Strolling Amok

Pops goes on tour.

Archive for the category “The Intrepid”

Intrepid Heat

The Mr. Heater Buddy.

The Mr. Heater Buddy, with filter and hose.

When I first started out on this crazy fiasco, the Mr. Heater Buddy I acquired for use in the Defiant quickly became my friend while wintering in Quartzsite, Arizona, and it still does sole duty. That’s mainly because the Defiant’s built-in furnace has a faulty overheat sensor that I’m loathe to have fixed. That’s because vented furnaces are relatively inefficient, using more propane than unvented systems, plus their tendency to burn through batteries if left on overnight. Many a new camper has discovered this in the morning, when they awaken to find that the furnace has killed not only their coach battery, but their tow vehicle’s starter battery as well, thanks to their dealer not mentioning that a battery isolator would be a good thing to install. That little adventure is due to the power draw of the furnace’s fan, which on heartier systems must be big enough to push plenty of air through an abundance of ductwork. On the Defiant, the furnace fan also replicates the aural ambiance of the deck of an aircraft carrier, and its old-school “analog” thermostat is a bit too sloppy for holding a consistent temperature.

The Mr. Heater Buddy is the middle-sized model of quasi-ceramic radiant heater, able to crank out either 4,000 or 8,000 BTUs. It can heat the Defiant’s 200-square-foot interior in a shirtsleeve manner on its high setting, down to a windy 30 degrees outside. Its low setting can generally pump interior temps at least 20-25 degrees over whatever it is outside, depending on wind or rain. Being a radiant heater, it sometimes helps to plug in a fan to get its heat distributed better throughout the long trailer. It thoroughly bakes whatever is directly in front of it, but as a warm-air device, it’s wanting. But hey, the price is right, and it’s efficient.

So naturally, when the decision of how to heat the new Four Wheel Grandby A.K.A. Intrepid came up, my first thought was to Read more…

The Mighty Furd Returns

Quick! Take a picture while they're still clean!

Quick! Take a picture while they’re still clean!

Today was a painful day on a couple of counts, but the Mighty Furd is now mechanically ready to handle the future Intrepid truck camper. The bed has yet to be cleared, but something stood out recently which impressed upon me that it was time to replace the original shock absorbers, which have crossed over the 80K-mile mark. This is normally easy to diagnose on a softly-sprung vehicle, but it gets progressively more difficult as spring rates go up.

I’d long ago noticed that the rear axle was twisting under power, a trait called “axle hop”. That’s when you apply power on a poor-traction surface, and the rear axle immediately begins jumping around, shaking the rear of the vehicle. That is a trait of leaf spring suspensions that’s tough on the rear U-joint, but I’ve lived with it for quite awhile, being careful to shift into 4WD-High as soon as it began. As originally delivered, no such trait existed, the axle staying steady as a rock. In fact, given the engine’s bottom-end torque, the only way to tell that you didn’t have traction was that the truck was not moving as quickly as it should for a given throttle setting. With one shock mounted in front of the axle and the other behind, such shenanigans are prevented.

The other tell-tale trait stood out with new vigor when I eased slowly over a speed bump at a border crossing on my way to Prescott to see the new Granby. I’d noticed that the front end kept bouncing a few times some 20,000 miles ago, but this recent event was positively embarrassing. The considerable weight penalty of the diesel engine exaggerates it, there for all to see. Is it possible to be shamed into new shocks? Time to make an appointment.

This was driven home on the winding pavement along route 89 just short of Prescott, which is sports car territory. On this twisty patch of asphalt, the Ford’s springs are too stiff to allow much lean, but the sensation of rubbing all the shoulder rubber off the front tires is there. The tall, squirmy tread on the Coopers certainly doesn’t help any here, but things just weren’t right for such a foray.

