Issuu

Spring 2016 $12

Wyoming

Headlamps

Alaska

Newfoundland

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

CONTENTS

Spring 2016

Feature s 28

Honey, Thereʼs a Buffalo at the Door: Wyoming by Sportsmobile, Chris Collard

Lighting the Night: Headlamps, Chris Collard

Storms on the Horizon: Alaska by Triumph Tiger, Neale Bayly

Project Vehicle: Ram/Cummins 2500 Tradesman, James Langan

Living Legends: Tom Collins, Interview by Chris Collard

103

The Loneliest Road: Exploring Newfoundland, Pablo Rey

114

The Endless Sea: Riding Irelandʼs Wild Atlantic Way, Antonia Bolingbroke-Kent

Dep artments

Overland Post

Editor’s Column

Field Tested

Overland News

Latitude: REGRET, Travis Burke

121

Overland Routes: The Alpine Loop, Chris Cordes

127

Overland Conservation: Defensores de la Naturaleza Foundation, Åsa Björklund

129

Overland Medicine: Snakebites, Dr. Jon S. Solberg, MD, FAWM

132

Overland Chef: Lomo Saltado, Life Remotely

136

Tail Lamp: On Behalf of the Peopleʼs Republic of China, Sophie Ibbotson On the cover: A Land Rover Discovery 200Tdi is ferried across a Siberian river during the 1990 Camel Trophy. Photo courtesy of Land Rover North America. This photo: Rugged, cold and oh so beautiful. Shi Shi Beach, Washington. Photo by Travis Burke. Back cover: Trekking 3,922 steps through the clouds on the incredible Stairway to Heaven in Oahu, Hawaii. Photo by Travis Burke.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

We are adventurers. Constantly traveling. Testing and using gear in real-world situations. Gaining experience, which we readily share.

OUR RESUME:

7 continents 140 countries 354 years combined experience and counting...

EXPERIENCE MATTERS We only know things when we live them

Spring 2016 Publisher and Chairman Scott Brady President and Director of Design Stephanie Brady Editor-in-Chief Chris Collard Chief Technology Officer Christian Pelletier Chief Business Development Officer Brian McVickers Chief Financial Officer Andre Racine Executive Creative Director Sinuhe Xavier Director, European Operations Michael Brailey Manager, Expedition Portal Chris Cordes Account Manager Steve von Seggern Editorial Administrator Sarah Ramm Senior Editor Christophe Noel Senior Photographer Bruce Dorn Staff Editor Åsa Björklund Medical Editor Dr. Jon Solberg, MD, FAWM Contributing Editors Bryon Bass, Neale Bayly, Tom Collins, Sophie Ibbotson, Antonia Bolingbroke-Kent, James Langan, Lois Pryce, Life Remotely, Pablo Rey, Toby Savage, Chris Scott, Tom Sheppard, Gary and Monika Wescott, Contributing Photographers Barry Andrews, Travis Burke, Jimmy Chin, Jeff Foott, Chris Ramm Copy Editors Arden Kysely, Tena Overacker Cartographer David Medeiros Fulfillment Bo Rounsavall

Contact Overland Journal, 3035 N Tarra Ave, #1, Prescott, AZ 86301 service@overlandjournal.com, editor@overlandjournal.com, advertising@overlandjournal.com Moving? Send address changes to service@overlandjournal.com. Include complete old address as well as new address. Allow two to four weeks for the address change to become effective. Overland Journal is not forwarded by the U.S. Postal Service. It is the subscriber’s responsibility to inform Overland Journal of an address change. Overland Journal is a trademark of Overland International, Inc. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. Overland Journal is a wholly owned subsidiary of Overland International. overlandjournal.com

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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.

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OVERLAND POST

Jeremy Bergh of Alu-Cab enjoys Overland Journal in South Africa.

Inspired

ZA Overlanding

I wanted to say that I really appreciate all you guys do. It is so cool to see the many people inspired by what you share. Four years ago, the day I graduated from college, my friend Robin and I took oﬀ for a short overland trip to the Arctic Circle, Norway. When we returned home a few weeks later his dad introduced me to Overland Journal and it opened my eyes and sparked a huge desire to see more of the world. Thank you for playing a big part in the inspiration for our trip to Mongolia.

I love your magazine and wish they came more frequently. Luckily, my last copy arrived just before a trip to an area near Beaverlac, South Africa. I can’t wait to do some overlanding in the USA.

Milo Zanecchia

EXPEDITION PORTAL contributor

2000 Toyota Prado J95

Love it So far I’ve received my first two issues and I love Overland Journal. I really enjoy the adventure stories. I usually flip through and casually read other four-wheel drive magazines, but with Overland Journal I make time to go somewhere quiet to enjoy it. Professionally, I oversee a magazine’s production and I know how much work they are. Keep up the great writing.

Back to School Just wanted to say thanks for suggesting Dragon Hunter: Roy Chapman Andrews and the Central Asiatic Expeditions by Charles Gallenkamp [Winter 2015]. Thinking about going back to school for paleontology and this was great inspiration. Chad Cearley

EXPEDITION PORTAL member forsakenfuture

2010 Jeep Wrangler 1998 Dodge Ramcharger WRITE US subject: Overland Post editor@overlandjournal.com

Aaron Meyer

WHERE IN THE WORLD has your Overland Journal been?

2006 Jeep TJ

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

EXPEDITION PORTAL member grogie

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Jeremy Bergh, Alu-Cab Canopies 2015 Toyota HiLux

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

CONTRIBUTORS Spring 2016

NEALE BAYLY

TRAVIS BURKE

PABLO REY

With 37 years in the saddle, Britain-born Neale Bayly has ridden motorcycles in 47 countries around the world. For the past 15 years he has worked closely with America’s top motorcycle magazines and websites as a writer, photographer, and video producer. As motorcycle editor for the Speed Channel, Bayly was the star of Neale Bayly Rides, a reality series documenting a charity ride he captained through the wilds of Peru. The series culminated at a Peruvian orphanage, which his charity Wellspring International supports. When not traveling on assignment or working with his philanthropic projects in Peru and South Africa, he spends time with his sons, Luke and Patrick, riding dirt bikes near his home in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Travis Burke’s diverse and creative approach to outdoor adventure photography stems from his perspective on life. His dedication to conquering anything thrown at him and living life with no regrets shines through in his images. Whether highlining over a 400-foot canyon, backpacking the John Muir Trail, or capturing the Milky Way from remote locations, Travis is constantly pushing himself and the boundaries of his craft. Not one to be a sideline photographer, he actively participates in the high-adrenaline sports he documents. He says, “Participating allows me to understand what is going through the subject’s mind and anticipate their next movement.” Travis recently converted his grandmother’s old van into an adventuremobile and now lives on the road full time.

Born in Argentina, Pablo moved to Spain where he enjoyed an extraordinary life…but just on weekends. While on a trip through Africa he committed never to buy a return ticket again. He moved into a Mitsubishi L300 4WD with Anna Callau, his adventure partner. The goal: overland through Africa, the Americas, and Asia while making as many turns as possible. After visiting more than 50 countries and spending 15 years on the road, it seems they have succeeded. Pablo is an “ex” creative ad writer, “ex” illegal immigrant, and a master of getting into trouble in faraway places. Their website, viajeros4x4x4.com, has become a source of information for Spanish-speaking overlanders. His latest book, Around the World in 10 Years: The Book of Independence, is now available in English.

SOPHIE IBBOTSON

ANTONIA BOLINGBROKE-KENT

Sophie Ibbotson and Max Lovell-Hoare run Maximum Exposure Productions, an investment promotion agency that specializes in emerging markets and post-conflict zones. They take a particular interest in exploring places far beyond the tourist trail and see tourism as a positive contributor to economic development. They have sailed across the Atlantic, crossed Russia three times by train, and led a trekking expedition in Afghanistan. Sophie and Max are the proud owners of a Unimog, two Land Rovers, two auto rickshaws, and a Ford F-250. They have authored nearly a dozen travel guides to destinations as diverse as Kashmir and South Sudan.

Antonia Bolingbroke-Kent is a veteran of lengthy adventures in unsuitable vehicles. It started in 2006 when she co-piloted a bright pink tuk-tuk for a record-breaking 12,500 miles from Bangkok, Thailand, to Brighton, England, with her best friend. They raised £50,000 for Mind, were named Cosmopolitan’s Fun Fearless Females of the Year, and wrote a book about the trip called Tuk-Tuk to the Road. She has since wobbled around the Black Sea on a zebra-striped Honda Cub, survived an attempt to reach the Arctic Circle on a Russian Ural, and spent two months traversing the Ho Chi Minh Trail on a Honda Cub (also pink). Her book, A Short Ride in the Jungle, was released in April 2014. Between traveling and writing she’s a TV producer and currently works for the BBC.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

CONTRIBUTORS Spring 2016

LIFE REMOTELY

JAMES LANGAN

Life Remotely is Jared McCaffree and Jessica and Kobus Mans, overlanders, foodies, ground tent campers, and digital nomads. After a decade of dreaming of life on the road, the trio packed their tech careers and gear into a Toyota 4Runner and headed south. They arrived at their destination, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 18 months later and published Forks in the Road: Recipes from Overlanding the Pan-American Highway. Jared, who has an unhealthy obsession with bacon, is the team’s chef. Kobus, who believes that hot sauce is an appropriate condiment for every meal, is the driver. Jessica, the onion-hating chief baker, is the navigator and voice of reason. They founded liferemotely.com to help others realize that life on the road can be a reality.

With a love for wheels since his first day of preschool, where he immediately discovered the tricycle, James Langan pursues his passions with motorcycles, trucks, and on foot. He makes his home on the eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada, a fantastic starting point for adventure. After 10 years as a journalist and photographer for the Power Stroke Registry magazine, and a brief sabbatical from journalism, James is back in front of his keyboard and behind his cameras. With a keen eye for detail, he is a photographer, a writer, a precision driver, and an expert motorcyclist.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

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JOURNAL ENTRY: From the Editor

Chris Collard

Diamond in the Rough

Climbing in behind the wheel of a new Wrangler reveals the soul of a stalwart warrior and character of a weathered woodsman on the hunt.

It has been said that World War II could not have been won without the Jeep. The first Willys MB rolled off the assembly line on November 18, 1941, and was produced until late 1945. It featured an L134 60-horsepower Go Devil motor, 2-speed transfer case, and had a top speed of 65 mph. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

he year 1941 began on a Wednesday. In the predawn hours a threequarter moon crept toward the western horizon, casting silvery hues across Toledo, Ohio, as it yielded to New Year’s Day. It would be a day of joyous celebration for some, a day of hopeless despair for many. In the months that followed, Citizen Kane, The Maltese Falcon, and Dumbo would grace the big screen, Glenn Miller recorded “Chattanooga Choo Choo,” and sculptor Gutzon Borglum struck the final chisel on Mount Rushmore. But beyond the protected borders of the United States, the world was unraveling at a frightening pace. Germany had invaded much of Europe and North Africa, the Nazi Einsatzgruppen had fully implemented the party’s policy of ethnic cleansing, and on December 7, the Japanese would draw first blood in the Pacific. A bright light, however, was shining in the chilly corner oﬃce of a struggling auto manufacturer in Toledo, Ohio. Desperate to pull their waning company up by its bootstraps, engineers and executives poured over spreadsheets, specifications, diagrams, and illustrations. Hanging above the entrance of the aging brick building was a sign that read Willys-Overland, and their eﬀorts would not only change the course of the war, but the history of the world. In July of the previous year, the U.S. military called out to the American auto industry for the development of a light reconnaissance vehicle. According to Ordnance Technical Committee rules it would need to have all-terrain capabilities, carry a crew of three, and weigh no more than 1,300 pounds—somewhat of a cross between a horse, motorcycle, and the modified Model T Fords currently in use. In November of 1940, the Willys Quad emerged from a rollup door at the end of the building. The agile Quad featured a flexible leaf-spring suspension, folddown windscreen, ultra-low gearing, and four-wheel drive. Deemed the MA (later the MB), it was fitted with a 60-horsepower 4-cylinder Go Devil engine developed by Delmar “Barney” Roos, and exceeded the government’s expectations. The Go Devil’s impressive performance and reliability dwarfed that of its rivals (Bantam and Ford), and Willys-Overland, who would soon become one of the largest auto manufacturers in America, was granted the contract. There have been countless campfire yarns on how the Jeep designation was derived. Some believe it was a sloppily revised acronym for GP (General Purpose). Others insist that it was developed by GIs in the field who quickly realized that the MB and Ford GPW could go anywhere, like the well-known Popeye cartoon character Eugene the Jeep—a dog-like critter that could walk through walls and possessed the power to teleport himself from one place to another. By the end of World War II the U.S. government had authorized Willys-Overland to produce the MB for civilian use, and thus deemed it the CJ. The Jeep made

an easy transition from the front line to field and stream, and became standard issue for adventurers and outdoor enthusiasts. The company expanded its line to include a wagon, pickup, Forward Control (FC), and sporty Jeepster. Over the years, various models have been utilized as fire engines, ambulances, tractors, mobile sawmills, and posthole implements. Ford even put forth an amphibious variant, the GPA. Unfortunately, the GPA was as fit for water as a landlubbing alley cat, and too low, long, and heavy to traverse technical terrain with any prowess. The Willys brand was eventually acquired by a succession of parent companies including Kaiser, American Motors, Chrysler, Renault, Daimler, and eventually Fiat-Chrysler Automobiles. The Chrysler name was originally associated with Willys in the 1920s, when Buick executive Walter P. Chrysler was asked to help restructure the struggling company. Although he left after a botched coup attempt to edge out founder John North Willys, the company he later formed, the Chrysler Corporation, would eventually purchase American Motors and the Jeep brand from Renault in 1987. This year marks Jeep’s diamond anniversary, and after 75 years of transitions and acquisitions, it has managed to retain a relatively pure strand of Willys MB DNA. Climbing behind the wheel of a new Wrangler (which is still produced in the Toledo, Ohio, facility) reveals the soul of a stalwart warrior and character of a weathered woodsman on the hunt. Slipping into the cockpit of a 475-horsepower Grand Cherokee SRT8 cultivates visions of drifting around the final turn at the Texas Motor Speedway on your way to winning the U.S. National Dirt Track Championship. It takes you back to a simpler era, one of eggs from the backyard chicken coop, lean steaks on the grill, and a time of healing, when Americans eased the emotional scars of war with adventures into the backcountry. It is often said that World War II could not have been won without the venerable Willys MB. As we celebrate Jeep’s first 75 years, we should be grateful to John North Willys for his perseverance, the early engineers who spent long, sleepless nights in that Toledo oﬃce perfecting the Willys Quad, and the men and women who have served their country behind the wheel of America’s most-loved vehicle. I’d also like to extend a personal callout to the company’s current designers and executives who possess the intestinal fortitude to preserve the brand’s legacy as it moves toward its centennial. Long live the seven-slot grille.

Top row from left: The Quad was Willys’ answer to the U.S. military’s call for an all-terrain light utility vehicle. The Army’s Ordnance Technical Committee required it have four-wheel drive, a maximum wheelbase of 75 inches and track of 47 inches, carry three passengers, have a maximum empty weight of 1,300 pounds, and payload of 660 pounds. Production of the Willys-Overland Wagon began in 1946. It was the first all-steel station wagon produced in the U.S., had seating for seven, copious amounts of room for gear, and became a backcountry fixture during its 18-year production. The Willys-Overland Truck (1947-1965), though not as ubiquitous as the CJ, was the only medium-sized truck offered in four-wheel drive versions. It became a common fixture in the ranching, logging, and mining industries. Willys-Overland designer Brooks Stevens intended the Jeepster (1948-1951) to target the sports car market. Although it originally featured the L134 Go Devil 4-cylinder engine, it was later upgraded with the 161-cubic-inch Hurricane 6-cylinder. Bottom row from left: The Commando (1967-1973) was available as a wagon, power-top convertible, and pickup. The pickup was fitted with the 160-hp Dauntless engine, TH400 automatic transmission, and Dana axles. Designed to be the nation’s workhorse, the unique Forward Control FC-150 (1957-1965) featured a cab-overengine configuration and two wheelbase options, 81 and 103.5 inches. The Jeep Wagoneer (1963-1991) was revolutionary in that it was the first four-wheel drive to offer an automatic transmission; it is the predecessor of the modern Grand Cherokee. In 1955 Kaiser introduced the next generation of Jeep, the CJ-5. It took styling cues from the Korean War-era M38A1, with rounded fenders, a longer wheelbase, and was more comfortable than its CJ predecessors. Production of the CJ-5 ran until 1983. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

FIELD TESTED By Jon Solberg and Christophe Noel

Filson Heritage Sportsman Field Bag

$360

A classic Filson bag fit for the cockpit of a Cessna or seat of a Jeep.

ilson’s Heritage Sportsman bag is the next best thing to a travel companion, and mine repeatedly pulls double-duty. In the cockpit of my Cessna it holds a flashlight, airplane manual, snacks, and a wide-mouthed “multipurpose” plastic bottle. It is also frequently placed into service on the passenger seat of my Jeep, where it organizes my field journal, binoculars, maps, cell phone, and other items. The Heritage Sportsman’s rectangular form holds about the same amount of gear as a daypack, but its large U-shaped top zipper makes

access handy. Inside, the main compartment houses two snap-closure dividers that fold away when not in use, making room for flip-flops and a few days’ worth of clothes. Long external pockets along the front and rear work well for maps, pencils, and note pads, and the end pockets are perfect for storing smaller items like phone charging cables and batteries. The end pockets’ snap closures are ingenious and can be closed easily with the forefinger and thumb of a single hand. The bag is made from 22-ounce rugged twill and 15-ounce oil finish tin cloth, and is available in either a tan/otter green or orange/dark tan combination. Handles are handsomely tanned bridle leather, and the shoulder strap is a heavy nylon that comfortably grips the shoulder. (JS) filson.com, 866-860-8906

ome of you may remember the water filter and purifier test we published in the fall of 2009. It was one of the most comprehensive evaluations of its kind, and is still relevant more than six years later. If we had to do it again, however, we might have to declare a different winner—the new Guardian from MSR. Commissioned by the U.S. military and released to the public after six years of development, the Guardian has redefined expectations of what a small and portable water purifier can achieve. Capable of filtering out harmful bacteria and protozoa, it also removes viruses like Norwalk, rotavirus, and hepatitis A. What is equally impressive is the Guardian’s efficiency. It can produce up to 2.5 liters of purified water per minute, and due to advanced technology never before implemented in a filtration system, does not need to be cleaned. The self-cleaning Guardian uses 10 percent of the purified water produced to backflush the filter element. In our initial tests of treating water with high amounts of sediment, the Guardian maintained a steady flow with no degradation in performance. The proprietary hollow-fiber filter element can purify up to 10,000 liters before requiring replacement and the entire system can be field serviced without any tools. With its speed, effectiveness, and self-cleaning properties, the Guardian is the most advanced water treatment system we have seen to date. (CN) msrgear.com, 206-505-9500

MSR Guardian

$350

The most advanced water treatment system ever developed has finally arrived. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

FIELD TESTED By Chris Collard

LONG-TERM REVIEW

ARB CKMTP12 Twin Mobile $875

Looking back at a year with ARB’s king of compressors.

ast year we tested air compressors, an essential piece of overland gear. The evaluation included inflating tires, reseating beads, lab testing for airflow, amperage draw, thermal management, and running air tools. When the dust settled, ARB’s CKMTP12 twin mobile received the coveted Editor’s Choice award. It has become a permanent part of my kit and been used everywhere from Moab, Utah, to Mexico. Its Pelican-style case is tough and easy to tote from one rig to another, and the air hose, gun, and hardware are holding up well. Although current draw is on the high side (53.4

Mac’s Utility Mat

amps) and it is a bit noisy, the unit functions as a mobile shop. Air-up times are fast and the 4-liter tank has been a great asset when running pneumatic tools. I do need to make one retraction from our original results with regard to airflow at zero backpressure. ARB informed us that testing of this unit had been done by a reputable third-party OEM lab at the MIRA Technology Park, U.K., and their results were actually higher than ARB advertises (ours were 40 percent lower). After studying reasons for the discrepancy (voltage, available current, etcetera) we determined that the diameter of our airflow orifice might have been too small to allow for full flow at zero backpressure. In any case, the CKMTP12 has yet to disappoint. arbusa.com, 866-761-8195

$30

Multi-purpose mat for the shop, trail, and camp.

few years ago the guys at Mac’s gave me one of their new utility mats. At the time I wasn’t in need of a mat, nor did I want any more clutter in the back of my truck. But I accepted graciously, said thank you, and slipped it onto a shelf in my garage when I got home. A few months later I was under a rig on the Fordyce Trail with diﬀerential parts in my hands and rocks in my back. I said to myself, “I sure could use that mat right now.” Mac’s Utility Mat has been a go-to piece of gear for me ever since. It is cut from .75-inch, ultra-tough foam pad (the same material used to make life jackets as it doesn’t retain water and won’t mildew), and fused with polypropylene fibers. When expanded it measures 4 feet by 2 feet, folds down to an easy-to-store square, and weighs just 2 pounds. I’ve used it to kneel on when changing a tire, as a welcome mat OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

in front of my tent, and yes, to keep the rocks out of my back while under a vehicle. Thus far it has endured the rigors of three years’ worth of backcountry abuse without complaint. macscustomtiedowns.com, 800-666-1586

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

OVERLAND NEWS By Chris Collard

Outstanding Trails Grant Program BFGoodrich announces its 2015 picks for North America’s iconic backcountry routes.

orth America is a land of opportunities when it comes to overland travel. When you cross the Rockies heading west, a vast array of two-tracks spreads across to the Pacific, north to Canada, and south to the Mexican border. A decade ago, BFGoodrich launched their Outstanding Trails program to help local clubs not only preserve and protect these historic routes, but also keep them open for future generations of OHV users to enjoy. The clubs who maintain these areas are given a $4,000 grant to be used for public education, cleanup projects, signage, and camp area improvements. Thus far the program has donated nearly $150,000 in grants to 35 clubs, and is scanning the country for its 2016 contenders. Grants are made possible by the continued support of BFGoodrich, 4 Wheel Parts, BlueRibbon Coalition, United Four Wheel Drive Association, and the Oﬀ-Road Business Association. Greg Adler, president

of 4 Wheel Parts, said, “We are pleased to share in this opportunity to recognize the passionate members of some of North America’s prominent oﬀ-road clubs for their commitment to the preservation of these significant trails.” bfgoodrichtires.com/outstanding-trails-program.page 2015 Nominees for Outstanding Trails and Volunteer Organizations • Applegate-Lassen Emigrant Trail, Nevada: High Rock Trekkers • Bald Mountain OHV Area, Sierra National Forest, California: Clovis Independent 4-Wheelers • Barrett Lake Trail, Eldorado National Forest, California: Hi-Landers 4WD Club • Black Bear Pass, Silverton, Colorado: Creeper Jeepers Gang

A Story Worth Living Overland Journal gets a sneak preview of one of the year’s hottest adventure films.

f you are the type of person who dreams of breaking away from the norm and stepping out of your comfort zone, you are not alone. Inspired by Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman’s BMW ride around the world in the Long Way Round, John Eldredge, author of the New York Times best seller Wild at Heart, set oﬀ with his sons and a few friends to create their own epic. They wouldn’t take on the globe, but rather a thousand miles of the Centennial State’s most

scenic two-tracks. There was one small catch…none owned a dualsport motorcycle and five of the six had no off-piste experience. A Story Worth Living drops you off in the high peaks of the Colorado Rockies riding pillion across frigid creeks, through alpine meadows, and over classic routes like Engineer Pass and the Alpine Loop. The cinematography offers a visual feast, and Eldredge, who wrote and produced the film, shares an insightful narrative of the travails and triumphs of a small group of everyday guys on their first big ride. The world premier, a one-night nationwide screening at select U.S. theaters, will be held on May 19, 2016. The movie will also be featured at Overland Expo WEST’s film festival in Mormon Lake, Arizona. After our early screening of A Story Worth Living we can highly recommend it. astoryfilm.com OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Honey, There’s a Buffalo at the Door Chris Collard seeks out the last vestiges of America’s Wild West. By Chris Collard

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

ack in 1990 I spent a lazy week in Utah, drifting through the narrow chasms of sedimentary red rock that channel the tranquil waters of the Green River to their date with the mighty Colorado. I’d read of the river’s headwaters high in the northern Rockies and the area’s Yosemite-like granite monoliths and cascading falls. I later pulled out a map and traced a thin blue line east, west, and north as it squiggled its way toward Wyoming and a place called Green River Lakes. Nearby were the towering peaks of the Tetons and Yellowstone, the world’s first national park. To the northeast was Cody, a Wild West town with a reputation for cutthroat cattle rustlers, resolute lawmen, and high-noon gunfights between soon-to-be dead men and their quicker-to-draw executioners. I put an X next to Green River Lakes and slipped the map into a drawer—where it sat for 25 years. Last summer, my wife, Suzy, and I rolled out of California in a borrowed Sportsmobile Sprinter Mojave and headed to Wyoming and the Northern Rockies. Having turned oﬀ our phones and shoved them in the glove box, we severed all ties with schedules, technology, and appointments. The original plan was to explore Grand Teton National Park and meet up with wood boat guru Greg Hatten (Echoes in the Canyon, Overland Journal Spring 2015) for some backcountry camping in Yellowstone. That was before I realized that there are few, if any, public dirt roads in either park. I unfolded my map and scanned the surrounding area for options. I found BridgerTeton National Forest, Sunlight Valley, the cities of Jackson and Cody, and Green River Lakes—plan B took all of 60 seconds to develop.

