Desert Nomads

So we’re camped in what is most likely the best campground in the entire country, a desert oasis in the middle of Capitol Reef National Park in Utah. We’re surrounded by stark canyons and eroded buttes, a landscape desperately dry and hot. But in the little valley where we’re camped there runs a perennial river, the Fremont, and the grass grows lush and green and the cottonwood trees tall. A herd of mule deer ambles through the valley, completely fearless. Hundreds of fruit trees surround our camp, planted by Mormon pioneers many years ago, and we’re told by the camp host that when the fruit ripens people can pick the bounty free of charge. And get this: at the little farmhouse in this valley they sell fresh, homemade scones, pies, and breads each day.

I’m going to hazard a guess that heaven is a lot like the Capitol Reef campground.

We’re camped in our little RV, a vehicle that I affectionately call the Gypsy Wagon (I invite you to marvel at its cuteness in the picture at right). One evening a man comes up to us and introduces himself. He has some questions about the somewhat-unusual design of our camper. We trade details of our respective lives, and it turns out that Bob and I knew his aunt, Sylvia McNair. When I first became a travel writer she was a wise and encouraging elder member of the Midwest Travel Writers Association. I’m happy to say that blood runs true, for Doug McNair shares her easy way with people and love of life.

I want to tell you about Doug and his partner, Cathy Hume, because the more I learned about them, the more intrigued I became. They are true nomads, with no home other than a tent. Doug pulled up stakes after a bruising divorce eight years ago; Cathy joined him on the road three years ago. The two of them travel primarily in the desert southwest and eastern Sierra. To make money Doug trades stocks and Cathy handles the paperwork for real estate transactions for several companies in Seattle (while they live in a tent, they also have a satellite dish that connects them to the Internet wherever they go).

It’s not unusual to meet people traveling the country in a big RV, but Doug and Cathy live very simply. At their invitation I peeked into their tent, which has a bed and a small table and not much else. I was totally impressed. (I’m an enthusiastic camper, but I’ve gotten quite fond of the little luxuries in our Gypsy Wagon.)

We ended up spending a couple of delightful hours with Doug and Cathy. As evening fell, they talked about the decisions that led them to their nomad existence and about the challenges and joys of being on the road. A line from Doug’s website, A Virtual Nomad, sums it up well. After a divorce and a serious health scare, Doug writes that he “realized that C.S. Lewis was right when he argued that time is the supreme and completely arbitrary gift. I became determined to honor that gift, which is no small thing given how deep and wide the strain of procrastination is in my family.”

Doug came up with his list of the Secrets to Life:

Drink a good cup of coffee every morning.

Get two hours of sunlight every day.

Exercise five days a week with at least three of these outdoors.

Sleep at least seven hours a night and meditate at least once a day.

Sleep under the stars twice a month.

Recognize and greet every person I encounter.

Converse with someone every day and converse with a stranger every week.

Travel to a new place at least six times a year.

Doug summed up his decision to become a nomad this way: “I realized that the happiest time of my life was when I was living in a tent.”

Doug is an accomplished photographer, and I invite you to check out his website A Virtual Nomad to see his work. But what most impressed me even more is that Doug and Cathy are following their hearts. I’m glad that Doug sought us out, glad to have had a fascinating conversation with them in that peaceful desert oasis, and happy to know that the two of them are out there right now, wandering the roads, sleeping under the stars, and using the time they’ve been given to live both richly and simply. I wouldn’t want to be a full-time nomad like them—and yet at some level I must confess that I do. My problem is that when I’m traveling, I long for home, and when I’m home, I long to travel.

Dear readers, what’s on your list of the Secrets of Life?