Overland Journal :: Summer 2016 by Overland Journal

Summer 2016 $12

Himalayas

Camera Gear

New Mexico

Botswana

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

CONTENTS

Summer 2016

Feature s 30

Photo Essay: Road Workers of the Himalayas, Ace Kvale

Whatʼs in the Bag?: The Worldʼs Top Photographerʼs Go-to Gear

Beemed North: Nashville to Nova Scotia on a BMW R90/6 Boxer, Yve Assad

Feature Vehicle: 1984 Volkswagen Westfalia Vanagon Camper, Brad Van Orden

The Last Huntsmen: Ancient Traditions in Botswana, Forest Woodward

103

Auto Importers, Christophe Noel

108

Gila Legends: New Mexicoʼs Land of Enchantment, Jake Quiñones

Dep artments

Overland Post

Editor’s Column

Field Tested

Overland News

Latitude: Solitude, Jack Dykinga

123

Overland Routes: Big Bend National Park, Chris Cordes

129

Overland Conservation: Bears Ears National Monument, Craig Childs

132

Overland Chef: Dutch Oven Chicken Marbella, Fresh Off the Grid

136

Tail Lamp: Smugglersʼ Freight, Tracy Motz On the cover: Photography should take you inside of a scene and tell a story within a single frame. Here, Geoff McFetridge navigates Titus Canyon in Death Valley National Park. Photo by Sinuhe Xavier. This photo: Camping on the edge. Grand Canyon, Arizona. Photo by Scott Brady. Back cover: Forest Woodward treks across Botswana in search of the San people, the last huntsmen of the Kalahari. Photo by Forest Woodward.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

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

OUR RESUME

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

EXPERIENCE MATTERS We only know things when we live them

Summer 2016

Publisher and Chairman Scott Brady President and Director of Design Stephanie Brady Editor-in-Chief Chris Collard Chief Technology Officer Christian Pelletier Chief Business Development Officer Brian McVickers Chief Financial Officer Andre Racine Executive Creative Director Sinuhe Xavier Director, European Operations Michael Brailey Account Manager Steve von Seggern Managing Editor Overland Journal Sarah Ramm Managing Editor Expedition Portal Chris Cordes Senior Editor Christophe Noel Senior Photographer Bruce Dorn Conservation Editor Åsa Björklund Medical Editor Dr. Jon Solberg, MD, FAWM Contributing Editors Yve Assad, Bryon Bass, Craig Childs, Tom Collins, Fresh Off the Grid, Ace Kvale, Tracy Motz, Brad Van Orden, Lois Pryce, Jake Quiñones, Toby Savage, Chris Scott, Tom Sheppard, Gary and Monika Wescott, Forest Woodward Contributing Photographers Barry Andrews, Chris Burkard, Jimmy Chin, Jack Dykinga, Jeff Foott Copy Editors Arden Kysely, Tena Overacker Cartographer David Medeiros Fulfillment Bo Rounsavall

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

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OVERLAND POST

Rick and Linda Freimuth during their 71-day trek through the Rockies.

Chance Meeting

We just got back from our epic 10-week, 9,010mile road trip through Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana. One of the highlights was meeting Chris Collard and his wife, Suzy, in the middle of nowhere on Union Pass Road. We pushed our limits during the rest of our trip and put Stella, our Volkswagen Westfalia, in some compromising places that I was surprised a two-wheel drive could handle. I think the combination of a heavy, rear-engine vehicle with high clearance was perfect for us. Thanks for the issues of Overland Journal; your article about the South Pole trip was intense. We hope the rest of your trip was as good as ours. Rick and Linda Freimuth 1991 Volkswagen Westfalia

KLR Armor 10

WRITE US

subject: Overland Post editor@overlandjournal.com

WHERE IN THE WORLD has your Overland Journal been? Send us a photo, along with your name, the location, make/year of your vehicle, and a brief description.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Diamond in the Rough I have to shout out to Chris Collard and the whole team at Overland Journal for the Spring 2016 edition—my favorite issue to date! Although I’m very familiar with Jeep history (I have a ’42 GPW), Diamond in the Rough so beautifully evokes the sentiment and conditions of the time when the concept of the Jeep was born. And if that piece isn’t enough, there’s the gear review, Ram 2500 long-term review, treating snakebite, Tom Collins interview, and the Wyoming loop through Yellowstone complete with historical background. Keep up the great work! Nena Barlow Barlow’s Jeep Rentals 1942 Willys GPW

Plane Ticket Home

I loved your article about the KLR650 in the recent issue. I have had two KLRs over the last 15 years and they are great bikes. The one thing missing on your bike is a crash bar. The one I like is the Hepco & Becker because sooner or later you will fall off. Another nice item is the Bajaworx windshield. Thanks for a great magazine.

I just picked up the recent issue of Overland Journal. The first article I read was your evaluation on the Rolex Submariner as a field watch. Thank you; you were spot on and it is an icon. I had a similar experience but with a Special Forces master sergeant who told me the Rolex is a plane ticket home from anywhere in the world. Keep up the good work.

Ken Meyers Kawasaki KLR650

Ed Stock 2010 Toyota FJ Cruiser

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Photo by Jessica Lowe

CONTRIBUTORS Summer 2016

ACE KVALE

FOREST WOODWARD

CRAIG CHILDS

Although originally drawn to the mountains for skiing, the friendships forged there have defined Ace’s life and career. From Colorado to Switzerland to the Himalayas, he’s traveled to over 60 countries to document skiing and climbing expeditions. After coming to love the local cultures in these remote corners of the world, the actual climbing of mountains began to take a back seat to working with organizations committed to helping those in need. Traveling with eye doctors who restore sight to people in Africa and Asia has become a personal quest, and his imagery raises awareness for this cause. Ace makes his home on an organic farm in Utah’s Canyon Country with his trusty sidekick Desert Dawg. In his own words, “The older I get the more awesome I was.”

Forest is a Brooklyn-based photographer and filmmaker interested in themes of time, human connection, and rootedness in our lands and traditions. He enjoys exhausting and uncomfortable modes of transit, climbing large piles of rocks using his bare hands, eating things that might induce food poisoning, and taking pictures of other people doing all of the above and more. Over the past 30 years, Forest has traveled to six continents and 40-some countries, striving to carry his camera with an unwavering sense of humor, compassion, and curiosity. His photos and films have won assorted awards and occasionally are found in print and on screen in an array of international venues. He likes it when people smile for the camera—or for any other reason really.

Craig Childs is the author of more than a dozen books on wilderness and science, including his most recent, Apocalyptic Planet, winner of the Orion Book Award. He has written for the New York Times, Outside, and the Sun Magazine, and is an occasional commentator for NPR’s Morning Edition. He has won several awards, including the Ellen Meloy Desert Writers Award, Rowell Award for the Art of Adventure, Sigurd F. Olson Nature Writing Award, and, for his body of work, the 2003 Spirit of the West Award. He resides in western Colorado at the edge of the Rockies, where his kitchen window looks out into the mountains and mesas of southeastern Utah.

YVE ASSAD

JAKE QUIÑONES

BRAD VAN ORDEN

Photographer Yve Assad studied photojournalism at the University of Georgia and then moved to Charleston, South Carolina. There she photographed aerial landscapes of the lowcountry for seven years, producing artwork for personal and commercial collections nationwide. Yve is fascinated by natural transitions from one ecosystem to another, where land meets water. She says, “From above, the land takes on a different personality and its surfaces take new shapes. It’s science and sculpture combined.” Now based in Nashville, Tennessee, Yve, a motorcycle enthusiast, shoots for clients such as Triumph, Harley-Davidson, and Kawasaki. When not working she finds adventure wherever her ’76 BMW R90/6 takes her.

Jake Quiñones is a New Mexico native who became familiar with backcountry travel in his childhood. Some of his earliest memories include riding shotgun in his Dad’s Ford Bronco while traversing the Great Divide, and sleeping under the stars in Denali National Park. As the founder and owner of New Mexico Backroads, he provides backcountry guiding, scouting, and skills training, (along with photography services) to a host of individuals, companies, and government agencies. Each year Jake logs over 15,000 miles in his Jeep Rubicon, traversing the remote regions of the Southwest. His passion for pushing his vehicle, skill, and equipment to the edge, which is depicted in his photography, evokes the human desire to explore.

Brad Van Orden seems to have made a hobby of completely changing his life. His first career was being a professional cyclist, but he eventually moved on to design implantable medical devices as a mechanical engineer. Next Brad became a successful tech entrepreneur in the renewable energy sector, and thereafter became a travel author. In his most recent exploit, he and his wife, Sheena, circumnavigated the globe in their Volkswagen van over the course of nearly three years. He has authored two books, and he and Sheena were named 2015 Overlanders of the Year by Expedition Portal. He now lives in Seattle, Washington, with Sheena and their newborn son, Remy, where he seeks to uncover new ways to treat diabetes.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

CONTRIBUTORS Summer 2016

FRESH OFF THE GRID

TRACY MOTZ

Fresh Off the Grid is a camp cooking and outdoor travel blog written on the road by Michael van Vliet and Megan McDuffie. They provide culinary inspiration for overlanders, car campers, and backpackers by developing easy-to-cook recipes that are designed with the limitations of cooking outdoors in mind. The writer/photographer team started Fresh Off the Grid in August 2015 after deciding to quit their longtime desk jobs, sell most of their possessions, and go on an indefinite road trip. They are currently cooking their way across North America in their two-door Ford Focus hatchback, which they’ve converted into a micro-camper.

Formerly a consultant on Madison Avenue, Tracy shifted career paths in 2008 after a three-year motorcycle journey from New York to Argentina. Her travels put her on the frontlines of Peruvian earthquakes, Nicaraguan revolutions, and in a boat for seven days with a crew of Colombian contrabandistas. She has logged over 100,000 solo miles across more than 20 countries, is a certified MSF RiderCoach, and has ridden professionally for national TV spots. Her work has been published in the Wall Street Journal, New York Post, and various motorcycle publications. She currently resides in New York City and commutes daily from Manhattan to Brooklyn on a Triumph Street Triple R, to head up North American marketing efforts at REV’IT! USA.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

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THE WORLDS LARGEST OVERLAND COMMUNITY

JOURNAL ENTRY: From the Editor

Chris Collard

When I reflect back on my childhood days, camping in the deserts of Southern California and Baja Norte, some of the visions firmly imprinted on my cerebral hard drive are looking through the viewfinder of my parents’ Kodak 35mm camera. Our family rode dirt bikes, backpacked, and spent a lot of time outdoors, and I remember coming home from weekend trips and waiting for my mother to pick up the developed transparencies. She would set aside a night to load them into the reels of our Kodak projector (which I still have) and do a slideshow. The vivid landscapes of Long Lake, Joshua Tree, and the Sea of Cortez would fill the screen, along with my dad and his buddy Tom “Super” Rudder flying through the air on Greeves 250 desert sleds. I dreamed not only of launching my Honda SL70 in Marty Smith fashion, but also capturing similar moments on film. I earned my first camera, a Kodak 110 Instamatic, for helping my sister sell Camp Fire Girl candy. The 110 wasn’t a proper camera; it was what I could afford though, and I went on to capture some truly uninspiring photographs. My favorite publication was National Geographic (it still is) and I would spend hours turning its pages and absorbing images of recently discovered cultures, striking landscapes, and unworldly wildlife. I came to admire those that captured the raw emotion and beauty of life on our blue planet: visual artists such as Frans Lanting, Steve McCurry, Jack Dykinga, and David Doubilet. Their passion and dedication to their craft was palpable, and elevated them to near-deity status in the minds of many. Our Summer Issue has always held a photo-centric theme, and as you flip through these pages I think you will be transported to another place. Ace Kvale shares a glimpse into the arduous lives of migrant road workers in the Himalayas, Forest Woodward takes us bush trekking with a group of traditional San hunters in Botswana, and Jack Dykinga draws us through his lens to Death Valley for the 100th anniversary of America’s National Park Service. We’ve also reached out to photographers such as Chris Burkard, Barry Andrews, and our creative director, Sinuhe Xavier, to find out what equipment is in their camera bag, and why. They also share their secret recipes, the special sauce that allows them to create compelling images in their specific genres. As you venture away from the daily grind and explore the world around us, I hope you are inspired to revisit your camera’s multitude of buttons, dials, and functions, become a disciple of visual storytelling, and are drawn back to the viewfinder. The world is an onion; peel back the layers and explore what is inside—and don’t forget to press the shutter button.

The World is Your Onion

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

FIELD TESTED By Sinuhe Xavier

Aether Scout Sunglasses

$600

A motorcyclist’s faithful friend.

ether, the Southern California apparel brand, launched a sunglass collaboration with Salt. Optics in June of 2015. I was lucky enough to receive an early pair and have prescription lenses installed. Nine months down the road and close to 10,000 miles on my bike, including a trip to Australia and the Arctic, and they are still my go-to pair of glasses.

The founders at Aether are longtime motorcycle riders and stick to their ethos of only designing and producing products they would actually use and wear themselves; these glasses hit their mark on both form and function. They are remarkably light and utilize beta titanium frames (an alloy known for its application in aerospace fields) with polarized, chromatic-filtered polycarbonate lenses. Unlike many sunglasses, the Scouts cause no fatigue inside the helmet after a long day of riding. An 80-percent reduction in peripheral light is accomplished by shields along the sides and an extended top frame that also cuts down on wind when riding with a visor up. The Aether Scouts provide all the protection of wraparounds without the weight or possibility of being mistaken for a pit crew member at NASCAR. aetherapparel.com, 323-785-0702

he Defender is the 5th generation in the REV’IT! line since the Cayenne, and the materials and armor on the Pro version have been upgraded substantially. The outer shell is a combo of PWR shell 750D with PWR shell 1000D at the impact points, both with Teflon coating. (PWR shell is REV’IT!’s version of Cordura.) They upped the ante on standard armor with their proprietary SEEFLEX CElevel 2 limb protectors (elbows, shoulders, knees), which hits the highest CE grade and is T+/T- rated, meaning that it will maintain its properties down to -40°C and up to 40°C (i.e., no more stiff armor when it’s cold or overly soft armor when it’s hot). Made for life on the road, the Defender Pro has a multitude of pockets both inside and out. All are easy to reach and operate with gloves on, and there is a secret passport pocket hidden in the waist area. The ventilation is superior to that of any other jacket I’ve worn; arm and chest vents are conveniently located and can be manipulated while riding. In a time when many companies are offering monochromatic color schemes, I prefer REV’IT!’s color blocking—on the crowded roads of Latin America I want to stand out as much as possible. Bypassing the supplied insulation liners, I use my own layering system and have yet to encounter a storm that can penetrate the Defender’s shell and Gore-Tex membrane. This allows me to have a comfortable synthetic down option to wear around town without packing extra gear. The fact that I have used this do-it-all jacket for more than a year, and ridden with it on two continents in every climate imaginable is testament to how much I believe in it. revitsport.com, 718-624-2162

REV’IT! Defender Pro GTX $900

An expedition-worthy motorcycle jacket.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

FIELD TESTED By Chris Collard Christophe Noel, and Chris Cordes

Exped SynMat Mega 12 LXW Sleeping Pad $229 Backcountry luxury gets lighter and more compact.

t is astounding how little thought overlanders put into protecting their hands given how often they put them at risk. From recoveries and repairs to everyday tasks, our hands are often one mistake away from serious damage. Constructed around one-piece, impermeable palms, the Rigger Cut 5 utilizes a new design based on the technology used in Vibram boot soles. Their specialized tread pattern sheds mud and oil away from the gripping surface, while strategically placed grooves improve dexterity at bending points. Additional traction was gained by altering the lug angles throughout the hand and adding a directionally beveled channel for pulling rope or winch cable. The resulting EN388 and ASTM tests showed up to 900 percent more grip and durability over competing gloves. Adding to the safety element, a base layer of cut-level 5 fabric, which will withstand multiple razor blade strikes, was stitched into the palm to prevent lacerations. The back of the hand was also padded to reduce the risk of it being crushed in an accident. Since there was no industry standard for hand impacts, Ironclad worked with an OSHA consultant at the University of Wisconsin to develop an entirely new test. The overwhelmingly positive results showed up to a 91-percent reduction of force reaching the hand, turning a 400-pound weight into a 36-pound impact when dropped from a height of 18 inches. (CRC) ironclad.com, 844-200-5664 OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

n the spring of 2013, after evaluating two dozen of the best sleeping pads on the market, we bestowed the Exped Mega Mat 10 with our coveted Editor’s Choice Award. It was an easy decision as no other pad came close to matching its sublime comfort. We did have to concede that this luxurious slumber option had two noteworthy drawbacks: packed size and weight. The Mega Mat 10, when fully deflated and stowed in its stuff sack, made for a huge bundle to portage—a deal breaker for those with limited storage space. Since then the designers at Exped have been hard at work adding several new pads to their extensive catalog. The pad that caught our attention was their new SynMat Mega 12 LXW. With the same overall dimensions as our much-loved Mega Mat, the Mega 12 is nearly half the weight (just above 3 pounds), a third the packed size, and to augment the already excellent sleep quality, almost an inch thicker. Its vertical sidewalls create a flat surface edge to edge, and the Texpedloft Microfibre insulation gives the mat a warm 5.3 R-value. The included Schnozzel Pumpbag allows for quick and easy inflation and the high-volume deflation valve purges air quickly. With all of the comfort of the Mega Mat at a fraction of the packed size, we are instant fans. A stuff sack and patch kit is included. (CN) exped.com, 866-326-4586

Ironclad Vibram Rigger Cut 5 Gloves

$50

Safety and performance in the palm of your hand.

