How Covid-19 Changed our Travel Plans (and a Special Announcement)

We should be parked up in southern California, packing for our April 6^th trip to France.  Instead, we are in a rental house in British Columbia, Canada!

What happened to so drastically change our plans?  The global pandemic happened, that’s what!

The last I wrote, our family was in southern California trying to make sense of our world’s new Covid-19 reality after having spent almost a week in the desert without internet or phone signal.  My parents – who’d been with us for several weeks – decided to drive back with haste to New Brunswick.  But with an early April trip to France planned and paid for, we weren’t quite sure what our future held.

Apparently it held a 2500km road trip to Canada.

It was a disorienting few days after my parents’ departure.  In town, grocery stores were creepily barren, shops were installing unfamiliar protocols, like 6-feet distances in lineups marked with taped Xs on the ground, and limiting the number of clients in any store at a time.  After a couple days spent laundering every piece of fabric we owned, filling our gas and water tanks, and stocking up on food, we returned to the campground where we had been two days prior with my parents, only to find it now closed due to new Covid-measures put in place by the governor of California.

With no fixed refuge, only a 3-day capacity of fresh water, and no idea whether laundromats and grocery stores would remain open, I felt exposed and vulnerable.  In our bus-life situation, it seemed we were even more dependent on society than “regular” folks.  We didn’t even know where we were going to sleep that night!

It was time to make a plan.

Bruno got on the phone with his father and brother to get updated on the current situation in France.  It appeared the government was tightening quarantine measures, now requiring anyone outside the home to have a detailed legal document as to why they were out.  Whereas a few days before you could be within 500m of your home without said document, you could now no longer loiter anywhere – not even the beach, which is within 200m of our home!

Meanwhile, I learned that our April 6^th flights to France had just been cancelled.  We could still purchase new flights to Paris for late March – and we almost did – but we hit a snag at the Paris airport.  All trains were full for days, and that very day they had closed car-rental agencies from the airport.  If we flew to Paris, we would be stuck at Charles de Gaules airport!

We all really wanted to go to France.  Bruno’s parents are elderly, and his mom is literally only holding on to see Phoenix.  We also felt that, if we needed to be stuck anywhere long-term, it ought to be in France, where we actually have a house.  But the night before, my mind had raced, thinking about all the different scenarios where we’d actually be endangering Bruno’s parents (who are in their 80s with pre-existing health conditions) by going to France – whether it be bringing the virus from the airplane or airport, or just catching it on a quick grocery trip once there.  We knew we’d have to isolate ourselves from them for the first two weeks, but I realized that in order to keep them truly safe, we’d have to keep our distance until this whole pandemic ended.  We couldn’t imagine being so close to Bruno’s parents, and yet so far – and Phoenix would never have comprehended it.

It felt strange to accept, but it seemed the best way to show love for Bruno’s parents was to stay far, far away from France.

Once we realized and accepted that reality, I actually felt relief.  It felt like the right choice.  But now we needed to decide what to do instead.  Our US visa was about to run out so we couldn’t stay in California.  We briefly considered Mexico because of the weather and distance, but ultimately decided that Canada was a better choice.  If this pandemic lasts awhile, I felt more comfortable being in my own country (not to mention not wanting to be a burden on Mexico’s limited resources).

My parents invited us to stay with them in New Brunswick.  And while that was a tempting offer, it was just too far (6000km!).  British Columbia was the closest Canadian border to us, and it just so happens to be the warmest spot in Canada.  I spent an entire day on Air BnB, researching rental homes and contacting owners for special last-minute offers.  Eventually I secured a little bungalow in Osoyoos, BC for a “reasonable” rate.

We didn’t have time for this new reality to set in, to feel whether or not this was the right move, before we were off.  We spent one day cleaning the house, prepping the bus, and mad-cooking for a long road trip, and then we hit the road!

For the next eight days (including one rest day on Lake Shasta), we journeyed north, through California (which felt endless), Oregon and Washington.  A few days ago, we arrived at the Canadian border after 2500km and over 40 hours of driving.  Bruno was quite skeptical that they would let him cross into Canada because of the strict pandemic border protocol.  Thankfully, he was welcomed in quickly and easily, and a few minutes later we arrived at our little rental house.

The moment we parked our bus into the perfectly-sized driveway and stepped into the house, I knew coming to British Columbia had been the right decision.  The house was clean, comfortable and just the right size for us.  There was a little backyard, a park and green space at the end of the street, and all the modern luxuries that we nomads appreciate – from the bathtub and giant fridge to the laundry and washing machines. 

I am feeling incredibly grateful for so many things right now.  Grateful, first and foremost, that we had the savings to rent a home for 6 weeks, pay for the gas to get here, and stock up on a month of food before arriving.  I know there are so, SO many people without savings who are struggling so much right now.  I am grateful that we made it safely to Canada – that Bruno drove us carefully and diligently to our new home, that Phoenix was a patient and happy little passenger, and that the engine light that went off mid-way through our trip didn’t impede our arrival (phew!).  I am grateful to be from a country with hospitals and resources, wide-open people-free spaces, and a government who has had the foresight to keep its people safe.

And I am grateful that, despite the confusion and panic I felt during our final week in California, it appears our family made the right decision to come to British Columbia.  I can feel that rightness deep within my bones, and I think we will be well here for the next 6 weeks.

I’m going to take this opportunity to announce something that I have been feeling coming for a few months.  I’m going to stop blogging on Wandering Footsteps.  It has been an incredibly difficult decision, mostly because I have blogged regularly for almost fifteen years, which feels monumental somehow.  I know there are a few lovely devoted followers who will be disappointed, and future me (or future Phoenix) may regret this decision.  But, as we settle into our new [temporary] home and the world painfully morphs into a new one, it feels like the right time to call it quits.  I’m not sure yet whether this is a temporary or permanent break, but for now, at least, I’m going to focus on my family, my own self-care, and fostering the stillness, space and peace I’ve been craving.

Sounds like a perfect recipe for the legally-binding (and punishable with a one-million dollar fine) 14-day quarantine we were served at the border!

Wishing you all well during this brave new world that is now being created.  Much love, and thank you so much for having followed our family’s journey all these years.