THE FIRST NON-INDIAN

John Colter, a member of the 1803 Lewis and Clark expedition and scout for an eastern fur trading company, is said to have been the first non-Indian to pass through Jackson Valley, better known as Jackson Hole. He negotiated an agreement with the Crow Tribe: they would trap for him and trade beaver pelts for supplies from the East. Other notable explorers and trappers such as Jim Bridger, Jedediah Smith, and David E. Jackson (whom the valley was named after) also passed through these parts. Although the town was not oﬃcially registered until 1894, it was well established as early as the 1860s and began as a forwardthinking community. Interestingly, women have had the right to vote there since 1869, two decades before Wyoming became a state and 51 years before the U.S. Congress passed the Nineteenth Amendment. Furthermore, it was the first in the country to have an all-female city council. Unfortunately, even with that progressive mindset, America’s philosophy of Manifest Destiny lacked provisions for the Shoshoni, Crow, Blackfeet, Bannock, and Gros Ventre Indians to remain on their tribal lands. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Clockwise from top left: A flaming orange sun pierces afternoon clouds over the snowcapped peaks of the Teton Range. Pelicans ride the currents in search of a morning meal. The cornerstones of the Miller House, a two-story log home in the middle of Jackson Hole Valley, were set in 1895. Robert Miller’s homestead claim was only the third to be filled in the region. Traversing the dirt track through Gros Ventre Valley. Although elk move to the high country in the summer months, pronghorn antelope are plentiful throughout the year. Opposite: A Crow Indian scout near Cody, Wyoming Territory. Opening spread: Morning fog hangs over Green River Lakes Valley. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

In the 1870s, the verdant meadows we crossed would have been blanketed with buﬀalo and elk rather than crisscrossed with ranch fences and roads. The town of Jackson has retained many of its original buildings and appeal—if you can wade through the crush of tourists searching for the best bison burger. It was a warm and sunny day, but the glacial-laced peaks of the Tetons looming to the west told a tale of subzero winters and heavy snowfall. Jackson was wild and remote, and the people who settled here were tough as a 50-cent steak.

GREEN RIVER LAKES

Clockwise from opposite top left: We met Bullwinkle on the trail into Brooks Lake. The Green River Basin is home to the Green River Drift, a historic stock route that has been in continuous use since the 1890s. A full rainbow halos our camp at Brooks Lake. Welty’s General Store [top, and a historic photo of it, bottom] was established in 1898 and is said to have been frequented by the infamous Butch Cassidy. Even though we were strongly advised not to take the muddy and precipitous western access to Brooks Lake, the Sprinter Mojave had no issues.

Green River Lakes is less than two hours from Jackson’s summer rush, but one would think it was in another dimension. After a pristine night of camping along the Gros Ventre River, we turned south toward the X on my map. Paralleling a graded dirt track around Big Bend, the crystal waters of the Green laid themselves out like a sinuous ribbon across an emerald meadow. A cobalt-blue sky peppered with pillowy white clouds reported from the Green River Lakes is river’s surface. In the distance, the Wind less than two hours River Range presided over copious from Jackson’s stands of aspen and pine, and at the end summer rush, but of the valley in a box canyon lay Green one would think River Lakes. it was in another During the last Ice Age, glaciers dimension. pressed south then withdrew north, sculpting an elaborate labyrinth of granite crags and boulderstrewn moraines. Amid eons of mass wasting, low-lying regions collected fertile sediment and became conduits for the region’s watershed. The area is Wyoming’s answer to California’s Yosemite Valley, and Square Top Mountain, a 3,500-foot monolith, is its crown jewel. It is one of the most pristine and majestic places I’ve witnessed. If you have a map of Wyoming, pull it out and circle Green River Lakes—and don’t put the map back in a drawer. Union Pass Road threads a narrow path over the Wind River Mountains to Dubois. In the spring, ranchers from colorful locales such as Carney Ranch, Pape Ranch, and O Bar Y, continue the tradition of moving cattle across this pass to highland pastures. We found our way to the one-pump burg of Dubois and Welty’s General Store, made famous by Robert LeRoy Parker, aka Butch Cassidy, and his aﬃnity for Welty’s cigars. Built by Dr. Francis Welty in 1889, the log building, which was moved to Main Street from its original location, is one of the oldest in the area. Inside is an eclectic mix of local art, historical artifacts, guns (they claim to have one of Cassidy’s), and mounted bison and elk. Welty’s is run by the doctor’s grandson, Frank A. Welty III; the store is authentic, listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and worth a visit. We arrived at Brooks Lake in a light rain and were greeted by a Bullwinkle. He was long in the face and looked a little suspicious of us (it could have been me jumping out with my camera), so we meandered up the muddy track and camped in the lee of Sublette Peak under a fleeting rainbow.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Square Top Mountain, a 3,500-foot-tall granite monolith formed during the Ice Age looms over Green River Lakes. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Clockwise from top: Bison once roamed North America by the millions, but decades of slaughter for meat and hide have reduced the number of wild bison to an estimated population of 30,000. Visitors of a local guest ranch on a pack trip in Sunlight Basin. The subterranean water that forms Yellowstone’s geothermal pools carries high levels of calcium carbonate, which precipitates out to form limestone. The brilliant color pallet is the result of thermophiles, microscopic organisms that thrive in superheated water. Fly fishermen drift a line on the Yellowstone River. Left: Early ranchers on Union Pass managed cattle movement with worm or snake fencing, called-so for its zigzagged pattern.

THE WORLD’S FIRST NATIONAL PARK

“We did not think of the great open plains, the bountiful rolling hills, and winding streams as wild. Only to the white man was nature a wilderness and only to him was the land infested with wild animals and savage people. To us it was tame. Earth was bountiful and we were surrounded with the blessings of the great mystery. Not until the white man from the East came and with brutal frenzy heaped injustices upon us and the families we loved was it wild for us. When the very animals of the forest began fleeing from his approach, then it was for us that the Wild West began.” —Standing Bear, Ponca Tribe

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I had heard stories about stupid tourists walking into a pristine grassy pasture to get a selfie with a buﬀalo…and then getting knocked to the ground and gored to death while their family watched in horror. But I’m not that guy. I’m the type that says, “Honey, drive the van. I’m going to open the sliding door with my camera so I can get close.” Yep, I’m one of the cognitive elite—or so I thought. Magnificent creatures they are, especially when so close their musty odor permeates your nostrils and their heavy breath reverberates oﬀ your clothes. Suzy said, “Uh, you might want to close the door,” as she inched the vehicle through a herd that was crossing the road. Okay, I’m the stupid tourist. Even though we knew we’d be forced to set camp in a treelined parking lot shoehorned next to hundreds of lost urbanites, we embarked on an obligatory adventure to Yellowstone National Park. While enjoying an evening libation by the fire, our neighbor, an F-bomb screaming nutcase, blasted expletives at our other neighbor, a family man in a motorhome, for encroaching in her parking space.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Above: Walking through Old Trail Town is like stepping into the past. The wooden boardwalk, wagons, saloon, and log structures have been collected from across the West. Opposite: The Irma Hotel, circa 1902, was built by Buffalo Bill Cody and named after his daughter, Irma Louise Garlow (Cody). Cody said it was “the sweetest hotel that ever was.”

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

The aforementioned cast aside, Yellowstone itself is stunning. Buﬀalo and elk roam freely without threat of the fire stick or bow, alpine rivers and lakes provide fodder for anglers from around the world, and the geysers throughout the park are a splendor of natural beauty.

THE “WILD” IN AMERICA’S WILD WEST Falling off the eastern escarpment of the Rockies, we carved off a small slice of Montana before veering east on the Chief Joseph Scenic Highway, shadowing Clark’s Fork of the Yellowstone River. This was the land of the Nez Perce, or Niimíipu Tribe of Indians. The tribe was widely dispersed, numbered nearly 4,000, and held one of the largest herds of horses on the continent. Although they lacked guns, they were masterful hunters and fishermen. Lewis and Clark’s Corps of Discovery encountered the Nez Perce in 1805; they formed a bond and traded goods for horses, and eventually lived among the tribe for a month during their return trip while waiting for winter snows to melt. The Nez Perce are said to have been a peaceful tribe (a relative term for the times), yet dark clouds were on the horizon. By the late 1870s they were fleeing their traditional lands for sanctuary in Canada—with the U.S. Cavalry in hot pursuit. Their escape route followed the road we were driving, along Cathedral Cliffs and Clark’s Fork Canyon to Dead Indian Pass. The very name indicates that things did not end well for them. It is estimated that during their flight and ensuing battles and skirmishes, nearly 40 percent of the tribe perished. Chief Joseph, who had strived for a peaceful life for his people, made his final stand at the Battle of Bear Paw. “Hear me, my chiefs, I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.”—Chief Joseph After a peaceful night near Dewey’s Gateway in Sunlight Valley, a meandering length of pastureland cutting through imposing snow-capped granite peaks, we made our way over Dead Indian Pass and down to Cody, one of the last legitimate Wild West towns in the U.S. With a history deeply rooted in hunting, ranching, and

PLANNING AND RESOURCES Most of the areas around Bridger-Teton National Forest, Yellowstone, and Cody can be navigated with a stock, high-clearance four-wheel drive. There is no cost for dispersed camping in the National Forest or on BLM lands (fire permits are required). Reservations are needed for Yellowstone and should be made early if visiting in the summer. If you like snow camping go between November and April. If shorts and cool dips in the river are preferred, plan your trip for July through September and don’t forget the mozzie spray. Jackson Hole Visitor Center: wyomingtourism.org, 307-777-7777 DeLorme: delorme.com, 800-561-5105 Bridger-Teton National Forest office: fs.usda.gov/btnf, 307-739-5500 Green River Lakes Campground: $12/night, recreation.gov, 877-444-6777 Old Trail Town: adults $9, kids 6-12 $5, oldtrailtown.org, 307-587-5302

self-preservation, Cody, a staunch soldier in upholding the Second Amendment beliefs of Wyoming, even boasts its own firearms museum. Its residents have a reputation for “not taking crap from no one.” Combine this with the fact that any adult can carry a sidearm, and you might have the reason the state’s violent crime rate is just 16 percent (per capita) of our nation’s capital. To learn more of the region’s history we headed to the Old Trail Town Museum on the outskirts of Cody. Its weathered plank boardwalks and log buildings, which date between 1879 and 1901, seem right out of a movie set. Horsedrawn wagons line the wide dirt street, and thousands of artifacts from a bygone era, ranging from American Indian clothing and tools to .50-90 Sharps buffalo rifles, are on display. In 1967, Wyoming native and archaeologist Bill Edgar realized that the area’s historic buildings were slowly The waitress decaying and disappearing. He began returned and the painstaking process of dismantling, dropped an armful moving, and reconstructing dozens of of steaks in front notable log cabins on the site Bill Cody of us that John had selected for “Cody City.” Included Wayne would have were the homes of Blind Bill, buffalo approved of. hunter Jim White, and John “Jeremiah” Johnson, as well as the Hole in the Wall Gang’s two-room log cabin from Buffalo Creek. Surly characters such as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Jim Bridger, and Lt. Colonel Custer’s Indian scout Curley (the lone survivor of the Battle of the Little Bighorn) frequented the Rivers Saloon, which still shows the scars of bar-side gunfights. Edgar also acquired permits to exhume the bodies of Jeremiah Johnson, Jim White, lawman Jack Stillwell, and Belle Drewry (an attractive rabble-rouser of questionable integrity) and rebury them at the Old Trail Town cemetery. One could easily spend a day in this national treasure of American history. That evening we wandered into a rustic restaurant packed with cowboy hats, boots, and Levis to meet some old friends for dinner. Ben and Toni Jackson had “escaped” California after a lowlife dirtbag poisoned their dogs to gain access to, and burglarize their home. Ben said with a raised brow and an all-business confidence, “Cody is a great place to put down roots and raise a family. People here are real.” The waitress returned and dropped an armful of steaks in front of us that John Wayne would have approved of. Rolling out of town we contemplated the hundreds of Western settlements that have been consumed by ident-a-kit strip malls and the Left Coast mindset while the last vestiges of their Wild West heritage were legislated into oblivion. It was refreshing to know that Cody, along with the rest of Wyoming’s cities, is not that place. This year, the Wyoming State Legislature voted to reinstate the firing squad for death-row inmates—although there have only been two since 1976. We spent our last night camped among pronghorn antelope in the rolling foothills a few miles out of town. Short of herds of roaming buffalo, Wyoming is still the “wild” in America’s Wild West. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Cartography by David Medeiros (mapbliss.com)

ROUTE Wyoming Rockies

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Lighting the Night We evaluate dozens of LED headlamp offerings to illuminate the ones that won’t leave you in the dark. 43

By Chris Collard

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

hether you are scaling the peaks of the Himalayas or chopping up kale for supper in a remote African bush camp, having a reliable source of light can mean the difference between falling off a cliff and leaving your pinky finger in the soup. During a recent trek through Kenya with Overland Journal contributor Sam Watson, the headlights on the 1973 Range Rover Classic we hired were barely bright enough to read by, let alone illuminate the elephants that lumbered across the road. Sam and I traded off driving while the other held a headlamp out the window to light the way. The situation was not ideal, but it confirmed my long-held belief that these pocket-sized torches are an indispensable piece of gear.

CONSIDERATIONS There are a number of characteristics to examine when selecting a headlamp. The basics are run time, range, and weather resistance. Other features may include beam adjustability, if it is rechargeable and if so, what the charging options are and whether it has the capability to also run on off-the-shelf alkaline cells. If your mode of transportation is a four-wheel drive, weight and size may not be a determining factor. However, if your modus operandi is to offload a kayak or backpack and head out for a few nights, additional ounces can make a difference. You may even need a lamp that you can transfer from your head to your handlebar. Technology has increased tenfold in the last decade, and many lamps now include variable intensity and strobe modes, dual controls, red lamps to preserve night vision, and rear safety lights. Several offer reactive lighting (the cat’s meow in headlamp tech), which automatically adjusts output depending on available ambient light. But how well does it function? Is the adjustment rapid, or will you stumble into a mine shaft while it figures out how much light you need? Although whiz-bang tech features might be handy, navigating through them on the fly shouldn’t be like sorting out the instrument panel of a Boeing 747. Rechargeable lamps offer the benefit of not needing to buy batteries, which is also better for the environment. Accessing 12-volt power when traveling by vehicle is not an issue; however, if you are off the grid for more than a couple of nights, the option of popping in generic alkaline cells is a big plus. Lithium (Li-ion) batteries hold a charge better in cold weather and are lighter than alkaline batteries, and NiCD or NiMH units have the benefit of lasting for years. Regardless of horsepower (LED wattage and power source), if available light is not collimated efficiently, the addition of electronic wizardry is in vain. There are three methods used to channel light into the next camp or county: a reflector, optical lens, or a hybrid combination of the two. Manufacturers dedicate significant energy crafting reflectors and lens optics for maximum efficiency; the better the optics, the more efficient the light. For most of us, cost also plays a key role. Today’s headlamps are available for as little as $10 and as much as $1,500.

TESTING PROCEDURES While researching ANSI/NEMA FL-1 standards for our flashlight test (Overland Journal, Fall 2014), we found that they have little relevance to real-world use. For example, FL-1 calculates a

light’s range to be the point in which light received (lux) drops to the equivalent to that of a full moon (.25 lux)—hardly a usable level. The rest of their performance criteria are equally useless, so we tossed them out in lieu of more practical metrics. Beam Reach Identifying pattern, reach, and intensity required several types of tests. Although some units advertise a range of more than 200 meters (FL-1 theoretical estimate), we were interested in the range at which they remain effective. To do so we set up markers LUMEN VERSUS LUX at 25-foot increments and Light manufacturers reference the took illuminance readings in lumen as a key metric, but there are lux (light received per unit several reasons why lumen count is not area) at each marker with a necessarily the best measurement of a Sekonic LiteMaster Pro Llight’s capabilities—evaluating an LED solely on its lumen output can over or 478D incident light meter. underestimate its performance in the Initial readings were taken field. Regardless of the number of raw at point-blank and 6-foot lumens produced, the amount of useful range. Because results vary delight delivered to a subject is a more pending on how the meter is relevant metric, as much can be lost positioned, 10 readings were in the process of collimating light. The taken at various positions at foot-candle (fc) or lux (lx), depending on each marker and the highest the unit area being measured, is used value was recorded. Measureto quantify received light. Here is some ments were recorded down to food for thought as you review our .5 lux, the point where one findings. According to the Illuminating Engineering Society, “serious reading can still carefully decipher requires an average of 50 foot-candles black print on a white sheet or 500 lux on the page.” of paper. Several products reviewed here have a “burst” mode, but they only remain on for 10 to 30 seconds. Run time tests were conducted at the highest constant-output level. Ambient temperature was 69°F. Beam Pattern While some manufacturers provide impressive graphic displays to demonstrate pattern, we reverted to the Cartesian grid method. We created grid with 6-inch separation between the x and y axis lines on a sheet of non-reflective white plastic. By placing the light source 6 feet from the grid, each increment represented 4.763 degrees. This also provided a visual representation of the light’s spot and flood patterns, as well as any inconsistencies, shadows, or halos. Run Time Most of the units in this test claim to have a constantoutput feature that allows the light to function at full power until the batteries drop to approximately 20-percent capacity. To evaluate run time we installed new Duracell CopperTop alkaline cells or topped off rechargeable units to 100 percent, turned them on, and let them run until output dropped and they defaulted (theoretically) to reserve power mode. If they simply went dark, their test was over. The Tom Sawyer Award would be granted to the last light shining (always need to think about saving Becky first). Thermal Management Light emitting diodes generate thermal energy, and heat negatively effects performance—it can actually kill OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

1. Mounting each light on our test dummy and directing it at the center of a Cartesian grid allowed us to quantify beam width and identify hot spots, shadows, or inconsistencies. 2. Range testing involved a series of markers placed at 25-foot intervals to a distance of 300 feet. 3. Headlamp temperatures were recorded using a handheld infrared digital thermometer. 4. Lamps with an IPX7 or IPX8 rating were submerged in a bucket of water for 30 minutes. 5. A Sekonic Lite Master Pro incident light meter was used to measure lux, or received light, at each marker. 6. To evaluate overall performance over time, each lamp was fitted with new batteries or charged to 100 percent, set on the highest constant-output mode, and left on until it went dark. Incident light readings were recorded every hour.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

your light. Many lights incorporate thermal management, which will reduce output if temperature levels increase to a damaging level. While performing the run time test we took temperature readings to determine the maximum thermal buildup and recorded if any defaulted to a cooldown mode. Weather Resistance The International Organization for Standardization (ISO) has formulated specific guidelines with regard to a product’s resistance to the elements. It is referred to as Ingress Protection (IP) marking, and the lamps tested here fall into four levels. IPX4: Splashing with water (10 liters per minute) for 5 minutes. IPX6: Powerful jet spray (100 liters per minute) for 3 minutes. IPX7: Immersion at a depth of 1 meter for 30 minutes. IPX8: Continuous immersion (up to 3 meters). Mother Nature had whipped up a winter storm, and all lamps were hung between two trees for 30 minutes in moderate rain and heavy wind. Units rated IPX7 and IPX8 were then submerged in a bucket for 30 minutes. Each was then inspected for full operation and water intrusion.

PRODUCT SELECTION It is easy to get lost in the dozens of companies and hundreds of oﬀerings. When choosing products we dismissed the dirt cheap and insanely expensive, and instead broke the field into three categories: $50 or less, $51 to $100, and over $100. We selected 30 lamps from key manufacturers, and after reviewing each narrowed the corral down to six from each category. Manufacturers represented are Black Diamond, Clearwater Lights, Coast, Fenix, LED LENSER, Pelican, Petzl, Princeton Tec, and SureFire.

CUSTOM LIGHTING Petzl’s proprietary, downloadable OS software (compatible with their NAO, TIKKA R+, and RXP models) allows the user to customize power settings and run time to maximize performance and battery life. You can choose from several “canned” profiles or create up to four individualized programs combining reactive and constant lighting modes.

After months of objective and subjective testing, the results were surprising. Although some shined brighter in the crowded lineup, we found that there isn’t a best headlamp for all purposes. The one you choose for a bikepacking trek will be diﬀerent from the lamp you toss in your glove box, which is not the one you grab for a kayak expedition in Alaska. In short, what makes a great headlamp is very personal. We came up with our favorites, but you will need to analyze the data to determine which one is right for you.

