2025-5-WINTER

VERLAND O

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73 Feature Vehicle: KTM 500 EXC-F, Lisa Morris

81 Counting Drops: Mindfulness Can Make You a Better Overlander, Christian Simon

86 The Obstacle Is the Way: Rejuvenation in Montenegro, Cliff Fawcett

115 Overlanding Greece: Ten Things to Know, Ashley Giordano

OVERLAND JOURNAL

WE ARE ADVENTURERS Constantly traveling. Testing and using gear in real-world situations. Gaining experience, which we readily share.

OUR RESUME

7 continents | 158 countries | 594 years combined experience

EXPERIENCE MATTERS

WE ONLY KNOW THINGS WHEN WE LIVE THEM

CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER Rachelle Croft

CHIEF CREATIVE OFFICER Clay Croft

EXECUTIVE PUBLISHER Scott Brady

EDITOR IN CHIEF Tena Overacker

VICE PRESIDENT OF BUSINESS DEVELOPMENT Megan Walthall

DIRECTOR OF SALES Brian McVickers

DIRECTOR OF OPERATIONS Ryan Connelly

DIRECTOR OF MARKETING Mary Hannah Hardcastle

PRODUCER Andy Potter

EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT PRODUCER Niki Olsen

DIRECTOR OF DESIGN Stephanie Brady

SENIOR EDITOR Ashley Giordano

4WD SENIOR EDITOR Graeme Bell

MEDICAL EDITOR Dr. Jon Solberg, MD, FAWM

ARCHAEOLOGY SENIOR EDITOR Bryon Bass, PhD

CONTRIBUTING EDITORS Cliff Fawcett, Richard Giordano, Dan Grec, Dana Greenlaw, Mary Hannah Hardcastle, David Harden, Brittany Highland, Arden Kysely, Lisa Morris, Christian Simon, Manon Verijdt, Karin-Marijke Vis

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS Savannah Cummins, Steph Devery, Birgit Fuchs, Oliver Gamblin, Dan Grec, Richard Giordano, Klemens Holzleitner, Margie Maglanque, Juve Naing, Lavinya Scholl, Drew Smith, Jason Spafford, Tobias van Krieken, Coen Wubbels, Manon Verijdt

CARTOGRAPHER David Medeiros

PODCAST HOST Matthew Scott

EDITOR Jake Bennet

EDITOR Paula Burr

FLEET MANAGEMENT Tanner Johnson

SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATOR Jakob Aadnes, Jack Mac

CUSTOMER SERVICE Leah Heffelfinger

CONTACT

Overland Collective, PO Box 641, Belgrade, MT, 59714-8635 service@overlandjournal.com, editor@overlandjournal.com, advertising@overlandjournal.com

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Overland Journal is a trademark of Overland Collective, LLC. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. Overland Journal is a wholly owned subsidiary of Overland Collective, LLC.

NO COMPROMISE

We carefully screen all contributors to ensure they are independent and impartial. We never have and never will accept advertorial, and we do not allow advertising to influence our product or destination reviews.

WHOLE LOTTA LOVE

I love the print magazine and podcasts [and] look forward to each and every new one. I don’t follow a whole lot of others— Overland Journal is top-notch.

John Oberlin

THANKS

Scott [Brady], I just wanted to thank you for your new book (Overlanding 101) and for your tone and posture in the professional adventure travel world. Being genuine and approachable, with deep knowledge and a desire to help others, is such a rarity today. Blessings to every mile you travel.

Mark Stevenson

appeared in this not-cheap magazine? I do enjoy the magazine and the website, even though I’m 73, have no off-road or overlanding experience, and have health issues that are keeping me from driving very far at all. But it’s fun to read and dream.

Name withheld by request

FROM THE EDITOR Gear reviews, field-tested pieces, and feature vehicles are often represented in both places, but they are not always the same, meaning the content (length and format) and photography can vary. Travel and Latitude articles are exclusively reserved for Overland Journal (with infrequent exceptions made), as are Overland Chef, Overland Conservation, Specials, etc.

ROW 1

@offthemainroad_

Just as we were about to tackle Umling La (the highest motorable pass in the world), “Franky boy” truly had had enough of the altitude. Driving for days on end over rough, remote roads at this [elevation] takes a toll. We didn’t want to push him any further. But then our friends offered us a ride on the back of their motorbike, and suddenly, the adventure wasn’t over. In fact, it reached a whole new level.

@lone.wolf.overlanding

The stars were out, and [in] the cold, crisp night, we could see the planets aligned, the Milky Way, and so much more. It goes to show that even if it’s supposed to be miserable and cold, things can turn out absolutely incredible.

@bradleyjmeier

Best time of the year, change my mind.

ROW 2

@meandering.may

’Tis the season—the season we trade our warm coats in for swimsuits and hunt down all the best hot springs. I’ve spent the last few days putting together a route. We’ve got four days to squeeze in 10 springs. Think we can do it?

@lea_rieck

Did you always dream of riding to this famous abandoned hotel? Now you get the chance to join my journey (at least virtually). My new video will take you guys to Furka, Grimsel, and Susten passes in Switzerland, [what I call] the “Holy Trinity.”

@bemorecharles

Golden hour above Cheakamus Lake. Stunning aesthetics like these are half the reason I choose to spend all my spare time in the backcountry.

ROW 3

@atoyotacalledamelia

A Christmas bonus came in the form of a gift card to @offroadwarehouse. “Amelia’s” about to get some much-needed upgrades.

@beoldlater

Bluebird days are few and far between in [British Columbia] when winter is around the corner, so when you have one, you need to jam-pack your day full of outdoor activities, [such as this] chill hike up to a lake near the Tricouni [Peak].

@bettywanderswild

May your days be merry and bright.

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WHERE HAS YOUR OVERLAND JOURNAL BEEN?

Send us a photo, along with your name, the location, make/year of your vehicle, and a brief description. editor@overlandjournal.com

people can’t help but pick up. But know that you can also access our digital issues online for free (overlandjournal.com). Keep dreaming.

Why do I regularly see on the Expedition Portal website the same articles that have

Overland Journal is designed to be an immersive experience, with exceptional imagery and content presented in a coffee-table-quality book that GOOD QUESTION

LATITUDE BACKSTORY

FROM

PHOTOGRAPHERS

SAVANNAH CUMMINS AND DREW SMITH

THE NORTH FACE-SUPPORTED SKI TEAM REFLECTS ON ITS 2024 FIRST-EVER SKI DESCENT OF PAKISTAN’S TRANGO TOWERS.

Documenting expeditions is a favorite form of photography for Drew Smith and Savannah Cummins. With so much time spent together on an expedition, the realness of the people and the mountains really comes to light. The first attempt in 2023 presented optimal conditions, but the team was forced to turn back upon reaching a large crevasse that was impassable given the time of day. After battling stomach sickness and one more attempt, they narrowly missed an avalanche that swept over high camp and decided to pull the plug.

Returning in 2024 with a slightly varied crew and a fresh slate proved fruitful. On May 9, skiers Jim Morrison, Chantel Astorga, and Christina Lustenberger reached the summit and skied the first-ever line off of Trango Towers. This stunning collection of imagery tells the visual story of a multi-year expedition in the making.

VIEW THE PHOTO GALLERY ON PAGE 49.

JIM MORRISON

A California native who grew up ski racing in the Sierra Nevada mountains at Palisades Tahoe, Jim’s an accomplished ski mountaineer who was the first American to ski India’s Papsura Peak, and the first-ever to descend Lhotse, the world’s fourth-highest mountain at 27,940 feet, in 2018 with Hilaree Nelson.

“These iconic granite towers, renowned among climbers, held a hidden prize: an improbable ski line that demanded everything from us to unlock. Over the course of two six-week expeditions, we battled setbacks, celebrated small victories, and slowly pieced together the complex logistics, weather windows, and endurance required. Each attempt taught us something new—about the mountains, about partnership, and about persistence. It was more than a ski line; it was the culmination of patience, obsession, and the belief that the impossible might just be possible.”

CHANTEL ASTORGA

Hailing from Idaho, Chantel spent 14 years as an alpinist while also being an avalanche forecaster in her home state before becoming a full-time athlete for The North Face in 2024. She completed the first ascent of Ménage Trout, Bear’s Face, in Montana’s Beartooth Mountains, and the first female solo and fastest on-sight time ascent of Cassin Ridge, Denali.

“The Trango Towers have always loomed large in my imagination for climbing. It was a special experience … on a very unlikely ski objective.”

CHRISTINA “LUSTI” LUSTENBERGER

Nicknamed Lusti after her parents’ ski shop at the base of British Columbia’s Panorama Mountain Resort, Christina was a member of the Canadian National Alpine Ski Team, competed in the 2006 Torino Olympics, was an ACMG ski guide, and was the first to ski Mount Robson’s South Face.

“Skiing this line was visionary, wild like no other … real-life magic.”

KARIN-MARIJKE VIS COEN WUBBELS

Freelance writer Karin-Marijke Vis, along with her partner, photographer Coen Wubbels, combine their love for adventure with work they enjoy. Sometimes described as the “slowest overlanders in the world,” they believe in making connections and staying in a place long enough to do so. In 2003, the couple purchased an antique BJ45 Land Cruiser and began a threeyear trip from their home in the Netherlands to Asia. Terminally infected by the overland bug, they traveled in South America for nine years and in Japan and South Korea for two years. After making their way through Russia and Central Asia, they await the next adventure. Published in magazines worldwide, they received Expedition Portal's coveted Overlander of the Year Award in 2013. @landcruising.adventure

CHRIS SIMON

Chris Simon is an aspiring full-time overlander and writer. He lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, with his wife, two children, a Boston terrier, and a ghetto cat. Born in Germany, raised in South Africa, and educated in the US, Chris is also an immigrant and a migrant, blessed and cursed by not having a single national and cultural identity. His professional background is in anthropology, in which he has a PhD from UC San Francisco and Berkeley, and in ethics, in which he has postdoctoral training from Case Western Reserve University. Anthropology has fed his intrigue with cultural norms and differences; ethics has taught him to pay attention to the richness of people’s moral struggles and strivings, including his own.

LISA MORRIS JASON SPAFFORD

British-born adventurers Lisa Morris and Jason Spafford, known as Four Wheeled Nomad, traded scuba fins for motorcycle boots after a decade as instructor guides. Their epic 80,000mile ride from Antarctica to the Arctic spanned nearly five years. Jason’s 30-year acclaim as a photographer and filmmaker complements Lisa’s narrative weaving since 2000. Beginning in 2018, they overlanded the UK and Europe in their trusty Toyota Hilux, White Rhino, for five years. Now, astride their KTM 500 EXC-Fs full-time, they’re predominantly off-road in the North American wilderness, capturing their thrilling escapades on YouTube. Their mantra remains: “If you’re excited by your current path, you’re on the right one.” @fourwheelednomad

SAVANNAH CUMMINS

Savannah is a filmmaker and photographer whose work explores human connection in unforgiving landscapes. With a background in climbing and nearly a decade as part of The North Face athlete team, she brings a deep understanding of remote environments and a documentarian’s instinct for honest, visually driven storytelling. Her work has taken her deep into the mountains of Antarctica and into remote jungles off the coast of West Africa, documenting everything from bold first ascents to quiet, human moments in extreme conditions. Often collaborating with elite athletes and tight-knit expedition teams, Savannah is trusted to operate in high-stakes, unpredictable environments, bringing stories to life with a strong visual perspective and a deep respect for the people and places at their center. @sav.cummins

CLIFF FAWCETT

Cliff Fawcett is a storyteller whose background in psychology organically evolved into a career spent bringing brand concepts to life. His understanding of brands and humans is fused with his lifelong obsessions of photography and adventure, which enable him to create visual features for companies and publications worldwide, with the focus of sharing inspiration from a life lived on the road. Currently traveling with his partner, Monica, they’ve made their way through three different continents in their 1997 Land Rover Defender, “Sully.” Cliff’s motto: Life’s an adventure best done with a camera, a climbing rope, and a strong cup of coffee at the ready. @andotherhorizons

DREW SMITH

Drew is an acclaimed photographer, brand ambassador, and mountain athlete. Raised on a Montana ranch, he translated his hands-on work ethic into the fields of commercial fishing, fighting wildfires, and Yosemite Search and Rescue. With over a decade of first ascent expeditions from Patagonia to the Arctic, Drew has honed his passion for adventure photography, excelling both in front of and behind the lens. His diverse talents and dedication to his collaborators have propelled his career, attracting partnerships with leading outdoor brands like Patagonia, The North Face, Yeti, Roark, The Red Bulletin, Klättermusen, and REI. Collaborating with top storytellers and athletes globally, Drew continuously refines his unique photojournalism style, capturing the essential harmonies and frictions within nature and athletes. @_drew_smith_

OVERLAND JOURNAL

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Born in the UK and raised in Germany, Florida, and Georgia, David is an active-duty US Air Force strategic analyst with a background in special operations and counterterrorism. His exploits have taken him to more than 30 countries on four continents and instilled in him a love of adventure travel, geography, foreign languages, and cultures. Though fascinated by the Camel Trophy as a youth, he only discovered overlanding as a recreational pursuit after purchasing a Toyota 4Runner a few years ago to weather Nebraska winters. In graduate school, he discovered a passion for writing. As an Eagle Scout, his favorite outdoor interests are cycling, hiking, and camping. He hopes to one day take his family on a self-drive African safari. @hhe2001

ARDEN KYSELY

Arden’s first motorcycle was a Yamaha Enduro, obtained while in high school. It set the stage for decades of off-pavement exploration on dual-sports and adventure bikes. Camping in the middle of nowhere became his favorite pursuit. As a former whitewater river guide and National Park Service seasonal employee, Arden believes in wilderness, wildlife, and being kind to the Earth. A self-taught writer who barely passed English classes, he has contributed adventure stories and tested motorcycles and accessories for Rider Magazine and other outlets for nearly 30 years. In that time, he’s worn out two KLR 650s and is currently following the road to the middle of nowhere on his Ténéré 700 and an aging but reliable DR-Z 400S. @oj_arden

MANON VERIJDT

Manon Verijdt is a camp chef at heart. She started traveling from a young age, but only discovered overlanding when she was 24, when she stepped into a new friend’s car to travel through Africa for a year. That year was extended multiple times, during which Manon found and built on her love for being creative. If she isn’t behind her laptop to write, learn, or read, she can be found on the side of their Defender 110, cooking on the drop-down side tables. She loves to cook and bake, trying out new recipes at least once a week. The freezer is usually stuffed with baked goods such as banana bread or cookies, whereas fresh bread or a warm Indian-spiced curry can often be found on the stove. rafikiontour.com

BRITTANY HIGHLAND

When Brittany Highland found out people actually drive around the world, she instantly thought, “We should do that.” With her husband, Eric, she has 11 years of full-time travel behind her and a delightfully adventurous 8-year-old named Caspian. She expects their circuitous circumnavigation of the globe will last the remainder of her son’s childhood. Her family recently concluded more than four years of overlanding through Latin America, and they’ll be shipping their Jeep Gladiator and Alu-Cab Canopy Camper to Africa next. Brittany is dedicated to empowering other parents to overland with their children, teaching life’s most valuable lessons through international travel. Join them on their journey. @hourlesslife

In September 2023, Dana and his wife, Heather, took a leap into a life of full-time vehicle travel, trading in their conventional routines for a life on the road. What began as occasional weekend escapes in various vans, pickup trucks, and eventually an expedition camper, has now evolved into a full-time adventure. Over the past year, they’ve crisscrossed more than 20 US states, ventured into the rugged landscapes of Mexico’s Baja California, British Columbia, the Yukon, and Alaska, all while accompanied by their loyal cattle dog, Bruce. Their journeys are driven by a passion for the outdoors— whether biking, fishing, hiking, or paddling, they embrace every new landscape they encounter. Join their exploration on YouTube and Instagram. @HD.adventuring

RICHARD GIORDANO

In 2016, Richard Giordano completed a 48,800-kilometer overland journey from Vancouver, Canada, to Ushuaia, Argentina, with his wife, Ashley, in their well-loved but antiquated 1990 Toyota Pickup. That trip catapulted Richard into a career as a freelance video producer and photographer. He has crafted commercials for Toyota Canada, is the lead photographer and director of photography on the Expedition Overland Apex series, and is currently on the road in Central Asia, relishing a life of slow travel in his OEV Alpine camper and Toyota Tundra. If you see Richard out in the wild, he’ll most likely have a smile on his face, a strong coffee in one hand, and a camera in the other. @desktoglory

Self-described as a round-the-world navigator and round-the-clock dreamer, Mary Hannah Hardcastle has spent the past six years traveling the globe with her partner, Andy, logging over 90,000 miles across four continents in their Land Rovers. Their adventures have taken them down the Pan-American Highway, into the Arctic Circle in the heart of winter, across Europe to Turkey, and most recently through a 14-month, 45,000-mile overland journey from Cape Town to the UK, via the West Coast of Africa. A storyteller at heart, she’s passionate about capturing the wild places that shape us and sharing the lessons from the road. @expeditionrove

Dan Grec is an adventurer, photographer, and videographer. Growing up in Australia, family camping trips gave Dan a passion for wilderness exploration in remote destinations. After studying and working as an engineer, Dan left it all behind in search of a more vibrant life, setting out to turn his dreams of grand adventure into reality. Over a decade and a half, Dan has driven his vehicles to the wild and remote corners of 56 countries across five continents, documenting what he sees and learns as he sinks into local cultures. With no end in sight, Dan is now outfitting a vehicle for four-season travel to colder regions of the planet. @theroadchoseme

TheSmart Air employs the company’s race-proven D-air technology in a lightweight vest to protect everyday riders. The D-air processor crunches data from accelerometers, gyroscopes, and other sensors 1,000 times per second to assess the rider’s situation. Upon detecting a crash, the Smart Air deploys an airbag within 45 milliseconds, then slowly deflates it after 5 seconds.

Dainese Smart Air Vest

Life-saving airbag protection for motorcyclists, notably for solo riders or those on remote excursions.

Setup required adding the D-air app to my phone and registering the product. Connecting the electric circuit to the generator would have been easier had the owner’s manual not been a 4- by 6-inch block of paper with small illustrations and tiny print. Charging the lithium-ion battery via USB-C cord was mildly challenging due to the small Velcro opening through black material to the black charge port. An LED on the front uses several colors and blinking patterns to indicate the system’s readiness, battery level, and charging. Dainese claims 12 hours of use from a full battery.

Activating the vest is simple: remove the red-ribbon Safety Guard from its snap and attach the Dainese logo strap. The LED will buzz, blink, and turn blue to indicate the D-air system is running. When your motorcycle’s speed hits 6.2 mph, the indicator goes green to signify the Smart Air is ready to protect.

The D-air processor crunches data from accelerometers, gyroscopes, and other sensors 1,000 times per second to assess the rider’s situation.

A micro-filament structure inside the airbag connects the sides and maintains its shape during deployment, ensuring the system protects throughout an event. Dainese claims the airbag absorbs up to seven times more energy than hard-shell armor. The company validated its performance in crash scenarios for low-side, low-side with tumble, high-side, and impact against an object or vehicle, as well as the dreaded rear-end impact at stoplights. The system is certified as a Level 1 back airbag (EN 1621-4 CB L1) and a Level 2 chest airbag (EN 1621-4 L2).

The Smart Air is suitable for mild offpavement excursions, such as gravel roads and smooth dirt. Dainese cautions against rough off-road use and acrobatic riding to prevent inadvertent triggering. Turning off the vest for a challenging track is as easy as disconnecting a snap on the front.

The vest body is comprised of tear- and abrasion-resistant synthetic fabrics, including mesh panels that allow for breathability, and I found no flaws in the sewing. A built-in back pad shields the user from the hard instrument cover, while the single zippered pocket holds a phone. Although the electronics are waterproofed, the water-repellent body fabric won’t keep you dry in the rain. The company warns against washing the Smart Air beyond wiping the exterior with a damp cloth.

The Smart Air will operate for three deployments before the gas generator ($139) requires replacement, assuming the vest itself isn’t damaged. Even better, owners can make the change without returning the vest for service.

With everything in place, I opened the side expansion zippers and slipped the Smart Air over a Dainese Splugen jacket. It was comfortable, but warm-weather ventilation suffered. Reversing the two garments felt good as well, especially after removing the jacket’s back protector, and airflow through the jacket improved. Although my reach was slightly restricted in either configuration, it didn’t affect control of the motorcycle. I felt the extra 3.25 pounds (size XS/S) on my shoulders, but it was never a burden.

The Smart Air has a one-year warranty and comes in three unisex sizes: XS/S, M/L, and XL/XXL. Buyers should consider how they may prefer to wear it before choosing a size. Note that the vest is made with PFAS, which precludes it from being sold in New York and California.

$749 | DAINESE.COM

Easy to use, comfortable to wear, Smart Air can be deployed three times before requiring a new, user-replaceable gas generator.

| Right: The airbag’s microfilament interior structure ensures complete inflation while maintaining its pillow-like shape.

Step 22 Soft Cases

OnOrganize your overland life.

our first overland trip 12 years ago, we packed our belongings in used Rubbermaid containers and assorted soft bags we found around the house. In a constant state of disarray, a baseline level of stress was involved when searching for parts, tools, cords, or other essentials. It took almost a decade to realize that spending a little more money up front saves plenty of time and energy over the

Field repairs are inevitable, but having tools close at hand increases our ability to deal with them in stride. Need a venerable zip tie to restrain an inner fender liner? Check. Want Gorilla tape to temporarily repair a cracked headlight housing? Yes ma’am. Looking for a 10-, 12-, or 14-millimeter wrench? Always.

After using the Pangolin Tool Roll for the last five years, I was excited to try out the new Mini. Its svelte size means that it can fit in easy-to-reach places such as under the seat, in the glove box, center console, backpack, or a pannier. The roll-out design is familiar and efficient, while the exterior 1,000-denier coated, rugged, all-weather layer (CRAWL) provides protection for both the tool roll and its contents.

I designated my Mini for 12-volt electrical tools. Wire strippers, cutters, and flush cuts fill the roll. Electrical tape, zip ties, and cable tie mounts are stored in one zippered pouch, while heat-shrink, marine-grade butt connectors fill another. Large ratchet crimpers and cutters live in the main compartment. Even when loaded, the

course of a long trip. I liken these small annoyances to a pebble in my shoe—not worth removing for a walk down the block, troublesome for a kilometer or two, and painful over a long distance.

Here are three soft cases from Step 22 that have found a home in our pop-up camper, joining the fight to reduce clutter and protect our gear.

paracord and aluminum tab keep the roll closed and compact. Yes, the roll itself takes up volume, but staying organized on the tool front allows me to use them more often. Even with that frequent use, the YKK EYL zippers and plethora of trademarked fabrics still look like new—minus the dust, dirt, and strewn stripped wire ends, of course.

TIGER TROVE EDC POUCH | $50

The modern overlander has cords, and lots of them. From phones to computers, GPS devices to cameras, earbuds to flashlights, everything is rechargeable, and Murphy’s law suggests each will require a different charging cable. Almost everyone has hard drives and memory cards for storing those precious memories, and they need a place to live when they’re not in use. Enter the Tiger Trove everyday carry (EDC) pouch.

In my case, the fully padded standard-length Tiger Trove EDC pouch is full of cables, an SD card case, earbuds, and a North American to European Type-C adapter. The three mono mesh pockets (one zipper that can be accessed from inside or out, and two open-topped), combined with a plethora of elastic bands, make keeping organized a simple task. I especially like the clever micro SD storage integrated into the zipper pull. I’m not sure what I’d store in there, but I appreciate the option to keep it secret and safe. A hidden AirTag pocket means you can keep tabs on your belongings at all times.

Made with the usual Step 22 quality materials and craftsmanship, it is available in a standard or long length, and in black or MultiCam colorways. Fill yours full of tech items, knives, pesos, lira, or what have you. The EDC pouch works just as well whether lightly loaded or stuffed to the brim.

