Date:         Sun, 28 Sep 2008 09:06:49 -0700
Reply-To:     Michael Hart <mjhart853@YAHOO.COM>
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@gerry.vanagon.com>
From:         Michael Hart <mjhart853@YAHOO.COM>
Subject:      Fw: SFGate: Tooling around Utah parks in a VW camper van
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A good article in today's San Francisco Chronicle travel section by John Flinn, the travel editor, about renting a VW camper from Western Rentals in Salt Lake City. This is exactly how we got into Westfalias (although 4 years ago when we did this, it was a Vanagon Westfalia; now all they seem to rent are Eurovan Weekenders. One error in the article (pointed out by my son): the common spelling error 'Westphalia'....
Mike
'87 Westy


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Sunday, September 28, 2008 (SF Chronicle)
Tooling around Utah parks in a VW camper van
John Flinn, Chronicle Staff Writer


  (09-28) 04:00 PDT Moab , Utah -- The scene is part Kerouac, part Corona
beer ad:
  I'm in a warm and cactus-studded desert, slouched comfortably in a camp
chair, savoring a paisley-tangerine sunset. To my left, shrimp the size of
plantains are sizzling on a hibachi. To my right, beer is chilling in a
slushy cooler. And behind me stands my home, my wheels and the linchpin of
my retirement dreams: a Volkswagen pop-top camper.
  Like a lot of Boomers, I've envisioned my rapidly approaching golden years
as not just active, but mobile: I yearn to explore the national parks of
the West, trace what remains of Route 66 or meander down the Baja
Peninsula, camping each night on deserted beaches. (In my fantasy, there
are no bandits, armed drug gangs or time-share touts.)
  But after once watching the proud new owner of a monstrously large motor
home wedge it between two pine trees while trying to turn around in a
Yellowstone campground - for all I know, it's still stuck there - I see
myself behind the wheel of something a bit more modest, easier to drive
and less punishing at the pump.
  For someone who grew up in the 1960s and early '70s, that means only one
thing: a VW camper van.
  Before plunking down the considerable pile of cash required to buy a new
one, or even a decent used one, I did something uncharacteristically wise:
I decided to rent one for a vacation, to make sure my wife Jeri and I
could live in such close quarters without going after each other with tire
irons.
  Which is how we came to be standing in the parking lot of a Comfort Suites
motel near the Salt Lake City airport in May, inspecting the VW Westphalia
Weekender that would be our home for the next week.
  A number of appealing destinations rent VW campers - Vermont, Hawaii,
Washington state and even the Bay Area - but Utah, with its red-rock
canyons, painted deserts and astounding concentration of national parks,
seemed the perfect choice. Swiss army knife on wheels
  As Nathan Williams, co-owner of the rental company, demonstrated the van's
features, I could see that a VW camper is like a Swiss army knife on
wheels, with surprising conveniences tucked and folded into every nook.
Fold the small table out of the way, pull out the backbench seat, and
you've got a bed big enough to sleep two. (Admittedly, not the most
comfortable of beds; it felt like a sofa-sleeper.)
  I could easily pop the spring-loaded top and raise it into place with one
hand. Upstairs was a loft, with zip-open windows and a mattress that was
more comfortable than the one downstairs. Two small or very compatible
people could sleep up there.
  Downstairs, embedded in the side panel, was a small library of guidebooks
and maps. Drapes snapped into place to cover the windshield and windows
for privacy. The otherwise-standard car stereo had one feature I liked
very much: a cord that allowed me to plug in my iPod. I have no idea what
fills the airwaves of southern Utah, but I suspect a little of it would
have gone a very long way with me.
  I discovered, to my disappointment, what the term "Weekender" means: This
model lacks the built-in stove, sink and refrigerator common to classic VW
campers. Instead, it has a tiny refrigerated drawer that was cold enough
to keep yogurt and vegetables from going bad, but not to chill beer.
  Our Weekender came with a removable 5-gallon cooler we had to restock with
ice every other day and a portable two-burner Coleman propane stove
festooned with stickers warning us not to use it inside the camper. Inside
the back hatch, an under-seat shelf held a folding table and chairs, a
lantern and a plastic box of pots, pans, dishes, bowls, paper towels,
cutlery, etc.
