A Christmas Ski Trip, Day 2: Skiing and More Skiing

Shaking the rust off.

(This story starts with a Prelude and a summary (with photos) of Day 1.)

Snow and Moon
The sky was mostly clear in the morning, with a half moon hanging high.

Once I set the thermostat down to 60 — thus preventing the rather loud heater from turning on and off all night — I slept like a log. The room was plenty warm and the bed was cozy, with lots of blankets. Penny left her bed empty and, instead, made a sort of nest on the comforter next to me. It was very quiet. I left the curtains wide open so I could see the stars and moonlit terrain when I woke up.

In the morning, I took Penny out for a walk. The fog that had been drifting low over the snow-covered fields the night before was gone. The sky was mostly clear with the last quarter moon hanging high in the sky.

A good day for skiing.

Organic Bulgarian Yogurt
Yes, I bought organic Bulgarian yogurt. I don’t recommend it.

Back in our loft cabin, I made coffee and a breakfast of organic “Bulgarian” yogurt and granola that I’d brought from home. I don’t recommend Bulgarian yogurt; it’s extremely sour. I also cut up the huge Honeycrisp apple I’d bought the day before and stowed it away in my daypack with a bag of almonds for snacking later on.

Outside, the sun’s first light was illuminating the snowy mountains that surrounded the Methow Valley. As I washed up, did the dishes, and waxed my new skis for the first time, I found myself really looking forward to the day ahead of me.

Sunrise
I never get tired of seeing the sun’s first light hit mountains and other landforms, bathing the highest points in a golden glow.

Suiting Up

At about 8:30 AM, Penny and I suited up with our winter gear.

For me, that meant skin-tight leggings made of a fabric that would wick sweat away from my body and what I can only call “snow pants” over them. If you’ve ever been a kid in a cold climate, you know what I’m talking about: nylon pants with a quilted filling. Mine were black with zip pockets, wide legs, and an inner liner near the bottom with elastic that closed around each of my legs. I also layered up on top with another tight wicking fabric undergarment, a fleece sweater, and my bright red waterproof shell. All of these things were new — I had no use for clothes like this when I lived in Arizona, since I seldom went north to the higher elevations where cold winters prevailed. On my feet I wore an ancient pair of thick wool socks — I’d fetched them out of storage before my trip — and a brand new pair of Sorel snow boots that I could also wear with the snowshoes my brother had gotten me for Christmas. I also had a scarf (of course) and a merino wool Buff that I wore as a sort of turtleneck, with the option of turning it into a hat or a balaclava. And thick red ski gloves — did I mention those?


Penny really has trouble with her boots.

Penny’s attire was simpler: she wore her red quilted parka with the fleece lining. I didn’t put on her boots because she can’t really walk in them. Besides, I had a feeling she wouldn’t be doing much walking in the snow anyway.

You might think I was overdressed and I probably was. But the truth of the matter is that I really don’t like to be cold. I made this one-time investment in cold weather gear so I’d be comfortable out on the trail. I was embracing the winter season the only way I knew how.

The Back Road to Mazama

On my way to Mazama on Route 20 the day before, I’d seen a left turn for Wolf Creek Road about halfway between Winthrop and Mazama. The place I was staying was on Wolf Creek Road, but I’d gotten there from Winthrop. Could the same road keep going past my place and eventually meet up with Route 20 on the way to Mazama?

I looked at the topo map I’d saved into Gaia GPS on my iPhone and iPad. It sure looked like it did. And since I’m the kind of person who’d rather explore “shortcuts” than drive the long way around on the beaten path, I decided to give it a try.

Snowy Forest Road
Paved or unpaved? Can you tell? Does it matter? It was a pleasant drive through the woods.

The drive turned out to be very pleasant. About a half mile down the road from where I was staying, a “Pavement Ends” sign announced the end of pavement — it didn’t matter because the roads hadn’t really been plowed in the first place. (In all honesty, I thought all of Wolf Creek Road had been unpaved.) The narrow road, which I could follow from the tire tracks of the few vehicles that had driven it before me, wound through a forest of tall pines, twisting and turning, climbing and descending. After a few slides, I threw the Jeep into four wheel drive and it stabilized. I drove at a steady 20 miles per hour, crunching over snow and long pine needles. Here and there were gated driveways and ungated forest roads turning off into the snowy woods. I realized that I’d need to come back when the snow was gone, possibly with a friend and some camping gear, to explore some of those roads. I really do love exploring back roads with my Jeep.

Within just a few miles, the forest opened up to some fields with homes and snow-covered farm equipment scattered here and there. The tall grass was covered with thick frost — a remnant of the previous evening’s low fog. In some places, I could see clear up the valley, to the towering mountains of the North Cascades.

Frosty Fields
Although the sky was mostly clear, the sun was hidden behind clouds to the southeast, leaving the valley in shadows.

The road turned sharply to the right. A moment later, I was back on Route 20. My morning back road adventure had been less than 5 miles long.

Ski Lesson

It’s important to note here that I’d been cross-country skiing before. Way back in the 1980s, when I first hooked up with the man I’d later marry, we took up cross-country skiing and did trips in the Catskill Mountains of New York State. I clearly remember going out one snowy day on trails near the Mohonk Mountain House near New Paltz. I remember the silence of that afternoon, with the thick wet snow packing up on the bottom of our skis as we cut new trails.

Back then there was only one kind of cross-country skiing — what they now call “classic” — and the skis and shoes were very basic. I still had my set but I left them behind in Arizona when I moved out of my Wickenburg home in May 2013. I didn’t miss them — they were junk — and the crappy plastic shoes had likely been ruined by the mice that often lived in our garage.

New technology had greatly improved both the skis and the boots. I bought a new setup in November. The only thing I miss from my old setup is the blue plastic clips that held the skis and poles together, making them easier to carry and store. I can’t seem to find a set of those anywhere, although I did get a set of ski bones that hold the skis together nicely.

So there I was, in the biggest cross-country ski area in the country, with a brand new cross-country ski setup. But I hadn’t been skiing in at least 20 years.

That’s why I signed up for a lesson.

I showed up early at the Methow Valley Ski School. While I waited for my instructor, I put on my ski boots (for the first time!) and put away my Sorels in the Jeep. Then I fetched Penny and my day pack and settled in to wait on a bench inside where it was nice and warm.

I can’t remember the ski instructor’s name. She was a Swiss woman with an accent very similar to my grandmother’s German accent and almost identical to that of a Swiss couple I was friends with in Wickenburg. The other student was a young Japanese man who didn’t speak English. He was staying with a couple around my age who chatted with me as they dropped him off for his lesson.

Packed Penny
At just 7 pounds, Penny is easily carried in a day pack. In fact, I had to pad the bottom so she could stick her head out.

Needless to say, the lesson was interesting, mostly because of the amount of miming the instructor had to do to communicate with the Japanese guy. We started indoors where we learned how to put on the skis. Even that was different from the old setup. Then I put Penny into the day pack, zipped it so just her head stuck out, slung it over my shoulder, and followed the others outside with my skis and poles. We spent the next hour practicing basic skills on the trails near the ski school shop.

