The wind was blowing strongly from the west last night, enough to occasionally rock the trailer as I slept at Pegleg in Anza-Borrego Desert State Park.  A little rocking is nice when you’re snug and secure in a tight little aluminum cocoon, but unfortunately I discovered that the angle of the wind caused a heretofore unknown flap in the stove vent to make a random tinny banging noise.

The noise was enough to wake me from a sound sleep, and after several interruptions to interesting dreams I finally got out of bed to see what could be done about it.  Thus I can report that it was still fairly warm at 1 a.m. last night in Borrego Springs, even when standing out in the breeze in pajamas.  (In fact, I didn’t need heat all night.)

A wad of paper towel stuffed in the vent blocked the wind enough to stop the flap from banging.  I think I will devise a better block, made of foam, for future trips.  Eleanor and Emma really owe me for debugging this sort of thing before they go camping in the trailer.  Add this to the spontaneously shattering window glass phenomenon that I discovered in the early morning last December, and you can see that the job of Quality Assurance Inspector is not easy.

In the morning Bert tapped on the door and invited me out to breakfast at one of the cafes in downtown Borrego Springs.  Since he was buying, I couldn’t say no … or to be more accurate, I simply wouldn’t say no.  Anyone who cares to buy me a tall stack of blueberry pancakes will find “No” has suddenly disappeared from my vocabulary.

Of course we got to talking, and by the time I was back at the trailer I was already late to get to the ACE Hotel & Swim Club in Palm Springs. All of the vintage trailer owners were told that it was very important we arrive in the specific 30-minute parking windows that had been assigned to us, and of course none of us did. I was 25 minutes late, while others were either hours early or late.  But we all got parked well enough, in an pedestrian alleyway that divides sections of this former motel, and even before we were disconnected and set up, there was a steady stream of appreciative onlookers checking out the trailers.

The Caravel is plugged in just twenty paces from the door of my ground-floor hotel room, so in effect I have sleeping and housekeeping space for about eight people (four in the Caravel, four in the double beds of the room).  The refrigerator and cupboard of the trailer are fully stocked with food, so I’ve been going back and forth between hotel and Caravel for meals, which I prepare in the trailer and consume in the hotel room.  I didn’t even have to bring much into the room with me, since my entire wardrobe and anything else I might need is already in the trailer.

The hotel is quite interesting.  Formerly a Westward Ho motel, then a Howard Johnson’s, it was recently done over to the tune (so I’m told) of $35 million.  It shows. The rooms are bohemian/modernist/funky, while the grounds and building are cleverly landscaped and very inviting.  Tonight in “The Commune” (a gathering place at the hotel) we will be treated to a slide show by “classic and kitsch pop-culture humorist” Charles Phoenix, which I’m told is a must-see.

Parked nearby me is Kristiana Spaulding, who many of you may know for her wonderful silver Airstream-themed jewelry. She advertises her work in Airstream Life, which is a good enough reason for me to love her, but in addition she and her husband Greg are great people who I’ve enjoyed meeting for the first time today.  Kristiana is showing her 1962 Bambi, one of many Airstreams she owns.  I thought I was a big road-tripper, but apparently from the stories I’m hearing today, I’m not even in Kristiana’s league.  She’s based in Lotus CA but makes regular trips to New York.

Officially tours start on Saturday.  Participants pay $10 per person to get to view the interiors of the trailers and talk to the owners.  There will be tours at 10, 12, and 2.  As I mentioned in an earlier blog, Eleanor and I have dressed up the Caravel for the event, and yes, I will get some pictures of that for you. But in advance of the tours there have been many people coming by to admire.  They try to peek in the windows, and they are taking a lot of pictures.  You’d think they’d never seen a vintage Airstream before.  I guess I forget how rare — to the general public — they seem to be.  And it’s also easy to forget how dramatically people are transfixed by the sight of one of the old aluminum shells.  Seeing their reaction to the interior tomorrow should be great fun.

