Saturday, June 1, 2013

Notes on hygiene.

When I set out to buy a vintage travel trailer, I wanted something I could really live in, meaning a bed, a full kitchen, and a full bathroom. They didn't have to be elaborate but they needed to be present. I soon learned a full bathroom was rare before 1962. And that was the full extent on my knowledge of plumbing. 

I looked at a couple 1960s 24" Airsteams, but they almost seemed too spacious for a loan traveler, and extra length for a new trailer driver to worry about. The 18" 1964 Avion Sportman I found, lovingly restored by the previous owner (I can tell he repaired lots of plumbing, and replaced the fridge and water pump and heater. Otherwise, she looks original and untouched), was the one for me. It even had a pink bathroom sink. 

I am one of those book-types who reads as much as I can about something then am pretty sure I can do it. And I usually can. I understood about black water tanks--the toilet--and the contents and how to empty it. And I saw there was something about grey water--the water from showers and sinks--and how the tanks for those weren't really added for a few more years. In 1964, Alice's owners would have cheerfully washed the dishes with the cap off the water outlet, letting their dishwater drain into the ground. It sounds ok, but is now pretty illegal. 

No problem, I thought, and bought a "blue boy", a portable tank on wheels that hooks to the outlet to catch the water, then can be wheeled over to a proper dump station for disposal. I wanted the smallest tank, but an idiot talked me into a 50 gallon version. 

This blue boy this is heavy and giant. The volume of space that thing occupies is a real problem in a tiny trailer. The only place I could put it was in the shower. 

Before I bought the blue boy, I would pull into a camp with full hook ups, remove my trash can and bucket from my shower, and, well, shower. If there weren't full hookups, I would put my bucket under the outlet, wash my hair turning the water on and off as quickly as possible, then carry my 3-4 gallons of water to a disposal area. Sometimes, I admit, I poured it in the bushes. I also figured out if it was only a little water, I could pour it in my toilet and store it in the black water tank (knowing I had to empty that one sooner).

Now, if there are full hook ups, I have to lift this heavy thing out of the tub, wheel it through the trailer and find someplace to stash the not-very-decorative tank. If I do actually use it, same thing. It was designed to roll under the trailer out of the way, but wasn't made for a curved, lower trailer like mine. It sticks out the back like a lamprey. Then you can shower and do dishes to your hearts content. Until it's time to go. 

Do you know how much 50 lbs of water and a heavy plastic tank on wheels weigh? The tank claims you can hook it to your tow-ball and tow it to the dump station. My trailer is on the tow ball, so that seems weird, plus, do I trust the wheels that much? If there is a dump station in camp, I usually lift the blue boy onto the bumper, strap it to the spare wheel, and go. If there isn't a dump station, it has to go back into the shower. Do you see the problem? If not, I'll remind you water weighs a little over 8lbs/gal. 

Basically, it's fine if you are in a proper campground with proper hook ups and dump stations. Anything else is trouble. I miss washing my hair over the bucket. 

I am one of those people who need to wash their hair everyday. Need. If I don't, the second day is bandana day, which is fine. But quickly my attention will be focused on how to get that next shower. I also like driving around till late at night when the idea of setting up camp is pointless, as I will not really be able to enjoy it; I do a lot if boon docking, which is basically pulling up, sleeping, and leaving in the morning; campsites I reserve for also hiking or relaxing or building a camp fire, etc. 

When boon docking, it's trickier to find a shower. Truck stops will charge $12 for a shower. It includes a private full bathroom, elegantly tiled, and clean towels. One even put a mint on the towels. And I can't tell you how clean these bathrooms are. Cleaner (in my experience) than most mid level hotels. Cleaner than mine for sure. But $12 is half-way to a camp site cost. If I spend the night at the truck stop, I will be plagued by the sounds of the running motors and air brakes (truckers leave the engines on when they sleep). Yesterday, I washed my hair at a rest stop with a pitcher and bowl, like a Victorian. Or like a homeless person. I think all those signs about no camping were specifically so people wouldn't come upon me washing my hair at 7am. 

The other day, though, I stole my shower. I'm terrified of breaking rules, but I stole my shower. I was at a beautiful state park that advertised showers in the bathrooms (it was by a beach). In the past, I've seen beach bathrooms with indoor showers, so I drove there hoping... Alas, they were outside. Even if I put on a swimsuit I thought shampooing would be a no no. I realized the park had a camp ground. I was planning on driving another 50 miles that eve, so camping was out, but they probably had showers. And mid week in May, it was probably minimally camped. So I packed my bag and took the 1 mile trail to the camp, showered, and hiked back. Look at me. High level thief. If karma is anything, it punished me by forbidding there be hot water. And on the way back, I passed two button bucks who were very upset I startled them, and huffed and stomped their hooves at me. It worked. But I'd still do it again. 

2 comments:

  1. I am with you about this issue! I once flew a sun shower up to Alaska, and drove it around on top of my rented minivan until it blew off. Then it was on to hair washing in ice cold rivers...for 6 weeks!

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    1. Oh no! I tried bathing in a river once. Too cold for me! And that was only as far north as Oregon!

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