150 days of free camping

Today marks exactly five months since we sold our self-sufficient farm, our house, stables, and all our tools, and moved into our tiny 16-square-metre house on wheels. Yes, sixteen. That’s about the size of a studio apartment where people complain they don’t have enough room for their shoes, while we manage to fit our entire lives inside it, along with a plan to reach the Atlantic.

Our Adria Sun Living SL65V camper has become our home, office, dining room, laundry room, and occasionally the scene of serious marital negotiations over who left the dirty laundry in the middle of the living room. So far, we’ve travelled 1,800 kilometers from Croatia towards the Atlantic, passing through three countries. On day trips around campsites, trips to the shops, and sightseeing along the way, we’ve clocked up another 10,000 kilometers. In other words, on our way to the ocean, we’ve driven roughly six times more kilometers than the actual distance to it. Call it navigation, call it curiosity, we call it “strategic wandering.”

In a few days, we’ll be halfway there, assuming we even still have a destination. And maybe that’s exactly the point: when you stop chasing the destination, the journey itself becomes the goal. The richest part of this journey wasn't marked on any map. We've met an incredible number of wonderful people and realized that they are the most valuable experience of these almost six months of living freely. No GPS predicted them; no reservation guaranteed we'd meet them. We simply stopped, said hello, and had a coffee.

It turned out to be the best investment we've made, and it didn't cost us a thing. Diesel prices have skyrocketed since the beginning of our journey, and the cities we had planned to pass through and briefly explore as tourists have become out of reach too. Barricades everywhere, curfews, and fires every evening. So we drive a slalom, carefully avoiding the larger cities and choosing free camping spots and rest areas in the heart of nature. Over these five months, we've stayed at just three paid campsites, one in each country. The prices were almost laughable: between 10 and 15 euros per night, including electricity and water. In some cities, that will barely get you a coffee and a front-row seat to other people's problems. We don't spend much because we don't need much. Our biggest expense is food, which, after twelve years of living on a self-sufficient farm, is quite a little drama for us. For twelve years, tomatoes were free. Now we look at them on supermarket shelves as if they were expensive jewellery. But we're managing. And quite well, actually. We often stop for a few days at farms similar to the one we used to run. We exchange experiences and lend a hand with whatever needs doing. In return, we get free food for the entire week, along with a place to stay, water, and electricity.

Somehow, we seem to be constantly following the Sun. We're heading west. Daytime temperatures hover around 22°C, while mornings are around 8°C, just enough to remind us why hot coffee and a warm blanket are such wonderful things. We never planned on becoming migratory birds, but here we are. Apparently, that's what we've become. We're currently in Italy, with just one more day to go. We have no idea what awaits us next, and that's precisely why we keep moving, heading towards France. We've realized that you don't need a lot of money, a big house, or a perfect plan. You need a little courage, a full tank of fuel (or a well-chosen free meadow), and the willingness to surrender to the road. Everything else somehow falls into place.

Nikola Borić, No-mad expedition