Before I had my van, Nessie, I had a car. A very small car. She was my first taste of life on the road. My tiny-home-on-wheels, version 1.
A few weeks before leaving my job in higher education in 2015, I had a sudden surge of inspiration while I was dropping off to sleep one night. The next morning I turned my car into a camper-car. Shortly after, she was christened Nancy, the nano-camper. She was to be my part-time roving home for two years, before I embarked on a wonderful joint journey in Nessie.
During the two years of Nancy, I had some amazing journeys, discovering new places in both outer and inner landscapes. The first trip was to the Isle of Skye via Glencoe. This was my first solo trip to Scotland at the age of 32. I couldn’t believe I had never been that far north until then. I fell in love, and the love affair with Scotland continues. You could say I’m wedded to this land now (though I do have dalliances with the English Lake District on occasion).
Back in the Nancy days, I also spent time in Devon while I embarked on a course in nature connection and environmental education at Schumacher college in Dartington. This was to be one of my most transformational experiences since leaving my former life behind. It is difficult to begin to describe the deep learning, realisations and connections that I made in that time, but it continues to have ripples in how I live today.
While studying in Devon, I also stayed in a cabin on Dartmoor where I met Maggie, an elder, a writer, and a beloved mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. I stayed on her land, Mill Farm, for a few weeks helping tend her garden in exchange for staying in the cabin. Sadly, Maggie passed in 2022 though she lives on in my memory. She was always learning and creating, still curious and open in her nineties. Whilst I learnt much from the course at Schumacher, my time with Maggie and at Mill Farm also taught me about how to connect with land and people.
On another trip in Nancy, I discovered Dumfries and Galloway. I have no idea what led me to the area; sometimes we follow an inner impulse that we do not know the origin of. I arrived in May, following a short stay at Samyeling, a Tibetan Buddhist Monastery in Eskdalemuir. I remember how green and lush the fields were as early Spring unfolded. I was quietly touched by the understated beauty, compared with the grand scale of Glencoe, or the rugged mountains of the Lake District. It felt like a quieter place to be. There was a sense of community, which feels vitally important in these times of separation and division. Since spending more time in the region over the past couple of years I feel like I’ve connected with the place more deeply, and with the people who call this place home.
Reflecting on those journeys, I remember feeling that Nancy was facilitating my freedom. She wasn’t just a car, it felt like she was actively supporting me somehow. She was my first taste of living in a tiny space, but I also knew she was just a stepping stone; my spine could only take so much of being crammed into a Seat Ibiza. She allowed those early explorations and gave me the confidence that I could cope with smaller spaces and solo travel, so for that, I’m grateful for the times we shared.
When it came time to part with Nancy and to move into a slightly larger home on wheels, I was really sad. I had to decommission her, and turn her back into a regular car. I felt guilty in some way, like I was letting her down. I hoped that someone might want her for similar adventures, but it turned out there aren’t many people who are as enthusiastic as me about sleeping in tiny cars!
Now, nearly six years after parting with Nancy and having formed quite an attachment to Nessie, I realise that it wasn’t ever my conscious intention to live in a tiny home on wheels. Somehow it just unfolded in an organic way, with small nudges of encouragement from friends and other people I met while exploring, and mysterious flashes of inspiration. I can’t help but think what the next iteration of this simple, connected life will be. For now, I am content to wonder.
stravaig 