Elepent

I always do some car-spotting when we’re traveling, but Ely had an unusually high population of interesting vehicles, so I thought I’d share. Continue reading

Here’s a quick recap of the Incorrigible’s maintenance issues this past spring, in case you were curious:

Back in March, we lost water pressure completely inside the coach.  Investigation quickly revealed that water was pouring out the side of the motorhome, coming out of the hot water heater.  Our hot water heater’s relief valve had let go.  This valve controls the pressure within the heater, and when it wears out, it becomes an uncontrolled drain on the side of the heater.  As long as the hot water heater was turned off, we could get water inside the RV, but this meant no hot water whatsoever.

We turned the water off, and got acquainted with the Highway 71 RV Park’s very nice shower facilities.  A bit of research showed that a replacement valve would cost about $28, while getting a service facility to install it would run an additional $250, at least.

So I decided to try and install it myself.  Help was quickly obtained from online sources.  Should you ever attempt this repair yourself, it sounds incredibly simple–just unscrew the old valve and install the new one with some plumber’s tape to keep it from leaking.  It’s the caveats that are the thing.  First, wait at least twenty-four hours, so the water in the tank can cool. The reason for this becomes quickly obvious when you experience the second caveat, which is that the water will be under a bit of pressure.

“A bit of pressure” does not adequately describe the geyser that will soak you from the breastbone up as soon as the relief valve is broken free.  If I had not followed the advice about letting the water cool, I’d have had my face boiled clean off.

Fortunately, it was more funny than upsetting, and water pressure was quickly restored with minimal cost.  We still have a fitting under the sink that is seeping when hooked into city water pressure or if the pump was left on, but the addition of a pressure regulator on our water inlet line seems to have mostly taken care of it.  City water pressure is notorious for being too much for RV systems to handle in many places, so be careful about screwing a hose into your water system and letting ‘er rip.

Not so easily solved was the power-step issue. Just before the NuRVers rally, our entrance door steps stopped extending, without warning.  The motor was running as it was supposed to, but the steps didn’t move.  Investigation revealed a broken actuator arm.  This aluminum piece had corroded over time, and there’s no telling what impact or resistance caused it to snap.  It doesn’t look like an easy repair, especially as the actuator is permanently attached to a part of the step motor, without an easy way to remove it.  We’re currently looking into inexpensive replacement parts.  For the moment, a $13 Rubbermaid folding stepstool is enough to get us in and out of the house without drama.

Remember all of those minor window leaks we complained about a while back?  Most of them have been solved with a bit of DIY action.  Camping World’s leak test showed that the moldings of most of our side windows were on the way out.  Given the Incorrigible’s age, this wasn’t a surprise, but at about $220 a pop to fix them, redoing them was a daunting prospect.  Poking around online, we figured out that the process requires more elbow grease than special tools or materials, so we undertook it ourselves.

Basically, it’s like re-doing the windows in a house: you remove the window, replace the sealing material, then put the window back. Unlike the windows in a house, of course, an RV’s windows can be removed with a screwdriver and a butter knife.

The window frames are a metal sandwich, held together by about thirty small screws each.  With two people (one inside, one outside) removal isn’t that difficult.  We did them one at a time, and got through most of the Incorrigible’s windows in a single day.

Water damage visible with the window removed. Pretty gross, eh?

If you’re going to try this yourself, a few tips: first, make sure you get the proper butyl “tape” window sealant.  The stickier, heavier stuff from an RV dealer will work better than the generic “window sealant” from a hardware store, and it comes in a roll.

Second, be sure to scrape as much of the old sealant as possible from the window frames and the surface of the window opening. The registration cards we got from the RVIA event back in November were handy for this.

Third, ensure that the tape goes down with a solid, flat seal with no breaks–any break in the sealant will allow water to seep in.  In some areas that get a lot of water, like the upper edges of the front windows where water drains off of the roof, we added a second layer of butyl tape.

