It is our final week at winter home base.  That means we’ve dragged out the checklists from last year, and every day we try to check off a few items toward the goal of hitting the road in the Airstream.

It takes a long time to get three people (with homeschool and a business) ready to hit the road for six months.  But each year it gets easier.  My checklist for shutting down the house has only about two dozen items on it, all relatively simple.  The jobs fall into four categories:

1. Shutting  down (like putting the Qwest DSL service on “vacation mode”, turning off the gas, and clearing out the refrigerator);
2. Securing things for the time we are gone (backing up computers, putting fuel stabilizer in the car, locking up);
3. Preparing the Airstream and tow car (oil change, equipment checks, packing);
4. Cleaning up (cleaning the house and Airstream, giving away outgrown clothes, exchanging books at Bookman‘s, thinning out stuff in the Airstream’s storage compartments).

We’ve tried to optimize this process by keeping the house “lean,” meaning relatively free of stuff and obligations, but having good neighbors is an enormous help. The potted plants always find a home where they’ll be watered, and we have several people who will watch the place while we are gone.  I never worry about the house.  If something ever happened, we’d probably get half a dozen phone calls in fifteen minutes.

Theft while we are gone is a relatively small issue as well, by virtue of the simple fact of our minimal possessions.  In other words, there’s nothing worth stealing inside.  Not only do the computers come with us, a thief would find no Picassos on the walls or oxycontin in the medicine cabinet.  We don’t even own a TV.  (Note to would-be burglars: if you are interested in risking a felony conviction for some garden tools, or a kid’s room full of who-knows-what, I can point you to the right place.  Frankly, you’d be doing me a favor. I don’t like gardening all that much.)

Eleanor and I find that it works better to each have our own lists.  We both have our specialties, and we overlap enough that nothing gets overlooked. We both keep a checklist of preparatory “things to do” and “things to pack.”  The “to do” list usually starts about three weeks in advance because of time-consuming projects (house repairs, trailer repairs, trip planning) and the “to pack” list kicks in during the final week, which is now.

Packing is probably easier for us than for most people, because we leave the Airstream mostly packed and ready year-round.  Long ago we bought duplicates of the most commonly-used items, specifically to stay in the trailer.  The trailer even has its own silverware.  Those things that do get removed (such as tools, office equipment, stuffed animals) are stored in containers while in the house, so that we can easily grab the container and put it back in the trailer without extensive re-packing.   That’s a tip I got from a fellow Airstreamer years ago: bins are your friend.

Of course, we do try to advance our tools and our packing process every year.  For example, the Kindle e-book reader has turned out to be a neat addition to our equipment list.  I’ve added “Fill Kindle” to my checklist so that I can head out with at least half a dozen books ready to read, in one slim and lightweight package.  Since working on the Wally Byam Books project I have become aware of the abundance of free public domain books available online, and it seems an excellent opportunity to finally read some classics that I otherwise never would have enjoyed. I can also read newspapers and magazines on the Kindle (by subscription), something that I never did when we were full-timing, since all the paper was cumbersome in the trailer.  But Kindle aside, I still like to have a few paper-based books in my hands, so we’ll also load up with tradeable paperbacks.

(These thoughts are probably on my mind because of the upcoming Summer 2010 issue of Airstream Life magazine.  We have an article on new mobile technology and a separate article about using checklists. I learned some things from both of those articles, and I hope you do too. That issue will be mailed in about 10 days.)

We are generally the type to avoid making reservations, but there are a few points on this voyage when we will need them.  Yesterday my “to do” was to identify those points and book campsites that would otherwise be unavailable on particular dates we expect to be in certain areas.  I hope I’m not giving away too much of the story by saying that those sites included Cheyenne Mountain State Park and Cherry Creek State Park in Colorado, Alumapalooza at the Airstream factory (of course), Long Key State Park in Florida, and Ft Wilderness in Disneyworld.  There are a few others we’ll have to book from the road, when some things solidify.  We’ve also had to book a couple of airfares, and alert some friends that we’ll be looking for courtesy parking on specific dates.  That’s a lot of reservations by our standards, but that’s because this is a much more structured trip than we’ve ever taken before.

The biggest challenge of packing up for a six-month trip is that you’ve got to anticipate a lot of varied needs.  We will encounter all kinds of weather, terrain, and a wide range of activities.  It’s impossible to bring something for every possible circumstance, so some judicious choices have to be made.  We know we will be hiking in northern New Mexico, swatting mosquitoes in New England, and snorkeling in the Florida Keys, but what lies between?  Some challenges will have to be solved ad hoc, with loans of gear by friends and the occasional purchase. In a travel trailer, you really do get by with a little help from your friends.

This trip we are not taking the folding bicycles.  It was a tough call, but when we analyzed our trip we saw that the only times we were really going to use bicycles, we’d be able to borrow them easily.  That saves a bunch of room inside the car for other things. In prior years I wouldn’t have dreamed of going away for six months without at least one bicycle, but every year is different.

