#the underside of the toilet seat also needs cleaning please
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At 25 I have realised that one stop on the road to becoming an Adult(TM) may be realising there is so much more stuff in this world that needs cleaning than you ever thought.
Like, kid, I've cleaned things you never even knew existed.
#adulting#cleaning#did I just not notice my parents cleaning all this shit as a child#or did they use some secret method to conceal it from me#drains get gross#please clean your sinks#and toilets#and plug holes#and wipe the walls down because they also get gross especially in the kitchen#and also there is FUCKING MILDEW EVERYWHERE#did you ever realise that sometimes you have to wash the drawer in your washing machine#there is MOULD in the shower crevices#the underside of the toilet seat also needs cleaning please#microwaves get stinky if you don't wipe them down and wash the little plate every now and again#the mildew it haunts me#the inside of the bin gets mouldy because bin juice#i have to learn to notice these things because if I don't the landlord and the bugs will
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Arjuna smut alphabet
Under the cut of course.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
An angel when it comes to aftercare. He can get rambunctious in the moment, so after the roles come off and highs calm down. He is right there soothing marks, bringing you back down, petting your head, getting water/snacks. Tending to anything that hurts and is sore. He lives to see a smile cross your face after. Will talk softer and simply lay with you.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
On his partner, probably their face, he loves seeing the range of emotions you show him. Arjuna will safeguard the embarrassing ones, maybe tease you a few times if you make such a haughty and erotic one. On himself he takes pride in his hands. For multitude of reasons, from his archery skills to how under his touch he makes you lose yourself. That he has the ability to make you come undone from specific touches or how he uses his touch to calm you.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
He might be a bit sweet, volume of it is good. He likes seeing your face covered or your back, stomach with a few strips of it. Might lead him into more romps.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Arjuna likes to watch you alone once in a while. Perhaps when you think he is asleep, or when you are in the shower by yourself for “time” to yourself. He will be as quiet as possible to hear your voice plead for him. Though if you touch yourself next to him, he’ll join you. Maybe chide you for not waking him up if you felt this way.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Arjuna has had four wives and a child from each of them. He’s experienced. If you are not, then he’ll guide you in how to please him, and how to please yourself. He enjoys the times you learn each others bodies, what you like best and what he enjoys best.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Lotus - sitting position. It allows him to be deep, while also facing him. Arjuna loves to catch every expression you make, commit it to memory at every plea you make with your eyes or see them close when lost in pure pleasure. The position allows you both to work together, and enables you to hold onto him for dear life when things are rough.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Arjuna can be either serious or enjoy it so much that a laugh out of you makes it feel like he is with you, instead of just “with” you. A break in the stoic nature, if you try crawling away from him he’ll drag you back by your feet, tease you about escaping and show you why you wouldn’t want to. Though he won’t forget the time you fell off the bed. He chases you across any surface and off them.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He’s neat, the fact he is practically devoid of hair speaks well that he is either trimmed neat or hairless beneath the underwear. He’s immensely clean, he bathes often if his love of saunas and hot springs are to go by. I would like to think he prefers his partner the same way. Clean and well kept in that regard.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Arjuna is always romantic at first, to get the mood going, from massages, to gentle words in your ear. His kisses make your head spin and he’s good at any affection that leads to it. Depending on how he is, romantic at first then in the middle outright passionate.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Arjuna does it more often than he lets on, specially after the first time you are intimate with him. Though he can’t help it with the memories of how you look underneath him calling for him.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Cockwarming. He finds it very intimate, to be able to be seated inside and either chilling like that while you adjust to him, or let him tease you without moving makes it interesting.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
For Arjuna, I want to think location doesn’t matter, it’s other people. He’s very much a demisexual, and it shows in when and where. He’s not against a sly public romp somewhere. The thrill might even make him enjoy it more, but there are namely people he doesn’t want to see you or him in this state. Namely Karna. He would 100% have sex in a hot spring, and steam room. Steam room he finds more fun as seeing how long you both last. His favorite place is outdoors, somewhere secluded where he can listen to every word and sound that comes from you both.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Telling him, he won’t act on his urges unless he knows you after a while. Arjuna prefers to be told when you want to directly. Though if you touch his back lightly enough to see him shiver it’s enough to drive him wild. Tug his hair and he has you on the ground already. Grind his lap while kissing him and he’s doing it back.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Forced. He will never do anything against your will, and you agree to the same with him. Anything neither you agree with is off the table period. He won’t engage in disgusting plays, anything that belongs in a toilet stays there. He won’t do anything that causes major harm to you, so extreme blood play is a no.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Arjuna loves giving and receiving. Giving more as it is one of the few times he knows he will make you weak on your feet and knees. He’s very good, he’ll grin everytime you cum from his ministrations. He’s vocal when receiving, one of the few times he will be loud, giving praise in how he feels good. Specially when your tongue encounters that sensitive spot on the underside.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Slow and sensual at the start then fast and rough later. He’s gentle at first when working you up to wanting him. At first he’s slower when first penetrating, but after you’ve established comfort and rhythm he increases the pace and gets rougher till you are both lost to wanting relief.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Arjuna enjoys them, perhaps in the morning before you’re expected to be around others. In a shower, either him joining you or you joining him as a good way to wake up. Catching you on a counter of your room, against a wall, a hasty closet perhaps. The need to have you higher, specially if you keep your clothes on.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Always depends on his partner, if they’re into it, he tries it. Except what is disgusting and would cause great harm to you or himself. He isn’t against using knives but rather didn’t as a slip up can mean a permanent reminder of an accident. He will experiment well with other things like ropes, bondage and slave and master play. Elements that play with trust being granted and he never forsakes it.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He’s an archer, he has stamina to burn. He can go for hours with you before he even remotely starts getting tired. He is proud of his endurance, he even asks after a romp if you want to go again. When you agree and he grins you know you are in for a good time.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Arjuna loves them, he loves using them on you, and he lets you use certain ones on him as well. He favors ones that make you squirm, picks vibrators and dildos that are slightly slimmer than his own cock so he is the one that satisfies you most. He doesn’t mind them used on him as well, will assume his female side and share toys between you both. He picks out plugs that have tails, he will match them to himself and the time you used a tenga on him he lost his mind with pleasure. But only you get to see him in this state, and only after you secure a place away from other servants. He rather others did not hear his moans knowing he’s letting you use a strap-on with him. When he finds something new to try you find him so eager to engage. His favorite toy to use on you is a remote controlled bullet. While he likes it when you use a cock ring on him.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He is unfair with teasing. When he is allowed to go all out, he does. He teases with his fingers, mouth, while having you seated on him full and not moving till you tell him what he wants to hear for your commands.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He’s quiet save for a few groans or moans when he feels good. If you are topping him, he’s very vocal, more out of embarrassment if you use a plug or a cock ring on him. He makes a variety of low moans or few hisses but nearing climax he can be heard murmuring your name under his breath.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He likes costumes, and getting you into them. He likes seeing you in outfits like a bunny or indulging him by wearing his red outfit.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
He’s confirmed to being big, in length and girth. He would also be uncut, length 9 1/2 and girth 2 1/2 almost 3. He’s got enough to be the reason he teases you or uses alot of lubricant. With being uncut he’s very sensitive and blushes easier if you are giving him oral around it.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Fairly high with someone he loves and is shown the mutual respect. Once he has had a taste with toys however, he is insatiable trying to get you to make more noise than him.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
As stated earlier, he has stamina to burn through. He lasts longer than you, and on the rare times you wear him out, he is still the last to fall asleep between you both. He takes care of you, cleaning you and himself up then settles for watching you sleep satisfied.
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Angsty Fic that doesn’t have a proper name
This fic has @dorklyevil Diligence (and Sloth) and it’s a bit like her recent comic
Warning Sucide attempt.
Ps. If I need more tw tags or other warnings just ask me to add them
Rap Rap Rap
Dilgence’s fingers tap against the cafe’s table in an attempt to keep his mind off the troubling thoughts. Thoughts of time or the crowds around him or… his recent dreadful mistake.
Rap Rap Rap
But it wasn’t helping, his mind still swirls in the whirlwind of uncertainty. His eyes are still glued to the clock that he hopes is going too fast. Minute after minute passing bringing him closer to tears.
Tick rap Tick rap
Though when Diligence tries not to focus on the clock he feels everyone else’s gaze. Was he being a bother? Were his fingers too loud? He couldn’t tell, his heart pounding was loud enough to muffle most other sounds.
Thud rap Thud tick Thud rap Thud tick
Worse though, worse than hearts, clocks, eyes, and fingers combined, is the silent scolding voice. The voice wasn’t loud, didn’t utter a sound to anything other then him, but was unbearable. Every time it spoke, with such certainty like always, Diligence feels on the verge of tears. He had to get away from the public eye ; he just wants to be alone...
“Worthless” thud “Pathetic” rap “Mistake” thud “Unlovable” tick
Misty eyed, somber, trembling, and a void in his stomach, Diligence saw it. A private ‘paradise’ where no one would see him. He wouldn’t worry, disgust, or bother anyone. He climbs out of his booth and stood. He looks down wishing he wasn’t so loud, he must’ve been interrupting everyone’s lunch. At least it would be the last thing he interrupts.
“Just” thud “Give” tick “Up” thud.
“He” tick “Didn’t” thud “Even” tick “Come”
The voice is correct… Diligence begins to make his way down to the restroom away from the crowd and the clock. He can no longer hear the clock’s rhythmic tic nor can he see how many minutes late his friend is but that doesn’t matter. A shiver creeps up his aching spine as he realizes in a few minutes nothing would matter to him.
“No” thud “One” thud “Cares”
His entire body quivers as he turns the knob of the bathroom. It’s a single stall so he can lock it easily, that’s a plus. Diligence has tried this once before but someone had walked in before he could finish the job. By the time the other man had left Diligence talked himself out of it.
“Never truly convinced yourself though,”
The voice whispers as Diligence takes out the pocket knife he always carries. He has told himself over and over he only had it for protection but that was always a lie. He needs to stop lying to himself.
“Don’t draw it out; no hesitation,”
But who wouldn’t be hesitant? He was leaving everyone he cared about...he’d never get to see them again. Diligence shook his head of doubt;no time for that again. Raising the knife, readying the strike to end it all, he felt a pang of regret…
“Strike” thud
So he followed his inner demons instruction but it wasn’t a fatal blow. It was just a slash on the underside of his arm.
“Slit” Thud “them”Thud
Diligence tears and blood flow in the same motion, one down his face the other down his arm. At least his tears only left a bitter aftertaste and not a incessant sting.
THUD“faster” THUD
This is it, the final blow. A slit to the throat would be a certain death.Diligence takes a final look around at his last surroundings, realizing how pathetic it really was. A dirty toilet to his right, an overfilled trash can, a rusted sink, and a trembling bloody tired man to complete the somber scene. He raises the knife to his chin pressing the cold metal on his neck; the blood the knife is coated with dripping on the floor...
