After 3 months of living on an island, my life was finally starting to make sense and the future was exciting. Then, someone invited me to go on a “quick” sailing trip. I ignored my mom’s recommendations and said yes to one of the craziest experiences I’ve ever had. To understand how I came to this moment, we need to go back in time a few months.

I was 20 years old when I decided to leave my parent’s house in Rio de Janeiro. I moved to a different neighborhood, near the center of the city closer to my university. Everything was perfect, but destiny had a different plan for me. After one month living in my new house I was invited to photograph a 3 day women’s trip on an island off the coast of Rio called Ilha Grande. I had already visited the place a few times as a tourist, and I was enchanted.

On this trip, I fell in love even more with the lifestyle, people and natural beauty of the island. The idea of being surrounded by the ocean in a place with no cars called my attention. So, I decided to give up everything in Rio and move to the island, an unknown environment with no light pollution and plenty of waterfalls.

There I experienced many different types of living. In the first weeks I shared a tent with a complete stranger, who later became my best friend. I lived in a hostel room with 12 beds and I even rented a house with only one room where four of us lived together. Basically, I had no money, so I accepted anything that would make my life on the island possible.

Despite being entirely happy with my new lifestyle, making friends from all around the world, photographing everything, and enjoying the sea; fate surprised me again. My friend matched with a guy on tinder that would later invite me to take a crazy trip on his sailboat.

The guy was working on a Catamaran and anchoring on the same island where I was living. At that time I didn’t even know what a Catamaran was. He started to come ashore to hang out and we became friends. He told me about the project he was working on, and his plans to travel up the whole coast of Brazil with the sailboat, stopping in different states to enjoy whatever the cities had to offer. After he saw my potential as a photographer, he invited me for a 4 day trip on the boat in exchange for photographic coverage. We would sail from Angra dos Reis, where the island is located, to Arraial do Cabo, a city on the other side of the state of Rio de Janeiro.

I’ve always been the person who hates to say no to new opportunities, so I packed my stuff and left the island. The boat was staying in a marina on the other side of the island’s bay, and when I arrived there I was surprised by how much space a sailboat can have. I had zero experience with boat-living, so until that moment in my imagination, it wasn’t even possible to have comfort and practicality in the sea. I was shocked to find that the boat had everything you would need to feel at home in the middle of the ocean. There were 4 cabins, 2 bathrooms, a living room, a kitchen and even an outside area, with enough space for 8 people to live comfortably.

It was a 38ft Lagoon Catamaran, and the captain felt like the boat was his only country.

The whole idea around this project was to build a self-sustaining system to allow the sailboat to support life off-grid for at least six months to one year. Among all the gear the boat was equipped with to make this possible, there was a desalination unit that could transform salt water into potable water, a wind generator for cloudy days and an advanced Raymarine autopilot.

In addition to these features, the team was planning to install new batteries, solar panels and all the other devices to transform the sun’s power into electrical energy. While all this technology is exciting, living off-grid on a boat for 6 months takes more than energy, so under the seats in the living room, we stocked tons of cans, dry food, cleaning products, medical equipment and other supplies to survive on the sea without any problems.

When we were about to start the trip, I started to ask myself if it was really a good idea to go sailing, armed only with trust in these German strangers I’d met that same month. I thought, “Damn, I have never sailed in my entire life. What if something goes wrong, what do I do?” My mom and my friends were also considerably terrified with the idea that I could die in the ocean, calling me crazy for having decided to go on this journey. The team that was with me on the boat had years of practice on the water, so I was feeling much more excited than afraid. My only fear was to become seasick during the sailing, which happened many times.

Full-time Sailing

Give up those landlubbin' sealegs and learn to live on the open water.

We started the trip looking forward to Arraial do Cabo, a beautiful beach town with clear blue water that is constantly compared to the Caribbean sea by Brazilians. It was supposed to be a 14 hour sailing trip, with a stop in the bay of Rio de Janeiro for one night. On the trip from Rio to Arraial do Cabo we passed through 3 meter waves, which made me throw up at least 4 times a day.

I was slowly getting used to the feeling of sleeping in a moving bed, but dealing with the constant feeling of motion sickness was a little bit more complicated. To keep my body fit and avoid suffering from malnutrition, I ate soup and bread, the only 2 things I could keep in my stomach long enough to absorb their nutrients. Several parts of everyday life were fun on the trip, but one of the coolest was cooking on the boat. The stove did not have a “gimbal” to hold the pan in place, so we often had some fun cooking things when rocking in waves.

If you’re the type of person who pays attention to detail, you might be wondering how the kitchen utensils didn’t fall out when the boat was shaking, so I’ll give you the answer. In every storage space for cups, plates or anything else that needed to be protected, there were shelves with holes where you could fit plastic cylinders that kept the objects in place. These were the perfect size for keeping everything completely static, in addition to locks on all the doors. Through turbulence and calm seas, we balanced and cooked our way through 4500 nautical miles.

In the end, my inability to say no to this wild invitation meant that what should have been a 4 day trip in my home state evolved into a 5 month trip around the coast of South America. We visited countless cities and 3 new countries besides Brazil, including French Guiana, Bonaire and Colombia. It was enlightening to encounter these cultures that were so close to mine, yet so distant at the same time.

These are only a few details of an adventure that can’t be recounted in one telling. Everything I learned on this trip, all the sunsets I contemplated, and every animal I witnessed made all the adversity worth it. In the beginning, I knew I’d probably need to face a lot of trouble, and even so I decided to say yes and I’m totally proud of it.

After all that, here is a piece of advice I can give to you; when life knocks on your door with a seemingly random opportunity and your brain hesitates…stop, breath, and first ask yourself; why not?

As to the Texas locale, nice enough people but…

I was charged extra because I built my vehicle out while I waited for things to open back up. I asked permission to do this and was told it was fine but still charged extra.

Comparing this pop top to my 1978 VW Bus’, which was built in Oregon 44 years ago…

The pop top is very heavy. My wife can’t lift it. The Bus’ can be lifted by my 11 year old son. I did opt for the manual option.

There’s also no fuse between the solar panels and the charge controller, which the mfg (Zamp) told me there should be.

The rubber gasket falls off all the time and requires maintenance at every camping trip, or once a week or so when full timing. The VW’s has come loose, in one spot, one time.

I don’t really trust the penthouse for adults. SMB even asked me if adults would sleep up there, as though they were recommending that only kids should go up there. They didn’t actually say this but it was implied. While I suppose it’s convenient that the bunk bed slides forward and back, the way it sits on the “junk wood” as they described it, it has a lot of give and so I just don’t go up there. I’m 175lbs and, by contrast, the VW’s top bunk can easily hold me and my wife (130lbs) with absolutely no give at all (it is fixed in place and so doesn’t move.)

Finally, they don’t take credit cards, so you have to wait for a wire transfer to go through to complete the sale. You could arrange this ahead of time…but if you want to look at the work done first, you’ll end up sitting in their office for hours (depending on your bank) waiting for that to go through. Since I had this done during early COVID, and it was Texas, I just wanted to get out of that state as fast as possible.

The cardboard type material in the drapes has broken to pieces in three of the four locations. The screen zippers stick quite often. And one of the screws to hold them up has pulled out.

Positives were that, once we finally got a date locked in, they finished on time. The interior work looks very nice. The bunk holds our two children (9 and 11) just fine.

All in all I love the addition of the pop top, was mildly happy with customer service

Earlier in the day I had hitched a ride in Barcelona with this American guy who was driving around Europe in a VW van and he drops me off at this youth hostel somewhere in the middle of the city. As I walk into the hostel I notice there’s a long line of ragtag young travelers and hippies waiting to buy tickets for the night.

It’s autumn and everyone has on jackets and scarves and hats. And almost everyone is carrying knapsacks. I’m tired from being on the road and half-asleep so I decide to circumvent the line and walk into the hostel from a side entrance. The inside of the place looks like a large gymnasium with dozens of cots positioned in neat rows across an old wooden floor. Some of the cots are already taken but there are many empty ones available. That’s a good sign, I think. Maybe they won’t all fill up for the night, maybe I’ll get lucky. So I pick out a cot toward the back of the hostel floor, take off my knapsack, jacket and cap and lie down.

I conk out right away, and I’m asleep for maybe an hour or two when I suddenly feel these cold stiff fingers, like little pool cues, poking me in the shoulder.

“ Excusez-moi, je dois contrôler votre billet,” I hear a voice say. I know a little French and can figure out what he’s getting at, but I feign ignorance.

“What? What did you say?”

“Americain?”

“Yeah…”

“I should have guessed,” the concierge says smugly, reinforcing the French stereotype. “Where is your ticket for this bed?”

“Oh…” I pretend to search through my knapsack. I can’t really see what I’m doing; the only light, aside from a muted one on a far wall that creates an eerie penumbral effect, is the light that comes from the concierge’s flashlight.

“I can’t seem to find my ticket,” I say. “I must have lost it.”

“Of course you did,” he says with a capital P for Prick. “Please gather your things and leave.”

I get up from the cot, put on my shopworn brown leather jacket and cap, and throw my knapsack over my shoulder. As I make my way around the concierge, I notice there’s a young guy wearing a rasta cap standing beside him waiting to take my place; as I pass him by, he flashes a big smile and waves his ticket in my face, as if he’s just won the lottery.

I give him a dyspeptic smile as I exit stage left.

“Bonne chance!” I hear him proclaim with a sarcastic chuckle.

“Here, bonne chance this!” I mutter under my breath.

Truth be told, I’m going to need some luck because it’s pouring rain outside and the cold or flu or whatever the hell I caught seems to be getting worse.

I’m coughing now like I have a case of the croup and I’m shivering like I just stepped out of an ice plunge. To make matters worse, I don’t have a goddamn map and I have no fucking idea where I am.

I check my watch and it’s two o’clock in the morning; everything looks closed. So I zip up my jacket as far as it’ll go and start walking. I figure eventually I’ll find something that’s open. Maybe a café or a cheap hotel. That would be nice. In the distance I can see some lights flickering in the rain so I head in their direction. The more I walk, though, the farther away they seem. This doesn’t help my morale any, and I’m beginning to feel kind of weak and feverish.

Jesus Christ, I think to myself, am I just going to pass out and die here in the street on my first night in Paris?

But then I realize—no, I won’t! It’s against the hitchhiker code. Anyone who has ever done any hitchhiking will tell you that something always turns up. No matter how desperate you feel or how bad of a predicament you’re in, something always turns up. At least that used to be the case when I was young and the world was a friendlier place.

Anyway, I keep walking toward the lights and hoping for the best. And don’t you know, a few blocks later I bump into these two young Spanish guys who also had been hitchhiking. The taller of the two, whose name is Ramon, speaks English; he tells me he knows Paris pretty well and the Gare du Nord is up ahead about a half mile and we can find shelter there.

We don’t say much to each other as we walk through the cold hard rain.