Yeti Rambler Tumblers and Bottles $30-$90

Hot soup and cold drinks for the road.

hile I was at the 2015 SEMA show in Las Vegas, the guys at Yeti gave me one of their Rambler tumblers and said, “This is the best insulated mug you will ever use.” During the drive home I filled it with coffee in Tonopah, Nevada. Nearly 100 miles later, I wouldn’t say it was blister-your-tongue boiling, but my cup of joe was still really hot. I was so impressed I ordered a set of their new insulated bottles.

All are crafted from kitchen-grade 18/8 stainless steel, feature doublewall, vacuum-insulated construction, and are dishwasher safe. Tumblers are available in 20- and 30-ounce sizes, and have a well-sealed and shatterproof clear plastic lid. Bottles come in 18-, 36-, and 64-ounce volumes, and the thread-on caps fit snug and have a handy TripleHaul carrying handle. When storing an ice-cold beverage, the exterior was void of typical condensation buildup. To assess just how hot my lunch would be after six hours on the road, I preheated the 36-ounce bottle with hot water, added my wife’s scrumptious chicken tortilla soup (189°F), and took it for a ride (ambient temp of 69°F). When I popped the lid my culinary delight was still a steaming 154°F. Mmmm! (CC) yeticoolers.com, 512-394-9384

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

FIELD TESTED By Chris Collard

y first experience with Zarges aluminum cases was during the Expeditions 7 crossing of Antarctica. We used them to store everything from tents and clothes to spare parts and oil. They were tossed in and out of the vehicles, used as step ladders, chairs, and tables, and stuffed with volumes of gear that would have created a hemorrhage in anything I had used before. When I considered my options for upgrading my long-term Tacoma storage, the choice was clear. They are not cheap, but dang they are tough. General construction is 1- to 1.5-mm formed aluminum with beaded walls and corners for increased dimensional strength. All joints are riveted and sealed, the stainless steel piano hinge is robust, and spring-loaded handles on each end make for an easy carry. The lid opens to about 110 degrees and is held in place by two webbed straps. When the lockable, stainless steel latches are cinched down, a polyurethane gasket on the lid seals the cases airtight. All are IP54 rated for water intrusion (IP65 is available), ATA (Air Transportation Association) 300 Category I approved, and meet MIL-STD-810 and 461 standards for structural integrity. $206-$1,194 The K470 series is available in 25 standard sizes, but custom units can be built for specific Quality storage solutions for the long haul. needs. My cases are 23.6 x 15.7 x 13.4 inches, weigh in at 11 pounds each, and fit perfectly with my other gear (the cost for this size is $305). I’m using one for my mess kit, the other for food storage. Another nice feature is the formed cast-aluminum corners, which allow me to stack one case atop another without fear of having it shift or slip off. I suggest they thread the corners and offer adjustable, screw-in legs to allow the case to be used as a table. Although the cases come from Zarges unlined, Bauer Cases now offers CNC-cut, .25-inch, 6-pound Stratocell (closed-cell) foam liner kits. I found two distinct advantages to the liner: protection of content and sound insulation. Overall I’ve been really happy with this storage upgrade. The K470s are lightweight, rugged, and weather resistant. If I need to pack them for a flight, I know they are certified for most consumer products. Bravo! zargescases.com, 888-357-6285, bauercases.com, 800-301-2212

Zarges K470 Cases

Top, clockwise from upper left: Cast-aluminum corners “nest” into the base of a same-size case for stacking and provide extra protection. Spring-loaded stainless steel handles are sturdy and ergonomically comfortable. Bauer Cases offers custom CNC-cut, closed-cell foam liners that deliver a measure of protection for content as well as noise damping. Dual, lockable stainless steel latches and a polyurethane lid seal provide excellent weatherproofing.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

OVERLAND NEWS By Chris Collard

Rebelle Rally

The ultimate “all-female” road trip.

adies, if you’ve ever dreamed of challenging your mind, body, and soul in a Dakar-style rally but were turned off by the copious volumes of testosterone oozing from every tread block, gearbox, and bicep, the Rebelle Rally has answered your call. Created by Rallye Aicha des Gazelles competitor and U.S. team trainer Emily Miller, the Rebelle Rally will be heralded as the first all-female, old-school, off-pavement navigation rally in the U.S. For those new to this up-andcoming genre in North American automotive competition, “old school” is defined as no The event is GPS track, smartphone, iPad, computer, or designed for chase support. You are given waypoints and stock four-wheel utilize a good old paper map, compass, ruler, drives, SUVs, and and dead reckoning to plot the most efficient crossovers; all you route. It has been argued that this is the purest need to bring is form of the sport, and one that will challenge the yearning for even the most accomplished brainiac. adventure. Teams will depart Lake Tahoe, California, on October 13, 2016, and spend 10 days working their way across Nevada on lonely two-tracks, sand dunes, and alkali flats. On some nights they will rendezvous at organized bivouacs; other nights will be spent solo camping en route. By the time they reach the checkered flag amidst a set of “undisclosed” Southern California sand dunes, they will have covered over 2,000 kilometers of the West’s most rugged and spectacular backcountry. In contrast to the dust and grime of the desert, a blacktie post-competition gala at the Del Mar racetrack near San Diego will bookend the event. A noteworthy aspect of the Rebelle Rally is that you don’t need to be a professional driver or own a heavily modified vehicle to compete. The event is designed for stock four-wheel drives, SUVs, and crossovers; all you need to bring is the yearning for adventure. Meals and showers, as well as mechanical and medical support are provided at each bivouac. If you need to sharpen your navigational skills, fear not. Participants receive online training, as well as tracking services so your friends and family can follow your progress. If you are up for the ultimate “all-girls” road trip, the Rebelle Rally might be the adventure you’ve been waiting for. rebellerally.com, 888-789-4449

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Road Workers of the Himalayas

Building some of the world’s highest roads by hand. By Ace Kvale OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Deep within an icy gorge where the turquoise waters of the beautiful Zanskar River mix with the muddy brown of the mighty

Indus, our small bus lurched to a stop on the narrow road clinging to a sheer cliff. We were on our way to begin a winter trek up a frozen river to visit the mythical kingdom known as Zanskar. Hidden deep in the folds of the Himalayas where the borders of India, Pakistan, and Tibet meet in the Ladakh region of Jammu and Kashmir, it is perhaps the remotest inhabited area on Earth. But first, another delay, more road construction, more time wasted. I grabbed my camera and jumped down to run ahead and see if I could find out what the hold up was. Sucking air in the January cold at 12,000 feet, I slowed to a walk as a man waved for me to stop. A huge track hoe raked the mountainside while a group of young men, some still teenagers, waited to run and pick up any boulder they could lift and heft them into a waiting dump truck. Welcome to the life of the road workers of the Himalayas: A world of extremes that employs more than 70,000 migrant workers from the poorest areas of India and Nepal. Working from 5:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. they earn roughly $2.50 per day. Sleeping under discarded military parachute tents and in rough rock-wall herder sheds, there are as many as 40 persons packed into each tent in an effort to keep the relentless Himalayan wind and cold at bay. Zanskar and Ladakh are the roof of the world; Ladakh actually means “land of high passes.” Also a hot spot for tourists, the region is known for its intact Buddhist culture, ancient monasteries, and breathtaking scenery. Since 1985 the Indian government has made a priority of constructing and maintaining approximately 20,000 miles of the highest drivable roads is the world. With an elevation reaching 17,000 feet, scorching sun, and subzero temperatures, it is hard to fathom a harsher existence. With little or no safety equipment and often with family in tow, these workers literally hack the roads out of the mountains. Overseen by ex-army engineers, the men do the drilling, blasting, and operate the heavy machinery. The younger men shovel, move rocks, mix cement, and make asphalt from burning tar and gravel. The women use small sledgehammers to make rocks into gravel, while the children play in the dust and debris. The boys smiled as I made my way through the haze taking photographs. They didn’t seem to mind and many posed proudly for me. Some asked for water or cigarettes. I gave them a water bottle and a package of biscuits. They let me hold the jackhammer and laughed at my lame effort to control the wildly vibrating machine—I didn’t even last a minute. I made a few more images, but our driver honked indicating our impending departure; the way was clear enough for us to creep around the rubble and continue our journey up the canyon. We would begin our trek into this fabled land, now threatened by its proximity to a long-smoldering border dispute between India and Pakistan over the Siachen Glacier.

Rumbling by, one occasionally catches a glimpse of these hardy workers and their families struggling on the side of the road. Not much thought is given to them amongst the tedium of long-distance travel and the fatigue that can sometimes accompany it. The overwhelming sensory bombardment one feels upon arriving in India, the never-ending delays, and the anticipation of trekking or climbing in the greatest range on Earth often takes precedence. And after thousands of dollars spent on personal “recreation,” it’s sometimes hard to grasp the everyday reality for those on the margins of society. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

A man mixing cement by hand pauses for a cigarette break. His hands and nails have endured decades of abuse, yet he doesn’t seem to take notice. (Opening page)

The Rohtang Pass in India is so well-known for its dangerous weather that its name translates to “pile of corpses.”

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Nubra Valley workers melt sand and oil to make tar. Afterwards, they will operate a manual steam roller to finish the job. Workers ride to the jobsite each day in the back of a dump truck. A woman on the Rohtang Pass makes gravel by hand. Large rocks are used to split smaller rocks several times until they are the correct size.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Taking a break to smoke a bidi (Indian cigarette). Concrete dust and debris gives the man’s hands their white appearance. A young woman moves large rocks for making gravel. The crews of the Zanskar River Road live in very harsh conditions. Government contractors in charge of building and maintaining these projects find laborers from the poor border areas of India and Nepal. They promise access to a better life and a good job, but it is closer to indentured servitude, with laborers having to pay back money for their housing and food.

Bright eyes and big smiles from young road workers outside of camp.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Nubra Valley workers pause for a photo during their work day. The placid expressions on these young men's faces veil the hardship they face every day. A child waits for his father to finish, hands clasped behind his back. Many villages in rural Nepal have virtually no men left as they have been lured away from their families with the promise of work on government projects.

Shoveling is a two-person job. One person pulls the rope while the other pushes the shovel. I learned that jackhammering is no easy job. It is incredible to watch people who barely take in enough calories to survive maneuvering such heavy equipment each day. A worker on the Khardung La, one of the world’s highest roads at nearly 17,000 feet. Despite the high elevation and harsh storms, these roads are kept open year round. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Here, we find a world of extremes: the blazing sun dominates the landscape by day, followed by bitterly cold nights. Two young men warm their hands over a charcoal fire next to the frozen Zanskar River. This road was hand carved with the aid of dynamite. The Zanskar River gorge is the depth of the Grand Canyon, but begins at an elevation of 12,000 feet.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

After filling the back of a dump truck with rocks, the road crew rides to their jobsite for the day. The masks and gloves they are wearing are the only protective equipment they have.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Photo by Chris Collard

What’s in the Bag? Hand-selected gear from some of the world’s top adventure photographers. 45

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Photo by Sinuhe Xavier

Craig Childs and Ace Kvale cook dinner in a cave high above the Green River in Utah. Opening page: Hues of azure settle over the Navajo Nation as participants on a Visionary Wild overland photography workshop capture the transitioning light of the Desert Southwest.

verland Journal has always taken pride in presenting impactful and compelling photographic impressions of the world around us. During the past decade we have shared captivating scenes of far-off locales ranging from Afghanistan and Antarctica to Mali and Malaysia. Our contributing photographers have scoured the planet to frame life as it transpires. Their dedication to creating images that induce emotion is elevated above that of a job, career, or occupation. Rather, it is a vocation, part of the fiber that makes up their being. Their passion for the craft, the art of visual storytelling, is indisputable. They hang from cliffs, plunge down Class V rapids, and wait patiently in wildlife blinds for days on end to capture images that evade all others. Whether rushing through airports, squeezing into tuk-tuks, or shoehorning themselves into a South American autobus with locals, goats, and chickens, they each share a common thread: the camera bag dangling from their shoulder or back. Although many of us may never ascend to the level of their artistic genius, we wanted to know what is in the bag, the go-to gear that they don’t head into the field without. (CC)

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

BARRY ANDREWS PHOTOGRAPHER

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

WHAT IS IN THE BAG? »» Sony a7R II (2) bodies »» Sony a7 II body (modified by Life Pixel for full spectrum IR + UV) »» Sony a7S II body »» Sony FE 24-240mm f/3.5-6.3 OSS lens »» Sony Vario-Tessar 16-35mm f/4 ZA OSS lens »» Zeiss Batis 85mm f/1.8 lens »» Sony 50mm f/1.8 OSS lens »» Sony Zeiss FE 35mm f/2.8 lens »» Zeiss Batis 25mm f/2 lens »» Tenba Shootout 18L backpack »» Gitzo GT1541T Traveler tripod »» 6-8 additional Sony batteries with four chargers »» Assorted filters »» Lens and sensor cleaning kit »» Camera remote »» 15-inch MacBook Pro »» 2TB Western Digital hard drive »» 1TB of 64GB and 128GB SD cards »» iPad WHAT GOES INTO THE DECISION PROCESS WHEN SELECTING GEAR FOR ANY PARTICULAR TRIP? My kit depends on the photographic mission. The one listed here is what I use for culture and street shooting. I have fallen in love with fast primes and often walk around with a wide- and mild-telephoto prime on two bodies. At other times, I’ll switch to wide angle and travel zoom. While not as sharp as the primes they offer unmatched ability to compose on the fly for an extremely wide set of circumstances. The resolution of the a7R II is so high that I can always decrease the res to increase sharpness. For critical landscape shots I work with four Canon tilt-shift lenses using a Metabones adapter. For general adventure with a strong nature component I use Canon L zoom lenses (16-35mm f/4L, 24-70mm f/2.8L, 70-300mm f/4-5.6L) on the Sony bodies. For fast action like big game, I still rely on Canon bodies (EOS 1D X and EOS 7D Mark II) and add the Canon 200-400mm f/4L and 1.4X extender. The reason for using the Canon bodies is faster autofocus and higher frame rate, but the system is big and heavy. It delivers lower resolution, less dynamic range, and more high ISO noise. For now, it is a tradeoff I’m willing to live with. WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THE SYSTEM YOU SHOOT WITH? The Sony a7 bodies have revolutionized our ability to build a kit that meets our needs and allows us to express our own artistic vision. Sony is a world leader in sensor technology but they aren’t locking us into using only their lenses. There are adapters for almost any lens made. I’m constantly experimenting to create renderings that capture a specific feel. The ability of the a7S II to shoot in virtual darkness with a fast lens has transformed night photography. IF YOU WERE ONLY ALLOWED TO TAKE ONE CAMERA AND LENS COMBINATION ON AN ASSIGNMENT, WHAT WOULD THAT BE? It would be an a7R II body with my Leica Summilux-M 35mm f/1.4 ASPH lens. I love the rendering of that lens. I don’t use it a lot because I like using autofocus. But there is an adapter coming on the market that will provide autofocus for M-mount lenses. If it works, I’ll be switching out some of my kit.

WHAT IS THE ONE INNOVATION OR PIECE OF TECH THAT HAS COME ALONG THAT YOU CAN’T IMAGINE LIVING WITHOUT? Digital editing software has been absolutely transformational. In particular, Lightroom has become the center of the post-capture processing hub. For me, being able to develop an image to express a personal vision is as important as the capture itself. The ability to rapidly work an image can drive what and how I shoot; it has put control of the image completely in the hands of the artist. IS THERE A TECHNIQUE, HACK, OR SECRET RECIPE THAT YOU EMPLOY ON EVERY JOB? I edit and do post-processing sketches while I’m on the road. I find that each trip or situation develops its own set of impressions, emotions, and aesthetic feel. By working quickly each night in Lightroom I can fine-tune a look that captures a sense of feeling.

