I am writing this on Thursday night. These words will post on Friday morning, as I remove the final items from my rental house (toilet paper, cleaning products, the one folding chair) and do the final clean sweep, lock the door, and turn in the keys. The first day will be an easy one, travel-wise: I’m just headed a short distance north to the brewery where I worked until recently, to have a few last beers with my friends there. I will park Foxy at a friend’s house nearby, or who knows, maybe even just stay at the brewery for the night. Saturday morning I’ll say a final goodbye and drive a few hours to Houston, my hometown, where I’ll see some friends and stick around for a concert on Monday evening. I have a few hours’ work lined up for Saturday afternoon, because I am lucky to have a few clients sticking with me during this time of change. I am grateful, for example, for a certain fly fisherman/distiller/blogger who trusts me with his words and says nice things about my work.

It’s a time of change… I have liquidated so much, packed much more into a little storage unit, and jam-packed the rest into a twenty-four-year-old teal-and-white van. I will be living differently. Every piece of garbage I create I will have to find a way to dispose of (not a bad thing, to be so cognizant of trash); I will have to work to find places to shower, do laundry, cook, and poop. I will depend on the kindness of strangers to a certain extent, and I will depend on myself and my own decisions. I will be learning a great deal, about myself and the world. It’s tempting to wax on like this, but truly I have no way of knowing what the future holds, and anyway I’m tired. The sun has gone down and I live in a van, so I’ll head on towards bed now.


who & where from

My name is Julia and I’m a freelance writer & editor. I’m originally from Houston, Texas but have lived in Washington state and a few Texas small towns. I’ve been a bike messenger, librarian, and bartender.

My copilot is Hops, a ten-year-old Chihuahua-pug mutt who loves both hiking and lounging.

Traveling with us in spirit is Ritchey, who died a few months before our departure, at age sixteen. He would have loved the adventures but would have been impatient with the hours cooped up in the van.

And finally, Foxy the van came to me from friends. Kyle and Portia and dog Townes traveled the country before passing her on to me. In their honor, here’s a lovely picture from their time with Foxy (read more about their adventures here).

We’re setting out from the Texas Hill Country in December 2018. Thanks for following along!