“Ey, Dilly, you in here?” He was here. Sloth came for lunch. He didn’t skip it.
“S-sloth?” Diligence tries to sound his usual self but his voice cracks terribly.
“Yep, sorry I was late. I would’ve walked but it’s a few blocks and I’m not one for walkin’ so Wrath drove me,”
“I-I’ll be right out, Sloth,” Diligence says already shutting his weapon and shoving it in his pants pocket. Not the best idea since there's blood on it but he does the laundry anyway…
Shit
Diligence arms are soaked in blood,his blood no less,and he quickly grabs paper towels and dampens them.
THUD THUD
He thought he’d calm down but every second that passes just add on to his building anxiety. What if his friend, who knew he was in there, tries to open the door? Of course he couldn’t get in but…
“You forgot to lock the door, you moron. And because your friend is waiting outside you can’t just slit your throat...oh wait if you hurry you can”
THUD THUD
No,no, Diligence tells himself drowning out the voice with logic and tasks. Just wash the blood from your arms just keep at it. Don’t stop till your arms are clean.
Thud Thud
Your fine
Thud thud
Everything is going to be okay
thud thud
“So...did you fall in the toilet? heh,” Sloth asks.
He didn’t mean anything by it; quite frankly Sloth just was trying to lighten the mood (he after all did here the distress in his friend’s voice;Sloth wasn’t that oblivious) but Dilligence feels his heart, yet again, pound throughout his body. His irrational and illogical thoughts flood him yet again. He was running out of time.
“He’ll find out,”
Thud Thud
“And then he’ll worry,”
THUD Thud
“Your friends then will know,”
THUD THUD
“You should just-“
“Anyway bud I’ll find a table; have fun taking your shit,”
Diligence closes his eyes and takes a long breath. His friend was waiting; he couldn’t just leave him...yet
It took Diligence ten minutes to make-shift patch himself up using paper towels, tissues, tape (he kept some in his front pocket that also held his pen and usually his knife)and toilet paper. The first layer did nil his blood seeped through easily so he continued wrapping. The second, though held tightly, is stained a dark red and some blood still manages to drip through. Third layer had a pink tinge to it so he added a fourth layer. Then he repeats the process on the other arm.
Perfect, except for his dizziness, the blood that covers the restroom floor, and his throbbing arm…
“So didya order anything?” Sloth asks, his eyes are closed but he can hear his buddy scootch into the booth across from him.
“A-a coffee and bowl of chili but it hasn’t come out yet...how did you find my seat?” Dilligence’s voice wavers and is so...quiet.
“Saw your bag,” Sloth opens his eye and-! Diligence arms are bandaged...no not bandaged that’s toilet paper...and blood is still seeping through. Sloth hides his sudden surprise which is relatively easy when Diligence eyes are lowered to the floor. “Since were in the questiony mood uh,” He pauses but his friend doesn’t meet his eyes. “What’s with your arms? Got in a car crash? Heh...but seriously you okay?”
“Just another accident at work nothing-“ Diligence begins but his friend interrupts.
“Don’t start this with bullshit. Your seriously injured if it was at work it wouldn’t be taped, what happened for real?” Maybe he said things too harshly- no he did say things too harshly- but that wasn’t the point. This was happening more and more frequently, so either someone was doing this regularly to him or...he was...
Minutes pass and theirs just a deafening silence between the two.
“Dili… was it...it was on purpose,” It was no longer a question; and from how Diligence was responding it was a fact as well.
“I-I- god it hurts- sorry I-,” Diligence can’t hold it back, he begins to sob. Not just some tears running down his face;A real kind of sob. The kind that seizes your entire body, where you choke and sputter cause you can hardly suck in enough air. It’s so loud; louder then any alarm and people try to ignore it looking away or talking about trivial things to whomever they are with.And the sobbing is ugly, where your eyes are puffy, your nose dripping with snot, and your cheeks are red and burning. That’s exactly how it looks . Dilligence is doing everything he wanted to keep away from.
“S-so pathetic- I-I’m s-s-sorry I-“ Diligence blubs but feels a arm around his shoulder.
“It’s okay, here I am right next to you. Everything will be okay . I’ll...I’ll help you,” Sloth lets him sob on his shirt,not like the tattered old stained shirt hadn’t been through many a sob, and glares at any Rick giving a snarky glance.
“I...p-please don’t tell the...o-others. I didn’t w-want anyone to worry and-“
“...I won’t...”
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A Buyer’s Guide in Choosing the Right Bathroom Sink
A BATHROOM could be regarded as a hectic part of the house as a result of we use it every day. we'd be in the rest room to start out and finish our day prior to we in any case visit bed. although the distance is for private use, it has to be neatly-designed to ensure that the users will probably be capable of use them comfortably. it may include the whole thing that a circle of relatives needs. Also, designers must see to it that their design will likely be usable and aesthetically pleasing. One merchandise that we want in the toilet is the sink. It wouldn’t be entire without one. Bathroom sinks are available other styles and fabrics. Therefore, you have to choose the only that best suits your house and your utilization. if you don't seem to be acutely aware of the types of toilet sinks, we are here to give them to you. needless to say, this may let you get the very best sink for your rest room, powder room or ensuite.
ZeroEnergy Layout This Is the most common type of sink that is designed to take a seat on top of the counter. The rim of the sink is on most sensible of the counter and is visible. Its rim may well be slim or chunky and may rely on the style you wish to have in your bathroom’s sink. Benefit: It fits to any more or less countertop material. it's even excellent for picket or laminate countertop because it covers the reduce-out, therefore heading off any harm to it because of water. it's simple to install and inexpensive too. Disadvantage: Water may tend to spill from the sink right into the counter for the reason that rim is above it.
Candlelight Houses This kind of sink is clean, modern and unique whilst adding usable counter space beneath it. Its identify suggests that the sink sits underneath the counter. Its rim is fastened to the underside and could be absolute best used for a busy bathroom that is being used by many people like a circle of relatives toilet. Merit: This sink is very simple to scrub because water spills can also be wiped right away from the countertop into the sink. In terms of aesthetics, it creates a seamless, clean glance and the real sink is much less visible. Drawback: This sink can only be put in on cast-surface countertop like stone, and wouldn’t suit wooden or laminate because it received’t be sealed from moisture. it's more expensive the highest-mount sinks.
Apaiser Sinks like this are usually bowl-formed that sit on top of the counter floor and do not need an undermount install. A Few fashions of this sink take a seat partially underneath the counter. This one wishes a pop-up drain and is in general upper. Merit: Vessel sinks call for consideration and will create an announcement within the rest room. it is also an ideal selection for a deep sink since it can cling plenty of water. Downside: Cautious making plans of the counter peak is needed because of the height of the vessel sink. this manner, it wouldn’t be exhausting or uncomfortable to make use of it. it would even be tough to clean around the base and the again of the sink.
Chris Snook If less storage is very important to your house, you'll be able to use a pedestal sink. This Kind is refined, swish and stylish that has a tendency to make the room glance larger. It also comes in different shapes and types as a way to add a decorative attract your house. For a pedestal sink, the waste pipe goes regardless that the floor and has to be everlasting. Benefit: Pipework is hid with a sink of this kind and it is aesthetically pleasing for the bathroom. Disadvantage: It doesn’t have cupboard space under it. it is additionally arduous to scrub because of the space among the sink and the wall.
Daniel Ash Architects This one includes a basin that may be hung from the wall on a undeniable location and height that most closely fits your utilization. This sink is growing popularity particularly that it is available in many beautiful designs. excluding its beautiful layout, it is also ideal for universal get admission to applications. It additionally has that streamlined look, giving the toilet a minimalist really feel. to provide the realm a blank glance, plumbing, together with the waste, have to be situated within the wall. Merit: As A Result Of there isn’t any cabinets under it, this type of sink saves on space and may make your rest room look spacious as a result of the gap below it. Downside: There May Be no storage space beneath it unless you add one. There is also no landing house because it doesn’t have a countertop. This wouldn’t be appropriate for bathrooms with storage needs.
Grandwood via Zorzi This sink may also be very best in your bathroom if it has limited house but you want so as to add some storage into it. It sits at the entrance of counter tops offering shallower cupboards. Benefit: Supplies valuable floor space and helps to keep a lot of loose counter space. With a sink like this, the user can get closer to the tap without any obstruction. Downside: : There May Be restricted cupboard space. Expect more spills because there isn’t any countertop in front of the sink to capture the water.
Furnishism This form of sink is usually noticed in swish hotels and restaurant bogs as a result of they are slim, streamlined and stylish. A small stainless steel trough is used below the sink to seize the water. Benefit: They occupy very little house and are available different fabrics like ceramic, porcelain or glass off the shelf. it might probably even be to be had from granite, marble or engineered stone whilst custom made. Downside: Sinks like this are just perfect for areas that use it simply for hand washing. they are extraordinarily shallow and couldn’t cling much water.
Godrich Interiors This style is a go among a wall-fixed sink and a pedestal sink. It has an exposed base; it gives a less cumbersome choice for small spaces. it could also be a wall hung sink with or 4 legs and should act as each the basin and the counter. it'll also have open shelving under it. Benefit: It has area-saving option and is compact with more garage. the extra width could mean extra space for your toiletries and other stuff. it may possibly also be a classy option on your rest room too. Disadvantage: For a console sink, you've limited space for storing. it might have uncovered plumbing which would not supply a clean look to your toilet. Its additional width can be too large for a small toilet.
The Sky is the Restrict If you have an empty corner, then a corner sink is a super choice. A sink of this type can also be to be had in each pedestal and wall-mount options. Merit: Those sinks store area by means of installing straight away into a nook. Disadvantage: it'll be laborious to use for some other folks on account of its region.
Becki Peckham This sink could also be referred to as an all-in-one sink and countertop. it's one piece that may be molded as part of the countertop and may also be comprised of more than a few fabrics, equivalent to porcelain or acrylic. Merit: This sink is very easy to wash because it doesn’t have ridges or seams. It is available in set usual sizes and is customized made to the size that most nearly fits your space. Drawback: All-in-one tops are regularly slopes down and inward to create sink within the middle which would imply that there may be much less flat counter house. when you exchange the sink, you furthermore mght replace the countertop and also you cannot creatively fit your counter and sink. Now that you just recognize the various kinds of toilet sinks, you will not to find it hard to buy one. You need to be certain that you just get the right kind of toilet sink so you can use it comfortable and it would be handy for all of the family. with the exception of the form of sink, you want to also consider your area, your needs besides as your finances. we are hoping you found this publish useful! More how to come for our expensive readers!
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The Bottom Line About Bidets
https://sciencespies.com/nature/the-bottom-line-about-bidets/
The Bottom Line About Bidets
When I was a kid, I didn’t get in trouble for much. But one old habit of mine used to drive my dad up the wall: I really, really overdid it with the toilet paper.