Now that I think of it, perhaps packing for six months isn’t really the biggest challenge.  The biggest challenge is to get mentally ready.  I have to admit that life in the house has been exceptionally pleasant lately.  We’ve had low stress, lots of friendly visitors, cheap movies on Tuesday night, and of course all the amenities of modern suburban life  (ice and water on the refrigerator door, a barbecue grill on the back patio, room for projects, daily mail service, pizza delivery, etc.).  In some ways, it is hard to leave.  But if I look forward to the many adventures that await, that homebody feeling goes away and gets replaced by a tickle of excitement.

The other thought that is in our minds is that it is very likely this will be the last year we get to go out and extensively roam the country as we have been privileged to do.  Too many things are cropping up to allow a six-month voyage in 2011.  The best we can hope for will be a month away here and there, before we are called back to home base for one obligation or another.  It’s the end of an era for us, but there’s nothing to be sad about, since it is simultaneously the beginning of a new era.  Change is good, and we will find ways to make the most of what we have.  As has been said many times, it’s not about getting what you want, it’s about wanting what you have. I can see how 2011 and the next few years are likely to be radically different from our previous lives, but only in superficial aspects.  The core values will stay the same, and we will still travel.

So here we go.  The countdown is T minus 8 before launch.

Over the past few weeks I have been working on a very special project: reprinting the two books written by Wally Byam.

Now, to those outside the Airstream world, Wally Byam may be just a name.  But to those of us who travel in Airstream trailers, Wally is a demi-god.  He’s most famous for starting the Airstream company back in 1931, and introducing the first aluminum-skinned Airstream trailers in 1936.  Every Airstream owner travels in a direct descendant from those 1936 Airstream Clippers, even today.

But what really made Wally a hero were his famous globe-trotting Airstream caravans.  He was a man with “an itchy foot,” as he put it, and soon began leading ordinary people on extraordinary voyages all over world — in Airstreams.  In 1948, he toured post-war Europe in a custom built Airstream with his friend Neil Vanderbilt (heir to the Vanderbilt fortune).  This by itself was an extraordinary achievement, since Europe was hardly open for tourism at that time, and entire cities were bombed out.

In 1951, Wally arranged the first trailer caravan ever, when he took a group of untested and inexperienced Airstreamers into Mexico.  The group was bigger than he had expected, 63 trailers in all, and the trip was arduous beyond belief.  Roads were rough, power was hard to find, and they had to dig their own pit toilets at every camp site.  By Mexico City, one-third of the caravan turned around and went home.  The rest pressed on to Guatemala, through roadless jungle (via rail) and incredible conditions.  Wally wrote it better than I could:

The border crossing into Guatemala took several hours despite the advance arrangements, and since it was a hot day, we joined the Mexican children swimming in the river while we waited. After the red tape at the border, we crossed the Talisman Bridge, and most of the outfits had to be towed up the steep hill from the river — a significant introduction to our Guatemalan journey. Another stop for examination of documents, and we were off at a snail’s pace on the dirt-and-boulder road Guatemalans call a highway — a rocky, rutted trail through dense forests and underbrush. In the eight and a half hours until we found a clearing where we could camp for the night, we covered nineteen miles.

The terrific jolting on the road caused cabinet doors to fly open inside many trailers; when we parked, the weary owners were confronted with scenes of utter devastation. Broken glasses and bottles and their contents mingled with flour, sugar, pots and pans, on the floor. Learning a bitter lesson, Caravan housekeepers put everything on the floor that could possibly end up there before continuing this rugged journey.

The next day was another prolonged struggle with steep grades, rocks and dust. The trailers spread out for miles with the tow truck continually pulling them out of holes and up hills. One trailer was stuck in the middle of the road, blocking a bus, until all the passengers got out and pushed it up the hill. From eight-thirty in the morning till nine-thirty that evening we covered exactly sixty miles. I found a fair campsite on a river and went back along the road telling everybody how to reach it, but the last one didn’t limp in until the following evening. Meanwhile, Caravan wives did their laundry in the river exactly as we had seen Mexican women doing all the way along, and everybody went swimming to cool off.

Every disaster you can imagine – and certainly more than I ever imagined — occurred on that road to Guatemala City. Axles and springs broke; brakes and clutches wore out, transmissions failed. The power wagon carried tools for some repair jobs, as well as equipment for towing, but there were naturally many parts we did not have — nor did the nearest garages. They had to be flown in from Mexico City in some cases, which caused a considerable delay.

After they had been pulled up and eased down numerous steep hills, with hours spent waiting for the tow truck to come to their aid, many outfits just gave up. Some sold their trailers to local buyers, some shipped them home by rail or boat and either went with them or by plane.

By the time the caravan left Guatemala it had dwindled to twenty-two trailers. The rest headed to El Salvador, Honduras, and finally arrived in Managua, Nicaragua.  After a week’s stay to recuperate, they turned around and did it all again to get home — a repeat performance of the entire ordeal, complete with burned-out transmissions and other failures.  Wally cannibalized his own trailer for parts so often that he finally abandoned it by the side of the road.

