Camping Conversion Therapy

A Wandervan Adventure

STORY AND PHOTOS BY KAREN DAY

Summer is for kids and the kids in us. School’s out and flip flops are on as often as possible. And if you, like myself, remain infatuated with the mystique of Idaho’s mountainous playgrounds, camping calls to you as soon as the roads thaw. That doesn’t mean that I immediately pack up the tent and hot dogs, because sleeping in the wild yonder has taught me a few things. Namely, children outgrow sleeping bags and roasting marshmallows, even if we do not. Despite this knowledge, I decided to accept the personal challenge of driving and parallel parking a Wandervan Sprinter with my college-bound son, who was clearly troubled by the possible lack of phone reception and sharing a closed space with his mom for three days. Into the wild we went—on posh wheels.

Headed north, Gold Fork Hot Springs was our first stop, just 90 minutes from Boise. Our house on wheels afforded a private changing room, a cold drink from the refrigerator (which runs for hours, generated by the battery), and a quick snack before a warm plunge. Phone reception was spotty, but my young man was otherwise entertained by the hot water and prospect of getting better reception in McCall. The van was more comfortable and easier to drive on the bumpy dirt road than my son’s 20-year-old pickup. I particularly liked sitting so much higher than most drivers and took care to give them a conciliatory nod from above when passing. So yes, Wandervans offer plenty of horsepower.

McCall. Grocery shopping in this tourist mecca on Payette Lake required parking talent amidst crowds. I particularly appreciated the luxury of no leaking ice chest for cereal milk and hot dogs. On to Ponderosa State Park and the happy masses in tents.

Admittedly, I have never understood the concept of dragging an RV as big as my home into the woods. An avid backpacker, I now admit to passing judgment upon those with generators whirring and tvs blasting in the campground. However, our sprinter van, albeit more like a single dorm room on wheels, was sentenced to park among these behemoths. Ironically, we saw fewer people and found far more peace than the nearby woods filled with exultant children—maybe because our neighbors were on their couch with a cold beer, watching the NBA playoffs.

Alone, yet surrounded, I too had cold beer! And a porta-potty. We cooked ramen on the provided, portable Coleman stove, roasted hotdogs and marshmallows over a crackling fire, accompanied only by ground squirrels demanding fast food and one habituated doe we named Betty. Under quiet stars, AirPods in ears, we watched the Mavericks get trounced with five-bar cell reception. Then we charged our phones next to my queen bed all night. My son slept on the ground. No matter the separate sleeping bags, he would choose a root canal without anesthesia rather than sleep in the same bed.

Wandervans can be rented in four sizes. We chose the medium, which was plenty tall for my 6’1” boy to stand in. The largest vans come with double-tiered queen beds. The rental package provides 125 miles per day and efficient gas mileage, equaling many roads to comfortably burn in 48 hours. We stopped for lakeside photos, Instagram posting, and hot coffee from our rolling kitchen. My son stared at his phone, doggedly, then frowning. I kept my eyes on the road, the sky, the mountains—and smiled. Ahh, welcome to the end of reception.

The road turned to dust 20 miles north of Payette Lake, winding past spring snowpack. 35 miles north of McCall, we lowered into a valley at pink dusk. Deer grazed belly-deep in grass across from what appeared as a postcard from 1867. Log cabins surrounded steam rising from Burgdorf’s hot spring pool. Our Wandervan found plenty of space to park and offered the only modern refrigerator and stove for those who dared mac & cheese on the road less traveled. We were warm. Night fell cold. Stars turned on by the billions. My son jumped out, hustling toward a toasty soak. His phone sat in the dark on the front seat.