As we approach the train station, the lights become brighter and I can see the tracks leading into the massive structure. Ramon leads us through the main concourse, down a corridor, to what appears to be some kind of waiting room. Because of the late hour there aren’t many travelers about and everything seems very still and quiet. Ramon looks furtively to his left and right as he opens the door to the waiting room. He explains that it is a private waiting room that needs to be reserved in advance.

“But it is late,” he adds as we walk in. “We’ll probably be OK until morning.”

The room is warm and plush and filled with two over-sized couches made of soft leather. The walls are solid wood with hand-carved trim and wainscoting. There is also a set of diffused lights ensconced in brass fixtures on the opposing walls, and underneath one of them sits a most welcome sight: a vending machine. Ramon and his friend immediately get hot coffee and I get a hot chocolate. We remove our knapsacks, spread out on the couches and sip our hot drinks.

As the hot chocolate flows down my esophagus and into my stomach it feels glorious, the perfect anodyne for my cold and weakened condition. Even my coughing has subsided. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a hot chocolate more. In a little while we finish our drinks and nod off to sleep. I don’t know how much time passes, but it couldn’t have been more than an hour when the door to the waiting room suddenly swings open and two gendarmes enter shining flashlights in our eyes. Judging from our appearance, they correctly assume we had not reserved the waiting room, so they just usher us out of our sanctuary and lead us down a long corridor to a large dimly-lit room filled with people sitting in straight-back metal chairs.

“We can spend the rest of the night here,” Ramon explains to me.

I look around. The place is packed. We split up and look for seats.

I don’t have to walk very far before I am hit with the overwhelming stench of urine, body odor and vomit. I take out my handkerchief and place it over my nose as I hunt for an empty seat. Judging from the looks of things, this salle d’attente is not for passengers waiting for their trains, but a public refuge for the dregs of Paris to spend the night so they don’t have to sleep on the streets.

I look at my watch. It’s almost four o’clock. I guess I’ll just have to tough it out until it’s light. I find a seat, take off my knapsack, and sit down on a straight-back metal chair, a far cry from the soft leather sofa I was asleep on just ten minutes ago. I close my eyes and keep my handkerchief over my nose. Even though the conditions are disgusting, I’m so tired I begin to fall asleep. A moment later I feel the seat next to me shaking. I look over at the guy sitting to my left.

“Oh, for crissake!” I say out loud.

The guy is whacking off at full speed like a goddamn jackhammer!

Fortunately, it doesn’t take him very long before he moans and shoots his load onto his ratty shopworn jacket. Praise to the gods, none of it splatters on me, and the guy keeps his head down and doesn’t look in my direction for any commentary or approbation.

I mean what could I say? How was it, laddybuck? Or– nice job!

The truth is, I feel like throwing up, but I don’t. It would be against the hitchhiker code. You can’t be too sensitive when you’re on the road, or get upset or angry too easily. You have to take things as they come, learn to detach, stay positive. So I fall back asleep. At six o’clock in the morning the lights come on and the gendarmes usher everyone out of the waiting room and onto the street. To my surprise it has stopped raining and the sun is peeking out from the clouds and shining its rich glow and warmth on me.

Not knowing which way to go, I start walking southeast toward what looks to be a main thoroughfare, and I end up on the Rue La Fayette.

The shops and bistros are beginning to open and I find a café with outdoor seating. I sit down at a small table and order a café au lait and a croissant. The beauty and majesty of Paris overwhelm me. The classical architecture, the magnificent buildings, the fashionably dressed citizens walking down the streets. The French definitely have a flair for art and life that is absent in the good old USA.

As I sip my hot coffee and let the sun languish on my face, my inner core begins to warm up and I feel stronger. And sacre bleu! My cough is gone!

I finish my breakfast and ask the waiter if he knows of a cheap hotel nearby. He is very helpful and down to earth, the antithesis of the French stereotype, and gives me the card of a hotel a few blocks away.

I head out to the hotel with a new spring in my step. I’m already fantasizing about taking a nice hot shower and catching up on some sleep at the hotel. Then I’ll do some sightseeing. Maybe the Louvre, maybe Notre Dame. After that I’ll drink some wine and check out the Parisian night life.

After all, I can do whatever I want. I’m free and unencumbered and in the hands of Fate. I’m living the hitchhiker code!

Personally, I love everything about it. An American-made vehicle retrofitted by an American van build company with more than 60 years of experience. In the modern era of Sprinters and Promasters, the Ford E-series is now looking more like a vintage vehicle, and just oozes class where newer van designs tend to lack personality, and certainly classic looks.

Like the VW Bus, they can run forever. You’ll find still-running Sportsmobiles from as far back a the 1990s for sale online, and 2000’s models with around 100,000 miles asking $80,000. This number seems a bit ridiculous, but considering the last decade’s worth of van-craze has positioned brand new Sportsmobiles at $200,000, it’s a testament to the value they hold.

And unlike the Bus, these Fords can be worked on by just about any mechanic, while older models can still be managed by those of us savvy enough to work on engines ourselves.

So style, reliability and something more akin to an investment than most vehicles set the Sportsmobile — and Ford campervans in general — on a pedestal for me and my family. Which is what we’ll discuss today, traveling in a Sportsmobile, with an emphasis on doing it full-time. Expect a plethora of information, personal anecdotes from our 2+ years of experience (out of a total of 12 years living full-time on the road) full-timing out of our 2006 Ford E-350, which was eventually kitted out with some Sportsmobile gear.

It’s not all good, but it’s far from bad. Enjoy.

A Brief History of Sportsmobile

In 1961, Curtis Borskey and his son Charles started a company that would be a major player in the transformation of camping from something few experienced, a rugged excursion into the forest on weekends, to what millions of people experience as a full on adventure.

While father Curtis would leave the company early on, Sportswagon, as it was originally called, would be run by Charles for the next 60 some years, until the year before his death at age 90. Described as devil-may-care and a world traveler, Curtis perhaps embodied the very spirit that lives within every well-used Sportsmobile on the road today.

The first SMB was actually a Volkwagen conversion, but soon after Ford contracted the company to install camper kits on their vans.

Overcoming issues, like leaky pop tops, one decade at a time, Sportsmobile would become one of the most recognized brands in the RV, off-road adventure and camping markets alike.

Our Experience with Sportsmobile

We do not own a Sportsmobile. What we have is a 2006 Ford #E-350, 15-passenger van that we ripped a bunch of seats out, built out the inside ourselves, and then had Sportsmobile Texas put a penthouse atop. This van works fairly well for us, holds mom and I plus our three kids, and we love it. This next section is more a reflection on what it’s like to work with Sportsmobile.

I’m sharing this because, frankly, we’ve heard multiple complaints about product quality when it comes to SMBs. We’ve never heard this from someone who paid for a full van, already built, but primarily from those who had this or that — usually the penthouse or 4×4 — installed separately. These folks, like us, are hands on and like to do things themselves, and so are perhaps more critical of others work.

After all, if a DIYer makes a small mistake, he can chalk it up to, “Oh well, I can live with that or fix it later.” If he pays $10,000 for a pop top though, and there is something he doesn’t like about it, well, something starts stirring under his skin which is very difficult to just let go.

We’d personally wanted a pop top on our van for years, but when we first looked into it — sometime around 2014 — the $7000 price tag and week in the shop it was going to take for them to do it made it prohibitive. After all, we lived in our van and lived minimally, so $7k wasn’t just lying around either.

Fast forward to 2019 and I had saved enough to have the operation performed, plus we had other means of living that didn’t require us to rent a hotel or something for the duration of our van’s transformation. By the, the cost had gone up to $10,000.

The waitlist put our build into 2020. Luckily we were able to do it even amidst the beginning days of the pandemic, but that’s largely irrelevant here. I drove the van to Austin, Texas myself while the family stayed behind in our previously mentioned accommodations.

The process was going to take 3 – 5 days. Sportsmobile Texas got it in the day they said, and finished in the three days. They did hit me with an additional $300 fee, to “work around” my build – though I had asked them if it was okay to finish my build ahead of time. $300 is a drop in the bucket compared to the grand total, but it felt a bit like nickel and dimeing.

Staff was professional, kept me abreast of what was going on, and when the penthouse — what they call their pop tops — was finished one of the installers walked me through it. While doing so, he revealed he had never been camping and had hardly traveled outside of Austin in his entire life (he appeared to be in his 30s), which I found a bit sad and strange considering the company he worked for. I suppose, in some nostalgic corner of my mind, I had hoped and imagined that all of these employees had their own SMB and used them frequently.

In general, the experience of having the pop top installed was a positive one. They did require a wire transfer, which meant I had to sit around for hours waiting for my bank to send that kind of cash over the invisible lines of commerce, but I suppose it was worth it for the company to save their 2.9% credit card interest fees. A check provided the day I dropped the vehicle off — and cleared by pick up — could have done the same thing, though.

What has been less than stellar since then is any type of follow up work. I have tried to get roof racks installed (because if you install them yourself, you void your warranty.) I have tried to get an awning put on our van. It’s now 2022 and I have neither, nor expect these things to ever happen. I settled for a clip on style roof rack over the cab and we just get wet if it rains.

Complete and Easy Guide to Getting Setup With Solar

Forget figuring out every last amp and detail, we'll show you the things most vanlifers need to live full-time in their rides, the equipment and costs you'll need to put into the system, and how to hook it up all by yourself.

The problem is a layered onion of an issue. Though there are now four Sportsmobile locations, they don’t play very nicely together. For example, the original Indiana location didn’t want to mess with our pop top at all. We got the manual version — ie when we lift the top, we do so with the sheer might of my own back — and Indiana will only deal with the electric version. I don’t understand the difference that installing an awning would have on which model of pop top is installed, but essentially Indiana blew us off. Austin said they would schedule us in, but kept delaying it by months at a time until finally we were just in a completely different corner of the state and fed up.

The unofficial Sportsmobile forums were also a bit of a disappointment. We used to live out of our 1978 VW Bus, with me serving as driver and mechanic, so exploring forums is nothing new here. Some guys on forums are full of cock and troll, others are infinitely helpful. On the SMB forums though, it was almost all troll.

I posted a pic of our custom propane tank set up and was bombarded with laws about RV propane tank installation laws — all of which were state-specific and related to professional installers. A guy who seemed to be the guy when it comes to awnings told us he could get us an awning in Florida. We drove from PA to the Sunshine State and never heard from him again. The community that one will find with Airstreams or VW Buses is simply not there.

So, was essentially doubling our sleeping space while making it possible to stand in the van worth $10k? Absolutely.

Benefits and Downsides of Living out of a Sportsmobile

I suppose these are really more applicable to “living out of a van” in general, and we’ve covered vanlife in troves here over the years, so this section will be short but poignant.

The downsides? Well there is primarily one, and it’s obvious: you’re living in a small space. Whether you can manage that — whether it’s just you or you and your entire family — is going to be completely up to you. The other major downside is that, should your van break down, then you’re stuck. Like, literally possibly stuck in the middle of the woods, but more so when you do get her to the shop, you’re stuck without a home for however long it will take the shop to fix it.

