Solar Power Woes

Why I won’t be buying a solar energy setup for my new RV.

My old RV — which we drove away from this afternoon without a backward glance — had a solar panel on the roof. The panel charged the RVs two batteries, which, in turn could power the lights, stereo, and any devices we had plugged in to the unit’s two DC power ports. This was handy when we camped off-the-grid, as we did numerous times on our way from Washington state to Arizona last summer.

The system didn’t have an inverter, though. That meant that it could not power the AC power outlets or anything plugged into them, including handy devices like the microwave. We learned to do without.

Our New RigMy new RV is quite a step up from the old one. It actually has rooms. And a desk I can sit and work at. And lots of space.

Of course, I wanted it to have a solar setup, too. But a full-blown setup that would include an inverter and be able to power any of the outlets and devices on board. Okay, well maybe not the air conditioning, but everything else.

My husband, Mike, is a solar guy. He knows how to design solar power systems. He designed the one on our old RV and designed and built the significantly more complex one on our off-the-grid vacation “cabin.” So he sat down with a pen and paper and, using the Internet, researched a solution. I’d use the panel off my old RV, match it with a second panel, add two batteries, an inverter, and a bunch of other stuff, and have a 2KW solar setup. The cost: roughly $3K.

Now $3,000 is a lot of money, especially after pouring a bunch of money into a new RV. But I like the idea of renewable energy. And I love the idea of silent energy. So I was willing to spend another $3K. I saw it as an investment in the future.

We were in Quartzsite, AZ when I picked up the RV. There are lots of RV service centers there, including two that specialize in solar power systems. So we drove over to one to get a quote.

And that’s when things started getting funky.

One guy priced up a system for us what was just a bit over Mike’s estimate. That didn’t include installation labor, though. (I insisted on a professional installation.) He quoted us labor at $55/hour for maybe four hours. I took a deep breath and nodded. So the sales guy handed us off to the order writer. She priced everything out. But suddenly labor was $85/hour and we were looking at 10 hours or more. She refused to be pinned down, but I was seeing a minimum of $4400. My “ripoff radar” — developed after years living in the New York area — perked up and started sending me signals. I told the woman I’d sleep on it and we left.

We went to the other solar outfitter. We’d bought all our solar panels for the vacation cabin and some other equipment from them in the past. They priced out our system and came up with a solid number: $4168. Ouch.

Mike and I talked about it at some length. He’d already suggested a much cheaper alternative for the times we were off the grid: a 2000-watt Honda generator that could be used parallel with an identical model to give a total of 4000 watts. If you needed a little power, you’d fire up one. If you needed more, you’d connect the second one and fire it up, too. With 4000 watts, we could power everything in the camper, including the air conditioning.

At first, I’d resisted the suggestion. I wanted quiet power. The Honda generators were known for their quietness, but nothing would be as quiet as solar.

But the kicker: I could get the Hondas for less than $1,000 each. Just one would provide as much power as the solar setup we’d envisioned. No need for an inverter or charge controller or holes drilled in the RV roof.

Yamaha EF2000iS GeneratorLater that day, we walked around the RV show in Quartzsite, where vendors were selling all kinds of things for RVers. One of them had Yamaha generators. The Yamaha EF2000iS did the same thing the Honda I was considering did, but it was 2 decibels quieter and 2 pounds lighter. And a tiny bit cheaper to buy, too.

It was even cheaper on Amazon.com.

So I didn’t go with the solar setup. I just can’t justify the added expense — after all, to get 2,000 watts with solar power, we’d be spending four times as much as the generator would cost us.

And I’m sure I’m not the only person who feels this way.

It’s unfortunate. There are many people out there who want to do the “right thing” and use renewable energy. But it’s difficult to justify the added expense. When a friend pointed out that I’d have to buy fuel for the generator, I replied that $3000 worth of fuel could go a long way at 5 hours per gallon. The solar setup would never pay for itself.

I’m hoping that changes sometime soon.

The “Perfect” RV

The search is ended, the RV has been purchased.