Coastal formation, Disko Island, Iceland Camera body: Sony a7R II Lens: Canon 17mm TSE, tilt shift lens, Metabones IV adapter Camera settings: ISO 640, f/11, 1/250 Icebergs, Disko Bay, Iceland Camera body: Sony a7R II Lens: Canon 24-70mm f/2.8 L II @ 47mm Camera settings: ISO 640, f/11, 1/1600 Young woman, Havana, Cuba Camera body: Sony a7R II Lens: Sony 28-280mm f/3.5-6.3 @ 28mm Camera settings: ISO 200, f/6.3, 1/250 Street vendors, night market, Hanoi, Vietnam Camera body: Sony a7S II Lens: Sony Zeiss 16-35mm f/4 @ 21mm Camera settings: ISO 1250, f/14, 0.6 sec

Polar bear, Seal River, Manitoba, Canada Camera body: Sony a7R II Lens: Canon 200-400mm +1.4x f/4 L, Metabones IV adapter @ 560mm Camera settings: ISO 1250, f/5.6, 1/250

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

CHRIS BURKARD PHOTOGRAPHER

Chris Burkard/Massif

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

WHAT IS IN THE BAG? »» Sony a7R II body »» Sony a7S II body »» Sony a6000 body »» Sony Vario-Tessar 16-35mm f/4 ZA OSS lens »» Sony Vario-Tessar 24-70mm f/4 ZA OSS lens »» Sony Distagon T FE 35mm f/1.4 ZA lens »» Rokinon 24mm f/1.4 lens »» Sony Batis 25mm f/2 lens »» Sony 16mm f/2 fisheye conversion »» Mizu water bottle »» Really Right Stuff carbon-fiber tripod »» Goal Zero charging port »» Globalstar Spot satellite phone »» Finding Abbey by Sean Prentiss »» Passport »» iPhone 6s »» Western Digital 2TB hard drive »» 15-inch MacBook Pro »» Mountainsmith backpack »» Mountainsmith lumbar pack WHAT GOES INTO THE DECISION PROCESS WHEN SELECTING GEAR FOR ANY PARTICULAR TRIP? The key when frequently traveling to remote locations is packing light. On one particular trip I was spending nights in the Don Sheldon Mountain House that overlooks the Ruth Glacier in Alaska. If you’ve ever seen the “house,” you know that it’s more or less a glorified garden shack with very little room for excess. It is only accessible by ski plane, which is unable to land in storm conditions (occurs frequently). Directly after this trip I made my way to Switzerland, so I had to ensure I already had everything needed for both trips, hence the passport. You’re always having to step back and ask yourself, What are the essentials? Then strip down. It’s a constant dance determining what’s crucial and what’s expendable. So often I wish I could take it all. WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THE SYSTEM YOU SHOOT WITH? I’ve had the opportunity to shoot with practically everything under the sun: from large format cameras to the mirrorless DSLRs I use today. I choose to use the Sony setup because it’s the most effective system I’ve yet to try. The a7R II’s image is unreal; I’m always impressed by the dynamic range and sharpness. The a7S II is unmatched in low light, and the handy a6000 is so small I can stick it in my breast pocket so it’s always ready to go. IF YOU WERE ONLY ALLOWED TO TAKE ONE CAMERA AND LENS COMBINATION ON AN ASSIGNMENT, WHAT WOULD THAT BE? An a7R II with the Sony 16-35mm f/4 is my most versatile camera setup and one that I have with me at all times. WHAT IS THE ONE INNOVATION OR PIECE OF TECH THAT HAS COME ALONG THAT YOU CAN’T IMAGINE LIVING WITHOUT? My iPhone. Hands down. It’s my map, my camera, my means of communication. So often people are nitpicking over what new lens to get, or which new trick to show off. I find that my iPhone is my definite irreplaceable item. Nowadays, phones take incredible images. There have been countless times where I’ve used it in absence of a camera and been stoked with the outcome.

IS THERE A TECHNIQUE, HACK, OR SECRET RECIPE THAT YOU EMPLOY ON EVERY JOB? A technique that I use on every shoot is the usage of graduated ND filters. When dealing with so many different exposures of light in the same composition these help me get a properly exposed image in-camera rather than relying on post-processing. My super secret recipe is a trusty collection of hot sauce packets—sometimes it’s the only way I am able to eat some of the weird foods I’ve encountered while traveling around the world.

Wooden paths in the Aare Gorge, near Meiringen, Switzerland Camera body: Sony a7R II Lens: Sony 16-35mm f/4 @16mm, Hoya HD3 circular polarizer Settings: ISO 200, f/4, 1/100 Vatnajökull Glacier, Iceland Camera body: Sony A6000 Lens: Zeiss 10-18mm f/4 @16mm Camera settings: ISO 100, f/4, 1/100 Don Sheldon Mountain House above Ruth Glacier, Alaska Camera body: a7S Lens: Zeiss 35mm f/2.8 @ 35mm Camera settings: ISO 800, f/2.8, 1.6 Trekking through the pristine trails near Zermatt, Switzerland Camera: Sony a7R II Lens: Sony FE 70-200 f/4 G OSS @ 88mm, Hoya HD3 circular polarizer Settings: ISO 100, 1/800th, f5 Soaking in the beauty of Seealpsee Lake, Switzerland Camera body: Sony a7R II Lens: Sony 16-35mm f/4 @16mm, Hoya HD3 circular polarizer Settings: ISO 100, f/4, 1/50 Paddling under the Matterhorn. Riffelsee Lake, Switzerland Camera body: Sony a7S II Lens: Sony 16-35mm f/4 @ 16mm, Hoya HD3 circular polarizer Settings: ISO 100, f/4, 1/200

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

CHRIS COLLARD PHOTOGRAPHER

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

WHAT IS IN THE BAG? »» Canon EOS 5DS body »» Canon EOS 7D Mark II body »» Canon EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS II lens »» Canon EF 2X II extender »» Canon EF 16-35mm f/2.8L II lens »» Canon EF-S 10-22mm f/3.5-4.5 USM lens »» Tamron AF 18-270mm Di II VC f/3.6-6.3 lens »» Slik PRO 634 CFL carbon-fiber tripod, Kirk ball head »» Canon Speedlite 600EX-RT strobe, ST-E3-RT radio transmitter »» Vello softbox »» Hoya clear and circular polarizing filters »» Singh-Ray Vari-ND and graduated ND filters (2-stop, 3-stop, soft) »» REI daypack, Lowepro interior padding »» BlackRapid double camera harness »» SanDisk CF and SD cards (32-64GB), Think Tank card holder »» Batteries and charger »» Zeiss lens cleaning kit »» Gloves: wool fingerless, The North Face Etip »» LED Lenser headlamp »» Miscellaneous: carabiners, earplugs, poncho, rain cover, sunscreen, beef jerky, toilet paper WHAT GOES INTO THE DECISION PROCESS WHEN SELECTING GEAR FOR ANY PARTICULAR TRIP? I’m a bit ADD, and shoot everything from wildlife and off-road races to landscapes, indigenous cultures, and corporate ad campaigns. The above list is for one-bag-does-mostly-all assignments, and I use an REI backpack to avoid the “expensive equipment inside” tag on my back. I usually sling two bodies (one wide and one long zoom lens), which allows me to have the exact focal length lens at hand instantly and avoid changing lenses in the field. My general rule for on-the-fly work is to never bring more gear than I can carry through an airport. WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THE SYSTEM YOU SHOOT WITH? I bought a Canon AE-1 in 1982 and I stayed the course when they moved to the EOS system and ultimately DSLRs. Canon’s controls are intuitive and their bodies are tough. Mine have been bounced off rocks, endured dust showers of Dakar race trucks, and slogged through steamy climes such as Southeast Asia and Central America. Canon was years ahead of the competition with regard to image stabilization (IS), and their L glass is second to none. IF YOU WERE ONLY ALLOWED TO TAKE ONE CAMERA AND LENS COMBINATION ON AN ASSIGNMENT, WHAT WOULD THAT BE? Whether shooting big horn sheep leaping from a cliff or a vehicle flying through the air, I need a combination that provides speed, range, and image quality. The Canon EOS 7D Mark II and Tamron 18-270mm Di II lens offer this. The 7D Mark II fires 10 frames per second (FPS), 1920x1080 HD video at 60 FPS, has reasonable high-ISO performance, and will accept all EOS lenses. The Tamron 18-270mm provides an unprecedented 28-419mm focal length (35mm equivalent), image stabilization, and fairly good glass—I’m still waiting for Canon to offer a compact lens with this range. WHAT IS THE ONE INNOVATION OR PIECE OF TECH THAT HAS COME ALONG THAT YOU CAN’T IMAGINE LIVING WITHOUT? Pixels! I learned to shoot with film. I’d burn through many rolls testing each body and lens combination while recording the f-stop, shutter speed, ISO, and ambient light. I shot objects at varying distances and backgrounds—such

as cars on the freeway and birds in flight—and then studied the transparencies to understand the effect of each setting. I now tap the review button to instantly check depth of field, sharpness, and exposure. I came back from my first trip to Africa with over 100 rolls of film. Now I have a MacBook Pro, portable drive, and CF/SD cards; I know I have the money shot before heading home. IS THERE A TECHNIQUE, HACK, OR SECRET RECIPE THAT YOU EMPLOY ON EVERY JOB? Keep your eyes moving, your mind open, and remember that your camera functions 24/7—as should the photographer. Unfortunately, many fixate on a single subject (usually their vehicle) while a world of eye candy passes by behind their back. Photography is about telling a story. Bring the viewer into the scene, let them visually smell the cumin and cardamom of Moroccan tagine, feel the bite of -30°F Antarctic wind against their cheeks, and the rawness of life in a remote Zambian village. Remember, it is the mind’s eye rather than fancy gear that allows you to capture the moment.

African elephant, South Luangwa National Park, Zambia Camera body: Canon 40D Lens: Canon EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS, Canon 2X extender, Hoya circular polarizer Camera Settings: ISO 500, f/5.6, 1/200 Barging vehicles across Venezuela’s Gran Sabana Camera body: Canon 40D Lens: Canon EF 28-300mm f/3.5-5.6L IS, Hoya circular polarizer Camera Settings: ISO 200, f/9.0, 1/400 Anti-poaching patrol, Meru National Park, Kenya Camera body: Canon 5DS Lens: Canon EF 16-35mm f/2.8L II, Hoya circular polarizer Camera Settings: ISO 320, f/10, 1/125 Jeep Crew Chief 715, Moab, Utah Camera body: Canon 5DS Lens: Canon EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS II Camera Settings: ISO 400, f/8.0, 1/1250

Old Delhi, India Camera body: Canon 7D Lens: Canon EF-S 10-22mm f/3.5-4.5 Camera Settings: ISO 640, f/9.0, 1/125 Osprey in flight, Baja Sur, Mexico Camera body: Canon 7D Lens: Tamron AF 18-270mm Di II f/3.6-6.3, Hoya circular polarizer Camera Settings: ISO 320, f/6.3, 1/800

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JACK DYKINGA PHOTOGRAPHER

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

WHAT IS IN THE BAG? I have a couple bags, one setup for landscape and one for high-speed and low-light work. The one I’m showing is the latter. »» MindShift FirstLight 40L pack »» Nikon D4S body mounted to a NIKKOR 500mm f/4 lens »» Nikon 80-400mm f/4.5-5.6G ED VR NIKKOR lens »» Sigma 50mm f/1.4 DG HSM, 35mm f/1.4, and 24mm f/1.4 Art lenses Note: Telephoto lenses are encased in neoprene not so much for the “camo” value as for protection when bracing against hard surfaces such as car windows »» Teleconverters: 1.4 and 2.0 that allow the 500mm lens to become either 750mm or 1000mm »» Spare battery »» Extra CF cards in a waterproof case »» Internal polarizing filter for the 500mm, and both ND and polarizing filter for other lenses »» Really Right Stuff L bracket for my Nikon (offers versatility in orientation) »» Extra Allen wrenches »» Nylon rain covers »» Headlamps for night photography and early morning shooting »» Wemberly Plamp that functions as a spare arm (to shade lenses or stabilize subjects) »» Comb for removing cholla cactus balls »» Nylon cord to cinch distractions away from field of view »» Microfiber cleaning cloth, sealed Zeiss cleaning cloths »» Rain cover for the pack »» Patagonia Houdini rain jacket WHAT GOES INTO THE DECISION PROCESS WHEN SELECTING GEAR FOR ANY PARTICULAR TRIP? This selection is based on the ability of the D4S to shoot at very high ISO to accommodate fast action or extremely low light astrophotography. The high ISO also allows photographing with long telephoto lenses at very fast shutter speeds to minimize vibration. WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THE SYSTEM YOU SHOOT WITH? After 50 years as a professional photojournalist and nature photographer, I have come to realize that durability and predictable, consistent performance is what I count on. Nikon cameras are bombproof under all kinds of weather conditions. IF YOU WERE ONLY ALLOWED TO TAKE ONE CAMERA AND LENS COMBINATION ON AN ASSIGNMENT, WHAT WOULD THAT BE? That’s a tough one. If I feel I’m going to be concentrating on people or wildlife I’d bring the Nikon D4S with a 24-70mm zoom lens. If I’m off to solely photograph landscapes, I’d bring a Nikon D810 with a 45mm NIKKOR tilt/ shift lens. But as a professional, I would never be in that position where compromise was the only option. I’m a firm believer in redundant systems tailored to my photographic assignments. WHAT IS THE ONE INNOVATION OR PIECE OF TECH THAT HAS COME ALONG THAT YOU CAN’T IMAGINE LIVING WITHOUT? There’s too many to tease out. The high-speed, low-light ability to virtually

shoot in the dark is truly amazing, and the Nikon D4S is superb. However, in the end, image making is more about the ability to “see” than technology. IS THERE A TECHNIQUE, HACK, OR SECRET RECIPE THAT YOU EMPLOY ON EVERY JOB? Just to work harder, smarter, and longer than everyone else.

Bison, Grand Canyon North Rim Camera body: Nikon D4S Lens: NIKKOR 500mm f/4.0 ED VR, Nikon AF-S TC-14E III teleconverter Camera settings: ISO 2000, f/7, 1/1600 Bobcat, Santa Catalina Mountains, near Tucson, Arizona Camera body: Nikon D4S Lens: NIKKOR 500mm f/4.0 ED VR Camera settings: ISO 3200, f/4, 1/500 Owls, near Oracle, Arizona Camera body: Nikon D4S Lens: NIKKOR 500mm f/4.0 ED VR, Nikon AF-S Nikon TC-20E III teleconverter Camera settings: ISO 4000, f/10, 1/1250

Elk, Umpqua River Basin, Dean Creek Wildlife Viewing Area, Oregon Camera body: Nikon D4S Lens: NIKKOR 500mm f/4.0 ED VR, Nikon AF-S TC-14E III teleconverter Camera settings: ISO 3200, f/8, 1/250 Cap Rock Hoodoos, Escalante, Utah Camera body: Nikon D4S Lens: Sigma 24mm f/1.4 GC HMS Art lens Camera settings: ISO 2500, f/2.2, 20

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

SINUHE XAVIER

PHOTOGRAPHER

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

WHAT IS IN THE BAG? »» Filson Sportsman bag »» Sony a7R II body »» Canon 5D Mark III body »» Canon 16-35mm f/2.8L II USM lens »» Canon 50mm f/1.2L USM lens »» Canon 100mm f/2.8L Macro lens »» Canon 70-200mm f/2.8L USM lens »» Chargers and batteries »» Pelican memory card case, holding 12 Lexar 64GB SD cards »» Metabones adapter »» Tiffen filters WHAT GOES INTO THE DECISION PROCESS WHEN SELECTING GEAR FOR ANY PARTICULAR TRIP? It all comes down to what I’m shooting. For the purposes of overlanding I use the smallest kit possible. What I have listed above is what I took to the Arctic when I was directing and shooting the stills for the new Tacoma TRD Pro launch. Paul Czaplicki, the mad scientist behind the TRD Pro that also knows a thing or two about marketing, expressly asked for a small footprint and an authentic adventure. From the onset of the project I limited the expedition’s vehicles to five and maintained that if it didn’t fit, we didn’t need it. The helicopter didn’t count. WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THE SYSTEM YOU SHOOT WITH? I started shooting action sports (primarily snowboarding) back in the ’90s, fell in love with the Canon autofocus system, and have been a faithful user ever since. Recently, with technology making it a battle of the sensor I’ve landed in a bit of a hybrid. I use the Sony a7R II for portraits and landscape shots with either Canon or Leica glass. If there is any action involved I use the Canon 5D Mark III—I don’t think there is a better autofocus system available. IF YOU WERE ONLY ALLOWED TO TAKE ONE CAMERA AND LENS COMBINATION ON AN ASSIGNMENT, WHAT WOULD THAT BE? Hands down, the Sony a7R II with a Leica 50mm M lens. Those two are a magic combo that just produce the most beautiful images. The manual focus M lens makes you slow down, rely on your eye, and feel for the lens to pull focus; I like to take time to dial in the composition. WHAT IS THE ONE INNOVATION OR PIECE OF TECH THAT HAS COME ALONG THAT YOU CAN’T IMAGINE LIVING WITHOUT? The sensor on the Sony a7S II is just incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it for low-light shooting. Since the birth of my son I haven’t been able to spend as many nights as I’d like to under the stars, but some of the work I’ve seen from other photographers is simply wonderful.