I’ve driven low-speed autocross in my misspent youth, and this section of 89 was somewhat similar. There was a certain rhythm that the pavement wanted, kind of a smooth touch of brake, dive in, find the apex within the constraints of one lane, and throttle briskly out of the exit to prep for the next turn. One might reason that, hey, a tall, heavy 4WD pickup truck is no sports car, but as delivered, the Mighty Furd was (astoundingly) the full equal of a then-new Mazda RX8 quasi-sports car I had, at least for pulling steady-state G’s. And that had sticky tires. The Mazda’s weight let itself be known at the same speed as the Super Duty, and the latter still had just a little more suds left. I kid you not. Sure, the physics make it impossible, but the speedo doesn’t lie.

So here I was on 89 with a nice couple in some kind of nondescript Toyota sedan in back of me. It’s not like I was going to try to lose him, but simply hold my end up so that the end of the thing could eventually come calling. It’s a respectability thing. You don’t want to be the slowpoke creeping along in the water wagon, but the Ford wasn’t having it. Goosing the throttle and dabbing the brakes went okay – I even chugged away on some of the uphill sections, but those long turns were excruciating. I was thankful to come upon a widened passing section so he could go on about his business. Last straw. I wasn’t heartened by some clown in a clapped-out Toyota truck-with-cap lurching around a turn headed in the opposite direction. He was doing the TV version of Kojak, well off the proper line and very nearly skidding over into my lane as he did his impression of driving fast. The goal is to be brisk and competent, not threatening other traffic.

The truck was struggling, and loading 1,500 pounds of aluminum into the bed wasn’t going to help. Time for shocks all around. That was finally accomplished today, and in 1972 dollars, the cost was a bit traumatic. I chose old-school shocks that are stiff and stay that way, as opposed to the more sophisticated (and more expensive) sensor-type shocks that try to go limp on smooth roads, and then firm up on bigger bumps. I want control, not a smooth ride. That can’t happen with such stiff springs, anyhow. Once they removed the defibrillator paddles and I hit the road, I found the end result to be a relief. She’s back to normal, such as you may choose to define that.

Oops.

Oops.

A problem I spotted on arriving home is a concern. I’d gone to the local LTVA camping area to visit, made a tight turn to get on the paved road, and found that a metal sawhorse was hidden under my passenger window. Never saw it as I idled around almost 150 degrees at full lock. It flopped over, I noted the scratch in the paint in the door (since patched), and set the thing back up again. Back at the ranch, I noticed a slice in the sidewall of the right rear tire. It’s down to the cords in some spots, so now I’m ruminating on the most appropriate all-weather substance to seal it off again. It’s so dry here that I have a little time, and if I can seal off the cords from air in a timely way, I won’t have to worry about rust or rot of the cords. There’s still heaps of tread left, so making a game try of it can prevent considerable heartache later. I know what you’re thinkin’, Virginia: duct tape, and I even have some in black! I’m gonna keep looking though. Might call the tire dealer tomorrow. He might have an opinion on that black goop they use around patching plugs.

[Update: a local tire dealer who specializes in retreads and vulcanizing for the local ag folk took a look at it and said, “Nope, don’t worry about it. It’s not down to the cords. That just a surface rubber cut. Not a problem. Doesn’t make any difference.” That simplifies my life a bit! I was a bit confused when I pulled in, as they had a ton of people at picnic tables under a huge permanent canopy, and wandering around masses of pickups scattered all over. Piles of BBQ’d meats, the works. It was customer appreciation day. They know how to do it right. My son does a different form of the same thing for his business, so maybe he’s onto something there.]

First Look

That's Martyn, co-owner of Adventure Trailers fumbling with the keys.

That’s Martyn, co-owner of Adventure Trailers, fumbling with the keys.

A trip to Prescott yielded a quick once over for the Intrepid-to-be. The goal was to pay for the thing, measure some critical storage for planning purposes, get a sense of the packrat’s hell I’d be dealing with, and talk over a planned modification that needs to be made. The unit is not yet washed or prepped for installation on the truck, and the truck is certainly not ready for it either.

Entry hatch open!

Entry hatch open!