When the window frame is reassembled, some of the tape will be squeezed out the edges, and can be trimmed off with a razor blade or putty knife.  The stuff is very tarry, especially when it gets warm, and it likes to smudge and smear all over the exterior if you’re not careful.  We’ve been happy with the results, however, and got it done for just the cost of the butyl tape.

Currently, the Incorrigible’s only major leak is on the ceiling, where Fun Time RV did a poor job of installing our Carrier heat pump.  We’ve called a few times about hopefully getting a repair, but they haven’t called us back for two months.  Guess we’re on our own.

We’ll need a new headliner and a re-sealed rooftop opening soon.

Lexie took some time to re-do the grab handle by the front door as well.  The last bastion of ugly blond wood in the RV, we’d been looking for a replacement for the grab handle for a while.  When it became clear that we weren’t going to find a new one that fit our needs, Lexie removed the existing handle and broke out the decoupage.  A few outdated road maps and a pair of scissors later, we had a cool, sort of thematic door handle.

Last (and least, for the moment) are the rig’s furnace issues.  We had some repairs to the unit done while we were in Michigan, but it’s still acting up.  Our first clue that something was amiss was when the furnace wouldn’t shut off on a chilly night in Austin.  With the heat set at 65, the furnace churned and churned all the way up to 88 degrees in the moho, with no signs of intending to stop.  When we turned the unit off, it continued to blow.  We had to pull the fuse to get it to stop!  Plugging it back in yielded similar results; the furnace won’t come on for an inordinately long time, and when it does, it won’t shut off until power is cut.  Rather than wasting our LPG, we shut the silly thing off and visited General RV while we were in Michigan.  Repairs to the t-stat were made, and they said they tested it and it worked.  It did–for one night.  After that, the furnace refused to come on at all.  While disappointing, it was by this time warm enough that our Carrier heat pump (the unit up front isn’t controlled by the wall thermostat) could keep us comfortable inside, and we didn’t have time for General RV to screw with it any further.  Besides, we’re headed for the desert.  The matter of the furnace can be tabled until, oh, August or so.  Actually, given our plans to spend the fall and winter in Las Vegas and environs, it might be tabled indefinitely.

Upon arrival in Baker, Lexie took one look at the horizon and shouted, “Holy crap!  Mountains!”  Living at the foot of Mt. Wheeler provides a pleasant view every morning.  It also makes the weather interesting; most of the precipitation is caught by the mountain, and Baker sees very little rain.  Actually, it sees plenty of rain, it just doesn’t land here.  Most storms blow themselves out before they get over the top of the 13,000-foot peak.

There’s definitely a lot to see here.  The terrain is unfamiliar, and as a result, it seems there’s always something new to go and look at.  The flora and fauna are different, as well; the mornings are scented by sagebrush, and I saw my first badger.

Around the Silver Jack there are gopher snakes (which look like rattlers but aren’t poisonous) and cheerful blue swallows (not sure of the species–birdwatchers?).

There are at least two nesting pairs of swallows living in the eaves in the Silver Jack’s courtyard, which made for great entertainment when the babies were learning to fly while Lexie and I cleaned hotel rooms.  It seemed like there were little blue birds darting about everywhere we turned!  There are also hummingbirds, and Baker is so quiet that you can actually hear them as well as watching them at the feeder.  They sound like the biggest bumblebees you ever heard, and they make little squeaky-toy noises.

Before Lexie arrived, I went snowshoeing with the Silver Jack’s proprietor Terry.  Snowshoeing?  Never tried it before; why not?

Great Basin National Park is literally right next door to Baker, and while it’s the least-visited of the national parks, there’s plenty to see.

Though it was mid-May, the snow was still fairly deep at 10,000 feet–deep enough to bury the hiking trail markers in fact!  The climb was exhausting, thanks to lungs which hadn’t yet adjusted to being a mile above sea level, but it was well worth it; gnarled bristlecone and limber pine trees, amazing vistas and the eerie dead-silence of a vast uninhabited area were ample reward for the effort.

The mountain is home to mountain lions, but I didn’t see one.  This is not a complaint.

The trees are twisted and folded by wind and ice.  Tough things. The bristlecone pines can live up to 3000 years.