WE ARE ADVENTURERS Constantly traveling. Testing and using gear in real-world situations. Gaining experience, which we readily share.
OUR RESUME
7 continents | 158 countries | 594 years combined experience
WE ONLY KNOW THINGS WHEN WE LIVE THEM
2025
CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER Rachelle Croft
CHIEF CREATIVE OFFICER Clay Croft
EXECUTIVE PUBLISHER Scott Brady
EDITOR IN CHIEF Tena Overacker
VICE PRESIDENT OF BUSINESS DEVELOPMENT Megan Walthall
DIRECTOR OF SALES Brian McVickers
DIRECTOR OF OPERATIONS Ryan Connelly
DIRECTOR OF MARKETING Mary Hannah Hardcastle
PRODUCER Andy Potter
EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT PRODUCER Niki Olsen
DIRECTOR OF DESIGN Stephanie Brady
SENIOR EDITOR Ashley Giordano
4WD SENIOR EDITOR Graeme Bell
MEDICAL EDITOR Dr. Jon Solberg, MD, FAWM
ARCHAEOLOGY SENIOR EDITOR Bryon Bass, PhD
CONTRIBUTING EDITORS Akela World, Luisa Bell, Nicholas Bratton, Stephan Edwards, Abigail Gubler, Kingsley Holgate, Daniel Lin, Derek Mau, Next Meridian, David Morring, Maria Schumacher
CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS Barry Andrews, Richard Giordano
CARTOGRAPHER David Medeiros
PODCAST HOST Matthew Scott
EDITOR Jake Bennet
EDITOR Paula Burr
FLEET MANAGEMENT Tanner Johnson
SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATOR Jakob Aadnes
CUSTOMER SERVICE Leah Heffelfinger
CONTACT
Overland Journal, 7700 Springhill Rd, Belgrade, MT, 59714-8635 service@overlandjournal.com, editor@overlandjournal.com, advertising@overlandjournal.com
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Overland Journal is a trademark of Overland Collective, LLC. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. Overland Journal is a wholly owned subsidiary of Overland Collective, LLC.
NO COMPROMISE
We carefully screen all contributors to ensure they are independent and impartial. We never have and never will accept advertorial, and we do not allow advertising to influence our product or destination reviews.
With the growing popularity of overland travel, a new field guide promises to help beginners and intermediate explorers navigate the fundamentals. Overlanding 101: A Field Guide to Vehicle-Based Adventure Travel will be released through Adams Media on May 20, 2025. Written by our own Scott Brady, the book is designed as a practical, experience-based introduction to the overlanding lifestyle.
Scott is no stranger to the rigors of longdistance, self-reliant vehicle travel, having circumnavigated the planet three times and being the first overlander to cross all seven continents in the same vehicle. He brings decades of experience and technical knowhow to the book, and has explored every
type of terrain with a vast variety of vehicles. Scott lives and breathes overlanding.
“Overlanding empowers people to break free from the ordinary and truly experience the extraordinary. This book will help anyone—whether they’re planning a weekend trip or a global expedition—start their adventure with confidence.” –Scott Brady
Overlanding 101 will be available in both print and digital formats through major retailers, including Amazon and Barnes & Noble. The book can be ordered on Amazon at https://a.co/d/bdGTnoN.
ROW 1
@jatonowhere
This is [Saudi’s] Wadi Disah, which means the valley of palm trees, and it’s very green and very wet. The humidity was way higher, and there was also the non-stop chirping of many different birds. These things would be easily missed from within the car, but made the place extra special [when camping].
@apairofexplorers
After being convinced by a local mechanic to take a particular [hiking] route [to Istup Waterfall], we ended up somewhat (to put it lightly) off the beaten track. We met a group of the friendliest people, one of whom offered to take us back to our van via a safer route. We will never forget this day and your kindness. @dumitry_boyka
@Lone.Wolf.Overlanding
I set up my little slice of heaven and threw the drone up in the air. I could not have asked for a better evening out there for flying with perfect lighting, a glassy lake, and not a soul around. Absolutely stunning.
ROW 2
@mytickettoride
I sincerely miss when this was the full extent of my daily housekeeping duties.
@kateand_ben
Crossing the Boteti River on the pontoon to get to Kumaga [Camp] is always a highlight of a trip for us. After paying your fare, the polers guide you onto the pontoon and push you safely across. A short drive up a dirt road brings you to the entrance of Makgadikgadi National Park.
@sackwear and @959overland
Mondays should all be like this.
ROW 3
@sashank_97
Pulled over to take [in] this amazing view.
@rafikiontour
With good tarmac and plenty of gravel roads, airing down our tires is part of our daily routine—this time to tackle the Hunters Road on the border [between Botswana and] Zimbabwe.
@overlandsite
What do you keep in your door pocket? I have a water bottle, gloves (for winching and maintenance or fluid checks), a rag, winch remote control, and an issue of the #overlandjournal so it’s always handy
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WHERE HAS YOUR OVERLAND JOURNAL BEEN?
Send us a photo, along with your name, the location, make/year of your vehicle, and a brief description. editor@overlandjournal.com
Known as the “Greybeard of Adventure,” Kingsley Holgate is among the world’s most respected and colorful modern-day explorers. Humanitarian, adventurer, author, media personality, Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society, and Land Rover Ambassador, Kingsley holds the singular distinction of having explored all 54 countries on the African continent, including the island states. His lifetime of journeys (41 to date, many of them world-firsts) has taken him on foot, in open boats, by traditional Swahili dhow, and Land Rover to some of the world’s most remote and dangerous regions. What makes Kingsley and his team even more unique is their philosophy of “using adventure to improve and save lives.” To date, they have assisted over four million people throughout Africa and beyond. kingsleyholgate.com
Abigail and Richie, the man behind the lens, are an English/Swiss couple born in the UK/ UAE who met over a giant Fergburger in New Zealand. In 2019, they turned their world upside down, literally, in pursuing a dream of overland travel with their seven-month-old baby, Zoe. Their travels started in the US during the pandemic, which taught them how to travel slowly— an overlanding lifestyle they adopted during their four-and-a-half-year journey through the Americas. That was until the juicy vacio steaks, buttery alfajores, and aromatic Mendocinan wines stopped them in their tracks. In November 2024, they purchased a finca in Mendoza, Argentina, with the goal of hosting overlanders from near and far. @meataroundtheworld
Derek has covered the automotive, cycling, and outdoor industries for more than a decade. In prior roles, he was the managing editor for eBay Motors, former Western Region Editor for tflcar.com, and contributing editor for GearJunkie, mtbr.com, and Road Bike Review. At home or abroad, Derek likes tinkering with cars, exploring new cultures, seeking the best of what a region offers, sampling international cuisine, and spending quality time with close friends. On any given day, he applies genuine enthusiasm and gearhead knowledge toward unraveling today’s sophisticated gear. When Derek isn’t diving into engine bays, he also enjoys mountain biking, snowboarding, and volunteer work at the local animal shelter.
For the past six years, Leander, Maria, and their 13-year-old son, Lennox, have been circumnavigating the globe in their beloved old Mercedes truck named “Akela.” The journey has taken them from their home in Austria through Europe and Central Asia to Borneo and Indonesia, where they have immersed themselves in diverse cultures and stunning landscapes. After spending over a year exploring Australia and the United States, the pandemic interrupted their journey and forced them to halt for a year. Now, fueled by their indomitable spirit, they are back on the road, heading toward Central America. They are an adventurous family, continuously chasing the horizon, seeking new experiences, and embracing the wonders that await them on their ongoing global expedition. @akela.world
After a lifetime as an entrepreneur, Barry Andrews spent almost 10 years traveling the world in search of interesting places, people, and images. Much of the time was spent overlanding trails and remote roads of the American West from the Canadian to the Mexican borders. Further travels took him through countries on every continent, including Antarctica. One of his favorite areas was Southeast Asia, specifically Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, and most of all Myanmar, before the junta crushed democracy yet again. These days, Barry wanders less, preferring to spend time working with his family to develop ecological and culturally aware properties in the little coastal arts and farming town of Todos Santos in Baja Sur, Mexico.
When Maria and her partner, Aidan, attended their first motorcycle show in London, they didn’t expect to find books for sale. The author had spent eight years traveling the world by motorbike and had inspiring stories to tell. On the train home, Maria suggested that they, too, travel around the world by motorcycle, and to her surprise, Aidan agreed. They got their motorcycle licenses, bought bikes, and set off from England three years later. The couple has ridden across Europe to the Republic of Georgia, traversed India, explored Australia and Tasmania, and spent two years traveling from Canada to Argentina. Maria shares their adventures in various international magazines and has contributed a chapter to The Moment Collectors-Asia, by Sam Manicom and Friends. coddiwomplers.com
David’s love affair with the outdoors began at the age of 17 when he, despite his parents’ reluctance, hitchhiked to Jackson, Wyoming, and saw the Grand Teton for the first time. He’s never deleted that picture from his memory. David’s pursuit of adventure through rock climbing, whitewater kayaking, caving, and canyoneering eventually led him to photography. Since that first foray into the Tetons, David has ventured to every continent, including Antarctica. His philosophy is “you can’t get the shot unless you can get to the spot,” which motivates him to explore the less explored, find unconventional shooting locations, and endure extreme conditions that border on the insane. David’s photography has won numerous awards nationally and internationally. davidmorringart.com
Nick and Mathilde launched their World Tour in April 2022, the Next Meridian Expedition. The plan is five years, seven continents, and 88 countries in their fully transformed Land Rover Defender 110, aka the “Albatross.” After spending most of his life between Asia and Africa, Nick worked for a French tech start-up based in Paris. Mathilde, originally from the French Alps, completed degrees in international relations before working for several years for the United Nations. The French-Italian couple now live full time on the road and document the Next Meridian Expedition on Instagram and YouTube, in addition to publishing regularly in travel and overland magazines in French, English, and Italian. @nextmeridianexpedition
Luisa Bell has always had a passion for travel, but she never imagined that she would explore the world with her family in a self-built Land Rover Defender camper. As the navigator, administrator, and penetrator of bureaucracy, she has led her family to over 65 countries on five continents. Luisa is the wife of Graeme, and their quarter-century together feels like a full century in overlander years. Her two kids and her dog are her pride and joy, and if she could travel with them indefinitely, she would. With a background in immigration law, she has the ability to make the impossible possible and has no plan of settling down or retiring her full-time traveler status. a2aexpedition.com
Nicholas Bratton is a lifelong adventurer and traveler. Currently based in Seattle, he has lived for six years in Africa and one in France. His pursuits include working as a whitewater rafting guide in South Africa and Washington, as a mountaineering instructor in the Cascades and Rockies, and exploring eastern Greenland. His travels have taken him to 30 countries. Closer to home, an overland highlight has been driving the 600-mile Washington Backcountry Discovery Route in his Land Rover Discovery. Bratton’s work has been published in the Boston Globe, Daily Telegraph, Rovers Magazine, Hidden Compass, Land Rover Monthly, and Alloy+Grit. nicholasbratton.com
Daniel Lin has been living on the road since 2008 in various vehicles with his wife, Marlene, and three kids, Ava, Mila, and Luka. Their first rig, an Airstream, took them to all 49 continental US states. Their next one, a Four Wheel Camper, started them off on their international travels through Canada and Mexico. And now, a DIY Sprinter 4x4 has taken them to 49 countries on five continents. He and his family are currently in South America on their way to Ushuaia, the continent’s southernmost tip. Between balancing work, road school, and adventuring, they adopted two stray cats because there apparently isn’t enough chaos in their day-to-day life. malimish.com
Stephan Edwards once bought an old Land Rover sight unseen from strangers on the internet in a country he’d never been to and drove it through half of Africa. After living in Botswana for two years, Stephan now makes camp at the foot of a round mountain in Missoula, Montana. That Land Rover is still his constant companion, and has now traveled the wilder parts of North America as well. An anthropologist in his former life and a lover of all things mechanical and automotive, Stephan is a newly minted motorcyclist and staunch advocate for public lands. His writing and photography have appeared in Overland Journal, Road & Track, and at The Drive and Adventure Journal.
Overland Journal is the original publication for environmentally responsible, worldwide, vehicle-supported, expedition and adventure travel. overlandjournal.com
SUBSCRIPTIONS AND BACK ISSUES
5 issues/year, online at overlandjournal.com or 7700 Springhill Rd, Belgrade, MT, 59714-8635
DOMESTIC & CANADA (USD)
1 year $65
INTERNATIONAL (USD)
1 year $95
DIGITAL
Available on iTunes, Google Play, and the Libby Library app.
For the past 15 years, our family and the XOVERLAND team have embarked on countless global adventures, seeking connection and personal growth through travel. We have watched our boys transform from children into remarkable young men, sharing foundational experiences with us—camping, exploring, and learning together. At the same time, we’ve witnessed the overland industry itself evolve, growing from a niche passion into a global movement. When we founded XOVERLAND, we had a small film production business, with a desire for something more lingering just beneath the surface. The dream of starting our own documentary series, exploring the world, and sharing our journeys and mishaps with others became our vision.
The inspiration for overlanding started at a local dealership, where Clay stumbled upon a copy of Overland Journal and was captivated by its pages. Our first XOVERLAND video series was advertised and featured in Overland Journal and on Expedition Portal, forging a deep friendship with the Overland International team. This partnership led to unforgettable experiences, including Clay’s adventures with Scott Brady on numerous Expeditions 7 segments across the Road of Bones in Russia, Central America, and the Greenland Ice Sheet.
Years later, we are thrilled to announce our collaboration with the Overland International team in acquiring Overland Journal, expedi-
Istillvividly recall my first trip abroad as an Air Force senior airman, landing in Southern Italy. That experience ignited a lifelong passion for travel and overlanding, shaping my career. The business journey began with Expeditions West in 2003, followed by expeditionportal.com in 2005, and then Overland Journal in 2006. Working on the magazine and maintaining our commitment to our readers has been one of my greatest joys, made possible by the hard
tionportal.com, and The Overland Journal Podcast. Our shared values and adventurous spirits align well, guiding us toward our common goal of fostering growth, community, and authenticity within the overland industry. With Rachelle as CEO, Clay as CCO, and Scott Brady serving as executive publisher, we are more excited than ever about the future of XOVERLAND and Overland Journal. Thank you for joining us on this journey—we cannot wait to see what is over the next horizon.
Clay and Rachelle Croft
work and dedication of our incredible team. From Stephanie Brady’s exceptional design and administrative skills to Brian McVickers’ stellar business development and Tena Overacker’s unwavering commitment as our editor, their efforts have made Overland Journal possible. My gratitude extends to our entire team, the board members, contributors, and subscribers.
During our historic 2018 crossing of the Greenland Ice Sheet, Clay Croft and I spent countless hours traversing the frozen landscape, brainstorming how we could better assist each other’s businesses and the overarching values of the overland industry. In recent months, our conversations have evolved into exploring how the XOVERLAND team can support Overland Journal for both international travelers and domestic overlanders. XOVERLAND is a powerhouse in our industry, and they are genuine and supremely experienced overlanders. I am continually impressed by Rachelle’s leadership and Clay’s creative vision, and they have committed to retaining the editorial integrity of Overland Journal. I would like to thank each of you for your patronage over the last two decades, and I look forward to crossing paths with all of you on the road less traveled.
Scott Brady
In the early years of the 20th century, Henry Ford and Harvey Firestone started taking regular camping trips together, sometimes with Thomas Edison, and often accompanied by the celebrated naturalist John Burroughs. They would ramble for weeks through the states along the Eastern seaboard in custom Model T trucks outfitted for sleeping, cooking, and off-road exploration. Given the country’s non-existent highway system at the time, nearly all of this travel was by definition “off-road,” as they sought out secluded corners of the American wilderness to commune with nature. They called themselves the “Four Vagabonds.”
A four-season review over 10 months and nearly 13,500 miles on a 1992 Land Rover Defender.
Being the savvy industrialists they were, Ford and Firestone weren’t just in it for the campfire time. They leveraged these outings as a tool for promoting the Model T and Firestone tires, and major American newspapers regularly covered their trips above the fold. Much of the “roughing it” aspects of these trips were pure window dressing (they often traveled with fine china, imported wines, and plenty of butlers and chefs in tow); however, there’s no denying that the Four Vagabonds helped popularize the idea that the automobile could be a source of freedom and adventure and an escape from modern life—in short, they were overlanding.
This decade of exploration also laid the foundation for the 100-year relationship between Ford and Firestone tires. Firestones were original equipment on Fords of all kinds for nearly the entirety of the 20th century until the tire maker’s fortunes began to unravel in the late 1980s and early 1990s, and the two companies had a very public falling out. Eventually absorbed into Japanese global tire giant Bridgestone, in the years since, Firestone has slowly reestablished itself as a top brand, and its current Destination line of terrain tires is a prime example of why.
Tires are a notoriously difficult purchase for the average consumer. It’s not easy to
comb through the jargon and reams of technical data available online, and it’s not easy to swallow that big price tag for a truly good set of tires when you don’t necessarily know what you’re getting. For many drivers, their tires are simply “fine,” and they rarely think about them unless they fail or it’s time to write that big check.
Enthusiasts, however, approach the tire problem very differently—we pore over the specifications, debate performance metrics endlessly online and in person, and cling hard to certain brands or studiously avoid others. Overlanders, in particular, pay keen attention to what’s mounted to our wheels since we need tires to be many things all at once—quiet and efficient for long highway miles or daily commutes, sure-footed in sketchy weather, tenacious off-road, dead reliable, and relatively affordable. After all, many long-term travelers carry their entire homes and lives on those four small contact patches. In the end, tire choice is intensely subjective, even more so now that, across the board, overall quality and consistency in tire construction and performance are as good as they have ever been in history.
The Destination X/T is Firestone’s flagship on- and off-road tire, and I chose to mount the LT235/85R16 size on my 1992 Land Rover’s stock steel wheels. Kudos to
Firestone for offering a huge range of sizes for this tire, including ones that fit outdated wheel sizes found on more “mature” trucks. X/Ts in this size are E-load range rated, weigh a hair under 40 pounds each, and feature a 50,000-mile warranty. As a value proposition, the X/Ts are squarely in the middle of the market at $237 each but reasonably priced for a premium tire with the
FIRESTONE CLAIMS ITS RUBBER COMPOUND RESISTS TREAD LOSS OVER PREVIOUS MODELS AND COMPETING BRANDS, AND, INDEED, IN NEARLY A YEAR OF HARD USE ON THE X/TS, I SEE ALMOST NO EVIDENCE OF CHIPPING OR TEARING.
technology it has. It comes in a little over the price of the old BFGoodrich T/A K02 but well below the asking price of the new T/A K03, which is not available in this size (for now).
The Destination X/T features a fairly aggressive off-shoulder tread design with staggered shoulder lugs. These provide extra biting edges across the face of the tire for enhanced off-road traction, and Firestone’s full-depth interlocking 3D sipe technology ensures even wear and consistent performance throughout the tire’s lifespan. These interlocking grooves help in finding grip in ice and snow, and open shoulder slots evacuate water, reducing the risk of hydroplaning and boosting wet-weather traction. Firestone claims its rubber compound resists tread loss over previous models and competing brands, and, indeed, in nearly a year of hard use on the X/Ts, I see almost no evidence of chipping or tearing. Sidewall durability has also proven to be very impressive, shrugging off cuts and abrasions.
The nature of an all-terrain tire is one of compromise—its design is inherently meant for a wide variety of contexts, but this jackof-all-trades identity means it may struggle at the extremes of any one condition or another. I certainly subjected the Destinations to various extremes over 10 months and thousands of miles, and they never put a tread wrong.
First to consider is this tire’s outstanding highway manners. Most overlanding in
the US—whether it’s long-term or just for a weekend—falls on the asphalt and concrete slabs that make up our highway system. Therefore, a major consideration for me when choosing an A/T tire is its behavior as a regular urban commuter and interstate cruiser. This goes double if your adventure rig does duty as a daily driver during the work week. An early model Defender is not a paragon of on-road handling, and it plays a symphony of noise, vibration, and harshness at speeds above 50 mph. Despite this, I could tell the X/Ts rolled quietly without tramlining on worn or off-camber roads. In my non-ABS truck, braking performance has remained consistent as the tires have worn, with good surface friction feedback. Breakaway is predictable, and the tires resist grabbing erratically at the limits of traction with little sidewall deflection.
The X/T’s mud and snow rating (including the 3PMSF Mountain Snowflake extreme winter rating) was put to the test during a severe Montana winter and a sloppy spring. These tires shed mud relatively effectively, but they shine in the snow. I found them to handle equally well in deep powder as well as in hard-packed and icy conditions; slippery road braking, in particular, inspired a lot of confidence. The rubber formulation stays pliable in extra-cold weather, which is remarkable given how durable the tread blocks have proven to be over many miles of hard off-road work.
I subjected the Destination X/Ts to a wide mix of unpaved roads and barely maintained trails across nine Western states and one Canadian province. The bulk of my off-road travel was in the Four Corners region, where I traversed deep sand, slickrock, endless washboard, and serrated stones and gravel. I found these tires to be exceptionally sensitive to pressure adjustments—shifting inflation by 3 or 4 pounds per square inch often made the difference between having plenty of traction and spinning my wheels. At the lowest pressures, the X/Ts have excellent deformation characteristics, and whatever magic Firestone put in the sidewalls held visible damage at bay. I was pleasantly surprised at their rock-crawling performance deep in the bowels of Canyonlands National Park’s Needles District, where I
subjected my poor Defender to the trials of the notorious Elephant Hill. The X/Ts found traction where I least expected it. Other X/T adventures involved recovering a Jeep Grand Cherokee 4xe buried to the frame in a sand dune in Arizona, sailing through huge puddles on Washington’s seaside US Highway 101 during a storm raging off the Pacific, and scrambling along twotracks strewn with loose, razor-edged granite in the Colorado Rockies. Through all of this, I never found the Firestone X/T wanting or suffered a puncture or failure. They have worn remarkably evenly on my hardto-align Land Rover, and I see no reason why they won’t continue to carry me confidently for many thousands of miles more. The Destination X/T is one of the most reliable and capable all-terrain tires currently available.
$237 EACH | FIRESTONE.COM
In2024, Decked rolled out a redesigned version of their vaunted pickup truck drawer system. This was big news since many thousands of happy customers and industry experts had generally agreed that the original Decked drawers were among the best storage systems available. Made from tough highdensity polyethylene (HDPE) composites with steel hardware and components, Decked drawer systems are waterproof, highly dust resistant, lockable, and adaptable to your needs. But good companies don’t rest on their laurels.
Just when we thought it couldn’t get any better, along came V2.
Some of the redesign’s highlights include new drawer profiles, beefed-up carrying capacities, better bulwarks against dust intrusion, and pass-throughs along the outsides of the drawers that are accessible from above.
Some of the redesign’s highlights include new drawer profiles, beefed-up carrying capacities, better bulwarks against dust intrusion, and pass-throughs along the outsides of the drawers that are accessible from above. Specifically, Decked changed the drawer shape from trapezoidal to square to maximize storage room and improve the modularity of the huge range of accessories offered, which also helps eliminate wasted space. The drawers feature extended openings over the old system, making it easier to access items in the back reaches, and they now hold up to 220 pounds. New cab-side and drawer-side panels reduce air circulation and turbulence, keeping dust ingress to a minimum. The elimination of the old “ammo can” side storage units leaves an uninterrupted space on either side of the drawers for stashing longer items like fishing poles or camp chairs and allows easy access to AC power outlets that so many newer trucks have. There are now more options for tie-down points along the top deck.
Perhaps the biggest change is the option to choose a single “Super Drawer” instead of the standard two-drawer setup. This single drawer increases the storage capacity by 30 percent and can operate as a sliding tray by removing the drawer sides. What hasn’t changed in the two-drawer configuration is the perfectly flat load surface that’s 100 percent weatherproof and can support up to 2,000 pounds (choosing the Super Drawer reduces payload up top to 1,000 pounds). The mounting process for the new drawers is much the same as the old ones—there is no drilling in the vast majority of applications, utilizing the factory tie-down points in your truck’s bed.
We installed Decked’s new full-size pickup drawers in the oldschool two-drawer configuration in the 6-foot bed of a 2010 Toyota Tundra CrewMax. Included with the system were four dropin storage containers providing some optional extra organization along the sides of the drawers. We were impressed by the smooth sliding action and positive locking when the drawers were pulled out and appreciated the extended reach for grabbing gear near the back of the drawers. Because the fit is universal rather than tailored to specific makes and models, installation can be a little
bit fiddly, but the payoffs in organizing gear are worth it. The best part may be that the starting price of the all-new Decked drawer systems is only $100 more than the old ones.
FROM $1,600 | DECKED.COM
Clockwise from top: In addition to the traditional two-drawer setup shown here, Decked now offers a single Super Drawer. | Removable drawer-side storage replaces the old “ammo-can” system. | Robust turnbuckles secure all Decked systems for easy installation. | New square drawer profiles maximize storage space. | V2 drawers open with extended reach for grabbing items far to the back.
Paramount comfort and functionality in an overlanding-ready platform.
