April 29, 2008
Airstreaming
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We hit the road this weekend for our first trip with the Airstream, heading up to Lake Cachuma (Gesundheit!), about 24 miles north of Santa Barbara. Our truck handled the climb up through the San Marcos pass better than I did; it was a little nerve wracking, looking for a turnout to let the cars backing up behind us get by. But the GMC pulled the trailer with ease, the Duramax diesel and Allison six-speed transmission barely seeming to break a sweat under the load.
It was already close to 80 degrees when we arrived at the campground around 10 in the morning, with record-breaking temperatures to come. We checked in at the gate with the ranger to see what was available; he gave us a list of campsites and off we went to scope them out.
After a couple of loops around the sites, we settled on one with utilities, but the most important feature was the tree: a massive oak, it's canopy more than 60 feet wide, more than enough to shelter our aluminum trailer from the blazing sun.
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The Airstream stayed pretty cool inside, the exhaust fan pulling enough air through the screen door and windows to keep things relatively comfortable -- notwithstanding the rapidly-rising mercury. I walked over to the general store, where the thermometer on the porch read 90 in the shade by a quarter to eleven.
I walked down to the boat ramp just in time to see a bright red Amphicar drive into the lake, the water coming to within inches of the passenger compartment as the occupants hooted and hollered. Then I headed back to our trailer, sweat pouring off me, the sun seemingly growing hotter with every step I took.
By the time I arrived, I was definitely overcooked -- and overdue for a soda and a nap. After taking care of the former, I collapsed on the couch and took care of the latter, staring up through the skylight at the leaves fluttering overhead, woodpeckers and jays zipping by, perching for a moment, then leaping back into the air.
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I wasn't the only creature who found the heat enervating. Bogie had a hard time keeping his tongue in his mouth and off the floor.
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And we weren't the only ones who enjoyed roughing it; Airstream corner had five of the silver twinkies clustered together. It was a blinding sight when the sun hit them just right.
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Some people scoff at the very idea of Airstreaming as camping, but even the folks in tents seem to have gone a bit soft at the edges. Check out the fratboy encampment above, with all the essentials: multiple coolers, Miller Lite beer signs, Tiki torches and, of course, a satellite dish.
Different strokes, and all that.
Still, I preferred our digs, with their classic, streamlined exterior and the cool, sleek, aluminum-clad walls.
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We can't wait to hit the road again, and the best part is that we can take Bogie with us. Do vacations get any better than this?
Posted by Mike Lief at April 29, 2008 11:05 PM
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Comments
My sister took the girls up to Joshua Tree over spring break.
Said that the ranger reported that every single camper he runs into either went camping with their parents, or married someone who did.
Also reported that the average education level of the campers, at least there, is at least some graduate school. Which is good, as Dad has become concerned recently about the rise of hooligans in camp grounds (but it is probably more just society in general).
Posted by: andrewdb at April 30, 2008 09:23 AM
Yeah. I once went camping with an uncle who was constipated. He spent a long time in the outhouse trying to fix the problem. Dad (his brother) always told him he needed to eat more fiber. But I guess Uncle Jim wouldn't listen. One day Uncle Jim told my dad to mind his own business. It was pretty funny. Anyway, I once read somewhere that people like camping because it forces you to figure out whether you can poop in strange places. That's true too.
Posted by: Timmy at April 30, 2008 02:21 PM
I'm jealous... taaake meeee with youoooo!!! Pleeeeeease!!!! I'll sleep on the floor with the dog!!!
Posted by: sonarman at April 30, 2008 06:17 PM