The benefits are innumerable. Freedom, simplicity and getting back to nature all come to mind. But these things can be achieved via any type of travel. The biggest advantage over an RV is that you can go way more places.

Yes, you can drive down roads where low hanging branches, mud patches or sharp turns would prevent an RV from going. But you can also find parking on a busy city street, or fit into any gas station parking spot. You may show up behind the guy in the Class A RV with one spot left at some Yellowstone campground (as if), and since he’s 50′ long and the spot is 30′, you can pop the top while you watch him looping around to head out of the campground and find the next potential spot down the road.

Solo Vanlife with a Sportsmobile

Traveler Jillian Rebekah discussed some of her thoughts on a fully-pimped Sportsmobile. To be clear, like ours, a Sportsmobile can be relatively bare bones, though most are 4×4, have a kitchen and a place to sleep, and the penthouse. However, as the VW Bus is to minimalism, the SMB is to “all the ladders and shit you can hang off the mother fu….”

Jillian prefers to do her traveling in her Toyota Tacoma, citing its ease of getting into smaller corners of the forest and smoother ride. It is a truck, after all.

“The van really shines at camp,” she emphasizes. “There is a lot of value to having a vehicle with indoor (livable) space. Especially when you’d like to escape the cold and/or the weather is bad.

“It is remarkably capable for a 10,000 pound van but it’s still huge! Which will obviously limit where you can take it.”

While Jillian’s extensive travel experience should absolutely be considered here, when comparing the size of a Tacoma to a Ford van versus, say, comparing either of them to an RV, most of the SMB folks we’ve talked to — especially those with 4 wheel drive — can’t think of a single time when they found themselves facing a dirt road and thought, “Well, let’s turn around here. If only we had something smaller we could go further…”

Jillian goes on to discuss some of the other downsides she finds with her SMB.

“The interior build of the van is kinda like an RV which means…on rough roads you will hear your *house* rattling behind you and that can become stressful and makes it a lot less fun to drive.” This is absolutely true, especially as you accumulate more items inside of your van.

“While I will conclude,” she wraps up, “that the Tacoma is still my first choice for adventure travel, it must be said that the van is a great companion to the motorcycle adventure portion of my life. I feel fortunate to have been able to experience them both!”
<h2id=”smb-family”>Family Life in a Sportsmobile

Our version of the SMB — which again I should note is a custom interior build where the only actual Sportsmobile components are the penthouse and solar setup from the roof to the charge controller — consists of a small kitchen, a single remaining bench seat from original 15 passenger set up (for our three kids to sit in while we travel), and a bed in the back.

For those new to this magazine, our family has gone through many iterations over our dozen years of full-time traveling around in vehicles. We’ve been a family of three in a Class C RV, then in a Volkswagen Bus. We have four boys total, ranging in age from 2 – 21. Our oldest has not lived with us for a few years, and didn’t do so during the time we’re discussing here. We’ve also drug around an Airstream trailer. Our travels have taken us from British Columbia to Belize, Maine to Baja. We’re not afraid to poop in a box if we have to and consider the space immediately outside of whatever we’re living out of to be our main living area, while the vehicle is more for cooking, sleeping and depressing rainy days.

Let’s look at each aspect of the what our Sportsmobile is like for five people roaming the United States.

Sleeping

Aside from the part that drives us around this planet. our van is — for all intents and purposes — a glorified tent. We don’t want to set up an actual tent on the regular, but we do need shelter.

We’re a family of five — mom, dad, two tweens and a toddler. The penthouse that Sportsmobile installed for us comes with a fairly massive bed, which is where the tweens sleep. I put another bed – with a Tochta mattress, excellent choice I will say — in the back which is where, currently, mom and toddler sleep. I then call the bench seat (where the kids sit during the driving day) my own personal little cot. Especially the latter may be less than desirable for some, but for us it works fairly well.

The largest complaint my wife has is that due to various space restrictions, she cannot sit up in her bed as long as the tween’s bed is immediately above her (the Sportsmobile penthouse bed can be pushed to the front 3/4s of the van, back 3/4s or anywhere amount of that in between.)

Cooking & the Kitchen

Our kitchen is comprised of a ~3 cubic liter fridge, three pantry drawers, some under sink storage and the sink itself. We have a 32 gallon water tank stashed behind the bench seat that feeds our sink (and is used for nothing else) which is sufficient for just under a week if we conserve. Two or three days if we’re a bit more liberal when washing dishes. Oh and we’ve got a small propane stovetop, with the propane line routed beneath, under and to the back of the van for cooking. It’s more than sufficient for us, but it is not luxurious. We need a cooler to accompany us on our travels, as there is no room in the fridge for beer or a big jug of juice or anything like that. We can usually last three days max on real food — that is, chicken and cheeses and yogurt and milk and stuff that requires refrigeration — before we have to go stock up again, because that’s all the more room we have. Day four’s breakfast will be slim pickings. If we were more suited to dry food like boxes of mac n’ cheese or cans of soup, that could probably extend our stays a bit more.

But honestly, between my need to find cell service to work and the basic premise that we are looking to travel, we don’t typically find ourselves way out in the woods for more than 3 days anyway. We just stock up on our way to wherever we’re going and when the food and beer runs out, we head to the next spot, or restock and return if we really like the area.

Rainy Days

We also installed a swivel so the shotgun seat can rotate around and face the back of the van. This means we have a living room (which is also the kitchen, and part of the bedrooms) that can technically seat six, and comfortably seat four. The technical way is with two kids up top, legs dangling over the bunk, space for three adults to squish onto the bench and then the swivel seat. Comfortably, one kid can lounge about up top, two adults can hang on the bench seat and then, again, the swivel. Since our fifth passenger has been about 2′ tall or less so far, and rarely just wants to sit still anyway, he barely counts as needing a seat.

There’s also a nice chunk of room on the floor should the tweens want to play Legos there, especially if one takes the penthouse, mom’s in the back with baby, and I keep out of the way.

Storage

Who doesn’t always need more of this, especially when there are five of us?

The bed in the back of our van is elevated about 20″ off of the ground, which provides approximately a queen bed’s worth of space in area to store things. That’s where we keep our backup solar gear, some shovels and a few toys, but mostly our duffel bags full of clothes.

Underneath the bench seat, we have storage the boys’ Legos, and some of their schoolbooks. Another small pantry houses random larger food items like bags of chips or prerequisite bottles of Bloody Mary mix.

Hanging from the doors (see the slideshow gallery in the previous section), we added saddlebags to hold the majority of the kids schoolbooks. I have another one of these installed on the driver’s door for my own books, and then there’s a hidden compartment near the back, main bed where mama stashes her own collection.

When parked, we use the driver’s seat to get things like carseats out of the way. It’s not as easy as walking into your house, tossing your boots and jacket and plopping down on the couch, but it’s not particularly challenging either. We can pack up or down in about 20 minutes, 12 if we’re really in a rush.

I also added a roof rack above the cab of our van, and we have a bike rack hanging off the front which can hold four bikes. This adds several feet to our overall length, but we love bikes. We also stash skateboards here and there, and then store them beneath the van while we’re camped so they don’t get wet should there be a freak snowstorm.

I’d note that this is one area where true Sportsmobiles outshine our minimalism. They have way more storage, including roof racks and bumper boxes and in-floor storage — relatively — galore.

Bathroom

Showering & Bathrooms

Where to find hot, clean showers and how to relieve yourself for those travelers who have no built-in shower and bathroom.

This, we have not. We camp in all sorts of scenarios. Largely, we’re out in the woods or wilderness at large, where we can poop in grocery bags and then pack them back out. Catholes are an option, but we’ve dug up so many former campers piles of poo in the past that I don’t think any of us should be doing this anymore unless we’re on foot and way back a trail somewhere.

Otherwise, state and national parks typically supply restrooms. RV parks, which we rarely visit, obviously have toilets. But there are unlimited places to shit in this world, from grocery stores to Starbucks, Target to city parks. We don’t shower every day, or even every other day, or even…you get the picture. But state park stays or a single night at an RV park are options for making showers happen, among other typically more expensive or time consuming affairs.

Bathrooms are, for sure, the most difficult aspect of vanlife. Still, everything in this world is a trade off and it’s an easy trade in my book.

And those are the basics of our family’s life in a Sportsmobile.

If it were easier to keep our VW Bus running, I’d probably keep us living in that, but as to a combination of comfort, reliability and style, I am particularly pleased with our SMB life.

At the same time, selecting an RV park is also one of the most intimidating tasks you’ll have to go through this summer, as the selection can easily make or break your hard-earned summer vacation this year.

In that regard, although it could be tempting to choose the first park you come across, it is always a good idea to do a little research. You may make sure that your travels surpass your expectations by taking the time to choose the most attractive location.

The right camping tools can make a fantastic RV trip even better. On the other hand, if you somehow end up at a subpar campsite, it will undoubtedly make your time there more challenging, inconvenient, or downright unpleasant.

Here are some ideas to help guide you through this decision.

Determine What You Want From The Campsite

Thinking about what you want from the park is the first step when choosing a campsite for this summer. Before deciding where to invest your money, ask yourself some contextual questions about your summer: Do I want a peaceful location that can be a relaxing retreat? Or perhaps I want to make some new friends this summer? Are there any kid-friendly park activities you want to be close to at the campground? Are you considering dry camping, or are you searching for full hookups? Do you require 50 amps of power, or will 30 amps suffice?

This is Boondocking

Guides to getting setup with electric, water, how not to trash the place and a handful of the best places to camp for free.

For instance, if you’re a camper who still likes to be connected to the world, you want to ensure that the campground has the proper hookups and chargers for your phone. Suppose you are an avid camper that likes to fit the natural camping vibe while streaming your trip on social media. In that case, you should check out some cool wooden phone accessories, such as these iPhone 12 wooden cases from Carved that will fit perfectly in your summer surrounding.

Finding the ideal location to park your vehicle is a lot simpler after you’ve determined what you’re searching for. If you take the time to consider precisely what you’re searching for during your stay, it’s simple to avoid being disappointed with your destination.

Be Aware Of Your Limitations

Pay attention to the size of the campgrounds and your vehicle’s dimensions. You might discover the ideal campsite on paper, but if your vehicle is too long for it, you risk being let down when you arrive at the campground and try to park there.

Make sure the site you’re considering is broad enough to accommodate your slide-outs if you have any. Find out if you need a pull-through space or if you can fit into a back-in spot if you have a longer or newer RV.

If you are too tall for that specific site, be aware of any low-hanging tree branches or other objects that could harm the top of your rig. Also, many campgrounds and RV parks will typically list any restrictions for particular campsites online, so check them before traveling.

Do Some Research With The Help Of Google Earth

Maps of the lots and site amenities are typically available on the websites of campgrounds and RV parks, so it’s best to take some time to study the map, then choose a few locations that seem to fit your needs. Be sure to check the length and hookup limits.

