Dispersed camping, the honest version
Living on free federal land isn't hard, but it's not "pull over and pop the tent" either. A few things separate a good week from a rough one.
The stay limit is real — and it moves
Most national forests and BLM areas cap dispersed camping around 14 days, but it's set by the local forest order or field office — some are 16, some shorter, some make you move a set distance after. Don't trust a round number. Check the managing office before you settle in.
Water is the clock
Whatever your setup, something water-related usually decides when you leave — the fresh you carry, or the grey you can't dump. Know which one gives out first for your rig, and ration to it from day one. Wash off to the side, not in the water — keep soap and food scraps out of any creek or lake — and treat everything you drink.
Leave it better
Use existing sites and, when fires are allowed, existing fire rings; pack out everything, and don't dig new anything. Human waste gets buried well away from water, or packed out where the rules say so. The reason these spots stay open — and empty — is that the people who use them respect them.
Assume you'll lose signal
Cell dies past the last cattle guard more often than not. Download your maps and camp info before you go, tell someone your plan, and don't rely on being reachable. A paper backup and a full tank beat a dead phone.
Roads change faster than pins
A forest road that was fine in June can be washed out in July or gated in October. Coordinates are approximate and conditions shift — treat any map as a starting point, not a guarantee, and turn around before a spot you can't back out of.
Read the weather, not the forecast
Elevation and exposure matter more than the town forecast twenty miles down the hill. Cold nights burn propane; afternoon storms flood a wash. Plan the drive-in and the town run around the window, not the other way around.
None of this is complicated. It's just paying attention — which, out here, is most of the skill.