THE SHAPE OF LIGHT In addition to the number of lumens an LED produces, how available light is shaped, or collimated, will determine beam pattern. The examples here provide a visual representation of the methods used by various manufacturers.

(1) SureFire uses a fixed reflector that provides wide proximity lighting and a centered hot spot for range. (2) Pelican’s 2780R incorporates a separate LED for long-distance illumination and another for proximity. Though both utilize a reflector, the former includes a parabolic lens (pencil beam), while the latter has a diffuser lens. An advantage to this

method is that they can be used independently or together. (3) LED LENSER utilizes a reflector, parabolic optical lens, and a telescopic zoom. When the zoom is fully extended it concentrates available light into a narrow pencil beam, which increases range. When fully retracted it disperses light to a wider area for proximity lighting.

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[ LOW-COST OPTIONS ]

BLACK DIAMOND

Cosmo $30 VALUE AWARD Storm $50 Cosmo

+ Long run time + Lightweight + Cost – Limited range Storm

+ Long run time + Waterproof + Lightweight – Limited range

In 1957 a young climber named Yvon Chouinard bought a hammer and anvil and started pounding out specialized rock-climbing pitons. From those humble beginnings Chouinard Equipment was born, which eventually morphed into Black Diamond Equipment and led the charge in high-quality outdoor equipment. The Cosmo and Storm hit the mark with regard to economical backcountry lighting. Both feature multiple LEDs and intensity levels, spot and proximity beams, a red safety light, strobe, and lockout feature. A continual press of the on/oﬀ switch will cycle the intensity from high to low and back, allowing the user to fine-tune it for a particular setting. The Storm also has a touch-sensitive side panel; one tap adjusts output up or down a notch. At just 3.2 ounces, the Cosmo is the second lightest in the category, while the heavier Storm seems a bit more rugged. They utilize three AAA batteries, have power meters, and maximum output is 90 and 160 lumens respectively. Beam patterns are smooth and without shadows or hotspots, and range was matched at 150 feet. Both provided reasonable output for more than 5 hours, and after 70 hours (on reserve power) were among the last lights shining. They carry an IPX4 and IPX7 ISO rating respectively and neither flinched at the associated test. Made in China, 3-year warranty. blackdiamondequipment.com, 800-775-5552

LED LENSER

SEO 3 $39 EDITOR’S CHOICE

+ Excellent range + Long run time + Flexible beam adjustment

– Lacks direct access to red lamp

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LED LENSER products come to us from Leatherman, purveyor of quality multi-tools, and the SEO 3 reflects the company’s heritage. It doesn’t claim to keep up with the heavyweights, but rather maintains that it is a durable, economical option for lighting your way. There are two intensity levels, a red safety light, and strobe mode (red or white). It is powered by three AAA batteries, rated at 100 lumens, and at 3.7 ounces can be slipped into any pocket. Though output at point-blank range was not the highest, the SEO 3 shined in range testing. It provided 250 feet of usable light and outpaced all contenders by a fair margin. This can be credited to its Advanced Focus System (AFS), a combination of hybrid optics and a telescopic zoom. A twist of the bezel adjusts the beam from a broad, clear proximity pattern to a bull’s-eye spot. It carries an IPX6 weatherproof rating and passed the test. My one gripe is that you cannot turn on the red safety light without cycling through the retina-constricting white mode. Made in China, 5-year warranty. ledlenserusa.com, 800-650-1245

PETZL

TIKKA + $40

+ Excellent run time + Multiple battery options

– Limited range

The TIKKA + is an everyday headlamp suited for the occasional outing. It is simple to use and doesn’t have a multitude of complicated controls—select one of three intensity levels, or the red emergency beacon, and you are good to go. There is a burst mode of 160 lumens, but the lamp will default back to the constant-output level of 100 lumens after 10 seconds. Although it does not feature an adjustable beam, the optics provide a good balance between proximity and spot patterns. The constant lighting feature worked as it should, switching to reserve power after an impressive nine hours. It was one of four lamps that kept the fire burning past the 80-hour mark. Another nice feature is its ability to run on alkaline, Li-ion, or NiMH AAA batteries. The IPX4 test caused it no issues. Made in France, 3-year warranty. petzl.com, 801-926-1500

PRINCETON TEC

Vizz $50 TOM SAWYER AWARD Princeton Tec isn’t a newcomer to the world of high-quality outdoor products. Its founder, Bill Stevens, an engineer and avid scuba enthusiast, quit his day job in 1975 to develop the first automatic dive timer in the back of a shop in Princeton, New Jersey. His fledgling company transitioned to dive lights and ultimately to lighting options for an array of outdoor uses. The Vizz covers the needs of anyone who requires an economic light that will survive the elements. It has five LEDs (three white and two red), generates 205 lumens, and can run on alkaline or Li-ion AAA batteries. A continuous press of the on/oﬀ button cycles the intensity from high to low. Useful range, at 150 feet, was average for the group. In the run time test it ran at full power for two hours and 30 minutes before defaulting to reserve mode. Even then it wouldn’t die, ultimately slugging it out until the others took a dirt nap at 85 hours. Rated IPX7. Made in USA, 10-year warranty. princetontec.com, 800-257-9080

+ Fully waterproof + Excellent reserve run time – Limited full-power run time

PELICAN 2760 $46

+ Efficient optics + Intuitive controls + Good range – Limited full-power run time

Known for their bulletproof hard cases, Pelican recently launched a line of flashlights and headlamps. Though the 2760 is not as robust as its senior brother (the 2780R) it kept up with several of the mid-price units tested. It has a center spotlight and smaller proximity LEDS to either side. The on/oﬀ button rests in a small cradle, which made it easy to find with gloved hands. It is lightweight and operations are intuitive. The combination worked well when I needed a compact lamp for a recent hiking trip. Even though it weighs just 3.4 ounces, it has a durable feel, like it could be dropkicked across camp without damage. As with all the smaller lamps, it runs on three AAA batteries, which are monitored by a capacity indicator. Its useful range of 175 feet was second in class, but run time (on high) was limited to two hours. It has an IPX4 rating and survived the storm test. Made in China, limited lifetime warranty. pelican.com, 800-473-5422 OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

[ MID-RANGE OPTIONS ]

COAST HL27 $60

+ Easily adjustable beam

+ Long run time + Low cost – Not waterproof

VALUE AWARD

Coast, which began as Coast Cutlery in 1919, jumped into the lighting sector in the last decade. The HL27 incorporates the company’s Pure Beam focusing optic system, which allows the user to choose everything between a wide proximity pattern and long-range pencil beam. The spot pattern retains a slight halo that illuminates the peripheral areas well—a nice feature. A rotating dial on the lamp head adjusts intensity between 0 and 330 lumens. It was right in the middle of the pack during testing, oﬀering 200 feet of usable light and operating at nearly full power for four hours. It runs on three AA alkaline cells, and though it does not have a waterproof rating it was subjected to and passed the IPX4 test. Made in China, lifetime warranty. coastportland.com, 800-426-5858

BLACK DIAMOND Icon $90

The Icon is designed for mountaineering, SAR work, and expedition travel, and represents Black Diamond’s tradition of high-end outdoor gear. It mirrors the Storm and Cosmo with regard to features, but packs a more powerful punch. It steps up waterproofing with an IPX7 rating (the battery case had one of the best seals in the class), and its solidly constructed frame lends confidence. I found the Icon to be extremely functional and its use to be intuitive. As with the Storm and Cosmo, I liked not having to stumble through blinding white light trying to access the night vision red. It was not the brightest, nor did it have the greatest range, but generated surprisingly strong and consistent light for 14 hours, and didn’t go dark until past the 80-hour mark. Maximum output is 320 lumens and it provided usable illumination up to the 200-foot marker. Runs on four AA alkaline batteries. Made in China, 3-year warranty. blackdiamondequipment.com, 800-775-5552

+ Quality construction + Fully waterproof + Best-in-class run time – Limited long-range projection

FENIX

HL55 $60

+ Fully waterproof + Sturdy aluminum construction + Lightweight – Limited range and run time – Battery not included OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Fenix makes no excuses for having “Made in China” stamped on the box. They are based in Shenzhen, China, and proud of their products. The HL55 has a similar style to SureFire’s Maximus: a rather wide, horizontal body, single LED, anti-reflective glass lens, and reflector collimation of the beam. The body is aluminum, treated with a hard-anodized, anti-abrasive finish and swivels 80 degrees up or down. Electronics are regulated to provide constant output and feature reverse polarity protection in case the battery is installed backwards. There are four output levels ranging from 10 to 420 lumens, and a burst mode of 900 lumens. Power is supplied by a single 3200mAh 18650 battery or two CR123 Li-ion cells. Interestingly, a battery is not included. The projection pattern has a focused center beam that smoothly transitions to the margins. Even though it had the highest lux readings at pointblank range, light received at distance lagged behind the other midpriced lamps. Rated IPX8. Made in China, limited lifetime warranty. fenixlighting.com, 888-775-9996

PETZL

MYO $100

+ Excellent run time + Good construction + Multiple battery options – Not waterproof

Petzl describes the MYO as a multi-beam headlamp intended for endurance-oriented activities. With that claim we expected this lamp to shine till the wee hours, and it did. Petzl took a diﬀerent approach collimating the MYO’s beam, incorporating a single LED and hybrid optics for the spot beam, and a flip-down diﬀuser for proximity lighting. I found the system to work very well. There are nine intensity levels ranging from 20 to 280 lumens, a strobe, and burst mode (370 lumens). A charge indicator alerts the user when power levels drop to 70 percent and the unit switches to reserve at 20 percent. It accepts alkaline AA batteries as well as Li-ion and NiMH cells. In range testing it ranked third, providing usable light up to 200 feet. Run time at maximum output was five hours, with a reserve capacity of 60 hours. It is IPX4 rated and survived the downpour without complaint. Made in France, 3-year warranty. petzl.com, 801-926-1500

PRINCETON TEC Apex $64

The Apex is the brightest in Princeton’s professional series and is intended for those who like to play in the water. It features five LEDs and a maximum output of 275 lumens. Depressing one of the two switches activates the spot beam or proximity lights. Another tap cycles intensity from high to low. The unit is solidly constructed, which is reflected in its higher-than-average 9.8-ounce weight. Opening the battery pack, which holds four alkaline, Li-ion, or NiHM AA cells, is a bit of a chore with bare fingers—a small price to pay for being fully waterproof (IPX7). There is a multicolor low-power indicator on the head, and thermal protection circuitry will reduce output if the operating temperature rises to an unsafe level. The Apex ranked second in the range test and provided working light up to 250 feet. Run time was middle of the pack. Made in USA, 10-year warranty. princetontec.com, 800-257-9080

+ Excellent range + Solid construction + Multiple power options – Narrow flood pattern – Limited run time

LED LENSER H7R.2 $90

+ Best-in-class range + Adjustable beam + Rechargeable + Multiple battery options – Not waterproof

EDITOR’S CHOICE

The H7R.2 features the company’s eﬃcient AFS optics, rotating bezel focus, and multiple intensity modes and strobes. It deviates from its junior siblings with the use of a rear battery case, rechargeable 1400mAh Li-ion battery, and USB port (also compatible with alkaline and Li-ion AA cells). It includes a rear red safety light, multi-color charge indicator, and a scroll wheel for adjusting the intensity level and strobe frequency. A two-second press of the on/oﬀ switch activates the boost mode, and five seconds will activate the lockout feature. Maximum output is 300 lumens and it earned an IPX4 weatherproof rating in our test. Though the H7R.2 had the lowest point-blank lux reading in the category, it put the competition to shame when it came to useful range, doubling the lux reading at all distance markers and generating usable light up to 300 feet. In the run time test it took down five other units before falling dark, after providing very impressive output for eight hours. Made in China, 5-year warranty. ledlenserusa.com, 800-650-1245 OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

[ PREMIUM OPTIONS ]

CLEARWATER Shelby $149

+ Extremely bright + Excellent construction + Multiple mounting options – Weight – Excessive thermal buildup – Lacks USB charge option

Clearwater Lights, based in Rancho Cordova, California, has built a firm reputation for producing ultra-high-quality motorcycle driving lights. The Shelby, their first oﬀering in the headlamp market, is technically better suited for the mountain bike crowd than hikers and it could literally substitute for vehicle headlights—it is that bright. The housing is CNC milled from 6061 billet aluminum and extremely well made, as are the headband, battery pack, and accessories (reflected in its 16.5-ounce weight). It has a single 12-watt LED collimated by a polished and plated aluminum reflector and is projected through an optical glass lens. The rubber-sealed power pack contains four 1200mAh rechargeable 18650 Li-ion batteries. The Shelby puts out 900 retina-burning lumens and was by far the brightest lamp in the test, oﬀering usuable light past the 300-foot marker. However, this impressive performance comes with sacrifices, and those are weight and heat. Clearwater suggests only using the highest setting when on the move or in windy conditions; temperature during testing peaked at a fingerburning 161°F. Full-power run time, at 2.5 hours, was best in class. I do have a few small complaints: the headband is better suited for a helmet, and the heavy battery pack needs to be mounted on a belt. Rated IPX4. Made in USA, 1-year warranty. clearwaterlights.com, 916-852-7029

PETZL

NAO $185 Born in the spirit of transitioning outdoor adventures, the NAO is the most feature-rich headlamp in this review. In addition to having the standard-issue options, it is the only unit with real-time reactive lighting. I was apprehensive at first, assuming that depending on a “smart light” while transitioning into darkness would find me face down in a ditch. Not so. A sensor on the head detects available light and instantaneously adjusts lamp intensity—it worked flawlessly. There are two LEDs, a spot beam, and diﬀused proximity light; intensity levels range from 7 to 575 lumens. It is powered by a 2600mAh 18650 Li-ion battery, accepts AA cells, and if needed the battery case can be relocated to a belt or jacket pocket. The headband is a combination of paracord and conventional elastic, and one pull at the rear synchs the top and sides. It is also the only lamp in the review with downloadable software to customize burn times. Although I initially thought it was gimmicky, downloading and selecting personal settings was quick and painless. The battery life did not break any records—1.5 hours before switching to reserve—yet usable light reached 250 feet and the beam pattern was broad and clear. Rated IPX4. Made in Bulgaria, 3-year warranty. petzl.com, 801-926-1500

+ Precision optics + Excellent range + Multiple power options – Not waterproof – Limited full-power run time OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

+ Outstanding reactive lighting + Quick adjusting headband + Rechargeable + Downloadable software – Limited full-power run time – Cost

COAST

HL8R $150 The HL8R was so new to the market it arrived in a Ziploc bag (it should be at retailers by the time you read this). It is the company’s answer to the demanding needs of the adventurous traveler and checks all the boxes. As with the brand’s other lamps, it features Pure Beam focus, multiple modes, and strobe. It varies in that power adjustments are via a forward dial and button rather than a rear lever. It draws life from four AA alkaline batteries or a pair of 2200mAh 18650 Li-ion cells, both of which are in well-sealed cases. Charging options are USB or 110-volt AC, there is a low-voltage indicator, and output is 800 lumens. The optics are excellent, and a twist of the bezel pulls the beam from a wide, clear proximity pattern to a bull’s-eye spot that extends beyond 300 feet. Run time at the highest setting was 1.5 hours, with reserve lighting of 11 hours. Rated IPX4. Made in China, lifetime warranty. coastportland.com, 800-426-5858

PELICAN

2780R $120 VALUE AWARD

+ Fully waterproof + Excellent proximity illumination

+ Good range + Rechargeable – Limited reserve run time

The 2780R, which hails from the Pelican’s ethos of quality, performance, and value, features nine intensity levels across three power modes. A turn of the forward-mounted dial accesses each mode (pencil beam, downcast flood, or combination), which can be set to variable intensities by tapping a button on the side of the dial. The downcast light has an optical diﬀuser, which broadcasts smooth, bright light on a map while the spot beam illuminates the path ahead. I will note that this light had the widest and most usable flood beam. It generates 558 lumens and passed the IPX7 30-minute swim. The headband is comfortable and the rear battery pack includes a red safety light/strobe. Power is drawn from a 2600mAh 18650 Li-ion battery that can be charged via a 110-volt connection or USB. The 2780R was just behind the leaders in overall distance, providing usable light up to 275 feet. Full-power run time, at 3.5 hours, was second in class, but it went completely dark before five hours passed. Made in China, limited lifetime warranty. pelican.com, 800-473-5422

LED LENSER H14.2 $120

EDITOR’S CHOICE

The H14.2 offers the performance you would expect from an expedition-grade headlamp. It utilizes AFS adjustable focus and a single LED. There are two operating controls, a button on the head, and a multifunction dial on the battery pack, which includes a red safety light/ strobe and low capacity indicator. Navigating through the eight different modes is tedious, and I found it easier to adjust intensity with the dial. Focusing the beam is a push/pull affair rather than a rotating bezel. I prefer this method, as it is quick and easy. The H14.2 wasn’t the brightest at 320 lumens, nor did it have the greatest range (ranked third at all distances with a 250-foot maximum), but it made up for this in the run time test, where it held very strong output for several hours after the rest had died. It is also the most versatile with regard to power options, as it will accept alkaline, Li-ion, NiMH AA, CR123A, or 18650 Li-ion batteries. Charging is via a mini USB port on the case. Rated IPX4. Made in China, 5-year warranty. ledlenserusa.com, 800-650-1245

+ Good range + Longest run time in class + Versatile power options + Excellent optics – Not waterproof

SUREFIRE

Maximus $275

+ Premium construction + Wide, clear proximity illumination

+ 180-degree head rotation

– Limited full-power run time

– Limited range

SureFire is known for its line of MIL-SPEC products, and the Maximus falls right in line with the company’s impressively high standards. The body is CNC-milled magnesium and designed for police, SAR, and military applications. It does not utilize a conventional switch or button, but rather a large, knurled dial that allows for minute adjustments from as low as 1 lumen up to the maximum output of 500 lumens. I was impressed with this dial, as it seemed to stick to wet hands like tree sap. The head swivels 90 degrees up or down, features a Breath-O-Prene forehead pad, and has a chafe-resistant headband. The beam, a wide flood pattern that transitions smoothly into a high-intensity spot, is collimated by a proprietary reflector through an anti-reflective glass lens. It draws power from an integrated Liion battery, and a multicolor fuel gauge provides battery status. Designed for the world market, it includes international AC adapters, a 12-volt car charger, and a durable carrying case. Interestingly, it lacks a USB option. It is not advertised as a long-range, high run time light, but rather one that provides broad, high-intensity coverage. It is extremely well built, and though it is only rated IPX4, SureFire’s website stated it was waterproof to 1 meter. We dunked it and it passed. Made in USA, lifetime warranty. surefire.com, 800-828-8809 OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Premium Options

Mid-range Options

Low-cost Options

GRAPH DATA

Note: In this chart, the Shelby and HL8R are nearly identical in range performance.

Lux at Range graphs illustrate amount of light received by a subject, in lux (y-axis), over distance (x-axis).

Lux Over Time graphs illustrate light received by a subject, in lux (y-axis), placed 24 inches from the source during an eight-hour period (x-axis).

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

CONCLUSIONS

f you look at the data chart you will note that lumen count does not necessarily equate to high lux received by a desired subject. Our test results quantify the significance of selecting the proper optics for a specific use. Adjustable beam lamps excelled in range testing, but most will not survive being dunked in a creek.

LOW-COST HEADLAMPS All of the low-cost options tested impressed me. The fully submersible Princeton Tec Vizz had good range, and in reserve mode lasted for a remarkable 90 hours. The Pelican felt durable and provided excellent projection and initial output, but run time at the highest setting was shorter than expected. The most consistent (and lightest) was the Petzl TIKKA +. Overall range was good but output over time left us wanting more. The Black Diamond Storm is 100-percent waterproof, provided a very usable beam, and 45 hours of reserve lighting. The pint-sized Cosmo, with its low price point and strong performance in all objective evaluations, rightfully receives the Value Award. The LED LENSER SEO 3 provided best-in-class range, eight hours of consistently high output, and an easily adjustable beam. Aside from not being fully waterproof it checked all the boxes and receives the category’s Editor’s Choice Award.

MID-RANGE HEADLAMPS The Black Diamond Icon was the most consistent with regard to run time and output. It maintained more than 1,000 lux for 14 hours (an impressive feat) and is completely waterproof. If we were testing lights for a weeklong kayak trip, the Icon would have taken top honors. The Fenix HL55, with its wide, clear beam, landed in the middle of the pack on most tests and is a good choice for proximity lighting needs. I found the Petzl MYO to be a very versatile light. Range was just behind the leader, optics were excellent, and power options numerous. Where it lost ground was in the run time evaluation when it dropped to reserve power at the five-hour mark. When the dust settled, it was the Coast HL27 and LED LENSER H7R.2 who were competing for the top spots. Neither carry an IPX7 rating, but both provided good range and had an impressive combination of run time and output. The HL27, at $60, receives the Value Award. LENSER’s H7R.2, with its AFS optics, best-in-class range, and consistent output scored the highest and is crowned with the Editor’s Choice Award.

PREMIUM HEADLAMPS When it came to the higher priced headlamps, the saying “it’s better to burn out than fade away” was the mantra. The Clearwater

We selected 30 headlamps from hundreds on the market and pared the group down to 18 after three rounds of testing.

Shelby, though it is technically a bicycle or moto lamp, is exceptionally well built and beat all takers in the range test. Its shortfall was the 2.5-hour maximum run time and considerable thermal buildup. The Coast HL8R was a close second in overall range, but run time at full power was shorter than expected. The SureFire Maximus hails from a MIL-SPEC genus and was one of the best-constructed lamps in the test. Its perfectly smooth, wide beam would be ideal for clearing a large auditorium (or camp) but run time and range were not its strong suits. Petzl’s NAO sets a high bar for reactive lighting systems—it is amazing. The NAO kept up with most of the group with regard to range, but run time was limited to 1.5 hours at full power. The H14.2 and Pelican 2780R were neck-and-neck for my top pick. Where the 2780R sacrificed points for its shorter run time, it made up for it with a strong finish in the range test and by going for a 30-minute swim and coming out shining. It thus receives the Value Award. The LED LENSER H14.2, with its fine-tuned optics and outstanding combination of run time and output, receives the coveted Editor’s Choice Award.