It seems like at least once a year a virus enters our lives and messes up some travel plan.  This time it was the long-anticipated trip to Palm Springs for Modernism Week.  Yesterday, as we were packing the Caravel, Emma began showing symptoms of “something” with a slight fever and nausea — and as easy as that, our trip evaporated.

If we had been planning a trip in the big Airstream, we might have gone anyway.  It has plenty of space for a sick kid (her own bedroom), a roomy bath, and all the little comforts of home (extra blankets, comfort foods & tea, room to prop up with pillows and watch movies, etc.)  We spent enough years on the road to have many episodes of 24-hour stomach bugs and 7-day colds, and we know we can deal with that even as we travel the country.

But this trip was to be spent in our tiny Caravel, a “weekend trailer” that is well-stuffed with three people in it, and two nights of the trip we would be evicted for the Modernism show and sleeping in a hotel room.  With all the things going on and the limited space, it didn’t make sense to uproot Emma for a long weekend.  So off I went, on my own in the Caravel again.

Since I am not expected in Palm Springs until Friday, I was able to take the scenic route along I-8 through the southern Sonoran desert.  This allowed me to avoid Phoenix (always appreciated when towing), plus I was able to see the desert already green and starting to bloom from all the rain we’ve gotten this winter.  It will be a beautiful spring this year.

Along I-8 in Arizona there isn’t a lot to see from the highway, but a few stops are worth making.  One is Dateland, a tiny oasis where you can take a break, buy fuel, and most importantly shop for eight or more varieties of locally-grown dates.  Actually, that’s hardly doing justice to the date theme of Dateland.  You can also get a terrific date shake, and park any size of RV near the groves of date palms that line the southern flank of the rest area.  It was a good spot to stop for lunch in the Airstream, in stunning clear and warm weather, approaching 80 degrees already.

Since I was taking I-8, I decided to drop in for one night to see Bert & Janie, Eric & Sue, at Anza-Borrego. Bert and Janie have been boondocked at Pegleg for two months now, and show no signs of wanting to go anywhere, which is unusual for them.  Eric and Sue are fellow outdoor writers and photographers, who we last met a couple of years ago in Yellowstone National Park.  Stopping at Anza-Borrego would add about 50 miles to my trip, but it had the compensation of a chance to see good friends for an evening rather than boondocking somewhere alone.

Tonight in Pegleg, it is cooling off rapidly and the wind has been up since 4 p.m.  We started the evening with a fire in the handmade rock circle that Bert built, and talked about the brilliant star constellations overhead, but with the chill setting in it wasn’t long before the group broke up and retreated their individual homes.

In addition to my friends, there at least a couple of dozen long-term residents of Pegleg, all of whom are feeling their trailers rocking in the breeze as the evening deepens.  Most likely I will be the only one leaving in the morning.  The rest of the residents have little incentive to leave this free and quiet parking spot.  Part of me would like to stay and stretch out like the others have, but mostly I am looking forward to what Palm Springs has to offer.   By 10 a.m., I’ll be towing the Caravel again, to see what’s over the next hill.

We are still wandering the Sonoran Desert, rather slowly and without much mileage, which is a good way to go.  There are many subtle pleasures of the desert, and a primary one is taking the luxury of ignoring time and society while picking up a lot of dust on your boots. So we’ve hiked and explored, cooked dinner over an open fire, watched moonrise, and many other completely inconsequential things that encourage a relaxing of the spirit. That’s a good vacation.

However, with the holidays behind us, the world is once again getting to work and so I am being swept up in the tide of obligations once again, ready or not.  Business will take us further down the road before we return to home base.

Dan and Marlene, our friends at Mali Mish, blogged about a nice park near the Palm Springs area.  We’ve avoided that area in the past because of the prevalence of overpriced, snobbish (”Class A Motorhomes only”), and age-limited commercial campgrounds.  But it turns out that in nearby La Quinta there is a fine county park up by the foothills, called Lake Cahuilla County Recreation Area.

