Archives for 2017

May 19 2017

Left turn at Albuquerque

“I knew I shoulda taken that left turn at Albuquerque!” — Bugs Bunny

If we had, we would be in California right now, instead of this:

It was a bit of a shock to wake up in Chatfield State Park to snow falling, since even the gloomy forecast didn’t predict it until the following night. What a change from the previous day’s sunny 72 degrees.

And the danged snow just kept coming down all morning, until we had about five inches on the grass. Emma was delighted, Eleanor was tickled to take photos from inside the Airstream, and I was horrified. That’s how we all generally react to snow.

Well, in such a situation there are clear protocols: First, crank up the heat. Second, make a hearty breakfast. Third, go outside and throw snowballs around. We’re in an Airstream that we just loaded for five months on the road, so believe me when I say we had all the gear needed for this event: warm socks, a variety of teas, lots of propane, cold weather clothes, toast & marmalade, bad/classic movies on DVD, etc.

We were due at a rally in Fort Collins, but waited until about noon to leave the state park, hoping the weather would clear. It didn’t. Weighing the options it seemed like the best move was to tow during midday when the temperatures were sufficiently above freezing to avoid icing on the roads. The trek to Fort Collins up I-25 was slow and occasionally “exciting” but overall safe enough and we got to the KOA in fine condition.

The GL had to fight a little to push the Airstream back into the snow-filled campsite. Even with all-wheel drive it was tough when the all-season tires slipped. This is definitely winter tire weather.

However, please notice the tire tracks on the snow: one pass to get parked—that’s our “performance guarantee”. I hate hacking the trailer into a site (going back and forth repeatedly). Eleanor took the brunt of this particular job since she had to go out in the wet slush and heavy falling snow to guide me in.

It’s probably a testament to the devotion and hardiness of the local Airstream club that more than half of the rally attendees eventually arrived despite the conditions.

Normally I’ll do everything possible to avoid snow. Towing in snow is craziness. We once bailed out of a great trip in Banff because it was October and a small snowstorm was looming. At that time of year one good snowfall might mean you’re stuck for weeks, because just as one begins to melt another snowfall arrives.

But this is May, so any snow that lands will melt quickly even up here at 5,000 feet. The roads and bridges aren’t going to freeze (at least not for long) and there was no chance of the temperatures declining further as long as we didn’t go further up in altitude. So coming here was a calculated decision. No biggie to wait out a couple of days of snow.

We started our trip with full propane cylinders of course, but using the furnace all night and the catalytic heater all day means we will probably drain a cylinder before we leave on Sunday. Normally I don’t have to buy propane until the end of the summer. We’d be burning it even faster if we didn’t have the catalytic heater to use during the day (it’s much more efficient than the furnace).

Our strategy lately is to run the cat heater by day because it’s efficient. It’s fine for our 30 foot trailer down to about freezing. Below that, the ends of the trailer tends to get chilly. At night when temperatures are likely to drop below freezing we switch to the furnace. That way the trailer is heated more evenly and the holding tanks get a little warmth too (so they don’t freeze).

All of this will hopefully be of academic interest only in a few days. I’m looking forward to rolling down to the Great Plains and points east for a sudden switch to summertime greenery and warmth. So for us, summer starts Sunday or Monday.

May 17 2017

From desert heat to Rocky Mountain snow

The saying is that “the journey of a 1,000 miles begins with a single step.” The problem is that it takes a while to get ready for that first step. Lots to pack, arrange, and prepare when you don’t plan to be home for five months.

And that explains why our Airstream left the driveway two days later than planned. Things weren’t quite ready and in the context of months, a couple of days isn’t really a big deal so it made sense to delay the trip just a little.

This delay cost us a couple of good stops. I was planning to go to Sunset Crater and Wupatki National Monument, then up to the Four Corners region and stop at Hovenweep National Monument. But we had also committed to a rally in Fort Collins and so instead of just moving the entire schedule back, we had to skip past the Four Corners.

That meant taking the Interstate highway system, a necessary but tedious expedient. Taking the Interstate is a great way to get from A to B without seeing anything. Almost as good as a jetliner. But we were slightly pressed for time and so we plowed west on I-10 and north on I-25, with the only good part being the detour through Hatch, New Mexico and a stop for lunch beside the town’s collection of advertising statues.

After a night in Albuquerque we pressed onward to Littleton CO and Chatfield State Park, just outside the Denver metro area. This park surrounds a flood-control project that forms a nice little lake. There’s a bike trail surrounding the lake, which enticed Emma and I out for a very pleasant morning of riding on our electric unicycles, for 14 miles.

But now that we’ve gotten here, the weather is about to make us regret doubly our decision to skip the sunny and dry Four Corners region…

Snow? High temps of 37? Isn’t this May?

