We Tried Out a Fully Loaded Camper Van. Here’s What Happened.

I was studying the comfort of the camper van’s top bunk from behind closed eyelids when my cell phone chimed in a nearby storage nook. “I just got into town,” read the text from my frequent adventure buddy, Jim. “Want to go kayaking?”

I’d run three miles of undulating trail that morning, hiked another three, then explored some of the water-and-woods attractions at Lake Lou Yaeger, a 1,360-acre recreation area outside the Route 66 burg of Litchfield, Illinois. My Garmin said my body battery was at -85, hence the indulgent afternoon nap. And yet, yes, I did want to go kayaking.

I shook off the lingering cobwebs of sleep and removed the shade inserts from the van’s windows, revealing summery Country Bend Campground beyond. It was a family-friendly scene, chock full of brightly colored tents, sleek RVs, and rustic cabins situated around fishing ponds and a pool. There were kids running amok on playgrounds, kids running amok on the putt-putt course, kids running amok in the game room. And, a note for us older folks, the cleanest bathrooms and showers I’ve seen at a property this size (over 100 campsites).

With the van’s shore power disconnected and hideaway awning retracted, I hopped behind the wheel, waved goodbye to the rubberneckers in the neighboring campsite, and set off on my next caper. And herein lies one of the talents of the camper van, besides drawing envious looks: Unlike an RV, which takes more time to break down and prepare for travel, including possibly hitching to a tow vehicle, with a camper van you just turn the key and go.

Within 20 minutes I was back at Lake Lou Yaeger, where I quickly found parking — another advantage of the more compact camper van. Pulling the kayaks off the roof of Jim’s car proved harder than removing my bike from the back of the van to grab my cooler and paddling gear, but soon enough we were drifting around tree-lined coves as the sun slowly set on the 5.5-mile-long reservoir.

We discovered hidden rope swings and unintentionally followed the flight path of a great blue heron. Each time we neared its waterside perch, the mottled bird would fly a hundred yards ahead, only for us to float up on it again. No fish dinner for the winged hunter that night. Meanwhile, Jim and I sipped beer and discussed our plans to mountain bike with more friends due to arrive the next morning. He and I would stay overnight in the air-conditioned van.

“I get to be on top,” I joked, claiming the upper berth (a double) and leaving the lower one (a single) to him. Hospitality only goes so far, at least while camping.

***

What brought us to this juncture began with an informational interview with Haley Holt and Allison Murray of Vandoit, a Missouri-based business that specializes in customizable camper van conversions. How was the business conceived? What made them tick? Who was their typical customer? (See “The Vandoit Story” sidebar.) When Murray eventually offered me a two-week trial to experience a van and use it to support our nonprofit foundation’s outreach efforts, I jumped at the chance.

“We’re always looking for unique opportunities to partner with businesses and organizations, to give them a chance to see if a van works for them. And then to make sure it works for them,” said Murray, Vandoit’s customer relations manager.

A few weeks later, having pieced together a “road map” for utilizing the van, I found myself in the Vandoit factory in Blue Springs, about 20 miles east of Kansas City. The sounds of riveting and rock music filled the air. Rows of Ford Transits sat in various states of fabrication in the work bays, old interiors stripped, new modular pieces being installed. It was a little like watching the Six Million Dollar Man get operated on. Gentlemen, we can rebuild it. We have the technology. We have the capability to make the world’s first bionic van.

Too much? Maybe, but like Colonel Steve Austin, the cutting-edge vehicles that emerge from the Vandoit facility are equipped with upfitted components and power banks that make them bigger, stronger…well, maybe not faster, but that’s hardly the point. Each van is designed with its owners to meet their multipurpose needs; one day it’s a camper, other days it’s an office or (in our case) a race support vehicle. In that way, I guess the vans are more like Swiss Army knives than a cyborg.

While each Vandoit is customizable, the company has created three base models to serve as jumping-off points. The LIV model’s signature feature is its queen-size bed with hydraulic lift, which enables owners to easily adjust the height to create more sleeping space above or cargo space below. The new MOOV model uses the Ford Transit Trail chassis, a cargo van with no rear passenger seats. It’s aimed at couples who want more elbow room and upscale finishes. The extra space fits a full-width bed that opens drawbridge-style to allow front-to-back walking.

The last model, the one we road-tested, is called the DO, and as its name implies, this transformable machine is up for anything. It has an open floor plan and Murphy-style beds that can be raised and lowered, moved and removed. (Use them for sleeping or set them to desk height to create a worktop.) The entire interior is framed with a T-track skeleton for mounting accessories such as storage cabinets, a kitchen pod, water system, toilet, and a whole lot more. The adjustable crossbars that line the ceiling let you hang hammocks and other gear.