It didn’t matter how thick or plush the product was. A few measly squares of dry, processed tree pulp were simply never enough to make me feel clean. So I tried to compensate for quality with quantity, wiping my bum with wad after wad of TP—something my strict father considered abominably wasteful.
To be fair, my dad grew up in rural Taiwan in the 1940s, when most defecation was done in pits, not toilets, and one’s cleanliness depended heavily on the selection of leaves and sticks within arm’s reach. Even after he immigrated to the United States in his 20s, the rural frugality stuck. Toilet paper was, and still is, a luxury—a fact that’s been heavily underscored by recent spates of panicked TP hoarding, spurred by the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic.
I couldn’t have known it at the time, but a single device might have been enough to solve both my father’s and my washroom woes—the same one that’s now flying off digital shelves nationwide: the bidet. These squirty little doodads, which cleanse the nether regions with a gentle jet of water, are touted by many as sanitizing superheroes, with powers vastly superior to those of toilet paper. In Japan, home of a popular electronic toilet called the Toto Washlet, bidets appear in about 80 percent of households; since 1975, Italian law has mandated their presence in every home. Historically slow to take in American markets, the devices may now be gaining some ground: Sales of bidet attachments like Tushy have soared since the start of the pandemic. Thanks to the new coronavirus, 2020 might just be the United States’ Year of the Bidet.
But pleasing as the devices may be to some, they’re not for everyone—and a lot of what ends up touching any given tush comes down to personal preference. What’s more, scientific studies on bidets are somewhat scarce; even clinicians who recommend their use do so mostly on the basis of anecdotal data. “This isn’t evidence-based medicine, that’s for sure,” says Madhulika Varma, chief of colorectal surgery at the University of California, San Francisco.
A brief history of the bidet
Though today’s bidets are often billed as tech-savvy trappings, the earliest iterations of the devices actually predate the appearance of modern, rolled-up toilet paper (an idea patented by Seth Wheeler of Albany, New York, in 1891), with roots in 17th-century or early 18th-century France.
Accordingly, the first bidet was agonizingly simple—little more than a souped up, sprayless wash basin over which one squatted as if straddling a horse (hence the name bidet, an homage to a small, stocky breed of horse), to rinse off their dirtied derrières. After gaining traction among the rich, the indulgent accessory trickled down to the working class, surviving several redesigns and the switch to indoor plumbing, which morphed them into miniature sinks. By World War II, bidets had spilled across international borders, finding their way into homes across swaths of Europe, the Middle East, Asia and South America, where they sat alongside toilets like faucet-fillable sidecars. As models advanced further, some acquired nozzles that could apply a light spritz of water to the nether regions.
La Toilette intime ou la Rose effeuillée by Louis-Léopold Boilly, showing an 18th century bidet in use
(Wikimedia Commons)
Through it all, the United States remained a staunchly unwetted island of desert-dry bums. Part of the issue was space. Standalone bidets were seen as an unwieldy and unwelcome addition to already-cramped American bathrooms. Eventually, technological advancements allowed bidets to hybridize with toilets, in some cases collapsing the two into a single “smart” commode, while other models retrofitted standard toilets with bidet-capable seats or attachments. But still, the United States’ reluctance to adopt the splashy gadgets endured.
Rampant stigmatization of bidets didn’t help. Many early 20th-century Americans may have viewed bidets as symbols of French indecency, linking them to taboo topics like menstruation and prostitution, Maria Teresa Hart wrote in the Atlantic in 2018. That association may have been partly born out of the devices’ presence in brothels, where women may have deployed them as an (ineffective) form of birth control. Though these stereotypes have largely faded in the decades since, the cultural inertia clung to stateside commodes.
What’s best for our butts
Bidets might seem bizarre—but in many ways, they’re right in line with hygienic practices already deeply ingrained in our society.
“The idea of cleaning yourself with water is, intuitively, more logical,” says Cindy Kin, a colorectal surgeon at Stanford University Medical Center. Water, after all, is the standard-issue treatment for doing away with bodily grime under most other circumstances.
Byron Vaughn, a gastroenterologist at the University of Minnesota Medical School, puts it more bluntly. As a friend once told him, “If you pick up a piece of [poop] with your hands, you wouldn’t just wipe it off—you’d wash it.”
But while the wet-trumps-dry argument makes logical sense, no one has yet done a scientific study to back up the idea that bidets are hygienically better than toilet paper.
Then again, “It kind of doesn’t matter,” Kin says. “If you don’t get every bit of bacteria, or a microscopic amount of stool, off your skin, it’s fine. Nothing bad will happen.” Bidets or no, most of our not-completely-immaculate butts are doing just fine, and have been for many millennia.
A modern standalone bidet, installed next to a toilet.
(Lazienka / Wikimedia Commons)
Still, bidets can really come in handy for those with sensitive undersides, says Susan Wong, a nurse and colorectal disorders specialist at the University of California, San Francisco. People with Crohn’s disease or ulcerative colitis, for instance, tend to have more frequent or painful bowel movements, and may find that a cooling jet of water brings them some relief—or at least spares them from the constant chafe of dry toilet paper. Bidet users can then dry off by simply dabbing the area with a towel, or even a carefully aimed blow dryer on a low-temperature setting. “It’s a great way to avoid irritation,” Wong says. One small study even suggests that bidets may even prompt some muscle relaxation, though most people seeking that sort of comfort might be better off opting for a sitz bath or a long soak in a tub of warm water.
Bidets could also be a boon for people with physical disabilities, muscle weakness or other conditions that hinder their ability to clean off with toilet paper alone, Vaughn says. One study suggests the devices improved the “toileting experience” for a group of nursing home residents.
Then there’s the unrepentant super-wipers, a la miniature me. Patients who “wipe obsessively” with toilet paper because they’re chasing an ever-elusive sense of clean may be at risk of giving themselves pruritus ani—fancy clinical speak for itchy butthole, Kin says. “Once you get into that cycle of skin irritation, it’s hard to get out of it.” Switching over to a bidet might bring these people’s bums some much-needed relief.
Beyond that, though, little evidence exists that bidets bring about health benefits on their own. Hemorrhoids, fistulas, fissures and cancer—none of these conditions can trace their origins to the flecks of germs or poop on our bums, Kin says. In this realm, there’s “certainly no data to suggest bidets have benefits over toilet paper.”
Varma also points out that dropping hundreds or even thousands of dollars on a fancy new bathroom appliance isn’t necessary to introduce water into this particular bathroom routine: Something similar can be accomplished with a drugstore peri bottle, or even a water bottle with a pop-up top. Both of these options are also transportable.
Many patients can even make do with what they’ve already got at home, including tubs, sitz baths or even handheld shower attachments, says Marjun Duldulao, a colorectal surgeon at the Keck School of Medicine of the University of Southern California. “There’s really no advantage to using a bidet compared to these other techniques.”
Bidets can bring some increased comfort—but people should be wary of pressure and temperature settings that could agitate sensitive bums.
( Karl Tapales / Getty Images)
Bidets also aren’t perfect—and wielded improperly, they can cause their own woes. Several models come equipped with pressure and temperature settings that could cause serious damage. Over the years, a smattering of bidet-related injuries, from burns to rectal prolapse and anal fissures, have surfaced, often linked to overuse. Even pruritis ani can (re)appear when the anus is too frequently washed. “You just need sensible cleaning and hygiene,” Duldulao says. “You don’t need a power-washing.”
And, just like any other appliance, bidets must be kept clean—especially considering the bits of anatomy they most often contact. A handful of studies have found bacteria lurking on the nozzles of electronic toilets, particularly those in public spaces. Under extreme circumstances, bidet use could even perturb the community of beneficial microbes found in the vagina, though studies haven’t consistently born this out.
“There are some very good products out there,” Duldulao says. “But a tool is a tool. It’s only as good as the person who’s using it.”
Making a splash
Toilet paper will always have one thing going for it: convenience. “There’s a reason we all use it,” Varma says. “It can be done anywhere. It’s easy, it’s simple.”
Part of the tradeoff for this, of course, is quite a bit of waste. The product of a laborious process that involves the pulping of millions of trees and billions of gallons of water, toilet paper isn’t exactly environmentally friendly, says Wong. It can also clog pipes (though not as badly as so-called “flushable” wipes), creating headaches for homeowners. These issues wouldn’t totally evaporate with a switch to bidets—most people would still want something to dab themselves dry—but washing in lieu of at least some wiping could make a difference.
And yet, the United States stands firm on toilet paper. Kin estimates that less than 10 percent of her patients use bidets; those numbers might budge slightly given current pandemic purchasing habits, but probably not by much.
“I ask my patients, can you consider this electronic toilet seat?” Wong says. “They all turn their noses up to it.”
People just aren’t fans of change—and sometimes, that’s just kind of a bummer.
#Nature
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Catching up with the blog...
Thunderball Grotto, Pigs on the beach…
10 March 2019
The delights of the Bahamas were slow to reveal themselves, but the last few days have been quite special.
We are now further south, in the Exumas. The waters are, as advertised, crystal clear and the most extraordinary colours, from inky blue-black (bottomless, open atlantic), to navy blue (deep) to a pale, iridescent, luminous emerald green (very shallow), through peacock turquoise and every shade of blue. In the sun, the pale emerald green reflects back to the underside of the clouds, changing the sky.
We found the swimming pigs on Pig Beach, and found them slightly bolshie, clearly used to fleecing food from (the many) visitors, and stalking off immediately once the food has gone. We donated two carrots, cut up small and placed in their feed troughs, as advised, and left them to it. They keep pestering you until you show them your empty hands, then they just walk off. Hiding food in your pockets is not advised.
Thunderball Grotto was an unexpected delight – it was high tide when we arrived, and the current through the cave is strong, so the guide-led tourist hordes of non-swimmers stay away until the slightly more benign conditions which apply at low tide. We had this special place entirely to ourselves for nearly an hour. It is just an outcropping of rock, worn away from all sides into an open honeycomb of tunnels and caves, so that there is now a large cave – perhaps 10m diameter- in the middle of the rock, with holes through to the water from each side, and to the sky above. In the sunlight, these transform the place into the most amazing light theatre, the sun shafting down from above, and up through the underwater holes to the outside. Swimming in is slightly daunting, with strong currents outside pushing you against the rock walls, and once inside you get swirled around a little, but – it is magical. Full of fish, although the coral has suffered from too many visitors.
And I saw a shark. I dropped off the dinghy for a little swim on the way back to the boat after the grotto, and there it was, about 7’ long, its nose wedged under a rock so it could sleep. It swam away. Slightly disconcerting how close you can get to them before you spot them. Thankfully, it was a nurse shark, one of the more benign varieties.
