My days of sleeping on the ground are over. With two hip and one knee replacement, two faulty valves, and an ascending aortic aneurism, I’ve made my peace with the concept of accommodation. Also, as an elder woman preparing a journey to include some remote locales, I decided feeling secure is okay.
I wanted to find another fiberglass trailer. I’d had a sweet little 1973 Hunter Compact Jr for several years which was easy to tow and set up by myself. It was comfortable and cozy, came with a built-in three-burner propane cooktop, icebox, and storage. No bathroom. That was fine. Even then, I didn’t want the hassle of grey and black water storage and dumping, having to winterize pipes. My inner hippie traveler loved that Compact Junior. It had everything I needed.
Years later, after I became partners with Peter, the man who’d so recently abandoned me, he found my beloved trailer too small. He’d owned a 30-foot travel trailer with a previous wife which they parked in RV parks whenever they travelled together. He liked the comforts.
We debated, then argued, then finally settled the issue: I’d sell my Compact Jr but we’d buy a compromise: nothing over 20 feet long. That way, we could still access the more remote parks and roads, but yes, it would have full hook ups.
I immediately found a buyer for my Compact Jr. Another woman, single as I’d been, who loved her as much as I did. With asking price in hand, we used the money for down payment on a 20-foot Forest River Ultra-Light, towable by Peter’s trusty old Ford 150.
It was a beauty, I will admit. With a slide out, built in electric refrigerator, a tv which we never used (why on earth would you want television when you have the skies?), and a bathroom, with shower, which I hated using after the first time we had to do that black water dump. In the six years we owned it, we used that trailer together exactly twice. Peter did use it for excursions with friends while I was off traveling for work. But as I later found out, he didn’t even think to grease the axles or check the tire pressure.
When Peter announced to our River Haven community that he was returning to England, we sold that trailer. I wasn’t really sorry to see it go.
For my pilgrimage, based on both trailer owning experiences, I was certain I wanted another lightweight nest, no plumbing. I did like the idea of a built-in fan, electric power as well as propane. Solar capability intrigued me. I began my research.
Now, my tow vehicle is a Rav V Prime electric hybrid, which I love. It was gifted me by my friend Doug, for whom I’d sat hospice over the course of a year. I’d put thousands of miles on my old Prius commuting back and forth to take care of him, thinking nothing much about it.
Upon Doug’s death, I received a surprise: a letter from a financial brokerage that I was the beneficiary of enough money to purchase a new car. I knew Doug’s love was deep but I was stunned. Then grateful. I ordered my Rav Prime from the dealer. After a five month wait, it finally arrived. I’d never owned such a beautiful vehicle.
I named the Rav, deep red and shining, Durga. Durga is a major protector Goddess. She watches out for those who travel. I knew Doug would approve.
Durga has a towing capacity of 2500 pounds so I knew I would narrow my search down for a trailer weighing under 1500. This would allow me to factor in the weight of a tow bar as well as the weight of whatever I would ultimately outfit the trailer with. I intended to keep total weight towed under 2200.
I did not have the budget to buy new, unless I went with one of those little tear drops which are essentially nothing more than a bed on wheels with an outside panel of “kitchen” space. I remembered cold rainy days when I tent camped with my kids and we’d huddle in the car for warmth, waiting for the weather to break. It was not fun.
I thought about rainy days with my Compact, where there was just enough space to sit down on the edge of the bed to eat at a folding table. I decided I wanted space for a table to sit at, and I wanted a counter top in case I needed to cook inside. A built-in cooktop would be nice but the space to feel safe, dry, and secure on any long days stuck mostly inside would take priority. I also recognized that I wanted a bed I didn’t have to make up and down every day (that gets old fast).
With these priorities in mind, I began searching for used fiberglass trailers. I spent weeks researching different brands, weighing the pro’s and con’s of each. I educated myself about axle load bearing, electrical systems, solar plug ins versus permanent solar built ins, even composting porta-potties.
I ended up ruling out another Compact Jr despite how much I’d loved mine. They are vintage trailers and if they’ve been properly restored, they are pricey. Well out of my price range. If not, they are going to be trouble.
