Vanlife. It is a life that involves exquisite bedroom window views, with side of the road front porch hangs, all revolving around one and one only, multi-purpose room that serves as the center of my universe. A center that is forever changing geographically, but remains homiest of homes no matter where I park each night.

This room is a kitchen. It is a living room. Bedroom. Mud room. Dining room. Sometimes bathroom. Enclosed porch. Everything I could ever want and/or need under one tin roof. At least in this stage in my life.

Because my one room serves many purposes, downsizing after living in an apartment was inevitable. I have never been an accumulator of large things, always having roommates that were thankfully more domesticated than I, and therefore the bearer of the burden of supplying our furniture and signing up for our electric bills while I noncommittally handed over cash to cover my share. I really didn’t have to get rid of much. I sold all of the clothes I rarely wore, I trashed all of the beauty products I used on occasion but that took up more space than they deserved. I got rid of the spare shoes I owned that covered the floor of my closet, and gave away all of the heavy candles with long shelf-lives that had simply had no place in the van. I kept my books though, most going into boxes that now sit in the basement of my father’s place in Kansas City. For me, books are non-negotiable as they are like travel journals, written by someone else of course, but when I see their spines all lined up in a row, it still takes me back to the exact place I initially read them. Where I was, what I was doing, who I was.

Most of these books will sit in a bin until I have moved on from Vanlife and back to an apartment again. For now, they stay safe, and take away some of the weight for Vannoli to carry along the highways and backroads we have and will continue to explore. The few I couldn’t let go of, take up what little shelf space I have in my home on wheels.

Within these four walls, everything must have a dual purpose, or it’s out. Doesn’t make the cut. Not worth taking up the precious limited space, not worth even an ounce more of weight that’ll affect Vannoli’s gas mileage. So having possessions, tools, and luxuries that are small, efficient and can withstand the backroad potholes and mountain highways is essential. The number of ceramic mugs I have broken this past year and a half is heartbreaking. But, just as the books are heavy and seem a silly weight to carry, so is my coffee setup. Both are 100% non-negotiable.

Let’s talk about my obsession with coffee for a sec before I geek out over my Vanlife coffee setup. Coffee and I go way back to when I first sipped a french vanilla cappuccino from a midwestern gas station machine one winter morning. I couldn’t have been older than 10, and my mother, both a brave soul for allowing me to try it, and perhaps too tired to argue with my foot stomping, stubborn, polly pocket of a child, self. I was told it was going to stunt my growth, which I was actually very concerned about since I was always small for my age, but at a certain point, I just gave up the hope of ever being bigger, so I kept drinking coffee. I drank sugary coffee, crappy coffee, until I discovered good coffee when I went to Costa Rica at the age of 18. I haven’t looked back since. It was at that moment that I proudly became a coffee snob. 

Vanlife leads you to interesting places, sometimes big cities with excellent coffee scenes, sometimes to deserts with excellent excuses to whip out the impractical coffee set up. I have a 12 ounce stainless steel french press. Too small for two, perfect for one. Admittingly, I do not break this bad boy out on a daily basis. I am fortunate enough to work for a coffee roaster that makes the best dang cortados on this side of the Mississippi, and I take advantage of this most mornings. However, when I take off on a Vanlife adventure and head down to New Mexico for warmer weather, to Moab to chase the desert sun, east on I-70 for Denver in search of art museums and live music, I often find myself waking up in new and unexpected places. I open my eyes and survey my surroundings at truck stops, next to train tracks, and always always taking advantage of my impractical, yet exquisite coffee set up. This is, some would argue, the most essential of all van accessories.

Most mornings in the middle of the adventures, I crawl out of bed and look out the window to discover the parking spot I’d blindly chosen the night before in the pitch black. Sometimes a pleasant surprise greets me, and I’m overlooking a canyon where I can pull out the coffee gear right there. Other times I wake up to a view of the side of a dumpster, and decide to take a short drive to a more scenic morning coffee spot. When I find said spot, here’s the VanLife coffee ritual in eight steps:

8 Steps to Brew a French Press

Step 1: Give the French Press a quick rinse with hot water to both clean and heat the press.

Step 2: Heat water to a boil and then let sit for two minutes before pouring over the grounds.

Step 3: Add three tablespoons of coarse ground Breck Coffee for every 8 oz cup of water. 

Step 4: Start your (multipurpose) phone timer and fill the press halfway with hot water saturating all the grounds.

Step 5: At 1 minute, use a spoon to break the top layer we call the crust. Give it a stir.

Step 6: Add more water to fill to the top. Put the top on and allow the coffee to brew without pressing the plunger down.

Step 7: At 4 minutes, you are ready to press all the way down.

Step 8: Serve in your favorite unbreakable travel mug.

Clean Up - To clean the French Press, add a little water to the grounds, give it a good swirl, and empty into the compost. Then wash all the parts and allow them to dry. 

As much as I love waking up in new places and striving to live each day open and ready for  whatever adventures and surprises are thrown my way, I also deeply value the comforts of a fresh and hot cup of coffee from the town I call home, Breckenridge.