Mar 22 2011

Living vicariously

I’m starting to appreciate the feelings of people who have read my blogs for years, living vicariously through us and thinking about the next time they will get to break away for a road trip — because now I’m one of those people. Except for our trip at New Year’s to Anza-Borrego, we haven’t moved the Airstream since October.

It’s not for lack of ideas. This was a planned pause, specifically so we could take care of things that could best be done while we were parked, but it is mostly behind us now. All of the routine medical exams are done, Emma’s orthodontics are on auto-pilot, Modernism Week 2011 is done, the Newbies book is done, Alumapalooza is about 90% set, and I can always work on the magazine from the road. So at this point we are under very little obligation to stay put in Tucson.

It is springtime here, which means lots of days in the 70s and 80s, and believe it or not, plenty of pollen. I notice it somewhat, but Eleanor is virtually incapacitated, which is a drag anytime but especially tragic in the stunningly beautiful weather we get this time of year. We can’t go hiking up in the mountains to take in the spectacular views and desert blooms. Naturally, the idea has struck us to escape to some part of the country where pollen is less of an issue, and that has led to temptation of the sort that causes us to spend hours browsing maps and weather reports, and reading blogs of fellow travelers who are currently exploring.

All kinds of places are suddenly appealing to me. It was about this time three years ago that we went to Bahia Kino in Sonora, MX and lazed around on the beach for four days. If things were a little quieter in Sonora right now I’d be inclined to revisit that trip, just for the chance to stroll a quiet sandy beach and listen to the waves at night. Or perhaps we could dash off to the foggy Redwood National Park in northern California, where the humpback whales are passing by in their annual migration.

But really, we probably will stay put, with the exception of a quickie weekend here or there. It is not as interesting as traveling but I feel like we are earning credit somehow. There’s something to be said for maintaining continuity at least. This is the longest period we’ve been out of the Airstream since 2004, and I suppose it indicates that we are gradually learning how to be “normal” people. So far I’m not impressed with the perks of normalcy, but nonetheless we will stay and get our work done, save our pennies, and plan & dream. When we do finally get back on the road, it will feel like we’ve earned it.

Once we do venture out, the trick will be making the planned trip — a long Interstate slog on roads we’ve seen several times before — into something more than just a 1,900 mile death march. Our primary purpose in May will be to get to Ohio for Alumapalooza 2011. That’s something we can do in four days if we press hard, seven days if we travel half-days, and two weeks if we do it in our classic “stop and smell the roses” style. I was initially not feeling very good about being on the road for a long period of time because I was concerned about work I needed to do, but that’s crazy. Since when is work the most important thing? I can clear the decks before we go and deal with the little things that pop up as needed, and maybe even take a few days off. Let’s make it a two week trip and really enjoy it. I might even use the “v-word” (vacation) but not too loudly because this is supposed to be a business trip.

Speaking of which, I’ve been having some conversations with Marty Shenkman, a tax lawyer who is also behind RV4theCause.org. Marty uses his Airstream as a business tool, as I do, and both of us have some concerns about the correct way to deduct, document, and depreciate our travel trailers. We’re having a rather spirited debate, since he does it one way and I do it another way, and Marty’s CPA has joined in with his own thoughts on the subject. The key, of course, is finding a way to bulletproof ourselves against audit challenges, since an Airstream can be viewed both as a home and a business vehicle, and each can be handled differently from a tax standpoint.

The outcome of this has been that Marty will be researching the subject further and presenting at Alumapalooza. His topic is going to be something like, “Making Your Airstream A Deductible Business Asset,” which I bet will appeal to all the folks who would like to work from the road. You can bet that I’ll be in the front row to hear what he has to say (and heckle him if needed).

But I’m not mentioning this to push Alumapalooza. We’re basically sold out — just five spaces left as of today — and as far as I’m concerned, 195 trailers is plenty! My only wish at this point is that we don’t have the usual Jackson Center summer weather pattern, which includes chilly fog, rain, sun, intense heat, humidity, thunderstorms, and a chance of tornadoes all in the same day. Given the dramatic mood swings of the local weather, I suppose I should be impressed that 380 people are going to join us in that field next to the manufacturing plant. Brave souls, every one.

So we are in the same boat as all the frozen northerners now. We’re at home, waiting for the moment when we can hitch up and head out, and in the meantime we are dreaming of what’s to come. For those of you in the north, hang in there–spring is coming. For those of you who are on the road right now, take a picture and update your blog for me.

