Apr 18 2010

Chiricahua National Monument

For three years we have had this unit of the National Parks system on our “must visit” list. Mostly this has been because Chiricahua sits in the southeastern corner of Arizona, not far from our winter home base, and it beckons to us. A national park left unexplored is, in our lives, an unnatural vacuum. Missing one that sits only 100 miles from our home is inexcusable.

But we have had excuses nonetheless. Chiricahua has presented two small barriers to our visitation. For one, most of the park is between 5,600 and 6,800 feet above sea level, which means it gets snow in the winter and presents its best weather in spring and fall. We’re usually busy with other things at those times, and often aren’t even in the state.

The other barrier is one of logistics: the road through the park and the only campground are CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps)-era creations, with the usual gorgeous stone works and narrow, winding roads. Our 30-foot Airstream would never be able to camp here. The official limit is often stated as 29 feet, but that really refers to motorhomes. For trailers, 22 feet would be a more practical limit, maybe even shorter.

Two years ago Bert and Janie Gildart took their 28-foot Airstream to this park and found out why: the CCC workers in the 1930s built two steep road dips through dry washes inside the campground. The Gildarts added a long scrape of their own to the many others found on the roadway. Just last week I got an email from some blog readers with a 25-foot Airstream and they, too, reported scraping. (They had bumper damage, as well.)

We had planned to tent camp here, but with the arrival of the 17-foot Caravel we finally had a proper vehicle for Chiricahua National Monument. Looking at the trip plan this year, I realized that we needed to either go this month, or pass on the park until sometime in 2011.

The funny thing is that I hadn’t expected all that much. Sure, we’d heard of the “wonderland of rocks” that has been promoted here since even before it was a National Monument, and others had told us that it was a very nice place, but that didn’t prepare us for the scenic beauty of the place. Let me cut right to the chase: Chiricahua National Monument is a really gorgeous, and possibly under-appreciated (only 56,000 visitors last year), national park.

The only campground in the park, Bonita Canyon, is classic CCC. There are the narrow roads, as I mentioned, and there are the little stone and brown-wood bathhouses, and tiny tent-sized campsites that have been gradually co-opted by trailers and small motorhomes over the decades.

A word about those campsites. They are not friendly to big RVs and long trailers. In addition to the impossible dips, the 90 degree bends, and complete lack of RV services (no hookups, no dump station), the sites themselves are generally sized for one ordinary passenger vehicle. That parking space is probably not level, either, since when this campground was built people were expected to pitch a tent. Only the tent spaces have been leveled. We had to pull out every leveling block we had, and extend our tongue jack to the highest level to get the Caravel approximately level in site #12.

Still, I do not begrudge rustic little CCC campgrounds like this one in any way. They are charming, shady, and quiet. They take me back to days of camping many years ago. It’s like traveling back in time, since little has changed in the seven decades since they were built. I am not an advocate of expanding, leveling, and adding utilities to these campgrounds, since in almost every case, “improving” a CCC campground would utterly destroy the essential charm of it. For many people, a wilderness area (an official designation that constitutes the bulk of Chiricahua) is cruelly mocked by massive infrastructure such as is seen in Yellowstone and other major western parks.

I consider it a privilege to stay in such a historic, beautiful, and primitive place for a mere $12 per night. Apparently others feel the same way, since the 25-site campground fills up nearly every night in the spring and fall. We arrived at about 12:30 pm and found that only a few tent sites remained available, besides the notorious Site #12 that eventually accommodated us.

Our friends Ken and Petey had arrived the night before, in their 16-foot 1961 Airstream Bambi. After settling in, we met up with them and checked in at the Visitor Center to get oriented, pick up the Junior Ranger program, and plan our next 24 hours.

When you are in a tiny trailer, life is generally conducted al fresco. It is difficult to find room inside for three people to function all the time, and a group of five for dinner is unquestionably an outdoor affair. Fortunately, the entire weekend we received the typical southern Arizona April weather: dry, clear, and mostly bug-free. (Emma, however, has gotten so used to not having bugs that the appearance of just one or two strikes her as cause for complaint. “The bugs are awful!” She needs to spend a May weekend camping in northern New England sometime.)

