First Winter Living in the RV
We had never owned an RV of any kind before this motorhome, so everything has been a learning experience. We bought it at the start of racing season to haul the Mustang down to Woodburn, Oregon, which helped us get familiar with living in it—but it didn’t fully prepare us. There are still new things popping up almost daily.
Like anything else, problems are expected. The difference is how you deal with them.
This has been an interesting Washington winter. December was the wettest on record, and the west side of the state felt like it was underwater. January flipped the script—dry, but cold. No snow yet, but there’s still time. Going from a 3,000–4,000 square-foot house down to roughly 300 square feet takes some adjustment. Cabin fever shows up now and then, but we knew what we were signing up for—and more importantly, why we’re doing it. I’ll dig into that in a future entry.
The biggest challenge so far has been moisture. Between constant rain, limited sun, and being tucked into the woods, moisture builds fast. I already knew from the in-laws’ property next door that this land doesn’t dry out easily. We now run three small dehumidifiers and have slowly dialed in how we heat the space and circulate air. Moisture from foot traffic and daily living is unavoidable, but it’s manageable now.
Cooking is another adjustment. Most of the counter space is actually sink and stove covers, so everything has to be moved just to use either. We survived the first month on an air fryer and way too much eating out, then added an electric fry pan—something I forgot how much I used to rely on. We’re also careful about what and how we cook to keep moisture down, and we run the rooftop fan constantly to push steam out.
Bathing has its own learning curve. The hot water tank holds six gallons, so showers are short. Even turning the water off while soaping up drains it fast. That’s fine, because we don’t have a permanent water hookup yet. I run a hose from the neighbor’s place, add a few extensions to reach the RV, fill the tank, then return the hose. I could leave it connected to city water, but the line would cross the driveway—and constantly driving over hoses gets expensive fast.
The furniture is honestly junk, and a small remodel is on the list. New mattress, ditch the massive L-shaped couch, and replace it with a reclining loveseat to open up space for a small desk. That’ll make working more comfortable than being stuck at the dinette. It’s not a high priority right now, but hopefully before fall.
Thankfully, there have been no major mechanical issues. This morning I went to pull the living room slide in to go get propane, and it stopped halfway—never a good feeling. After tearing into the header, I found the motor cables had never been adjusted and were loose as hell. A quick adjustment and the slide came in fine. Propane mission completed. The only other real failure was the front A/C unit dying on the hottest day of the summer, parked in direct sun at the races. That was fun. It won’t get replaced until we have dry weather or I build a cover to work under.
Every day out here is another lesson. Full-time RV living will test your patience, no question. You have to adopt the right mindset. It’s part fun, part pain in the ass. It’s not comfortable, and it’s definitely not convenient—but this is the path we chose to build the legacy we want to leave behind.