Mar 18 2011

Caravanning in the 21st century

I like caravanning. In our full-time travels we occasionally would link up with another Airstreamer and travel with them for a while. Our buddy Rich C was with us on and off for about four months. We also had a very memorable impromptu caravan from the International Rally in Salem OR, across Washington and Idaho to Montana with three other Airstreams, and a couple of years ago we organized a group of three Airstreams down to Bahia Honda in Sonora MX.

My style of caravanning is pretty casual. Point to the destination, agree on a rough routing, and let everyone go at their own pace. On our northwestern caravan we found that everyone spread out quite a lot, so the only practical way to stay in touch was with cell phones. If someone wanted to meet up for lunch, they’d call and we’d compare notes on possible stopping points. There was never any obligation to stay with the group, because we wanted everyone to feel free and unencumbered.

Whoever got to the destination first typically assumed responsibility for checking out a good campground and telling the rest of the group where to go. We agreed that if anyone got sidetracked or delayed, we wouldn’t hold up the group — they could just catch up later. In other words, not much structure and no rules other than the common conventions of good behavior. It worked, probably because of the sort of people we invited along: independent and confident Airstreamers with plenty of travel experience.

Having done this a few times, I have been curious to see if the system would work for a larger group that wasn’t just friends who were well-known to us. We’re going to be heading out of Arizona sometime in mid-May to work our way up to Alumapalooza, and that trip seemed to present a fine opportunity to collect a bunch of hardy Airstreamers for an experimental caravan/adventure.

But after considering everything, I think we are going to have to pass on that idea this time. The weeks leading up to Alumapalooza are going to be very busy for me, and it is quite possible that at some point on the way up we may have to unexpectedly stop somewhere for a day or two just so I can work. That wouldn’t be terribly fun for a group of people who were expecting to have regular progress. “Hey everyone, let’s all enjoy this parking lot RV park near the highway, because it’s the only place that my cell phone works.”

Still, we might cross paths with a friend or two along the route. We don’t usually nail down our exact route in advance, preferring to leave some room for spontaneity, so I think the best way to manage this is to try a real-time Internet solution. I’m considering various methods to post our current location and immediate next destination in a semi-private location, so that a group of friends who we’ve already organized can be updated on a daily basis and share their plans with us at the same time.

I noticed at the Modernism Week show that virtually everyone was sporting an iPhone. I am a relative Luddite in that regard, having held onto the philosophy that phones are meant to be phones. I like them to be small, durable, easy to use, and long-lasting, a test which most more “advanced” devices have failed miserably since the first so-called smartphones were introduced in the 1990s. But I could no longer deny that the iPhone (and probably a few other similar phones) has finally achieved at least a halfway decent compromise. Instead of just packing stupid & gratuitous features onto a phone, it represents a decent advance in technology with a feature set that actually adds value to the basic audio-only phone. It only took about fifteen years from the first tentative steps that I watched as a wireless industry analyst in the mid-1990s.

I actually don’t care about most of the things that an iPhone can do, but I do see where instant and easy communications via an Internet-capable phone and some sort of coordinating service “in the cloud” (meaning on the Internet) could be a really useful way to coordinate a group of roaming travelers. We could post our route maps, share real-time updates from the road including photos, coordinate meeting points, ask for help, and generally just play the social-network game to while away the miles. So perhaps I’ll finally break down and get an iPhone next month. Verizon owes me one more “New every two” upgrade anyway, for whatever that’s worth.

The real problem with better communication technology is reining it in. Only the social mores and respectfulness of people hold back what often becomes a deluge of useless information. I am already reachable by email, phone, voicemail, website contact form, fax, Google Buzz, and AOL Instant Messenger. I have steered clear of Twitter & Facebook in part because I can’t handle any more. A smart phone means the darned thing knows how to bug me with information I’d often rather not have, in places I’d rather not receive it. I’m not a believer that having more tech on your hip automatically makes you more productive. So I’m going to program it to be rather selective about what it tells me. But having said that, there might be a fun road-geek experience coming up.

The other issue with caravanning to Alumapalooza is simply that I have to get there a few days early for setup, and I can’t bring a group of people with me — there’s no place for them to stay! That’s easily resolved by having the group break off to some attraction in the area. There are many things to do near Jackson Center, as well in nearby Indiana, Michigan, and Kentucky. I’ll be envious of them, while we are stuffing goody bags in the humidity, staking out campsites, etc.

Perhaps caravanning will evolve to an entirely different sort of experience in the future. The social and safety aspects of traveling in a group can stay, using modern communications to allow people to share their experiences and collective knowledge while maintaining their independence. The new generation of Airstreamers seems to want that. Already I’ve seen groups traveling like that, not calling themselves “caravans,” but instead inventing a new set of guidelines and tools to enable a vibrant and social experience nonetheless. Hmmm…I’ll keep thinking about it.