The Japanese guy was pretty funny. He fell a lot and got lots of practice getting up. I only fell once, but I did it spectacularly. I lost my balance coming down a small hill. Because I didn’t want to fall backwards on top of Penny, I purposely fell forward. The backpack shifted up hard and Penny went flying over my head into the snow. We all had a good laugh and it took some time for me to get back up without taking the skis off. Then I got Penny back into the bag and the lesson went on.

One of the things that shocked and pleased me was what “groomed trails” meant. The trails were wide and smooth and had obviously been sort of “raked” over. On either side of the main trail were a pair of cross-country ski tracks, already laid out in the snow at the perfect width. Skiing in these tracks was a real breeze — and a real treat. In my previous cross-country skiing experience, the first person in our group would make the tracks and they were rarely evenly spaced. This alone made the ski pass worth the money I’d spent for it.

Lunch at Jack’s

It was 11:30 by the time the lesson was over and I was hungry for lunch. The ski school folks made some calls and found a cafe down the road, Jack’s Hut at the Freestone Inn, that was open for lunch. I drove over, leaving Penny in the Jeep. The owner was manning the place, which was more of a snack bar than a full-blown restaurant. I sat at the counter where I could watch him work. I had an excellent bowl of chili — probably from a can — with cheese and a chicken quesadilla he made while I looked on.

I was just starting on my quesadilla when the Japanese student and his two American hosts came in. Soon they were seated at the counter with me, enjoying the same food. We chatted a bit about the area, real estate, and skiing. We studied my map and they offered some suggestions for places to go skiing that afternoon.

Mazama Area Map
Here’s a map of the area where I planned to ski. You can download the entire map here.

Then I was done eating and it was time to go. The sun sets early in Washington in the winter time and I was hoping to ski with the sun still on me.

Solo Skiing

Penny and I headed out to the North Cascades Basecamp parking area. I parked and opened my door while I got my things together. Some movement on my left caught my eye and I found myself looking almost eye-to-eye at the biggest black dog I’d ever seen.

The dog was friendly, of course, but quickly frustrated by Penny darting out at him from under the Jeep. I had to snatch her up and put her in the day pack so she’d leave him alone. He wandered off while I chatted with some other skiers who were just getting their skis on when I arrived.

A while later, I was on the Base Camp trail with Penny in the day pack on my back. This particular trail wound through the woods with gentle hills that proved to be quite a challenge for me. I had one fall along the way — fortunately, Penny wasn’t launched out this time. It did take me a minute or two to get back on my skis.

I wasn’t alone on the trail. There were plenty of other skiers, most of whom did not used the classic ski tracks. They were skating on skis. It was wonderful to watch and I was envious of their skill. I decided to visit the local skating rink back home to build up my general skating skills and balance.

Despite the cold — it was between 25°F and 30°F out on the trail — I worked up a nice sweat. Although I never felt uncomfortably warm, I certainly never felt cold, either. It was very pleasant to be outdoors in the winter time, keeping active enough to keep warm, enjoying the steady slush-slush-slush sound of my skies in the tracks as I wound through the woods.

Eventually, the trail went down to a pair of portable bridges across a stream bed. The bridges were designed to be skied over and I had no trouble with the first one. But while I paused to take a photo, I decided that I wanted to practice on easier trails to really get the hang of skiing before I tackled the kind of hilly trail I was on. So after I shot the picture, I crossed back over the bridge and skied back to the Jeep.

Portable Bridge
This was the first time I’d ever seen a portable bridge. Click here for a large panorama of the area shot with my iPhone.

According to the GPS Track app on my phone, I’d skied about a mile and a half. Not very impressive.

I drove back to the place I’d started the day: the easy trails around the Mazama Store and Ski School. Once again, I got out with my skis and put Penny in the day pack. Then we were off down the trail. It was much later in the day and most of the other skiers were on their way back in. But there were other people going out. Although most of them passed me, I managed to pass someone even slower than I was.

I did another two miles in nearly an hour of skiing. I realized that I hiked faster than I skied. I needed practice!

Sun Mountain

Penny in her Parka
Here’s Penny in her parka.

I let Penny out to take a quick walk before we climbed back into the Jeep with the skis. I steered us down Route 20.

Winthrop was completely deserted. Everything was closed and not a single car was parked in town.

I decided to check out Sun Mountain Lodge, which was about 10 miles from downtown Winthrop. I figured I’d see what the place was like and, if I was hungry later, I’d go back for dinner.

But as I drove us up the long and winding road, I started to rethink that. I’d had a long day; did I really want to make the 20 mile round trip twice in one night? It all depended on what I found at the end of the road.

Along the way, I passed Patterson Lake, a mile and a half long lake that was completely frozen over. There were numerous skaters out on the north end of the lake, including hockey players who were playing on a shoveled-out arena. There was even an ice fisherman sitting alone over a hole. As I drove alongside the lake I realized something I’d never thought about before: this area of Washington was a winter sport destination.

If you’re reading this and know winter sport destinations like those in Colorado and Vermont and Utah, you’re probably saying, “Duh.” But this is completely foreign to me. When I lived in New York and New Jersey, we had winters that were just as cold and often as snowy as the winters here. Back there, we had winter sports, but few people really took them seriously. Sure, the skating pond in town was a gathering place for skaters and some hilly areas had sledders. And many people grabbed their skis and headed to the slopes in the Poconos or Catskills. There was no snowshoeing and very little cross-country skiing or snowmobiling — mostly because there simply weren’t many established trails. These sports were just incidental to where we lived, simply because the weather got cold and snowy for a short time every year.

But in the Methow Valley, winter sports were taken very seriously. Why else would there be 200 km — that’s 160 miles, folks — of groomed cross-country ski trails, all mapped out on paper and signs and a Website and even an iPhone app? Why would there be a shooting range on a biathlon trail? Why else would there be snowshoe-only trails and snowmobile speed limit signs? Why else would ski rental and lesson places be open for business on Christmas day when it was tough to find a restaurant for lunch? Why else would there be dozens of people skating on a frozen lake in the middle of nowhere?

And realizing this made me feel really good about where I’d chosen to make my home. Because not only were they serious about winter sports, but they were equally serious about summer sports like hiking, biking, camping, boating, fishing, and so much more. There was no shortage of outdoor activities in north central Washington state with the perfect weather to enjoy it all.

The sun had gone down behind the mountains and clouds when I finally reached the Sun Mountain Lodge. It sits near the top of a mountain — Sun Mountain? — overlooking the Methow Valley. Ironically, the lodge is only 1-1/2 miles as the crow flies from where I was staying off Wolf Creek Road far below.

I left Penny in the Jeep and went inside. I was still wearing my skiing gear, right down to the boots. But when I got into the cocktail lounge for a hot beverage, I saw that I wasn’t the only one.

Meat Plate at Sun Mountain
The meat plate was enough to feed two as an appetizer. I took my time and enjoyed looking out over the view.

