{"id":1209,"date":"2026-05-26T15:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-05-26T14:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/?p=1209"},"modified":"2026-05-24T23:49:11","modified_gmt":"2026-05-24T22:49:11","slug":"they-sold-up-to-drive-ireland-in-a-camper-van-18-months-on-the-road-and-not-a-single-regret","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/they-sold-up-to-drive-ireland-in-a-camper-van-18-months-on-the-road-and-not-a-single-regret\/","title":{"rendered":"They sold up to drive Ireland in a camper van: 18 months on the road and not a single regret"},"content":{"rendered":"

They were tired<\/strong> of weekends evaporating and of a life that felt overplanned<\/strong>. One evening, over a late supper<\/strong>, they decided to sell the house, buy a camper<\/strong>, and trace Ireland\u2019s edges until the seasons told them to stop<\/strong>. \u201cWe wanted less<\/strong>, not more,\u201d said Aisling, \u201cand we wanted home<\/strong> to be wherever the kettle boiled.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Why they chose the long road<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

The decision wasn\u2019t born of burnout<\/strong>, but of a quiet ache<\/strong> for wonder. \u201cWe didn\u2019t want a gap<\/strong>, we wanted a life<\/strong>,\u201d Tom explained, steering their big white van onto a boreen<\/strong>, hedges brushing the mirrors like violin<\/strong> bows.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

They imagined a year, then let time<\/strong> stretch, surrendering to tides<\/strong> and weather. \u201cIreland felt huge<\/strong> when we finally drove it slow<\/strong>,\u201d Aisling said, \u201cas if every bend had memory<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The van that let them linger<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

They bought a used Ducato<\/strong>, named her Maggie<\/strong>, and taught her to sip sunshine through solar<\/strong> panels. Inside, they built a tiny<\/strong> home: drawer latches that clicked like manners<\/strong>, a cedar ceiling that smelled like rain<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

A diesel heater<\/strong> kept winter wind at bay<\/strong>, and a small compost loo<\/strong> kept them unafraid of long, empty lanes<\/strong>. \u201cNothing felt sacrificial<\/strong>,\u201d Tom smiled, \u201cit just felt enough<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Routes written by weather<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

They followed skylarks<\/strong> more than schedules, hugging the Wild<\/strong> Atlantic Way as storms hoisted their grey flags<\/strong>. In Donegal, cliffs cut the sky<\/strong>, and sheep drifted like clouds<\/strong> across the road.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Kerry gave them light that seemed painted<\/strong>, and Connemara gave them silence<\/strong> that hummed. \u201cWe learned the grammar<\/strong> of tides and the punctuation<\/strong> of rain,\u201d Aisling said.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Making room for the small<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

Mornings began with a two-cup ritual<\/strong>, steam foxing the windows<\/strong> while gulls petitioned the shore. They learned to watch kelp<\/strong> for currents and crows for news<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Afternoons were for one cove<\/strong>, not ten; one lane<\/strong>, not thirty. \u201cIf you walk slow<\/strong>, the island walks with<\/strong> you,\u201d Tom said, shrugging into a salt<\/strong>-stiff jacket.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

People of the lay-by<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

Community arrived like tide<\/strong>, never on the calendar<\/strong>. A farmer in Mayo lent them a socket<\/strong>, pointed them toward a spring \u201csweet as Sunday<\/strong>,\u201d and sent them off with eggs wrapped in paper<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

At a pier in Clare, a fiddler tuned beneath a lamp<\/strong>, and strangers sang a chorus nobody owned<\/strong>. \u201cWe kept meeting guides<\/strong> when we didn\u2019t know we were lost<\/strong>,\u201d Aisling said.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Work that fits in a glovebox<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

They freelanced in small, quiet<\/strong> bursts: copy in the mornings<\/strong>, photos in the blue hours<\/strong>. Signal bars became currency<\/strong>, and caf\u00e9s, once destinations, became offices<\/strong> that smelled of butter and newsprint<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Budgets held because their big spends<\/strong> were diesel and doughnuts<\/strong>, with campsites stitched between free park-ups<\/strong>. \u201cOur fear of money<\/strong> was louder than the math<\/strong>,\u201d Tom admitted.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Etiquette of the verge<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

They practiced Leave<\/strong> No Trace with near-religious care<\/strong>, picking litter that wasn\u2019t theirs<\/strong> and refusing to camp where grass still remembered<\/strong> a wheel.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cWild doesn\u2019t mean thoughtless<\/strong>,\u201d Aisling said, sliding a bag of rubbish<\/strong> into a bin. They learned that every perfect view<\/strong> already belongs to someone<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Hard days on soft ground<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

Rain infiltrated a roof vent<\/strong>, soaking a book of borrowed poems<\/strong>. Condensation slicked the windows<\/strong>, turning mornings into small weather<\/strong> systems.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

There were midges that colonized their ankles<\/strong>, and a clutch that failed in a village<\/strong> at dusk. \u201cWe cried in the breakdown<\/strong>, then laughed at the tea<\/strong> that fixed nothing and saved everything<\/strong>,\u201d Tom said.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Moments they keep like shells<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

Not the grand, postcard frames<\/strong>, but the weird, tender<\/strong> increments: a fox balancing on a wall of winter<\/strong>, the yellow square of light from a pub door<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

A December swim<\/strong> that burned then blessed, and a January sunrise<\/strong> that arrived like a quiet apology<\/strong>. \u201cThe ordinary went gold<\/strong>, constantly,\u201d Aisling said<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n
  • Favorite places they whisper about still: the empty strand at Machaire<\/strong> Rabhartaigh, a rain-streaked lay-by on the Beara<\/strong>, and a woody valley in Wicklow<\/strong> where the kettle learnt a new song<\/strong>.<\/li>\n

    \n<\/ul>\n

    <\/p>\n

    What changed without noise<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    They packed fewer anxieties<\/strong> and more spare socks<\/strong>, discovering that comfort is a moving target<\/strong>. Possessions felt like verbs<\/strong>, not nouns<\/strong>, chosen to do things rather than be things<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    \u201cHome became the table<\/strong>, two mugs, and a map<\/strong> that never sat still,\u201d Tom said, folding the creases like ritual<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Eighteen months later<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    They rolled back to family<\/strong>, sun-faded and unhurried<\/strong>, and parked outside for a night that turned into three<\/strong>. The house they once owned now belonged to strangers<\/strong>, but the roads felt privately theirs<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    \u201cPeople ask if we have any regrets<\/strong>,\u201d Aisling said, closing Maggie\u2019s door<\/strong> with a gentle click. \u201cOnly that we didn\u2019t learn to live smaller<\/strong>, sooner\u2014and that we can\u2019t learn it for you<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1251,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1209","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-50"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1209","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1209"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1209\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1242,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1209\/revisions\/1242"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1251"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1209"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1209"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1209"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}