Casita Owners are the Dumbest People in the World

 This past week we spent camping in Bar Harbor, Maine.  I'll blog about that soon, but in the mean time, I'd like to take the opportunity to tell you I am absolutely bereft of any intelligence.  As in plain stupid.  I'll wait for the chorus of "Amen!" to die down.  Applaud if you feel the need.

I realized this, this past week, but reading today about another Casita owner selling their trailer to get a Class C motorhome confirmed it.  You see, it's like this...

When we bought our Casita on June 20, 2007 at 7:59AM, I thought by doing so, I would be saving the world, and protecting the environment for our two very young children because the carbon footprint of this magical trailer was so much smaller than other trailers out there...ah shucks!! I can't keep this up and maintain a straight face at the same time.  Those thoughts never crossed my mind in a million years.

What really happened is that we drank the fiberglass website-induced Kool-Aid, believing that the hype we read about Casita's or Scamp's or Escapes's being a vastly superior trailer was true.  Propaganda.  Misinformation.  I know better now.  How do I know this?

Let's start with the cost.  While reasonable compared to an Airstream, if you compare the cubic foot to that of, say a Jayco, well forget it.  So strike one.  

They must be more economical to tow, right?  Uh, no.  Not unless you are towing with a V-8.  I can say this with the greatest of confidence because I have towed the Casita with 2 V-6 vehicles, and in both cases got between 10 and 13 MPG.  C'mon!  That's almost as bad as a Class A diesel pusher.  As the line in the movie RV goes, "we might as well stay home and set fire to an oil field!".  Strike two.

Fine, I know they will last much longer than the stickies-fiberglass never dies.  Ok, while this sounds good on paper, I have seen a fair number of original Scotty's the past few years that have to be about as old, or older than the earliest fiberglass trailers.  Oh sure, they might not be the rule, but point is, there are other old trailers out there besides fiberglass.  Strike three.

There is no question they require less maintenance being composed of only 2 pieces of fiberglass.  Really?  What about the 7,263 rivet holes drilled through those 2 pieces of fiberglass?  And that was that dripping on my face from a rivet the other night while it was raining outside?  What?  I wasn't supposed to notice that?  Strike four.

Here's an argument that is irrefutable.  The stickies are just too big to maneuver around in some campsites.  Here I must admit, there may be some truth.  However, who is laughing about the size of the trailer when it is 54 degrees outside and the 4 of us are huddled around the picnic table, racing to eat our once warm food which is rapidly turning into a block of ice?  We have tried the indoor thing in the Casita, but within moments it resembles a game of Twister.  It's at that time, when my head is mashed against the window by someone's foot, that I look over at that nice 32' 5th wheel and wonder what it would be like to actually sit in a recliner, reclined, and let the patter of rain lull you into a midsummer's afternoon nap.  Strike five.

I could go on, but I don't need to.  Why?  Because all the strikes against the Casita is what makes us love it so.  To a lot of people, it would make no sense to try and understand why we so willingly want to be considered dumb.  They don't understand that some of the "flaws" are what makes it special.  Go out there and try to find a stickie that will tug at your heartstrings every time you pull into it's campsite.  Yup, it's those esoteric things that make us willing to be so dang dumb.  So sue me.

Who Says Fiberglass is Better? Hmpfff!!

What would spring be if it weren't for the pain and anguish of getting the venerable 'ol Casita out of mothballs and ready for another season of abuse in the cold, rainy state I affectionately refer to as Misery....uh, I mean Maine. And sure, just because our trailer is old and decaying (it's a 2007 after all!), I guess I still thought fiberglass trailers were superior to stickies. I thought that until a few weeks ago. Let me tell you how my mind was changed.

It was one of those rare mornings here in the Great State of Maine, that prefect blend of being awake AND actually wanting to work. Combined with a ray or two of sunshine, and the hamster wheel in my head started spinning. That is never a good thing.

I had noticed previously that the frame of the Casita had a bubble or two of rust here or there which is something completely unacceptable. What this would translate to is that in 40 or 50 years there would be a complete disintegration of the frame which carries our beloved fiberglass egg. Never mind we'd be dead and gone by that time, or too old to care. The thought of rust bubbles eating away was too much to bear.

So I grabbed my drill, one of those abrasive wheel thingys and a piece of cardboard. That, along with Permatex Naval Jelly and a can of Rustoleum brush-on paint and I was good to go. I kissed my wife goodbye, told her it would take an hour tops and started the long journey to the other end of our driveway (maybe 75 feet) to start the process.

When I crawled under the trailer, I realized how foolish I had been to let those hamsters loose in my head. There were bubbles all over the frame instead of here and there. However, realizing how priceless our decrepit trailer was to the family, I took a deep breath and started "grinding" all the evilness away.

This process took slightly less time then it took the Egyptians to create all 3 pyramids, during which the grinder made an intimate acquaintance with my chin and throat while spinning slightly faster that the speed of light. Take my word that skin loses to the brushy bristles hands down. After taking time off to have a half dozen blood transfusions, I finally had all the offending rust removed from the frame. Even though the grinder/brush/bristle thingy took the paint completely off leaving gleaming steel, I still applied the naval jelly, in-between gasps of pain due to the fact that I had been laying under the trailer for literally hours.

After letting that dry in the wind and sun I commenced applying the paint. It was somewhere at this point I starting cursing all the fiberglass elitist's and their argument that fiberglass trailers were superior to stickies due the fact that a lot less maintenance was required. In less polite company, they have a word for that, but since we are a bit erudite, I'll leave it unspoken. All in all I spend over 5 joyless hours (my wife kept sweetly asking "I thought you said it would only take 1 hour, why so long?"). At this point I could barely muster enough strength to grunt, so I let that be my answer.