My first impression is:

  1. Space. When you first look in with the roof raised up to walk-in height, it looks like living in it will be a claustrophobic trial. It’s just too short! Then once you step in and begin moving around, you start realizing, “Hey! Not bad! This thing is actually pretty darn livable! I like it in here!” It feels compact and efficient, obviously, but that expected “confined” aura just isn’t there. You like the thought of getting out to see what’s going on, but also like the thought of settling in to nap or get some work done at the ample table. It’s inviting, and that’s quite an accomplishment.
  2. Build quality. Absolutely outstanding. I’d expected a little realism here and there: slightly misaligned cabinet doors, or voids in the edges of the plywood pieces used in its construction. Maybe edging trying to work its way off. Nope. Every piece is perfectly sized, fits like a glove, and is as smooth-edged as a river stone. Unlike being in the Defiant’s bowels, you cannot possibly hurt yourself by sliding your hand heavily along an exposed edge. It kind of helps explain the pricey nature of Four Wheel’s products. You can see and feel the quality, not opulence. There’s a difference.
  3. Wowza on storage space. Although most storage cabinets are seriously compromised by necessary devices and equipment, the sheer number of cabinets, bins and hidey-holes lurking inside the front dinette Granby is much more than expected. There isn’t a whole lot of dead space in this cozy box. What’s robbed from Peter is used to pay Paul. My inspection to scour it for all there was sounded basically like chanting, “Holy crap, there’s another one!” Sorting out which space to use for exactly what may become a nightmare, but that’s a different issue.
  4. Using stacked bins will be an issue, because getting at all storage forward of the cabinets requires sliding the table out of the way and removing a seat cushion, or clearing the foot-well floor to allow its doors to be raised. Using bins would need to be carefully thought out to avoid having to disembowel things to retrieve a mixing bowl or fresh box of matches. I dislike having to do that. Persnickety, aren’t I? It’s what I do.
  5. Cabinet latches are also better than expected. Of course, everyone says that their catches will prevent floor dumps when the going gets rough, but these effortlessly open, click and latch easily, and lock securely. You might not like what you see inside at the next stop, but that door will not accidentally swing open to puke it all out. Incomplete latching is easily observed, since the loop handle is no longer flush.
  6. If my grandson ever gets in here, there will be no getting him out. Ever. It will seem to him like the ultimate treehouse.
This was a complete surprise. The leg area under the table is a flat bin perfect for folded clothing. Might want to shed shoes here because of the split, because any step up to get into the loft bed is best done cans grit-carrying shoes anyway.

This was a complete surprise. The leg area under the table is a flat bin perfect for folded clothing. Might want to shed shoes here because of the split, since any step up to get into the loft bed is best done sans dirty, grit-carrying shoes anyway. When the clever shower option is ordered, this area is a floor drain catch area instead.

Storage underneath each of the bench seats is generous but compromised by clearance for the truck's fender wells. This is the passenger-side bench. It's exactly 36" long, which is exactly the length of three of my AGM batteries. I'll try it once just for sport, but realistically, they will have to be packed in on end. That will be a major convenience issue, but only when replacement time rolls around. Terminal access and basic weight will be the issues.

Storage underneath each of the bench seats is generous but compromised by clearance for the truck’s fender wells. This is the passenger-side bench. It’s exactly 36″ long, which is exactly the length of three of my AGM batteries. I’ll try it once just for sport, but realistically, they will have to be packed in on end. That will be a major convenience issue, but only when replacement time rolls around. Terminal access and basic weight will be the problem.

Just forward of the passenger bench is a funky little covered hole. Maybe they intended that to hold my tripod, or an umbrella.

Just forward of the passenger bench is a funky little covered hole. Maybe they intended that to hold my tripod, or an umbrella. (It’s actually leftover space, since a forward cross-member must cut through the bench’s cavity.)

The center of the forward wall has a flat little tray for at least 800 pencils. This is right over the top of the water tank, and that odd-looking aluminum piece at center is to support the lid when you use it as a step up into the bed.

