Fun with Fiberglass

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Lightweight molded-fiberglass RVs are designed for long-term durability and improved mpg — and they look cool, too

RVs are constructed in a number of different ways, but many follow the same basic blueprint: Start with a steel or aluminum frame, build up the walls with wood and/or aluminum, more framing and composite materials, cover the structure with a roof and wrap the entire unit with either aluminum panels or gelcoat fiberglass. While conventional construction methods work well, another successful strategy has been in place for years and continues to flourish: molded fiberglass.

 RVs built from molded fiberglass are sleek and shiny, and share their origins with the marine industry (think boat hull). In a molded-fiberglass trailer, fifth-wheel or truck camper, the rigid fiberglass body actually serves as the main framing element, as well as the interior and exterior skin. The body of the RV is essentially two pieces that clamshell together, resulting in a durable, corrosion-resistant body that is quite strong and can have several advantages over traditionally built RVs.

Casita Spirit Deluxe" width="400" height="267" />Casita Spirit Deluxe

“The two-piece fiberglass shell has one main seam around the center belt line,” explains Grant Bilodeau, president of Bigfoot RV. “Traditional trailers are made of many separate side, floor and roof panels, and are then screwed together with many moldings and seals. As RVs are meant to travel down the road, a traditional trailer will flex over time, and all the extra seams and joints become higher maintenance and risk points for leaking. With a fiberglass trailer, thereis only one seam to worry about.”

“Fiberglass molded trailers are sprayed into a mold with gelcoat and fiberglass,” Bilodeau adds. “The glass content is like the rebar in concrete — it gives you all your strength, as the resin binds it all together.”

Fiberglass construction can also lead to some positive results when it comes to fuel mileage, handling and durability. “Our fiberglass campers are 25 percent lighter than conventionally built truck campers,” says Keith Donkin, general manager at Northern Lite Manufacturing. “They are very aerodynamically designed for improved fuel efficiency, and they feature a very low center of gravity, which eliminates the sway of a conventionally built camper.”

Improved towing characteristics and longevity do come with a trade-off. Molded-fiberglass RVs can be a bit more costly than their conventionally built counterparts. But manufacturers of fiberglass RVs claim the difference in price can easily be amortized over the lifetime of the RV.

Dub-Box USA

“Generally, people like our trailers because they are easy to tow, easy to set up, and they last forever,” reports Kent Eveland, president of Scamp Trailers. “Most of the trailers we built in the 1970s are still in use.”

Robert P. Partee, general sales manager of Oliver Travel Trailers, agrees. “Most fiberglass trailers hold their value over the years much better than the standard-build types,” he says. “Constructing travel trailers with fiberglass has been flying under the radar for years.”

Often eclectic, sometimes retro-chic and always eye-catching, molded-fiberglass RVs are frequently the focus of online communities and club rallies. “We find our trailers appeal to all ages in part because of the nostalgia factor, as well as the simplicity and weight,” says Heather Gardella, president of Dub Box USA.

Check out the following collection of some of the more interesting fiberglass RVs on the market today.

Bigfoot

Bigfoot Industries manufactures a variety of travel trailers and truck campers, all featuring clamshell molded-fiberglass construction.

Bigfoot actually overlaps the top shell onto the bottom and uses a special sealant to further guard against water penetration. The 2500 series travel trailers include R-8 insulation, which, when combined with the fiberglass base (less conductive than aluminum or steel), creates a more livable four-season RV, according to Bilodeau. Seven floorplans ranging from 17 to 25 feet are available. The 25B25FB boasts a full rear bath, sleeping space for up to six and standards that include a porcelain toilet, aluminum wheels, heated and enclosed tanks, and aliving-area skylight. The option to enclose the A-frame and add cargo space is not only practical but looks great as well. Other options includea solar-power system, 11,000-Btu roof air conditioner, exterior speakers and an electric A-frame jack.

250-546-2155
www.bigfootrv.com

Casita

For 33 years, Casita has been building lightweight fiberglass trailers. The 17-foot Casita Spirit Deluxe offers comfortable sleeping arrangements for three, with a bit more space for guests, provided they are of the smaller variety. Both sleeping areas convert to dinettes by day, meaning the trailer can easily accommodate more than it can sleep before the sun goes down. A couch/bunk-bed option ups the ante even more. The surprisingly wide-open floorplan means occupants won’t trip over each other while moving about. In Deluxe models, a large, full-featured bathroom is located at the front of the trailer, as is a roomy storage wardrobe. Standard features include custom marine-grade fiberglass furniture, carpet-lined storage compartments and a powered roof vent. Owners can also opt for LED lighting, a microwave, an electric A-frame jack and a larger gray-water holding tank.

800-442-9986
www.casitatraveltrailers.com

Dub Box

Dub Box USA manufactures lightweight fiberglass trailers reminiscent of the Volkswagen Microbus popular in the 1960s and ’70s. Dub Box trailers are not true Volkswagen conversions but are in fact manufactured from a fiberglass mold made from the vintage VW Bus. Each Dub Box trailer comes equipped with classic moon-style hubcaps, a hot/cold outdoor shower, a two-burner stove, a sink, a 3-cubic-foot refrigerator, an LP-gas water heater, an L-shaped convertible couch with 4-inch cushions, a folding dinette table and Sunbrella weather curtains for the pop-top. Options include air conditioning, solar panels, a luggage roof rack and a storage box on the A-frame. Buyers get to select the paint color for the exterior to match their tow vehicle.