I sat near a window where I could look out over the valley. I had a Spanish Coffee, which I found a bit sweet, and ordered a meat plate that included various sliced meats, cheese, crackers, and very spicy stewed apples. The waiter served it with a knife but not a fork; when I asked for a fork, he brought it but explained that because a restaurant reviewer gave them a bad review for serving it with a fork, they no longer provided forks unless asked. I wondered how I was supposed to eat the stewed apples without a fork. I also wondered whether he was trying to insinuate that I should have known better than to ask for one.

When I finished the Spanish Coffee, I ordered an Irish Coffee, which is more to my taste. I only ate half the meat plate — I was still pretty full from lunch — and took the rest to go.

Day’s End

Christmas Road Grader
What else would you do with your road grader at Christmas time?

Penny was glad to see me when I got back. I let her out for a short walk, then loaded her back up and headed back down the hill.

The ice fisherman was the only one still out on the ice. I could see him clearly in the fading light from the light of his headlamp and another flashlight or lamp near his bucket.

By the time we got back to the main road, it was full dark. I drove slowly and carefully — there were signs all over the place about deer strikes and a friend back in Wenatchee had even warned me about deer at night. Sure enough, I saw one cross the road when I stopped to take a photo of a road grader decorated with Christmas lights.

Back at the loft cabin, I let Penny have a good run. Both of the downstairs units were brightly lit up with families celebrating Christmas away from home. Penny and I went upstairs, where I opened a bottle of wine and settled down with a book.

I was sound asleep by 8 PM.

(continued)

A Christmas Ski Trip, Day 1: The Road Trip

There’s nothing like a good little road trip.

(This story starts with a Prelude.)

I watched the weather pretty closely during the week leading up to my trip. We had some freezing rain here and I know they had some sort of weather up around Winthrop. But since I couldn’t change my plans, it didn’t really matter. I decided to bring all my gear — skis, snowshoes, winter hiking boots — so I’d be prepared for anything.

Packing Up, Moving Out

I packed the morning of the trip. There was no rush. I figured I’d leave by 10 AM and since I was up by 7 AM, I had plenty of time to pack.

I remember thinking to myself: I’m on vacation!

I tried to keep packing simple. Really. One bag for my clothes and a laptop. One bag for food, including snacks, a bottle of wine, and Penny’s dog food. Then the odds and ends: Penny’s dog bed, my skis, my ski boots, ski poles, my hiking boots, my snowshoes, my emergency road kit (jumper cables, blanket, water, etc.). I had to stop off at my shed to get my ski stuff and I almost forgot the boots. I also retrieved my daypack from my RV; I’d be using that to carry Penny around on the trails if the snow was too deep for her to walk in.

By the time we were ready to go, the Jeep’s back seat was full. I put Penny on her bed in the front passenger seat, locked up the house, and we hit the road.

It was 9 AM.

I wasn’t in a hurry so I made stops along the way. Caffe Mela for breakfast. (Not the best choice unless your idea of breakfast is a pastry. They do make an excellent eggnog latte, though.) Safeway to pick up a package of bakery cookies for a friend and his coworkers. Stemilt’s Bountiful Fruit store, where I bought 3 apples for the trip, including a 1.15-pound Honeycrisp. (Seriously: where else could you find an apple that big?)

I cut up one of the apples in the Jeep in the parking lot and munched on it as I continued north up route 97A. One more stop at Entiat to visit a friend who had to work that day. I brought the cookies into the construction office where he was overseeing a big park remodeling job. The guys were working on a rock retaining wall down by the river and he was there to inspect the work. The cookies were for him and his co-workers. I spent some time chatting with him and looking at the huge batch of blueprints for the park. Then, after a good Christmas hug, Penny and I hit the road, continuing up 97A.

The Photo Stops

The weather in Wenatchee had been clear with temperatures in the high 20s or possibly low 30s. But as I drove up the west side of the river, I saw low clouds up ahead. That’s a weather phenomena that’s pretty common here in the winter: fog. As the road climbed up toward the tunnel that would lead away from the river and toward Chelan, I stopped for a photo.

Up River Fog
As I climbed away from the river, I could see a fog bank off in the distance.

Tunnel to Chelan
Route 97A passes through this tunnel on the way to Lake Chelan.

I passed through the tunnel and into the hanging valley beyond. The area was familiar to me, yet strange. I’ve flown that way dozens of times in my helicopter, taking people to Tsillan Cellars Winery on the lake. But I very seldom drive that way. I kept expecting to see the lake revealed before me. It wasn’t until I began descending down toward the lake that I finally caught a few glimpses of it. The helicopter ride offers much more dramatic scenery.

There was a thin fog layer right over the water. It was probably about 10-20 feet thick and started at maybe 5 feet off the lake’s surface. To the east a thicker bank of fog hung over the town of Chelan. The sky and water were blue; the snow and ice and clouds were bright white. I could see for miles and miles, all the way uplake to the snow-covered mountains off in the distance.

I stopped for a few more photos, pulling down a street that hadn’t been plowed. My Jeep’s fat tires crunched in the icy snow.

Ducks on a Mission
These ducks were snoozing until I knelt down on the ground to put them in the foreground and the snow-covered mountains in the background. Then they marched toward me; I suspect they thought I was there to feed them.

Fog over Chelan
A layer of fog hung over the town of Chelan.

I drove into town. There were few cars on the road, few people around. Winter in a summer resort area. The road had patches of ice and, more than once, my rear tires spun as I moved away from a stop. Slow and easy; I was re-learning my winter driving skills as I went along.

The fog thickened as I followed the road through town and up toward the airport. At one post, visibility was down to less than 300 feet. Along the road I caught glimpses of the Columbia River far below me. Downriver, the sun was shining through the clouds. Up ahead it was cloudy and gray.

Marginal VFR
It was marginal VFR at the airport but no one was flying. The thick frost you see on the weeds is from freezing fog, another common weather phenomena here in Central Washington State.

Route 97A descended from the airport and joined up with Route 97 to continue up the Columbia River. It was a completely different day, with low clouds and a dismal winter feeling.

Refueling at Pateros

I didn’t stop until I got to Pateros, where I pulled over to top off the Jeep’s fuel tank. I took a short drive through town, getting as far as the Lake Pateros Motor Inn, where we’d stayed in back in 2008. I’d parked my helicopter on the lawn alongside the hotel in a spot that made it very convenient for the few cherry drying flights I did.

I stopped at the Sweet River Bakery, where my wasband and I had come for breakfast each morning during our 10-day stay. Back then, they made the best apple fritters. I ordered an eggnog latte and got an apple-cranberry fritter to go. I’d have it for breakfast in the morning.

We got back on the road, backtracking down to where route 153 turned west along the Methow River. I passed the farm stand with a cherry orchard I’d dried. It was closed.

A Drive Up the Methow

Along the Methow River
Snow, ice, river, sky, trees dormant for winter. I didn’t realize how much I missed winter scenery until I took this trip.

There was ice on the river — so much ice, in fact, that it looked as if I could walk across it. But as I drove upriver, the ice cleared out at the rapids.

