Pro Tips from an 1884 Tiny Towable

Tiny Towables are not new.

Conestoga Wagons were built since 1717. From 1820 to 1860 (or so) entire families traveled in Prairie Schooners across America. Around 1810, circuses in Europe started traveling in horse-drawn wagons. The Romani in Britain adapted the design into Vardos. Before that, they slept in tents.

In 1884, “popular Victorian Author and former Royal Naval Surgeon, Dr William Gordon Stables”… “designed and commissioned … The ‘Land Yacht’ Wanderer… from the Bristol Wagon Works Company.”

Other wealthy individuals followed his example and traveled in custom-built leisure caravans.

William Gordon Stables [May 1840 to May 1910] was a Scottish medical doctor, a surgeon in the Royal Navy. He wrote over 130 books, many from his Tiny Towable, “Wanderer.” Most are Adventure and early Science Fiction, but he also wrote health foods books and books on how to care for cats and dogs.

He wrote a number of travel books, including The Gentleman Gypsy and The Cruise of the Land-Yacht “Wanderer.” Both are reprinted.  Books by Gordon Stables on Amazon >

The Land-Yacht “Wanderer”

Dr. Stables documented the design of his caravan and described his travels.

Polished mahogany with black and gold mouldings and shutters—jalousies. The wheels and underworks are dark chocolate, picked out with vermilion. The only “ornament” about her is the device on the side, and this is simply a sketch of the badge of my uniform cap—crown, anchor, and laurel leaves,—with a scroll of ribbon of the Robertson tartan, my mother’s plaid. This looks quite as pretty and costs less than armorial bearings.

“You require to have your temporary home well arranged…”

The chief faults of the old-fashioned caravan are want of space—two ordinary-sized adults can hardly move in it without trampling on each other’s toes—general stuffiness, heat from sky or stove, or probably both combined, and a most disagreeable motion when on the road. This latter is caused by want of good springs, and errors in the general build.

He was invited to look inside a caravan and concluded that “inside the space was limited, owing to the extraordinary breadth of the bed and size of the stove.”

Stables designed his own caravan and had it built. It is* six feet wide. The wheels are under the cart instead of out the sides like most carts and wagons at the time. “This would have given the Wanderer a breadth of beam which would have been awkward on the road, and rendered it impossible to get her through many gateways.”

When you see the roads he took the caravan on…

She** is nearly twenty feet “stem to stern, without shafts or pole,” and about eleven feet from the ground to the top of the roof. Inside “there is quite as much room inside for even a tall man to stand as there is in a Pullman car.”

Wanderer was built of solid mahogany lined with softer wood. Her “dry weight” or “unloaded vehicle weight” is “30 hundredweight,” 1.68 US tons.

“Loaded-up she will be under two tons. The loading-up includes master, valet, coachman, and a large Newfoundland dog, not one of whom need be inside except “coachee” on a stiff hill.”

Driving in double harness is harder work, and too engrossing, while “tandem” is just one step beyond my present capabilities. The only time ever I attempted this sort of thing I miserably failed.

This is the description of the Land-Yacht “Wanderer.”

There is a splashboard, an unusual luxury in carriages of this kind. The coupé is very roomy; the Newfoundland lies here when he likes, and a chair can be placed on it, or if rugs and a cushion are put down it forms a delightful lounge on a fine day, and this need in no way interfere with the comfort of either the driver or the great dog. The driver’s seat is also the corn-bin, and holds two bushels. From the broad panel at the other side of the door a board lets down at pleasure, and this forms still another seat for an extra passenger besides myself.

The front part of the roof protrudes, forming ample protection against sun and rain. This canopy is about three feet deep.

The brake, which is handy to the driver, is a very powerful one, and similar to those used on tram-cars. There is also an iron skid to lock one wheel if required on going down hill, and a roller besides for safety in stopping when going up hill.

There is a door behind right in the centre, similar in appearance to the front door, with morsels of stained glass let in at the upper corners.

Both doors have light shutters that are put up at night.

Under the rear door the broad steps are shipped, and at each side is a little mahogany flap table to let down. These the valet finds very handy when washing up. Beneath each of these flaps and under the carriage is a drawer to contain tools, dusters, blacking-brushes, and many a little article, without which comfort on the road could hardly be secured.

Under the caravan are fastened by chain and padlock a light long ladder, a framework used in holding out our after-awning or tent, a spade, and the buckets. But there is also space enough here in which to hang a hammock.

Under the caravan shafts are carried, which may, however, never be much required.

Inside The Wanderer

Entering from behind you may pass through A, the pantry or kitchen, into B, the saloon.

Folding doors with nice curtains divide the caravan at pleasure into two compartments.

