, our space. The Sub is a standard cab and base height. We have roughly 53 sq ft of space to fit our lives into. Oh, and we can’t stand up inside either.
It is easy to get overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information and options for a build online. It’s also easy to get overwhelmed by the small space and lack of basic amenities you take for granted in a traditional living space (ie, running water, easy electrical, closet space, toilets, etc). While Jake and I were crazy excited about purchasing the Sub, the reality hit us this week and we have both been feeling overwhelmed.
So instead of focusing on what the end goal would look like and picturing/planning/mapping it out. We are taking it one step at a time. We know at worst we can throw our mattress in it and fall asleep. We have ideas on what would be super awesome to have. But at the moment we are focusing on the current step, and that step alone.
First step: gutting and cleaning.
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The Vehicle
Getting to know the sub on a personal level…
The Yellow Submarine.
Let’s dive deeper, get to know it on a more personal level. FYI, these posts were supposed to be authored by Jake but he declined in order to focus on the build so you get my lovely commentary.
A 2005 Ford E-250 Econoline commercial van with 170xxx miles, 4.6L V8 engine RWD that takes gas, not diesel…did I get that right Jake? Yes, I did.
For those of us who aren’t fluent in car. It’s a mature van without rear windows and decent mileage. Gas is cheaper than diesel and the engine would require cheaper, easier repairs. However, it won’t last forever as a diesel would and we won’t be able to utilize the diesel idling feature for the electrical needs. Rear wheel drive is not ideal in wet conditions but we could convert to four wheel drive in the future if we desired to and were willing to pay the price.
So it should be easy-ish to maintain and repair, reliable and still have some shelf life to it yet.
And it’s in Cyclone Yellow.
Let’s take a closer look inside. We have the driver and passenger seats with the basic dashboard. Someone installed a rearview camera that works when in reverse. Manual windows and mirrors.
A metal divider separates the front from the back and it is basically bare inside the cargo hold. The cab is standard length and height instead of the extended cab or elevated roof. This directly translates to less room for the build and we can’t stand up in the back.
Up top, we have commercial roof bars. Underneath, a hitch has already been installed that is good up to ~500lbs. The vehicle itself has decent clearance underneath and absolutely no rust.
It passed smog (important in SoCal), title transfer went without a hitch and the tabs are good for another few months.
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The Idea
Our family is expanding…
We interrupt your normal broadcasting for this important message: our family is expanding.
May I introduce the Yellow Submarine
Jake has been wearing me down Jake and I have been discussing the idea of a stealth camping vehicle since moving to SoCal. It would solve a lot of the random issues we sometimes find ourselves in. Windstorm in Death Valley. Visiting XYZ town where hotels are hella expensive. Delaying the start of a roadtrip due to lack of camping options enroute. ISU tailgating and bowl games stuck in the back middle seat of a truck and wanting to jump into traffic to escape that particular hell.
So ya see the need?
We started with a blank slate and a budget of $10k to include the vehicle and any sort of build out that would be required. Any vehicle we could reasonably and comfortably sleep in were considered. We looked at 4Runners, nope is all I will say about that experience. Foresters, too tight. Sprinters, too expensive.
And then we found an ambulance. A Ford E-350 old skool ambulance to be exact. I fell in love with the picture online. Jake was more logical. It could have engine issues, high mileage, dead people and ghosts. We saw it in person and we both loved it. One problem, no current title.
This started the ambulance spiral. All of a sudden we wanted an ambulance, a box truck, maybe even an overhead space for a lofted mattress. And then we saw the prices…back to the original search.
We saw vehicles and met some scammers. Oh, its in your uncle’s name with a replacement title? Your boss’s vehicle, you say, she isn’t in town? The carfax says 80k more miles….no title, engine light flashing, broken windows. One weekend, after five hours of driving around the greater LA area, we took a break at a brewery. I took over looking at ads.
There it was, a Ford E-250 van with a roof rack and the best part was, it was yellow. Cyclone Yellow, to be exact. It was calling to me. Jake confirmed that he had reviewed the listing but passed it over because of the color.
He hates the color yellow. How are we together?! I made a compromise, let’s look at it. We don’t have to buy it, but if it fits the bill I will be the one to repaint it.
After much convincing we were sitting in a parking lot waiting for the yellow van the very next day. The guy was real, the owner listed on the title and had current tabs. Anyone hear the angels singing yet? The engine was in good shape, tires decent, just a few dents and scratches on the body. Took it for a ride, drove the best of all the vehicles we tried. We negotiated and a fair price left both sides feeling good.
We celebrated with drinks and daydreaming of our soon-to-be sick-ass-build.
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For as much as we love the outdoors, we also love a good lazy Sunday.