Mar 16 2011

Delta man

When you ask, “How are things?” some people respond after measuring how much stability they’ve had in their lives lately. If things have been predictable, safe, and settled, they say, “Not bad” or something to that effect.

Another group of people disregard the predictable and measure the “delta” — in other words, how much things have changed in their lives lately. They say, “Not bad” if life has been interesting, challenging, or if they have some sort of new & different project going on. My friends tend to be mostly this type. It’s not because of any conscious choice, it’s just that I like things to change and there is often a mutual attraction between people who like to mix it up a little from time to time.

When things are happening, I’ve got stuff to blog about, and when things are not happening I start thinking about going somewhere to find something new. The recent dry spell in this blog tells you that either (a) not much is happening in my life, or (b) things are happening that I just can’t talk about. I’ll give you a hint: it’s not (a). Life continues to be interesting, but in a sort of home-bound soap opera way instead of fun travel stories that make readable public blog fodder. I have often thought that I should offer a “subscription” blog with the really juicy stuff, but upon reflection I’ve decided you probably don’t want to read it. Whatever you are imagining right now is probably about as interesting as the reality anyway.

What’s left after the X-, R-, and even PG-13 stuff is removed is fairly safe, so you can continue to read this blog without concern for your innocent children.

The biggest news is that as of today my new book, “The Newbies Guide to Airstreaming” is officially complete and off to the printer. Wow, that was a lot of work. It should be ready for distribution sometime in April, but if you have a Kindle you should be able to download and read it by Monday, March 21. I’m also working on an edition for iPad, iPhone, and iPod Touch and hope to have that ready in a week or two, if Apple cooperates.

The folks at Airstream have read preview copies and they seem to like it. They tell me they will include a copy with every new Airstream, which I hope helps smooth the way into our community for lots of people. Getting feedback from reader for a revised second edition should be interesting, but I’m looking forward more to the chance to start work on the next book, which will be completely different. I don’t know for sure what I’m going to say, but I do have a general idea of the theme, and I’ll talk about that more in a future blog. Getting going on that project is something I’m looking forward to doing this summer.

Lately I find myself in the role of Airstream advisor to many people. I don’t know how I got this job, but I’m a sucker for it. I never seem to be able to say No, even when things are fantastically busy. It’s probably because I meet the most interesting people this way. In the past few weeks I have been approached by a well-known author, and a semi-famous soap opera actor, both of whom have found themselves needing an Airstream for very specific purposes. There have been several other folks as well. I wish I had a fleet of Airstream to sell and/or lend out, but I don’t have the time or space, so instead I’ve been just offering advice and directing them to people who can help. Finding “just the right one” is a time-consuming process, like finding the ideal mate. Ye gods, I’ve become a matchmaker. Call me Shadchen.

The other major activity in life has been to finalize Alumapalooza. There’s another labor of love. I am truly glad that we are approaching our limit of 200 trailers (we have just 8 spaces left as of today). It has been a fun process to try to make APZ 2011 better than the original, but also a bit exhausting. At this point I’m not even trying to sell the last few spaces — I’m sure they will sell themselves soon enough. The entertainment is arranged, the speakers are about 80% set, we’ve got the tents, catering, signs, t-shirts, A/V setup, tiki torches, door prizes, mud boots (whoops, forget I mentioned that last one) … you name it, we’ve got it. There are only about two dozen things left to do before I can comfortably say that the job is done … and by then I’m sure it will be time to head off to Ohio.

A lot of people have asked me what we plan to do to deal with higher fuel prices this summer. I tend to just shrug. We can’t make our rig significantly more fuel efficient than already is, and we already tow at a fairly moderate 62 MPH (except in west Texas). If I need to spend less on fuel, we delete miles — simple as that. Two years ago, when we were facing $5/gallon gasoline in remote parts of Utah, we simply spent more time at each stop and towed no more than 70 miles per travel day. This year we have to go to Vermont and I can’t make Vermont come any closer, so the only fix is to optimize the routing as best we can.

If things work out well, we’ll be traveling with or meeting friends at various points of the trip, and that will probably make the fuel prices seem less painful, as the bigger significance of having fun and adventures becomes apparent. As I’ve said many times, it’s not about the towing — it’s about the stopping. A trip to the northeast will cost about $700-800 in fuel each way, but it’s still a bargain. We’ll be out for nearly a month, visiting at least ten states. I’m not going to complain about the extra $300 or so it costs for an experience like that. It’s “delta-making” stuff; the stuff I thrive on, and the reason we own that big shiny thing in the carport. They’ll have to raise the price quite a lot before I decide to stay home.