C is the sofa, upholstered in strong blue railway repp. It is a sofa only by day. At night it forms the owner’s bed. There are lockers under, which contain the bedclothes, etc, when not in use, as well as my wardrobe.

D is the table, over which is a dainty little bookcase, with at each side a beautiful lamp on brackets. E is the cupboard, or rather the cheffonière, both elegant and ornamental, with large looking-glass over and behind it. It will be noticed that it juts out and on to the coupé, and thus not only takes up no room in the saloon, but gives me an additional recess on top for glove-boxes, hanging baskets for handkerchiefs, and nicknacks. The chiffoniere and the doors are polished mahogany and glass, the bulkheads maple with darker mouldings, the roof like that of a first-class railway carriage, the skylight being broad and roomy, with stained glass and ample means of ventilation.

The other articles of furniture not already mentioned are simple in the extreme, simple but sufficient, and consist of a piano-stool and tiny camp-chair, music-rack, footstool, dressing-case, a few artful cushions, pretty mirrors on the walls, with gilt brackets for coloured candles, a corner bracket with a clock, a guitar, a small harmonium, a violin, a navy sword, and a good revolver. There are gilded cornices over each window, with neat summer curtains, and also over the chiffoniere recess.

The floor is covered with linoleum, and a Persian rug does duty for a carpet.

The after-cabin contains a rack for dishes, with a cupboard above, a beautiful little carbon-silicated filter,—the best of filters made—a marble washstand, a triangular water-can that hangs above, complete with lid and tap, and which may be taken down to be filled at a well, a rack for hats and gloves, etc, neat pockets for tea and other towels, a box—my valet’s, which is also a seat—and a little flap table, at which he can take his meals and read or write. Also the Rippingille cooking-range. This after-cabin is well-ventilated; the folding doors are shot at night, and the valet makes his bed athwartships, as I have already said. The bed is simply two long soft doormats, with above these a cork mattress. The latter, with the bedding, are rolled up into an American cloth cover, the former go into a Willesden canvas bag, and are placed under the caravan by day.

The Rippingille cooking-range is a great comfort. On cool days it can be used in the pantry, on hot days—or, at pleasure, on any day—it can be placed under our after-tent.

His book The Cruise of the Land-Yacht “Wanderer”, by Gordon Stables, 1886 describes some of his adventures on his first journey.

After a rainstorm “the wheels of the Wanderer began to sink deep in the miry meadow.”

The horses, Corn-flower and Pea-blossom “could not start or move her. They plunged and pawed, and pawed and plunged in vain—the Wanderer refused to budge.”

A local man had a huge horse, “that I think could move a church, sir.” On the third pull “everything gave way, and the horse coolly walked off with the trace chains.”

While Stables was waiting for the repaired harness, ‘all the manhood of Chryston… clustered round the wheels, lining the sides, pushing behind and pulling the pole.’ The caravan gave herself a shake and began to move forward. “In less time than it takes me to tell it, the great caravan was hoisted through that meadow and run high and dry into the farmer’s courtyard.”

He crossed “the very loftiest spurs of the Grampian range” “near the gloomy mountains and deep ravines of Slochmuichk” on the way to Inverness.

Before and around us hills o’er hills successive rise, and mountain over mountain. Their heads are buried in the clouds. This gives to the scene a kind of gloomy grandeur. A deep ravine, a stream in the midst, roaring over its pebbly bed. A dark forest beyond. Six miles more to climb ere we reach our highest altitude. Three miles of scenery bleaker and wilder than any we have yet come to. A dark and gloomy peat moss, with the roots of ancient forest trees appearing here and there. It gets colder and colder, and I am fain to wrap myself in my Highland plaid.

Must the Wanderer, indeed, climb that terrible hill? Down beneath that narrow mountain path the ravine is 500 feet deep at the least. There is a sharp corner to turn, too, up yonder, and what is beyond?

The book concludes with Pro Tips for aspiring Land Yachtsmen. You must have a valet to travel ahead of you on a tricycle to make sure the road is OK.

Style of Build.

You may copy the Wanderer if so minded. I do not think that I myself, after two years on the road, could improve on her, except that the shutters are difficult to draw on and off, and ought to run upon castors.

However, few caravannists might care to have so long and large a chariot as mine; one about twelve feet long would serve every purpose, and be easily moved with one good horse. It would also be more easily drawn into meadows at night.

A caravan, both exteriorly and interiorly, is capable of an infinite amount of ornamentation. But I do not think a gentleman gipsy’s carriage ought to, in any way, resemble that of a travelling showman, although it certainly should not be like a Salvationist’s “barrow.”