I can second Dan and Marlene’s assertion that Lake Cahuilla is a fine place to stay while you’re in that area.  The “lake” is actually rather small, calm, and artificial (it’s a reservoir). Swimming is not allowed.  But the scene is very pleasant and the campground is friendly.  Sunsets, as we discovered, can be spectacular.  (Water and electric sites seem to be unaffected by the larger California state budget crisis.  Still $22.)

In the previous blog I mentioned that it was time to do something about our repeated tire problems.  The solution I chose, based on recommendations of people who have a lot of experience with Airstream tires, was to switch to Michelin LTX M/S tires, specifically the LT235-75/R15.  We took a look at all five tires (including the spare) and the tally was two bad tires (broken internal belts), one questionable tire, and two good ones (the Carlisles we installed last September).  None of them, by the way, had been patched.

The Michelins are considerably beefier than the Load Range D “Special Trailer” tires they replaced, with deeper tread and much more durable construction.  They are Load Range C, but don’t get alarmed by that.  The load rating for each tire is 1,985 pounds at 50 psi, which equals 7,940 pounds of total weight-carrying capacity.  We never run that heavy and we use tire monitors to ensure that we stay at optimum pressure.

The downside, of course, is that this is a monstrously expensive experiment.  The bottom line was about $700 with installation, balancing, new high-pressure stems, California environmental fees, and tax.  If the tires last two years without premature failure, I’ll be money ahead compared to the amount I spend on replacement ST tires, not to mention the hassle.  I’m told the Michelins will wear longer in addition to being more resistance to belt failures.

A lot of people have tried going to a 16″ Michelin XPS Rib tire, and I considered it as well.  But the Michelin LTX allowed me to avoid changing the wheel rims, which cut the cost of switching considerably.  They also fit better in the Airstream wheel well.  Whether this change will solve the problem of the constantly-failing ST tires remains to be seen.  I’ll report as we go.

While we had the wheels off, we had the opportunity for a brake check, too.  The Kodiak disc ceramic brake pads were, as always, wearing more on the outer pad than the inner, and it was time for replacement.  It has been a year since the last wheel bearing re-pack as well, so I decided to plunge in and get it all done at once.  It has been an expensive service stop, but adding up everything we did in 2009 and this early 2010 session, we are still within annual budget we set for service and maintenance when we were full-timing ($2,000 per year).

It is 2010 and good things lie ahead.

Christmas was a quiet success in our household.  Since we are thousands of miles from our extended family, we used Internet technology on Christmas morning to videoconference with my parents and brother while we opened gifts.  I thought it would seem strange to have the family on a laptop screen, perched atop a box in the living room but it was surprisingly like having them there with us.  This may become a Christmas tradition in homes across America, replacing the horror of holiday air travel for many.

Just two days after Christmas, we took off to California for some desert camping.  Almost every trip I take is a working trip, but once in a while I like to try to avoid work and just do the stuff that normal people do in a campground, and the hope was that this quiet week between Christmas and New Year’s Day would allow that.

On the way we stopped in Yuma to visit with Barb & Joe of MobileInternetSatellite. A couple of years ago I bought a used Hughes satellite Internet system from my friends Brian and Leigh, who had recently completed two years of full-timing.  The price was right and I thought I might use it for an extended trip into Mexico.  But that was before the Mexican Drug War ramped up.  We found other things to do and the satellite dish gathered dust in our storage closet.  With the smaller Mercedes as tow vehicle, carting around the satellite dish became less practical and I decided to try to sell it through Barb & Joe.

Unfortunately, satellite dishes are being replaced by cellular aircards, which for most people provide faster, cheaper, and highly portable Internet.  The only folks who need satellite are those who spend lots of time parked beyond the reach of cellular networks and commercial wifi hotspots.   So selling a dish is pretty tough these days, even one that comes complete with all the accessories.