The wind has (of course) been from the wrong direction for ages, and we are now against the clock to make distance south and east. Making progress in the right direction means either (a) risking a grounding against the shallow sand banks of the ‘inside’ or (b) braving the wilder conditions and much bigger waves of the ‘outside’, the open atlantic. We took the inside route for a bit yesterday, and -of course- went aground, stuck solid, bouncing of the hard sand bottom until the tide floated us off. Impossible to judge the depth by eye – you can see pebbles on the bottom in 10m of water.
Later…
13 March 2019
Now in Georgetown, in the company of an anchored fleet of perhaps 300 boats, some of whom of course we know. Lots of americans, on the southern end of their excursion south for the winter. We are meeting up with Chris and CC later – we first meet them on the ICW, in the Dismal Swamp – they rescued us from the appalling NY cop who was in favour of the police being able to shoot anyone without having to account for it. They are down here on a friend’s boat – looking forward to catching up.
Also bumped into John and Sue off Dandelion, last met in Marsh Harbour – they are on the way back to the UK for a flying visit, after an exciting year around Brazil, getting as far as the Beagle Channel around Cape Horn, and the Falklands, which they loved. They plan to go straight back there as soon as they’ve dealt with some business at home, including fitting a diesel heater. Sounds amazing, and very tempting, but the logistics of it put it out of our reach.
It is raining at the moment; still plenty warm enough, but the winds strong enough to keep all but the resolute and time-pressed to stay in the harbour. There is better weather on Friday for heading slightly north of east, which is where we need to go.
Georgetown is a decent little place, much livelier and more interesting than Marsh Harbour, although that could easily be taken as damning with faint praise.
Snorkelling, then a drink at a lovely beach bar. Later, we went out for the evening with Chris and Helen off Tyee, to a bar with live music – great vibe, lots of noise, good music. Even got Mike dancing a bit. Various musicians, hot-seating through a wide range of instruments, from the ubiquitous oil-can drum, to a timber saw, played with a screwdriver.
Mike is off the boat visiting somebody, I’m here making bread. Movie night later with Chris and Helen.
Internet here is pants, so no idea when this will get posted. I have been trying to ring family on Whatsapp but it is hopelessly broken and delayed, just a frustration.
Later still…
19 March 2019
Now in Clarence Town, on the southern end of Long Island. Another gorgeous emerald green bay, another tiny settlement pretending it is a ‘town’, still no internet.
Chris and Helen have left, heading east to go North around Haiti and the DR, as their insurer does not allow them to visit either place, or Cuba. We hope to meet up with them again on the south coast of Puerto Rico.
There is a posh marina here, catering to the large “sports fishing” boats, which means there is no swimming in the bay, because they clean their catch off the dock there, attracting sharks. We parked the dinghy there to go ashore. The splash from the stern anchor attracted them, half a dozen or so 4-8ft long, all circling the dinghy. Also saw a 5ft tarpon and a 4ft barracuda circling round.
The marina is very small – space for perhaps 10 boats – but with the shore-based infrastructure (showers, toilets, restaurant, laundry, shop) for many more. Far too expensive for us and most other cruisers at $2.70 or so per foot per night, all visiting boats anchor out. The well-stocked shop offers a large range of comically overpriced good, such as baseball caps at $30, packet of biscuits (“cookies”) at $8. The US-registered “sports fishers” are ubiquitous in the Bahamas; some are based here, but many come over from Florida for the season, spend vast amounts in tightly limited hot-spots, with little of their money making its way into the local economy. Under way, they burn fuel at 200-1000 litres per hour, depending on their size and speed. That’s a metric tonne of fuel, per hour. Clearly not a poor-man’s hobby. They don’t seem to have received the memo about global warming.
Ashore, we had to find the immigration office, to ‘fess up that we had inadvertently overstayed our visas by a month. We were expecting a fine, and a wrist-slapping, but no, we were just calmly given a form to extend our visa, and told to backdate it. Bureaucracy at its shining best.
From there, we walked around a bit looking for the bakery. It is too hot for walking for pleasure, so we were pleased to find it at the top of a little hill overlooking the bay, nearer the boat. We chatted for a while with the owner – a lovely black Bahamian, who talked of the difficulties living on such a small island. Her daughter, who clearly had a serious medical problem, perhaps cerebral palsy, lay on a mattress on the floor with a view over the bay – she could have been anywhere from 6 to 20 years old, her limbs twisted and wasted.
The owner said that the illegal immigrants from Haiti and the DR get free health care in the Bahamas, while she has to pay for it. The issue of health care, and who pays for it and how, is a truly universal problem, and it seems nowhere has it fully ‘cracked’. It is difficult to imagine the day-to-day problems dealing with such a disability, and what opportunities there might be – precious little. Mum is vastly overweight, which clearly brings its own problems. Living with that alone in this heat must be difficult.
We are -again- waiting for weather. There is a spell of ‘northers’ coming through, which will help us heading south. We have – reluctantly- given up on visiting Cuba. The delays in Marsh Harbour, and our slow progress since, have left us with no time. I may have said that already. Very disappointing, but – maybe next time!
One useful outcome – the dinghy chaps (cover) was falling to bits, so we took it off and patched it. As usual, this tedious job was worse in the contemplation than the event, and the cover is now re-fitted with an orange stripe around the bump strip, made from a piece of tan sailcloth donated by Sarah when we set off. Took most of the day, both of us pulling and pushing at various bits of fabric and the machine, and much swearing. My little domestic sewing machine is not really man enough for these heavy fabrics, and kept breaking threads and skipping stiches. May donate it to someone in Haiti or the DR, and save up for a Sailrite.
26 March 2019
We waited for the promised weather to head south, and eventually did so in company with Dandelion. We stopped for a night in Little Harbour, just to the south. As with so many of these gorgeous little bays, the beach was littered with rubbish, and although inviting from afar, felt quite squalid close up. The entrance, on the way in, was ‘ok’: fairly flat, and a clear path through. When the time came to leave, it looked horrendous, huge waves breaking 5’ high all the way across. At high tide, these drop to a more manageable size, and we threaded our way out without difficulty. Dandelion’s radio message afterwards summed it up: “Changed your trousers yet?”. Once past the narrow entrance, the sea state was fine.
From there, we headed south together, to the ‘Windward Passage’, the route through between Haiti and Cuba. Dandelion then headed right for Cuba, while we turned left to head along the south coast of Haiti and the DR, hoping that the more benign conditions here would allow us to motor-sail against the easterly trades. Shortly after turning the corner, our engine stopped. The lift pump, we think. So we are now plodding at 2-3kts along the entire southern coast of Hispaniola. 400 miles. That’s about 130 hours at 3 kts. 10 and a half days. Except we are tacking, so that makes the distance getting on for 800 miles. 21 days. That’s far longer than it took us to cross the Atlantic. Bored. Really, quite bored.
The only upside is a renewed appreciation of the epic voyagers of old, who explored these coasts making their own charts as they went, and boats unable to go to windward.
1 April 2019
We are in Barahona, a town on the south coast of the DR.
We rounded the point on the south of the island, and were gamely slogging north east in hopelessly light winds, making 1-2 knots, when another sailing boat hove into sight – first we have seen in days. Thankfully, “Mischief”, a Brazilian registered Moody 425, took pity on us and took us in tow and we made the last 40 miles in a mere 12 hours. It would have taken us 2-3 days on our own.
In the belief that our problem was the lift pump, we removed and cleaned said item, and refitted it, to find no improvement. Engine still wont start.
We spent a day hiking around Barahona trying to find a shop which stocked electric lift pumps. Eventually, we gave up and enlisted the help of a random stranger in the Ajuntament office, who in turn recruited a girl from upstairs who spoke “some English”. In fact, she has been to evening classes for 3 months, so her English is about as good as our Spanish. But we stuck with it, and the two of them drove us around town several times trying to locate the right part. A false dawn when they rocked up to a shop selling domestic generators, so our translation was clearly ‘off’, but we got there in the end. Sadly, though, the new lift pump was no more successful than the old one at getting the engine started.
The lovely Chester, a beautiful Honduran fisherman sharing a ride with an Aussie on another ‘project’ boat, spent the day in the engine bay, curled up in an implausibly small space which I cannot fit into, bleeding various pipes trying to sort out our problem. With some long-distance help from Mike’s mate Dave in the UK, we loosened and tightened various connections, trying to eliminate trapped air. We failed. The latest working hypothesis is that we may have stripped the drive on the pump, so we are now well outside the scope of our competence.
So, we are now in the little harbour awaiting Roberto, a local engineer, who allegedly knows about boat diesels. The word “manyana” (cant find the squiggly ‘n’ sign) has cropped up several times. Hope it really does mean ‘tomorrow’.
We are safe here, the harbour is good, there are shops and banks nearby, and we have company in Steve and Chester, so it could be a lot worse. It could also be quite a lot better, as we are both deeply sick of breaking down, and both not at all keen on repeating our Marsh Harbour experience, an open-ended delay with no control over our own destiny.
1 April 2019
Perhaps not an auspicious day to go shopping for a new sim card so we can be in touch with the world without relying on the café, but we gave it a shot. After a 2-hour wait in the ‘Claro’ shop, with a huge crowd of patient locals, we ended up speaking to somebody who said, basically – yes its easy, but you have to come back tomorrow with your passport.
Now waiting for Roberto, and another man who took the washing away, promising its return at 2pm. Didn’t count the dirty pants before letting it all go, but I hope we get most of it back; our stash of clothes is looking thinner than it was.
The dinghy access to town is perhaps worth a mention – we can get out at the “marina”, but it is then a mile-long slog into town, and it is really too hot for that to be any fun. The only alternative is to tie up outside the port office, and scramble up the 6’ high dock over a tractor tyre. A bit of a game with a swell running, the dinghy dancing up and down by 2’. Getting better with practice, though. At least the water is nice and warm.
The books describe this place as a ‘busy port’, but we have been here several days now, and have yet to see a ship, other than the three permanently moored here, apparently abandoned.
6pm – in the bar again. I know, life is hard. Waiting for somebody to do something, not quite sure what. The engineer who diagnosed the injector pump problem is playing dominoes on the next table. No sign that he is intending to take the pump off tonight. Might be waiting for ‘Los Hondura’ to get back, because he is younger and thinner, and more bendy, and can perhaps get the thing out without dismantling the boat around it.
I managed to talk to some of the family via Whatsapp- miraculous, being able to talk from a beach café in a country like this, via the internet. Not perfect - quite a delay on the line, and it drops out every now and again - but fantastic even so.
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5 Quick Steps To Clean Your Bathroom Toilet
How often do you clean your bathroom toilet? Toilet is one of the traffic area in your home, and there is no doubt that it is very necessary to keep it clean. A dirty toilet will look bad, smell bad and breed germs, which will make your living space mess. While cleaning toilet is not always a easy task for most people, actually it is not difficult, and we are sharing some effective and fast cleaning guides for you to get the work easy to be done. Read on and find more.