TOM SAWYER AWARD When it came down to what light Tom Sawyer would need if lost in a cave with Becky, the higher priced units left them for dead before their candles ran out. The Petzl TIKKA +, Black Diamond Cosmo and Icon, LED LENSER SEO 3, and Princeton Tec Vizz held on for more than 70 hours. They weren’t breaking any output records, but when taken into a pitch black room there was enough light for one to make their way. When all others went dark it was the Princeton Tec Vizz that still had a twinkle in its reflector, and thus receives the Tom Sawyer Award.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Premium Options (over $100)

Mid-range Options ($51-$100)

Low-cost Options (less than $50)

COMPARISON Manufacturer

Black Diamond

LED LENSER

Pelican

Petzl

Princeton Tec

Model

Cosmo

Storm

SEO 3

2760

TIKKA +

Vizz

Cost (USD)

$30

$50

$39

$46

$40

$50

Weight (oz/g)

3.2/90

3.9/110

3.7/105

3.4/96

3/85

3.2/92

Intensity levels/ strobe/safety light

Variable/yes/yes

2/yes/yes

4/yes/yes

2/yes/yes

2/no/yes

Adjustable focus/ transport lock

No/yes

Yes/yes

No/no

No/yes

Battery type

AAA, Li-ion

AAA

AAA, NiMH, Li-ion

AAA

Rechargeable

IPX rating, pass/fail

IPX4, pass

IPX7, pass

IPX6, pass

IPX4, pass

IPX7, pass

Beam (wide/spot, degrees)

124/14

95/10

57/10

67/16

57/28

67/14

Max lumen per MFR

160

204

100 (160 burst)

205

Warranty

3-year

5-year

Lifetime

3-year

10-year

Manufacturer

Black Diamond

Coast

Fenix

LED LENSER

Petzl

Princeton Tec

Model

Icon

HL27

HL55

H7R.2

MYO

Apex

Cost (USD)

$90

$60

$90

$100

$64

Weight (oz/g)

8.1/230

6.9/195

4.1/115

5.8/165

7.9/175

9.8/279

Intensity levels/ strobe/safety light

Variable/yes/yes

Variable/no/no

5/no/no

3/yes/yes

9/yes/no

4/yes/no

Adjustable focus/ transport lock

No/yes

Yes/no

No/no

Yes/yes

No/no

Battery type

18650, CR123

AA, Li-ion

AA, Li-ion, NiMH

Rechargeable

Yes

IPX rating, pass/fail

IPX7, pass

IPX4, pass

IPX8, pass

IPX4, pass

IPX7, pass

Beam (wide/spot, degrees)

95/17

90/14

95/19

62/15

105/28

28/28

Max lumen per MFR

320

330

420 (900 burst)

300

280 (370 burst)

275

Warranty

3-year

Lifetime

2-year

5-year

3-year

10-year

Manufacturer

Clearwater

Coast

LED LENSER

Pelican

Petzl

SureFire

Model

Shelby

HL8R

H14.2

2780R

NAO

Maximus

Cost (USD)

$149

$150

$120

$185

$275

Weight (oz/g)

16.5/462

12.8/362

12.2/347

7.3/204

6.5/187

5.9/167

Intensity levels/ strobe/safety light

4/yes/no

3/no/no

3/yes/yes

9/yes/yes

3/yes/no

Variable/yes/no

Adjustable focus/ transport lock

No/no

Yes/no

Yes/yes

No/no

No/yes

No/no

Battery type

18650

AA, Li-ion

AA, CR123A, 18650

18650

18650, AA

Li-ion

Rechargeable

Yes

IPX rating, pass/fail

IPX4, pass

IPX7, pass

IPX4, pass

Beam (wide/spot, degrees)

67/12

105/12

95/13

133/14

95/24

62/33

Max lumen per MFR

900

800

220

558

430 (575 burst)

500

Warranty

1-year

Lifetime

5-year

Lifetime

3-year

Lifetime

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Lati tude Portfolio by Travis Burke

REGRET

38°N

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

37°N and 51°N

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37-38°N

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

44°N OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Storms on the Horizon A father and sonʼs motorcycle journey from Calgary to the Arctic Circle. By Neale Bayly Photos by Neale Bayly, Patrick Bayly, and Ray McKenzie

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

cold wind roaring across Desolation Bay bites my ears as I turn my back to shield my eyes, scanning the shoreline for signs of life. We picked up fresh wolf prints along the water’s edge, and a few miles back on the highway we passed a large grizzly. As far as my eyes can see there are no signs of man, and the wind has whipped the surface of the water into what looks like rain clouds across the bay. The scene is intense and raw, and its natural beauty, one that has been crafted by years of evolution, has my senses on high alert. Moving my head alters the buﬀeting in my ears. I hear wolves howling as they did nearly 30 years ago, when I lay under the Northern Lights with my young sweetheart Karen in the forests above Fairbanks during my first trip to Alaska. Today I’m watching my 13-year-old son, Patrick, learn about photography and life in equal measures from my travel partner Ray McKenzie as they make their way along the shoreline. The moment moves beyond perfect, perhaps to that cosmic place that says if there’s no more, this is enough, this is it. As perfect as everything is, the deeper I look into my soul, it’s not the wolves that are howling but my soul itself. It is bleeding and crying out for the young men who will never travel this way, for those who won’t camp amongst the driftwood with their young lover held tightly by their side, alive and on fire for the world. In 1986, having left Florida for Alaska on a heavily loaded Honda 550, I stopped a few miles short of the Arctic Circle. It has always been an ink smudge in my life’s travel journal and one I’ve wanted to edit. I suppose I’m now on a mission to rewrite that page.

69 Top: Tracing the edge of Muncho Lake. Opposite, clockwise from left: Patrick practices his photographs along Bow Lake on Icefields Parkway. Grizzly Bear near Beaver Creek, Yukon. Columbia Icefield, which is 125 square miles in size, is the largest icefield in the Rocky Mountains. Traversing an abandoned track near Koidern, Yukon. Opening spread: The author enjoys a moment of repose to absorb the view of Muncho Lake. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Icefields Parkway threads a 144-mile path through glacially sculpted massifs.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Rolling through open pastureland I struggle to bring back memories of my original journey that now seem like small fragments of movies, each triggered by the title card of the initial snapshot.

Patrick and I met my long-time friend Ray, a stalwart Canadian, in Calgary, borrowed a Triumph Tiger and Explorer from Blackfoot Motorcycles, and rode north. Minutes into the ride, cool, harsh winds began pushing us around, and occasional large, swollen raindrops threatened to turn into a deluge. Although the region was experiencing torrential rains and flooding, we managed to thread a small needle of passable weather as the Trans-Canada Highway drew us north. Rolling through open pastureland I struggle to bring back memories of my original journey that now seem like small fragments of movies, each triggered by the title card of the initial snapshot. These old pictures have become rigid placeholders of thought, time, and space; their Kodachrome permanence is etched into my subconscious. I am experiencing a new chapter now, new snapshots, as a man hopping from boulder to boulder across a flowing river, while the millions of moments from that long-ago ride float away. We glide past Banff, Lake Louise, and the Columbia Icefield, and are quickly immersed in towering snow-capped mountains, fast-flowing rivers, and ice-filled lakes; the temptation to jump off and explore could make for slow progress. Pivoting around the summer solstice, our days ahead will be long, so we ride on into Grand Cache to get a room for the night and plan to spend more time here on our return. The early morning temperature is too close to freezing to ride, which is perfect for Patrick. He continues sleeping while Ray and I drink coffee and catch up. Through the window we see muddy trucks loaded with four wheelers, all equally unrecognizable under the layers of grime—a solid reminder of the conditions we might face. We are soon passing oil refineries on very dirty roads. Most of our fellow travelers are in large work trucks, so we stay tight to the shoulder as we make our way toward Dawson Creek and the start of the Alaska Highway. At the famous sign, mile marker zero, I’m struggling to remember my first visit. Perhaps the long miles ahead will unlock those memories like a card-rescue program finding missing files. My hope is that I don’t dilute the new experiences I’m having with my son as I try to recall old ones. In Wonowon, named for its position at mile marker 101 along the old Alaska Highway, we buy snacks from an Indian cashier with Canadian traveler’s checks, and are joined by American tree-planting hippies and lumbering truck drivers. This will be our new “normal,” as these small gas stations, the only civilization for a couple of hundred miles, collect all forms of travelers. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Clockwise from top left: Bow Lake on the Icefields Parkway. A moose grazes along the shores of Swan Lake. Taking a break on the banks of Liard River. Grizzly bear tracks across a mudflat on the south end of Kluane Lake. Mountain goats near Muncho Lake. We met Bruce, an 88-year-old World War II veteran, riding his Harley through Fort Nelson, British Columbia.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Seventy-five years separate these two travelers, but the more I look at the picture the harder it is to draw that distinction.

Back in the saddle, we drop into huge chasms, ride over wooden and metal bridges, and cross the Liard River. During my first trip, a fire had taken out one of the few gas stations that stitch this part of the world together. We had to ride on in search of fuel, counting and calculating, hoping not to grind to a halt with nothing but trees, mosquitoes, and bears for company. Occasional squalls of rain hit, but never persist, and I’m pleased to know Patrick is happy and engaged as we park up for the day after notching 800 kilometers. We call a committee meeting and offer up the question: Do we push hard for the Arctic Circle, or do more sightseeing and go for it another time? Ray is up for the challenge, and the deciding vote goes to Patrick, who wants to push on. I’m the happiest man in Fort Nelson. Chance meetings that change your life are a mix of patience and timing, and our conversation with Bruce, an 88-year-old veteran riding his Harley north, lets me know we are doing our job. As far as Bruce knows, he is the only WWII veteran left riding, and the picture I take of him and Patrick is the gold I’m seeking from this trip. Seventy-five years separate these two travelers, but the more I look at the picture the harder it is to draw that distinction. Using the throttle to pull the new day toward us, we begin to see black bear; Patrick counts 10 in total. As I slow to observe a few foraging beside the highway, he clicks away with his camera, converting our view of these magnificent creatures into pixels. At another gas station we take coffee and chat with the Dutch owner. He moves slowly and deliberately around his spartan restaurant, and his words are carefully chosen. Everything is perfectly placed with no extra frills to be found. Out here where life depends on proper planning, there is no need for luxuries. Today’s temperature is in the 70s, kept cool by the air from snowcapped mountains, so we mount up and ride in perfect conditions. At times I want to be 25 again, with a pack on my back and an open horizon ahead. I think of Patrick and his reliance on electronic devices. In 1986 we never dreamed of cell phones or the Internet. We wrote letters and postcards and sent them by airmail. We didn’t know what our friends and family were doing each day. For the majority of us who have succumbed to socalled modern conveniences, we will never effectively break the electronic chains that enable us to be present with our family and friends without being there. Like bears endlessly foraging OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

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Dotting our path are scrappy working towns, crumbling gas stations, and boarded-up motels— broken dreams slowly being taken back by the wilderness.

A boardwalk at Rancheria Falls in Yukon. Storms on the horizon near the Dalton Highway. Opposite: Dalton Highway offers miles of smooth graded dirt through Alaska’s stunning landscapes.

fuel for the winter ahead, we must feed the technology beast and stay foraging ourselves to meet its demands. We end our day in Whitehorse, a small city on the banks of the Yukon River—a place where many of what I think will be our favorite moments are shared. For Ray, it’s watching a bear sitting back and scratching. For Patrick, it is seeing bison. I am mesmerized by the reflection of the mountains in the still waters of Muncho Lake. We leave northern Canada’s largest little city and ride for Alaska. The temperature is plummeting and the road deteriorating; we slow for large potholes and other broken surfaces. Dotting our path are scrappy working towns, crumbling gas stations, and boarded-up motels—broken dreams slowly being taken back by the wilderness. We pull up shy of the border and within minutes are back in the U.S. In the metropolis of Tok, population 1,258, we learn there is heavy rain ahead. Within a few miles of beginning our day it is raining so hard the drops are bouncing up off the road. Ray is not as well equipped as we are in our Gerbing suits, and I worry for him as the temperature dips below 40°F. At the next gas stop, we meet a group of senior ladies from South Africa, Belgium, Holland, and Québec, who are cycling to Montana. They have face-splitting grins, and we are equally interested in each other’s travel stories. After taking cover inside and finding the walls of the small building covered with stuffed animals, we chat over hot coffee in this strange environment; the experience is both enlightening and surreal. Reaching Fairbanks early allows us some time to dry and repack our gear for the final leg north. I’ve often questioned why I didn’t push on the last time I was here. This time it will be an achievement my son and I can share, one that might bond us for the rest of our lives. Hopefully, it will be one that shapes his adventurous spirit. While at a motorcycle shop picking up supplies I learn that George, the man who bought my old Honda back in 1986 (before Karen and I hitchhiked back to the lower 48), would be at a local coffee shop the following morning. We drop by at the suggested time and I immediately recognize him. Even though OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Every mountain range brings something different: rain, cold, mud, and clear blue skies with clouds so perfect, they look to have been borrowed from an artist’s canvas.

he remembers the bike, he doesn’t remember me. While reconnecting with George, I realize that the most enduring memories I have from a past that I am now riding through are the people. The scenery has melded into a blur of trees, mountains, and rivers. But the faces, though they fade in the way of an old photograph in a tucked-away album, persist in my consciousness. Bison chili, salmon soup, and monstrous burgers fill our table at the Yukon River Camp, which sits on the north end of the longest wooden bridge we’ve crossed. We are buzzing from riding the Dalton Highway. Seeing the long dirt road disappearing into the distance and the sunlight glinting on the Trans-Alaska pipeline has me singing in my helmet. Built between 1974 and 1977, the pipeline carries oil 800 miles from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez. We have to be on alert, as there are trucks and tandem trailers on the move, and they slow for nothing, save the occasional black bear that wanders onto the road. In the early days of a trip the neurons and synapses fly at the speed of modern life, and thoughts run far and wild like distant rivers. There is a sense of impatience to arrive, to reach our destination, but that thought process retreats with each day as the voice in my head fades to complete silence. The relaxed hum of the engine, the constantly changing conditions, and the need to find food and shelter take over. There is soon no hurry, just a sense of engagement with each change in scenery. Every mountain range brings something diﬀerent: rain, cold, mud, and clear blue skies with clouds so perfect, they look to have been borrowed from an artist’s canvas. Patrick has been converting kilometers into miles to gauge when we would cross the Arctic Circle. Our camp tonight is as far north as we will ride; we have made it. We are tired and smell of woodsmoke from the fire, and it’s well past midnight when my eyes finally close. The last song on Patrick’s iPod ends and I feel him lean over to hug me goodnight. This involuntary action caps oﬀ the day with the knowledge that reaching our destination and camping out together means as much to Patrick as it does to me. I drift into a wonderful sleep. A hot breakfast awaits us at the Yukon River Camp the next morning. This time we don’t linger, as filling the next valley is a huge storm moving across the low-slung mountains. Dark and angry at its center, the edges give way to blue sky peppered with white cumulus clouds. Patrick tells me we will ride into it. I smell the rain, but the dust from Ray’s bike lets me know it has passed. A few miles out of Tok I see Ray’s bike parked beside the highway; he spotted a grizzly and pulled over. We circle around to see an angry bear rear up with a massive roar. Although I am OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Patrick takes in the views from Finger Rock on the Dalton Highway.

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A few miles out of Tok I see Ray’s bike parked beside the highway; he spotted a grizzly and pulled over. We circle around to see an angry bear rear up with a massive roar.

in gear with the engine running, Ray is parked with his engine off. The bear backs away, but it is a harsh reminder of our vulnerability in this vast wilderness. The midnight sun is behind us but there will not be darkness for a while. We stock up on food supplies and play tourist with a visit to the SS Klondike II, a 1930 stern wheeler that carried freight on the Yukon River until the road came through in 1950. At Contact Creek we stop for coffee and a chat with Richard Hair, a 30-year resident. He suggests we take the old highway, and my struggle with fading images begins to make sense. The road is low, thick trees block our view, and we can’t get much past 45 mph. The new highway has ripped through this wilderness, leaving my memories here as the old road slowly surrenders its once-proud purpose to Mother Nature. This day was bound by destiny to be one of the best, and before long we are riding an impossibly steep dirt road beside a dry riverbed. At Muncho Lake, Patrick and I strip off and dive in. Glacier water doesn’t allow you to linger long, and it is breathtaking in more ways than one. The stretch from Muncho Lake to Fort Nelson could be my favorite. Although we had come this way, today it feels as if we’ve not seen any of it. Bighorn sheep, moose, elk, black bear, and deer give Patrick plenty to look at, and all of us something to stop and target with our cameras. Ray insists we visit Athabasca Falls in Jasper National Park. The power of water plunging 80 feet into deep chasms, churning and kicking spray hundreds of feet into the air is majestic. The sinking sun paints the mountains, ringing the falls a deep, golden yellow. Patrick wants to camp by the Columbia Icefield tonight, so we tear ourselves away. At 125 square miles in area, the glacier extends into both Banff and Jasper National Parks and is surrounded with mountains that top 11,000 feet. In the morning we climb out of our tents into the crisp, chilly air; the valley looks so much bigger in the light. It is barely above freezing and I’m thankful for my heated grips and electric vest. By mid-morning, tourists are clogging the road. We struggle our way up to Moraine Lake where we fight for space at the viewing stations and trip over tour-bus people. The views are impressive, but I’m yearning for the open spaces and solitude of the previous days. This afternoon we will be in Calgary and return our bikes. We take one last look at the lake and roll our final miles. As the months have passed since our return, memories of the ride come flooding back and it is clear the gods of travel were smiling on us. Patrick is back into his normal routine, and Ray and I, as we get sucked back into the realities and requirements of the 21st century, talk on Skype. We had an incredible ride, though certainly tough at times, and my hope is that the experience will inspire Patrick to seek these desolate places in the world.

Clockwise from top left: Sunset over the Icefields Parkway. Spring glacial melt thunders over Athabasca Falls. Navigating a rocky, unnamed pass off the Icefields Parkway. Camping under an azure twilight in the Canadian Rockies. The views along Alberta’s Icefields Parkway are a feast for the eyes. Patrick makes a quick exit from the frigid waters of Muncho Lake. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

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Long-term Ram Cummins diesel guru James Langan wraps up our long-term Ram 2500 Tradesman build. By James Langan

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n Part I of our long-term Ram we put rubber to the road, managed damping, and fitted the Tradesman 2500 with a comfortable, selfcontained abode. With thousands of miles of oﬀ-pavement travel in its future, it was time to address body armor, recovery equipment, and auxiliary lighting. A few other backcountry basics to tackle included keeping the differentials free of contaminants, and installing a reliable source of air. Because I had opted to leave the vehicle at its stock height, and considering its long wheelbase and relatively low approach and departure angles, protecting the sheet metal was a priority. Big, beefy bumpers are not just for show. If they are engineered, built, and installed correctly they can prevent incapacitating damage during an animal strike or other collisions. Deer strikes are common in North America’s West, and Buckstop Truckware, in Prineville, Oregon, chose a most descriptive name for the armor they’ve been selling since 2001. I selected their Outback front bumper (they make five options for the Ram) for its appearance and extra coverage. Adding weight was a major consideration, so I opted for the aluminum version. Constructed from ⅜-inch aluminum in the center and ¼-inch at the wings, this stout blade registered at 78 pounds on my shop scale, about 80 pounds less than the steel model. The bolt-on steel grille guard, brackets, tow hooks, and hardware added an additional 92 pounds, for a net gain (after the stock unit was removed) of just 118 pounds. The winch mount is concealed and protected from weather, and a top removable plate provides access. A bolt-on front hitch receiver is standard, to which I added a Factor 55 HitchLink and Fehr Bros. stainless steel bow shackle. The bumper fits well and looks fantastic. The rear unit is a Reunel Extreme heavyduty towing model. Extreme is an overused adjective, but an appropriate descriptor for Reunel armor. Buckstop purchased Reunel in 2014 and has continued their extreme mantra. The outer arms are crafted from ¼-inch plate steel, the center section from hefty ½-inch plate. Mounting involved unbolting and raising the bed to slide the OE receiver from the frame rails. This should have been easy, but during removal one of the front bolts snapped inside the captive nut. This was a considerOVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

able snag, solved with a custom repair strong enough to support a 1-ton camper. Other glitches included missing hardware and the lack of an easy attachment point for the OE trailer wiring. I fitted the trailer plug to the bottom of the bed with the provided bracket, but needed a wiring extension to connect it. Reunel oﬀers two receiver options: its traditional bolt-on, ½-inch hitch plate, or a tube welded between the center step plates (which eliminates the option of a winch). I don’t have immediate plans for a rear winch, but I like having the option and chose the bolt-on version (rated at 15,000 pounds). Another Factor 55 HitchLink and Fehr bow shackle function as a recovery point, and the entire assembly weighed in at 224 pounds. I dragged the rear unit a few times on a technical trail and it has held up well. I like how the bumpers look and work, and would choose them again.

RECOVERY AND LIGHTING When it came to selecting a winch I chose the Superwinch Talon 12.5iSR for its 100percent load-holding brake located inside the gearbox and away from the drum—this reduces heat transfer to synthetic rope. The drum is made with high tensile-strength steel to resist the loading characteristics of the AmSteel Blue synthetic rope, and the integrated solenoid fits inside the bumper’s winch cavity. My only complaint is that the hole in the drum is too small, and required shaving the end of the rope before I could feed it through. The coiled cord and light on the remote are simple yet practical. I added a Factor 55 hawse fairlead, which is CNC milled from 1.5-inch, American-made 6000 series aluminum bar. It provides a larger outer radius for the rope to slide on, which results in less stress during sharp angle pulls. Rounding it oﬀ is a Factor 55 ProLink XXL. Choosing lighting from the myriad of companies and configurations can be difficult, but Vision X has earned my respect over the years. Buckstop adjusted the front bumper’s light buckets (which are normally 4 inches in diameter) to accommodate two pairs of Vision X 4.5-inch, 25-watt LED Light Cannons. They provide 1,000 feet of usable light, and an array of polycarbonate covers allow for 21 color and/or beam combinations. The inner pair utilizes clear, pro-

tective covers that maintain the original spot pattern, while the outers have the yellow euro-beam lenses that provide a flat, horizontal pattern to illuminate the periphery while still oﬀering good range. A pair of Vision X Optimus Dual LED Pods were installed in the rear bumper. The wide, 60-degree pattern works perfectly, providing plenty of distance for anything short of imitating stunt driver Hooper’s “unsafe backing.” I could not be more pleased with the quality, appearance, and performance of the front/rear combination.

ROCK SLIDERS There are comparatively few rock sliders deserving of the name for full-size domestic trucks. Fortunately, and just in time for this build, the guys at White Knuckle Oﬀ Road Products introduced a version of their boltons for the 2014-16 Ram 2500. The main rub rail is fabricated from 2by 3-inch, .250-wall rectangular tubing. The outer rail, which is capped with diamond plate (optional) is .188-wall round tubing. The legs (there are five on the right and four

Big, beefy bumpers are not just for show. If they are engineered, built, and installed correctly they can prevent incapacitating damage during an animal strike or other collisions.

1. Bolt-on sliders from White Knuckle Off Road Products. 2. Half-inch parallel plates contribute to the Reunel’s massive strength. The bolt-on rear hitch is rated for 15,000 pounds. Factor 55’s HitchLink provides the rear recovery point. 3. Aluminum Buckstop bumper with Outback grille guard. Vision X 4.5-inch Light Cannons look good and provide great visibility at night. 4. Thus far the combination of the Ram and Hallmark Milner camper have been ideal for my style of backcountry travel. 5. The front bumper sports a Factor 55 hawse aluminum fairlead and ProLink XXL shackle. 6. Reunel rear tow bumper with Vision X Optimus 60-degree, 10-watt LEDs, Factor 55 HitchLink 2.0, and Fehr Bros. shackle. 7. Superwinch’s tall 12.5iSR just fits in the Buckstop winch cavity.

