Girl Camping Girls--Reunited!

Just because the calendar still says 'Winter' doesn't mean we're willing to wait months and months before we can get together and enjoy using our little camping palaces.

Proof: Last weekend, eight Girl Camping Girls thumbed their noses at the calendar and the thermometer with a 'pre-camp' visit to Swiftwater RV Park in White Bird, Idaho. A cold front descended and took away the sunshine, which only allowed us to enjoy a warm fire that much more.

Play time! Early-spring time! A chance to test the equipment and the keep-warm skills!

This area is one of Idaho's banana belts, with hints of spring coming much earlier than in most other parts of the Inland Northwest. We soaked up the sight of 'new green,' from the shoots coming up to the fresh baby leaves on the trees. Some gals saw blossoming fruit trees as they drove down the Salmon River Canyon from Riggins. It sounds like spring here, too. Canadian geese seem to use the Salmon River as a flyway, honking as they cruise the river channel in a northerly direction.

It's always so great to see each other again after the holiday season…here we have Miss Mig and Miss Sherry, in a happy reunion.

After many months of only being able to think about the sight of vintage trailers, it's just plain delightful to be able to walk among them again. Even though they were factory-produced, no two are ever alike at this point in their lives. I'm endlessly engaged by their designs and differences.

One friend came rolling in with this vintage Winnebavo Brave motorhome--my first to see in person. I wasn't able to step back back enough to get a silhouette shot, but trust me, the retro styling on this vehicle is wow-worthy. When it goes down the road, you can't take your eyes off it.

For meals, we took turns providing main dishes and extras, with individual contributions to a community bar. Ditto on the decorations: They're a form of art-on-the-fly, with one person fetching this and another going for that as the whole scene evolves.

Friends at the campfire circle--in itself, one of the very best reasons to go camping, if you ask me!

Impromptu Spring Fling

I love it when a no-plan comes together.

First, Miss Mig bought this Aristocrat LoLiner and had to make a 10-hour trip to pick it up. She took Miss Sherry with her. The perfect layover spot, for the trip back, was at the same campground where the three of us each keep a trailer for the winter.

No way could I miss this! I hopped in my truck and 2 hours later, arrived at the campground just minutes after they pulled in with the trailer.

Mig (on the right) set the table, Sherry (on the left) rustled us up some grub, I brought over a bottle of wine, and we inaugurated the 'naked' trailer right then and there.

Miss Anna, who owns the RV park we love so much, got a trailer tour the next morning. This trailer will be for Mig's mom, Dickie, who loves to camp with us.

In her 90s, Dickie reigns as our oldest Girl Camper and possibly the youngest-at-heart. Yes, friends, you are looking at a gal born in the 1920s! This is where Mig gets her spirit!

Here are Mig's trailers, side by side. The huge banner says 'Happy Camper Girl.' Mig is an artist by trade, and probably whipped that banner up in her sleep!

(Tip: Pay close attention to the first photo in this post--it's the one and only time you are going to see this trailer unadorned.)

I took advantage of the beautiful sunshine by pulling out a table and chairs in front of my trailer, The Big Chief. (The Big Chief is a behemoth of a trailer, 31 feet long and weighing in at a tonnage of 5,600 lbs. with nothing in it.)

Sherry set herself up behind the trailers, for a view of the roaring Salmon River.

Sherry's dog Jada had a view, too, but from inside on her cozy bed.

Sherry's trailer, Pistol Pete, has lots of big windows that afford a river view. It always seems light and bright inside, even on cloudy days. Like The Big Chief, Pete makes an excellent semi-permanent camping cabin.

Meanwhile, back outside, we each contributed to a drinks-and-eats bar on a table set up over one of the trailers' hitches. I love this means of providing for a meal between camp breakfast and communal dinner. Everyone can graze on what she likes and no one has to go to a great deal of effort.

We also had campfires, enjoyed visiting with Anna, went for hikes and short local drives, and paid visits to our favorite local emporiums in historic White Bird, Idaho.

All in all, a perfectly lovely time that evolved without a plan. So glad we all acted on the urge to GO, and get hooked up!

My Airstream: From Roadside Relic to Cozy Cabin

'Airstream.' The very name conjures an iconic image, because it's the most widely recognized brand of travel trailer ever made.

That's how I ended up with one as my first vintage trailer. I knew nothing about vintage trailers except that name, and neither did Mr. Ed (hubby dearest), who gave me the 1972 Airstream Sovereign Land Yacht, above, as a Valentine's Day present in 2006. He purchased it as an estate item, parked alongside the road, from the son of the man who'd traveled and lived in it for quite some time. It had been sitting empty--uncleaned, unused, unsheltered, and unmaintained, for five years.

The fact that Mr. Ed got this 31-foot classic trailer for $2,500 probably tells you that by 2006, her days of grandeur were long behind her. Her built-in living room furniture was shot, and so was the carpeting, thanks to slow, chronic leaks that had never been addressed. The awning fabric was torn and tattered. Her drapes were gone and her fridge didn't work. Her tires were old and needed replacing. The plumbing was just plain scary. Her north side came with its very own moss colony.