***

Modularity and functionality define the DO (and all of Vandoit’s models, actually). My first destination after rolling into our St. Louis office and giving tours to anyone who would let me was the Miner Tough Weekend on July 13-14. Held at St. Joe State Park in Park Hills, Missouri, the annual event draws hundreds of competitors, spectators, and sponsors for a trail running race on Saturday and a mountain bike race on Sunday. Perfect for showing off the van’s abundant bells and whistles.

I parked in the field near Monsanto Lake with zero worries thanks to the van’s all-wheel drive, off-road tires, and upgraded suspension, then threw open the doors, laid out a table of magazines and stickers, and proceeded to bake in the 98-degree heat. I was immediately thankful for the shade of the 10-foot awning. When I wanted to put on my swimsuit and hit the water, the van’s privacy and AC system created a chill changing room. It was a welcome pleasure, knowing the alternative was a hot Porta Potti.

The next week saw dozens of kids from The Learning Center crawling through the van during a Summer Days of Fun event at Simpson Park in St. Louis County. The exploratory activity, which was hosted by River City Outdoors (a Terrain partner, see “Forging New Paths to the Outdoors” in January/February), provided youth ages 6 to 14 the chance to try hiking, rock climbing, and canoeing on the park’s 72-acre lake. The van anchored the camping demo area, its electric cooler dispensing cold Capri-Suns faster than free food samples at Costco.

A quick word about the DO’s electrical system: Like any well-heeled camper van, this one had an exterior shore-power hookup for campground, generator, or outlet power. On top of that, it featured an internal battery system with the ability to run the accent lights, stereo, electric cooler, and other medium-sized components for a day or more before needing charging. This could be achieved via shore power or the 200-watt roof-mounted solar panels. Want to go off-grid and still run the air vent and fan? This getaway vehicle can do it.

Continuing on our journey, the van next served as a support vehicle during the MR340 river race. From July 23-26, hundreds of paddlers tested their physical and mental endurance on this grueling odyssey from Kansas City to St. Charles, and at checkpoints along the way, they sometimes needed help. We were there with cold beverages, cooling towels, and a shaded respite from the sun. (While we offered to let folks clean up using the spray shower and catch a few winks in the bunks, they all intrepidly soldiered on.) Judging from the questions we got at the MR340 finish line party, people saw the many possibilities of the Vandoit as a support vehicle and more.

My last weekend with the van, also my favorite weekend with the van, was to comprise two days of open-road freedom and fresh air. Litchfield drew me due to its proximity (60 miles from St. Louis) and all-American charm. I could dine at Ariston Café, believed to be the oldest continuously operated restaurant on Route 66, then catch a movie at Sky View Drive-In. Shred the Schalk Field skate park and stalk the historic downtown square.

The morning after Jim and I kayaked at Lake Lou Yaeger, nine of our friends met us on the Route 66 Hike & Bike Trail, tucked in the rolling hills beside the reservoir. I speak for all of us when I say our 7-mile mountain bike ride was wild and playful. We negotiated wooden jumps and bridges separated by flowing ridgelines and deep gullies. Overlooks stopped us from time to time, giving our legs a chance to rest as we viewed the lake and sandy Milnot Beach in the distance. We pedaled and joked and sweated.

Post-ride, we popped open camp chairs (and cold beverages) and gathered around the Vandoit. The front passenger swivel seat remained my perch of choice, allowing me to face backward out the open side door and stay in the social mix. Sound system sounding and accent lights accenting, we chatted and snacked until, fatigue finally setting in, it was time to head for home.

In my case, that meant it was time for a return trip to the Vandoit factory in Blue Springs. During my two-week experience with the camper van, I’d toured, worked, overnighted, adventured, and entertained. The van had checked all the comfort boxes and answered every purpose I’d put it to, but I know it still had more to give. I hope I get the chance to DO it again someday.

***

Things We Learned

It drives like you’d expect a big van to drive — heavier and a little slower to correct. You’ll need more reaction time for turns, braking, and steep inclines/declines.

When making tight turns, you’ll need to swing out wider than normal. This is especially true when parking. Always be aware of your added length and height.

Speaking of height, don’t pull into the drive-through. The van is close to 10 feet tall, while a typical drive-through is about 9 and a half feet. You do the math.

You’re going to have blind spots. Get to know them. If you have a buddy along for the ride, they can help spot you when you’re backing up or parking.

Always take a walk around the van prior to leaving home or camp. It’s easy to forget about open doors, shore-power cords, clotheslines, etc.

Make sure everything inside is secured before driving off. Items can shift or fall in transit, which can damage the van and possibly harm the driver or passengers.

Take it slow. This applies to your driving as well as to moving around the vehicle (there are lots of potential hazards inside and out). Relax, be patient, and enjoy the ride.

Author: Brad Kovach is the publisher of Terrain.

Top image: Brad Kovach.