May 18 2016

No flight plan in Utah

There are always certain risks when you travel without a firm plan, and we’re well aware of them. Spontaneity is fun, except when Plan A, B, and C all fall through and you find yourself having to improvise to find a place to park overnight. Then it becomes a challenge.

We left Winslow AZ yesterday around noon, after taking some time to explore the ruins at Homolovi Ruins State Park. (It’s an interesting site, without much interpretation but literally piles of colorful potsherds and bits of half-buried pueblo walls to inspire the imagination.) Thunderstorms were building all around, which lent a certain drama to the vast open skies of this part of Arizona, but also reminded me that we didn’t know exactly what we were driving into.

Our route north took us through the Navajo Nation, which is huge and mostly open, up through the towns of Chinle and Many Farms, and then up Rt 191 into Utah. This is a fabulously scenic drive, and Eleanor kept saying that more people should have the opportunity to see this gorgeous part of the country. Photos can’t capture fully the panorama that keeps emerging around each turn. You need to get on your motorcycle or in your car and drive it yourself.

Our plan was to drive for six to seven hours. There is little cell service in this area, so on-the-road planning with the iPad wasn’t practical. I resorted to the way we did it in our first days of full-timing, consulting a dog-eared Road Atlas and guessing where we might feel like stopping for the night.

We were working against a few factors: No cell service, widely spread out camping options, a popular time of year in the Four Corners, the threat of severe weather, and a late start. We passed a delightful looking spot along a river near Bluff UT only because there are no cell service and I thought I might need to do some work in the evening. That turned out to be a mistake, because the place we eventually ended up also had no service.

By dinner time we had roamed up through Moab (which is getting a bit touristy in the center), turned right onto Rt 128, and began hunting for a spot amongst the tall red rock sandstone canyons that wind along the Colorado river for about 25 miles. From a prior trip we knew there is a string of small no-hookup National Recreation Area campgrounds here, and we figured that being a Tuesday it would be no problem to find a spot we could tuck into for a night.

Alas, not so. We checked out ten different campgrounds, each filled with tents and kayakers. Most of the sites were sized only for tents, so even if they had been empty we couldn’t have stayed. The sun got low and we started thinking about our options, which weren’t good: turn back to Moab (now nearly 30 miles of twisting road behind us) or proceed to Fuita CO (at least an hour away). And it was now 8:00 pm with official sunset descending at 8:26.

This is when your resolve to fly without a plan gets tested. This is when people get grumpy. Fortunately we’ve been in this situation many times and know better than to panic or start the “I told you so” sort of discussion. It’s important to remember that nothing really bad is going to happen. The worst case is that you have to drive further than planned and compromise your campsite ideals for a night, staying somewhere that you might not have chosen but which is still suitable and safe.

We got lucky. The very last campground along Rt 128 is Dewey Bridge, a tiny 7-site spot with (like all the others along this route) no amenities. We snagged the last available space, just ten minutes before official sunset (and long after shadows in the deep canyons had covered us). $15 per night for nothing but a spot by the river, but we were glad to get it.

I feel almost embarrassed to relate this tale of sheer luck to you, since by all rights we should have been forced to our penance somewhere along I-70 in Colorado instead of landing a bucolic site in a canyon along a scenic river. It might have been a more cautionary tale in that case. But it’s the same point either way: “spontaneous” can be good or bad.

May 17 2016

Eleanor earns her paycheck in AZ

It’s always nice when the first day out goes well. We are trying something new: Eleanor is driving. For the past 11 years I’ve done all of the towing because she just wasn’t psyched. That was OK with me, because I like driving and I’ve taken some pride in wrangling the big Airstream into and out of tight spots.

The past few years I’ve been getting a little bored with the long drives, where we are just logging miles across the Plains or in a hurry to get somewhere, and with the prospect of 10,000 miles of towing ahead this summer, Eleanor stepped up and volunteered to learn the mechanics of towing a 30-foot trailer. That will make my life much easier, especially on those days that work is blowing up and I need to be responsive on email and phone to my associates.

Since she has prior experience with our 17 foot Caravel and she’s a pretty good driver anyway, the transition hasn’t been too hard. Yesterday she did over 250 miles up I-10 and I-17 to Flagstaff, and then east in I-40 to our overnight stop in Winslow AZ.