The entrance door may be at the side, or behind, as in the Wanderer.

The windows should be large and neat, and prettily curtained or upholstered. A caravannist is constantly being gazed at, and people will assuredly judge of your interior fittings by the taste and appearance displayed outside.

This drawing gives a clear view of all of the windows for light and ventilation.

The Wanderer, with my books and furniture (all light) on board, weighs well-nigh two tons.

Even for a pair of good-hearted horses, such as I possess, this is rather much, so that I should advise that a single horse caravan be not much over fifteen hundredweight.

The Wanderer is double-walled, being built of well-seasoned beautiful mahogany, and lined with maple, having an interspace of about one inch and a half. But double walls are really not necessary, and only add to the expense.

The body of the carriage might be made of Willesden waterproof paper, fastened to a framework of light strong wood. This remarkable paper keeps its shape in all weathers, and can be charmingly painted and gilded.

For a very light summer caravan the upper works might be painted Willesden canvas. Such a carriage, however, would hardly withstand the cold of winter.

The roof of the Wanderer is painted white. I am often asked, Is it not very hot in summer? But the answer is “No, because with the doors open there is always a delightful breeze.” Then, wood being a conductor, and there being so much ventilation, as soon as the sun goes down the caravan becomes as cool as can be desired.

Upholstering and Furnishing.

A deal of taste can be shown in this. Everything must be of smallest possible dimensions.

A few favourite books should be taken, while magazines, etc, can be bought in towns and villages as you pass through. I have a fairy edition of the poets, my little ebony bookcase is a fairy one, and a good many other articles as well are of fairy dimensions also. Mirrors are tolerably heavy, but let in here and there in the panels, etc, they have a very nice effect, and make the caravan seem double the size.

Flower vases of different shapes and sizes may be almost everywhere. Flowers we can always get, and if the same kind hospitality be extended to every gentleman or lady gipsy that was lavished on me, his or her caravan will always be florally gay.

The coupé is easily convertible into a delightful lounge. I have a bag close at hand on the splashboard, where I keep the road-book or guide, the map of the county through which I am passing, and my pens, ink, pencils, and note-books. There is also on the coupé a brass-gilt little rack for holding my book or newspaper, as well as a minimum thermometer.

What though your table be small, the viands plain? they are well put on, your delft is polished, and that flower in the vase, and those coloured glasses, look well on a spotless cloth.

If a shower faces the caravan and is blown in under the verandah, or if the dust is troublesome, it is easy to retire into the saloon for a short time, and shut the glass door.

The Cooking-Range.

The cooking-stove should be black-leaded, the tin things should shine like burnished silver, and every kitchen utensil be as bright and clean as a new sovereign.

Does it smell at all? I have often been asked that question. The reply is “No, not at all,” and in October I light the range of an evening to warm the caravan.

When breakfast is wanted in a hurry, to ensure an early start, the cooking is done the night before, and the tea made and poured off the leaves into a large bottle, so that five minutes’ time in the morning is sufficient to warm everything. The oil for the range is hung underneath in a can.

Underneath also are slung two buckets, a dog’s food-can, and a dust-proof basket in which vegetables are carried, to be cleaned and made ready for cooking at the midday halt, and so prepared without delay when the bivouac is chosen.

Everything Done the Evening Before.

Everything that can be done the evening before should be done—boot cleaning, knife polishing, filling cistern and filter, and preparing the range for immediate lighting.

The Provision Book.

This should be presented to you every morning at breakfast by your valet, who is to call your attention to the articles wanted, whether bread, butter, meat, vegetables, or groceries. Then the shopping is done in the forenoon as you pass through village or town, although many things are better and more cheaply procured at cottages.

An Early Start Desirable.

Make an early start and all will go well. On the other hand, if you laze and dawdle in the morning the day will be spoiled, luncheon will be hurried, and dinner too late.

Asking the Road.

This is the duty of your valet, who is on ahead with the tricycle. But do not trust altogether to him, but when any doubt exists ask yourself, and be sure that your informant really knows his right hand from his left. Remember that if a man stands facing you his right is your left.

Draymen, butchers, and waggoners, are the best men to enquire the state of the roads of, as regards hills, condition, etc.

I make a point of mingling in a kindly way of an evening with the villagers at the inns where my horses are stabled. I get much amusement sometimes by so doing. I meet many queer characters, hear many a strange story, and last but not least get well-ventilated opinions as to the best and nearest roads.

A caravannist must not be above talking to all kinds and conditions of men. If he has pride he must keep it in a bucket under the caravan.

* The Wanderer still exists, so I am sticking with present tense here.

**Stables referred to his caravan as “her” and “she.”