Throughout history there have been challenging periods in mankind that have caused men to go underground, to hide in plain sight. The current obligatory distancing between humans is an ideal edict for those with membership in a secret society deliberately existing in inaccessible places. Pledging oneself to devotion of dirt is not a doorway to a shadowy cabal but a commitment to escaping routine living while celebrating the great outdoors.
Often in near isolation, a lone vehicle well o ff the popular path is preferred without mandate.
The spirit of shared adventure displayed by this select group is not unlike the congenial brotherhood observed in the sanctums of neighborhood clubs, although contrary to the exclusive membership of those invitation-only clubs, ours is awarded by mere participation.
In these uncertain and tenuous times, our rank in society as a whole is judged by our activity, or the willingness to curtail our activities. The contemptuous act of recreation outdoors can now be seen as an act of rebellion, a secret rite best not advertised for fear of ridicule. While “secret” societies are known to meet undercover, their very existence and member ranks are out in the open. What we may keep from view could be that trail only your best friends know or the moto track where entrance is an exclusive a ff air.
Now more than ever these secrets are kept close to the chest; but next time you pass another while o ff -pavement, miles from civilization, nod your head and recognize them as united in the Free Order of Dirt.
ARE
BY THREE CORE
THE STORYTELLER; EACH
BY
THE
IN OUR COLLECTIVE NARRATIVE.
THE EXPLORER
RIMOR
The road less traveled is not enough. We, the Explorers, must find new throughways into unexpected experiences and uncharted landscapes. Ours is a spiritual study with exploration as a means to igniting our internal wonder and awe. There are those who will follow; those who will model their journey after our pioneering precedent. To those we say: welcome. We are nothing if we are not champions of what the human adventurer can be; but, be forewarned. Not for the weary, true human experiences of discovery are those beyond the shackles of a guide. Venture forth, untethered and unafraid.
THE BUILDER
AVCTOR
There is that which has existed before, and experiments in fabrication that have not yet seen origin. We are promoters of progress.
The Builder’s creed is alchemy. While our forerunners sought to bend the laws of the material world to their will, we too seek the extraordinary from the mundane. We turn steel, petroleum and mathematics into visceral celebrations of passion. While our brothers and sisters revel in our output, we live in a perpetual paradox of striving to make our own creations obsolete. We will never settle. For we know it is the Builders who make possibility from limitation. And we do not rest.
THE STORYTELLER
RACONTEVR
Today is a world of fleeting video validation and low resolution moments. We, true Storytellers, unite under the banner of a better narrative. The spoken word, the written record, the carefully captured image; all these wait as surgical arrows in our quiver. History is evaluated based on testimony and the future is forged with visions built on learnings from the past. It is our calling to document and dream. We give meaning to the indescribable. We give voice to feeling. And we bind our brotherhood with knowledge. Live in the moment, but stories are woven into legend through our voice, letter and lens.
This feels like an article that should be pecked out on the keys of a portable typewriter, but manuscripted in a handmade leather-bound journal finds itself a reasonable option. For, you see, we’re analog enthusiasts, chasers of a tangible, tactile life, VW Vagabonds.
There is an unspoken culture of the VW owner, or maybe it is told, and I just had not been privy to the conversation. Then, one day in my late 20s, I unknowingly stepped into the friendliest of cult followings, a proud parent of a Volkswagen. My van is a Vanagon, part of the lineage of the Westfalia, Bus, Bay, and Split, a family of vehicles tracing back to the 50s.
Ruby is her name, and she found me in the Fall of 2014. By March I had loaded up a modest amount of camping, climbing, skiing, and photography gear and set out to attempt my own Kerouac story, life on the road. Since then, my community of VW ‘lifers’ has grown, and we often find each other in different parts of the country throughout the year.
Ruby is her name, and she found me in the Fall of 2014.
Creative studios, art galleries, home offices; these four-wheeled relics are much more than simply a mode of transportation. Belonging to a VW isn’t done out of practicality, it is a commitment to a slower, more hands-on way of life. As it was once eloquently said “it’s not a slow car, it’s a fast home.”
While we often make time to get together off the grid to wrench, ride, and create together over the years, COVID created an unexpected change to the “full-timer’s” way of life. Our homes away from home on BLM and NF lands were being closed down, and the freelancer and enthusiastodd-jobwere quickly finding idlehands.
Coming together during a time of social separation just seemed natural for us, as when something goes wrong with a VW, there’s always someone there to give a helping hand. With access to a small cabin in the juniper and sage forests of East Zion, we could be isolated together. Eli and Danny were both working on rebuilding the interiors of their buses; Jacob and Trey were wrenching on old dirtbikes; Jimmy was tending his bushcraft and traditional bow and arrow skills; while Sam and Drew explored the longer moto tours the forests and hills had to offer.