503-744-0032
www.dub-box-usa.com

Eggcamper

Eggcamper trailers are ultralightweight and offer a fun way to enjoy RVing. Available only from the factory in Grandville, Michigan, and weighing less than 2,000 pounds (dry, without options), the Eggcamper can be towed by almost any properly equipped truck, van or SUV. The all-white trailers may look spartan inside, but they contain all the amenities needed for weekend fun, including sleeping space for two to four, a galley with a stainless sink, a 2.4-cubic-foot refrigerator, available air-conditioner, appliances and a lavatory with a toilet (or a large storage area instead). Plus, the smooth interior makes cleanup a breeze. The Dexter Torflex suspension is a welcome inclusion, as are the power roof vent and radius safety-glass windows with screens and miniblinds. LP-gas options are available, in addition to the electric-only model powered by an appropriately sized AC generator, along with the standard 30-amp converter with charger.

616-437-9255
www.eggcamper.com

Escape

Another big name in the molded-fiberglass market is Escape Trailers. Based in Chilliwack, British Columbia, Escape offers several fiberglass travel trailers and more recently introduced a fifth-wheel. All Escape trailers are compact and lightweight for easy towing, and the Escape 21 is designed specifically for tow vehicles with weight ratings down to 5,000 pounds. But don’t be fooled by the diminutive size. Escape trailers are equipped with full galleys, bathrooms and living areas, in addition to oak cabinetry, high-grade linoleum flooring and an insulated headliner. Other impressive standards include two roof vents, LED ceiling lighting, full-surround overhead storage and a holding-tank monitor. Popular options range from appliance upgrades to a stereo, a water filter and a solar charging system.

855-703-1650
www.escapetrailer.com

Happier Camper

In addition to offering vintage restored fiberglass rentals, Happier Camper now builds the unique HC1 trailer. The base-price HC1 begins as an empty shell built using bonded double-hull fiberglass with 1.5-inch honeycomb fiberglass flooring. Grooves are embedded in the flooring to accommodate the modular components (think Legos) that will make up the custom floorplan, including a kitchenette, benches, cushions, an AC/DC refrigerator cube, tables, floor panels — there’s even a portable-potty cube. Buyers can configure the layout exactly as they’d like it, and the price is determined by the selected modules. LED lighting comes standard, as do built-in rear stabilizing jacks and an undercarriage-mounted full-size spare tire. Add-ons include compatible comfort heating, stereos, electric fans and moon-style hubcaps.

818-649-9099
www.happiercamper.com

Nest Caravans

A newcomer to the fiberglass-trailer market, Nest Caravans from Bend, Oregon, combines the easy-towing
capabilities of a lighter-weight fiberglass trailer with elegantsophistication and an eye for detail. Nest trailers are available in five color combinations with an array of useful exterior standards, including a nosecone storage box, all-LED exterior lighting, BAL stabilizing jacks and frameless windows. Inside, dimmable switches help control the mood with all-LED lighting, and the galley shimmers with a stainless-steel sink, two-burner cooktop and 3.2-cubic-foot refrigerator. The full-time queen bed can comfortably sleep two. Options include a convertible dinette, natural cork tiles, a microwave and an entertainment system.

541-610-2292
www.nestcaravans.com

Northern Lite

Another Canadian manufacturer, Northern Lite Manufacturing in Kelowna, British Columbia, builds fiberglass truck campers designed to withstand extreme weather. The company’s top-selling Ten 2000 EX CD SE boasts some impressive features like 95-watt solar panels, a 10-foot side awning, an LCD TV and DVD player, thermal-pane windows and skylight, solid hardwood and more. There’s even a full 14-inch basement with heated and enclosed storage tanks. Sleep like a baby on the 60 x 80-inch queen bed, or take a warm shower in the large bathroom area. Options include an air conditioner, electric jacks, LED lighting in the electric awning, battery-disconnect, an extended patio bumper, and a boat rack and ladder. With a floor length of more than 11 feet, this camper weighs in at 1,400 to 2,000 pounds lighter than comparable conventionally built campers with the same features, offering buyers the best of both worlds.

250-765-3702
www.northern-lite.com

Oliver

Oliver Travel Trailers offers two fiberglass trailers, the Legacy and Legacy Elite II. “Ollies,” as they’re called, begin at the Tennessee factory with dual fiberglass shells. The shells are then wrapped around a hefty 2 x 5-inch aircraft-grade-aluminum box-tube frame, offering additional rigidity and durability. All holding tanks and components are enclosed between the inner and outer shells for superior insulation benefits and protection from the elements. The 2016 Legacy Elite II has a number of impressive features, from the custom-molded-fiberglass spare-tire and LP-gas cylinder covers to LED lighting, marine-grade stainless-steel cabinet latches and eye-catching interior gelcoat walls and cabinets. Options range from fiber-granite countertops to a solar package, plus a tech-savvy selection that includes Wi-Fi and cell-phone boosters, a rearview camera, and satellite antennas and wiring.

931-796-1178
www.olivertraveltrailers.com

Scamp

Scamp fiberglass trailers are sold factory-direct in Backus, Minnesota. Available in 13- and 16-foot trailers and a 19-foot fifth-wheel, the nimble RVs are ideal for couples and smaller families on weekend getaways. Scamp has always focused on easeof use and maneuverability. Its trailers are durable, lightweight and aerodynamic, and are designed to be towed by properly equipped small cars, SUVs, minivans and trucks.