See if you can view the campground on Google Earth or locate images of the campsites elsewhere if it doesn’t offer an online map. Also, keep an eye out for recommendations or warnings on any specific areas. Popular RV and camping forums may also contain helpful information and photographs from other campers who have camped there.

Make A Call To The Campground

Calling the RV park is one of the easiest things to do when selecting a campsite. The staff members are typically quite accommodating and happy to help with any questions you may have about specific sites. Additionally, they can make suggestions based on your length and rig style.

Sometimes places that don’t seem like much on a map are great in person, and the phone rep can help you choose the best one. Similarly, they can help steer you clear of selecting what may seem like a beautiful campsite, but which simply won’t work for your needs.

The information you get from the person who works and likely lives at the campground is the most valuable portion of the conversation, but they can’t help you if you don’t let them know what you’re looking for at your campsite.

Book As Far Ahead As Possible

Last but not least, make sure to make a reservation at the same time the salesperson is on the phone advising you about their top spots. Nothing is worse than painstakingly selecting the ideal campground for your RV only to learn that it is already reserved.

If you’re the type of person who likes to fly by the seat of their pants, this can get a little problematic, but if you know when you’ll be at an RV park or campsite, call or book online as soon as possible. By making a reservation in advance, you can avoid settling for a less desired location at the last minute or, worse yet, having to find a new place. RV parks, and camping in general, have become very popular in the last decade or so and — unfortunate as it may be — reservations are often required to even think about getting into a place.

Final Thoughts

You should be able to choose a suitable campsite using these suggestions to make the outdoors feel like home this summer. Keep in mind to always heed the warnings of the neighborhood wildlife experts and park guards. So, get outside and enjoy yourselves!

Being wider and longer than our car, it requires more concentration. That cloudy morning we were driving from Portland to Eugene. Traffic was light so my guard wasn’t high. About two hundred yards ahead an older SUV with a trailer was pulled off on the shoulder and two people were tying a tarp onto the trailer. As a precaution I looked to move into the left lane. There was a huge truck hauling a load of cars passing me. I calculated he’d still be there when I reached the SUV. My intensity level heightened since I needed to thread the needle between the truck and SUV, getting as close to the truck as safely possible. But there was plenty of room.

I clutched the wheel, focusing on the road ahead while my peripheral vision witnessed a nightmare unfolding in slow motion. A woman who had been standing on a bumper fell backwards and momentum slid her onto the freeway in front of us. Her companion grabbed her jacket and pulled her out of the way just before we rambled by with no way to alter course.

Colleen, my wife, hyperventilated for the next five minutes while I kept replaying in my mind what little I could see of the dark surreal figures. A friend later commented that these events could have ended her life and ruined ours.

The day before the trip I cleaned Riggy. I vacuumed and scrubbed the stovetop among other things. Then I opened the propane line to get the cooling going in the fridge. That evening we were packing the kitchen for the trip and met with the strong smell of propane. It was 5:30 pm Saturday evening with plans to leave Sunday morning. Suddenly the whole trip was in jeopardy. My best guess was a hole in the propane tank, which is underneath the derriere of Riggy. How could I find someone to help?

Our trip in question, I desperately called some mobile RV mechanics hoping that one would make a late house call. None would come but two of them offered sound advice. The first suggested turning off the propane. We wouldn’t have a fridge but we could find a propane shop in Eugene where we were planning to stay with friends for a few days and it would be during the workweek. Trip saved!

The second one asked if the knob on the cook stove could possibly be open. Having scrubbed the stove the day before I immediately knew he found the problem. Sure enough it was open and this solution was better than any of what I considered to be best case scenarios. I closed the cooktop knob and opened all doors and windows with a fan on full blast. The trip was a go and I felt very lucky and appreciative.

We weren’t even two days into what became a fifty-two day trip and we felt pretty ragged as we rolled into Eugene. We slept twenty nights in Riggy and thirty-two in friends’ houses and Airbnbs. I slept better in Riggy than at home. We went almost four thousand miles on two hundred and eighty-three gallons of gas averaging 13.8 miles per gallon.

Our next to last day of the trip was at The Bowl and Pitcher Campground in Riverside State Park in Spokane. An elderly gentleman was the camp host. He had unusually large hearing aids in each ear and was adept at maximizing their benefit by tapping them so that he heard everything I said. Making conversation, I asked him where his home was. He responded, “I live right here.” He then answered my puzzled look.

“I live full time in this RV.”

“Where has your favorite place been?” I asked.

“Right here!” he responded.

“This campground?” I asked.

“No, wherever I am is my favorite place. There is beauty everywhere and I do my best to see it.”

I walked away feeling like I’d met the Buddha. And later when I was walking by his campsite I saw his wife slowly ambling next to their camper with a walker, which put an exclamation mark on his profundity.

Home to Colleen and myself is a four thousand square foot home we designed and built in 1993 on an acre and a half horse pasture. Much of this is now a pond and well cared for garden that has many facets ranging from wild to well maintained.

Home on the road is approximately one hundred square feet with a comfortable bed nestled in the back that by day has a fair amount of stuff on top of it to create space elsewhere because our planning and packing needs some work. By night all the stuff moves to the front two seats. In two minutes it’s transformed from storage space to bed and vice versa in the morning.

We have a two burner cook stove with a fan and light above. There is a microwave and convection oven that only works when we turn on the loud generator – which we rarely do. There is a fridge and freezer that are about four feet high and a foot deep. We took out one of the two back seats and put in a cabinet that has a shoe storage area below and a platform on top for a Yeti cooler that we call Yeta. She stores food that we want to keep cool but is bulky such as bread and vegetables. We rotate hard blue ice between the freezer and Yeta every two or three days – works great!

Complete and Easy Guide to Getting Setup With Solar

Forget figuring out every last amp and detail, we'll show you the things most vanlifers need to live full-time in their rides, the equipment and costs you'll need to put into the system, and how to hook it up all by yourself.

There are solar panels that charge the battery system during the day (as does driving.) We have a pantry and clothes closet as well as a water closet, which is a door that opens to a toilet. There is a sink with hot water and a pull out spice rack. We have a furnace and a heat pump with both heat and air conditioning that requires the generator. The fridge, hot water heater and furnace all run on propane and battery. The ten-gallon propane tank will last for a month of use. There are also outside “belly bins” that have a lot of storage capacity.

There’s a hose to empty the dirty water and sewer tanks and a different hose for filling the water tank. And as a special bonus – an outside shower with hot water. There is also a heavy-duty extension cord for plugging Riggy into electricity, which we rarely use. The large storage areas under the bed hold lots of clothes and many gallons of filtered drinking water as well as small propane tanks for our camping cook stove that we use on campground tables under a dignified tablecloth. We have an outside rug, folding chairs and small table that we can set up in a minute to make anywhere a comfortable breakfast, lunch or dinner spot. How they crammed all of this into a van that is twenty-two feet long, eight feet six inches high and seven feet four inches wide is an amazing technological feat!

In many campsites we have the smallest RV, yet I’d guess we often have the largest home. You might wonder if this downsizing might challenge our relationship. Truth is we seem to get along better in Riggy than at home, working tandem to make this tiny home an art form. After all our first “date” was a several month road trip from Washington state that was supposed to have a New Jersey terminus but ended up in Mazatlán, Mexico.

Traveling in Search of the Real Mexico

A couple exploring Mexico by VW Bus.

The high temp of this trip was 98 degrees and the low point 22 degrees. We used the air conditioning for the first time in the former and found out that the furnace works on battery in the latter. And we surprisingly found it easier to stay in Riggy than move our stuff inside for just a day or even two when staying with friends.

We got to Eugene frazzled by our lucky non-encounter minutes before and feeling fortunate to not have to fix the propane system. We were also pretty disjointed packing Riggy for the trip. As usual we spent most of our time preparing our home for the two month trip.

A different compartment of my brain needs to be opened and cobwebs dusted to get in Riggy mode. One night at a good friend’s home in Portland and four nights at our close friends’ home in Eugene let us start focusing on the trip. We repacked and stashed California clothes below. We had brought all we needed and then some.

In the two years we’ve had Riggy we’ve slept in her sixty-one days. Clothes are the biggest waste of space and on this trip I probably used about half of what I brought.

The first two summers had a big learning curve figuring out all the systems. Colleen does an amazing job of stocking the pantry and fridge. I’m in charge of mechanical things. Every trip we learn new things.

Phil in Eugene helped me fine tune the living space and cut a floor mat to size. We left Eugene rested, focused and ready for the unknown.

Now back home, friends ask if it’s great to re-enter our luxurious home and gardens. The first night I diligently went to put all 1205 trip photos onto my desktop computer and only half of them copied no matter how creative I got trying to do end-runs around the system. I looked out to the garden and saw a jungle of weeds. Colleen saw garden pots full of dead remains of last year’s plants. Is it possible that it takes more than things to make us happy?

We met a woman about our age at a hot springs in Bishop, CA on our first day heading north. She’s an artist that lost her home and everything in it to a wildfire in Talent, Oregon.

She has shape-shifted her life to a much larger campervan than ours and is nine months on the road, looking for a more permanent place to call home. We gave her an idea for the title of her memoir: Fire Walk: My Forced Reinvention.

A couple at that same campground had recently retired and bought a beautiful newish used trailer. He had a heart condition and they decided it made more sense to live a more expansive life than to accumulate more money.

Riggy is old enough that we had to send a picture of her before they let us stay at an RV hot springs resort in Desert Hot Springs, CA. We passed the test. It was an exceptionally well kept facility that also had many manufactured homes for permanent or part-time residents. I spoke to a few residents who said they were priced out of places on the coast and escaped to a cheaper and easier lifestyle. There was a sense of resentment about a lifestyle they didn’t realize they were holding onto by a thread – severed by conditions beyond their control.

A woman who lives there half time said she’s in a women’s book group and a hiking group that meet regularly and help her fill the void of her husband’s passing.

A friend that we visited along the way talked about how the “coastal elite” are out of touch with so many people that he’s met in inland bars. He describes them as angry. I know that I live in a bubble isolated from the have-nots. They are never far away. We all see plenty of them living in cars and RVs in highway rest areas, downtowns, under bridges and in parks and other places. I could rant all day about how exorbitant corporate profits could pay for Medicare for all and programs to expand the middle class and shrink the lower class. But I’m guilty also.

We parked our very well maintained but older camper on a tree lined street in a well-to-do South Pasadena neighborhood while we stayed for two weeks in an Airbnb in what had been the garage of a home. When we bought Riggy our philosophy was to spend little enough that we would never feel guilty to pay for a hotel or Airbnb.

One day Colleen was getting something from Riggy in South Pasadena and made a comment to someone who was passing by. She said the woman looked her over as if deciding if she was a homeless person invading the neighborhood. There is a fine line between worlds.

That phase of our trip included the great joy of picking up our five year old grandson Rowan at his school and walking him home and doing the same with his ten year old brother Theo. We got to hang out in their beautiful home and gardens which often included back yard dinners.