One of my early formative memories was camping out with my dad in his 1970 Ford truck with a Four Wheel Camper (FWC) Grandy in the bed. I still remember the color of the wood paneling and the texture of the cushions, so it was with a great deal of nostalgia and affection for the FWC brand that I recently tested the new CampOut.
When I took a first look at the 6-foot CampOut installed on a new Toyota Tundra Xtra-Cab at the FWC facility in Woodland, California, it was immediately recognizable as a Four Wheel Camper—but thoroughly modernized with composite siding, an updated color, and a unique modular layout. Also impressive is the base price, coming in at $25,599 for both 5- and 6-foot units (8foot models are a bit more). Grabbing the keys, I opened up onX and plugged in the Bottle Hill Trail near Georgetown and the foothills of the Sierra Nevada.
The trail started with a narrow bridge over Illinois Creek and a steep set of switchbacks toward Bottle Hill. The Tundra managed the weight of the camper admirably,
and the CampOut’s mass was well-matched to the Toyota’s payload. Body mounts secure the camper to the frame, eliminating rattles and the sliding or shifting common with other brands.
Arriving at the track’s high point, I found a nice clearing and campsite to position the truck on level ground. Popping up the CampOut required undoing six exterior latches and a press-up on the roof with a shoulder. Here, the twin vent fans are a win, as I switched their direction to quickly force air into the camper to assist with lifting the roof (it works equally well as an exhaust fan for lowering the top and pulling the fabric walls in). Once fully deployed, the interior space was evident, as was the modern layout and materials, such as the powder-coated metal framework with generous storage and warm wood counters. It felt cozy, which was fortunate, as I was about to be hit with the full force of the Pineapple Express.
My phone alerted me to the possibility of flooding and rain, so I settled in by setting the temperature on the Truma heater to 74°F and getting comfortable. It was clear
that FWC was thinking about the remote worker when they designed the camper, as it even has a native plug for the Starlink Mini, powered on and off by a switch on the electrical panel. The dinette is big enough for two, with a bamboo table that swings and rotates to accommodate eating or working.
The heater cycled on and off throughout the night, aided by the optional winter pack walls that provide additional insulation for the fabric sides—the difference is noticeable, and the soft-touch quilted layer provided an additional thermal barrier against the cold Sierra air.
The rain never stopped all night, yet I woke to a dry bed and camper interior. I could not find a single leak, which was impressive given the fabric sides and that the unit was a prototype. The heater never faltered, and I was glad there were two propane tanks in the storage locker. It was easy to start coffee on the Dometic stovetop, bringing in the day as I waited for the rain to stop.
Except that, after pulling up the weather radar, it was clear that the rain wasn’t going to stop for days. So I made the decision to abandon camp and slowly make my way out of the last 10 miles of trail to pavement. Fortunately, the CampOut stows easily, and after a quick walkaround, I hopped in the Tundra and fired the engine to life. Proceeding in low range at a slow pace, I tested the trail for how soft the conditions were and was grateful to find it mostly solid. There were only a few low spots where the water had pooled, and ruts had formed from previous vehicles. The Tundra lumbered along, and I watched for low-hanging branches; one significant benefit of a pop-top camper is its much lower height when in the backcountry. There were a few notable obstacles and some challenging side tracks, but the Toyota and CampOut overcame every one, never spinning a wheel and giving me confidence as a driver to continue onward.
$25,599+ | FOURWHEELCAMPERS.COM
THE RAIN NEVER STOPPED ALL NIGHT, YET I WOKE TO A DRY BED AND CAMPER INTERIOR. I COULD NOT FIND A SINGLE LEAK, WHICH WAS IMPRESSIVE GIVEN THE FABRIC SIDES AND THAT THE UNIT WAS A PROTOTYPE.
From left: Challenging terrain shakes and twists the camper frame. | There is more than enough storage and amenities in the CampOut. | Bad weather makes for great testing. | Opposite: A simple and attractive design enhances the functionality within.
Convenience and capability with a neat and tidy footprint.
When traveling overland and living out of a relatively small rig, compactness is a key factor for purchasing any indoor item, especially when it comes to kitchenware. Pots and pans tend to take up a large amount of space unless you opt for collapsible items, which I am not a fan of. Being naturally clumsy and already enduring daily scalds, the last thing I want to risk is a pot collapsing, sending a stream of hot water my way. When paired, the following items offer a combination solution that ticks a lot of boxes for our family, giving us the versatility we need to simplify life on the road.
This six-piece cutting board and knife set has far more functionality than its name suggests. It features a 9.6 x 15.6-inch, double-sided bamboo cutting board with juice grooves to catch liquids and reduce mess when slicing fruits or vegetables. The second board is an 8.9 x 14.3-inch, double-sided, polypropylene cutting board with juice grooves and nonslip silicone feet, making it perfect for cutting proteins separately to avoid crosscontamination.
The set includes a 3.25-inch paring knife and a 6-inch chef knife—and trust me, both are exceptionally sharp. The textured rubber handles ensure that my hands never slip, even when cutting into okra. Accidents have been minimal, as the knives fit securely into a designated storage compartment. Next to the knife slots, there’s a handy storage area for additional cutlery or prepped ingredients.
The base tray can serve multiple purposes, from marinating meats to keeping snacks protected from uninvited guests, storing cooked meat, or simply having a spot for your crisps while waiting for your meat to grill. One of the cutting boards can be used as a lid for the base tray, and when you’re finished, everything packs away neatly with heavyduty locking clasps on either side, saving precious space. After preparing numerous meals, the robust kit has held up well without showing excessive wear.
We love to carry a range of knives when on the road. My husband, Graeme, has his favorites, and I have mine, so we end up with far too many options than necessary. When we overland, we sacrifice many of the comforts of home, but for us, cooking a meal is not one of them. It plays an important role in our daily lives—a shared family moment, even in a confined space.
Made in the USA, Gerber knives have earned a solid reputation among knife enthusiasts. The Compleat set includes three essential pieces: a 3.25-inch paring knife, a 6-inch serrated knife, and an 8-inch Santoku-inspired chef knife. The set comes neatly packaged in a sturdy polyester case, with each knife protected by a glass-filled polypropylene sheath. The polypropylene handles, featuring lanyard holes, are durable, comfortable to hold, and are paired with 4116 German stainless steel blades. When prepping fatty meats, after washing the blade, I utilize the sheath to safely hold the blade in place, making it easier to clean the handle properly. The paring knife handles quick prep tasks like slicing fruits and vegetables, the chef knife is perfect for proteins, and the serrated knife makes cutting through loaves of bread and baked goods a breeze. It’s a truly “Compleat” set for the everyday chef.
FIELD TESTED NEXT MERIDIAN EXPEDITION
COMPLEAT COOKWARE SET | $200
Ideal for overlanders and weekend warriors alike, this rugged 16-piece camping cookware set features a 5-liter stainless steel pot, a 2.5-liter sauté/frying pan, and a 3-ply stainless steel base for better heat distribution. It also includes a detachable handle with a silicone hot pad, a stainless steel basting dome lid, and a slim lid that doubles as a strainer. A polypropylene mixing bowl, four smaller bowls, and four plates with raised edges to prevent your food from sliding around when eating outdoors round out the set. We love that everything nests neatly inside the pot and can be stored in a carry bag with reassembly instructions on the bottom. We use the Gerber Compleat cookware set in our Land Rover, and it is a game-changer—no more clanging pots and pans or dinnerware while on the trails.
The pot and pan can be used on an induction stove, electric and gas stoves, and open flames, making it ideal for slow-cooking stew over coals or whipping up pasta on our gas stove. The slim lid strains liquids, and the basting lid is great for steaming vegetables. The modern touch of colorcoded plates and bowls adds a little pizzazz.
GERBERGEAR.COM
The military-grade storage option right under your nose.
Whenit comes to maximizing storage on a 4WD vehicle, we tend to think we’ve explored every option. But there’s one often-overlooked space that deserves attention—the bonnet. And this is where Brad from Rock N Road 4x4 comes in. Specializing in custom gear solutions for Special Forces, tactical units, rescue teams, and Dakar race vehicles, Brad’s products are designed to handle high-stress environments. His Expedition bonnet bag offers a practical solution to expand usable storage, and the system consists of two components: a bonnet net and the expedition bag. The net is installed on the bonnet, and the bag attaches to the net via D-rings and hooks made from marine-grade stainless steel, latching onto the net in just one minute. Both the net
and bag are constructed from military-grade canvas that is 100 percent waterproof, rotproof, UV-treated, and fire-retardant. Three height sizes are available (150, 200, and 250 millimeters), and a wide range of options are available depending on your vehicle type, color, or dimension preferences.
The bonnet bag can easily store camping chairs, a foldable table, a tent, and sleeping bags. Velcro side closures allow for quick opening and closing, as well as straightforward access to different areas of the bag. We’ve had this expedition bonnet bag for more than two years. It has become an essential storage space to keep gear safe and easily accessible.
PRICE UPON REQUEST | ROCKNROAD4X4.COM
The greatest comfort on the road is a good night’s sleep, after which a traveler is ready to tackle any trail or challenge with a clear mind and pain-free back. But a bad night’s rest can make a camping trip miserable for yourself and your companions. It may be tempting to grab a budget inflatable mattress from the nearest big-box store, but when you’re awake at 3:00 a.m., lying on the cold, hard ground or tent base because of a puncture—or perhaps worse, a surprise bounce flip from your partner—you will reconsider.
Sea to Summit’s outdoor gear has been a constant on our travels, and recently, their Breeze sleeping bag liner made our journey through Baja California much more enjoyable in the heat. Paired with their Comfort Deluxe self-inflating mat, which insulates and provides extra support, the combo has been a lifesaver on colder evenings at higher elevations.
The Breeze is a great option for warm summer months when a lightweight sleeping bag is a tad toasty. The liner is made with polyester microfiber with Tencel Lyocell, which allows any moisture to be wicked away from your skin, keeping you cool in hot conditions and warming you up when the liner is paired with a sleeping bag. In addition to its cool factor, we loved sleeping in our mummy liner, which stretches wide enough to sleep in a fetal position and is long enough for someone over 6 feet tall. Another benefit is that the liner is treated with permethrin, making it insect-
Quality of sleep matters and this combo steps up the comfort factor.
repellent. This is an ideal option in buggy environments when ticks, mosquitoes, and other biting critters are sharing your space. The insect shield treatment is odorless and lasts for up to 40 washes; a cold hand wash with air drying assists in maintaining its repellency.
The liner comes in a mummy style and a drawstring option, allowing you the flexibility to extract your feet and legs for quick walking action. The rectangular model will enable you to insert a pillow into its builtin sleeve; however, while it might be a nice touch, restless sleepers could find the pillow’s fixed position restrictive. The Breeze liner packs down to 5.9 x 2.8 x 4.3 inches and weighs a mere 10 ounces.
The Sea to Summit Comfort Deluxe mat is a luxurious but cost-effective solution to enhance your camp sleeping arrangement, whether in your overland rig or the occasional basement floor of a friend’s house. The exterior’s 300-denier knitted polyester fabric is soft and supple, allowing you to sleep without a sheet on laundry day. With self-adhesive hook and loop patches, you can quickly secure your pillow to the mat without it shifting around during the night. The comfortable 4-inch-thick foam gives you ample support for your back, and when lying on your side, your hips don’t sink into the ground.
The durable 75-denier polyester base ensures no punctures will ruin your night’s rest and provides a thermal base when camping in colder temperatures.
With the Delta Core system design, Sea to Summit has successfully managed to remove over 40 percent of excessive PU foam to minimize the overall weight of the mat to just over 4 pounds. Unfortunately, due to the large packing size of the mat, when not in use, we store our mat under our (no longer “high-density”) foam mattress as additional padding when sitting.
The mat has three valve systems: one for inflation with a single-way valve to prohibit air loss when inflating, a deflate valve with a flip-over for the quick and easy expunging of air, and a fine-tune button that allows you to adjust the density for perfect inflation. A simple unrolling of the mat allows it to selfinflate, but we usually use a handheld pump for an even faster setup.
SEATOSUMMIT.COM
Get ready for the flying carpet effect.
EACH SUSPENSION SYSTEM IS CUSTOM-BUILT BASED ON THE VEHICLE’S SPECIFICATIONS AND THE USER’S DRIVING HABITS, ENSURING A TAILORED FIT THAT MAXIMIZES BOTH COMFORT AND VEHICLE HANDLING.
Sinceconverting our Land Rover Defender into a camper in late 2016, I have enjoyed almost everything about it, but mainly the space and comfort afforded for everyday living and camping. What we did not enjoy was the vehicle handling after installing a new suspension kit from the nowdefunct Bearmach. Body roll was excessive, and the damping performance was inferior, as we discovered, to our dismay, bouncing and swaying our way down West Africa. After installing rear airbags in Turkey, the overall ride was substantially improved, but not sufficiently.
The Bearmach suspension, to its credit, survived that extreme African test but was soon replaced with a set of heavy-duty Terrafirma springs and shock absorbers in Mozambique. Unfortunately, the potholes and
jungle roads of Southern and East Africa proved too much for even the Terrafirma suspension, which had served us so well in South America a decade before. And yes, our camper is well within the GVWR most of the time. A front spring collapsed in Zambia, and a rear Big Bore shock absorber broke above the bottom nut in Portland, Oregon. When Nimbus, with offices in France and the USA, reached out to me about testing their new premium shock absorbers, I was eager but skeptical, as one becomes with age and experience. We had been promised so much from suspension suppliers in the past and had yet to find the zenith of overland suspensions. Our search may be at its end.
After installing the Nimbus shocks and Terrafirma heavy-duty springs in a warehouse in Salt Lake City, Utah, we drove to Bend, Oregon, for Overland Expo PNW. We then made the long trek down through the US (in a stifling, dangerous heat wave) to Mexico before driving the coast up into the South Sierra Madre, 2,000 miles south of the US border. Before I enlighten you with my impressions of the Nimbus Suspensions shock absorbers, let us look at what sets them apart.
Nimbus specializes in advanced oleopneumatic suspension systems designed for off-road vehicles like the classic Land Rover Defender, Grenadier, Jeep, Toyota Land Cruiser, and Mercedes-Benz G-Class, with new models being developed continuously. The company also develops shock absorption and vibration control solutions for manufacturing and production, heavy machinery and construction, military-grade equipment, and new mobility ventures (think electric vehicles).
Oleo-pneumatic technology originated over a century ago, and from 1915 to the 1930s, the technology began to play a critical role in the automotive and aeronautical industries. French engineer Georges Messier created the first automobiles incorporating this technology in 1915. Since its inception, the technology has seen significant advancements and remains a preferred solution for managing heavy loads and handling the constant oscillations encountered on rough terrain. Today, oleo struts are still widely used in the landing gear of nearly all commercial and government aircraft, proving the enduring reliability of this timetested technology.
Nimbus oleo-pneumatic suspensions manage shock absorption by using a combination of hydraulic fluid (oil) and nitrogen gas within a chamber to deliver a ride quality that is both smooth and stable, regardless of the terrain. The gas acts as a spring, being compressed with the oil to cushion the impact from bumps and irregularities in the terrain. The hydraulic fluid is channeled through spring-loaded valves and orifices, allowing the suspension to respond differently based on the driver’s settings. As the oil moves through these controlled pathways, it dampens the motion of the piston assembly, effectively managing shock absorption and recoil. This setup contrasts with traditional air suspensions, which use air-filled rubber or plastic bellows (air springs) along with air compressors, valves, and sometimes electronic controls, as it does not allow for on-the-fly height adjustments. Instead, it focuses on delivering consistent comfort and performance across a wide range of driving conditions.
One of the key advantages of Nimbus’s oleo-pneumatic technology is its adaptability. The suspension system can be fine-tuned by adjusting the internal pressure, allowing users to optimize the ride for different loads or driving preferences without compromising comfort or stability. This flexibility makes Nimbus suspensions particularly suitable for overlanding, where varying terrain and vehicle loads are common.
Another significant feature is the pro-
gressive absorption curve of the suspension. Unlike traditional metal springs that offer a linear response, Nimbus’s oleo-pneumatic systems provide a more adaptive curve. This results in a smoother ride at the beginning of the stroke, with the suspension firming up as it compresses further. This design not only enhances comfort but also prevents the vehicle from bottoming out during intense off-road conditions. Nimbus’ suspensions contribute to improved vehicle handling by reducing body roll and enhancing grip and traction. The system’s ability to adapt to minor road imperfections means that vehicles remain more stable, particularly in challenging conditions like rock crawling or desert racing.
Fully serviceable, Nimbus suspensions are designed with sustainability and durability in mind. The manufacturing process adheres to stringent European environmental regulations, and the long lifespan of the product reduces the need for frequent replacements, further minimizing environmental impact. The components are crafted from high-grade materials, including aerospace-quality aluminum and steel, ensuring the suspensions can withstand harsh environments and maintain their performance over decades. It is recommended that the shocks be serviced, at a cost, once every three years for the replacement of critical components such as oil, nitrogen, seals, and ball joints (ball joints allow the shocks to operate at an angle and are better suited for longevity than standard rubber or polyurethane bushings).
So, how well did the Nimbus shocks perform over the course of our journey to Mexico, and did they live up to the hype? Each suspension system is custom-built based on the vehicle’s specifications and the user’s driving habits, ensuring a tailored fit that maximizes both comfort and vehicle handling.
The shock absorbers had been pressurized specifically for our Defender with consideration of layout, weight, and usage. When we first received the well-packaged shipment from France, I was immediately impressed by the build quality of the shock
absorbers, from the exterior construction to the components such as the seals, nuts, and the lower balls joints front and rear. Installation was hard work, but that is because this is a task I perform once every few years. The rear axle had to be dropped significantly to allow the fitment of the rear shock absorbers, which cannot be compressed unless you have a nitrogen-filling system. All the sweat and tears were worth it, though; the Defender looked amazing when back on all four wheels, level and proud (we asked for and received a 2-inch lift). Now for the test drive, the moment of truth.
With a few old suspension bushes replaced to eliminate false feedback, we drove from Salt Lake City to Bend and were instantly impressed by the ride quality. Having driven rough industrial roads to the warehouse for the installation, we had the opportunity for an immediate before and after test. There was no rebound from the rear over large bumps such as railway tracks, and the body roll at slow speeds had all but disappeared. The next test of the suspension was driving at highway speeds on Interstate
FIELD TESTED GRAEME BELL
84, where we experienced sublime comfort and performance. Then, we experienced the twisty mountain passes of US Highway 20. With my wife dozing beside me, I decided to accelerate into and through the corners between Harper and Buchanan and was amazed at the bulky Defenders’ surefootedness and lack of body roll. Driving responsibly, I increased the vehicle’s speed through the corners until I found the limit of comfort, which turned out not to be the limit of the suspension but the limit of my now-awake wife’s nerves. Slowing down, I reveled in the fact that the performance of the suspension in the mountain pass allowed me to maintain a higher average (legal) speed, which meant less stomping on the brakes and then working through the gears to keep the turbo spooled up.
After the Overland Expo in Bend, we drove up to La Pine in an attempt to escape the heat wave. The road to McKay Crossing Campground is terribly corrugated; the last time we visited with the Defender and a Range Rover P38, we had to crawl along to avoid our teeth chattering and camper furniture falling apart. With the Nimbus suspension doing its job, the unpaved road, which had clearly not been graded, seemed almost buttery smooth; we could not believe how quietly the old Land Rover glided over the undulating washboard and maintained stability through the corners. To me, a badly corrugated road is one of the most severe tests of a loaded overland vehicle’s suspension, and Nimbus passed with flying colors. Luisa and I gaped at each other as we glided along with only the worst washboard registering vibration; “That’s incredible,” we thought. Nimbus calls that comfort the “flying carpet effect.”
After driving a thousand miles, my only concern was that the front of the Defender seemed lifted a half-inch too much, and the vehicle was not exactly level front to back. I feared that there was too much angular strain on the old but religiously greased front universal joints. A small, high-pressure air pump with a pressure gauge had been supplied along with the shocks. I was able to accurately adjust the compression of each shock via the Schrader valves after a
call to Nimbus’ technical guru, Killian. It surprised me to confirm that the Nimbus shocks were, in fact, maintaining the ride height of the vehicle, as opposed to the springs, as after adjustment, the Land Rover sat perfectly level.
I will admit to being skeptical when I was first told that the Nimbus shocks could be used on a vehicle without coil springs and that the shocks themselves could lift or lower the vehicle. This is not the function of even the highest specification shock absorbers, and many of you might doubt this claim. The Nimbus shock absorbers do, in fact, lift the vehicle, but I cannot confirm that the vehicle can be safely run on the shocks alone as I have not tested them to that extreme and do not intend to in the near future.
Overall, my experience with the Nimbus suspension system has been overwhelmingly positive, and my expectations have not only been met but exceeded. The only negative I can think of is that installing the rear shocks is difficult and potentially dangerous without the correct knowledge and tools and should ideally be entrusted to a
LUISA AND I GAPED AT EACH OTHER AS WE GLIDED ALONG WITH ONLY THE WORST WASHBOARD REGISTERING VIBRATION; “THAT’S INCREDIBLE,” WE THOUGHT. NIMBUS CALLS THAT COMFORT THE “FLYING CARPET EFFECT.”
professional. That said, if you are the kind of person who can afford this suspension and the expensive vehicle under which it will be bolted, you will likely have either the correct tools and knowledge or will entrust the work to a suitable professional.
The little elephant in the room is the Nimbus suspension shock absorbers are quite dear, at around $1,000 each. Is this cost justified? As they are sold with a limited lifetime warranty, custom manufactured with premium materials, designed to last a lifetime, and need only be serviced every three to five years (depending on usage conditions), they are well worth the investment. I believe that I have finally found the optimal suspension setup for my hard-working Land Rover, and I intend to retain this suspension configuration for the vehicle’s lifetime.
$1,000/EACH | NIMBUS-SUSPENSIONS.COM
Engineered to smooth out the roughest terrain, Nimbus’ suspension is like a cheat code for vehicles built to go anywhere. | A compact hand pump enables on-the-road shock adjustments to meet any trail demands.
A pinnacle overlander like no other.
Fewvehicles capture the spirit of overlanding like a Land Cruiser: rugged, capable, worldly, and trusted. For North America, Land Cruisers have been sold since 1958 and were available as the pinnacle overlander of choice for 62 years until the last Heritage Edition 200 Series left dealer lots in March 2021. This left a significant void and little hope the 300 Series would ever reach our shores in full overland trim—until now.
It is part of my job to test new overland vehicles, but it is not common for me to be surprised by a new model and, even more rare, to be delighted. That all changed when Lexus revealed the new LX 700h Overtrail, the closest approximation to a 300 Series GR Land Cruiser we would see in the USA, with even a few advantages over the Land Cruiser (and cons). I had to resist hollering when the engineer announced that it also had triple differential locks (not available from Toyota in the US since 1997), height-adjustable auto-leveling suspension, a five-passenger model, and multiple durability considerations for remote travel.
OVERLAND SPECIFICATIONS
Relying on first impressions with the LX 700h would be a mistake. Yes, the grill is still my least favorite attribute of the model. But it hides a lion of overlanding behind it, starting from the bottom up with the ability to fit an 18-inch wheel (rare in modern SUVs) and 33-inch all-terrain tires (with room for a 35x10.5).
The suspension is one of the best in the segment, retaining ultimate reliability from coil springs yet achieving height and payload adjustability using hydraulically adjustable spring perches, allowing 1 inch of lowering and 4 inches of lift from the standard height. H1 can be accessed in high range, lifting the vehicle 3 inches, and H2 can be selected in low range for a total of 4 inches higher. An additional .5 to 1 inch can be achieved in an auto-extract mode when the vehicle senses that it is grounded using the height position sensors and wheelspin.
While the coil springs lack some of the noise, vibration, and harshness (NVH) benefits of airbags (attenuation), they greatly improve durability and ride quality at higher ride height positions. An airbag achieves height adjustment by using air pressure to lift the chassis, which changes the spring rate, reducing compliance (compression) and ride quality. The Lexus only changes the spring position relative to the upper coil bucket, which has a nominal effect on rate, retaining compliance and comfort. It will be possible to swap out the coils for higher spring rates using the aftermarket while retaining height adjustability and load leveling—huzzah.
For overlanding, durability and reliability are pillars of the pursuit, which makes a Lexus particularly well suited to the task. For decades, Lexus has maintained a top position in the Consumer Reports reliability verdict, with over double the ratings of Jeep, Ford, and General Motors. Durability stems from the J300 Series Land Cruiser TNGA-F chassis, axles, and transfer case, in addition to being built in the Tahara plant in Japan—all J series Land Cruisers (the LX is known internally as the J310) are built to a 500,000-mile service life.
There are inherent complexities that come with a hybrid system, which their engineering team has worked hard to address by including redundant systems to allow for limp-home if the hybrid powertrain fails, including a starter and alternator to supplant the motor/starter/generator. The battery is in a water-resistant case with a water sensor. The battery box allows the hybrid to keep the same 27.5-inch wading depth
Handsome and capable, the Lexus reflects a proud Land Cruiser heritage.
as the LX 600. In the rare occurrence that the LX 700 needs service, the Lexus brand is sold in 90 countries on six continents, and Toyotas are sold in more than 170 countries.