PANGOLIN TOOL POUCH | $60

Drills, angle grinders, and battery chargers are large, awkwardly shaped implements of service and modification that don’t always fit into a tool case. Usually, these items get placed into random voids, but there is a better way.

The Step 22 Pangolin tool pouch is elegant in its rugged simplicity. I have used a few other products with the 1,000-denier nylon and CRAWL exterior shell, and they have all held up well to constant use on the road. This tool pouch is no different. It proved a worthy home for my impact driver, drill, batteries, and associated charger, but I soon realized there were other (dare I say more important) items (snacks) that could be stored in a relatively large, semi-protective case, complete with a top-edge compression cord to keep everything contained and on lock.

Sure, the full-wrap handles are built to carry heavy loads such as a 1/2-inch socket set, some large adjustable wrenches, the ubiquitous big friendly hammer (BFH), and more, but they also work wonders when the pouch is full of salt and vinnies,

STEP22.COM

Lithium batteries are evolving rapidly, resulting in tumbling prices and new products every few months. At the forefront of consumer lithium batteries for over a decade, Renogy continues to iterate on well-proven solutions, pushing the envelope of what is possible. Its latest super-slim solid-state battery provides 104 amp-hours of energy in a tough metal enclosure only 2.4 inches thick, making it ideal for space-constrained mounting locations.

In my testing, the EV-grade cells withstood the nastiest of corrugations, and thanks to new chemistry, they heat up nine times slower than traditional lithium batteries. I have charged the batteries all the

Renogy 12.8V Super Slim

Solid State Lithium Iron Phosphate Battery

An ultra-thin, rugged, and durable power solution.

way down to -14°F, much lower than previously possible, and even directly shorting the terminals of a fully charged battery barely induces a tiny spark before the internal safety systems shut down the battery, making thermal runaway and catastrophic fire concerns of the past.

With built-in Bluetooth and an internal shunt, monitoring battery temperature, state of charge, and real-time current flow is a snap using the free DC Home app. With an optional bus bar kit, I have chained two batteries to provide 208 amp-hours of energy, a setup that can be expanded up to a whopping 1,664 amp-hours at 12, 24, or 48 volts. Rated for 6,000 cycles and with an eight-year warranty, Renogy’s latest will keep you flush with power for years to come.

$1,000 | RENOGY.COM

Sea To Summit’s Detour Collection

Save

space with collapsible cookware.

Two years ago, I was on the hunt for a cookset that would work well in our Overland Explorer Vehicles pop-up camper. Finding something lightweight, not too bulky, and compatible with induction cooktops was a non-starter. In 2022, I could only find pots and pans designed for home use. Fast forward to today, and we have a contender.

Sea To Summit has introduced its Detour collection of collapsible, induction-compatible cookware. You can pair these pots and pans with a full set of matching dinnerware, cutlery, cups, and utensils. They promise to provide the same experience you’d have cooking in your home kitchen, but with the durability and versatility needed for use in a camping environment. I selected the One Pot Cook Set and Utensil Set to get a good feel for the Detour line.

I found the 16-ounce cups to be a perfect size regardless of what I was drinking. The silicone is a welcome touch to protect hands and lips from hot drinks. Overall, they’re a welcome upgrade from plastic or flimsy camp cups, and the dark green colorway looks fantastic.

People on boats, those who have camped at less-than-ideal angles, or who have camped out in the wind, will appreciate the silicone ring on the bottom of the plates, ensuring that you’ll find said plate wherever you placed it last.

Without a doubt, this is the nicest collapsible camp cookware I’ve used. Each item appears and feels more robust than backpacking units while taking up less weight and space than conventional cookware. My concern with silicone units in the past was that they were prone to cracking after years of constant use. The Frontier line has been holding up well in the short term, and I’m looking forward to continuing to put it to long-term use.

Compared to backpacking-oriented or less expensive collapsible cookware, the Detour line has a refined feel well-suited to overland travel. It’s not as light as Sea To Summit’s Frontier lineup, but the combination of 304 stainless steel and the seemingly more robust BPA-free, food-grade silicone looks as good as it performs in any overland galley, regardless of what type of stove you have.

The One Pot cook set is a nice compromise between space savings, weight reduction, and ease of use. A 3-liter pot, a couple of plates, and a pair of cups go a long way to building a camp kitchen, and at 2 pounds and 14 ounces, the entire package comes in lighter than our old 3-quart stainless steel pot while taking up less than half the space. Win-win. A three-ply base provides even heat distribution as designed, and the click-safe handles secure the lid when stored, even if they were a bit tough to remove for the first several uses. User error? Likely.

The utensil set is burly and nests together with a silicone keeper to make another space-saving combination. The weight of the stainless steel set was heavier than expected at 1 pound and 3 ounces, but those who aren’t counting grams and ounces will find the spatula, serving spoon, slotted spoon, and tongs will last longer than your current overland vehicle and likely the next one as well. Little details such as the matte finish on the handles are subtle yet welcome touches to an already well-designed product. They’re burly enough for the camp kitchen, but certainly nice enough to be used at home.

SEATTOSUMMIT.COM

CompoCloset Cuddy Lite Composting Toilet

No water, chemicals, or air fresheners required.

It was during a European road trip that Richard Peter and his partner, Erica Pugh, realized their composting toilet could be so much better. Peter sketched out various designs, prioritizing a longer drop zone, more effective solids and liquids separation, increased portability, and a unit that was easier to clean. In 2020, the CompoCloset was born.

The Cuddy Lite composting toilet is ideal for shorter trips, occasional off-grid adventures, or for guests and visitors. For two people, the 6.5-liter liquids bottle can handle two to three days of use before the LED light indicates the tank needs emptying, while the 14.7-gallon solids bin is good to go for around two to three weeks of use. While the original Cuddy uses an agitator within the solids container, the Cuddy Lite bin allows users to preline with compostable bags and add substrate

after use, resulting in a more straightforward emptying and cleaning experience.

One of my favorite features of the Cuddy Lite is the urine-diverting cover, which, for splashy pee-ers, diverts any urine over a solid cover through a chute leading to the liquids container at the front of the toilet (preventing too much urine from making its way into the solids container). Odor management is also enhanced by the included carbon filter and internal fan, although the fan is optional and requires a 12-volt hard wire. At nearly 20 pounds and measuring 16.8 x 15.1 x 16.3 inches, the hardy and compact Cuddy Lite is particularly suited to van or expedition builds. I just wish we had the room and weight capacity for it in our current full-time overland vehicle.

$650 | COMPOCLOSET.COM

Back on the Map

Butwould you drive it across Africa?”

That was the question journalist and fellow adventurer Dustin Beatty tossed my way as we rolled back into base camp in Grand Junction, Colorado, dusty, exhilarated, and fresh off a day of pushing the new Defender Octa through its paces.

For me, that question isn’t hypothetical. It’s the kind of question that ignites something deep and sets my wheels in motion.

In May 2024, my husband and I rolled into his village in Yorkshire, England, wrapping up a 14-month, 45,000-mile TransAfrica journey through more than 20 countries behind the wheel of a 2010 Land Rover Defender Puma 2.4 TDCI, chosen for all the reasons that would make a modern dealer cringe.

It was simple. Iconic. And fixable with hand tools and by bush mechanics in the middle of nowhere. We didn’t choose it for horsepower. We chose it for soul. For the mechanical honesty that meant when (not if) something broke, we had a fighting chance of getting it running again. But more than that, we chose it for what it represented: a legacy of adventure. A vehicle that had inspired generations to get out and see the world. It was part of the experience, a carefully chosen part of the team.

So when Land Rover invited me to test drive the Defender Octa, I approached it with healthy skepticism. On paper, it’s the most powerful and capable Defender ever made. But none of that mattered to me if it didn’t feel like a Defender. Specifications:

• A 4.4-liter twin-turbo V8 producing 626 horsepower

DEFENDER 2020: LOSING THE SHAPE AND THE SOUL

There’s no denying it. The 2020 Defender was a masterclass in engineering. But when Land Rover revealed it, I, like many others, felt a punch to the gut. The utilitarian lines and mechanical charm were gone, replaced by something sleeker and softer. More Beverly Hills than bushveld. It looked great in glossy brochures and lifestyle ads, but the soul felt like it had been traded for profits.

The Defender name, once synonymous with grit and global adventure, was now parked squarely in the luxury SUV market, chasing high-dollar buyers who might never venture beyond a gravel driveway.

Ask any long-time Defender owner, and they’ll tell you, the shape mattered. The boxy silhouette wasn’t just aesthetic; it was a statement. It meant business. It was a signal to the world, and to yourself, that you were ready for the hard way—to take the road less traveled in life.

• Up to 590 pound-feet of torque with Dynamic Launch Mode

• A 0-60 time of just 3.8 seconds

• 6D Dynamics suspension with hydraulically cross-linked dampers

• Goodyear 33-inch, all-terrain tires on forged wheels

• Widened track (+2.7 inches/68 millimeters) and increased ride height (+1.1 inches/28 millimeters)

• Ground clearance up to 11.5 inches and water fording depth of 35.4 inches

• Fastest steering ratio of any Defender to date

• Octa mode, the first performance-focused off-road drive mode in a Defender

AND THEN SOMETHING SHIFTED

From the moment you enter the Octa, you know it’s not like an old Defender but instead, something entirely new. It only took a few

turns in the high desert to feel it. It wasn’t built for show; it was a machine with purpose.

The suspension floated over deep ruts. The engine delivered torque with precision and intent. It climbed, gripped, and cornered with the kind of quiet confidence that doesn’t ask if you’ll make it, but “Where to next?”

The cockpit feels more private jet than farm truck, featuring drive modes that genuinely adapt throttle, traction, and suspension for terrain-specific control, a head-up display, and a massive center screen. It’s an interior built for the long haul, prioritizing function over flash with supportive seats, intuitive controls, and a cabin made for driving. Yet despite all the tech and trim, the Octa doesn’t feel like it’s trying to be something it’s not. It feels intentional.

We launched up gravel switchbacks in Colorado’s high country, the kind of terrain I’d normally approach with mechanical sympathy and diff lock at the ready. But the Octa didn’t flinch. It’s 6D Dynamics suspension, inspired by Formula 1 and rally racing tech, kept body roll in check, even as we hammered through washboards that would’ve had our classic Defender bucking like a wild mule.

But the real magic wasn’t in the capability alone. It was in what the Octa stirred in me: control, connection, and the unmistakable feeling of endless possibilities. The same spark our classic Defender

gave us crossing rivers in Zambia, on the back trails in the DRC, or powering through the muddy Banyo crossing in Nigeria.

For the first time in years, the Defender name spoke to me again.

DEFENDER TROPHY AND DAKAR: THE BRAND PUTS ITS MONEY WHERE ITS MOUTH IS

The Octa is a signal, a course correction for the brand. Land Rover isn’t just talking about getting back to its roots. It’s doing something about it.

Take the Defender Trophy, for example. It’s an experiential offroad competition inspired by the legendary Camel Trophy. Not a polished press event or showroom demo. It’s winching through mud, navigating off-trail, recovering stuck vehicles, and solving problems in the kind of terrain where Defenders earned their name.

And then there’s Dakar. Beginning in 2026, Land Rover will enter the legendary rally with a new competition-spec Defender D7X-R, built on the same foundation as the Octa. The rally truck will retain the Octa’s body architecture, driveline, and engine. That’s virtually unheard of in a production-derived Dakar build. It’s a bold move that puts engineering to the ultimate test under some of the harshest conditions on Earth.

That’s not marketing fluff. That’s commitment. In both of these

moves, Land Rover is putting its money where its mouth is. It’s remembering that capability isn’t about spec sheets. It’s about earned confidence.

WOULD I DRIVE IT ACROSS AFRICA?

That’s the question I came here to answer. Money aside, yes, I would.

Here’s a hard-earned truth: every overland vehicle breaks down. Whether it’s a 2008 Jeep Wrangler or a 2025 HiLux, if you’re pushing it far enough and long enough, something will fail. The real differentiator isn’t simplicity, it’s resilience—yours and the vehicle’s.

But the real magic wasn’t in the capability alone. It was in what the Octa stirred in me: control, connection, and the unmistakable feeling of endless possibilities.

The biggest concern with the Octa, understandably, is its electronics. But this wouldn’t be our first tech-heavy Land Rover on a transcontinental trip. In 2018, we took a Land Rover LR3 (Discovery 3 in the rest of the world) 23,000 miles through the Americas, loaded with more tech than most longterm overlanders were comfortable with at the time. And yet, aside from a failed air suspension compressor, it never let us down. That truck’s still going strong today with over 220,000 miles on the clock. That journey taught us what really matters: patience, grit, and the ability to keep going even when the road gets tough or the part you need is days away. Because when things go wrong (and they will), you likely won’t find what you need in a remote village in the middle of nowhere. But with a little time and the right mindset, you’ll figure it out.

Would I likely have to wait in a tiny town while a part is shipped in? Sure. Would I bring two full spares, especially with those 20-inch wheels? Without a doubt. Would I carry a laptop to run diagnostics? Absolutely. Would I need to respect the limits of its tech? Of course.

The only real drawback is that you’re limited in how you can build it out. Unlike platforms like the INEOS Grenadier or 70-Series Land Cruiser, the Octa lacks a robust aftermarket for off-the-shelf upgrades geared toward long-term overlanding—things like pop-top roof conversions or modular interior camper kits. If you’re dreaming of turning it into a full-time home on wheels, expect a bit more custom work and cost to get there. That said, throw on a rooftop tent, a fridge, and a solid internal storage system, and you’re ready to rock.

And with that setup, here’s what you do get:

• A more stable ride, especially on the brutal corrugations Africa is known for

• Greater confidence at speed, with no more second-guessing on fast gravel or twisty descents

• More power when it counts, whether overtaking an 18-wheeler in Tanzania or charging the dunes of Sandwich Harbour

• And far less physical fatigue after long days behind the wheel

The Octa may not be as field-fixable as our classic Defender, but it’s built to take on serious terrain with fewer compromises. And it’s backed by an engineering mindset that actually wants it to be tested. If the old Defender taught you to endure, the Octa dares you to go faster and further. Because the heart of adventure isn’t in the hardship; it’s in the possibility.

$152,000+ | LANDROVER.COM

The Octaʼs fording depth is nearly 3 feet, and our testing in North America and Africa has pushed well beyond that. | The Defender interior is our favorite of any overland platform, proving to be durable, comfortable, and functional for both daily driving and vehicle-based travel. | Once the dirt ends, the Defender pulls away from most of the competition, often quite literally with its 0-60 time of only 3.8 seconds. | Opposite: Technical terrain capability is bolstered by 33-inch, all-terrain tires and 11.5 inches of ground clearance. To improve flotation and rock performance, we would like to see a factory 18-inch wheel option. | Opening page: As Land Rover’s pinnacle overlander, the new Octa provides the unique combination of comfort, capability, and capacity (including an impressive 1,587-pound payload).

Beauty and the Beast

Facing the sublime in the Italian Alps.

By Ashley Giordano

InA Philosophical Inquiry Into the Origins of Our Ideas of the Sublime and the Beautiful (1757), Edmund Burke identified the sublime as the overwhelming sensation we feel in response to intense natural phenomena. Burke believed that sharp cracks of lightning, dizzying heights, hurricanes, storms, and waterfalls instilled a sense of fear, admiration, and horror—all of which could transform the self, reminding us of our fragility and mortality as humans.

The concept of the sublime gained popularity in the 18th century, when Romantic philosophers, critics, and poets shifted their focus from describing nature picturesquely to emphasizing the sensations experienced by the observer. “One night we enjoyed a finer storm than I had ever before beheld,” wrote the English poet, Percy Bysshe Shelley, in History of a Six Weeks’ Tour through Part of France, Switzerland, Germany, and Holland, during a visit to the French and Swiss Alps with his wife in 1816. “The lake was lit up … and all the scene illuminated for an instant, when a pitchy blackness succeeded, and the thunder came in frightful bursts over our heads amid the darkness.”

Over 200 years later, I also arrived in the Alps for the first time. Sailing from Morocco with our 2008 Tundra and Overland Explorer Vehicles pop-top camper, Richard and I landed in Genoa, Italy, with grand summer plans involving a lot of hiking (and plenty of espresso) before continuing east through the Balkans toward Turkey. The following months were filled with incredible beauty and, quite unexpectedly, an intense encounter with the sublime.

Like Shelley, we were awestruck by the first glimpses of Mont Blanc—albeit from the Italian side—as we cruised along several sections of the 170-kilometer Tour de Mont Blanc (TMB) trail. Parking the Tundra at Grandes Jorasses, a campground situated at the foot of the northern Mont Blanc Massif in the Val Ferret Valley, we used the spot as our hiking base camp for the next few days, taking in the snow-splattered crags and verdant valley below. Littered with meandering livestock tracks and patches of larch, pine, and spruce, the TMB trail leads past glimmering rivers and waterfalls, hot pink rhododendrons, and fields of alpine wildflowers to various refuges along the way, where hikers of all

from top left: The TMB is well signposted, providing hope for those seeking a rest, an espresso, or a piece of cake from the next mountain hut. |

Walter Bonatti is a wonderful refuge to visit on a warm, sunny day. | While many sections of the TMB gently undulate, it’s the grind up and down into the valley that makes the legs and lungs burn. | Heading from Italy to Switzerland via the Grand Col Ferret Pass, which separates the Mont Blanc Massif from the Pennine Alps. | Opposite: Spectacular views along the Tour de Mont Blanc (TMB) trail. The 170-kilometer circuit can be hiked in sections or as a whole. | Opening spread: On June 30, 2024, over 300 people were evacuated from Valnontey, Italy, due to flooding and landslides.

ages can rest their feet and enjoy a hot chocolate or a meal with a view. After an 8.5-hour, 21-kilometer hiking day with nearly 1,737 meters of elevation gain behind us, we trudged our tired legs back to Camping Grandes Jorasses just in time. The terrific Mont Blanc, now masked by clouds, remained only in our memories as the heavens opened, releasing a torrent of rain.

Just over an hour’s drive southeast of Camping Grandes Jorasses lies Italy’s oldest national park, Gran Paradiso. Thanks to King Vittorio Emmanuel II, the 2,100 hectares surrounding the Gran Paradiso Massif are now protected. In 1856, the king declared the area a royal hunting reserve, establishing a corps of specialized guards and constructing a network of mule tracks. The ibex population, which was facing extinction, bounced back. In 1919, the king donated this land to the state, which declared the area a national park. The mule tracks remain and are used by rangers and tourists, providing an effective trail system for the protection of alpine fauna. Eager for more hiking and for the chance to spot an ibex or two, we turned off European route E45 past the lush meadows of the Aosta Valley to the hamlet of Valnontey, where the road terminates and trekking trails begin. Surrounded by the Punta Rossa della Grivola peak and slopes of fir and juniper, there’s only one road in (and out) of the valley.

We chose Campeggio Gran Paradiso as our spectacular hiking basecamp in Valnontey. Constructed in 1965 by Carlo and his wife, Luigia, and their daughter, Luciana, the campsite offers splendidly grassy park-ups near a crystal-clear river, a small grocery store, and a bar area serving espresso and freshly baked bread and croissants each morning. In addition to local cheeses, meats, and snacks, small glass bottles of absinthe, génépi, and alpenbitter are available—liqueurs made from locally harvested Alpine herbs, such as mugwort, juniper, and wormwood, for their aromatic and bitter flavors. My first call to order was taste testing a refreshingly citrusy aperol spritz made by Luciana’s son, Patrik, who confirmed the recipe: two parts aperol, two parts prosecco, one part soda water, ice, and an orange slice.

With a few days of work behind us, a glorious weather window opened up. Conditions in June bounced from heavy rainfalls, solid days of sun, and thunder and lightning shows, but the sunshine motivated us to stuff our overnight packs with food, sleeping gear, and water, preparing for an 11-kilometer round-trip visit to Rifugio Vittorio Sella, 900 meters above us via a grueling slope of steep, rocky slabs. We booked two dorm beds in the hut—a long two-story building with 150 beds, windows perked up with shutters and flower boxes, and hot meals served at the restaurant. Not missing the lack of cell service, we wandered past the hut for more mountain views, filled our Nalgene bottles with fresh spring water from the tap, and watched as groups of bearded ibex played, ate, and ran. The tumultuous transition from spring to summer seemed to have passed; the sublime was, in that moment, nowhere to be found.

When Percy Bysshe Shelley visited the Alps in 1816, he was acutely aware of the continuously shifting environment around him. “In these regions every thing [sic] changes, and is in motion,” he wrote. “The echo of rocks, or of the ice and snow which fall from their overhanging precipices, or roll from their aerial

summits, scarcely ceases for one moment.” A day later, we returned to our camper, taking care of the usual domestic tasks of laundry, dishwashing, and organizing our backpacking gear after a night in the rifugio. An ominous fog rolled into the valley, bringing with it the low rumble of thunder and a downpour of rain that drummed incessantly against the camper. We watched as water streamed down the open window, raising our eyebrows at each other before shrugging and returning to our tasks. We’d witnessed plenty of rainstorms like this one.

Hours later, and deeply invested in a Netflix show, we heard someone banging on the camper door. It was Patrik, the campground host, who had taught me to make the perfect aperol spritz. The last time we saw him, he was calmly cleaning the gutters of debris with a trowel; now, panicked and soaking wet, he yelled at us over the hammering rain. “You need to get out, now.” Cascades of rushing brown water flowed down the mountain behind us as we dropped the camper lid, stashed our belongings, and steered the Tundra toward the campground exit.

As we chatted, a flow of ankle-deep gushing water, reminiscent of chocolate milk, poured down the grassy terraces of the campground, over the stone steps, and into the reception hall.

There wasn’t exactly a mass exodus happening, so we wondered if we could help in some way. Scanning the reception area, we slowed to a crawl but were forcefully ushered out of the property by Luigia. The first reception building she and Carlo built on the property was destroyed by an avalanche in 1966. She told us later that she hadn’t seen this much rainfall in over 60 years. As we turned onto the pavement, we pulled up beside a local man who was directing traffic. “The road out of the valley was destroyed,” he told us. “Go to the parking lot near the river or the other campground.”

As we passed the paved lot, we knew that parking next to the Valnontey River was not an option. The water had risen substantially and was forcefully snatching trees and other debris in its wake. Climbing the driveway to the Campeggio Lo Stambecco campground, we were greeted warmly by one of the owners, Remi, who asked jokingly if we preferred a site with or without electricity. Housed in a white Alpine chalet-style structure with a slate roof and plenty of pink and red potted geraniums, the reception area remained the place to escape the rain. But as we chatted, a flow of ankle-deep gushing water, reminiscent of chocolate milk, poured down the grassy terraces of the campground, over the stone steps, and into the reception hall.

The Aosta Valley is characterized by extreme geography. Home to the highest peaks in the Alps, including the Matterhorn and Mont Blanc, the region is known for complex gla-

Opposite, clockwise from top left: Our hiking basecamp at Campeggio Gran Paradiso made good on its name and that of the national park. | Offering overnight stays and hot meals, Rifugio Vittorio Sella is a sturdy mountain hut in Gran Paradiso National Park. | Ibex horns are hollow, with a horned shell that covers the bone; they’re the symbol of Gran Paradiso National Park. | Fresh spring water is found at most mountain huts in the Italian Alps.

Clockwise from top left: Debris and destruction remain in the aftermath of the Aosta Valley flooding. | We are grateful to the Aosta Valley Mountain Rescue and the Guardia di Finanza Soccorso Alpino for carrying out the evacuation. | The Martagon lily (Lilium martagon)’s habitat spans from Portugal to Mongolia. | Boarding a helicopter in Valnontey, Italy, with no idea how long our truck would remain in the valley without us.

cial deposits, steep slopes, and climatic factors such as rainfall, snow melt, and increasing temperatures, all of which culminate in a recipe for destruction in the form of landslides, flooding, and consequently, loss of human life. As we parked our truck at Campeggio Lo Stambecco, Cogne, three kilometers away, was also pounded with torrential rain and mudslides, damaging aqueducts, cutting power to the valley, and blocking access to the village. Ninety millimeters of rainfall (3.5 inches) was recorded in six hours. Further afield, storms battered France, Switzerland, and other parts of northern Italy, resulting in deaths, evacuations, and mobilization of emergency services. This weather event had morphed into something more extreme than the typical seasonal precipitation and snowmelt.