IS THERE A TECHNIQUE, HACK, OR SECRET RECIPE THAT YOU EMPLOY ON EVERY JOB? I employ local knowledge whenever possible. The Internet has made researching new locations infinitely easier, but nothing beats the person on the street that lives and breathes the area. I actually use photography as an excuse to talk with locals; everything from the best food to where to catch sunrise or sunset is easily picked up just by starting a conversation.

1996 Land Rover Discovery, Lake Powell, Utah Camera body: Canon 5D Mark III Lens: Canon 24mm f/1.2L Camera Settings: ISO 640, f/5.6, 1/125 Mountain Hardwear tent, Colorado River Overlook, Utah Camera body: Canon 5D Mark II Lens: Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L, B&W circular polarizer Camera Settings: ISO 320, f/4.0, 1/100 Jack Quinlan, Altar Desert, Mexico Camera body: Canon 5D Mark III Lens: Canon 70-200mm f/2.8L, B&W circular polarizer Camera Settings: ISO 100, f/4.0, 1/125 2016 Land Rover Discovery Sport, Lost Coast, CA Camera body: Sony a7S Lens: Canon 24mm f/1.2L Camera Settings: ISO 100, f/2.8, 1/600 Arctic Trucks Toyota VZJ 70-Series Land Cruiser, Iceland Camera body: Canon 5D Mark III Lens: Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L, B&W circular polarizer Camera Settings: ISO 640, f/5.6, 1/100 Land Rovers, Titus Canyon, Death Valley, California Camera body: Sony a7R Lens: Canon Zeiss 35mm f/2.8 Camera Settings: ISO 400, f/4.0, 1/125

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Photo by Justin Black

Photo by Ned Bacon

BARRY ANDREWS

CHRIS BURKARD

CHRIS COLLARD

JACK DYKINGA

SINUHE XAVIER

After a long career as an entrepreneur Barry Andrews now spends much of his time following his cameras, which insist on traveling the world. Curious and restless machines, they have taken him to over 60 countries and all seven continents. An avid overlander, he has designed a custom expedition rig that someday will be completed. He is also an executive producer of documentaries and TV shows through his family’s production company, Inflection Studios. Barry calls Laguna Hills, California, Prescott, Arizona, and Todos Santos, Baja California, Mexico, or wherever he is sleeping that night home.

At 29 years of age, Chris Burkard has seen more of the world than most of us could hope to see in several lifetimes. He has always gone his own way, impelled by his idiosyncratic desires. Often referred to as a surf photographer, Burkard describes himself as a landscape photographer with a peculiar relationship to the sea. He has published several books including The California Surf Project (with friend and co-author Eric Soderquist) and most recently, the children’s book The Boy Who Spoke to the Earth. Burkard’s commercial clients are numerous and his work has been published in National Geographic, the New Yorker, GQ, Men’s Journal, Vogue, and Surfer Magazine. Chris and his wife, Breanne, live on California’s Central Coast with their two sons, Jeremiah and Forest.

Overland Journal’s Editorin-Chief Chris Collard has published hundreds of articles and thousands of images in dozens of magazines on six continents. Assignments have led him across the Australian Outback and Moroccan Sahara, through the jungles of Venezuela and Cambodia, and into the Kenyan bush with antipoaching patrols. His work has been featured in Cigar Aficionado, National Geographic Adventure, Motor Trend, Four Wheeler Magazine, Car and Driver, and Hot Rod, and his commercial clients range from auto manufacturers to nonprofits. His comfort zone, and the place where he does his best work, is on the path less traveled. When not behind the camera Chris can be found on The Office (his sailboat), or undertaking meticulous “research” in locales such as Tequila, Mexico.

Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer Jack Dykinga blends fine art photography with documentary photojournalism. He is a regular contributor to Arizona Highways and National Geographic, and an instructor for Visionary Wild photo workshops (visionarywild.com). In 2010, Jack’s Stone Canyon image was selected as one of the 40 best nature photographs of all time by the International League of Conservation Photographers. He has donated his talents to various conservation projects, joining teams of celebrated photographers in highlighting potential environmental degradation. Some of his recent work features the biological diversity of protected areas along the Texas–Mexican border and Rio Grande River. Jack has authored, co-authored, and provided images for a considerable number of books. His latest, A Photographer’s Life, will be released in the fall of 2016. He and his wife, Margaret, live in Tucson, Arizona.

Sinuhe Xavier is perhaps the only washed-up professional skier to become an award-winning commercial director and photographer. He is further distinguished by the fact that he did not pursue a career in directing films until 2003, when he traded a life in the mountains for the potentially more treacherous terrain of Hollywood. Most recently he has brought automotive campaigns to life with humanity for clients such as Toyota, Ford, and Jeep. Advertising agencies such as BBDO, TBWA\Chiat\ Day, Saatchi, 180LA, and Havas Worldwide have turned to Sinuhe to bring their unique visions to life. When not selling people things they don’t need, he can be found derailing adventure-journal.com with his reviews and opinions, or relaxing in the shade of a lonely juniper tree with his wife, Stephanie, son, Huntington, and dog, Charlie, on the Colorado Plateau.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Lati tude Portfolio by Jack Dykinga

Solitude

36°N

NATIONAL PARKS We are the extremely fortunate collective owners of incredibly gorgeous real estate that is the envy of this planet. The creation of the U. S. National Park Service was a stroke of genius. My list of favorite national parks invariably includes: Bryce Canyon, Zion, Redwoods, Glacier, Olympic, Saguaro, Arches, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, Big Bend, Death Valley, and my beloved Grand Canyon. I admittedly have a Western bias, but I crave big spaces and solitude where light paints the land with texture and color. As we become more and more urbanized, the remaining vast and empty wild places offer renewal and a chance for real freedom. Here, our mind’s useless chatter can subside as we simply listen to the wind. —Jack Dykinga

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Beemed North Riding solo from Nashville to Nova Scotia on a classic BMW R90/6 Boxer. By Yve Assad

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

A footpath in New England led to the ocean. Opposite: An early morning view in the Canadian Maritimes. Opening page: One of the many old covered bridges in New England.

OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

ell, if I was going down, this would be it. The last 8 kilometers of the road to Meat Cove, Nova Scotia’s northernmost point and the ultimate goal of my 5,000-mile solo motorcycle trip from Nashville, Tennessee, had turned into a twisting, plunging, craggy, roller-coaster ride of a dirt road that was slick from a full day of rain. After riding the first half of the Cabot Trail that afternoon, I turned off at Cape North and came face to face with a “Pavement Ends in 20 km” sign. In hindsight, had I known how challenging the dirt road was I may have reconsidered, but sometimes not knowing what to expect is a good thing. Despite my anxiety, I white knuckled it and pointed the front wheel of my ’76 BMW toward whatever lay ahead. The residuals of Hurricane Bertha had been on my tail since Vermont, and I was tired from some long, rainy days in the saddle. I was nervous, but pushed forward, knowing there were about two hours of daylight left to get to Meat Cove and set up camp. As soon as I hit the dirt section, it felt like my R90/6 was moving more sideways than forward. My feet shot off the pegs to be outriggers as I went up the slippery slopes. A couple of times I had to roll backward down a hill for a restart because of lost traction—my lack of off-piste experience was showing—but I knew if I made it up there, the rest of the trip would be a piece of cake.

Back in the winter of 2014, as unusually cold weather in Nashville started to wear on my sanity, thoughts about my next big adventure began to manifest. In my early twenties, I made a point of taking a solo trip each year to see the world and challenge myself. After checking a lot of Europe off of the list, plus India, South America, and North America’s big draws in the West, I found myself longing to explore a little closer to home, and to do it in a new way: with a paper map on back roads through small towns, logging every mile on a vintage motorcycle. Maine’s storybook coastline has always called to me, but the seemingly untapped Maritime region of Canada was the biggest lure. Maybe it was the history and culture that were so different from my own Southern upbringing, or the isolation that seemingly encapsulated a time that has long past in the rest of the world. I just knew it would be the trip of a lifetime, and my husband, Will, encouraged me all the way. Spring arrived, and the planning phase began. I settled on a month’s time to go roundtrip: I wanted to dig in, meet people, and really see places, rather than just pass through. I would do it alone, and the goal was to ultimately get to Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia. I’ve spent a lot of time around motorcycle culture, photographing races and the lifestyle, but had only been riding five years, with less than 10,000 miles under my belt. Committing to a trip with a couple of border crossings, potential bear encounters, and more than half of my lifetime mileage on two wheels was a little daunting, yet irresistible at the same time. My first instinct was to rent or borrow a dual sport, but logistically it was too complicated. After a few pep talks from Will and some trusted moto friends, it was decided that my proven 38-year-old BMW would be perfectly suited for the long journey. After all, that’s what they were built for. Some of my fondest memories were with this old BMW. Will proposed to me with it instead of a ring, so it seemed fitting to ride the bike to Canada. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

72 “Walk your horses or pay a two-dollar fine.” The Cornish-Windsor Bridge connects New Hampshire and Vermont; it was built in 1866. A Mennonite family walking along Skyline Drive in Virginia. A quintessential view of Old Québec City, comprised of buildings dating back as early as the 17th century. Opposite: The ride through Acadia National Park in Maine.

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The R90 was checked out, fluids filled and ready to go. I just had to figure out how to pack for a month and fit it all in two saddlebags and a tail duffle bag. I made a list of everything I wanted to take, pulled it all together, and laid it out on my bed. It was laughable—there was no way it would all fit. I reevaluated and narrowed it down to the essentials: riding gear, some street clothes, toiletries, tire repair and first-aid kits (fortunately, there was never a need to use them), a few tools, a hatchet, camera gear, and camping supplies. With just enough room left for a few pairs of socks or my Thermacell mosquito repellent device, there was a difficult decision to make. I’d heard how ferocious the mosquitoes were in the Maritimes, so chose to take the Thermacell and just one pair of wool socks. I figured it would be absolutely necessary in order to get any sleep while camping, and my socks could always be washed. All the fretting about preparation (what to bring or not to bring, stinky socks versus mosquitoes) leads to one of the joys of travel: the moment you realize you can’t do anymore and have to go with what you’ve got. The churning in your stomach is replaced with excitement instead of worry, day breaks, and the journey begins. I headed east from Nashville to connect with the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina, cruising through thick forests heavy with the scent of spruce and pine. The air was crisp, the pavement perfect, and the skies were blue. I crossed the border into Virginia on the second day around 3:00 p.m. and realized it was now or never—it was time to go camping. As a woman, the idea of camping alone was my biggest fear on the trip. Setting up wasn’t rocket science and there were no worries in that department; however, thoughts of being alone without a door to lock, completely exposed, had let my imagination run amuck. I decided on a site north of Roanoke at Otter Creek that evening in the last light of a fast-approaching sunset. There isn’t a whole lot of civilization on the Parkway, just woods and pavement, but its isolation is part of its beauty. I slowly rolled through the campground, scoping it out, and quickly realized there was an abundance of people doing the same thing I was: enjoying the great outdoors. There was a sweet little spot down by the creek next to a French Canadian couple from Montreal who welcomed me immediately, asking me over to enjoy their fire and some whiskey. We discovered we would be in the same part of Québec a couple of weeks later and exchanged contact information, promising to stay in touch. My concerns of camping alone quickly faded, replaced by the notion that everything would be okay. Over the next few days, I continued north on the Parkway as it turned into Skyline Drive. There were deer eating grass along split-rail fences, and a teenage black bear munching greens on the mountainside next to me— it was like I was in a Disney movie. People would be amazed at what lies beyond the guard rails of America’s interstates. It’s surprisingly easy to get out of urban areas and into the countryside. The tight, winding roads through Vermont’s Green Mountains and New Hampshire’s White Mountains are some of the best in the country (along with New York’s Catskills, which became evident on my return). A trend began to present itself the further along I went. People seemed shocked to see a woman riding alone on a motorcycle. “You rode that all the way from Tennessee?” was the resounding sentiment. So far, my R90 had performed beautifully through the mountains and wide-open spaces of the Northeast, and even in the steamy congestion of New York City. I

never doubted her once, but after a chance encounter with Billy Joel (Yes, the Billy Joel!) on Long Island, and him asking me multiple times, “You’re really gonna ride that thing to Canada?,” you start to question yourself. He even offered to let me ride one of his bikes. As tempting as that was, I stayed true to my girl knowing we were meant to do the trip together. After a week on the road, Harrisville, New Hampshire, would be the last night spent with friends for most of the remainder of the trip. I didn’t know anyone in the northeastern part of Canada, but that’s what I wanted and needed from this particular quest. The reality of being alone for the next 3,000 miles allowed anxiety to creep in—the good kind though, tinged with a sense of risk that makes you want to go further and see what’s around the next bend. A feeling of pure freedom set in with the realization that it was just me, a few belongings, the wind rushing over my body, and the sound of my twin cylinders knocking back and forth. I had never pushed myself this hard and it was thrilling. To this point, the weather was pristine, with sunny skies and unusually mild temperatures for the summer. A few hours from the Canadian border though, the ranger at the Lake Elmore campground warned that this was all about to change. He pointed to the skies indicating there was a storm coming and said I might want to consider a lean-to for protection against the really windy conditions sure to come. “I’ll take one!,” I said. As the evening wore on, it became evident that “really windy” was an enormous understatement. From inside my tent it sounded like a tornado was spinning through the park, about to take out everything in its path. I didn’t sleep that night and thought for sure my bike would be on its side in the morning, my underwear hanging from the tree branches. The lean-to saved the day though and, miraculously, everything was upright and just where I’d left it. I optimistically thought that perhaps the storm would be going in a direction other than north to Canada, and Act II of my Disney movie could take place. Well, I was about to get a big ol’ spoonful of the growing experience I was pining for when this trip was dreamt up. You know, the kind that is spirit-breaking miserable in the moment, but turns out to be just the seasoning the adventure needs when reheating it for friends and loved ones when you get back. There is nothing like a good hurricane to liven things up on a motorcycle trip. You can have the best rain gear in the world, but nothing will keep you dry when it’s raining sideways and the wind is probing every collar, flap, sleeve, and zipper for weakness. The gale blew so hard on my way to Québec City, I was heeled over like a sailboat and relentlessly pounded by quick, stiff gusts that tried their best to knock me off the road every few seconds. That afternoon I splurged on a hotel room for the hot shower alone. At that point, I just needed something...anything to help ease my shoulders down from my ears. I parked the bike and decided to stay in Québec City for a couple of days to try and wait out the storm. It just so happened that the French Canadian couple I met along the Blue Ridge Parkway was also there; they surprised me with a phone call saying they were just around the corner, also taking the day off as they passed through. We walked around well into the evening. They gave me a grand tour of the city, and we dined and drank like kings, a welcome feast after days on a gas station diet of spicy peanuts and bananas. The finishing touch was a homemade tarte aux pommes (apple pie) which was delicious and the only French I learned during my trip (which my new friends thought was hilarious and, probably also pathetic).

I was heeled over like a sailboat and relentlessly pounded by quick, stiff gusts that tried their best to knock me off the road every few seconds.

With a little sleep and my first chartreuse hangover, I packed up the next morning and started toward the breathtaking Gaspé Peninsula. Rounding the peninsula, I headed south for the first time. It was bittersweet; I wanted to keep going forever, but the ultimate goal of the trip was still on the horizon, the Holy Grail, the place of my dreams...Cape Breton. I hopped on the highway and hauled butt to Nova Scotia, riding inland for a day which offered a nice reprieve from the strong coastal wind that had been pushing me around ever since my departure from Québec City. I relied on paper maps to guide me through Canada. Yes, friends, this method still works. For Wi-Fi, I stopped at one of the five bazillion Tim Hortons fast food restaurants and “borrowed” their Internet. There was almost a guarantee of one in every town. At one point I started singing “Tim Horton to the Rescue” to the tune of “Jim Dandy to the Rescue,” because with all the rain, it was a decent place to warm up and drink hot OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Low tide on the Gaspé Peninsula. Opposite: A pit stop at Schoodic Point, the only part of Acadia National Park located on the mainland. A local Québécois in Québec City. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

The Cabot Trail did not disappoint. It was a ribbon of tarmac dancing along the coast, overlooking steep cliffs and delving down into rough seas.

coffee while looking at the map or connecting with folks back home. I also seemed to provide some entertainment for the locals, sitting there like the abominable snow woman, dripping puddles of water on the floor. That evening I made it to Nova Scotia. What a champ the R90 was, riding through the rain, heat, and bumpy dirt roads without a single grunt or hesitation. After that many miles, a true bond with my bike had been established and, as crazy as it sounds, conversation between us on the road wasn’t uncommon. It was exciting to finally be in Nova Scotia, and I’m embarrassed to admit to being grateful for being able to converse in English again. The Québécois were so kind to me, but for the most part I hadn’t understood a word. I swore to myself I would work on my French before the next visit. Winding my way through small maritime villages and picturesque farmland, I crossed over to Cape Breton and the famous Cabot Trail. It was still drizzling and incredibly gusty, but my excitement for being there overshadowed all the bad weather. Camping at Meat Cove that night was the goal, and it was so close I could almost taste it. The Cabot Trail did not disappoint. It was a ribbon of tarmac dancing along the coast, overlooking steep cliffs and delving down into rough seas, occasionally going inland high up into the mountains above the fog. It reminded me of the Pacific Coast Highway, without the switchbacks. The sharp ascents and descents were so much fun I was giggling in my helmet, and the scenery was stunning. A few hours later the paved road ended. All that stood between me and Meat Cove were eight kilometers of muddy, rutted dirt road. I put the fräulein in first gear and worked my way through the washouts, slow and steady. After slipping, sliding, and several restarts, I finally made it to the campground unscathed. People emerged from the woodwork to see what this crazy chick on her motorcycle was doing all the way up there by herself. The groundskeeper said he heard me coming from a couple of miles away and thought it was a VW bus. “Nope,” I smiled through my helmet, “just me.” He gave me a prime spot at the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean. It was better than I could have imagined. I set up camp, had a cup of warm chowder from the little hut up there, grabbed a bundle of wood and made my way back to the campsite. The wood was too wet to start a fire with though. I looked at my only pair of socks, which were so stiff I considered rubbing them together to ignite my tinder. My thoughts of the small explosion they would likely create and the ensuing mushroom cloud were interrupted by a friendly couple from Ontario, who had rode in on a Suzuki touring bike. They came bearing

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Clockwise from left: The road out of Meat Cove. A rainy view of Percé, a small city near the tip of the Gaspé Peninsula. Crossing the St. Lawrence River to Rimouski, Québec. Parc des Chutes in Sault-au-Mouton, where the estuary of Longue-Rive meets the St. Lawrence River on the north shore of Québec. The Cabot Trail on Cape Breton Island.