Nov 22 2010

Transitions

We succumbed to a little bit of “get-there-itis” on Sunday and drove 350 miles west from Corpus Christi to Sonora, TX. As I think about things I need to do at home base, the list gets longer and the vast spaces of west Texas and southern New Mexico start to appear further. It is hard to do much in west Texas with only four days — the distances are so huge that you spend a lot of time just driving from point to point. We have found ourselves in an odd position: four days remaining on our timeline, but just not enough to really do what we’d like to do.

All of the interesting parts of west Texas (the national parks, state parks, historical sites, hiking, etc.) are about 500 miles from home base. New Mexico, of course, is even closer. This means all of those things are within a reasonable distance if we decide to come back during the winter or spring. We’ll probably have less time pressure later, so our decision was to not try to rush through any of the possible western stops, in favor of spending more time on the eastern stops. Austin and Corpus Christi were the limit of our definition of “eastern” for this purpose.

So now we are just heading west at high speed and waiting for inspiration to strike us along the road. At least by covering a lot of miles on Sunday and Monday we will have a little extra time if we do see something that catches our interest on Tuesday or Wednesday: those interesting roadside stops that you see sometimes, the local cafe, the random desert art, or a photo opportunity. I’ll feel better about pausing once we are within 500 miles of Tucson.

Right around this time of year I always have the same revelation. This time it hit me on Friday, as I was walking to Malaquite campground’s cold water showers, wearing shorts and a t-shirt. A camper nearby was playing music outside, some woman crooning “White Christmas.” I had to do a double-take because it seemed so incongruous amidst the sandy dunes, blue skies, and breezy ocean air. Then I realized: Ah, yes, this is late November and Thanksgiving is just a few days away.

The revelation is that I don’t feel depressed. Like a lot of people, I have suffered from seasonal depression, and November has historically been a very tough month for me. Living in the northeast most of my life, suffering the sudden darkness of the annual Daylight Savings Time change and the traditionally grim weather of November has been something that I formerly accepted as normal, along with the feelings of unease and gloom. The recommended solution was anti-depressant pills, which I have never tried because I have found that a big silver twinkie works just fine for me. In other words, before the weather gets cold and the sun disappears, I head south and stay there. That has been my prescription since 2004: Take one Airstream, once daily.

I would not say this will work for everyone, in fact I’m quite sure it won’t. But I enjoy the sensation of the annual revelation in November: Hey, it’s almost Thanksgiving! Why doesn’t it feel like Thanksgiving? Oh yeah — I feel fine — how’d that happen? If you hate winter and you’ve got the flexibility, try chasing 72 degrees down south. I realized a long time ago that I’d rather live in a trailer park in Florida and subsist on a fraction of my salary than live in a mansion in the northeast and feel depressed.

I’m glad I’m feeling strong enough to roll with the punches, because not everything in life goes as you plan. In my case, the new magazine venture I have been working on for over a year is now officially dead. It won’t launch. A combination of bad economic timing (advertisers won’t support it), illness of the appointed Editor (not me), and a distinct lack of manufacturer support sealed the coffin. This little venture has cost me a considerable amount of money and time, so I have reasons to be depressed about it, but I’m really not. I went through so much heartache and angst over the first three years of Airstream Life that I’ve learned not to let setbacks get to me. There were many useful lessons learned, some great new contacts, and a few doors of opportunity remain open even if the primary concept has, as they say about Rolls-Royces, “failed to proceed.”

There are still some other interesting projects on the table — too many, in fact. Alumapalooza 2011 is trucking right along. We have 67 trailers signed up as of today and we expect it to be larger and more exciting than the first one. Brett and I are working on another Alumapalooza-type event for 2011, but it’s too early to release details of that yet. I’ve got a book project about half done that I’m very excited about — it should release in early 2011 if I buckle down in the next month. And I’m busy re-inventing Airstream Life in response to reader comments. We’re adding more photos, more Airstreams, and more brief articles to give a better picture of the Airstream world every issue.

Eleanor and I have been asked a few times recently if we are excited to get back home. We both have mixed feelings about it, really. Home base has its advantages (more space, opportunity to pursue projects, Tucson-area activities, settled lifestyle, Eleanor’s kitchen, etc.), while being in the Airstream of course offers a constantly changing environment, the excitement of exploring new places, and the freedom of a lightweight lifestyle. Both are great. There is a transition period between the two that is always a little awkward, but it gets to be less of a factor each time.