Back in Valnontey, without power or running water, we joined dozens of our fellow campers in a small room located above the reception area. Above ground, this was the safest place to spend the night. Some perched on bulk packs of toilet paper and paper towels, while others soothed children and reassured leashed dogs. It was dark now, and we had no clue what the next day would bring. I tried to sleep, breathing deeply to calm the adrenaline high, but images of cars, full-sized trees, and shrubs sailing along the aggressively flowing Valnontey River flashed behind closed eyes. There was no way out—the road was in ruins, the river out of control—and the surrounding mountains seemed like ticking time bombs, ready to let go at any moment. There was simply nothing we could do. We were just mere, powerless humans faced with the sublime.

I exited the sleep realm to the sound of birds chirping and the absence of rain. Richard, as usual, had woken first. “You need to check this out,” he said, as we quickly descended the stairs, passing the Tundra and squishing through damp silt, debris, and tree branches. After about 50 meters, we couldn’t go any further. A landslide had ripped its way down the mountain, carrying huge boulders and chunks of earth along for the ride. Several other campers approached the scene, including Laura and Simone, an Italian couple on their second day of summer vacation from Genoa. We’d used our MaxTrax to help free their Fiat Ducato from the mud the day before. Surrounded by rubble, we stood together in silence, knowing how lucky we’d all been.

“Everyone will be evacuated by helicopter.” Our campground host, Noemi, was doing the rounds with an update as everyone returned to their vehicles. She was the coolest of cucumbers over the past 24 hours, somehow keeping it together while her property was decimated by sand, water, and sludge. If we were leaving by air, this meant our Tundra—our full-time home—had to stay. Wet clothes needed to be dried, perishables disposed of, and our bags packed for an indeterminate amount of time as backpackers? The E45 was blown out in multiple spots, and it would take repair crews weeks to fix the road past Cogne and into Valnontey, which begged the question: what would we pack for an unknown destination for an indeterminate period? And, with more rain in the forecast, would our Tundra be safe in the meantime?

The sound of spinning rotor blades filled the valley for the next 24 hours as helicopter pilots and local rescue teams trans-

ported supplies and evacuated hundreds of tourists from the area. We waited until the last moment, prioritizing families and older folks, before joining the queue. Running across the silty tarmac, we loaded into the Heli Mont Blanc chopper. My stomach dropped as we took off into the air, lifting from the valley floor, where residents wearing gum boots pushed wheelbarrows of mud. Unfortunately, it was not possible to stay and help. As we continued through the valley, the scenery was both spectacular and sobering. Sections of highway were completely gone, as though chewed and clawed by a giant beast. But then we passed a meandering river, an old church, or a section of vineyard. The flight was truly a journey alternating between the beautiful and the sublime.

About a week later, we returned to the Tour du Mont Blanc trail. Whisps of purple thistle and curls of lilies lined the path, while the tinkle of cow bells and trilling birdsong formed the soundtrack to our day hikes. The weather was splendid—clear, sunny days meant we could explore the ridgeline of the TMB with full views of Mont Blanc. It reminded me of Shelley’s poem, Mont Blanc: Lines Written in the Vale of Chamouni: “The fields, the lakes, the forests, and the streams/Ocean, and all the living things that dwell/Within the daedal earth; lightning and rain/ Earthquake, and fiery flood, and hurricane…/Mont Blanc yet gleams on high:—the power is there/The still and solemn power of many sights/And many sounds, and much of life and earth.” No matter what, nature will prevail.

There was no way out—the road was in ruins, the river out of control—and the surrounding mountains seemed like ticking time bombs, ready to let go at any moment.

After three weeks, we returned to Valnontey—well, Richard did, as only drivers were allowed to access the stranded vehicles parked in the valley. As he joined the convoy of exiting campers, cars, and trucks, a local man handed him a red carabiner with a card that read, “A little souvenir, the carabiner—mountain icon and symbol of union, safety, and bond. A deep bond with you, friends of our mountains, which we are sure to welcome again.”

Our experience with the sublime changed how we travel overland. Heading east through Bosnia Herzegovina, where wildfires filled the skies with smoke, and Greece, where earthquake activity forced residents of Santorini to evacuate, we adapted by becoming more vigilant about where we park, how often we check the weather forecast, and how we approach risk management overall. Heavy winds, intense rain, thunder, and lightning storms still keep me up at night. But the antidote to a triggered nervous system is, of course, nature itself. There’s plenty more beauty to come.

Thank you to Aosta Valley Mountain Rescue and the Guardia di Finanza Soccorso Alpino, to the residents of Valnontey who lost homes and businesses and rebuilt with incredible resiliency, Campeggio Gran Paradiso and Campeggio Lo Stambecco for keeping us safe, the Sei di Cogne se Facebook page for the frequent updates, the Omama Social Hotel in Aosta for comping the stays of those displaced in the Aosta Valley, and Karen Griffiths, for her generosity.

Truck campers to help you get away from it all, including the weather.

By Scott Brady

Earlymemories are so formative, often defining and informing the path of our lives. My dad taught me the importance of doing what you love with the people you love, and truck campers have been synonymous with that aim since their commercial debut in the early 1950s. I still remember a cold morning camping in my dad’s Four Wheel Campers’ Keystone, mounted to his 1970 Ford F-250, as if it were yesterday. And John Steinbeck famously mounted a Wolverine Camper to his 1960 GMC pickup “Rocinante” for his bestselling book, Travels with Charley: In Search of America.

CONSIDERATIONS

There are two major categories of truck campers: hardsided units and lifting-roof models. Both have distinct advantages, and neither is superior. The decision comes down to either the lower profile and improved fuel economy of the lifting roof or the four-season comfort, quiet, and lack of setup of a hard-sided option. Pricing and the general list of amenities are often comparable between the two styles. The lifting roof is usually preferred for international travel as the truck will likely still fit in a high-top shipping container. In contrast, the hard-sided camper must either be removed for containerizing or shipped using a roll-on/roll-off (RORO) vessel.

Hard-sided models should start with the construction method and insulation, with bonded composite panels being preferred. The panels will be several inches thick and filled with insulation to improve extreme weather performance and reduce outside noise. The panels are often bonded to reinforced metal corners or extrusions to give impact protection (think tree branches) and rigidity to the entire structure. These corners and extrusions should be insulated or covered on the interior to reduce thermal bridging and the likelihood of condensation. Hard-sided campers often have high-output heaters for winter camping, and it is becoming increasingly common for them to have 12-volt air conditioners, too.

The downsides to hard-sided models are few, but it is important to consider the camper’s weight and the impact on the center of gravity when traveling off-highway. The suspension rate should be increased to keep the truck level, and the rear anti-sway bar and shocks may need to be changed to control sway on the road and trail. For backcountry use, the most common issue is the overall height of the camper, increasing the chances of contacting tree branches and even rock outcroppings. Check the height of the camper using a tape measure to the highest point (often a vent cover) and put a label with the number on the windshield as a reminder. As a clever hack, install an antenna on the front bumper that matches the apex of the camper to work as a strong visual indicator of

whether the tree branch or coffee shop drive-through is tall enough to drive under (a lesson I learned the hard way).

Lifting-roof or pop-top slide-in campers are becoming increasingly popular, with more models than ever on the market, including aluminum-framed options with a skinned exterior and composite panel models with insulated tent sides. The pop-top is great for daily driving, off-highway use, better fuel economy, and lower overall height. The lifting roof models typically have a lower center of gravity and much-improved clearance on tight trails with tree branches and rock overhangs. When traveling in the majority world, the lower height reduces the chance of hitting overhead power lines or succumbing to height restrictions on bridges and ferries.

As a clever hack, install an antenna on the front bumper that matches the apex of the camper to work as a strong visual indicator of whether the tree branch or coffee shop drive-through is tall enough to drive under.

The greatest limitation with the lifting roof campers is in extreme weather, as a tent will never have the same insulation and sounddeadening properties as a hard-sided camper. There is an increased chance of leaks, tears in the tent fabric, and wear to the lifting mechanism over time. Other practical limitations include restrictions on roof loads, smaller entry doors, the absence of overhead cabinets, and reduced heater/air conditioner performance. However, the pop-top camper is one of the most effective camping solutions for long-term overlanders, striking the ideal balance between size, performance, maneuverability, and value.

TESTING

I conducted these tests over several years, making the commitment to use these units in the field to properly evaluate each model. Several models were used for months. In recent years, truck campers have become my preferred choice for long-term domestic travel, which led me to purchase a Scout Kenai and a Yoho pop-up for personal use. When testing truck campers, there are three primary criteria used for evaluation:

DURABILITY OF CONSTRUCTION Most RVs are only used a few weekends per year, causing a chain-reaction, industrywide approach of producing fast function, which only needs to survive until the warranty expires. For the overlander, this construction method does not survive hundreds of miles of corrugations and will ultimately leave the buyer frustrated.

The models in this test were selected for their reputation for durability.

COMPONENT RELIABILITY is another criterion, and a surprising issue in the marketplace. Fortunately, manufacturers like Truma and Redarc are producing systems that survive years of use in the field. Expedition sailing has also benefited the overland camper market with crossover systems built to the highest standards in harsh environments.

WEIGHT AND HEIGHT Even if your truck has a 1-ton GVWR, weight should always be a consideration for both performance and safety. While the truck might be able to carry 3,000 pounds of payload, how will it perform in soft sand or deep mud? Find the lightest camper that meets your most important requirements and consider leaving behind the adjustable dumbbells, even if you have the space.

COMFORT AND USABILITY It only makes sense to haul around a camper if you can sleep comfortably, stay warm (or cool), cook healthy meals, use a toilet inside if you are sick (or to reduce human waste impact), and take a hot shower. All of that is possible in these test units, although some do it better than others.

ALASKAN CAMPER 650 SI

We did not have an opportunity to test the Alaskan 650 SI, but it is worthy of inclusion in this article. It is the original overland popup, and it is also hard-sided to endure four-season conditions. The company was founded in 1957 and offers multiple sizes for full-size trucks, including cab-over and non-cabover models, along with both slide-in and flatbed floor plans.

Alaskan accomplishes the lifting-roof, hard-sided puzzle through a bit of origami and simplicity. The majority of the lifting roof overhangs the base structure and uses seals to close the gap once fully extended. The roof lifts on actuators and has safety pins for both the traveling and raised positions. The real challenge is the cab-over, which leaves a nearly 2-foot open space around three sides of the bed area. Three flip-up panels raise into place and pin into position, making for an entirely hardsided and cozy cabin on wheels. These campers also look old-school cool and are a perfect fit for vintage truck builds or even new vehicles. Look for a full report in the coming issues. alaskancampers.com

“A JOURNEY IS A PERSON IN ITSELF; NO TWO ARE ALIKE.” –JOHN STEINBECK

The truck camper helps retain most of the vehicle’s capability while allowing for increased comfort, remote work, and better sleep. | The home on wheels can offer a different view every day. | Opening page: We tested the campers in as many conditions as possible, including fitting them to unique applications, like the Rivian R1T.

AT OVERLAND | ATERRA ASI HARDSIDE

1,157 POUNDS | $47,399 (AS TESTED) | Engineered to outlive the owner

ATOverland has been around since the earliest days of the overland industry, manufacturing some of the most capable and durable campers on the market. Their Aterra tray camper is renowned for being constructed for around-the-world travel in four seasons. Mario Donavan and his team have now added to the lineup with their new slide-in camper called the Aterra ASI. The camper stands out for its fair pricing and extremely lightweight design, coming in at under 757 pounds as the base shell.

From a durability perspective, the Aterra ASI is built with angled roof sides, reinforced metal corners, and a seamless spray-on coating. The entire assembly is pinned and bonded in a jig to ensure repeatability and the strongest possible structure; it looks more utilitarian than most, lacking the gel or automotive finish that some buyers prefer. The engineering and construction process produces one of the lightest campers in the test, even with a full complement of house systems. The durability extends to the mounting system, which is unique in the industry and utilizes bolt-in centering brackets specific to each truck model. The plates center the camper forward and aft, as well as side to side, while preventing it from contacting the forward bed bulkhead (most half-ton trucks cannot support a camper against the bulkhead).

The Aterra ASI is modular in its configuration, allowing the buyer to choose from an empty shell all the way up to a complete home on wheels. Each module can be specified or added at a later date, all with an emphasis on store capacity. The Aterra ASI has the best storage configuration of the test, utilizing lightweight and removable Step 22 bags, all of which feature Velcro label tags. The cabinets are constructed from premium plywood with a hexagon pattern and mold- and moisture-resistant coatings. The countertops are bamboo with a smooth, oiled finish. While the layout is somewhat unconventional, the table can be used as a

standing desk, and it eschews the typical dinette for more storage, standing room, and counterspace. The sink sits in the passenger rear corner and utilizes the Dometic USB chargeable pump/faucet, a simple and easyto-replace solution.

The bed is configured for either a northsouth (N-S) or east-west (E-W) layout, with the N-S resulting in a king-sized sleeping area. A panel pulls out from the camper bulkhead and extends on slides to several stopping positions. For most users, it will be best to sleep E-W as the extended bed covers the porta-potty and much of the counterspace. The E-W is comfortable for two adults, even those of above-average height. The mattress is comfortable, and the slatted panel serves to control moisture and mold under the bed. The Truma heater is thoughtfully installed at ceiling height with the vent facing the bunk to keep you cozy in any weather, and the cushioned floor feels luxurious on bare feet.

ATOVERLAND.COM

PROS

Engineered and built for remote overlanding

Spacious interior with expansive storage

Design reflects AT Overland’s decades of travel experience

CONS

Lack of a traditional dinette

Sloped roof cramps headroom in E-W configuration

Utilitarian exterior finish

FOUR WHEEL CAMPERS | CAMPOUT

1,270 POUNDS | $36,000 (AS TESTED) | An OG and still one of the best

TheFour Wheel Campers CampOut represents a fresh approach from this longstanding and respected manufacturer. The newest model aims to merge durability and affordability, with a starting price of approximately $25,000. The update offers a modern, smooth-sided aesthetic with functionality that appeals to new buyers and seasoned travelers alike. Fabricated to fit a half-ton pickup, the CampOut boasts a lightweight composite skin over a robust welded aluminum frame, ensuring long-term durability while presenting a more modern appearance.

One of the most notable features of the CampOut is its modular design, which includes separate power, a galley, heating, and storage modules to build out the interior based on needs and budget. The base model comes equipped with two cabinets (additional ones can easily be added), dinettes, power modules, fridges, and bed extenders to meet their needs. The camper includes a queen-sized bed, and the height of the lifting-roof sides is notable, adding to headroom and contributing to a feeling of openness.

The CampOut is equipped with numerous access points for 120-volt, 12-volt, and USB power, including a shore power RV plug, an onboard inverter, and a Starlink mini connector. The attention to detail is consistent with previous 4WC models, with features like a premium Alu-Cab awning for shade, aircraft tie-down channels for securing gear, and a thoughtful layout that includes an outside shower and storage options. The Truma heater is a quality option, but the vent placement directs the heat at the fridge instead of the bunk. There isn’t a provision for an inside shower.

I like the dinette for working, but the lack of backrests is a damper on more relaxed activities such as reading. The driver’s side dinette backrest is also a window, which makes for a cold place to lean back on.

There are a few other standout features on the CampOut, starting with serviceability. Composite campers are difficult to repair, depending on the nature of the damage, whereas the CampOut has a removable composite or aluminum skin and a welded aluminum frame, allowing damaged finishes to be replaced and bent sections of frame to be cut out and rewelded. It’s one of the reasons Four Wheel Campers has been chosen for iconic expeditions, including Gary and Monika Wescott’s crossing of Russia from 1996-1998.

The Four Wheel Campers CampOut’s innovative modular design enables buyers to tailor the camper to their whims and budget, while helping to future-proof the unit as new features are introduced. It’s an ideal camper for two occupants who plan on taking the road less traveled.

FOURWHEELCAMPERS.COM

PROS

Modular design

Durable construction with lightweight composite materials

Spacious interior with a high pop-up design

CONS

Adding modules quickly increases weight and cost

Dinette would benefit from backrests Heater less effective and efficient as positioned

OVERLAND EXPLORER VEHICLES (OEV)

| BACKCOUNTRY 6.85

1,500 POUNDS (WITHOUT JACKS) | $52,000 (AS TESTED) | Durability and four-season capability in a pop-up

OverlandExplorer Vehicles (OEV) is unique in the industry for offering true four-season capability out of a poptop camper. Units feature robust construction, extensive standard features, premium components, and high-wear materials. In discussing these campers with owners (such as Senior Editor Ashley Giordano), they are intended for long-term travel in harsh conditions.

The Backcountry uses composite panels bonded to heavy-duty metal corners, providing good insulation (R8). The heavyduty extruded aluminum corners and joints enhance structural integrity and impact resistance. Thermal bridging is addressed by affixing padded and insulated strips to the aluminum frame (we did not experience any condensation buildup at the frame). This combination ensures that the camper can withstand the challenges of overland travel, including potential damage from branches and other obstacles.

The camper’s four-season design is a significant advantage for those planning to travel across continents, featuring a fourlayer soft-wall insulation system with a value of R4, helping to control condensation while improving heater efficiency. OEV’s campers are engineered and produced in Canada, so rain, snow loads, and extreme cold are all factored into play. It’s one of the few campers in this test with an integrated air heater (Truma VarioHeat) and an on-demand hot water heater (Truma AquaGo). Unfortunately, the camper does not include an inside shower configuration, which belies its cold-weather intentions. The heater vent is not in an ideal position, with the airflow directed toward the dinette instead of the bunk.

Weight is a consideration in the backcountry, as factory options, exterior storage lockers, and battery capacity can quickly place the unit outside of gross vehicle weight (GVW) for most half-ton trucks. This unit will be most at home on 3/4- and 1-ton platforms, such as the GMC AT4x AEV diesel we tested it with.

The camper is a comfortable home away from home, with generous storage, a large sink, and 20 gallons of freshwater storage. There are tall storage cabinets that will easily swallow overland gear and clothing for two travelers. An integrated two-burner stove features both induction and propane options, and there is a Dometic sink with a high-pressure pump, hot water, and a folddown cover to extend counter space. The dinette is roomy with an adjustable table and offers the option of sleeping on the cushions in extreme weather (with the top down). It is worth noting that the cushions are both thick and yet undersupportive, with the added discomfort of not compressing quickly when first seated (the air does not escape properly during compression).

The Backcountry is a premium expedition-grade camper that comes with the expected additional weight and higher initial cost. It is perfect for a heavy-duty pickup and can be specified as a tray model for custom applications. My criticisms of the model are few, and these units have already served our team well on three continents.

Premium construction, fit, finish, and materials

Engineered for extreme climates

Premium components and 270amp-hour lithium battery capacity

CONS

Roof is difficult to lift for many owners

No interior shower

Cushion materials, foam density, and color need a refresh

SCOUT | KENAI HARDSIDE

1,247 POUNDS | $33,520 (AS TESTED) | Impressive confluence of light weight and spacious living

Scout has entered the scene with momentum, launching one new product after another out of its Washington factory. The goal of producing affordable, durable, and lightweight campers at scale has resulted in a nationwide dealership network and seven models in less than five years. The minimalist design and spartan interior are optimal for most overlanders, combining durable materials with reliability through simplicity. I purchased this camper for personal use and tested it for many years on my GMC 1500 AT4.

For many travelers, the most critical consideration is weight, as some are running half-ton pickups or heavily modified heavy-duty models. The Scout features a 1,100-pound dry weight in its most basic configuration, although most customers will order units closer to 1,300 pounds. With the camper jacks removed and a few other items (like the bed extension pads and support) taken out, you can get an even lighter Kenai. The camper is constructed from reinforced, multi-layer composite panels supported by aluminum extrusions to protect the corners. There is no plumbing (other than a 7-inch sink drain hose) and no 120-volt wiring. The cabinetry is made from durable plywood, finished in dark gray, and is devoid of drawers or doors, resulting in nothing to fail and that ever-important weight savings. Simple soft-sided organizers from Dometic and Red Oxx kept everything in its place for me. For 12- and 120-volt power, I used a Goal Zero Yeti 1500x lithium power station, which includes USB-C, 12-volt, and 120-volt inverter capabilities, along with a solar charge controller. The Scout has a 180watt solar panel on the nose cone, which has met all the camper’s modest power needs. The Goal Zero does have an optional 50amp charger to run off a 7-pin connection, but it failed after about six months of use. Scout has since upgraded their power systems to incorporate proven components from Xantrex.

Beyond its low weight, the Kenai has one of the most generous living spaces in the test, with a shower pan and toilet cubby in the rear. The unit can be specified with a cassette toilet or (in my case) fitted with a composting unit. It is possible to fit a Dickinson fireplace, which was admittedly one of the reasons I bought the camper. As of this printing, you can fit a diesel heater, or the owner will need to install the Dickinson after delivery. The bed is roomy for two and can be used comfortably without the bed extension in an E-W configuration. The Kenai can be installed on 6.5-foot or 8-foot beds and is now available in a poptop model as well. I spent over two months living in the Kenai, and it became my home on wheels.

PROS

Lightweight

Durable construction

Simple layout

Available roof tent with access hatch

CONS

Limited storage options

Lifeline water cans are heavy and prone to leaking

Mounting straps require regular inspection when off-road

SCOUT | YOHO POP-UP

937 POUNDS | $30,885 (AS TESTED) | Around-the-world camper for all roads

TheScout Yoho Pop-up proved popular immediately upon its release due to its modern, minimalist design and light weight. At 937 pounds in base trim, the Yoho is one of the lightest campers available, allowing for excellent performance in backcountry conditions and the possibility of working with the low payload ratings of mid-size pickups. The lifting roof with its sloped sides and rounded corners reduces wind noise and increases fuel economy while simultaneously improving trail clearance.

The exterior features durable composite panels bonded to metal corners, and is finished in a durable tan color to complement most trucks. The lifting roof is equipped with 100 watts of solar.

One of the Scout Yoho’s key advantages is its compactness, which lowers the center of gravity and overall height of the vehicle. It’s capable of fitting into tight spaces, navigating narrow trails, and even parking in garages. Additionally, the camper can be stored in high cube containers for international shipping, enhancing its versatility for international travel. The well-thought-out external features include accessory rails for mounting gear, as well as removable lifting jacks that save weight and improve maneuverability on challenging terrains.

Despite being designed for a 5- or 6-foot mid-size truck bed, the interior feels open and uncluttered, thanks to large windows and the lack of overhead cabinetry. It maximizes usable space and retains a dinette for working or sleeping (a great spot to read, too). The interior is free from 120-volt wiring and leak-prone plumbing. There is a single 7-inch length of drain tubing that comes from the bottom of the sink and empties onto the ground or into a bucket. Scout’s system uses a LifeSaver Jerrycan water purifier, which is nicely made, but I have not tested one that didn’t leak, particularly from the spray hose. There is a small porta-potty cubby, in which I stored the new Trelino compact composting toilet.

The camper features an upgraded power system with Victron components, providing 120 amp hours of 12-volt power. I supplemented that with an EcoFlow portable power pack and a 2,000-watt inverter. The combination of those two batteries can run my induction cooktop and the electric air heater/AC unit I am testing. Scout offers an optional diesel heater that mounts to the back camper wall. My one criticism is the lack of a shower pan in the entry door opening (the Kenai has one). There were also some finish issues with the wood countertops and table; all were resolved under warranty (the wood has already been changed for future units).

