[Wayne and Carolyn Mathews]

OK—now that we’ve had a couple of months of full-timing in Montana's winter weather, here’s the report: It’s been an "OH, NO--not another learning experience" situation! We put skirting around the trailer because the winds here frequently hit a steady 50 - 60 mph, rocking this trailer like you can't believe; fairly regularly we have gusts clocked at 80 to 90 mph. (Don't even ask about the skirting--we were caught short when a bad storm roared in without warning and weeks earlier than we usually get them; the skirting was rigged out of anything and everything we had on hand in a couple of working-in-the-dark hours. It looks like heck, but hey--it works.) We'd planned on putting some kind of skirting around the trailer because things here freeze quickly when icy winds and freezing temperatures arrive (down to -40 occasionally), but that early blast of winter last month didn't leave us time to do anything other than get something sturdy up to block the wind. Even with the skirting, which has worked out well, and a small heater under the kitchen area, our hot water has frozen twice, both times when the temperature was well above zero. (Shock!) Luckily, we didn't have any damage either time, but after the second time it happened, we added a heat lamp directly under the kitchen area where the water heater is located. Since then, we're had temps well below zero, along with some terrible winds, but have had no problems with frozen lines. We were going through propane so fast that it was becoming an inconvenience as well as fairly expensive (because we're about 45 miles from the nearest place to get propane), so we've rented a 250-gallon tank which the propane company comes and fills; now we’re hooked up to that instead of going through the small tanks. We've made some other adjustments, too, because of the skirting and the inconvenience of having to tear it down to pull the rig to town to dump the black water tank. After our first big snow, which was followed by the sub-zero temps, the skirting became cemented to the ground, making those weekly trips to town impossible. So, we've rented a porta-pottie (actually, we have two--it was a rent one, get one free deal) and have them near the trailer, which is probably as white-trash as you can get, but it was either that, move to an RV park in town where we could hook up to a septic system, or play hide-and-seek in the sagebrush all winter. We no longer use the toilet in the trailer, but we do use the shower and sinks AND the washing machine. We can dump the gray water into a tank on our land, and we have a well now, so we can get water to fill the fresh water tank any time we need it (although we can’t stay hooked up to the water because the well is a LONG way from the trailer, located where we could not park the rig). We're getting along just fine. Yes, I wish I could use the indoor toilet, but this is a temporary situation; hitting the outhouse when it's minus-10 isn't as bad as we thought it would be, either. You just learn to cowboy-up. Oh--to cut down on the propane usage, we bought two small ceramic heaters, one for the bedroom and one for the living area. We run them as necessary, on low (900 watts) to keep from flipping the breakers, and that, along with keeping the furnace set on 55 when it's below 0 outside, keeps us warm, even hot. At night, we run only the little bedroom heater (furnace still set at 55), but sometimes we can't even run the that heater because it makes the room too hot. During the day, even when it's freezing, the sun heats the trailer so much that we can get by with just one or both ceramic heaters and no furnace. And it's true--keeping the shades down, both of them, keeps the trailer noticeably warmer. Are we having fun? YES! And when will the house be finished? Oh, maybe at the end of February . . . or March . . . Funny—I thought at my age that I’d be rocking on the porch of my Texas home, enjoying retirement. But here I am, in the middle of nowhere in Montana, teaching again, living in a 5th-wheeler, and doing what I swore I’d NEVER do again—build a house. Well, I’m not living in it yet—who knows? We might never move in—just sell it and travel. We love our 3585 and can’t wait to get it on the road.