We Are Actually Going — Here Is the Whole Winding Truth of How We Got Here

We Sold Everything | May 3rd 2026

I have been wanting to write this post for months.

Not because I knew what it would say — I didn't, for a long time. The plan kept changing. The destination kept shifting. The numbers kept not quite working. And every time I thought I knew what I was going to tell you, something moved and I had to wait a little longer to find out what was actually true.

Now I know. So here it is — the whole winding, frustrating, occasionally absurd, ultimately clarifying story of how two people in their mid-fifties went from we should move to Spain to we are getting on a plane to England on August 6th with two dogs and a laptop and a plan held together with equal parts research and faith.

Buckle up. It took a while to get here.

The Original Plan

Spain. That was always the dream. Lainie's first choice — warm climate, Mediterranean pace. Kelly's preference leaned toward France, but Spain was where the conversation always landed. We had traveled in Europe together. We knew how it felt to be there. We knew it was where we were going.

What we did not know, at first, was exactly how.

The Digital Nomad Visa seemed like the answer — Spain has one, it's designed for remote workers, it sounded like exactly what we needed. Then we looked at the income requirements. Roughly $3,050 a month. We were not there yet. We were building toward it — Kelly's bookkeeping certification, this blog, Field & Frequency, the Etsy store — but we were not there yet.

So we kept planning and kept building and kept looking for another way in.

The Mexico Chapter

Someone  suggested Mexico. Lake Chapala specifically — one of the largest expat communities in the world, mild climate, affordable cost of living, and critically, we could drive there. No cargo holds, no $20,000 flight bill, just us and Mollie and Samson in the car crossing the border at a pace that worked for everyone.

We got excited. We researched. And then we looked at the income thresholds for Mexican residency.

Temporary resident: approximately $3,800 to $4,500 a month in income. Savings of $65,000 to $75,000.

We had $45,000 all in. We had no established monthly income. Yet.

Mexico was not going to work.

The Visa Research Spiral

After Mexico fell through I went deep into research mode — the mode I go into when a door closes and I need to find the window. Portugal D7 visa. Spain student visa. France long-stay visa. Greece digital nomad visa. Each one had thresholds. Each one had requirements. Each one was designed, it seemed, for people who already had the income we were trying to build.

We consulted Roots Global. They were helpful and honest. The plan was sound, they said. The income just needed to catch up.

I applied to several European-based remote work companies. I have not been hired yet. Companies want you in the country already, so we need to get there so I have better chances of being hired.

Kelly gave notice at his job — not because we had everything figured out, but because his work kept scheduling trainings that required travel and he felt bad knowing they were spending money on him when we already knew we were leaving. That is exactly the kind of person he is. He gave them the courtesy of the truth even when it cost him.

I will give my notice in May. Our last day of work is June 12th.

The Number That Was Stopping Us

Getting Mollie and Samson to Europe had been quoted to us at $16,000 to $20,000. Both of them in cabin, the only option we would consider — neither of them is going in cargo, and that conversation has never been open. Mollie is turning seventeen in June. Samson carries a trauma history that makes separation intolerable for him. They fly with us or we find another way.

$20,000 for flights before we had paid first month's rent anywhere felt like the number that might stop us. It sat in the middle of every spreadsheet like a wall.

And then I found Vicuna Air.

One passenger. Both dogs in cabin. $11,150.

Kelly takes a separate regular flight. Total cost for all four of us: approximately $12,000.

We stared at that number for a long time. Eight thousand dollars less than the lowest estimate we had been working with. Eight thousand dollars that suddenly changed what was possible.

That was the moment the plan became real.

What We Are Actually Doing

We land in England on August 6th.

England is not in the Schengen zone. As Americans we can stay up to six months without a visa — no income threshold, no savings requirement, no paperwork beyond our passports. Six months. An entire English summer and autumn on the right side of the Atlantic, with the dogs, with our laptops, with time to build the income that will eventually qualify us for the visa we want.