SCOUTCAMPERS.COM

Lightweight and compact

Spacious interior, efficient use of storage

Simple plumbing and electrical system

CONS

Zippers on windows may require careful handling for longevity

Lack of available shower pan

Pop-top mechanism may be cumbersome for some

SUPERTRAMP | FLAGSHIP LT

1,600 POUNDS | $63,000 (AS TESTED) | Expedition camper features and design in a slide-in

The Supertramp camper has quickly gained recognition for providing a premium expedition camper experience and features in a slide-in camper. Weighing in at just under 1,600 pounds, it strikes a balance between lightweight construction, durability, and amenities. Built for full-size trucks, the Supertramp offers a surprisingly spacious interior, given its 6.8-foot floor length. The camper is wider than most, adding to the sense of spaciousness, but still manages to incorporate a hot water interior shower, toilet options, up to 800 amp-hours of battery power, 25 gallons of water, and more.

The camper’s robust construction features a molded composite shell and vacuuminfused carbon fiber lifting roof. The top lifts on four electric rams that have limit switches and other safety features. There are no latches to unhook or awkward Tai Chi movements required—it just goes up and down with the push of a button. As a result, weight, purchase price, and complexity are affected, and there is no manual override should the system fail.

Supertramp does an exceptional job of interior layout and the use of premium finishes and touch points. This camper feels even more roomy than the Kenai, which is nearly 2 feet longer, achieved by making the camper wider than the truck bed sides (but not wider than the mirrors) and avoiding tall or overhead cabinetry. The one cabinet that runs down the passenger side is narrow and bright white, lending to the sense of open space. That singular cabinet contains the galley, Truma Combi, electronics, batteries, sink, plumbing, and more, allowing the rest of the floor area to encompass a long settee that wraps around the front of the bulkhead and all the way to the backside of the galley. This gives two massive reclining positions for two occupants and easily accommodates sleeping inside with the top down.

The comfort of the interior extends to the ducted heating and an optional 12-volt air conditioner. There is a molded shower pan with a full curtain that hangs from the ceiling. The sink faucet becomes the showerhead

(with hot water from the Combi), supplied from the 24-gallon freshwater tank. The shower pan also serves as the storage locker for a portable composting toilet, the curtain, and even a wet locker for shoes or a wetsuit.

There are a few considerations with the Supertramp worth noting. The single-size option excludes mid-size trucks and (arguably) 8-foot bed, full-size platforms. The camper is wide, so avoid installing the MOLLE panels and large awnings. I would use a suction cup-style awning in the rare instance a southfacing position fails to provide enough shade. I found a few suggestions for improvement, and was impressed by how quickly Supertramp made the changes in production (so they are not worth mentioning here). The camper really needs to be seen in person to be fully appreciated, as the automotive finish is stunning, and the feel of interior spaciousness will make you grab a tape measure to confirm the dimensions. This all comes at a cost, but the juice is worth the squeeze if your travel budget supports the list price.

SUPERTRAMPCAMPERS.COM

PROS

Efficient, robust electric lifting mechanism

Surprisingly spacious

Integration of an interior, hotwater shower

CONS

Lifting mechanism location by bed requires awareness

Limited to one size Skip the MOLLE panels on the sides (already wide)

CONCLUSIONS

Overthe last two decades, awarding the Editor’s Choice and Value Awards has become increasingly challenging as products continue to improve in durability and reliability. The growing size of the industry has led to a wider array of specialized options tailored to individual travelers’ needs. The concept of the Editor’s Choice was developed to reflect the distinction between winning a test and the unique experiences and preferences of the editor. This is particularly true in this test, featuring six of the best overland slide-in campers ever produced—any of which would be suitable for a journey around the world. Truck campers have become lighter and more comfortable than ever before.

For the Value Award, a handful of campers stood out. The Scout Kenai offers the largest and most comfortable interior in the test, emphasizing essential attributes such as an easily accessible toilet and an integrated shower pan. Its minimalist design incorporates high-quality materials, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere with soft-touch fabrics and wood-grain countertops. The Kenai is reasonably priced and weighs as little as 1,100 pounds. The AT Overland Aterra ASI is built for around-the-world travel, showcasing exceptional construction and durability. Its modularity allows for customization, giving owners the option to create a camper that meets their specific needs. The Aterra includes drill points and wiring channels for future upgrades, making it a future-proof choice for international overland travelers. The winner of the Value Award goes to the Four Wheel Campers CampOut, though, which features a modular design that allows purchasers to start with a lower entry price and then add necessary options later. Owners can customize their camper based on evolving needs, while maintaining high-quality finishes and appliances throughout, making it a solid value at $35,000 as tested.

Selecting the Editor’s Choice was even more challenging, as every model in this test is ready for global journeys. My focus was on attributes that matter most to me, such as the ability to fit the camper in a shipping container and the overall maneuverability in small villages and unpredictable conditions. Reducing height minimizes the risk of contact with power lines, branches, and other hazards. For my travels, I require a camper that fits on a mid-size, high-clearance, four-wheel-drive truck while offering durability for crossing continents. For this reason, I purchased the Scout Yoho popup camper in 2024, and I am giving it our Editor’s Choice award (I literally put my money where my words are). Weighing less than 1,000 pounds, it leaves me with 800 pounds of spare payload with the INEOS Grenadier Quartermaster. I

would like to see an integrated shower pan at the entry door to facilitate ease of hygiene on the road, but my suggestions end there. Senior Editor Ashley Giordano selected the Overland Explorer Vehicles Alpine pop-top camper as her Editor’s Choice, which has proven durable and reliable on her travels across Europe and into Central Asia.

There has never been a better time to buy an overland camper, and each of these models could earn an Editor’s Choice designation. I look forward to future innovations, including standard composting toilets to minimize waste impact and integrated shower pans in entry doors. Advancements in lithium battery energy density and the reliability of electrical systems are particularly exciting, which will enable the use of induction cooking and electric heating and cooling, reducing reliance on propane. I am currently testing different configurations of these electrical systems in my Yoho. As always, our findings will be reported.

Latitude

The Last Drive

Twenty-one years of Landcruising Adventure.

It’s pitch dark when we wake up. For minutes, complete silence surrounds us—until the coffee maker starts gurgling. I pour two mugs of steaming hot liquid to warm us up and fill the thermos for the road. Our 26-year-old Toyota Starlet is ready to go, loaded with a hundred of our Forever Off Track books, a spare tire, and all we may need for a roadside repair. We pack one bag with clothes and another with food. It’s 5:00 a.m.

Dressed in winter jackets and gloves, we scrape the frost from the windows and set off. Five minutes on quiet countryside roads brings us to the highway. I sip my coffee and glance sideways.

“Get some more sleep,” I suggest, pulling the extra blanket from the backseat. “From here on, it’s straightforward driving. I’ll wake you if I need help navigating.” Soon, Coen is breathing deeply. My headlights slice through the darkness on an almost empty road. Ahead lies over 2,000 miles: from the Netherlands through Germany and Eastern Europe to Turkey and Cyprus, where our faithful Land Cruiser has been waiting for us in an olive grove since July. The steady hum of the engine brings a welcome calm. Time to breathe, to reflect.

DECISION TIME

Less than a year ago, we were overlanding in Cyprus, parked in the mountains on a rainy day as water leaked inside. I stuffed a towel in the glove compartment and removed all the sleeping gear from the left storage compartment, as we had insolvable leaks there too. Water dripped to the ground below the dashboard. We sat in the back, drinking tea. One of us asked, “Where is the road going to take us? And, more importantly, what are we going to do with the BJ?” The Land Cruiser was falling to pieces, and we were fed up with it. Sure, the breakdowns had brought many adventures and encounters during our 21 years of continuous overland travel through Asia and South America. But the balance had tipped. It was time to say goodbye to our trusty home on wheels.

But then what? A new overland rig? More comfort? That didn’t feel right. We needed character. Soul.

“You know,” I said, “if you parked another BJ right here in better condition, I’d just move everything over and keep going.” We looked around. We were happy with our little space.

“Okay, so let’s do that,” Coen responded. We clinked our tea glasses in a toast. It felt good to finally say it out loud. It was time for a new chapter: Landcruising Adventure 2.0.

A HORRIBLE AND UNEXPECTED TURN

That was in April 2024. In May, we flew to the Netherlands for a visit. In June, we found a new BJ in France and bought it. At the end of the month, we returned to Cyprus for one last summer in our beloved Land Cruiser. All was going according to plan until Coen began drifting to the left while driving, and at one point, almost got into a crash. I took over the wheel, and that afternoon, Coen lost consciousness. We rushed to the hospital, and on July 1, a surgeon removed an aggressive 2-inch brain tumor.

Instead of a farewell road trip through Cyprus and the Caucasus, we flew to the Netherlands and plunged into the dark world of hospitals, radiation treatment, and chemotherapy. The treatment worked, though, and a subsequent MRI showed no tumor activity. We celebrated with champagne and stuck to our plan to drive to Cyprus in the Starlet and prepare the Land Cruiser for its final journey.

WHERE WILL THE BJ GO?

About 10 years prior, we received a serious offer. Not just to buy the Land Cruiser, but to preserve it in the Heritage Land Cruiser Museum in Salt Lake City, Utah—a fitting place for our truck, so full of stories and scars. We were flattered, but the road was still calling.

“Let me know when you’re ready, no matter when,” Greg Miller, the museum’s owner, had said.

“Sure,” we replied. In 2019, after the BJ’s fourth restoration, we were ready. We got in touch. Then the pandemic happened. Then Ukraine. Life went on, and so did our travels. Until the spring of 2024, when we made the call. The original plan had been to ship the BJ to Mexico or Canada and travel across North America, promoting Forever Off Track, our first book in English. But with Coen’s diagnosis, that was no longer an option. The best alternative? Ship the Land Cruiser from Cyprus to North America.

We left the Netherlands even though no shipment date or port of departure had been confirmed, believing, as always, that things would work out one way or another. On our day of departure, Coen started his fourth round of chemo.

Last fall, we finalized the agreement with the museum. Greg was enthusiastic and eager to get the process going. The aim was to organize the shipping between two chemo rounds in late January. The schedule was tight but doable. Unfortunately, the bureaucratic tape took longer than anticipated, but we had no time to sit and wait for things to happen. We left the Netherlands even though no shipment date or port of departure had been confirmed, believing, as always, that things would work out one way or another. On our day of departure, Coen started his fourth round of chemo. He’d be tired, we knew, but otherwise okay.

TO CYPRUS

The miles were flying by, and the black night fading into a gray, overcast sky. Coen, no longer allowed to drive after losing half his visual field due to the tumor, has taken on his new role as barista and sandwich maker. We stop for gas, and I take a 20-minute nap. The long days of driving are broken up by heartwarming visits to friends along the way. A week later, we leave the Starlet on the southern Turkish coast and take the ferry to Cyprus. There, in the olive grove of a guesthouse, the Land Cruiser is waiting. I open the passenger door and sit down.

Doubts creep up. Is this really the right decision? Why all this stress and bureaucracy? Why not just turn the key and drive? My thoughts spiral, longing for the road.

“Battery is dead,” Coen calls from under the hood. Right. That’s why. In downtown Girne, we find a battery shop. The owner drives us back and installs the new battery himself. Done. Meanwhile, we had learned it would be impossible to ship the Land Cruiser from Cyprus due to geopolitical complications, and so we ferried it back to Turkey.

WAITING IN TURKEY

We settle into an Airbnb on a hill near Alanya, overlooking the bright-blue Mediterranean, and begin the monumental task of sorting through 21 years of Landcruising Adventure to fit what matters into the Starlet. The initially agreed shipping date, the last week of January, won’t be met, and the logistics are out of our hands. We know from experience how difficult it is to get a shipment scheduled when you’re not on-site. We improvise. On February 6, Coen will

take a return flight to the Netherlands for his fifth chemo treatment so that we can extend our stay in Turkey by a month.

Days pass by in harmonious companionship, unpacking box after box, reflecting on item by item, tool by tool. Should we keep the spare clamps we bought in South Korea after the big brake-line failure? What about the gun-cleaning kit from Bangkok to clean the Coleman stove? With a heavy heart, I part with the food box, an old pink plastic container held together with duct tape, which has carried our groceries through dozens of countries.

We never bought souvenirs, but we pinned mementos on a strip of cork just below the ceiling: tiny country flags, banknotes, postcards, often given to us by locals. Over the years, I removed old ones to create new space and stored them in a bag, only to toss them out years later. We sit on the bench, letting memories wash over us. We agree: these pieces belong in the Land Cruiser, not in a bag. They are part of the story.

TIME TO GO

We push again for a shipping date and finally get one for February 5. We will need two days to drive to İzmir and leave on February 3 at 9:00 a.m. With the sun glinting on the sea, we pass endless resorts and apartment blocks that characterize the touristy south coast. Speed monitoring cameras are everywhere, and speed limits flash by faster than I can read: 50, 70, 50, 90, 80.

“Stop, turn back,” Coen shouts. “The box. We forgot the green box,” he cries. In prepping the shipment, we’d removed it from the roof rack. It stood behind the BJ, the last bulky item to be shoved into the rear, but we had driven off without it. We double back, cursing the speed cameras and worrying that the resort staff may have tossed it.

Phew, it’s still there. At 2:30 p.m., we leave Alanya again, eyes on İzmir. We follow the road toward Denizli with its brown mountain slopes and sparse vegetation. I shift into low gear and climb; the Land Cruiser does what it needs to do and putters on at a snail’s pace. My original plan to include an overnight visit at Pamukkale’s famous baths is abandoned, and we spend our final night in the Land Cruiser in a boring parking lot along the main road. With this morning’s setback and Turkey’s mountainous terrain, we’ll need all the time we can get.

Coen rolls over to spoon me, worn out from delays and uncertainties. “I need this to be over,” he sighs. So do I.

We still don’t have an address. Then an email arrives from Melike at the shipping agency asking for a copy of our temporary import document. We don’t have it, because borders are now digital. “It’s all in the system, sir,” the customs officer had responded when Coen asked for a paper copy when entering Turkey from Cyprus.

But Melike insists, and we realize we are going to need to get it one way or another, which sets us on a wild goose chase to police headquarters and customs offices—no such luck. “When will we meet?” we ask Melike.

“Oh, just drop by tomorrow afternoon,” she replies. That sounds surprisingly relaxed for a shipment due the next day, but I have no time to dwell on it. Again, we head into the mountains, which requires all my attention. The climb is steady, and I worry if the BJ will make it. All is fine until we hit thick fog. I can barely see the car in front of me; everything else is grayish-white. A sign indicates that snow chains are no longer required as we descend into the flatlands, the road cutting through endless vineyards.

THE PAPERWORK TRAIL

In Manisa, near İzmir, we find another customs office. Coen heads in and returns 10 minutes later, elated. “It worked. I got the paper.” Off we go, to the agency. In a plush office in a high-rise tower with a sweeping view, we meet Melike.

“So,” she says after introductions and serving tea, “when would you like to ship your car?”

“What do you mean? It’s planned for tomorrow. It had better be, because Coen is flying out the following day for his next chemo treatment.”

“Oh, I wasn’t told anything about that date. It’s impossible to get it done that soon,” she responds matter-of-factly. The world crashes around us. Coen sits in stunned silence, while I begin to feel myself

As we unpacked the Land Cruiser, each item stirred up memories as it passed through our hands. | In Izmir, we met Melike from the shipping agency; she worked tirelessly to make the container shipment possible. | Opening spread: The 550-mile-long BR-319 is the first major highway across the Amazon. Constructed in the early 1970s, it is slowly being eaten away by the jungle.

unravel. Melike sees it and feels it. A day later, as she takes us to the bus station, she will explain how deeply our story touched her. That she’d never gone out of her way as she did for us, but felt she had to. How do we keep meeting these angels?

“I will help you,” she says and starts making calls. Dozens of them. She is trying to get a container, but without a confirmed shipment booking, nothing moves. Everything has been reserved for weeks. But this is Turkey. There are ways. And they take time. By 11:00 p.m., long back in the Land Cruiser, we are still exchanging emails. More info is requested (father’s name, mother’s name); more documents are required. We need a Turkish tax number. “Get one early in the morning in downtown İzmir,” she instructs.

Seriously? How much crazier can this get? But somehow, Melike pulls it off. We don’t know how, and we don’t want to know.

THE CONTAINER

At noon on February 5, we meet at the warehouse. I park the Land Cruiser and hop out. The final drive, into the container, is Coen’s, who, over the past 21 years, has driven by far most of the 200,000 miles we’ve traveled. Melike is waiting for us, accompanied by two men in charge of loading. She already knows about Coen’s health, his limited eyesight, and his stress levels. And these guys are incredible— calm, respectful, patient. We all work together, slowly inching the Land Cruiser into place, deflating the tires to gain a few crucial centimeters.

Coen walks over and hugs me. Then we cry, tears dripping into each other’s necks. Not just because the job is done. We cry for everything that’s been. For everything we’ve lived. For everything we’ve lost.

Then it doesn’t fit. The container truck is parked on a slant. There’s no clearance between the roof rack and the top of the door frame. The men start adjusting the truck’s position to level it out. Again, Coen edges backward. This time, the roof rack slightly scrapes the upper frame (as it always does), so nothing to worry about. The Land Cruiser fits. Not as neatly as we’d like, but it fits. We exhale, and the tension in our bodies is slowly released.

We take some photos of the Land Cruiser now trapped inside its metal coffin. Then one of the guys swings the heavy doors shut. Twenty-one years of our lives are in that container. Coen turns, still on high alert. “Did we forget anything?”

“No, we’re good. There’s nothing more we can do,” I respond. Coen walks over and hugs me. Then we cry, tears dripping into each other’s necks. Not just because the job is done. We cry for everything that’s been. For everything we’ve lived. For everything we’ve lost. “You gave me the world,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

AFTERMATH

Back at the bus station, we buy tickets for our return to the Airbnb in Alanya. Twelve hours ahead of nothing to do but stare out the window, watch the Turkish landscape roll by, and let the memories settle. From Alanya, Coen will take a return flight to the Netherlands, and after that, we will hike. First in Turkey and then, after Coen has finished all his treatments, we plan to go on a long, long walk. Our journey will continue. Just at a different pace.

And somewhere out there, on a cargo ship bound for the US, our Land Cruiser sails toward its final destination for a well-deserved rest and a place in history.

TWENTY-ONE YEARS OF LANDCRUISING ADVENTURE

Top Row (left to right): We were happy with the Land Cruiser’s suspension flex when navigating French Guiana’s washed-out jungle tracks. (2012) | Coen tests the reliability of a bridge on the BR-319 in the Brazilian Amazon. (2012) | A vendor in Bartica, Guyana, wears the colors of her country’s flag with pride. (2012) | Middle: Two farmers in Peru’s Sacred Valley separate the wheat from the chaff. (2013) | A welder in Guyana works on the Land Cruiser’s third restoration, cutting out the rusted parts of the side panel without setting it ablaze. (2015) | Bottom: The Land Cruiser struggles its way through partly frozen mud in Siberia. (2018) | The blessing of cars is a weekly ritual in Copacabana on Lake Titicaca. After the Land Cruiser’s first major restoration, we thought it was a fitting way to inaugurate its new beginning. (2010) | The once infamous Death Road in Bolivia stretches for about 43 miles, descending from 15,260 feet to the lower-elevation jungle at 3,900 feet. (2013)

Driving Solo Across the Upper Amazon

Memories cemented by mud, grounded by the anchor of a monumental challenge.

By Graeme Bell

Makeshift wooden bridges are vital for Amazon travel, but some fail under the burden of large trucks. | Opening page: Disembarking the Oyapok River ferry. The French had constructed a modern bridge over the river but refused to allow cross-border traffic due to Brazilian corruption.

It feels like a lifetime ago that my wife, two pre-teen children, and I were sweltering in our rooftop tent, parked beneath enormous mango trees in Boa Vista, Brazil. A few months earlier, we had been camped in Cartagena, Colombia, preparing to ship our Land Rover and ourselves to Panama, but we had a change of heart at the last moment. We had fallen deeply in love with South America and decided, rather spontaneously, that we would return to Brazil as we weren’t ready to leave the continent. The route we chose back to Southern Brazil was the most indirect and challenging of them all, via Venezuela, Northern Brazil, Guyana, Suriname, and French Guiana. It was to be one of the best decisions we have ever made.

The mighty yet vulnerable Amazon jungle is enormous, stretching from Paraguay to Venezuela. Brazil commands control of most of the rainforest territory, which is dwindling at an astonishing rate as the planet’s lungs are burned, hacked, and destroyed to make way for agriculture. The inhabitants of the northernmost reaches of the jungle range from indigenous people to settlers, gold miners, the military, and farmers. Southern Brazil is a world away from Northern Brazil, bound only by nationality and language.

En route to Guyana and the then-unsealed Lethem to Linden Road through Boa Vista, the Land Rover had begun to make loud clunking noises, warning us that she needed attention before we entered the jungle. Luisa, my wife, was tightlipped and unhappy about the unscheduled maintenance. We had arrived at the fringes of the rainforest just as the true wet season began, and she feared we would be entering a sea of dense green jungle and deep, cloying, red mud. I had no choice but to repair the Land Rover; we would be driving hundreds of miles alone, with no means of communication with the outside world and limited fuel, supplies, and spare parts. The delay gave me the opportunity to prepare mentally. I am not ashamed to admit that I was nervous; it was to be our most remote solo travel, even more so than the deserts of Namibia or the grasslands of Patagonia.

The temperature hovered at 104°F throughout the day and into the night as I worked to replace most of the Land Rover’s suspension bushes (the source of the clunking), service the cooling system, change the oil, and attend to some electrical faults. After a few blistering days, we were eager to leave and escape the heat of Boa Vista, and ready to take on this monumental challenge.

From Northern Brazil, we drove the Defender to the Guyanese border. The lanes switched from right to left as we entered the former British colony, and the language of the land flowed from impenetrable Portuguese to sweet, comprehensible Creole English. An immigration agent of Indian descent politely assisted us with our paperwork, stamped our passports, and

granted us three-day transit permission, informing us that if we did not report to the customs office in Georgetown, the capital, there would be serious consequences. His stern face then relaxed as he warmly asked if we would be staying in town to attend the popular annual rodeo, which was to be held in three days. We thought it best to keep moving as the rainy season was due to start in mid-April, and we entered Guyana on April 15.

There is not much in the way of tourism in the three Guyanas (Suriname is referred to as one of the three), and there are very few roads. Guyana, formerly British Guiana, was made famous by the Jonestown massacre in the 1970s when almost 1,000 cult members committed suicide after killing an American delegation at the local airstrip, including a senator who had been sent from the USA to investigate the cult run by Jim Jones. Most of the Guyanas can only be navigated by air, and the interior of all three countries consists mostly of virgin rainforest, plagued by logging and illegal gold mining. The unpaved roads are not really roads; they are a muddy mess. That said, we were lucky to enjoy them in that state, as the jungle will soon likely be bulldozed to make way for highways, bringing “progress” with it.

Bats flew in and out of the thatched gazebo beside which we were camped, hunting large butterflies and moths, their echolocation squeaks the disjointed violin in the orchestra of the night.

After finally clearing immigration and customs, we camped in Lethem, and the Land Rover was enlisted to winch a Bedford 4x4 truck full of water barrels and an ungrateful driver out of a muddy hole. We endured continuous heavy rain all night in our sweltering but cozy rooftop tent; occasionally, a humid breeze would blow through the hard-working mosquito nets and offer brief relief. With sunrise and after a breakfast of fruit, we started down the road to Linden, clean and shiny, but within 10 kilometers, the Landy was covered in mud. The night’s rains had saturated the track, and we drove from puddle to pool, muddy water splashing all the way up to the rooftop tent. The savanna persisted all day, and the road reminded me of a Tanzanian track populated by ant hills and giant iguanas.

That night, we camped before the Bush Mouth historical landmark, the end of the savannah, and the beginning of the jungle road. It had been a hot and muggy day with very little shade, and we were looking forward to the relative coolness of the jungle interior. We relaxed and discussed the day’s adventure as we grilled our dinner. Bats flew in and out of the thatched gazebo beside which we were camped, hunting large butterflies and moths, their echolocation squeaks the disjointed violin in the orchestra of the night.

