The morning alpenglow shone through the cracks between my bamboo blinds, falling in thin slits onto my flannel covered queen mattress, and gently lighting the cozy room around me. My eyes fluttered open as the amber colored sunrise grew brighter, and I slowly reached from below the warm covers to draw the blinds back, revealing a stunning view of the Purcell Mountain Range. While I would not describe myself a morning person by any means, opening the blinds and taking in the scenery had recently become one of my favorite parts of the day. Not because I lived in the Purcells, or anywhere near them actually, but because every time I had opened these very blinds for the last eight days, I had been greeted by an entirely different, yet equally breathtaking view along the Trans-Canada Highway.
A sudden rustle from the kitchen was followed shortly by the smell of fresh coffee, alerting me that my traveling companions were also up. The three of us had dreamt of seeing the Southwest aspect of Canada from Vancouver to Calgary for years, and had long debated the best way to traverse the expanse. There had of course been talk of renting a car, but the conversation was short lived. Three men, skis, backpacking equipment, cameras, food, and everything else simply would not fit. A van? While everything may Tetris in, we wanted something more reliable, comfortable, and trustworthy on the mountain roads. And the more that we poured over maps of our route, we realized that our desired stops were, naturally, in the backcountry and wilderness, and it didn’t make much sense to drive back into the hustle and bustle of a city each night after a relaxing day in nature. The natural choice was an RV, and as I pulled aside the covers of the queen bed in our mobile home base and stood up to stretch, I couldn’t image doing it any other way.
Pulling aside the small divider door to the rest of the RV, I saw my two traveling companions, coffee and fresh baked croissants in hand, already pointing at various aspects of a topographical map spread across the kitchen table. Twenty minutes and two cups of coffee later, we were on the road towards Golden B.C., with plans to hike a remote waterfall feature. The RV afforded me the space and dexterity to change and pack while we drove, and upon arrival, we were simply able to park, lock the door, and start hiking, saving precious sunlight for the adventure ahead.
Turns out we needed all the sunlight we could get, as the waterfalls were not only farther then our guide book claimed, but also behind unexpected snow drifts and downed trees. When my headlamp finally spotted the RV on the way back, I gave a deep sigh of relief, knowing that my legs would soon be able to rest, and my stomach would be filled with a hot, home-cooked meal without having to set anything up or drive a single mile down the road. I shed my gear, showered, turned on the oven, plopped down in a chair, kicked my feet onto the table, and smiled.
Don’t get me wrong, I love sleeping in a tent and cooking over a single burner stove, but the luxury of having all of the comforts of home follow you to every trailhead is simply unmatched. What’s more, is the versatility of the RV. With its ability to easily hold all our gear for multiple sports and travel between any latitude or longitude, every day grants unencumbered adventure like nothing else, which makes focusing on the trail, the real reason we are out, so much easier.
Having eaten a multi-course, well deserved dinner, my eyelids and legs both began to feel the efforts of the day, and my bed began to look more and more inviting. I plugged in my camera and headlamp batteries to charge, bid my companions good evening, and retired behind the small divider. Still open from the morning, I pulled the opposite cord to close the bamboo blinds, smiling as I realized that I would be awoken in the morning by another amber sunrise, and another beautiful view of one more stop along the road.
This story was written as a collaborative effort between THOR and Backpacker Magazine's Content Specialists