Yesterday, after five months of checking out possibilities, I purchased my fourth RV. It’s 2010 Keystone Montana Mountaineer, Hickory Edition, model 324RLQ. (The name is almost as long as the titles of some of my books.)

What Came Before

To understand what I wanted in an RV, it’s interesting to note what came before it. For years, we camped in tents on the ground. But as many readers will probably confirm, you reach a certain age when sleeping on the ground — even on an air mattress — takes away much of the pleasures of camping out. So about 10 years ago, we decided we needed something to “camp” in that allowed us to sleep off the ground.

I bought a used 1984 Coleman pop-up camper. The previous owner was meticulous with maintenance and the damn thing was in near perfect condition. The model was so old that it still had real canvas sides. It had two beds: a queen and a single, a table that could make another bed, a two-burner stove, and a microscopic sink. That’s it. We used it primarily on our Howard Mesa property, where we kept it parked and closed up. We’d go up there for a weekend, open it up, and camp out. It was perfect for summer days and nights. But it eventually fell into disuse. We left it at Howard Mesa as spare living space in case anyone came up there to visit with us. Years later, I “sold” it on Craig’s List for $1.

My TrailerBut then we got the horses and decided we wanted to be able to go camping with them. So I bought a 35-foot horse trailer with living quarters. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the concept, the trailer has stalls for the horses in back — mine held three. It also had a sort of closet for storing saddles and other tack. The other half of its length was dedicated to living space for people. It had a queen sized bed, sofa, sink, two-burner stove, good-sized refrigerator, and full (although tiny) bathroom. All this stuff was crammed into a very small space. We added a screened-in room to expand our living space. This photo shows what it looked like parked on our Howard Mesa property with the screen room attached. I lived in this space every other week in the summer of 2004 when I flew at the Grand Canyon. Sadly, we rarely used the camper as it was designed — to take our horses camping with us.

My TrailerIn 2006, I sold the horse trailer and purchased a Starcraft Antiqua hybrid camper. To me, this was the best of both worlds: a hard-sided camper with the usual amenities (kitchen, bathroom, dining area, sitting area, bedroom) plus the outdoorsy feeling of tent camping. I bought this primarily because I thought we were going to go “on the road” with the helicopter in the summer of 2007. I’d do cherry drying and rides at events, Mike would help and do some of his work via “telecommute.” But Mike had a job change and cherry drying did not materialize that year. I subsequently took this camper to Washington State for cherry drying in the summers of 2008 and 2009 and wound up living in it for 4 months one year and 3 months the next.

The best way to determine whether an RV is right for you is it live in it. After a total of nearly 8 months living in this space, I was convinced that it was not right for me. It was time to stop screwing around and buy the “perfect” RV.

What is the “Perfect” RV?

You notice that I keep putting the word perfect in quotes? I’m doing that for two reasons:

  • You might argue that there’s no such thing as a “perfect” RV. I might have to agree with you. RVs are designed for groups of people, not individuals. That means no RV will have a “perfect” feature set.
  • What you want or need in an RV is not the same as what I want or need. So what you might consider the “perfect” RV might not look anything like what I think is the “perfect” RV.

Once you decide what kind of RV you want — pop-up camper, pull trailer, toy hauler, fifth wheel, motorhome, etc. — there are three main considerations:

Mountaineer 324RLQ Floor planFloor plan. The layout of the RV is likely to determine what amenities it has. If you’ve never shopped for an RV — or haven’t done it lately — you will be amazed at what they can cram into a space. For example, the RV I selected is 36 feet long and 8 feet wide. Yet it has a private bedroom, private bathroom, kitchen, dining area, living area with sofa and recliners, and desk. In many cases, it does this with slide outs. You drive along, park, and push a button to expand your living space.

