PRACTICAL STUFF
The less scenic side of vanlife.
Packing, parking, power, laundry and the occasional garage. The things that don’t disappear just because you’ve moved into a van.
What I’ve learned from preparing Petal, living on the road and discovering that even finding a shower can require a surprising amount of planning.
01 — Before you go.
I spent a lot of time figuring out what to take with me.
The temptation is to pack for the trip you’re imagining. Beautiful beaches, remote mountains, long evenings outside.
But you also need to pack for an ordinary Tuesday.
You still need to cook, sleep, wash your clothes, work, charge your devices and occasionally repair something. In my case, there’s also a fairly unreasonable amount of gym equipment.
The most useful preparation exercise is to think through a complete day, from waking up to going to bed, and ask whether you’ve actually got what you need.
A few things I’d check before leaving:
- Weight and dimensions. Know your van’s loaded weight, permitted maximum weight and height. Petal is 2.9 metres tall, which makes some car parks very much not an option.
- The boring paperwork. Registration, insurance, breakdown cover, driving documents and emergency contacts. Check that your coverage actually applies where you’re going.
- Power and water. Test how long your setup lasts with your normal usage, not just the manufacturer’s estimates.
- Basic maintenance. Tyres, fluids, lights and anything that’s already showing signs of wear. Finding a garage for a campervan abroad can be more complicated than you’d expect.
- Everyday essentials. Cooking, washing, laundry, first aid, tools and a way to stay connected.
And then there’s everything you think you might need.
I’ve learned that every object should earn its place. Space is limited, weight matters, and something that seemed essential at home can become remarkably irritating when you have to move it six times a day.
The 32kg kettlebell has so far survived this assessment.
02 — How I plan a day on the road.
I originally imagined vanlife would involve waking up, deciding where I fancied going and driving off.
Sometimes it does.
Other days I need a gym, a shower, diesel, groceries, somewhere to work, perhaps some laundry and a legal place to sleep.
Suddenly I’m planning logistics for what is essentially a small travelling household.
What works best for me is to start with the things that can’t move.
An appointment, a ferry, a gym’s closing time, a particular destination or a time I need to be somewhere. Those go into the plan first.
Then I fit everything else around them.
My usual approach
01
Decide where I’m starting and roughly where I want to end up. I don’t necessarily need a fixed destination, but I do need a direction.
02
Identify the non-negotiables. If I have an appointment at 16:00, that determines the day. If a gym closes early, I need to know before I arrive.
03
Group the flexible stops. Fuel, groceries, water and laundry should ideally happen along the route, not involve driving backwards and forwards across a town.
04
Check the overnight options. I want somewhere suitable for Petal, with access that works for her dimensions and where staying overnight is permitted.
05
Leave some space. For traffic, a longer workout, a café, an unexpected detour or something worth stopping to see.
I also check the weather. A beautiful coastal parking spot becomes considerably less appealing when the wind picks up.
The biggest lesson? Don’t try to fit everything into one day just because you’re technically able to drive there.
The whole point of travelling this way is having some freedom.
It would be unfortunate to schedule all of it away.
BUILT ON THE ROAD · PRIVATE BETA
One request. A plan for your day.
I’m building Petalander to bring together the everyday logistics of vanlife: workouts, showers, fuel, groceries, fixed appointments and somewhere to stop.
Currently being tested by me, on the road with Petal. Not publicly available yet.
03 — Where do you shower?
An unexpectedly important question.
I like training regularly, which means I generally need a gym and a shower every day.
Preferably in that order.
In Belgium, France and Spain, gym chains such as Basic-Fit can make things relatively straightforward. Portugal has required a different approach, using local gyms and other facilities.
But not every gym offers a day pass. Not every day pass includes access to showers. And not every facility has the opening hours you expect.
I’ve learned to check a few things before driving anywhere.
01
First, can I actually use the place? Some gyms require memberships. Others have single-entry options, but you may need to arrange them in advance.
02
Second, are there showers? An obvious question, apparently. Still worth asking explicitly.
03
Third, when does it close? Google Maps is useful, but I check the gym’s own information where possible. Arriving after closing time is an excellent way to ruin an otherwise perfectly reasonable plan.
04
Fourth, can I park nearby? Petal is not exactly a small hatchback. Height restrictions and underground parking make a difference.