Now that we are out in the desert, we are experiencing the sort of quiet and vigorous life we have come to like.  There are hikes up palm canyons by day, and the soft sounds of birds each morning (Gambel’s Quail and hummingbirds in particular).  In the evening there is the smell of tamarisk wood fires.  (Since tamarisk is an unwanted invasive species, cutting it down is often encouraged.)

It’s a little cool once the sun slips behind the mountains at about 4 p.m., but shortly after sunset we have the compensation of a startlingly large and brilliant full moon rising.  People in the campground are wrapping up in warm clothes and spending the night outside regardless of the temperature, which as been bottoming out in the 40s.With clear skies most of the time, nights have been bright enough that we don’t need a flashlight to walk around.  When there were clouds on Wednesday, they just added to the drama of the surrounding mountains.

Little desert-related surprises come to those who watch,  like the tarantula that wandered by our campsite yesterday.  (Eleanor got some video of that.)  So we are making no plans and letting each day come.  Most importantly, I’m not getting any business phone calls and virtually no emails of importance, so the computer is off except for an hour in the morning.

I have been getting more of the “how does that car tow that big Airstream” comments this week than usual.  Everyone seems to be shocked when they see the Mercedes parked in front of the Airstream.  I’ll answer questions for anyone who is really interested, but most people just boggle at the sight and then wander off.  I don’t think they really care to learn the details; they’d rather just enjoy the novelty of it.

The one big frustration of the week has been, once again, a tire failure on the Airstream.  One of the older tires (date code August 2008) is showing a worn spot, approximately round and rather uneven, that suggests yet another internal steel belt has broken.  It will need replacement shortly.

Well, that’s the final straw.  I have not been able to wear out a set of tires since 2006, because they keep failing internally.  We replaced two in September for the same reason, and many others over the past few years.   We’ve been using the factory-recommended Goodyear Marathons (designated “ST” for Special Trailer use, load range D) as well as similar tires by Carlisle, Trailer King, and TowMax.  We have had, frankly, a completely unacceptable experience, with multiple failures over the past three years.  It’s 2010 and time to try something different.

I didn’t come to this conclusion lightly. We have eliminated as many possible causes of tire failure as possible. We tow at 65 MH or less, we’ve weighed the trailer, we balance the tires and also use Centramatic wheel balancers.  We use a tire pressure monitoring system to ensure proper inflation at all times.  We’ve aligned the axles of the trailer annually, most recently in September.  I inspect the tires at every fuel stop.  Still, the treads keep suffering rapid tire wear in localized spots.

I’m going to toss all the tires and try a different tire design (not an ST) very soon.  Right now I’m gathering consensus from some respected experts, and comparing various alternatives.  Some people swear by Load Range E tires, others use LT (Light Truck) tires, and some say that bias-ply designs are the answer.  Some think a particular brand makes the difference.  What I find interesting is that so many people have trouble with ST tires that are supposedly designed for trailer use, and yet have more luck with tires that aren’t specifically designed for trailers. As one experienced Airstream dealer said to me this week, “ST just means it’s a tire that isn’t good enough for passenger use!”

I’ll report further on the tires we choose, and our experience with them, a bit later.  With a little effort and a little luck, I won’t be talking about tires much in 2010 … I hope.

Since 1929, when New York Governor Franklin D Roosevelt inaugurated it, the Champlain Bridge has been the preferred way to get across the southern portion of Lake Champlain — and tomorrow (Monday, December 27, 2009), they’re going to blow it up.

Lake Champlain runs about 140 miles north-south, dividing New York and Vermont.  It’s the sixth-largest freshwater lake in the US (right after the five Great Lakes), and quite deep at up to 400 feet, but most people have never heard of it.  I grew up on the shoreline of this lake and it’s not too much to say that it has been a defining element of my life. In addition to being recreation, scenery, and weather-maker for lakeside residents, Lake Champlain is a barrier between the Adirondack region of upstate New York and most of Vermont.

