Going On the Road
Well, we're doing it, going mobile for the next five months. I spent months trying to figure out how to make this happen: Our finances just don't have much room for investments in depreciating assets such as an rv and a tow vehicle mighty enough to pull it, or a reliable conversion van with 4-wheel drive. After weeks and weeks of searching Craigslist and Uncle Henry's, I decided the best thing would be to stick with our current vehicle (a 2010 Subaru Forester) and make do with it and a heavy-duty canvas tent for our travels this winter. This presented problems, though: during our travels I knew there would be nights when we would want to stop for a single night and then get on the road again in the morning. In those circumstances, I'd been thinking we could sleep in the back of the Subaru: we'd fit, just barely. But sleeping in the car would mean that all of our stuff would have to be out of the way in either a car-topper or a small trailer. A car-topper likely wouldn't hold enough so I ended up back online searching for an enclosed trailer light enough for us to pull with our car.
Around that time I came across a few ads for vintage fiberglass trailers within a few hours of us. I'd been daydreaming about having one of these since I first started reading about rvs six months ago. Unlike rvs, they hold their value or appreciate (which means that we could sell ours without much loss if it didn't work out); they also provide the essentials that I was looking for (a place to sleep off the ground and to sit and work out of the rain), they are less likely to leak since they are made from two pieces of molded fiberglass with a single join rather than numerously joined pieces of aluminum found in most rvs, and they are very lightweight (roughly 1300 pounds) which means we could use our current vehicle and take advantage of its fuel efficiency (yes, our miles per gallon will be lower than they would be if we weren't pulling a trailer, but it will still be much better than if we were driving a six or eight cylinder vehicle and pulling a trailer weighing over three thousand pounds.
A new fiberglass rv was out of our price range and many of the used ones I found online were either too expensive or too far away. But I kept my eye open anyway just in case. Then, while I was looking around for a trailer to pull with our Subaru, I came across two 1970s Trillium trailers on the Maine Craigslist (yes, we have a single Craigslist for the entire state...population density is pretty low here). Their prices for were roughly the same as what I'd been finding for plain old trailers, and the Trilliums, unlike plain trailers, each had a table that converted to a bed, as well as a couch, two-burner stove, sink, furnace, refrigerator, fan, and interior lights. One of them, with a bathroom, sold before we had a chance to even go look at it (they typically sell like hotcakes--another advantage to buying one of them rather than a plain trailer). I was less keen on the second one since it didn't have a bathroom but I figured we could make do and it would be sufficient to solve our problem about what to do on those nights when we wanted to stop for just a single night or if we were camping with the tent and the weather turned super rainy or windy.
The Trillium was located in northern Maine right on the Canadian border. I corresponded with a really nice man through e-mail and we arranged to make the drive up there and see it. It was smaller than I expected; how they manage to fit all the appliances and furniture in such a small space is a wonder. It clearly was not in new condition: it had some patches where previous owners had accidentally screwed through the camper shell when attaching things to the interior walls (oops), and the windows were ringed with layers of caulk. Even so, the few screw holes had been patched adequately and the body, frame, and tires were in very good condition. The appliances all worked (although the pump for the sink has since failed) and it didn't stink of mildew or have any leaks. Trilliums, unlike some of the other fiberglass trailers, have fiberglass floors, so rot in the floor was not an issue. Overall, it was usable as-is and was sufficient to fit our needs. We decided to buy it and the sellers kindly offered to haul it down to our house the next weekend, since we still needed to get a trailer hitch installed on our vehicle.
For the last few weeks we've been wrapping up our affairs and readying ourselves to go on the road and still prepare the house for winter and our return in late winter. Our first step was to re-home our chickens--we found a great place where they'll still be able to free-range during the day. We needed to get firewood delivered and stacked, to use this fall and then in late winter/early spring when we return. Then unexpectedly, our hot water system in the house failed because our ancient furnace could no longer process the water properly. We had to buy and have installed a new hot water heater and a new heat pump, as well as upgrade our electric panel to support them. Thankfully, Efficiency Maine has been offering rebates to help with the expense of installing new, energy efficient appliances.
I made the rounds with my primary care doctor and specialists and began arrangements to receive my infusions while we traveled and to have phone appointments as necessary. I read rv forums (especially fiberglass rv) and rv blogs (such as Technomadia) on what to do about receiving mail while traveling. We chose a company called Traveling Mailbox that receives your mail while you travel; they scan the envelopes of first class mail and send the image to you via e-mail to let you know what you've received; if you then want to view the whole piece of mail they'll scan and e-mail it to you. You can even authorize them (for an additional fee) to deposit in your bank accounts any checks you might receive, as long as your bank allows mail-in deposits.