Riggy is kinda old. At 17, she’d be about 95 human years if she were a dog. I’ve decided to shape-shift this phenomena and label her vintage. She’s not a hybrid but her name is. She was named after the term rig that was a common name for vehicles when we lived in Idaho. But she’s also named after Riggins, a character in the TV series Friday Night Lights. Both of these references are male but she feels like a she so we call her that instead of they. Her formal name is Rigalberta Van De Kamp. But ninety-five percent of the time she’s Riggins or Riggy.

In summer, I mostly sleep outside our bedroom on an upstairs deck when we’re home. But when we go camping I sleep inside in Riggins. Something seems backwards about this.

Most of the people we met in, largely, state parks and two different lavender farms (via Harvest Host) were in many ways like us. They were mostly retired or close to it. They bought older campers or trailers or other contraptions that I still don’t know what to call, as homes away from home. They were mostly “deals” in good shape. Covid avoidance certainly played into many of their stories. But a common thread was not wanting to sleep on the ground and deal with tents as well as having a private bathroom.

Showering & Bathrooms

Where to find hot, clean showers and how to relieve yourself for those travelers who have no built-in shower and bathroom.

We went to a concert the other night and heard a couple acoustic musicians at the unlikely spot of a dog park/taproom. The musicians had a Tom Waits type sound and we bought their CD. It has a graphic of a Check Engine light (like on your dashboard) and next to it a quote: It’s probably nothing. Well…we had that light come on driving around LA and I hoped it was nothing. But it wasn’t. The maze of what to do was transformed by the mechanic both of our sons have used. He said to bring Riggy in at 8am (meaning driving her during morning rush hour on a freeway). Paul was amazing and quickly took care of Riggy. He also gave us an education about the Armenian genocide last century and showed us pictures of his family trip to Europe. A worker took me under the lift and showed me Riggins’ underbelly. He explained what everything was as I took pictures. That alone was worth the price of the repair.

Driving Riggy in LA was a lot easier than I expected. In fact it was easier than driving our daughter-in-law Shannon’s Prius that she nicely lent us whenever we wanted. It must be the out of state license and my slow driving demeanor which caused people to not expect much from us. We were a tortoise amongst hares that surprisingly seemed to appreciate our diversity. The Prius was a completely different experience with tailgating and honking aplenty (geese?)

In Joshua Tree, Colleen opened our bathroom door and it fell apart, which made the bathroom unusable. I asked a guy in a parking lot to help me jerry rig it together, which he nicely did. But next time we used it, it fell apart again. Colleen pointed out a great spot in a campground to park while we used a public restroom. Exactly where she pointed and where I pulled over was a six foot rattlesnake – slithering along the ground. I gave him a chance to move on before getting out. We asked a nearby guy in a campervan to help with the door – which he not only did but searched high and wide in his camper full of boxes of tools for the right ones to fix it. But he couldn’t find them. However he gave me the insight of exactly what needed to be done. Problem was, it was getting on nightfall and the next morning we were heading to one of the most remote spots on our trip – Anza-Borrego State Park.

Our son Devan had a nearby friend so we asked him to ask her about a handyman. Lo and behold the amazing Larry came by at 6:30am and spent well over and hour gluing and nailing it back together. He also told us tales of growing up and catching rattlesnakes as a ten year old, milking them and selling the venom to the hospital for anti-venom. He said he hadn’t been scared of them at all back then but now is. He gave us insider intel about coexisting with rattlers.

We had a most beautiful campsite in Anza-Borrego State Park which featured unobstructed views over the expansive desert to faraway mountains from our outside dining room. We originally were scheduled to have a bathroom view campsite but I went back to the check-in kiosk where the super nice ranger upped our experience. We were treated to coyotes, rabbits, geckos, another rattler and many bighorn sheep while there. We also experienced 98 degree temperatures and used our air conditioner for the first time – relieved that it worked. But we opened our doors and windows to the refreshing night air when we slept. We also used our outdoor shower for the first time, in our bathing suits. And we luxuriated in a walking distance hotel that let us use their pools for a small fee.

We drove north through the boonies of Eastern CA and into Nevada and then CA again before hitting Eastern Oregon where we hit 22 degrees at a hot springs. There we found that our camper had a furnace that works without being plugged into power which we oddly had never tried before. We only needed it for a half hour before bed and an hour when we woke up. One of my favorite photos of the trip is me in sandals and bathing suit and down vest heading to the hot pools in 28 degrees.

Our Eugene friends met us at that hot springs with their luxury camper van. We had an agenda to brainstorm strategy on some land they may sell in a tiny town in Arizona. Our only neighbors were unbelievably both from our hometown and had landed in that same Arizona town. They gave our friends intel about a winery that may be coming there…which could have a huge impact on everything.

A couple days earlier we had gotten to a state park campground in Nevada near dark. It was full. We asked a guy walking his dog for any suggestions. He told us that if the campground is full you can stay in any open disabled spot for one night…which we thankfully found. We were treated to an incredible sunset. A neighbor gave me a tour of his tricked out custom interior Sprinter van (and some coffee) the next morning. He had rolled and totaled it in Mexico prior to the remodel. He was a healer who says he got someone walking that had been in a wheelchair in trade with that guy’s brother who did the work on his van labor free. He paid for materials.

Our next campground, just over the Oregon border, had a tent camper on a big motorcycle who lived in North Idaho near where we used to live. His biggest concern seemed to be not having creamer for his coffee but space was tight. He was originally from Philly like me and had great stories about his Methodist turned Quaker strong minded dad. When he left he wasn’t sure if he was going west to Klamath Falls or north. His plan was to go to the crossroads and let his bike decide…and off he went in a cloud of smoke.

Back when we were on the coast of CA, Devan was with us when we checked into El Capitan State Park. We had a nice enough campsite but he did some magic on his iPhone and presto-chango we had an amazing ocean view spot for three nights. One night he and his girlfriend Miya drove out from nearby Santa Barbara with a stupendous homemade meal for all of us.

The couple next door were taking their two small daughters on their first ever camping trip. The girls had small chairs that they kept edging towards our campsite. We took the bait and chatted a lot with them. Turns out the parents were in the process of having a Sprinter van customized into a camper so we gave them a tour of ours and likely gave them ideas. Those little girls will expect camping neighbors to always be that friendly and will probably create that scenario.

Before El Capitan, our other son Jerome and his wife Shannon treated all of us to a beautiful Airbnb with a hot tub and pool for a week in the idyllic wine country near Solvang. Shannon noticed that anything missing in the house could be found in Riggy, so she called her “the everything machine.” And what better way to use a home away from home than to visit your kids no longer in your home? It was a special bonus getting reacquainted with the grandkids that are different every time we see them.

Towards the end of our trip we stayed in Walla Walla with friends that we hadn’t seen in sixteen years. We went for a nostalgic tour of Whitman College from which both our sons had graduated. I was absorbed in some flowers next to a parking lot. So absorbed that I forgot about the concrete parking bumper behind me and tripped over it and fell onto the same hip I had broken in a similar fall exactly a year before. I lay on the ground knowing that I might get up and not be able to bear weight which would mean another break and another ruined summer. Or I could be lucky. I gathered my courage and stood up. The universe was kind. I was able to walk. Who knows how much harder the fall needed to be to cause another break. I live in thanks and will try to be more careful.

Lessons from the road were abundant. The basic theme is similar to what I consider my life directive: Set goals but keep your peripheral vision. Some of the best experiences related to creative problem solving as well as an abundance of good luck. I once saw a bumper sticker that said, “Jump and the net will appear.” Buying Riggy and the learning curve that came with her had some elements of that quote.

I feel that it’s good to get out of my comfort zone periodically to help me not get too stuck in the mud and also to look around at what’s going on in other places. I saw a lot of people like us trying to make the best of life while staying away from crowds. But I also saw a dark underbelly and hope to not sweep that under the rug. I also know that the two-hundred and eighty three gallons of gas we burned has consequences in these days of climate change.

My advice…listen to your inner fire that is always burning like the core of the earth.

* This essay has approximately one word for each trip mile.

That is what happened with me. Several years before the pandemic, I wanted to transition into a tiny house. Not because of cost, I own a lovely home and thoroughly enjoy my lovely gardens. I just want to simplify my life; I no longer need all the sssstuff I have accumulated over the years. Nor do I have anyone to pass it on to.

I researched the tiny house movement (small houses between 65 and 887 square feet, which can also be on wheels for mobility) and that kind of lifestyle resonated with me. After retirement, I would reassess this and find beachfront property to place or build my tiny house.

Two years later a friend was planning to visit former co-workers who reside in Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island (PEI) in Canada; we live in Ontario, Canada. I invited myself to go on this journey. Then the pandemic hit. The borders were still open at that time. I realized traveling in an RV would be both comfortable and dependable.

My experience with RVs stemmed from traveling to Florida with my family as a kid. In 1972, my parents purchased a truck camper that went on top of our pickup truck. Back then, you could ride in the back of the camper while driving. And of course, there were no seatbelts.

My brother and I thoroughly enjoyed fighting and playing on the queen size bed located over the cab, while our parents navigated their way to our destinations.

Aside from seeing Disney World, we travelled to numerous locations throughout Ontario like Manitoulin Island, the Thousand Islands and Sudbury to see the Big Nickel. However, we never ventured to other provinces. I used to be on the look out for the yellow KOA signs. I liked sweeping out our tiny cottage on wheels when we went camping. Even disassembling the table to make the bed was not considered a chore. I am sure my mother, who made most of our meals did not feel the same way. We thoroughly enjoyed our vacations with our camper trailer.

There are several types of recreational vehicles and numerous manufactures. Towable recreational vehicles include fifth wheels, travel trailers, truck campers, pop-up campers, tear drops and toy haulers.

Motorized RVs include Class A motorhomes, bus conversions, Class B motorhomes (also known as conversion vans), camper vans; and Class C motorhomes.

I explored the tear drop first, as it was small enough for my SUV to tow. Although cute, I was not keen that the kitchen was outside. Residing in Canada, inclement weather can occur not only in the winter. Furthermore, I was not crazy about having to tow a trailer. I do not have a good sense of perception, not to mention a poor sense of direction, so I do not enjoy backing up my SUV let alone a trailer that will go one way while my vehicle goes another.

Another reason I do not care for the tear drop was there was no bathroom. Despite watching numerous YouTube videos on van and RV living stating bathrooms are overrated, I strongly disagree. I need and want this luxury item. My backcountry camping expedition in Algonquin Provincial Park in August only confirmed this. (That is another story.)

I found that a Class B recreational motorhome would be my best option. Class B RVs are the size of vans ranging from 17 feet to 24 feet and 9 to 12 feet tall, are equipped with all the amenities of other motorhomes with sleeping arrangements, kitchen, and a bathroom.

What I like most about the Class B motorhome is its size. It is easier to park in small spaces at campgrounds, can be used as daily commuter for exploring, trips into town, and ferry costs may be lower than for the larger rigs. However, the most advantageous point for me is not having to tow and back up a trailer.