Before leaving Colombia, in anticipation of the jungle crossing, we had shod the Land Rover with wide 33/12.5R15 mudterrain tires, but unfortunately, the tires were too wide for the

The windows were covered with so much mud that eventually, the Landy’s interior went dark, and we could not see out to our left or right.

wheel arches. As we drove into the jungle, the pools and puddles of the wide savannah track were replaced with deep mud sections of the narrow track. With more traffic on less surface area, the road surface suffered constant deterioration, and we soon found ourselves navigating from one muddy pit to another. As the wheels clawed and spun their way forward, they shot sprays of thick, dark mud up across the Land Rover and into our open windows to cries of despair. Little Keelan received a face full of mud, Jessica sported a clump in her blonde hair, and Luisa’s left arm was plastered. We had to drive most of the road with the windows closed, creating a sauna on wheels. The air-conditioning in a 2003 Defender is as powerful as a parrot’s breath, and the kids were sweating buckets in the back seat, courtesy of the hot, humid jungle. The windows were covered with so much mud that eventually, the Landy’s interior went dark, and we could not see out to our left or right. Desperate for cool air, we resorted to driving slowly with the windows open and stopping before each mud pit to close them, a procedure that further slowed our already sloth-like progress.

Some sections of the track would be wide and dry enough to allow for a change of gears, a relief after spending most of the day in either first or second gear. But these sections of road were invariably corrugated, as vehicles were able to accelerate and make up some lost time caused by the narrower mud-pooled sections where you had to choose your driving line and gear carefully to ensure that you did not slide either into the jungle or a huge pit in the middle of the road.

Surprisingly, we occasionally passed a caravan of sedans traveling the road in convoy, accompanied by a couple of large 4WDs that would drag the sedans on their bellies through the worst sections of mud. We later learned that these were secondhand vehicles headed for sale in Lethem or Brazil. When we encountered such a caravan, we would usually pull over and allow them to pass, and were thanked with waves, large smiles, and freshly churned mud. There was a pleasant camaraderie shared by the travelers on this road, as we all knew that we might depend on each other eventually, should the worst happen. Because the rodeo was taking place in Lethem that weekend, convoys of taxis and 4WDs were heading toward us from Georgetown, chewing up the road surface as they struggled through, blocking the road with a queue of vehicles as 4WDs winched and dragged the stricken vehicles out of clinging pits.

Occasionally, we would come across trucks and buses driven by highly skilled drivers who had chosen the wrong line or were defeated by physics and found themselves axle-deep in a pit. There was not much we could do for them except to slow down, offer a drink of water, and ask if help was on its way. More than once, we came across a truck that had slid off the track and into the jungle, with rear wheels in the air like stranded dung beetles.

The Landy’s windows were covered in mud, and in the absence of air conditioning, the heat and humidity precipitated a mutiny. | By chance, we met a convoy at the end of a Belém to Manaus to Macapá trek. We joined them for a few days of sweltering macho shenanigans. | Opposite: Rivers of mud await during the rainy season; we wisely chose large mud-terrain tires for the Amazon crossing.

from top

A

also known as the Franco-Brazilian Binational

a

and a family on board—the perfect recipe for

| Pont sur

was finally inaugurated in March 2017. | A clearing before a ferry crossing gave us a rare glimpse of the sky. | The ferry on the Amazon River from Macapá to Belém took 36 hours, and gave us a chance to witness life on the water. | The ferry across the Oyapock River is $250 for a 10-minute ride. | Opposite: Many Amazonian communities choose to belly up to the lifeblood of the river, preferring it to the jungle.

We were grateful to be driving one of the toughest and most capable 4WD vehicles ever mass-produced.

When we were most challenged, we were most satisfied, a cohesive unit bonded by trust and laughter, humor and compassion.

At the end of the second day of driving, we arrived at a compulsory police checkpoint at Mile 53, the halfway point and meeting place of travelers. The police did not believe we were South African, but after having a look at our passports, they welcomed us and told us that we could ask for camping at the wooden restaurant sitting on stilts, not too far from the road. The owner of the diner served us beef and chicken curry, with a welcome cold beer and a very Jamaican-sounding accent. The children had settled into their new reality and happily slurped down a couple of large milkshakes, their legs swinging from the wooden bench. A breeze was blowing from multiple fans, and the creatures of the night were chirping in the distance. It had been a tough day for us all, our skin and hair stained red with mud, but we were tired and happy. Life comes into sharp focus when you have something real to worry about, without the anxiety that comes from the fear of the future and, perhaps, regret of the past. When we were most challenged, we were most satisfied, a cohesive unit bonded by trust and laughter, humor and compassion.

After dinner, we parked our Defender and slept next to a hut where travelers and gold miners arrived throughout the night to hang hammocks and join in the snoring chorus I led from my rooftop tent. It was Easter weekend, and we awoke to a gift of coffee, tea, and six large and delicious hot cross buns from the restaurant owner. She refused to accept payment and would not charge us for camping either. The Guyanese are very proud of their hospitable reputation, which we would soon enjoy in large doses.

The last third of the road was to be the longest and most challenging. Driving at a maximum of 20 kph, we made very slow progress. To keep us entertained, Luisa played episodes of American sitcoms. Somewhere on YouTube, there is a video of us driving through deep, muddy pools with Seinfeld complaining about pilots giving constant, unwelcome updates. The jungle was dense; visibility was restricted to a maximum of 200 feet up the road and only a few feet into the jungle. Swarms of green carnivorous butterflies populated the road and fed on little mounds of iguana road kill—the jungle exists to create and consume.

A ferry carried the Landy across the vast and swift-flowing Essequibo River as it wound its way to the Atlantic. The jungle became more populated with friendly, curious people, and there were even a few inhabited pockets where we could purchase cold drinks, reassurance that we were indeed on the right road and nearing the end of the trail. The road gradually widened until it was a corrugated, red-mud highway. The rain fell steadily, and locals rushed past us, driving as fast as they could to mitigate the bumpiness of the road. The end was in sight, we believed, but still we continued to drive for many hours. Excitement was replaced by impatience. When would this bloody road end?

Emerging from the jungle in Linden, we were tired and covered in mud. There is sometimes no sweeter feeling than a velvety, smooth glide on even pavement. The family let out a sigh of relief—we had made it through the Amazon.

Our journey did not end there, though, as we still had to cross French Guiana (and endure a series of logistical challenges since it is technically European soil) en route to Brazil, where we planned to continue the Argentina-to-Alaska expedition we had set out on two years earlier—an adventure that had been delayed by the rare opportunity to explore a little-visited part of South America.

Rekindling our two-wheeled passion.

By Lisa Morris

Iwishmy bike were heavier,” said no one ever. Perhaps that was the hardest lesson learned from our four-and-a-year, Argentina-to-Alaska ride. For this trip, we are determined to heed that wisdom. Embarking on our second dalliance with motorcycles after a five-year hiatus feels like a reunion with an old flame. After bidding adieu to our stalwart BMW GSs, we’ve come to appreciate the maxim that less is more.

Upon unleashing the tale of transforming a pair of 2023 KTM 500 EXC-Fs into off-road titans, we’re set to conquer the American West’s Goliath wilds and beyond, dispelling the myth that these enduro machines are confined to tracks, turning them into globe-trotting adventurers.

THE CHOSEN ONES

Venturing into the world of motorcycle ownership in the US as a British rider always seemed like a distant fantasy. That is, until I stumbled upon an unexpected revelation: the practical ease and affordability of buying a bike in Virginia. (Arizona and Florida also provide accessible routes for foreigners buying motorbikes.)

With visions of DMV-induced bureaucratic nightmares, I was surprised to find that, with the expertise of Chelsea Lahmers, Moto Richmond’s dealership owner, we navigated the titling and registration processes without a hitch. Buying the KTMs

stateside delivered substantial savings versus exporting them from across the pond.

THERE’S NO UNICORN BIKE

Opting for the 500 EXC-F model for an extended unpaved journey showcases its superiority over our former 800cc and 650cc dual-sport counterparts. Weighing a mere 255 pounds when wet, just over double my weight, the street-legal dirt bike offers exceptional agility, fostering top-notch responsiveness and control on the spicier trails.

With its enduro racing lineage and included upgrades, the 500 boasts an enviable power-to-weight ratio for acceleration that could orbit me into space, outstanding maneuverability, and adaptability across diverse terrains, the latter characteristics of which are crucial for the two-wheeled roaming in mind. Indeed, it amplifies the thrill—hopping onto a bike that ignites a rush of excitement each morning.

Admittedly, the service intervals are no joke. Made for intense enduro races, per the KTM manual, the machine demands meticulous care every 465 miles—this means frequent oil changes, filter swaps, and valve checks every 930 miles. It’s far from ideal for a long trek.

Seeking advice from seasoned 500 EXC-F riders and a Dakar mechanic revealed that these intervals are suited to competitive racing rather than our intended

riding application. By increasing the intervals from 1,500 to 2,000 miles, contingent on conditions, we’ve found that the oil quality holds up well (always invest in quality oil), providing reassurance for prolonged riding.

THE BUILD

Embarking on the buildout in North Carolina, the top of the essential upgrades saw Jason install a 4.5-gallon fuel tank, expanding fuel capacity by 80 percent. It facilitated our readiness to roam further into the wilderness without concerns about gas. Forged from robust polyethylene crosslink, this requisite addition lengthens our riding range to 200 miles—an invaluable asset when traversing Baja’s rugged trails and tackling forthcoming Backcountry Discovery Routes.

After the buildout in the Smoky Mountains, we noticed the aftermarket skid plate’s built-in tools compartment chafing against the larger fuel tank. While low-profile tool storage was attractive, practicality took precedence. We opted for a more conventional, lighter skid plate made from billet UHMW (ultra-high molecular weight polyethylene plastic, longer-wearing than carbon steel) to mitigate friction, prioritizing compatibility with the larger fuel tank.

Beyond gassing up, the Nomad-ADV Rally Tower, equipped with Baja Designs headlights, illuminates our path in lowlight conditions and provides superb wind protection—an upgrade we appreciate wholeheartedly during long stretches in the saddle while battling the elements.

Candidly, though, on steep, gnarly ascents, we find ourselves grappling with leaning far enough over the windshield, praying it never makes sudden contact with our necks in the event of a forward-flying “offy.” Thankfully, after a spirited “whiskey throttle” I executed near Panamint Springs, California, my rally tower endured, the bike sustaining only superficial damage to its back end.

Rust and graffiti paint glow beneath desert starlight as I sit among the silent sentinels of Goldfield’s International Car Forest of the Last Church in Nevada. | Opening page: As the sun dips low, the dust settles and dinner sizzles on our tiny stove—a night by our bikes, happy as clams.

PACK SMARTER, NOT HARDER

The 80-liter rackless system’s promise of longevity and agile exploration has been delivered to date. However, we still added a rear rack to lighten the load on the aluminum subframe, which is paramount for long-term durability.

Jason’s mishap of destroying his top roll bag on a shakedown ride was a warning, narrowly avoiding wiping out his camera equipment. It emphasized the need for methodical securing of the Mosko Moto Reckless 80 setup to prevent lateral bag movement.

Now, we diligently secure all buckles and straps for the leg panniers, beavertail, and tail bag. Employing industrial-strength Velcro under the top bag enhances stability, while zip ties secure lengthier straps near the chain to prevent snags.

What rings especially true here is that when we’re transporting our precious cargo, particularly the heavy top loads of tech and valuables, situated on the rear luggage rack rather than in a leg pannier, it’s vulnerable to impacts. While necessary, this strategic placement can disrupt balance off-road, making us top-heavy and less agile in the dirt.

Indeed, outfitting the motos with a round-the-world luggage system has sacrificed some of the cherished weight advantage inherent in riding these smaller bikes. So, when we can unload the bikes and ride unencumbered—especially in convoy with a 4x4 rig—the 500s are phenomenal on rough

ground, getting us deeper into the backcountry.

Memorably, we joined our friends in their Sprinter van, our vital support network, to ride the sandy El Camino del Diablo, the Devil’s Highway. This historic 130-mile trail, traversing the Sonoran and Yuma Deserts, links Ajo to Yuma in Arizona, winding through the rugged topography between the Gila and Tinajas Altas Mountains. Thanks to Ken and Beth, we shed our cargo, relishing three unburdened days of feeling as light as dandelion seeds.

TREAD TALKS

More reinforced than stock, Warp 9 wheels with a cush drive hub elongate gearbox performance on pavement. With thicker spokes and sturdier rims than the OEM equivalents, they bolster wheel durability and resilience against the rigors of off-road riding.

The fortified wheels proved their worth as we welcomed the rugged terrain of Saline Valley Road in Death Valley. Following the harsh winter of 2023, the road deteriorated more than usual, presenting demanding trail conditions. Amidst a barrage of rocks flying below the footpegs, their durability proved indispensable, ensuring our ride remained uninterrupted.

Combined with premium, dirt-dominant tire combinations from Motoz and Michelin, we’ve enjoyed decent traction and

TRANSFORMING THESE KTMS INTO OFF-ROAD TITANS WAS A NOD TO THE MANTRA “LESS IS MORE.” WEIGHING 255 POUNDS WET, THEY PROMISE EXCEPTIONAL AGILITY FOR THE GLOBAL ADVENTURE STAGE. WHILE THERE’S NO UNICORN MOTORCYCLE, IT’S ABOUT REWRITING TWO-WHEELED ADVENTURING WITH THESE READY-TO-RACE BIKES, EMBRACING THE BOUNDLESS POSSIBILITIES THAT AWAIT THOSE WHO DARE TO EXPLORE.

performance across varied territories with some slab. Paired with Bib Mousse to navigate cactus-strewn landscapes, such as the rugged back trails we encountered in unison with a Jeep couple departing from San Francisco Mission in Baja California, we covered 3,000 miles on each set before the rears needed replacement.

NICE-TO-HAVES

We addressed our navigation and communication requirements with the Carpe Iter Pad, a sturdy 7-inch tablet designed to modernise our riding application needs. Essentially an Android device, it gives us access to all our favorite apps, keeping us connected. In areas without Wi-Fi, Google Maps and Maps.me, it has become our goto for offline navigation.

In the necessary pursuit of comfort, refinements like lowered seats better manage our handling as inseam-challenged riders. With a bike load of gratitude, air gel cushions come to the daily rescue, providing indescribable pressure relief for our backsides—one of the most beloved enhancements on our bikes.

Another unsung hero is the Atlas throttle lock, our cruise control companion. These miracle workers alleviate the vibration build-up in our hands and wrists (Field Tested, Gear 2025).

Contemplating our journey at the outset across the east-west interstate from North Carolina to North Las Vegas, a realization dawned upon us with surprising swiftness: these smaller dirt bikes are not built for pavement rides that stretch to infinity—yet here we are, occasionally unable to avoid them. The 500s struggle on fast roads, where

1. Our Nomad-ADV Rally Tower, outfitted with Baja Designs lighting, throws a road-legal low beam that cuts through the dark—plus wind protection we swear by. | 2. Handlebar-mounted Terrain Command Controllers let us steer the Carpe Iter Pad’s map app without ever letting go—pretty handy. | 3. Round-the-world luggage adds weight, but dropping the tech-loaded roll bag lets the 500s shine: light, nimble, and ready to tackle rugged backcountry. | 4. Warp 9 Elite Wheels with cush drive hubs and beefed-up rims boost gearbox life and wheel strength for rugged off-road endurance. | 5. The Carpe Iter Pad—housed in an industrial-grade alloy chassis—is drop-proof to 5.9 feet and can withstand a 2-ton hit without flinching. | 6. Jason wired in USB charging with a 65-watt USB-C port, powering the drone, laptops, and more on the go. | 7. Equipped with a SIM-enabled Android hub, we stay connected in the wild; a lockable mount keeps this vital tech secure on every rugged mile. | 8. After managing the Rally Tower install, the sticker kit adds that finishing touch, while Taco Moto’s flexible little turn signals flash just like “Kit,” Night Rider’s iconic car. | Opposite: Some days you conquer the desert, other days you just try not to whiskey-throttle yourself into orbit.

SPECIFICATIONS

2023 KTM 500 EXC-F

POWER

Transmission/final drive: 6-speed/chain

Dirt Rider measured horsepower: 40.5 horsepower at 8,200 rpm

Dirt Rider measured torque: 28.6 poundfeet @ 7,000 rpm

Fuel system: EFI w/ 42mm throttle body

SUSPENSION

Taco Moto rebuilt and tuned the stock suspensions

WHEELS AND TIRES

Elite Warp 9 Wheels with cush drive hub

Michelin Enduro mediums paired with Bib Mousse or Motoz Mountain hybrids/RallZ tractionators

PERFORMANCE UPGRADES

MSC Moto steering damper

Molecule Motorsports skid plate

Nomad-ADV Travel Tower (Baja Designs headlights)

ACCESSORIES

Aerostich tank panniers

IMS Products 4.5-gallon fuel tank

Mosko Moto Reckless 80-liter Revolver (V3.0)

Taco Moto 3,000-hour fuel pump

Taco Moto Athena Get high-performance lithium battery

True North Motos XABR rack

Atlas throttle lock

Carpe Iter tablet

P3 Carbon heat shield, max coverage

Wild Ass Sport Classic motorcycle cushion

Motohansa tool kit

Fastway Evolution Air footpegs

our presence feels dwarfed. Despite the above modifications, plus thicker handlebar grips, the relentless vibration from the hum of the asphalt after 200 miles leaves us spent, with tuning forks for hands. Alas, it’s sub-optimal.

THE SETUP

Turning to Taco Moto for help was all about unlocking the potential of these adventure-ready dirt bikes for our longhaul expedition. It was either that or swap them out for our converted Toyota Hilux, currently in storage back in the UK. As we flirted casually with the latter, the notion of towing the KTMs in a trailer to solely indulge them on the trails materialized as a possibility.

Taco Moto’s owner, Mike Spurgin, agreed that we exceeded the general ride parameters of these KTMs to accommodate our loads and the extensive miles ahead, which led to rebuilding and tuning the stock suspensions. With upgraded, heavy-duty springs and precise re-valving, we received a plush baseline setting for silky comfort and performance over uneven terrain, calibrated to our individual riding styles.

Mike scrutinized other pivotal elements of our bikes to tailor the overall rider experience. Power upgrades included installing a custom engine control unit on Jason’s machine to optimize engine performance beyond stock capabilities by fine-tuning

fuel injection, ignition timing, and other parameters. Plus, lighter, high-performance lithium batteries and rugged front and rear sprockets were added for both bikes.

Gloriously, wheel balancing banished the bone-jarring vibrations caused by tire imbalance, enabling our jackhammer bikes to feel more like joy bombs of smoothness on the road.

Treasured by Jason, who handles all bike upkeep, Taco Moto’s secret sauce lies in inclusions like the Mother of All Oil Filters— a paperless design with rare earth magnet disks within a stainless-steel tube. Namely, this item removes the necessity for paper filters and streamlines maintenance.

Similarly, an upgraded fuel pump replacement, tested to withstand a whopping 3,000 hours of operation, has kept us rolling much further. Other improvements, such as carbon heat shields, fork seal protectors, and mud gators, protect vital bike components from damage and impacts while maintaining the bike’s performance.

After installing turning signals akin to Christmas tree fairy lights on the East Coast, upgrading to front and rear LED flashing turn signals has overhauled our road presence. Gratefully, everyone sees us coming and going from miles away. Adding a starting capacitor aids engine performance, which granted seamless starts on those cold mornings in the Blue Ridge Mountains last winter and throughout the northern Baja leg this spring.

Finally, the supplanted Fastway Evolution Air Footpegs integrate ankle-saving technology to prevent hyperextension injuries and provide customizable height, traction, and camber adjustability. It’s pure genius in theory, although the larger real estate of the footpegs sporadically catches my trouser leg when mounting or dismounting. Nonetheless, they’ll prove invaluable when needed.

Finally, while the Trail Tech Kickstand was perfectly serviceable, its ability to let me alight anywhere fell short. Substituted for a Swiftkicker extendable one permits dismounting on any uneven surface without grabbing a stone—another standout upgrade that elevates my rider experience each time I park on dirt.

READY TO ROLL

In addition to lengthy days stretching until midnight, the demanding nature of the build, setup, and upgrades proved an intense endeavor. Jason, in particular, found himself laboring over tools, leaning into a problem until a solution percolated, learning a build procedure in the wee hours, if not ordering components. As double passion projects often go, the core lessons gleaned from constructing Jason’s bike initially led to a more polished build on mine.

After making continued iterations based on real-world testing, where rubber meets the road, the 500 EXC-Fs emerge as a world-ready, adventurized duo. All mods considered, the bikes still weigh only 330340 pounds (approximate). Shattering personal expectations, our culminating journey with the KTMs is a bike manifesto that challenges conventional wisdom, proving that even motorcycles born for enduro can metamorphose into bespoke global companions.

As the trails await, this isn’t a conclusion—it’s an invitation for riders to embrace the challenge of crafting their dream machines. Because in the end, the open road beckons, the heart wants what the heart wants, and adventure awaits those who answer its call.

Built tough with essentials (and then some), each upgrade is engineered for relentless longhaul grit and dirt-stage endurance, keeping our machines running strong.

Counting Drops

Mindfulness can enhance your overlanding experiences and make you a better traveler.

By Christian Simon

Manyyears ago, as a young man, I got lost in a parched and desolate section of the Fish River Canyon in Namibia, then South West Africa.

I had stopped to do a short hike into a remote part of the canyon on a little-used trail. According to my guidebook, the Fish River would periodically leave some deep pools on the canyon floor, perfect for a dip. A couple of kilometers down was all I expected, followed by a refreshing swim and a quick ascent out.

I was young, fit, and overly confident. I parked the car, grabbed a small packet of sliced biltong (jerky), and set out. Stupidly, I had no water with me, no pack, and no flashlight. It was a dumb oversight, but it was how we hiked back then, long before technology and humility taught us better.

I made it down the canyon in 45 minutes, careful to place a few rock markers where the trail was washed out or split into two. Disappointingly, no pools of river water were visible in the section of canyon I found myself in. Regardless, the canyon floor was beautiful. Glossy boulders, high ledges, and dappled shade made for a stunning and serene corridor. I explored for an hour. I was thirsty. It was hot. I still had not found any water. To recover a bit before my climb out, I lay down under a ledge and dozed off, not bothering to check the time on my wristwatch. Long shadows crept into the canyon while I swatted flies from my face and dozed. The only sound in the canyon was their buzzing. I slipped into a peaceful nap under a great swath of blue African sky.

When I awoke and looked at my watch, I was startled to see that it was 4:00 p.m. I had slept too long. Confusing shadows had dropped into the canyon. Everything around me now looked unfamiliar, as if in my sleep I’d slipped into an entirely different part of the Earth’s crust.

The canyon walls looked closer together, huddling in for the coming night. Rock features I had memorized to guide me back to the trailhead had disappeared. My footprints, broken up by my boulder scrambling and aimless wandering, led to dead ends. Several times, I thought I spotted the trailhead, my heart thumping gladly, but massive boulders or sheer cliff faces suddenly stood in my way.

In the canyon’s innocent play of light and dark, I realized I was absurdly lost, without water or rations save my piece of jerky, with only my lightweight clothes to protect me from the creeping canyon cold.

I decided to spend the night on the canyon floor and search again for the trail the following day—once the sun was more or less in the same place as on my descent. I also hoped for more energy and inner calm after a night of rest. Hungry at this point, I ate my sliced biltong. It was not a good idea. The salt rub on the meat made me even more thirsty. I thought wistfully of the rock pools that were supposedly somewhere in the canyon, shimmering with cool water.

The night grew intensely cold. I was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, and on my feet, my leather trail shoes and socks. They did little to fend off the frigid night air. At daybreak, I was shaking uncontrollably and had a splitting headache. The panic with which I’d searched for the trail the evening before, together with the long, fitful night, had left me weak and dehydrated.

I doubted I could scale the canyon wall back up to my car. After some time, I decided to explore further in the hopes of finding a rock pool or a declension—anything with some water. After about an hour of walking, I found it.