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With ARB's CKMTP12, it took a mere 16 minutes to inflate all four tires from trail pressure to street pressure. Try that with a lowvolume cheapie. 3.

SPECIFICATIONS 2014 Ram Tradesman crew cab, 6-foot, 4-inch bed

on the left) are .250-wall, 1.5-inch square tubing and securely attached to the frame with Grade-8 hardware. The entire assembly is powder-coated and weighs in at 302 pounds—heavy, but low and centered. The instructions are short, simple, and clear, and all fasteners were included. These are the first White Knuckle products I’ve used, and the quality, appearance, and attention to detail are outstanding.

Avoiding deep water and mud is a personal priority for the care and longevity of my rigs, but a little fording or mud driving is sometimes necessary. Thus, raising the diﬀerential vents is a minimum upgrade. ARB offers a kit for this, which extends the short OE breather. Installation is quick and easy, works great, and has become my go-to solution on all my rigs.

FRESH AIR

Capless fuel fillers are increasingly common on modern vehicles. On the Ram 2500, a flap in the filler neck is opened when a nozzle is inserted, and there is a rubber seal on the fuel door. Although both are intended to keep debris out, the top of the filler cup behind the door is open to the atmosphere and collects a dusty film. I’ve also read reports of others packed with snow and ice during severe conditions. The solution came from Ram diesel accessory specialists Geno’s Garage in the form of their billet aluminum Magnetic Green Diesel cap. It was joined by their DEF cap, which

Although I don’t have immediate plans to install ARB air lockers, a compressor is a basic requirement for backcountry exploration. Positive experiences with ARB’s CKMTA12 Twin made it the obvious choice. With limited space under the hood, the added flexibility of the portable version (CKMTP12), which includes a 4-liter reserve tank, was selected. It took a mere 16 minutes to inflate all four tires from trail pressure (33 psi front, 41 psi rear) to street pressure (63/80 psi respectively). Try that with a low-volume cheapie. I also added ARB’s tire inflator gauge to my kit. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

• Engine: 6.7L Cummins turbo-diesel, No-Spill drain system • Output: 660 lb-ft @ 1,400 rpm, 350 hp @ 2,800 rpm • Transmission: Mercedes-Benz G56 6-speed manual • Transfer case: BorgWarner 44-47 manual shift, 2.64:1 low range • Axles: AAM 9.5-in front, AAM 11.5-in rear, ARB breathers • Differentials: 3.42:1 gears, AAM TracRite GT helical gear rear limited-slip • Wheelbase: 148.9 in • Tires/wheels: 285/75R18E Toyo A/T II Xtreme, OE 18x8 forged aluminum • Suspension: 3-link front, 5-link rear, OE coils, Rancho RS9000XL shocks • Steering: Specialty Products 1.5-degree offset ball joint • Hallmark Milner camper • Front bumpers (ft/rr): Buckstop Outback, Reunel Extreme heavy-duty • Sliders: White Knuckle Off Road Products • Recovery: Superwinch 12.5iSR, AmSteel Blue rope, Factor 55 ProLink, hawse fairlead, and HitchLink 2.0 • Compressor: ARB CKMTP12 portable • Lighting (ft/rr): Vision X Light Cannon LED, Optimus Dual LED Pods

CLEAN AND SECURE FUEL 1. All Sales Manufacturing locking fuel door secures Geno’s Garage O-ring-sealed DEF and Diesel caps. 2. ARB’s clean differential breather kit has solved contamination issues in the differentials. 3. ARB’s portable CKMTP12 compressor kit provides the volume and pressure needed for big LT tires. 4. ARB’s tire inflator gauge is reliable, precise, and is durable enough to endure years of work in the field.

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Clockwise from top: Considering the Ram 2500 Tradesman suspension is designed to bear heavy loads, it is surprisingly nimble in technical terrain. I love my Carhartt SeatSavers from Covercraft. The Covercraft custom-fit UVS100 sunscreen is a perfect fit for the Ram 2500 windshield.

key factor, as dropping the hammer yields predictable results. In part one I detailed that this truck weighed 7,760 pounds in stock form with 285/75R18 Toyo A/T II tires. Fuel economy was 21.3 mpg at 65 mph on the highway. Current weight is 10,900 pounds, and repeating the baseline test showed fuel economy had dropped to a still-reasonable 15.23 mpg.

HALLMARK MILNER CAMPER After thousands of highway miles, many nights of sound sleep, and several days of both rugged and mild oﬀ-pavement travel, I’m an unabashed fan of Hallmark Milner. The only way to share my enthusiasm without writing paragraphs of additional praise is to share the following. Before the one-year demo expired, I voted with my dollars and decided to purchase it. See you around the campfire.

Adding stuff just for looks is not my style, but these parts work, look sharp, and follow my “Might as Well Have the Best” mindset.

replaced the OE plastic piece. I also installed a locking aluminum fuel door from All Sales Manufacturing. Adding stuﬀ just for looks is not my style, but these parts work, look sharp, and follow my “Might as Well Have the Best” mindset (borrowed from Filson’s slogan). 86

SHADE AND COMFORT For a combined quarter-million miles over the last two decades, all of my rigs have been treated to SeatSavers from Covercraft. Since my last purchase they introduced a Carharttbranded version, which, because I wear Carhartt trousers daily, are particularly appealing. Compared to SeatSavers, the Carhartt utilizes a slightly thicker, 10.5-ounce duck-weave fabric with a heavier denier thread and tripleOVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

needle stitching on the seams. They are durable, washable, high quality, and fit well. I like to keep the sun out of the cab with a sunscreen, but have always used the onesize-fits-none options. This time I decided to try Covercraft’s patented UVS100. It fits perfectly, so well it hardly needs the sun visors to hold it against the windshield. Instead of rotting or tearing, the Covercraft UVS100 appears to be a lifetime accessory.

ECONOMY AND GVW Chassis choice and overall build decisions matter when it comes to fuel economy, particularly the decision to run a relatively narrow, less-aggressive tread and avoid a suspension lift. Maintaining a steady speed is another

Resources All Sales Manufacturing: v-tech.com, 916-933-0236 ARB: arbusa.com, 866-761-8195 Buckstop/Reunel: buckstop.biz, 800-431-6978 Covercraft: covercraft.com, 800-426-8377 Factor 55: factor55.com, 208-639-1674 Fehr Bros.: fehr.com, 845-246-9525 Geno’s Garage: genosgarage.com, 800-755-1715 Hallmark Campers: hallmarkrv.com, 877-659-5753 Jessup Manufacturing: jessupmfg.com, 888-711-7735 Superwinch: superwinch.com, 800-323-2031 Toyo Tires: toyotires.com, 800-442-8696 Vision X: visionxusa.com, 888-489-9820 White Knuckle Off Road Products: white-knuckleoffroad.com, 760-221-0479

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LIVING LEGENDS

Photo courtesy US Camel Trophy

Interview by Chris Collard Photography by Tom Collins and courtesy Land Rover NA

Tom Collins Tom Collins, aka “Mr. Camel Trophy,” shares his life of exploration and decades of expedition travel.

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Photo by Robert Young Pelton

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ew words conjure visions of adventure and the surge of adrenaline as Camel Trophy and the name Tom Collins. The Trophy was an epic of human resilience and vehicle prowess, and Collins, aﬀectionately known by his friends as TC, led the U.S. team for more than a decade and became one of the most prominent figures in expedition travel. I met TC in the early ’90s at an auto show and, like countless others, bombarded him with questions about participating in the Trophy. I found him to be assertive yet tactful, soft-spoken but confident, a man with grit and integrity who looks you in the eye when he has something to say. While researching TC for Living Legends, I reached out to his friends, coworkers, and employers. As each person reflected on the years they had spent and adventures they had shared with him, I quickly realized that he was regarded as a close member of their family. They had worked, played, cried, rejoiced, struggled, and conquered together. TC has not only been a teammate, coach, mentor, brother, and father figure, he has helped the people around him reach into the depths of their souls and find an inner strength they didn’t know they had, pursue dreams they would have otherwise been too fearful to follow, overcome challenges, and ultimately take on life with enthusiasm rather than hesitation. More than one said, “I would trust Tom with my life…and have.” I also learned that the complexity of his character and array of experiences reach far beyond the Camel Trophy. TC describes himself as, “very competitive, driven, extremely tenacious, and stubborn…an endurance specialist, not a sprinter.” He admits that he is not the best at any one thing, but he is good at many and not afraid to learn new skills. I joined TC at his home in Carbondale, Colorado, for a day of fascinating dialogue. I left energized and inspired, like I could take on and succeed at anything I put 100 percent of my energy, focus, and commitment into. It is with great pleasure that I introduce you to Tom Collins, one of the true Living Legends of our era.

What or who were the early influences that led you to pursue a life of adventure?

Photo by Mom

My parents loved exploring back roads–hunting, fishing, and our family vacations were spent in the Sierra Nevada. During hunting season we pursued deer at a friend’s ranch near Willits, California, and on public lands around Truckee. These outdoor activities, along with my mother’s stories about growing up on a ranch in San Luis Obispo County, set the stage. She also told lots of stories about her family’s adventures in early California. The family arrived in California in 1781, and my fourth great-grandfather was a Spanish soldier who brought the first settlers of Los Angeles from Mazatlán, Mexico, up the Baja Peninsula to San Gabriel. Television shows about far-oﬀ places and books about mountain men and exploration fueled my imagination. I’ve heard stories about a Series Land Rover and Ford GPW…

The GPW was at the hunting ranch and I loved that vehicle. I never drove it, I was too young, but my dad would take my brother and me exploring on the 4WD roads in the area. I became a fanatic about four-wheel drives and six-by-six vehicles and always commented when we passed one on the highway. My dad was a Ford service manager and mechanic, who stated, “I buy cars to drive, not look at.” He was notorious for pushing the family station wagons on rocky trails where they did not belong. A lasting memory was feeling the floorboards spring up under our feet as the car bounced over boulders—more than once the floors had to be stomped back down. The Land Rover was a 1958 Series II owned by my friend’s grandfather, who owned the adjacent ranch. I fell in love with the Land Rover right away. It was very plush compared to our WWII-era Jeep, and it got around on the four-wheel drive roads just as well. This 1943 Ford GPW is the Jeep that started it all. My Dad (Tom) is driving, I am holding the dog, and my brother Jack is in the back. I rode a 1974 CZ 250 in a sanctioned motocross race at Aztec Raceway near Colorado Springs. Motorcycle racing paved the way for my motorsports career. Trying to score on a bareback bronc at the Snowmass Rodeo in Colorado in 1976. The broncs bucked me off most of the time, and I realized I was not cut out to be a rodeo star. Opposite: This photo was taken in the wilds of Tanzania where we were lost in the tall grass; a distant mountain range, a compass, and route book were all we had to find the trail. Opening page: Crossing rivers atop a Camel Trophy raft provided a brief moment to relax.

What led you to move to Colorado?

As a kid I always knew the Rocky Mountains would be my future home, rather than the suburbs of San Jose, California. I started skiing during my college years. Friends would return from ski trips in Colorado and tell stories about how great it was. Also, California had become crowded and our motorcycle trails were being closed. After I took my last final at San Jose State University in January of 1973, I skipped commencement and instead loaded my ’58 Chevy truck with my moto-

cross bike, tools, and skis. I then followed my friend Bert Petersen to Aspen. It was the best move I ever made. Aspen was heaven in the early 1970s. How did your passion for dirt bikes develop into pursuing a career as a motocross racer?

I would not call it a career, though I would classify it as a passion. My neighbor Tom Nichole introduced me to motocross. He raced and took the neighborhood kids along with his own kids to the races. He even let me ride his Ossa Stiletto in a race. I found racing motocross was the ultimate expression of man and machine. The problem was that my dad did not like motorcycles. He called them “murdercycles.” I hid my first bike, a Hodaka Ace 90. That did not work out. Although he finally relented, he made me buy health insurance and proper protective gear. He also didn’t want to know about my injuries. I lived and breathed motocross. I did okay and was rated as an AMA expert. I even had a sponsored ride for a couple of years, but could never beat the nation’s top riders. After motocross I competed in AMA enduro and desert races and did much better at long-distance events. The Inter-AMA races brought all of the world’s greatest riders to California. Roger DeCoster and Joel Robert became my heroes. I wanted to race cars in the worst way, but I did not have the money and my parents were not going to support it—even though they loved watching circle track races. Is there a story behind this photo of the bucking bronco, a career we don’t know about?

I worked on Aspen’s Airport Ranch for a few years and was around real cowboys who talked about roping and riding in the area’s rodeos. Their stories made me want to go for it. I couldn’t rope and did not own a horse, so I decided to ride bareback broncs. During the season I only completed my 8 seconds three times. The rest of the time I fell oﬀ and generally got beat up. I only rode a bull once, and I found that it was not my thing. Bulls, unlike horses, will gore and stomp you. This photo was taken during a wild horse race, the stupidest event in rodeo. It was a challenge that my buddies Bert, Sean, and I could not pass up. Two guys try to control a horse that wants to kill you while the third guy, which in this case was me, saddles it and tries to ride around the arena. The crazy part is that there OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

scott Photo by Gary We

The Amazon in 1989, Kalimantan in 1996, and the Borneo Trophy in 1985 had worse roads and more rain, but Madagascar was an adventure on the verge of disaster.

Left: The Italian team was eventually declared the winner of the 1987 Camel Trophy in Madagascar. Don Floyd (front) and I won the 4WD and navigation tasks, but Vincenzo Tota (left) and Mauro Miele (right) beat us in the speed-oriented events. Don and I liked the Italians and respected their skills. Right: Celebrating with Don Floyd after making it to the end of Camel Trophy 1987. This photo was handed out by Land Rover at auto shows and we found ourselves signing a lot of autographs, which was something completely foreign to us. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

are seven other teams trying to do the same thing, and the horses don’t care who they take out. We led the race until the horse decided not to go around the required barrels at the end of the arena, and instead just tried to buck me oﬀ. We finished last. How did you learn of the Camel Trophy and what prompted you to apply?

My wife was a dental hygienist, and her boss was one of my motorcycle buddies. He always brought home oﬀ-road magazines from his foreign travels. While at the dental oﬃce picking up my wife I started reading an Australian magazine that had an article about the Trophy. Right there I knew I had what it took to be part of the Camel Trophy. I did not know if there was a U.S. team, but I wanted to be part of that adventure in the worst way. There was no Internet in those days, so I scoured drugstore magazine racks for months until I found Gary Wescott’s article about the Trophy in Four Wheeler. I applied, and when I went to the interview I brought a briefcase full of photos and certificates to back up my experiences—I did not think Chris Drew, head of the U.S. team, would believe that I did what I had claimed. I

made it through the trials and received a spot on the team. It required luck as well as skill; one injury or mistake would have taken me out of the competition. In 1987, you and teammate Don Floyd represented the U.S. in Madagascar and completed the first tip-to-tip crossing of the island. It has been said that Madagascar was the toughest Camel Trophy in the history of the event. Do you agree?

Camel Trophy ’87 was not the toughest driving wise. The Amazon in 1989, Kalimantan in 1996, and the Borneo Trophy in 1985 had worse roads and more rain, but Madagascar was an adventure on the verge of disaster. Unlike the other events, we were totally on our own. There were no communications (the radios never worked), there was no air support, the locals had never seen outsiders before, and the French doctor was drunk the entire time. Don and I were assigned sweep and had to bring the stragglers into camp every night. It became very tough because we never got to sleep. I also got heat exhaustion. You do not want to be hallucinating and puking in the jungle. That is no fun.

I’ve read that Madagascar ended with several teams leading a pseudo mutiny against Camel Trophy. Can you expand on this, and what did you learn about yourself and working with others under strenuous conditions?

The mutiny really bothered Don and me. Land Rover had just reentered the U.S. market and half of the European teams assumed, because the U.S. team was doing well, that management was rigging the results in our favor. Working with the other teams was sometimes a challenge. Everyone on the Trophy had Type A personalities, and you had to carefully and tactfully suggest solutions to problems. No one could do the Camel Trophy on his or her own. They needed a teammate that was equally skilled and had a lot of stamina. I learned to work with the journalists and make them part of the team. There were four of us in the car, and the backseaters, or journalists, were a great help. Right away I realized that everyone would have bad days, and the other teammates had to help them overcome it. Temper had no place in the Trophy. I also learned to respect the locals. We were often treated as heroes, but by not being respectful we could destroy that. The most important thing was to have a positive attitude, keep smiling, and never give up. After returning home you pitched Land Rover the idea of the Great Divide Expedition (GDE). Had this been done before? What was the seed of inspiration, and was it a success?

Land Rover asked me to develop a driving school, which resulted in the Land Rover Driving Academy. This is one of our Range Rovers climbing Pearl Pass near Aspen, Colorado. Driving one of the original Great Divide Expedition (GDE) vehicles down Red Cone, near Breckenridge, Colorado, during the 2014 25th anniversary of the GDE.

Every trail had been driven many times, but no one had linked a route across Colorado from Wyoming to New Mexico along the Continental Divide using diﬃcult four-wheel drive roads. The seed of inspiration came from my wife’s boss, Dr. Comcowich, and a book he gave me, The Great Gates, by Marshall Sprague. It was about all of the passes crossing the Continental Divide and their history. I wanted to run the route on a motorcycle with Dr. Comcowich, but after returning from the Trophy I thought it would be fun to do in Land Rovers with Camel Trophy friends. I met Bill Baker, Land Rover’s legendary public relations guy, at the Miami auto show and knew I needed to pitch some ideas to keep me in the game. The GDE was just one of my ideas, and Bill liked it. I put the route and historical data together over two summers and Bill did everything else. It was a

huge success. Journalists from the U.S., U.K., and Australia had a blast and wrote excellent stories that let the world know about Range Rover and Tread Lightly. It was the GDE that led me to become the U.S. Camel Trophy leader, start Land Rover’s Driving Academy and Adventures programs, race the Baja 1000 for Ford, work with other auto manufacturers, become a TV host, and write for magazines. Meeting Bill and the auto journalists made everything possible. In 1990 you were chosen to be the lead trainer for the U.S. Camel Trophy Team. How did that come about?

After the GDE I had proven that I could put together events and get along with other people. Things started coming my way. There wasn’t a U.S. Camel Team in 1988 and 1989, but Don and I were asked back as support drivers. In 1990 the Trophy was going to the U.S.S.R. and Camel needed a U.S. team to truly make it a world event. They asked Bill Baker who could run the U.S. team and he suggested me. When asked if it was the same Tom Collins that worked as their support driver, Bill said, “Yes, you should use him. He does a great job.” They agreed and a great adventure began. What type of tasks did you subject applicants to and what percentage dropped out?

Before people were invited to try out for the team we did a thorough vetting, assessing applications, resumes, and interviews. Over the years we only had one guy drop out—though three others were forced out with knee injuries. The U.S. team trial was 32 hours nonstop. It tested stamina, swimming, running, orienteering, driving, winching, teamwork, mechanics, first aid, problem solving, map and compass skills, tool use, ability to survive cold, muddy, miserable conditions, and often mountain biking and kayaking. At the end of the event the contestants had to clean all of the gear and the cars. It definitely showed who deserved to make the cut. When selecting team members, what qualities did you consider to be most important?

The ability to get along with others, have a can-do attitude, and to think on their feet were the most important qualities. Everyone had stamina, most were good drivers, and we could teach the other skills. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

I’ve talked to many people that you trained. They’ve all said you were extremely tough, but encouraging at the same time. What was the philosophy behind this approach?

We had very little time to train the teams and we had to push them to be successful. We could not have people who lost their gear, as there were no replacements during the Trophy. People had to learn from their mistakes, as we could not aﬀord the same mistakes being made over and over again. We covered everything needed to be successful, and did it around the clock. Sleep was not part of the equation, just like the real thing. After the weekend sessions, teams were expected to train and study at home. Encouragement and praise is always needed to avoid discouragement. We did not want to break people—we wanted them to be the best. The training worked; we had one of the best Camel Trophy records and 90 percent of our teams were asked back to be support drivers. What did you enjoy most about the Camel Trophy chapter of your life?

I loved pushing myself in extreme conditions and figuring out how to solve diﬃcult problems. I also loved working with the other

Can you tell me about The Loneliest Place in the United States?

That was one of Bill Baker’s ideas; he had a million of them. Bill worked with a cartographer to figure out the least populated and most remote area in the lower 48 states that a vehicle could approach. Utah’s Basin Canyon, in what would become Grand Staircase−Escalante National Monument, was the spot. Bill set up John Phillips and Phil Berg from Car and Driver with a Defender 90 and asked me to be their guide. We had a map marked “this is the spot,” and camping gear. Our first attempt did not work out. It was January and the cliﬀ we needed to scramble to reach the top of Fifty-Mile Bench was iced over. We were not prepared for that. It was back to studying the map and working out a route through canyons and trails to get close to the Basin Canyon from the south side of the Bench. It was a long scramble on foot that included rock-climbing moves to reach the spot. John and Phil ran out of energy and we had to give up. It turned out to be fun, and the Car and Driver boys learned a lot about the Defender and themselves. They vowed to get in shape and return. When they did, it was with Michael Hussey, a Camel Trophy winner, and they accomplished their goal. I was in South America at the time and couldn’t join them. You recently led a team of Land Rovers over the Trans-America Trail. What did that entail?

Photo by Anthony Cullen

teams, seeing exotic places, and meeting the local people.

Four-wheeling is about much more than challenging trails and attacking rocks. It is about spectacular scenery, camaraderie, wildlife viewing, and history.

In 2013 I led a team of Land Rover LR4s across America on the Trans-America Trail. It was the first time a four-wheel drive completed the entire trail. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

The Trans-America Trail began at Land Rover’s driving school in Asheville, North Carolina, and ended in Port Orford, Oregon. We touched 11 states and drove just over 4,300 miles in 27 days. It was a push. To navigate the trail we used Sam Correro’s maps and route charts, along with computer mapping. In order to maintain our schedule we could not aﬀord to make mistakes—the weather gods also treated us well. The trail is relatively easy until it rains; then it can become a nightmare. Many motorcycles had completed it but we were the first four-wheel drives. I loved the trail, the history associated with it, and the challenge. The Land Rover LR4s were awesome. Besides a few flat tires they were extremely reliable. Overall it was a success, and I was able to cross one oﬀ of the bucket list. I highly recommend the trip.

You have a reputation for being one of the most qualified adventurers in the world. Have you had formal training in recovery, navigation, medical, or other backcountry skills?

Don and I were very lucky at the Camel Trophy oﬀ-road training sessions in England. Roger Crathorne, a god in the Land Rover world, took us under his wing and gave us the most intense and complete recovery training one could have. I did refreshers with him every year when I returned to Eastnor Castle. My major in college was wildlife management, which included how to use a map and compass. That was before the advent of GPS, which I learned on my own. I took first-aid courses in Aspen and did refreshers each year with Camel. The Trophy also provided SAS survival courses. My winter survival and avalanche training was done while I was in college and then in Aspen. From a 4WD instructor’s point of view, what are the core skills you want your students to take away?