The road climbed gently but persistently along the river. The amount of snow along the way increased as we climbed. Soon, we’d climbed away from the fog bank and the sun began to shine again.

It was a really amazingly beautiful day. I stopped for a few more photos. I wanted to remember this trip and the best way to do that would be to document it with photos to act as visual clues. Besides, it was just too darn pretty to pass up.

That’s another benefit of traveling alone; I don’t have to ask permission to stop so I can get out with my camera.

Red House on the Methow
At first glance, the reflection of the red house on the river was much more obvious than I was able to capture with my camera.

I passed through Methow and noticed a restaurant on the side of the road. I have vague memories of having dinner there and there being live music. But it was closed and quiet that Christmas Eve day.

Everything was quiet. I was just about the only car on the road. No traffic! How many other Christmas travelers could say that?

Carlton was a sign and nothing more.

The road twisted and turned along the river, crossing one bridge after another. I reached the junction of Route 20, where route 153 ended. A right turn would eventually take me to Okanogan — which I’d only been to by helicopter in a fly-by years ago. I continued on to Twisp.

The friend I’d visited at work earlier in the day had told me to stop at Twisp’s bakery and the health food store next door. I was hungry for lunch — it was nearly noon — but I didn’t feel like bakery food. The Grover Street Market had a lunch counter, so I went inside to see what healthy choices they offered. I wound up with a bowl of their Curry Stew, which was more like a soup and served so piping hot that I couldn’t eat it at first. It was tasty, with just enough spice to make it interesting. There was enough for two meals so I took half of it to go.

I didn’t visit the Cinnamon Twisp Bakery. I figured I’d visit it on my way back. (That turned out to be a mistake; it was closed on Thursday.)

I took Penny for a short walk through town. Not much was going on, although there were plenty of parked cars. It was sometime around then that I realized that plowing the roads in Washington was optional. All the side streets in town had a reasonably thick layer of icy snow on them. Not really slick — I think they spread gravel or something on them — but certainly not plowed to pavement. They apparently expect people to know how to drive in this kind of snow cover. And people do.

Of course, there were an awful lot of four wheel drive vehicles around.

Winthrop and Beyond

For some reason, I thought I had 20 or more miles to go before I reached Winthrop. I didn’t. It was just about 10 miles down the road.

I pulled out my driving instructions and followed them to Wolf Creek Road and, eventually, to the Chickadee Cabin Loft where Penny and I were staying. It was an upstairs studio apartment in a four-unit building. Next door was vacant but the two downstairs units, which were much bigger, were occupied. The place was at the end of a road in the woods but on the edge of a clearing. The roads weren’t plowed but the Jeep had no trouble getting us where we needed to go.

The “loft cabin” was nice, with a queen-sized bed, futon, TV with VCR and DVD player (and satellite TV), Internet access, kitchenette, and bathroom. There was even a sliding glass door leading out to a small balcony that overlooked a snow-covered meadow. All this was about 6 miles from town.

I unpacked the food and checked the cabinets. There was coffee and coffee filters and even sugar. All I needed was some milk and maybe some yogurt for breakfast. I’d get that in town.

We climbed back into the Jeep and headed into Winthrop. I wanted to find out what trails, if any, were open to cross-country skiing. I figured there would be some kind of ranger station with information in town.

What I found was the local office of the MVSTA. I parked out front and went inside, leaving Penny behind in the Jeep. I spent the next 20 minutes chatting with the two folks inside about which skiing trails were open and where I could get a lesson. It looked like Mazama was the place to be — 15 miles farther up route 20 was where there was more snow and most of the groomed trails. I bought a 3-day pass — in hindsight, two 1-day passes would have saved me a bit of money — and the woman behind the counter called the Methow Valley Ski School up in Mazama to see if they were still open. It was nearly 3:30 PM on Christmas Eve.

A while later, we were in Mazama and I was arranging for a cross-country ski lesson the following day. I brought in my skis and was told that waxless skis need to be waxed — something honestly I didn’t know. I paid for my lesson and a tube of ski wax.

I stopped in next door at the Mazama Store, a new agey market with lots of organic and overpriced food and other merchandise. (I do tend to tell it like it is.) I paid $7 for a quart of organic yogurt and $3 for a quart of organic milk. I also bought a fleece sweater that I wound up returning two days later. I do have to say one thing about the store, though: It has the largest selection of Lodge cast iron cookware I’ve ever seen under one roof. If Lodge makes it, the Mazama Store sells it.

By that time, it was after 4 PM and the sun was setting somewhere behind the mountains all around me. It would be getting dark soon. I loathe driving in the dark these days and had no reason to stick around Mazama so we headed back.

Along the way, I saw plenty of snow-covered fields with a thin layer of fog drifting over them. Advection fog? Radiation fog? I tried to remember what I’d learned in ground school about fog and came up empty. Fog was rarely an issue where I flew in Arizona; it was certainly an issue here in the winter time.

I stopped briefly in Winthrop to take Penny on a quick walk around town. I was curious to see what was open. There was a hotel with a restaurant in town and I walked up the steps to see if it would be open the next day for Christmas dinner. Closed. No big deal. I knew I’d be able to get Christmas dinner at the nearby Sun Mountain Lodge resort if I wanted to.

It was almost dark when Penny and I returned to our loft cabin. I put away the groceries and heated up some leftover smoked ribs for dinner. (I’d made them the day before on my Traeger just so I’d have something to munch while I was away.) We spent the evening relaxing, reading, watching TV.

A nice rest at the end of a long day.

(continued)

A Christmas Ski Trip, Prelude: The Plan

A great way to avoid holiday headaches.

This was the first Christmas holiday in my life that I didn’t have plans to visit family or friends. I’d gotten a number of invitations — all of which required out-of-state travel — and for various reasons, had to turn them down. About two weeks ago is when I realized that I’d likely be alone for Christmas. But rather than be glum about it — as people who need companionship might be — I rejoiced in the freedom it gave me.

Yes, for the first time in my life, I could spend the Christmas holiday the way I wanted to.

Fond Remembrances of Christmas Past

Oddly, my favorite Christmases were the ones I spent alone with my wasband, either at home or at our cabin on Howard Mesa. At home, we’d exchange gifts and do something during the day, like a Jeep ride with cameras out in the desert. In the evening, we’d settle down after a good dinner in front of the fire.

The Howard Mesa trips, like this one, were especially memorable. I remember one Christmas dinner in El Tovar’s private dining room at the Grand Canyon when we were joined by people I thought were friends; one of them looked ever-so-sexy in a kilt.

Simple Christmases were always the best, especially when you could spend them with people you loved.

No responsibilities, no traffic, no pretending to enjoy the company of people I’d simply prefer not to be with. No buying gifts for people I barely know, no receiving gifts from people who feel a need to spend the budgeted amount on me and don’t really care whether the thing they give me is something I might like. (Hint: Save your money; I’ll like/respect you more if you skip the gift than if you give me something stupid that I hate.) No listening to complaints or arguments or political rants, no dealing with kids or grandkids or misbehaved pets. No eating “casseroles” that came out of a bunch of cans; no eating desert that includes Cool Whip or other petroleum products. No guests that complain incessantly about their accommodations — when they refused to stay in your home and expect you to pick up the tab for their hotel.