KitchenBeing the picky person I am, certain elements of the floor plan were very important to me. I wanted to be able to access the refrigerator and bathroom without having to expand all the slides. For example, suppose I’m cruising down the road in the middle of nowhere and need/want a cold drink. I can pull over, climb into the RV, and grab one out of the fridge. And even take a leak in a bathroom I know is clean. I also wanted what’s called a “side aisle bath” — a bathroom with all components in the same little room. Other floor plans actually put the bathroom sink in the bedroom. I didn’t want that. And finally, I wanted working space that wasn’t the same place I ate. That means I needed a desk or space for a desk. An RV with a good desk is hard to find and I was perfectly willing to pull out a recliner or even a sofa to put in my own desk. But the model I wound up with actually had a good, usable desk and even had drawers (see photo below). So as far as floor plan is concerned, what I bought is pretty darn close to “perfect” — for me.

BedroomFeatures and Amenities. Every RV manufacturer and design has its own set of features and amenities. For example, a toy hauler includes a garage-like space in the back. A family model RV might include a separate bedroom — and even an additional half bathroom! — with bunks for the kids. Many luxury RVs have surround sound entertainment systems with wide screen televisions that rise out of a panel or fill an entire wall space. Some units have electric fireplaces. You can find kitchens with two refrigerators and bathrooms with bathtubs. Dining can be in a booth or table and chairs. Sofas can become second beds. Bedrooms can have televisions, closets can be cedar-lined, cabinets can have washer/dryer hookups. The list goes on and on. Just when you think you’ve seen it all, you walk into an RV with yet another feature you didn’t think you’d ever see in an RV.

Desk and TelevisionFor us, less was more — on the inside, anyway. All the RV dealers in the world can assure us that an electric fireplace is a good feature because it gives off heat using the campground’s electricity rather than onboard propane. I can remind them all that we do a lot of off-the-grid camping where there is no campground electricity. A fireplace was a feature we simply didn’t want — yet it appeared in more than half the RVs we looked at! I was extremely pleased, therefore, when we found the unit I’d buy and saw that instead of a fireplace (see photo of typical configuration), there was an empty cabinet.

I did want lots of cabinet space, a dining table with chairs instead of booth, and a sofa or a pair of recliners. I wanted lots of big windows — and I’m thrilled that my desk has windows on two walls rather than just one — and I wanted all the windows to open. I wanted “day/night” shades on all the windows; I hope I never have to deal with a cheap metal venetian blind again.

Control PanelOn the outside, however, I wanted some of the newer modern features that were not available in the 2009 model I almost bought. At the top of the list was an electric awning — something I could roll out or back in with the push of a button. (If you’d manually rolled in an awning in your pajamas in the middle of the night when the wind kicked up as many times as I have, you’d understand why.) A remote control to deploy the slide outs was also useful when setting up the RV by myself, as I’m likely to do this summer. Ditto for electric stabilizer jacks and “landing gear.” And it seemed to make a lot more sense to have all hookups (except electricity) and sewer dump/flush controls in one place rather than scattered all over the side of the RV. These features were the primary reason I went with the 2010 model rather than the 2009 (which actually had more cabinet space in the kitchen).

But there are a few things I wanted that I didn’t get. A window in the kitchen, for example. The floor plan didn’t make that possible, but there are plenty of other windows. A night table — even a tiny shelf! — beside the bed. There is none in this floor plan because the bedroom is relatively small. (How much time do you really spend in the bedroom anyway?) Heck, I can’t think of anything else. In this model, I even got the file drawer I wanted at the desk!

Living AreaQuality and Price. Quality and price really do go hand in hand. You get what you pay for. A low-end fifth wheel that you might be able to pick up for $25K is simply not going to be as sturdy or well-built as a top-of-the-line fifth wheel that’ll cost you nearly $100K.

Where you’ll see differences in quality are in the walls, floors, cabinets, furniture, and fixtures. A cheap RV’s walls will be covered with inferior wall covering that’s likely to shrink in hot weather (as it did in my Starcraft) and show the staples that hold it together. The cabinets will be some kind of processed wood that’s light weight and easily broken. There might be fewer plastic light fixtures than you need for good illumination. Kitchen and bathroom fixtures will be plastic; countertops will be a formica laminate. Things will break quickly and often, especially if you’re careless. Of course, if you only use the thing a week or two a year, this shouldn’t be an issue. But if you plan to spend several months a year actually living in it, quality becomes important.

