RV 2.0: Downsizing helps new generation hit the road

ALONG THE PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY, Calif. -- Within minutes of pulling into space 12 at the Pismo Coast Village RV Resort, my neighbors rush over to welcome me.

Rather, they charge toward my bright green and purple campervan, which is emblazoned with signage promising it "comes with everything … including the kitchen sink."

Jennifer Beall confirms that there is a kitchen sink and a gas cooker and a refrigerator -- albeit miniature ones. They are all in the trunk. The back seat folds down into a bed that can sleep two at night. It also converts into a dining area. On top of the car is the "penthouse," a pop-up container that sleeps another two. Below the seats is a storage area, which I dub the basement.

"This is a lot easier to drive than that big thing there," says Beall, pointing to the 29-foot Fleetwood Jamboree RV she and her husband have traveled in from southern California. It may be hard for her to drive, but it's still better than a hotel, she says.

The Jucy RV campervan, based on a Chrysler minivan, is part of a new generation of RV campers. Travelers, especially younger ones, favor smaller, more fuel-efficient vehicles over the trailers and motorhomes that have populated American roadways for decades. Rather than getting around in a condo on wheels, many road trippers are settling for a living room.

"RV-ing in the United States is huge," says Dan Alpe, who co-founded Jucy in 2001 in New Zealand. But he observed that operating some RVs is a "scary, intimidating experience."

That's why Jucy and other companies have made the experience happen in a more compact space.

California Campers offers Volkswagen Westfalia campers from San Francisco. Lost Campers has budget campervans from Los Angeles, San Francisco and Salt Lake City. Cruise America's fleet of compact campers can be found at locations across the USA and Canada.

Like Jucy, which now has 265 vans in the USA, Escape Campervan Rentals originated in New Zealand and has an over-the-top look. Each van has a different design by a graffiti artist. The Escape vans can sleep three adults or more if a rooftop tent is added. The company has about 350 vans in the USA.

They're tapping into a lucrative market. According to Kampgrounds of America, 46 million households in North America camp at least occasionally, with 1 in 4 households engaging in some sort of camping activity each year.

The majority -- 54% -- stay in tents, but 21% are RV campers, according to the latest figures.

The report also found that Millennials have the greatest potential for growth in the camping industry in the next year. Six in 10 Millennials said they would spend more nights camping, compared with 4 in 10 Baby Boomers.

"We're going to bring a different group of people into the market," Alpe says. "We are getting young people saying, this is a cool thing to do."

Americans have always considered camping cool -- or at least economical.

Travelers "just want a more intimate experience and a way to get off the beaten path," says Escape Campervan vice president of marketing Chris Knight. "It's more economical than a rental car. With these smaller vehicles, you can sleep in your car for free at any national forest."

An Escape Campervan is not quite free, but it can often be less than a hotel room. A night in the van can cost as little as $35 a day. Jucy rentals start at $45. Campsites have nightly rates that vary.

For additional fees, you can also get bedding and a Mi-Fi when you rent a Jucy camper.

I choose both when I drive down from San Francisco to Los Angeles in January.

I can't get the Mi-Fi to work but I am grateful when I get under the bedding, which works just fine against the cold California nights.

At the pick-up depot in San Leandro, a suburb outside of San Francisco, a manager gives a 30-minute tutorial on how to operate the Jucy. It involves learning how to empty and fill the water tank and how to crank up the penthouse.

After filling out my paperwork, I get on the road. At a toll booth, the employee laughs when she sees my green and purple wheels.

On my first night in the Jucy, I stay at Veterans Memorial Park in Monterey, one of the country's only urban campgrounds. I arrive late and stuff my $30 overnight fee into an envelope that I deposit into a box.

I rejoice when I spot another green and purple vehicle at the campground. It's a Jucy camper, and I park right next to it in a show of camaraderie.

Edmond Kenny and Emma Hore, an Irish couple living in Australia, are taking a road trip though California.

"We were looking into big RVs but more compact models suited us," Kenny says, after cranking up the penthouse.

The next morning, I enlist Kenny to help me pack away my penthouse. We can't quite lock it into place, so John Wilkes, a Veterans Park attendant, offers to help.

He pushes and pulls and turns, and manages to get the penthouse back in place so I can drive off. He looks at the Jucy and nods to indicate his approval.

"The bigger the RV, the less you see people," he says.

He likes to see people, and the Jucy campervan encourages travelers to be social.

I see many people on my five-day journey, and most are eager to chat. Whenever I spot another Jucy on the road, we honk at each other.

The beauty of roadtripping in a campervan is that I am not exiled to the RV parking area at Hearst Castle and other places I pop into. I make a last-minute detour through the beautiful central California town of Carmel with ease. I park the Jucy next to all the Mercedes, Lexuses and Bentleys.

As I pull into a parking spot to see the thousands of San Simeon elephant seals that lounge on the beach just south of Piedras Blancas Light Station, members of a National Geographic TV crew stop me to ask for a tour of my Jucy.

When I'm done showing them the kitchen sink, I head to the boardwalk to see the seals. It's mating season. Volunteer Jack Morehead, who wears a bright blue jacket with a patch identifying him as "Friend of the Elephant Seals," stops to impart his knowledge.

According to Morehead, the seals have the run of six miles of beach. Many of the females are pregnant. The males are looking to mate some more. And the pups are trying to avoid getting crushed in the melee. I stand there for 30 minutes mesmerized by the sight of so many seals piled on top of each other.

"It's not romantic at all," he says, stating the obvious.

Being in a campervan allows me to stop by the Monterey Bay Aquarium, have fantastic meals at Abalonetti Bar and Grill in Monterey and Big Sur Roadhouse, maneuver around the quaint Danish town of Solvang -- all without having to worry about where to stash my campervan. I can easily parallel-park it.

I also get to explore many campgrounds. The Recreation Vehicle Industry Association says there are more than 16,000 public and privately owned campgrounds nationwide.

On my way down the winding PCH, I stop at the Los Padres National Forest Kirk Creek Campground to take photos. The view of Big Sur is spectacular.

I inadvertently park in someone's spot. John Clayton has driven from Carmel in a motorcycle. He doesn't mind when he catches me bogarting the space he paid for. There's plenty of room for the Jucy and the motorcycle.

He tells me that he has a tent and sleeping bag stuffed into his motorcycle. I'm impressed, as is he when I show him my kitchen sink. We trade camping stories and admire each other's vehicles while gazing at Big Sur.

"Wow," he says. "How cool is that?"