Furthermore, once parked, one just needs to turn around and you are already in your unit instead of having to exit the vehicle to gain access to your travel trailer. Not fun especially during inclement weather. I also love that to use the bathroom, nothing has to be inflated. Nor do you have to open a slider. Just open the bathroom door and voila, you’re in business to do your business.

These types of RVs are great for one or two people but can also be suited for small families. Seating ranges from five to eight people and can sleep from three to six people. The pricing of Class B motorhomes is widely varied. Some can be inexpensive while other models can cost as much as a Class A motorhome between $85,000 and $150,000. But their resale value is better than most of the other RVs. Also, Class B vans are the safest RVs due to their stability control.

It did not take long to realize that a Class B RV could be my tiny home on wheels. I could travel throughout my beautiful country of Canada to explore all ten provinces and three territories. However, with all borders closed, the trip to Newfoundland and Labrador was cancelled.

Unfortunately, due to the pandemic, RV shows were also cancelled. I was most looking forward in checking out the various rigs at the Toronto RV Show in January 2021 and one in Kitchener in March. I would employ the various new skills and techniques I had learned to evaluate an RV. Like bringing a mirror along to check what is hidden inside a cabinet.

There is a debate on whether to purchase a used or new RV. Research suggests that buying a used RV especially during the first two years is a better option. And it was highly noted that it was essential to rent an RV prior to purchasing one.

A year later, I decided to take my retirement earlier than expected, and left work at the end of March 2021. I wanted to spend more time with my father, then residing in a nursing home. Traveling to other provinces was not an option but Ontario is a huge province. I decided to invite myself to visit a friend who resides in Sudbury, Ontario — a five-hour road trip — and to rent an RV to test the waters.

In finding RV renting sites, there are two major ones in Canada: Outdoorsy and RVezy who also state that one can rent out RVs on Airbnb. Who knew? Fortunately, I found a trailer site that rented motorized RVs in Toronto, a two-hour drive. Since Class B RVs are hard to rent, I was going to book a Class C. Research indicates that renting RVs is vital before purchasing one as well as trying several types of rigs.

Since my goal was to live in an RV, I thought trying a bigger model would allow me to make a comparison. I informed the person that I just wanted to drive the rig to get experience not use it for camping. Nevertheless, I was going to be charged the same price, which was expensive. However, doing a Google search on this company, I became leery of the negative reviews and cancelled my request. Luckily, I happened upon another site a few days before my trip, where I was offered an exceptionally good deal close to where I lived, and so booked a Class C RV.

On a beautiful warm day in June, I drove to Kitchener, Ontario to pick up my rental. I arrived early to find a beast of a rig.

A 2016 Forest River Sunseeker Class C RV, at 24-foot, seemed very intimidating, and I wondered what I had gotten myself into. The owner of the rental reassured me that a Class C was no different than driving a large van. He accompanied me to get gas for the RV. I did feel comfortable driving to the gas station which was not far but noticed he backed the rig up to the pump, and to put in more propane. (Hindsight, I probably should not have filled the propane tank since I would not be using it hence, more weight.) After providing me with some tips, like ensuring there is sufficient room at a gas station to fill and being cognitive of the height, I was on my way home.

Despite being late, I decided to drop by a friend’s place to show off my beastly rental. My friend Marg was impressed and could not believe the size. Thank goodness she did share her worry of me managing this large RV. Since it was late when I arrived home, I just threw everything in the back of the unit as if I were going on a trip. The following morning, I left early to make my journey to Sudbury. By the time I reached the highway, I felt there was a lot of sway that I had not noticed the evening before.

As a result, I became anxious and stayed in the slow lane and kept the speed less than one hundred kilometers per hour. On the 400 series highway, one might be able to maintain such speed with three and four lanes of traffic. However, the road eventually petered out to only one lane. My anxiousness increased. With the threat of rain, I never stopped to eat and kept driving to reach my destination.

To my great dismay, the run-off lanes, a second lane to pass slow drivers like myself, were all blocked due to construction. Again, my anxiousness increased. I stopped at a bridge to allow traffic to pass in the other direction. The RV swayed a great deal even when small vehicles passed. I had hoped people seeing this would understand why I had to drive so slowly.

Seven hours later I finally reached my destination. I was exhausted, tensed and vigorously hugged my friends, glad that I had finally arrived in one piece. The seven-hour journey should have taken five hours. Traumatized by my experience, over the four days of my visit, I did not even sleep in the RV.

However, time spent with great company, being pampered, and enjoying the beautiful scenery, which I fell in love with, I totally de-stressed. Watching a tranquil lake with a pair of beavers swimming to one shoreline in the morning and then returning at the end of the day will do that. I was transfixed with the peace, quiet and close to nature that my friends’ waterfront property on a gorgeous lake provided. This is the lifestyle I love and could imagine myself living.

After three days of this bliss, I was ready to embark on my journey back home. I decided to take the back roads, which in RV lingo are called “blue highways.” Aside from getting lost in Guelph, my journey home was uneventful and much less stressful. I was so ecstatic when I arrived at the rental site, I almost kissed the ground.

I decided then and there that living in an RV may not be for me. I am not a fan of driving the 400-series highways; I have no sense of direction; and never want to experience the sway of a rig ever again. Being enthralled with the landscape I visited however, my plan to get a tiny home on beachfront become prominent.

Nevertheless, a year later, my quest to find and purchase a Class B RV has been fulfilled. Someone in my neighborhood recently asked if I was interested in purchasing his 2004 Roadtrek Popular 170 Anniversary Edition before he listed it on Autotrader. I jumped on this opportunity; one I could not walk away from with a 17-foot rig. I can not believe my lucky stars.

Despite my friend and I flying to Halifax and PEI in July, I might consider traveling to Newfoundland in my new RV in August. Who knows, maybe traveling throughout Canada, I might love being in an RV and could reconsider transitioning into the RV lifestyle.

Elon Musk’s robot-like tweet was a bit vague back in March of 2022, when he first posted it to the social media site he was also looking to purchase. At the time, Starlink wasn’t officially intended to be moved from the “service location” you initially set with the company. It was absolutely easy enough to do, though, given how portable the Starlink dish — aptly named “Dishy” — can be.

We’ve personally had Starlink’s service for several months now, primarily using it in wooded, mountainous terrain. This means that the app almost always reports some amount of obstruction — trees tend to do that. We’ve experienced speeds ranging between 4Mbps upload to 80, and have truthfully never had a fully unobstructed view. This also means that, occasionally, Starlink cuts out and you have no Internet access at all for 10 – 30 seconds. Not typically an issue for streaming — unless this happens right at the beginning of the show, you’ll likely have downloaded enough of it to make it through this downtime — but for live events or Zoom calls, it definitely results in some issues.

About Starlink for RVers

Despite Elon’s previously mentioned tweet — which also mentions being able to power Starlink from a car “cigarette lighter” — Starlink specifically states that the service isn’t intended for use while moving, something that is absolutely possible when using your cell phone’s mobile hotspot. We’ll get into comparing those different means of staying connected later, but in general this is just a note.

The service is available in much of Europe, New Zealand, Southern Australia and in limited areas in South America. As we’re largely a North American-based publication, the great news is that almost all of North America is covered, including Canada, Mexico and Puerto Rico. As to the United States, Hawaii and Alaska are scheduled to receive service near the end of 2022 and beginning of 2023, respectively. For the Contiguous US, the service is marked as “Available Now” for most of the places you’d want it, i.e. those large swaths of land out west, away from population zones.

Starlink’s map currently marks denser parks of the Pacific Coast and a bunch of the Southeast, Midwest and Northeast as “Waitlist,” which just means that while the service works, it may be slower during peak usage hours.

But those regions all tend to have great cell coverage, anyway, so Starlink kicks in best when you’re out boondocking on BLM land in Nevada, far from any cell phone towers. This is going to open these types of camping locations up dramatically to campers of all shapes and sizes. If you’ve been paying attention, camping has become more and more crowded, and now that weekenders can keep up with their Instagram and digital nomads can work from spots previously cut off from service, I suspect that one effect of this is going to be to help us spread out more.

That, or simply increase the number of RVers camping in general. Time will tell.

Another interesting aspect of the official “Starlink for RVers” is that users of this service are always “deprioritized.” Using Starlink’s residential service, you get the full speed of the constellation of satellites serving your area. Hit the road, and find yourself in a busy location, and you get pushed to the back of the line. So far, it doesn’t seem that many people are being deprioritized, though this may change if additional customers sign up more quickly than Elon can shoot new satellites into space.

Finally, you aren’t supposed to use Starlink while you’re actually in motion, and doing so may even — according to Starlink themselves — get your service cancelled. So if you permanently connect Dishy to the top of your RV, and then pack up to roll on down the road but forget to turn off your modem…and your phone starts downloading all of your favorite podcasts…you may be in trouble. We haven’t seen any reports of this actually happening yet.

What Does Starlink for RVs Cost?

If you already have residential service, you’ll know the monthly cost of Starlink is $110, up from $99 back in March of ’22. You can simply add “portability” to your plan for an additional $25 / month. Or, the RV-specific package costs $135 — so the exact same — but with the RV package, you can pause your service. So if you’ll be in cell phone range for a month or two, you can pause Starlink and save the monthly fee.

There’s also the initial cost. The Starlink dish, cables and router now cost $599. You have 30 days to return them and get a refund. There are no longterm contracts and so you can cancel at any time, but after 30 days you’re out the six hundo for the equipment.

Additional options for mounting are available on the Starlink store, which you can only see if you’re a current customer. Expect to pay another $50 – $100 for mounting and routing gear, though you could also just use the built in ground stand that comes with the dish itself and route the cable through your vehicle. Mounting gear is only necessary if you wish to keep the dish planted atop your rig.

How Does Starlink Compare to Other Satellite Internet Providers?

Firstly, there is no real option for satellite internet access for RVers other than Starlink. The main providers previously were Hughesnet (the worst) and Viasat (considerably better, but still not Starlink.) Neither of these can simply be tacked on to your RV and used like you would use them at home.

That point is now moot though, because Starlink is significantly better than both of them.

Hughesnet has monthly caps, and once you hit them you get bumped down to 3Mbps and you’ll experience even slower speeds during peak hours. Our family of five, streaming video, me working on my computer and listening to podcasts, or just our phones updating and doing their thing, would burn through our 30GB plan in a couple of days. Since there are around 30 days in every month, that means we had like, no Internet at all, and often.

Viasat was a bit faster, a bit more reliable than Hughesnet, and a bit pricier. Here’s a comparison of the highest capacity plans from all three providers.

For this article, though, Starlink is the only truly mobile option.

There technically are other options, but they come with massive upfront equipment costs, like RVDataSat’s offering that requires equipment purchases between $8,000 – $16,000. Yes, that is the correct amount of zeros.

How Does Starlink Compare to Cell Coverage?