It was a series of rock pools just as my guidebook had described, remnants of the dried-up Fish River. The water looked deep and clear. At full run, I plunged headfirst into the largest pool and gulped water like a camel. My stomach cramped painfully, but the water rejuvenated me.

I estimated I was now about two hours from the trail I’d originally descended into the canyon. Doubling back and finding my original trail in the growing heat seemed futile, so I began looking for one closer to my current location near the pools.

I found one. It looked steeper and longer than my descending route, but I was better positioned to attempt it. First, I returned to the pools I’d stumbled on and took another long drink. I then stripped naked and soaked my clothes in water, bundling them loosely to retain as much liquid as possible.

The trail up took its toll. It was indeed steeper and longer than the previous one. A hazy veil of heat clung to the canyon wall. My legs shook. Every one hundred paces, I stopped to rest and squeeze into my mouth a few drops of water from the cloth bundle I’d dunked in the pool below. I counted the drops, allowing myself 15 at first; then, as I climbed higher and my bundle grew lighter, 10 drops became only 5 at a time.

I made it up and out of the canyon two hours after leaving the rock pool on the canyon floor. I immediately found the sandy track along the canyon rim I’d driven the day before. Spotting my tire tracks, I whooped hoarsely, overcome with gratitude and joy.

They were the only visible tracks. No other travelers had recently come this way. I began to trot in the direction of my car, then stopped. I was still naked. Although no cars or other hikers were likely in this remote region, I suddenly felt self-conscious and dressed. My clothes, wrung to a twisted stick by my side, were bone dry.

COUNTING YOUR WAY OUT

As a full-time overlander, I count all the time. I count the gallons of fuel I need to operate my thirsty 5.7-liter Toyota Tundra. I count out my coffee by the teaspoon, my tea, my sugar, the packs of tortillas and pork chops I need between grocery runs. I count my Wi-Fi gigabytes. I count, by cup or kettle, the exact amount of water needed for a sponge bath, a shave, or for washing clothes and dishes. I count the dollars I need per day,

per week, and per month to keep me traveling for a long time to come. In other words, I count in order to ration.

In my former life as a wage-earning college professor, there was little need for rationing. My pantry and my paycheck were large enough to accommodate most of my whims. Now, on a strict early-retirement budget, I count in direct proportion to my low income and over-limit GVWR.

Just as it was in the Fish River Canyon, counting has become a survival method for me. But it is also more. I enjoy it. It’s a source of mental calm, a way of slipping mindfulness into my daily life.

Stress and tension seem to melt away as soon as we’ve driven our first remote trail or sat by a campfire under the stars. The change of environment that comes with overlanding undoubtedly plays a big part.

I cannot count consciously and accurately while thinking about other things. Counting focuses my mind on the here and now, where there is stillness and peace. Perhaps it is for this reason that parents teach their children to sort and count wooden blocks or Lego pieces from a very young age. Buddhists teach novices to meditate by counting. A base jumper, before leaping off a cliff, counts backwards. An insomniac counts sheep. Counting stops our minds and imaginations from running wild. I found this to be true in the Fish River Canyon, where, without counting my steps and drops of water, my mind wanted to wander and entertain a range of useless and dangerous elliptical thoughts. Was this new trail a good idea? What if it dead-ended? What if I twisted my ankle or slipped off a ledge? Who would save me then?

As much as it can be used to ration material things (water, fuel, food), counting also rations the mind. It disciplines thinking. It is a form of mindfulness in its own right.

MINDFULNESS IN OVERLANDING

People overland with different goals in mind. Some do it for the challenge and the adventure; others to relax under palm trees or on a quiet riverbank. Some prioritize cultural destinations, while others stick to nature. Slow travel encourages reflection and a deeper appreciation of each moment. But surely one goal in all overlanding is to escape or recover, however briefly, from the toll our minds and bodies take from living busy, distracted, and stressful lives.

How do we achieve this escape or recovery? Is it simply an automatic reflex? Overlanding can certainly feel that way. Stress and tension seem to melt away as soon as we’ve driven our first remote trail or sat by a campfire under the stars. The change of environment that comes with overlanding undoubtedly plays a big part.

But there is also mindfulness. We pay more attention to our surroundings in new and unfamiliar settings. We point things out to our companions. We exclaim. We notice—and noticing is

being mindful. In formal meditation, the goal of daily practice is simply to observe, without judgment, what happens around us and inside of us. It’s harder to do than it sounds.

We are hardwired from a young age to distinguish good from bad. Our minds are constantly locking onto the past and the future, thinking, worrying, imagining. Just noticing the here and now for any length of time is difficult. Mindfulness practitioners advocate formal, daily meditation practice to reorient our conscious selves to the present moment. One can also use informal or casual awareness techniques, such as counting or noticing one’s hands and feet in action, to take better notice of the present.

PRACTICAL USE

Overlanding often involves navigating remote and challenging environments where things can go wrong unexpectedly—whether it’s getting lost, running low on supplies, or facing sudden weather changes. Mindfulness helps the overlander remain calm, conserve resources, and think clearly under pressure. Instead of succumbing to anxiety or frustration, mindfulness supports the decision-making process by focusing on what can be controlled in the moment.

Mindfulness helps the overlander remain calm, conserve resources, and think clearly under pressure.

It can also enhance the overall experience, fostering a deeper connection with the wilderness. By cultivating mindfulness, overlanders can maintain clarity of thought, reducing the likelihood of making rash decisions and improving their problemsolving abilities in the face of adversity. Moreover, it can help us appreciate the beauty and serenity of nature, promoting a sense of gratitude and resilience. It is a practice that helps adventurers manage their emotions and stay mentally fit, which is essential for both safety and enjoyment in remote travel.

RESOURCES

Mindful Travelling: Journeying the World, Discovering Yourself An insightful book by Sarah Samuel that covers practical mindfulness and growth through travel.

“A Guide to Practicing Mindfulness While Traveling” An online article by Dalton Johnson, with useful tips on integrating mindfulness into overland travel.

The Art of Mindful Walking: Meditations on the Path A book by Adam Ford that discusses mindfulness practices specifically for hikers. Headspace This app offers guided mindfulness exercises to improve focus and mental clarity, useful for overlanders and adventurers.

The Obstacle Is the Way

Rejuvenating our overlanding dream in Montenegro.

By Cliff Fawcett

OUR OVERLANDING ADVENTURE FROM THE UK ACROSS EUROPE and onto the Silk Road began with meticulous planning and high hopes. However, unexpected vehicle issues quickly became a recurring theme that threatened to derail the entire endeavor. We embarked on our journey in a converted Volkswagen Crafter, a vehicle we felt was prepared for the road ahead. Yet, before we even left the well-trodden shores of Italy, it became clear that the conversion was ill-suited for the rigors of overlanding life. More than just a mechanical mismatch, it was holding us back from realizing the dream we had envisioned of visiting those lesser-known, wilder locations.

Faced with the choice of either abandoning our plans or adapting, we chose the latter, reevaluating and reimagining our adventure and the very way we wanted to travel. A whirlwind trip back to the UK ensued, where we traded our van for a vehicle truly up to the challenge: a robust Land Rover Defender that we affectionately named “Sully.”

Setting out for a second time, we were filled with anticipation yet brimming with trepidation. Questions loomed large, and we wondered what we would do if it all went wrong again. Perhaps we weren’t cut out for this, and failure was imminent.

These doubts accompanied us as we ventured forth, and it wasn’t until we traversed the scenic landscapes of Montenegro that we truly began to settle into our new rhythm and rediscover the overlanders in ourselves that we’d dreamt of becoming.

In a pivotal turning point, we started to embrace the unpredictability of the road, approaching our sojourn with renewed vigor. Most importantly, we began to view missteps as serendipitous opportunities for growth rather than setbacks. Without our initial false start, we wouldn’t have such an incredible machine. We wouldn’t have learned invaluable lessons about what we needed from this way of life. And we wouldn’t be here, experiencing the captivating country of Montenegro in this way.

The journey was revealing our capacity to overcome adversity, proving that with determination and flexibility, any obstacle can be an instrument for transformative change. Reflecting on the decisions that brought us here, we felt a sense of triumph. More importantly, we understood that the true teachings of the road and trails extend beyond immediate skills and instead offer profound insights into our identity and philosophy.

Montenegro, with its breathtaking landscapes and untamed beauty, has taught us that adventure is less about what we discover out on the road and more about what it allows us to discover within. Often, the obstacle is, indeed, the way. So, press on.

THE EARLY MORNING SUN GLANCED ACROSS THE ROUGH-HEWN MOUNTAIN LANDSCAPE, ILLUMINATING OUR WAY THROUGH DURMITOR NATIONAL PARK. IT WAS HERE, ON THIS TRACK, THAT WE FELT OUR SENSE OF ADVENTURE REKINDLING.

(OPENING SPREAD)

OVERLANDING ISN’T JUST ABOUT BEING BEHIND THE WHEEL. MOMENTS LIKE THIS HIKE IN PROKLETIJE NATIONAL PARK, STRETCHING OUR EYES ACROSS THE ACCURSED MOUNTAINS INTO ALBANIA, ARE WHY WE TRAVEL.

WE WATCHED THE SUN SLIP AWAY, THE LIGHTS OF KOTOR FLICKERING IN OUR VERY OWN PERFECT SILENT MOVIE.

(OPPOSITE, CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT) A FORGOTTEN TRACK HIGH ABOVE THE HUSTLE AND BUSTLE OF KOTOR HAD NOT A SOUL IN SIGHT, AND WE RESTED IN THE STILLNESS OF THE DAY.

AFTER COURSING THROUGH THE VERY CENTER OF MONTENEGRO IN THE WILDS AND NEVER-ENDING UNDULATING HILLS, A WILD HORSE GRACED US WITH ITS PRESENCE.

BEFORE ARRIVING, WE HAD NO IDEA THE ISLAND OF SVETI STEFAN WAS NOW A PRIVATE HOTEL. WE COULDN’T SET FOOT ON THE ISLAND, BUT NO MATTER—WE RECKON WE GOT THE BEST VIEW.

SETTLING INTO CAMP FOR THE NIGHT INCLUDED TAKING THE TIME TO SOAK UP THE DAY’S ADVENTURE, CONTEMPLATING WITH SATISFACTION THE MANY MORE AHEAD.

A CHURCH NESTLED IN THE ŽABLJAK MUNICIPALITY REARED UNEXPECTEDLY INTO VIEW AS WE NAVIGATED OUR WAY ALONG THE TRANS EURO TRAIL.

IN MONTENEGRO, YOU NEVER SEEM TO BE TOO FAR FROM THE EMBRACE OF THE MOUNTAINS.

SUNRISE SLOWLY OVERTOOK THE CRNOJEVIĆA RIVER, ILLUMINATING ENDLESS POSSIBILITIES FOR THE DAY TO COME.

(OPPOSITE, CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT) THE CRNOJEVIĆA RIVER FLOWS INTO LAKE SKADAR, AND THE “BEND” IS A WELL-KNOWN HOT SPOT THAT TOURISTS ZIP PAST ON THEIR WAY TO PODGORICA. FROM OUR CAMPSITE ABOVE THE HULLABALOO, PEACE AND QUIET REIGNED.

THE JAGGED PEAKS OF THE ACCURSED MOUNTAINS SURROUNDED US, AND UNDERFOOT, THE GOING WAS TOUGH: SCREE-COVERED, STEEP SLOPES TRANSFORMED EVERY STEP INTO ONE OF POTENTIAL PERIL IN THE UNFORGIVING TERRAIN.

WE FELL IN LOVE WITH THIS RIVER CAMP WITH ITS MEANDERING WATER AND SOFT BABBLING TO LULL US TO SLEEP. THE FREE “SHOWERS” WEREN’T BAD EITHER, EVEN IF THE TEMPERATURE WAS A LITTLE BRACING.

PAUSING IN FRONT OF THE RUBBLE TRACK, ALL THAT COULD BE HEARD WAS THE STEADY DIESEL HEARTBEAT OF THE DEFENDER TICKING AWAY, A RHYTHMIC CLATTER HERALDING THE PULSE OF ADVENTURE.

THE ROAD TO NOWHERE? OR THE ROAD TO EXACTLY WHERE YOU’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR? THE LATTER IS WHAT EVERY TRACK IN MONTENEGRO FELT LIKE, NONE MORE SO THAN THIS CARPETED TRAIL HIGH IN BIOGRADSKA.

(OPPOSITE, CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT)

IT WAS DARK, CLOUDY, AND OVERCAST ON THE DAY WE SET OUT AROUND THE CRNO (BLACK) LAKE. BUT THEN A BREAK IN THE CLOUDS AND A RAY OF SUNSHINE ARRIVED TO LIFT OUR SPIRITS.

BIOGRADSKA GORA NATIONAL PARK WILL BE FOREVER ETCHED INTO OUR HEARTS, WITH ITS ENDLESS HILLS TO EXPLORE IN SOLITUDE. IN ITS SILENCE, WE FELT A SHIFT AND SETTLED FURTHER INTO THIS FREE WAY OF LIVING.

THE ĐURĐEVIĆA TARA BRIDGE IS ONE OF THOSE PLACES IN THE WORLD WHERE HUMAN ENGINEERING MEETS NATURAL BEAUTY IN A BREATHTAKING SYMBIOSIS.

BACKGAMMON IS OUR FAVORITE GAME AND OVERLANDING PASTIME. IT TAKES UP WAY TOO MUCH ROOM IN THE LAND ROVER, BUT IT’S HERE TO STAY.

AN EARLY-MORNING WAKE-UP CALL ENSURED THAT CRNO LAKE WAS DEVOID OF THE CROWDS THAT ARRIVE WHEN THE SUN IS TOO HIGH IN THE SKY.

HIDDEN AWAY IN THE MRTVICA CANYON, OVER MOSS-COVERED ROCKS AND ILL-SIGNPOSTED FROM THE MAIN TRACK, KAPIJA ŽELJA (GATE OF WISHES) CONJURES UP A MYSTICAL FOREST ATMOSPHERE FULL OF PIXIES AND SPRITES.

MONTENEGRO STOLE OUR HEARTS AND PUT ITS FINGER ON THE SENSE OF ADVENTURE WE’VE ALWAYS CRAVED. ONWARD, AND ONTO THE NEXT HORIZON.

(OPPOSITE, CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT) CAMP SPOTS DON’T GET MUCH MORE EPIC THAN THIS ONE IN FRONT OF SEDLO PASS (THE SADDLE) IN DURMITOR NATIONAL PARK. WAS IT COLD? YES. WAS IT WINDY? YES. DID THE RAIN THREATEN HOURLY? YES. WOULD WE CHANGE ANY OF IT? ABSOLUTELY NOT.

THE HIKES IN MONTENEGRO HAVE YOU WALKING ON THE SHEEREST OF RIDGES, LIKE THOSE ON THE FLANKS OF PRUTAŠ IN DURMITOR. WATCHING YOUR STEP IS A MANDATORY EXERCISE IN CAUTION.

WHAT GOES UP MUST COME DOWN. WE BECAME ALL TOO FAMILIAR WITH THE CLASSIC HAIRPIN TURN IN MONTENEGRO. NOT QUITE MAKING IT WOULD RESULT IN RESORTING TO HARROWING 3-POINT TURNS TO GET DOWN THE MOUNTAINSIDE.

HAVING NOT TIRED OF THE VIEW OF THE SADDLE, WE DISCOVERED A NEW PERSPECTIVE OF THIS ONE-OF-A-KIND PEAK WHILE IN SEARCH OF THE PERFECT SHOT TO CAPTURE DURMITOR’S BEAUTY.

Why is Adventure Necessary?

Six sets of overlanders examine what satisfies their fernweh (farsickness), the deep longing to visit places you’ve never been.

By David Harden

J.R.R.

Tolkien’s The Hobbit or There and Back Again, the beloved, epic children’s fantasy tale of overland travel—by horse, boat, and barrel—is one of the bestselling books of all time. The story begins with Gandalf cajoling Bilbo the hobbit to share in a grand adventure to help a company of dwarves reclaim their lost home from a sinister dragon.

Bilbo was comfortable at home living a mundane existence in the bucolic Shire, yet a powerful, emotive feeling stirred deeply within his heart. Although he knows the quest will be challenging and potentially dangerous, any insecurity or anxiety he feels about leaving home is outweighed by the ineludible call of adventure.

Gandalf sees untapped potential in Bilbo and shrewdly understands that the journey, far more than the destination, can have a profound, transformative effect on the traveler. The same principle applies to us as overlanders.

THE SCIENCE

When I first found out about the Overland Bound community, I was intrigued by their slogan, “Adventure is Necessary.” Its founder, Michael Murguia, coined it as he pursued overlanding as a coping mechanism against personal adversity. To him, his Toyota Land Cruiser is not just a car. It is a means to an end. As overlanding enthusiasts, we instinctively accept Michael’s motto as an axiom.

As it turns out, the sentiment has scientific evidence to back it up. Dr. Mike Rucker, PhD, an organizational psychologist and behavioral scientist who has studied modern approaches to the pursuit of happiness, asserts that adventure plays an intrinsically important role in our welfare. “In a world that often confines us within the boundaries of routine and familiarity, inviting in adventure can be a powerful catalyst for growth and well-being.” Pursuing it, he declares, is uniquely suited to helping us build resilience and adaptability to the vicissitudes of life.

One of Rucker’s findings is intuitively clear: the most enriching experiences naturally “flow from a combination of high effort and high enjoyment.” For overlanders, it means presenting ourselves with activities that require physical or mental stretching, such as cultivating a skill, navigating to an unknown destination, or experiencing a new culture and language. Rucker avers that a person who views an unforeseen obstacle as something to overcome—rather than avoid—will develop enhanced self-awareness and confidence.

In a 2016 study, Mutz and Müller observed teenagers on a nine-day hiking trip across the Alps in Germany, Austria, and Italy, followed by university students on an eight-day remote wilderness excursion in Norway’s Hardangervidda. Although removed from their comfort zones and challenged physically and psychologically, the participants universally reported a sig-

A BODY OF SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH CONFIRMS THAT PARTICIPATION IN ADVENTURE RECREATION ENHANCES RESILIENCE AND STIMULATES ADAPTABILITY TO CHANGE, UNCERTAINTY, EMOTIONAL REGULATION, AND PROBLEM-SOLVING UNDER PRESSURE.

nificant increase in satisfaction, happiness, mindfulness, and self-efficacy compared to a control group that stayed at home.

Moreover, during the coronavirus pandemic, many were trapped in their homes under draconian lockdowns. Several studies conducted during this period demonstrate that individuals who engaged in adventurous activities exhibited a unique hardiness compared with those who lacked such experiences. A 2022 study by Boudreau, Mackenzie, and Hodge demonstrates that, despite the pandemic’s negative impact, individuals with adventure-based mindsets were better postured to weather adversity. They reported feeling less overwhelmed by anxiety and depression and more able to maintain a healthy perspective and eudaimonic well-being.

Overall, a body of scientific research confirms that participation in adventure recreation enhances resilience and stimulates adaptability to change, uncertainty, emotional regulation, and problem-solving under pressure.

What follows are the viewpoints of six overlanders who share what satisfies their fernweh (pronounced “fern-vay”). Regardless of nationality, culture, vehicle preference, or choice of companion(s), there are common threads in each of their stories. Not only do they confirm the results of scientific research, but they also illustrate that adventure can even be necessary to achieving selfactualization.

Bilbo was not the same hobbit when he returned to the Shire. He was seasoned, more confident, and enriched with wisdom and memories. He developed valuable skills and uncovered hidden strengths. So, if you have intense longing for far-flung locales while looking out the office window, stop waiting. Get out there and slay your dragon. Go claim your “there and back again.”

Steph Devery never tires of building her little home in wild places, like this one in Tanzania. | Opening page: Birgit and Klemens roamed around Volcán Parinacota along the Chilean-Bolivian frontier.

Clockwise from top left: Relentless curiosity has led me to the untouched corners of five continents, such as this isolated stretch in Bolivia. | At Zambia’s Lumangwe Falls, getting too close to the edge has become a bad habit. | Some of my strongest memories are of wild campsites in stunning locations like Bolivia’s Isla Incahuasi. | Touring my homeland of Australia after 20 years away was a dream come true. | It was difficult not to pretend to be Indiana Jones while exploring Sudan’s Nubian pyramids. | Everywhere I’ve been—like in Congo—children are curious and friendly, and I love making them laugh.

DAN GREC

One of the first things you notice about Dan is that his eyes always seem to light up when he speaks to adventure; you can immediately tell that his countenance reflects a man who has found happiness. As an Australian global traveler, he has toured 56 countries over seven years (and counting). In that time, he completed the Pan-American Highway (two years), circumnavigated Africa (three years), and overcame the “big lap” of Australia (one and a half years)—all in various Jeeps. But he wasn’t always content with the course of his life.

Several years ago, he grew tired of toiling for five days a week in his office job as a software engineer just to get a short weekend of freedom. One day, it suddenly occurred to him that he was working more than living. A brief stint at a Lake Tahoe ski resort exposed him to people who put experiences first over work, which planted the notion that one doesn’t have to remain chained to a desk until retirement. To escape this psychological cul-de-sac, he decided to save as much money as possible to facilitate living his dreams.

To fund his lifestyle as a full-time overlander, Dan aggressively cut costs wherever he could, including eating simple meals and eschewing restaurants, the internet, and cell phone service. He even rode a bike to work until his savings account could fuel his dream. “I learned very quickly that a few years of saving money could buy me years of freedom” for a “continental-scale adventure.” The reward for his tenacious parsimony, he affirms, “is always worth it.”

I asked Dan about the source of his motivation to give up the comforts and security of modern life, outfit a vehicle, and hit the open road in a foreign land. “[Since I quit my job,] I have tried my best to live a life of adventure that makes me feel truly alive and keeps me engaged and excited for each new day.” He explains that while his years of traveling have been the most fulfilling so far, they have also been the most challenging. However, he muses, “I have always thought there is a strong connection between effort and reward.”

An example of this is his summiting of Ecuador’s Cotopaxi Volcano while following the Pan-American Highway. His first foray into mountaineering, he found the climb, elevation, and associated hazards to be mentally and physically exhausting. Reflecting on his experience, he admits that it was the most difficult thing he had ever done. However, he adds, “The [sunrise] view from the top was possibly the most beautiful I have ever seen in my life and without a doubt, it was the single most rewarding thing I have ever done.”

“For me, it’s all a matter of perspective,” he declares. “I find uncertainties and challenges are what make life interesting and

exciting, lest it be predictable and monotonous.” For Dan, learning foreign languages, eating exotic food (his all-time favorite hobby), and exploring the beauty of our planet are some significant things that make everything worthwhile.

As an analytical person, he knows the value critical thinking and proper preparation play in any successful endeavor, where one carefully weighs one’s options and likely outcomes. However, in Africa, he discovered that the perceived risks of overland travel, while they do exist, “are severely overblown, and the reality on the ground is vastly different than what we’re told to expect.”

“For me, it’s all a matter of perspective,” he declares. “I find uncertainties and challenges are what make life interesting and exciting, lest it be predictable and monotonous.”

Even after years of pre-trip research and engaging with practiced travelers, he was still surprised to find that all around the continent, people were friendly, welcoming, and generous. Even after rolling into villages after sunset, locals would repeatedly shake his hand, introduce him to their chief, give him food and water, and offer him a place to camp. Although Africa is filled with fascinating wildlife and stunning geography, it is the warmth and kindness of the people that left a permanent impression on him.

Dan’s story thoroughly resonates with me because I am where he was many years ago. Not being shackled to a desk and having time to do what brings one joy is both empowering and liberating. In Australia, he drove the legendary 1,850-kilometer Canning Stock Route over thousands of red sand dunes and dry salt lakes across the Outback. One of the world’s most demanding and remote 4WD tracks, its “crushingly strong” sense of isolation meant that personal skill and self-reliance come at a premium. Yet his feeling of accomplishment was magnified because his dad was able to join him, the first time a family member had gone with him on an expedition.

