Native Californian, avid explorer, budding filmmaker. Believes that life is a grand adventure, and that beauty lies within the small moments. The one crazy enough to quit her job and reinvent herself. She’s lived in three rigs in three years.

Craiglist rescue, digger of holes, and roller of the mud. Always the first one in the water - no matter the season. The one crazy enough to tag along on all of her mom’s adventures. She’s lived in three rigs in three years.

October 2020

Time for change

January 2021

A New Beginning

April 2021

le't’s hit the road (kinda)

August 2021

Crunch time

October 2021

Adopting Terra

February 2022

Goodbye, Vanlife

March 2022

Let’s Try a bus!

October 2022

The end of bus life

November 2022

Let’s try this again

July 2023-Present

We’re back, baby.

After a year and a half working in the corporate world as an environmental scientist and consultant during the pandemic, I realized that I was miserable. I was suffering from daily panic attacks, insomnia, and depression and wondered - is this really all there is? I spent the majority of my week working in a job that I did not like to try to afford the cost of living in the SF Bay Area, only getting outdoors once or twice every few weeks. This realization terrified me - would I continue down this path for the rest of my life? I knew something needed to change.

One thing led to another and within three months I had moved out of the Bay Area and back in with my parents. It wasn’t glamorous, but I needed to reset and figure out my pivot. Still working my remote 9-5, I had income and flexibility that granted me ample choices. Scrolling through the internet one afternoon, I rediscovered vanlife - a long forgotten obsession that I had from high school, and wondered if this was it.

Turns out, it was.

After four months of work, and with the help and guidance of my Dad (thanks, Dad!), I hit the road for the first time in a semi-built out van. I had a floor, a bed platform, and power - what more would I need? Realistically, I knew that I was far from done, but I had tickets to my first van festival and I was going - done or not.

I was on the road for nearly three months with little more than my work laptop and a few changes of clothes. And much to outside surprise, I was also the happiest that I had been in a long freaking time.

Following my 20,000 mile joy-ride around the west that summer, I returned to my parents driveway to finish the build. Things got tough for awhile, and I doubted my ability to finish. Up until this point, I had been putting a good chunk of money into the build with the intention of living in it in the Bay Area after remote work ended. But slowly, I realized that I had no interest in going back.

This really changed things, as I did not have another source of income, and I knew my $600/month van payment would not be sustainable for me if I left my 9-5. With this in mind, it was time to get serious - I put my all into the van knowing that once finished, I would need to prepare to sell it.

In hindsight, this probably wasn’t the right time to get a puppy, but I honestly could not imagine my life had I not gone to pick her up. When I met her at the park, she was malnourished, lethargic, and had large, sad eyes. Her previous owners had decided that they wanted to travel and that they needed to get rid of her (ironic, huh?).

Within a minute I scooped her up off the ground, making the decision to bring her home without a second thought. Plopping down onto the front seat of the van, she curled up and was asleep in her new home before I even turned the key.

In January, I finished the van and was still working remotely. I had a glimmer of hope for a moment there, living on the beach with Terra in my van with a full-time income. What a dream. I had debt, but for a little while, I felt free.

Unfortunately, this dream came to a screeching halt when one of my closest friends was in a terrible accident that totalled her van and left her houseless. This brought clarity to my own situation in a way that I had not experienced before. I was terrified about the consequences that I would face if I were to come by a similar fate. It would leave me without a home, and over $40,000 in debt. I would have no choice but to return to my office job, and back into the life that I had been working so hard to escape from.

That night, I listed my van on craigslist and prepared to say goodbye to my first home.

The market was hot, and it took less than a month to sell my van. I was crushed, but knew that it was the right decision. Shortly after, I began looking at options that would be within my budget. The van market had completely exploded and were off the table, so what would be next? Enter, skoolies.

I had never considered a school bus as they seemed to be on the hippie-fringe side of the nomadic community. I wasn’t sure that I was granola enough to live in a bus, but decided to expand my search, regardless.

It took nearly a month of living on the road in a moving van (yes, really) to find a vehicle that seemed like a good fit. The rig? A 2009 Chevy Express School Bus from Los Angeles County. It had good bones and a solid service record, so I went for it.

With experience gained from building out the van, and a tight timeline to get back on the road for summer, I pulled the bus together in eight long weeks. Unfortunately, these eight weeks would be the highlight of my time with her.

I’ll spare you the details, but over the course of seven months I spent over $18,000 in bus breakdown repairs. From refueling issues to a blown transmission, Terra and I struggled to stay on the road for more than two weeks at a time and ended up splitting our time between hotels, u-hauls, and rental cars while the bus was in the shop. Not only was this financially unsustainable, but it was mentally exhausting for us both as our housing situation became increasingly unstable.

In October, I replaced the transmission and sold the bus.

With the bus sold, I carefully considered our options. Was it time to call it quits on the road? Should I just rent an apartment and get another stationary job? I quickly decided against the option, and began searching for our next rig.

I needed something reliable, capable, and within our budget. Vans were too pricey, busses too unreliable, RV’s too large…but what the heck else is out there? Enter, truck camping.

One fateful day, moments after signing over the bus title to its new owner, I opened my computer to a Marketplace ad for the elusive Baby Bigfoot. A Canadian fiberglass camper from the 90’s that was lightweight enough to fit in a midsize truck 6’ bed, and nimble enough to reach destinations that the van nor bus could have ever dreamed of. My stomach lurched and in that moment, I knew this was our next home.

Which brings us to present-day! After six months of renovations, the Bigfoot is done, and we are back & better than ever.

This journey has been up and down, no doubt. But it has shaken my world in ways better than I could have ever imagined. I wake up excited to explore, work, and to engage with and support the community that has supported us along the way.

Thank you all, endlessly, for your support in getting us here.