Nomad'ing east to west and south to north

Thursday, March 12, 2020 is a day that my life completely changed. 

NYC was about to hit its 100th case of COVID-19, and there were rumors of a severe lockdown starting that weekend. Miles and I started the day by acquiring staples: 25lb of rice, 20lb of chicken, and other canned goods. I spent the day working (we were all already working from home at this point) from my cofounder's apartment. By mid afternoon, the situation had deteriorated into what felt like panic: the line for the grocery store wrapped around the block, and we felt that any COVID-related restrictions would be lengthy. We believed that life wouldn't be normal again until a vaccine was developed. 

So, we made a decision. We booked a one-way flight to Portland, Oregon to plan our next steps. 

The idea was to go to my parents' house and stay outside NYC in case the city was quarantined. We only stayed in Portland for two evenings, long enough to pack camping gear and toilet paper into my sister's old car (she had gone to college and didn't need it anymore). Our original plan was to drive south to Fort Bragg, where Miles's friend was having a bachelor party, and then head to Tahoe to stay with our friend Brian before making our next move. 

2020 destroys plans. 

The morning we left, it snowed in Portland. This was unusual and made for less than ideal driving conditions, but was still manageable. Over the weekend, however, it turned into the largest blizzard of the year, blanketing most of the western states, and making the highways leading to Tahoe completely impassable. We scrambled for a last minute alternative, and my cofounder Hart let us stay at his house in Big Sur, California. It was strange to greet his sister's family from 6' away and not interact during our stay. They stayed in the main house, and we were in the guest cabin. We used the WiFi from their downstairs bedroom by accessing it through a sliding glass door that led outside so that we could avoid entering the main house. The risks of transmission at that point in time were minute, but it was that stage of the pandemic: early and uncertain enough that everyone was on their most cautious behavior. 

Miles and I agreed on the characteristics of our ideal COVID-19 quarantine location: warm, easy access to outdoor recreation, low rates of local transmission, and away from large population centers. The only place in America that we felt fit the bill and was within driving distance was Phoenix. It was warm, cheap, beautiful, and had low rates of infection. It was a "city," but not in the way that New York was since most people lived in standalone houses. We signed a lease in Arizona, sight unseen, and set our GPS for adventure. 

At first, the quarantine felt like the best thing that had ever happened to us.

Work was a good distraction, and I threw myself into it, regularly working 12-hour days as I sought to maintain east coast hours while letting work bleed into the west coast evenings. Friends from all of our different circles sought to connect, and without the constraint of geography, we had a chance to catch up with someone new almost every night. Entertainers mostly threw their support behind flattening the curve, offering livestreams and virtual raves. Tiger King was the latest viral hit. Oh, and the outdoors! After years spent in cities, Miles and I now spent every single weekend camping, exploring the outdoors, and soaking up the Vitamin D. We also got out of our NYC lease and felt unencumbered to explore. 

As temperatures in Arizona topped 100 degrees in May and going outside became unbearable, we decided to seek greener pastures in southern Utah. Immediately upon arrival, we knew that we would want to spend more than a month there. La Verkin and Apple Valley, the two tiny towns we stayed in, were only hours away from some of the most beautiful landscapes and parks imaginable. We loved to spend our weekends completely off the grid, boondocking at undiscovered locations. 

It was after one of these off-grid weekends that George Floyd was murdered. 

The protests that ensued were some of the largest-scale, recurring protests that I've ever witnessed in my life. At that time, I'd already come to believe that the game in America was rigged, and that there were broad based social constructs in place to maintain the social order. These protests validated that millions of others felt the same way, and more importantly, were willing to act on it to demand change. I also suddenly felt the weight of my past decisions and questioned whether I was adding to the problem or the solution. It was an intensely emotional time that forced me to reckon with not just my view on #blacklivesmatter, but my entire purpose here on earth. I felt like I was lying to myself about the impact that my work had on others. In July, I decided to commit myself to a life of service, one where I could see the direct impact I was having on someone's life. I worked out a succession plan with my cofounder, and set my final date to be September 4th. 

By that time, Utah weather was topping 100 degrees daily, so we moved north again to Montana. By now, it was about 6 months into the lockdown, and after 20+ camping trips, we were pretty burnt out on the outdoors. At first, the escape into our nomadic life felt refreshing, but now it was suffocating. One day bled into the other. Optimism faded, as did interactions with friends. I'd been crying nearly every day that summer, dealing with my feelings of guilt and shame over my impact on the world, and it was exhausting to be around myself. I'd also stopped working out when the pandemic started, and I could feel the weight of my unhealthy habits. 

I thought of my last day with UMA to be a sort of milestone date where I'd start doing all the things I'd been wanting to do but was procrastinating on. This meant self care, self reflection, and mindful presence. First, I took a week off to explore Yellowstone with friends, the first time I'd seen them in 2020. Then, I spent a week in Pullman, the sleepy college town where I first immigrated to from China. Further, I spent two weeks with my parents in Oregon and returned their car. Now, we have returned to Arizona where we are exploring the local area and establishing roots, and I'm giving myself the space to practice yoga, and simply laugh and live and love. 

Our journey took us on a loop of 9 western states and 10 national parks, with 4200+ miles on the highway and 3500+ miles in the air. I'm incredibly grateful for state and federal land conservation agencies that protect natural land and make it accessible for everyone to enjoy. I thought that nomad'ing during lockdown would simply be a lighthearted way to make the best of a bad situation, but it turned out that being forced to sit with yourself, and only yourself, forces you to ask the big questions. My answers are still being formed, but I've set on an intention and direction now. For this, I am grateful.