You Don’t Know What You Don’t Know…

Problem Number 1

I was happy to find out that I did a reasonable job cleaning Nelly out and sprucing her up before parking her in the storage lot last fall. Her thanks for my care manifested in that fresh newness waiting for me when I retrieved her. It didn’t take long to realize that my winterizing efforts didn’t quite go as well as I thought.

My joy turned quickly into near panic when I checked the battery charge levels. The gauge read “0.2 % SOC.” SOC means “State of Charge” and the electrician who wired my rig had clearly told me more than once that I should NEVER let the SOC percent get lower than 20%. This is apparently because if the batteries are allowed to drain completely down to 0, there is another, more complicated (i.e., expensive) method to getting them back online and charged up (if that’s even possible at that point). I have no desire to fully test the limits of my electrical system and batteries, so when I saw 0.2% SOC I was right to be concerned.

I had spent the winter months taking the camper out of storage and checking her systems at least once a month, dutifully tracking the rate of battery drain. I should probably note here that I had declined to fully disconnect the batteries as advised by the electrician - that was way too complicated a process that I preferred to forego, thereby avoiding what I assumed was the certainty of electrocution. I chose the monthly check-in method instead, paired with turning off the inverter (this is how the batteries are “fed” from the solar panels or the alternator) and turning on the “kill switch” (this “kills” the connection from the batteries to the outlets, lights, fuse box, frig, etc.). Neither of these strategies actually stops the batteries from draining; they merely slow it down. By March I was (mistakenly) feeling confident in my ability to manage things. Foolishly, I let it sit for about 6 weeks rather than the 3-4 weeks that had been my norm (and had worked beautifully, I might add). Important lesson learned: don’t get complacent!!

Tamping down my unease and trying to stay calm, I jumped into the driver’s seat and started up the van, hoping to increase the charge quickly from the alternator in the engine. I then aimlessly drove around Ann Arbor for an hour but it only went up to 7%. Arrgghh! Not nearly enough!!

You might be wondering if I have ever looked at the manuals. The answer is yes. However, I struggle to understand the simplest of electrical concepts. It took me months to (kind of, sort of) understand what the inverter and kill switch do. Honestly, unless you’re an electrician, how many of us can explain the difference between a volt (v), an amp (a), a kilowatt (kW), or a megaherz (MHz) - to name just a few of the many weird terms and concepts?

But I digress. My immediate concern was getting my SOC up over 20%. I could have plugged the batteries into the house circuit but I wasn’t sure if that alone would do the trick, or instead would bypass my van’s system entirely, leaving the charge way below where it needed to be and continuing to drain. So I hedged my bets. After driving home I left the van running in the driveway for another couple of hours until it was over 20%. Then I plugged it in and waited another two hours. When I checked it this time it was 97% SOC. Yay!! I did it!! In between the waiting and worrying I reread my manuals (yet again, hoping for an intellectual breakthrough, which sadly did not happen), peered at the inverter display panel and refamiliarized myself with this complex system as best I could. Oh, the joys of owning a campervan as a solo, “mature” camper when you know next to nothing about car mechanics, electrical systems, plumbing and the like. Speaking of plumbing…

Problem Number 2

Because the weather was pretty crummy most of the week, I delayed getting the camper ready until the day before my departure. It had been sitting in my driveway fully charged and so I was feeling pretty good about everything. I had a fair amount to do, such as: a) charge all other devices I would be carrying with me (flashlights, jumper cable box, etc.), b) make sure the lighter was in the van (forgot one my first time out and had to go begging to other campsites for a match, thereby branding myself as a newbie camper who hadn’t mastered even the most basic of checklist items), c) pack and load all the dog essentials, food, clothing, towels, bedding, toiletries, etc… you get the idea.

After most of the above tasks were completed or well on their way I figured it was time to fill the water tank, which involves running a hose into a pipe at the back of the van. Once filled, almost as an afterthought, I decided to turn on the faucet in my sink just to confirm that everything was running through the system properly. I climbed in and turned on the faucet, thinking this was a mere formality. Nothing.

