To begin our transition from suburbanites to homesteaders, we purchased Foxy, a 20 foot (interior dimension) 1999 Arctic Fox travel trailer from the cutest older couple. She was in great condition, aside from a few cosmetic exterior flaws (and of course, the super blehhhhh 1990s travel trailer interior). Good enough for some, I know, but to live in this 90s time capsule full time would be an affront to my very high and mighty opinion of my personal taste. Here she is, in all her original glory:
Why the Arctic Fox, you ask? It’s simple. Winterization. Do you have ANY idea how difficult it is to purchase a winterized travel trailer in Southern California? They’re basically non-existent in a place where winter temps rarely fall below 40 degrees.
Our first Montana winter opened with a delightful polar vortex that ushered in temperatures in the range of the negative teens and twenties. If you’ll pardon my french, the weather was not fucking around. Even winterized, Foxy was a drafty little beast. The windows are single paned and uninsulated. The storage with exterior access is lined with old, flat foam that let all manner of freezing air in. Not to mention, we didn’t have a skirt for the old girl, which made for wee cold footsies in the morning. But I digress. That is a post for another day. Suffice it to say, a winterized trailer was a necessity.
Surveying the awesomeness that was now ours, we realized what a huge amount of work we had just undertaken. Whoever wrote the rule book on how to decorate the interior of a travel trailer should be taken out back and shot. Immediately. No, I jest, but seriously? Emerald green VELVET panel inserts in the cabinetry? Woof.
So began our journey.
Use the links on the top left to see more about our plans, the demo and rebuilding.