One of the key attributes of an overland vehicle is the payload, and the LX provides a reasonable result at 1,190 pounds for the five-passenger model. For most travelers, that will be sufficient, and the math plays out based on GVWR that the LX 700h can have a calculated payload of 1,322 pounds, depending on trim. If maximum payload is needed, the LX 600 will be a better choice, affording a theoretical 1,476 pounds if equipped properly. Payload becomes particularly troublesome when max towing is considered. For example, an 8,000-pound trailer can easily have a tongue weight of 8-16 percent (depending on the number of axles) or 6401,280 pounds. Tongue weighting is a critical consideration when safe towing. There are numerous scenarios where an LX with even one or two passengers could exceed payload due to drawbar load, even if it doesn’t exceed GVWR. The payload is adequate, but all factors considered, the 5-passenger Overtrail should have a payload of 1,400-1,600 pounds to accommodate passengers and rated towing (for comparison, the GX J300 has a payload of 1,730 pounds). The roof load rating of the J305 is unavailable, but the 300 Series is rated for 200 pounds.
Another key attribute of an overland vehicle is fuel range, and the Overtrail benefits from a reasonable hybrid fuel economy rating of 19 mpg/city but is limited by the 17.9-gallon fuel tank. This gives a best-case travel range of around 320 miles. Curiously, the LX 600 has a 21.4-gallon fuel tank and only a few mpg difference in economy. An LX should have a 24- to 25-gallon tank like every LX or Land Cruiser before it—it is just best practice.
The LX 700h is supremely comfortable as a travel vehicle and consumes miles effortlessly. The seats are supportive and comfortable, benefiting from such luxuries as heating, cooling, and massaging. The ride quality is excellent, and the entire experience reflects shockingly low NVH, even with the 33-inch, all-terrain tires. I was impressed by the effectiveness of the different drive modes, with sport mode being the best for most road ventures. It downshifted freely, and the steering effort increased nicely (steering a 6,000-pound LX should feel like it). The shocks actively adjust damping to help control pitch and roll, and this continues into larger impact events like water bars and erosion gullies. The system works so effectively that changing any of it out would be a waste (other than the rear coils to increase the spring rate for persistent travel loads). It’s one of the most comfortable and low-fatigue travel vehicles we have tested.
TECHNICAL TERRAIN SPECIFICATIONS
In less than a decade, Lexus has become one of the most effective overland solutions for North American travelers, re-
leasing the Overtrail package in both the GX and LX. These are not just appearance packages but feature-rich solutions for remote around-the-world travel. Three factors primarily influence technical terrain capability: traction, terrain clearance, and suspension effectiveness (which includes articulation).
The LX 700 is one of the finest Lexus overland vehicles ever produced and also one of the finest North American specification overland vehicles—period.
For traction, the Overtrail addresses the problem in numerous ways, including mechanical and electronic interventions. Traction begins with the tires on the ground, which are 33-inch-diameter Toyo Open Country A/Ts mounted to 18-inch aluminum wheels. The tires alone are quite a stretch for the Lexus brand, with an open pattern and heavy siping. Toyos are known for their durability and resistance to chunking and chipping, which makes them perfect for a heavy SUV. While we prefer a 17-inch wheel, the 18 is a reasonable compromise and affords much-improved flotation and deformation over the 20-inch wheels typically spec’d in the segment. I closely measured the compression and sweep of the 33, and it looks like a 35x10.5 R18 will fit with nominal trimming.
The Overtrail employs triple differential locks and advanced multi-mode traction control to control wheelspin. While traction control is much improved in recent years, it will always be a reactive solution. This creates several problems, including unnecessary trail damage due to wheelspin and the inability to preemptively lock the differential in extreme scenarios where absolute control and line-holding are paramount. Driver-selected differential locks give the operator full agency over the process, including fore-aft and sideto-side wheelspin. For moderate speeds or when understeer is a concern, the center and rear can be locked, and the front can manage wheelspin using traction control. The intervention is near instantaneous in rock mode, often arresting the spinning wheel within a sixteenth of a rotation. What was most impressive was the near-silent operation of the ABS pump and caliper activation. All systems were vastly improved over outgoing crawl control and A-TRAC. The Toyota engineers deserve praise for retaining full traction control intervention and throttle modulation even under heavy left-foot braking.
Complementing the excellent traction performance is the Lexus’ ability to vary ground clearance, maintain tire contact through suspension articulation, and protect the critical components from trail damage. Ground clearance is addressed with both tire diameter and active height control (AHC) suspension. With a button push, the LX achieves a 4-inch lift in low range. The shorter 112-inch wheelbase aids with breakover angle, turning circle, and maneuverability. While the LX is not an FJ40, it has reasonable clearance angles and is competitive against the 200 and 300 Land Cruiser (along with
most other manufacturers). The deficient departure angle is the most noticeable during testing and is a packaging compromise. You can’t make a three-row SUV with a 112-inch wheelbase and still have an aggressive departure angle—this was the same issue with the 80, 100, and 200 Land Cruiser. Fortunately, the spare tire helps with that a bit. It is tucked up high in the chassis, but at just the right angle where it works like a “slider” (caution is certainly required). I would add a nodular iron receiver skid for any trail work. Overall, skid protection is limited but adequate for the application. I purposefully attempted every worst-case line I could put the vehicle into on the low-speed technical course—extreme side slopes, forced cross-axle articulation, etc. The LX never balked, even without the lockers engaged. The course was good, but only at 50 percent of the vehicle’s capability (they need to design courses for vehicle/weather safety and to match the capabilities of a wide range of media drivers). The suspension damping was excellent, demonstrating the low-speed tuning of the shocks to soften the transition from a wheel lift or to help control any wheel lift or suspension lofting (pop). The rear articulation is good, and the front is acceptable, but it is mostly constrained by the front anti-sway bar. It would have been earth-shattering for the LX to gain E-KDSS or even the front sway bar disconnect from the GX 250. The LX is not a rock crawler (it never has been), but it is ready to overcome any reasonable road or trail condition around the world. As one clever feature, the hybrid system will operate in electric-only mode while at low speed in low range. Silence in nature is always a win.
The LX 700 is one of the finest Lexus overland vehicles ever produced and also one of the finest North American specification overland vehicles—period. The Overtrail is one of the most capable pinnacle overlanders ever brought to the US and from the most reliable brand globally. I would love to see the LX 600 as an Overtrail with a higher payload, longer range, and a lower MSRP. The initial investment is the biggest constraint to the LX 700h, but the high resale value offsets that. Calculate the total cost of ownership and the value becomes more prescient. The triple-diff-locked J series has returned to the USA. Well done, Lexus.
$116,000 | LEXUS.COM
A journey to the centre of the continent, a geographic world first.
By Kingsley Holgate
Friends, as you know, there’s always that familiar nervous feeling of anticipation at the beginning of each new great adventure. The challenges of visas, money, equipment, kitting out the expedition Land Rovers—the list seems endless. Left to sort are carnets for the vehicles, first aid, basic food supplies, reference books and maps, letters of authority, GPS, bedrolls, tents, pots and pans, the old camp kettle, a wooden Zulu meat tray, tools, Hi-Lift jacks, binoculars, cameras, humanitarian supplies and, most importantly, a sense of humour, a passion for Mama Afrika, and that crazy zen of travel that’s allowed us to adventure to every single country in Africa, including her island states.
It’s taken much of a lifetime. I’ve had malaria more than 50 times, some hardships sure, but mostly exceptional memories of a wonderful continent that has stolen my heart and that of my son, Ross, and the rest of the band of delightful pilgrims that make these wonderful geographic and humanitarian adventures possible. But there was something still to do. Around many campfires, we’d talked about it for years: where is the beating heart, the geographic centre of Africa?
And so in 2015, we found ourselves on another world-first journey of discovery, this time to place a beacon deep in the rainforests of the Republic of Congo close to its borders with Cameroon and the Central African Republic—a journey we grandly called the Heart of Africa Expedition that would plunge us into the middle of the great ‘green lungs’ of the continent.
To make sure we got it right, the International Geographical Union (IGU) and the Department of Environmental & Geographical Science at the University of Cape Town applied the ‘centre of gravity’ method to determine our terminus, the same method used to determine the geographical centres of Australia and the United States of America. According to Secretary and Treasurer of the IGU Professor Michael Meadows, the Geographic Centre Point of Africa is located at 17.05291°E, 2.07035°N, west of the Ubangi River and southeast of the Nouabalé-Ndoki National Park.
Our research indicated that the Heart of Africa lies within 200,000 square kilometres of Congo rainforest, home to the world’s largest populations of great apes and endangered forest elephants and one of Africa’s most important strongholds for wildlife. Approximately 125,000 western lowland gorillas live here alongside buffaloes, hyenas, leopards, golden cats, chimpanzees, eight species of antelopes, and three species of crocodiles, many of which have never seen humans.
The expedition got a vibrant send-off as hundreds of Land Rovers escorted us to Lesedi Cultural Village, where a traditionally dec-
Angola’s rickety bridges are not for the faint of heart. | Opposite: Sand tracks zigzag amidst Angola’s backcountry. | Opening spread: Into the Congo rainforests we go, Republic of Congo. | Trying to sleep amongst tree roots in the middle of a swamp is no easy feat, but exhaustion helps speed the process.
orated goatskin gourd of water from South Africa’s Cradle of Humankind was handed over, together with hundreds of messages in a Scroll of Peace and Goodwill that we were to carry on the journey. Great African symbolism—even the big Landy Defender supply vehicle heavily loaded with humanitarian items was nicknamed Ndhlovukazi, the ‘Great She Elephant.’
Into Botswana, ‘Shova Mike’ Nixon leaves at dawn on his mountain bike to follow a fence line across the Kalahari—he’s going to cycle to Africa’s ‘Heart.’ A few hours later, we find him on the side of the track, forearm cut to the bone from a tumble. We stitch him up; it could be neater—looks like a croc bite, but at least it’s clean, and we pump him full of antibiotics.
In Zambia, we cross the vast Kafue National Park from south to north. At 2,4million hectares, it is 500,000 hectares bigger than South Africa’s Kruger National Park. The powder-like sand track becomes really soft. Brad Hansen, the expedition’s naturalist, comes walking over: ‘Lion, leopard, and hyena tracks up ahead,’ he says with a big grin. We push on through beautiful Miombo Woodlands and open dambos to camp at Nazhila Pans, where two honey badgers raid our setup while elephants crack mopani branches as they feed around us. Redbearded adventurer Bruce Leslie, a veteran of many expeditions, cooks up a great chicken stew as a distant lion roars from across the pan.
‘Damn it,’ comes Mike’s scratchy voice over the radio. ‘I smacked that one so hard that I’ve cracked the windscreen. The little bastards—we’re under attack!’ We try and stop for a Landy tailgate lunch, but even before the bully beef tins are open, we’re forced to run like madmen, cursing and slapping as we race for the safety of the cabs.
The Tsetse Wars continue as they’ve gotten inside—more slapping as we go. Brad comes on the radio: ‘Be careful,’ he says, ‘If you pull their head off, be sure to throw it out of the left window and the wings and torso out of the right. Otherwise, it will reconstitute itself, and you’ll be in real trouble.’
And so the humour continues as we cross a dangerously wonky plank bridge that takes us out of the north gate of Kafue National Park. We might complain about the tsetse flies, but truth be told, they are Africa’s best little conservationists; without them, many of the wildlife parks in Africa would be full of cattle and people.
It’s an exciting moment as we reach the source of the Zambezi River, a spongy little puddle of a spring, deep in the forests of northwest Zambia, close to the border with the DRC and Angola, which marks the start of the great river’s 3,540-kilometre, five-country journey to the Indian Ocean. We camp in a nearby forest clearing at beautiful Nchila and celebrate the successful completion of the first chapter of this Heart of Africa Expedition.
The following day, we cross the Jimbe River into a remote part of Angola. I’ve got some bad memories of this area going back to the days of one of our first journeys, the Zambezi-Congo Expedition, in open boats. Things became very grim indeed when UNITA rebels marched me off to their hideout in the bush, where I’d been inter-
rogated for hours. But the zen of travel had been with us, as later, back at the boats and reunited with the rest of the team, the rebel commander said the only reason they hadn’t killed me was because I’d been so friendly.
Now, it’s time to enter the area again. We’ve been warned that further north in this remote region, we could be mistaken for diamond dealers and encounter other dangers: ‘Watch your back, don’t get highjacked, don’t travel at night. And be careful of unexploded landmines; there’s still some knocking about.’
Someone once asked what the most important thing was to have on an expedition. We believe it’s an empty seat so as to travel with locals; their knowledge and language, at times, have saved our lives. So we hire Jonathan Kasongo, a local Lunda-speaking man, to guide us through Angola. Shova Mike rides ahead on his mountain bike, leaving Ndhlovukazi, the big 130 Landy Defender loaded up with bales of mosquito nets and other humanitarian items to lead the expedition convoy.
It’s an old expedition tradition that goes back at least 30 years. Imagine the scene as, with great relief, a bunch of unwashed, very dusty, ragamuffin travellers pile out of their similarly dirty Landies and kneel in a line on the road, whereupon—and generally amidst hysterical laughter bordering on the insane—make a great show of repeatedly kissing the tarmac. Don’t worry; we haven’t lost the plot.
Not yet, anyway. The ceremony can only happen after we’ve been subjected to the hardships of extremely challenging bad road conditions that have lasted for days. This can mean goat tracks, no tracks, deep rivers, relentless ‘tree-to-tree’ out-of-the-mud winching, desert crossings, boulder-hopping, wash-away pole bridges, getting hopelessly lost, and sometimes, the fear of unexploded land mines.
This time, it happens in Angola. That’s because behind us is a supposedly six-hour road that became a three-day nightmare, with some tracks so deep that you could do a ‘no hands’ stunt on the steering wheel, leaving the Landy to follow the track on its own.
We exit Angola and go into the DRC at Kimpangu. After scrutinising the body language of the DRC officials, it looks like it’s going to be a tough one. Left over from the past, a small, forgotten concrete sign reads Congo Belge (Belgium Congo). ‘You came all the way from South Africa to do what?’ says an incredulous Mr Big. I explain about our crazy Heart of Africa mission, but that doesn’t stop the paper shuffling. ‘Name of mother, father’s name, name of hotel in Kinshasa? Your profession?’
I choose to be a priest, my son, Ross, becomes a vet, and Bruce Leslie is now an astronaut. Thank the stars for Shova Mike’s schoolboy French, who is suddenly the expedition’s dentist. Six hours later and somewhat shell-shocked by a crazy night drive along a road that hasn’t seen a grader since ousted President Mobutu’s time, we get to
an intersection that takes us along the nightmarish ‘Hell Run’ of the Matadi road. Here we find crabbing charcoal lorries with no lights, passengers hanging by their fingers from the outside of ancient, overloaded Peugeot minibusses, cops in the night waving us forward with dim flashlights, hundreds of bicycles and motorbike taxis bobbing and weaving, and unlit broken-down vehicles blocking the road.
It’s midnight by the time we crawl into the Hotel Béatrice, opposite the railway station in downtown Kinshasa, the sprawling capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo, and meet Papa Andre Kadimba, patron of the expedition’s Elephant Art campaign for children in the DRC. The next few days are a whirlwind of activity: the programme gives youngsters the opportunity to speak out against the slaughter of Africa’s elephants, and the appreciation for our Mashozi’s Rite to Sight distribution of reading glasses and malaria prevention work for mums and children amidst so much poverty is humbling.
Imagine the scene: two capital cities on either side of a great river— bustling wild-west Kinshasa on the south bank and across the mighty Congo River on the north bank is the more laid-back Brazzaville, capital of the Republic of Congo, a former French colony. Both cities are clearly visible to each other across the seven-kilometre breadth of one of the world’s greatest rivers. It’s taken us six countries and 33 days of hard travel to reach this point on a crowded river dockside on the Kinshasa side. Brazzaville, on the other side, is the real emotional starting point of this expedition, and we have to cross the Congo River if we are to succeed in our quest to reach the Heart of Africa.
Brazzaville, here we come, or so we thought. ‘But the government ferry, she is broken. Pas de chance! Hors service (out of service),’ says a smiling port official. We’re in trouble. Everything we’ve worked so hard for now hangs in the balance, and in the heat of the Congo basin, our patience wears thin as corrupt, greedy officials bunch around us like vultures, determined to extract as much as possible. It takes seven hours of negotiations and a massive dent in our tiny budget before we are finally allowed to cross by way of ‘special arrangement’ with a private barge owner.
As a wonky old crane attempts to lower the three Land Rovers onto an ancient, rusty barge, there’s a heart-stopping moment as Ndhlovukazi, the big Landy 130 Defender nearly tips backward into the swirling river.
As a wonky old crane attempts to lower the three Land Rovers onto an ancient, rusty barge with an antique tugboat to push us across to Brazzaville, there’s a heart-stopping moment as Ndhlovukazi, the big Landy 130 Defender nearly tips backward into the swirling river.
It’s dark when we tie up amongst the flotsam and jetsam of old river boats and dilapidated, frozen-in-time cranes on the Brazzaville docks, only to be greeted by the words: ‘No unload crane, immigration closed.’ Over time, we’ve learned that whilst the Swiss might have invented the clock, it’s good old Mama Afrika that owns the time. So we throw out our tents and bedrolls on the hot metal deck of the barge that becomes home for the night. Out come the camp chairs, and we raise dented enamel mugs in a salute to the crazy. The heat is punishing: sweat pours, and the humidity is as thick as golden syrup. Sleep is almost impossible, and the next day, the tiresome bureaucracy continues—the only difference being that on the Brazzaville side, they’re more laid back and friendly.
from
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were shared amongst the team—energy-rich rewards for the long haul. | Porters climbed high into the trees
Heart of Africa was one of our toughest expeditions. | Meals were simple but sustaining; here, rations of rice are divvied up on large leaves. | Brad and I, wading through deep water, an ever-present challenge during this segment of the journey.
Finally sprung from the clutches of the immigration authorities and with handshakes and wishes of ‘Bonne route!’ the three Landies enter the city of Brazzaville to meet with Amy Pokempner and her team from the Wildlife Conservation Society and Dr Paul Telfer of the Congo Conservation Company, both dedicated to conserving the vast area in which lies Africa’s geographic heart.
comes up with the idea of enlisting the help of the Ba’Aka pygmy tribe to guide us on foot through the swamps and along forest elephant tracks. ‘They are the true forest people, the only ones who know this world of swamps, rivers, and following forest elephant tracks,’ he tells us.
Wet with sweat,
Amy buys into our adventure and gives us one of their best men, Nazaire ‘Naz’ Massamba, as our interpreter and facilitator. In the past, he’d accompanied Dr Brody Barr’s National Geographic Expedition in search of Mokele-Mbembe, the dinosaur-like creature said to live in the Congo swamps. In 1932, a British scientist had written about a frightening experience of seeing a giant serpent-like head emerge from the water. Dr Barr never found it, but rumours still abound, especially amongst the Ba’Aka pygmy tribes in the north, of a massive 20-metre-long, 5-metre-tall monster. In the 1960s, they’d even built walls around their villages to keep the beast away.
The maps show us that we’ll pass through more than 100 villages, head north across the Equator, then west, then back to the Equator, across the Sangha River, and then north towards the border with the Central African Republic where, in 200,000 square kilometres of swamps and equatorial rainforests, lies the Heart of Africa, our final objective.
We scoff down fried chicken and cold Primus beer in the backstreets of Brazzaville. The city is relaxed, friendly, and feels safe. The next day, we resupply with essential food and other supplies and head for the Heart; the most daunting part of the journey lies ahead.
Deep in the rainforests days later, we hear about a track that could lead us towards the geographical centre of the continent called the Corridor des Elephants, an old forest elephant path. Wet with sweat, we cut, winch, dig, saw, and slash for hours, the sweat bees attacking us in droves. Big Deon Schurmann, who’s built like a baobab, slashes at the bush with his machete. He played club rugby in France and is as hard as nails but jumps sky-high as a huge snake slithers into the undergrowth. A giant silverback lowland gorilla races across the track in front of Ndhlovukazi.
The humidity continues to rise, and the hard work continues. ‘Can’t do it, we can’t carry on like this,’ says Brad eventually. We agree and, a bit despondent, turn the three Landies around, backtrack, and attempt another muddy path. Sunset comes, and we make camp surrounded by giant felled trees like poached elephant carcasses—dead behemoths that have fallen to the chainsaw as logging firms push deeper and deeper into the Congo rainforests.
Our wet, mud-covered clobber hangs over the Landies like a Chinese laundry. Ross sends up a drone. ‘Forest as far as the eye can see, and the GPS can’t pick up a signal—the canopy is too thick.’ He fashions a pulley system out of some towing ropes and hoists the GPS high into a tree, and we learn that we are just 27 kilometres as the crow flies from the GPS coordinates that mark the Heart of Africa.
But looking at the impenetrable forest, our spirits plunge. It could take forever. How are we going to cut a way through the thick undergrowth hemming us in? Our mission seems impossible. Then Naz
We park our ‘Braveheart’ Landies at the end of a forest track, pushing them hard to get this far in. Now, it’s on foot. Shova Mike has scribbled the words ‘Heart or Bust!’ on the map tube stuck jauntily into his backpack.
Around us sit 14 Ba’Aka porters, a pile of tents, canvas bedrolls, water bottles, two pots, five days of basic food supplies, porter rations of cassava, salt, tins of sardines, and a charged satellite phone. Then there are matches, the first aid kit, three GPSs, a journal, a roll of paper maps, the goatskin gourd carrying water from the Cradle of Humankind, and the Heart of Africa beacon in two sealed sections of plastic piping, each with a shoulder strap.
Our quest is what we are fired up to achieve, and as the ‘Greybeard,’ it’s my time to talk. ‘Vivangkwako. I greet you Ba’Aka, men of these great forests and swamps. It is only with your knowledge that we can survive and cut a path to the Heart of Africa. My friends, we need your help.’ They grin and laugh in agreement; they are the most delightful little fellows imaginable. But through Naz’s interpretation, it soon dawns on us that whilst the Ba’Aka might have an incredible knowledge of the forest, they have little or no concept of what a map of Africa looks like, let alone a Congo map, nor do they understand the GPS coordinates. Only two of them had even travelled to the nearest town; scarier still, none of them had ever attempted to cross this area before. Still, they reverently place smouldering pieces of wood at the base of a massive tree, and then in the smoke, with much foot stomping, chanting, and rhythmically clicking bits of wood together, they shout for blessings from their God, Komba, and his son Todia, the one who’d brought fire to their tribe.
The sweat pours off our bodies, and bugs attack in swarms. Shova Mike is stung inside his mouth by a bee and begins spluttering. It’s his eighth sting of the day, and the poison too much for his system. We realize he’s in trouble as his left cheek swells and one eye begins to close. Brad jumps for the first-aid kit and jabs an EpiPen into Mike before his airway is blocked. A close call, and that’s just the start. We ask the Ba’Aka what three things they fear most in the forest. ‘Attack from big forest leopard, angry forest elephant, or the bite of Ndolo, the Gaboon viper for which there is no cure,’ is the reply.
‘Twende!’ (Let’s go), shouts Ross in Lingala. The bush skills of the Ba’Aka are unbelievable; they cut thick liana vines into pieces, raise the end to your mouth, and out pours crystal-clear drinking water. Roots are used as bush potatoes to add to the cassava pot, and thin vines become strings to tie up the loads. Using fingers and toes and monkey ropes, they climb dangerously high to smoke out bees, allowing us to greedily suck out the energy-giving wild honey from waxy honeycombs. The beauty of the forest wonderland is unimaginable. A silverback gorilla crashes through the thick undergrowth ahead of us as we stumble in soft light under a canopy of ancient trees with giant buttress roots towering above us.
‘Dumi-Dumi (thunderstorm),’ shout the Ba’Aka, pointing to the
sky as the rain begins to drum down relentlessly. Sopping wet, exposed skin torn by vines, we make camp in the pouring rain. It’s incredibly tough going, and after six hours of skirting deep swamplands comes the harsh reality that we’ve only made one kilometre as the crow flies, and that’s just the first day.
Who would have thought that after a Land Rover journey of over 9,000 kilometres, it would be the last 17.5 kilometres that would almost kill us? It becomes a physical and emotional nightmare of endurance that runs into the longest seven days of our lives: seven days of grabbing roots to pull ourselves on our bellies through muddy goo, constant deep mud wading, dragging, falling, and cutting pole bridges. Endless backtracking and detours to skirt impassable swamps. Swatting, cursing, and scratching, sweat bees crawling up our noses and into the corners of our eyes, enduring the stinging pain from countless army ant bites. Running low on food and barely sleeping. Blood pours from torn skin: one of the Ba’Aka takes to binding our shins and forearms with green broad-leafed Marantaceae leaves, favoured by the gorillas to eat and nest in. Soon, we’re all on strong antibiotics as infection moves in.
Sopping wet, exposed skin torn by vines, we make camp in the pouring rain. It’s incredibly tough going, and after six hours of skirting deep swamplands comes the harsh reality that we’ve only made one kilometre as the crow flies, and that’s just the first day.