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Overlooking the Atlantic Ocean from the Meat Cove campground.

YVE’S ESSENTIALS

₊₊ Wixom Ranger saddlebags ₊₊ Chrome Industries dry duffle bag (attached to the top of seat) ₊₊ The North Face waterproof day pack ₊₊ Cotterpin Direction Wallet (magnetic tank map holder) ₊₊ Arai Corsair V full-face helmet ₊₊ Dainese Zima Gore-Tex jacket and Drake Air textile pants (waterproof and armored) ₊₊ uglyBROS Motorpool riding pants (armored) ₊₊ Red Wing engineer boots ₊₊ Aerostich elkskin roper gloves ₊₊ Icebreaker wool base layers and socks ₊₊ The North Face Thermoball down jacket and base layer ₊₊ Big Agnes one-person tent, sleeping bag, and sleeping pad ₊₊ Hand B Forge hatchet ₊₊ Leatherman multi-tool ₊₊ Aerostich first-aid kit ₊₊ Aerostich tire-repair kit ₊₊ Thermocell mosquito repellent device ₊₊ Aerostich travel towel ₊₊ Nikon DSLR camera, 2 lenses ₊₊ GoPro ₊₊ iPhone ₊₊ Deltran battery tender USB charger ₊₊ Headlamp ₊₊ Whiskey OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

a wheelbarrow of hot coals and a beer. They poured the coals on my fire pile and said, “The wood is crap from all the rain. We thought you might need these, and this, too,” as they handed me the bottle. Despite being sore from battling the wind, tired from two and a half weeks of long days on the road, and wearing the same pair of socks for the better part of a month, there have only been a few other moments in my life when I felt that happy, safe, and content. The sound of the ocean below me, the company of those two strangers, and a semi-cold Free of the usual daily beer…I had made it! demands, there was Life on the road can be trying at time to explore my times, constantly moving from place to thoughts, get to know place, packing and unpacking, but the myself better, and see simplicity and ease of it is something what I was made of. I treasure and crave when I’m not out there. Free of the usual daily demands, there was time to explore my thoughts, get to know myself better, and see what I was made of. There were bumps, but I learned to push through and came out stronger, knowing I could handle whatever came my way if I just tried. It gave me peace of mind knowing I would be all right, not just in that moment but always. The next morning, I started the daily routine I had come to relish: taking down camp, packing up the bike, and eating a smashed granola bar for breakfast. My neighbors offered me a fresh cup of coffee from their French press, a true luxury on the road. A few minutes later, the sun appeared and I made my way out that same dirt road. Putting my feet on the pegs, feeling much more confident than the night before, I twisted the throttle and kicked up some mud on the way out. My memories of this trip will live with me until the day I die. Who knows what my next adventure will be, but I can’t wait. And I’ll damn sure pack more socks. That mosquito repellant device never even made it out of my bag.

RESOURCE GUIDE HISTORY A tiny village of about 60 inhabitants and a campground, Meat Cove was first settled in the 1870s. This remote little inlet was named after the large number of caribou and moose that were found in the surrounding mountains. CAMPGROUND The Meat Cove Campground is about 25 kilometers off the Cabot Trail and offers 30 campsites, each with its own breathtaking view, supplied with a picnic table, fire pit, and grill. There are also four camp wilderness cabins available. Guests have access to hot showers, flush toilets, and fresh drinking water, as well as to the famous Oceanside Chowder Hut, kayak rentals, and hiking and biking trails. WHEN TO GO The best time to visit is from May to late October, but the weather can be unpredictable so pack layers. Reservations can only be made for the cabins. novascotia.com/places-to-stay/ campgrounds, 902-383-2379

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Go Westy! Conquistador del mundo: 927 days, 34 countries, and five continents in a two-wheel drive Vanagon. 81

By Brad Van Orden

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2. 4.

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8. 1. Sand ladders, larger tires, a suspension lift, and clouded judgment add versatility to this 2WD. 2. Exterior locks were added as a deterrent for thieves. 3. Nacho’s finished interior is more modern apartment than hippie bus. 4. The water purification system in progress. 5. The couch folds into a bed for nights of stealth camping with the top down. 6. Solar equipment utilized includes an inverter, charge controller, and house battery. 7. Boards on the roof rack and backpacks stored at the ready inside the van were our keys to places unreachable by road. 8. Nacho’s shower in use at Valle de la Luna in the Atacama Desert. Opposite, clockwise from left: The rear bumper was fabricated inside of a horse barn at a remote ranch in Arizona. Sheena sanded the CNCed cabinet pieces in preparation for finishing. Nacho’s CAD cabinet model, ready to be sent to the CNC machine.The Westy’s walls needed to be sanded and painted before the rebuild. Center: Glue was applied during cabinet construction. A screwsand-glue combination kept the cabinets from creaking or popping—even when driving on harsh roads. Opening page: Our ascent into the Atlas Mountains in Morocco.

t was because we didn’t have a garage that I cursed the wind. I lay on my back underneath our van replacing bushings and blindly fumbling with CV bolts as I also cursed the dust, leaves, and tumbleweeds. When winter came I cursed the snow. Blizzards blew through our little valley, high in the mountains of Northern Arizona, and the snowflakes flew down the neck of my coveralls. My tools slowly rusted from exposure. The decision to buy a Volkswagen Vanagon and drive it around the world took all of about 20 seconds to make. One minute I was joking with a colleague about driving his hippie bus to Tierra del Fuego, and before I knew it my wife, Sheena, and I were stalled in Los Angeles traffic in a 1984 Vanagon named Whoopi. It had belonged to a string of Z-list celebrities: a Hollywood astrologer named Lucky Star, a production assistant for the 1996 Pamela Anderson film Barb Wire, and a children’s songwriter called the Song Wizard. On the way home we renamed the van Ignacio, “Nacho” for short, because every old van needs a strong and dependable name. Our plan was to drive all the way around the world, and to take three years to do so.

ENGINERD GONE WILD

While Nacho was perfectly livable, I couldn’t help but let the engineer in me go nerd-wild over the course of our two-year savings period. I spent my lunch breaks jotting down measurements, and later transcribed them into a CAD program to build a 3D model of Nacho’s body. From that I designed an entirely new interior and sent the cabinet files to a CNC shop to have them cut out. We proceeded to gut the whole van and build it back

up from scratch in the likeness of a modern Japanese efficiency apartment. Of the highest priority for our new home were a water purification system, solar electricity, a way to heat water, and a shower. The water setup I devised had a false floor, 150 feet of tubing, two pumps and filters, a UV light, and a safety shutoff solenoid. To generate hot water I designed a heat exchanger that would use the engine’s heat to bring 15 gallons of water to near boiling, leaving another 15 gallons of cold water in a second tank. I plumbed a shower into the rear door, which could make use of our stored hot water, or we could generate it on demand by idling the engine. A small solar panel on the roof and six months spent fitting our new ultra-chic, over-engineered cabinets, and voilà, the birth of the ultimate road tripping machine, if not evidence of a failed social life.

THE LAND OF INVISIBLE CATS

We left home on a snowy December day, heading south with a slapdash plan to drive more or less in the same direction until we arrived back where we started. There is, as we soon found, an internationally recognized gesture to hail a public minibus. To do so, the right arm is held out, palm down, and the fingers are extended and contracted in unison. The effect is a gesture that looks like a person petting an invisible cat. There is also an internationally recognized stereotype of a public minibus, and it looks very much like Nacho from a distance. Thus, all the world over we were enthusiastically greeted by villagers petting an invisible cat, and we waved back at their most unconventional greeting.

We left home on a snowy December day, heading south with a slapdash plan to drive more or less in the same direction until we arrived back where we started.

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When I was a kid I traveled to bike races in my sponsor’s Vanagon, and I’ve wanted one ever since. When we bought Nacho in Hollywood I asked the girl why she was selling it. She said she was moving back to Alaska, but didn’t think the van would make the trip. This fact went in one ear and out the other—we would drive it around the world. I was blinded by a lifelong love for these vans, and still, after having done the trip, I feel it’s the best tool for the job.

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Throughout Mexico and Central America I often found myself under the chassis fixing casualties incurred from rough roads. It was as if Nacho was undergoing some kind of overlanding hazing ritual. First the wheel bearings, then the axles, and finally the brakes all needed attention. Each time we ground to a halt Sheena resumed reading her coming-of-age princess novella, and I crawled under the van with my bag of tools. We quickly realized that most of Nacho’s early problems were a result of Colombian law the molesting hands prohibits the of untrained mechanimportation of ics, so I made a rule used car parts, that only my own unso after much trained hands would consideration we decided to embark be allowed to molest Nacho. on an international When we reached smuggling mission. Colombia we drove into a remote set of mountains on a glorified cattle trail, following a map that a local man had scribbled on the back of a napkin. Days of vehicular abuse passed at a walking pace, but Nacho took it in stride, his 95-horsepower hamster wheel pushing the limits of his two-wheel drive chassis. When we could drive no farther we parked and trekked into the mountains. It snowed, but this time I didn’t curse the windblown flakes. We had come all this way and brought our cozy little apartment on wheels with us, complete with all the comforts of home. I considered myself a pretty lucky guy, and Sheena a lucky lady. As we turned to leave the mountains, our transmission failed. And then I cursed the mud, dust, snow, our luck, and everything else I could think of. We were towed along a dusty Opposite, left column: The temple complex of Angkor Wat in the ancient city of Angkor, Cambodia. On break for a warm-up after getting stuck in a storm while paddling on Argentina’s Lago Aluminé. A boy rode by us on his elephant in the northern mountains of Thailand. Our campsite near an underground city in Cappadocia, Turkey, that we stumbled upon by chance. Preparing to leave Kathmandu on the day of a Maoist strike. Center column: We were visited by a shepherd while camping in the desert in Rajasthan, India. We camped within the walls of a Buddhist monastery in Cambodia. Nacho tackled treacherous dirt tracks through the Nepalese Himalayas en route to the Langtang Valley near the Chinese border. Right: A hand-dug tunnel in Peru’s Cañón del Pato.

road to the nearest village by a rare passerby, where we teetered on the ragged edge of a nervous breakdown. We sought refuge on a nearby farm, and as the weeks passed hatched a shoddy plan: Colombian law prohibits the importation of used car parts, so after much consideration we decided to embark on an international smuggling mission. We caught a ride to Bogotá, hopped a flight back to America, bought a used transmission, and cleaned it up so that it looked fairly new. I used Photoshop to create a receipt saying that it was new, loaded it into a very large suitcase, and brought it back to Bogotá as checked baggage. After three days battling Colombian customs and a 10-hour ride back to the mountain farm, I spent two more weeks fixing Nacho, fabricating new brake springs in a barn with a hammer and installing the transmission without a jack. In the end we were stationary for two months, but until the day of our departure we hadn’t known the true taste of liberation. We loosely followed the Pan-American Highway southward, the scene through our windshield shifting from the Andes to jungle, salt flats to glaciers, and desert to altiplano. We forged on into the great expanse of Patagonia, and after a year of driving we reached Tierra del Fuego. It is a desolate outpost where the Andes fall into the sea—an ominous, otherworldly place where Ferdinand Magellan found indigenous tribes slathered with oil, and penguins huddle at the bleak and rocky edge of the continent, beyond which lies Antarctica. It is the farthest south that it is possible to drive in the world, but our drive was far from over.

ASIAN INVASION

Upon reaching Southeast Asia by container ship, we decided to treat Nacho to a celebratory heart transplant before our impending ascent into the Himalayas. With the help of our new Thai friends, whose acquaintance had resulted from a shared love for Volkswagen buses, we coordinated a Subaru engine swap in a garage near Bangkok. It involved driving to a giant warehouse of engines armed with my compression tester, and then driving away with a new engine strapped onto a tire in our living room. With nearly doubled horsepower and torque, Nacho carried us across India amid a whirl of turbans, camels, colors, and chaos while dodging the world’s worst drivers.

MILESTONES 5,400 miles While parked in a mechanic’s shop in Guatemala to have a wheel bearing fixed, an electrical storm nearly caused Nacho to catch fire. The only thing that saved him was a hot wire that had severed a tube in the water purification system, which extinguished the would-be blaze. 8,800 miles The transmission failed in the remote mountains of Colombia, setting off an international car part smuggling operation. 27,500 miles In Thailand, Nacho’s engine wiring harness melted from the heat of a broken exhaust pipe. I borrowed a bicycle and set off, eventually procuring a roll of monofilament wire, and used it to rewire the entire engine. 28,200 miles After camping within the walls of a Laotian-Buddhist monastery, the monks lost the keys to the gate. In order to free us from this not-so-terrible incarceration, I impressed the monks with my switchblade hacksaw and cut the lock. 31,500 miles While camping at an Indian

petrol station, we were wakened at 6:00 a.m. by a station attendant who wanted to give a tour of Nacho’s interior to a passing family. We waited outside in our pajamas, bleary-eyed and stunned, while the attendant excitedly described the van’s features to the grinning Indian family as they went inside to inspect the contents of our drawers and cabinets.

33,000 miles Nacho endured a Nepalese military convoy in defiance of a Maoist rebel strike, and successfully crossed the Himalayas on a rough dirt road to the Chinese border. 33,900 miles We became hopelessly stuck in the deep clay of a tidal marsh while attempting to drive a 150-mile stretch of the Pakistani border without a road. 41,200 miles Nacho and team entered the Sahara Desert in Northern Africa, marking the fifth continent of the drive. Mileage at start of trip 276,500 Mileage at end of trip 322,300

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SPECIFICATIONS

1984 Volkswagen Westfalia Vanagon Camper

We heard rumors of insurgents throwing petrol bombs into cars; so we wrote “TOURIST” with a bar of soap on our windshield and hoped for the best.

Eventually we reached the Nepalese Himalayas where we were met by the Maoist resistance. On the day that we were to drive across the Himalayas to the Chinese border, the Maoist rebels imposed a 10-day driving ban. We heard rumors of insurgents throwing petrol bombs into cars; following a police officer’s advice we wrote “TOURIST” with a bar of soap on our windshield and hoped for the best. In Kathmandu, Nacho was the only car on the road. After a day spent in a military convoy, and a second on a series of cliff-hanging dirt tracks, we arrived at our destination and profusely thanked the powerful new engine and our luck. Upon returning to India, not yet having learned our lesson, we decided to drive from Rajasthan to the state of Gujarat by tracing the Pakistani border for 150 miles where there is no road. What, we asked ourselves, could possibly go wrong? We filled Nacho’s water tanks from a putrid concrete pool—a vote of confidence for our water purification system—and set off. It will come as no surprise that we became stuck in the sand on the second day of our roadless crossing. We freed ourselves after some digging, but nothing could save us from becoming hopelessly mired in deep clay while trying to cross a tidal marsh shortly thereafter. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

No matter, we thought, we had a comfortable bed, a week’s provisions, and all the clean water we could drink.