Don’t get me wrong — I’ve had many pleasant Christmases with family and/or friends in the past. They’re usually relaxing and fun with the emphasis on enjoying each other’s company and taking pleasure out of sharing just the right gifts. Alcohol is often involved.

But I’ve also had some remarkably crappy ones, some of which were with people I’m very glad I’ll never have to see again. And they’re likely just as glad that they won’t have to see me.

Why do we pretend to like the holiday bullshit when we so often don’t? More times than not — at least in my past — it’s been an ordeal better skipped.

And that’s the best thing about being single: not having to “compromise” with a partner so his responsibilities become yours.

But the question remained: what would I do for Christmas?

The Plan

It didn’t take long to come up with a plan. I definitely wanted to go away for the holiday, but I didn’t want to go far. I wanted to go someplace that wouldn’t cost a fortune, someplace with a mix of privacy and small crowds. Someplace I could get out and do something active — I’d been spending far too much time this season sitting on my butt.

The answer came from a friend. She knew I was itching to get out on my new cross-country skis and snowfall had been unseasonably low in our area. “Have you checked out MVSTA?” she asked.

MVSTA LogoA tiny bit of research led me to the website for the Methow Valley Sport Trails Association. The MVSTA is, as it proudly proclaims on its website’s home page, “the Nation’s Largest Cross-Country Ski Area.”

The Methow Valley is a long, beautiful valley that runs up the Methow River. There are a few towns along the way: Methow and Carlton, which really don’t have much to offer, Twisp, Winthrop, and Mazama. Winthrop, which was the big town in the area, was about 50 miles up the road — route 153 and then route 20 — and just 90 miles from where I lived. Driving there would be the equivalent of driving to Sedona from my old house in Arizona. If I continued on route 20, the scenic North Cascades Highway, I’d wind through the Cascade Mountains and end up north of Seattle. It’s not possible in the winter when snow closes down the passes, but I’ve got a friend who’s promised to do the trip with me on motorcycles in September.

I’d been up the Methow once before. Back in 2008 I’d spent 10 days working in Pateros, WA, on a cherry drying contract. Pateros was the little town at the confluence of the Methow and Columbia Rivers. It was summer then and I’d driven with my wasband 65 miles, all the way up to Mazama, with stops at Twisp and Winthrop along the way. My wasband had bought me a little handmade silver ring in a gallery in Twisp. It was the last piece of jewelry he ever bought me.

Revisiting the area would be a good idea. I’d make new memories on my own terms. The fact that it was winter instead of summer and I was going for more than just a day trip would help. Besides: there was plenty of cross-country skiing in the area on groomed trails. I’d never skied on groomed trails before and looked forward to it.

I made a few phone calls and wound up booking a loft cabin about six miles outside of Winthrop. I chose the place because it met my requirements for quiet and privacy and it allowed dogs. And it wouldn’t break the bank. I took it for two nights — Christmas Eve and Christmas — and paid in advance.

Then I called around to see if I could get a cross-country skiing lesson on Christmas Eve. Sure, the first company I called told me. They’d be open Christmas Eve and probably even Christmas Day. But there wasn’t much snow yet; there might not be enough for skiing.

Duh-oh!

But there was no turning back. I could see from the MVSTA website that even if there wasn’t enough snow for skiing or snowshoeing, there were still plenty of trails for hiking. When life gives you lemons…

(continued)

100 Coffee Filters

Tracking house-sitting time with cups of coffee.

As I blogged a while back, I had every intention of spending the winter in my RV on my property in Malaga. The winterization worked well and I had no trouble with water, electric, or sewer hookups. I had enough heat to keep me warm night and day. And I had all the conveniences of home — the same home I’d been living in full-time since May and every summer since 2010.

The big drawback was the cramped space. Let’s face it, the mobile mansion might be big for a 5th wheel RV, but it’s not big for a full-time living space. And with winter weather outside — often at freezing temperatures — there was no outdoor living space to complement it.

Still, I’m not home very much — I have a pretty active work and social life — and I was prepared to deal with it. After all, the winter wasn’t that long.

I went to Seattle on a Sunday in mid-December. I had some chores to take care of — new battery for my phone, shopping for cross-country skis, hiking with a meetup group — and I’d already decided that I’d make at least one trip into Seattle every month, just to insert a dose of city amenities. When I got home that evening, there was a note on my door. It was from a man I’d never met — we’ll call him Joe to preserve his privacy — who happened to be friends with one of my neighbors. “Don says you’re going to freeze,” the note said, referring to my neighbor. It then ended with an invitation to spend the winter in his house since he was going away to (ironically) Arizona. He’d be gone until February month-end.

I thought about if for three days before calling him. Then I said that I appreciated the offer but thought I’d be okay. Still, maybe we could meet in case I needed a Plan B?

Before meeting, I talked to two people I thought might know him. They both had nice things to say about him. He’d lost his wife in March and was working his way though that. They both told me that he lived in a nice house.

In the meantime, the weather forecast changed. It had been in the 40s every day and I’d been able to get work done outside on the path I was building and in my shed. For some reason, I thought it would stay like that. But no — it was going to get colder and those midday jaunts outside would soon end — at least until the snow came and I could take the skis or snowshoes out with friends.

I met Joe and told him I’d reconsidered. If the offer was still open then yes, I’d love to take advantage of it. He showed me around his wonderful three-bedroom home just two and a half miles from my place. Situated on a shelf — just like my lot two levels up the mountain — it had a wrap-around porch and nearly the same view I had of the Wenatchee Valley. Furnished with antiques, it had a few modern conveniences I missed: a dishwasher, washer, dryer, and satellite television. There was plenty of room and plenty of privacy. There was even a garage and space in a covered carport to park my Jeep and truck.

It was more than I could possibly ask for. And all he wanted in return for letting me use the place was for me to pay the utility bills while I was there, keep the place clean, and keep an eye on things.

Joe, in the meantime, was heading south with his trailer and a friend. They planned to leave on December 2. I was welcome to move in any time, but I honestly felt a little weird moving in before he left. That would make me (and Penny) a house guest instead of a house sitter. So I held off, prepping for the move back in the mobile mansion.

At November month-end, the forecast warned about bad weather on December 1 and 2. Joe’s friend, who was coming down from Canada, came early. They packed up and pulled out on November 30.

I was supposed to do shuttle flights between two wineries — Martin Scott in East Wenatchee and Malaga Springs in Malaga — on November 30, which was a Saturday. But low visibility and some freezing fog made that a dumb idea. With my afternoon suddenly open, I decided to start my move that day.

I made a few trips in my truck, bringing along the bare necessities like clothes and food from my fridge and cabinets. I wasn’t sure what I’d need and, at first, I also brought along linens and towels and my electric blanket. I wound up bringing all these things back to my RV. I wanted to keep things simple so it would be easy to move out at the end of my stay.

