With a Little Help from My Friends

Victor has always had a soft spot. On rainy nights, his tears would flow gently from somewhere around the back door and pool up around the trunk area. And yes, even two-ton, 21 year old, mini vans can cry. Only these tears aren't the kind you can wipe away with a tissue and kind words. It takes a little problem solving, some RTV silicone, and maybe some new weatherstripping.

I've known about this little leak ever since August when Victor and I first became friends. I pulled off the saggy weatherstripping and reinstalled it with some silicone to back it up. This was supposed to be the one and only fix, and the leak appeared to have gone away...for a little while.

Low and behold, the caulking on the back window was cracking and letting water in too. I caked that up with some silicone and the problem went away again...for a little while.

Last week, Seattle saw the most rain its seen in months, and the soggy floor in the back of the van reflected that fact. Where was this water coming from!? The leak that was afflicting the van this time was not giving away too many clues. The leak would get worse when I was driving (vibrations maybe) and always seemed to fall some place a little bit different (one day here, one day ten inches away over here, next day a couple drops over here too...). Finding the root cause and stopping it was baffling me.

Chance threw me a little luck and gave me a dry place to sleep this weekend. My friend Jackie was headed out of town to Idaho in hopes of a little wintertude, and offered up her studio for me to crash in. Eager to rest my weary eyes and ponder about the possible causes of the leak while not worrying about getting leaked on, I accepted the offer.

I'm going to attribute it to the good nights sleep and fresh mind that brought me to an astounding discovery the next time I looked at the van. I quickly took notice to the brake light housing precariously situated above the rear hatch. I don't know why I was just noticing it for the first time now, but fact is, it stood out to me this day.

Wondering how the housing was mounted, I unscrewed the two bolts holding it in place. Voila! Holes in the roof! Who puts holes in the roof like this? And doesn't seal them up!?

I wiped the area down, dried it off, cleaned the brake light housing, and shoved a crap ton of silicone in and around those holes. I know I put enough in; when I tightened down the screws that held the housing in place, the silicone oozed out the edges just a little bit...perfect.

Just to give you a good visual of what was happening (or so my detective reasoning tells me), the water was seeping under the edges of the brake light (even more so while I was driving...makes sense) and passing through the two mounting holes for the plastic clips. When the water passed through, it would drip onto the reflective insulation I installed. From there, gravity pulled the water into whatever direction was easiest to follow to get to the floor. Hence, why the water would show up in slightly different places each time. Wunderbar!

Sunday night, the Bruins played the Canadiens. I watched the game, so naturally, the Bruins lost. Either way, getting to watch some hockey with a solid grilled chicken sandwich, beer, and one of the best corn dogs I've had in Seattle was a good way to celebrate my defiance over nature. It rained Sunday night, and no water got into the van.

Cheers,

(Cries-no-more) Victor and (Dry-fo-sho) Ryan

Low Snow = Less Dough

Where’s the snow?! All over the western half of the United States, this is the question plaguing the mind of every skier and snowboarder. While all you east coasters have been basking in the glorious gifts of Mother Winter, the rest of us have been scratching our heads and twiddling our thumbs waiting for the first big dump of the season. And with this being the first weekend of February, time is quickly running out.

These conditions have certainly put the damper on the visions I had of driving each Friday to the base of a mountain, skiing for two or three days, and returning to work with a rejuvenated soul. The weekend warrior van tactic hasn’t quite had its chance to materialize yet. But poor snow pack isn’t the only culprit for this. It’s hard to be a van-dwelling weekend warrior when you’re not around to live in your van. [Duh!].

My first day back in Seattle after coming back from Tokyo. Sixty five degrees
and sunny. No snow on the mountains. When I landed, it was 10 AM; seven
hours before our plane left Tokyo. The weatherthat day caused me to wonder if I
really did travel through time, winding up in Seattle in July. It was January 25th.