And then the moment of truth sets in. With just 1,7 kilometres of dangerous swamp ahead to reach the Heart, the Ba’Aka realize we have bitten off more than we can chew and begin turning back. I collapse my stinking, wet, aching body at the base of a tree that could well be over a thousand years old. One of which, if man has his way, will be felled and turned into furniture and ornaments one day, just like the rhinos and elephants that are slaughtered daily for their horns and ivory. Is this the end? I’m so exhausted I could give up and die. Naz is also ‘man-down’ and has been left behind at our last camp.
But Ross is having none of it. ‘We’ve come this far, and we will not fail,’ he insists. So, using sign language and Big Deon’s French, we persuade the Ba’Aka to lead us on. Later, they told Naz that it was the wild determination in our eyes that they were touched by. Ross pulls me up by the hand, and the finest team of diehards I could ever wish to journey with gather around in support.
Seven hours later, in a daze of pain and exhaustion, we arrive at the coordinates. The hands of the Ba’Aka and the expedition team slowly screw the Heart of Africa beacon into the roots of an ancient tree. With some emotion, we pour out the symbolic water carried all the way from the Cradle of Humankind in South Africa.
On the beacon are the colours of the Republic of Congo flag, the words Geographic Heart of Africa, and the coordinates: 17.05291°E. 2.07035°N. On the other side is a small engraving of an elephant with the words: A tribute to Africa’s Elephants.
Days later, after more untold hardships, we complete the journey back to the Land Rovers, where after paying our Ba’Aka friends their wages, bonuses, and gifts, we ask them to each scribble their names and place a handprint into the Heart of Africa Scroll of Peace and Goodwill.
The spirit of the joyful Ba’Aka people will remain in the hearts of the team forever as the true, unsung heroes of the Heart of Africa Expedition. Thanks to them, a beacon that marks the geographic centre of the African continent now stands at the base of a tree deep in the swamps of the Congo rainforest, a vast area of pristine Mama Afrika that needs to be protected and treasured for future generations.
Portable pizza ovens that bring your favorite pies beyond the backyard.
By Derek Mau and Scott Brady
Clockwise from top left: The infrared laser thermometer on the Ooni Karu 2 lets you know when the pizza stone is ready. | Pizzas are ready in two minutes or less with the Gozney Roccbox. | The Cuisinart 3-in-1 has plenty of space for grilling veggies. | Expect a few mishaps when learning how to judge the ultrahigh temps of a pizza oven. | The perfect pizza crust has just the right amount of leopard spots. | The Solo Stove Pi Prime, showing it can cook more than pizzas; check out this salmon fillet roasting in a cast-iron pan. | Opening page: Tailgating overland style with the Gozney Roccbox.
Overlanding getaways to the backcountry need not forego the simple pleasure of America’s favorite food. Adding an outdoor pizza oven to your cache of mobile cooking appliances instantly elevates life under the open skies.
Today’s portable pizza ovens incorporate several features, and many models use multiple fuel sources. The ideal pizza oven can reach much higher temperatures than regular ovens with less waiting time. That scorching heat is the key to getting a perfectly cooked pizza crust in only a few minutes.
Different pizza ovens work for different people and situations. If a pizza oven is on your wish list but you don’t want to spend an excessive amount of money, a $1,200-plus model probably wouldn’t be worth it to you. Nonetheless, we found affordable portable pizza ovens that turn out artisan-grade pies.
And don’t think of a portable pizza oven as a one-trick pony. You can fire up a juicy piece of meat with a hearty sear, roast vegetables and fish, and even bake breadsticks.
Plan for at least 20 minutes to warm up the pizza stone. The oven’s interior will heat up fairly quickly, but that doesn’t mean the baking stone is ready. Use an infrared laser thermometer to monitor the temperature of the cooking surface and target 750850°F before sliding in your Neapolitan-style pie. New Yorkstyle pizzas or those with a thicker crust should bake at a lower temperature, somewhere near 550-575°F.
Rotate pizzas often to avoid burnt edges and overcooking. At 800°F or hotter, a 10-inch pizza will be fully baked in as little as two minutes. One way to avoid having a charred mess is to let the pizza set for one minute after sliding it in, then rotate it every 15 to 20 seconds. Since the time between rotations is minimal, you’ll want to monitor it closely to avoid a three-alarm smokefest.
Rotate pizzas often to avoid burnt edges and overcooking. At 800°F or hotter, a 10inch pizza will be fully baked in as little as two minutes.
Lower the oven temperature when baking your pizza. Pizza ovens, when left on their highest setting, can reach 900°F. One way to avoid burnt edges is to lower the flame setting while cooking. For a perfectly crunchy crust with a soft middle, 800-850°F puts you in the zone. In the case where a pizza oven gets too hot, especially when it’s been on for a while, turn down the heat while cooking to avoid burning the top edge of the crust. Of course, remembering to turn the heat back up in preparation for the next pizza is part of the process.
Allow time for oven cooldown, and note the pizza stone will take longer to disperse heat. (DM)
Best-performing
Fuel type
Dimensions
Cooking surface
Cordierite stone thickness
Oven opening size
Propane
15.5 x 20.5 inches
(height x diameter)
14 x 17 inches
13 millimeters
13 x 3.5 inches
Weight 31 pounds
PROS
Easy temperature control
Easy to remove/clean two-piece
cordierite stone
Lots of available (Pi-inspired) accessories
CONS
Round shape isn’t ideal for packing and transporting
Breezy conditions can disturb flame and heat distribution
Single fuel source
The Pi Prime by Solo Stove is a budget-friendly, gas-powered portable pizza oven that performs at the same level as the more expensive Gozney Roccbox and Ooni Karu. The results were fantastic once we got the timing down. The pizza crusts were soft and crunchy, and the Pi Prime was adept at cooking meat and fish in a jiffy with a perfect sear.
Unpacking and setup was a breeze. There aren’t any legs, a chimney pipe, or an oven door to attach. This single-item simplicity of design also comes into play when packing up for transport. Since the sole fuel source is liquid propane gas (LPG), the burner is positioned inside the oven instead of a detachable component at the back. A couple of minutes to insert the two-piece cordierite baking stone and attach a propane tank, and you’re ready to fire up some pizzas like a pro.
The flame intensity and cordierite stone temperature are balanced perfectly for stellar baking performance. The baking stone warms up in 20 minutes to reach 800°F, eventually reaching a maximum temperature of 850°F. The interior dome shape reflects heat down toward the cordierite stone, leading to more efficient and even cooking.
Two minutes and a few rotations in the oven got us a Neapolitan pizza with an airy, crunchy crust that puffed up nicely, with the right amount of leopard spots and a delectable gooey cheese melt.
For New York-style or pizzas with a slightly thicker crust, lowering the baking temperature to approximately 575°F and extending the cooking time close to four minutes avoids burning the cheese and amounts to a savory pizza with a nicely browned crust.
Using the Pi Prime to cook other foods was marvelous—provided you have a cooking dish that will get past the oven’s mouth. The opening is 13 inches wide and 3.5 inches tall, large enough to slide in a 10-inch, cast-iron skillet. Preheating the skillet in the oven beforehand works best for fish and meats.
Transporting the Solo Stove requires some thought since its footprint differs from the typical pill-shaped pizza ovens. While the Pi Prime’s cylindrical body isn’t optimal for efficient packing, it does come with a soft cover, and wrapping your arms around it is doable for people of smaller stature. Accordingly, the oven weighs a reasonable 31 pounds.
Nevertheless, the dome shape optimizes heat distribution and retention, making the Pi Prime a top performer on par with more expensive portable pizza ovens and a superior choice over pizza oven conversion kits for grills. One minor drawback is that there isn’t an option for wood or charcoal.
The Pi Prime comes with a lifetime warranty covering all manufacturing defects. (DM)
$349 | SOLOSTOVE.COM
Best-designed
Fuel type
Dimensions
Cooking surface
Propane, wood
16.3 x 21 x 18.6 inches
12.4 x 13.4 inches
Cordierite stone thickness 19 millimeters
Oven opening size
12.25 x 3.25 inches
Weight 44 pounds
PROS
Intense 900°F of cooking power
Safe-touch, commercial-grade silicone body wrap
Removable carrying strap
Quality design features and materials
GOZNEY TREAD | $500
CONS
Black soot collects on the front faceplate
Opening is barely large enough for a 12-inch pizza
Cordierite stone removal isn’t straightforward
Gozney’s latest and greatest, the Tread, debuted in March 2025 after our Best of Breed testing was complete. The company claims it is the “world’s most portable pizza oven” at 30 pounds (33 percent lighter than the Roccbox), with roof rack handles and an aluminum and steel construction. It can hold a 12-inch pizza or cast-iron pan, and accessories such as the Venture stand ($250) make cooking on uneven surfaces a cinch. Propanefueled, the lateral gas burner recreates a traditional wood-fired flame. External dimensions are 16.5 x 19.1 x 12.6 inches.
The Gozney Roccbox was our favorite portable pizza oven for outdoor adventures and tailgating parties. We loved how it baked Neapolitan-style pizzas in two minutes or less, in addition to its thoughtful touches and fuel choices.
The dome shape, ceiling height, and baffle plate design create a perfect rolling flame and even heat distribution for cooking perfection. Using LPG, the Roccbox took a little over 20 minutes to reach 900°F. Thankfully, a commercial-grade silicone body wrap avoids accidental burns if someone inadvertently touches the side or top.
An integrated thermometer will give you a good indication of the temperature inside the oven. However, an infrared thermometer is always the best method for ensuring the pizza stone is at the desired cooking temperature. At 19 millimeters, the thickest of the bunch, it was also the best at heat retention and distribution.
A detachable burner system enables quick switching from gas to wood. Be that as it may, the Roccbox must be flipped onto its front face to access the mounting point for the attachment. No tools are required to make the change.
Space efficiency and portability are key design features that define the Gozney Roccbox. Its dual-hinge retractable legs and removable fuel source shrink its footprint, making it more manageable to pack and transport. The hook-and-loop carrying strap lessens the chore of lugging around the 44-pound pizza oven.
Cleaning the cordierite baking stone can be done by brushing off the burnt debris using a stiff, low-profile wire brush. Or you can remove the cordierite stone for a more thorough cleaning and brush-off, utilizing the small opening underneath the oven. Use a finger to push the baking stone up, then grab the edge and pull it out.
The big burner and small cooking space initially make it a tough oven for beginners. However, its efficient design creates an intense 900°F of blistering heat. Of all the pizza ovens we tested, the Roccbox had the greatest learning curve. Once you master the timing and technique, it’s the best oven for Neapolitan-style pizzas.
While we wouldn’t consider the 44-pound Roccbox a lightweight, this pizza oven has the right features for portability: detachable burners, retractable legs, and a silicone outer body. It’s a superb option for pizzaiolos who love overlanding or getting away in the great outdoors.
All of Gozney’s pizza ovens come with a limited five-year warranty. (DM)
$500 | GOZNEY.COM
Best multi-fuel
Fuel type
Dimensions
Wood, charcoal, or propane
29.7 x 28.7 x 16.4 inches
Cooking surface 13.25 x 13.25 inches
Cordierite stone thickness 15 millimeters
Oven opening size 13.25 x 4 inches
Weight 34 pounds
PROS
Superior heat distribution cooks pizzas more evenly
Oven door with borosilicate window helps retain heat
Powder coating protects the oven body
CONS
Longer learning curve when using wood or charcoal
Pizza peel, turning peel, soft cover, and other accessories sold separately
The Ooni Karu 2 is a multi-fuel portable pizza oven that can reach a toasty 950°F. Moreover, Ooni is one of the few pizza oven makers that incorporates a glass oven door, which helps keep the heat inside and blustery winds from affecting the convection process. More importantly, it is wonderful at producing wood-fired beauties with a chewy crust and burnished bottom.
The Karu 2 features a large firebox for hardwood charcoal, wood, and kindling that delivers a generous flame across the top of the oven. The sizeable capacity also meant refilling it less than smaller wood-fired ovens.
For the pizza connoisseur who isn’t ready to stoke a wood fire, the convenience of liquid propane gas is hard to deny. Heating the pizza oven using LPG is quicker, maintaining the right temperature requires less attention, and cleanup is pretty straightforward since there’s no ashy firebox to empty. If time and convenience outweigh the pursuit of having a wood-fired pizza, an optional gas burner for the Karu 2 is available.
The biggest benefit of using a pro-level pizza oven is its ability to turn out the perfect pizza crust: crispy on the outside with a soft texture inside. And the Ooni Karu 2 accomplishes that with resounding success. The high heat and stone baking surface quickly cook the dough, rendering a delectable canvas of flavors and textures. Since the stone draws moisture out from the dough, the mouth-watering result is a puffy crust with spots of char, a crunchy bottom, and a light, airy center.
As a testament to the Karu 2’s versatility, a preheated 10-inch skillet was used to grill meat and veggies to complete satisfaction. Consistent low-temperature cooking is achievable due to the oven door and the adjustable air vent in the chimney stack.
The small-scale dimensions equate to quicker heat-up times and a minimal footprint when disassembled for transporting. Conveniently, the three legs are hinged and will tuck neatly under the base. The chimney pipe detaches with a quick twist, but the handles for the oven door and fuel hatch stick out from the pill box shape of the body. A soft cover, available separately, has a handle for single-hand carrying comfort.
The Ooni Karu 2 comes with a five-year warranty. (DM)
$399 | OONI.COM
Best multi-purpose unit under $300
Fuel type
Liquid propane gas
Dimensions 26 x 20 x 18.5 inches
Cooking surface 13-inch diameter
Cordierite stone thickness 12 millimeters
Oven opening size 13 x 3.5 inches
Weight 56 pounds
PROS
Multi-purpose design
Integrated tray conveniently stores cordierite stone and cast iron griddle
Attractive price for outdoor cooks not ready to purchase a purpose-built pizza oven
Can’t reach the high temps of purpose-built pizza ovens
Pizza-making accessories are sold separately
Oven door is a little janky, and the handle isn’t insulated well
Real estate for packing and storing gear in a vehicle is always at a premium. Hence, the propane-fueled Cuisinart 3-in1 model has the advantage of minimizing space and maximizing function when cooking away from home. This multi-purpose outdoor appliance can grill, sizzle, and bake outstanding pizzas in a single, convenient package from the get-go.
Straight out of the box and after 30 minutes of assembly, the Cuisinart 3-in-1 is ready for triple duty. The kit includes a castiron griddle plate, a cast-iron grill grate, and a 13-inch diameter cordierite pizza stone that sits firmly between built-in pegs on the grill grate. Whichever piece isn’t used can be stowed tidily on a suspended shelf underneath the appliance.
Gas grills are dreadfully inefficient by design. Whenever the lid is opened, all the heat buildup inside is lost. The lid features a 13-inch oven door for sliding in pizzas to reduce heat loss when lifting the cover. Caution is warranted, and hand protection is necessary before grabbing the oven door handle. Regrettably, the lid and handle insulation are meager and become too hot to touch when the oven/grill is used.
Preheating the baking stone takes about 25 minutes to reach its maximum temperature in the neighborhood of 600°F. Once we got past the learning curve, it took six to eight minutes to bake thin-crust pizzas. Additionally, our testing revealed pizzas with thicker crusts bake better when the stone is closer to 550° F to avoid burning the bottom side before your pie is ready.
When pizza wasn’t on the menu, the Cuisinart 3-in-1 had liberal space for grilling meats, fish, and vegetables. Swap in the griddle plate, and it’ll be ready for early morning KP duty. A sizable 230 square inches of cooking space provides ample real estate for preparing a batch of fluffy flapjacks, eggs sunny side up, and a side of sizzling bacon.
Convenience, versatility, and portability define the Cuisinart 3-in-1. While it is awkward to carry, this multi-purpose grill and pizza oven can roast, sear, grill, and bake restaurant-quality pizza with a quick swap of cooking surfaces—all for a price lower than a dedicated pizza oven.
Cuisinart has a three-year warranty for this item. (DM)
$250 | CUISINART.COM
The Cuisinart 3-in-1 cast-iron griddle pan is ready for sizzling.
Best expanding fire pit/pizza oven combo
Dimensions (open)
Cooking surface
Cordierite stone thickness
x 14 inches
millimeters
Oven opening size 10 x 3 inches
Weight 16.5 pounds
PROS
Heats quickly from firewood Easy to slide the pizza into the oven
Collapses to 7 inches
CONS
Sharp edges require caution when handling
Difficult to manage cooking temperatures
Smaller opening and stone limits to an 8- to 10-inch pizza (approximate)
Slinky Stove’s pizza oven is a thoughtful addition to their popular fire pits. Owner Eddie Cantelar noted an absence in the market, which was durable and collapsible fire pits and pizza ovens. Using heavy-duty stainless steel, Slinky Stove’s fire pits can adjust to three heights and easily collapse down for storage.
The pizza oven rests on top of the fire pit and has a fuel opening (for adding more wood) and a cooking opening. Both openings help to manage heat in the oven, as does the small chimney for exhausting smoke and heat out of the top. There are heavyduty wood handles to prevent burns and a mechanical temperature gauge mounted to the front for monitoring cooking temps. The 3/8-inch-thick cordierite stone helps prevent burning and improves heat retention.
The entire system is compact when folded and includes a quality carry bag. Both the fire pit and oven have handles that aid in moving or transporting it. Four legs fold out to elevate the fire pit from the ground and improve the user’s access for cooking or warming. The legs would benefit from additional structure and a wider placement.
Any wood fire pit and oven require regular cleaning to remove soot and dispose of ashes properly. There is a small ash pan that can be easily removed for dumping coals and remnants (once cool to the touch).
In use, the pizza oven cooks quickly and requires close attention to prevent burning. It took me a few tries to get it right, and ultimately it just required letting the wood burn down a bit further. Most thin-crust pizzas cooked in six minutes on a heated stone with the oven temperature surpassing 600°F.
The entire assembly only weighs 16.5 pounds and is constructed from high-quality 304 stainless steel, stamped and welded. One of the most compelling features is how easily the fire pit and oven telescope up for use, which removes so much of the frustration from lugging around a heavy or bulky fire pit. The one area that needs the most attention is the sharp edges, so I recommend using gloves while handling (gloves are a good idea with fire, regardless). The oven we tested was a prototype, and price estimates are $345$420, depending on the size.
Slinky Stove offers a lifetime warranty. (SB)
$TBD | SLINKYSTOVE.COM
Basilpesto sauce is a beloved staple in many kitchens around the world and one of my all-time favorites. Due to its simplistic yet flavorful nature, it can transform the simplest dish into something extraordinary. A traditional marinara sauce works well as a base, but pesto elevates your pizza to the next level. After trying numerous pizza topping combinations in preparation for my “Pizza To Go” article, this recipe never failed to win praise from family and friends.
The best way to capture that zesty pesto flavor is to double up on some of the pesto ingredients. When you bake a pesto pizza, you lose some of the natural brightness inherent in the basil. Adding additional fresh pesto after cooking can make the pizza too oily. Topping the baked pizza with a sprinkling of fresh Parmesan, chopped basil, and a tiny bit of lemon zest will brighten the flavor. This extra step adds a rewarding flavor punch, particularly if you use store-bought pesto.
A winning combo suited for the backyard or the backcountry.
SERVES 2
PREP TIME 30 minutes
COOK TIME 2 minutes
EQUIPMENT Pizza oven with cordierite stone baking surface, grater, knife, pan, rolling pin (optional)
1 pound pizza dough ball (homemade or store-bought) 1/4 cup (approximate) prepared pesto sauce
5 uncooked large shrimp (peeled and deveined) 1/4 cup (approximate) sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil, drained and coarsely chopped
4 ounces shredded mozzarella
2 teaspoons Parmesan cheese, finely grated
4 large basil leaves
2 teaspoons lemon zest
White onion, finely sliced Pine nuts
Marinate peeled and deveined shrimp in a splash of olive oil with a dash of salt, pepper, and garlic powder for 15 minutes. Pan-fry the shrimp in a hot pan for less than two minutes. Do not fully cook. Set aside to cool.
Finely grate the Parmesan cheese and lemon zest. Combine in a small bowl and set aside. Thinly slice the basil leaves.
Divide the pizza dough in half. If the dough is cold, let it sit at room temperature for a couple of hours. The dough is ready when it doesn’t bounce back when stretched. Roll the pizza dough to the desired size and thickness. Transfer to a well-floured pizza peel.
Spread a thin layer of pesto sauce over the crust. Top with chopped pan-fried shrimp, sun-dried tomatoes, and a few onion slices. Sprinkle mozzarella cheese over the top to cover the shrimp and keep them moist while baking. Bake at 800°F for about two minutes. Rotate frequently to avoid burning the top; 15- to 20-second intervals will work nicely.
Adding basil leaves and the mixture of grated Parmesan and lemon zest after baking will amp up the pesto flavor. For a crunchy element, sprinkle a few lightly toasted pine nuts.
The allure of the unknown sets the hook every time.
By Abigail Gubler
Theidea of visiting Colombia’s Orinoco River Basin burst into view during a hot-air balloon festival we happened upon in Puerto López, Colombia. That in itself was a spectacle. Rising higher and higher, fuelled only by the fiery flames of their gas burners, the colourful giants soared above us, completely surrendering to the wind, serene and free.
It’s Felipe we were here for, though. The son of Colombian and German parents, we first met him at his brewery in the El Chico neighbourhood of Bogotá. Behind the beard and a jolly Bavarian smile, adorned in lederhosen and a feathered Tirolerhut, you’ll usually find him serving up his thirsty patrons a hearty pint of golden “rubia.” On the weekends, guaranteed with a lens in hand, he is out pursuing other dreams, that of photography and adventure.
Sitting in front of his Toyota Land Cruiser at the festival, sipping on a Hopulus cerveza as we shot the breeze, he asked if we had visited or had plans to visit the Orinoco Basin. “The what?”
The thing is, when you meet a guy like Felipe, you can’t help but get sucked into his vortex of enthusiasm. His tales of swampy river crossings, bows and arrows, and giant boulders in raudales (rapids) got us making plans in the blink of an eye. We were soon sharing GPS trails, obtaining phone numbers for guides, and writing down copious amounts of notes given to us in typically thorough German fashion. Felipe’s parting words were: “You will hate me for every single one of those 650 kilometres it takes to get to the river. But trust me, it’s worth the pain.” Truer words were never spoken.
The Río Orinoco is one of the largest rivers in South America, flowing in a giant arc through Colombia and Venezuela down to the Atlantic Ocean. The river and its banks are blessed with extraordinary ecology and diversity of life: swamp palms and rare orchids, toninas (river dolphins), anacondas, otters, the endangered Orinoco crocodile, and over one thousand species of fish, including the vampire-fanged payara, the colossal golden sardinata, and a nightmarish variety of piranhas.
In the three years leading up to this moment, we’d gotten pretty comfortable with life as overlanders. The off-beaten path was our friend, and 650 kilometres of washboards and potholes was nothing for “Silverskin,” our trusted 18-year-old Dodge Ram truck—a piece of cake. We called up @white_troopy, our friends who were already on their way to meet us, and proposed the idea of the Orinoco to them. “Right on,” replied Rodney in a heartbeat. The next day, the five of us, plus Heather, Rodney, and their chocolate lab, headed to town to do the things necessary for a 10-day wilderness expedition: Cans of tuna? Check. Bags of pasta? Check. Drinking water and beer? Check, check. Propane and diesel tanks were filled, and reserve jerry cans were put in place. Andrew St Pierre White, eat your heart out. All that was left to do was scour the town for a locksmith to get a key cut (why on Earth was my husband running around Puerto Lopez to do this now?), and we were off to Puerto Gaitán for our last stopover before the silky smooth road ended.
It took us three long and painful days to get to Puerto Carreño,
the launch site. As our party of six reunited at the end of day one, in the blackness of the night, panic set in like a dense, thick fog. The roads that day had been formidable, and our hopes of reaching Primavera, the halfway pit stop town, were shattered at dusk when the only signs of life were the nearby blazing flames ripping through farmers’ fields, illuminating the sky with their slash-and-burn dance. This was remote territory, and the potholes were even slowing down our friends’ 1990, a swift and sprightly French-born BJ75 Troopy.
We had been driving 12 hours, and it was time to make camp, the silver lining being the rack of succulent ribs that had been slowcooking in our engine bay during the course of the afternoon. At least dinner was ready.
Gnawing on those bones around the hood of our Cummins diesel, we regrouped. Our dear intrepid companions were a little pushed for time. In 10 more days, they would have to be back in Bogotá to collect family at the international airport. With at least 400 kilometres to go before we would even reach the mighty river, we realised there would be very little time left for exploration, an alien feeling to us all.
Overlanding isn’t about reaching the finish line; we were in this for the adventure, with the blank pages ready and waiting to be filled.
Should our friends save their BFGoodrich tires from unnecessary wear and tear and their interior home from an unwanted showering of dust and turn around the next morning? “It’s not the destination; it’s the journey, right?” Heather optimistically interjected, quoting Ralph Waldo Emerson. She was, after all, enjoying the ride: the fascinating metropolis of mounds that termites had left behind, the long-legged burrowing owls skitting around the entrances of their underground homes at daylight, and the abundance of red and black “good luck” huayruro seeds she had collected for her jewellerymaking on our lunch break.