  As it turned out, cooking al fresco on campground picnic tables was
delightful in the pleasant climate of Utah's high desert in the spring; it
was probably preferable to filling the camper with the smell of frying
bacon. If we had faced cold, spitting rain, though, it would have been
borderline-miserable. The financial picture
  A word on finances: Renting a camper van is not necessarily a way to save
money. Ours cost $1,105 for the week, including linen rentals and mileage;
that's $145 a day. Plus, we spent $15 to $25 a night on campgrounds. Add
it up, and that's more or less what it would cost to stay in motels and
rent a compact car. (If there are three or four of you, of course, the
math works out differently.)
  The gas tank of our Westy - a common nickname for Westphalia campers -
wasn't cheap to fill, but neither was it ruinous. The van averaged 20 mph
on the two-lane highways and back roads of southern Utah - hardly Prius
mileage, but as good as you're going to get in a camper or RV.
  Food is where the big savings came. Heading south from Salt Lake City
along the snow-dusted Wasatch Mountains, we pulled in at a supermarket
outside Provo to provision ourselves for the week. Our full shopping cart
of camping vittles - eggs, bacon, yogurt and cereal for breakfast; bread,
cheese, tomatoes and sliced meat for lunch; spaghetti, risotto, shrimp and
rib-eye steaks for dinner - cost less than the price of two restaurant
dinners.
  One reason for the relatively low total at the checkout counter: No
liquor. Alcohol isn't illegal in Utah, but they sure don't make it easy
for you.
  The state, as any tippler who's been there will attest, has some of the
nation's strictest and quirkiest liquor laws. Grocery stores and
supermarkets sell only watered-down, 3.2-percent beer - most "normal" beer
has an alcohol content of 5 to 6 percent - and many of them won't do even
that on Sundays. (But one of the brands they do sell is a can't-miss
souvenir: Polygamy Porter, with its slogan, "Why have just one?")
  State-owned liquor stores sell the hard stuff, and the one in Moab had a
surprisingly comprehensive selection of international wines. But these
stores are few and far between once you get out of the Salt Lake City
metropolitan area, and they're closed on Sundays and holidays.
  Many restaurants serve alcohol, but servers are not allowed to mention
this fact or bring you a wine list unless you ask for one. On the other
hand, they're happy to sell you a bottle to go - something I've never seen
a California restaurant do. Then there's the whole bar scene, with its
membership fees, "sidecars" and other oddities.
  All this is a way of saying that if you appreciate a sundowner or feel the
need for something to imbibe around the campfire, plan accordingly.
Campground rituals
  On our first night, in Arches National Park near Moab, we discovered that
living out of a VW camper is halfway between car camping and the usual RV
lifestyle. Unlike the owners of the gargantuan motor homes we saw, which
looked like lunar base stations, with enormous satellite dishes and rover
vehicles - almost always SUVs - parked nearby, we spent all our waking
hours outdoors.
  We could watch the golden light of morning creep down sandstone
skyscrapers and hear the yelps of distant coyotes; when the sunset
exploded in color, we weren't indoors watching a "The X-Files" rerun. And
being outside reconfirmed a curious fact of camping: The bacon frying in
the next campsite always smells better than yours.
  There were some drawbacks. Our camper wasn't soundproof enough to block
the throbbing Euro-disco from the party-hearty gang a couple of campsites
away. And, in one campground a few nights later, they stuck us in the RV
section, which meant we had to listen to the humming generators of
neighboring motor homes all night.
  What loomed as the biggest caveat - VW campers don't have bathrooms -
turned out to be a nonissue. The national parks we stayed in had good and
convenient restrooms, and the state parks had even better ones. On the
road, even out in canyon country, you're never too far from a McDonald's
or convenience store.
  Only about half the campgrounds we stayed in had showers. But in the cool,
dry climes of Utah in the spring, neither of us minded going a day or two
without. And we discovered that private campgrounds will let you use
theirs, even if you're not staying there, for a fee - typically $5 per
person. Small is beautiful
  Every day, I had cause to give thanks I was driving something more akin to
a large car than a school bus. In the Bryce Canyon campground, I saw
nervous dads backing their rented Cruise America RVs into picnic tables,
and at the Capitol Reef visitors center, I could scoot right into an empty
parking space, while motor homes had to head to the distant bus lot.
  In Zion National Park, we cruised right through a low, milelong tunnel
with the other cars, while RVs and motor homes had to wait half an hour or
more for rangers to stop traffic and escort them through.