I went out that evening with some friends and returned to my new (temporary) home around nine. I’d already picked one of the guest rooms. I put Penny’s bed on my bed, atop the comforter I’d brought along, and and climbed between the covers. I turned off the light and lay on my side, facing out one of the room’s two big windows, looking out at the lights of Malaga, Wenatchee, and East Wenatchee. My new home would have windows just as big. I felt as if I were getting a preview of what was to come.

Coffee
Coffee, coffee brewer, filters. What else do I need?

The next morning, I made coffee, just as I did every morning wherever I lived. I’d brought along my little one cup coffee brewer and a brand new pack of #2 cone coffee filters. I opened the pack of filters and brewed some coffee. I let Penny out and she did her business somewhere out in the yard, which she’d already explored the previous day. When she came back in, I fed her — I’d also brought along her placemat, dishes, and food. It was life as usual for the two of us — just in a different place.

But we’re used to that. For the past 18 months, we’ve been sort of gypsies. We lived in at least 20 different places, including various homes and hotel rooms. Even the RV had been parked in six different places in three different states. Penny and I adapted as necessary, settling into each of our temporary homes with ease. I loved the variety our gypsy lifestyle offered us and Penny didn’t seem to mind one bit. I think she’s come to expect it.

I spent much of Sunday morning prepping the RV for winter vacancy. That meant blowing out the water lines, putting antifreeze down the drains, and disconnecting the power for the heat tape on the water line. And packing up and moving a few more things. The weather was still iffy, with low clouds and mist. I had a gig flying Santa into Pybus Public Market later in the day and, for a while, wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do it. But by 12:30, I decided to give it a try and headed out to take care of it, leaving Penny behind for the first time, alone in Joe’s house.

After the flight, I met up with some friends at a wine tasting room and we wound up going to dinner. I didn’t get home until after 9. Penny was excited to see me. I checked the house out thoroughly to make sure she hadn’t had any “accidents” while I was gone. All was okay.

By Monday morning, life had already settled into a routine. I let Penny out, made coffee, let Penny in, and fed her. I caught up with email and Facebook while having breakfast at the kitchen table, watching the valley light up as the sun rose. (The view really is magnificent.) I showered and dressed. I already felt at home.

I ran out to do some errands that included dropping off my Jeep for service. It had been leaking from the transfer case for about a year and I needed to get it fixed. After all, it would eventually run out of whatever was leaking. But what really prompted me to get it taken care of was that I wanted to park it in Joe’s garage and I didn’t want it leaking in there.

I’d arranged for a neighbor to pick me up on her way home from errands in town and I had time to kill. After dropping off the Jeep, I had another breakfast in town — Sassy’s Dinner makes the best breakfast! — and then walked to Caffé Mela for a latte and to update the software on my iPad. On the way, I noticed that there was fresh snow on the hills north of town. Then I wandered to a used furniture store to browse for a dining table and chairs — the only thing I needed to furnish my new home when it will be built next year. My neighbor and her son picked me up and we drove up to where the mobile mansion and my truck were parked. I was surprised to see fresh snow on the ground — it had snowed during the three hours I was gone.

I decided that I didn’t trust my RV winterization. So I set up a heater in the basement and inside the RV. Power was cheap enough that the two heaters would be cost-effective insurance. I also had the added benefit of having the place kept warmer than freezing if I had to come back and fetch anything I’d left behind. I still had one more trip to make — to get my computer, printer, and camera gear — and then I’d close up the slides. That would make a smaller place for the inside heater to keep warm and minimize the amount of roof space exposed to the snow.

I should mention here that my hangar is large enough for me to park the RV in it, too. But it’s a pain in the ass to move and I did an excellent job parking it right where it is. I’ll admit it — I’m too lazy to move it and then move it back in February. (There’s also the very real possibility that snow on the ground would make it impossible to move in February.) And because of that, the mobile mansion will spend its very first winter outdoors.

Joe Miller Road
Joe’s place is truly wonderful.

When I got back to Joe’s place, I stopped at the end of the driveway to snap a photo with the dusting of snow all around and the valley off in the distance. It really is a beautiful place and I know I’m very fortunate to be here.

More errands yesterday afternoon, including a quick visit to where my helicopter is parked inside Pybus Market. Then home to Penny and dinner. I set up my Christmas tree for the first time in three years. We even watched a DVD.

This morning, I got right into my routine.

As I pulled a coffee filter out of the package, I consulted the label to see how many were in there. 100 coffee filters. I thought about my stay at Joe’s house. Three months. Pretty darn close to 100 days. I realized that I could see at a glance how much time was left of my stay just by looking at that package of coffee filters.

It’s still very full.

Prepping my RV for Winter Living

A lot of work with good results…so far.

September 2016 Update:

This post is very popular every autumn and this year is no different. I responded to some emailed questions with a new blog post that provides additional information on this topic. You can find it here: “Wintering in an RV.”

It was October when I realized that I’d likely need to stay in Washington for the winter. Although I didn’t expect to have much work to do, other business in-state required me to stay for various meetings throughout the winter months.

And then I started getting flying jobs, out of the blue, giving me enough work to make it worth sticking around. I started thinking about enjoying a winter season for the first time in 15 years, of cross-country skiing and snowshoeing with friends. Of really enjoying all four seasons of a year.

Not only was I going to stay, but I was going to make the best of the situation and enjoy my stay.

The No-So-Tough Decision

But where to stay?

I had a few options for winter lodging:

  • I could rent a furnished apartment. There are some available in the area, including some that are normally rented out to skiers coming to nearby Mission Ridge. The monthly cost would likely be somewhere between $500 and $1,500 — if I could find one that allowed dogs.
  • I could rent an unfurnished apartment. This would likely be cheaper, but it would also require me to move some of my stored furniture to make myself a home. I had to figure in the cost and bother of the move. And again, I needed to find a place that allowed dogs.
  • I could “camp out” in my hangar at the airport. The hangar has two offices with baseboard heaters, as well as a full bathroom. My furniture is already there, so it’s just a matter of reorganizing it to meet my needs for the few months I’d need to live there. Unfortunately, I didn’t think my landlord — the folks who manage the airport — would like those arrangements.
  • I could live in my RV, either in my hangar — there’s plenty of room — or on my property where it was already parked and hooked up. The trouble with that was that my RV, the “mobile mansion” is not designed for cold weather living. To make matters worse, I had parked it 66 feet from my onsite water source and I knew the hose running in a makeshift conduit under my driveway was very likely to freeze.

Morning View
Here’s what I saw out my window the other morning, not long after dawn. I look forward to seeing the changing seasons in my view.

In the end, the decision was made easy by the amazing views out my window every day. From my perch high above the Columbia River and Wenatchee Valley, I could enjoy the ever-changing scenery, which varied throughout the day with changes in light and weather. I could watch low-level clouds form and dissipate over the river. I could see the shadows move and lengthen with the shifting of the sun. I would watch the moonlight play upon the hillsides and cliffs. And I could marvel at the lights down in the city, sparkling with color. Would I see all that cooped up in a tiny rental apartment? Or closed up in a cavernous hangar with just three windows? No.