There are two major activities here: hiking, and visiting the original ranch houses as part of a guided tour led by park rangers. I can heartily recommend the hiking, and in fact you can’t really see the best of this park without doing at least a little. The “wonderland of rocks” is a huge formation of volcanic tuff that has gradually eroded and split into tall spires and unlikely balancing rocks. The photographic opportunities are endless, for both the bird-watcher and the rock-watcher. The trails, again built by CCC labor, are excellent. We covered 3.3 miles in one hike on Saturday, circling from the Echo Canyon Trail to the Upper Rhyolite Trail and then to the Ed Riggs Trail, and we wished for more.

The ranch tour (free, no reservations needed) is also well worth a visit. It’s always interesting to hear the tale of how a national park was established. The Faraway Ranch house is the centerpiece of that story. Since the house is essentially a time capsule complete with furnishings, it has its own story to tell, too.

Every time we travel to a southern Arizona park we hear from someone about the dangers of encountering border crossers from Mexico. For the first time we encountered a Mexican immigrant who has taken up residence here in recent decades: the Coatimundi.

This cute critter looks like a cross between a cat and a monkey, with an incredible long tail. He climbs like a monkey, too, quick as a flash up and down trees. We’ve never seen one before, even in a zoo (although I believe there are some at the Sonoran Desert Museum), so it was quite a surprise to have one slinking and sniffing not far from our campsite. From the wildlife log at the visitor center, it seems the coatimundi drop by on a regular basis.

With only two nights in the park, our visit was too short. Emma snagged the Junior Ranger badge of course, and we managed to take in several trails, but there is clearly much more to explore. I’d also like to try the graded dirt road over the mountains to Portal AZ (on the east side of the Chiricahua Range), possibly with the Caravel in tow if the road conditions permit. And just a few miles down the road, there’s Fort Bowie National Historic Site, which we missed on this visit.

We are already talking about going again in about a week. It’s the perfect time of year and we’ve got our eye on a particular 6.9 mile trek the would bring us past most of the park’s best formations. We would have just stayed another day on this visit, but unfortunately I am expected in the office on Monday for several important tasks. There is no cell phone service in Chiricahua Nat’l Mon., nor Internet of any sort (even satellite would be tough with all the trees and canyon walls), so there was no possibility of extending our visit by working from the Caravel. (Drat that “work” thing.)

This Sunday was our neighborhood’s annual block party, which we managed to get back in time to attend. I told some of our neighbors about our trip and in doing so I met a couple of guys with trailers who started telling me about all kinds of wonderful boondocking spots in southern Arizona. It seems that we’ve only scratched the surface of this region. We have just a couple of weeks left before we must leave for points north, but now we have a long list of explorations to enjoyably work through while we are here — and next season as well.

Apr 15 2010

The words of Wally

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!

Apr 13 2010

Goin’ campin’

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!

Apr 08 2010

Ingo Vision backup camera

If you’re not already sweating with anticipation, just from the title of this blog post, you may wish to tune out. This is a geek session.

I got my IngoVision backup camera installed yesterday, along with the Mid-City Engineering interface module for the Mercedes COMAND unit (that’s the factory-supplied “all in one” box for the radio/CD/DVD/nav/Bluetooth/iPod etc.). The result has been exactly what I was hoping for — a good, clear, full-color rear view while towing.

Here’s how it attaches to the car. The Ingo “PremiumCam” kit includes a very tough external connector which we mounted on a gusset attached to the receiver hitch. It looks just like a miniature version of the 7-way connector for the Airstream.

The rest of the kit (left, click for larger view) includes a coiled cable that runs between the Airstream and the Mercedes, a second plug to mount on the tongue of the Airstream, and a long run of cable that will go to the back of the Airstream. The camera will mount on the bumper compartment lid at the back of the Airstream.