I think we are particularly comfortable with the end of our long voyage because we know we’ll get out again — soon. We already have reservations for a New Year’s trip, and are talking about possible trips in the spring as the southwestern weather warms up. There’s no feeling of being trapped in the house when we can see our escape pod in the carport every day. So the drive we are doing now back to Tucson is not really an “ending” to be upset about, but simply another transition in our long voyage through The Maze.

Sep 21 2010

Hopewell Furnace NHS, PA

The smoke and the hubbub of the full campground died down on Sunday as all the weekenders headed back home, and by late afternoon we found ourselves virtually alone at French Creek State Park. We didn’t mind the loss of the campfires, since we were now finally able to open the windows and air out the trailer a little, but it was a shame for the other campers to miss out on such a fine fall day.

We took the opportunity to head over to Hopewell Furnace National Historic Site, which is directly adjacent to the state park. It’s one of those smaller national parks that we often miss because it’s not a “destination” park for most people. But you get a lot of value out of these small parks, and I’m always glad when we can get a chance to drop in on one of them.

Hopewell is a small community that supported an iron foundry. They diverted water for miles, to power a waterwheel, cut down acres of trees to make charcoal, and hauled in iron ore and limestone to make iron. This was a major business in the 18th and 19th centuries, strategically important in the war of independence against England and in the general independence of the new American nation. A small settlement surrounded the main building (blast furnace and casting building, where parts for cast-iron stoves were made), with housing for workers, a school, blacksmith shop, barn, store, smokehouse and spring house. You can explore most of the buildings by reading the interpretive signs or by audio tour. And yes, there is a Junior Ranger program.

Monday was one of those days that gets lost in travel. We had only a 2.5 hour tow planned, from Elverson PA to Columbia MD, but all of the minor tasks surrounding the tow ate up the rest of the day. I spent about two hours working early in the morning, then shifted over to getting the trailer ready to tow. Then we pulled over to the water outlet (further down the campground loop) and refilled the trailer’s fresh water tank. Then we hit the dump station. As a result, the Airstream actually rolled out of the park about 11:30 a.m.

Half an hour into the trip, we stopped for diesel fuel and Eleanor spotted a convenient grocery store. Since she was planning to make dinner for our next hosts, she went in, while Emma and I stayed back in the trailer (another opportunity for me to catch up on Monday work, while Emma dug into one of her books). By the time Eleanor was back, the groceries were packed away, and everyone had had their bathroom stop, it was 2 p.m. We pulled into Columbia at 4 p.m., and then it was time to quickly set up the trailer in our friends’ driveway, and start making dinner. Poof! Another day gone.

Well, not entirely gone. We at least got to see some friends that we have not visited in four years. Eleanor fed everyone a huge dinner of bowtie pasta with a cream sauce and chicken, grilled vegetables (eggplant, onion, baby peppers), tossed green salad with one of her homemade dressings, etc. It was a good ending to a long day and since we will be in the driveway at least one more night, we’ll get a chance to relax and maybe even explore a little before pressing on to StarFest later this week.

Now, some disturbing news. Kirk, a friend of Alumapalooza (author of the Alumapalooza anthem), spontaneously had 2,000 “Alumapalooza” decals made up. He was doing a job for another client and tacked these little stickers onto it. He notified us afterward and shipped all the stickers to my office in Tucson.

What was I going to do with 2,000 little stickers (about 5 inches long) that say “Alumapalooza”? Well, if you order anything from the Airstream Life store including hats, shirts, books, or back issues, you will receive absolutely free of charge, a bonus of several of these silly little stickers. Such a deal, eh?

If you want a few, but don’t want to order anything from the store, just send a Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope to: Airstream Life, Alumapalooza stickers, PO Box 42288, Tucson AZ 85733-2288. We’ll be happy to ship you a few at no charge. They’ll look great on your Airstream’s bumper. Really.

If you order something from the store but don’t want any stickers, I’m sorry but you’re getting some anyway. I hope you can find a use for them. Maybe they’d be good for minor repairs, in place of duct tape?

But in the interest of full disclosure, here’s the disturbing part: Eleanor noticed that if the sticker is turned upside-down, it says “ezooledewme.” We have no idea what that means. It could be an ancient and powerful magical incantation. It could be a gross insult in some foreign language. It might be a secret code word that will get you into the back door of the Nigerian embassy. All I can say is that if you dare put this sticker on your trailer upside-down, I can’t be responsible for the consequences.