And what of the work I could do on nice days? I was working on a pathway from my RV parking area to my beehives. I’d been planting wildflower seeds and bulbs. And I still hoped to begin construction on my building at the beginning of the new year; I wanted to be around to supervise and document the work.

Besides, since I’d been living in the mobile mansion full-time since the beginning of June, it had become my home, my space. Bought to house two people, a mid-sized dog, and a parrot, it was amazingly comfortable for one person and a tiny dog. After dealing with seemingly countless delays, I’d finally moved it to the piece of land I’d been dreaming about for over a year. I was in my home, on my home. I was loath to give that up, even for a few months.

Of course, to stay in the mobile mansion meant a lot of prep work. I needed to “winterize” it and its water connection to ensure that my water pipes — inside and out — didn’t freeze and that I could keep warm inside. And with frost appearing outside my door on some mornings, I knew I didn’t have much time.

PEX, the Miracle Pipe

Heat Tape
Heat tape comes in rolls. I bought this at Home Depot.

The first thing on my list of things to do was replace the standard RV drinking water hose that ran from my city water source across my driveway (in a makeshift conduit I’d created) to the mobile mansion. I needed to run some kind of water line that I could run heat tape along. Heat tape (or trace heating) uses electricity to apply a small amount of heat to pipes to prevent freezing. I had some experience with it from my Howard Mesa cabin, where we’d used it on a very short length of hose between a water tank and the building. But rather than a 6-foot length of the stuff, I’d need 66 feet of it. That meant two 30-foot lengths plus one 6-foot length.

Regular hose, however, was not recommended by the heat tape manufacturer, which clearly specified metal or plastic water pipe. A hose was not a water pipe. Perhaps it wouldn’t work as well. Or perhaps it would degrade the hose and cause problems. I could imagine being poisoned by the breakdown of chemicals in my hose. (Seriously: I have a pretty good imagination sometimes.)

PEX
PEX comes in colors; blue is usually used for cold water and my water was going to be cold! I bought this at Home Depot.

Enter PEX. My friend Mike, who’d done most of the interior work on his home in Wenatchee Heights, had raved about it. I did some research. PEX was more costly than PVC but less costly than copper. It didn’t require any welding — or whatever it is that people do to copper pipes to join them — and it was flexible. There were two kinds of fittings. One kind required special (costly) crimping tools. The other kind, known as PTC, let you literally snap pieces together, with no special tools at all. All I needed was a PVC pipe cutter (which I already had) and a very inexpensive tool I could use to separate joined pieces if I made a mistake. The snap fittings were a bit more costly than the crimp type, but I only needed a few. I bought a 100-foot roll of blue 3/4 inch PEX.

PTC Fitting
A typical PTC to female pipe fitting.

I also bought PTC fittings. I needed one to join the PEX to a male hose connection and another to join the PEX to a female hose connection. I had a tiny bit of trouble with that — PEX connections normally work with pipe threading, not hose threading. (The fact that the two threadings are different is something I learned back when I set up the irrigation system at my Wickenburg house years ago.) The Home Depot pipe guy helped me get what I needed.

Pipe Insulation
This rubber pipe insulation has adhesive on one side, making it easy to wrap pipe. I bought this at Home Depot.

But there was one more thing I needed: pipe insulation. I wanted to wrap the pipe with the heat tape on it to help keep it warm. I checked out my options and decided on an adhesive wrap. Although it came in 15-foot lengths, I wound up needing 7 rolls of it because it had to go around the pipe. (This, by the way, is also when I learned that when you buy stuff for a home project at a place like Home Depot, always buy more than you think you need. It really sucks to run out of something in the middle of a project and you can always return unused items later. Home Depot has an excellent return policy.)

I went back and got to work. The biggest chore was attaching the heat tape to the pipe and insulating it. The big challenge there was straightening the PEX. It does straighten, but it straightens easier when it’s warm and it does require muscle. (Needless to say, I was sore the next day.) I cut off about 70 feet of the stuff and ran it across my driveway from the water source to my RV’s water connection area. Then, with the sun shining full on me the next morning, I brought out a clean damp rag (to clean away dust on the PEX as I worked), set up a chair, and got to work.

You see, because the PEX was so long and relatively inflexible, I had to move along the length of the PEX to get the job done. I couldn’t stay in one place and move the PEX. Adding the heat tape and insulation also made the PEX heavier, so moving it later would not be a good option. That was okay.

I was very pleased with my choice of insulation. Normally, I’d have to tape the heat tape to the PEX every six inches with a piece of electric tape. (Heat tape is not adhesive, despite its name.) But the insulation tape was adhesive so I just used it to stick the heat tape to the PEX, wrapping it as I went along.

It took a long time. Three days of about four hours a day with a few breaks for phone calls, snacks, and to track down a tiny dog who thinks she can chase bighorn sheep up on the cliffs. But finally, I was done. One end had two cords (one for the 30-foot length and one for the 6-foot length) and the other end had one cord (for the other 30-foot length).

I attached the fitting on the RV end of the PEX. I could not believe how easily it snapped into place. Working with this stuff on my new home was going to be a breeze. I trimmed the water source end and attached the fittings there. So far, so good.

Finishing Up the Water Pipe

Of course, I couldn’t have the wrapped tape stretched out in the elements across my driveway, especially when the snow started falling. So I got out my shovel and I dug another trench just deep enough to lay a conduit that I could seal the wrapped PEX into to keep it dry and enable me to drive over it.

For the conduit, I used brown vinyl downspout pipe. That’s the stuff people usually use to go from the gutter on the edge of the roof to the ground. I bought six 12-foot lengths of the stuff and six connectors. I also bought a pair of matching flex elbows to use at either end. I ran the PEX in this pipe, making connections as I went along. Then I laid it in the trench, put the flex pipes on both ends, and connected the ends of the PEX to the water source and RV. When I was finished, the PEX was completely enclosed in the pipe.

I crossed my fingers as I turned on the water. This was the moment of truth. If any of my connections leaked, I’d have a bunch of disassembling to do to find and fix the problem.

Imagine my pleasant surprise when not a single drop of water leaked from either end of the PEX! I love this stuff!

I had a few more things to do:

  • I needed to insulate the water source pipe and any portion of the pipe that wasn’t covered with heat tape or adhesive insulation. I used regular foam pipe insulation for that.
  • I needed to cover the water source area with waterproof material to prevent water from getting into the flex elbows. I used a heavy duty plastic garbage bag with bungee balls to keep it in place.
  • I needed to cover the trench across my driveway. I shoveled the dirt back in and placed construction cones at either end where the pipe emerged from the ground.
  • I needed to plug in the heat tape. I plugged two of the three cords in at my power pole and ran an extension cord across the driveway for the third plug. (I didn’t want the heat tape using the same circuit as the RV for various reasons.)

Then I was done.

Testing the Water Setup

Just in time!

The next morning was cold. I turned on the faucet and nothing came out.

I turned on the RV’s water pump. My internal tanks were full and functioned fine. But I had to troubleshoot the problem with the new pipe.