The 13-footer is available in Standard or Deluxe (upgraded interior), with a convertible sofa or a shower and toilet up front. The options package that includes the lavatory features a 1.9-cubic-foot refrigerator, a screen door, a water pump, a water heater, a gravel shield and a window above the range. Additional add-ons include cabinet configurations, a 2-inch hitch receiver for bike racks, TV hookups and antenna, and an 8-foot awning.

800-346-4962
www.scamptrailers.com

Weis Craft

The Little Joe is a lightweight fiberglass trailer that offers two people a comfortable place to stay while on the road. Inside, dual sofas fold down to create the ultimate 78 x 63-inch sleeping area. Although the Little Joe doesn’t have bathroom facilities (those come in Weis Craft’s Ponderosa model for an additional $6,000), a two-burner cooktop and a standard icebox allow for gourmet campsite fare (a refrigerator option is available), and a small freshwater tank lets owners clean up after a long day’s adventure. Options abound in the Little Joe, including a furnace, air conditioning, folding shelves, a three-speed reversible fan and an 8-foot awning. And, chances
are, you already own a vehicle that can haul the Little Joe.

303-947-2351
www.weiscrafttrailers.com/littlejoe

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Half-Ton Fun

Read article : Half-Ton Fun

Laredo Super Lite 289SRE" />

High fuel prices and the skyscraping cost of ³/₄– and 1-ton pickups have created a growing demand for lightweight, easier-to-tow RVs. But not everyone wants a little trailer, which has led many RV builders to focus on smaller and lightweight fifth-wheels now more than ever. And the consumer stands to benefit from that trend. However, while many half-ton towable fifth-wheels might be smaller, that doesn’t mean they aren’t spacious and filled with great features; many offer niceties such as solid-surface countertops, leveling jacks and electric awnings. And almost every brand has a fifth-wheel designed for half-ton pickups that offers a slideout to expand the living space. Some even have two or three.

Keystone’s Laredo Super Lite fifth-wheel line is a perfect example. The series tops out at 31 feet in length with a dry weight of 7,735 pounds, yet is available in two double-slide floorplans. ‘‘These fifth-wheels are extremely well-equipped, attractive, offer great value and, of course, are towable by properly equipped half-ton trucks,’’ explains Jim Mac, Keystone’s communications manager.

Having made a name for itself in the travel trailer and truck camper markets, Livin’ Lite Recreational Vehicles entered the fifth-wheel segment for the 2013 model year with the Mercury, an aluminum-and-composite fiver that will initially feature two 24-foot floorplans with dry weights of less than 4,500 pounds. ‘‘We expect the Mercury to prove to be something that changes the market a little bit in the true ultralight fifth-wheel category,’’ says Livin’ Lite President Scott Tuttle.

Mark Lucas, president of Forest River’s Shasta division, says the company’s new 100-inch wide-body Phoenix fifth-wheel in lengths of 27 to 34 feet is intended to deliver more livability in a smaller RV. ‘‘It’s more cost-effective for the consumer, easier to tow and easier to park and they give up nothing,’’ Lucas said.

More and more builders are coming to market with a half-ton towable fifth-wheel that offers many of the conveniences, features and luxuries of the larger, heavier fivers. Here’s a guide
to get you started.

Axiom 

The compact Axiom lightweight fifth-wheel built by Forks RV is aimed primarily at the Australian market, but is available through select dealers in the United States. The 7¹/₂-foot-wide mid-profile Axiom is offered in four 23- to 27-foot floorplans, each with a single sofa/dinette slideout. With a dry weight of 6,500 pounds, the aluminum-and-laminated fiberglass Axiom features an aerodynamic front cap, composite cabinets, LED lighting inside and out, thermopane windows and linoleum floors in the living area with carpeting in the upper deck — which is equipped with a queen bed. Base MSRP starts at $42,000.

Forks RV, 574-825-7467, www.forksrv.com

CrossRoads 

CrossRoads RV has added a double-slideout 30-foot lightweight fifth-wheel to its 2013 Cruiser Aire lineup. The Cruiser Aire fiver, from this subsidiary of Thor Industries, has a walk-through queen-size bedroom with a 6-foot 6-inch ceiling. Five other fifth-wheel floorplans in lengths of 25 to 30 feet will also be available. The Cruiser Aire fiberglass-and-aluminum debut floorplan, with a 7,000-pound dry weight, is equipped with electric jacks, a 15,000-Btu air conditioner, 8-cubic-foot refrigerator, maple cabinets, 54-by-27-inch shower with a glass door and a midway island kitchen with a large amount of Formica countertop space. Base MSRP: $29,995.

CrossRoads RV, 855-226-7496, www.crossroadsrv.com

Escape 5.0

Made entirely of hand-laid fiberglass in a two-piece mold, the lightweight, aerodynamic Escape 5.0 from Escape Trailer weighs approximately 2,650 pounds (dry) and offers a low center of gravity for increased road stability and a 3,500-pound-capacity independent suspension axle for reduced vibration and better handling while towing. Standards such as 15-inch tires (including the spare), LED marker lights, a 10-foot Fiesta awning and dual 5-gallon LP-gas cylinders dress up the exterior of this 19-foot 6-inch fifth-wheel. Its compact kitchen still boasts a 4.3-cubic-foot three-way Dometic refrigerator, two-burner cooktop with power range hood, optional microwave and a countertop and sink roomy enough to get the job done. The fifth-wheel has a gross vehicle weight rating (GVWR) of 4,400 pounds, making it easily towed by half-ton pickups such as a GMC Sierra or Toyota Tundra, and even by some compact pickups with appropriate trailer weight ratings and proper equipment. Base MSRP: $27,000.

