Selling Our House: On the Road, Pandemic Edition

It’s July. Once again, coronavirus infections are surging across the country. Mrs. CC and I, in a moment of hopeful optimism a few weeks ago, decided to list our house for sale. Where are we going? We don’t know, we’ll be homeless. Will we have income? Not sure. Considering we’re hitting the road in one week, there’s the shocking reality that we really don’t have a plan. And if we are anything, we are planners.

So…where do we go from here?

The Original Plan

The plan prior to the coronavirus lockdowns and was to list our house in early May and travel for one year on an extended road trip. For new readers, we reached financial independence and I left my career job in early February. Weeks later, the stock market crashed, global lockdowns were ordered, and things got crappier for all of us.

We planned to use this trip as an obvious source of recreation and garden-variety exploration. However, we also wanted to provide ourselves the opportunity to slowly visit towns and cities on our relocation short-list.

(Related Post: Breaking: I (Sort of) Quit My Job)

With the declaration of the pandemic and associated lockdowns in March and April, the decision to abandon that plan was an easy one. I built my home climbing wall, and we mentally prepared to stay in the big city at least another year. We even dipped into our cash reserve to just go ahead and pay down the mortgage. The best personal finance advice? Probably not, but it felt damn good.

The Collective Sigh

About one month ago, as protests and horrific scenes of racial injustice momentarily snatched our collective national attention away from the ongoing pandemic, we decided to once again move forward with some semblance of that old plan. Virus cases in Colorado and across the west were low and dwindling, and doors of opportunity appeared to be opening.

Unfortunately, with each packed and sealed box, and with each piece of furniture sold to a masked stranger from Craigslist in the alley, “The Great Shoulder Shrug,” as I call it—the embarrassing national sense of apathy and indifference to science, frankly—is resulting in an undeniable surge in new cases of said deadly virus. We are selling our home with no immediate plans to buy a new one, and no intentions to rent either.

Here’s a fun example. We hosted a socially-distanced yard sale. In the advertisement I created on Craigslist, I asked all attendees to wear a mask. Here is an email I received within an hour of placing the ad.

What a time to be intentionally homeless, eh?

Or…could life on the road be a decent solution during a pandemic?

Selling Our House and Hitting the Road

It’s June 30^th as I write this sentence, and we are supposed to be out of our home by no later than July 11^th. After discussing with our realtor, we came to the conclusion that an empty home sells much easier and faster than an occupied home. The age of COVID understandably gives people the heebie jeebies when it comes to occupied interior spaces. Therefore, we are forced to take the leap on life in our small camper without a guarantee that our home will sell.

(Honestly, I think it will. It’s a great house in a great neighborhood, and it’s very much on the low end of the price range for this part of town.)

Should I Buy a Home? Part 1

Should I Buy a Home? Part 2, Opportunity Cost

Logistical Complications on the Road

The real challenge is where we are going and the logistics of life once we get there. At current, which could change any day, Mrs. CC is still trying to work her job. Unfortunately, that job requires a constant source of internet to remote connect to her old office desktop machine. The work hours aren’t flexible, or at least not yet. She’s really testing the “remote” in remote work!

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Because we plan to only camp off the grid, far from Wi-Fi sources, we really have to make the stars align. For those of you who are accustomed to car camping out west, you know the challenges in finding (1) a good spot that doesn’t double as a shooting range or dirt track date; (2) a location in reasonable proximity to the recreation activity of our choice (mostly bouldering for me at this time); (3) not hot as hell; and now, unfortunately; (4) a good cellular data signal.

Mrs. CC has asked for part-time work (30 hours), which will allow her—and my deadbeat ass, by marital proxy—to remain active on her workplace health insurance plan. If she gets shown the door, we’ll need to pick up a costly ACA plan for the remainder of the year. Because we’ve already made a good chunk of income, the plan won’t be cheap. For years 2021 and on though we can expect generous subsidies, as our investment income needed to cover our life expenses will be very low.

The Road Life Accommodations

Come on in, I’ll give you the tour!

We are going to live in a Flagstaff T12RB A-frame camper. This is not a mega-RV or other house on wheels. The interior space is 12’ x 7.5’, clocking in at a roomy 90 square feet! But we can stand up in it, and that’s all that matters. There is no bathroom and no interior shower.

Features include a small propane-powered fridge, a furnace, a sink with a 12-volt-powered water pump from a 20-gallon water tank, a propane stove, a long full-size bed with a heating element, and a surprisingly roomy work space and dining table with two benches. I built a fully off-the-grid 200 amp-hour AMG 12-volt battery bank, a 1,000-watt inverter and dedicated outlet for 110-volt power, and a portable 200-watt solar array for recharging the batteries. That was my little lockdown project.

The camper also came stock with a microwave and air conditioning unit, but those features are space-takers and power hogs, and as such are useless without a connection to shore power. I find them unnecessary anyway. We don’t use a microwave much at home, so that’s gone. We intend to chase good weather as best as we can, so air conditioning, while dreamy, isn’t going to make the cut. I removed the microwave and built out additional storage in its place. Removing the AC unit is much more involved, and I have to consider eventual re-sale value. So, for now, it stays.

More on Storage

In a small living space, smart storage is essential to loving the one you are with. We’ve already purchased some handy accessories for vertically stacking. The other obvious side of the equation is choosing what stays and what goes in terms of belongings.