The center of the forward wall has a flat little tray for at least 1,500 pencils. This is right over the top of the water tank, and that odd-looking aluminum piece at center is to support the lid when you use it as a step up into the bed.

The cabinet oat the rear of the passenger side pretty much disappears if the cassette toilet is ordered. The large cabinet below this may be big enough for stowing a toilet of some kind. This is above, and is encroached mightily by an outside compartment for two small propane canisters. All this varies wildly with the options you pick. It's still usable, the distance to the cabinet door being 9-1/4". The bonanza is below this.

This cabinet at the rear of the passenger side pretty much disappears if the cassette toilet is ordered. The larger cabinet below this may be big enough for stowing a toilet of some kind. This is above, and is encroached mightily by an outside compartment for two small propane canisters. All this varies wildly with the options you pick. It’s still usable, the distance to the cabinet door being 9-1/4″. The bonanza is below this. Yep, that’s a shore power outlet back there for running the fridge on AC.

The top of this cabinet section consists of two good-sized bins. The one on the left is above the small fridge-freezer, and disappears if you order the Big Boy.

The top of this cabinet section consists of two good-sized bins. The one on the left is above the small fridge-freezer, and disappears if you order the Big Boy. The blue cover is on a mirror, so I can admire my dashing good looks all day. Below the fridge is another handy slide-in space as well.

This is funky, too. Driver's side cabinet forward end. Since there's no water heater on-board, you get the enclosed space, if you can use it.

This is funky, too. Driver’s side cabinet forward end. Since there’s no water heater on-board, you get the enclosed space, if you can use it. No raw edges in there.

The obligatory shot of the driver's side counter, with sink and two-burner range top almost big enough to use. I'll be curious to find out if they bothered to connect the hot side to anything, since there's no water heater. As-is, it'll make a great spare source for parts, I guess. That black thing below is the furnace, and there's a silverware tray drawer, a good-sized cabinet, and the default battery bin in the same area.

The obligatory shot of the driver’s side counter, with sink and a two-burner range top almost big enough to use. I’ll be curious to find out if they bothered to connect the hot side to anything, since there’s no water heater. As-is, it’ll make a great spare source for parts, I guess. That black thing below is the furnace, and there’s a silverware tray drawer, a good-sized cabinet, and the default battery bin in the same area.

The black plate you see in front of the sink caught my eye as seeming out of place. Nicely-labeled solar and battery wires are behind it, though I can’t help but assume that it’s mainly an access point for servicing the sink drain and sink attachment points. If necessary, it can also become a handy mounting point for add-on switches, fuses or outlets. The two sheets hanging down are a flap covering a screened window in the pop-up section, and another in the thermal cover.

A common complaint with the front dinette floor plan option is that each seat back blocks off the side windows, ruining any view out. True enough, each side window is completely out of sight. Fortunately for me, I will have no one to glare at me when I take the offending seat back and rest it on top of the bed to enjoy the view. The side dinette model has no such issues, making one’s floor plan choice quite important. After all, the front dinette looks like a four-place table and technically is, at 36″ wide. But 36″ is more of a two-adults-with-children thing – four adults would pack like sardines, and if you didn’t intimately know who you’re sitting beside, you would by the time you finish dining. As seating for two people, the dinette is luxuriously roomy, with a generously-sized table. For one space hog like myself, it is roomy, the table being just large enough to comfortably spread out books, papers, and laptop. The table mount is a marvel of sorts, having two smooth friction mounts. One allows positioning of the table center between the two benches, while the other allows table surface rotation. I did not test it out, but the dimensions suggest that it will be possible to sit along a bench, legs up, and still have the table in a workable side orientation.

