I've made it 365 days without paying rent or a mortgage; and, frankly, I'm a little surprised. When I left Philadelphia last year, I had no idea whether living in a van could be a sustainable lifestyle. Would the van prove to be intolerably small? Would I get bored? Would I get lonely? In small doses, all of the above proved true; but never to any greater degree than the day to day itchiness, boredom, or loneliness that we all encounter in life. On the flip side, the past year brought more happiness and memorable experiences than any single year in the past thirty seven.

In one year, I've learned to mountaineer and rock climb. I've visited over thirty national parks and monuments, including ones that I am ashamed to say took me this long to visit, especially Yosemite and Grand Canyon. I helped build a school in Mexico and made it into a movie as an extra in Los Angeles. I climbed (mostly ran) to the top of the two highest peaks in Colorado in a single twelve hour period and dedicated the day to my father who passed away in 2007. I mountain biked the red sands of Sedona and hiked White Sands National Monument in New Mexico. From snowboarding in Sandpoint, Idaho to sailing on the Sea of Cortez in Mexico, I had a very full year.

My first van burned to the ground during my first month on the road. That was my own fault for buying the cheapest van I could find, and it could have been devastating as I lost everything except my laptop and the clothes I wore that morning, but it has become one of my favorite memories. Nothing frees you from the anxieties of ownership like losing everything and coming out unscathed.

In Texas, before I took mountaineering classes in Albuquerque, I stranded myself on a cliff. That could have been pretty bad, but I survived, and I learned a good lesson about my own limits and took actions to minimize future mistakes, for the most part. That midnight trek to the top of Mt. Hood probably wasn't smart, and the sandstorm in Death Valley could have been worse, but for the most part, I'm a stronger, smarter outdoorsman now.

The best part of the journey has been the people. From Niki in Portland (now Mexico) to Celia in Albuquerque, Alison in her trailer and Pat in his RV, from old friends I caught up with to all the new friends, it has been a very rich year. Thank you to everyone who made this past year the great adventure it became.

So, what now?

The sad news is that I don't know how much blogging I'll do next year. As of today, I am now over fifty pages into a novel I've started. With a tremendous amount of research and notes on the side, this effort has become an obsession. (See www.thorsrud.com.)

I still plan on continuing my travels, but I'll likely save the photographs and notes for a future travel journal, a memoir, maybe a how-to for the wandering soul.

The biggest change is now a girlfriend in San Francisco, a friend I made while traveling through the city last April; a woman who I tried my damnedest to escape from, but never succeeded as she is perfect for me. She wants to travel, doesn't mind traveling in a van, owns a house in North Beach, is beautiful, shares my interest in behavioral science (and just happens to have my most complementary Myers-Briggs profile to boot), can keep up with me--even pass me--on a ten to twenty mile hike, is pretty funny, can dance and sing while making me laugh, and loves my own cheesy taste in music. I won the lottery.

We've already boondocked in some of the most elite neighborhoods from Vancouver, B.C. to San Diego. And we'll keep traveling as much as possible; but we don't have to, either. Life is good no matter where we're at. When in San Francisco, I stay with her and her two brilliant, gorgeous roommates; plus she has an amazing group of friends who spend considerable time at the house sharing great stories and good laughs.

If I were to live anywhere in the world these days, San Francisco is my favorite destination. Yesterday, we went to the new science museum. If you have a chance to visit, don't pass up the planetarium. Mind blowing. In a couple of weeks, we're heading back to southern California; and after that... who knows? We can both work from anywhere we have a cellphone signal. I'm not making as much as I would if I worked full-time; but when you've had the happiest year of your life, that really doesn't seem relevant, does it?

Happy journeys to everyone I've met this past year, and a big Thank You to everyone who has posted an encouraging comment!

Sincerely,
David Thorsrud