She was right, of course. Overlanding isn’t about reaching the finish line; we were in this for the adventure, with the blank pages ready and waiting to be filled.
For inspiration, we referred to British soldier James H. Robinson’s journal, who encountered the Río Orinoco and its residents for the first time in 1818. “It is true I had a pair of pistols, which I had concealed in my pocket; but what reliance could we place on one pair of pistols, opposed by perhaps hundreds of furious men armed with bows and arrows, lances and other weapons.”
Two hundred and five years later, we weren’t expecting anything of the kind; still, the thrill of the unknown set our hearts beating. Part of the three-day course to get to Puerto Carreño involves driving through Indigenous private territory. Five toll barriers, each operated by a different family, present themselves in the middle of the llanos (plains). Upon the arrival of our first bamboo bar, we were surrounded by 10 men armed with weapons of wood and steel. We may not have had our pistols, but the knowledge of our Swiss Army knife safely ensconced in a pocket gave us comfort.
We stepped outside our Ram, darting our eyes to the four sturdy all-terrain wheels responsible for carrying our home, checking to see they were all intact. We breathed a sigh of relief when we realized our toll collectors simply wanted to show off their craftsmanship. Perhaps we were interested in buying a set for deer hunting and spearfishing? We walked away with two. These, after all, were highquality souvenirs.
We peacefully voyaged on and paid our bills for the following four tolls (around $5 per barrier). Primavera soon came and went, the sole oasis for the weary traveller to recharge and replenish. Two more days of unkempt washboards, menacing potholes, decrepit wooden bridges, and relentless dust followed. There was a dearth of people, with only the odd hardy gaucho rounding up his herd.
On our last leg of the journey to Puerto Carreño, one of these cattle farmers flagged us down. David, a young, short, and lean cowboy, needed a ride to town to replace his cellphone battery. He was barefoot but carrying his alpargatas (traditional Colombian embroidered slippers) in his hands. Perhaps the walk down the gravel towards the main road would have destroyed them.
This 250-kilometre errand, which would cost him at least three days of his time, seemed like a perfectly regular occurrence. David happily climbed into the back seat of our truck, knowing it was inevitable that he would regurgitate the contents of his breakfast on the way. Yes, having felt queasy during the five-hour drive, our hitchhiker was equally as delighted as we were upon finally reaching the magnificent Orinoco. Five adults, one three-year-old, and a chocolate Labrador, all jumping for joy in one huge celebratory dance. We had arrived.
Puerto Carreño was swarming with activity. The silence of the last 650 kilometres broke as a symphony of noise charged in. Tuk-tuks zipped around street corners, teenagers hung out on curbs, and jungle beats blasted out of open windows. Cafés, bars, and fruit vendors lined the avenues; gadgets, gizmos, and SIM cards were neatly displayed on the pavement. On the other side of the 1-kilometre-wide river lies Venezuela, and the hustle and bustle of this lively neighbourhood resembles everything of a typical border town, with money exchangers fanning themselves with their pesos, police patrolling the boardwalks, and immigrants completing their paperwork.
An imitation military vessel wallows on the river banks whilst smaller boats ebb and flow in the harbour, waiting for the next tourists to jump on board. Apparently, pink dolphins were to be spotted at sundown.
We parked our rig on the crowded beach. There were happy voices, sounds of splashing, and curious families waiting in turn for a tour of our all-aluminum ‘Camplite’ truck camper. It wasn’t long until the police arrived, though, and our feeling of pure triumph was stilled. We were not allowed to camp on the beach, and swimming curfews were also enforced for safety reasons. Everyone on this hot and sticky evening was expected to vacate by 6:00 p.m. With no icons to choose from on iOverlander, nor recommendations of where to stay from the police, we found ourselves wondering whether we should have planned our accommodation beforehand, too.
Luckily, for us, as if sent from heaven above, Julian appeared. His parents, who had gassed up their white Renault Duster in Primavera two days prior, sent him out to look for us. We hadn’t formally met, but they had overtaken us on the washboards and were now concerned for our safety. Have those two casa rodantes sporting foreign license plates arrived yet? As darkness descended, Julian invited us to stay on his family’s finca nearby. Our worries alleviated, we gladly accepted.
The family’s 1-hectare property is an oasis. Mango, cashew, and achiote trees provide a blanket of shelter from the beating sun. Decorative outdoor benches set amongst plant pots and flower beds offer
tiny spaces for quiet reflection. We received fresh showers upon arrival and a typical Colombian breakfast of arepas and bagre (typical Orinoco fish) the next morning. Our hosts went above and beyond to welcome us and to ensure Rodney and Heather’s journey had not been wasted. Within 48 hours, we swam in warm lagoons, sailed past locals wringing out their laundry on ebony rocks, and dipped our toes on Venezuelan sand. Although it was time for our convoy buddies to turn around and travel back the way they came, they were satiated and upbeat.
We were just getting started, though. The only way to access some of the most extraordinary Orinoco sights on this side of Colombia is to be accompanied by a local guide. We still had no word from the man who was supposed to be directing us through the carpets of thick, lush grass, the savanna that would give us passage further upstream.
Señor Roosevelt, “go-to guy” and lord of the Río Orinoco, returned our messages the following day. He was back in town and would meet us in our hosts’ tranquil Garden of Eden for a meeting. He was to be our fountain of knowledge, our key to unlocking the Orinoco’s secrets.
Las Ventanas, a finca built high on top of one of the river’s iconic boulders, was to be our first stop, and there was no route to follow, not even on Gaia GPS. To prevent us from getting lost through the tall green pastures, Señor Roosevelt arranged a local to escort us on our first leg of the journey. We negotiated prices, settling for the purchase of 2 gallons of gas and an additional $20 for guide number one, José. Señor Roosevelt would meet us four days later, the earliest he could take us to Tambora, the gateway to more wondrous charms 70 nautical miles further upstream. He’d also be collecting fisherman from the local airport who had flown in from all corners of the country
to take part in their annual fly-fishing trip. The plan was all set; the adventure could commence the following morning.
The three-hour journey to Las Ventanas, which would usually only take 30 minutes by boat, was a feast for the eyes. José jumped into our passenger seat at Puerto Carreño with the 2-gallon jerrycan secured firmly on his lap. He guided us through the savanna, safely navigating us in and out of tall blades of grass, past rocks the size of monoliths, and a small palm tree oasis.
Two hours in, we turned right into his village as agreed upon. There, he dropped off his petrol container and collected his friend. They would return here by motorbike once the Las Ventanas mission was accomplished. We made the most of this break, moseying around and soaking in another culture. Most of the extended family members were crowded together under the palm-leaf palapa, escaping the intense burning sun, their tin shacks too hot to bear.
The main cook was busy by the fire, tending to her fresh palometa, caught earlier in the morning. The green feathered lora perched upon her shoulder was chattering away.
Our daughter, Zoe, had also found a companion, and the two children made the most of the large climbing tree on site. We were grateful for the little breeze, efficiently drying the washing pinned on the barbed wire line.
Las Ventanas appeared one hour later, and this stretch of the Río Orinoco did not disappoint. The granite rocks we climbed over in Puerto Carreño were just the prologue to scene one, a warm-up to the big event, stones formed eons ago, each responsible for creating narrow passages of awe and wonder for every passerby.
Clockwise from top left: Our ferry crossing on our way to Tambora, further upstream, held the promise of the unknown. | Las Ventanas was simply beautiful, a finca nestled atop one of the river’s gigantic boulders. | The unbeaten path through the llanos of Colombia holds its own fascination. | One of the three different piranha species of the Río Orinoco, intimidating for good reason. | As Dr. Emmett Brown once said, “Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.” Or so we’d like to think. | The Río Orinoco is a fisherman’s paradise like no other. | Opposite: Precarious log bridge crossings were par for the course.
Black as lead and smooth as marble, these tepuis also provide a great tabletop for doing your laundry. We’d seen the locals doing it in Puerto Carreño, and we followed suit. There were, after all, four days to catch up on chores, relax on powdery sands, and take part in some tonina and nutria spotting, as well as catching some of those feisty piranhas for the grill.
As promised and at the appointed hour, Señor Roosevelt and his three eager fly fishermen waited at the proposed junction. We rode together in unison: motorcycle, Toyota Land Cruiser 80 Series, and the hefty 6-tonne Silverskin.
It was a race against time to reach Tambora, our next port of call before dark. Two motor-operated ferries were available to help us cross the tributaries of the Orinoco and a few self-made log bridges over a flooded forest. We were thankful for those extra sets of eyes, acting as professional spotters as we tried (successfully) to prevent Silverskin from plummeting into the water. Our compact handpruning saw also came to good use when navigating through the labyrinth of low-hanging branches.
As the sun illuminated the sky with its warm orange hues, our scene changed accordingly. Woodlands gave way to the savanna, green shrubs to the rich terracotta earth beneath our wheels.
We arrived at dusk, reuniting with our new beloved channel of water, which glistened softly in the blue hour. Base camp was an abandoned prison that once held hostage the juvenile bad boys of Bogotá. Today, hammocks swing to and fro inside the former prison cells; fishing boats, life jackets, and nets take storage in an old school hall.
Our camper would sit under the careful watch of Simón Bolívar, a rather imposing concrete statue of the man responsible for Colombia’s independence, ironically sculpted by a former inmate.
It had been a breathtaking drive, the off-roading challenges of the day forming bonds amongst strangers.
A rejuvenating meal of bagre rice (again) and salad was plated up before playing guitar with our new Colombian companions until the wee hours of the morning. It had been a breathtaking drive, the off-roading challenges of the day forming bonds amongst strangers. These new acquaintances would soon invite us to their corner of the world in Cali, in southwestern Colombia.
The further upstream one goes on the Río Orinoco, the more treasures are revealed. Maipures Rapids, once named the Eighth Wonder of the World by Alexander Von Humboldt, who journeyed through this region in 1800, and the Raudales de Atures are examples of the forces of nature at play that no man can interrupt.
Unfortunately for us, lack of time also became an obstacle to visiting these wonders. Parts of the Tuparro National Park are inhab-
ited by the Indigenous Warao community, who were conducting private ceremonies during our stay. We were conscious of the expiry date looming on our Colombian visas and did not wish to wait much longer until an entry ticket became available. The riverboat tours to be had upon the route, though, do not cease to fascinate. More tepuis scatter along the waters, and within their depths, gems sparkled for the taking. Our three-year-old was found scooping out quartz pebble stones like buckets of candy from a sweet store.
We learned to fish like the pros who had flown in from Norway and also like the locals, with nothing more than a reel, hook, and string.
Just as James H. Robinson noted years ago, “In this river is an immense quality of fish, especially when full. They are even so plentiful that there is a singular practice adopted by the boys for catching them, which I should have scarcely believed without seeing it. They tie three or four fish-hooks close together, pointing different ways, and without bait, they attach these and throw them into the river, from which they immediately pull them by sudden jerks, and thus they very frequently hook a fish, sometimes by one, sometimes by another part of the body.”
Not much has seemingly altered here since this British soldier, fighting for Bolívar’s war of independence, first stumbled across sights like this. Unfrequented, unspoiled destinations like the Orinoco make us grateful for our house on wheels. With time and a little planning and organisation, the key to unlocking this mysterious place can also be yours.
PLAN ENOUGH TIME We spent 17 days completing our loop from Puerto Gaitán and back again, but to enjoy El Tuparro National Park, we could have easily turned this into a three- to four-week journey.
ORGANISE GUIDES AND CHAPERONES IN ADVANCE Uncharted territory such as the Orinoco plains require guidance from a local who knows their land. Señor Roosevelt is an excellent resource to have if making this trip on your own. +57 (312) 444-6364 or +57 (322) 828-4423, vichadaexotica@ yahoo.es
Señor Roosevelt will organise accommodation and tours for Las Ventanas, Tambora, and El Tuparro National Park. There are other tour operators for El Tuparro, which can be found online.
SORT ACCOMMODATION In Puerto Gaitán, we soaked up the last drops of luxury at Hotel Manacacias, a small simple motel with a pool and outdoor showers. For a small fee, they allow overlanders to sleep in their rigs whilst using their facilities. At the time of writing, Puerto Carreño does not have any options for camping. Due to safety reasons, it is prohibited to wild camp on any of the river beaches around the town.
DOWNLOADED MAPS/TRACKS ARE ESSENTIAL With the exception of Primavera and Puerto Carreño, there will be no cellphone signal on your route. We were on our own for the route back to Puerto Gaitán from Tambora (we took a different, more remote track to Primavera), and for this, we relied heavily on Felipe’s tracks, shared beforehand via Gaia GPS.
TAKE A TRACKER/SATELLITE PHONE WITH YOU You can easily drive for two days without encountering another soul. A tracker or StarLink is advised in case of an emergency.
BE STOCKED UP ON WATER AND FUEL Primavera is your only pit stop between Puerto Gaitán and Puerto Carreño. Anything found elsewhere is dubiously sold in a plastic bottle.
a
By Ashley Giordano
Sittingunder a vintage map of Chipping Norton, I wait for my Scotch egg and gin and tonic. Cool autumnal weather typical of the Cotswolds had led me inside, and I figured a good book and an English pub were the perfect antidote. Opening my current read, Barbara Toy’s In Search of Sheba, I pondered the significance of starting the book at the author’s old neighborhood pub, a 17th-century coach house with stone walls and leather seats. The Australian-born adventuress, who passed away at age 92 in 2001, used to live just up the street. Did she order Scotch eggs here, too? I wondered.
Flipping through the pages, I’m transported to 1959, where Toy is transferring ownership of her 1950 Series I Land Rover, Pollyanna, albeit somewhat reluctantly, to a technical college in Chesterfield, England. After 210,000 miles and nearly a decade of worldwide travel with Pollyanna, Toy agrees to exchange the battered Series I for a brand-new Series II, satisfying Land Rover’s marketing goals. Leaving the Rover factory, Toy lets out the Series II clutch, feeling the extra power. Passing Pollyanna on the way out, she breaks, tears rolling down her cheeks. I gulp my gin and tonic, knowing all too well the attachment one can develop with a trusted vehicle. Turning to look at the map, I spy my next stop 25 miles away. I was going to see Pollyanna.
Like any solid plan, Toy announced her intention to drive to Baghdad as part of a bet made in a pub. She was directing plays for a theatre production company in London at the time and encountered a group of youngsters tucked into a round of pints. The story goes, according to an interview by the Observer in 1962, the kids were “grizzling about having won the war but lost the peace—this was 1949—and how you just couldn’t get away from it all. I said that was ridiculous. Why the hell couldn’t they just get up and go if they really wanted to?” Toy, “never learning to keep my mouth shut,” told the group she would “cut loose, give up the job, get a car and drive to see an old friend in Baghdad.”
But first, she needed a vehicle. “‘A cheap Jeep that’ll get me there,’ was my slogan while I interviewed scores of London car peddlers,” she wrote of her search in A Fool on Wheels. But a Jeep wasn’t in the cards as she couldn’t find a suitable one for sale. Undiscouraged, Toy turned her attention to Land Rover, successfully finding a demonstration model 1950 80-inch Series I, thanks to a friend who knew a manager at Henly’s. She bought the Rover, registration KYH628, for £630 and named it Pollyanna because it sounded “so very square and solid, and therefore very appropriate.”
To prepare Pollyanna for the journey to Baghdad via North Africa, Toy worked with a crew at Henly’s, who built a lid on the rear of the body and padlocked the hood, toolbox, fuel tank, door, spare wheel, and fire extinguisher. The Automobile Association produced a route map to Baghdad with mileage, accommodation, and water and petrol sources (or areas without them) in the desert regions. Rattling with padlocks, which she soon would realize she didn’t need, Toy admitted being “happier than I could ever remember being in all my life.”
By then, Toy was in her early forties. Born in Sydney, Australia, on August 11, 1908, she became an avid reader, spending much of her childhood in her father’s library. Bert Toy worked as literary editor
of the Sydney Bulletin and put together an extensive home collection, including everything from Virginia Woolf to Havelock Ellis, Henry Williamson, and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Her love for travel developed during a short marriage to Ewing Rixson, a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society who was serving as the consulate for Panama in Sydney. The couple traveled together extensively, visiting most of Europe, China, Lapland, Lebanon, the South Sea Islands, and beyond.
Settling in London after separating from Rixson, Toy spent the war years on stage as an actress (briefly), an assistant stage manager of the Richmond Theatre, and an air-raid warden. Rubbing elbows with director Norman Lee, who she joined to co-write Lifeline, a 1943 merchant navy play, she went on to dramatize three novels, including Agatha Christie’s The Murder at the Vicarage and James Hilton’s Random Harvest. She resigned from her management position with the Connaught Theatre to become, unbeknownst to her at the time, one of the pioneers of long-distance overland travel, doing so alone, without support or backup, nearly five years before the illustrious six-man Oxford and Cambridge Eastern Expedition team drove from London to Singapore.
At the end of 1950, Toy shipped Pollyanna to Gibraltar, where her first longdistance journey began. She drove through
Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Cyprus, Egypt, Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and, winning the bet, arrived in Iraq in 1951. She and Pollyanna spent the next nine years traveling through Libya, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, and around the world, including Asia, Australia, and the United States. The Series I proved a reliable travel companion that garnered attention everywhere she went. Asked about any mechanical problems by a journalist in 1957, Toy spoke of an issue with Pollyanna’s petrol tank on the Arabian Peninsula: “Imagine my horror when she suddenly burst into flame! I rushed for the fire extinguisher and couldn’t make it work. Then some Arabs flung sand over her and she went like a bird after that. All she’d been doing was letting off steam. And it did her a world of good, as it does most women.”
By 1959, Pollyanna was used by the technical mechanics’ college for practical demonstrations or odd jaunts by the lads during the holidays. Despite the initial shock of parting with her trusty travel companion, Toy could think of no better place for the vehicle. The Series II, which she drove to Ethiopia, was eventually replaced with a third Land Rover, a 109-inch Series IIA Dormobile she piloted from Timbuktu to Tripoli. Meanwhile, Pollyanna had changed hands and was owned by a Land Rover enthusiast, a Mr. Shakespeare, who displayed the vehicle at shows throughout England. Eager to accompany Pollyanna
“IMAGINE MY HORROR WHEN SHE SUDDENLY BURST INTO FLAME! I RUSHED FOR THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER AND COULDN’T MAKE IT WORK. THEN SOME ARABS FLUNG SAND OVER HER AND SHE WENT LIKE A BIRD AFTER THAT. ALL SHE’D BEEN DOING WAS LETTING OFF STEAM.”
with some memorabilia and photographs, Shakespeare called Barbara for a favor. In an interview with the Oxford Mail in 1998, Toy remembers the phone call: “I asked if I could buy her back. He said no.”
In 1989, Barbara received a telephone call. Mr. Shakespeare had died. Toy bought Pollyanna from the estate for £3,500—five times what she had originally paid in 1950. By this time, the Solihull factory was no longer offering maintenance services, so Barbara was on the hunt for a mechanic. Fortunately, through the Land Rover Register, she found Guy Pickford, who ran a service and repair business. Toy, then in her early ’80s, had Guy recommission Pollyanna in preparation for her second roundthe-world tour in 1990. She arrived home just in time for Christmas. Barbara continued road-tripping with Pollyanna until she died in 2001, including retracing the route of Hannibal’s elephants across the Alps and journeying from Land’s End to John o’Groats, which she referred to as being “terribly dull.” Guy cared for Pollyanna during Toy’s lifetime, frequently visiting Rover gatherings, and offering the vehicle to his son, Tom, while supervising his first drive around the family farm at age 13.
Pulling a North American-spec Toyota into a yard filled with old Land Rovers is bound to make you feel out of place. A lineup of Series trucks sporting various shades of green patina caught my eye as we pulled alongside an old barn with stone walls and a weathered wooden door. Pollyanna was tucked somewhere inside. Heading to the shop, I spotted various treasures, from halfdismantled Series trucks to engine blocks awaiting their fate to a table filled with rare copies of Barbara Toy books, old photographs, newspaper clippings, and an original
from top left: While
remains intact, Toy’s other Land
whereabouts remain a mystery. Perhaps they’re in a garage like this one. | The tools for the job at Pickford’s garage, Vintage Land
Co., near
England. | First glimpses of Pollyanna. “There it stood, rather metallic and military-looking, but just what I wanted.” - Barbara Toy, A Fool on Wheels | Tom Pickford’s collection of books, newspaper clippings, and paperwork could keep a Toy fan busy for hours. | With classic Land Rovers, it’s all about potential. | Guy, Tom, and I, sorting everything from invoices to handwritten maintenance notes and letters. | Opposite: Pollyanna is housed at this quintessential Land
SPECIFICATIONS
1950 Land Rover Series I
POWER
1.6-liter petrol engine
Four-speed manual transmission
SUSPENSION AND DRIVE
80-inch wheelbase
Standard leaf spring suspension
WHEELS AND TIRES
6.00 x 16 Dunlop Trakgrip tires
INTERIOR
Custom-built center console
ACCESSORIES
80-inch soft top
Henly’s sales invoice dated December 1950. I’d spent months searching for Toy’s rare travelogues, flew to Saudi Arabia inspired by her stories in Travelling the Incense Route, and pulled publisher’s files at the Scottish National Library purely out of curiosity. This was a big day. A bearded gent wearing a hoodie and a smile stepped forward to grasp my hand. “Hi, I’m Tom.”
Immediately enthralled by the stacks of Toy’s most elusive books and the snapshots that no internet search could produce, I became immediately distracted by the long table filled with things. Tom’s father, Guy, stepped forward to say hello. He was tall, over 6 feet, sporting a green Land Rover Classic parts cap, and generously spent time reading the papers and articles with me like it was his first time. Finally, I looked up toward Pollyanna. “Go on, then,” he said, encouraging me to take a closer look. At first glance, the Series I is petite, like its former owner, but instantly recognizable with the KYH628 registration, army green jerry cans resting on the front bumper, and antique Automobile Association badges from Ghana, India, the Sahara, and beyond.
The interior is dusty and bare bones, with incredibly thin aluminum panels and doors that remind me how far we’ve come with vehicle safety standards in the last 75 years. The dashboard is no more than a small gauge cluster with a bar running beneath the windscreen. I spot Toy’s lucky
boots, mentioned in Columbus Was Right, hanging from a small circular rearview mirror. The crimson trinket, which she picked up on her way to Turkey, is a smaller version of tsarouchi, a traditional shoe worn by the Greek Presidential Guard. Another lucky item, tucked into the dash on the passenger side, is a billy club given to her by a French gendarme near Algiers during her first trip. Apparently, he was appalled she wasn’t carrying a gun.
“Want to go for a drive?” Tom asks. We’re about to take Pollyanna for a rip down some country lanes, stopping for lunch along the way. The 1.6-liter petrol engine starts right up. I jump in the back. Sometime before Toy’s Libyan expedition, Pollyanna was fitted with a station wagon body to replace the soft top, and the roof was painted white to reflect the sun’s rays, which helped immensely during long, hot desert stints. More recently, Tom refitted the Rover with a canvas roof in honor of the original design. Guy sits in the front passenger seat, showing me the custom wooden center console he built for Barbara in the ’90s and her rusty medical kit, which she filled with tablets for purifying water, disinfectant, and dysentery pills. I can barely hear anything from the back bench seat apart from the wind whipping through my hair and Pollyanna’s four-speed transmission whirring. Tom toots the horn. “She’s got a good little chirp,” he grins. He isn’t afraid to push the vehicle on the narrow English roads. Barbara, or Miss Toy, as he still refers to her, would be thrilled, no doubt.
Months earlier, a Scottish friend, James, had me take out his Series II. “If you’re going to drive Pollyanna, you need to be prepared,” he said. I had never driven a Series Rover before. Doubtful the scenario would actually materialize, I humored him and plodded along while he very patiently walked me through the basics while bumping across a grassy farm field. I uttered a whisper of gratitude to James when Tom asked me if I’d like to drive. Tucked in behind the wheel, I lacked Barbara’s selfassuredness. Fortunately, Tom’s quiet confidence and understanding made him the perfect co-pilot. At that moment, I could picture myself following Toy’s tire tracks across the globe in an old Land Rover.
I CAN BARELY HEAR ANYTHING FROM THE BACK BENCH SEAT APART FROM THE WIND WHIPPING THROUGH MY HAIR AND POLLYANNA’S FOURSPEED TRANSMISSION WHIRRING.
Back in Chipping Norton, I try my luck at a local antiquarian bookstore. Although I found success at the nearby Oxfam shop, a few of Barbara Toy’s books remain absent from my collection. Sidling up to a heavy wooden desk, I inquire with the owner. He looks to be in his eighties, though I’m not great at guessing ages. “Barbara Toy,” he muses. “Yes. She used to live here in town. Spent a lot of time at the theatre. Really nice lady,” he says. Unfortunately, none of her books are in stock. They rarely are. He glances up at me, squinting a bit behind his spectacles. “You’re about her size. Are you related?” I smile at him, taking it as a compliment. “No, no, I’m not,” I say. “Just a big fan.”