Escape Trailer Industries, 855-703-1650, www.escapetrailer.com

Heartland RV

Two new rear-living-room floorplans have been added to Heartland Recreational Vehicles’ Elkridge Express fifth-wheel series for 2013. The 30-foot E27 and 31-foot E28 floorplans each have a single slideout and are among seven that the manufacturer is building for the new model year. With dry weights ranging from 7,205 to 9,250 pounds, the Elkridge Express is constructed with laminated fiberglass side walls on an aluminum frame and has an 88-degree turning angle. Features include heated storage with slam-lock doors, kingpin box covers, outside showers, Beauflor floors, solid-surface countertops, cherry cabinets with hidden hinges, 60-by-74-inch queen beds, full wardrobes, sofa air beds, porcelain toilets, dinette chairs with hidden storage and multiview TV centers. Base MSRP starts at about $24,000.

Heartland RV, 877-262-8032, www.heartlandrvs.com

Jayco

Dry weights range from 5,975 to 7,135 pounds in the Jayco Eagle HT line, with four available floorplans for 2013. Offered in 26- to 32-foot layouts, three have wardrobe slideouts to complement the living-room slide. The unusual Eagle HT 23.5RBS has a large rear bath with tub and shower to allow for more bedroom space in the upper deck. A standard Glacier Package includes an R-29 insulation value in the main floor and R-27 in the roof in addition to triple insulation in the heated-and-enclosed underbelly. Countertops are solid-
surface and cabinets have solid hardwood doors with screwed stiles. Base MSRPs begin at $30,586.

Jayco Inc., 574-825-5861, www.jayco.com 

Laredo Super Lite 289SRE" width="300" height="205" />Keystone 

With a dry weight of 7,735 pounds, the Laredo Super Lite 289SRE is equipped with a living-area slideout containing a sofa bed and booth dinette. A ‘‘Best in Class Package’’ included in all Laredo layouts includes an adjustable electric awning, LCD TV, electric rear stabilizer jacks, all-weather Glacier Package and crown molding. Standard features include a fully enclosed heated underbelly, pass-through lighted storage, residential-size cabinets, single-basin sink, two-door refrigerator, extra-wide dinette with storage below, raised-panel mortise-and-tenon cabinet doors, queen bed, wardrobe storage and entertainment center. Keystone also offers a new 31-foot 280SBH fifth-wheel floorplan with rear bunk beds for the kids in its popular Laredo Super Lite series. Base MSRPs typically equipped begin at $54,940.

Keystone RV, 866-425-4369, www.keystonerv.com

KZRV 

A tri-level rear-kitchen floorplan has been added for 2013 to the newly redesigned Durango from KZRV. The unique 37-foot double-slideout floorplan, built on a bi-level drop-frame, features a new front cap designed to allow a greater turning radius, and has a side-aisle (streetside) front bath with a porcelain toilet, large neo-angle shower and linen closet. The 331RK queen-bed floorplan — one of 12 offered in the Durango series — has a dry weight of 9,740 pounds and is equipped with 110 cubic feet of storage under the kitchen, an 8-cubic-foot refrigerator with wood insert panel, solid-surface countertops, kitchen table with four chairs, Beauflor linoleum, slam-latch baggage doors, an L-shaped sofa bed and a 32-inch LCD TV. MSRP: $49,999.

KZRV LP, 260-768-4016, www.kz-rv.com

Livin’ Lite  

Livin’ Lite Recreational Vehicles, known for its lightweight all-aluminum folding camping trailers and truck campers, has introduced the Mercury fifth-wheel. Livin’ Lite’s Mercury will have two 24-foot aluminum-and-composite floorplans, each equipped with a single slideout. Both are designed for half-ton pickups with GVWRs in the 3,500- to 4,500-pound range. One floorplan features double bunks in the upper bedroom,  while the second will be equipped with a queen bed. Both will have dry baths with LP-gas stoves, refrigerators and water heaters. The interior is available in a wood-look Azdell composite or champagne aluminum. Base MSRP: $26,000.

Livin’ Lite, 574-862-2228, www.livinlite.com

Northwood

Northwood Manufacturing has given its Fox Mountain lightweight fifth-wheel a facelift for 2013. The redesigned Fox Mountain now has tan side walls, an aerodynamic mocha front cap and a more contemporary interior with stainless-steel appliances. Built on a cambered chassis, the fiberglass-and-aluminum Fox Mountain is available in six 26- to 32-foot floorplans with up to three slideouts. With a dry weight of 7,500 pounds in the 28-foot double-slide model, a standard Four Seasons package includes heated-and-enclosed underbellies, R-7 insulation in the side walls and floor, and R-18 in the roof. Features include solid-surface countertops, Beauflor floors, centrally located control panels, exterior showers and electric awnings. A combination sofa/dinette with leatherlike fabric is optional. Base MSRPs begin at $32,500.