Steps to BedroomIn my case, I wanted good quality but knew I couldn’t afford — or, more accurately, were not willing to spend enough for — the best. So the very first part of my search was to determine which brands were below my quality needs or above my budget. This should be the first step in anyone’s search for an RV; you can waste a huge amount of time looking at units that simply won’t work for you because of insufficient quality or expensive price. I also cut from the mix any manufacturer what was in bankruptcy or had gone out of the business. 2008/09 killed a lot of them. That limited us to about ten different brands by three different manufacturers. Mountaineer is a mid-range Keystone product. Montana by Keystone is one step above it and I could have made that step if I found one I liked. Heartland’s Big Horn and Big Country were also in the running.

My Perfect RV

Easy ChairsThe Mountaineer I bought won on all three factors:

  • It had a floor plan that worked for me, given that when my husband joined me on the road with our dog, we’d need lots of space to be comfortable long-term.
  • It had a list of features and amenities that were in line with what I wanted and needed in an RV.
  • Its quality was acceptable while its price was within my budget.

I also got a smoking deal on the unit. Keep in mind that I had a quote in hand for a new 2009 model on a lot in Surprise, AZ. I didn’t like the salesguy there — he’d made the fatal error of talking down to me. (Tip for salesmen: never tell a woman shopping alone that she should go home and talk to her husband about a purchase decision.) Mike and I were ready to climb into the car and work him over on price, but I didn’t really want to give him my business at all.

BedroomI started calling some of the RV dealers I’d met with over the past few months — I kept all their cards — to see if they had the same model available. One, in Quartzsite, said he had a 2010. I told him I’d consider driving out to take a look if we could agree to a price over the phone. I told him about the 2009 I were prepared to buy. He asked me to make an offer. I did. He came back with a slightly higher offer that was still below retail. We were there by 2 pm and I had all the papers signed by 4:30 PM.

(Another tip for salesmen: Make sure all prospective customers get your card. You never know when one will call back and you’ll get the sale.)

Is a 2010 Keystone Montana Mountaineer, Hickory Edition, model 324RLQ the perfect RV? For us, it’s about as perfect as I’ll get right now. But for you? The answer isn’t that easy. If you want your perfect RV, you’ll have to do your homework to find it.

Wenatchee to Walla Walla to Lewiston to Coeur d’Alene

On the road again.

Those of you who read this blog regularly, may have begun wondering why I’m not posting as regularly as usual. The truth of the matter is that I’m traveling, on a long road trip from Washington State to Arizona.

We’re doing the trip at a leisurely pace, with stops 100 to 250 miles apart. No rush; our friend John is watching over our place. (Hi, John!)

Wenatchee to Walla Walla

Our first leg was mostly in the farmland of Central Washington, ending up in the wheat- and wine-growing area of Walla Walla. Walla Walla has special significance to me; twice it was listed as one of the top ten places I should live by FindYourSpot.com.

Ghost Photo

Some places just scream to be photographed at night. (Hey, is that a ghost?)

We spent two nights in the Four Seasons RV Resort, which I rate 4 out of 5 stars. (Partially wooded and relatively quiet, park-like setting with tall trees and shade, pet friendly, washer/dryers, limited WiFI, affordable.) During the day, we explored Walla Walla, ate in great restaurants (I recommend Saffron Mediterranean Kitchen), visited wineries, and went out on the bike trail. In the evening, we did a little photo shoot of this weird spot at the back of the RV park property.

Walla Walla to Lewiston

It was just 100 miles or so to Lewiston, ID. We drove on route 12, which wound through small farm towns and wheat fields. It’s mostly past harvest now, so the fields were left with short-cut tan stalks of wheat or plowed brown dirt.

After the Sun

View from our campsite. Not too shabby, huh?