Wally Byam came back from this trip with only 14 of the original 63 trailers.  He had lost 27 pounds and his hair turned gray.  And yet, he recovered from that adventure and led another caravan into Mexico just nine months later.  Then he went on to lead a Canadian caravan in 1955, a European caravan with 34 trailers in 1956, a Cuban caravan in 1956, numerous Mexican and US caravans, and then his magnum opus: the incredible Cape Town to Cairo Caravan across Africa in 1959-1960 — both ways, north and south.

The stories of these caravans were well-documented at the time, in magazine articles, films, and books, but most of those are hard to find today.  Wally wrote two books about the trailer lifestyle and caravanning, both of which are long out of print.  They were “Fifth Avenue On Wheels,” published in 1949 and 1953, and “Trailer Travel Here And Abroad,” published 1960.  These books are really marvels of travel history, documenting a unique golden age of worldwide trailering that simply can’t be duplicated today.

Used copies of these books are extremely expensive if you can find them at all.  Typically an original copy of “Trailer Travel Here And Abroad” will run $100-350.  This means that the vast majority of vintage trailer and Airstream owners have never seen them.  That’s a shame, because the stories, photos, and ideas that Wally shared half a century ago are still fascinating.

I’ve wanted to reprint those books for years, but the motto in the publishing world is that “reprints don’t pay.”  That’s especially true when you are re-publishing a book that will sell, at most, a few hundred copies.  It was to be a labor of love, if we were ever going to get them back in print.  After a few false starts, I discovered that Forrest McClure, had also begun working on the project, and we threw our resources together.

After four years of part-time work, scanning, correcting, and re-setting every word of Wally’s books, we have finally completed the job, and now both of Wally’s books are available once again.   In an effort to ensure that the books would be read by as many people as possible, we designed the books for lowest possible cost ($24.95 in the Airstream Life store).  We re-set the type for an 8.5″ x 11″ page size (to reduce the page count), printed in a paperback edition. But every fascinating word and every wonderful historic photo is included — plus a couple of new introductions and a memoir by Dale “Pee Wee” Schwamborn, who was on many of the famous caravans as a young man.

There will never again be a Wally Byam.  He was unique, and his accomplishments simply can’t be duplicated today.  The only way to appreciate this period of travel history is to read his books.  That’s why we went through all the trouble of getting them back in print today.  If you want to get a copy, visit the Airstream Life store.  Enjoy!

There really is a difference between “traveling” by RV or trailer, and “camping”.  When we are in the big thirty-foot Airstream Safari, we travel.  We stay in campgrounds fairly often but we don’t make camp fires, or cook outside, or lounge around in hammocks. Instead, we go exploring the local area, do our grocery shopping, work, school, have business meetings, and get together with friends in the area. This can go on for months at a time, even years. It’s a great lifestyle, but it’s not camping.

Things are different in the Caravel.  We’re forced into camping mode just by the diminutive nature of the trailer.  We can’t carry much stuff, and the tiny size of the trailer encourages one to sit, nap, eat, and socialize in the great outdoors.

I find this to be a refreshing change from the full-time travel experience.  “Think Small,” was the slogan of Volkswagen in the 1960s, and it could as easy be the slogan for tiny travel trailers.  By thinking small, we are forced to focus on the under-appreciated little things, like the sweet smell of blooming flowers on a spring day as you sit outside with a book.  Suddenly, without many distractions indoors, you start to notice the bees pollinating nearby, the songs of birds in the morning, and the sensation of tensions easing as your subconscious accepts that today you have “nothing” pressing to do except relax.

Two weeks ago when we were at Picacho Peak I was reflecting on our neighbors, who were camping in teardrop trailers.  Except for motorcycle trailers, teardrops are the smallest camping units on wheels you can find.  The interior is usually just large enough for two people to lie down, or sit with a book.  Cooking is done, by design and necessity, outdoors from a “chuck wagon” built into the rear of the trailer.  If you want further shelter, you’ll have to pitch a tent.  This minimalist lifestyle strikes me as a great system when you really want to disconnect for a few days.  Only by stripping away all the accoutrements that we gather around ourselves, can you really get back to yourself.  I get the same feeling when we tent camp — it’s much less comfortable than either of the Airstreams, but it’s fun.

This weekend we are heading to Chiricahua National Monument in southeastern Arizona.  We’ll take the little Caravel and spend the weekend hiking the great trails.  There will be no TV, no cell phones, no water slides. But there will be a “wonderland of rocks” and splendid vistas from the peaks, plus plenty of quality family time of a type we don’t get when we are at home.  If you are in the area and interested in joining us, just drop by Bonita Canyon Campground (max trailer length 28 feet).  It’s first-come, first-served and the campground fills up most nights at this time of year, so get there early!