Northwood Manufacturing Inc., 800-766-6274, www.northwoodmfg.com

Shasta 

Forest River’s Shasta Recreation Vehicle division has introduced the mid-profile Shasta Phoenix wide-body fifth-wheel with a distinctive exterior and a kingpin that can be adjusted to accommodate 5¹/₂-foot-pickup beds. Available in eight floorplans with up to four slideouts, the Phoenix is 100 inches wide and available in eight 27- to 34-foot floorplans, all with 6 feet 4 inches of headroom in the upper deck bedroom. The gray hung fiberglass side wall on a six-side aluminum superstructure is connected to the root-beer-colored front cap. Bamboo rattan accents in the cabinets and on the slide fascia, along with Beauflor wood-plank floors, give the Phoenix a lighter interior. Dry weights begin at 7,400 pounds. Base MSRPs start at $30,000.

Shasta RV, 574-825-7178, www.shastarving.com

Starcraft RV

Starcraft RV is building its 2013 Starcraft Travel Star FW fifth-wheel series on its own StarMaxx drop-frame chassis to increase the storage capacity to 75 cubic feet. Floorplans offering two or three slideouts and dry weights from 7,415 to 7,915 pounds are available. A standard Arctic Package includes heated and enclosed underbellies with foil insulation in the roof and slideout rooms. Amenities include bourbon-glazed beechwood solid-wood raised-panel doors and drawers throughout, porcelain toilet, radius shower, oversized sinks, Formica countertops, storage drawers beneath the booth dinette and large windows over the dinette. An optional Galaxy Package includes a colored fiberglass front cap; power stabilizer jacks; remote control for patio awnings; slideout, porch and security lights; front and rear jacks; solid-surface countertops; and a 32-inch LED TV with DVD player. Base MSRP starts at $29,986.

Starcraft RV, 800-945-4787, www.starcraftcamping.com

Winnebago 

For those in the market for a midprofile fifth-wheel, Winnebago Towables has introduced the Winnebago Lite Five with four 28- to 34-foot floorplans, three of which are equipped with a single slideout and an optional wardrobe slide in the bedroom. With a cambered front cap, the fiberglass-and-aluminum Winnebago Lite Five, with dry weights from 6,907 to 8,953 pounds, can be towed by shortbed pickups. Features include high-gloss automotivelike gel coat exterior, fully enclosed-and-heated underbellies, 35,000-Btu furnace, high R-value insulation, patio awnings and stabilizer jacks. Amenities include a sectional sofa, island queen bed, a large bathroom with neo-angle shower, double-door refrigerators, a large amount of counter space and Bluetooth-enabled entertainment centers. Base MSRPs start at $28,993.

Winnebago Industries, Inc.,  574-825-5250, www.winnebagoind.com

Yellowstone

The Yellowstone division of Gulf Stream Coach has added a 29-foot rear-living room floorplan to its Canyon Trail XLT fifth-wheel series. The low-profile Canyon Trail XLT 25FLRW floorplan, with a dry weight of 7,297 pounds, has a single 38-inch-deep, 6-foot-2-inch tall slideout that contains a convertible sofa/dinette. Offering a large hallway closet with mirrored doors, the 25FLRW has a separate shower and bathroom, hardwood cabinet doors and drawers, laminated countertops with a solid-surface option and a queen bed with a flip-down fabric headboard with hidden storage. To accommodate shortbed pickups, the aluminum-framed vacuum-bonded side wall Canyon Trail XLT has an extended kingpin box. MSRP: $29,253.

Yellowstone RV, 800-811-0302, www.yellowstonervs.com 

Driving in the U.S.'s Only All-Female Endurance Road Race

Read article : Driving in the U.S.'s Only All-Female Endurance Road Race

It was 4 p.m. and 90 degrees when we finally decided to give up. For hours, Jaclyn and I had been inching our Jeep Rubicon along a dusty unmarked road in the Mojave National Preserve, eventually finding ourselves trapped in a high-walled canyon. We had no idea how far off course we were: Two miles? Twenty? We hadn't seen another human all afternoon. Soon it would be dusk, then nightfall.

We were lost. Not Can you pull up Google Maps?lost, or Do we still have a road atlas somewhere?lost. No, we were Are we in California or Nevada?lost; Thank god we have emergency supplieslost; This landscape would be gorgeous if it weren't so apocalyptic lost. The Jeep's GPS system had been disabled, and our phones and laptops were turned off and sealed in envelopes. We had a collection of specialized large-scale topographical maps, but to figure out where you are on a topo map (a relief map that shows a region's geographical features), you have to know how to read it. I was supposed to be the better topo reader in our pair, and I could barely pick out the most prominent landmarks. If coyotes or unfriendly strangers appeared, we'd be completely, royally screwed.

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Is that the road?

Nicole Dreon

We sat in the Jeep with the air conditioning on high, eating sugary energy chews and gulping down coconut water.

We'd signed up for this. Willingly. For fun.

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That was day four of the inaugural Rebelle Rally, a female-only navigational road rally—the first of its kind. For seven days last fall, 72 women—36 teams of two—off-roaded over 1250 miles, through two national parks and five Bureau of Land Management areas (government-managed public lands). We started in Nevada's Lake Tahoe and ended in Glamis, California; in between, we rambled down dirt roads, clambered over dry riverbeds and mountain passes, and coasted over terrifyingly high sand dunes.

This all called for a set of navigation skills no one uses anymore—unless you're a sailor or a fifth grader prepping for a social studies test.

Throughout the course, 140 checkpoints were hidden behind broken-down mine shacks, just beyond hairpin turns, deep inside mountain crevices, and sometimes, blessedly, directly on the route. Large green flags marked the easiest-to-find checkpoints; smaller blue flags identified intermediate ones. Black checkpoints, the most difficult to find, weren't marked at all. Each was worth a certain number of points. The goal: Rack up as many as possible.