It turned out to be pretty simple: the heat tape was plugged into a socket that had tripped its GFCI. I reset the GFCI and tested the outlet. It worked.

Of course, it didn’t get cold again for quite a while. Three weeks, in fact. This morning, the temperatures dropped down in to the 20s. I turned on the water and it flowed.

All that work — and the approximately $150 I’d spent on parts — had paid off.

Basement Pipes

The mobile mansion has what I call a basement. It’s a huge storage area in the front under the bathroom and part of the bedroom. Most of the pipes that supply water to the bathroom fixtures run exposed in the basement ceiling.

The basement is not heated. When temperatures in the basement dropped down to freezing, the pipes could freeze, too.

My first thought was to insulate them with regular foam pipe insulation. I even got started doing that. But then I realized that a better solution would be to simply put a space heater in the basement and make sure it ran when it was cold out.

The trouble was, the basement was full of stuff. I’d have to move all the stuff out. I couldn’t fit all the stuff inside the mobile mansion. That meant having to store it in my hangar with the rest of my things.

I was bummed. There was some stuff there that I wanted to keep handy. Still, protecting the pipes was more important than convenience so I resigned myself to moving it all out.

Radiator Dog
Every morning, Penny lounges by the radiator in the living room.

That’s when I happened upon a gently used 6 x 8 shed for sale at an amazing price. I moved almost everything in the basement into the shed. Storage problem solved. The basement was now empty enough to put in a heater and not have to worry about things catching on fire.

Inside the RV, I had been using one of those oil-filled radiator style electric heaters for years. I kept it in the living room. In the bedroom, I had a small tabletop electric heater with a fan to push the warm air. Trouble was, I don’t like listening to a fan while I sleep so I never used it at night.

The radiator heaters are silent. I bought a second one, which had a fancy thermostat, and put the original in the bedroom. That freed up the little tabletop heater for basement duty and ensured a warm, quiet sleeping environment.

I placed it in the middle of the basement floor. Then I connected it to a temperature-sensitive outlet called a Thermocube at the end of the extension cord I was already using for the heat tape. The Thermocube supplies power to its outlets when temperatures dip to 35°F and turns off power when temperatures rise to 45°F. I turned the heater on to the lower of its two settings, figuring that would be enough to keep the area from freezing.

Basement Insulation
In this shot you can see the basement insulation panel as well as the connection for the water into the RV. The orange wire is for the heat tape; the red is the extension cord. Both are run into the basement where the heater is also plugged in. The blue coiled hose is the RV’s “outdoor shower” which I can’t seem to disconnect so I left it there.

Of course, like the rest of the RV, the basement isn’t very well insulated, either. Fortunately, I had four foam insulation panels I’d bought for another purpose. I did some trimming and made two insulation panels for just inside each basement door. Although it wasn’t a perfect solution for insulating the space, it was better than nothing.

Over the next few weeks, I’d open the basement doors to check the temperature in there. Although I never saw the heater on, it was always considerably warmer in that space than outside. I assumed the heater was getting the job done.

The Straw Skirt

The reason I had the foam insulation panels in the first place was because I had a crazy idea about possibly using them to build a skirt around the base of the RV. Many people had advised closing this space off to help keep the RV warm. But the mobile mansion is about 35 feet long. Foam was neither practical nor cost-effective.

I consulted with several friends. My friend Bob sketched out a frame that I could build with 2x4s and plywood. It would take a lot of wood and a lot of work. He gave me some wood for the frame to get me started.

But then my friend Tom, who lives in Vermont, suggest straw bales. I felt like slapping myself on the side of the head. Like duh. Not only were they good for insulation, but I’d be able to use them in the spring in my garden.

Straw in Truck
My first load of straw bales in the back of my truck.

So I went to get straw bales. I started with six. They loaded them in the back of my truck. It reminded me of the old days, when I’d get hay for my horses. I even bought a hay hook to make it easier to move them around.

I backed the truck up near the mobile mansion. The guy who loaded them told me they weighed around 80 pounds each. I don’t think they were that heavy. After all, I was able to get them into position easily by myself. They made a nice thick skirt against the sides of the RV.

Straw Skirt
The first six bales of straw in position around the mobile mansion. It took 22 bales to get the job done.

But six wasn’t nearly enough. I went back later in the day and bought another eight. This time, the loader put a palette in the back of the truck. It just fit. I strapped the straw down to prevent it from tipping off and brought them home. When I finished moving them around, I realized that another eight bales should do the job.

I got them two days later and put them in place. Although it wasn’t perfect, it was better than nothing. I’d fiddle with them and with spare pieces of wood and cardboard throughout the coming weeks.

Total cost of the straw skirt: around $200. Time and effort: minimal.

About the Physical Activity

I want to take a moment to comment about the physical activity needed to get all this work done.

First was dealing with the coiled PEX. I really needed to put some muscle into it to straighten it out. And that needed to be done about 3 feet at a time.

Next was digging the trench across my driveway. Although I’m fortunate that there are very few rocks in my primary building site — which also made the septic system guy pretty happy — the driveway did have a layer of gravel over it. I had to dig through that gravel and into the softer dirt beneath it. Later, I had to shovel all that gravel back. Hard work!

Finally, I had to deal with moving 22 straw bales from the back of my pickup into position all around the RV. I don’t really know what they weighed, but they were pretty heavy. I did a lot of dragging, mostly because I couldn’t do much lifting.

The days after doing each of these things, I really felt it in my muscles: shoulders, arms, abdomen, etc. But the soreness felt good. I can’t really explain what I mean by that. I think it has something to do with finally being back in shape after so many years of living in limbo. I’d let myself go physically (and mentally) while my future was delayed, waiting for a partner to fulfill promises he never meant to keep. Losing weight last year, getting back into outdoor activities, feeling good about myself again — that’s only part of my reward. The other part is the ability to do hard work again, to get a job done without waiting for someone to do it for me. (Not to mention the ability to make decisions without having to debate them with someone who seems to prefer arguing over getting things done.) The aches and pains were a reminder of how good independence really is and how great it feels to be physically fit and healthy. I love it!

The End Result

Last night, the temperatures dipped into the 20s. I know because I bought a thermometer with three wireless sensors — the one I fastened at my water source read 22°F this morning. In the basement, the temperature stayed in the high 30s. When I turned on my taps, the water flowed.

Inside, the RV is cool but not cold. Both radiators are on, although the one in the bedroom is set to low. I have an electric blanket on my bed so I’m never cold at night. The RV’s gas heater with its loud fan supplements the heat in the living room in the morning. I know I could keep it warmer if I’d just close the blinds, but I’d rather put on a sweater than miss out on the views outside my windows.

It’s unseasonably cold this week so I’ll have a good chance to test my setup. I’m not too concerned. The other day, one of my neighbors, who is going away for the winter, kindly offered me his home. I’ll talk to him later today; that might make a Plan B for nights that are just too cold to stick around. But it shouldn’t get much colder than it is this week, so there’s a good chance I’ll be living in my own space all winter long.

We’ll see. I’ve done my part; let’s see what Mother Nature challenges me with.