This will definitely put a damper on the rally, but knowing the Airstreamers they’ll all find a way to have a good time anyway. Personally I’m going to stay in the trailer all day Friday with the catalytic heater and a movie marathon running.

To get ready Eleanor and I went digging in our under-bed storage and swapped out all our shorts and sandals for those items we keep on board for the occasional spate of bad weather. I keep a few items in the Airstream at all times: long underwear, hat, gloves, warm socks, and some grungy clothes for emergency roadside repairs. This stuff rarely comes out, and I sure didn’t expect it to be needed four days after leaving the near-100 degree weather in Tucson.

Well, on a journey of 1,000 miles (or in our case about 10,000 miles) change is to be expected. Before this trip is over we’ll visit at least 11 states and perhaps a couple of Canadian provinces. It won’t be sunny every day, nor will it always be warm. But, if we’re lucky, it will always be interesting.

May 01 2017

Road trip 2017

It’s that time of year again: Airstream road-trip planning season. (It’s a great time of year.)

Each year we head out of the rapidly-building Tucson heat for a massive cross-country Airstream trip that lasts all summer. Each year we end up in Vermont parked on the shore of Lake Champlain because that’s where family members are—but along the way there’s a great road trip.

Usually we get back home sometime in September or October, although one year we came back in November. It all depends on obligations and opportunities.

Trip-planning is great fun. With a vast American continent to cross there’s no end of tempting detours and stops. With an Airstream we get to take our time and meander, spend time with friends, drop in on lesser-known spots, and (very important) try all kinds of interesting things to eat. The problem is not finding places to go, it’s deciding which ones to skip because even with a month to travel each way there’s never enough time to do it all. What a great problem to have.

The key is not to be in a hurry or afraid. Being in a hurry causes people to take the Interstate when they don’t really need to, and miss everything except what’s at the exits. Being fearful causes people to avoid the unfamiliar, which is a shame because that’s where all the interesting stuff is found. So each year we try to break away from the places we’ve been before (except a few favorites or the unavoidable) and go someplace completely unknown to us.

That is getting harder each year. Our Airstream has crossed the country at least thirty times, and for the last decade our route has been from Tucson to Jackson Center, Ohio, for Alumapalooza each May. I’m not sure there are many more ways to cross the Plains states. At this point the Airstream could probably drive itself there, like a horse pulling a carriage on a familiar route in the 19th century.

My M.O. is to start with an open map of the USA, and just browse the states between Point A and Point B. I look for national and state parks we haven’t visited, or roads that look curvy enough to be scenic. Then I browse the Internet looking for interesting events, curious destinations, etc. Adding people we want to see along the way is helpful for picking out a route. For example, last year we met up with two of Emma’s Internet friends IRL. (That’s “In Real Life” for those who are unschooled in Internet relationships. Remember when there was no other way to meet people other than in real life?)

Sometimes inspiration comes from the oddest places. One year I spotted a random article about “Forbidden Amish Donuts” and that instantly spurred a memorable detour through Amish country in western New York state. We’ve detoured for rallies, snorkeling, free parking, business meetings, to see snow, to get away from snow, national park badges, photo opps, factory tours, festivals, beaches … you name it. The point is, with the Airstream we can do that.

I do get asked a lot how I can “take five months of vacation.” Of course, I don’t—I’m working all the time as we go, just like many other Airstreamers. These days it’s a lot easier to get online and work from most of North America. In the early days it was a rather tedious experience getting online. Now my cellular Internet is faster than my home Internet.

We don’t plan round-trips. We just plan enough to get through our major obligations, and figure the rest will take care of itself. So here’s our plan so far:

Our favorite part of the route is always in the Four Corners region, which is why we’re willing to add a few hundred miles and spend hours toting our trailer up and down the mountain passes of Colorado. This year I’m not sure what exact stops we’ll make but the wide open spaces of the west make it easy to find great campsites. The only thing I know for sure is that we’ll avoid Moab this year. The campground in Arches National Park will be closed all summer and the others in the area will be heavily burdened in May.

There’s a rally in Fort Collins CO happening in mid-May, and we plan to attend that. I will probably do a maintenance presentation there. After that there’s no avoiding the Great Plains and the tedium that is associated with long drives in that area, but I think it will be made better by avoiding the numbing sameness of I-70 through Kansas in favor of Route 36.

The planned route ends where it always must, at the doorstep of Airstream in Jackson Center OH for Alumapalooza. It will be interesting to see how Jackson Center has grown and changed with Airstream bursting at the seams lately.

And after that? Not sure. We’ve got thoughts of meeting one of the printers I work with in Ohio, visiting family and friends in Pennsylvania, doing genealogical research, camping in the Adirondacks … but who really knows? It’s fine at this point to have a list of possibilities and a general goal (Vermont by a certain date). We’ll wing it on the rest.