Opposite:
1. Purely utilitarian, with minimal comfort— that’s the Series I. Note the original inscription on the door panel.
2. Pollyanna is powered by a 1.6-liter petrol engine and four-speed manual transmission.
3. The wooden center console constructed by Guy Pickford for Barbara Toy in the 1990s, when she was vice president of the Land Rover Register (1948-1953).
4. The interior of a Series I Land Rover is remarkably compact, even for my 5-foot, 3-inch frame.
5. This build isn’t about the modifications, but the decades-long relationship between a woman and her trusty vehicle.
6. A tiny medical kit, billy club, and gauge cluster make for a very pared-down dashboard.
7. Pollyanna’s 6.00 x 16 Dunlop Trakgrip tires wrap standard-Series steel wheels.
8. The dome-shaped Automobile Association badge design lasted until 1967 and was replaced with a yellow rectangular plaque.
9. Barbara’s lucky boots, purchased in Greece in 1956, continue to work their magic.
10. At age 75, Pollyanna’s current retirement activities include English countryside jaunts and Land Rover event meet-and-greets.
Traveling eyes-wide-open, engulfed by the country’s charms and challenges.
By Maria Schumacher
I’mnot supposed to issue a temporary import document without insurance.” The customs officer’s statement presented a conundrum. Nowhere here sold any, and it wasn’t possible to buy motorcycle insurance online, even if the Wi-Fi had worked reliably. My partner, Aidan, and I were riding from Canada to Argentina, crossing into Peru at La Balsa, a tiny collection of buildings with chickens scratching for worms and a friendly dog demanding cuddles while you wait for your immigration stamp.
A friend had suggested this route for its unspoiled colonial towns, and our research had revealed little more about the region in the northern Andes of Peru. So unhindered by expectation and armed with curiosity, we were looking forward to exploring this truly less-traveled road.
Adventure motorcyclists are a novelty at this infrequently used border, and compared to the locals’ usual 125cc runarounds, my 1991 Honda NX250 and Aidan’s 2004 BMW F 650 GS were big bikes. Awed by such a long journey, the young officer tried to figure out all the countries from the flag stickers covering the panniers.
His office was in a flimsy container building, and when I asked to use the washroom, he pointed upstairs. Behind the only door, I found a bare room with a bunk bed, clothes strewn on the floor, and an open duffel bag in the corner. A toothbrush and crumpled-up toothpaste lay on the small bathroom sink in the officer’s living quarters; he was probably stationed here on rotation. Back downstairs, there was still no solution. Out of ideas, the officer issued the temporary import permits and made us promise that we’d buy insurance in the nearest town.
Along the way to Cajamarca, river valleys and red rocks looming over the winding ribbon of asphalt made a teasing promise of things to come. The city itself, one of our friend’s recommendations, did not disappoint. White-washed walls and terracotta roofs housed day-today businesses, and there were only a few tourist shops aimed at Peruvians on vacation offering local coffee and cheeses. Wooden carts dotted around the bustling squares sold street food at lunchtime, and a queue outside a hole-in-the-wall indicated where to find the best empanadas in town. It would have been easy to give in to the charm and stay longer, but the isolation of the mountains was calling.
The ever-climbing road soon left Cajamarca and all signs of colonialism behind. Traditionally dressed women wore wide-brimmed straw hats and layers of knee-length skirts that bobbed up and down as they walked. Farmers worked the fields by hand and were bent double, piling freshly dug-up potatoes into little golden heaps on the dark, upturned soil.
However remote, it seemed volleyball was played everywhere in Peru. In the evenings, nets were tied across the streets. When someone needed to pass, the players lifted it or lowered it to the ground so the vehicle could drive over. Everyone got involved in the animated games. Kids chewing on homemade sweets were sent to retrieve balls lost on balconies or rooftops, and the ladies, spinning wool on hand-held spindles, interrupted their gossip to cheer or referee. An older guy in an oil-stained T-shirt took a break from tinkering under the bonnet of his beat-up sedan and joined the young mothers with sleeping babies in their arms, watching from the sidewalk.
On the other side of the net, a chalkboard advertised dinner. It pointed to a door that revealed a disused dark room with a couple of dusty chairs. Noises protruded from the opening in the back, where a
matronly lady sat at a table in a walled courtyard. She seemed a little surprised to see us. I hoped it was more because we were strangers than because we were asking about food. She ushered us to one of the low tables and benches, poured two glasses of homemade lemonade, and said she could rustle us up some churrasco. This unlikely backyard really was a restaurant, and all but the tiniest of settlements seemed to have a similar one of sorts.
Fuel for the bikes was harder to find. There hadn’t been a gas station in a long time, and I would have to fill up in Pallasca, or I’d be stranded. Two helpful women in the town square pointed us down a side street, where a windowless building announced gasolina on a small pinned-up banner. A woman in a blue apron asked how much we needed, then poured the agreed amount from reused liquid laundry containers down a big metal funnel into our tanks.
The snow-capped peaks at the far end of the valley sparkled as glorious sunshine illuminated the countless shades of green, and a milky turquoise stream meandered down from the melting snow.
Thus filled up, an insanely steep backroad took us out of town; loose, sandy gravel made for a worryingly slippery descent. When it finally flattened out a bit, the track was buried under a recent landslide of sharp rocks and water. Crossing was possible, although very tricky. Should we have stayed on the main route after all? No matter, we were committed now. In the thin air at this elevation, my carbureted Honda was losing power. It wouldn’t make it back up the hill.
Luckily, the narrow dirt road soon eased up, winding its way along tight switchbacks. The slopes were desaturated and hazy in the blasting midday sun, and the rushing gray river at the bottom of the canyon provided little relief from the heat. At last, I was glad we’d come this way. It was an off-pavement paradise, challenging and thrilling without being too difficult, always riding with one eye on the slopes, checking for movement indicating an imminent landslide, with the other on the track, as it occasionally led within inches of the abyss.
Peru had made good on its earlier tantalizing promise, with unforgettable pistes through the canyon and riverside camping spots under starlit skies. The colors of the ruggedly beautiful rocky desert constantly morphed between grayish ochre yellow, bright rusty orange, and deep sienna. After two exhilarating days, the Cañón del Pato, known for its many tunnels, imposing rock overhangs, and bottomless river gorges, formed the grand finale before leading us back to civilization, food, and fuel.
By now, a severe wilderness addiction had taken hold, luring us up into Huascarán National Park as soon as our supplies were replenished. The snow-capped peaks at the far end of the valley sparkled as glorious sunshine illuminated the countless shades of green, and a milky turquoise stream meandered down from the melting snow. Waterfalls cascaded from the rocky slopes on either side, and cows, sheep, and alpacas moseyed between low sage-colored brush, grazing the grass golf-course-short. Pointy switchbacks led right up to the snow line before disappearing into a dark, unlit tunnel. Beyond lay the moody side of the mountain with drizzly clouds and deep blue lakes embedded into misty, rock-strewn grasslands.
In the warmer valley below, fragrant eucalyptus trees lined the streets of villages that seemed almost untouched by the outside world. An old woman gently applied her stick to usher a few cows along. A
from top left: Winding our way down the slopes,
the road across the valley we
up next. | The midday sun bleaches the vibrant kaleidoscope of colors in Peru’s northern canyons. | Without a gas station in Pallasca, this enterprising lady sold fuel out of old laundry containers. | Our cameras were no match for the grandeur of the views in the desert valley. | Narrow cobblestone streets lead through Cajamarca’s colonial towns. | Balmy warm air juxtaposed with refreshing cold rivers at the bottom of Peru’s northern canyons make for idyllic camping sites. | Opening page:
from top left: The Andean people of Peru give their alpacas distinctly colored woolen earrings for identification purposes since the animals roam freely. | Tight turns following every ravine of the rocky mountainside made for an interesting ride. | Women greet each other in the town squares in the afternoon, exchanging the latest news. | Few people brave a life in the high Andes, and we often had the vast landscapes to ourselves. | This tied-up bull was clearly entertaining the thought of sharing our dinner. Its owner waved a quick hello before taking it home for the night. | Donkeys are the main form of transport in remote Andean villages. | Opposite: The road through Huascarán National Park twisted up to the snow line before depositing us in a dark tunnel.
train of donkeys blocked the road for a while as they steadily carried their load downhill. And outside a white-washed mud-brick house, a family tying a bucket onto a donkey’s back laughed and gave me a big thumbs-up when I stopped to take a photo. The sight of motorcycle travelers was as novel to them as their form of transport was to me.
In the village squares, the celebrations of carnival season were in full swing. People gathered below trees decorated with colorful blankets and danced, dressed in symbolic costumes. Festival participation was undertaken with the same authenticity and devotion as would have transpired hundreds of years ago. None of this was meant for the eyes of tourists, and our viewing them almost felt like an intrusion.
A little modernity returned in the larger towns, though it was clear some things hadn’t changed much over the centuries. The central plaza was still the place to sit and people-watch or catch up with friends. Wizened ladies wearing wide skirts and the customary semipointy hats greeted each other with big, toothless smiles, and the town vagabond came over to check out our big, loaded bikes. A small tienda had honey-roasted peanuts and vanilla biscuits that would serve as emergency snacks for the lonely road south.
In the Andes, the romantic remoteness of the road less traveled can quickly become an impassable nightmare. But we had become entranced with Peru’s wild side and let the views over expansive grassy plains and dark blue lakes tempt us to leave the asphalt once more. There was no one except for us and a few llamas, although little shrines betrayed the occasional human presence.
Above 13,000 feet, the Honda was feeling the high elevation and markedly lost power; I found myself taking a run at every uphill section to maintain momentum. The puffy white clouds became a moody gray as we climbed into them. Cows with thick black fur were grazing among trickling streams in meadows fenced with low stone walls, and the few farmhouses were built out of the same stones and thatched with grass.
My bike laboriously plodded along until the tires lost all traction in the muddy, and the engine stopped dead. I pushed and heaved, as oxygen-deprived and breathless as it was. Even with Aidan’s help, it took a grueling hour of schlepping along in first gear and manhandling the bike through slimy puddles and water crossings to finally reach the top of the pass. A lonely sign announced we’d made it to 14,271 feet.
Our triumph was short-lived. A recently cleared landslide on the other side had left a thick layer of loose soil on the track, making it almost impossible to brake without locking up the wheels. Slipping and sliding around tight bends, we barely dared breathe lest we skid over the edge. Several routes in South America have earned a reputation as a camino de muerte, but Peru was the first country where some of its narrow, barrier-free dirt roads, with only inches between my tires and certain death, had me genuinely afraid.
There was nothing for it but to crawl down, carefully picking a line as far away from the precipice as possible. Thankfully, going downhill meant gravity was on our side, and losing power wasn’t an
Clockwise from top left: Narrow switchbacks into the canyon turned the descent to our camping spot into a race against fading daylight. | The small towns nestled into the lower Andes are connected by a single road that winds along the slopes from one green valley to the next. | Fatigue at the end of a long day in the saddle combined with slippery, loose dirt made for a slow-speed tumble that did no damage, except perhaps to my pride. | Riding through the Cañón del Pato, we always kept one eye on the slopes, looking for movement that might indicate an imminent rockslide. | On the Pacific side, the Andes turn from fertile green to barren desert—we cherished the ribbon of brand-new asphalt. | Life does not get much remoter than this, yet these farms subsist.
issue. The track finally improved at the edge of a small village, then got lost among the mud-brick houses clinging to the slopes. An older gentleman leaning heavily on his walking stick helpfully pointed out the way before we could ask.
The narrow gravel road led into an amber-orange canyon in steep switchbacks. The only other vehicle, a small truck, just managed to squeeze past. There were no flat spots or pullouts anywhere, and rocks and cacti clung gingerly to the dry slopes. Camping would only be possible by the riverbed at the bottom. With the sun long gone behind the mountains, it became a frustrating race against the light. As the crow flies, it was only a short way down, although we had to patiently follow switchback after switchback.
This rollercoaster of incredible highs and lows, both emotionally and physically, had made us feel intoxicatingly alive.
The stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky as we pitched our tent by the river. Hungrily tucking into our pasta, we poured over our map by torchlight. Tomorrow’s route zig-zagged up the opposite canyon wall to a plateau at 14,000 feet. From there, the mountain passes would be lower, villages and towns would be more frequent, and our descent towards the Pacific Ocean would begin.
The lower elevation would make things easier for my Honda. But I was reluctant to leave the wild and untouched mountains of northern Peru, whose harsh beauty and glimpses into traditional life had captivated me. This rollercoaster of incredible highs and lows, both emotionally and physically, had made us feel intoxicatingly alive. Wrestling the breathless bike over the high passes had been trying; still, conquering the dirt roads had been lots of fun. We crawled into our sleeping bags the best kind of exhausted—completely worn out yet deeply happy and content.
WhenTJ Brown heard the newly minted NorCal Backcountry Discovery Route (BDR) was being opened in the summer of 2024, he immediately called a meeting of his friends, all adventure motorcyclists. The BDR Bros, as he dubs them, assembled on a Tuesday evening with maps, both Google and folding, and began planning for a two-wheeled trek from Mammoth, California, to Goose Lake on the Oregon border. The BDR Bros had already completed border-to-border crossings of Arizona and Idaho. As the newest invitee into the brotherhood, the NorCal BDR would be my initiation.
After watching a slideshow of their two previous trips, I pointed out that their cell phone snapshots belonged in a bad family reunion scrapbook. I shared a few images from my photography website, and they anointed me as the trip documentarian—both with pen and lens.
Dates were discussed. Logistics were loosely planned. Vacations were penciled in. Then came the hiccup. Well, more than a hiccup. During his regular six-month checkup, TJ’s neurosurgeon discovered an irregularity. After tests and biopsies, it was confirmed that TJ again had esthesioneuroblastoma (ENB) for the third time. In his brain. In his sinuses. In his clavicle. This confirmation came one month before the scheduled NorCal BDR launch. TJ had a biopsy of his lymph nodes on July 15, and within five hours of coming out of surgery and while still in a Phoenix hospital room, he sent a group text: “Leave Prescott August 14 at 5:00 a.m., nine-hour drive to Mammoth Lakes, the beginning of the ride. We plan to start riding on the 15th and complete the first day, which is 91 miles. We will be back in Prescott on the evening of Sunday, August 25, ready for work on Monday the 26th.”
Cancer be damned. The trip was a go.
Setbacks are nothing new to TJ Brown. And as August 14 drew near, another glitch appeared: wildfires. The Park Fire was now engulfing parts of Northern California. Messages machined-gunned from phone to phone as the BDR Bros tracked the fire’s movement. A week before go-time, the flames raged 14 miles west of the BDR route, moving eastward, and smoke engulfed the region. TJ called an emergency meeting. “Be at my garage in 10 minutes.” Everyone showed.
By David Morring
A debate ensued over plan B. Colorado? Wyoming? Utah? Due to logistics and the short window of less than a week, Utah won the bid.
TJ did his first BDR shortly after his second bout with cancer. It was a means of escape from the nausea of chemotherapy and an opportunity to ride with family and friends. Thus, the BDR Bros were born.
The BDR Bros is a band of eight brothers. Four are the literal offspring of the same mother. TJ (2022 BMW 1250 GSA), Ryan (2023 KTM 500 XCF-W), Shawn (2022 KTM 500 XCF-W), and Patrick (2023 KTM 450 XCF-W). After their parents divorced, the four created an inseparable bond of loyalty to their mom and each other—a glue that has cemented the Brown family. The other four Bros are family by adoption—motorcycles being the adoption papers. Matt Holdsworth (2019 Honda Africa Twin 1000cc) is the chief navigation officer. He plans the route, builds the spreadsheets, and usually rides at the front of the pack. Jason Campbell (2023 KTM 890 Rally) is the first responder. His brain is packed with medical knowledge, and his bag with medical supplies. Lance German (2023 KTM 450 XCF-W) is the quiet, always-there-to-help teammate. And I run sweep in a Speed UTV that hauls too many camera lenses, extra fuel, and a small parts store for the bikes.
A week before our departure, TJ woke up with a hole in his forehead—a small, pin-sized orifice through the skin. He immediately called his physicians. It was determined that after his numerous earlier surgeries, osteomyelitis (bone infection) was eating away his skull. He informed them that he had an upcoming motorcycle trip, and he wasn’t canceling it. They gave him bottles of horse-pill-sized antibiotics, and he told them he’d see them on the flipside.
TJ isn’t a masochist. He’s a realist, brimming with life more than any person I’ve met. As a child, TJ was backed over by a car twice and narrowly escaped being crushed by moving vehicles in two other incidents. Between cancer and
In the thick of it. Patrick steadies TJ’s motorcycle as the brothers slog through a relentless stretch of mud in the High Uintas. Multiple attempts were required before TJ could resaddle his BMW.
radial tires, he’s faced death head-on more times than you can count on one hand, but I don’t think that’s why he’s always planning two adventures ahead. I think he was born to ride. Back roads. Wide-open throttles. Wheelies. Fresh alpine air. Muddy, rutted, aspen-laden trails. All this fuels a spirit that refuses to be tamed by cancer or anything else.
TJ, Matt, and Jason elected to ride their big bikes. It was a decision that almost came to haunt them. Exiting the Valley of the Gods and entering Butler Wash, we quickly encountered long stretches of silt beds. The big bikes fishtailed in the lax dirt. I watched as TJ and Jason’s big-bootie motorcycles bellyflopped in the sand numerous times. With the heat of August and progress slowed to a geriatric pace, the big bike Bros were overheating in their riding suits. Lifting their 600(+)-pound bikes repeatedly had them seeing stars and in real danger of heat exhaustion. At one point, nearly delusional and out of human gas, Jason spoke of abandoning his bike and hiking out. TJ looked him in the eye and said, “I don’t know who that guy is that’s speaking right now, but take Danny Downer behind the sagebrush and kill him.” Jason rehydrated, found another gear, and aced the rest of the wash.
As we probed deeper into Nine Mile, the mud began to cling to tires, bumpers, and suspensions like barnacles.
Monsoon rains doused the region each afternoon, and as the BDR cautions riders going into Nine Mile Canyon, roads may be impassable. Mud proved to be a formidable nemesis. Two days before, we’d encountered washed-out sections on Sheens Road before La Sal—passing through required crossing exposed gas lines and moving medicine-ball-sized rocks. Now, as we probed deeper into Nine Mile, the mud began to cling to tires, bumpers, and suspensions like barnacles. As the road inclined, momentum declined—eventually bringing the group to a halt. Matt suggested we sit for an hour or so while the roads dried out—the only danger being if we weren’t out by afternoon, more rains might come, and we’d be camping right there for the rest of the day and perhaps longer. Shawn offered to scout ahead on his KTM and report back on the road conditions. TJ, not being one to sit around, dug the mud out of his fenders with a stick and decided to trudge forward while the rest of us broke out energy bars and packets of tuna. Within a few yards, TJ’s bike had sat down in the mud like a belligerent toddler in the grocery store aisle. Patrick and Lance quickly came to his aid, helped him lift the BMW, and acted as his training wheels as he inched forward. TJ eventually reached higher and dryer ground and proceeded after Shawn. Forty minutes later, Shawn relayed that the mud was not as relentless up the canyon. Our path had dried sufficiently for Matt and Jason to squirrel through, and the remainder of Nine Mile Canyon proved beautiful, with farmsteads and horses creating artist-worthy scenery.
Dispersed camping along our 850-mile route exceeded any 5-star accommodations we could have booked in Park City. A full moon showered our cots with moonlight each
evening as we slept roofless beneath the constellations at nearly 9,000 feet. The nights were so bright that headlamps weren’t necessary. Each night before turning in, we’d ask TJ what time he wanted to get up. Sleeping isn’t always easy for him, and we set our departure times according to his “emotional alarm clock.”
On our final day, as we traversed Monte Cristo Ridge and headed toward Bear Lake on the Utah/Idaho border, I took the lead with my camera at the ready. We encountered two bull moose and a magnificent Great Pyrenees tending a large flock. We could have been in New Zealand by all accounts. Northern flickers danced out of the aspens around every corner, and a huge red-tailed hawk hovered above us as if it were a spy plane conducting reconnaissance. I called out to the group through my headset, “Good morning, my name is Marlin Perkins. Welcome to Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom.” I’m not sure any of them were old enough to understand the reference.
Dispersed camping along our 850-mile route exceeded any 5-star accommodations. A full moon showered our cots with moonlight each evening as we slept roofless beneath the constellations at nearly 9,000 feet.
By mid-morning, we had crossed the Idaho border. After quickly snagging a photo at the state line, we invaded a small coffee and crepe shoppe. All of us enjoyed sweet and savory crepes smothered in compote and whipped cream. All except TJ. He’s abandoned all sugar and most carbs. He ordered a crepe-less plate of scrambled eggs with sausage, peppers, and onions.
As BDR Bros, we basked in the satisfaction of our small, week-long accomplishment. The trip was over, and the somber realization of finality was setting in. In a couple of hours, bikes would be loaded on the trailer, and we’d be burning highway miles home.
The prognosis for TJ is still unknown. He is scheduled to undergo peptide receptor radionuclide therapy (PRRT) over the next eight months. The doctors have hope. TJ’s wife and kids have amazing faith. And the BDR Bros have a bond and memories that will live forever.
A unique little camper fashioned from experience and DIY grit.
By
ItINSTEAD OF BUILDING A CAREER, YOUNG, INTELLIGENT PEOPLE FIND THEMSELVES
BUILDING OVERLAND VEHICLES AND PLANNING
ADVENTUROUS ROUTES ACROSS THE PLANET.
happens to the best of us; we purchase a vehicle and kit it out for a long-distance overland journey, only to find that our needs change as we fall deeper into overlanding and commit further to a life lived on the road. A rooftop tent and daily outdoor existence are fine for a few months or even years, but inevitably, most of us long-term, multi-continental overlanders will eventually adapt our vehicles to be better suited to vastly differing terrains and climates. This process usually involves learning new skills and questioning one’s sanity as we start building our vehicles with the question, “How hard could it be?” and ends with the statement, “Never again.” Some fare better than others, and Reece Rheinbach, aka Travel Beasts, has followed through with passion and determination to create his one-of-a-kind vehicle. Reece’s story reminds me of an old bumper sticker we saw on the back of a Dutch overland vehicle many years ago. It essentially read, “Beware of this overland lifestyle; it is addictive.” Instead of building a career, young, intelligent people find themselves building overland vehicles and planning adventurous routes across the planet, and if you are thinking of getting into international overland travel, consider yourself warned.
Before we get started on the build itself, let’s get to know and understand Reece, who is British, a bit better. Reece’s desire to travel has burned within him for as long as he can remember. The thought of being confined to one place always felt suffocating, while the prospect of escaping the predictable shackles of a 9 to 5 life enticed him. Seizing his first opportunity, Reece embarked on his inaugural solo backpacking adventure, but after a few months, the limitations of long-term backpacking became apparent. Backpackers often find themselves stuck on predictable tourist trails, moving from one hostel to another. Breaking away from these established paths, bound by bus schedules and flight itineraries, proved difficult and expensive. Consequently, Reece returned home broke and reluctantly back in the confines of a 9 to 5 job.
A significant turning point in Reece’s life came when his cousin Ross brought home a 110 Land Rover Defender expedition vehicle. This introduction to longdistance, vehicle-based travel and self-supported overlanding opened Reece’s eyes to a liberating lifestyle. Traveling with a vehicle offered true freedom: the ability to progress at one’s own pace, deviate from the beaten tourist track, and make spontaneous route changes and destination decisions.
Reece quickly realized that this was the change he desired. Together with Ross, they devised a plan to drive from London to Cape Town via the West Coast of Africa. Aware of the challenges posed by one of the world’s most demanding overland routes, they meticulously plotted their course, researched suitable vehicles (what was wrong with the Defender, says me, a Defender owner), gathered necessary supplies, equipment, and vaccinations, and even began learning French.
The decision to use the Land Cruiser platform stemmed from the renowned reliability and toughness of its legendary Toyota 1HZ engine. Reece and Ross wanted two vehicles with the exact specifications to maximize their shared tools and knowledge.
After an extensive search on European vehicle sales websites, they found a pair of 1HZ Land Cruisers in Belgium and the Netherlands, respectively.
Reece acquired his Land Cruiser from the Netherlands near the town of Alkmaar. He and Ross traveled to Amsterdam, made their way to Alkmaar by bus and train, and spent the night in a hotel before meeting the owner. The dusty yet resplendent vehicle awaited them in an old farm hangar, and after some negotiations due to rust issues, Reece purchased it for 8,000 euros.
The cost of modifications made to the vehicle is challenging to quantify due to the countless repairs, accessories, and changes made before and during the first journey. Additionally, Reece invested thousands of dollars in the subsequent rebuilding, refurbishment, modifications, and camper construction. Overall, his total investment likely exceeds $50,000.