NACHO: A LOVE STORY

Nacho made his European homecoming in work-hardened style, and we relished in our decision to drive a Vanagon. Through our very own big screen to the world we watched Mayans in goat-hide skirts, Peruvian highlanders living in grass huts, Indians in saris and colorful head wraps, parrots, flamingoes, and penguins. We had taken showers under Nacho’s rear door in the Atacama Desert, along the Mekong, and among fairy rock chimneys in Cappadocia. Our water purification system kept us free from illness, despite filling up with brown river water in Laos. After 34 countries our cabinets emitted neither creak nor pop, and our refrigerator kept the beer cold even on the hottest of Bangkok afternoons. And wherever we went we found a friendly community of Volkswagen lovers. The closer we got to home, the more somber we became at the impending end of life in our road-tested home. But after 927 days of driving in generally the same direction, we arrived right back where we started. After our trip ended, I was walking in the

• Loaded weight: 6,000 lb • Engine, first half of trip: 1986 VW 1.9L Wasserboxer, 95 hp • Engine, second half of trip: 1997 Subaru 2.5L DOHC EJ25 engine, 165 hp • Suspension: GoWesty 1.5-in lifting springs with Bilstein HD shocks • Front seats: 2010 Honda Odyssey captain chairs • Security: under-seat safes, locking center console, exterior locking door hasps, kill switch • Custom dual swing-away rear bumper • Fiamma F45Ti awning • Bridging ladders: McMaster-Carr industrial galvanized stair treads • Norcold DE-0040 refrigerator • Wedgewood 3-burner stove • SHURflo Whisper King water pumps and accumulator tanks • Two 60L onboard water tanks • Homebuilt hot water maker, heats at 2°F/min • Homemade Gore-Tex pop-top tent and door screens • Custom Baltic birch and anigre cabinets • Maple hardwood floor, bamboo headliners and door covers • Samlex 600W pure sine wave inverter • Kyocera KC135GT solar panels • Concorde PVX-1040T house battery, 104Ah • Morningstar SunSaver 15A MPPT solar controller

mist along a dark sidewalk in the wee hours of the morning. A thought entered my mind, and I realized that lying under the van in jungle mud, Patagonian wind, or the stifling heat of the Sahara Desert was not a curse but a blessing. I waited for the M40 to arrive to take me to downtown Seattle where I now work in an office building. As the bus approached I extended my arm to pet the invisible cat, a most unconventional greeting.

In Gujarat, India, help finally arrived in the form of an antique tractor to pull us out of the clay.

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The Last Huntsmen

The Kua tribe struggles to maintain their identity in the heart of ancient Africa. By Forest Woodward

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90 Clockwise from left: The humor of our local Kua fixer’s good-natured ribbings regarding the proximity of lions to our camp was rather darkly underscored by the intensity with which he encouraged us to keep a fire burning throughout the night. Setting up camp each night required a careful scrutiny of our surroundings. Stumbling into a small village, we were greeted by a flurry of wide-eyed and wild-haired children. Shy laughter and the sound of music led me to this little gathering of children dancing as the sun went down. With a beaming smile and dirty brown feet calloused and bare, one of the local village children wandered off into the bush in pursuit of a giggling gang of cousins. As we headed south across the salt pan a few kilometers from camp, a pregnant lioness prowled casually past the trucks, tail twitching and powerful sinews rippling. Opening spread: The San are reported to be one of the last tenuous links to the ancient tradition of exhaustion hunting. The Bushmen are reticent to talk about it, let alone practice it, with the government ban on hunting and their “shoot first, ask questions later” policy. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Muslim war photographer, documentarian monk, hippie backwoods filmmaker, Botswana human rights activist, Diné (Navajo) runner, and Kua hunter walk into a bar on the edge of the Kalahari. None of them order a drink, and the bartender refuses to give them the Wi-Fi password. This is not the setup to a joke, but rather the scene at a Ghanzi roadhouse around 4:00 p.m. on a lazy Monday afternoon. After days of chasing our tails around, and eventually through, the bureaucratic hoops and hoopla of local governance, this would be our last access to outside communications, ice cubes, and air conditioning for some time. Strange as this assortment of individuals appeared, and limited as our ability to converse might have been, we were united by a shared interest in the survival of one of the oldest hunter gatherer tribes in the world: the Kua, members of the San or Bushmen people. Over the course of the next two weeks, the road would become a good deal bumpier, both literally and metaphorically, as we rallied an old Toyota Raider into the heart of the Kalahari. Earlier in Maun, wrestling jet lag and overstuffed bags, we had sorted camera kits and supplies in preparation for an indeterminate amount of time out in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve (CKGR). A day of pre-production had stretched into two as we haggled over trucks and made a gluttonous raid on the supermarket, joking that our eight carts of food should be enough to feed an entire village. We would later realize this to be wildly inaccurate as our future friends in the Kua village we visited happened to share war photographer Omar’s voracious appetite for ketchup-flavored crisps. Eventually, we straggled out of town and headed into the Kalahari, trucks packed to the gills with filming gear, a motley assortment of camp supplies, two weeks worth of water and fuel, spare tires and parts, and varying degrees of optimism, naïveté, and excitement. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Entering the park we did our best to blend in with the other safari truck tourists. It wasn’t hard—our first lion sighting sent us rummaging for our cameras along with the safari neophytes. Lions however, are not what we came to Africa for. We were here to tell the story of the Kua tribe. Exiled in the late 1990s from their ancestral lands, a small band of Bushmen tribes have litigated and won the right to return to their native game-rich plains on the CKGR a decade later. The court ruling that allowed them to return came, however, with a debilitating caveat: The tribes were banned from hunting. Our ragtag crew spent 10 days with the tribesmen, observing their now routine yet lengthy journey to hunt outside the reserve. A strange trek, revealing a stark contrast between the enduring essence of a society 30,000 years old and their struggle to thrive, or even just survive in the modern world. Although there are many factors on which the livelihood and evolution of the Bushmen tribes will hinge, on a most basic level it relies on their ability to carry on the fundamental traditions and practices from which they derive sustenance; in other words, their ability to hunt. Thus, by track and foot, we followed our guides and the huntsmen into the heart of ancient Africa. Our little group was short on hunting experience, but well-versed in storytelling and critical thinking. Over the course of two weeks we rolled hours upon hours of footage, attempting to weave together the intricate narrative of what many fear may be the final chapter of the oldest huntsmen.

First light in the village rolls red and heavy across the plains, penetrating the few trees that offer shade and revealing cook fires and busy livestock herders going about their morning rituals. A young shepherd playing his homemade instrument draws a curious crowd. Opposite: Huntsmen take advantage of the extra perspective provided by the Raider as we searched for game outside the confines of the CKGR. The ancestors of the Kua tribe hunted on the lands in and around the reserve for thousands of years. Now, they are forced to travel long distances in order to track game on lands where hunting is still permitted. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

In the mid-1990s the Botswana government began a relocation initiative targeting the Kua and other tribes in a fashion hauntingly reminiscent of the U.S. Indian Removal Act implemented in 1830.

In the mid-1990s the Botswana government began a relocation initiative targeting the Kua and other tribes in a fashion hauntingly reminiscent of the U.S. Indian Removal Act implemented in 1830. Citing the conservation of wildlife and feigning ignorance to underlying pressures for development of diamond mining and increasing safari-based tourist traffic, the government’s efforts to eradicate the tribes from their ancestral lands was largely successful until 2006. At that time, a court ruling found their actions unconstitutional and allowed select tribal members to begin returning to the reserve. However, in 2014, the first diamond mine officially began operations on what was once tribal land, and as the Kua’s water sources were cemented over and their livestock confiscated, new watering holes were drilled exclusively for wildlife in the vicinity of the privately owned Wilderness Safaris—a company closely linked to Botswana’s president Ian Khama.

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Clockwise from top left: The local gang gathers round to watch us set up camp, lend a hand, sample our supplies from the city, and pantomime stories of elephants trampling tents. Spears like these, similar in shape to the ancient hunting implements of the tribe, are now fashioned from rebar. A traditional San hut, framed with branches and layered in grass thatch, provides warmth, shelter, and a communal gathering place in the cold of the desert night. . Opposite: “They will conserve the animals with their fences and watering holes and binoculars, but who now will conserve the ways of our people? For longer than you can know we have lived in harmony with the animals, taking only what we need to survive. We were the original conservationists.” – Xani, a Kua tribesman, shares his thoughts regarding the current policies implemented by the Botswana Government and CKGR.

As we scrambled to start a fire and set up tents one night, a group of boys from the village ran to greet us and shyly set about helping to pitch camp. One of the boys, Although I sprinted Kebaemetse, spoke English quite well, to follow Kal, he was and between his language skills and my impossibly fast, always pantomimes, I learned that he believed moving through the the area to be frequented by a parade of chest-high thorns and house-sized (and possibly man-eating) scrub like a featherelephants. weight dancer. Turns out Kabaemetse was right. It’s unheard of for elephants to wander this far south of the Okavango Delta, but following a recently rehydrated riverbed, a parade of big gray beauties had found their way into the vicinity, and coincidentally into our camp. While they were not man-eating elephants as I had (mis)understood initially, their size and interest in the trees around our tents led them to be rather intimidating. After conferring briefly, the Kua suggested we move our camp into the village proper, where we were promptly adopted by our personal pack of guard dogs/fourlegged dishwashers. Dogs are also used for hunting, and they accompanied us on our pursuits for prey. When they would suddenly catch the scent of kudu and begin to run, something in each of us consequently snapped. In a split second, Kal, the Kua hunter in our group, would move out in front, with the boys running behind. Although I sprinted to follow him, he was impossibly fast, always moving through the chest-high thorns and scrub like a featherweight dancer.

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Clockwise from left: Slow-twitch muscle fibers and three million sweat glands have evolved to allow humans to run distances that exceed the capacity of most four-legged animals. Persistence hunting is figured by some to be the method by which early hominids tracked and hunted quadrupedal prey. Men and dogs alike walk with a spring in their step and pride in their eyes. Tonight their families will eat well. While the eldest of the huntsmen holds the steenbok, one of the younger boys finishes the kill. You can only smoke if you are able to make fire by rubbing two sticks together. The survival (and recreation) skills of the Kua continue to surprise at every turn. Having tracked but eventually spooking a large springbok, the hunters settle for a smaller steenbok.

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Clockwise from top left: The Kua are not the only hunters in these parts. In fact, they aren’t even at the top of the food chain, evidenced by the remains of a lion kill. Preparation for the hunt, tracking prey, cleaning, and cooking—all of these things take far more energy and time than opening another tin of meat from the government rationed food stipends. Yet over the course of the hunt it becomes apparent that there is more at stake than a simple caloric equation. There is an intimacy between the men, founded in an ancient set of skills which are uniquely theirs to possess and to exercise together. There is a pride in the process, a strength in the execution, a connection to land and to ancestors that is inseparable from their existence. Last light over the Kua camp.

Kal and I talked of many things over the course of our journey, some political and some polite, trying to reweave the threads of a shadowy fight. As the flames flickered and sighed into armchair embers, I asked him how it felt to reSturdy, sun-hardened turn to this land. Kal was silent for a shoulders shrugging time, his face seemingly cut from fire against the hulking and coal under a moonless sky. He had mantle of a society they not been home in 17 years. “It feels like did not ask to know. being able to breathe again,” he replied at last, the clicks and resonant echoes of his voice relayed to me by our translator. “And I feel sad. Sad that I ever had to leave.” For many members of the tribe like Kal, the lack of water and ban on hunting has made return to the reserve a seemingly impossible prospect. We had hoped to meet members of the San who still hunted in the old way, running their quarry to exhaustion over the course of many miles. Instead we found a people on the edge of giving up, a culture teetering between something age-old and something uncertain—sturdy, sun-hardened shoulders shrugging against the hulking mantle of a society they did not ask to know. While some of the Kua have chosen to remain in the new relocation community outside of the reserve, others, like Kal and his brothers, have taken advantage of the 2006 court ruling. With the tribe’s water sources capped over, and hunting now banned, their subsistence is a constant struggle. Life out here is far from simple, but the people we spoke with made it clear that for them a life of independence on familiar ground was preferable to a life of fences and government handouts in relocation communities. Author’s note: The full story of this trip will be the basis for a large portion of Sanjay Rawal’s documentary film 3100. The names of the San people appearing in this article have been changed to protect their identities.

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Cartography by David Medeiros (mapbliss.com)

ROUTE Botswana

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Footprints or tire tracks? Don’t let your engine decide.

It’s a big world out there. When reliability and efficiency can mean the difference between walking or driving, depend on Cummins.

Cummins 2.8-liter Turbo Diesel

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WANT A NEW CUMMINS ENGINE UNDER YOUR OLD, FAMILIAR HOOD? OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

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Auto Importers When only a foreign exotic will do, who do you trust to get it to your garage? By Christophe Noel

n our 2015 Summer Issue, we ventured out on a limb and bestowed a single vehicle with the superlative title of Ultimate Overlander. The recipient of that accolade was the Toyota Land Cruiser VDJ76 turbo-diesel. Available only to select markets in far-flung corners of the globe, it wasn’t the only rarity in contention. Of the five pinnacle vehicles we considered for our top honor, not a single one is available in America, at least not in the exact configurations we evaluated. Easy as it is to lament our lack of access to these trucks, we do have options. For people with a desire to own a diesel-burning Defender, Mil-Spec G-Wagen, Nissan Patrol, 70-Series Land Cruiser, or some other model not originally offered here, we can import them, albeit with some restrictions. Naturalizing a foreign vehicle in the United States has always been fraught with limitations and challenges. The usual deal breaker for most would-be buyers is the seemingly arbitrary age stipulation which prohibits the entry of any automobile less than 25 years old. Only recently have the years favored the overlander with many desirable platforms just now falling outside of that time window. Daunting as the process can be, more people are resorting to importation for a variety of compelling reasons. When it is made available here in North America, the next generation diesel Defender will likely command a price few are willing or able to pay, but it will be a paltry sum compared to a new Mercedes-Benz G-Wagen. Importation presents opportunities to acquire similar vehicles at a fraction of their new-model prices. Although they may be long in the tooth, some vintage trucks can be had with low miles, complete service records, and years of life left on the clock. Older vehicles have other benefits: mechanical simplicity and a lack of unwanted electronics and features chief among them. Logical as those justifications are, car purchases are often emotionally motivated. Perhaps 25 years ago that truck of your dreams was simply out of reach, but now at the confluence of depreciation and better financial means, it is ripe for the plucking. Ever since the dawn of the automobile it has been a form of personal expression. Suburbia is rife with me-too transports, so parking a righthand drive Defender in your garage, one clad in olive drab paint and fixed with machine gun mounts, adds to the vehicle’s uniqueness. Going through the importation process can also deepen the bond between driv-

er and machine. Why buy the same Jeep your neighbor has when you can own a former UN-issued Land Cruiser? With the incentives to import established, the means to do so often leaves people stymied. To those unfamiliar with the process, importation is an intimidating gauntlet of legal and logistical obstacles, many of which are unknown Why buy the same at the onset. Buyers must first locate a vehicle, Jeep your neighbor has when you can arrange for inspections, negotiate a price, own a former UNtransact the funds in foreign currency, and issued Land Cruiser? complete the necessary bill of sale. Only then begins the complex process of getting the vehicle to an appropriate port, safely shipped overseas, and inspected once again. Should all things go smoothly, the vehicle is finally cleared by U.S. Customs, given the blessing of the EPA, and granted approval for domestic registration. The possibilities for things to go pear shaped abound. If the paperwork is incomplete, a VIN number unverified, or the parts suspiciously not all original or mismatched, the vehicle could be stuck in limbo or denied entry. It could be bound in red tape for weeks, the only recourse being a trip to the Court of International Trade. If the situation degrades further, your vehicle could be seized, or worse, dispatched to the crusher. And even if everything goes as planned, there is no guarantee your efforts won’t result in an overpriced clunker parked in your driveway. It is because of these potential perils that importation companies have become increasingly popular. Hiring an expert to navigate the bureaucratic straits is money well spent. The most basic services address only the transaction of the sale, paperwork, and shipping, leaving the buyer to source their vehicle. The more inclusive services not only locate the automobile of choice, but facilitate everything through final delivery—sometimes right to your front door. There are a growing number of companies going a step further that provide complete restorations and aftermarket alterations, and deal in specific makes and models. A handful of importers maintain a fleet of vehicles ready for purchase while others are willing to scour the planet to find particular builds. Searching for your very own foreign exotic can be as simple as making a call to one of the importers catering to your individual needs. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

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THE DUTCH SAFARI COMPANY » European sports cars and overland vehicles » Based in Austin, Texas » Bespoke buying experience » Detailed consultation » Maintains a small inventory of vehicles dutchsafaricompany.com, 916-995-0268

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illed as a classic car concierge, the Dutch Safari Company deals primarily with European sports cars and overland vehicles, but they do far more than just sell pre-owned iron. Founders Nick and Erica have created a bespoke buying experience designed to pair classic car enthusiasts to the automobiles they have always wanted. Their process starts with a detailed consultation illuminating the nuances of vintage auto ownership including maintenance costs, parts availability, and other considerations. It is much more than an exchange of cash for keys. The sourcing of a Dutch Safari automobile begins with an exhaustive Internet search but inevitably culminates in boots on the ground. Their agents in Europe know the best treasures are often tucked away in the dark corners of garages and barns just waiting to be discovered. Periodically their team embarks on multi-week automotive safaris to find their hidden gems and suss out which are the best candidates for export. Once found, their vehicles are subjected to intense evaluations Founders Nick and Erica before pricing negotiations ever have created a bespoke begin. If the car requires minor rebuying experience pairs or refurbishments, it receives designed to pair classic those treatments prior to leaving car enthusiasts to the the continent—where parts are automobiles they have easier to acquire and potentially always wanted. less expensive. When deemed ready for the long trip to their headquarters in Austin, Texas, the vehicle is transported to a shipping port. The exportation documents are completed and translated if necessary, and once landed in the States, the customs and EPA forms are filed. By the time the new owner slips behind the wheel of their Range Rover Classic, Series II, Defender, or a Lancia Delta HF Integrale 8V rally car, everything down to domestic registration has been carefully completed with nothing left to chance. They also maintain a small inventory of vehicles ready for purchase, and true to their high standards, every Dutch Safari import is a pristine example of automotive excellence.