In a way, it would have been fun to have photos of the process, but maybe it's just as well I didn't take any or have any taken. It would have opened up painful memories that are better left to slowly fade into a slow oblivion.

So I have come to an obvious conclusion; if you want to keep something in good shape, it takes work regardless. Now where is that bag of potato chips?

This Campground Just Plain Confuses Me!

So trying to honor my commitment to blog more this year, I thought that I'd take the time to become perplexed. Not a hard feat to accomplish, but just maybe you can empathize slightly with the paradox that confronts me.

But first, let's go back in time-it's perfectly ok to groan and think "can't he ever make things simple? Does it always have to be the most circuitous way to the point?" Even I think that from time to time, it's just usually after I have already spent multiple hours crafting the most perfectly verbose posting ever, and it just kills me to think of deleting any of it...my how I can drag on!!

So this is the story. We started our camping season in style this year, oh, wait, a little more background before the story unfolds, please bear with me.

Last year, we did ad-hoc camping. It might help if I knew what that was, but since I don't, I'll give the definition I think it should be: "not planning the camping season ahead of time, but rather a few days before the weekend, frantically calling all the good campgrounds in search of availability".

I would usually be pleasantly told "Sorry we're booked solid". Click. I don't think I need to bother you with the disappointment and make-do campgrounds, do I?

So this year, in mid March, I determined to push the envelope and proceeded to list all the places we wanted to camp, and then methodically called them all to reserve. I can't say for certain, but I am starting to think that this could be a little less stressful for me...I know its a revolutionary concept, and might prove too successful. The expectation will now always be there. Oh the pressure!!

Anyway, back to the semi-present. Our first camping trip was Memorial Day Weekend at Saco River Family Camping in North Conway, New Hampshire. The gratuitous disclaimer: we have camped here several times before.

Continuing on to my confusion (because I know that's what you really want anyway)...

The campground itself is a mix of nice and mess, the first conflicting ingredients. How is it that some sites can have well manicured grass while others are a hodge-podge of grass patches, a little sprinkling of gravel and a hefty amount of dirt? The latter being the perfect storm for a bonafide disaster should it rain (which it did). And how is it that we never get the grassy sites?



Add to that the fact that most sites have the obligatory 122 ft long 5th wheels, the huge pickups needed to haul them and because of this, are very close to your site-got the image in mind? And with the huge rigs come the capacity to bring huge amounts of stuff. And they like putting their stuff all over their sites. Now don't get me wrong, we aren't the model of thriftiness when it comes to what we bring either; a pop up tent, grill, bikes, an outdoor stove, clothes line off the back of the Casita, computers, iPads, toasters, collapsable trash cans and the likes. But they have capacity to haul more and they know how to do it!

Did I mention the boom boxes? I think most campers here think that it's a prerequisite to bring a stereo system of some sort, and then play competing music on it-I kid you not. There was a pop station playing in the site next to us, oldies across from us, and the next row over was playing country. Then about 10 trailers down lively celtic music was playing. My wife and I ponder this simple thought: "does everyone think that everyone else wants to listen to THEIR music?" Rhetorical.

So by now, you are wondering what there is to like, right? I know you are thinking "what's confusing? An open and shut discussion! End of story. Boy this guy is thick!" But it's not that easy. Even with the big rigs, the stuff and the unrestrained music, people are still pretty friendly if you are (we are talking New England after all!) and if you don't want to be, they are happy to ignore you. Perfect.

Then there is the campground itself. Apart from a number of dirt sites, the campground has a lot of large, well maintained grassy areas, perfect for exercising a dog or a kid. I do not mean we played fetch with both at the same time, in case that was where you were headed.



Additionally, the campground has, say, almost a half mile (could be a less, didn't measure it) of paved road which is perfect for kids to ride bikes on. Oh, and don't forget nightly tractor rides-a must-as long as it's not me riding!!

The bathrooms are clean, although it appears that the inspiration for the size of the stalls came directly from the oompa loompa's. The showers looked satisfactory as well, however much to our delight, we have never had to use any since we got our Casita. Wait, we didn't camp before-well, that was easy!

They have a nice, heated saltwater pool, that while small for such a large campground, was not overcrowded. It slopes from 1 ft to 7ft in the deep end.



And the reason it's not overcrowded is another big selling point of the campground. It is right on the Saco River. Again, just guessing here, but I wager at least a thousand feet of frontage on the river. You can get inner tubes and walk up to the upper side of the campground and float to the lower side or you can opt to canoe 5 or so miles down the river to the campground. They have canoes you can rent and they will take you to the spot up river where you start from.



And then, to boot, they have Audubon Society trails that start right from the campground. I do not know how long they are because we could not find out; I had to beat down the mosquitos that were trying to airlift my children to their nest or whatever they live in. Yes, they were that bad. The mosquitos, not my kids.

Then, of course, you are in the heart of the White Mountains, within an easy 15 minute drive from the Kancamagus Highway (an incredibly beautiful road through the White Mountain National Forest), and literally a minute away from some pretty dangerous outlet shopping.



So now you are starting to understand why I've scratched nearly all the hair from my head. That's what I like telling myself anyway, takes some of the the sting away from my 7 year old son saying "ah, look at the cute little bald head that my daddy has" when he looks at it. I guess it could be worse-I could actually be bald...back on track, where do these things come from?

On the one hand, the amenities are pretty awesome, on the other hand, the actual camping experience leaves a bit to be desired. We have gone there both this year and in the past because what it offers outweighs the negative-if it must be termed that way.

But for me, it is as clear as "which came first, the chicken or the egg?" I told you it was THAT confusing! Sometimes I hate it and sometimes I love it.