The real trick to learning to tow a big trailer is not the technique of getting it around a corner or backing in (although those are real skills). The hardest part is the psychological challenge. It all seems fine on a flat Interstate, but then there’s that moment with the construction zone, Jersey barriers and rough pavement on an 8% downhill grade—and that’s when the driver earns his/her paycheck. The sensation of a heavy trailer pushing you down a hill as you fear losing control from braking too hard, with your family’s lives depending on what you do next, separates the timid from the brave.

Eleanor got a good taste of all that yesterday and it scared her as much as it should have, but she also gained confidence from the experience and you can’t put a price on that. In fact she seems to have doubled down on the whole towing commitment, so when we arrived at Homolovi Ruins State Park in Winslow AZ she insisted on backing in to the campsite. That took a few attempts but when things looked bleakest and I offered to take over, she decided to tough it out. She got the trailer into the space after two more passes, and I was impressed. She has definitely acquired the right mindset to succeed at towing. That’s going to make this trip a lot easier for me.

The Airstream has performed perfectly, which was expected but still nice to confirm. Super Terry has been asking what service we might need to do on the trailer when we meet in Ohio but so far all I can come up with is a little bit of touch up on some sealant and possibly replacement of the Hensley hitch bushings. Otherwise, all systems are go.

Last night at Homolovi we decided to take advantage of the new battery and inverter we installed in January, and get a non-electric site for $7 less. It’s still a geeky thrill to be able to run the TV, coffee pot and microwave oven using just the battery. The price for such extravagance (plus some furnace time—it’s 6,000 feet elevation here) was that our battery got down to 61% after the coffee was made, so we broke out the folding solar panels to augment our roof panels and watched as the combination pumped 16 amps into the battery all morning. Awesome.

By the way, I’ve written a review of those folding solar panels with much more detail about how they work and what you might want to consider. That review will appear in a future issue of Outside Interests, so keep an eye open for that in the next few weeks. If you aren’t subscribed to Outside Interests, check it out—it’s free.

Today we plan to take a fairly leisurely drive up through the Navajo Nationa and perhaps end up somewhere near Moab. Not sure yet, but in this region of the country you can’t go wrong. Virtually every route is beautiful and relaxing, so I am looking forward to the drive—especially if Eleanor drives.

May 15 2016

Why I launch slowly

Tomorrow, the Airstream will leave home base and begin its annual trek across the USA, not to return until probably October.

The Airstream sits in the carport tonight, fully loaded for the expedition, tested, and hitched. After the weeks of preparation and packing, it feels like a quiet moment before a storm, full of anticipation of the unknown experiences to come. It’s exciting and a little scary.

I like to tow the Airstream out very gently as it departs its winter shelter, like a mighty ship slowly breaking free of dock. There’s a practical reason for this: with the windows rolled down I can listen carefully for anything that might be amiss, perhaps something dragging, an unexpected squeak from the wheels, a scrape or a hiss. Of course I’ve done a careful pre-trip inspection and walked around the trailer doing final checks three times, so the precaution of listening should be unnecessary, but I like to have that last moment of assurance before we head toward Interstate 10 and accelerate to full cruising speed.

From that point the Airstream will be expected to roll smoothly and quietly for many thousands of miles. Our trip plan calls for heading up to northern Arizona as far as we can get on our first day, stopping somewhere in the Four Corners area, then gradually continuing on to Ft Collins CO by Thursday. After a rally, we’ll make stops in the plains states and eventually Chicago, then over to the Airstream factory for Alumapalooza.

After Alumapalooza we’re going to make a stop or two in PA and NY, eventually ending up at Colin Hyde’s shop in Plattsburgh for some upgrades. (I’ll talk more about that in a future blog.) Then to Vermont to see family, and later in the summer we’ll head west all the way to the Pacific Ocean and down to central California for Alumafandango in late September. The end of the trip will be in early October, probably, back at home base in Arizona.

It’s an ambitious plan and in the course of it the Airstream and its tow vehicle will accumulate perhaps 8,000 – 10,000 miles. We’ll spend about 130 nights in the Airstream (I’ll spend a bit less because I’ll be TBM in Arizona for a month) and sleep in about 18 different states. But we do something like this every year, so the “trip of a lifetime” by most accounts will be just “the summer” for us. After a decade it has become something we are used to, but it’s no less exciting for that.