Prepare the following clean tools:
Disinfecting sprays and wipes
Paper towels
A pair of cleaning gloves
A cleaner toilet towel
Tiff-bristle toilet brush
Pumice stone on a stick
1. Toilet outside clean
Never ignore every inch of the bowl when cleaning the commode. Grab that disinfecting spray and liberally spritz the all outside of the toilet, including those hard-to-reach areas such as the base’s back and seat’s underside. And you should also spritz the walls beside and behind the toilet. It is reported that bathroom particles can launch into the air with every flush, making the floor and wall around the toilet prime spots of microscopic splatter.
Please remember that it is a crucial step to let the cleaner sit for at least 5 minutes, you need to give the cleaners time to do their things, do not spray and then wipe away at once. And move on to the inside clean while you are waiting for the sitting time of cleaner.
2. Toilet inside clean
It is recommended to drain the water out and then apply the cleaning solution. After the water is got out of the toilet, you can use a milder cleaner and get the same clean result. Moreover, it is much easier to clean, it requires you simply turn the water valve at the base of the toilet off, flush once and you are good to go.
Whatever toilet bowl cleaner you use, baking soda is always a popular choice for most people. The baking soda can remove any gunky build-up easily and keep your toilet sparkle.
3.Wipe it down
Use a paper towel to wipe the toilet exterior when it comes to a disinfectant way. Just run a clean paper towel over the walls and then floor surrounding the toilet as well.
4. Wipe off the stains
Use a stiff-bristled brush to rub the bowl’s inside and under the rim. You may find a rust-colored ring in the inside of toilet, the culprit is likely minerals in your water system. Choose a stone on a stick and your hands don’t have to get too close to the toilet towel. You don’t need to worry that the softer pumice stone will not scratch the surface of porcelain. Turn on the water back of the toilet and then flush to rinse the bowl.
5. Clean the tools
Prop the wet toilet brush under the seat cover an pour cleaning solution into the toilet bowl. Let it sit for a minute and then rinse with water. Clean the brush’s canister by filling it with warm and soapy water. Also you can dump it right in the toilet as well.
After the clean work’s done, before you want to peel off your gloves, you had better head for the sink and clean your gloved hands with soap and warm water, which can well ensure you won’t get your hands dirty and get your gloves clean. Finally hand them up to dry and your toilet cleaning work has been finished!
Your toilet couldn’t be more cleaner with the above bathroom toilet cleaning hacks, hope you can get inspiration from this post. If you have other good ways to clean toilet, do not hesitate to share your ideas with us and comment below now.
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Rolling Across Death Valley in Our Four Seasons Land Rover Discovery
Instructions for my first assignment as an Automobile staffer were pretty basic. “Take the Disco,” said editor-in-chief Mike Floyd. “Hook up an Airstream to it, grab a photographer, and go do something Land Rover-y.” And that was it.
Twenty hours later I was behind the wheel of our Four Seasons 2017 Land Rover Discovery, running from a rainstorm I desperately hoped would end in Death Valley, as that was pretty much what I promised our photo editor would happen. My wife, Robin, was at my side, my dog, Lexi, was sleeping fitfully in the back seat, and an Airstream Basecamp trailer—which looked pretty small in the pictures but freakin’ huge once hooked up to the Land Rover—was trailing behind.
The diesel Discovery is rated to tow 7,716 pounds, and I have no doubt it can haul that kind of weight up the hills. Our average fuel consumption was 21 mpg. Perfect for Death Valley, where those “Last Chance Fuel” signs really mean something
The diesel-powered HSE Luxury Discovery and I were strangers, but it made a good first impression. I liked the clean and contemporary cabin, high-quality materials, and feel of the switchgear. The view out is superb (aside from the wall of aluminum and glass filling my rearview mirror), and I was impressed that after nearly 19,000 miles there were none of the squeaks and rattles I expected from a well-used British car. And nothing beats the smooth ride of an air suspension.
Not all was perfect. I never thought it was possible for a seat to have too much thigh support, but I had to tilt the cushion forward to avoid restricting circulation to my thighs. Another strange quirk: The Land Rover has two welcoming places for my right elbow (center console lid, fold-down armrest) but none for my left; the armrest is too low, the window ledge too high, and both meanly padded. Still, it proved a comfy chariot.
It was also proving to be a competent tow vehicle, though to be fair, the Airstream Basecamp, $35,900 to start and $38,550 as tested, wasn’t much of a challenge for the Disco and its 3.0-liter turbodiesel with 254 horsepower and 443 lb-ft of torque paired to an eight-speed automatic. Designed specifically to be towed by smaller SUVs, the Basecamp weighs around 2,600 pounds empty with a max gross weight of 3,500 pounds. Its 7-foot width meant it was only a few inches wider than the Land Rover, and although it was a bit tricky to back up—the shorter the trailer, the twitchier it is—its size meant we could pull full-lock U-turns almost anywhere we pleased.
The Basecamp represents a middle ground between tent trailers and full-on travel trailers. Inside there’s a small galley with a half-height fridge, sink, and two-burner stove. The tiny shower stall is also home to the toilet. The bulk of the living space is taken up by two facing couches, which convert to a double bed, with small tables between them. There’s an air conditioner and a microwave, but the trailer must be plugged in to power to use them. Everything else runs on liquid propane or batteries, the latter charged by optional solar panels on the roof. The Basecamp sits high on its single axle, making it a perfect trailer to do the Land Rover-y things my boss requested.
Happily, the rain tapered off as we headed up Route 395 toward the Searles Valley. Somewhere between Boron and Trona, towns named for the materials they mine, our photographer—also named Robin—called to say he found a place to shoot photos.
“It’s a dirt road off the main highway,” he said. It turned out to be both way off and way dirt. I wasn’t terribly worried about the Discovery, but it was clear we were dragging the Airstream through places most people would not take a trailer; the bemused expressions on the faces of Jeep drivers heading the other way confirmed this. The Basecamp brochure boldly says “built for adventure.” I hoped Airstream’s copy writers meant it.
Our photo session went well, including some rather ace trailer maneuvering. (Both Robins might disagree, but I’m sure I never actually hit the rock, and their frantic yelling and arm waving were more of a distraction than anything else.) After chasing the dog around a bit—she and photographer Robin got on famously, though she seemed to think his camera was an object of evil that needed to be barked at and possibly eaten—we tip-toed through the dirt back to the main highway.
A room with a view: The Airstream Basecamp’s big front windows provide a panoramic view, perfect for seeing the scenery … or your tow vehicle.
As we started to climb the Panamint Range, the Discovery finally began to show vague signs of realization that it was dragging a ton and a half of Airstream in its wake. Gasoline engines never let you forget you’re towing a trailer, but diesels make it hard to remember. The diesel Discovery is rated to tow 7,716 pounds, and although I’d be hesitant to tow a much longer trailer (the Discovery’s short wheelbase would be a stability concern), I have no doubt it can haul that kind of weight up the hills. Our average fuel consumption was 21 mpg, pretty friggin’ incredible considering we had a trailer in tow. That gave us a cruising range of roughly 450 miles, perfect for Death Valley, where those “Last Chance Fuel” signs really mean something.
A smorgasbord of bad surfaces started with washboards that I feared would vibrate the Discovery to pieces. I crept along, hoping that the cacophony of rattles were from our luggage and not bits that were bolted to the chassis.
The sun was low in the sky by the time we entered Death Valley proper. Our original plan had been to camp in the middle of nowhere, but finding the perfect bit of nowhere in the dark struck me as a phenomenally bad idea, so we stopped at the first campground we saw. This turned out to be a good idea, as converting the Basecamp for night use was a lot more work than expected.
First, everything on the seats—and in our case, that meant everything we brought—needed to be chucked outside, followed by the couch cushions. The table legs must be changed out for shorter ones (the shortened tables support the bed), the benches opened and folded out, and the cushions rearranged to form a bed. “I don’t know how you’re supposed to do this in the rain,” my wife said. We decided the optional patio tent ($1,500), which attaches to the side of the trailer, is a must-have.
The cushions are about as thick as prison mattresses and slightly less forgiving, a problem we solved with a $20 air mattress. This left gaps between the rectangular mattress and the rounded walls, but that was OK. They proved useful for glasses, e-readers, and the like—the Basecamp doesn’t have any bedside storage.
The next morning brought a fantastic view of the mountains through the Basecamp’s panoramic front windows and a knock on the door from photog Robin, who spent the night at a nearby hotel. (Two people and a dog is the Basecamp’s limit, unless you’re very, very friendly.) We unhooked the trailer, left wife Robin and Lexi behind to sleep in, and headed down Cottonwood Canyon Road, a smorgasbord of bad surfaces starting with washboards that I feared would vibrate the Discovery to pieces. I crept along, hoping that the cacophony of rattles were from our luggage and not bits that were supposed to be bolted to the chassis.
“The ride might smooth out if you go faster,” Robin suggested.
“How much faster?” I asked.
“I dunno,” he said. “Try 60.”
Washboard soon gave way to sand, and I eagerly spun the Land Rover’s Terrain Response dial to the sand setting. Did it work? I have no idea. The scientific approach would have been to stop and see how much traction we had, but if the Discovery did get stuck, I’d get the triple play of a long walk, an embarrassing phone call, and an irate photographer. Instead, I kept up my speed, and the Rover easily floated over the sand.
Amming speed! Lexi launches a salvo against photographer Robin’s camera. Rugged interiors of both the Discovery and the Airstream proved sufficiently dogproof.
Cottonwood Canyon turned out to be a phenomenal photo spot, but as we headed back to camp along the boulder-strewn trails, I was starting to think we weren’t really making much use of the Discovery’s off-road abilities. Just then I heard the first rock scrape the underside. Turns out I had somehow dropped the Discovery’s air suspension from off-road to normal height. Oops. I guess we were making use of the Disco’s significant off-road abilities after all, but the Land Rover makes it all feel so effortless.
Back at camp it was time for lunch. Wife Robin had stuffed the fridge, and I figured she was primed to put the galley to the test.
“What’s for lunch?” I asked.
“Sandwiches,” she replied.
“You’re not going to cook?”
“Sandwiches,” she repeated. “And if you don’t want a sandwich, there’s dog food in the cabinet.”
“I thought we’d try the cooktop,” I said.
“I used it to boil water for coffee,” she said. “It worked, which you should be able to tell by the fact that the kettle is not wrapped around your head.” She is not, as you might have guessed, a morning person.
Photos made and sandwiches eaten, photographer Robin headed home while Robin and I hooked up the Basecamp. Our destination: the Alabama Hills, filming site for numerous Westerns and a place we’d always wanted to visit. It’s also BLM land, so you can camp anywhere. We expected total isolation, so you can imagine our surprise when we found ourselves smack in the middle of a Greater Los Angeles Airstream Club rally, sharing our seclusion with 20 other Airstream trailers. Seriously—we had no idea this would happen.