This weekend marks the start of eight weeks of having Victor for my primary place of residence, and it will only be the second full weekend that I have spent living in it. Since December 17th, The trip to SeaTac airport has become a bit routine for me. First, I flew to Iowa for Christmas, then to Utah, then I had a highly anticipated trip to Japan, and then a visit to Colorado. The amazing part of all these trips is that every one of them has involved some quantity of skiing (there’s a big contrast between the quality of skiing in Japan and Iowa, but it was still skiing nonetheless).

Overall, what this means is that my execution of the "successful bum" lifestyle has primarily been during the workweek. Almost every morning that I’ve woken up on my two-foot wide bed has begun with preparations for a full day of sitting in front of a keyboard. So why would I want this to be a good ski season in Washington? Why would I want nights in the van to be cold and wet? These warm temps have made for some astonishingly comfortable sleeping arrangements. De-cacooning myself every morning has not been as dreadful as it was at the beginning of this venture. While the entire ski community is in an uproar complaining about the low coverage and higher temperatures this past January, I'm reluctantly rejoicing. [Blasphemy!].

Looking down Miowa Bowl wondering where I should defile these
freshies with my skis. This was the only sun-break all day.

Obviously, rejoicing over the warm weather is pretty easy for a guy who's just returned from ten days of skiing pow in Japan. But all this traveling comes at a cost; a cost that more than counterbalances the savings I've acquired through rent-free living. And its got me wondering, am I spending my rent money too quickly?

Flights, lift tickets, and dining, have definitely got my funds feeling dry, which is why these poor conditions on the mountains are slightly (only slightly) okay with me. A weekend to recuperate my body and my wallet won't go unappreciated.

However, as this coming weekend approaches, I find myself wishing for a sudden drop in temperature in the forecast. [Shouts of agreement from the skiing crowd!] 

But wish I may, wish I might, the rain in the passes will last all night. 

And when the weekend comes to be, I'll be in the laundromat, sipping on tea.

The forecast is looking gloomy, everywhere. For the next week, I'll embrace these conditions. I'll keep my date with Ayn Rand going strong, climb indoors to my heart's content, catch up on worldly responsibilities, and comfortably put myself to bed each night without steam billowing from my lungs.

Hopefully the snow gods will catch onto my good attitude and reward me and the rest of the skiing crowd with some fluffy white manna from heaven sometime soon. We will strap on our boots and head for the trees, giving our offerings and thanks in the form of whoops and hollers.

Week Won

I have tasted victory, and it is strikingly similar to the taste of a hot bowl of apple cinnamon oatmeal on a cold morning as you're waiting for the chairlifts to start turning on a powder day. It was 7AM on January 4th (a Sunday), and the symphony of snowplows scraping the road, snowmobiles cruising by, and snow pellets striking the side of the van filled my ears. Twenty spaces over in another vehicle, two friends also looking forward to the day ahead, were preparing themselves for what could be the first deep day of the year. 

After sliding into a much-needed layer of Gore-Tex and double checking my pack for all the back country essentials, I made the short walk to the lodge to grab my lift ticket and meet up with my riding buddies. While the living amenities in a van aren't top-notch, starting your day in a van that's sitting several yards away from your first chair lift is hard to beat.

Have I sold you yet?

Okay, so maybe every morning isn't this great. The van life is full of its challenges too. The night I spent at Mt. Baker also happened to be the first night that I wasn't parked on the street or in a Walmart lot. This came as a huge relief to me, since I was getting pretty tired of parking/sleeping in areas with cars going by all night or streetlights making me feel like I was on display for the world to see. I do appreciate the generosity of Walmart for letting travelers (van dwellers) loiter in their lots overnight, but the popularity of a 24-hour all-in-one super store almost offsets the convenience. Might be parking down by the river after all...

