There’s a lot of dithering these days in Deschutes County, Oregon, about whether it’s a good idea to give a government stamp of approval to people living in RVs as permanent residences. No other county in Oregon has yet taken that step. And as county commissioner Phil Chang noted in today’s commission meeting, there’s a difference between “the bleeding edge” and “the leading edge” of innovation, with no telling what the consequences may be for those leading the charge.
Or as plaintively asked by commissioner Patti Adair, “For once, do we need to be first?”
Occasioning such angst has been a will-they-won’t-they struggle by the three-member board to decide whether to include RVs as permissible dwellings under an Oregon law that allows accessory dwelling units on single-family rural lots. Although two public hearings last fall elicited strongly negative comments about the whole idea, the Deschutes planning commission only narrowly shot it down, on a 4-3 vote—close enough for the county’s board of commissioners, after discussing the planning board’s decision at a Feb. 28 meeting, to decide it should keep talking. Because, as Adair also noted, “it could have gone either way.”
Today’s upshot? A vague decision—no date has been set yet—to hold another public hearing on the matter. Maybe before Memorial Day—or maybe in the fall, with a thinly expressed hope that some other county (Tillamook and Clackamas were prominently mentioned) will bite the bullet first, “allowing for an assessment of those programs and the lessons learned therein.” After you, my dear Gaston. No, no—after you, Alphonse.
To be fair, today’s meeting was called in part to get answers to questions that were raised at the Feb. 28 meeting, principally having to do with wastewater management. But those answers weren’t encouraging: RV wastewater characteristics are significantly different from a regular household’s, according to Todd Cleveland, onsite wastewater manager. It’s more concentrated, and the chemicals that RV owners add to reduce odors are not septic-system friendly, regardless of what the label may say. Among the most frequent complaints fielded by county enforcement officers about RV tenants are surface wastewater discharges, presumably because their septic systems are over-burdened. And soil quality in Deschutes County is such that adding an RV to a single-home site will require at least a one-acre lot for adequate percolation—and even that’s a guess because “we haven’t evaluated RVs for permanent use.”
No matter. Despite all the uncertainties, not to mention abundant other reasons why legitimizing RVs as suitable year-round housing is an enormously woeful idea, the pressure is on to provide some kind of alternatives in a state—like much of the U.S.—desperately in need of affordable homes. The Source, a county weekly newspaper, pressed the issue late last month in an editorial headlined, “With Affordable Housing, Why Are Deschutes County And The City Of Bend Ignoring The Low-Hanging Fruit?” as though the only difference between an RV and a bungalow is its placement on a tree of housing options.
In that respect, however, Deschutes County and the concessions it seems prepared to make are far from unique. Earlier this week, for example, RVtravel reported on “good news for RVers in the U.S. Navy!” Navy families may now “choose to live in an RV park for up to a year as they await availability of base housing when reporting to a new duty station.” The new policy, “an initiative of the U.S. Navy Morale, Welfare and Recreation Program,” is “aimed at reducing the stressors that come with a military lifestyle.”
The best way to reduce such stress, it should go without saying, would be to provide military families with something other than an aluminum or fiberglass band-aid. Living full-time in an RV—especially for more than a couple of adults—is its own significant stressor. But as the U.S. Navy has demonstrated, and as Deschutes County—and its Oregon peers—are sure to emulate, the normalization of RVs as an acceptable housing “solution” is well underway. Codify it, regulate it, inspect it—but not too closely—and hope for the best, because at least it gets people off the streets and out of those damn tents.
Meanwhile, it’s noteworthy that the RV industry, despite years of adamant public statements about how its products are specifically not designed for full-time occupancy, has remained completely mum on this issue. Not a word has emanated from the Washington, D.C. suburbs headquarters of the RV Industry Association to deplore this misuse of its recreational vehicles. Recreational, residential—what’s the diff? The important thing is to keep those production lines moving, especially after the post-pandemic slump, and leave it up to someone else to do the policing.
That may work in the short-term. What the RVIA has yet to understand is that the long-term consequences of such a laissez-faire attitude is a growing public disdain for RVs in general. It happened with “manufactured homes,” aka house trailers, which increasingly came under attack from their better-heeled neighbors. And it’s already happening with RV parks, which likewise are being seen as a blight on the community, to the long-term detriment of the entire industry.
Next post: A look at some of the pushback against proposed new RV parks.
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We have FTers in our seasonal park. They take very good care of their units – they are also not worried about putting a meal on the table. 4+ miles up the road is another RV park will many FTers. It is obvious these are the working poor. In fact, several of the units probably shouldn’t be moved – at least on their own carriage. Nonetheless, both parks are clean and tidy. Still, guess which RV park bothers the locals more?
When I read your article Andy, I suspect the politicians are confronting the age-old American problem of trying to not discriminate based on class.
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