Every morning we were given a list of checkpoints to find that day (one day there'd be 12; another day, 22), defined solely by their latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates. We had to plot them on our topo maps, then use geometry to strategize how to get from one to the next. This all called for a set of navigation skills no one uses anymore—unless you're a sailor or a fifth grader prepping for a social studies test. We weren't allowed phones, GPS, or outside help. Kind of like an adult female Eagle Scouts on steroids, or Survivor meets The Amazing Race in the American West.

One of our topo maps; early morning plotting at camp.

Whitney Joiner; Nicole Dreon

The automotive world is notoriously male-dominated, making a women-only motorsports event revolutionary. (There are a few all-women rallies and races scattered across the globe, out of hundreds of annual motorsports events overall; the Rebelle is the only one in the U.S.) "I've been in races where I was the only woman driving," the Rebelle's founder, 50-year-old Emily Miller, told me. "I've had people recommend I wear a tight pink race suit."

Miller grew up between Arkansas and Colorado, skiing, biking, and reading her father's car magazines. In her 30s, she launched a sports marketing firm and started to race cars and teach at racing and off-roading schools. When creating the Rebelle—which took three years of planning, 40 Bureau of Land Management permits, and 60 staffers to pull off—Miller combined her favorite aspects of the rallies and races she'd participated in over the years.

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She was determined to create an event where women could test their mettle. "Most automotive events are designed from a man's perspective," Miller said, meaning that they're usually speed races, where the goal is to get from Point A to B as fast as possible. But the Rebelle isn't a race, she reminded us daily. It demanded endurance, accurate navigation, and communication. "Women excel in endurance events," she explained. "Women think about the rules and the challenge. They want to win, but they're not there to prove how fast they can go."

My team's combined experience was…limited. "Winning" never crossed our minds; we just hoped to finish without killing the Jeep—or one another. My teammate, Jaclyn Trop, is an auto reporter who reviews luxury cars, but we both quickly realized that her professional expertise didn't translate into real-world driving and car maintenance knowledge. While she knows her way around a racetrack, she didn't know how to read a map.

Naïve enthusiasm seemed like a perfectly legitimate qualification to enter a highly-detailed endurance event requiring a complex Venn diagram of skills I didn't possess.

Not that I know anything about cars. I can sort of drive a stick shift, and sort of change a tire. I'd signed up for the Rebelle Rally because tooling around isolated Southwestern back roads is one of my all-time favorite activities, something I discovered during the six years I lived in Far West Texas. (Aimless desert driving is terrible for the environment, but good for the soul.)

At first, my lack of experience didn't faze me. Naïve enthusiasm seemed like a perfectly legitimate qualification to enter a highly-detailed endurance event requiring a complex Venn diagram of skills I didn't possess. This blind optimism buoyed me for months: the Rebelle was just a crazy-sounding adventure, far off in the distance, something to think about later.

But six weeks before the rally, during a training weekend with a handful of other competitors in California's Borrego Springs, my optimism cratered into a black hole of fear and self-loathing. Surrounded by women far more experienced than me, all of whom could probably MacGuyver a tire blowout with a piece of gum, my lack of preparation smacked me in the face. Latitude and longitude felt like a maddening mathematical language I'd never master, and I didn't believe that Jaclyn or I would have the stamina and resilience to handle potential crises. (I live in Brooklyn! I don't even have a car!) Instead of bonding with the other participants, I disappeared into my tent, clutching my iPhone for comfort. Miller stopped by: "You okay?" she called from outside my tent. "Yeah," I squeaked. "Just tired." This is going to be a disaster, I told myself. You didn't think this through.

Mood for most of the week.

Rebelle Rally

I was certain the rally would bring out my worst self. I'd be a dehydrated raw bundle of neuroses, throwing my helmet in the dust and indulging in nonstop Carrie Mathison-like angry-crying. I spent the month before the rally nursing a never-ending migraine, holing up at home ruminating on my certain failure, and having bouts of ill-advised anxiety sex with a highly inappropriate partner I thought I'd successfully sworn off months before.

"It's only overwhelming because you've never done it before," my mother, always a voice of reason, said. "Once you're there, you'll get in the swing of it. You'll be fine. You always are."

---

The rally began on a Saturday morning in early October, but Jaclyn and I arrived in Lake Tahoe—bright and sunny and permeated with the smell of pine—on Tuesday night to prepare. Buying our required provisions took an entire day: We'd need a five-gallon jug of water, emergency blankets, a fire extinguisher, first aid kits, food to last at least five days (in case something went terribly awry), a laundry list of auto supplies, and helmets—required for safety's sake whenever we were on the Rebelle course—that squished our faces into chipmunk-cheek blobs. Thursday was "technical inspection," during which rally staffers ensured each vehicle was properly equipped. On Friday afternoon, all 36 teams caravanned out to our first base camp, a sprawling settlement a few hours east of Lake Tahoe, with a vehicle impound, a maintenance tent and gas refill area, a food truck manned by a Michelin-starred chef, and the main gathering space—a shelter filled with tables and butterfly chairs, decorated with gauzy curtains and wildflowers.

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Miller briefs competitors; a green checkpoint on the course; Rebelle cars on a dry lake bed in California.