Safety is number one. Do no harm to yourself, others, your vehicle, or the environment. Number two is to learn what you and your vehicle can do. A four-wheel drive has limits, just as other vehicles do. Leave your ego at home, learn to back oﬀ early, and accept the fact that a maneuver may be impossible. Choose another approach and avoid vehicle damage and/or personal injury. Number three is to drive with finesse. I’ve heard that you disseminate a good deal of local history to your students. Why do you include this with technical training?

Four-wheeling is about much more than challenging trails and attacking rocks. It is about spectacular scenery, camaraderie, wildlife viewing, and history. Knowing what had happened in the areas we were passing through made the trips much more interesting. I love history; why not share it? What has been the most isolated or remote region you have traveled through?

The Rungwa Game Reserve and Ruaha National Park, Tanzania. We encountered no people, but saw animals ranging from aardvarks to zebras. The grass was between 6 and 16 feet tall and had overgrown everything, including the track. The lead drivers could only handle a half hour of pushing down the wall of grass. When they succumbed to what

we called “grass fatigue,” a new team would take the lead. The military GPS we were using failed (this was 1991 and GPS units were scarce) and we were out of our map’s boundaries. We had run out of spare tires and resorted to sewing sidewalls to keep the convoy moving. From a rocky high point, a distant mountain range provided a bearing and sent us in the right direction. We were lost for two days before one of the teams found the track. When we arrived at the ranger’s headquarters they said they had been extremely concerned about us, as no one had ever crossed the region during the tall grass season. Is there a place you would like to return to?

Africa, of course. It can be dangerous, but is beautiful and exotic.

Camel Trophy 1989 in Brazil’s Amazon region was the toughest Trophy I drove. The mud was ankleto knee-deep and the bugs were relentless.

Can you share with us the most challenging situation you have faced?

Being held hostage by a drunk, shotguntoting tractor crew in the gold rush region of the Amazon. Don Floyd was driving the ambulance, I was driving the communications vehicle, and we were with one of the Trophy team cars. A tractor crew ordered us out of the vehicles at gunpoint. I grabbed Rosey, my interpreter, who reluctantly joined me in a powwow with the gunmen. They had missed their payoﬀ meeting with Iain Chapman and instead went to a brothel. We owed them money for pulling some vehicles through a section of mud. It went sideways when the team car tried to escape. It was immediately fired upon—00 buckshot flew over the roof rack. The shooter made his point, and it was agreed that Don and the team car would retrieve the money, but I was to stay as a hostage. It was a long couple of hours before Don returned. During that time the gunmen continued drinking

and getting more rowdy. After they were paid they discharged their guns in celebration and shot rained on our cars. It was a long night. I’ve been told that you are stubborn as hell when it comes to giving up and throwing in the towel.

Yes, ask anyone. I just will not give up. There is always a solution. Sometimes when one is bone tired in the bewitching early-morning hours, and nothing seems to be working out, take a break, close your eyes, and let the sun come up. Daylight always makes things better. What is the strangest situation you have encountered in your travels?

It was at a creek crossing near a village in Madagascar. There was a local witch dressed in strange regalia that included jewelry made from tin cans that had been buried by the previous year’s Camel Trophy scout group. She stood at the crossing shaking a staﬀ and shouting incantations at each car that drove OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

by. Our interpreter said she felt we had brought bad luck to her village and wanted to make us evaporate. It did not happen, but maybe she was the cause of the pseudo mutiny that occurred later in the event. I heard about a midnight encounter with a leopard in Tanzania. Can you tell me about it?

Photo by Gary Wescott

It had been a long couple of days with very little sleep, and everyone in my car was either asleep or in a daze—including me, the driver. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Evita was playing over and over and no one had the energy to change the tape or turn it oﬀ. I spotted a leopard in the distance. It walked across the track and up a grassy trail, or so I thought. Like a fool I woke everybody up, pulled the car over, rolled the window down, and called, “Here kitty, kitty.” What I did not see was that the cat was laying down in the ditch below my head, which was hanging out the car’s window. He momentarily rolled over on his back, flexed his claws, slowly continued his roll, and headed up the trail. I guess he was not interested in dinner. I received a welldeserved slap to the back of the head from the boss, Iain Chapman, and we continued on, much more awake than before. Have there been any close calls, the type where you thought, “Is this the end?”

My 11 years on the Trophy trail were the greatest adventures one could imagine; those memories will never leave me.

In 1992 I raced a Class 4 F-150 from Ford Motor Company in the Baja 1000. Although I rolled the truck, we finished 4th in class and 36th overall. Driving the Baja 1000 was a dream come true. This spear is the same type that almost ended my life in Southern Madagascar. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Just once. It was in Madagascar’s southern desert. Don Floyd and I were running a nighttime rally with a journalist from Italy and another from the Canary Islands (put in our car to make sure we did not cheat). We had gotten very little sleep (again), not eaten for about 16 hours, and were looking for a checkpoint. At about 2:00 a.m. Don spotted a village and we entered. A man dressed in shorts, straw hat, sandals, and a bright flowery shirt, which is normal Malagas clothing, showed up. I got out of the car, showed him the map, and was discussing in sign language the possibility of the checkpoint being in another village. He suddenly stood bolt-upright and faded away into the darkness. I turned to see what had disturbed him and saw a tall man wearing a clasped blanket and skirt sprinting towards me with a spear cocked ready for action. My first thought was that I was too exhausted for it to hurt. My second was to muster the friendliest smile I could. I extended my right hand in the handshake position, exposed the map in my left hand, and called

out, “Tatabe,” the name of the missing village. Those actions caused him to lower his spear and stare at me with a bewildered look. He tapped the spear shaft on the ground and nine more guys appeared out of the pitch dark. My car was about 100 yards away, and the journalists had forced Don to lock the doors and were urging him to exit, leaving me to my own devices. The French team eventually showed up and the villager soon returned. We had a round-robin discussion in English, French, and whatever dialect the tribesmen spoke. The tribesmen had seen “bright lights flying through the sky” (Camel Trophy cars on hill tops with rally lights blazing) and a three-eyed being (me with a headlamp). They thought that their ancestors were returning, or a strange creature was coming to steal their cattle—a capital oﬀense. I was told that if I made one wrong move I would be skewered. I noticed seven brass rings on the leader’s spear and though I knew the answer, asked the question, “Does each ring represent a human kill?” The answer, of course, was yes, which did not make me feel good. As fast as the situation had materialized, everyone evaporated into the blackness. It was a hell of a night. When we reached the finish line I exited the car, lay down next to a bush, and passed out from exhaustion. Do you still dream of jungle adventures, waist-deep mud, and winching vehicles until 3:00 a.m.?

My 11 years on the Trophy trail were the greatest adventures one could imagine; those memories will never leave me. When I close my eyes I can still see the red ribbon of Amazon mud that was called a highway, smell the tropical diesel-infused mire of Madagascar, hear buzzing insects and clattering engines in Guyana, and feel the soggy, mud-stained clothing I wore in Borneo. It does not get better than winching Land Rovers through goo at 3:00 a.m. with Comet Hale-Bopp lighting the western sky. In 1992 you raced the Baja 1000, an event quite removed from winching vehicles through the jungle…

The 1000 had always been on my list of things to do. I raced motorcycles in Baja and when I was oﬀered a ride from Ford I jumped at it. It was one of the most fun things I have done. The pre-run alone was the trip of a lifetime, but the race was awesome. Peter MacGillivray, Tim Casey, and I were in a Class 4 Ford

Clockwise from top left: A good road during the Trophy was cause for alarm. The dead-tired drivers would lose their adrenaline highs and start to doze off, which resulted in several accidents over the years. Mud was both the enemy and the fun of the Trophy. I loved the challenge of pushing through it and figuring out how to recover the stuck vehicles. Often a snatch strap was a better choice than winching. Not paying attention often ended with team or support cars rolled in a ditch. The Land Rovers were easy to recover and sustained very little damage. Fortunately no one was ever seriously hurt. During the Camel Trophy we had dedicated vehicles that carried our rafts and outboard motors. It was slow going, as the rafts were only able to carry one car at a time. When possible we enlisted local barges, ferries, canoes, and 55-gallon drum rafts, or anything else that floated to speed up the process. The Land Rover Series III 88s were used in the 1983 Camel Trophy in Zaire. Photos like this and videos I watched on ESPN led me to pursue becoming a Camel Trophy team member. The Trophy was hard work. Days and nights were long and with little sleep. Stuck vehicles had to be recovered, downed trees removed, and road damage repaired with a pick and shovel.

Center: One of the many deep river crossings we experienced during Camel Trophy. As long as the vehicle’s snorkel was above the water and the current was not too fast, the diesel-powered Land Rovers had no problems.

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F-150. I drove for more than 20 hours. We finished 4th in class and 36th overall. The skills learned on the Camel Trophy combined with my motorcycle racing experience led to the good finish. What prompted you to sign up for the Elk Mountain Grand Traverse at age 60?

The Grand Traverse is a 39-mile cross-country ski race from Crested Butte to Aspen, Colorado, that traverses two ski areas and crosses a 12,000-foot single-track mountain pass. I had read about the race for years and I just had to do it. Ken Cameron (who competed in the 1996 Camel Trophy) and I teamed up and made it to the finish. It was a challenge, an adventure, and a brutal 60th birthday present to myself. Ken did it again the following year and had a great finish. Can you tell us something about yourself that people don’t know, something that might surprise us?

After finishing up the 1990 Camel Trophy in Siberia I met my wife in Europe for a vacation. I put forth the idea of having a family. Maybe my biological clock was ticking, or maybe I was just feeling good about where I was in life. I don’t know, but I pushed the idea. It was the best thing I ever did, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching my daughter, Shannon, grow up. To this day she tells people that she was never read fairy tales at bedtime. Rather, she was told Camel Trophy stories about lions in camp, witches at river crossings, and giant anteaters on the savannah. When you look back do you have any regrets? Is there anything you would do differently?

I do regret being away from my family for such long periods of time. I missed out on a lot of normal life. I was very lucky that my wife, Jane, is very self-suﬃcient and understands my addiction to competition and adventure.

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Do you have any advice for someone who wants to see the world and live a life of adventure as you have?

Yes, go for it. There are fantastic adventures to be had in North America. Get a map, lay out a route, and do it. Start with the TransAmerica Trail, which can be done on a budget with either a four-wheel drive or a motorcycle. With careful planning, travel in exotic parts of the world can also be worked out on a budget. My daughter just returned from seven months of exploring Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and Papua New Guinea. She rented motorcycles, traveled by foot, truck, bus, airplane, boat, and train. You are only limited by your imagination. I was very lucky to have had the Camel Trophy as a vehicle to set me up for a career as a professional adventurer. If it had not come along I would have made my own adventures. I would not have been famous, but I would have had a great time and had many stories to tell. What does the future hold for Tom Collins, and is the word “retirement” in your vocabulary?

I have a long list of adventures that I want to complete. They include motorcycle, boat, ski mountaineering, and four-wheel drive trips. There are also a couple of historical figures whose footprints I want to follow on my motorcycle. When I finish those projects I will come up with new ideas. The only things I will retire from are hotels and airports.

At the top of Poughkeepsie Gulch (Lake Como) during the 2014 GDE. Enjoying time with my daughter, Shannon, and wife, Jane, in Utah. Shannon grew up on wheels and Jane was a good dirt bike rider. I was very happy to have made it to the far south of Madagascar, but I got stuck in the sand after placing the tires in the Indian Ocean. The Trophy Teams were the first to drive the length of Madagascar. During the Camel Trophy we relied on Warn 8274 and Superwinch Husky 8500 winches to pull us through the tough spots and miles of mud. Planetary gear winches did not hold up to the abuse.

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The Loneliest Road World vagabonds Pablo and Anna Rey traverse Québec’s most forgotten land. By Pablo Rey

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Longue Pointe marks the end of the James Bay Road and is the most distant point you can reach during the summer months. Opposite: An inuksuk is a man-made stone landmark traditionally used by the Inuit to identify a food cache, campsite, fishing spot, or just as a reference point for navigation. This one on Longue Pointe saluted James Bay. Opening page: Overlooking Ten Mile Pond after several hours of hiking through Gros Morne National Park in Newfoundland.

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s Anna and I deliberated traversing the Eastern United States, we wondered if it would be worth driving the thousands of miles from California to the Atlantic, simply to draw a new route on an empty part of our map. After crossing Africa, the Middle East, and the Americas on some of the worst roads in the world, what was the point in enduring endless plains of cornfields and cows by highway? The Great Smokey Mountains and Shenandoah National Parks (the best-preserved areas of the Appalachian Mountains) and the Blue Ridge Parkway (where you won’t see a truck or stop sign for hundreds of miles) definitely had appeal, but what else was there and where would we find adventure? My finger scrolled up the map, passing into Canada and wandering through Québec, Labrador, and Newfoundland. Roads became scarce; the few that existed were printed in progressively thinner lines until they disappeared into the blank spaces. How beautiful these blank spaces must be! A red rectangle in the corner warned to check road conditions before proceeding. This was a good omen. Newfoundland, or newfound land—we had our reason to drive east.

JAMES BAY ROAD It doesn’t matter if you drive on the Stewart-Cassiar, Dempster, or Alaska Highway, roads in the northern reaches of Canada seem neverending. Forests replace cities, there are more animals per square kilometer than human beings, and McDonald’s and Starbucks give way to roadhouse bars and cafeterias built of wood, attended by women and bearded men who all seem to have more personality than a truck driver. The world changes and becomes much more interesting. We were looking for the end of the James Bay Road in the Canadian province of Québec. A line on the map led us from Montreal to Val-d’Or, and then to Matagami, a town of some 1,500 inhabitants. In an absolutely wild and pristine location 500 miles to the north, HydroQuébec raised a chain of hydroelectric stations in 1974, opening a new and expansive area to overlanders. Nearly a half-century later there are almost no travelers on the James Bay Road; traffic is limited to Cree natives and hydroelectric workers whose vehicles are wonderfully stained with mud. I clutched the steering wheel and remembered the advice we were given at an information office to bring two spare tires, since “there is nothing out there and rescue is very expensive.” We were familiar with the North American concept of overpreparation. In our typical fashion, we didn’t follow the advice—a spare tire, two inner tubes, and a good repair kit should suffice.

The first non-Indians to arrive here were Pierre-Esprit Radisson and Médard Chouart des Groseilliers, French fur traders who had heard about a frozen north sea and a land rich with beaver. The year was 1659. Their first kill was the starting shot of a race that would influence North America’s economy and politics for the next 250 years. It was the catalyst for the development of what would become known as the Hudson’s Bay Company, which would grow into the largest private landholder in North America. The James Bay Road is the embodiment of the term, “the journey is more important than the destination.” In this corner of the world, the beauty is in the details: orange light over a forest at sunset, the deafening silence of Lake Ouescapis, and the overwhelming immensity of the taiga from the viewpoint at kilometer 161. It is a place designed by a Canadian feng shui master; every element has place and purpose. Campsites are well marked and have a toilet. Every few kilometers there is a sign showing distances, and another explaining the geological and human history of the area. The road is in good shape and all bridges have names—this is Canada. What Radisson and Chouart witnessed was probably quite similar to what one can see today. Pine forests, turquoise lakes, a river…another forest, another river. Bridges, petrol stations, and astronomically OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

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While looking for a campsite near Radisson, Québec, we found this small lake at the foot of one of the walls of the Robert-Bourassa Reservoir.

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Traveling through Northern Canada is like a pilgrimage to a sacred place of extremes, an escape toward the loneliness and the silence of scarcely inhabited lands.

pricey garages arrived in the last 40 years, as did small, isolated shops where they speak slowly so you don’t leave too soon. We’d been told that the north of the Americas is where mosquitoes go on vacation. The signs didn’t explain this. There were millions, and they were so happy to see us they came in vast numbers to give a warm welcome; it would have been touching if they didn’t bite. After crossing the Rupert River, the same river chosen by the Hudson’s Bay Company to establish their first fort, we were surrounded by a cloud of vulturesized mosquitoes, close relatives of those unoﬃcially declared as the state bird of Alaska. We were prepared for their arrival though, with long sleeves and 40 percent DEET insect repellent. Our encounter with black flies was far worse. Curious scouts arrived in our camp at Lake Mirabelli first. A mere annoyance…until they called for reinforcements. They must have been tired of local blood and looking for a more exotic dish, targeting the neck, face, hands, and that part of your waist that is exposed when you bend over. There were so many we could only run away. Throwing everything back in the van, we drove oﬀ at full speed with the windows down, hoping the wind would take them back to nature. Refuge was found at Lake Miron. “There is not even one black fly here,” I said to Anna while scooping another dead one from my belly button. We started a fire, took out two beers, and put pork ribs on the grill. Traveling through Northern Canada is like a pilgrimage to a sacred place of extremes, an escape toward the loneliness and the silence of scarcely inhabited lands. After thousands of miles and kilometers through populated areas, James Bay Road was the perfect place to get lost.

TRANS-TAIGA ROAD The Trans-Taiga Road is 666 kilometers long and ends in the middle of nowhere at a place named Caniapiscau…which sounded like a good setting for a devilish Dracula movie. Months earlier I had read about Caniapiscau on the Internet and became hooked. Access is via a rarely traveled unpaved road that starts at kilometer 544 of the James Bay Road and takes you almost to the border of Labrador. Labrador City, on the Trans-Labrador Highway, is less than 200 kilometers away as the crow flies. It would be nothing. “Yes, it does look close, but it’s far away,” said a Cree man we met next to a bullet-riddled map at Lake Yasinski. “There’s no other way, not even a track that connects the two roads. If you want to go to Labrador, you have to go back to the Saint Lawrence.” We decided to drive the Trans-Taiga anyway and witness some of the wildlife the region is known for. After four days we had only seen a couple of black bears (that were very far away), a ferocious hare, and some bloodthirsty squirrels. As we devoured the kilometers, confined by trees and bushes, our enthusiasm gave way to disappointment. There were no wild animals, no demons in sight…only fishermen. After 250 kilometers we renamed it the TransNothing Road and gave it the award for loneliest road in the world. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

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Clockwise from top: Lake Manicouagan on the Trans-Labrador Highway, known as the “eye of Québec” for its round shape and large island situated directly in its center, was formed by the impact of a meteorite estimated to be five kilometers in diameter. There are many opportunities to get lost in Labrador. We took a chance on several of them and often found ourselves camped in the middle of abandoned logging roads. Norman Bay is an isolated village on the outer coast of Labrador. It can be accessed by ferry a couple of days each week in the summer but is better connected during winter, when you can travel anywhere by Ski-Doo. An anchor chain on the public ferry that took us to small villages along the Labrador coast. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

THE CREE SUN DANCE The next morning we returned to James Bay Road and turned toward Radisson. After a free tour into the guts of the Robert-Bourassa generating station and compulsory photo next to an inukshuk (rock cairn built by indigenous people of the Arctic), we drove the last 90 kilometers to the Cree town of Chisasibi. Chisasibi is a large village of wooden houses interspersed with traditional teepees. No one lives in the teepees anymore as they are only used to remember and celebrate ancient rituals. Traﬃc signs, which thus far had been bilingual, were now only in Cree, an indecipherable alphabet system of straight and curved lines invented around 1840 by English missionary James Evans. We stopped at an expansive shoreline. The sea had at last opened, and was accompanied by dozens of canoes. Over the wild grass, sleds and Ski-Doos lay forgotten until the coming winter. This landscape of low clouds and islands is spectacular. We had reached James Bay. This was remote. A shiver ran through my body. “Do you know where we are?” I asked. “In Hudson Bay, the lower bay of the Arctic Ocean,” Anna answered. “Yes, but do you know where we are?” I repeated. James Bay is a mythiEverything here is as cal piece of sea named after Welsh sailor boundless as the land Thomas James. James, who deliberately that surrounds it. sunk his ship in the fall of 1831 to keep it from being crushed by ice and swept away, wintered on this shoreline. In the spring his crew raised the ship and sailed home. While I was imagining the incredible hardships that James and his crew endured, Leslie showed up: a talkative 40-year-old Cree man with a permanent smile. “Not far from here the Cree band of Chisasibi is at the peak of our Sun Dance. Our brothers and sisters have been dancing for three days without eating or drinking, to remember the rituals of our ancestors. It is not far. If you go you will be welcome.” An hour later we were watching a group of men and women dancing under a circular thatched hut. It had no walls or roof, just a frame with a central pole crowned with fresh green branches. Large panels of red, yellow, green, and blue fabric hung from it, waving in the wind. Leslie sat in a semicircle reserved for men. The women, who wore traditional red, the sacred color of the Cree, observed from another semicircle. The dancers moved to the rhythm of drums and whistles. When the music stopped, all became silent and an elderly man began to speak in Cree. Another man translated his words to English. “We must listen to our dreams. They tell us where we have to go. They tell us that we have to stand up if we fall down, and keep moving forward. We have the power to heal our body and soul.” After each positive assertion, everybody shouted, Hoo! The man continued, “Last night I dreamed of a man hanging himself with ropes nailed to his body. A lot of people saw him and celebrated his sacrifice.” Hoo! “This morning I felt very good vibrations when the sun rose and young people danced in his honor.” Hoo! These outbursts are an expression of identity for the Cree, a way of asserting that tradition is still alive. “They have to do the ritual for four consecutive years,” Leslie said. “They are not just fasting and dancing. Have you seen the blood? They insert hooks in their chest and back and are hung from the upper beams, where they remain suspended in the air. Suﬀering makes them experience visions. Some of them see Christ, others see themselves on the cross. They also have to drag the painted heads of five bulls over a long distance. They don’t pull them with their hands, but rather with their

bodies, from the hooks stuck in their backs. Completing the fourth year is an important personal achievement.” A man began playing a small drum while another brought a bigger one closer to the flames of a fire to stretch the leather. A young man with a black hand painted on his face stepped in and out of the hut. He brought boxes in and took away others, and then opened a folded cloth filled with gifts for the attendees. There were blankets and tablecloths, TV remote controls, cutlery, Frisbees, socks, and plastic cups. Two centuries ago the gifts would have been animal skins, woven blankets, weapons, and leather shoes. Just before the end of the ceremony the demons appeared. Five men in costume sacked the place, overturning everything. “They are the Wendigos,” Leslie said. “Their mission was once to remind our people that cannibalism was wrong and taboo. Today they remind us that greediness, avarice, and excess are wrong too.”

