I’ve never been labeled as a high roller, an aristocrat or a member of the country-club crowd. Living up to my redneck status takes up all of my time, including fixing the leaks on my 1950s-era Farmall tractor, patching fence and spreading manure. It also means I’ve been delegated to a life of camping via improvised means.
If the economy is holding you back on the purchase of a 30-foot palace on wheels, why not do what I’m doing? My enclosed trailer now serves dual-purpose: It hauls my toys, and when the toys are removed, it’s my portable redneck palace.
You’ve likely noticed the boom in enclosed trailer sales these days. People are purchasing them to transport ATVs, UTVs, snowmobiles, classic cars and even to move collectibles such as antiques to trading shows. These same enclosed trailers can serve as camping space when the items are removed. They might not be the most comfortable place to camp during July along the Gulf Coast, but during the fall temperatures generally cool enough in the evenings where sleeping in them is comfortable, rainproof and bug free.
My enclosed trailer is an 18-foot gooseneck horse trailer. After removing the horses (and any pasture biscuits) we set up two cots
along the wall and two tables on the opposite wall. A camp stove
, lanterns, water jugs and a cooler round-out the rough accommodations. During elk season I’ve even used a kerosene heater to take the chill off the morning or evening, but I never run any heating unit all night long for fear of asphyxiation. Closed spaces are no place for products that suck oxygen or produce gas. No, I rely on warm sleeping bag to keep me warm until morning.
My son, Cole, and I just returned from pronghorn bowhunting and camped in comfort in out horse trailer “Hilton.” In warm weather we bathe in creeks, and when it gets cold I heat water on the stove and use cattle lick tubs for an improvised bathtub. I’ve been awakened to the beady-eyed stare of a chipmunk or two, but for the most part the trailer provides me with every comfort of home except an indoor bathroom.
So the next time you’re bumping down a dirt trail in the backcountry of Wyoming or Montana and see the faint glow of a lantern coming from a horse trailer, stop by. My horses or ATV will be sitting outside and I’ll be comfortably enjoying my camp-style dinner before slipping deep into my sleeping bag for another evening of redneck rest.