Paolo Baraldi; Whitney Joiner; Nicole Dreon

I woke on Saturday at 4:30 a.m. and launched into what would become my daily routine: wiggling into my Rebelle uniform (sports bra, tank top, long-sleeved shirt, hiking pants, lace-up canvas boots), rushing to the portable bathrooms to brush my teeth and splash water on my face; running back to pack up camp. While I dragged our gear down to the Jeep, Jaclyn picked up the day's list of coordinates and started plotting. I joined her under the main tent, staring helplessly down at the table where she'd spread the coordinate list, colored pencils, and distance-measuring rulers.

We experienced the singular thrill of spotting a green checkpoint: a mix of relief, pride, and elation that never got old.

Jaclyn understood latitude and longitude in a way I didn't, so it was obvious that she'd be the navigator, while I'd drive. We crept up to the starting line, my heart beating wildly from nerves, and waited to be let loose into the desert. (To discourage blindly following other competitors, teams were given different sets of checkpoints, and cars set off at two-minute intervals.)

"Turn left," Jaclyn said once we set off. "Our first checkpoint should be in 13 miles." A few minutes later, we experienced the singular thrill of spotting a green checkpoint for the first time: a mix of relief, pride, and elation that never got old.

Jaclyn in a Nevada ghost town, planning our next move.

Nicole Dreon

Later that afternoon, after meandering through a maze of dirt roads, we turned into a wide canyon, shot through with dry washes (empty creek beds that can easily be mistaken for trails or roads). "Should we be in four-wheel drive?" Jaclyn asked. Four-wheel drive gives you extra traction; it's used for rougher, rockier terrain. I felt silly for still being in 2WD—the everyday, highway-driving gear—and jerked the gear shaft up. We slowly rambled through the canyon down to a lake, where we found our final green checkpoint of the day.

We hit our tracker—sending our coordinates to staff at base camp, who monitored each vehicle, just blinking blips, on a GPS system—then realized that we'd fallen behind the other competitors. We could only see one team, off in the distance in a huge pickup. We watched as they scaled an incline effortlessly, as if filming a car commercial.

"If they can do it, so can we," I said, hitting the accelerator and heading up the incline. Within 30 seconds, our tires started to spin. Day one, and we were already stuck. We grabbed shovels from the back of the Jeep and started clearing dirt from underneath the tires. Nearby, a rally staffer pulled up in a pickup.

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"Are you in four-wheel drive?" he asked.

"Of course," I answered.

"You sure?" he said. "I'm not supposed to help you, but…you might want to check."

We climbed back inside the Jeep: the gear shift looked likeit was in the right place. Jaclyn pulled the manual out of the glove compartment. "It says we should see a 4WD light on the dashboard. Do you see it?"

"Oh," I said. "No." Hours spent crawling over boulders and sharp rocks, and we'd been in the wrong gear the whole time, an embarrassingly amateur mistake. We pledged not to tell anyone back at base camp.

Day One: stuck. (I promise this was steep IRL.)

Paolo Baraldi

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By day four, we'd improved dramatically. We knew when we were and weren't in four-wheel drive. We knew that our odometer was off, making precise calculations nearly impossible—a significant drawback. And we knew that spotting a particular road on our topo map didn't mean we could match it to one on the ground. What looked like a road on the map could be a dry wash; what looked like a dry wash on the ground could be a road. We constantly scouted the horizon for dust clouds, knowing they'd be from Rebelle cars, a sign that we were on the right track.

Then came our accidental vision quest in the Mojave, when we'd drifted so far off-course that we hadn't seen a friendly dust cloud for hours.

After mainlining the energy chews, we got out of the Jeep to scout. Jaclyn jumped on the hood to survey our surroundings; I took off by foot. A railroad crossed in front of us, with a steep drop-off underneath. We were definitely stuck.

Then I saw it: a campsite, off in the distance, across a weedy wash. Trucks! People! A dog! Life!

I found Mojave River Campgroundin miniscule print in the lower left-hand corner of the map. So that's where we were. "If we can get to that campground, we could find our way to the highway," I said. It wasn't our designated route back to base camp, but the sun was dropping by the minute.

The weedy wash was actually the Mojave River, according to the map. It wasn't a river so much as a morass of swampy vegetation with a lone, murky crossing. Back home in Brooklyn, in my haste to somewhat prepare, I'd watched a YouTube video of a Jeep wading through water. I knew it was possible; I just didn't know if I could do it. "No way," Jaclyn said. "We're not going to drown here."

"What if it's easier than it looks?" I argued.

Jaclyn thought for a minute. "What would Emily do?" she asked. Miller is a 5'1" blond powerhouse who gave decidedly non-cheesy pep talks every night that sometimes brought me to tears. I'd never met anyone who inspired such devotion and admiration, who made you want to succeed just to tell her you had. "If this was easy, everyone would do it," she told us repeatedly, and we felt like intrepid, ground-breaking explorers.

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Miller encouraged calculated risks. "Emily would try it," I said. "But I think she'd check the depth first."

I stripped off my boots, socks, and pants. In just a tank top and underwear, I splashed into the crossing, mud squishing beneath my toes. The water quickly came up past my knees. I pictured the Jeep filling up with contaminated river sludge while Jaclyn and I popped Klonopin and prayed that the satellite phone actually worked.

"If this was easy, everyone would do it," the Rebelle's founder told us repeatedly, and we felt like intrepid, ground-breaking explorers.

Okay, so we weren't going to ford the mighty Mojave. But at least now we knew where we were. (Another favorite Emily saying: "You're never as lost as you think you are.") From the map, the highway back to base camp was vaguely northeast; if we headed that direction, we'd surely find a way onto the road.