The main way full-time RVers get their Internet access these days is via their cell phones, or a mobile hotspot. We cover the best and current options fofr staying connected here, and usually update that every year or so.

Long story short, though, having a cell phone plan that offers as much hotspot data as you can get + a mobile hotspot from another carrier is typically the best way to go. This gives you maximum coverage, even if it’s costly.

For example, Verizon’s current best plan — which includes 50GB of hotspot data — costs $80 / month for a single line, or $95 / month for two lines. In our experience, Verizon’s speeds absolutely compare with Starlink. However, Starlink is still the better option.

Another interesting aspect is that Starlink isn’t available everywhere that cell phones are, at least for “residential” customers. So in the middle of Los Angeles, for example, you can’t get Starlink service at your home. The satellites are still up there, though, so roamers can definitely still use the service — you’re just considered “deprioritized” which means you may experience much slower speeds. In reality, though, so far this isn’t really affecting people from what we’ve seen, though this may change depending on your location and how many people continue to sign up for Starlink in general.

Why Starlink is a Better Value for RVers than Cell Phone Coverage

We won’t get too into the details here, since we discuss this in more detail — and updated more often — in our staying connected article. T-Mobile isn’t a truly valid contender, they just don’t have the coverage, so let’s compare Verizon and AT&T with Starlink.

Of course, a cell phone is arguably much more convenient, and serves a multitude of additional purposes, where Starlink’s Dishy provides a fairly singular function.

So all of this to say that Starlink would really serve as a compliment to cell connectivity, helping to possibly boost your speed in low cell service areas and — most importantly — opening up a whole new world of remote BLM camping.

What Others Say About Starlink for RVers

“My co-workers have noticed a clearer video from me during our calls. This is due to the significant improvement in upload speeds.”

@thisairstreamlife on Instagram

 

“At the risk of sounding dramatic, Starlink might have saved our lives this week.

@thesimpsonsixtravels on Instagram

Videos on Starlink for RVers

Using Starlink Remotely

Literally Using Starlink While in Motion

Starlink Speeds in Congested Areas

It was hard to hold back my emotions when I admired the unreal spectacle of the Fagradalsfjall volcano in Iceland alongside the people who came to the “Land of Fire and Ice” with me. I was thanking the universe for being the leader of adventure travels. Such moments are worth living for.

Exactly – moments. Because although such moments remain in memory forever, leading a group is a daily, arduous effort. You cannot take a day off while on an expedition. You need to be focused all the time, ready for unexpected challenges, solve conflicts between people, and listen to their complaints. You have to be prepared for almost sleepless nights and, at the same time, burst with energy. Working as a travel leader is not a bed of roses.

What is Being a Travel Leader All About?

First, let me explain who, in fact, is a travel leader. Or, more precisely, what does being a travel leader mean in the company I work for.

A travel leader is a person who guides a group of participants during adventurous journeys. But being a leader means much more than being a regular guide. Among many duties, the more essential are:

• Promoting journeys via social media, live webinars, and travel lectures.
• Keeping contact with participants before, during, and after the travel.
• Substantive preparation before departure — i.e., knowledge of the expedition, information about the places visited and interesting facts.
• Facilitating the journey’s schedule, tracking the weather conditions, etc.
• Providing a proactive, positive atmosphere during the journey.
• Collecting opinions and feedbacks from participants after the travel.

As you can see, this position requires a set of soft and hard skills, as well as some specific personal features.

Group Management

Unsurprisingly, group management is essential for a leader’s skill set. I can’t imagine a person in that position without proper knowledge of managing people’s expectations, needs, problems and conflicts. Experience is also essential, but you gain it with time.

You have to know and understand the psychological concept of developing a team known as the FSNP. In short, each group of strangers participating in an event or project is dynamic. People start building relationships in more or less predictable ways, falling under one of four stages – Forming, Storming, Norming, and Performing. As a travel leader, you have to identify at which stage of the group formation process you are. With this knowledge, you can predict potential problems and prevent them.

Emotional Intelligence

Everyone is different. This truism is of particular importance in the work of a travel leader. Before the journey, you never know who you will travel with. People have different expectations about the upcoming adventure. Believe it or not, many of them sign up for travel without reading the details. It’s a bit frustrating when someone with a poor condition chooses a challenging 7-day trip to Lofoten in Norway, where the whole group sleeps in tents and does everyday 20-kilometer hikes.

As a travel leader, you have to deal with people like that. Motivate them and inspire, but also be patient, listen to their complaints and find solutions to make their adventure unforgettable while not slowing down other participants who knew what they signed up for.

Marketing

Before, during and after travel, you have to prove that it’s an exquisite adventure. In our company, we do it mainly through social media profiles. Each leader is a personal brand, and our actions aim to acquire and retain customers.

Curiosity About the World

Curiosity about the world manifests itself in an interest in what we do not know. It requires empathy and a willingness to understand other people, cultures, countries, and value systems. This is what, in my opinion, distinguishes travelers from tourists.

Stress Resistance

As a travel leader, you need to be aware that not everything will always go your way. You often deal with stressful situations on your way, and you are responsible for solving them.

Willingness to Learn

You must be ready to acquire new knowledge. It relates to three spheres: expanding leadership competencies, language skills and knowledge about travel destinations.

Good Shape

Last but not least, you have to be in good shape! Adventure trips are not sitting by the pool and sipping drinks. It’s challenging trekking, kayaking, mountain climbing and many other physical activities.

Lights and Shadows

After this long introduction, I’ll jump to what it’s all about, so the lights and shadows of being a leader of adventurous travels. Let’s start with what’s beautiful about it.

Light: The New, Inspiring Filter Bubble

I will begin with something not obvious.

Probably you know a famous quote by John Donne “Show me your friends, and I’ll show you your future”. The people surrounding you have a tremendous influence on who you are.

The most fantastic value of being a leader of adventurous travels is your new filter bubble. Your colleagues-leaders are not average representatives of the society. They are made of different mettle. As I mentioned before, to become a travel leader, you have to be proactive, full of positive energy, ready for challenges, open-minded, and curious about the world. That’s how they are. And that’s what shapes you.

When I started my journey as a travel leader, I was not aware of that amazing “side effect”. But after some quarterly meetings with my colleagues (we are over 70 in our company), following each other on social media, and getting into true friendships, I realized that it changed me. This new filter bubble winged me up like nothing ever before.

I have noticed amazing progress that I achieve every day in almost every area of my life. I have improved my ability to establish interpersonal relationships, have more energy to act, got rid of procrastination tendencies, regularly play sports and fulfill myself professionally.

Light: You Can Travel the World and Get Paid for It

Ok, that’s pretty evident — the creme de la creme of being the travel leader. You can travel to places you’ve always dreamed of, explore them and get paid for it.

Without becoming a travel leader, it would be more challenging to see the indescribable volcano in Iceland. I don’t know if I would decide to climb the highest mountain in North Africa if I would not get a journey to Morocco. Exploring the magical Azores and Caucas Mountains were probably the most pleasant way of earning money in my life.

It is a light of incredible power. Despite the challenges that arise along this winding road, I always conclude that it was all worth it.

Shadow: It’s a Job. A Challenging Job.

During the trip you lead, you are at work 24 hours a day. And it’s a very intensive job. I would say the most intensive job I’ve ever had. And I even worked in a sawmill once, so I know what I’m talking about.

Whether you are tired, sleepy, or just don’t feel like it, you cannot show it to your participants. You are here for them. For many of them, this journey is a dream come true, for which they saved money and had to take a vacation.

In an ideal world, all participants would be understanding, informed and aware of what awaits them. The problem is that we don’t live in a perfect world. Don’t get me wrong. Most of the participants of my expeditions are nice people. You can even make friends with some of them. But there are also those who are eternally dissatisfied. They create real or imaginary problems, and it’s up to you to solve them.

During each trip that I lead, I give 120%. I sleep five hours a day, manage the budget, follow the weather to plan the next day of the program, contact drivers and subcontractors, maintain a positive relationship with participants and between them and animate their free time.

I must admit that after each such trip, I am terribly tired. I am emotionally and physically drained and need 2-3 days to recover.

Shadow: Bad Things Happen.

Unexpected difficulties happen during each trip. Some of them are relatively easy to deal with — delayed flights, bad weather, an injured participant or a flat tire. The real challenge begins when you face an unexpected, severe and stressful problem. Believe me, they happen more frequently than you think.

At our quarterly travel leaders meetings, we always share our difficult cases. We do this as a warning and to reflect on what to do if such a problem happens again. I will not reveal the sometimes ridiculous and terrifying cases of my friends, but I’ll share one of mine.

While in the capital of Iceland, Reykjavik, I walked around the city with a group. The participants had different paces, so I told the faster ones to go to the next point.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, one of my participants in his forties sat down on the stairs, said he was feeling unwell and passed out. When I saw it, it chilled my heart. His wife screamed in panic. I ran to them and checked if he was breathing. Then I asked two passers-by — Icelanders — to call an ambulance.

The fainted participant regained consciousness but, after a few seconds, passed out again. After five minutes, the ambulance arrived and paramedics took him to the hospital.

In the end, everything turned out well. After a few hours, he was released from the hospital, but no one could say why he passed out twice. The good thing is that the whole situation happened in Reykjavik, the largest city in Iceland. It would be much more stressful if he passed out somewhere remote.

Conclusion

When I consider the shadows and lights of leading adventurous travels, one thing is certain: It is definitely worth it. This is a job unlike any other. Both demanding and exhausting, at the same time endlessly rewarding.

This is not a job for everyone. But if, while reading this article, your heart pounded because you feel that it is for you, then don’t hesitate. The most beautiful adventure of your life awaits you.

If nature is part of what you love about the game, then why not pair it up with camping for the perfect nature-based vacation?

We’ve listed the top golf courses in each state with camping facilities or RV facilities nearby. Whether you’re taking a road trip or spending a few days camping in one spot, we recommend these courses and camping spots!

Alabama: Eagle’s Nest Golf Course

An exciting course with top-of-mountain views and elevation changes that will challenge golfers of every skill level. Camping and RV facilities nearby in Lake Guntersville State Park.

Alaska: Settlers Bay Golf Course

Known as the top 18-hole golf course in Alaska and offering exceptional views, this course is a must-play. Hook your RV up right at the course to never miss any action.

Arizona: Gold Canyon RV & Golf Resort

This 9-hole par-3 course is an oasis in the desert. Watch out for the water hazards and don’t get distracted by the view of the Superstition Mountains! RV hook-ups on site.

Arkansas: The Ridges at Village Creek

27 holes of excellent golf on rolling terrain atop Crowley’s Ridge. Elevation changes make for exciting play! Campsites on-site at the Village Creek State Park.

California: Canyon Creek Golf Course

The atmosphere is chilled at this golf course, but they insist that you wear a shirt! Dramatic elevation changes amidst tree-lined canyons. Fully-serviced pull-through and stay-in RV sites.

