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Rich Manley's first experiences in an Alto
Spring was slowly fading away as I drove through the lower elevations of inyo county, the heat of the summer barring down at me through my drivers side window. Like a magnifying glass burning thin paper, it hit my skin like a hot iron. Indeed, it was like an oven outside in Bishop, California, and for me, my number one priority was staying put in the confines of my nice and very cool AC infused Jeep.
I continued on, with my base camp, the safari condo Alto F2114, in tow. My objective - heading higher up into the sierras and setting up base camp where temps were just a little more tolerable. As my vehicle climbed in altitude, I noticed the air was cooling, not considerably, but just enough to roll down my window. As I did so, I was at least able to breath in the clean mountain air rather than suffocate on the arid, moisture-deprived, climate below.
I was nearing my destination, and made my turn down an increasingly treacherous dirt road. The alto held up, as if weightless, by design, allowing me to navigate the 21 foot luxury home through some pretty unstable and rocky terrain. I must add, I tend to be one who puts both my vehicles, and anything attached to them, to the test. Sure enough, the Alto F2114 had little trouble navigating the rugged landscape with its lifted body and off-road tires, it kept in line with the aggressive 37 inch tires and 4 inch lift of my heavily modified Jeep wrangler. Bouncing and bobbing like a small dingy stranded in an ocean storm, I putted along, making my way toward the alpine terrain higher up, where I would make my camp for the night - a camp in preparation for a long day of climbing the following morning.
In my mind, in a sadistic sort of fashion, I was wondering, “I bet the inside of the camper is properly obliterated after all of that rocking and trudging through these rutted access roads.”but then, as bemused as I was to rip through the roads, I did have a sinking feeling of, “ looks like I’ll be having to spend a fair amount of time organizing everything that may have popped loose en route.” However, despite my conjecture, (I tend to be a skeptic at heart), I found I had been proven wrong. Upon finding a beautiful setting to perch my base camp and Jeep for the evening, I was pleasantly, and almost shockingly impressed when I opened the camper door and everything was intact - I mean everything. In fact, it looked even cleaner and more put together than when I had originally set out, or perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me ( after all, it was a long drive from Los Angeles).
I had stepped inside, sat down in the dining area and let out a sigh of relief. I wasn’t completely satisfied though. Something must have broken in transit. Almost any other camper I’ve put through the wringer always had one thing that inevitably bit the dust. I stood up and surveyed the interior. Cabinets worked, doors were intact, no loose screws. No cabinets that broke off. “Hmmm”, I thought, “perhaps I’ve lost my touch for the off-road!” I suppose I wanted to prove that nothing was impervious, especially a camper as light weight as the alto. I figured this thing would at best have some loose screws or panels that popped off the frame- but, it didn’t. I was thoroughly impressed.
Putting a pot of coffee on the burner, I clicked the gas on and lit the stove. Heading back outside, I took in the glowing scenery beyond. A cool breeze swept up around me and drew my attention to the jagged peaks and crests that undulated and tore across the azure skyline. These were the mighty sierras, still snowcapped at the top and looking down over the flat land they surveyed from above. There was no better feeling then to be here, among giants, in a place of peace and calm. The mountains were a security blanket, less of an escape, more so a home I returned to when my weary mind craved it. Usually, I find myself camping in a tent under starry night skies, where the crisp mountain air paints images above, and my mind connects the dots like tiny shimmering lanterns leading me toward an inevitable slumber. Today though I was able to enjoy my rest in an actual base camp, a home on wheels that I was able to take to the home I found in the outdoors, this place. It was a synergy I never had, and never knew I needed. The comforting feeling of glancing up as night fell, watching the horizon slip away into a series of fiery reds while the sun faded behind the mountains and finally gave birth to the darkness and glowing moon was only enriched by knowing I’d be inside, in my alto, making dinner and sleeping in comfort. Daydreaming of tomorrow’s climb, in a place as beautiful as the sierras, in a secluded spot I called my own, I had a home, one that would follow me as much as my heart followed the adventure ahead.