Posts Tagged ‘rv tips’
While not meant to be folded (though I guess you could), deFUNKit is a terrific product to take along in a tiny trailer, and has test-earned its place in the “Foldable Favorite” category. You know those items that don’t smell clean even after they come out of the washing machine? (My husband’s cycling jerseys come to mind—as well as my microfiber travel clothes.) DeFUNKit is for handwashing on the go, but also promises “permanent odor control” of your stinkiest garments.
There is no Harvest Hosts vineyard in Pocatello, Idaho; the Pocatello KOA was completely booked; and this was the ACTUAL review I read about the only other RV park I could find: “2 violent sex offenders live here…a hooker passed out in front of my RV.” Okay, OKAY, Pocatello. I get it. See you never. I circled back to Twin Falls.
Native Idahoans, feel free to disagree. Like much of the Lower 48, Idaho is a place that one begrudgingly passes through on the way to someplace else. But thanks to the Harvest Hosts program, I’m warming up to Idaho. There’s a nice little wine region northwest of Boise by the Snake River.
Why would one visit an area infested with so many mosquitos that the town holds an annual Mosquito Festival?
Because heading south, Paisley—a modest oasis of civilization in the Oregon Outback—is on the way to California liquor stores in Alturas, and beyond that, Reno. And beyond that, during that magical time of year, Burning Man.
It’s basically an agreeable bend in Highway 31; a nice quiet place with wide streets to pull your Airstream over and use the public restroom.
According to the RV professionals present at an Oregon Unit Airstream rally, 300,000 accidents occur annually due to backing up. It was subtly implied that a woman was likely behind the wheel each time.
Simmer down, trailer chicks: stereotypes don’t grow in a vacuum, and that’s why a Women’s Towing Session is on the program again at Alumafandango. I have the honor of presenting as well; at “Tow It Alone”, we’ll share concerns, adventures, and tips for women who seek to set aside their fears and experience the thrills and benefits of learning to Airstream solo.
This rubbery silicone kettle has a stainless steel bottom and stands 5 3/4 inches high—until you squash it to a nice flat 2 1/2 inches.
For use in your galley (not on the campfire), it has a detachable handle and a little silicone lid. The packaging states one obvious instruction— “do not press down on the lid when the kettle is filled” (thanks, Captain Obvious)—and another, more ominous one.
You’re fully recovered from Blue Monday—the most depressing day of the year—only to be thrust deep into Sad January. (Is that a thing? Let’s call it a thing.)
At this time of year those of us up north are either A) preparing to tow south to Alumafiesta or Alumaflamingo, or B) miserably regarding our winterized Airstreams out in the driveway, glumly counting the days until spring. But after learning more about winter towing, I propose option C): beat the post-holiday doldrums by fleeing to, not from, the cold and snow.
So, here’s what didn’t work.
My effort to prevent devaluing my fabulous collectible Chris Deam DWR Airstream with the WBCCI Big Red Numbers resulted in a frightful defacement. “Take THAT,” snickered the ghost of Wally Byam.
My own displaced vanity and lack of ability to think a process through is really to blame, of course.
The first flakes of snow are sticking, and the larch in the yard is bright yellow. Time to talk winterizing.
No self-respecting RV blog is complete without a post on winterizing (just a posh word for “drying out” the trailer), a function Ralph has executed exactly twice.
A couple of years ago we moved from the mild, wet, green side of Oregon to the dry, cold, High Desert side where it freezes at night so early and often the tomato growing season lasts eight weeks.