9 Things That Surprised Me About Trying Out RV Life

Follow along with Business Insider journalist and outdoor enthusiast Monica Humphries as she tries out van life for the first time during a weekend getaway trip.

From chatting with couples over the realities of van life to interviewing people who traded brick-and-mortar homes for a few hundred square feet, I've written what feels like countless stories about life on the road. Until May, I had never tried it myself.

For the last two and a half years, I've interviewed dozens of people living and traveling the world in tiny vans, campers, RVs, and even things like WWII airplanes converted into homes on wheels. 

After every one of those conversations, I ask myself two questions. The first is: Could I do it? My answer is always yes. But I get stuck answering the second question: Would I want to?

I love to camp, and most of my post-work Fridays involve my roommate and I playing Tetris with our camping gear in the trunk of her car. Then, we're off to remote mountain destinations, where we pitch our tent and fire up veggie dogs over a campfire. But the weekend-long trips always end with a drive back to city life.

I've always wondered what it would be like to remove that drive back home and instead continue the journey. To me, van life feels like a long-term version of camping. But I also know I've grown to rely on amenities like showers, Wi-Fi, and lots of closet space.

In May, when I traveled by train to Moab, Utah, I decided to dip my toes in van life for the first time and rent a teardrop camper for two nights. 

I got my first taste of RV life when I rented a 45-square-foot camper in Utah's desert.

Since I wasn't sure I was ready to hop in the front seat of a van and drive across the country by myself, I thought a stationary experience would be the best way to try van or RV life. 

I mapped my trip through Utah and found an Airbnb listing for a tiny teardrop camper trailer through Red Rocks Base Camps.

I booked it for $334, and the listing outlined that the Airbnb host would deliver my trailer to a nearby Moab location, which I was responsible for finding. After spotting Ken's Lake Campground on multiple travel sites, I reserved a spot there, which cost an additional $48. Insider paid for these costs, per our reporting standards.

Once my booking was confirmed, I was ready to embark on my first camper adventure. 

The two nights were filled with surprises, and I drove away from the experience daydreaming of trading my monthly rent for a van payment.

While my RV experience was about the length of my average camping trip, I did get a taste of what living and sleeping on the road would feel like. 

And honestly, I loved it. I'd probably need a larger setup if I wanted to try van life with another person, but I left the two-night trip itching to embark on a longer adventure.

[...]

The tiny camper's kitchen setup was impressive. I didn't expect that I'd be able to cook almost any meal my heart desired.

When I travel, I almost always expect to eat out. It's easier to order from local restaurants than to predict what equipment the kitchen in my hotel, Airbnb, or rental property might have.

Since a camper was even tinier than most hotels I've stayed in, I didn't expect an elaborate kitchen setup. The Airbnb listing had images of breakfasts complete with coffee, eggs, avocado, and sweet potatoes, but I was skeptical. 

I was surprised by how accurate the listing was. When I arrived, I found an outdoor kitchen at the back of the camper with a sink and running water, multiple burners, pots and pans, colanders, cutting boards, knives, spices, a kettle, a French press, plates, bowls, cups, and silverware.

On the opposite side of the camper was a cooler where I could store any perishables. The only thing missing was an oven.

I, unfortunately, didn't cook anything since I wrongly assumed the tiny space meant I'd have to sacrifice my love for cooking. Next time, I'm packing groceries.

Read the full article from Business Insider here.