I’m Kayla, and I’m that mom who loves a good camp coffee and a neat sewer hookup. Weird mix, I know. We’ve owned a bunkhouse travel trailer for two seasons now. Ours is a 2022 Grand Design Imagine 2800BH. If you want to peek at the exact floorplan and factory specs, take a look at the official Grand Design Imagine 2800BH page. We tow it with a 2019 Ford F-150 (3.5 EcoBoost) and an Equal-i-zer weight-distribution hitch. It’s not tiny. But it fits our family, our dog, and way too many snacks.
Want every nerdy detail of my shake-down miles, fuel costs, and packing fails? Check out the full road report on my bunkhouse trial for an even deeper dive.
Let me explain what it’s like to live with one. The good, the messy, and the “why is that beeping?”
Why We Picked a Bunkhouse
We’ve got two kids and a niece who loves sleepovers. A bunkhouse just made sense. The kids have their own space. Doors shut. Feet smell stay back there. The big bunks in our rig are double-wide, so even my tall 12-year-old fits fine. When my sister’s family met us at Myrtle Beach State Park, we had four kids piled in the back bunks. No one fought for a pillow. That alone felt like a win. For a broader look at what makes bunkhouse layouts shine—and where they sometimes fall short—you can read this concise pros and cons of bunkhouse travel trailers guide.
If you're weighing bunkhouse models yourself, check out the comparison guides at Valid Travel—they break down floorplans and tow weights in plain language.
Our Setup (and what it weighs on the brain)
- Trailer: 2022 Grand Design Imagine 2800BH
- Tow: 2019 Ford F-150, Max Tow, 3.5 EcoBoost
- Hitch: Equal-i-zer 4-point
- Tools we use: Andersen levelers, Camco RhinoFLEX sewer hose, X-Chocks, and a cheap torque wrench I baby like it’s fancy
Towing is steady with the hitch set right. On flat highway, I see 9–10 mpg. In the Smokies near Townsend, it dipped to 7. Ouch, but expected. Crosswinds near Jacksonville pushed us once, and the sway control did its job. I still kept both hands tight on the wheel. My palms told the truth.
First Trips, Real Life
Our first big trip was to Asheville East KOA. It rained three days straight. The kids lived on the bunks with books and Uno. I cooked quesadillas on the outdoor griddle, then ran inside to finish when the wind slapped the flame out. The power awning kept up, but water pooled on one side. I had to push it up with a broom to dump it. Ask me why my socks were soaked. Again.
At Fall Creek Falls in Tennessee, we learned the pantry needed bins. Without them, chips became dust. With bins, my sanity came back. Funny how little stuff changes the whole mood.
Sleep: Bunks That Actually Work
The bunks are solid, but the mattresses? Thin. I added 2-inch memory foam toppers. Big change for small money. The top bunk has no ladder, so we used a folding step stool. It tucks under the dinette at night. The window near the bunks gets damp on cold nights. A cut of Reflectix fixed most of it, plus a dry bag of DampRid.
Our bedroom has a sliding door. It’s not soundproof, but it helps when I’m up late planning breakfast and the kids are out cold.
Kitchen: Inside vs. Outside
Inside, the L-shaped counter is decent. I can chop, stir, and still lean on the sink. The oven runs hot in back and cool in front, so I rotate pizza midway. The microwave saves me on rainy nights. The fridge held five days of groceries on our Fort De Soto trip. Milk survived. Grapes did not. That’s on the kids.
Outside, the mini kitchen is handy. I used it for bacon, fish, and smelly stuff. Space is tight, so I keep tongs and oil in a small tote. That tote now lives in the pass-through. If you cook a lot, plan for more table space. A folding camp table from REI worked great.
For a greener spin on campsite cooking and gear choices, see the sustainable travel tips that actually worked for me.
Bathroom and Tanks (the not-glam part)
Shower is tall enough for my husband at 6'1". The skylight keeps it bright. The fan is loud but moves air. Our black tank sensor lies. It says “2/3 full” even after I flush and rinse. This is normal in RV land, but it still bugs me. We use a clear elbow at the dump and the Camco rinser. It helps. Gloves are not optional. Ask me how I know.
Storage: More Than You Think, Less Than You Want
The pass-through held chairs, levelers, a mat, and my tool bag. Inside, the pantry is tall but shelves bow with cans. I added simple center supports. Problem gone. The under-bed storage is huge, but don’t toss everything in or you’ll never find a hoodie at 6 a.m. I used fabric cubes and a label maker. Nerdy? Yep. Worth it? Also yep.
Setup: 20 Minutes, Give or Take
We got our routine down:
- Park, chock, and unhook.
- Andersen levelers for side-to-side.
- Drop tongue jack and stabilizers (not for lifting—just snug).
- Power out the slide.
- Hook power, water, and sewer last.
When I rush, I forget the water pressure regulator. When I don’t, I sleep better. Funny how that works.
Things That Broke or Bugged Me
- The slide seal squeaked the first month. A quick spray of seal conditioner solved it.
- The dinette table wobbled. I tightened the base and added felt pads. Much better.
- The shower trim dripped once. I resealed the seam with clear RV sealant. Dry since.
- The AC is loud. Like, “what did you say?” loud. It cools fast, but you’ll raise your voice.
- The bunks squeaked when my son tossed and turned. A thin felt pad under the plywood fixed it.
None of these were trip-ending. Just real life stuff.
Summer Heat, Winter Chill
In Florida heat, the single AC worked, but we closed off the bedroom during the day and used a box fan to push cool air to the bunks. Window shades and a Reflectix panel in the bunk window helped a lot. In late fall near Chattanooga, the furnace kept us cozy. I ran a small space heater on low in the morning to save propane. We cracked a window to keep air fresh. No musty feel.
What I Loved Most
- The bunks make mornings quiet. I drink coffee at the dinette and write a grocery list in peace.
- The pass-through lets me grab the griddle fast. No digging, no cursing.
- The power awning plus LED strip feels like a porch. We played cards out there till the crickets got loud.
What I Didn’t Love
- The AC roar. Bring a fan for white noise.
- The black tank sensor fibs. Trust your routine, not the light.
- The outdoor kitchen is small. It needs a side table and a tote to be useful.
Who It’s For (and Who It’s Not)
- Great for: Families, dog owners, grandparents with grandkids, or anyone who needs real beds for more than two people.
- Not great for: Solo travelers chasing tiny sites, folks who hate towing bigger rigs, or people who want a toy hauler.
During our last loop through the Blue Ridge Parkway, I swapped campfire recipes with two seasoned solo lady RVers in their sixties who were out there chasing vistas and freedom just like the rest of us. If you’re curious about connecting with experienced women travelers—and maybe sparking something more—check out this community of local, adventurous older women where you can browse real profiles and see who’s parked near your next stop for shared stories, coffee, or companionship.
Heading west and craving a similar social boost once you hit Southern California? When we rolled through the Los Angeles basin, I found that browsing the localized listings on AdultLook Downey let me quickly see who was nearby and interested in meeting up—saving me from endless app-scrolling and helping line up a friendly face (or flirt) for a late-night taco run.
Traveling for work instead of pure vacation? Here’s [my honest take on travel dialysis tech jobs](https://www.validtravel.com/i-took-my-skills-on-the-road-my-honest-take-on-travel-dialysis-tech-jobs