WHERE WOULD I GO IF I HAD A VAN & NO PLAN THIS YEAR?

Some days are full before they even start. Others open up slowly.

And every once in a while, you reach that quiet moment where you realize the day hasn’t asked anything from you yet. Nothing pressing. Nothing urgent. Whatever could get done today can wait

That’s usually when I look around and say, “Wanna take the van out?” 

When I’ve got a van and no plans, I don’t start chasing big ideas or epic itineraries. I default to the same two things every time. Find some water, or find a beach. Sometimes both. Either way, the afternoon takes care of itself.

No Plans Doesn’t Mean Nowhere

“No plans” doesn’t mean indecision.
It just means there’s no pressure to optimize the day.

On those days, the direction is vague but the feeling is clear. We’re not racing the clock, we’re not checking boxes, and we’re not trying to squeeze everything in. We’re just doing what feels good in the moment.

For me, that almost always funnels toward water.

Option One: Call the Crew and Go for a Swim

If it’s hot out, the message usually goes out pretty quickly.

Same group chat. Same tone. Everyone already knows the drill.

Swimsuits on. Towels in hand. Drinks grabbed on the way out the door. We meet up, pile in together, and let the van handle the rest. Every once in a while there’s a first-timer, and we just tell them where to meet and say, “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got everything.”

The van is always stocked for these days. Beach towels live in there full-time, with a few spares for whoever forgets theirs. All the cooking gear is already packed. We just toss in the Coleman BBQ and a cooler full of snacks, and we’re gone.

Most often, this means the Cowichan River or Cowichan Lake. We’ve got our usual access points, the ones tucked under the trees with a short path down to the water. Quiet enough to feel relaxed, familiar enough that nobody’s stressing about where to park or where to set up.

The arrival always feels the same. Park the van. Grab towels. Leave the worries behind.

Nobody brings their problems down to the water. We left them when we piled into the van. The afternoon is for floating, swimming, finding a patch of shade, and eventually realizing everyone’s hungry.

By the late afternoon, we’re stretched out, half-dry, casually jamming to some music and debating food. Not rushing. Not planning ahead. Just letting the day wind down on its own terms.

Option Two: Point the Van Toward the Coast

Other days, the pull isn’t toward a river or a lake. It’s outward to the shoreline.

Sometimes we’ve only got a couple hours in the evening, so we’ll head to Blue Heron Park and wander the tide pools. Slow walking, heads down, watching the water move in and out. If you pause long enough at the edge of a pool, it stops feeling empty. Small movements appear, then more. Crabs, fish, starfish, all carrying on. It’s a simple reminder that slowing down is often all it takes for a moment to open up.

If we’ve got more time, we’ll drive out toward the Juan de Fuca Trail. Not to hit every stop. Just to pick one beach, Sombrio, Mystic, Bear, or China, park the van, and spend the afternoon there. Sitting on the outer edge of the Island, you get a real sense of scale. The waves don’t perform for you, they just keep coming. Powerful, steady, and completely uninterested in whatever you showed up carrying. You don’t leave with answers, just a calmer sense of where you fit.

Some afternoons call for Parksville Beach. It’s warm, sandy, and easy in a way that doesn’t ask much of you. The water stays shallow, perfect for long swims and longer floats. You wade out until the water hits your shoulders, float for a bit, then wander back to your towel, like there’s nowhere else you need to be. It’s busier than the other spots, but in a good way. People come and go, kids play in the shallows, groups settle in for the afternoon. Everyone’s there for the same reason, to enjoy the day and let it pass at its own pace.

By the time the afternoon settles in, the noise has faded and the pace has softened. We tend to stay until the sun starts to dip, when it feels like the day found its own ending.

The Drive Is Part of It

The best part about these afternoons is that the reset starts early.

As soon as you’re out of town, something shifts. The van hums along, the road opens up, and whatever noise was bouncing around in your head starts to quiet down without you trying.

That drive is the transition. It’s permission.

By the time you pull in, you’re already relaxed. You don’t feel like you need to be anywhere else.

What “No Plans” Actually Looks Like

These days don’t happen by accident. They show up when the work is done and there’s nothing pressing waiting for you.

For me, that’s often after a solid morning. Coffee, chores, groceries, a bit of housekeeping. You look at the clock, realize you’ve got the whole afternoon ahead of you, and instead of filling it, you leave it open.

“No plans” doesn’t mean doing nothing. It just means choosing in the moment.

That’s also why having a van that’s always ready matters. Everything’s already packed. Towels, cooking gear, chairs, the basics. There’s no big prep, no overthinking. You just decide what feels right and go.

Sometimes that’s a swim with friends. Sometimes it’s a beach and a slow afternoon. Sometimes it’s just the drive.

The Best Plan Is the One Made in the Moment

You don’t need every day mapped out. You don’t need to see everything at once. And you don’t need to turn every free afternoon into a production. Vancouver Island is big and runs on its own time, Island Time.

Island Time: The quiet agreement that nothing needs to be rushed. There's always tomorrow and we’ll get there when we get there.

And if that plan happens to involve a van, some water, and a few hours with nowhere else to be, you’re doing it right.

If this sounds like your kind of day, that’s exactly why we keep our vans stocked and ready. Minimal planning required. Just enough freedom to follow the afternoon wherever it wants to go.

PS. Island Time applies to beaches and backroads. Check-ins and check-outs run on a schedule. Late fees haven’t quite caught the Island vibe yet.