Now we're in the final stages of our preparations. One of our cats has been temporarily re-homed with my mother for the winter; the other will be coming with us at least as far as my father in law's house where she might spend the winter if things go smoothly with the already-resident cats. The houseplants are also generously being babysat by my mom. We're packing--which is difficult, because we're trying to take only what is most essential to everyday living, and if it's truly essential it's not something I want packed away--I want it out so I can use it up until the moment we leave, and arranging things. M. is working on the energy supply part of things (solar panels and a 12-volt deep-cycle battery) and I'm trying to keep the anxious dog out of his hair. The dog knows something is up for sure. The moment the camping gear comes out, he goes on high alert and he won't leave my side because he's afraid he'll get left behind. I wish I could communicate with him about the nature of time, I can't calm him down by telling him we've got at least another day until we leave. The best I can get him to understands is "later" and "in a little while;" words for a concept such "the day after tomorrow" are meaningless. You can see him furrow his brows as he tries to understand.
This morning I finished up the fresh set of curtains I made for the trailer. I'd hoped to cover the cushions with new material but that's not looking likely. I did finish planting the bulbs I'd ordered. Funny to think that I'm planting them now and they'll be coming up not long after we return.
Tomorrow morning, the oil company is coming to drain the pipes in the house. We then have a bunch of stuff we're going to haul into the cellar, where hopefully it won't freeze while we're away.
This is the realization of a long-held dream. My excitement and happiness have fallen into the background over the last few weeks, though, and been replaced by anxiety and doubt. I like my comfy bed, I love our woodstove and lying on the couch staring at the fire, and we're going to miss our cat and all of our daily habits. I'm having second-thoughts: it seems like a stupid thing to do, leave our comfortable, relatively safe home, to go travel with no specific destination, hauling a thirty year old, thirteen foot long trailer that will be our home for the next five months. And my health issues increase my fear: I'm scared to be away from my doctors and my usual pharmacy. What if I can't get my infusion or my other medicines? What if I have a severe flare of psoriatic arthritis or demyelinating disease? Will the change in habits be too stressful and make my conditions worse?
We've talked through these things and I'm making it a priority to take care of myself while we travel. We're going to limit how many hours and how frequently we drive; we hope to stay settled in each place for two weeks. I'm intentionally making time to exercise lightly every, day and I've planned out healthy snacks and meals that will be easy to prepare while camping or on the road. We're not completely jumping off a cliff into the unknown. We have a house to come back to, family to stay with along the way, and we've thought this through pretty well. Which isn't to say that the unexpected won't happen. I'm sure (and I hope) that it will.
Around that time I came across a few ads for vintage fiberglass trailers within a few hours of us. I'd been daydreaming about having one of these since I first started reading about rvs six months ago. Unlike rvs, they hold their value or appreciate (which means that we could sell ours without much loss if it didn't work out); they also provide the essentials that I was looking for (a place to sleep off the ground and to sit and work out of the rain), they are less likely to leak since they are made from two pieces of molded fiberglass with a single join rather than numerously joined pieces of aluminum found in most rvs, and they are very lightweight (roughly 1300 pounds) which means we could use our current vehicle and take advantage of its fuel efficiency (yes, our miles per gallon will be lower than they would be if we weren't pulling a trailer, but it will still be much better than if we were driving a six or eight cylinder vehicle and pulling a trailer weighing over three thousand pounds.
A new fiberglass rv was out of our price range and many of the used ones I found online were either too expensive or too far away. But I kept my eye open anyway just in case. Then, while I was looking around for a trailer to pull with our Subaru, I came across two 1970s Trillium trailers on the Maine Craigslist (yes, we have a single Craigslist for the entire state...population density is pretty low here). Their prices for were roughly the same as what I'd been finding for plain old trailers, and the Trilliums, unlike plain trailers, each had a table that converted to a bed, as well as a couch, two-burner stove, sink, furnace, refrigerator, fan, and interior lights. One of them, with a bathroom, sold before we had a chance to even go look at it (they typically sell like hotcakes--another advantage to buying one of them rather than a plain trailer). I was less keen on the second one since it didn't have a bathroom but I figured we could make do and it would be sufficient to solve our problem about what to do on those nights when we wanted to stop for just a single night or if we were camping with the tent and the weather turned super rainy or windy.