Come along with us for the ride, through this blog. We hit the road in mid-May.

Apr 05 2017

The electric last mile

For several years I’ve watched fellow Airstreamers to see what they do about our version of “the last mile problem.” That’s the question of how to transport oneself from the campsite to nearby places, without getting in the tow vehicle or motorhome to drive.

Granted, most of the time you’ll want to drive because your destination is too far, or the weather is inclement, or because you need to haul a lot of stuff. I’m talking about those times when you just want to go a short distance, like to the Visitor Center or to a neighborhood store for a few small items.

This is becoming a big issue in some national parks, because (being Americans) we like to drive everywhere and that’s just not working out very well as the parks become more crowded. Zion National Park has become a sort of poster child for this problem. Years ago the park went to a shuttle bus system and even that is getting mobbed during peak times. It’s not much better at the south rim of Grand Canyon, either.

We used to bring bicycles along with us, when we were full-timing. At first it was a pair of regular bikes that we carried on the roof. That was not very successful for us—the bikes got rusty and it was a pain to get them off the tall SUV roof. We switched to folding bikes, which were great but they took up a lot of our trunk space. Still, we got a lot of use out of them. These days there’s a factory-approved rear rack for Airstreams (by Fiamma) which is popular, although it blocks access to rear hatches.

I’ve seen people hauling motorcycles and gas-powered scooters in their pickup beds. We don’t have a pickup truck so those vehicles were non-starters for us.

On rare occasions I’ve seen Airstreamers with skateboards and kick scooters (like Razor). Those are cute but I’m no Tony Hawk and pushing a board isn’t appealing to me for longer distances.

For a while I was intrigued by the idea of a Segway, but after some examination it didn’t seem like such a hot idea. Segways cost upwards of $6,000 and even with folding handles they would take up much more space than we have available. Getting three (one for each member of the family) would be a cool $18k. Not happening.

Then the self-balancing craze hit. Suddenly we had hoverboards, electric unicycles, mini-Segways, and one-wheeled skateboards, all of which are electrically powered and rechargeable. I got interested again, and checked them all out.

It turns out that hoverboards are not really practical transportation; they’re slow and can’t handle much terrain. Mini-Segways (including those made by Ninebot, pictured at right) are much better but not fast enough for me. Those are kind of like the original Segways but instead of a handle you get a shorter brace that you steer with your knees. The big advantage is that they’re a tenth of the cost.

Electric bikes are coming up in popularity too, and I think these have a great future. If you haven’t checked them out lately, you should. The late model e-bikes can be pedaled like regular bicycles, they aren’t particularly heavy, and they can go great distances at speeds up to 20 MPH. One manufacturer, Pedego, will be at Alumapalooza 8 this year to show their e-bikes. Don DiCostanzo, CEO of the company, will be there in person to talk to everyone and let you test ride one. That should be fun.

The downside of the e-bikes is that they get kind of pricey, running $2,000+ for good ones. Also, unless it’s a folding e-bike you’ll need a bike rack or truck bed carrier.

A much less expensive and more portable “last mile” alternative for Airstreamers is an electric scooter. These look kind of like the kick-scooters that kids often ride, but they are entirely self-propelled by an electric motor. The good ones are definitely not kid toys; these suckers can propel an adult for up to 25 miles.

At well under $1k the scooters have a lot to offer: plenty of range, speeds up to 15.5 MPH, easy to ride, and they fold down to fit in a small space (so you don’t need a bike rack). You just unfold it, stand on it, and press the button to get going.

I like these scooters so much that I’ve added the best electric scooter I could find to the Airstream Life Store. I’ll be bringing one to Alumapalooza 8 this May for demo rides, and I think people will be surprised at how handy and portable they are.

Personally, I enjoy an electric unicycle. I know, it sounds insane, but they really are strangely practical—if you can get past the learning curve. They’re light (about 25-30 pounds) and very portable. Wearing a backpack I can carry around a fair bit of stuff while riding one. Dirt, grass, and bumpy asphalt are no problem for a skilled rider. They’re ideal for short, quick trips or lengthier urban explorations (video). My electric unicycle can carry me over 12 miles at up to 15.5 MPH, which is about as far and fast as I want to go on this mode of transit.

The downside of the electric unicycle (or EUC) is that you can get injured pretty easily by falling off. So it’s not for everyone. I wear full protective gear like most skateboarders on every ride: helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, and wrist guards. Sometimes I wear a motorcycle hoody that incorporates shoulder and back protection as well.

Of course, this sort of thing is of limited utility if only one member of the family is willing to use it. So I gave Emma a shot at it and being a young person with a highly flexible brain she picked it up very quickly—three lessons—and a few days later she was riding over bumps and around corners with shocking ease.