I remember as a child looking at the broad lake, which was three miles wide where we lived. To me it was an ocean, crossable only by a grand voyage in a ship.  Beyond lay the uncharted land of New York, which I had rarely seen on foot.  One day I heard there was a “bridge over Lake Champlain,” and for months I had dreams of a mythical bridge that somehow crossed miles of open water.

There are a few ways to cross the lake.  There’s a boring causeway bridge over the shallower part of the lake up by Rouses Point NY, near the Canadian border.  Several ferries cross the lake at various points, and a very short bridge crosses the extreme southern end where the lake peters out to a mere canal.  But in the middle, where the the lake is wider, the Champlain Bridge has been the well-worn path for decades, joining the rural town of Chimney Point, VT with Crown Point, NY.

It was an amusing surprise when I first found it during a random exploration at age 18 with my VW.  After all those years of knowing that there was a bridge over Lake Champlain, but not knowing where it was, I felt like I’d found a secret passage.  The bridge was nothing like I expected.  Rather than being long and flat, it was dramatically arched and crossed the lake at a narrow spot (1/2 mile).  But that made it even more fun.  I was happy to pay the $0.50 toll and for the first time, drive my little 1967 VW Bug over the lake to New York state.  (The one-way toll was discontinued in 1987.)

Every time I’ve crossed the Champlain Bridge since, I’ve been struck by its uniqueness and beauty.  It rises steeply up, hundreds of feet above the water, far higher than necessary since no tall ships can navigate this shallow part of the lake.  For some, the sharp rise brings a touch of vertigo, which is exacerbated by the narrowness of the bridge. Just two 1930’s-era lanes cross the bridge, so that as you are carefully studying the painted lines, you are also intimately acquainted with fellow bridge travelers heading the other way.

From the top, the view is always spectacular, like riding to the top of a Ferris wheel.  The lake tends to be calmer at this shallow channel, with gently rippling and brilliant blue water lined by pine trees and backdropped by the Adirondacks.  When you land (heading west), you find yourself in the midst of the ruins of a historic Revolutionary-era fort at Crown Point and a pleasant little campground.

I have never crossed the bridge without wanting to stop and take in the view.  Alas, that is impossible. The bridge has no pedestrian lane, no place to stop, and during the summer it is always busy.  I once rode my bicycle over it on a summer day, and hoped to be able to pull off to the side, but there were too many cars.   I had to pedal furiously to keep up with the traffic (speed limit 25 MPH) while throwing glances to each side in an attempt to memorize the view.

Perhaps that was actually a good thing.  For the past several years, it has been obvious that the bridge was deteriorating.  Maintenance was never able to keep up with the rusted steel and crumbling concrete.  Towing the Airstream across the bridge (as we did at least twice a year), I couldn’t help but think of our 14,000 pounds flexing the elderly span, and filling every inch of the narrow lane between steel abutment and oncoming traffic.  With a closer look at the bridge, I might have lost my interest in driving over it.

The bridge is a mess.  Road salt, freezing/thawing lake ice, and generally tough weather conditions have destroyed the bridge’s structural elements to the point that it is practically unfixable.  The state sent divers down in to the murky lake water to look at the piers and they came back with some disturbing video.  After a bunch of public hearings and Vermont-style debate, the conclusion was to blow it up and start over.  We’ll all be able to watch the kaboom live on the Internet tomorrow here, which beats the heck out of standing around in the cold to see it in person.

Eighty years since the bridge was completed, designs have changed.  New York State has floated a few design concepts, none of which look quite as exciting as the old arched steel span, but I expect that at least they will feel and be safer as we tow the Airstream over them again in years to come.  In summer 2010, when we return to Vermont, the new bridge will likely still be under construction, so we’ll use one of the ferries or the southern route instead. I will definitely look forward to the new bridge, even though the bridge that I remember so well as the one that first opened up my traveling ways will gone.

 Bridge photos courtesy of NYSDOT