I turned to Scamps. Lots of those available in all kinds of condition. People seem to love them. A small, no bathroom model would just hit my maximum weight capability. Worth considering.
A couple of cute vintage Burros caught my eye. No. Too many things seemed due for attention in the ones I found.
Little Guy made some cute tear drops but anything with enough space to stand up in and hang out in were just too heavy.
I briefly considered getting a van and doing the Van Life thing. Maybe that was a good alternative.
I looked at a several of them. So many systems to worry about. Plus, you are always hauling your entire home around with you wherever you go. I wanted to be able to land for a week or two, unhook Durga, explore wherever we were. In fact, that very capability began to drive my thinking about the itinerary I would begin to plan once I found my pilgrimage home. I book marked itinerary planning and resumed my search.
One long night of deep diving into the internet led me to a Helio. Hmmmmm.
Manufactured in Quebec, these little trailers are constructed of molded fiberglass on an aluminum frame. This is very good. It means they are not prone to leaking over time like Scamps and other seamed fiberglass trailers. The aluminum frame means they are extremely lightweight. And Helio’s are known for their dependability and quality of craftsmanship.
However, they are also something of a Unicorn. At least in the United State. Very few of them are manufactured each year and very few of those make their way across the border. People tend to keep them.
I discovered Helio makes three models (well, four now, with the addition of a tiny motorcycle towed teardrop). The O2, 03, and 04. The number refers to the number of people the manufacturer believes can sleep comfortably inside.
Some come with plumbing and built in kitchens. Even microwaves and air conditioning. Ooh la la. All of them are expensive.
An interesting thing I discovered as I learned more about this increasingly attractive (to me) brand is that the O4 is actually lighter than the others. Though all of them could conceivably be towed by Durga. There are two floorplans for an 04: one with built in benches that turn into a twin bed on one side of the trailer and built in benches, including two tables, which turn into a king size bed on the other.
This second floorplan replaces the twin bed/bench set up with a counter top and storage cabinets beneath, and while there is no plumbing, there is a nice little stainless steel sink built into the cabinet. As for that king bed configuration? It turns out it can be set up as a double/queen bed, while leaving the other half of the benches for seating with a small table set up between them.
Guess which floor plan I wanted?
Now, one evening, as I made my way down another rabbit hole of fiberglass trailer reality, I came upon a brand-new listing for a used 2022 Helio 04 trailer. It was in almost new condition. The owners had suffered some kind of health crisis shortly after buying it, thus garaging it. The wife had decided their camping days were over. Cruises and resorts from now on. They listed it for a price which was decidedly fair. I worried it was a scam.
I emailed them explaining my interest and why.
The husband called me back a few hours later. With his wife listening in the background, we discussed their trailer in detail, including the few trips they’d taken in it. They were intrigued by my idea of a pilgrimage, very sorry to hear that my partner had abandoned me at this stage of life, and shared my grief over the fact so many of my friends had died.
They agreed that Pearl, the name the wife bestowed upon their Helio, should share her next life with me. This, despite the fact that they had other offers. I was elated.
The problem turned out to be that they live in Florida. ARGHHHH.
After my year living in Wesley Chapel (just north of Tampa), with Janice, when the kids were little, I had vowed never to return.
I’m not a fan of Florida. The politics are notorious. As are the Palmetto Bugs, which are really just giant cockroaches that magically re-incarnate. The weather is unbearable half of the year, forcing you to live in an air-conditioned bubble. And now, with the current Felon in Chief based in Florida, I had even less desire to return.
But Pearl was beautiful. And within budget. And so well maintained….
The Sellers promised to wait overnight so I could think about it before they called the next buyer in line. I knew they were telling the truth. They were being very kind.
That evening, I pulled out my atlas of the United States. Took note of which states are between Oregon and Florida. Considered the routes for March travel. Began to look up sacred sites, geologic places of interest, drive times between stop overs heading east. By the next morning, I had a rudimentary route to Florida in place.
I called the sellers, told them I’d be sending them a deposit immediately, with balance due upon arrival and satisfaction of condition. They sent me more photographs and even did a live walk through, thus reassuring me that Pearl was indeed the Unicorn I’d been hunting. I knew I’d been blessed by my guardians and higher spirits. It was now time to address pre-departure details.