foundation. Trailers in 1981 didn’t have fancy auto-
leveling stabilizer jacks like a modern unit might, so
we bought a new set of manual stabilizers from Harbor
Freight for $100 and welded them on with the help of a
friend who had the right equipment (sometimes hav-
ing handy friends is the most useful tip). The stabilizers
made the Bigfoot feel like a real house, which was ground-
ing (no pun intended) for us when we started to live in it.
This whole adventure has been a terrific lesson in
“you can do anything you put your mind to.” We’ve been out of our com-
fort zones a lot. Before the Bigfoot, we didn’t know any thing about towing,
electrical, or plumbing (two simple-but-essential rules we now swear by:
Always use plumbing tape when attaching fixtures, and always check your
connections after going down a particularly rough road).
But we studied, learned, made mistakes (make sure to latch your trailer
cabinets closed—all our dishes broke on our first trip), and we’ve gotten to a
place where we feel highly knowledgeable. Our biggest source was the Fiber-
glass RV forum. It’s full of owners of older Bigfoots and other fiberglass
models, and they have been super helpful with the more obscure, un-
Google-able quirks of Bigfoot ownership. Between them, trial and error,
and how-to videos on YouTube, it turns out things like electrical wiring
aren’t that intimidating!
The renovations took about two and a half months, on and off. We picked
up the Bigfoot in August 2020 and, by the end of October, we were living in
it full-time. The updates cost us about $2,500 after the cost of the trailer,Being in the middle of nowhere
means you’re far from things
like clean water and a restroom.
RVers call this kind of sewer-
less living “boondocking,” and
it’s why our Bigfoot has three
onboard water tanks, plus pota-
ble water stored in five-gallon
containers.
Our 26-gallon freshwater
white tank, so named for the
white inlet on the side of a
camper that’s used to fill it, sup-
plies the water for our toilet and
sink. Drainage is split between
the 12-gallon gray tank, for the
shower and kitchen sink, and the
eight-gallon black tank, for the
toilet. The size of these tanks
is critical to how long you can
spend in the wilderness: The
larger the tanks, the more flex-
ibility you have, but you’ll still
need to conserve your water.
We use on-off-on-off strat-
egies, like turning water on
when we’re rinsing the dishes,
then off when we’re scrubbing.
That’s something we do when
we shower, too. We save a lot
of water by storing our drink-
ing water separately—we used
to fill our Brita pitcher from the
white tank, but it really cut into
our supply and impacted how
quickly our water went.
In the beginning, our black
tank would be full after just
three days or so. Now, we can
usually make it a week if we’re
careful, and we once went 10
days, with Joe peeing outside.
OK, So
About the
Bathroom...
Above: We unwind
with card games
and cribbage, and
we have a Crosley
bluetooth record
player to give Joe
his vinyl fix. Right:
In the future, a new
trailer might mean
a new truck, too.50 May/June 2022