In 2014, two simultaneous obstacles emerged as they were earnestly preparing for the journey. The rapid rise of the violent Islamist group Boko Haram in Nigeria posed a threat to safe transit through the region. At the same time, the outbreak of Ebola in several West African nations resulted in the closure of their international borders. These unfortunate circumstances shattered Reece and Ross’s hopes of driving
from London to Cape Town via the western route. Undeterred, they continued their research, eventually settling on the PanAmerican Highway as their new adventure. Reece recalls his initial mechanical inexperience, knowing little about what was required on the road and even less about preparing a vehicle for a multi-year expedition. The Land Cruiser he chose, a medium wheelbase HZJ73 model, had a basic setup with top-down access bins for storage and no interior living space. Reece made some urgent repairs, added a roof tent, and deemed it sufficient. They spent a winter in the UK modifying the newly acquired Land Cruisers before shipping them to the USA in March 2016. Little did they know that their expedition would stretch nearly three years. The vehicle remained largely stock, with Reece opting not to make significant mechanical changes. He has been satisfied with the Land Cruiser’s factory performance, given its legendary reliability, but Reece has still encountered his fair share of breakdowns and failures due to the demanding terrain he has traveled. From transmission and transfer case issues on the Pan-American Highway to blown seals, failing wiper motors, and recurring rear hub explosions, the 30-year-old Cruiser has put Reece’s mechanical skills to the test. Along the way across the Americas, they
THE CAMPER’S INSPIRATION CAME FROM THE ARRAY OF INNOVATIVE IDEAS AND DESIGNS OBSERVED IN OTHER EXPEDITION VEHICLES ALONG THE PAN-AMERICAN HIGHWAY.
made extensive modifications to enhance the performance of Reece’s vehicle, but he knew that, eventually, a radical transformation was in order. With the Land Cruiser returned to the UK, it was evident that it was time to ditch the faithful old rooftop tent and create an internal living space with all the associated challenges and advantages. The camper’s inspiration came from the array of innovative ideas and designs observed in other expedition vehicles along the Pan-American Highway. Reece admired those with interior living space, especially during colder weather, while still maintaining a vehicle’s off-road capabilities. Striking
Bogged down in an arsenic-laced lakebed at nearly 5,000 meters on Bolivia’s Lagunas Route, Volcán Licancabur looms in the background. Opposite:
1. Reece, grinding out the rust during his post–Pan-American Highway rebuild.
2. Fitting out the camper cell interior.
3. Fresh aluminum panels took shape mid-build on the new camper body.
4. What better campsite than beneath Chile’s iconic Mano del Desierto sculpture in the Atacama Desert?
5. The engine bay had a full renovation after the Pan-Am journey.
6. Camper interior completed—worktop, cooker, sink, and custom fridge slide-out drawer; check, check, check, and check.
7. The finished camper, prepped and packed for the start of the Iberian Trail.
8. Navigating off-road tracks in the snowy French Alps.
9. The maiden night campout in the newly built camper during a shakedown trip was a success.
10. Reece, putting the DIY fridge drawer to the test.
11. Fine-tuning is a required and welcome part of any build; new lighting systems were part of the rebuild.
1993 Toyota HZJ73 Land Cruiser
POWER
1HZ Toyota Land Cruiser 4.2-liter diesel inline 6-cylinder 12-valve SOHC
SUSPENSION AND DRIVE
Old Man Emu 50(+)-millimeter lift (leaf springs and shocks)
Thor airbag rear suspension
WHEELS AND TIRES
BFGoodrich KO2s 285/75R16
Original Land Cruiser wheels
RECOVERY AND ARMOR
Recovery boards
Hi-Lift jack
ARB winch bumper
Winch (13,000-pound)
Recovery straps
Hand tools, including shovel, axe, and saw
ACCESSORIES
Upgraded 90-liter fuel tank
Bushranger Nighthawk spotlights
Solar (450 watts via three solar panels)
Auxiliary battery system (220-amp-hour)
Redarc Manager 30 with Redvision display and TVMS Rogue
Interior two burner gas cooker and plumbedin sink
Hot and cold water with inline heat exchanger
On-board air system with 1-gallon tank, air connection point, and airbag suspension
Water tank (70-liter) with 12-volt pump
Exterior shower point
Custom over-cab roof rack with four spotlights
Unwin rail roof rack system on pop-top
Scheel-Mann Vario F seats
a balance between comfort and ruggedness posed a challenge, but careful planning and calculations were dedicated in the design stage to achieving this goal.
Despite limited mechanical and technical skills, Reece courageously attempted the ambitious camper conversion, starting with a significant and nerve-wracking cut into the vehicle’s body using an angle grinder. Due to various circumstances, the project took much longer than expected. Reece took on a full-time job to finance the project, which left him with evenings and weekends to work on the vehicle. Over the course of three long years, battling adverse British weather, work pressures, and relying on his gradually growing skillset, Reece completed the build against all odds.
What sets Reece’s camper apart is its uniqueness. Built according to his exact specifications, there is no other camper like it. Given the limited space on a mid-wheelbase vehicle, Reece designed the camper to strike a delicate balance between comfortable living space and maintaining the Land Cruiser’s off-road capabilities. As a solo traveler, Reece built the vehicle to accommodate one or maybe two people and offers many of the essentials necessary for longterm, long-distance travel. Compact, practical, and attractive, this vehicle checks all the boxes and will no doubt serve Reece well as he continues to explore. One of the great-
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est advantages of building and maintaining your vehicle is that you get to know it intimately and are emboldened to travel further from the beaten track safe with the knowledge earned through blood, sweat, and tears. Reece has undoubtedly progressed in leaps and bounds since those first days working on his Land Cruiser.
Reece’s best advice would be to make sure you really want to commit to a project like this before you start. The Land Cruiser camper build has probably been the hardest thing he has ever done but also the most rewarding; the pop top, in particular, was the most time-consuming aspect. Looking back, he was not prepared in the slightest for what it would take to build the camper. Reece advises that anyone considering committing to such a build should ensure they have thought about how everything will work ahead of time. Reece feels that he made many silly mistakes and created issues for himself down the line simply because he hadn’t thought far enough ahead.
Reece reassures, “That said. It’s an incredibly gratifying experience to live in a space that you have created to your own specs. I would encourage anyone thinking about doing it to grab the bull by its horns.”
From the fiery Outback to awe-inspiring Western Australia, this continent lets you spread your wings.
By Akela World
FROM 2019 TO 2020, WE TRAVERSED AUSTRALIA, witnessing some of the country’s worst wildfires with devastating losses of human lives, animals, and property, but also the symbolic return of Uluru (formerly Ayers Rock) to the Aṉangu people. The sandstone monolith has always been ambivalent in its significance. On one hand, it is the iconic tourist landmark of Australia and, simultaneously, a sacred mountain in the Dreamtime of the Aboriginals.
Unfortunately, deep injustices persist between the traditional owners of the land and the non-Indigenous population. Yet, here in the West, discussions about politics are less prevalent. Life feels more relaxed and calm, with an uncomplicated fluidity that flows in the background. We took a final gaze from our camp spot at the sacred mountain, and the journey began anew.
The term “Red Continent” truly comes to life here, as 70 percent of the land is covered by a deep hue caused by iron-rich rock oxidizing on the surface. The road conditions drove us mad: deflate the tires, inflate the tires. On the rugged corrugated tracks, avoiding serious damage became an ongoing challenge. Sometimes, we waited endlessly at isolated railway crossings for a two-kilometer-long train to chug methodically by. Australia is rich in natural resources like iron ore, which is extensively transported throughout the country.
Splashes of color from the pink lakes provided a welcome change from the monotonous palette; Dunaliella salina algae is responsible for the water‘s coloration. After several days of driving, we reached the coast and Ningaloo, the continent’s second-largest reef. Depending on the season, one can observe whale sharks, eagle rays, and much more. Even on the beach, unexpected encounters await, such as huge Australian pelicans.
A breathtaking aerial view allowed for fantastic sights of bizarre and surreal water and sand formations. De-
spite the ongoing legend, the drone did not capture any footage of giant kangaroos, although we kept our eyes peeled for Procoptodon goliah throughout the year, much as one might entertain the idea of looking for Big Foot. Fortunately, there are still heaps of their smaller cousins around. Less charming are the saltwater crocodiles. They inhabit bays, river mouths, mangroves, or the open sea, requiring one to constantly be on the lookout. Although the ocean extended a perpetual tempting invitation, for us, it usually meant extended beach walks.
The warmth and helpfulness of Australians manifested countless times. Whether coming to our aid for a flat tire or useful tips, assistance was never out of reach. We learned to make spears for crayfish hunting and discovered the healing effects of green ant tea. Unfortunately, there’s no remedy for the intense heat except for cool water holes along the route. But be croc-wise.
The Kimberley region captivates with rugged wilderness, unique rock formations, and deep canyons. Encountering an Adansonia gregorii or boab tree here, was unexpected, but wind and ocean currents make it possible. On a multi-day canoe trip, we explored the beauty of the Kimberley along the Ord River, a paradise for bird enthusiasts. Many species are endemic to Australia, including the kookaburra.
Huge termite mounds line the path to Kakadu National Park in the Northern Territory, marking the end of our West-North route. There, we visited the sacred site of Ubirr to admire the up-to-40,000-year-old rock paintings of the Bininj/Mungguy, who consider the land to be a living being; the kunbim or rock art stands testament to their ongoing relationship with the Earth and their spiritual connection to the site.
The diversity of Australia holds so much for the traveler. Join us on this pictorial odyssey.
THIS DIRT TRACK IN THE REMOTE KIMBERLEY AREA HAD RECENTLY FLOODED AFTER A SUDDEN DOWNPOUR. SURROUNDED BY THE ICONIC EUCALYPTUS TREES, PERFECTLY ADAPTED TO THE HOT, DRY CLIMATE, THE RAW BEAUTY OF THE LAND BECOMES PALPABLE.
(OPENING SPREAD)
SIMILAR TO THE UNIQUE ORGANISMS THAT CAN ONLY SURVIVE IN THE PINK LAKES, AUSTRALIA FILLS AN ECOLOGICAL NICHE WHERE LIFE THRIVES UNDER THE HARSHEST CONDITIONS.
AS SEEN FROM A WINDING DIRT TRACK THROUGH THE FAR-REACHING OUTBACK, THE MAJESTIC ULURU SPRAWLS ACROSS THE HORIZON UNDER A WIDE-OPEN SKY.
(OPPOSITE, CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT) WITH DUST IN HIS FACE AND FIRE IN HIS HEART, LENNOX LEANS INTO THE WIND, CHASING THE EDGE OF THE WORLD.
TYPICALLY SHY AND PREFERRING DEEPER WATERS, IT’S A TRUE STROKE OF LUCK TO WITNESS FOUR EAGLE RAYS GLIDING ALONG THE WARM COAST OF THE INDIAN OCEAN, A REMINDER OF THE HIDDEN TREASURES BENEATH THE WAVES.
FRANÇOIS PERON NATIONAL PARK IS A PLACE OF BREATHTAKING VISTAS LIKE THIS VIBRANT LAGOON. THE UNIQUE ECOSYSTEM IS RICH
IN MARINE LIFE YET INCREASINGLY THREATENED BY RISING WATER TEMPERATURES AND GROWING SALINITY.
LENNOX AND AN AUSTRALIAN PELICAN CAUTIOUSLY SIZE EACH OTHER UP ON THE BEACH IN GERALDTON, CURIOUSER AND CURIOUSER. WITH A WINGSPAN OF UP TO 2.6 METERS, IT’S ONE OF THE PLANET’S LARGEST FLYING BIRDS AND HAS THE BIGGEST BILL IN THE AVIAN WORLD.
NO, THIS ISN’T A WATERCOLOR PAINTING GONE ROGUE—JUST ANOTHER BREATHTAKING VIEW OF THE SHALLOW WATERS OF SHARK BAY IN FRANÇOIS PERON NATIONAL PARK. IT’S CALLED THE “TREE OF LIFE.”
NINGALOO REEF, ONE OF THE LARGEST FRINGING REEFS IN THE WORLD, REGULARLY HOSTS
WHALE SHARKS BETWEEN MARCH AND JULY WHEN THE WATERS ARE NUTRIENT-DENSE AND RICH IN PLANKTON, MAKING SIGHTINGS OF THESE MAGNIFICENT CREATURES MORE COMMON.
ON THE WAY TO JAMES PRICE POINT, WHERE JAGGED RED CLIFFS MEET THE TURQUOISE SEA, WE FOLLOW A WINDING TRACK THROUGH LUSH COASTAL BUSHLAND. THE INFINITE WATER ON ONE SIDE AND STRIKING ROCK FORMATIONS ON THE OTHER LOCK US IN AN EMBRACE OF FERAL BEAUTY.
(OPPOSITE, CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT) CAN YOU SPOT OUR TRUCK, AKELA, ON AN OVERNIGHT STOP ALONG THE NORTH WEST COASTAL HIGHWAY THAT LEADS TO KARIJINI NATIONAL PARK? THE SOLITUDE OF THE ROAD AND HEAVY CLOUD COVER COLLABORATE FOR AN ATMOSPHERIC SETTING.
WESTERN GREY KANGAROOS ARE COMMONLY FOUND AROUND NINGALOO REEF, ESPECIALLY IN THE COASTAL DRY BUSH AT DAWN OR DUSK, GRAZING NEAR THE SHORE OR RESTING IN THE SHADE DURING THE HEAT OF THE DAY.
AN ANCIENT BOAB TREE IN THE KIMBERLEY STANDS OUT FROM THE REST. SACRED TO THE ABORIGINAL PEOPLE, THESE TREES HAVE BEEN USED FOR FOOD, WATER STORAGE, AND SHELTER FOR GENERATIONS.
ALONG THE STUNNING RED CLIFFS NORTH OF BROOME IN WESTERN AUSTRALIA, THE BEACH AT JAMES PRICE POINT PROVIDES THE PERFECT BACKDROP—UNTOUCHED AND UTTERLY PEACEFUL.
LENNOX STANDS BY THE CRACKLING CAMPFIRE ON THE BANKS OF THE ORD RIVER. AROUND HIM, BUSHLAND FANS OUT, FRAMED BY TOWERING CLIFFS AND SANDSTONE FORMATIONS THAT DEFINE THIS UNTAMED WILDERNESS.
APPEARANCES CAN BE DECEIVING—UNLIKE THEIR MUCH LARGER SALTWATER COUSINS, FRESHWATER CROCS LIKE THOSE FOUND IN THE KIMBERLEY’S WINDJANA GORGE ARE SMALLER AND GENERALLY NOT AGGRESSIVE.
(OPPOSITE, CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT) ON A MUDDY, WATERLOGGED TRACK, SURROUNDED BY THICK GREEN VEGETATION AND TOWERING TREES, THE PATH AHEAD IS BARELY VISIBLE—IT’S AN ADVENTURE WAITING TO UNFOLD IN THE NORTHERN TERRITORY.
WE SIT ON A ROCKY LEDGE AT GUNLOM FALLS OVERLOOKING KAKADU NATIONAL PARK, REFLECTING ON WHERE WE’VE BEEN AND PONDERING WHAT IS YET TO COME. THE SKY REFLECTS IN THE SMALL POOLS OF WATER, THE LAST TRACES OF A STREAM DRYING UP IN THE HEAT.
LIGHTNING MAN, OR NAMARRKON, IS A SPIRITUAL FIGURE FROM ABORIGINAL DREAMTIME, CONNECTED TO NORTHERN AUSTRALIA’S ARNHEM LAND. HIS IMAGE APPEARS AT NOURLANGIE IN KAKADU NATIONAL PARK, WHERE THE ROCK PAINTINGS DEPICT HIS STORY.
MARIO AND LUIGI (AKA LEANDER AND LENNOX) ARE EMBARKING ON THEIR SUPER MARIO ADVENTURE IN KAKADU NATIONAL PARK. WITH MOSS MUSTACHES AND BIG SMILES, THEY’RE EXPLORING THE REFRESHING SPRING SURROUNDED BY MANGROVE FORESTS.
KAKADU NATIONAL PARK IS A VAST AND BIODIVERSE NATURE RESERVE IN AUSTRALIA’S NORTHERN TERRITORY, WHERE WETLANDS, RIVERS, AND SANDSTONE ESCARPMENTS MERGE TO PAINT A DAZZLING LANDSCAPE.
THE CRYSTAL-CLEAR WATERS OF THE KATHERINE HOT SPRINGS IN AUSTRALIA’S NORTHERN TERRITORY HAVE A BALMY TEMPERATURE OF 38°C, SURPRISINGLY REFRESHING WHEN THE OUTSIDE TEMPERATURE IS 40°C—IT’S AN OASIS LIKE NO OTHER.
KAKADU NATIONAL PARK IS RENOWNED FOR ITS STOP-INYOUR-TRACKS FLORA, FAUNA, AND TOWERING TERMITE MOUNDS, WHICH AERATE THE SOIL, DECOMPOSE NUTRIENTS, AND SUPPORT THE SURROUNDING ECOSYSTEM.
(CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT)
A GOLDEN TREE SNAKE SLITHERS THROUGH THE THICK GRASS, ITS BRIGHT YELLOW AND BLACK COLORS BETRAYING ITS PRESENCE. QUICK AND AGILE, THE HARMLESS (TO HUMANS) CREATURE IS OFTEN FOUND CLIMBING TREES.
A NARROW SAND TRACK WINDS ITS WAY THROUGH NITMILUK NATIONAL PARK ON A PATH DOMINATED BY THICK BUSH WITH THE PROMISE OF EDITH FALLS BEYOND.
OUR FRIEND SAFARI DAVE CARRIES FRESHLY CUT BAMBOO BRANCHES TO CRAFT SPEARS FOR THE EVENING HUNT. AS THE SUN SETS, HE AND LENNOX WILL HEAD OUT TO THE RIVER IN SEARCH OF FRESHWATER CRAYFISH.
AN AERIAL VIEW OF WANGI FALLS IN LITCHFIELD NATIONAL PARK AT SUNRISE SHOWCASES LUSH TROPICAL RAINFOREST, TALL FERNS, AND PANDANUS PALMS. DURING THE DRY SEASON, THE FALLS ARE QUIETER WITH LITTLE WATER, YET THE VIBRANT GREENERY STILL OFFERS A COOL, SHADED RETREAT.
PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICHARD GIORDANO
SKILLS ASHLEY GIORDANO Unique overnight parkups in Slovenia.
There is a moment, from time to time, when I am led away from my husband under the guise of an impending surprise. In Colombia, it was donning a rancher outfit; in Morocco, a traditional Amazigh wedding dress, complete with shoes, a headdress, and a skirt. This time, Silvia led me out of a Slovenian wine cellar, handing over a self-playing Zeleznik accordion. With the push of a button, folk music began. I shyly re-entered the vinoteka. There was clapping. There was singing. Should I spin in a circle? Stamp my feet?
Sylvia rushed over to slow the music. A melancholy tune began. Now I could sway—the ballad was universal. Scraps of homemade cheese, bread, and cured meat remained from our happy hour. Na zdravje! We drained our glasses of the wine sourced and produced from the homestead’s vineyard. I was eventually relieved of my instrument. Saying goodnight to our camp hosts, Sylvia and Robi, we climbed the steps, passing gnarly old apple trees and giving Lucy, the German shepherd, a pat before crawling into our camper for a quiet night. It is a universal truth that good food, good wine, and good company make you feel at home wherever you may be.
Situated between Italy and Croatia, with Austria to the north and Hungary to the northeast, Slovenia is blessed with incredibly diverse topography. From the European and Dinaric Alps to the Pannonian and Danuban lowlands and hills, the country’s clear lakes, tower-
ing cliffs, waterfalls, limestone caves, and Mediterranean coast draw travelers worldwide. Not many can resist the country’s onyx-coloured rivers, surviving medieval structures, Baroque architecture, and outdoor opportunities—all fueled by local cheese, dumplings, sausages, stews, and fresh produce.
However, Slovenia poses some challenges for overlanders. Wild camping is prohibited with enforced fines, and off-roading with any motorized vehicle is forbidden under Article 29 of the Environmental Protection Act. High season is busy, congested, and can be expensive. Camping fees, a driving vignette, parking, and entrance costs for some of the country’s best sights can certainly add up. In Slovenia, you often have to pay to play.
Not many can resist the country’s onyx-coloured rivers, surviving medieval structures, Baroque architecture, and outdoor opportunities—all fueled by local cheese, dumplings, sausages, stews, and fresh produce.
Skeptics suggest motoring through Slovenia into neighboring Bosnia and Herzegovina, where off-pavement rules are laxer—this may be best if you’re traveling on a tight budget and schedule. For those eager to see what Slovenia offers, however, free motorhome areas offer electricity, water, showers, and more. But if you’re looking for something a little bit different (as I was after waking to the sound of our neighbor chucking
Clockwise from top left: Always on hand at harvest time, the accordion makes late summer grape picking more agreeable. | Domačija Vesel allows only two campers at a time. We lucked out and camped alone. | Slovenian brandies and liqueurs are made from local plants, from juniper to spruce, apple, and blueberry. | Many traditional Slovenian meats and cheeses have been granted protected designations by the European Commission. | Although the indigenous Drežnia goat is critically endangered, Slovenian breeders are striving for change. | Opposite: A nation’s culture resides in the hearts and in the soul of its people, and in Slovenia, that soul is deeply connected to its land." – Slavoj Žižek, Slovenian philosopher. | Opening page: Slovenia’s Dolenjska region is known for its gentle wine-growing hills, thermal springs, and natural beauty.
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biscuits outside his camper one morning), there are ways to trade an off-road experience for a cultural one: agritourism.
Slovenian farm stays typically take you away from tourist hot spots and into the countryside via quiet, single-track roads highlighted by churches, small settlements, blackberry shrubs, and beech trees. Most locations can be found on the Park4Night app by clicking the “On the Farm” filter. Overall, these parkups typically offer a better value, are more interesting, and provide a glimpse into local Slovenian life—much more so than your typical lay-by.
Of course, this was all theoretical as we left our parkup one midsummer morning bound for our first Slovenian agritourism camp. Located in the tiny hamlet of Podbrezje, Tourist Farm Matijovc is run by the 10th generation of Jegličs— Janko and Ana (with some help from their three teenagers) cultivate 23 hectares of fields, orchards, and meadows. Arrive during harvest season when things are in full swing, and you’ll catch tractors coming and going with apples and pears destined for fruit baskets, juice, vinegar, or spirits.
Slovenian farm stays typically take you away from tourist hot spots and into the countryside via quiet, single-track roads highlighted by churches, small settlements, blackberry shrubs, and beech trees.
The Jegličs offer a variety of fresh produce for campers, including potatoes, cabbage, zucchini, plums, and more; the welcome liqueur is a small sample of a vast array of bottles available for purchase. Although the property is charming, it is situated in town, and the parkups are a bit bare bones and in close approximation to fellow campers. The restroom facilities, however, are some of the most impeccable I’ve seen. Bring earplugs, though—the nearby Catholic church bells are off the hook.
Freshly laundered, we set off the next morning for the countryside. Waving rows of corn and rolled bales of hay made up much of the landscape, which makes sense as 32 percent of Slovenia is covered by agricultural land. I was envious of the fig trees growing so easily in Slovenian backyards—I can’t say the same for their roaring unsuccess in my home province of British Columbia. Rhododendron and ivy made way for local orchids and chicory, a gorgeous segue to our next destination: the Fairy Tale Farm Sanctuary.
The Lavrič family, including our host, Zala Lorena, care for the rescued animals that live on their property and offer camping by donation with a morning meet-and-greet with the resident goats, cows, bulls, geese, goats, horses, pigs, and Shetland pony. Čopko the goose took a particular liking to Richard. Anywhere he went, Čopko followed, eager for a cuddle. Proceeds from camping donations pay for the animals’ yearly hay intake, which amounts to approximately $10,000. We enjoyed a quiet night alongside various overlanders from Switzerland, Germany, and Spain, and filled our tank with triple-filtered water, splashed around in the above-ground pool, and took a dip in the local reservoir a short walk away.
Rounding out our orchards, vineyards, fields, and groves tour of Slovenia required a foray into Posavje, one of three wine regions in the country’s southeast. Although Slovenian winemaking dates to Celtic tribes in 400 BCE, its red and white varietals have recently become internationally recognized for their exceptional quality and taste. The Domačija Vesel farm not only offered an overnight parkup for our Tundra but a wine tasting as well.
Silvia and Robi greeted us with a delightful welcome beverage and a tour of the family homestead, where Scottish cattle graze in the valley, and roe deer live in the nearby forest. All amenities are included: water, electricity, Wi-Fi, a hot water shower and flush toilet, and a pavilion where campers can use chairs, tables, and a barbeque. As we descended into the cellar for our tasting session, Silvia and Robi told us about cviček, a regional wine made from a mix of red and white grapes, culminating in an acidic taste and low alcohol content. The family produces cviček and other types of red and white wine, as well as brandy made according to a secret recipe.
I spotted a metal vat filled with a bunch of twigs and murky liquid. Silvia walked me through the process of making homemade jägermeister, describing how she gathers herbs, plants, and fruit from the property throughout the year, mixing them with brandy and sugar. Each year, the recipe changes depending on what grows well that year and what doesn’t. She pours me a shot. The essence of the place lives within the kaleidoscope of flavors. It’s delicious. “Come with me,” she says. My accordion solo awaits.