ROAD 389 AND THE TRANS-LABRADOR HIGHWAY Traversing the boundary between civilization and wilderness would not be complete without traveling Road 389 and the Trans-Labrador Highway, a journey of 2,000 kilometers. It is mainly used by speeding lumber trucks that spray windshield-shattering gravel, and includes 500 kilometers of twists and turns along mountains, rivers, and impenetrable forests. Few tracks open up along its side, and those that do end at collapsed bridges only passable on foot, ATV, or Ski-Doo. Everything here is as boundless as the land that surrounds it. Lake Manicouagan, which contains an island that can be seen from space (the eye of Québec), is the largest visible crater on the planet. It was created by a meteorite said to be 5 kilometers in diameter. From the road it looks beautiful—on maps it’s magic. Most people who came to this remote area arrived looking for fur, minerals, and jobs. What they found was adventure. They live in outlyThe Cree language is a system of straight and curved lines. Although most stop signs were bilingual, in Chisasibi, the most distant village you can drive to in Northern Québec, they were only in Cree. Jeremiah, a Cree man from Chisasibi, with his face painted for the Sun Dance.

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Left column: Birds during a frenzy feast around a fishing boat in Salvage, Newfoundland. Lobster season begins around April or May and continues until June, depending on the area. In the off-season they lay by the hundreds along the rocky, coastal shoreline. The Tablelands in Gros Morne National Park is one of the few places on the planet where Earth’s mantle can be seen at the surface. Right column: Salvage was one of the most beautiful villages we found on the sometimes forgotten and faraway island of Newfoundland. The Vikings sailed the waters of Cape Onion 1,000 years ago in search of a place to settle. They found it in L’Anse aux Meadows, just a few miles from this bay. Ferryland’s harbor was one of the first to be used by early European whalers on the eastern coast of Newfoundland. The archaeological data places them here in the mid-16th century. Opposite: In the days before modern refrigerators, root cellars were used to keep food cool in the summer and to also prevent it from freezing during the long winter months.

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ing huts, in the settlements of the hydroelectric stations, or near the small trading post of Relais-Gabriel. This is the last place to fill your tank and the last place you will see a human. Beyond, you will only find the ghosts of Gagnon, a town that was dismantled in 1986 when the road was opened. Nothing is left but rusted silos, a silent boulevard, and the outline of streets that will eventually be reclaimed by nature. Before entering Labrador we passed the ore mines of Fermont. The town, which was built in 1972 and modeled after the Swedish mining town of Svappavaara, is centered around a mile-long building that acts as a windbreak. It contains an entire village—apartments, supermarkets, and shops—and is the best way to survive when the world becomes covered in snow, and Arctic winds push temperatures down to -50°C.

WILD SEAS “We have food, water, beer, and two boats. Do you want to join us? We are going to camp and fish at Pleasure Island in the middle of that big lake.” José Luis, an engineer originally from Venezuela, was out for the weekend when he overtook us on the road. He jumped out and flagged us down. Long trips are full of invitations to share beers and stories. We followed our motto, Time is the wealth of the traveler, and joined José and his party. After several years of living in Labrador, José must have forgotten the sweet heat of the tropics. “Twenty or thirty degrees below zero is bearable. But when temperatures reach minus forty you go from home to work, and from work to home. You can’t stay outside. Your face and hands freeze in minutes. Rules are different here.” No one in their right mind (except natives, miners, adventurers, and fugitives) would chance living in a land where dollar bills break into pieces in the winter. Without proper clothing your arms and legs would freeze and fracture like the snap of a branch. This is a solitary road throughout the year. If you go it is a good idea to borrow one of the free satellite phones provided by the Newfoundland Labrador Provincial Government for road travel between Labrador City and Port Hope Simpson. In Goose Bay, boats and small planes connect with the isolated Inuit and Innu villages on the northern Labrador Peninsula. “Good morning. Another beautiful day in Labrador?” I asked Captain Cecil Dominaux, who works daily for six weeks and then takes three weeks off. We were the only passengers on Marine Eagle, a 20meter boat that sails from Charlottetown to Port Hope Simpson. My goal was to see icebergs and whales, and public transport was the most affordable way to do it. The sea, which was calm in the fjords, went wild when we reached the open ocean. From the deck I watched a horizon of canals and islands, the same that I had surveyed on my maps months earlier. Little has changed here since Captain Bob Bartlett sailed Robert Peary through this barren land during his expedition to the North Pole. I imagined the Basque hunting parties that plied these waters 450 years ago, and the Vikings 600 years before—each without maps or GPS. I thought of the first Americans, who traveled across these seas in kayaks made of leather. With Newfoundland in sight, I was glimpsing the past when a cold torrent of northern wind forced me to close my eyes. The fresh air

brought visions of an island peppered with wooden houses and hamlets straight out of a fairy tale. Over the next week we would travel through Gros Morne National Park, which features some of the oldest rocks on the surface of the planet, stand on Cape Spear, the easternmost point of North America, and retrace the steps of the ancients to the village of Salvage, population 174, where locals share stories about enormous moose, and polar bears arriving on icebergs from the north. Had it been worth driving thousands of miles and kilometers across cornfields, boundless plains, and gigantic cities in search of the loneliest roads on the planet? I would gladly cross the void again if at the end of the journey I found myself in this land forgotten by time with the smell of adventure in the air.

TRAVEL TIPS is a long trip with expansive areas of no cell u This phone or Internet coverage, so plan accordingly. that a breakdown in this part of the v Recognize world can be very expensive, even life threatening, and that proper vehicle preparation is imperative. between gas stations is w Distance commonly 200 to 300 kilometers. Fill your tank wherever fuel is available.

down and use caution when x Slow approaching another vehicle. Remember, big trucks have the right of way.

lots of insect repellent containing at least y Bring 40 percent DEET. travel in winter, bring equipment z Iftoyou survive in extreme temperatures.

ROUTE SHORTCUTS kilometer 200 on the Trans-Taiga Road j Around there is a shortcut (that does not appear on maps) that connects with North Road, close to Nemaska. kilometer 395 on the James Bay Road there k From is another shortcut that also ends in Nemaska.

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Cartography by David Medeiros (mapbliss.com)

ROUTE Newfoundland

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The Endless Sea Riding Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way.

By Antonia Bolingbroke-Kent Photography by Antonia Bolingbroke-Kent and courtesy of Fáilte Ireland

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116 Malin Head on the Inishowen Peninsula is the most northerly point in Ireland. Opposite, clockwise from top left: Horses graze freely along the grass-covered coastline. Taking a break on the road to Keem Bay, Achill Island. One of the few structures along the road to Keem Bay. An old fishing boat at rest near Rosses Point, County Sligo. Some of the handlaid stone walls on Failte Island date back to the 1500s. Opening spread: A rainbow peeks through the overcast skies along the Donegal coastline. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

here’s a moment near the beginning of every journey when it hits you: that nerve-tingling anticipation, that glorious realisation that you’re really oﬀ on another adventure. This time it came as we buzzed west over the Severn Bridge under a perfect May sky, sunshine glinting oﬀ the water far below. BAM! In an instant I felt my shoulders drop, a smile bolt from ear to ear, and an involuntary whoop escape into the wind. My boyfriend, Marley, and I had set out on a two-week motorcycle jaunt around Ireland to ride part of the newly launched Wild Atlantic Way. Unveiled with much fanfare and shiny signage by Fáilte Ireland, this epic driving route wiggles 1,600 miles around the west coast—from Cork in the south to Derry in the north— via a spoiling array of rugged coastline, misty mountains, romantic castles, golden bays, aquamarine seas, wild islands, and even wilder pubs. It also claims to be the “world’s longest defined coastal driving route,” beating both California’s Pacific Coast Highway and Australia’s Gold Coast drive. Given our time limitations we would only ride half the way, joining it in Galway City and wending our way north. We didn’t have a guidebook and we hadn’t reserved any accommodations; we were simply going to ride when and where the road took us. Since

my beloved Honda Cub had been stolen recently, my steed was a 20-year-old Suzuki GN250—a bike I’d had for several years but barely ridden. Marley was on his faithful old 1999 Fazer 650, its final outing before being traded in for a Triumph Tiger. You can drive from Dublin to Galway in two hours on one of the many gleaming motorways built during “the boom.” Instead, we took the scenic path west, thrumming along winding, quiet roads, past emerald fields, cascades of yellow gorse, and flocks of soggy sheep decorating the hillsides. Bikers coming the other way nodded, waved, and waggled a leg—the latter I soon realised was a uniquely Irish greeting. By late afternoon we were in the rugged, stone-walled West Region, and by dusk were enjoying our first pints of Guinness in Galway City, a colourful little place with a potentially lethal abundance of pubs. That evening we listened to foot-tapping fiddlers in the Tig Cóilí, ambled down streets of brightly painted houses, and tripped over goggle-eyed groups of American tourists. The following morning we headed north to Achill, one of many islands strewn along the west coast. We didn’t know anything about it, but its beaches looked good on Google Earth. On a sunny summer’s day Achill is no doubt very diﬀerent, but we found a drab, windswept place full of unappealing, emp-

ty bungalows, boarded-up hotels, and bleak hillsides scarred by centuries of peat cuttings. Almost everything was closed and we stayed, rather curiously, in a kitesurfing lodge run by French and Brazilian expats. As if that wasn’t odd enough, the only people in the pub were an alcoholic Scot and a bored Brummie family. “It’s a bit quiet here, isn’t it?” noted the father in a nasal whine. That night I lay awake wondering if the whole hotel was going to be torn up and blown away, Kansas-style, by a ferocious Atlantic storm—one of the many that batters this remote outpost each year. (The local fishing boat had already been sunk in the harbour twice this year.) Although we didn’t wake up in Oz, we did find the Fazer lying on its side with cracked fairing, a victim of the 40-mph winds. The Suzuki had remained upright, but insisted on being bump-started for most of the rest of the trip. In spite of the weather, we walked across bays of powdery sand, backed by brooding hills and plunging cliﬀs. Not even in remote Indonesia have I seen such a translucent, peacock-green sea. Riding around the south of the island the following day we passed monuments to Spanish ships wrecked here while fleeing the English Armada, and countless ruined cottages, reminders of the Great Famine. The single-track road snaked along the edge of the glittering ocean, revealing golden bays dotted with tiny isOVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

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The Mussenden Temple, built in 1795 to resemble the Roman Temple of Vesta. The Slieve League rises 601 metres above the Donegal coastline; they are the highest sea cliffs in Europe. The view from the top of Binevenagh Mountain, which marks the northern end of the Antrim Plateau, was stunning. A holy well, or shrine, dedicated to Saint Eigne, sits near the mountain pass of Mamore Gap, Donegal. Opposite: Narin Strand in County Donegal is among Ireland’s most pristine beaches. It has been acknowledged by the Blue Flag organization as one of the cleanest beaches in the world. Opposite, bottom: We stopped on Achill Island to view the site where the Spanish Armada landed in 1588 to invade Great Britain.

lands, and headlands carpeted with wildflowers. Below, seabirds wheeled and dived, and the wind blew spume and spray from the tops of the ocean’s white horses. Such exhilarating riding more than made up for the inhospitable weather. From Achill we cut across Mayo, known for its pretty stonewalled fields and ramshackle farms to Sligo, famous for W.B. Yeats—and bizarrely, seaweed. Keen to sample the latter, we spent an afternoon at Voya Seaweed Baths in Strandhill, soaking our aching bodies in hot, slimy, salty, seaweedy, detoxifying goo. Odd as it sounds, it was a marvellously reviving experience, and one I would highly recommend. According to the morning newspaper’s forecast, the weather would be getting direr as the day went on, but nothing could dampen Sligo’s fantastic scenery. We wound north under the towering mass of Benbulbin, sped past the surf beaches of Streedagh Point and Mullaghmore, and buzzed through a constantly unfolding panorama of neon-green hills. As with everywhere else in Ireland the roads were smooth, blemish-free, and amazingly absent of traffic. There are even convenient overtaking lanes for passing ancient tractors, trotting ponies, and the occasional dawdling English motorcyclist. Not only do Irish roads put ours to shame, they make for excellent riding. We had high expectations of County Donegal, Ireland’s craggy northwestern tip, and it didn’t disappoint. After 10 days of leaden skies and intermittent rain, the sun finally won and we spent two blissful days in a friend’s caravan at Narin, strolling along the deserted beach and running (giggling and howling) into the gin-clear ocean. Allegedly, the water is much warmer in September, but 10 heart-burstingly cold strokes were all I could manage in May. You could spend weeks exploring this remote, rugged, and seldom-visited part of Ireland. In Ardara we bought tweed from 75-year-old weaver Eddie Doherty, a man with fingers as nimble as ninepence. At Teelin Harbour we took a boat trip to the magnificent Slieve League, Europe’s highest sea cliffs, in the company of the ebullient, biker-mad captain Paddy Byrne. Glenveagh National Park found us passing through the wildly romantic Poison Glen, and on the Inishowen Peninsula we rode along empty roads through a dreamy landscape of thatched cottages, fuchsia hedges, and verdant hills. Everyone we passed doffed their caps or raised a hand to say hello, an extension of the universal friendliness we’d encountered in Ireland. Topping it all was the view as we crested the Mamore Gap, a narrow pass where people lit candles and muttered at Catholic shrines, whilst far below the road plummeted down to the endless, shining Atlantic. If you can only visit one county in the West Region, make it Donegal.

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The Wild Atlantic Way oﬃcially ends in the city of Derry, but we took the short six-Euro ferry from Greencastle across to Magilligan Point in Northern Ireland. The roads may have been worse, but the fantastic coastline was still there. For two days we rode east along the Causeway Coastal Route, past plunging cliﬀs and epic bays. At Downhill Beach, famous for being both a part of the longest beach in Ireland and a Game of Thrones location, we swam in the freezing sea at dawn. On the summit of Binevenagh, we lay in the sunshine watching a pair of stooping, gambolling peregrine falcons; in the far, far distance we could just make out the Paps of Jura. Along the coast we leaned around corners and speeded along straits recently used in the North West 200, Northern Ireland’s version of the Isle of Man TT. We skidded to a halt at the freakish sight of pink sheep grazing in the fields—a hangover from the Giro d’Italia, staged there a few weeks earlier. A thousand miles after we’d left Dublin we rode back through the northern suburbs and on to our friend’s house in Portobello. We stopped at the end of their street to buy wine, where my bike, which had been faltering since Achill, finally threw in the towel. When I couldn’t coax so much as a splutter out of the old engine I pushed it, sweating and swearing, for the last 200 metres. A worried looking Aviva mechanic arrived a few hours later. “I’m not a bike man,” he said, “In fact I know nothing about bikes; they just sent me because there was no one else, but I’ll have a go anyway.” For a half hour we peered at wires, tested the battery, and scratched our heads, unable to identify the problem. Finally the mechanic said, “What’s that big red switch on the handlebars?” Sometimes it’s the simplest things that catch you out.

RESOURCE GUIDE MAPS Good road maps of Ireland are available in both the U.K. and U.S. We also took an unlocked iPhone and bought a $30 Irish SIM card from 3 Network, which gave us unlimited data for the trip. Once there, go to any tourist information office and pick up a Wild Atlantic Way map; it is illustrated, superb, and free. ACCOMMODATIONS You’ll find no shortage of bed and breakfasts and hotels. Prices and standards vary, but for $55 on average per person you’ll get great hospitality and a decent breakfast. BIKE HIRE You can hire a range of new bikes, from a BMW F650GS to a Harley, complete with luggage kits, from Celtic Rider. They also do tours. Contact them for details and prices. motorental.ie, 353-45-842-862

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FUEL Beware! You won’t find fuel stations on Irish motorways. If your gas is running low, make sure to fill up before you hit the motorway or you’ll find yourself making an embarrassing call to the auto club.

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OVERLAND ROUTES By Chris Cordes Photography by Chris Cordes and Chris Ramm

The Alpine Loop

The United States is one of the most geographically diverse countries in the world. Although it contains magnificent deserts, wide-open plains, dense forests, and murky swamps, few places hold the beauty and grandeur of the San Juan Mountains in Colorado. It’s an area rich with flora and fauna, valuable minerals like silver, gold, zinc, and lead, and some of the best four-wheel drive trails in North America. Many of these roads are over 100 years old, but their origins go back much further. Long before the first immigrants set eyes on these mountains, Native Americans called them home. Local tribes would use the warm months to trek up from the plains and hunt for furs and gather food in the high country. Their ancient footpaths led safely to summer camps, water sources, lookouts, and other locations key to survival. When the settlers finally did make their way to the San Juans, these thoroughfares served as the perfect guide. By the late 1880s, word of the land’s wealth had spread, and boomtowns fueled by the influx of prospectors and miners began to form. The small footpaths leading into the hills were quickly widened to accommodate horses, wagons, and eventually machinery to tunnel further into the mines. Over time the boom ran its course and an inevitable end was reached. Mines became less fruitful, profits dried up, and the onceprosperous cities were abandoned to rot where they stood. Decades later, a new source of wealth was discovered: tourism. Four-wheel drives, motorcycles, mountain bikes, and hikers flocked to the alpine escape for its natural beauty and solitude. Improvements were slowly made, access improved, and the towns began to flourish once more in a new era of growth. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

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GENERAL INFORMATION

The series of roads between the mines is now known as the Alpine Loop Back Country Byway, and is one of the most scenic and rugged ways to witness the majesty of the San Juans. Along the 70-mile loop drivers navigate narrow shelf roads covered in loose rock, conquer passes at nearly 13,000 feet, and take in views that can rival almost any in the world. We strongly recommend a high-clearance four-wheel drive for this route, but it is possible to complete the track in a soft-roader if proper precautions are taken. Travelers can witness a large variety of interesting and unique flora such as cushion plants and alpine forget-me-nots, which grow only in tundra environments. At lower elevations, pine, fir, and spruce trees dominate the landscape in an endless sea of green; cottonwood, aspen, and oak may be found among them. Shrubs include Rocky Mountain maple, sage, juniper, and many others. The wildflowers however, are the region’s crowning jewels, with over 150 diﬀerent species. Fauna is plentiful, and includes elk, bighorn sheep, bear, mountain lion, and marmot. Over 300 birds ranging from bald eagles and peregrine falcons to smaller species like hummingbirds and woodpeckers also populate the region.

THE DRIVE

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We began the Alpine Loop in the town of Silverton, a former mining community aptly named for its profitable veins of silver. In terms of Colorado destinations, it’s certainly not the most lavish. This eclectic little city is comprised largely of old Western style buildings in varying conditions and colors, and the only paved road in town is the highway that passes through it. At first glance it appears Silverton does not have much to offer, but the sounds of patrons strolling the streets, the smell of fresh food emanating from restaurants, and the sight of cars rolling into town tells a different story. There’s a strange allure to this place, a mix of 1800’s grit with mountain-town charm. It is appealing, but not as enticing as the trailhead beckoning from behind its bustling streets. The road turns to dirt a few miles outside of town, and begins the long ascent toward Cinnamon Pass. Its dusty surface winds through the valley, curling left and right along a crystal-clear stream up into the hills. It would seem this should be the destination, but here it is simply the hors d’oeuvre. As you reach the base of the mountain, the ghost town of Animas Forks silently welcomes you to the entrance of the pass. It’s a relic of Colorado’s mining heyday, and is as interesting as it is eerie to explore. The ascent up the switchbacks isn’t particularly technical, but it is steep—and dangerous. The narrow path provides little forgiveness, and even a brief moment of distraction can have disastrous results. For our team, the sight of a terrified couple dangling helplessly from their Jeep on the cliffside was a grim reminder of this reality. Their tumble and eminent demise was stopped by a small, rocky ledge. Few are so lucky. After cresting Cinnamon Pass (12,640 feet) you slowly wind your way down the backside of the mountain. At the bottom, a small sign pointing to the right marks the entrance to American Basin. The lessinformed traveler might drive right by this short detour, unaware that just down the road lay one of the best spots for wildflowers in the state. In fact, the basin’s picturesque combination of mountains, flowers, and streams has made it a destination for nature photographers from around the world. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

If you can manage to leave the surreal beauty of the basin, you’ll find the road leading east to be smooth and graded. It runs past the old mining communities of Carson and Sherman, as well as Lake San Cristobal, a perfect spot for an afternoon picnic. If you feel like sampling the local cuisine, cruise a little further down to Lake City for some of the best roadside grub the loop has to oﬀer. Even those who do choose to picnic often find the aroma from Poker Alice’s pizza restaurant too much to pass up. Don’t worry, we approve of seconds. After Lake City the loop makes a turn west and starts the climb up Engineer Pass, one of Colorado’s most famous trails. Everything about this drive seems too good to be true. The grass is a vibrant shade of green, the river that winds its way through the valley sparkles a reflection of sky blue, and mountain peaks topped with pure-white snow rise up in the distance. The grand finale is the 12,800-foot summit, where it all comes together to form a masterpiece of nature more beautiful than any photograph could capture. In a word, it’s perfection. The descent is a series of tight switchbacks and steep ledges that can be tricky, especially with a trailer. Caution and a spotter are highly recommended for this section. The conclusion of Engineer presents two options: turn left and head back to Silverton, or turn right for an extended adventure. The path to the right leads down a challenging series of turns and shelf roads that are truly technical. It concludes in the town of Ouray, a favorite stop for supplies, fuel, beer, and excellent food. Ouray also happens to be the entrance to Imogene Pass, a moderate trail that leads you through rivers, around waterfalls, and over 13,000-foot Imogene Pass to Telluride. If you have the time, this stunning trail should be considered a must-do addition to the Alpine Loop.

ACCESS

South entrance From Silverton, exit US 550 north to State Highway 110. Continue approximately 1 mile through town and turn right onto Blair Street, County Road 2, then proceed on route. North entrance From Ouray, take US 550 south from the town center for approximately 4 miles. Exit to the left on County Road 18 and proceed on route.

LOGISTICS

Distance off-pavement 61 miles Suggested time 2 days Longest distance without fuel 42 miles

FUEL SOURCES

Silverton, Colorado 37°48’16.6”N, 107°40’17.6”W Lake City, Colorado 38°01’28.1”N, 107°19’01.9”W Ouray, Colorado 38°02’02.9”N, 107°40’29.9”W

DIFFICULTY

The Alpine Loop has earned a moderate trail rating from our team. The mostly graded dirt roads make for an easy drive; however, tight switchbacks and narrow shelf roads require extreme caution and a few technical sections can be challenging.

WAYPOINT

37°48'50.2" N, 107°39'44.1" W 37°55'52.5" N, 107°30'51.7" W

37°58'27.1" N, 107°35'07.2" W 37°58'03.1" N, 107°37'32.3" W

37°56'23.7" N, 107°43'51.2" W 37°58'13.6" N, 107°35'23.0" W

37°58'01.0" N, 107°37'34.2" W 37°57'41.8" N, 107°35'19.8" W

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37°55'53.7" N, 107°44'06.8" W

SPECIAL NOTE Throughout the journey you will encounter alpine tundra. Despite warning signs, it is common for people to mistake the tundra for grass and park on it. Damage can take over a century to heal, so please use caution and avoid driving on it at all costs. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

CONTACTS

Ouray County Sheriff ouraycountyco.gov/152/Sheriff, 970-252-4020 San Juan County Sheriff sheriffsjc.com, 970-387-5531 BLM Gunnison Field Office blm.gov/co/st/en/fo/gfo.html, 970-642-4940 Forest Service Road Status fs.usda.gov/main/sanjuan/maps-pubs, 970-247-4874 Forest Service Silverton Field Station 970-387-5530 Telluride Medical Center tellmed.org, 970-728-3848

RESOURCES

A basic map and details of the Alpine Loop can be downloaded on the BLM website at blm.gov/co/st/en/fo/gfo/recreation_information/ al.html. Our team’s GPS track and points of interest are available through the Hema Explorer Cloud (cloud.hemaexplorer.com.au). We also encourage the use of a DeLorme Colorado Atlas & Gazetteer.