Not to mention, every interior surface was coated with a combination of cooking grease and the grime of 'lived-in.' I ended up scrubbing every square inch with a toothbrush (many toothbrushes). The crud was impervious to common household cleansers, but I finally got rid of it by using Excalibur Sheath Cleaner. Horse people will know what this concoction is for--I'll spare everyone else that detail.

Today, she's still nothing fancy. She'll probably never be material for trailer-rally-with-awards (unless there's a first place for funky). She has a painted floor, thrift-store furnishings, off-the-rack curtains, and a dorm fridge to fill in for the original one that still doesn't work. But she's clean, dry at last, super cozy, and makes an excellent portable cabin. That is how we use her, by setting her up in one place for extended periods.

Blessedly, the air conditioner still works like a champ, and so does the furnace. We sometimes use a mini-electric fireplace with faux flame for a little extra atmosphere. The original fridge and freezer have been repurposed as pantry space.

For half the year, we keep the trailer in a mild-winter area of Idaho named for a native American chief, White Bird. Whereas you might see cowboy boots and tooled belts as decor in my other trailers, the Airstream has moccasins and other beaded items.

Conflict with the U.S. Army also marks the history of White Bird, as do a series of plucky, independent pioneer women. The Airstream's center cabin pays homage to both. The vest on the wall, with Indian warrior and cavalry trooper, came from my closet at home. The cowgirl images are framed calendar pages.

This Airstream model has a rear bath with a nice, big window--the better to see the view! In winter, the Salmon River. In summer, forested mountains. (Easy to come by in Idaho.)

Beyond an incredible amount of elbow grease and leak-sleuthing/stopping, our two main investments in this trailer have been for tires; and replacement of the old awning fabric. Combined, those improvements cost about $2K. The tires were necessary and replaced right away; it took until this spring for the awning to make it up to the top of the discretionary-spending list. I do have to say, it's great to have use of the awning again. At 20 feet, it adds a large outdoor room to the entire setup, and the shade factor is enormous, in more ways than one.

I've learned a lot about this trailer since getting it, and a lot more about vintage trailers in general. As complete novices, we had no idea what we were getting for that initial $2,500.

It turned out to be more than enough.

The Little Trailer Goes Exploring

The Little Little Trailer loves to be out exploring, and after spending most of the winter on a shelf, she hit the road for her first Girl Camping trip of the year.

She set up camp on the banks of the Salmon River, also known as the river of no return. It courses over 400 miles through Idaho before merging with the Snake River. A mountainous divide separates the two rivers above their joining point. TTLT decided to cross the divide and get to the other river.

TLLT crossed the Salmon near White Bird, using a nice modern bridge.

Then she took the road to the left, which goes to Pittsburgh Landing on the Snake.

The road rose quickly and revealed spectacular ranching country. The Little Little Trailer pulled up onto one of the few mailboxes to get a better view.

As the terrain got even steeper, TTLT was amazed to see ranch buildings on a slant.

Right at the top of the divide, TTLT posed at the sign marking the start of the Hells Canyon National Recreation Area.

And then--what a sight! With the Snake River at the bottom of a geological marvel, TTLT was looking at the Oregon side of the entrance to Hells Canyon.

The ultra-remote area is stirringly documented in Home Below Hells Canyon, a memoir by a woman whose family lived and ran sheep on the steep range during the Depression. TTLT has had this book read to her at least half a dozen times.

The Little Little Trailer continued down to the end of the road and to Pittsburgh Landing, which is a put-in spot for boats. The road distance between the two rivers is 17 miles.

Ranches on the Snake, like the old Titus ranch straight across from the landing, are inaccessible by road.  Mail and supplies are delivered by boat, and there is a frighteningly short airstrip at this ranch that allows fearless pilots to get in and out.

The Little Little Trailer backed down to the water's edge, then realized the current was too swift and lapping to be taking any chances.

TTLT made the return trek to historic White Bird without mishap--very happy to have been a visitor to one of Idaho's wild places.

An Experiment in Long-Distance Camping

In our everyday world, Mr. Ed (hubby dearest) and I have a winter environment that looks like this. Not quite what you'd picture as camping-friendly. We live in the northern part of Idaho, where it stays this way for quite some time.

So this year, as an experiment, we decided to try something that we hoped would help to make the winter pass faster. We hauled our vintage Airstream 120 miles away from home, to a lower-elevation RV park that stays open year-round. It's right along the mighty Salmon River, in some incredible Idaho country.

See what I mean? It's amazing in all directions.

 The trailer really serves as a cabin, and is warm and cozy in all weathers. At this locale, it's rare for the snow level to come all the way down to the river, but on one of our visits, it did. We didn't care. We just snuggled in and watched another movie instead of doing something outside.

Our latest visit coincided with Groundhog's Day, also the midway point of winter. Once there, we found a hidden pocket of spring.

It had been months since I'd been able to sit outside, soak up rays, and put something pretty out on a table.

I opened up doors and windows on the old girl and let her breath in some great fresh air under a perfect blue sky.

We walked along the river and scouted out little beaches.

We watched steelhead fishermen go by in their boats.

This was our first morning view out the back window of the Airstream.

By the time we had to drive back up to the snow country, we felt like we'd truly had a break and an escape.

Is the long-distance camping experiment working out so far? You bet--I'll even drink a toast to it!