They welcomed us with open arms, and we joined them for a potluck dinner, where they explained the Apple-like appeal of their aluminum Twinkies. (Short version: Nostalgia, quality, and camaraderie wherever you go.)
We parked in an isolated spot some ways away and settled in for the night. The Airstreamers had warned us that the heater blower motor really sucks down battery power. Thankfully, Robin had brought enough blankets to cover an entire Alabama hill, so we were toasty warm without mechanical assistance.
The next morning, I realized we’d barely made a dent in our water tank (not for lack of trying on that dirt road), so I decided at long last to try out the Basecamp’s shower. Trying to soap up with a toilet in the way is tricky enough, but with the water rapidly alternating between hot and cold, I gave up. After my aborted attempt at getting clean, it was time to pack up the Basecamp and head home.
On the way back to Los Angeles, it occurred to us that the Discovery and the Basecamp combined to make the perfect go-anywhere vacation machine. We had taken a reasonably comfortable motel room on wheels just about anywhere we pleased. If that isn’t a Land Rover-y thing to do, I don’t know what is.
OUR 2017 LAND ROVER DISCOVERY HSE Td6 LUXURY
MILES TO DATE 21,511 GALLONS OF FUEL 968.2 OBSERVED MPG 22.2 FUEL COST TO DATE $2,918.11 AVERAGE COST/GALLON $3.01
MAINTENANCE
DEF refill
$269.65 Oil change $173.16 DEF refill $165.15
RECALLS and TSBs
Exterior A-pillar molding N042 Deployable luggage compartment floor operating arm N060 Air suspension and adaptive dynamics warning N135
OUT OF POCKET
Winter tires $918.92 Tire patch $39.99 Mount and balance tires
$110.00 Replace fuel filter
$189.99
SPECIFICATIONS
AS-TESTED PRICE $79,950 ENGINE 3.0L DOHC 24-valve turbodiesel V-6,
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Rolling across Death Valley in Our Four Seasons Land Rover Discovery
Instructions for my first assignment as an Automobile staffer were pretty basic. “Take the Disco,” said editor-in-chief Mike Floyd. “Hook up an Airstream to it, grab a photographer, and go do something Land Rover-y.” And that was it.
Twenty hours later I was behind the wheel of our Four Seasons 2017 Land Rover Discovery, running from a rainstorm I desperately hoped would end in Death Valley, as that was pretty much what I promised our photo editor would happen. My wife, Robin, was at my side, my dog, Lexi, was sleeping fitfully in the back seat, and an Airstream Basecamp trailer—which looked pretty small in the pictures but freakin’ huge once hooked up to the Land Rover—was trailing behind.
The diesel Discovery is rated to tow 7,716 pounds, and I have no doubt it can haul that kind of weight up the hills. Our average fuel consumption was 21 mpg. Perfect for Death Valley, where those “Last Chance Fuel” signs really mean something
The diesel-powered HSE Luxury Discovery and I were strangers, but it made a good first impression. I liked the clean and contemporary cabin, high-quality materials, and feel of the switchgear. The view out is superb (aside from the wall of aluminum and glass filling my rearview mirror), and I was impressed that after nearly 19,000 miles there were none of the squeaks and rattles I expected from a well-used British car. And nothing beats the smooth ride of an air suspension.
Not all was perfect. I never thought it was possible for a seat to have too much thigh support, but I had to tilt the cushion forward to avoid restricting circulation to my thighs. Another strange quirk: The Land Rover has two welcoming places for my right elbow (center console lid, fold-down armrest) but none for my left; the armrest is too low, the window ledge too high, and both meanly padded. Still, it proved a comfy chariot.
It was also proving to be a competent tow vehicle, though to be fair, the Airstream Basecamp, $35,900 to start and $38,550 as tested, wasn’t much of a challenge for the Disco and its 3.0-liter turbodiesel with 254 horsepower and 443 lb-ft of torque paired to an eight-speed automatic. Designed specifically to be towed by smaller SUVs, the Basecamp weighs around 2,600 pounds empty with a max gross weight of 3,500 pounds. Its 7-foot width meant it was only a few inches wider than the Land Rover, and although it was a bit tricky to back up—the shorter the trailer, the twitchier it is—its size meant we could pull full-lock U-turns almost anywhere we pleased.
The Basecamp represents a middle ground between tent trailers and full-on travel trailers. Inside there’s a small galley with a half-height fridge, sink, and two-burner stove. The tiny shower stall is also home to the toilet. The bulk of the living space is taken up by two facing couches, which convert to a double bed, with small tables between them. There’s an air conditioner and a microwave, but the trailer must be plugged in to power to use them. Everything else runs on liquid propane or batteries, the latter charged by optional solar panels on the roof. The Basecamp sits high on its single axle, making it a perfect trailer to do the Land Rover-y things my boss requested.
Happily, the rain tapered off as we headed up Route 395 toward the Searles Valley. Somewhere between Boron and Trona, towns named for the materials they mine, our photographer—also named Robin—called to say he found a place to shoot photos.
“It’s a dirt road off the main highway,” he said. It turned out to be both way off and way dirt. I wasn’t terribly worried about the Discovery, but it was clear we were dragging the Airstream through places most people would not take a trailer; the bemused expressions on the faces of Jeep drivers heading the other way confirmed this. The Basecamp brochure boldly says “built for adventure.” I hoped Airstream’s copy writers meant it.
Our photo session went well, including some rather ace trailer maneuvering. (Both Robins might disagree, but I’m sure I never actually hit the rock, and their frantic yelling and arm waving were more of a distraction than anything else.) After chasing the dog around a bit—she and photographer Robin got on famously, though she seemed to think his camera was an object of evil that needed to be barked at and possibly eaten—we tip-toed through the dirt back to the main highway.
A room with a view: The Airstream Basecamp’s big front windows provide a panoramic view, perfect for seeing the scenery … or your tow vehicle.
As we started to climb the Panamint Range, the Discovery finally began to show vague signs of realization that it was dragging a ton and a half of Airstream in its wake. Gasoline engines never let you forget you’re towing a trailer, but diesels make it hard to remember. The diesel Discovery is rated to tow 7,716 pounds, and although I’d be hesitant to tow a much longer trailer (the Discovery’s short wheelbase would be a stability concern), I have no doubt it can haul that kind of weight up the hills. Our average fuel consumption was 21 mpg, pretty friggin’ incredible considering we had a trailer in tow. That gave us a cruising range of roughly 450 miles, perfect for Death Valley, where those “Last Chance Fuel” signs really mean something.
A smorgasbord of bad surfaces started with washboards that I feared would vibrate the Discovery to pieces. I crept along, hoping that the cacophony of rattles were from our luggage and not bits that were bolted to the chassis.
The sun was low in the sky by the time we entered Death Valley proper. Our original plan had been to camp in the middle of nowhere, but finding the perfect bit of nowhere in the dark struck me as a phenomenally bad idea, so we stopped at the first campground we saw. This turned out to be a good idea, as converting the Basecamp for night use was a lot more work than expected.
First, everything on the seats—and in our case, that meant everything we brought—needed to be chucked outside, followed by the couch cushions. The table legs must be changed out for shorter ones (the shortened tables support the bed), the benches opened and folded out, and the cushions rearranged to form a bed. “I don’t know how you’re supposed to do this in the rain,” my wife said. We decided the optional patio tent ($1,500), which attaches to the side of the trailer, is a must-have.
The cushions are about as thick as prison mattresses and slightly less forgiving, a problem we solved with a $20 air mattress. This left gaps between the rectangular mattress and the rounded walls, but that was OK. They proved useful for glasses, e-readers, and the like—the Basecamp doesn’t have any bedside storage.
The next morning brought a fantastic view of the mountains through the Basecamp’s panoramic front windows and a knock on the door from photog Robin, who spent the night at a nearby hotel. (Two people and a dog is the Basecamp’s limit, unless you’re very, very friendly.) We unhooked the trailer, left wife Robin and Lexi behind to sleep in, and headed down Cottonwood Canyon Road, a smorgasbord of bad surfaces starting with washboards that I feared would vibrate the Discovery to pieces. I crept along, hoping that the cacophony of rattles were from our luggage and not bits that were supposed to be bolted to the chassis.
“The ride might smooth out if you go faster,” Robin suggested.
“How much faster?” I asked.
“I dunno,” he said. “Try 60.”
Washboard soon gave way to sand, and I eagerly spun the Land Rover’s Terrain Response dial to the sand setting. Did it work? I have no idea. The scientific approach would have been to stop and see how much traction we had, but if the Discovery did get stuck, I’d get the triple play of a long walk, an embarrassing phone call, and an irate photographer. Instead, I kept up my speed, and the Rover easily floated over the sand.
Amming speed! Lexi launches a salvo against photographer Robin’s camera. Rugged interiors of both the Discovery and the Airstream proved sufficiently dogproof.
Cottonwood Canyon turned out to be a phenomenal photo spot, but as we headed back to camp along the boulder-strewn trails, I was starting to think we weren’t really making much use of the Discovery’s off-road abilities. Just then I heard the first rock scrape the underside. Turns out I had somehow dropped the Discovery’s air suspension from off-road to normal height. Oops. I guess we were making use of the Disco’s significant off-road abilities after all, but the Land Rover makes it all feel so effortless.
Back at camp it was time for lunch. Wife Robin had stuffed the fridge, and I figured she was primed to put the galley to the test.
“What’s for lunch?” I asked.
“Sandwiches,” she replied.
“You’re not going to cook?”
“Sandwiches,” she repeated. “And if you don’t want a sandwich, there’s dog food in the cabinet.”
“I thought we’d try the cooktop,” I said.
“I used it to boil water for coffee,” she said. “It worked, which you should be able to tell by the fact that the kettle is not wrapped around your head.” She is not, as you might have guessed, a morning person.
Photos made and sandwiches eaten, photographer Robin headed home while Robin and I hooked up the Basecamp. Our destination: the Alabama Hills, filming site for numerous Westerns and a place we’d always wanted to visit. It’s also BLM land, so you can camp anywhere. We expected total isolation, so you can imagine our surprise when we found ourselves smack in the middle of a Greater Los Angeles Airstream Club rally, sharing our seclusion with 20 other Airstream trailers. Seriously—we had no idea this would happen.
They welcomed us with open arms, and we joined them for a potluck dinner, where they explained the Apple-like appeal of their aluminum Twinkies. (Short version: Nostalgia, quality, and camaraderie wherever you go.)
We parked in an isolated spot some ways away and settled in for the night. The Airstreamers had warned us that the heater blower motor really sucks down battery power. Thankfully, Robin had brought enough blankets to cover an entire Alabama hill, so we were toasty warm without mechanical assistance.
The next morning, I realized we’d barely made a dent in our water tank (not for lack of trying on that dirt road), so I decided at long last to try out the Basecamp’s shower. Trying to soap up with a toilet in the way is tricky enough, but with the water rapidly alternating between hot and cold, I gave up. After my aborted attempt at getting clean, it was time to pack up the Basecamp and head home.