I turned on the pump again (you know what “they” say about doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result, yet I couldn’t help myself…). Still nothing, but the pump was clearly and loudly working really hard to get the water up there, and in the back of the van I could feel that water was coming from the tank into the line and could see that the water level in the tank was going down. Why wasn’t it going to the faucet? I went back to the sink, silently willing it to begin flowing. That’s when I heard the gurgling coming from somewhere under the floor. My heart skipped a beat. That can’t be good…

I walked around the outside of the van and cringed in horror as I saw water dripping onto my driveway, seeping out all along the driver’s side. I rushed back in and shut off the pump. By this time about a third of my tank was emptied. I checked inside but all was dry. Where did all that water go and did it do any damage in places I couldn’t see?

My mind was racing as I paced and tried to figure out what all this meant for the van, for my trip. I knew I could camp without the sink and water tank. I’d have to get some big jugs of water but I could make do. The bigger issue was the problem itself. I was flummoxed and didn’t know what to do about that.

I needed a miracle and got three. The first was that the exact people I needed to speak to at Drifter Vans were available and in Michigan (not always the case) right in Southfield where I needed them to be. Very responsive. The second was that this is apparently an easy fix. “Thirty seconds” they said (not exactly, but I’m not quibbling). The third was their ability to fix it first thing in the morning, which meant I could still take off as planned. Only forty minutes from Ann Arbor, this would not delay my departure much at all.

When I got to the van workshop they were waiting for me and knew the urgency of my situation. An hour after I arrived they had replaced the burst filter, checked all my systems (electrical, solar, heating, etc.), tightened all the joints in the plumbing lines, and made some other very minor adjustments that will make my life on the road easier. I couldn’t be more grateful, and feel like I dodged a bullet. Things could have been so much worse…

Sometimes you try to do the right thing and it still turns out badly. I had taken what I thought were adequate steps to winterize my van last fall before putting it into storage. I flushed all the water out of the lines (or so I thought), cleaned everything and thought I was done. Somehow I had missed the message about running antifreeze through the plumbing system to avoid any problems over the course of a freezing winter season. Given that I averted a big disaster we were able to have a good laugh about my incompetence and they promised to walk me through the whole winterizing process next fall.

Problem Number 3

I’m very enthusiastic about what I’m going to be doing in the coming week, and excited to have my sister joining me in Pennsylvania. But when I planned the trip back in January I assumed, wrongly as it turns out, that the weather this time of year would be much more cooperative, with warm, dry days outnumbering the cold, wet ones, not the other way around! When I started closely watching upcoming weather forecasts a few weeks ago and realized that the reality was unlikely to meet my original expectations, I had to decide whether I was going to stay committed to the plan or bail out and try another time.

I actually didn’t have to think about it for very long. My upcoming 1938 Project trip to California in the fall will likely have me facing all kinds of different temperatures and weather patterns (hopefully no tornadoes or hurricanes!). I have to be ready for anything because once I’m out on the road and that far from home, there isn’t any going back until I’ve completed my route and lived the full two month experience. This Pennsylvania trip is small potatoes compared to that one, and I need the practice to make sure I know how to handle whatever comes up.

Field Research

You might wonder (or not) why I got the camper out and where I’m headed. As I write this, I am preparing to hit the road and head to western Pennsylvania. On the way there I will be staying at a winery and a distillery for quick (and free) overnights (courtesy of my membership in Harvest Hosts) before landing at a campground in the Allegany National Forest where I will stay put for a week.

Why western Pennsylvania? In my previous article, Coming to Amerika, I mentioned that my great grandfather Frank, together with his brothers William and John, headed first to Costello, Pennsylvania after their arrival from Sweden. All three were involved in the logging industry in those early years, and so I want to explore the history of logging in the area and visit some of the places where I know Frank and his brothers lived. In addition to Costello, there are other important places in Pennsylvania where they settled, raised families, and ran businesses, like Sheffield, Wilcox, Oil City, Bradford, Allegany and Tuna. In New York I want to visit Limestone, Little Valley, Jamestown, and Salamanca.

My sister and I will plot out a reasonable itinerary so that we can be efficient in where and when we drive around looking for landmarks and places of historical significance.

When I get back I hope to have more of the picture filled in and a better sense of the part of the country where the Larsons settled after arriving from Sweden. Some of my questions may get answered, but no doubt there will be more questions to take their place. That’s just the nature of this kind of research, field or otherwise. The parameters of the time and resources available to chase every rabbit down every hole are necessarily limited. I have to choose my rabbits, so to speak, and do the best I can with where my interests lead me.

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