 |
| Example of a vintage Trillium Trailer |
The Trillium was located in northern Maine right on the Canadian border. I corresponded with a really nice man through e-mail and we arranged to make the drive up there and see it. It was smaller than I expected; how they manage to fit all the appliances and furniture in such a small space is a wonder. It clearly was not in new condition: it had some patches where previous owners had accidentally screwed through the camper shell when attaching things to the interior walls (oops), and the windows were ringed with layers of caulk. Even so, the few screw holes had been patched adequately and the body, frame, and tires were in very good condition. The appliances all worked (although the pump for the sink has since failed) and it didn't stink of mildew or have any leaks. Trilliums, unlike some of the other fiberglass trailers, have fiberglass floors, so rot in the floor was not an issue. Overall, it was usable as-is and was sufficient to fit our needs. We decided to buy it and the sellers kindly offered to haul it down to our house the next weekend, since we still needed to get a trailer hitch installed on our vehicle.
For the last few weeks we've been wrapping up our affairs and readying ourselves to go on the road and still prepare the house for winter and our return in late winter. Our first step was to re-home our chickens--we found a great place where they'll still be able to free-range during the day. We needed to get firewood delivered and stacked, to use this fall and then in late winter/early spring when we return. Then unexpectedly, our hot water system in the house failed because our ancient furnace could no longer process the water properly. We had to buy and have installed a new hot water heater and a new heat pump, as well as upgrade our electric panel to support them. Thankfully, Efficiency Maine has been offering rebates to help with the expense of installing new, energy efficient appliances.
I made the rounds with my primary care doctor and specialists and began arrangements to receive my infusions while we traveled and to have phone appointments as necessary. I read rv forums (especially fiberglass rv) and rv blogs (such as Technomadia) on what to do about receiving mail while traveling. We chose a company called Traveling Mailbox that receives your mail while you travel; they scan the envelopes of first class mail and send the image to you via e-mail to let you know what you've received; if you then want to view the whole piece of mail they'll scan and e-mail it to you. You can even authorize them (for an additional fee) to deposit in your bank accounts any checks you might receive, as long as your bank allows mail-in deposits.
Now we're in the final stages of our preparations. One of our cats has been temporarily re-homed with my mother for the winter; the other will be coming with us at least as far as my father in law's house where she might spend the winter if things go smoothly with the already-resident cats. The houseplants are also generously being babysat by my mom. We're packing--which is difficult, because we're trying to take only what is most essential to everyday living, and if it's truly essential it's not something I want packed away--I want it out so I can use it up until the moment we leave, and arranging things. M. is working on the energy supply part of things (solar panels and a 12-volt deep-cycle battery) and I'm trying to keep the anxious dog out of his hair. The dog knows something is up for sure. The moment the camping gear comes out, he goes on high alert and he won't leave my side because he's afraid he'll get left behind. I wish I could communicate with him about the nature of time, I can't calm him down by telling him we've got at least another day until we leave. The best I can get him to understands is "later" and "in a little while;" words for a concept such "the day after tomorrow" are meaningless. You can see him furrow his brows as he tries to understand.
This morning I finished up the fresh set of curtains I made for the trailer. I'd hoped to cover the cushions with new material but that's not looking likely. I did finish planting the bulbs I'd ordered. Funny to think that I'm planting them now and they'll be coming up not long after we return.
Tomorrow morning, the oil company is coming to drain the pipes in the house. We then have a bunch of stuff we're going to haul into the cellar, where hopefully it won't freeze while we're away.
This is the realization of a long-held dream. My excitement and happiness have fallen into the background over the last few weeks, though, and been replaced by anxiety and doubt. I like my comfy bed, I love our woodstove and lying on the couch staring at the fire, and we're going to miss our cat and all of our daily habits. I'm having second-thoughts: it seems like a stupid thing to do, leave our comfortable, relatively safe home, to go travel with no specific destination, hauling a thirty year old, thirteen foot long trailer that will be our home for the next five months. And my health issues increase my fear: I'm scared to be away from my doctors and my usual pharmacy. What if I can't get my infusion or my other medicines? What if I have a severe flare of psoriatic arthritis or demyelinating disease? Will the change in habits be too stressful and make my conditions worse?
We've talked through these things and I'm making it a priority to take care of myself while we travel. We're going to limit how many hours and how frequently we drive; we hope to stay settled in each place for two weeks. I'm intentionally making time to exercise lightly every, day and I've planned out healthy snacks and meals that will be easy to prepare while camping or on the road. We're not completely jumping off a cliff into the unknown. We have a house to come back to, family to stay with along the way, and we've thought this through pretty well. Which isn't to say that the unexpected won't happen. I'm sure (and I hope) that it will.
Comments
Post a Comment