Only Over My Dead Body will I go on a van trip
The theme of this post is "Only over my dead body" and other life choices that never came true.
This is a bittersweet true story of how I (Hanna) once again had to prove the age-old truth that one should never say "never." Sometimes, the most unlikely option becomes reality.
It was early summer 2012 when Jarno decided he wanted to take the family on a road trip around Finland in a caravan. I had never been in anything even remotely resembling a motorhome or trailer, and to be honest, I had no intention of changing that. That’s just for country bumpkins!
At first, I cried because we had to leave. Now, I cry a little when we have to return.
Glaring, eye-rolling, or rational arguments did nothing to change Jarno’s mind. He was determined that it was time to relive his childhood memories and drag his wife and a couple-month-old baby on a road trip. “You’ll get me in that thing only over my dead body!” was my final comment in that discussion.
Yet, for some mysterious reason, we still went. I suppose the options were “go” or “cry and go.”
And yes, I did cry a little. Not least because our ride consisted of a leaky, mustard-yellow, 1980s trailer that smelled bad, paired with a mint-green van. There was absolutely nothing right about that combination. Nothing.
At the start of the trip, it rained. And I mean really RAINED, sideways. The leaky caravan did not appreciate this, and the front mattress got soaked halfway through—and never dried for the rest of the trip.
The baby had special needs, and figuring out how to accommodate those with just a couple of months of parenting experience in completely foreign conditions was neither easy nor stress-free.
Apparently, we did see Finland. I only remember that I was stressed out, terrified, and desperate to get back to a dry, clean home with predictable and safe walls around me.
"Only over my dead body"—but I still feel very much alive, maybe even more than before!
Nothing particularly dramatic happened during the trip, but under those circumstances and in that state of mind, it was just way too much.
When the journey finally ended, I vowed even more firmly: “Never again.”
Yet, for another mysterious reason, that trip wasn’t the last.
There was one thing I held onto: I refused to stay at a campsite. And we didn’t. Now, more than ten years later, we’ve spent maybe five nights in campsites, some of them abroad.
Wild camping and the peace of nature it offers was probably what eventually won me over to vanlife. (By the way, you can read my wild camping tips in another blog post here.) I eventually found my own way of doing this. Or maybe the redneck in me finally got its moment on stage? Who knows—maybe that’s the third mystery in this story!
She who is now happily conditioned. The scent (smell) of an old caravan = happiness and bliss.
So what was so terrible about that first trip, considering that many get hooked on vanlife after their first time? Many things. The trailer itself, the old and musty smell, leaking walls, postpartum hormones, sleepless nights, a terrible mattress, the ugly exterior of the caravan, no proper washing facilities, overly long driving stretches, beginner mistakes, high stress levels, the difficulty of planning when you have zero experience, the cold, the heat, the mosquitoes, the looming threat of a campsite, the constant noise in the van, and so on.
For a highly sensitive person, that was simply too many factors at once—especially considering the life situation and the fact that I was forced into it against my will. I believe the experience would have been entirely different had I actually wanted to go.
But something about it (besides Jarno’s determination, of course) led me to try again. And after some time, the trailer was swapped for a motorhome, and conditions improved enough for even a sensitive person to endure the journey: we reupholstered the seats, spruced up the interior a bit, and maybe even did something to revive the mattress (?).
The biggest relief for my caravan anxiety, however, was simply that it became routine. When I no longer had to rethink every daily task from scratch and adapt everything to the vehicle, my mind had space to actually enjoy the trips. Once I learned to anticipate things at the right moments, I started noticing peaceful mornings, sunsets on the shore at a wild camping spot, the joy of living without a clock, and even the signals from my own body.
And once it became routine, we also started coming up with solutions for the most annoying problems of vanlife. We built a safety rail for the kids’ bed, a laundry bag, smaller dish towels, neck pillows, and other things to make daily life easier. The bed was still bad, but overall, the trajectory was clearly upward!
To be honest, I still can’t call myself a caravanner. I can be a van lifer, but a caravanner? No way. That requires a different mindset. ;)
It’s funny, though—here I am now, running a vanlife business. But maybe that’s a huge advantage: since I didn’t like it at first, I was able to see all the biggest issues and had the courage to tackle them to make vanlife more bearable.
We’ve moved on from just making it bearable—we now aim to maximize enjoyment. But that’s a topic for another post.
Breakfast in a wild camping spot in Sweden. Solitude and being close to nature might be for bumpkins, but I’m more than happy to pay that price for these experiences.
Since I had no (positive) preconceived notions about this lifestyle, I also didn’t carry any baggage that would have told me, “This is how it’s always been done, so why change it when it works?” I was able to question things enough to allow space for something new and better to emerge.
So what advice would I give to someone who’s intrigued by caravanning, motorhomes, or vanlife but feels nervous or doubtful about taking the leap? This: I was the last person in the world who was supposed to enjoy this in any way. If I survived and even grew to love it, then go for it—you have nothing to lose.
You can always turn back if it feels like a forced effort. In the worst case, it’ll be a one-time experiment. In the best case, you might gain something truly amazing.
Sometimes, the most unlikely option turns out to be surprisingly likely!