Dan observes that leaving normal life behind is often referred to as “taking the leap,” implying a reckless cliff dive without hope of return. “I don’t think this is a useful way to look at it, because it induces all kinds of anxiety when a person thinks they can never go back,” Dan asserts. He undertook his first major expedition knowing that he could stop whenever he wanted and return to where he left off. “[Having a] backup plan actually gave me a lot of confidence to keep going. I feel very strongly that attempting to do something very ambitious and not succeeding is not failure. Failure is when you don’t even try.”

from top left: We couldn’t help but feel small as the clouds revealed the majestic Salmon Glacier in British Columbia. | Taking our “G” for a spin through the Dunas de Tatón in northern Argentina. | Shenanigans in front of our favorite view of Patagonia, the incredible skyline of El Chaltén, Argentina. | This muddy track through Patagonia’s backcountry led to a solitary camp spot. | Ice climbing during the endless Tierra del Fuego sunsets near Ushuaia, Argentina, combines two of our favorite things. Photography by Birgit Fuchs and Klemens Holzleitner

BIRGIT FUCHS AND KLEMENS HOLZLEITNER

If you have ever been to Austria, you know it is an outdoor Wunderland. Snow-capped peaks tower majestically over every charming alpine village. To say Birgit and Klemens are high adventurers is an understatement. They embrace doing what one expects from adventurous Austrians: skiing, mountain biking, backpacking, hiking, and mountaineering. I didn’t ask about yodeling, though. The Alps have abundant opportunities for adventure, but the fact that they left such a beautiful place to explore the rest of the world says a lot about them.

They set out in a Fiat Panda 4x4, driving the Silk Road from Austria to Iran, through the Caucasus, then north around the Caspian Sea to Kyrgyzstan and back. Once at home, they found their current vehicle, a 1998 Puch G—known in most markets as the Mercedes-Benz Geländewagen—to be better suited for long-term overland travel. After a full, frame-off restoration of this former Austrian Army vehicle, followed by a conversion from a cabriolet pickup to a live-in camper, they were ready to tackle the Pan-American Highway.

Quitting their jobs, they left the romantic charm of the Alps and spent three years exploring the rugged beauty of the Andes on an open-ended journey. Birgit and Klemens relish the fact that full-time overlanding allows them to embrace spontaneity and to linger in places for as long as they want. Case in point, when they got to Colombia, they just kept driving north until the Arctic Ocean got in their way.

The pair love combining their zest for life with mountaineering. “We have seen many fascinating landscapes—deserts, ice, oceans, and steppes. But it is the mountains that always magically attract us, where we feel most comfortable and at the same time most alive,” they explain. During the segment from Ushuaia to Prudhoe Bay and Tuktoyaktuk, they summited at least 20 mountains and volcanoes, including Grand Teton (13,775 feet), Nevado Pisco (18,871 feet), and Cotopaxi (19,393 feet). Unfortunately, dangerously high winds doomed their final ascent of Chimborazo Volcano (20,702 feet).

In addition, they went whitewater rafting and traversed several glaciers while bouldering from peak to peak. There is a saying that the hardest climbs yield the best views. Judging from their experiences, they have seen the most beautiful parts of North and South America.

Birgit and Klemens savor each moment, with the ever-present goal of being present and mindful, something that is often hard to achieve in our frenetic, modern society. Rather than watching the years slip away without experiencing anything new, their active unveiling of the world’s beauty, people, and cultures has enriched their lives. Birgit sums up their motivation

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nicely: “I believe that when we’re old, we won’t regret not spending another year at work. Instead, we’ll cherish the memories of the adventures we had.”

While they admit that a simple vehicle setup is all one needs to overland the world, they enjoyed building their home on wheels. Their Puch G’s capability has allowed them to go far off the beaten track to isolated villages, secluded beaches, and rugged scenery that most tourists don’t see. As adventure seekers, they are not prone to shying away from a muddy road, especially if followed by a good water crossing. Birgit and Klemens are convinced that in order to discover more of a country, one must take the road less traveled, even a rough one with an unknown destination. “Life is better off-road. When ordinary life doesn’t interest you anymore, get yourself a 4x4. Fun begins where the good roads end.”

“I believe that when we’re old, we won’t regret not spending another year at work. Instead, we’ll cherish the memories of the adventures we had.”

Driven by curiosity while exploring a valley in Patagonia, they trundled down a bumpy, narrow road unmarked on their map. Despite being riddled with rocks, roots, low-hanging branches, and muddy patches, they suddenly emerged on an isolated beach along a crystal-clear lake. They set up camp, grilled dinner, and went for a polar plunge. The serendipitous beauty of that day, with its solitary camp on a sandy beach, private blue lake, and warm campfire—realized by that obscure 4WD trail—manifested “pure freedom” for them.

When asked about the dangers of their preferred lifestyle, they responded that pitfalls are inherent to life. They affirm that alpine sports enthusiasts are keenly aware of risk management, so their approach to adventure travel is “merely exchanging one set of uncertainties for another.” Conversely, by staying home, they would risk living unfulfilled lives with unrealized dreams. As I ponder that forlorn notion, they elaborate that adventure calls to them because it promises a more enriched life. Though a significant understatement, it’s clear Birgit and Klemens have achieved exactly that.

Clockwise from top left: Getting stuck in what turned out to be a sand-covered salt pan in Iona National Park, Angola. | We crossed the highlands between Nigeria and Cameroon, hoping to outrun the onset of the rainy season. | Once again, Tobias replaces the brake vacuum pump on the 300TDI Defender. | Winding our way through the dense jungle of the Republic of Côte d’Ivoire in search of a better view. | Manon welcomes a stationary day in Senegal to edit an issue of Ubuntu Magazine. | Mauritania’s otherworldly landscape offered a striking place to make camp. Photography by Tobias van Krieken and Manon Verijdt

TOBIAS VAN KRIEKEN AND MANON VERIJDT

Everyone who has been to Africa knows that it is a wild, exotic, eye-opening, and exciting place. Its people, cultures, geography, and wildlife give it a magical draw that hooks travelers into wanting more. When Tobias wanted to go to South America, Manon persuaded him to consider Africa. They initially agreed to spend one year exploring together. But in that time, they became a couple and have now spent more than two years traveling the continent.

When they reached Africa’s southern tip, Tobias completed his goal of driving Cape to Cape—from Nordkapp, Norway, to Cape Agulhas, South Africa—the entire long-axis of the Eastern Hemisphere. Along the way, they have found locals to be very hospitable, authentic, and welcoming, especially in Zambia. They are currently rolling up the East Coast to Kenya and beyond.

For these two Dutch folks who broke free from their enervating 9 to 5 jobs, full-time travel has become their modus operandi. For Manon, fernweh set in at the age of seven, following a family trip to Canada. Today, her motivation for pursuing adventure is the “unknown reward after pulling [my]self out of [my] comfort zone” to experience things she couldn’t at home, such as engaging with Africa’s people—often without Google Translate—and seeing its megafauna in their natural habitat. For Tobias, adventure is necessary because its challenges light the spark of his curiosity and help him escape the ordinary, despite when the going gets tough. Wanting to get the maximum out of life, Tobias adds, “If the only amazing things to look back on are three-week summer holidays, that means I kind of wasted the other weeks of every year.”

Overlanding Africa has afforded Manon the unique opportunity to combine travel with her devotion to conservation. Their slow pace has given her, the founder and CEO of Ubuntu Magazine—a publication dedicated to global nature conservation—time to visit wildlife conservation organizations, learn about the challenges affecting the continent, and impart her findings to her audience. As chief digital officer, Tobias develops and maintains the magazine’s digital infrastructure. Sometimes, they will linger in bush camps for days, set up Starlink, fire up a laptop, and catch up on their writing, documenting their days in e-book form. Now, that is my kind of office.

As evening draws near, they will occasionally relax with a game of Yahtzee by lantern light. It isn’t all fun and games, however, as the maintenance demands of a 25-year-old Land Rover Defender on Africa’s corrugated roads necessitate periodic down days. Preferring to do most of the work on “Rafiki” (Swahili for “friend”) himself, Tobias knows that mechanical sympathy, wrench turning, and Loctite are part of the experi-

ence. He does a great job, and their home/office-on-wheels looks like a quintessential African adventure vehicle that blends into the sub-Saharan landscape.

Through their activities, they have overcome obstacles and developed skills that foster self-efficacy and trust in one other. Adopting the practice of treating each other to experiences rather than gifts on their birthdays, Manon took Tobias to the highest single-drop commercial rappelling location in the world, off Lesotho’s Maletsunyane Falls, at an insane height of 630+ feet. In addition, they are fond of narrow, dusty roads because they lead to new scenery, unknown destinations, and exciting opportunities to be self-reliant in the wild. Famed naturalist John Muir once said, “Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.” As biologists, they live by this admonition. “Tracks instead of tarmac,” as they phrase it, lead them to the most beautiful and unexpected places where they can immerse themselves in the solitude of nature.

“A life should be full of beautiful and interesting memories that stick with you for the rest of time,”

“It’s often that these little tracks bring you the most rewards,” they observe. Such backroads have led them to coconut palm groves, bamboo forests, majestic canyons, dry riverbeds, verdant grasslands, giant sand dunes, and lush, desert oases. As a result, their campsites have been stunningly unforgettable, sometimes accompanied by gracious tribal elders, curious villagers, trumpeting elephants, wandering giraffes, cackling hyenas, and occasionally, cheeky monkeys. At other times, they are completely alone apart from the melodious warbling of songbirds or the droning of cicadas.

Tobias and Manon are not shy about portraying the less glamorous side of overlanding, such as breaking down in the jungle in Gabon or encountering quicksand in Angola. After all, Yvon Chouinard once said, “It’s not an adventure until something goes wrong.” One of their most cherished stories concerns a tense situation in Nigeria when an axle of their friends’ vehicle broke and a replacement was difficult to source. However, while exhausted from the ordeal, they knew that “anything that comes [their] way can become an incredibly positive memory” and that going the extra mile can create everlasting friendships. They discovered that strangers will often go out of their way to help a distressed traveler. “A life should be full of beautiful and interesting memories that stick with you for the rest of time,” Tobias sagely muses. I don’t think they have anything to worry about on that front.

STEPH DEVERY

Transcontinental travel by motorized vehicle is an outstanding and unforgettable achievement, but doing so on a bicycle is next-level. Powered only by the speed of one’s quadriceps, lung strength, and mental fortitude, a cyclist encounters all the sights, smells, sounds, and weather on a far more intimate level. As a solo cyclist, Steph has endured daily battles with hunger, thirst, fatigue, rugged terrain, fierce wind, rain, maintenance issues, and scorching heat—almost certainly more than any petrol- or diesel-powered overlander. Despite this, or because of it, a thrilling sense of accomplishment courses through her veins.

As a road cycling enthusiast, I find Steph’s story very compelling. After a long time staring at Africa on a world map and quitting her London paramedic job, she cycled solo over 340 days from Sweden to the Middle East and onward to South Africa, pedaling 21,600 kilometers through 40 countries. She spent 85 percent of her nights wild camping after achieving an average of about 80 kilometers per day. However, her longest day in the saddle was 170 kilometers in Botswana, slightly longer than the average stage length of the 2025 Tour de France. From rafting the Class V rapids of the Zambezi River to being awoken at 2:00 a.m. in Tanzania by the sound of lions lurking in camp, Steph has had many high-adrenaline moments. In Namibia, she muscled up the steep Spreetshoogte Pass, making camp high above the surrounding terrain, ending the day with an exultant dance over the mesmerizing vista that “set her soul on fire.” While pedaling through the Namib Desert’s stunning, endless expanse, she hit the 20,000-kilometer mark on her expedition, and still managed to celebrate the moment in spite of her exhaustion.

However, a core component of Steph’s adventure is the lifechanging experiences she had at the hands of compassionate strangers. While “bebopping” down the road in Saudi Arabia, Saudis continually stopped her and loaded her up with snacks and water, some even scooping her up to join them on family picnics. Moreover, as civil war engulfed Sudan, Steph found it difficult to find wild campsites before locals invited her to stay with them. After 10 days under a family’s protective care, where she found support and joy amidst devastating conflict, she was evacuated—although without her bike, “Cliffy,” by two courageous strangers and the French Air Force to Djibouti. Furthermore, feeling depleted after a tough day in Malawi, a father and son hosted her with the best meal she had had in weeks. Finally, while sweating down one of Namibia’s most beautiful, remote roads, she was stopped by a South African woman driving an overland-built Land Cruiser. This “trail

@STEPHDEVERY

mum” practically forced Steph to drink cold water and eat fruit, and even offered her a farm stay to recuperate once she made it to the Western Cape. An astute observation from anthropologist Miriam Adeney sums up Steph’s experiences with erudite precision: “You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.”

“I have met my best friends, found a community, and experienced huge amounts of personal growth.”

Steph says adventure is important to her because of the direction, happiness, and excitement it brings her. “I have met my best friends, found a community, and experienced huge amounts of personal growth.” She undertook her epic journey because she wanted to find the “rawness of life and the vulnerability of complete solo travel” without the safety net of short-term travel. The result, she reflects, is that she learned so much more about herself, connected with great people, and gained an unbiased perspective on the world around her.

With her first trip complete, she recalls that the risks and uncertainties seemed much larger in the beginning. Once underway, she states, you gain more confidence in yourself and consequently, the uncertainties shrink and the risks become easier to manage. Over the many days and miles, she ascertained that “a lot of [our] trepidation comes from misunderstanding the area or culture.” Therefore, after a brief winter respite in Canada, Steph is again responding to fernweh’s ineluctable siren call with another endurance cycling marathon, this time to the Fin del Mundo. Undoubtedly, South America will offer even more to her path of self-discovery.

YOLO FAMILY VANS

Juve Naing and Margie Maglanque, along with their two children, Zara (16) and Max (14), are a Canadian family of four exploring the world in their custom-built 4WD MercedesBenz Sprinter, which Zara and Max nicknamed “YOLO,” as in “You only live once.” So far, they have visited five continents and over 40 countries. Their fernweh for international overlanding began in 2019.

Caught in the tedious, circular rat race of work, traffic, and endless errands with very little quality time with their children, Juve and Margie were ready for a change. Having partaken in short, family camping escapades, they decided that embarking on a multi-year overlanding trip would give them more flexibility, freedom, and opportunities to bond as a family through wholesome recreational activities. “Yes, we need[ed] to sacrifice a lot to live this lifestyle, but the rewards are truly worth it.”

To realize their dream, they outfitted their Sprinter for sustained, off-grid travels and embarked on a two-year trip that would forever change their lives. They explored North America and Europe, eventually reaching North Africa. Following that first trip, they founded YOLO Family Vans to pass on their experiences and knowledge of living on the road to others, building fully equipped expedition vehicles for transcontinental adventure travel. Their website states they offer everything you need for the long, open road, except your clothing. They provide multi-directional, tilting solar panels—no more manually rotating them with the sun—and a host of other practical and functional systems to maximize efficiency and passenger comfort.

During their time spent at home equipping others, they yearned to travel more. Putting everything on hold in mid2023, they hit the road again, this time with a new Sprinter— nicknamed “LIFE” (“Live it fully, everyone”)—heading south along the Pan-American Highway. The hunger for shared adventure has become a core theme for their daily lives. It is not hard to understand why.

In Nicaragua, they discovered night diving illuminated by bioluminescent plankton, the “aurora of the sea.” They went ziplining in the jungle canopy and hit “ludicrous speed,” sledding down the lunar surface of the Cerro Negro volcano. In Guatemala, Zara threw caution to the wind and jumped off a 50-foot cliff into Lake Atitlán. They have explored Mayan ruins in Mexico and soared over Colombia’s verdant mountains in powered paragliders. And at the end of the day, many of their campsites have been gloriously superlative, such as coastal views of the Sea of Cortez in Baja California, or on lush, palm-strewn beaches and serene lakes in Costa Rica.

When asked about their best moments, the otherwise unified family went in very different directions. Juve favored off-

@YOLO_FAMILY_VANS

road driving in the remote corners of Albania in search of hot springs, while Margie was enthralled with the high-elevation hiking with Zara around the rim of the magnificent Laguna Quilotoa in Ecuador. Considered one of the best multi-day trekking routes in South America, the hike has an elevation of 12,844 feet with sweeping views of the azure-colored caldera lake. Meanwhile, Zara said that soaking in the secluded, tropical beauty of the Corn Islands off Nicaragua’s Caribbean coast was her favorite pastime. Finally, Max said his up-close interactions with the wildlife in the Galápagos Islands, both on land and underwater, were his highlights.

Adventure is important to Zara and Max because they can interact with the world firsthand, celebrating its diverse cultures, in a way that’s impossible with textbooks back home. What motivates them most as full-time overlanders is having quality time as a family, because that is their most valuable resource. “Our parents [told us] how busy life will become as we all get older, and therefore the loss of time together will grow exponentially.” Being “van-schooled” on the road, their global travels have provided them with first-person, educational enrichment and enlightened their minds to the world’s fascinating cultural and linguistic diversity.

“Yes, we need[ed] to sacrifice a lot to live this lifestyle, but the rewards are truly worth it.”

Fine-tuning the roles of self-reliance, Zara’s job is finding potable water, while Max’s is navigation and keeping the family on the right track. That includes finding great places to eat to keep morale high. Together, they have a rough plan of where they want to go, and there are times when they end up visiting places they had not planned to see, but often those days are better than what they envisioned. After all, as author Douglas Adams once said, “I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”

Juve and Margie are leading their children to “explore challenging destinations, immersing [them]selves in diverse cultures, environments, and languages while traveling together.” They describe themselves as “a family united by the desire to forge unforgettable memories.” Long after Zara and Max have grown up and have families of their own, they will be sharing thrilling campfire stories for decades to come.

from

an enigmatic

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business in Morocco’s

| After this bike drop in Mongolia, we asked ourselves how many we could take before losing it. | The

is

into green as we roll south across Senegal’s northern plains. | Battling oppressive heat and exhaustion, we paused in amazement as the Sahara swallowed our route through Mauritania. Photography by

LAVINYA SCHOLL AND OLIVER GAMBLIN

After backpacking 3,000 kilometers across New Zealand, Lavi (from Germany) and Ollie (from England) developed a passion for long-distance adventure travel and the freedom of wild camping. When they decided to travel around the world, they agreed that the most economical method was by bicycle. So, for proof of concept, they rode the 2,000-kilometer-long axis of Great Britain on £100 bicycles. After determining that this was neither a comfortable nor desirable endeavor for them, they converted an old Peugeot Expert microvan and roamed across Europe for two years.

Returning to two wheels, the couple began a 589-day pursuit to set a new Guinness World Record as the youngest pair to circumnavigate the globe by motorcycle (riding pillion). That record-setting journey of 75,164 kilometers through 39 countries on five continents would become the adventure of their lives. Ollie says that travel by motorcycle kept him connected to the road, what he calls the “heartbeat of the world … when we embrace the rhythm of the road, we are not only travelers but storytellers, listening to what the world has to say.” With their Suzuki V-Strom 1050XT, nicknamed “Bumblebee,” as their trusty steed—or perhaps stethoscope—they set out to experience the pulse of the planet.

After an ignominious start in England (unaccustomed to the moto’s expedition weight, Ollie fell over in the dealer parking lot), they traveled through beautiful France and Spain. Morocco, however, was one of their favorite countries to ride through. Not even being enveloped by a sandstorm in Erg Chebbi could dampen their spirits. Continuing down Africa’s northwest coast through Mauritania, they arrived in Senegal, where they loaded Bumblebee onto a container for Rio de Janeiro. Once reunited with their moto, they ventured south to Ushuaia, Argentina. Heading north, they wove through South America’s vibrant landscapes to Colombia.

After shipping Bumblebee by air over the perilous Darién Gap, they commenced their North American leg, eventually cruising their way up the scenic Pacific Coast of the United States to Vancouver, Canada. From there, they airlifted their motorbike to South Korea. After a ferry ride to Vladivostok, Russia, the pair turned west across the untamed vastness of Asia. Rumbling through Mongolia’s spectacular geography, Lavi and Ollie found its terrain the most arduous they had ever experienced. Consequently, they dropped the bike many times, and Ollie broke a rib.

Undeterred, and supported by the generosity of strangers, they pressed on through the steppes of Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan and sailed across the Caspian Sea to the Caucasus. After crossing the Bosphorus Strait back into Europe, the duo rounded the Arc de Triomphe in Paris before triumphantly skidding

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to a halt in front of London’s Ace Café—the petrolhead restaurant they started from—and into the record books.

Journalist William Langewiesche once declared, “So much of who we are is where we have been.” That is certainly true of Lavi and Ollie. In fact, Ollie said South America left its mark on him. They motored through thunderstorms and blizzards high in the Andes while suffering from altitude sickness. And yet, despite the adversities, they consider their time in Chile and Peru a significant, global highlight.

“You are opening your mind and learning new skills, new information about the world, which in turn changes your mindset and the way you live your everyday life.”

For Lavi, hiking up to Machu Picchu is part of the reason. In addition, while on the Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia, they chanced upon Bridget McCutchen, who later became the youngest solo person to circumnavigate the world by motorcycle. Another unique memory was watching orcas hunt penguins off the isolated coast of Tierra del Fuego. Perhaps the most indelible experience, however, was not in South America at all. During a brief sojourn in Las Vegas, Lavi and Ollie got married by “Elvis.”

For them, traveling is about being present in the moment and expanding one’s mental and physical horizons. “When you embark upon adventure, you are growing,” they observe. “You are opening your mind and learning new skills, new information about the world, which in turn changes your mindset and the way you live your everyday life.” Such a sentiment is summarized by the maxim that four-wheel-drive adventurer Clay Croft has adopted in recent years, that “adventure is the pursuit of oneself.” Indeed, Lavi and Ollie realize that it can even make you a better person.

Attempting a grand, global venture such as theirs is not without some risk and uncertainty. When the couple set out, they didn’t think they would make it all the way. Early on, every section of rough terrain threw them into the dirt. However, they refused to let setbacks, doubt, or anxiety deter them, because “most things we worry about don’t happen anyway.” Instead, they strove to go as far as possible and ended up going all the way around the world.

Lavi and Ollie’s lifestyle is a gift that keeps on giving. As they discovered the psychological benefits of pushing themselves out of their comfort zones, where some of the best stories and personal growth can be found, they have relished their improved sense of mental well-being. The addictive thrill of overcoming hurdles and achieving one’s lofty goals is what motivates them to continue exploring. Predictably, their increased self-confidence is fueling their intrepid spirit for another round of engine-revving travels. But Lavi won’t be riding pillion this time.

Ten Things to Know About

Overlanding Greece

A diverse country that expands far beyond its famed islands and coastline.

By Ashley Giordano

from top left: Legend says the Dimitrios broke free from its anchor during rough weather in 1981, sailing like a ghost ship through the Laconian Gulf. | If you don’t mind cooler temperatures, off-season brings a quiet calm to Greek beaches. | While visitors came and went during the day, we mostly had the place to ourselves (38°21′03.1″N, 22°37′49.8″E). | Although chilly, winter camping in Greece remains delightful. | Opposite: Over 800 steps lead to Nafplio’s Palamidi Fortress, an exquisite example of 18th-century Venetian architecture. | Opening page: The only way to cool off at this wild camp was to swim in the bay off the Gulf of Corinth multiple times per day.

Onthe busy streets of Xanthi, I spot a tiny lobster. She’s swinging an air lasso to “Gangnam Style” as bass pumps through a gargantuan roadside speaker. Located in northern Greece, the city of Xanthi hosts some of the most popular Apokries events in the country, which celebrate the festive season preceding Lent with masquerades, parades, and plenty of opportunities to eat, drink, and dance. The tiny lobster was, in fact, a costumed Grecian girl taking part in the children’s parade. I later saw her gathered with friends, enjoying a paper tray of loukoumades, sticky bite-sized donut balls topped with sprinkles—the perfect carnival treat.

