I hate vacations. They take a lot of planning, cost too much, and by the time you fall into a rhythm, it’s time to return. That’s why I’ve stopped taking them. What do I do instead? Do I work until I get burned out and then take long off long stretches of time? Am I so passionate about my work that I don’t need to take any time off? Do I pound back Red Bulls dreaming of retirement? No. I strive for harmony and sustainability.

I conducted my first experiment in harmony last winter. I was really curious whether it was possible to work full time and develop professionally while also snowboarding over 100 days in a season. It worked out. I shipped some impactful projects, snowboarded 126 days, got in good physical shape and everything was gravy.

But nothing lasts forever. The snow melted, I moved back to San Francisco, and time marched on.

So what’s next? During my time in Breck I came to a conclusion: If technology enables us to be [sometimes too] connected anywhere, why stay in one place? Why not explore, follow your curiosity, and have those experiences enrich you as a person holistically?

It is with that in mind that I've decided to go mobile. I’ve romanticized the notion of living in a van since I was a kid: to be at home anywhere; to chase snow and surf in whatever direction the wind blows; to be intimately confronted [and part of] my environment.

I also don’t want to own many things, but the things I do own need to be of quality. Coincidently, perhaps due to my curiosity (or some other less flattering condition) I can become immersed in topics rather easily – I spent the better part of three months researching snow tires to a point where I became conscious of tread patterns on parked cars in SF. After a similar endeavor, lasting over a year and spanning everything from tiny houses to Unimogs, I ended up financing an used EarthCruiser. While not exactly the most affordable of vehicles, it can go anywhere and has all the amenities needed to comfortably live and work. I believe it’s the highest quality and value you can fit into a parking spot.

Am I trying to become an overlander, a digital nomad, or a bum living in a tank-van under an overpass? There's no benefit in definitions.

I’m pretty scared. Fuckin’ frightened in fact. But that’s probably a good thing.

Let's keep in touch,

Adrian (2015)