If a gym doesn’t work, municipal swimming pools and campsites are worth checking. Access and facilities vary, so I verify before making the journey.
The same principle applies to laundry and fresh water.
Don’t wait until you’ve completely run out of clean clothes or water before looking for somewhere to sort it.
And try to combine errands. A gym, a supermarket and a laundromat in roughly the same area can turn a complicated afternoon into a surprisingly efficient one.
It’s not the most glamorous part of vanlife.
But an excellent shower can genuinely improve your entire day.
04 — The tools I actually use.
There are plenty of apps promising to make travelling easier.
I’ve become less interested in how many features an app has and more interested in whether it prevents me from wasting an afternoon.
A few tools and habits have become particularly useful.
01 Google Maps — for places and planning
I save places constantly. Beaches, viewpoints, parking spots, shops, gyms, places I’d like to return to.
Over time, those saved locations have become a personal travel map. They’re useful for deciding where to go next and spotting interesting places near the route I’m already taking.
But a map pin isn’t proof that somewhere is accessible, open or legal to stay overnight.
02 Official websites — for the details that matter
If a gym’s opening hours determine my day, I try to verify them with the gym itself.
The same goes for ferries, campsites, attractions and other places with restrictions or schedules.
I don’t want to drive for an hour based on an opening time that was last updated three years ago.
03 Translation tools — for getting things done
My Portuguese is improving, but discussing vehicle maintenance is still beyond my conversational abilities.
Translation tools have already helped me explain what I needed to a garage, understand the response and discover that they could help me.
In two weeks.
Still useful information.
04 Weather forecasts — for deciding where to go
When you’re travelling along the coast, weather isn’t just about whether you need a jacket.
Wind, rain, temperature and changing conditions can affect driving, parking, activities and how pleasant a place is to stay.
Sometimes the best planning decision is simply to move somewhere else.
05 Overnight parking information — as a starting point
I use location information to identify possible stops, but I don’t assume that a place listed online is somewhere I’m allowed to spend the night.
Rules vary between countries and locations, especially around protected coastal areas.
I check local restrictions, access and alternatives before committing to a stop.
My general rule is to use apps to find possibilities, then verify anything that could derail the day.
Technology is helpful.
Blind faith in technology is considerably less helpful.
05 — When things go wrong.
Something will eventually need fixing.
Sometimes it’s a major problem. Sometimes it’s something completely ordinary that becomes unexpectedly complicated because you’re travelling in a van.
Petal needed an oil change in Portugal.
I assumed we’d find a garage, leave her there for a while and have a coffee.
Several garages couldn’t take her because of her size or weight. Another garage could help in two weeks. Eventually, we found a truck garage willing to do the job.
Quite a lot of driving had gone into arranging a fairly routine oil change.
I’ve also dealt with a cracked inner pane in a roof hatch, questions about Portuguese toll payments and the usual little things that come with maintaining a moving home.
A few lessons have emerged.
Know exactly what you’re dealing with. Take photographs, identify the part or fault and distinguish between something inconvenient and something that might make the vehicle unsafe.
Find the right kind of help. A garage that services ordinary cars isn’t necessarily equipped to handle a loaded campervan. Ask about vehicle dimensions and weight before driving there.
Explain the problem clearly. Photos, model numbers and translation tools can be more useful than a long explanation in a language you don’t speak.
Keep a fallback. Repairs take time. Parts aren’t always available. Sometimes the sensible decision is to change your plans.
And if something could affect the safety of the vehicle, it’s worth getting professional advice rather than improvising.
I’ve become reasonably good at accepting that a day intended for sightseeing might instead involve a workshop, a hardware shop or a search for a replacement part.
It’s still travelling.
Just considerably less photogenic.
STORIES FROM THE ROAD
There’s more to life on the road than logistics.
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Twenty minutes. Still two degrees.
I parked Petal. She wasn’t quite level. This would have been fine. A sensible person would have made a coffee…
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Northern Thomas would like a word.
I love Portugal. The beaches. The people. The sunshine. The general absence of urgency. I’m embracing it wholeheartedly. Until I’m…
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The 4 a.m. committee has concerns.
During the day, I’m quite happy with my decisions. I live in a van. I travel. I train. I build…
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My mood has a parking space
Same van. Same person. Different parking space. Completely different mood.