The cabover bed mattress is plenty firm, despite some hints by Four Wheel that a softer foam is now in use. That will pose some issues for me, as I expected. It’s not as simple as swapping in softer foam, since foam this thin will never get supple no matter how mushy you go. At first blush, it looks like there’s the roof-down vertical room for a topper of some type, which should help a lot. Since the bed platform slides rearward to create a queen-sized bed, the extra “mattress” inserts are stored on top of the main section of foam, for travel. Whether they can be put to use to double up the mattress or serve in some other way will be seen later.

At first blush, it looks as though there certainly has to be enough storage space for one person to reside for seven or eight months, at least in the desert, where looking clean and civilized is not an expectation.  Then I recall the “pack list” I’ve begun, and the true challenge for me surfaces. I’ll need additional external space, sure, but the challenge will be to make daily or weekly items conveniently accessible. I’ve found that I dislike having to tunnel in to retrieve something, digging into one pile and creating another. Then when you finally find what you’re looking for and know that it will have to be out for awhile, you really can’t do anything else until you shuffle everything back to its original place. When you’re done with the item, the tunneling repeats once more. Emptying a cabinet to get at what’s in back is just necessary now and then, but it can get bothersome to do the same in major storage compartments. I had planned to load up the Grandby’s dining area with plastic bins, but it seems quite apparent now that if this is done, it must be done well or I’ll be moving and piling just to lift a lid and take a look. A truck camper like this one already requires all “daily living” items to be properly stowed each time the vehicle is moved, so I’ll need to be careful in the details of how not to make that requirement more onerous or time-consuming. The cleanest solution is to avoid taking enough with me so that any bins would be needed at all. Perhaps there is some parallel universe in which that could happen.

My impression as I walked away and climbed back into the Mighty Furd was, this is definitely going to work, and likely work much better than I’d initially hoped. Oh, I’ll panic a few times during the packing and stowing process in the Spring, trying to find the most sensible places to put what where, and lamenting whatever I’ll be denied for months at a time. But the combination of quality, features, space efficiency, light and color seems to remove any hint of squeezing into a dark cave. That, despite its suitability for true 4×4 travel. I can’t speak for the various shorter models offered for short-bed trucks, but the Four Wheel Grandby should prove quite workable indeed.

The Three-Pound Bag

The wide lens shot tends to exaggerate space. Stand in the back doorway and keel forward, and you'll solidly kiss that tabletop!

The wide lens shot tends to exaggerate space. Stand in the back doorway and keel forward, and you’ll solidly kiss that tabletop!

Truck campers may be among the most space-efficient forms of RV, but once you get into the rough-terrain, compact pop-ups, even amazing efficiency doesn’t make up for not having much space to work with. I mean, the Four Wheel Grandby’s floor from front to back is a half-foot shorter than the Defiant’s width!

As I’ve mentioned earlier, since this pop-up folds down to just 56-1/2 inches to the roof, you can forget about stowing stuff in nonexistent overhead cabinets, or throwing things on top of the bed – the roof folds down to rest right on top of it. What you do with that firm pillow is your business. You can also forget about under-bed storage, where you lever up the mattress edge to reveal a flat but expansive storage tray suitable for clothing and fairly flat items. In the hard-tack world of no-compromises overlanding, where the priority challenges are from the terrain and not from within, creating such an under-bed space would compromise the Four Wheel’s extraordinarily low stowed roof height. Remember that earlier photo of a downtown overpass in Billings, Montana? It works the same for trees and overhanging rock and sometimes, inches make the difference. They especially make a difference when you’ve decided to jack up your truck’s suspension to improve its ground clearance and/or improve its muy macho aura.

Help one thing, hurt another.

Help one thing, hurt another. Two Happy Campers is a blog I recommend that you read.

In many ways, Four Wheel’s no-nonsense approach to be able to get a durable camping shelter from one obscure point on the terrain map to another is overkill for me. I mean, this is serious hardware, as such campers go. I’m not leading an expedition, goring the doors of the Super Duty on jagged rocks along the edge of a 500-foot drop, or fording rivers, or winching out of foot-deep goo, or filming a mini-documentary of a perilous journey. These campers are not built Read more…

Intrepid Solar Solutions

This 100W panel offered by Windy Nation appears to be identical, but comes with additional connectors.