In Lewiston, we stayed at Hell’s Gate State Park, which I rate 5 out of 5. (Wooded, riverfront sites with full or partial RV hookups, beach, bike trail.) The idea was to hop on a jet boat tour down Hell’s Canyon, but we soon discovered that all day trips are 11 hours long and half-day trips don’t run regularly. Since Lewiston isn’t exactly our idea of a great destination, we only stayed one night.

Lewiston to Coeur d’Alene

We drove up to Coeur d’Alene on route 95, which winds through some of the prettiest rolling hills and wheat fields you could imagine. We had a little adventure when we pulled off the main road in search of a picnic lunch site and found ourselves, pulling our trailer, on a narrow dirt road used by large trucks for some unknown (to us) purpose. We got about 3 miles down the road, trailed closely by a very large truck, before we found a place to turn around. We wound up having lunch at a cafe in Plummer, ID. Can’t say I recommend it, although the peach pie was good.

Dropping in at Cabella's

Jim took us to lunch at Cabella’s. (Pardon the crappy quality of this cell phone photo.)

In Coeur d’Alene, we camped at the Blackwell Island RV Park, which I rate 2 out of 5. (Full sun on all sites, closely packed sites, gravel driveways not long enough for rigs, a list of rules longer than my arm, sporadic WiFi, riverfront location, expensive.) After exploring a beautiful and vibrant downtown area, we met up with my friend Jim and his wife, Teresa for dinner at 315 in the Greenbriar Inn. Jim runs a helicopter charter business remarkably similar to mine. On Wednesday, he took us for a helicopter tour of the area that included landing at Cabellas at State Line for lunch. I spent the evening catching up on some work while Mike went swimming in the Spokane River with Jack the dog.

Coeur d’Alene to Glacier National Park?

Well, that’s the plan, anyway. We hope to be on the road by 8 AM. More later.

Quincy Tales: The Campground Lawns

Just blogging so I don’t forget.

For those of you who don’t know, I’m living in an RV park at Quincy, WA’s Colockum Ridge Golf Course. I’ve been here since June 8 and will likely be here until at least August 8.

My Camper

Once again, I’m the only camper at the RV Park. That’s okay with me.

The RV park is small and not very fancy. It has five full-hookup parking spots along a gravel parking lot and at least another dozen of so with just water and power. The spots are short and you have to back into them — no pull-throughs here. There are no amenities like a pool or showers. Of course, there is an 18-hole golf course, but that’s not really of much interest if you don’t play golf. I don’t play golf.

The campground — as I like to call it — does have one feature that I seldom see in campgrounds: thick, luxurious grass between the campsites. For me, this is a real treat. We don’t have a lawn in Arizona — it’s really stupid to have a lawn in the desert where water is scarce. Our “yard” is a mixture of sand and fine gravel that we spread when we did our limited landscaping and natural desert that we simply don’t mess with.

At home, the very idea of walking around barefoot outdoors is silly. But here — holy cow! Brings me back to my childhood, when I rarely wore shoes in the summertime.

The grass adds a few quirky things to my stay here. The first has to do with the sprinklers. When I first arrived, the sprinklers in the campground started up every day at 4 AM. I know this because I could hear them. My camper’s bed extends out over the back of my camper, right over the grass. The sprinklers come on and one of them sprays the side of the tent-like covering over my bed. There’s a lot of quiet noise: the hissing of the sprinklers as they start up, the stead stream of water, the rain-like sound of the drops on the side of my bed tent. It wore me up every morning. At 4 AM.

This went on for a few days. Finally, I stopped by the golf course office and left a message for the manager. I requested a 5 AM start. After all, I’m usually up by 5 AM, which was about the time the sun rises here in the summer.

The next morning, the sprinkler didn’t go on at 4 AM. It didn’t go on at 5 AM either. Instead, it went on at 9:35 PM. And it stayed on until about 10 PM.

Well, at least it wouldn’t interfere with my sleep. But it also ensured that I wouldn’t be enjoying my lawn in the late evening, not long after sundown.

It also made for some entertainment when new neighbors arrived and attempted to enjoy their lawns in the late evening. I’d hear their squeals of alarm when the sprinkler cut short their outdoor activities.

