Six years ago, we bought a piece of land in Annapolis Valley, Nova Scotia. Formerly a small campground, it’s 37 acres on two parcels of land, fronting two lakes. I’ve blogged before about how it’s our happy place. I grew up in NS, and have been wanting to go back my whole life. My husband, born and raised in Calgary, loves the east coast as much as I do.
We dreamt of moving there one day and starting up the campground again. But life had other plans for us for awhile, and for the past three years we had resigned ourselves to staying in Alberta indefinitely.
This summer we went down to our place with the intent to undertake a few renos before listing it for sale. It’s hard to manage such a large property from across the country. But when the time came to sign the listing papers, we couldn’t do it. We just weren’t ready to give up on that dream.
We began madly writing a business plan. Meeting with septic engineers and county planners and NS Power. Pricing out tools and cables and electric meters. Touring local campgrounds and RV parks.
We returned home to Alberta and waited for our “Nova Scotia fever” to die down. For us to settle back into our lovely home and stable, reliable jobs and realize we couldn’t possibly move across the country to live in a 191-year-old ramshackle farmhouse and attempt to start a business.
Except that’s not what happened. We can’t seem to shake the fever this time.
Instead, we’re selling everything and moving to Nova Scotia in the spring. I’ll look for a traditional job so we can have a guaranteed income and benefits, and Keith will spend a year building a boutique RV resort, which we’ll open in 2018.
We might not make it. We may spend a year or two down there and miss our friends and family too much (here’s looking at you especially GG). We might miss having disposable income. We may run through our capital investment and decide to cut our losses and run back to Alberta or try another city and traditional jobs.
But we have to try. We have to. We can’t not do this. The wondering “what if” would haunt us the rest of our lives.
We have a lot to do over the next six months, and that’s nothing compared to the work we’ll have to do for years after that. But we’re ready to try.
I hope you’ll follow along.