On the way back to Los Angeles, it occurred to us that the Discovery and the Basecamp combined to make the perfect go-anywhere vacation machine. We had taken a reasonably comfortable motel room on wheels just about anywhere we pleased. If that isn’t a Land Rover-y thing to do, I don’t know what is.
OUR 2017 LAND ROVER DISCOVERY HSE Td6 LUXURY
MILES TO DATE 21,511 GALLONS OF FUEL 968.2 OBSERVED MPG 22.2 FUEL COST TO DATE $2,918.11 AVERAGE COST/GALLON $3.01
MAINTENANCE
DEF refill
$269.65 Oil change $173.16 DEF refill $165.15
RECALLS and TSBs
Exterior A-pillar molding N042 Deployable luggage compartment floor operating arm N060 Air suspension and adaptive dynamics warning N135
OUT OF POCKET
Winter tires $918.92 Tire patch $39.99 Mount and balance tires
$110.00 Replace fuel filter
$189.99
SPECIFICATIONS
AS-TESTED PRICE $79,950 ENGINE 3.0L DOHC 24-valve turbodiesel V-6,
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Rolling across Death Valley in Our Four Seasons Land Rover Discovery
Instructions for my first assignment as an Automobile staffer were pretty basic. “Take the Disco,” said editor-in-chief Mike Floyd. “Hook up an Airstream to it, grab a photographer, and go do something Land Rover-y.” And that was it.
Twenty hours later I was behind the wheel of our Four Seasons 2017 Land Rover Discovery, running from a rainstorm I desperately hoped would end in Death Valley, as that was pretty much what I promised our photo editor would happen. My wife, Robin, was at my side, my dog, Lexi, was sleeping fitfully in the back seat, and an Airstream Basecamp trailer—which looked pretty small in the pictures but freakin’ huge once hooked up to the Land Rover—was trailing behind.
The diesel Discovery is rated to tow 7,716 pounds, and I have no doubt it can haul that kind of weight up the hills. Our average fuel consumption was 21 mpg. Perfect for Death Valley, where those “Last Chance Fuel” signs really mean something
The diesel-powered HSE Luxury Discovery and I were strangers, but it made a good first impression. I liked the clean and contemporary cabin, high-quality materials, and feel of the switchgear. The view out is superb (aside from the wall of aluminum and glass filling my rearview mirror), and I was impressed that after nearly 19,000 miles there were none of the squeaks and rattles I expected from a well-used British car. And nothing beats the smooth ride of an air suspension.
Not all was perfect. I never thought it was possible for a seat to have too much thigh support, but I had to tilt the cushion forward to avoid restricting circulation to my thighs. Another strange quirk: The Land Rover has two welcoming places for my right elbow (center console lid, fold-down armrest) but none for my left; the armrest is too low, the window ledge too high, and both meanly padded. Still, it proved a comfy chariot.
It was also proving to be a competent tow vehicle, though to be fair, the Airstream Basecamp, $35,900 to start and $38,550 as tested, wasn’t much of a challenge for the Disco and its 3.0-liter turbodiesel with 254 horsepower and 443 lb-ft of torque paired to an eight-speed automatic. Designed specifically to be towed by smaller SUVs, the Basecamp weighs around 2,600 pounds empty with a max gross weight of 3,500 pounds. Its 7-foot width meant it was only a few inches wider than the Land Rover, and although it was a bit tricky to back up—the shorter the trailer, the twitchier it is—its size meant we could pull full-lock U-turns almost anywhere we pleased.
The Basecamp represents a middle ground between tent trailers and full-on travel trailers. Inside there’s a small galley with a half-height fridge, sink, and two-burner stove. The tiny shower stall is also home to the toilet. The bulk of the living space is taken up by two facing couches, which convert to a double bed, with small tables between them. There’s an air conditioner and a microwave, but the trailer must be plugged in to power to use them. Everything else runs on liquid propane or batteries, the latter charged by optional solar panels on the roof. The Basecamp sits high on its single axle, making it a perfect trailer to do the Land Rover-y things my boss requested.
Happily, the rain tapered off as we headed up Route 395 toward the Searles Valley. Somewhere between Boron and Trona, towns named for the materials they mine, our photographer—also named Robin—called to say he found a place to shoot photos.
“It’s a dirt road off the main highway,” he said. It turned out to be both way off and way dirt. I wasn’t terribly worried about the Discovery, but it was clear we were dragging the Airstream through places most people would not take a trailer; the bemused expressions on the faces of Jeep drivers heading the other way confirmed this. The Basecamp brochure boldly says “built for adventure.” I hoped Airstream’s copy writers meant it.
Our photo session went well, including some rather ace trailer maneuvering. (Both Robins might disagree, but I’m sure I never actually hit the rock, and their frantic yelling and arm waving were more of a distraction than anything else.) After chasing the dog around a bit—she and photographer Robin got on famously, though she seemed to think his camera was an object of evil that needed to be barked at and possibly eaten—we tip-toed through the dirt back to the main highway.
A room with a view: The Airstream Basecamp’s big front windows provide a panoramic view, perfect for seeing the scenery … or your tow vehicle.
As we started to climb the Panamint Range, the Discovery finally began to show vague signs of realization that it was dragging a ton and a half of Airstream in its wake. Gasoline engines never let you forget you’re towing a trailer, but diesels make it hard to remember. The diesel Discovery is rated to tow 7,716 pounds, and although I’d be hesitant to tow a much longer trailer (the Discovery’s short wheelbase would be a stability concern), I have no doubt it can haul that kind of weight up the hills. Our average fuel consumption was 21 mpg, pretty friggin’ incredible considering we had a trailer in tow. That gave us a cruising range of roughly 450 miles, perfect for Death Valley, where those “Last Chance Fuel” signs really mean something.
A smorgasbord of bad surfaces started with washboards that I feared would vibrate the Discovery to pieces. I crept along, hoping that the cacophony of rattles were from our luggage and not bits that were bolted to the chassis.
The sun was low in the sky by the time we entered Death Valley proper. Our original plan had been to camp in the middle of nowhere, but finding the perfect bit of nowhere in the dark struck me as a phenomenally bad idea, so we stopped at the first campground we saw. This turned out to be a good idea, as converting the Basecamp for night use was a lot more work than expected.
First, everything on the seats—and in our case, that meant everything we brought—needed to be chucked outside, followed by the couch cushions. The table legs must be changed out for shorter ones (the shortened tables support the bed), the benches opened and folded out, and the cushions rearranged to form a bed. “I don’t know how you’re supposed to do this in the rain,” my wife said. We decided the optional patio tent ($1,500), which attaches to the side of the trailer, is a must-have.
The cushions are about as thick as prison mattresses and slightly less forgiving, a problem we solved with a $20 air mattress. This left gaps between the rectangular mattress and the rounded walls, but that was OK. They proved useful for glasses, e-readers, and the like—the Basecamp doesn’t have any bedside storage.
The next morning brought a fantastic view of the mountains through the Basecamp’s panoramic front windows and a knock on the door from photog Robin, who spent the night at a nearby hotel. (Two people and a dog is the Basecamp’s limit, unless you’re very, very friendly.) We unhooked the trailer, left wife Robin and Lexi behind to sleep in, and headed down Cottonwood Canyon Road, a smorgasbord of bad surfaces starting with washboards that I feared would vibrate the Discovery to pieces. I crept along, hoping that the cacophony of rattles were from our luggage and not bits that were supposed to be bolted to the chassis.
“The ride might smooth out if you go faster,” Robin suggested.
“How much faster?” I asked.
“I dunno,” he said. “Try 60.”
Washboard soon gave way to sand, and I eagerly spun the Land Rover’s Terrain Response dial to the sand setting. Did it work? I have no idea. The scientific approach would have been to stop and see how much traction we had, but if the Discovery did get stuck, I’d get the triple play of a long walk, an embarrassing phone call, and an irate photographer. Instead, I kept up my speed, and the Rover easily floated over the sand.
Amming speed! Lexi launches a salvo against photographer Robin’s camera. Rugged interiors of both the Discovery and the Airstream proved sufficiently dogproof.
Cottonwood Canyon turned out to be a phenomenal photo spot, but as we headed back to camp along the boulder-strewn trails, I was starting to think we weren’t really making much use of the Discovery’s off-road abilities. Just then I heard the first rock scrape the underside. Turns out I had somehow dropped the Discovery’s air suspension from off-road to normal height. Oops. I guess we were making use of the Disco’s significant off-road abilities after all, but the Land Rover makes it all feel so effortless.
Back at camp it was time for lunch. Wife Robin had stuffed the fridge, and I figured she was primed to put the galley to the test.
“What’s for lunch?” I asked.
“Sandwiches,” she replied.
“You’re not going to cook?”
“Sandwiches,” she repeated. “And if you don’t want a sandwich, there’s dog food in the cabinet.”
“I thought we’d try the cooktop,” I said.
“I used it to boil water for coffee,” she said. “It worked, which you should be able to tell by the fact that the kettle is not wrapped around your head.” She is not, as you might have guessed, a morning person.
Photos made and sandwiches eaten, photographer Robin headed home while Robin and I hooked up the Basecamp. Our destination: the Alabama Hills, filming site for numerous Westerns and a place we’d always wanted to visit. It’s also BLM land, so you can camp anywhere. We expected total isolation, so you can imagine our surprise when we found ourselves smack in the middle of a Greater Los Angeles Airstream Club rally, sharing our seclusion with 20 other Airstream trailers. Seriously—we had no idea this would happen.
They welcomed us with open arms, and we joined them for a potluck dinner, where they explained the Apple-like appeal of their aluminum Twinkies. (Short version: Nostalgia, quality, and camaraderie wherever you go.)
We parked in an isolated spot some ways away and settled in for the night. The Airstreamers had warned us that the heater blower motor really sucks down battery power. Thankfully, Robin had brought enough blankets to cover an entire Alabama hill, so we were toasty warm without mechanical assistance.
The next morning, I realized we’d barely made a dent in our water tank (not for lack of trying on that dirt road), so I decided at long last to try out the Basecamp’s shower. Trying to soap up with a toilet in the way is tricky enough, but with the water rapidly alternating between hot and cold, I gave up. After my aborted attempt at getting clean, it was time to pack up the Basecamp and head home.
On the way back to Los Angeles, it occurred to us that the Discovery and the Basecamp combined to make the perfect go-anywhere vacation machine. We had taken a reasonably comfortable motel room on wheels just about anywhere we pleased. If that isn’t a Land Rover-y thing to do, I don’t know what is.