Two interminable hours later, we saw what we'd been looking for all afternoon: the day's final green flag, and behind it, the entrance to the highway. Our euphoric shouts were especially hard-earned this time. As we approached the highway, a car pulled up alongside us. "Thank God!" Shelley, a rally staffer, yelled out from the passenger seat of a broken-down '80s Jeep. "We found you!" Apparently, the staff back at base camp monitoring our blinking blip had become concerned: Where are they going?

"We thought we'd have to rescue you," her husband, Big Rich, called from the driver's seat. "But look: You rescued yourselves."

On the face of it, the day was a complete throwaway. Zero points. But we'd found our way out of the canyon, completely on our own.

---

My month-long pre-rally panic, while overblown and unsubstantiated in retrospect, served a purpose: It burned out all my anxiety, leaving none for the actual rally. The meltdowns never came. I never threw my helmet in frustration. I didn't angry-cry nonstop. Jaclyn and I each had one brief tearful moment after making a dumb mistake—hers on day five; mine on day six—but we immediately pulled it together.

Rebelle Rally

As usual, my mother was right. Once I was forced to practice my fledgling skills, my fear melted away, replaced by an unabashed excitement that at times bordered on euphoria. Every moment brought something new: a stunning vista, a mountain pass, an abandoned ghost town, an expansive mesa. The entire course was on government property; these same roads were open to anyone. But they're rarely used, and it felt like we were seeing an America many never do, one hidden in plain sight.

I started to trust the Jeep more, and Jaclyn, and myself. One day we were caravanning along a high ridge outside of Joshua Tree, with steep drop-offs and hairpin turns. Wait! I thought, halfway through. I should be scared. If I turn the steering wheel just slightly, we'll sail off.I felt my stomach drop and panic rise up in my chest. But just as quickly, I reeled it back in. Don't let fear take over, I coached myself. You can stop it."You're already way more confident," Jaclyn noted as we dipped and swerved. "If we'd been on this road the first day, you would've freaked out the whole time. Now you're just trucking along."

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We were too clueless to be embarrassed about how little we knew.

I'd been so intimidated by the other competitors' credentials before the rally began, but now our lack of experience felt almost freeing. The rally was so out of our league that I was constantly astonished we were doing it at all. How we looked to anyone else didn't matter. We'd ask other Rebelles basic car-maintenance questions, knowing our queries probably sounded elementary. (Only one woman looked at us in disdain after we'd asked for her help installing high neon flags required for dune driving: "You actually don't know how to do this?" she spat. "Why are you even here?") We were too clueless to be embarrassed about how little we knew.

Every night, when the scores for the day were posted, we'd land in the bottom four. But we thought we were champions.

All week, the experienced competitors were itching for the final day, when we'd be competing in sand dunes—notoriously difficult to navigate. We woke up that last morning in California's Imperial Sand Dunes (where Return of the Jedi was partially filmed) to a blazing sun, a high in the 90s, and a range of shimmering white sand mountains towering over base camp.

I didn't feel particularly ambitious about the dunes, but Jaclyn wanted to attempt some final point-collecting. We caravanned with a few competitors, helping each other find the safest routes, then ate lunch around a green checkpoint, sitting in the shade cast by our vehicles. It was our last green of the rally.

But when I stood up, I saw the top of a blue flag in the recess of a group of dunes to the south. I nudged Jaclyn: "Let's try it."

Dunes: gorgeous and terrifying.

Paolo Baraldi

We carefully coasted down into the dune's recess by circling the perimeter, as we'd been taught, and clicked our tracker for the last time. The incline we'd just descended looked much higher than I expected, but it was still the easiest way out. I backed up a few feet to give us a running start, then slammed down the accelerator. Halfway up the incline, we felt our wheels spin, digging us into the sand below. We frantically tried to dig out, but as soon as we cleared a space, new sand spilled in.

Two of the Rebelles we'd teamed up with, Sedona and Maria, flew down into the recess, clicked their tracker at the blue flag, and zipped up the incline past us with no trouble. They parked on the dune's crest, then ran down to help dig us out. Finally we had enough room behind our back tires to position our MaxTrax, a pair of ridged, snowshoe-shaped rescue tools, behind our back tires. Slowly, carefully, we eased off the sand and onto the MaxTrax.

Many of my pre-rally fears came true. But I found an intoxicating freedom in taking on a challenge just to take it on, without expecting conventional success.

Sedona pointed out the angle she'd taken: "Back up even more, then punch the accelerator harder," she suggested.

I'd driven for 90 percent of the rally, but I didn't want to attempt the incline again. "I'm scared," I told Jaclyn.

We switched places and she revved the accelerator. Miraculously, she caught enough power to follow Sedona's route. We landed on top of the dune, tumbled out of the Jeep, and grabbed Sedona and Maria for a hug, jumping up and down, triumphant.

In the end, we tied for 29th place, fourth-to-last. And many of my pre-rally fears came true: We made careless mistakes and incorrect calculations; we were lost more often than not; we didn't know what we were doing most of the time. I just didn't react the way I'd assumed I would. Instead, I found an intoxicating freedom in being a complete novice, taking on a challenge just to take it on, without expecting conventional success. I'd never been more exhilarated to fail.

Finish-line euphoria.

Nicole Dreon

The second annual Rebelle Rally will be held from October 12-21, 2017. If you're interested in competing, find more information here.