MASTODON MOTOR COMPANY »» Specializes in Mercedes-Benz Geländewagens »» Based in Wheat Ridge, Colorado »» Maintains a small inventory of vehicles »» Import relationship with a European government agency »» Offers a full array of restoration and modification services mastodon4x4.com, 615-557-3825

he Mercedes-Benz Geländewagen has long been one of the most celebrated overland platforms ever to ply the world’s remote tracks. Since it first rolled off the assembly line in Graz, Germany, more than four decades ago, the G-Wagen has been favored by miliWith their extensive tary forces, NGOs, and explorers knowledge of the alike. In recent years it has been ofG-Wagen in all of its fered in the United States, but only many forms, Mastodon in the form of up-market models is well equipped to pair fitted with shiny wheels, leather inthe most discerning teriors, twin-turbo V8 engines, and enthusiasts with sophisticated electronics. Germany’s premium For the adventurer, the Mil4WD trucks. Spec 460 and 461 diesel-burning variants have held the most alluring appeal. Unfettered and spared the complexity of their luxurious contemporaries, the G-Wagens originally deployed for military service in Europe are now highly prized by the overlander. Based in Wheat Ridge, Colorado, Mastodon Motor Company maintains an inventory of these brawny trucks and offers a full array of restoration and modification services. By leveraging an exclusive relationship with a European government agency, Mastodon is able to import trucks with unusually low mileage, extensive service records, and often at prices well below common market values. Given their military heritage, most of their trucks have been meticulously maintained at regular intervals, and while they show the expected signs of use, are in surprisingly good condition belying their age. Once a Mastodon G-Wagen has been imported it receives a full inspection, road test, and basic service. Some are sold in their raw condition while others receive more extensive refurbishments to the bodywork and interior, improvements made at the request of the buyer. Owners desiring a more refined final product may elect to commission a rebuilt engine and driveline, or the fitment of aftermarket accessories. With their extensive knowledge of the G-Wagen in all of its many forms, Mastodon is well equipped to pair the most discerning enthusiasts with Germany’s premium 4WD trucks.

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LAND CRUISERS DIRECT »» Specializes (almost) exclusively in Toyota Land Cruisers »» Based in Ozark, Missouri »» Large selection of 60- and 70-Series Cruisers in stock »» Restoration and modification services available »» Adept at customized importations landcruisersdirect.com, 855-494-8696

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hen our publisher, Scott Brady, made the decision to declare the Land Cruiser VDJ76 as the best of the best, it was after considerable contemplation and time behind the wheel. He had just piloted that vehicle on all seven contiAs customers of Land Cruisers Direct nents spanning two years with the Expewe can attest to ditions 7 project. It was no surprise then their unwavering when our very own diesel-powered BJ74 dedication to cusLand Cruiser arrived at our office, protomer satisfaction. cured from the Toyota mavens at Land Cruisers Direct in Ozark, Missouri. As the name implies, they deal almost exclusively in Toyota’s iconic SUV. A quick search of their extensive inventory shows a predominance of Land Cruisers with diesel engines and manual transmissions, most in body styles not originally offered in the United States. With a large selection of 60- and 70-Series Cruisers in stock at any one time, many of them are in unusually good condition and reasonably priced with a full complement of restoration and modification services available. They are also adept at customized importations and can search their global network for the exact vehicles their clients seek. The majority of their Toyotas are right-hand-drive, an indicator of where they were originally sold—in their native Japan. Although they import some Land Cruisers from Australia, South America, and Europe, Japan has proven to be their most reliable resource. Each year Japan exports more than a million preowned vehicles of exceptional quality. Because the small island nation has few places to properly challenge a 4WD vehicle, the bulk of their Land Cruisers have not seen hard usage and are sold with little more than cosmetic blemishes and minor surface rust commensurate with their age. For Japanese owners, maintaining an older vehicle and meeting strict licensing regulations is often cost prohibitive, resulting in trucks languishing in storage for years. This, combined with the small footprint of the country, explains why Land Cruisers Direct trucks are sold with such low miles. As customers of Land Cruisers Direct we can attest to their unwavering dedication to customer satisfaction. Our truck has conquered the entirety of the United States from the sands of the Mojave to the interstates of the East Coast, and it shows no signs of slowing down anytime soon. If it is an uncommon Toyota you seek, Land Cruisers Direct can get it for you.

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Gila Legends

Jake Quiñones and his posse delve into the Land of Enchantment.

By Jake Quiñones

musement parks, motels, and roadside diners were not part of my upbringing; the backcountry of New Mexico’s Gila forged many of my first memories. Countless camping trips with my dad and sister all started the same: Friday afternoon he would get off work early and we’d load the Bronco with a coffin-sized, waffle-topped Igloo packed with food, cola, and 80 pounds of ice before hitting the road. Pulling off the pavement at North Star Road before sundown, Hagar, our white German shepherd, would be whimpering to be let out so he could run to our familiar camp along the Mimbres River. The road in was rough, and eating waterlogged cold cuts and hot dogs was common. At the crack of dawn, I’d be playing in the river, whittling boats that would eventually be lost to the current and climbing massive cottonwoods that had fallen across the watercourse. The trunks were carved with words I’d get the belt for repeating, lover’s names, and dates going back to the Great Depression. By lamplight I would study a dog-eared map of the Gila, exploring the canyons and peaks with my finger. Reading paperback Westerns in bed fueled my imagination; I became captivated by the legend of a young 16-year-old Henry McCarty, who earned himself a stay in the Silver City jail for stealing 2 pounds of butter and robbing a Chino copper miner of $70. Before McCarty’s sentence was up, he crawled out the jailhouse chimney and fled into the mountains. Years later he would make a name for himself as Billy the Kid. The Gila region is rich with history and lore. In 1540, Spanish navigator Hernando de Alarcón led an exploration by float from the Gulf of California up the Colorado River in an attempt to find a waterway to the Pacific Ocean. Part of his mission was to map the uncharted territory in support of Francisco Vázquez de Coronado’s pending expedition. Alarcón traveled up a smaller river from its confluence with the Colorado, which he named Rio Miraflores (Flower View River). He was one of the first Europeans to lay eyes on this region and body of water, now called the Gila River. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

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BANDITS AND WEEKEND ARBORISTS

Following a late-spring snowstorm, American Expedition Vehicles (AEV) gathered a group of adventurers in Silver City, New Mexico, for a six-day traverse of the Gila Legends Expedition route. As their guide, in the weeks leading up to the trip I had scouted large sections of the trail, moving fallen trees, surveying camps, and verifying that back roads were passable. Each team member was required to possess the ability, equipment, and provisions necessary to handle the trip entirely self-supported during stretches of up to 200 miles, and three days between fuel and resupply. Wine tasting, bison petting, and cabin lodging were not on the itinerary. The route would eventually lead us to Truth or Consequences and included a variety of terrain including desert, grassland, chaparral, water-filled canyon bottoms, and dense forest. Amongst the spread of vehicles were an AEV Brute double-cab Jeep Wrangler and Ram Power Wagon Prospector. The Ram would be the biggest rig I’d guided through the tight and technical sections of the Gila’s backroads. Its driver, Kent Klein, stood ready for challenge, sharp-toothed KatanaBoy saw in hand. Heading up the team was AEV’s Chris Wood, a four-wheel drive professional and trainer with over 30 years of experience under his Wine tasting, bison belt. After a brief drivers’ meeting, like the petting, and cabin Kid we made our own escape, bound for the lodging were not on Southwest’s farthest reaches. the itinerary. We turned off the pavement above the rural townships of Mimbres and San Lorenzo. Mustangs and mules greeted us a few miles up the boulder- and branch-strewn river road, circled a few times in curiosity, and galloped up a side canyon. Knowing the spot well, I stopped the group at a particular nook in the canyon and coaxed them to investigate the natural hideaway on foot. Steve, a lawman from California, looked at me cautiously from over his shoulder as he entered the narrow passageway, as if he’d put me down should I attempt a holdup. Bullet holes and inscriptions in the rock hinted at those that had preceded us: cutthroats, trappers, and Apache Indians. Only a rope was needed to climb the canyon wall to the rim and mountainside above. Ahead of an impending raid or posse drawing near, occupants of the hideout could make quick light and gain a healthy lead into the vast Black Range. While navigating a primitive two-track from the Mimbres to the Continental Divide (without a single switchback) the radio crackled, followed by a voice with a heavy Detroit accent: “I’m stopped! Hot oil warning came on!” Glancing in my rearview mirror I could see Jim’s hood propped against the windshield—his transmission fluid had hit the boiling point. Waves of heat emanated from the Jeep’s engine bay, distorting the view of the canyon below. I dismounted, chocked the tires, and made my way down the steep trail to assess the situation. Despite the precipitous angle, waiting for the fluid to cool with the engine and fan running was the only option. On pause, I took a moment to further study our surroundings. Between heat-induced, mirage-like ripples the Mimbres River appeared as The lone inhabitants of the cave. Opposite, left column: A cave homestead. Cavalcade in a shallow canyon near Wolf Hollow. Perfect snowball-hurling form. Center column: Free-range mustangs and mules. Kent Klein versus a ponderosa pine. Daybreak at Black Canyon Creek. Right column: Ryan Racine takes a stroll in the Chihuahuan Desert. A relic tire swing. Gila baptism in the Mimbres River. Opening spread: The Black Range of the Gila.

a quivering silvery line, an image that took me back to boyhood. Rays of light projected through breaks in the clouds, illuminating small patches of foothills and dales that lead into the Black Range and McKnight, Reeds, and Hillsboro Peaks. On the southern horizon the Sierra Madre created a chain of sky islands over the Chihuahuan Desert floor—once a vast prehistoric ocean. After a second start up the mountain, we only made it a few hundred yards before Kent began his weeklong hobby as an arborist. Although his Ram walked up rocky inclines with ease, overreaching branches constantly taunted the glossy orange sheet metal. The path to a camp spot in Black Canyon led us along the Continental Divide and a portion of the Great Divide Expedition Trail, which straddles a thin strip of vehicle-accessible land that separates the world’s first designated wilderness areas: the Gila and what is now known as the Aldo Leopold.

WOLF HOLLOW AND LONE RANCHERS

By the early 1900s, bear, wolf, and beaver populations, as well as large swaths of forest were largely depleted throughout the Gila; the result of ambitious frontiersmen and entrepreneurs that overburdened the land. During this time, a young forester named Aldo Leopold began his career with the U.S. Forest Service (USFS). Among his duties was predator control in New Mexico and Arizona. On a day that would become infamous, Leopold fired his rifle upon a mother wolf and her pups that had just emerged from fording the swiftly moving river. We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes. I realized then, and have known ever since, that there was something new to me in those eyes—something known only to her and to the mountain. I was young then, and full of trigger-itch; I thought that because fewer wolves meant more deer, that no wolves would mean hunters’ paradise. But after seeing the green fire die, I sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such a view. –Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac: And Sketches Here and There, 1949. Later in life Leopold attributed the killing of the wolf as a pivotal moment, one that eventually changed the way he perceived the natural world. He pioneered the idea that the wildest sections of public land should be set aside and protected for future generations, absent of mankind’s mark. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

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Daybreak brought sunrays and the invigorating scent of pine and moist earth into the canyon. The new warmth caused steam to rise from the grass and drift into the tangled tree limbs above. Birds worked the silt- and ash-rich banks of Black Canyon Creek, hunting for bugs and calling aloud. Once proper coffee was brewed and our Daybreak brought supplies stowed, we clambered up a sunrays and the set of switchbacks to North Star Road invigorating scent of and the heart of the Black Range. In pine and moist earth this country, the occasional passerby into the canyon. is not a gear-laden Subaru, but rather a lone rancher, pack team, or lawman. Near Whitetail Canyon we crossed paths with an inquisitive landowner. He arrived in a Toyota pickup ahead of a cloud of dust and fiercely motioned at me to come closer—unwillingly I did. Inside the cluttered cab were bullets scattered over the passenger seat and a rifle stock perched against the center console. Tensions eased when he bellowed a friendly “Hello!” and inquired about our direction of travel. I didn’t get more than a few sentences in before he cut me off with a well-versed narrative. The topics covered were grazing rights, unusual weather patterns, a recent wolf killing by the Feds, and helping tourists (such as ourselves) “move along” down the road. In his parting words, he touted his precise marksmanship while referencing a road marker about 300 yards off. The landscape central to the Black Range, Plains of San Agustin, and Mogollon Mountains trades off between high-desert chaparral, savannah (complete with golden grass and juniper), and park-like ponderosa forest. Our path west would lead us through Beaverhead, Wolf Hollow, T Bar Ridge, Loco Mountain, and Snow Lake in pursuit of the Mogollon Range. Some of New Mexico’s largest elk populations graze these areas, which in turn supports another animal’s feeding habits—the Mexican gray wolf. After near extinction in the 1970s, five Mexican grays were captured in northern Mexico and bred in captivity. In 1998, 11 were released into the Blue Range Wolf Recovery Area, which includes the Gila National Forest. The effort has paid off, as U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service estimates put the area’s gray wolf population at 50 in 2010 and an encouraging 109 in 2015.

FIRE IN THE HIGH COUNTRY

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Lawman Steve led the way on the wide-open savannah of T Bar Ridge. The view of the San Francisco Mountains and Arizona through the Whitewater-Baldy Complex Fire burn scar (Mogollon Mountains). Opposite: A U.S. Forest Service wildland fire crew attempts to fortify a firebreak ahead of the oncoming Whitewater-Baldy Complex Fire.

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Due to a night of below-freezing temperatures and howling wolves at Loco Mountain camp, our group was a bit rough in character. My ambitions were to get the convoy through the snowcapped Mogollons and then descend into Reserve for supplies. The Gila’s high country features two extremes: thick forest and post-apocalyptic burn scar. From a distance, the fire-stripped trees appear as pencils stuck into the ground, while veins of untouched vegetation suggest the path and speed at which the fire moved. Within the burn it is common to find a dozen newly fallen snags across a roadway that was clear the week prior; the charred trees topple under the slightest breeze or precipitation. After miles of slush, clearing snags, and a morale-building snowball fight, we reached Corner Mountain, the highest point of the route. The San Francisco Mountains and Arizona’s White Mountains lay in the distance, and elk maneuvered gracefully through the steep, fire-stricken terrain. During the spring of 2012, a lighting strike started the Whitewater-Baldy Complex Fire. It burned 465 square miles of the Gila and became New Mexico’s largest wildfire in recorded history. Fanned by

hot temperatures, high winds, and dry conditions, wildland fire crews faced a monumental task. While photo documenting the fire I watched areas I had wandered since childhood reduced to ashes. An image that I will never forget was a lone cow elk that emerged like a ghost from the blackened forest and glowing embers. It was thought that nothing could have survived, yet the animal ran past our crew, seemingly unharmed and head held high, each stride raising a cloud of ash—a testament to its will to live and fight for survival.

ICE CREAM SANDWICHES AND GOBBLERS

Even though we carried extra fuel, a sense of pride came with coasting into Reserve on a single tank, some 200 rigorous miles after departing Silver City. Two gas stations, a market, cantina, and a few purveyors of fine goods highlight this metropolis of 300 persons. The economy is supported by timber, hunting, ranching, and forestry jobs. People that live here are rugged, resourceful, and represent a tight-knit community…and a well-armed one at that. Reserve made national headlines in 1994 when the Catron County commissioners mandated that “A gun and ammunition should stand at the ready in each home.” The call to arms came in response to the Clinton Administration’s gun policy; specifically, the Brady Bill and nationwide ban on assault weapons. Armed with only a sack of ice cream sandwiches, AEV’s Jeff Clark brought grins back to our weary faces. A group of burly men eating ice cream on a Wednesday afternoon amidst a filthy convoy and heavily equipped vehicles was a spectacle to behold.