Clockwise from top left: The hero of the wine tasting at Domačija Vesel turned out to be the sip of homemade jägermeister. | Slovenia’s best winemaking grapes include rebula, sauvignon blanc, modri pinot, refosco, and modra frankinja. | A long history of cultivating plum species resulted in important income for women from small farm households. | Highland cattle are extremely adaptable to harsh weather conditions, making them a popular choice for the Slovenian Alps.
TOURIST FARM MATIJOVC 20-25€ per night; toilets, electricity, water, hot shower park4night.com #75355
FAIRY TALE FARM SANCTUARY By donation; showers, toilets, water, electricity, dishwashing, laundry available vpravljici.si
DOMAČIJA VESEL 20€ per night; water, electricity, Wi-Fi, toilet, shower veseladozivetja.si/dozivetja/domacija-vesel
OVERLAND ROUTES
GRAEME AND LUISA BELL
We first discovered the Baviaanskloof Mega Reserve (also known as the Baviaanskloof Wilderness Area and recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 2004) in 2011 after returning home to South Africa from a journey to Kilimanjaro in our 2003 Land Rover Defender 130. We fell in love with the untamed beauty of the remote area, and it became our go-to adventure route for camping, off-road driving, campfires, stargazing, and hiking. Upon our return to South Africa, after eight years on the road in the Americas, Europe, and Western Africa, we made a beeline for the Baviaanskloof. We were pleasantly surprised to find that it was even more beautiful and rewarding to travel than we had remembered. Exploring the Baviaanskloof and the surrounding areas is like stepping back in time to a place where doors are open, people are friendly, wildlife roams, and your soul is free to breathe—where the cool air of the Indian Ocean meets the golden warm breath of the Karoo, itself an expansive semi-desert without clear definition or borders.
The name Baviaanskloof is rooted in the Dutch phrase “Valley of Baboons,” and the reserve is a haven of mostly untouched nature, winding gorges with steep mountain passes, expansive grassland plains, sweeping views of pristine wilderness, and flowing streams. Over millennia, these flowing streams, which at times become voracious rivers, have sculpted this landscape where human presence can be traced back over a million years; South Africa is considered the cradle of mankind.
This narrow valley, stretching almost 124 miles, is nestled between the Baviaanskloof Mountains to the north and the Kouga Mountains to the south, sitting at a lower elevation than the Karoo. Rainfall seeps through these mountains, feeding the Baviaanskloof River and giving rise to a lush valley rich with diverse plant life with over seven of South Africa’s nine biomes present, feeding agriculture until the river ends at a confluence with the Kouga River, nearly 50 miles from its source.
The Baviaanskloof region features a network of protected zones overseen by the Eastern Cape Parks and Tourism Agency, covering approximately 500,000 hectares (1,200,000 acres). The largest among these is the Baviaanskloof Nature Reserve, which spans 184,385 hectares and is the third-largest protected zone in South Africa. Also part of this cluster is the Baviaanskloof Forest Reserve, established in 1920, along with the Groendal Nature Reserve and Formosa Nature Reserve. The area also encompasses sections of private land, many offering campsites and accommodation ranging from basic to glamping. Visitors are encouraged to circle back along the coastal route, regardless of the starting point of the trail, as the coast offers many hidden and not-so-hidden treasures, such as the Storms River National Park and the Bloukrans Bridge with the terrifying 710-foot bungee jump (never again, thanks). Beach lovers will enjoy Jefferys Bay, renowned among surfers as a top destination, thanks to the right-hand point break at Supertubes Beach, made famous in the 1966 movie The Endless Summer.
There are two options to enter the Baviaanskloof Mega Reserve, either from the west with an approach from Willowmore or Uniondale or from the east and the delightful farming community of Patensie, where stark mountains frame rolling hills of verdant farmlands.
Our starting point is usually the coastal towns of Plettenberg Bay or Knysna (considered two of the most beautiful coastal towns in Africa and, thus, the world). We would travel over Prince Alfred’s Pass (R339) through the Tsitsikamma Forest, where wild elephants once roamed (now only one lone adult female remains), to Uniondale, and then toward Willowmore. Prince Alfred’s Pass is itself a route worth exploring, climbing 43 miles from the ocean to the interior; it holds the distinction of being the longest publicly accessible mountain pass in South Africa and the second oldest unmodified pass still in use. Halfway through Prince Alfred’s Pass, you can stop at Angie’s G-Spot, the cheekily named campsite where a cold drink and basic accommodation are guaranteed. From here, the more adventurous traveler can head down to Die Hel (The Hell), also known as the Gamkaskloof, a narrow, isolated valley spanning 16 miles where a small community lives; it’s accessible only by robust vehicles. Those choosing to skip Die Hel (or returning from it) can continue driving Prince Alfred’s Pass to Uniondale and the R332 road that leads into the Baviaanskloof. The road between the end of Prince Alfred’s Pass and the R332 is paved, scenic, and often devoid of traffic, save for a few farmers.
The unpaved R332 route is accessible by lowly sedan vehicles for
the stretch between Willowmore and Zandvlakte (the location of the national reserve gate), a distance of about 60 miles along which excellent accommodation can be found. This road can sometimes be heavily corrugated and moderately flooded during heavy rains as many streams meander beside and across the road. The locals, mainly Afrikaner farmers, and their workers, descendants of the Khoisan people, are friendly and eager to offer assistance, and opened two Baviaanskloof Interpretive Centres in 2022 at either end of the reserve featuring modern info hubs, conference rooms, immersive virtual tour platforms, administrative offices, kitchens, cafeterias, restrooms, parking areas, and a covered terrace. Zandvlakte is the location of the western Baviaanskloof gate, beyond which only 4WD vehicles can venture. Before entering the Baviaanskloof (or after if traveling from the east), we would be sure to spend a night or two at the Uitspan Guest Farm and its world class campsites.
You can enter the reserve and begin your adventure after paying the nominal park fee and registering your personal and vehicle details. The route is 4WD exclusive between Zandvlakte and Poortjie (between the two reserve gates), as there are numerous river crossings and steep mountain passes. Low range is only required if the water crossing is particularly deep during the rainy season, but that is merely a precaution as most river beds have long since been paved during the dry months. Winter flooding has damaged some of these submerged concrete roads, and in sections, you may find a wheel dipping alarmingly; in this case, it is best to reverse and try another line. Airing down your tires is also only really necessary to improve the comfort of your drive, as these roads are not maintained except for occasional repairs due to flooding. Most river crossings and animal sightings are found on the trail’s lower, western portion. In the past, we have spotted Cape mountain zebras, greater kudus, common elands, savanna buffaloes, and red hartebeests (two of which surprised us once when we stopped for a romantic picnic), along with playful vervet monkeys, rock hyraxes (dassies), small grey mongooses, and troops of savanna baboons, from which the valley gets its name. From the valley and after the river crossings, which can be quite overgrown, long, and deep, the descent will begin at the top of the Kouga Mountain Range. Before the descent, there are two national park campsites, namely Rooihoek and Doodsklip; both are basic with limited amenities and plenty of wildlife (bookings must be made at either entrance to the reserve).
Generally, the descent (or ascent, depending on your starting point) road is in relatively good condition, and there will occasionally be areas wide enough to allow approaching or faster vehicles to pass. I will never understand why some rush the pass; taken at a leisurely pace, it is possible to travel from gate to gate within seven or eight hours. The climb is at first winding and moderate, interspersed with a few steep and heavily rutted and eroded sections to get the heart beating a little faster. Those with a fear of heights (like our Luisa) might want to hold on tight when the trail enters the mountain pass that leads to Patensie. The drops are steep and should be approached respectfully, as there are only natural barriers to avoid a disastrous plunge. The views are, however, sublime and well worth the drive. After a satisfying day, one arrives at the eastern gate and a few options for camping. Explore the area for as long as possible; there are many offshoots to investigate and excellent campsites and chalets to enjoy. Tracks4Africa offers a GPS map for reference. Hiking options include the Leopard Trail, a four-day , three-night trek with slackpacking.
LEFT COLUMN
33°39′19.6″S, 24°30′21.9″E
33°33°40′00.4″S, 24°23′00.5″E
RIGHT COLUMN
33°30′58.4″S, 23°42′19.4″E
33°38′22.2″S, 24°27′12.8″E
33°38′29.1″S, 24°27′36.7″E
33°38′33.4″S, 24°18′59.3″E
OPENING PAGE
33°38′52.1″S, 24°20′29.1″E
WEST ENTRANCE From Knysna, travel north on the R339 up the Prince Alfredʼs Pass to Uniondale for 49 miles. Take N9 north towards Willowmore for 36 miles. Before reaching Willowmore, turn right onto the gravel road marked R332 and drive 33 miles to the entrance of the western gate of the Baviaanskloof.
EAST ENTRANCE From Gqeberha (Port Elizabeth), travel west along the N2 for 27 miles and take the turnoff to Thornhill. From Thornhill, travel west on the R331, which merges with the R332 for 49 miles, to the east gate of the Baviaanskloof.
TOTAL MILES 124 miles
SUGGESTED TIME 2-4 days
LONGEST DISTANCE WITHOUT FUEL 124 miles
TOTAL, PATENSIE 33°45′26.7″S, 24°48′45.5″E
AGRIMARK, PATENSIE 33°45′26″S, 24°48′44″E
ENGEN, WILLOWMORE 33°17′33″S, 23°29′22″E
DIFFICULTY (3.0 out of 5.0)
Four-wheel drive is compulsory for entry into the national park; however, the trail can be explored most of the year with a high-clearance vehicle. With rainfall, the road can be slightly more difficult to navigate as there are over 40 river crossings.
Any time of year is good, but spring and fall are the best times to visit as the summers are hot and the winter nights are cold. Weekends are moderately busy with locals; from Monday to Thursday, you will have the area mostly to yourself. Carry food, water, and fuel for the duration of your stay; there are no grocery stores and cell reception is limited.
All day visitors to the Baviaanskloof Mega Reserve must purchase a permit: R40.00 ($2.20) per person; children under 12 are R25.00 ($1.40) each. Carry cash as there are no ATMs. Gates open at 5:00 a.m. and close at 4:00 p.m. Pets are not allowed.
LOCATED WITHIN THE RESERVE
ROOIHOEK 33°37′12″S, 24°08′30″E
Five riverside campsites located on the eastern side of the reserve; basic amenities, opportunities to view wildlife
DOODSKLIP 33°37′48″S, 24°10′12″E
Basic campsites with long drops located on the eastern side of the reserve
KOMDOMO 33°44′21.84″S, 24°36′51.30″E
Lovely lawned campsites next to the eastern entrance to the Baviaans; grills, water, electricity, full bathrooms
PRIVATE CAMPSITES OUTSIDE THE RESERVE
BRUINTJIESKRAAL 34°2′33.36″S, 19°18′30.24″E
Fourteen campsites situated along or close to the Groot River; private ablutions, barbeque areas bruintjieskraal.co.za
MAKKEDAAT CAVES 33°38′14″S, 23°59′0″E
Unique cave accommodation (self-catering cabins) built into the side of a mountain; barbeque and kitchen facilities makkedaat.co.za
DUIWEKLOOF 33°35′26″S, 24°24′53″E
Large shady campsites; water, electricity, private barbeque area duiwekloof.co.za
UITSPAN GUEST FARM 33°39′0″S, 23°58′0″E
Self-catering cottages with beautiful campsites based on the western side of the reserve; lapas/covered barbeque areas with electricity and water, playground, pool, lake, hiking trails baviaansuitspan. co.za
BAVIAANSKLOOF TOURISM BOARD baviaans.co.za, 083-420-5434
GAMTOOS TOURISM BOARD baviaans.net, 042-283-0437
POLICE 10111
AMBULANCE 083-578-7556
It is recommended that the traveler utilize redundant GPS devices (like a phone and a dedicated GPS), along with paper maps and a compass. This track, along with all other Overland Routes, can be downloaded on our website at overlandjournal.com/overland-routes/.
Overland Route descriptions are intended to be an overview of the trail rather than turn-by-turn instructions. We suggest you download an offline navigation app and our GPX track, as well as source detailed paper maps as an analog backup. As with any remote travel, circumstances can change dramatically. Drivers should check road conditions with local authorities before attempting the route and be ready to turn back should extreme conditions occur.
OVERLAND CONSERVATION STEPHAN EDWARDS
DELIVERING HOPE ONE MOTORBIKE AT A TIME.
The Honda Super Cub has been in production since 1958. With well over 100 million sold, this Lilliputian two-wheeled hero is far and away the most-produced motor vehicle in history. It’s been built in 15 countries, and you can even buy one today, which speaks to the Super Cub’s resiliency as a machine and the small-displacement motorcycle’s role as a lynchpin for modern human mobility. This is especially true across the majority world. The Super Cub is a humble avatar of freedom for tens of millions of people and even a lifeline.
In the 1980s, Britons and motorcycle enthusiasts Barry and Andrea Coleman were heavily involved in charitable causes across rural Africa. In many places around the continent, they encountered isolated towns and villages desperately in need of medical supplies and emergency transportation. Often, these communities were littered with motorbikes and other vehicles abandoned by non-profits and other organizations after a small breakdown or other problem left them inoperable. What if, they wondered, those motorcycles could be resurrected and put back to positive use, shuttling medical supplies and equipment, clinical samples, mosquito netting, and other critical stores from urban centers in Africa to rural areas?
In 1986, the Colemans launched Riders for Health in partnership with American motorcycle racer Randy Mamola. The goal from the beginning was to build an African organization for Africans, and it started in the tiny mountain kingdom of Lesotho with a stable of 47 small-displacement motorcycles and a small cadre of trained riders. Riders for Health focused on building medical supply infrastructure and, importantly, implementing a system that helped its riders maintain their vehicles and keep them on the road. In the words of Andrea Coleman, “If every health worker had access to reliable transport, we could transform lives and end deaths from the preventable diseases that kill millions of people each year.”
Riders for Health has operated in 12 African countries over the decades and maintains four current programs in Lesotho, The Gambia, Malawi, and Nigeria. With over 1,000 vehicles at its disposal, including custom sidecar ambulances and other bespoke transport designed specifically to serve rural Africa, Riders for Health employs 600 people and is 100 percent administered by Africans in their local communities. To support the organization, the Colemans established a partner foundation, Two Wheels for Life, whose charitable giving supports Riders for Health’s mission as they strive for zero-breakdown medical services and bolsters its budget to launch new initiatives.
Small motorcycles, like the Super Cub, have always punched far above their weight in the most challenging conditions, and so has
Riders for Health. For 30 years, it has helped millions of people across Africa with crucial medical support, and we can expect to see them innovate for decades to come.
Like any grassroots non-profit, Riders for Health depends on the support and generosity of people worldwide who believe in its mission. While they do not operate a formal volunteer program, they always accept resumes from qualified individuals who want to help in the fields of fleet maintenance, finance, data analysis, and many others. Of course, you can also buoy their efforts through direct donations or organizing a fundraiser or rally of your own. To learn more, visit riders.org and twowheelsforlife.org
Riders for Health not only provides essential medical services but also empowers its riders to serve their local communities. | Reliable, small-displacement dual-sports can tackle hard terrain in many parts of rural Africa.
OVERLAND CHEF DANIEL LIN
One of the most challenging aspects of overlanding around the globe is sourcing ingredients to make your favorite dishes. Being from Southern California, we were spoiled to have cultures from around the world gathered in our corner of the planet with folks who brought some of their favorite recipes with them. Fifty years ago, falafels were pretty much only found in the Middle East, but the dish has since been popularized by immigrants who introduced them worldwide. Although traditionally eaten with flat pita bread and fresh vegetables drizzled with a tahini-based sauce, finding the proper ingredients in the places we visit can often be next to impossible. Rather than trying to stay authentic to the dish’s Middle Eastern roots, we employ alternative ingredients and have adapted it to be easier to make for our large family of five by turning it into a burger. This satiates our cravings for falafels in a familiar and approachable form factor with ingredients that are universally available. This recipe produces five burger patties with enough left over to make smaller bite-sized snacks to dip into your favorite sauces.
SERVES 5
PREP TIME 30 minutes
COOK TIME 20 minutes
EQUIPMENT Flat spatula, wooden spoon, potato masher, mixing bowl, shallow saucepan
FALAFEL PATTIES
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 15-ounce cans garbanzo beans
1 garlic bulb
1 large white onion
1 cup packed cilantro and/or parsley, including stems
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon cumin
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1 tablespoon ground oregano
2 teaspoons paprika
1.5 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Frying oil
BURGER FIXINGS
1 pack buns
1/4 head iceberg lettuce
2 tomatoes
1 pack sliced American cheese
1 small jar dill pickles
Mayo, ketchup, mustard, or any favorite condiments
Prep your onions, garlic, and cilantro/parsley by finely chopping them. Cilantro and parsley will add a dash of color and freshness to the burgers. You can use one or both; the ratio is based on your preference.
Heat the olive oil in your saucepan and sauté your onions until soft and translucent. Immediately after, add the garlic and cook until fragrant; remove from the pan to cool, placing inside the mixing bowl.
Add your drained garbanzo beans, chopped cilantro/parsley, and spices to the bowl. Mix well with a potato masher or fork until finely textured. Alternatively, if a food processor is available, pulse the ingredients together until consistently sized.
Slowly add the flour by hand, one tablespoon at a time. Look for it to absorb the moisture to help the mixture form. Once all of the flour is combined, sprinkle water in as necessary to create the consistency of ground beef. You can help build a little gluten from the flour by mixing it with a wooden spoon for a few minutes. It will help the patties stay together during the frying process. Form 8-ounce patties with your hand and set them on a plate.
Heat a high-temperature frying oil in your saucepan and heat up to 375°F. Or dip the end of your wooden spoon into the oil; if bubbles form, then you know the oil is ready.
Pan-fry each pattie for 60 seconds on each side or until the edges are golden brown. Place on a plate with a paper towel to soak up any oil. Sprinkle additional salt and pepper to taste on each patty while they are still hot. Toast each bun in the pan with a little butter or oil, assemble as you desire, and dig in.
a few), Mount Kenya, the Lamu Island, the cliffs of Hell’s Gate, and Samburu National Reserve, among others.
Heading northeast from Nairobi’s nerve center, we were 360 kilometers from the Somali border, but Samburu felt much closer. Hardy goats roamed the rocky hills, watched by herders with AK-47s slung over their shoulders. A semitruck rumbled past, its flatbed trailer bearing a Soviet tank. Were we going to a game park or a war zone?
At the lodge, I wandered down to the bar in search of a soda for sundowners. On the edge of the open-air, thatched roof lounge, a quartet of British retirees was absorbed in animated conversation. While waiting for the bartender, I watched in amazement as an ostrich wandered up and leaned over the wall to peck at a glittering ring on the finger of a nowshrieking lady—full marks for not spilling her gin and tonic. The bartender chased off the brazen bird, apologizing to the guests. Apparently, it was a fixture around camp and had grown increasingly bold in recent months.
Not a day goes by when I don’t think about some facet of my childhood living abroad. Those years profoundly influenced my personal development, sparking the fires of adventure that would fuel a furnace of lifelong exploration.
The next day, we ventured into the reserve. In 1986, Kenya was already a major tourist destination. The more popular parks like Maasai Mara were swarmed by fleets of zebra-painted minibuses encircling bored lions as camera shutters chattered. Up north in Samburu, we drove for hours without seeing another vehicle.
The open, sandy tracks invited temptation. My dad’s latent rally urges surfaced, and we zoomed across the empty spaces—not recklessly, but bending the off-road driving rule, “As slow as possible, as fast as necessary.” Bouncing around in the back, I wasn’t enjoying the ride as much as the driver was. Dropping into a gully and coming around a blind corner, my dad stomped on the brakes, and we shuddered to a halt in a cloud of dust. Three adult elephants stood in the track a few meters in front of us. We sat there for about five minutes, staring at each other with only the engine’s low growl breaking the silence. The humans’ hearts pounded. The elephants’ trunks twitched. Eventually, the gray giants melted into the trees and we continued further into the park, albeit at a restrained pace.
Traveling as a kid is a passage of wonder and discovery. You aren’t yet ingrained in your ways, burdened by the responsibilities of adulthood, or tangled in its web of inertia. It was a privilege and a gift to spend years of my youth in Africa and to grow into it as a home over different stages of life. I had no choice in the matter of going to Kenya, but there was no opposition on my part. There were a few hardships, but there was also a richness of experience that I never would have encountered in the quiet Midwest college town that was our other home. I had classmates who thought East Lansing was the state they lived in and Michigan was a country. Tagging along with my parents on their appointments to Zimbabwe,
Kenya, and South Africa broadened my mind in unexpected directions and inspired me to take a deeper interest in the wider world.
I joined the school’s Scout troop. One weekend, our rambunctious crew piled into 4x4s to go camping a couple of hours outside of Nairobi at a livestock research station. There was no livestock around, but we found plenty of shell casings and cool rocks. Exhausted from hiking in the hills, I collapsed into a tent with my buddies Andrew and Matt. My dad chose to sleep in a cot next to the fire. Matt woke us in the middle of the night, screaming that a hyena had stuck its head into the tent and sniffed his feet. By then, I had a track record of sleeping through nocturnal animal encounters. We didn’t believe Matt, but the tent door was open, flashlights revealed animal footprints, and we could hear the harsh cackling of hyenas in the distance. My dad pulled his cot closer to the fire, threw on more logs, and couldn’t go back to sleep.
For a school field trip, the entire class went to Mombasa for a long weekend. We piled onto the overnight train, a living relic from colonial history. It was the same train from which, in 1900, a lion dragged a passenger and devoured him—one of the legendary man-eaters of Tsavo. Don’t lean out the windows, the teachers cautioned; there may still be lions.
Accustomed to traveling with our families, we were suddenly free to explore on our own—at least within the confines of the rail car. We drank soda, shared snacks, and entertained each other with a spirited round of a capella karaoke in which I air guitared to “Money for Nothing” by Dire Straits. My theatrics did not win the favor of Jessica Engdahl, a Swedish classmate I fancied, but it was worth a shot.
Before us lay the enchantments of the ancient city. Fragrant and spicy samosas, Arabic perfume blenders tucked away in dusty apothecaries, and the breezy ramparts of Fort Jesus overlooking the Indian Ocean held us in awe. We spent nights steaming in the seedy Hotel Relax, waking to the muezzin’s call to prayer from a nearby minaret. A field trip of this nature would probably be unthinkable today, but at the time, it was pure magic. How the teachers managed to keep track of us all amid Mombasa’s hubbub I will never know. We rumbled home to Nairobi on the train, having gained independence and confidence from navigating the crowded streets and wading through the tidal pools of cultures thriving on the Kenyan coast.
Kids are flexible and inquisitive. They make a home wherever they are and find friends quickly, even in strange lands. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about some facet of my childhood living abroad. Those years profoundly influenced my personal development, sparking the fires of adventure that would fuel a furnace of lifelong exploration. Youth is the best time to learn new languages, new perspectives, and different ways of being a human on this planet. It’s an amazing world out there, and one of the greatest things you can do for your children is share it with them. But maybe skip the Voi chicken.
Childhood excursions in Africa set a young boy up for a life of adventure.
TheLand Cruiser creaked to a stop at the dusty crossroads. I peered out across the plain, searching for landmarks. Behind us, the empty A109 vanished in the shimmering heat toward Nairobi, whose chaotic metropolis my family had departed that morning. Continuing southeast, this road would take us to our destination, the sweltering port city of Mombasa. Another road branched to the west, traversing Tsavo National Park, crossing the Tanzanian border, and skirting Mount Kilimanjaro before reaching Arusha. My father announced that we were stopping here for lunch, but where was here?
Springing from the western edge of the Taru Desert in the shadow of the Sagala Hills, the town of Voi has become a vibrant marketplace and tourism center in southern Kenya. In 1986, the vibe was a little more rustic. A cinder block building stood beside the junction. Crates of glass soda bottles were stacked against the wall, basking in the equatorial sun. A couple of plastic tables and chairs sat outside as a few scrawny chickens scurried through the red dirt behind the building. The realization sank in, tinged with dread: that would be the lunch we were stopping for.
Apprehensively dissecting the hunk of roast fowl, the autopsy confirmed my fears: moist pink meat, squiggly purple vessels, and glistening hunks of gristle. I set my cutlery down and declared I was finished. I could wait for dinner at the coast. Whatever was on the menu in Mombasa would be better than this. I didn’t know it at that moment, but this culinary misadventure would form its own crossroads in my alimentary journey. For years afterward, I wouldn’t touch poultry, and my aversion to it became a running joke in the family: Voi chicken for Nick!
As nauseating as I found that particular meal, I had my family to thank for the global experience. I was lucky to spend more than a year in Kenya. My dad was heading economic development projects with the Ford Foundation, and my mom worked for an international education NGO. They had no hesitations bringing their 10-year-old son and infant daughter. I attended the International School of Kenya, which hosted students from 41 different countries. It was a school from which my parents frequently pulled me for extended weekend trips to remote corners of the country: the misty Aberdare Range, lakes galore (Naivasha, Nakuru, and Baringo, to name
