The Submarine With Wheels was more than just a bus; it was a travel lifestyle, non-stop adventure, a journey of the world and inwards self-exploration. An unplanned life chapter created out of a serendipitous idea, yet a reason I will forever be in its debt. It motivated me to pursue my love of travel and continue exploring countries across the globe for six beautiful years. It has given me more strength, resilience and courage than I could ever know. Now in the aftermath, as the journey ends, ill pour out my bittersweet feelings and finally let them lay to rest.
I had had sufficient time to rethink exactly how the moment would pan out upon my arrival back to the bus in Panama. Would I be a knight in shining armour approaching to rescue it? What emotions would arise inside of me? What would be its condition? Will I find a new home and owner who will cherish the bus and all the labour of love and characteristics for all she is? With a long sigh, sadly, no, neither of the above occurred. This story doesn't end like a fairy-tale story and has a gloomy finale for the bus, though there is a silver lining.
The history at a glance.
In May 2017, the formerly named (Yellow) Submarine With Wheels was born in Chile. A unique bus home filled with six beds hosting travellers from far and wide. A life with no time restrictions or limits with one intention in mind, live amongst various cultures, drive across borders, enjoy the moment and travel to Canada. However, life always throws curve balls. After almost two years on the road while in Panama, Nicaragua had a civil war outbreak, forcing me to put the bus in storage and pause the trip. For this reason, since 2019, the Submarine bus has waited patiently in storage with the government officials of vehicles known as the Aduanas of Panama for almost three years.
Let us fast forward to the present.
It is October 2022, and I am in Malto Palo, Costa Rica, swinging in my hammock and watching spider monkeys jump from tree to tree just 40m away from me. Observing their fitness and fearless nature as they leap into the sky, flying through the air for three metres before a tail, hand, or foot hurriedly grasps any branch pulling them to safety. My body aches from surfing uncrowded lineups twice daily for three days straight, and I feel whole. A blissful feeling while I sit surrounded by jungle. This place is magical and one of my favourite destinations on this trip. A moment I can stop and appreciate the opportunity I have to be experiencing places like this.
Within the next twenty-four hours, I will finally see the Submarine—a long-foreseen moment I have eagerly counted down for months and unexpected years. This adventure has led down to this moment. The Submarine I was chasing. Besides a love for travel, it is the main reason I am still abroad without settling in one location. The reason Henning and I had bought and renovated our Salt Ghost skoolie bus in the United States. Also, the rationale for why we surfed our way down Central America Overlanding in our Landcruiser. And the ability to visit many natural wonders of the world and iconic sites such as Machu Picchu, the Amazon, and the Atacama desert. It led us to create 'Clean-Up the Caribbean', a rubbish disposal campaign in central America, allowing us to ship the vehicle from South to Central America. All the escapades through countries and across many terrains were because of the Submarine.
Thoughts of the unknown.
For almost one thousand days, I had prepared myself for what I would do with the bus upon my return. In 2020 I was determined to pick it up and continue to travel north towards Canada with Henning and carry on the dream I had started in Chile in 2017. Yet, the universe had other plans. Due to the worldwide COVID – 19 outbreak, it was impossible to reunite with the bus as it remained locked in storage away from reach. International borders were closed, and Panama was not permitting foreigners into their country until the unforeseeable future. My chances grew slim with each month and year that passed. I began to contemplate my connection towards the bus. The concept of home, my haven, had shifted from the Submarine bus to the Salt Ghost bus and then our Toyota Landcruiser. I slowly began to sever emotional ties to the physical object of the Submarine with wheels as it was without sight and mind.
As the months continued, I thought about the damage that could have occurred due to it sitting outside in the rainy season. Over the years, I had fixed many leaks from the roof multiple times, and there was a high chance there would be rain damage inside. I often considered a family of rats would have crawled inside, habited the mattresses and called it their home. The more I thought about the bus and possible options, and I realised I would donate it to a family to live in and give it away. I had lived a life experience some could only yearn for. My time with it was enriching and priceless. The explorations we had encountered were worth every penny I poured into the bus over the years. Within one phone call to a friend, I knew a young family I would donate the bus to; they had property in Panama outside Playa Venoa and renovated old buses into accommodation. It was the perfect opportunity to offer the Submarine bus, knowing it would continue to be appreciated, loved and utilised by travellers with its history to live on.
