Van Life meets Naturism: The Perfect Combo?

We don’t remember exactly where we got the idea that people who travel in a van are more likely to spend time without clothes. Maybe it’s because we always noticed so many campers at naturist resorts, which back in the day, was pretty much the only place we saw lots of them.

Or maybe it’s because we linked van life with boat life. If you’ve ever been on the water in Croatia or the Spanish islands, you’ve probably noticed that bathing suits are almost the exception on boats. Travelling by van or boat, what’s really the difference? Except that when you’re surrounded by water in a van, you’re in serious trouble.

A little more than a year ago, we finally bought Scarlet, our van. Since then, we’ve lived in her almost continuously across nearly ten countries. And here’s what we’ve learned.

Maybe we connected van life to naturism because both require a certain mindset. A willingness to think outside the box. After all, “Why would you want to live in a metal box when you could be in a house?” isn’t that different from, “Why would you want to walk around naked when you could wear nice designer clothes?” Both questions come from the same consumer mindset where more is always better.

Both van life and naturism take you back to basics. Call it minimalism, essentialism, or just life without clutter, because even labels are extra baggage. Having less means worrying less. In naturism, we find this in the liberation of embracing our vulnerability. In van life, we’ve noticed how our creativity sparks when the things we used to take for granted, like unlimited electricity, hot water, and endless space, suddenly disappear.

Naturists have many reasons for enjoying nudity, but one that comes up again and again is the connection to nature. Most people we meet at naturist resorts or campgrounds love to spend as much time as possible outdoors. Feeling the sun, breathing fresh air, simply being outside.

If you’re living in a van, especially one the size of ours, you also end up doing a lot outside. Not just when your porta-potty fills up unexpectedly. Because of our limited space, we cook outside, eat outside, and relax outside. We’re basically only indoors when it rains.

We don’t have an indoor shower either, so that too happens outside. When we’re not at a campground with facilities, this means opening the back doors, hanging up a shower curtain that doesn’t really fit, and hoping we don’t surprise anyone. So far, our shocked-neighbour-counter is still on zero. Fellow van lifers may not fully understand the joy of an outdoor shower like naturists do, but they definitely appreciate the practical side of it.

Although it sometimes seems like we’re just hopping from one naturist resort to another, we actually spend plenty of time at non-naturist places too. Especially when we’re filming nude beach videos for our Destination Clothes Free YouTube channel. Often the closest naturist resort is much farther away than the nearest clothed campground, so to save time and money, we stay there instead. Or we simply camp overnight in a parking lot.

Switching back and forth between naturist and non-naturist places has led to one little challenge: mornings. We’ve learned to always stop and think where we are before opening the door. More than once, one of us has stepped outside naked only to realise that we’re not at the naturist place anymore.

One of our best van life experiences was travelling for three months around the Canary Islands last winter. There are only a handful of campgrounds on the islands and not a single naturist one. But that didn’t really matter, because all campgrounds were closed for the season anyway. Luckily, wild camping is generally tolerated, as long as you don’t make a mess.

That trip combined everything we mentioned before about van life and naturism. It was back-to-basics in its purest form, we relied entirely on our solar panel and had to watch our battery levels carefully on cloudy days. It was also back to nature, we were literally living on beach parking lots.

And the “walking naked out the door” thing? Not an issue. Many times we camped right on nude beaches, simply extending the nude zone a little further. The Canary Islands are famously relaxed about nudity, so even when the wind blew our shower curtain in every direction but where it was supposed to be, there was little risk of shocking anyone. Most people camping there at that time of year had already seen plenty of nudity on the beaches. Many didn’t bother wearing much clothing themselves.

Before we had the van, we stayed in hostels, hotels, Airbnbs, and rentals at campgrounds, at least in the low season. In July and August, when prices skyrocketed, we switched to tent camping.

Now, even though we pay a fortune in diesel and road tolls, it’s still much less than what we used to spend on accommodation. Wild camping especially saves us money. And the van gives us the ability to visit naturist places earlier or later in the year. It’s warmer than a tent and cheaper than a rental. The biggest difference, though, is flexibility. Bookings lock you in. Tents slow you down. With the van, we just come and go whenever we want to.

That freedom reflects how we experience naturism. It’s the freedom of not fitting into someone else’s schedule, not being tied to a dress code, and not worrying about what’s expected. In the van, we follow the sun, the seasons, and our own comfort. Some days that means staying at a naturist campground, other days we’re just parked by a quiet beach, enjoying the simple joy of being naked in nature.