My great escape from New York City was supposed to start in September. After five months of confinement in my apartment in Chelsea, I decided it was time for a change. My team had returned our WeWork and it was time to try a brief foray into the digital nomad life.
I was looking forward to a month in Bend, Oregon. Right in the heart of Oregon, it was an opportunity to go hiking, swimming, biking, and standing wave surfing (see picture below). Plus it would finally be time with friends after avoiding most human contact outside of my family for the past half a year. And it was an opportunity to finally put the four or five things I care about into a bag (my massive Osprey pack) and see how far I could go.
We had found a cheap place on Craigslist. We had all wanted to save money, and there weren’t many rentals available on Airbnb that weren’t 20-acre vineyard properties. Sure, I thought, we might be getting scammed, but we are paying through PayPal so at least we will get our money back.
The trip started precipitously when I received a text the day I was leaving from our pseudo-landlord saying that he needed a few extra days to clean the apartment. Bobby and Sierra were already headed to Bend from god-knows-where-Idaho, so we decided, fuck it, we will just rent a hotel to hold us over - the three of us crammed in a room and worked from the limited desk and dresser space provided (I wish I had a picture of Bobby’s two-screen set up). Besides, it was a good sign that the renter had communicated with us - the place must be legit.
Thursday comes and Bobby is bursting to get out of the hotel. He heads over to the house with the code the renter sent us the previous night in hand. It’s awesome - right in the center of town - a good size with a little lawn. The only problem: there are people still in it - So much for cleaning I guess. Bobby calls me; I call the renter; The renter doesn’t respond. Bobby musters up the courage to knock on the door and talk to the occupiers. They were moving out today but didn’t know anything about craigslist. They had rented through VRBO — shiiiiiiit. Bobby tried the code the renter had given us - it didn’t work. We had been scammed.
The feeling of getting scammed is hard to explain. I knew it could happen. I knew it could happen to me. I even knew that getting a cheap Craigslist rental meant that there was a good chance it was too good to be true. Still, your heart drops and your tail goes between your legs and you become sad. How could this happen to me? What will my friends think? Where are we going to sleep tonight? All of these thoughts raced through my mind. Spirits were low, but I was on the other side of the country already. We had to figure out what to do next
Friends can be gracious saviors. I immediately texted a friend in town, Camyll to tell her what happened, and she offered to take us in for a week when they got to Bend on Labor Day. With housing to work from for the next week, we could worry about exploring the great outdoors. Thank God - Oregon is a beautiful state. Obviously, all campgrounds in the area were booked - Labor Day, duh - but there were a few first-come-first-serve sites available. Something will work out.
As we drove out to the alpine lake that surrounds Bend, it started to get smoky. We knew there were fires in California, but so far, central Oregon had been spared. After a brief rest stop, we decided the smoke wasn’t heavy enough to turn around and we drove onward to the first campsite with walk-up service. In an unbelievable stroke of luck, a camper had just packed up and there was a spot available for the whole weekend. Things always work out.
The campsite was idyllic - lakes, a nice hike jutting out the back, a fire pit, and a friendly neighbor selling wood. For the first time all week, we could relax. Camping is a beautiful salve. Not only do you know where you are sleeping, but you have little contact with the outside world - everything gets a rest. But our two days there came and went and it was time to hit the road again. Back to Bend - for beers, the river runs - or so we thought.
The smoke started to roll in on Wednesday. We had been following the news and saw the images of orange skies at Giants games. Until I was in it, however, I didn’t really comprehend how suffocating the smog could be. I was in China last year, existing in a stupor of unhealthy factory air, but this was on a different level. It was so bad that you couldn’t go outside to hang out, much less do any outdoor activities. Six of us were trapped in a house once again - 2020 in perpetuity. By Friday, we were crawling to get out.
We planned our escape from Bend for Saturday morning. We thought the Seattle early fall air would be fresher. But there was no escape. As we drove, the AQI increased, from 400 to 500 to off the chart. The lack of visibility was incredible and I can only imagine the toll on Bobby’s air filter. As we arrived in Yakima, the toll on his psyche was apparent: “I fucking hate Yakima”, he said as we sat down for Mexican. Two hours later, he was back home.
We had failed, but again, I was on the west coast and didn’t want to go home just yet. I hadn’t seen any of my friends in Seattle for a while - why rush home? The challenge with couch surfing during the pandemic is not finding a place to sleep -it’s finding a place to work. I take calls all day - nobody wants to hear me interact with my team. After a few days, I was out of Bobby’s place and on to the next. Eventually, I just rented an Airbnb. I realized that as much as I enjoyed seeing everyone, I was tired of being on the run. If I was going to do the digital nomad life, I wanted to do it right - get rid of my apartment in Chelsea and find a home of my own.
The moral of the trip is not “don’t book a rental on Craigslist” - this should have been obvious to us from the beginning. It may be great for buying a Daihatsu, but you are almost guaranteed to get scammed looking for housing. The moral is adventure can be tiring and while idealized, often leads to many uncomfortable experiences. The interesting question becomes, can you create a “comfort” anywhere, and what is required to do that? A few things that come to mind are a place to sleep, a place to work, and a routine to stick to. Maybe a few friends along the way as well. I’m sure in the coming months, as I detach myself from the routines of office work, I will find more of these. For now, I’m back in the ironic comfort of a small New York apartment with my bed, my writing desk, and everything else where I expect it to be.