  Between the town of Torrey and Grand Staircase-Escalante National
Monument, the Highway 12 Scenic Byway follows an airy, knife-edge ridge in
the slickrock, with no shoulder or railing, and vertiginous drops on
either side. It was a windy day, and I was profoundly grateful I wasn't
attempting this vehicular tightrope-walk in something akin to a Bekins
moving van.
  I didn't fully appreciate our camper's sorta-decent gas mileage until the
afternoon I pulled into a gas station at the north rim of the Grand
Canyon, just over the border in Arizona. A gargantuan motor home was
leaving; it looked like something a rock band would tour in, and it was
towing the inevitable SUV behind it.
  "Guy just spent $300, and it didn't even come close to filling the tank,"
the gas station attendant told me. "I'm guessing that rig gets about 2
miles a gallon, 3 tops."
  The plan all along was to take a midweek break from our camper. In the
town of Torrey, we checked into a Days Inn - real bed! private bathroom!
hot showers whenever we wanted! SportsCenter! - for one night.
  But after days of sage-scented desert breezes, the factory-sterile air
coming out of the air conditioner made my throat sore. The noise of the
trucks going by on the highway made me instantly nostalgic for the happy
sounds of campgrounds - even other people's music. And I just happened to
glance out the window in time to catch the last light of what had been a
dramatic, ruby-red sunset; I had been hunkered in front of the TV,
watching a Larry King interview on CNN.
  First thing the next morning, we were in our VW camper and pulling out of
the motel parking lot as quickly as our wheels would take us, on the road
again.

A few things to bring with you
  An inverter: This a device you plug into your car's cigarette lighter,
turning the DC power into AC power you can use to recharge your digital
camera, iPod or laptop. About $40 at RadioShack.
  Small hatchet: For splitting firewood into kindling. Remember not to pack
it in your carry-on luggage.
  Sweatpants: Perfect campground loungewear.
  iPod: Check with the rental company about connections. Some campers have
input jacks in the radio; some have cassette slots that will take an
adapter.
  Kitchen essentials: A small kit with your favorite spices and perhaps a
little olive oil - it will save you from having to buy these things at
your destination.
  - If you go VW CAMPER RENTALS IN UTAH
  Western Road Trips in Salt Lake City (877) 752-8747, westernroadtrips.com)
rents VW Westphalia Weekenders (pop-top campers without the mini-kitchen).
We paid $115 a night for the van, $140 for unlimited mileage, $60 for the
week's rental of linens, towels, duvets, etc., and $10 rental for two camp
chairs. Our camper had more than 150,000 miles on it, but was in excellent
condition. The company will pick you up and drop you off at the airport or
area hotels. VW CAMPER RENTALS ELSEWHERE
  California Campers in Redwood City (650) 216-0000,
www.californiacampers.com) rents Westphalia campers (with mini-kitchens)
for $850 a week in high season (July 1-Sept. 6), less in other seasons.
  Scroll down to the bottom of its home page for links to VW camper rentals
in Southern California; Hawaii (Maui and Big Island); Vermont; Washington
state; British Columbia and the United Kingdom. WHERE TO STAY
  Southern Utah has dozens of national parks, state parks (see sidebar),
U.S. Forest Service and Bureau of Land Management campgrounds, and private
campgrounds. For national parks and the more popular state parks,
reservations are highly recommended. (But take extra care with online
reservations from www.reserveamerica.com. We requested a campsite at the
north rim of the Grand Canyon, but when we arrived, we discovered they had
booked us at the south rim. From talking to other campers, I gather this
sort of thing isn't unusual.) In some areas, it's legal to "boondock" - to
just turn down a little-used dirt road on public property and camp there.
(See Departures.) And most - but not all - Wal-Marts are happy to have RVs
and camper vans spend the night in their parking lots. For a list of
locations: www.allstays.com/c/walmart-utah-locations.htm.
  WHERE TO EAT
  The Diablo Cafe (599 West Main St., Torrey, Utah, (435) 425-3070,
www.cafediablo.net) is one of those places people detour hundreds of miles
to dine at, and for good reason. The menu features innovative and eclectic
Southwest cuisine, from rattlesnake cakes with ancho-rosemary aioli to
Mayan tamales to turkey and poblano peppers simmered in guajillo mole
cream. Dinner for two with drinks, $95. Open for dinner daily from April
18-Oct. 18.

John Flinn is executive editor of Travel. To comment, visit
sfgate.com/travel and follow the links. ----------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 2008 SF Chronicle