October 21, 2013

           For those following the solar camper, today’s addendum has a complete update. Because you're worth it. The finishing touches (on the original model) took up this entire day but it is done, including the long-awaited daylight test sleep. The fact that I’m now wide awake in the middle of the night attests to the success of that little siesta. The camper can still be transformed into a regular wagon in a few minutes and is (I estimate) three to four times stronger than necessary.

           There is a lot of junk out there that claims to be convenient, and I dispute such claims. Anything you have to set up cannot compare to what I did. I do not like combination tent and campers that require setup. Look at the ads, then stop and imagine the countless things that could go wrong with those rigs. Look at all the moving parts. Here’s one that claims a one-minute setup but requires two men to do so. Imagine them trying this in the rain. Here is a link to the closest camper (shown in photo) to compare to what I built. It weighs six pounds less, but lacks solar panels. It is 6 inches longer, but rated to haul 170 pounds less. And the price tag is $5,000.
           On a related topic, I’ll discuss some of the finances. For clarity, I am using a figure of just $44 per day to calculate the savings from using the camper over renting motels. Yes, I did find decent and safe motels in that price range frequently enough on my two previous out-of-state trips. They were on the outskirts and offered no sense of adventure. In Troy, Alabama, the proprietor claimed to not know where the nearest bar was that hot summer day that I wanted a cold, wet beer.
           I will not provide any cooking facilities, not even to make a spot of tea. I’ve revised my set-off calculation to $44 per day as a conservative figure that does not include lost time finding a motel and packing gear in and out of the door by checkout. Nor do I add any factor to compare the hassle of pitching a tent every day and I have yet to hear of a tent trip that didn’t involve some lost pegs or left behind hard-to-replace pieces. The $44 is strictly the least I would expect to spend on a nothing motel.
           But I found I did not “like” spending the motel money, especially when I decided to stay a few days. In no time, you are spending like crazy “to get your money’s worth”. Sort of, well, I’m settled in, I’m here alone, time to go find some night life. You get started a little later the next day, you eat a bigger breakfast, and you tire sooner. That’s when a camper started to make sense.
           The cost in parts has been around $500. That includes the major components of the trailer, $150 and the panels, $130. It does not include notional labor, the cost of my time. The prototype spanned three months but I could now build another in around 60 hours. So, in about 12 days of camping, I will have broken even using the conservative $44 figure. I can’t and won’t use any other comparison, but if I did, I’d say the camper will save a total of $75 per day which will allow me to enjoy other things.
           That was JZ on the line. I called early and got no answer, but I figured if he was not at home, he’d be in California and I’d wake him up real early. He didn’t take the trip because it was free, a wise move in my books. With family, nothing is ever really, really free. Turns out they wanted him to fly on air miles. That’s the kind of arrangement that can wind up costing you more than a real ticket.
           Did I ever tell you Delta shafted me for 15,000 air miles? I’d had them accumulate for several years in the 90’s when, unbeknownst to me, Delta decided the miles had a deadline. Use ‘em or lose ‘em. I missed the letter or something, but in any case I dislike rules that affect entitlements already in place. Up yours Delta, give the new miles after the changes a shelf life, but leave the existing miles alone. Good policy and correctness should tell you that possessions should be subject only to the regulations in force at the time they were acquired.
           Still reading about early European explorations in the arctic, I am. The sailing ships used to grab an iceberg with their anchors an use it as a battering ram to get through pack ice, or “yce” as it was called then. I always find phonetically spelled English hilarious because I had an uncle who never finished school that wrote letters that way. I learned in the eastern arctic why the Eskimo parkas were different by having a long flap in the front and in the back. Makes sense if you have to sit or kneel on the snow.

ADDENDUM
           The camper is finally dry at least when it is parked. The trick turned out to be rubber based paint over all the caulked seams. Ah, the frustration of learning by experience. I don’t mean as a way of life, but as a companion to book-learnin’. One addition is “rain siphons”. Looking surprisingly like high quality shoelaces, these are strings that hang over the edges to wick the standing water away. The solar panels lie flat and collect a puddle of rain in the corners. The panels are meant to be propped up facing the sun, not an alternative for me. Next trip to Harbor Freight, I’m getting a small tarp which I will cut to size to protect the panels at night or in the rain.
           Another worry remains the storage battery. It is heavy and the only convenient spot for it is ahead of the axle. The tongue weight is already up to 88% of the allowable weight for towing with a car. I can’t really mount it outside without a theft problem. However, read on to learn about a successful test that surprised me.
           By mid-afternoon, the camper is complete as far as it will be for travel. Like all campers, there is never enough ventilation and it is hot inside on summer days. (The thermometer reads 100 degrees but the unit is not designed to be occupied in hot weather.) It is meant for night or cooler weather when a camper is vastly superior to a tent pitched on the cold, damp ground. If you can sleep in a pup tent, you can sleep in this camper.
           I’ve now slept short term twice in the camper, so the question is, what is it really like to sleep in there? The internal fan means no mugginess from breath condensation on the walls. The hum of the fan also shuts out a lot of the outside world, which is nice. I have earplugs if I use the blanket instead of the fan for temp control, but the comfort zone is 66 degrees to 88 degrees, F.
           Reading is easy on the two lights, though only one is used at a time. The regular motorcycle battery has been able to maintain a 12.3 volt charge operating the fan and the light for as long as I’ve tested—which I stress has not yet been overnight. You cannot have enough hooks and min-spring clamps on the inside for keys, small tools, thermometers, and sundry items. The Ibanez [guitar], which guarantees I will never be stranded, fits handily on the left side interior pocket.
           Why is the camper bordering on comfy? The electronics. The canopy is now a maze of cables and wiring. If the motorcycle battery will last a mere 7-1/2 hours, I will use it for now since it has the initial huge advantage of being free. The marine battery is $250. The test results are encouraging and a big told-you-so to those who said I spent too much time on the planning phase. From what I’m seeing, those panels are about to become my best friend on the road.

           Here is a shot of the interior before the finishing touches. Only a few cables are present, but you can see the fan and voltage controller on the extreme right. If I had to do it over again, I’d make the canopy 1-1/2 inches higher, as there is an unexpected reinforcing rib I had to install that just brushes my shoulder when I turn over. However, having learned about flexible design from German WWII tank studies, the camper can easily be modified—but if I was to incur that expense, I would make it expand to 24” higher with automatic lifters. That would involve removing only two bolts.
           Unless I encounter the utterly unexpected, this camper is ready to go. But such a surprise would be unlikely. I’ve got 12,000 miles sidecar experience, statistically more than the next three million Americans combined. The panels provide enough voltage in the daytime for me to consider a box fan instead of the head-and-upper-torso model shown. This will have to await road trials but would make daytime occupancy a definite possibility. Imagine that, pulling over any time for a snooze.