Inside the car, the Mid-City VIM164p interface box was attached to the back of the COMAND unit, and the camera cable was connected to the COMAND’s backup camera input. That part of the installation is completely invisible, since it is all hidden inside the dashboard.

In the picture above at left, you can see all the cables and camera plugged into the Mercedes for a test, since I haven’t yet put it on the Airstream. Ingo mounted the Airstream plug on his propane tank cover, which is very slick and looks like a factory design. I’m mounting mine on the flagpole holder, which is bolted to the electric jack. The cable will run in a protected loom under the bellypan, so it should be a quick installation with some ties and rivets.

Up front, the interface module allows the camera to be tied into the COMAND system as if it were OEM equipment. I just press one button on the steering wheel and there’s the picture from behind the Airstream. It’s a little stretched, probably due to the difference in aspect ratio between the Ingo-supplied screen and the Mercedes screen, but it looks good.

The camera also automatically activates when in reverse. The nagging text you see at the top of the screen is superimposed by the Mercedes COMAND unit, not the Ingo system.

If you have a truck or SUV with more interior space, and don’t go for the fancy integrated nav screen deal that I did, you can get the same camera system for a pretty reasonable price. The IngoVision PremiumCam (two-camera) system runs $599. The BaseCam (one camera) system is $399. That gets you everything you need including the screen. Installation can be DIY, or you can bring it to a local automotive electronics store and have them do it in a couple of hours.

I think this will qualify as a legitimate safety improvement. I’ve seen a lot of Airstreams with backup cameras (usually older models and Classic motorhomes), which suggests to me that at one time it was probably a factory option. Well, those cameras have come a long way since then — they’re smaller, cheaper, and have color, “night vision,” and better resolution. I think it’s time Airstream consider bringing back this option as a way to improve safety for owners.

I can’t wait to get try this out on the road. My first chance will probably be in May when we shove off for the big summer/fall trip. I’ll report on our experiences with it once we get moving.

Apr 06 2010

Readying for summer 2010

As always, we are looking six to eight months into the future to plan our travels this season. This year the plan is fairly ambitious for a family that is supposedly not full-timing anymore. We will leave Tucson in early May and likely not return until mid-November.

I’m not entirely sure about this amount of time on the road this year. Life in Arizona has been pleasant and easy, and I like to be here for at least a little of the hot weather. Last year we stayed until mid-June and got a solid month of 100-degree days, which I actually like except for the air conditioning bill. And usually we get back in October, just in time to catch the last week or two of hot days and warm nights. So I find myself reviewing the tentative travel plan and wondering, “Do we really need to be out that long?”

But when I flip over my Magic 8-Ball, the answer keeps coming up “Yes.” We have a lot to do this year. I am launching a new magazine (first issue due out in October 2010, topic to be announced later) and that means double-duty on the road. We’ll be doing both Airstream stuff, like Alumapalooza, and prep work for the new magazine all over the country. Plus, we are expecting to attend a wedding on the east coast, and visit family. So Eleanor and I have been playing “connect the dots” with the US map, and we’ve strung together a route that basically goes like this: AZ-CO-OH-NY-VT-MA-CT-VA-NC-GA-FL-LA-TX-NM-AZ. I figure we’ll log about 14,000 miles all inclusive, over six months.

(Flags on the map are only the stops we know of at this time. We’ll make others …)

This may be the last year we can pull off this sort of mega-trip. Our daughter is reaching an age where she has responsibilities and long-term projects that can only be completed at home base. I am gradually accumulating projects that may require a little more air travel, too. We’re going to have to face some tough decisions in 2011. So as always, we need to look at this trip as if it might be our last, and try to make the most of it.

Part of our pre-expedition prep is to get the tow vehicle and Airstream in shape. The Airstream is already set to go, in fine running condition thanks to work done on our California trip in January. (I can’t wait to log some real miles on those new Michelin LTX tires and see if they live up to the promise! Finally, a trip without multiple tire failures? Wouldn’t that be nice?)