The final encounter.
The night before my reuniting with the Submarine, I felt nervous, anxious and excited. I could barely sleep. I lay in bed tossing and turning as I replayed in my head all the possible outcomes I would be approaching the following day. The next afternoon I entered Panama, and there was only one hour of driving left until I could quieten the noise in my head. As we pulled into the entrance of the storage car park, I was like a kid driving to a theme park, eagerly looking to see the attraction sitting on the edge of my seat. After many intense slow seconds, I caught a glimpse of what I was waiting for it in the distance. An unmistakable oversized turquoise blue shell stood out like a black sheep amongst the other abandoned Overlanding vehicles. Yet as I looked from afar, something instantly grew in my stomach, a feeling in my gut. Something was wrong and distant, and I sensed it was not as I left it.
As I slowly approached, the knot inside me grew more significant, and I started to feel it flutter inside me: the guilt and the realisation of what had happened. I had abandoned the Submarine with wheels. Left it alone, without shelter, without care and let it remain parked undriven and unloved for years to rot. Left for the earth to swallow it up, raindrops of tears in which fall on its metal roof, seeping through tiny cracks in the ceiling and forming green specks of mould at the edges. As I approached, I remained slightly optimistic, but as I peered through the windows, I knew the condition was questionable as I walked towards the front door. I peeled the key from my passport wallet I had taped securely and kept safe for this point. I took a death breath and prepared myself as I slowly turned the padlock open.
Nothing could prepare me for this tragic disaster before my eyes. I saw a giant catastrophe starting from the stairwell and extending down the hallway. The thin wooden panels that lined the roof had been soaked wet with rain, peeled away and fallen where it was once attached, hanging loose from the ceiling. A waft of dank air filled my nose, and I stepped back, letting the foul smell disintegrate outside. I took each step carefully until I was inside the bus, assessing further damage.
Mould had started to grow on any surfaces it could latch on, slowly eating away at the wood. Someone, without permission, had taken the key from the office, trespassed into the bus and turned everything inside out. Every box and bag was out of the cupboards, clothes and items sprawled on every surface. The intruders found things to sell: the movie projector, my GoPro with many bus lifestyle content, and a new 300W solar panel kit. These items no were to be found.
Regardless, I opened a window to freshen the air as I sifted through the mess to find the items closer to the memories I had sought. My list was small, although highly sentimental. Among the two hundred family and friends polaroids on the walls, which had faded over the years, I slowly peeled off the one I was waiting on. A photograph of myself giving a kiss on the cheek of my beautiful Noona, who had passed just after I left Australia in March 2020 without being able to attend her funeral. Faded yet still able to recognise our faces with a smile on her face, I placed it carefully into my pocket and continued the search.
Another item I longed for was a hand-woven rainbow poncho my mother gifted me while we were in the town of Cusco, Peru, together. Luckily, I had tucked the shawl into a plastic bag and again inside a duffel bag. As I slowly unzipped the bag, I found the item without any mould damage. I grabbed a handmade cup from Tiarn, my cousin, some hand-woven art from Peru and Ecuador, and three yellow and slightly deflated surfboards I would re-sell to recoup some money.
Sadly, the handmade cooking utensils carved by my and other bus members' hands which took hours and hours of labour, love and sanding, started to decay with mould. I looked at them, instantly remembering when I finally finished chipping away the wood, my hands blistered from the carving knife. I thought back to the several hours it took to create a spoon, fork, Barneys rolling pin or Leve's famous papa fritters frying ladle. The recipes and delicious food we made fueled our bus tribe. Just like that spoon, chess set and many other hand-crafted items or sentimental memories of life on the road were all to go down with the ship.
Last moment inside.
