Damn but I love the smell of maps. That combination of paper, ink, and maybe a little glue. They smell better than books. Maybe that’s because they are endless stories waiting to be told instead of just one that goes in one direction. It’s hard to find a good map anymore. And the maps on the internet only work when you have the internet. Even then they aren’t the same.
A lot of love went into early maps. Not only did someone with a surveying scope and a pair of jodhpurs go out and take the measurements and sketch out all that terrain, someone took what they had and charted it. Then they drew in all the hills and shadows and valleys and splashed watercolors on it to show rivers and lakes and mountains and towns if there were any. Forests, shoals.
What they don’t show is how diabolically washed out a road is. Or all those lines of wire someone has used to cut up the land before throwing up a sign that says “Even Though I’m Not Using It At the Moment, You Can’t Be Here.” They don’t show that all of your things are going to come unstowed or roll around your vehicle as you are white knuckling the steering wheel, backing down a hill you should have never climbed in the first place.
Maps are just the cover of the book for a much more complex story. One image of everything seen from the extreme distances beyond space and time.
As much as I love maps, I also hate them for that reason. I should know better but I get fooled every time.
When I went to London in 2019, I had studied the map that I had. I went in thinking I would take the Picadilly Line out of Heathrow to Knightsbridge, then make a left outside of the tube station, cross the road, and then walk directly to my rental flat. I spent the next hour looking for my flat. A five minute walk from the tube. As Mike Tyson once said, everybody’s got a plan until you get punched in the mouth.
Yesterday I started out with a couple maps, and some destinations in mind. The idea was to drive towards Glenwood Springs. I hadn’t been to the hotsprings there in probably two years. It used to be a yearly pilgrimage. I have been camped at various places throughout North Park for the last week. This was my first excursion into the wild. Beginning with a sorta known destination.
I talked to the girl at the front desk of the hot springs and mentioned I was passing through in my bus. I asked if it was okay to park in the RV parking overnight and she said sure, nobody really cared.
I spent the next three hours in the Iron Mountain Hot Springs, soaking in their new pools. 8 mineral pools, two fresh water pools, and a 55 degree plunge pool. I went back and forth from the familiar pools to the new upriver location. Chatted with some other soakers, and decided to call it a night long after it had gotten dark.
Outside, not far from where I had been parked was a sign forbidding overnight parking. The number of the towing company in bright red letters, and none of the other vans that were all buttoned down for night were there anymore. Crap.
I checked my iOverlander app and got a nice little map with recommendations for dispersed camping nearby. I hit the button to use Google Maps (which I already don’t like because of an experience in Ireland) and aimed the bus in that general direction. I plodded along at 55-60 on the interstate, following the prompts. I kept thinking the directions were weird, because they were taking me north of New Castle and I thought the BLM land was south of Rifle. I decided to keep going because according to my beautiful map I bought at REI, just about everything out west is public land.
I saw a sign for BLM/National Forest access and decided to follow it. The road wound around and around, with a narrow tunnel of red earth and scrub brush illuminated by my highbeams. I’m more and more nightblind the older I get. I turned up a road and found a steady incline with a sign promising BLM. I decided to climb the dirt road. The further I got, the worse the road became. There were no flat areas for camping, much less turn arounds for the bus. Then the road became rock stairsteps leading up into that vast field of stars above.
Fuck.
I couldn’t turn around, and going forward was no longer an option. I could only creep backwards down the hill, using my mirrors and what I could see from my brake lights, to get off this road. So that’s what I did. Most of my belongings shifted or vomitted forth from their cabinets and cubbies onto the floor. My dog left her perch in the bed and came up to my side, nuzzling my elbow as if to tell me something was wrong.
You think?
I was backing down a mountainside in a schoolbus at night.
We got back to paved roads again, and I thought about just camping at a wide spot in the road, but there were so many signs saying “Private Property: No Tresspassing!” I decided to copy the coordinates into something that wasn’t Google Maps and try the first location near Rifle again. We followed US 6, avoiding the interstate until we reached the area iOverlander suggested. Lots of washed out roads, four wheel drive ruts, and noplace really flat to park. Eventually I just picked a spot and stopped. I went to bed. Mentally exhausted and most of the kinks I had worked out at the hot springs were back and had brought friends.
I crashed (thankfully not the bus). I fell asleep with that feeling of dread that I had probably made the worst mistake of my life. The cost of fuel. Just trying to find a place to sleep each night. What the hell am I doing? I awoke. Played fetch with Penny for a while, and realized the lesson I had learned was to pick out your camping spot before it gets dark. When at least you can see the terrain and everything around you.
Not far from my spot two other camps had been pitched in the night. A big six person dome tent, and a camper a little bit further down the hill. I drove into Rifle to stress eat a bag of McDonalds breakfast. Penny wouldn’t touch the potato cake. It still sits in her bowl, neglected. Rejected. Discarded.
I drove up into the hills north of Rifle to check out Rifle Falls State Park. My vehicle registration gets me into all the Colorado State Parks for free. So far, I’ve used it enough times to have had it pay more than double what it cost. Overnight camping at this park would be $28 per night extra. So I decided against staying here overnight. But they did have a nice stack of new maps at the visitor center at Rifle Gap State Park. Yoink! I grabbed a National Forest map to study later.
All the bullshit and miscommunication and getting lost (more than a few times) and nearly rolling off a mountain, brought me here. Enjoy! Check out this link for an update of my success after four months of being on the road.
Other Resources for Digital Nomads
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Check out the link for Origin, which made a damn fine pair of boots for my travels and living on the road. Use the code HARRIS10 for 10% off your total purchase. I’ve been wearing mine for nearly 4 years and they are still taking me where I need to go. Fight some burnout by taking a hike, or walking through a new city you want to explore. In the nomad lifestyle, your boots can make all the difference in how far you can go.
Want to have an adventure all your own? It all starts with Booking.com. Book flights, trips, and lodging accommodations with this link to Booking.com. Living on the road requires a lot of self-care, and sometimes it’s nice to check into a hotel for the night instead of living in your bus. Get your life balance back!
For my van life adventures, you’ll want to check out my storefront on Wayward. From cookstoves to solar systems, these are items you won’t want to tackle living on the road without them. Another way you can Support the show is to BuyMeACoffee. Donations are a great way to show your appreciation for the site. Though I’m sure instead of a coffee it will probably get me a gallon of gas.