OUR 2017 LAND ROVER DISCOVERY HSE Td6 LUXURY
MILES TO DATE 21,511 GALLONS OF FUEL 968.2 OBSERVED MPG 22.2 FUEL COST TO DATE $2,918.11 AVERAGE COST/GALLON $3.01
MAINTENANCE
DEF refill
$269.65 Oil change $173.16 DEF refill $165.15
RECALLS and TSBs
Exterior A-pillar molding N042 Deployable luggage compartment floor operating arm N060 Air suspension and adaptive dynamics warning N135
OUT OF POCKET
Winter tires $918.92 Tire patch $39.99 Mount and balance tires
$110.00 Replace fuel filter
$189.99
SPECIFICATIONS
AS-TESTED PRICE $79,950 ENGINE 3.0L DOHC 24-valve turbodiesel V-6,
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Text
Rolling across Death Valley in Our Four Seasons Land Rover Discovery
Instructions for my first assignment as an Automobile staffer were pretty basic. “Take the Disco,” said editor-in-chief Mike Floyd. “Hook up an Airstream to it, grab a photographer, and go do something Land Rover-y.” And that was it.
Twenty hours later I was behind the wheel of our Four Seasons 2017 Land Rover Discovery, running from a rainstorm I desperately hoped would end in Death Valley, as that was pretty much what I promised our photo editor would happen. My wife, Robin, was at my side, my dog, Lexi, was sleeping fitfully in the back seat, and an Airstream Basecamp trailer—which looked pretty small in the pictures but freakin’ huge once hooked up to the Land Rover—was trailing behind.
The diesel Discovery is rated to tow 7,716 pounds, and I have no doubt it can haul that kind of weight up the hills. Our average fuel consumption was 21 mpg. Perfect for Death Valley, where those “Last Chance Fuel” signs really mean something
The diesel-powered HSE Luxury Discovery and I were strangers, but it made a good first impression. I liked the clean and contemporary cabin, high-quality materials, and feel of the switchgear. The view out is superb (aside from the wall of aluminum and glass filling my rearview mirror), and I was impressed that after nearly 19,000 miles there were none of the squeaks and rattles I expected from a well-used British car. And nothing beats the smooth ride of an air suspension.
Not all was perfect. I never thought it was possible for a seat to have too much thigh support, but I had to tilt the cushion forward to avoid restricting circulation to my thighs. Another strange quirk: The Land Rover has two welcoming places for my right elbow (center console lid, fold-down armrest) but none for my left; the armrest is too low, the window ledge too high, and both meanly padded. Still, it proved a comfy chariot.
It was also proving to be a competent tow vehicle, though to be fair, the Airstream Basecamp, $35,900 to start and $38,550 as tested, wasn’t much of a challenge for the Disco and its 3.0-liter turbodiesel with 254 horsepower and 443 lb-ft of torque paired to an eight-speed automatic. Designed specifically to be towed by smaller SUVs, the Basecamp weighs around 2,600 pounds empty with a max gross weight of 3,500 pounds. Its 7-foot width meant it was only a few inches wider than the Land Rover, and although it was a bit tricky to back up—the shorter the trailer, the twitchier it is—its size meant we could pull full-lock U-turns almost anywhere we pleased.
The Basecamp represents a middle ground between tent trailers and full-on travel trailers. Inside there’s a small galley with a half-height fridge, sink, and two-burner stove. The tiny shower stall is also home to the toilet. The bulk of the living space is taken up by two facing couches, which convert to a double bed, with small tables between them. There’s an air conditioner and a microwave, but the trailer must be plugged in to power to use them. Everything else runs on liquid propane or batteries, the latter charged by optional solar panels on the roof. The Basecamp sits high on its single axle, making it a perfect trailer to do the Land Rover-y things my boss requested.
Happily, the rain tapered off as we headed up Route 395 toward the Searles Valley. Somewhere between Boron and Trona, towns named for the materials they mine, our photographer—also named Robin—called to say he found a place to shoot photos.
“It’s a dirt road off the main highway,” he said. It turned out to be both way off and way dirt. I wasn’t terribly worried about the Discovery, but it was clear we were dragging the Airstream through places most people would not take a trailer; the bemused expressions on the faces of Jeep drivers heading the other way confirmed this. The Basecamp brochure boldly says “built for adventure.” I hoped Airstream’s copy writers meant it.
Our photo session went well, including some rather ace trailer maneuvering. (Both Robins might disagree, but I’m sure I never actually hit the rock, and their frantic yelling and arm waving were more of a distraction than anything else.) After chasing the dog around a bit—she and photographer Robin got on famously, though she seemed to think his camera was an object of evil that needed to be barked at and possibly eaten—we tip-toed through the dirt back to the main highway.
A room with a view: The Airstream Basecamp’s big front windows provide a panoramic view, perfect for seeing the scenery … or your tow vehicle.
As we started to climb the Panamint Range, the Discovery finally began to show vague signs of realization that it was dragging a ton and a half of Airstream in its wake. Gasoline engines never let you forget you’re towing a trailer, but diesels make it hard to remember. The diesel Discovery is rated to tow 7,716 pounds, and although I’d be hesitant to tow a much longer trailer (the Discovery’s short wheelbase would be a stability concern), I have no doubt it can haul that kind of weight up the hills. Our average fuel consumption was 21 mpg, pretty friggin’ incredible considering we had a trailer in tow. That gave us a cruising range of roughly 450 miles, perfect for Death Valley, where those “Last Chance Fuel” signs really mean something.
A smorgasbord of bad surfaces started with washboards that I feared would vibrate the Discovery to pieces. I crept along, hoping that the cacophony of rattles were from our luggage and not bits that were bolted to the chassis.
The sun was low in the sky by the time we entered Death Valley proper. Our original plan had been to camp in the middle of nowhere, but finding the perfect bit of nowhere in the dark struck me as a phenomenally bad idea, so we stopped at the first campground we saw. This turned out to be a good idea, as converting the Basecamp for night use was a lot more work than expected.
First, everything on the seats—and in our case, that meant everything we brought—needed to be chucked outside, followed by the couch cushions. The table legs must be changed out for shorter ones (the shortened tables support the bed), the benches opened and folded out, and the cushions rearranged to form a bed. “I don’t know how you’re supposed to do this in the rain,” my wife said. We decided the optional patio tent ($1,500), which attaches to the side of the trailer, is a must-have.
The cushions are about as thick as prison mattresses and slightly less forgiving, a problem we solved with a $20 air mattress. This left gaps between the rectangular mattress and the rounded walls, but that was OK. They proved useful for glasses, e-readers, and the like—the Basecamp doesn’t have any bedside storage.
The next morning brought a fantastic view of the mountains through the Basecamp’s panoramic front windows and a knock on the door from photog Robin, who spent the night at a nearby hotel. (Two people and a dog is the Basecamp’s limit, unless you’re very, very friendly.) We unhooked the trailer, left wife Robin and Lexi behind to sleep in, and headed down Cottonwood Canyon Road, a smorgasbord of bad surfaces starting with washboards that I feared would vibrate the Discovery to pieces. I crept along, hoping that the cacophony of rattles were from our luggage and not bits that were supposed to be bolted to the chassis.
“The ride might smooth out if you go faster,” Robin suggested.
“How much faster?” I asked.
“I dunno,” he said. “Try 60.”
Washboard soon gave way to sand, and I eagerly spun the Land Rover’s Terrain Response dial to the sand setting. Did it work? I have no idea. The scientific approach would have been to stop and see how much traction we had, but if the Discovery did get stuck, I’d get the triple play of a long walk, an embarrassing phone call, and an irate photographer. Instead, I kept up my speed, and the Rover easily floated over the sand.
Amming speed! Lexi launches a salvo against photographer Robin’s camera. Rugged interiors of both the Discovery and the Airstream proved sufficiently dogproof.
Cottonwood Canyon turned out to be a phenomenal photo spot, but as we headed back to camp along the boulder-strewn trails, I was starting to think we weren’t really making much use of the Discovery’s off-road abilities. Just then I heard the first rock scrape the underside. Turns out I had somehow dropped the Discovery’s air suspension from off-road to normal height. Oops. I guess we were making use of the Disco’s significant off-road abilities after all, but the Land Rover makes it all feel so effortless.
Back at camp it was time for lunch. Wife Robin had stuffed the fridge, and I figured she was primed to put the galley to the test.
“What’s for lunch?” I asked.
“Sandwiches,” she replied.
“You’re not going to cook?”
“Sandwiches,” she repeated. “And if you don’t want a sandwich, there’s dog food in the cabinet.”
“I thought we’d try the cooktop,” I said.
“I used it to boil water for coffee,” she said. “It worked, which you should be able to tell by the fact that the kettle is not wrapped around your head.” She is not, as you might have guessed, a morning person.
Photos made and sandwiches eaten, photographer Robin headed home while Robin and I hooked up the Basecamp. Our destination: the Alabama Hills, filming site for numerous Westerns and a place we’d always wanted to visit. It’s also BLM land, so you can camp anywhere. We expected total isolation, so you can imagine our surprise when we found ourselves smack in the middle of a Greater Los Angeles Airstream Club rally, sharing our seclusion with 20 other Airstream trailers. Seriously—we had no idea this would happen.
They welcomed us with open arms, and we joined them for a potluck dinner, where they explained the Apple-like appeal of their aluminum Twinkies. (Short version: Nostalgia, quality, and camaraderie wherever you go.)
We parked in an isolated spot some ways away and settled in for the night. The Airstreamers had warned us that the heater blower motor really sucks down battery power. Thankfully, Robin had brought enough blankets to cover an entire Alabama hill, so we were toasty warm without mechanical assistance.
The next morning, I realized we’d barely made a dent in our water tank (not for lack of trying on that dirt road), so I decided at long last to try out the Basecamp’s shower. Trying to soap up with a toilet in the way is tricky enough, but with the water rapidly alternating between hot and cold, I gave up. After my aborted attempt at getting clean, it was time to pack up the Basecamp and head home.
On the way back to Los Angeles, it occurred to us that the Discovery and the Basecamp combined to make the perfect go-anywhere vacation machine. We had taken a reasonably comfortable motel room on wheels just about anywhere we pleased. If that isn’t a Land Rover-y thing to do, I don’t know what is.
OUR 2017 LAND ROVER DISCOVERY HSE Td6 LUXURY
MILES TO DATE 21,511 GALLONS OF FUEL 968.2 OBSERVED MPG 22.2 FUEL COST TO DATE $2,918.11 AVERAGE COST/GALLON $3.01
MAINTENANCE
DEF refill
$269.65 Oil change $173.16 DEF refill $165.15
RECALLS and TSBs
Exterior A-pillar molding N042 Deployable luggage compartment floor operating arm N060 Air suspension and adaptive dynamics warning N135
OUT OF POCKET
Winter tires $918.92 Tire patch $39.99 Mount and balance tires
$110.00 Replace fuel filter
$189.99
SPECIFICATIONS
AS-TESTED PRICE $79,950 ENGINE 3.0L DOHC 24-valve turbodiesel V-6,
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