As I sifted through our life on the road, emotions rushed through me. Was it the overwhelming feeling of one door closing or the realisation that this was the end of life of the Submarine with wheels? Maybe it was both, but physically I could barely breathe due to the mustiness of the air in the humid and damp conditions. In less than thirty minutes, I had salvaged all I could inside the bus, and it was time to evacuate. I knew the time was up from what I had just witnessed before my eyes. In its current physical state, water damaged, mould ridden and rusty from years of parking in front of the ocean, there was nothing of value to be donated. At a minimum, pulling it out of storage would cost one and a half thousand dollars just for storage, let alone the mechanical costs to get it running (or whether it will function at all).
Half-heartedly, I decided the Submarine With Wheels bus would stay like a proud statue in the parking lot, remaining exactly where she was. To let the earth decay until the government decides it's time to crush her into a metal cube. That fate I did not want to determine myself. And more importantly, I secretly didn't want to tell the government officials that minor detail I didn't want anymore. I was frightened they would penalise my passport and feared I would be required to pay the minimal fee for abandoning the vehicle. Was it possible Panama could hold me for ransom in their country until I paid the bill? As a country that enforced women and men out on separate days of the week during their lockdowns, I thought, who knew what crazy unjustified laws they held? Yikes! With all those options in my head, I decided to smoke-bomb the situation and bail quietly with my most valued belongings.
Reminiscing life with the Submarine With Wheels.
I felt guilty and saddened as I took one last look at such a pivotal figure in my life. I had taken a brief video of the inside and damage, yet I couldn't photograph lots of evidence of the condition. What I saw before my eyes was not how I wanted to remember the Submarine With Wheels bus for the great times and many wanderlust moments we shared. My eyes swelled slightly, and I felt my skin go hot expecting tears to roll down my face. Yet they never came. Very slowly, I took my last and final steps out of the bus for one last time. I walked away from it and never looked back.
Consequently, something inside me shifted as I drove off, reminiscing the current events. My perspective began to change from sorrow to gratitude. I was pleased, relieved and ready to move on. While it was a depressing ending for the Submarine with wheels, I had to reassure myself that there was nothing I could have done differently to prevent the sequence of events. No one predicted a global pandemic, and unforeseen circumstances were inevitable. There was zero possibility of entering Panama during the pandemic, and when the chance was available, I was already en route. There were no possible what-if moments to dwell on.
Likewise, I have to laugh out loud as I write this, the bus had been trying to perish for years, and I, not ready to give up, kept resuscitating it. Without fail, every month, the bus presented a new problem. A unique bus quirk to be discovered and repaired with a remarkable story to add to the adventure. One bus incident was jump-started with just a metal fork in Peru or pushed uphill by a town in Colombia as we blocked the road. There was always a humorous memory behind it a bus breakdown. My mindset was always optimistic, and I would think, "It's okay, bus, I love you, and ill fix you". For years, I kept repairing every broken part. While the bus tried to give up on itself, I was not. I was committed to this lump of metal. I accepted all its attributes and called it my home. Blind-sighted in love with the lifestyle and the family of travellers who made the journey possible and wonderful.
Consequently, I gave the bus a second chance. I took it from the streets of Chile as an ex-public school micro and gave it the makeover of a lifetime. It was stripped of monogynous and repetitive school runs and revamped into a charismatic adventure bus. Filled with twenty-four travellers from around the globe, we created adventures preserved in its walls. Laughter, expedition, freedom and wanderlust are stained into the wood and washed into the floor.
The Submarine with Wheels was charismatic and charming, with an infectious energy that sucked you in. Whether it was the bus itself or the people who filled its beds, it created a warming presence and home I never wanted to leave. It was my place of solace and a cosy home to share with nature as our doorstep. It was pure freedom, a rolling home filled with best friends travelling, keeping people on board for months.
Nothing can erase the feelings, memories or stories I harbour because of the Submarine With Wheels. I did it all with a smile, determination, a love of adventure, and excitement for the unknown—the mindset of never being afraid to fail or give up when faced with challenges. I could not have done it without the support from the Submarine with wheels family and friends I have met along the way. The people I hold close to my heart fill my circle of friends today. The Submarine With Wheels made me feel alive. It made me fall in love with life on the road and reignited my affection for nature and myself. Now, I have the photos, memoirs and stories to share and inspire all.
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