Eleanor has decided she’s more interested in riding the scooter. That’s great, each of us have our favorite electric “last mile” vehicle and they all fit in the car easily. At the end of a long day of towing we can zip away on short errands instead of having to unhitch. If we are staying just one night in a campsite, I am always grateful to not have to unhitch.

Recognizing that there is no perfect “last mile” solution for everyone, I’m wondering what others will do in the future. Most people will of course continue to drive everywhere, but will any significant number also start to adopt something electrically-powered?

I hope so. Not only will this help with traffic congestion and air pollution, but electric vehicles also are silent and help keep campgrounds peaceful. Bicycling or unicycling takes you out of your personal aquarium so you can meet more people, smell the flowers, and feel the sunshine. (Of course, walking does too, and it’s completely free.)

I’d like to do an article about this topic in a future issue of Airstream Life magazine. So if you’ve got something to add (photos, personal experiences, ideas, referrals to other people) please let me know. That would be cool of you.

(Also, if you want to learn to ride an EUC and are coming to Alumapalooza 8, let me know and I’ll try to arrange a couple of lessons for you.)

Mar 18 2017

Superbloom, bah humbug

We were planning to head out last week to one of our favorite spots, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park in southern California. But then the New York Times, NPR, LA Times, CNN, and even Wired blabbed to everyone about the “superbloom” of desert flowers, and the crowds showed up.

[Big sigh here] One of the reasons I love going to Anza-Borrego is because it is so wonderfully peaceful, slow-paced, and quiet. There are thousands of square miles of desert filled with canyons, mountains, precipices, badlands, palm oasis, and human history, and all you have to do is wander off the beaten path to find a spot all your own.

But Wired summed it up:

The nearby community of Borrego Springs more than doubled in size as 5,000 people poured into the area on Saturday, an influx that filled motels, prompted the sheriff to close miles of road, and sparked a fistfight over a pork Cubano.

Our friends Bert & Janie are out there now. Bert called me a few days before we planned to leave, warning that for the first time he’s ever seen Borrego Springs has traffic jams (a real feat for a town with a population density of 79 people per square mile) and many of the hiking trails were overrun with crowds.

I wouldn’t necessarily cancel a trip just on that basis, but I was behind on the Summer 2017 magazine (having lost some time in February due to a virus) and so it seemed like the smart choice would be to try again in early April, when the crowds have departed.

To all those people who drove out from Los Angeles and San Diego to look at the flowers: I understand the flowers are nice, but if you only go to Anza-Borrego when the media tells you there’s a “superbloom” you’re missing the real beauty of the place. There’s a subtle beauty that you can only experience without the distraction of thousands of other people nearby. It takes time to experience, time in which your mind slowly unwinds and relaxes. Then you begin to notice the little things: the sound of the breeze, an occasional buzz of a bee, the clearness of the air, the silent passage of a desert jackrabbit or bighorn sheep, and the soft light that colors the rocks at dusk.

It seems like the past few years we’ve had to search a little harder for the peaceful experiences we formerly took for granted in national and state parks. The National Park Service was perhaps too successful in promoting the 100th anniversary of the park system last year, and as a result many parks were overcrowded. Even before the anniversary year we noticed it was getting harder to find campsites, and on occasion we had to skip popular national parks even during the “shoulder season”.

Having the Airstream makes it easier for us than for the weekend travelers who need to book a motel. In a place like Anza-Borrego we can escape the center of the hubbub and retreat to the niches of the park to hear only the whispering breeze and the coyotes howling at night. But that’s the advantage of the vast desert. In most other parks, you can’t just pull off the road and wander around until you find a nice patch to call your own for the night.

If you watch the orientation movie in most national park visitor centers it will almost always emphasize quiet enjoyment of the park. You’ll hear how our parks are an opportunity to relax, get away from technology and daily stress, appreciate nature, and re-connect with family & friends.

That’s all still true. I guess the only thing that has changed is that you have to go a little further off the beaten path each year.

This is part of the reason why I sometimes encourage people to travel outside of their personal comfort zone. Every tourist wants to go to Grand Canyon, Zion, Yellowstone and Yosemite. Go there and you’ll be sure to meet busloads of people. Those are great places but if you’ve got wheels, be different and try the lesser spots: unknown state parks and BLM sites, national forest campgrounds, trails that aren’t conveniently located, places you haven’t read about in travel magazines, the quirk and oddities of this country, and places that have a reputation for horrible weather. I guarantee that if you go with an open mind you’ll find things you never expected but are glad you experienced.

For us, the trick will be to visit Anza-Borrego when the New York Times isn’t talking about it. We used to visit the state park campground every year during the last week of December or first week of January, but I suspect that tradition is over permanently. Still, the door hasn’t closed—it has just moved. I look on this as an opportunity to discover new spots that we love, at other times of year, in order to keep finding peace and relaxation out in the wide southern California desert.