Yellow Pine upgrade, Part One: The bloodletting

On October 14, 2020 by Judy Nichols With 2 Comments - Blog, Our wanderings, The Epic Van

When we arrived in Yellow Pine, our friends Jeff and Ann were helping Nickie and Merle build a log house. Nickie, above, sprays some of the logs with borate, a preservative.
"Log in the air," rang out whenever the boom lifted one of the trunks to bring it into place.
Jeff positions a log to roll into place. Each one is individually cut to fit perfectly over the one below.
Two of the volunteers on the log cabin construction crew drill the logs into place.
Merle saws off the end of a log to level it for a post in the living area of the house.
The road to Big Creek Lodge.
A view of Big Creek.
The grass airport at Big Creeck, lined with planes that hopscotch among the high-mountain airports.
The original sign from the Big Creek Lodge.
The Big Creek Lodge, where we had meatloaf sandwiches on the deck for lunch.
A bear gives me the evil eye in the lobby of the Big Creek Lodge.
Some wildlife that gave their lives to decorate the lobby of the Big Creek Lodge.
The wall that held the television and speakers, and now has a few unsightly holes.
Ann burning barnwood for her art piece.
Ann routing the frame for the art piece, moments before routing her pinky.
Ann, with her injured finger wrapped in purple, poses with the work of art she created for our holy wall.
A close-up of the work of art, made from barn wood, with a box for my phone and pens, some vintage pieces of metal, including a bottle opener, a doorknob and a three-pronged hook, as well as a knob with an image of the world, a nod to our nomadic wanderings, and a metal mouse, commemorating the many that lost their lives in pursuit of a plague-free rolling home.
Jeff's Covid hair, which he vows not to cut until after the election.
Jeff and Ann making Jeff's famous five-alarm salsa.
"Salsa in the blender," is probably as important a safety note as "Log in the air."
A barrel of salsa, some of which left with us.
As for me and my house, we will serve tacos.
Huckleberry margaritas in Ann's glass cowboy boot mugs.
The Epic Van heading away from Yellow Pine along the South Fork of the Salmon River, with smoke from local fires hanging low.

Somebody going to emergency, somebody’s going to jail. – Don Henley

Well, no one got arrested, but by the time we left Yellow Pine, Idaho, a guy we don’t know was lying at home with more than 30 stitches in his hand, and our friend Ann had routed off the end of her pinky finger.

DIY, upgrade, Yellow Pine

Yellow Pine upgrade, Part Two: The bed

On October 14, 2020 by Judy Nichols With 0 Comments - Blog, Our wanderings, The Epic Van

The Epic Van bed as it came from the manufacturer, a convertible couch that went up and down, with a push of an electric switch. We slept parallel to the long side of the van, our feet on seat cushions that met the couch when it was flat.
A view of the bed/couch from inside the van, with the line where the seat and back are separated.
A view of the mechanism under the bed/couch that raises and lowers it. The black box is a speaker for the surround sound system.
A view of the bolt holding the bed/couch to the vehicle.
Jeff under the van undoing the four bolts that hold the bed/couch in place.
The bed/couch removed from the van.
The open space left after the bed/couch was removed. The wooden boxes on each side stored the two portable tabletops and the board that could be put between the two boxes to create a full king-sized bed. We never used any of it.
Ann cutting the lip of the black plastic flooring the bed/couch sat on. A panel separated it from the flooring in the rest of the vehicle. We wanted a flat surface for continuous storage all the way to the boxes.
Ann removing the plate for the pedestal table that we never use. We also removed the one up front.
Jeff cutting metal for the frame.
Measure twice, cut once. The back was not exactly level because of the difference in flooring, so Jeff used a second piece of metal just behind the junction to ease the transition.
Jeff grinding all the burrs off the metal pieces.
I’m ready to weld, well, to watch Jeff weld.
That’s Jeff’s happy face, as we are now welding buddies.
The beginning of the frame. The long metal pieces will be bolted to the vehicle using the same holes and bolts used by the original bed/couch. The short pieces are welded to the long pieces and will support the legs of the frame, but out to the sides to create more open storage underneath.
The first two legs are welded on.
The second two.
The side pieces for the frame and the first crosspiece.
The frame is in, with all three crosspieces. It fits perfectly and is perfectly level.
Testing out the frame and making sure our plywood will fit. A fine bed already.
Tom and Jeff consulting on the frame design in Jeff’s well-outfitted shop.
Jeff grinding all the welds smooth.
Jeff sanding everything down.
Now a nice coat of black paint.
The painted frame installed.
Ann screwing in the plywood.
Ann and Jeff, the dynamic duo!

We bought our Roadtrek RS Adventurous in 2014 and it was perfect. I loved every square inch of it, every cabinet, every drawer, the four rotating captain’s seats, the combo bathroom and shower, the tiny kitchen with its dorm fridge, two-burner propane stove and little sink with collapsible faucet, the awning on the side, the solar panel on the roof, the back doors that swung open all the way to the sides so you could zip a screen into the back, the television and VCR installed on the wall, the pump and macerator that sucked all the stuff out of the waste tanks, making dumping a breeze, and the convertible couch/bed in the back.

I marveled at the years of design and thought that created this perfect vehicle, so perfect that Tom and I could sell our house and live in it. I couldn’t imagine anything I would do differently.

I loved it so much, I agonized when a cabinet latch broke, or one of the covers for the LED lights fell off. My heart broke when Tom backed over a log at a backcountry camping spot, taking out a chunk of the fiberglass skirt that hid all the valves for the tanks and propane.

And I didn’t want to change ANYTHING, in case SOMETHING HAPPENED – one of us got sick, the stock market crashed, camping was outlawed – and we needed to sell it. I wanted it to be in pristine condition, just as it came from the factory.

Fast-forward into our sixth year in the van. It has matured and so have I.

DIY, Yellow Pine

New American Nomads

Minimal home, maximum life

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Yellow Pine upgrade, Part One: The bloodletting

Yellow Pine upgrade, Part Two: The bed

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Past posts

Epic views: Shot of the day

The final Nomad budget report

Curbside camping and reunions

Carmel: Familiarity breeds contentment

Condors, a swimming pool and wasp stings

The run for the coast: Rocks, repairs, and relaxation

Arizona serenade at Fort Worth Stockyards

Outdoor obsession: Fort Worth Botanic Garden

A hard exit and a soft landing

We’re positive that we’re positive

Pandemic left us out of camping shape