Talk about the discomforts of nomad life! Pulling Into my campsite I see it. Still warm and steaming, attracting flies, a HUGE pile of stinking dog shit.
I don’t have a dog.
When I left to run errands, there were no neighbors and no dogs. Now, parked in the nearby stand of trees are two guys in a car, and three big dogs. One of the dogs, a huge German Shepherd, is running lose. Huh, wonder where the pile of poo came from.
The other two dogs, probably pitbulls, are furiously barking and straining on their leads when they see me.
I’m so fed up with the BS. Since camping this beautiful state park in New Mexico I’ve dealt with obnoxious neighbors, screaming children and loud music. Now this. I’m in no mood for it.
I’m too mad to be cautious and I march over to the car and keep yelling “Helloooo???” until one of them finally gets out of the car to see what the crazy lady wants. Telling him about the dog shit, his first reaction is to deny it’s from his dog. Seriously?
Ahhh, Nope. I inform him there was no dog shit when I left, and no dogs.. No way is he getting away with it. He finally concedes, and comes over to scoops it up in a plastic shopping bag. Walking away from me with his bag of hot dog shit he mumbles … “well I guess it could have been mine.”
After that they turn up their music and let it rip for the rest of the afternoon, and that night, they leave the two pit bulls outside. I’m regularly awakened through the night to the piercing sound of the two guard dog’s intense barking. And here’s my question, what do you need two guard dogs for? Hmmmmm.
(Disclaimer about safety, I’m very aware of safety as a solo female nomad and I would never do that in an isolated environment. I was in a state park that is regularly patrolled by law enforcement and there were plenty of people nearby.)
I move out the next day, pissed off I’ve got to leave my perfect campsite with the sweet shade tree and view of the lake.
Luckily I find an open spot, one with a sweet little adobe shelter that directly overlooks the lake. I’ll have a very close neighbor, but things seem quiet.
Are You KIDDING Me?
A few hours later, a truck I recognize pulls in next door, and a bunch of kids and adults pile out. It’s the chaotic family that was previously camping up the hill from me, the family with screaming kids and who’s choice of music starts my day off with the intense boom boom boom of gangster rap! One of the kids, no more than 9 years old, has temper tantrums all day and throws the F bomb around like a sailor. By then I’m too exhausted to move again, and my evening is spent listening to their loud drunken conversations and music that overwhelms the picturesque setting of the sunset over the lake.
I’m so discouraged I could cry. I’m gonna’ have to move … AGAIN!
The next morning, I move down the road 25 miles to another state park where thankfully, it’s peaceful and quiet. I find a spot right on the banks of Cabella Lake, with a stunning backdrop of the stone cliffs that light up at sunset.
More Discomforts, Always More!
Annoying neighbors aren’t the only discomforts of nomad life. Anything that needs electricity, my fridge, phone, laptop, fans, heating pad, lights, plug into the batteries, charged with solar panels. Now, after a few days of overcast skies, the most efficient way to get my three solar batteries charged up is to take a day trip 25 miles back up to the campground I just left, where I can plug into electricity at the group shelter.
Weather is always a factor in the discomfort of nomad life, and this winter the desert winds were relentless. When it became severe, with wind gusts up to 65mph and air quality one level away from “too dangerous to be outside,” I ended up in a motel room. I admit, the unlimited hot showers helped take the sting out of spending the money!
With no running water, no electricity except what my solar panels generate, no shower, no conventional bathroom, no heat or AC except my vehicle engine, no thermostat to regulate my living space, I definitely experience some of the discomforts of nomad life.
So Why Do It!
So why do I do it? I became a nomad to live closer to nature. The promise of the freedom and peace of nomad life appealed to me, and I intuitively felt that living closer to nature would help heal my body from the ravages of chronic illness. Thankfully, all of that was right on!
What I do have is This.
Moments of bliss that far outweigh the discomforts of nomad life.
Experiencing the immeasurable privilege of existing close to nature.
Soaking in the healing energy of nature’s beauty that heals my soul every day, which I write about here.
Living in a way that connects me to the natural cycles of the Earth.
And anyone who follows my socials knows how obsessed I am with mind-blowing sunsets!
I get to move around the country and experience an intriguing culture of nomadic humans. I’ve put my feet in the ocean on both sides of our continent, and learned to thrive in the fascinating contrast of both forest and desert climates.
I get to live in fierce independence and freedom, yet enjoy a thriving nomad community and friends that love this nomad life as much as I do. And after spending the winter months in the warm Southwest deserts I trek back to the humid rain forests of the East Coast to spend quality time with my family, all while still living as a nomad! I truly live in the best of both worlds!
Wild Women On The Road: My personal experiences as a nomad, practical advice and philosophy about nomad life,