This 100W panel offered by Windy Nation appears to be identical to Renogy’s, but comes with additional connectors. Its 20% efficiency is considered pretty good.

When it comes to angst in planning mods to the Four Wheel Granby, AKA Intrepid, fitting it out for solar comes right behind dealing with its lack of interior space. On the face of it, adding solar to the Granby is unusually easy: it comes prewired for solar whether you want it or not. There’s an SAE socket installed on the roof, and another on the back wall for plugging in ground-based solar panels. Order Four Wheel’s battery option, and you get your choice of one or two 80Ah (amp-hour) AGM batteries, as well as a battery separator to keep you from running down your truck’s starting battery. You can order their solar panels, whether roof-mounted, ground, or both, with a charge controller that comes along. It’s easy, it works well, and you’re rolling the instant you take delivery.

Four Wheel's 100W roof panel is one option that's light enough to cause no issues.

Four Wheel’s 100W roof panel is one option that’s light enough to cause no issues.

Heck, with 240 watts of panels available from the factory powering an optional 160-some Ah of batteries, it’s all anyone could want. I mean, it’s enough to run the compressor fridge and a laptop, as long as weather conditions are decent and you don’t overdo it. And, it’s a “top-heavy” system: there’s enough Read more…

Ordering the Granby

Just a Granby, but this one has a cassette toilet, the slide-out tank of which is accessible through the rear wall. (That white frame.)

Just a Granby, but this one has a cassette toilet, the slide-out tank of which is accessible through the rear wall. (That white frame.)

The Grandby model from Four Wheel Campers is a specialty rough-terrain, compact pop-up truck camper. It is designed and built specifically for outdoorsmen (and women) who want to be able to camp in places that are not safely accessible to other types of vehicle-based RVs.

The Four Wheel build floor. The four rectangles in the black sidewalls are access holes for tie-down points to the truck bed. Perhaps someday they may progress to three in order to remove a lot of the effects of bed twist on the camper frame, but that is much, much more easily said than done: a complete redesign with lots of problems to solve. Worth it? Not really.

The Four Wheel build floor. The four rectangles in the black sidewalls are access holes for tie-down points to the truck bed. Like all 4-point mounts, this system promotes frame twist when the truck bed flexes, but the frame is durable enough for the 99% of customers that use it, and the mounts are pretty close together to decrease the movement. 3-point mounts are popular in Europe, but I’m not sure that the bottom-up redesign needed would be worth it in actual practice.

This post outlines the options I chose and some of the planned modifications to make the Grandby better suited to become a more workable habitat for an indoor-oriented oldster. Sometimes, plans benefit from change once you Read more…

The Other End of the Spectrum

Stock shot liberated from The Four Wheel camper website. I doubt that they will mind. They'd probably prefer me to use a half-dozen more.

Stock shot liberated from The Four Wheel camper website. I doubt that they will mind. They’d probably prefer me to use a half-dozen more.

In the first part of this series, I pulled out a partial laundry list of traveling issues presented by the travel trailer Defiant, a tired 1994 Gulf Stream Innsbruck 26-footer. While evaluating what to do to make my travels less of of a physical ordeal, less stressful, and better able to place a living space in the most desirable (to me) locations, I had to mull over more questions about myself than about technical RV rig choices. After all, any given rig can be vouched for as being “better”, but better for whom? RV Spartans follow one rigid ideology, while “he who dies with the most toys wins” RVers follow another. Regardless of the pressures either way, it’s your life, your wallet, and your rig, and you’re the one who’s going to have to live with it. No one will be apologizing for steering you the wrong way for you.

So, the questions returned to the basic starting point. What did I want to be able to do that I’m not doing now? Since I am already on the road, what did I want to be able to stop doing?

The stopping part was easy. Hauling around the uber-comfortable Defiant dictates a certain mode of living. I wanted to stop Read more…

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