From the confetti to the green spray paint that stained my boots, the pirates, butterflies, and rhinestoned faces, I reflected on the morning’s chilly end-of-February parade. The playful spirit was contagious, so we stayed a while, parking up at a bar to enjoy a hot, frothy cappuccino. Our time in-country was quickly coming to an end, and, arriving in low season, it was a humbling reminder that idyllic white sand beach and blue water Santorini images are merely a small fraction of what this country has to offer. From its ski hills to toll roads, freddo espressos, and mountainous peninsulas, here are 10 things to know about overlanding Greece.

A FEW HELPFUL PHRASES TO GET YOU STARTED

Although English is widely spoken, it is considerate to begin with a few Greek phrases.

Hello: Yassas

Good day: Kaliméra (ka-lee-mera)

Thank you: Efharistó (ef-kha-ri-stoh)

YES, IT CAN SNOW IN GREECE

Home to 25 ski resorts, Greece receives snowfall between November and April, with the northern regions receiving the brunt of it. Parked at the Ziria Ski Center, we watched skiers and snowboarders cruise up the mountain’s only lift, taking in unobstructed views of the Megali and Mikri Ziria peaks, which top out at over 2,000 meters. Sledding and snowmobile rides were in full swing, but quieted down during our sub-zero night camped in a nearby valley. The nice thing about snow in Greece is that if you want to avoid it, in many areas, you can.

VISIT IN THE SHOULDER SEASONS (BUT DON’T RULE OUT LOW SEASON)

Greece has a Mediterranean climate characterized by hot, dry summers; mild, wet winters in the southern lowland and island regions; and cold winters with snow in the mountainous areas (as mentioned above). Spring and autumn offer the best combination of warm temperatures and quiet beach days. Winter months (November to March) bring both pros and cons, as the weather ranges greatly from T-shirt-appropriate to thunderstorms, days of rain, and potential flooding in some areas. This is the quietest time to travel through the country, but for some, it can be too quiet, with restaurants and shops closed for the season and islands amidst their winter slumber. For those who don’t mind the quiet, off-season brings 50 percent dis-

counts at many archaeological sites and empty camp spots, snow pursuits, and cozy café visits.

EIGHTY PERCENT OF GREECE IS MOUNTAINOUS

It may come as a surprise that Greece, celebrated for its islands and coastline, is also one of the most mountainous countries in Europe. Recognized in Greek mythology as the official home of the gods, Mount Olympus is perhaps the most iconic peak in the country, topping out at over 9,500 feet of elevation. Meanwhile, extending from the Albanian border and stretching southeast into central Greece, down the Peloponnese peninsula, and throughout Crete, the Pindus mountain range is often referred to as the country’s “backbone” or “spine.” Much of Greece’s coastline, especially on the Peloponnese peninsula, is characterized by a thin strip of beach backed by towering ridges filled with cypress and pine.

from top

isn’t the most easily accessible for overlanders, but there are several non-glamorous parking options within striking distance

| You know it’s going to be good when there’s no English menu. Pork and fries at the Pegasus Tavern in

| Winter months at the Acropolis mean fewer people, a reduced risk of sunburn, and half-price entry tickets. | The perfect blend of sharpness, salt, and tangy herbs. Do the Greeks just call it “salad”? | I was lucky to find a copy of Patrick Leigh

THE PELOPONNESE REGION IS POPULAR WITH OVERLANDERS

Surrounded by the Ionian and Aegean seas, the Peloponnese peninsula is a destination in and of itself, with plenty of things to do and places to visit. Four finger-like land projections reach toward Crete and North Africa, each offering camping, swimming, SUPing, and sunbathing opportunities thanks to long stretches of beach, hard-to-access coves, and rocky outcrops. There are also numerous cave systems, such as Kastania, Diros, and Franchthi, some of which are accessed by boat. The rusty Dimitrios shipwreck on Selinitsa Beach is worth a visit to speculate on its rumored history as a cigarette-smuggling vessel chugging between Turkey and Italy.

Many of Greece’s most legendary ancient sites are located on the Peloponnese, including Epidaurus, where you can climb the steps of a 4th-century BC amphitheater, imagining a visit to the healing center dedicated to Asclepius, the god of medicine. There’s also Ancient Olympia, Mycenae—home to Agamemnon, the Trojan War hero—Mystras, and the hillside Temple of Apollo Epicurius. For something slightly newer, pop into Koroni, Methoni, or Pylos for castle views and fortress history, or climb the 999 steps leading to Nafplion’s Venetian-built Palamidi Fortress.

VISA AND VEHICLE IMPORT PERMIT REQUIREMENTS

As Greece is part of the European Union and the Schengen zone, US or Canadian citizens with a valid passport may travel throughout the country for a maximum of 90 days within a 180-day period. Fortunately, Greece borders non-Schengen countries (Turkey, Albania, North Macedonia), so if you need to exit the Schengen zone to buy more time in Europe, it is easy to do so. As per the European Commission, the admission of nonEU vehicles intended for re-export (tourist vehicles, in other words) is valid for six months. If you need to leave your vehicle temporarily, there are several storage options near Athens, including campgrounds that offer long-term parking. If you have chosen to travel through Greece by fly and drive, 4WD vehicles are available from the usual suspects: Kayak, Rhino, Sixt, Avis, Enterprise, and the local Off-Road Greece 4x4 outfit.

CALLING ALL COFFEE LOVERS

Our initial late-summer jaunt through Greece introduced us to the ubiquitous freddo cappuccino and freddo espresso, which you’ll be hard-pressed not to see clasped in the hands of locals no matter where you are. The espresso version sees a shot or two of espresso shaken in a mixer with ice, then strained and served over fresh ice cubes. The freddo cappuccino is essentially the same but served with a thick layer of cold, frothy milk on top (sugar or a sprinkle of chocolate or cinnamon is optional). You’ll also find Greek coffee on the menu. Typically costing a couple of euros, this version is prepared by scooping freshly ground coffee beans into a metal cup placed on a single gas burner. The water is then boiled, creating a thick layer of froth, and served hot.

WILD CAMPING: KNOW THE RULES

Officially, wild camping in Greece is not allowed. In high season, the country sees a barrage of tourists, including a ton of European campervanners, all destined for the perfect parkup. Campers have been fined by the police for overnighting in restricted areas. Clear signage is posted in popular areas to indicate if camping is prohibited.

In low season, however, things quiet down, and wild camping is often tolerated, especially in areas that aren’t as frequented—for example, spots that require four-wheel drive or are located via unpaved tracks. Like most European countries, Park4Night and iOverlander remain the go-tos for camp spot scouting in Greece. Usually, comments left in the apps will indicate whether people have been turned away. The country also has a good network of paid campgrounds and camper stops.

PACK IT OUT—EVEN IF IT ISN’T YOURS

Aside from a few campgrounds here and there, nearly every camp spot in Greece was littered with trash. Discarded waste ranged from plastic bottles to cigarette butts, baby wipes, pieces of fishing nets, paper cups, glass bottles, and more. The European Environment Agency recognizes that waste management is one of the most pressing problems in Greece, and it shows. Fortunately, initiatives are moving in the right direction, such as one from fishers across the country promising to recover marine plastic with their nets. In the meantime, one of the most impactful things we can do as overlanders is pick up and bag trash. Fortunately, garbage bins aren’t hard to find, as plenty are parked along the roadways.

DRIVING: TOLLS AND FERRIES CAN ADD UP; PLAN ACCORDINGLY

European fuel is on the expensive side if you’re using North America as a point of comparison. During our time in Greece (and at the time of writing), gasoline hovered around an average of €1.80 per liter, while diesel went for approximately €1.54 per liter. You’ll find 95 octane (equivalent to 91 octane in North America) at most pumps.

Greece operates toll and non-toll roads. You will likely encounter a toll road at some point, especially if you’re on a tight timeline. Fees range from less than a euro to over 10 euros per toll, but the price is determined by vehicle height. The main thoroughfare from Athens to Thessaloniki can be spendy (up to €15 for each toll for vehicles over 2.2 meters). If traveling through the north (where different height classifications apply), prices decrease significantly.

The Greek Islands are worth reconsidering if you’re on a budget or driving a bigger rig. Ferry costs can total hundreds of dollars and may be better saved for a fly-in holiday. Rumored to be an idyllic stopover during a tour of the Peloponnese peninsula in Southern Greece, the tiny island of Elafonisos is a good alternative.

OVERLAND

TUNDRA

EXAMINING

OUR RESPONSIBILITY AS TRAVELERS IN ECOSYSTEMS AROUND THE GLOBE.

We are called by the wild, the spaces where we can turn 360 degrees without seeing another human, paved road, electric wire, or crop field. At times, though, we misunderstand history while we crave for calm. We begrudge other humans intruding onto land that used to be “undiscovered.” But this is largely a mythical narrative. People have inhabited the coastlines, forests, and grasslands for thousands upon thousands of years. If anything, the change lies in humanity’s impact on the land. It used to be light and difficult to trace—tracking was a practiced skill handed down from generation to generation. Today, our collective impact is jarring: tire ruts, wind farms, and oil slicks. These we long to escape, though we are the cause.

So it is in the tundra. This biome is the coldest on Earth, characterized by low rainfall, lack of trees, low biodiversity, high winds, and shallow soil supported by underlying permafrost that remains frozen yearround. Arctic tundra covers the Earth’s northern swath between the taiga (northern forests) and the permanent ice caps of North America, Europe, and Siberia. Alaska’s coastal region and about half of Canada are tundra. There is also alpine tundra, atop high mountains such as Washington State’s North Cascades and the páramo of South America.

The tundra ecosystem demonstrates an incredible connectedness of species. Lichen, buried beneath snow during winter, is a key food for caribou, muskoxen, and Arctic hares, who dig down to reach it during the coldest months. The lemming, a small rodent, is a primary prey for snowy owls and Arctic foxes. As lemming populations fluctuate, which they do significantly every four years or so, their predator populations also change. Some shorebirds time the hatching of their eggs to correspond with insect availability, monitoring the hatching of larvae with a scientific precision I don’t begin to understand. Biodiversity is so low in the tundra that each species matters, beginning with plant life we might consider nondescript, like lichen.

Yes, considering how barren it appears, the tundra is surprisingly sensitive. It’s impressionable; low biodiversity and slow growth make it particularly vulnerable to long-term change. Here are positive steps you can take to treat the tundra with care when you visit.

HIKE LIGHTLY Like the tender cryptobiotic crust of the desert, the tundra has its own sensitive skin. Mosses act as insulation for permafrost, the ice-rich earth below the shallow top layer that stays frozen year-round and traps carbon from the atmosphere. Footprints—and tire tracks—can leave scars for years. Because of this, hikers should walk on solid ground, like rock surfaces, whenever possible.

HEED SIGNS AND LAND BOUNDARIES Though many overlanders fancy themselves expert naturalists (you should hear me pontificate on the trail), the reality is we don’t always know the importance of

what we’re looking at. Signs and land boundaries along roadways and within our mapping applications are purposeful and should be regarded. Rather than adopting an attitude of blissful ignorance when choosing a campsite for the night, we should consider ourselves guardians of the surrounding environment.

OFFER WILDLIFE THE RIGHT OF WAY Famous tundra roadways are relative newcomers, products of the previous decades. Alaska’s Dalton Highway began as a supply road in 1974, and construction on the all-season highway to Canada’s Tuktoyaktuk wasn’t approved until 2013. On the opposite side of the world, Norway E69 arrived in Nordkapp in 1956. These roads we dream of traveling fragment wildlife habitats, but animals’ instincts to follow migration routes continue.

Permafrost, a distinctive element of any tundra ecosystem, is soil or sediment that remains continuously frozen for at least two years. | Seemingly nondescript moss and lichen act as an anchor for the tundra’s entire food chain.

To protect ourselves, our vehicles, and animal species, we should follow posted speed limits and stay alert. Along seemingly interminable tracts of road, we should avoid driving while fatigued when our senses are dull.

SUPPORT NATIONAL PARKS AND SANCTUARIES According to the Federal Lands Recreation Enhancement Act, many national parks in the United States are permitted to keep 80 percent of entrance fees collected from visitors. Canada also reinvests park entry fees into its park system. Instead of avoiding sites with fees, we can consider our visits as contributions to ongoing conservation.

VISIT WHILE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE I’ll never forget the first time I visited a glacier. I was about 14 years old, and my family was in the middle of another road trip from Texas (where we lived) to Yellowknife, where my parents got married in 1981 using dog sleds and wearing fur-lined parkas. Somewhere around Banff National Park in Alberta, the glacier’s retreat was marked with small wooden signs: this was the size of the glacier when my great-grandparents lived, my grandparents, and look how far I’ve had to walk uphill to reach the ice. The football field of exposed rock made my sensitive adolescent heart feel loss, the poignant lack of something I would never get to see. Like coral reefs and rainforests, the tundra is changing. As permafrost melts, it releases the carbon gases it once trapped, feeding the cycle and leading to further melt. Now is the time to venture out and appreciate everything you get to see.

REMEMBER, ECOSYSTEMS DON’T HAVE BOUNDARY WALLS

And what about those who never intend to see the coldest, most barren regions of our planet? Our collective actions, wherever we are, impact the airways and waterways that reach the Arctic and

alpine tundra. We can protect and plant trees to trap pollutants before global air currents sweep them to the north. We can turn our air conditioner a couple of degrees higher, alter our diet, hang our clothes to dry instead of using the machine, or whatever small sacrifice applies.

In June 2023, I pitched a single article that would examine our collective environmental responsibility as travelers. I wanted to answer the question, “As international overlanders, what do we owe our host countries and the natural world they inhabit, if anything?” After what was reimagined as a five-part series, I think you know where I landed: a place where we’re willing to set aside our consumer mindset and willingly contribute to ecosystems we will soon leave.

The step beyond is mentorship, a necessary component if we want these conservation principles to reach those younger or newer to the overlanding lifestyle. Once upon a time, I didn’t know the importance of choosing disturbed campsites, utilizing established fire pits instead of building my own, traveling in small convoys rather than large groups, or burying waste to a specific depth. I had to learn all of those things over time. My hope is that this series has empowered you and given you the tools to do better in the future.

GET INVOLVED

I’ve highlighted five distinct ecosystems within these pages: Beaches and Oceans (Spring 2024), Forests (Fall 2024), Deserts (Winter 2024), Grasslands (Spring 2025), and now Tundra. Each piece included a practical list of action items for your next visit. Our conservation involvement as travelers doesn’t need to be complicated. It comes down to acting on what we know—even when no one is watching.

Brabantse worstenbroodjes, roughly translated as “Brabantse sausage rolls,” are a delicacy famous in Brabant, a province in the Southern Netherlands. It is mostly known as a celebratory snack during Christmas or for the festive carnaval period. We’ve found it’s also the perfect breakfast or lunch meal to make around camp. As we craved the delicious taste of these sausage rolls in a vegan version, a quest for the best replacement ingredients started, and so we arrived at the recipe below. Drop them in the camp oven or wrap them in foil and heat them above the fire. They are moist and flavorful, and the dough is so good that you’ll most likely eat it while the “sausage” is still too hot to chew. It might take you an afternoon to make, but it’s worth the work and the wait. Time-savers include preparing the dough in the morning, and placing it in the fridge after 30 minutes of rising (can be used once you arrive at camp); using a food processor to chop the walnuts, sunflower seeds, oats, and to mash the beans and mix the full mixture; and preparing a double batch to freeze for future use.

SERVES 10

PREP TIME 45 minutes

RISING TIME 90 minutes (30 and 60 minutes)

COOK TIME 20 minutes

EQUIPMENT Bowls (3 small, 2 large), plates (2), cutting board, knife, baking tray, small pot, rolling pin, Coleman/Omnia/Dutch oven (or a fire and tinfoil)

DOUGH

2 cups flour

1/2 cup soy or oat milk, lukewarm

3.5 tablespoons unsalted vegan butter or 3.5 tablespoons butter, diced

3/4 teaspoon dried yeast

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon sugar

1 chia egg (1 tablespoon chia seeds and 1.5 tablespoons water) or 1 egg

Brabantse Worstenbroodjes

The perfect vegan snack to share with friends.

VEGAN SAUSAGES

2 cups white beans, drained, rinsed, and patted dry

3/4 cup oats, finely chopped

1/4 cup sunflower seeds, finely chopped

1/4 cup walnuts, finely chopped

Half an onion, finely chopped

3 garlic cloves, minced

3 chia eggs or 3 eggs

1 tablespoon tomato paste

1 1/2 tablespoons soy sauce

2 teaspoons smoked paprika powder

1 teaspoon Italian seasoning

1/2 teaspoon sea salt

1/2 teaspoon ground cumin

Cayenne pepper to taste

Black pepper to taste

DOUGH Mix the flour and salt in a large bowl. Separately mix the yeast, sugar, and milk, and let sit for 5 minutes. Combine the two and add the diced butter, kneading for 5-10 minutes. Split into 10 equal pieces and roll into balls. Place on a plate, cover, and let rise for 30 minutes. Then, transfer to the fridge.

SAUSAGES Crush the beans with a fork into a paste-like substance. Add all ingredients to a big bowl and mix. If sticky, add some flour or freeze for 10 minutes for easier handling. Form 10 sausages with your hands (1 x 3 inches). Bring a pot of water to a boil. Boil four sausages at a time for 4 minutes, and cool.

ASSEMBLY Roll dough balls into rectangular flat pieces about 4 inches in length, big enough to completely cover your sausage. Cover the top and bottom ends of the sausage and then fold over the longer sides of the dough, pressing the seams together. Add to a baking tray seam-side down. Cover with a damp cloth and let rise for 60 minutes. Bake at approximately 400°F for 16-18 minutes (whether in a camp oven or foil over the fire). Turn them after 12 minutes. Enjoy with ketchup or a dollop of mustard.

trails and ate our way through town. We genuinely enjoyed ourselves, even though our original plan was to be more mobile while Tanner was visiting. We got the spring fixed and carried on our way. We were proud of our reaction to this challenge—we had overcome a pretty serious mechanical issue with good attitudes and still managed to show our friend a good time during his short trip.

menu, though, food was scarce because it was located in an industrial area with no other restaurants or markets nearby.

In moments like this, it’s easy to have doubts, and we wondered if quitting our jobs and choosing this lifestyle had been a grave mistake.

Overcoming this leaf spring issue was not the point at which we became full-timers. That point was still to come; perhaps sooner than we would have liked. The week after we had our truck repaired while hosting Tanner in a campground in La Ventana, we decided to head back to the States. The weather had switched up on us. Suddenly, it was in the ’90s every day, and our plans to head to Alaska for the summer were calling us. We would drive leisurely back up the peninsula, do a gear swap at our storage unit in Colorado, celebrate the wedding of some dear friends, and then make haste to “The Last Frontier.” We were thrilled that our truck seemed to be running well again, and we had enough time to stop and smell the roses on our way north. But after what was likely the 999th tope we’d gently rolled over in Baja, we heard a loud pop. I instantly knew what had happened. The leaf spring on the other side had broken.

And this time, it felt like a 1-2 punch, having both our leaf springs fail within 100 miles of each other. We limped the truck to a different mechanic, this time a suspension expert in La Paz. For our second replacement, we asked the mechanic, in a mix of English, Spanish, and Google Translate, to build two new matching springs to get us going again and ensure they were both identical.

While our first mechanic was able to complete the repair on-site in our campground in just a few days, the second mechanic needed the truck to stay with him in La Paz. I dropped the truck off and then took a taxi back to the campground just outside the city.

We had a tent with us and soon discovered that we were the only ones tent camping; everyone else was in buses, vans, or RVs, with air conditioners humming. It was hot, and the forecast predicted it would reach nearly 100°F that week. Our new mechanic promised the truck to us on Friday, meaning we only needed to tent camp for three nights. Friday turned into Saturday with no call from the mechanic. And then Saturday turned into Monday. As the days wore on, we increasingly felt sorry for ourselves. Living in a tent, without a cooler or a cache of purified water, we boiled the campground water and let it cool to ambient temperature (90°F) before we drank it. And we ate every meal at the onsite cafe, burning pesos at a rate faster than budgeted, meanwhile anticipating the second mechanic’s bill. The campground was nice, perhaps the nicest we’d stayed at on the peninsula; aside from the cafe’s limited

We hadn’t once desired to be back in the States for the past three months, but now that we couldn’t drive, we yearned for the permanence and safety of what we had previously called home. That is, a shelter attached to the ground. One that, instead of flimsy leaf springs, had a solid foundation and a fixed address.

Meanwhile, our phones were hardly working due to poor service, and the campground internet was down, so communicating with our friends and family, let alone the mechanic, had also become a challenge.

In moments like this, it’s easy to have doubts, and we wondered if quitting our jobs and choosing this lifestyle had been a grave mistake. We’d been enjoying overlanding on a part-time basis for nearly a decade before moving into our truck. On weekend, weeklong, and even month-long trips, it was easy enough to postpone maintenance until a trip was over, or even cut a trip short if needed, and retreat home. However, as a full-timer, your vehicle is your life. The backup plans are expensive and inconvenient, if they exist at all. You need to schedule time for teeth cleanings, oil changes, and grocery stops. You have no choice but to roll with the punches and get mechanical work done when the vehicle needs it. And if you break down, you suddenly are without both a house and a vehicle.

Finally, after six days at the second campground, the mechanic called. The truck was ready to be picked up. According to Murphy’s law, though, the road going into La Paz was closed for the afternoon for construction, and would only reopen after the mechanic shop had closed. After calling numerous taxis, I jumped on my bicycle. I had 90 minutes to get there before the mechanic closed shop, and also needed to get cash from the ATM. I pedaled furiously around the road closure on a mixture of dirt paths and streets, riding 20 kilometers in an hour. I was drenched in sweat and dirt when I got to the shop. The mechanic smiled, laughed at me, and said, in near-perfect English, “Why didn’t you just ask me to drop it off?”

If I had to choose an exact moment where we could pin the full-time overlander patch to our stained headliner, this was it: humbled, sunbaked, and tired, yet stoked beyond reason to get back in our truck to follow the next adventure.

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Becoming Full-timers

It’s a revelation that comes when you least expect it.

Althoughit may have been our first day without a primary residence, the day that my wife, Heather, and I truly became full-time overlanders was, in retrospect, not the day that we gave up our apartment and moved into our newly built overland truck. That may have been the day that we thought we were full-time overlanders, but I don’t think we had earned that title just yet. The day that we truly became full-timers was about eight months later, coincidentally on the longest stretch that Heather and I had spent away from our truck since we moved into it. We were broken down in Mexico, and our truck was miles away from us with a mechanic whom we were increasingly losing faith in.

We were in Baja California Sur, in a campground just outside of La Paz. Earlier in our trip, Baja had been paradise; now, it felt like a prison. For the last three months, we had enjoyed sandy beaches, incredible sunsets, and literally (we counted) hundreds of tacos. Heather and I had recently both quit our jobs to travel. We had been riding a wave of excitement, finally living our dream of overlanding internationally. The truck had performed nearly flawlessly up until this point. We had been dealing with small setbacks we knew would occur, with the grace we had hoped for: successfully communicating with our limited Spanish, sourcing purified water,

finding delicious gluten-free food, and even getting ourselves unstuck from the sand on the few occasions we got a little too confident on the beaches.

We had even dealt with a couple of mechanical challenges with ease, such as having a busted fender repaired, solving an overheating issue by installing a larger radiator, and doing oil changes in Walmart parking lots. Overlanding was easy, and we were invincible—until we severed a leaf spring. The main leaf spring. While we had a guest traveling with us. In Mexico.

Three months into our trip, our friend Tanner was visiting us in Baja, taking a quick vacation from his job up in Alaska. He had a week to soak up the sun and bring some color (tan or otherwise) to his pale legs. We were 24 hours into his visit when we busted a leaf spring in La Ventana.

We limped to a campground, and I kid you not, there was a mechanic under the truck within five minutes of arriving at the campsite. He kept saying “Fácil, fácil” over and over. Despite it being “easy,” we knew it would take a few days to have a new spring custom-fabricated for our Fuso, so we made the most of our time. Our spirits remained high. We chartered a boat with a local fisherman and filled our small freezer with dorado. We rode mountain bikes on the nearby