While we are there we are applying to work/stay programs — Wwoof, Workaway, HelpX. These are established platforms that connect travelers with farms, guesthouses, retreats, and other properties that offer room and board in exchange for roughly twenty to twenty-five hours of work per week. We have a farming background. Kelly has practical skills that will serve any property well. I have organizational and wellness skills that translate across a dozen different contexts. We are strong candidates. If the work/stay programs come through the way we hope, our living costs during the English stay could be minimal — which extends our runway considerably.

We are also, with genuine hope and realistic expectation, anticipating that being in-country will change the remote work picture. Companies are not inclined to hire someone who is not yet in the country. Once we are there, that changes. I am applying now and will keep applying from inside England the moment we land.

The Drive Down

When England gets cold — late autumn, probably — we load everyone into a van and drive south.

We are looking at purchasing a Sprinter van from Germany. Affordable, left-hand drive which is what we are used to from the States, and built to carry two people and two dogs with a bed and storage and enough space to be genuinely comfortable on the road. It gives us flexibility, it gives the dogs stability, and it means we are not dependent on finding accommodation every time we want to stay somewhere a little longer.

France first. Then Spain. Then Portugal. Driving through the countries we have always wanted to live in, staying in each place long enough to actually know it — to feel the pace of it, to understand the cost of it, to know whether it is a place we could build a life. No rushing. No itinerary that can't be changed. Just us and the dogs and the open road pointing south toward the warmth.

When we find the place — the city, the village, the neighborhood that feels like the answer to the question we have been asking for years — we will be there in person to apply for the visa. With income established. With the firsthand knowledge of where we want to be. With the ability to walk into an apartment or villa and say yes, this is the one.

The Cross-Country Drive

Before any of that, there is the matter of getting from Bend, Oregon to New York City.

We are renting a car after July 12th. (After my favorite band plays in Bend. We are loading Mollie and Samson into the back. We are driving across the entire country — the long way, the right way, the way that lets us stop in Ohio for a few days with Krista and her family before we cross the ocean.

Kelly is sad about the Volvo. I want to name this because it deserves to be named. The XC90 T8 — a car he genuinely loves, a car that has been reliable and beautiful and his — is being sold. We are selling it the way we have sold most things in this chapter: because the life we are going to matters more than the things we are leaving behind, and because every dollar from the sale is a day of runway in England or a tank of gas driving through France. He knows this. He accepts it. He is still allowed to be sad about it, and he is.

The Numbers

We will have approximately $25,000 to $30,000 cash when we land.

I am not going to pretend that is a large number for two people and two dogs starting over in another country. It is not a large number. It requires the work/stay programs to work. It requires the online income to start moving. It requires Kelly's bookkeeping business to find its first clients. It requires this blog and Field & Frequency to start converting readers into the community they are being built to become.

It requires, as most things in our life have required, a combination of resourcefulness and faith and a willingness to do whatever it takes.

We have done this before. I sold my house and car and moved to Arizona alone at thirty-three with less certainty than we have now. We built a life on ten acres in southern Oregon from scratch. We took a leap of faith together and moved back to Arizona (back for me, first time for Kelly). We survived a pandemic layoff and rebuilt. We have always found our way through.

This time we are finding our way through to somewhere that has been waiting for us.

Why I Am Writing This Now

Because I promised you the whole messy beautiful terrifying truth of it, and this is that truth.

The plan was never clean. It went through Mexico and visa thresholds and Roots Global meetings and airline research and spreadsheets that didn't add up and moments of genuine uncertainty about whether we could actually do this. It went through Kelly quietly giving his notice and me counting down the days and both of us standing in Peg's house in Bend looking at each other across a pile of things we are deciding whether to keep or sell.

It went through all of that to get here: August 6th. England. The dogs in the cabin. The van we will buy in Germany. The farms we will work on. The road south when the cold comes. The place we will eventually find and name and stay in.

The road to Spain — or France, or Portugal, or wherever we land — goes through England first.  Through the sale of a Volvo that Kelly loved. Through six months of work/stay farms and laptops and walks with Mollie through the English countryside.

It goes through all of that.

And I would not have it any other way.

We leave August 6th. Follow along — it's going to be a real one.