I often read comments from bloggers and people on forums, asking for advice and expressing their concerns about launching on a big trip. That is understandable if you’ve never done anything like this before, but if you are one of those people let me give you my bit of advice: it’s easier than you think. You can do it. You’ll figure it out and probably have a great time in the process. Just take a moment to breathe before you go.

Even now, after literally years spent in our Airstream and who-knows-how-many miles, I have a little trepidation as we pull out of the driveway. That’s the other reason why I listen to the Airstream and launch it slowly, majestically, into the sunlight and down the road. I’m really just giving myself time to absorb the change, and gather courage for the challenges and adventures that will soon follow.

Starting Monday I’ll be posting more frequently with photos and stories from the road.

May 06 2016

Planning for spontaneity

I’ve posted many times about our preference for loosely-planned trips. We like to set up for as many possibilities as we can, then launch the Airstream and see what happens on a day-to-day basis. This means we rarely make reservations and change our trip route often.

4 corners area Other people love to plan every detail of their trips, and I get that. For one thing, they probably feel better knowing what’s going to happen. Reducing the element of chance makes some people comfortable, and allows them to focus on other things that perhaps they value more than spontaneity.

Looking at the map and calendar this week, Eleanor and I have come to realize two things:

We’ve driven almost every possible route through the Four Corners region to head northwest
We don’t really care which way we go this time

It’s not that we are jaded. We don’t have a case of “been there, done that” or “this place doesn’t have anything more to show us.” That would be foolish. What’s happening here is more subtle. We’ve hit almost every major attraction that we know about, and now we’re going to have to find the things we don’t know about.

So our plan, if you can call it that, is to simply head northwest in a meandering way with only the first night’s stop in mind. After that we’ll see what seems interesting along the way. Eventually we’ll end up at our first scheduled stop, in Ft Collins CO at a rally.

This should be fun. We have left some extra time in the schedule to pause at any spot we find interesting. I know there are interesting towns, beautiful lakes, magnificent mountains, historic sites, tasty treats and western curiosities to discover along the way. Can’t really go wrong between here and Denver, as long as we respect the vagaries of May weather at higher altitudes.

Further stops are vague, but we do plan to head up to Chicagoland to visit Zip Dee for a factory tour, and of course we’ll end up at Alumapalooza at the Airstream factory on May 31. Between major stops, we’ll pick the ripe fruit along the way.

Getting ready for a trip like this takes some time. In the springtime as we are getting ready, we clear out things from the Airstream that have ceased to be useful or which have worn out, and we reload with a pile of this season’s necessities. We do have a set of permanent equipment, but that’s really just a base layer. Most of what we haul changes rapidly as our interests, goals, sizes, obligations, technologies, tastes, and side trips change.

I have a few things I do every year that make this process easier. First, I have a checklist. The checklist has four divisions:

Before Departure. This is a list of tasks that take a few weeks to complete, like getting the cars serviced, scanning paper documents, prepping the Airstream (empty holding tanks, full water, full propane, hitch lube, tire pressure), prepping the house, backing up computers, cleaning/clearing, arranging mail forwarding, and many other things.
Day Before Departure. This is a shorter list of the things I can only do right before we go, such as notifying the insurance company that we’ll have cars in “storage” mode for a while.
Day of Departure. This is a checklist of things to do as we are going out the door like removing final items from the house refrigerator, connecting the trickle charger to the car that will be stored, setting the thermostat in the house, and checking that everything is locked.
Items to Pack. This covers everything I need for unlimited time on the road. Typically we are gone for four to six months (although I often fly back home to assume my guise as Temporary Bachelor Man) and so this list needs to be comprehensive.

Given how much we travel, I’ve found it’s much easier to simply have two of certain items so that I don’t have to unpack the basics from the Airstream. That means I have an Airstream and a house version of things like: backpack, Dutch Oven, many clothes, charging cables, bathroom sundries, etc.

If you think about it, we don’t haul the Airstream’s microwave oven and refrigerator into the house every time we end a trip, so why should I waste time hauling things like the Verizon Mifi or my socks? Anything that’s inexpensive is duplicated. This keeps the packing list short.

(The same goes for Eleanor’s kitchen: the Airstream kitchen is fully equipped all the time, with its own cookware—even its own cast iron skillet—plus basic ingredients and dishes. A bonus is that the Airstream is always ready to bug out in the event of a catastrophe.)