I consider myself a quasi-minimalist: I don’t like “things,” but I’ve been guilty of acquiring a lot of hobby-related stuff over the years. I’m only bringing a week’s worth of clothing; however, I’ll be bringing two and a half large bouldering pads and all my other rope climbing gear, which while reasonably lightweight, occupies a lot of space. We’ll also carry (I think) some minimal fitness gear, including two or three kettlebells, some home-made TRX straps (pro tip: make your own TRX straps), and my beloved Tension Flash Board.

One huge advantage of a trailer camper over a van is the additional storage space available in the tow vehicle. We will use the Tacoma bed, now covered with a topper, to store a lot of stuff that we might occasionally need (e.g., tools, climbing and fitness gear, other dry storage). Stuff we need at regular arm’s length will stay in the camper (e.g. cooking and cleaning supplies, occasional clean underwear 😉, etc). We also have a rooftop cargo box for additional storage.

In essence, the tow vehicle allows us to nearly double our effective square footage.

(Related Post: How to Get a Fantastic Deal on a New Car)

Internet on the Road

As for the requirements for internet, we have purchased an Inseego Jetpack MiFi 8800L cellular network hotspot, a signal-boosting Netgear antenna, and big, fat, expensive data plan that goes along with it. I’ve always wanted to have some degree of internet for this trip, if for no other reason than to stay up on this website. But I also need to check the weather, research recreation options, driving conditions, camping spots, and of course pandemic conditions for responsible travel.

In a pre-COVID world I might have posted up in a coffee shop a couple of times a week. That’s no longer an option. I also don’t want to creepy-hover in a sweltering parking lot attempting to pick up a few bars from McDonalds, so a data plan makes sense. We secured the largest plan we could (30 GB with Verizon), simply for Mrs. CC’s work needs. It’s an expense, but it replaces our old internet bill at home. Plus, the income from the job more than justifies the cost.

Social Interactions on the Road?

I’m also admittedly a bit apprehensive about a sense of community on an extended road trip.

I confess: I don’t automatically have warm thoughts when I see a group of humans. It’s not my nature. My knee-jerk reaction is to assume the worst: they are loud, disrespectful, they don’t like the music I like, they want to put a toprope on all the good warm-ups, and they are probably asymptotic carriers of COVID-19 who spit when they talk.

And as luck would have it, I’m probably downwind.

I hate that I naturally carry a clenched jaw into social situations not of my creation. I’m often looking for confirmation of the bias that I carry: modern man is a self-serving savage.

In my short 35 years, I’ve lived in five states and six cities of various shapes and flavors. Those numbers are presumably about to increase. And in growing my list of former and new habitats, I’ve found countless opportunities to share a day outside, a beer, or a meal with a group of new people. And more times than not, many of the folks who have crossed my path, while sometimes self-serving, aren’t so savage after all. 

Moving and Personal Development

I’m apprehensive about leaving the place I’ve called home for eight years. My now monstrous list of Front Range climbing partners will soon be obsolete and meaningless. The list of course, not the people. My only potential belay is my non-climbing wife, who loves me so much that she short-ropes every clip and sets me off with well-wishing statements like:

Don’t fall

and my personal favorite…

I hope this is the last one.

In essence, leaving my friends of eight years with no real plans to return is hard. But I’ve done this shuffle-about many times before. I feel strongly that moving – out of your hometown and even home region or state – is the single greatest action any one of us can take to figuring out who the hell we really are. And then we should move again; always growing and learning and meeting new people with new ideas different than our own.

One pre-coronavirus extended road trip concern was a potential for limited sense of community. For all the reasons listed above, I’m not one to shuffle up to a group of strangers around a campfire and seamlessly slip into a conversation about that bitchin’ thunderstorm this afternoon, right?! But with continued calls for social distancing, I feel that concern is even more heightened.

Considerations for Travel During the Pandemic

With the whole COVID thing, I’m slinking further into my shell than I have in my recent past. My default, since mid-March, is to maintain a wide berth. However, I also must rationally remind myself that much of the concern is of typical origin: people doing things in close proximity to other people, generally indoors, generally in places of high population density, and without a mask. In other words, we probably face no real threat in our forest service road existence.

We are using this very informative county-level dashboard to ensure we are either traveling to places with more-or-less equal infection rates to where our trip originates. We don’t want to jump into a hot frying pan on the verge of renewed lockdowns, nor do we want to be that asshole who travels from a virus hotbed to a small and otherwise uninfected community. The risk might not be severe, but we are cognizant of perceptions. After all, we carry the dreaded “greeny” Colorado license plates, held in disdain across the west.

In the end though, I worry that our standard existence on this trip might be one of greatly diminished social interaction. But if I’m being real, that’s been our existence since March anyway. We might as well at least change the scenery. Luckily for us, we mostly enjoy our own company. And of course, we have each other. We don’t feel a strong need (most days) to have groups of people over, or vice versa.

Summary

I don’t know what else to say. This will be an adventure. I’ll keep you guys updated here and on Instagram (where I very reluctantly maintain a social media presence—check me out!). If we cross paths, I’d love to meet. From a distance of course, you filthy animals.

I don’t know how long this will last; the timeline is uncertain.

I know plenty of you guys and gals have done the road/van life, so hit me with your suggestions! I’d certainly love to hear about your quiet summer bouldering spots with great (free) camping and plentiful internet (I know, maybe we’re chasing unicorns).

Wash your hands, wear a mask, save the birthday party for next year, drink a beer in the yard, and let’s get through this.

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