What You Need to Know Before Buying a Scamp
The Scamp is one of those fiberglass A-frame trailers that's been around since the late 1960s and somehow survived every trend cycle that tried to kill it. It's roughly 13 feet long, weighs between 1,500 and 1,700 pounds empty, and comes in a handful of floor plans. The magic number most people care about is towing: you can pull most of them off a midsize SUV or a small crossover without needing a heavy-duty truck. That's the whole pitch, honestly. I've spent more nights in these than I care to count, and I'm going to tell you what actually matters beyond the spec sheet. The original Scamp came with a fixed kitchen module on the left side and a dinette that converted to a bed on the right. Later models shifted around. The 13-foot Classic is the volume seller. The 16-foot Legacy added a rear bathroom and a more livable kitchen. There's also the 20-foot model if you don't mind sacrificing some of that lightweight towing advantage. Here's the thing: fiberglass A-frames have terrible thermal performance unless you modify them. The original walls are roughly two inches of fiberglass insulation at best. In Arizona in July, my Scamp hit 138 degrees Fahrenheit on the interior surfaces within twenty minutes of sunrise. The AC unit fights a losing battle unless you're parked in shade and running on shore power or a really robust generator setup.
The other issue is weight distribution. These trailers are tongue-heavy by design, which keeps them stable at highway speeds. But if you load everything into the far rear compartments, the tongue weight drops below the 10% sweet spot and you'll feel the trailer wander in crosswinds. I learned this the hard way on I-40 through New Mexico with a sustained 40 mph crosswind. The trailer started oscillating slightly. I pulled over, moved my water containers and gear forward, and got right back to normal. Never again.
What Actually Works in Practice
If you're doing solo or couple camping, the 13-foot model is the one. Everything else starts eating into the towing simplicity. The dinette doubles as a sleeping area, the kitchen has a two-burner propane stove and a small fridge that runs on 12-volt, propane, or 110-volt. The toilet is a cassette model that stores in a cabinet. It's tight but functional for two people who don't need separate rooms. The original Scamps had a lot of cheap hardware. The window latches, the door hinges, the cabinet catches. All of it felt like it might break if you looked at it wrong. Upgrading to Lippert or Dometic replacement hardware costs about eighty dollars total and takes an afternoon with basic tools. The difference in long-term reliability is night and day. Don't skip it. Water management is another area where people get surprised. The fresh tank holds about 30 gallons. That sounds like a lot until you realize that includes shower water if you run the pressurized system. I typically carry two 5-gallon jugs as backup and refill from a source whenever I find one. The grey tank is similarly small. At a full site with a dump station, you're fine. Boondocking for a week requires serious discipline or a portable waste tank.
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The Propane Issue
The standard dual 20-pound propane setup runs the furnace, stove, fridge on propane mode, and hopefully a heater if you're smart about winter trips. I once ran out of propane on a trip through Colorado because I forgot to account for how much the furnace burns at altitude. The engine and fridge draw negligible amounts, but the furnace at 15,000 BTU per hour will empty a 20-pound tank in roughly 8 to 10 hours of continuous use. That's not intuitive if you've only ever owned a house with a much larger tank. My workaround was simple: I bought a second set of 20-pound tanks and rotate them. When one goes empty, I swap it out and let it refill. The cost per fill is about fifteen dollars at most propane dealers. It's cheaper than being stranded without heat in February.
Winterization and Storage
Fiberglass trailers do not insulate well. That's just physics. If you're serious about cold-weather camping, you need to add rigid foam board to the interior walls and ceiling. I used half-inch XPS foam cut to fit between the ribbing, sealed with butyl tape, and covered with a breathable fabric like Remay. It added maybe a hundred pounds but raised the effective R-value from roughly R-4 to somewhere closer to R-8. Not great, but survivable down to around 20 degrees Fahrenheit with the furnace running. For storage, these trailers store vertically in a garage corner. That's one of the few genuine advantages they have over box trailers. You can park one end on a standard cinder block and tilt it up, or buy a dedicated vertical storage stand for about sixty dollars. Either way, you're not taking up your entire driveway.
Bottom Line
The Scamp works if you accept its limitations. It's not a four-season home. It's not going to handle heavy boondocking without planning. But for spring, summer, and fall weekend trips with one or two people, it does the job without requiring a truck you can't legally park at most campsites. Buy the 13-footer. Upgrade the hardware. Add foam insulation if you camp past October. And never, ever load it rear-heavy.