Of course, I have to put away my canvas chair and zip up the screen on my bed tent every night.

My Garden

In this shot, you can see my bed tent, my “garden,” and the sunflowers growing around the electrical box. The planter is from last year; I replanted it with tomatoes, basil, rosemary, and some flowers when I arrived this year.

The lawn also adds responsibility regarding the grass. My site includes a flat-bottomed round table. The bottom of the table suffocates the grass. So every two days, I move it to a new spot to give the grass beneath it a chance to recover. I also use 7-gallon water jugs as tie-downs for my awning. I have to move those every two days or so, too.

Throughout the week, I pull out the dandelion flowers so they don’t have a chance to go to seed. Once in a while, I weed around the electrical box for the site next door, where I’ve planted sunflowers. This is mostly so the weed-wacking guy doesn’t cut my sunflowers down, like he did last year.

Lawn mowing day is a big deal for me. I untie and move the water jugs and move the table and any other furniture out of the way. The guys come through with a weed-wacker and a lawn mower. They usually put the table back for me — it’s heavy! If it’s not windy, I give the grass a rest from the water jugs.

A video tour of my campsite and its luxurious grass.

Anyway, I made this little video this morning so you can have a better idea of what I’m talking about here. The campground may not be fancy, but it’s relatively pleasant, safe, and cheap. This is my second year here and everyone knows me. I have a [barely] passable WiFi Internet connection, mail delivery, and access to a restaurant and its ice machine. My helicopter is across the street and down the block, about 1/2 mile away. (Blocks tend to be one mile square around here.) Can’t get much more convenient than that.

Beaten with a Stupid Stick

A quick report from the trenches.

Okay, here’s a true story about a “senior” couple who committed three acts of stupidity right in front of me in the span of ten minutes.

Background: The couple were living in a motorhome in the parking space next to mine. They’ve been there four days. They also have an SUV that, when they’re on the move, is towed behind the motorhome. This is commonly known as a “towed” or “toad.”

Stupid Trick #1

I went out to locate a cherry orchard. When I returned, I saw the motorhome driving through the parking lot in front of the campground parking spaces. It made a U-turn, then drove back toward where it had been parked. The SUV was also on the move with the wife behind the wheel. The motorhome stopped right in front of my camper, right in the space I’d been parking in every single day and night since they arrived. I pulled in behind it, hoping my presence would give the idiot at the wheel the hint that he should move up. He didn’t take the hint. He parked and shut down the engine.

The whole f*cking parking lot is available, but they have to park in my space as I’m returning.

Stupid Trick #2

I parked elsewhere and walked around the front of my camper. Their water connection is in my “yard.” They’d disconnected their hose but had left the water dribbling out of the faucet. Loudly. You know how some outdoor faucets get when you don’t turn them off all the way? A loud, whistle-gurgle? It was enough noise that it would have kept me up at night.

I figured it was broken, but I stepped up to it anyway and attempted to twist it off. No problem. I shut it off and it stopped dripping.

Apparently, shutting off a faucet is too difficult for the brain-dead.

Stupid Trick #3

It had been windy for the past few days and I’d stowed my awning. Now the sun was out and the wind was calm. While they were right in front of my camper, in my parking spot, hooking up their toad, I began extending my awning. Then I arranged my lounge chair and table under it.

The husband came around the front of my spot. He’d finished hooking up the SUV to the motorhome. “We’ll just be about three minutes,” he said. “Then we’ll be out of your way.”

“No problem,” I said, just wishing he was gone already. “I parked somewhere else.”

“Oh,” he said, looking puzzled. “I thought you were getting ready to leave.”

Tell me, how stupid does a person have to be to think that extending an awning and arranging lawn furniture can be confused with leaving? Any moron could tell that I was settling back in. Can’t drive a camper with a f*cking awning hanging out, can I? Can’t stow a lounge chair if I’ve just extended it on the lawn, can I?

They’re on the Road Now

People like this are driving large motorhomes on our roads and freeways. Right now.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.