RV Share Unroughing It

BY LYNDA GOROV

The stove is so sleek, the beds so inviting, the lighting so lovely, that we almost never want to leave our vacation quarters.

That’s good — and bad.

Good because the RV rental (think Airbnb studio apartment on massive wheels) has literally all the amenities of home and then some. Bad because it’s parked on California’s central coast, where there is way too much to do ocean-wise, nature-wise and restaurant-wise, never mind all the wineries along the way. >>

“RVSHARE, WHICH BILLS ITSELF AS ‘THE WORLD’S FIRST AND LARGEST PEERTOPEER RV RENTAL MARKETPLACE,’ CONNECTS GUESTS TO HOSTS WHO CAN PROVIDE ‘ROOMS’ THAT RANGE FROM TINY TEARDROP CAMPERS YOU TOW BEHIND YOUR CAR TO MOTOR COACHES RESEMBLING A ROCK STAR’S TOUR BUS.”

We’re psyched about the fireplace, full-size fridge, wide-screen TV, picnic table and barbecue. Did I mention central heat and air? Even the dog is torn between staying put and exploring camp grounds that include a swimming pool, general store and hiking trails that go up into the hills and down toward the water.

High-end RV rentals are not new but they are gaining in popularity: less work than pitching a tent, no stinky outhouses or holes in the ground, typically more affordable than hotel rooms for a family of four or five, which is what ours would easily accommodate.

Think of it as camping with a “kinda” built in. You get the feel of roughing it without the risk of being eaten alive by bugs. You can dress up the experience (and go out on the town) or dress it down by sticking close to camp (and making s’mores). We do both.

Our camper (a term I use loosely) was parked at Ocean Mesa RV Resort in Goleta, an easy walk to the Pacific Ocean and an easy drive to Santa Barbara and beyond. To be honest, this one is a media model owned by RVshare, an Akron, Ohio, company whose slogan is “Use Your Outside Voice.”

RVshare, which bills itself as “the world’s first and largest peer-to-peer RV rental marketplace,” connects guests to hosts who can provide “rooms” that range from tiny teardrop campers you tow behind your car to motor coaches resembling a rock star’s tour bus. You can pick them up or, even better, some owners will drop them in the campground of your choosing.

Ours is like a little hotel in a nature setting, which suits urban us just fine. (RVshare CEO Jon Gray said more and more customers are city folks who want to get out in nature but also avoid sleeping on the ground.)

For us, the RV allows us to be lazy and outdoorsy but also get things done.

This means hiking and biking, a bit of cooking in the gleaming kitchenette (pantry larger than the one at home) and, more than that, checking out local restaurants. Oh, and shopping, which we do in affluent Santa Barbara’s Spanish-style downtown and a short ride away in even posher Montecito, where, sadly, we do not spot the duke and duchess of Sussex (Harry and Meghan), although I later learn that she shopped at the same women’s clothing store as us, so there’s that. (Between RVs and ridiculously expensive T-shirts, I’m such a trendsetter.)

We’ve got four days to cram in what we can, and also stare at the stars. The pressure to relax is on.

First up is Ellwood Mesa, a series of unimproved yet gorgeous trails and dirt roads along the coastline about 20 minutes from where we are staying (in California almost everything is measured in minutes rather than miles). It’s a place for walkers, runners, hikers and horseback riders. You can bird-watch or people watch. We happily lose hours to our meandering.

Then there’s tandem kayaking, which is a lot of work when the pair of you don’t crack 200 pounds. Suffice it to say, we’re not the best in the group, which includes a family of pasty Brits, so that’s saying something. It’s a bit cloudy and cool for a guided tour of the Gaviota Coast, but the two young women from Santa Barbara Adventure Company are fun, funny, knowledgeable and happy to give us a tow when we fall too far behind. (No one mentions when I unexpectedly upchuck over the side of the kayak and I probably shouldn’t, either.) >>

Our final planned experience that doesn’t involve alcohol, carbs or icing is the Santa Barbara Botanic Garden, a 30-minute or so drive from camp where tickets run from $10 to $18 per person. In truth, it isn’t so much a garden as a native plant adventure (meadow, desert, wooded dell, nursery) splayed across five miles of easy trails. Another plus: some of the best peanut brittle ever at the gift shop.

Here it must be noted that we live in Southern California, get to the central coast fairly often, and had already visited many of the mainstays of vacationers to the area: the Santa Barbara Zoo, the fishing pier and sand at Goleta Beach Park, and the labyrinth on Lagoon Island. Plus about a million other things the area is known for in addition to the temperate weather.

Ditto higher-end restaurants and wine tasting rooms. Too many to mention, and truly something for everyone. They don’t call it California cuisine for nothing.

That said, some tasty dishes more in line with camping prices were had in Goleta at Kyle’s Kitchen (salads and large fries; don’t judge); Ca’Dario (salad and two takeout pizzas eaten at the RV’s kitchen booth); and Dean Coffee Shop (lattes, iced tres leches, and delicious hipster sandwiches homemade with smashed beans and avocado); as well as Savoy Cafe & Deli in

Santa Barbara (where we stuffed our faces with mix-and-match platters); and Corktree Cellars in Carpinteria (wowser on the artichoke dip, happy hour tacos and, yes, fries; remember what we said about judging).

With all the walking, rowing and restful sleeping (so, so quiet in the campgrounds once night settles in), we didn’t even gain weight despite all our eating. But that would have been OK, too. When you’re going upscale downscale, you should be ready for anything except ever having to roll out a sleeping bag and worry about bears. g

For more information visit rvshare.com