Since my personal packing typically only take a couple of hours, I can focus on critical things like Airstream maintenance to prevent breakdowns and delays, and those little things that make the trip more enjoyable. For example, one ritual every year is that I go to the local book swap and pick up 4-6 paperback books for reading on the road. I do this a month or so before we leave, so by the time we’re spending our first night beneath the pine trees of northern Arizona I have forgotten the titles—so it’s kind of a surprise to check my bedside shelf and see what books are waiting there.

There’s one other thing we are adding to the prep routine this year, at Eleanor’s suggestion. Usually we rush around to get everything done in the last two weeks before we go, and then the day of departure is a little less joyous because there has been so much stress. This year we are going to take 24 hours after the Airstream is ready, to decompress before we set out. We’ll get up late, eat out at one of our favorite restaurants, maybe take in a movie, and ignore all obligations for a day. Then the next day we’ll get up early and hit the road, refreshed.

As you can see, our trips are really front-loaded. We do a ton of prep in a very structured way so that we can wing it while we’re traveling. “Planning for spontaneity” seems to work for us.

In a week we’ll hit the road and I’ll be posting along the way. Whatever we see, you’ll get a peek at too. And I hope to see many of you in Ohio at the Airstream factory later this month!

Apr 18 2016

Pack your inspirations

Alumapalooza is around the corner, and that means it’s time to get serious about traveling again. That event (held every year at the Airstream factory after Memorial Day) has been the kick-off for our summer travels for the past six years, and this year will be the seventh.

We’re not the only ones gearing up to hit the road either. I’m hearing from friends all over the country who are anticipating saddling up and hauling the Airstream out later this month or in May. Many of them will be out for weeks, which is great for them. They’ll have fun and maybe we’ll cross paths at some point.

Getting ready for Alumapalooza is really only the beginning for us. The Airstream won’t be back to home base until September, or possibly October, so we have to pack and plan for a magical mystery expedition. I don’t know exactly where we will be later this summer because some of our plans are going to be spontaneous, which means we could encounter temperatures from freezing to 110; activities like hiking, motorcycling, and swimming in the ocean; social events ranging from the five-day party that is Alumapalooza, to quiet nights in the middle of nowhere; and much more.

A couple of weeks ago Eleanor and I started to talk about our preparations to hit the road, and just about every day we do something to advance the cause, because it really takes that long to get a family of three and a small business ready to go. It would be easy if it were a simple matter of packing, but of course there are all the other things in life that get in the way.

For example, we have foster kittens again (yes, those two pictured really are our current obligations: Coleman and Storm), and I’ve been doing maintenance on the cars, we are taking a language class, Emma has a karate tournament coming up, etc., etc.

All of these projects and obligations seem overwhelming at times. Sometimes I feel like the month of April is really just about getting ready to leave, and it seems tedious, but then once we do finally start traveling everything falls into perspective. The prize of being on multi-month adventure is well worth the advance work.

What I really like about traveling this way is that we don’t have to plan everything in advance. I’m a planner by nature, but in this case it’s actually easier if we don’t. We have a general plan based on a few hard deadlines (Alumapalooza late May in Ohio, Alumafandango late September in California) but everything else is subject to whims and winds—and opportunities that may arise.

Fuel prices, by the way, hardly come into it at all. I mention this because if you are considering becoming an Airstream traveler you might think fuel cost is a big deal. Really, it’s one of the smaller budget items since traveling by road is more enjoyable when you drive less and explore locally more. I expect we’ll spend about $1,500 for fuel this season thanks to low diesel prices currently, and for four to five months of travel that’s a bargain.

The photo above is from a recent 2-night trip with my friend Nick, back to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. Out there in the desert you’ll find a strange sight, a lovely pond filled with tiny desert pupfish just a couple hundred feet from the border fence. This memorable trip across southern Arizona wasn’t expensive. It’s not about how far you go, it’s about what you can find near where you are.

This season we’re winging it more than usual. We always have a list of “maybe” ideas handy when we venture out, and this year’s list is really wild. We’re considering “side trips” as far apart as Newfoundland and Oregon. We’re keeping an eye out for cheap last-minute flights to Europe and bargain cruises to Alaska. It’s quite likely that none of these ideas will pan out, but it’s fun to have ideas to consider.

As I said, flexibility is a big advantage of traveling this way. When we walk out the door of our house, the adventure begins. Discovering where it ends up is the fun part. Pack your ideas and inspirations in the Airstream and see what happens.