The Mercedes is also set to go, but I’m going to make a few improvements. One item to be installed will be a clear paint protector on the hood, mirrors, and forward part of the fenders. Here in Arizona you can tell the mileage of a car just by counting the chips in the hood and grill paint, thanks to our sandy/gravelly environment. The Mercedes is less than a year old, but already has two chips in the paint on the hood and a few more on the mirrors. Since I plan to keep it for a long time, I guess I’ll spend the money on the paint shield. Bah. We didn’t have to do this on the Armada, because its hood was much higher off the ground. I’ve noticed that the lower the hood on a car, the more quickly it gets dinged.

Another upgrade will be to install Ingo’s camera. Last January when we were camping in Anza Borrego Desert State Park, a fellow named Ingo Werk happened to be camping nearby. Ingo and I “knew” each other only via the Internet (a couple of years ago he contributed a small article to Airstream Life magazine), so it was nice to finally meet in person. He’s an Airstream owner of course, but it turns out that he also has a company that makes automotive upgrades — and his latest product is “INGO VISION,” a very cool backup camera system with “night vision” and two cameras. One camera goes on your tow vehicle, and the other goes on your Airstream.

I saw this in operation on Ingo’s rig and was very impressed. There’s a 7-inch LCD screen that mounts in your truck and operates the cameras. At the push of a button you can see the view from either camera. The system is wired rather than wireless (so you can get a reliable and extremely clear view in color). With his “premium cam” Ingo supplies wiring and connectors so you can hook up the Airstream camera from the truck using a quick-disconnect plug. When you are towing, you can constantly monitor the traffic behind your Airstream on the LCD screen. When you’re not towing, the backup cam on the truck still works, which is handy for hitching up.

There was only one problem for us. The interior space of the GL320 is pretty limited, and I could not find a place to mount the 7″ screen where it would not crowd us. In a typical truck or larger SUV there would be no problem, but we are already struggling with a GPS and tire pressure monitor in a fairly tight cockpit. Fortunately, I discovered the wizards at Mid-City Engineering, who make OEM-quality upgrade modules for various cars. They have a little magic interface box that will make the Ingo Vision camera image appear right on the built-in nav screen in the car. Very cool.

So I’ve gotten that box and arranged for the local car electronics place to install it tomorrow, along with the plug on the back of the Merc for the Airstream’s camera. I’ll still need to mount the Ingo Vision camera on the back of the Airstream, and string the camera wire from front to back of the Airstream, but that should be a reasonable DIY job. Once it is all running, I’ll be able to watch the view behind the Airstream while towing, which should be a huge help to my overall situation awareness. (Normally I’m all about looking forward and not backward, but in this case I’ll make an exception.) I’ll post pictures of the setup in a separate blog post, later.

Finishing up house projects is the other major task before we go. We have begun to take our house a little more seriously, so we are very slowly fixing the things that we have ignored over the past three years. None of the projects are huge, but it’s important to tie up all the loose ends before we take off. Mostly that means planting a few trees and getting them established, fixing some drainage issues, finalizing some painting projects, zapping the weeds, and other such homebody tasks.

Doing these things helps motivate me to leave. I don’t like doing house maintenance. Once we are on the road, we can forget we have a house and just live in the moment. It’s always briefly disorienting, then freeing, and finally comforting to know that don’t need to a house and all the stuff that goes with it. When we are in the house, that perspective is hard to maintain.

We’ve got one more camping trip planned locally before we take off. Sometime in the next two weeks we’ll go to southeastern Arizona to explore the wonderful Chiricahua National Monument and some great national forest campsites nearby. This will be a Caravel trip, since the big Safari won’t fit in those campsites. The mountains run about 5,000-7,000 feet, which is why we’ve waited as late as possible in the season to visit them. Even in mid-April we’ll probably have freezing nights. But this area has been on our “to do” list for three years and if we don’t go in April we won’t be able to go again until sometime in 2011. There won’t be nightly blog reports since I don’t expect any cellular service, but I’ll post a full report upon our return.