The first thing a lot of people think about when I tell them I am living in a van full time, is how much money I am saving by living rent-free. So true. I no long pay for electricity, internet, and water/sewage/garbage too. However, since living in the van, the change in lifestyle has caused me to incur some new expenses as well. For instance, when I had a kitchen to use at home, eating out was something I did only a couple times a month. Now, I do it almost every day. I no longer take a lunch to work (something I plan on changing; I will start bringing cold cuts and keeping them in the fridge and a loaf of bread at my desk) and cooking in the van while also keeping it clean inside is very cumbersome; especially without a place to properly wash pots and pans. But I don't see this as a curse or a penalty right now. I see this as a legitimate excuse to sample the amazing restaurants and dive joints that I've been missing out on since moving to Seattle.

Obviously, I spend a bit more on gas these days too. Having a 4.3L V6 for my ride means about 11 mpg (highway). Luckily, using my isolated auxiliary battery for lights and charging my phone/laptop means I don't have to idle the van to make sure I'm keeping a sufficient charge on the starter battery. But with the humidity and colder temps in Seattle these days, I do start the engine more frequently in order to circulate the air and keep condensation out. If I had more time/resources prior to starting this "vanventure" I definitely would have tried installing an air exchanger/heater that drew off the auxiliary battery...something to look into next time I put one of these together. Oh! And thank the economy for lower gas prices these days! That is saving me buckets of dolla' bills y'all!

Now, I would like to consider myself a fairly organized person. Some of you might agree, others might be throwing their hands up in a furious objection. Regardless of your opinion, I am finding out how important it is to be "super organized" when living in a small environment. Space is extremely limited and fitting all the day-to-day essentials together inside that small environment is a daunting task at times. Even more so when you're indecisive like me. "This goes really well here." (Next day) "Oh no, it fits way better there." (Next day) "Where did I put that?". See what I am saying? Having an organized living space is in the works, and probably will that way be for at least a few more weeks. I'm slowly figuring out what I use the most and should be stored in easily accessible places, and what I hardly use at all and could be stored somewhere lower or even in my storage unit. I should ad that the photo shown here depicts the van on a slightly disorganized day. The shelves on the left are now stocked with neatly folded clothes and a strategically placed laptop bag and duffel bad.

After my weekend at Baker, I've also discovered the importance of getting a rooftop storage box for the van. At the end of the day, my skis were caked with snow/ice, and getting all of it off was not going to happen. With deep sense of precognitive regret, I slid the skis under my bed, only to thaw off ten minutes later. Thankfully there wasn't a lot of snow (future water) on the skis but any amount is enough, and should not be going into the van floor.

Baker also introduced me to one more predicament. Drying off wet ski gear with 100% humidity. I hadn't really thought this would be a problem. But after skiing a full day in the northwest, where temperatures are always teetering on the brink of freezing, your gear gets wet. Luckily, the Gore-Tex I have meant a dry jacket and pants, but my gloves and backpack were toast (or more like wet cereal that you poured milk into and then forgot about for too long...yeah that's a better breakfast analogy). Luckily, having awesome friends in Bellingham meant being able to crash at their place and let my gear shed a few pounds overnight sitting over a heater vent. Not sure what I'll do next time, but my options include praying to the van gods that the gear will eventually dry off inside the van, laying the gear out to dry in my storage unit, or taking my wet gloves and skins to work for all my colleagues to see and inquire about. "What'd you do this weekend?" That's the question I'd like to hear. But I'll probably get, "Why does it smell like dog farts over here?" Just kidding. Nobody here is that callous. I'd probably just get weird looks. Still, awkward.

Today is the start of my first full-ish week back at work (I leave for UT for some more skiing on Thursday afternoon) since living in the van. All of last week was spent bouncing around here and there, celebrating New Year's Eve, skiing Crystal, skiing Stevens, skiing Baker, and visiting friends. Now, a desk chair beckons my presence every morning. Lame, tedious, mundane; call desk work what you want...I'm right there with you. But my hope is that a few routines start falling into place.

Needless to say, things are working out, but there is still work to be done and stiff kinks to work out.

Cheers,

Ryan and Victor