Colorado: Walsenburg Golf Course

A quickfire 9-hole public course with a spectacular view of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains and the Spanish Peaks. Park your RV or set up camp at the nearby Pi​​​ñ​on​ Campground in Great Sand Dunes National Park.

Connecticut: Chanticlair Golf Course

Chanticlair is one of the few Connecticut golf courses that’s close-ish to camping grounds! It’s a picturesque course with a level of challenge for every golfer. Waters Edge Family Campground is just 15 minutes away.

Delaware: Rock Manor Golf Course

This lovely public course is a must if you’re in the area. Named Delaware’s best public golf course! Ideal for tent campers, with Brandywine Creek State Park Campsite just 15 minutes away (across the PA border.)

Florida: Sanlan RV & Golf Resort

This stunning course features 27 holes and is in the process of becoming an Audubon Cooperative Sanctuary Golf Course. You can expect amazing scenery and exceptional golf weaving around the landscape. Multiple site types available for camping!

Georgia: Wanee Lake Golf and RV Park

Perfect for outdoor enthusiasts, Wanee Lake offers a straightforward but fun 9-hole golf course, relaxing fishing, tennis, and a pool. All RV pull-throughs have free Wi-Fi and the spot is also pet-friendly!

Hawaii: Volcano Golf and Country Club

If you’ve ever wanted to play golf on the edge of an active volcanic crater, this is your chance! Spectacular scenery awaits… This is definitely one to tick off the bucket list. Stay in a tent at the nearby Nāmakanipaio Campground, 5 minutes away.

Idaho: Yellowstone Golf Resort

An 18-hole course with lovely views of the Grand Teton and Centennial Mountains, gameplay is exciting with a good mix of doglegs, elevation changes, and undulating terrain. The adjoining RV park is peaceful and dog-friendly (although pups aren’t allowed on the course!).

Illinois: Timberlake Club

The main course offers a challenging 9 holes, but there’s an extra 9 if you want a full-length golfing experience. Note that it’s only open to the public on Mondays and Wednesdays! Campgrounds on site.

Indiana: French Lick Resort

An amazing 45-hole experience in the rolling Indiana hills. Choose from four spectacular courses to suit your skill and mood. RV parking and camping 10 minutes away at Painter Creek Campground.

Iowa: Briggs Woods Park

Hugged by trees, this 18-hole course is intimate and more tricky than it appears! They use laser range finders and Tee to Green GPS Yardage Systems. 82 camping sites (RV and tent) offer plenty of choice for your vacation.

Kansas: Lake Shawnee Golf Course

A stunning golf course complemented by amazing views, the par-70 18-hole course plays alongside the lake and offers exciting play for all levels of golfer. Right next door you’ll find Lake Shawnee Campground, with 123 campsites, including 2 handicap-accessible.

Kentucky: Diamond Caverns RV Resort & Golf

A relaxed, out-of-the-way resort-like experience, Diamond Caverns offers a wide variety of sports to partake in, including an 18-hole golf course. 68 full hook-up sites are also present.

Louisiana: Gator Grounds Golf Course

Members of the public are welcome, and you can choose from 9 or 18-hole rounds. Closed on Mondays though! Gator Grounds RV Resort and Water Park is right next door, so you’ll never be bored here!

Maine: Hebron Pines RV and Golf

A short but sweet 9-hole golf course, Hebron Pines is well-kept and has very friendly staff! Complete with pull-through hook-ups and with enough space to host large and small groups.

Maryland: Rocky Gap Golf Course

Tree-lined, mountainous terrain makes this golf course exciting and challenging. With spectacular views of the Appalachian Mountains, you’ll feel serene and peaceful. Hidden Springs Campground is less than 10 minutes away, across the Pennsylvania border.

Massachusetts: George Wright Golf Course

The George Wright Golf Course is a municipal course, providing a great game for golfers of all levels. If you can, visit in autumn to see the full splendor of the trees lining the fairways. Camp in a tent or a cabin at the nearby AMC Ponkapoag Camp.

Michigan: Wild Bluff Golf Course

Located at Bay Mills Resort & Casino, Wild Bluff Golf Course offers 5 sets of tees for all golfers to have a good round, as well as amazing views. The nearby Bay Mills Campground closes in the off-season, but you can also choose to camp or park your RV at Brimley State Park, 5 minutes down the road.

Minnesota: Forest Hills Golf & RV Resort

Play a round on a championship golf course in the middle of wetlands, majestic oak trees, and undulating hills. 5 sets of tees make it exciting for golfers of every skill level, and there’s also mini golf. Full hook-up RV lots available on site.

Mississippi: Kirkwood National Golf Club & Cottages

This is cottage camping but the feeling is the same! The 18-hole championship course can be played from 6 different tees, winding through woodlands, past lakes, and up and down some serious elevation changes.

Missouri: Mozingo Lake Recreation Park

This golf course has everything you could want, with 27 holes of golf, a pristine driving range, and an indoor simulator! You can camp in a tent or bring your RV, whichever suits you!

Montana: Fox Ridge Golf Course

This public golf course features a hazard-laden championship course and an 18-hole par-3 course, so whatever your feeling on the day, it has something to suit you. The nearby Devil’s Elbow Campground is an excellent spot for a bit of camping and the constant views of the Rocky Mountains makes you feel like your worries are far away!

Nebraska: Sandy Meadows Golf Course

Sandy Meadows is fun and affordable. Nothing dramatic – just straightforward golf at its best! Hunker down at Double Nickel Campground nearby.

Nevada: Round Mountain Golf Course

You’ll feel like you’re right in the mountains when playing this course, with magnificent views of the Toiyabe and Toquima Ranges. The longest 9-hole course in Nevada, Round Mountain has 6 tee boxes for all to enjoy their round. Camp at Brooktree Park for easy access.

New Hampshire: Hidden Valley RV & Golf Park

Choose between a narrow 18-holer and a 9-hole par-3 course. Either way, the courses have great layouts and are superbly maintained. You can camp right on site, and you’ll also have access to free hot shower stations and a laundromat.

New Jersey: Shore Gate Golf Club

Regularly named one of the top 20 public golf courses in NJ, this course is well worth the visit. It’s beautifully contoured, challenging, and features exciting undulations that will vex even experienced players. Stay at Ocean View Resort Campground while playing here.

New Mexico: Pendaries Golf

Stay at Pendaries RV Resort and you’ll be right within distance of the Pendaries Golf Club. Try not to be distracted by the view of wildflowers and the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, because you’ll need all your concentration to hit the coin-like greens protected by Ponderosa pines.

New York: Marine Park Golf Course

An 18-hole Championship Course with expansive views, this course is a classic flat-style course with fun and lightly challenging game play.

North Carolina: Olde Beau Resort & Golf Club

Play the gorgeous 18-hole golf course or “the Pup”, a 9-hole par-3 course for a quick play. If you’re in an RV, stay at Olde Beau Luxury Motorcoach Resort for something a little different!

North Dakota: The Links of North Dakota

True links-style golf at its best! Although the course overlooks the beautiful Lake Sakakawea, there’s no water on the course. But you will have to contend with many sand traps and an ever-present wind! They have cabins and RV hook-ups on site.

Ohio: Salt Fork State Park Golf Course

This 18-hole course features undulating fairways, uphill climbs, and spacious greens, complete with the stunning valley scenery of Guernsey County. Do some cabin camping on site or head to the nearby Salt Fork State Park Campground with your RV or tent.

Oklahoma: Roman Nose State Park, Lodge & Golf Course

This interesting course has no water hazards or bunkers, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less challenging! Trees, canyon walls, mesas, and brush grass will trip you up if you don’t pay attention. There are RV and tent camping opportunities at Roman Nose State Park.

Oregon: On-The-River RV Park & Golf Course

Play a full round on the 18-hole course, or a quickfire game on the 6-hole practice course. Good for both beginners and more experienced golfers. They have on-site RV parking within walking distance of the course.

Pennsylvania: Granite Hill Camping Resort

This may be an adventure golf course, but it’s 19 holes of fun and challenge! The views of Lake Lily, elevation challenges, and hazard-ridden contoured greens provide the ideal mix of relaxation and serious golf. RV and cabin accommodation on site.

Rhode Island: Crystal Lake Golf Club

This beautiful course is as traditional as they come, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be a superb round of golf. Stunning views of Crystal Lake make for a nature-filled experience, but check in advance that there isn’t a wedding happening on the 18th green. Spend your evenings at Bowdish Lake Camping Area.

South Carolina: Hickory Knob State Park And Resort

Water always close by, tree-lined fairways, and pristine white bunkers… The natural beauty of this course is only rivaled by the exciting golf. Camping at the state park is right along the water’s edge, either in your RV or in a tent.

South Dakota: Spearfish Canyon Country Club

Practice your short game on this little 9-hole course, with rolling fairways and large but tricky greens. Nestled in the forest, it’s a lovely spot for a getaway. Spearfish Campground is close by, with fishing facilities for something different.

Tennessee: Two Rivers Golf Course

This municipal golf course offers something for everyone. It provides a challenge from the back tees, but even beginners will enjoy the course and the fantastic greens from the front tees! Camp at Two Rivers Campground close by.

Texas: Alsatian RV Resort & Golf Course

Play a round on the 18-hole full course or work on your short game on their putting green. With a country setting and beautiful views, it’s well worth walking the course. Book an RV spot on-site.

Utah: South Mountain Golf Course

There’s nothing quite like the challenge of a mountain golf course, with the accompanying views and wildlife. Curvy fairways and sneaky rough patches require absolute precision. Stay at Mountain Shadows RV Park.

Vermont: Apple Island Golf Course

Apple Island Golf Course on Lake Champlain is a quickfire little 9-hole course. It also includes a driving range, putting green, and resident pro if you need a lesson on anything from grip to swing. RV camping on site.

Virginia: Rock Harbor Golf Course

There are 2 stunning courses to choose from here, loaded with tricky sand traps, water hazards, and boulders that seem to come out of nowhere. They also offer all the practice facilities you could possibly want. Stay at the nearby Candy Hill Campground.

Washington: Sage Hills Golf Club & RV Resort

This is a distinguished and traditional 18-hole course, lined with stately trees and providing four sets of tees for all golfers to enjoy a round. They have an on-site RV park, plus some other fun activities and the 19th Hole Bar & Grill.

West Virginia: Twin Falls Resort State Park

The 18-hole golf course offers great golf but being in a state park, the scenery is just spectacular. Don’t get distracted from your shots! On-site camping is available and the park is packed with other activities as well.

Wisconsin: Cedar Springs Golf Course

The perfect place to spend a golfing weekend! A 9-hole course with lovely scenery and fun gameplay makes for excellent stress relief and offers a feeling of tranquility. There are camping facilities and stay-and-play golf packages available.

Wyoming: Trail Ruts Golf Course

A bit of a hidden gem, this 9-holer will fill that golf craving and maybe even have you coming back for more. It’s fun and laid out in a beautiful setting, with the RV park right on site.