Clockwise from top: We were sworn to secrecy on this spot! 37°58'11.5" N, 107°35'24.8" W, 37°58'43.7" N, 107°34'27.4" W

WHEN TO GO

This route is usually open from late May to late October, but this is entirely dictated by weather conditions. Early snow or a late melt can cause access dates to vary. Optimum times for travel are between late June and early September when the weather is warm.

PERMITS AND FEES

No permits or fees are required for this area.

SUGGESTED CAMPSITES Valley Watch Accommodates 2-3 vehicles Scenic overlook 37°55’46.3”N, 107°34’05.7”W

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Henson Creek Camp Accommodates 4-5 vehicles Creek access, improved camping surface 37°58’50.9”N, 107°29’38.7”W Mineral Springs Accommodates large groups Scenic views 37°57’41.4”N, 107°35’12.2”W Mineral Point Overlook Accommodates 2-3 vehicles Scenic views, restrooms 37°57’46.5”N, 107°35’31.7”W OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

Overland Route descriptions are intended to be an overview of the trail rather than turn-by-turn instructions. We suggest you download the Hema Explorer app and Cloud GPS track, as well as source detailed paper maps as an analog backup. As with any remote travel, conditions can change dramatically. Drivers should check road conditions with local authorities before attempting the route and be ready to turn back should snow or ice occur.

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OVERLAND CONSERVATION

Åsa Björklund

Defensores de la Naturaleza Foundation The river dwindles until we have to duck away from the heavy branches above. The park ranger tilts the boat’s engine to avoid the thick, subaquatic roots— tentacles that reach toward us. Birds shriek as we pass through this tunnel of greenery that winds through the wetlands of Bocas del Polochic. A rickety wooden pier appears, and sweat starts trickling down my back as the boat slows. We are on our way to visit a project run by Defensores de la Naturaleza Foundation (FDN), a Guatemalan nonprofit conservation organization. The foundation manages four protected areas in Guatemala, among them the Bocas del Polochic Wildlife Refuge and the Sierra de las Minas Biosphere Reserve. Their regular work includes reforestation, wildfire prevention, and training communities in sustainable use of nature’s resources. In addition, FDN conducts research, promotes environmental legislation, and teaches children the principals of conservation. After a quick ride on the back of a pickup we reach Semuy 2, a small village flanked by palm oil plantations at the edge of the Sierra de las Minas. Locals once farmed the steep, eroding hillsides and often ventured into the adjacent protected areas to hunt wildlife and cut down trees for firewood. Heidy García, director of the wildlife refuge, comments, “When we first started working with the community many children had reddish hair caused by malnourishment. And it was heartbreaking to see the babies—they were tiny.”

Protecting Guatemala’s natural resources and people through conservation and education.

Although its name means “Defenders of Nature” in Spanish, FDN believes nature and community support go hand in hand, and lasting conservation results can only be achieved by working with the villages surrounding protected areas. In Semuy 2, as in many other villages, FDN is helping inhabitants improve their living conditions so that they won’t need to extract resources from protected areas to survive. A key strategy is to provide training and technical support that allows families to diversify and improve their incomes. A few examples are sustainable forestry methods, honey production, keeping small livestock, and how to grow crops that sell at a better price, such as cocoa and cardamom. FDN has adopted Heifer International’s (a partner organization) “Passing on the Gift” model, which requires families to pass on the first offspring of, say a goat, to a neighbor, which multiplies the program’s effectiveness. While villagers proudly show us their new tilapia ponds, a group of giggling children trail in our footsteps. Nutrition levels have improved significantly, and these healthy kids are perhaps the best proof that humanity’s survival depends on the sustainable use of nature’s resources. 127

GET INVOLVED

The FDN program teaches families and entire villages the principles of sustainable agriculture. Beekeeping has provided employment and income for the village.

If you are traveling through Guatemala you can volunteer with FDN in a variety of ways, such as setting up camera traps for wildlife research or teaching English. If you are part of the academic world, the protected areas offer great opportunities for research, particularly of the natural sciences. Learn more about FDN or make a donation at friendsfdn.org; you can also stay up-to-date on Facebook (Friends of FDN Foundation).

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OVERLAND MEDICINE

Dr. Jon S. Solberg MD, FAWM

f all the vertebrate animals on earth (humans excluded), none pose a greater threat to human life than venomous reptiles. Adventure travelers are at risk for snake envenomation due to unfamiliarity with local snake habits and the close proximity obtained during hiking treks and photographic attempts. Delayed evacuation and the sketchy supply of antivenin (antivenin, rather than antivenom, is the medically correct term) in medically underserved areas increases the risk of an envenomation becoming life threatening. Before heading to the bush you should have a basic understanding of venomous snakebites and related first-aid techniques. Snakes are venomous, not poisonous. Venomous animals inject toxin into their prey through a special delivery apparatus such as a fang or stinger. Poisonous animals also contain a toxin, but it’s located in the animal’s flesh and is harmful only when the flesh is eaten. For example, shellfish harvested during a red tide are poisonous if you eat them; however, they don’t sting or bite. Some snakes are venomous and may inject you with venom, but you won’t be poisoned if you eat their flesh. Venomous snakes are so from birth, and a bite from an unidentifiable snake should be considered a medical emergency, no matter how big or small it is. There are four families of snakes, although only two are generally dangerous to humans. The family Elapidae includes cobras, kraits, mambas, sea snakes and coral snakes. Viperidae comprises the puﬀ adder, Russel’s viper, and Gaboon, plus the subfamily Crotalidae, First aid and treatment of venomous snakebites. also called pit vipers, which counts rattlesnakes, water moccasins, copperheads, bushmaster, and the fer-de-lance as its members. Crotalidae are responsible for 98 percent of venomous snakebites in the U.S. and can be identified by the “pit” located on each side between the eye and nostril. Pits contain a heat-sensing organ that aids in identifying warm-blooded prey. Pit vipers are native to most U.S. states; like most other snakes though they are more common in the South. This is because all snakes lack the ability to regulate their body temperature. When the thermometer drops below 75°F, it’s difficult for them to remain active. Crotalid venom, when injected into prey, causes the rapid onset of localized burning pain and swelling, which sometimes involves the entire limb. Local tissue destruction occurs, blood is slow to clot, and blood vessels become leaky. Fluid oozes into the lungs and causes suﬀocation. Death is uncommon when the victim is bitten on the fingers and toes, but significant tissue destruction and even loss of the limb can occur if hospital treatment is withheld or delayed. Venom injected directly into a vein, and subsequently into the body’s core, is associated with a high risk of death. Elapidae are the other venomous group encountered in the U.S. The Western (or Sonoran) coral snake in Arizona and New Mexico is venomous but gen-

Photo by Jake Quiñones

BACKGROUND

Snake Envenomation

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erally not deadly. However, the Eastern coral snake, which exists in the Carolinas and the swamplands of southern states is very deadly. Coral snakes are easily confused with the non-venomous scarlet king snake: both are covered with concentric rings of black, red, and yellow. You can diﬀerentiate the two (in the U.S. only) by the following rhyme: Red next to yellow, kill a fellow; red next to black, venom lack. Symptoms from coral snakebites can vary widely and come on gradually. This can be deceiving. Initially, a bite may seem “dry” as if no venom has been injected, only later to present with muscle weakness, dizziness, trouble swallowing, increased salivation, nausea, and eventually respiratory depression and death.

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Once a bite occurs, keep the victim calm. This is an ironic recommendation because I’ve cared for snakebites in Africa, Afghanistan, Louisiana, the Badlands of the Dakotas, and Southern Texas, and I’ve yet to see a calm snakebite victim. Carefully move everyone away from the snake’s territory, as another bite or victim can quickly complicate matAll snakebites from ters. Remove all jewelry that may venomous and/or constrict a swollen extremity. Slow unidentifiable snakes the spread of venom by splinting the should be considered extremity as if it were fractured, and medical emergencies, avoid giving the victim anything like and victims should be aspirin or ibuprofen, which can make expeditiously evacuated bleeding problems worse. In countries to a hospital. where certain snake venoms cause paralysis only, experts advocate wrapping the extremity firmly with an elastic bandage to stop the spread of venom. This method doesn’t work for all venoms though because some cause so much local tissue destruction that confining it to one place only makes matters worse. Incision, suction, applying ice or gasoline, using the Sawyer Extractor, or administering copious amounts of whiskey are folk treatments that do not work. These methods should be abandoned. Don’t get rid of the whiskey altogether, just remove it from the first-aid kit. All snakebite victims of venomous and/or unidentifiable snakes should be expeditiously evacuated to a hospital. It is true that some bites are dry, but delaying evacuation until symptom onset wastes valuable time. The only proven treatment for a venomous snakebite is antivenin, which is usually only available at a hospital. Exceptions are zoos, universities, and exotic “hot snake” collectors, which may all stock their own supply. If you’re in the U.S, it’s not necessary to identify the exact type of snake, as our only approved antivenin neutralizes all endogenous Crotalidae. Outside the U.S, all bets are oﬀ because the plethora of snake species, variety of resultant symptoms, and the geographically unique antivenins make identification of the oﬀending snake more important. Stay at a safe distance and take a photo of the snake, or make a quick sketch of its features. A local herpetologist or college professor may be able to identify it later. Live snakes should never be transported for identification purposes. If you feel it is necessary to kill the snake for identification, make your kill from a safe distance. Dead snakes should be transported in a solid container like a cooler or bucket with a secure lid rather than in a cloth sack. Do not handle a dead venomous snake with your hands, as it may still possess a strike reflex and be capable of lashing out and biting. Never bring a snake of any kind to my ER, dead or alive. Please. OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

ANTIVENIN AND HOSPITAL CARE At the hospital, symptomatic patients will receive an intravenous infusion of antivenin. Antivenin is made by repeatedly injecting animals with small doses of snake venom. The injected animal’s immune system then makes small proteins called antibodies that are capable of neutralizing the venom. These antibodies are specific to the type of venom injected. The antivenin used in the U.S. is a polyvalent (meaning it neutralizes the venom of several species including all rattlesnakes, water moccasins, and copperheads) called CroFab. Most other antivenins around the world are monovalent, meaning they neutralize the venom of only one species. This underscores the importance of identifying the offending snake if bitten while abroad. The U.S. had coral snake antivenin, but its entire stockpile expired in 2009 and no more is being made. Coral snake venom causes paralysis, which results in cessation of breathing. The current treatment for coral snake envenomation involves placing the victim on a mechanical ventilator until the venom’s effects wear off and spontaneous respirations return. If a snake bite requires antivenin, expect to shell out a lot of money for each dose, to be given multiple doses, and plan on being admitted to the hospital for observation. Antivenin supplies in rural, tropical hospitals are often in short supply, have expired, may not have been stored at the proper temperature, or may be counterfeit altogether. Nevertheless, if a patient is critically ill, any antivenin recommended by a local hospital is better than nothing. If the quality of the antivenin is questionable, insist that it’s infused in a very diluted concentration and at a low rate while you monitor for unusual and adverse reactions like fever, diffuse body rash, and swelling in and around the airway.

BE PREPARED As an adventure traveler, you are at increased risk for snake envenomation. Statistically, most bites occur on the upper extremities of male victims aged 25-35. Your best bet while traveling oﬀ the beaten path is to avoid being bitten in the first place, so inquire with locals about local snake behavior. If a vehicle recovery operation must take place in snake-infested terrain, politely volunteer to operate the vehicle and not the winch. Find out ahead of time which hospitals in the area carry antivenin and consider reviewing your medical evacuation insurance policy to see if it covers the high cost of antivenin. Remember, all bites from venomous and unidentifiable snakes are medical emergencies and require treatment at a hospital. Most importantly, jettison the folk treatments. Again, keep the whiskey; it may ease the sting of the medical bill. Doctor’s orders!

Resources The World Health Organization’s venomous snakes and antivenin search interface: This search interface can be used to explore the global distributions of venomous snake species and access information on antivenin products and their manufacturers. Users can search by region, subregion, country, territory, or other geographical areas. If the name of a particular snake is known, it can be selected or entered for direct access to that entry. apps.who.int/bloodproducts/snakeantivenoms/database

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OVERLAND CHEF

Life Remotely

Lomo Saltado

A spicy Peruvian stir-fry for those who love the heat.

LOMO SALTADO Serves: 4 | Preparation and cook time: 20 minutes Equipment: Large skillet or wok, knife, and mixing bowls Olive oil 1 tsp aji limo, minced 1 garlic clove, minced 1 lb beef loin, sliced into ¼-inch strips 2 red onions, sliced into eighths 2 tbsp vinegar, preferably a red wine variety 2 large tomatoes, sliced into eighths 3 aji amarillo chili peppers, thinly sliced 2 tbsp cilantro, chopped 2 tbsp soy sauce ¼ tsp ground cumin Salt and pepper

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ven though ceviche claims the honor of being Peru’s national dish, in our opinion it should be lomo saltado—you’d be hardpressed to find a Peruvian restaurant that doesn’t serve some form of it. The name doesn’t translate well; it literally means “jumped loin,” but we’ll leave that one up to your imagination. Lomo saltado highlights Asia’s heavy influence on Peruvian cuisine and makes use of several peppers that are found in many of the country’s traditional dishes. You aren’t likely to find aji limo or aji amarillo chilies outside of the region, MENU and attempts to replace them will likely MAIN: Lomo Saltado have Peruvian grandmothers turning over in SIDES: French fries or rice their graves. However, in the name of conveBEVERAGE: Pisco sour nience, and with no offense to Peruvians the world over, here are a few suggested substitutions. Aji limo is a small, very spicy pepper. Use Thai chilies, jalapeños, or habaneros instead. Aji Amarillo is a long yellow/orange pepper with a thin wall and a decent amount of heat, but not quite up to jalapeño level. Use the Anaheim or Fresno variety if you want a little heat, or yellow/orange bell peppers if not.

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Heat two tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat in a large skillet or wok. Add the garlic and aji limo, sauté for two minutes. Increase the heat and add the sliced beef loin strips, sauté until cooked. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and cumin to taste, then remove from the pan and set aside. Add one tablespoon of oil to the skillet and stir-fry the onions over high heat until barely soft, about one minute. Season with salt and pepper (again to taste), add vinegar, and sauté for an additional minute—make sure the onion is still a bit crunchy. Remove from pan, set aside, and repeat this procedure with the tomato slices. Combine onion, tomato, and beef mixtures in the skillet, add the sliced aji amarillo and soy sauce, and stir-fry for two minutes. Garnish with cilantro and serve over French fries or rice. This recipe can be found in Life Remotely’s cookbook, Forks in the Road: Recipes from Overlanding the PanAmerican, available at liferemotely.com.

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Our world-weary Uighur guide and escort, a Muslim named Nur Muhammad, was accustomed to being faced with such hurdles. It was just a case of business as usual: if the authorities could make something more difficult than it had to be, however illogical it seemed to all sides involved, they would. He took a deep breath, rolled his eyes, and got on with fixing the problem. The solution, at least for the time being, was a truck. Once every possible inch of the auto rickshaws had been examined (including their decidedly intimate places), and their paperwork had been scrutinised by a man who was most disappointed that he couldn’t find a single thing amiss, we rolled There were a lot of them up into the back of the truck, closed people in that queue the doors, and watched the customs official who’d been dying attach a weighty seal to the lock. These bato thump the border bies weren’t coming out any time soon. guard—he was just We travelled on to Kashgar by minibus, that kind of guy. disconsolate not to be driving ourselves, A number of them but relieved that a workable compromise waded in, taking their had been reached. After months of anchance... ticipation, the city itself was a gross disappointment. The government had moved to demolish large sections of the Old City, replacing its historic (if often verging on derelict) buildings with strip malls, neon lighting, and mile after mile of asphalt. We were lucky to see what we did, as two years on it was almost all gone. Our real story, a day of extreme heat, frustration, a fist fight, and not a little amount of danger, began when leaving Kashgar, as we headed for the Torugart Pass to be reunited with our rickshaws. Looking at a map of the Chinese-Kyrgyz border, you will see a single line demarcating the international border. This is a fallacy: there is a noman’s land of 50 miles or so between where China ends and the Kyrgyz Republic begins. As you have to be stamped out of one country and into the other on the same day, you have to cross this entire area in one go. With an early start, in a four-wheel drive this would be no problem, even with the usual rock falls and drifts of snow on the pass. We didn’t leave early, however. It was -25°C at the top, with deep snow all around. Trouble started with the queues as we approached the border crossing. Officially, all non-commercial traffic was permitted to pass straight through an archway in the centre of the border compound, whilst trucks with goods that needed customs checking had to wait in a long line outside. This was all well and good, but the truck containing our auto rickshaws was 6 inches too high to fit through the archway. As we weren’t yet out of China, they wouldn’t let us unload it outside, and it had to join the long queue of trucks loaded with apples, car parts, plastic buckets, spades, and everything else that China was exporting west that day. As is so often the case at borders everywhere in the world, the customs officers spent more time on breaks than they did working, so the queue wasn’t moving anytime soon. Having alerted the officials to our need to advance through the border quickly, so as to arrive at the Kyrgyz checkpoint in daylight hours, we were optimistic that we would be processed as soon as possible. How foolish we were. The only girl in the team, I worked my way along the queue of truckers, pointing out our pint-sized truck and showing them pictures of the auto rickshaws. Once they had got over their astonishment and hysterical laughter, I gesticulated most politely that I wanted to overtake their OVERLAND JOURNAL SPRING 2016

vehicle to the front of the line. Miraculously, they were all happy for me to do so…perhaps because they needed a bit of entertainment. We carefully edged the truck forward along the hard shoulder as there wasn’t a great deal of room. The potholes, sections of ditch, and sleeping stray dogs were circumnavigated, but there was one thing in our way: China’s answer to Napoleon. It is often said that you should never give a small man a uniform or a whistle. Or in this case, any authority at all. It was a customer-relations disaster waiting to happen. Blocking the path, hands on hips and glaring, was the man in charge of the line—a border official of questionable rank with an Everest-sized chip on his shoulder who had not been consulted about our queue jump. He was not going to let it go. Max jumped from the truck cab down onto the road and went forward smiling to shake his hand. With Nur Muhammad assisting as translator, Max explained politely about our need to reach the Kyrgyz border in daylight hours, the inability of our truck to pass through the archway, and the willingness of the other truck drivers to let us through ahead of them. Napoleon didn’t like this at all. Frustrated at his inability to properly express this to the indolent foreigner, he resorted instead to giving Max a hard shove on both shoulders. Shocked, having probably not been thumped since high school, Max reacted badly and shoved him back. All hell broke loose. There were a lot of people in that queue who’d been dying to thump the border guard—he was just that kind of guy. A number of them waded in, taking their chance, and I followed too, not so much to lay a blow, but to pull Max out from the scrum before he got hurt. Somewhere in the melee, however, Napoleon shoved me out of the way too. At that moment you could have heard a pin drop. A line had been crossed. A man had hit a woman, and publicly. The official beat a very hasty retreat, but already word had got out. Alongside the border crossing is a military base. A trucker told the gate guard, who told his sergeant major, and like a game of Chinese Whispers (particularly apt in this case) the message made its way all the way up to the top. The base’s commanding officer was roused grudgingly from his siesta and appeared, his face like thunder, before us. I gulped, wondering if we were about to be deported from China (at least that might have speeded things up), and looked downcast, hoping he would show us some leniency. A shaking Nur Muhammad was summoned to the fore, and the commanding officer turned to Max. “Sir,” he began, “It is with the greatest regret that this incident has occurred.” Although I was standing right beside him, he would not look me in the eye but continued nevertheless. “I would like you to apologise to madam on my behalf, on behalf of the Chinese army, and on behalf of the People’s Republic of China.” Not since I graduated in Cambridge University’s Senate House, awarded my degree by the Master standing in for the Chancellor standing in for God, had I had such great powers looking down on me favourably. Nor am I likely to again. With a flick of his hand, our truck drove on past the convoy, its papers stamped and ready to go. Our auto rickshaws were dumped out of the back, unceremoniously due to the lack of a ramp, and we were free to drive up into the mountains in the fading light, the ice and snow awaiting our arrival. It would be a long, cold, and at times, quite perilous night, but at least we were out of China.

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TAIL LAMP

Sophie Ibbotson

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Graphic by Michele Dallorso

hen you are driving a ridiculously unsuitable vehicle through possibly hostile terrain, you tend to make a lot of friends. There are the curious bystanders who stop you on the street and ask you into their homes for a cup of tea and to meet their mothers. There are the traffic police, usually grumpy so-and-sos who are utterly perplexed by the sight of you and insist that you pose together for a picture, capturing the moment for posterity on their smartphones. And then there are the hordes of small, often grubby children (and stray dogs) that chase alongside or behind you for miles, occasionally jumping up into the backseat for a ride, grinning inanely all the while. You will understand, therefore, that it came as a somewhat rude awakening that the moment we crossed the border from Pakistan into China, our hardly threatening auto rickshaws were thrown into a compound—alone, unloved, and inaccessible throughout a protracted period of paperwork checking and negotiation. This was not the kind of welcome that they, or we, had come to expect, and it was sadly a portent of things to come. The first thing that you should know about bringing your own vehicle into China is that the authorities really don’t like it. It doesn’t have anything to do with the fear of cheap, illegal imports undermining local manufacturing, nor road safety (foreign drivers often forget which side of the road they are supposed to drive on, which is to the right, if you are interested). On the contrary, it is entirely to do with being able to keep track of exactly where you are going and when. The Chinese government likes to keep an eye on you, force you into having an official escort if at all possible, and prevent you from seeing anything unpalatable. When my traveling partners and I arrived in Xinjiang Province in autumn 2008, paranoia was especially rife—and with some basis. Checkpoints and internal security forces had been ramped up for the Beijing Olympics in case any of the “disillusioned” (politically, socially, and economically oppressed) Uighur population decided to draw the limelight away from the games by orchestrating a terrorist attack, or even a simple protest. A few dissidents did take their chance, shooting dead a number of border guards, and tensions were running unusually high, even by Xinjiang standards. Every non-Han Chinese face was seen as a potential threat. Four foreigners driving auto rickshaws clearly fell into the “suspicious” category. Our visas were in place, as well as our foreign vehicle import documents. But whilst we were driving across Pakistan, Chinese authorities had deemed it fit to withdraw our internal vehicle permits. This meant that we could go anywhere we liked—so long as we didn’t drive. Getting from the border post at Tashkurgan to the ancient Silk Road city of Kashgar and Torugart Pass, gateway to Kyrgyzstan, was therefore going to be quite a challenge.

On Behalf of the People’s Republic of China Of auto rickshaws, border blunders, fist fights, and the Napoleon syndrome.

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adventure