A well-worn Ford F-100 pulled up and the door swung open before it came to a full stop. A slight, elderly man wearing a cowboy hat and boots hopped down from the seat and took a few steps toward the store before he turned back with an eyebrow cocked and half glare. A bit embarrassed, I lowered my Eskimo Pie, knowing we were about to be called out. “What are you boys doing here?” His tone was that of Mayberry Sheriff Andy Taylor lecturing Opie for skipping Sunday school to swim in a fishing hole. Still holding the ice cream, I told him we had just driven in from Corner Mountain. With a squinted stare and toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth, he looked over our rigs for what seemed like a long while and said, “What’s your business up there?” I explained that I had guided the group up the Mimbres, through the Black Range, across the Mogollons, and to this very parking lot. He remarked gruffly, “Spring turkey is all about done isn’t it? There’s a wolf pack moved in and milling around the Cienega. Slim picking for you, eh? Don’t see any gobblers bagged.” I struggled to find words that described what we had been doing over the last three days was in pursuit of adventure. Our accomplishment, usually defined by miles, duration, road conditions, and images captured, suddenly seemed insignificant. His pickup, on which he now leaned, was rich with patina and dents. The headache rack was outfitted with two spares and a wood-handled farm jack, well-thought-out preparations for the mismatched and nearly bald radials at ground. He likely had more dirt miles under his belt than our group combined. All I could come up with was, “We’re not hunting. We’ve been driving back

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Clockwise from left: Deep in the Elk Mountains, the AEV Brute clawed its way up a primitive twotrack. The brawny RAM Prospector handled pulling duties. Outrunning the gobblers in the foothills of the Elk Mountains. Hard labor builds character whereas winches, snatch blocks, and side pulls often fall short. The 20-or-so mile traverse of the Elk Mountains can take upwards of eight hours to complete due to washouts, tree falls, and other difficult road conditions.

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roads…camping.” “Huh?” he said, “Sounds like y’all are on a fishing expedition without any fish.” With that, he cracked a smile and walked away.

SAW TEETH AND ELK

In the next 24 hours we would cover less than 50 miles through the Tularosa and Elk Mountains, some of the roughest driving in the Gila. Wild turkeys scrambled up hillsides ahead of us, slow and clumsy with feathers flapping. I chuckled to myself about the Reserve elder’s doubts that we could catch a rafter given our procession. The old back roads of the Elks are rarely driven outside of hunting season, evidenced by the heavy brush that hangs and saplings that grow through the road’s center. Dry creek crossings and steep inclines are gullied, resulting in cut dropoffs and exposed, ragged bedrock. I brought the Ram to the front for bigtree duty—it had been looking a bit lazy mid-pack over the past few days. Chris managed the rigging and Kent doled out 429 lb-ft of torque from behind the wheel. Once the timber was parallel with the trail, the crew lined up to finish the job with an old-fashioned hand roll. We drove until sunset to reach Double Barrel Springs, our camp for the night. Situated atop a gentle mountain dotted by widely spaced ponderosa, our spot overlooked the distant Mogollon and Tularosa Mountains. The saw-dulling, back-aching handiwork brought us all a bit closer that evening. As beer was sipped and the whiskey bottle passed around, we recounted our day and told tall hunting tales of record-breaking bulls and savage cougars that refused to tree.

PLAINS OF SAN AGUSTIN AND THE RED PAINT PEOPLE

Exiting the tedious Elk Mountains we made tracks east on the smooth dirt highway that follows Railroad Canyon upstream to the high-elevation Plains of San Agustin. The plains feature endless grassland, rolling bluffs, and the sedimentary remnants of prehistoric water bodies that have been shifted by glaciers and wind. Antelope raced along a few hundred yards off, eventually outrunning us and crossing the road ahead. Atop a gentle ridge we passed over the Continental Divide one last time before beginning the long descent toward the Rio Grande Rift through Alamosa Canyon. The washboard road along the canyon is highlighted by miles of parched arroyo and scrub-covered hills. At the southern end, an unexpected bend gives way to rock monoliths that rise from the landscape and form a sacred passage. Here, spring waters of Ojo Caliente bubble from the earth at the rate of a few thousand gallons per minute, forming the Rio La Cañada Alamosa (Cottonwood Canyon River). The waters that flow down the sheer walls sustain a green sanctuary, complete with dragonflies, reeds, and ancient cottonwoods. Butch Cassidy, during his early ranchhand days in the Gila, might have caught a nap and some shade under one of these very trees. For centuries, the Warm Springs Band of the Chiricahua Apache (also known as Chihenne or Red Paint People) made a livelihood hunting, gathering, and fishing in this canyon. The arrival of Europeans marked the beginning of great change and turmoil for American Indians; boundaries were drawn and land was staked. After New Mexico was ceded to United States by Mexico in 1848 under the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, frontiersmen and the U.S. Cavalry moved across the West and the bloody Indian Wars reached their height. Among the sacred lands held strong by the defiant Apache leaders Cochise, Mangas Coloradas, Victorio, Nana,

ADVICE FROM THE GUIDE Routes through New Mexico’s 3.3 million-acre Gila National Forest can easily entail 250 miles and multiple days between resupply and cell service. It is essential that you prepare accordingly. Food, water, and fuel should be adequate to support you for a few days and 100 miles beyond your intended itinerary. It is recommended that you travel in a group and carry a satellite messenger or phone. Much of the water in the Gila is warm and slow moving, and it is advisable to filter or treat water from natural sources. Take a high-quality handsaw (such as those made by Silky) and cutting wedges, since fallen trees across the roadway are common. May through October provides the best opportunity for travel, as snow renders much of high country impassable from fall through late spring. Spring and summer temperatures can climb to over 100°F and drop below freezing at night. Bring clothing and gear suitable for all weather conditions. During the monsoon season (July through September), deep mud and washouts can make roads treacherous; plan alternative routes in advance. Familiarize yourself with the region, source detailed maps, and check with the USFS districts you will be traveling through for current conditions, closures, and hazards that may affect your route. When exploring the Gila, tread lightly, camp on approved dispersed areas, close gates and fences behind you, and respect private property. Editor’s note: Jake Quiñones operates New Mexico Backroads, a USFS-authorized outfitter and guide service that has more than a decade’s experience in the Gila region. newmexicobackroads.com

Opposite, left column: The NMBR Jeep Rubicon takes a rest at Double Barrel Camp in the Elk Mountains. Parklike ponderosa groves near Loco Mountain provide a prime locale for wolf country. Dusk on the Plains of San Agustin. Right column: Ryan Racine pauses to compose a shot of the vast Plains of San Agustin. A narrow passage at Ojo Caliente where spring waters bubble from the earth and form the Rio Cañada Alamosa. During the Indian Wars, Geronimo and Vittorio followed this very path along the Rio Cañada Alamosa to both victory and defeat.

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Our dusty convoy carried at a brisk pace across the Plains of San Agustin.

Loco, and Geronimo was the Rio La Cañada Alamosa. In the end, after three decades of battle, Geronimo surrendered. I should never have surrendered. I should have fought until I was the last man alive. –Geronimo Goyaałé (kòjà:łέ, the one who yawns) In the aftermath, the U.S. government took away most of the Chiricahua’s homeland and relocated them across the country, some as far away as Florida. Land along the river was divvied up amongst settlers, ranchers, and farmers who put up fences and shored irrigation channels. Today, the canyon is only accessible by a right-of-way as wide as the road itself. As quickly as this lush oasis appears, it vanishes into the desert before reaching the Rio Grande. Our push toward civilization placed us on a gravel road surrounded by creosote and yucca, symbols of New Mexico’s Chihuahuan Desert. On a downhill stretch, an endless line of glimmering windshields and semi-trailers revealed itself in the valley below. Pinstriped and dusted, our fleet looked a bit haggard compared to six days prior when we met in Silver City. While airing up at the pavement, words were few but grins were big. As for the Ram, it was a pioneer of sorts. Assisted by Kent’s precision driving it had emerged unscathed.

When the last of the group disappeared down the frontage road toward Truth or Consequences, being alone after six days of guiding gave me the inclination to hesitate ...being alone on the roadside for a longer parting after six days of view. At a distance, the Black Range guiding gave me the of the Gila appeared as a subtle, dark inclination to hesitate ridge against the horizon. Our brief, on the roadside for a 400-mile excursion seemed inconselonger parting view. quential at best. What defines the Gila is its unforgiving terrain, diverse landscapes, and those that walked here long before; the American Indians who respected and lived off the land, and the legendary explorers that went without maps or guides and survived immeasurable hardship. When traveling the Gila, its history is as important as the journey.

Resources USFS Black Range office: fs.usda.gov/main/gila, 575-894-6677 Maps: Gila National Forest Map, ISBN 978-1593512392

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Cartography by David Medeiros (mapbliss.com)

ROUTE New Mexico

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OVERLAND ROUTES By Chris Cordes

Big Bend National Park

They say that everything is bigger in Texas, and standing in the heart of Big Bend National Park you’d sure believe it. It’s a land of burning sunsets, soaring mesas, and enchanting vistas that sprawl toward the horizon until meeting softly with the deep blue of the West Texas sky. A place of simplicity and wide-open spaces, traffic means a rattlesnake on the road, and international commerce is a row boat crossing to a sleepy Mexican town. In all, the park spans more than 800,000 acres, and is as rugged, romantic, and wild as any Western film. In spite of its harsh nature, people have called Big Bend home for thousands of years. Signs of human life are seen as early as the Paleo-Indian period, around 8000 BC, when inhabitants hunted large game in the then cool and wet climate. By 1535 AD, the Bend had become arid and desolate, and the Spanish had settled in to defend their northern borders from natives pushing south. Several presidios were established, but they were abandoned shortly after construction due to the empire’s dwindling finances and their inability to stop raiding parties. The following years held a lot of conflict for the area, but by the late 1800s the Mexican–American war was over, Texas had been annexed to the United States, and border disputes were settling down. The Bend was peaceful once again, and ranchers and miners migrated from the U.S. and Mexico to form the towns of Terlingua, Boquillas, and several smaller communities. It would stay much the same until the 1900s when the land’s natural beauty led to its preservation as a National Park.

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GENERAL INFORMATION

Today Big Bend is the largest protected section of the Chihuahuan Desert in the United States, and contains some of the country’s most unique topography. Visitors are greeted by beautiful sky islands amidst parched valley floors, meandering river corridors with shady spots for a dip, and towering peaks over 7,800 feet high. It’s a geological masterpiece carved by volcanic activity, shifting sea beds, colliding continents, and raging rivers over millions of years. Although desert climates are best suited to small bushes and shrubs, plant life in this area is prolific thanks to the 6,000 feet of elevation change throughout the park. In total, over 1,000 species are found within its boundaries, including cacti, mesquite, yucca, and agave in the valleys; and more delicate specimens like Big Bend bluebonnets, ferns, and wildflowers in shady ravines and watery oases. There are even firs, maples, pines, and madrones found in the cooler temperatures of the high desert. Fauna is equally diverse, with 450 species of birds, 75 species of mammals, 56 species of reptiles, 40 species of fish, and 11 species of amphibians identified so far. The usual desert suspects appear including snakes, lizards, mice, and insects, but even deer and black bear have been known to roam the high country. As you would expect in a National Park, a large percentage of roads are paved for easy access. However, there are still plenty of backcountry miles to explore, including some challenging four-wheel drive tracks. All but a few trails in Big Bend are suitable for AWD “soft-roaders,” and the lack of a high-clearance vehicle should not discourage you from visiting.

THE DRIVE

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Our journey down to Big Bend begins in the quaint streets of Alpine, Texas, the largest gateway city to the park. Although not as interesting as the quirky, art-fueled town of Marfa, Alpine contains two hospitals, repair facilities, and any last-minute amenities you may need. After filling up, drive south on State Highway 118, where the 87 miles of straight, flat pavement will let you contemplate just how large Texas really is. When the park finally comes into view you’ll be just a short distance from the dusty washboards of Old Maverick Road. The driving here is fast and easy; be careful not to miss some of the hidden treasures like Luna’s Jacal along the way. This little hut was handbuilt by Gilberto Luna for his family, and he lived there happily until he passed away at 109 years of age. The end of this section is marked by the cool waters of the Rio Grande and ancient cliffs of the Santa Elena Canyon. It is here that you will turn east and follow the pavement for 10 miles to a more technical river road on the right. Keep an eye out for the historic store that sometimes encouraged good relations between the Mexican and American people. Wandering eastward, the ocotillo-lined trail snakes across desert ridges presenting some of the most scenic river views of the trip. From various lookouts cattle can be seen roaming the opposite bank of the Rio Grande, a vaquero may give you a wave, and the rugged cliffs in the distance paint a perfect backdrop for a West Texan sunset. Fortunately, there are plenty of approved campsites to stop at along this stretch, and the rough roads keep the RVers at bay. The track soon turns north and you’ll be faced with a choice: go right for Mariscal Mine, or turn left, as we did, for Black Gap Road, the most challenging trail in the park. Careful driving and even spotting is recommended in the “Gap,” as traversing the series of rock steps through the canyon can test even the best drivers. It is narrow, has up to 2-foot ledges, and contains no bypasses. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

After conquering the crux of the trail, intercept Glenn Springs Road and turn left toward the Chisos Mountains. This lofty range provides plenty of opportunities for hiking, as well as some of the best campsites in the park. If you can tolerate the bumpy road to Twisted Shoe Camp you’ll be rewarded with stunning views of the valley, a midnight gaze at the Milky Way, and under the right conditions, a sunrise few places on Earth can match. Next, double back on Glenn Springs toward River Road East. Here you’ll wind your way along the banks once more, until stumbling upon Big Bend’s little treasure: the hot springs. The one-way road to the parking lot doesn’t allow trailers, so plan ahead to walk or shuttle if needed. Insider tip: If the area is packed or you need a more refreshing dip, keep hiking past the hot spring; there’s a small sandy spot perfect for a swim in the river. Feeling refreshed and ready for a little adventure? Head down the road to Boquillas Crossing, the only U.S. border we know of that must be completed by row boat. You’ll need a passport and cash to get there, but once in Boquillas del Carmen the relaxed atmosphere will quickly lull you into a mañana state of mind. This charming community depends almost entirely on tourism, so don’t forget to enjoy some delicious tacos and cold cervezas while you’re there—they sure appreciate it. The last leg of the track leads up the Old Ore Road, a 26-mile stretch of dirt heading to the edge of the National Park. It’s dotted with abandoned ruins, the Ernst Tinaja, and even a grave or two, but the monotonous road conditions make it all too easy to breeze right through. Take some time to enjoy this place; you may just hear the ancient murmurs of an Indian chant, the faint crack of a revolver, or the soft echoes of Spanish spoken long ago.

ACCESS

West entrance From Alpine, head south on SH 118 for 87 miles toward Terlingua. Upon reaching the Maverick Entrance Station, pay your fees and take the first right onto Old Maverick Road, where your route begins. East entrance From Marathon, head south on US 385 for 41 miles until reaching the Permission Gap Entrance Station. Pay your fees and continue 13 miles south to Dagger Flat Road and turn, proceed on route.

LOGISTICS

Distance off-pavement 116 miles Suggested time 2-4 days Longest distance without fuel 105 miles

FUEL SOURCES

Alpine, Texas 30°21’35.9”N, 103°39’20.2”W Terlingua, Texas 29°19’45.0”N, 103°32’03.7”W Rio Grande Village, Texas 29°10’58.1”N, 102°57’40.9”W Marathon, Texas 30°12’24.9”N, 103°14’08.5”W

DIFFICULTY

The majority of this route is well maintained with only a few sections having moderate obstacles. We rate the entire track as easy due to Black Gap’s optional status, as well as the robust support structure of the park.

WAYPOINT

29°12’56.1”N, 103°32’05.9”W 29°03’28.5”N, 103°26’03.2”W

29°08’33.9”N, 103°11’29.9”W 29°09’44.9”N, 103°10’32.2”W

29°13’06.7”N, 103°14’00.3”W 29°13’02.2”N, 103°13’53.1”W

29°10’39.6”N, 102°59’57.7”W 29°10’39.9”N, 102°59’57.9”W

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29°11’26.9”N, 102°56’51.2”W 29°11’26.9”N, 102°56’51.2”W

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CONTACTS

Panther Junction Park Headquarters nps.gov/bibe/index.htm, 432-477-2251 Weather Information Hotline 432-477-1183 Presidio Police presidiotx.us/?page_id=41, 432-229-3527 Big Bend Regional Medical Center bigbendhealthcare.com, 432-837-3447

RESOURCES

The National Geographic illustrated map is quite helpful and highly recommended for the drive. A smaller free version is available on the National Park website. As always our team’s GPS track and points of interest are available through the Hema Explorer Cloud (cloud.hemaexplorer. com.au) under North American Map Patrol. 29°03’21.2”N, 103°17’29.0”W

WHEN TO GO

Big Bend is open year-round, however summer temperatures can be sweltering and many park facilities close. We recommend visiting in spring or fall when temperatures are moderate. Winter can also be pleasant, though nighttime temperatures may drop below freezing. Avoid holidays if possible as the park is often full during spring break, Thanksgiving, and winter break.

PERMITS AND FEES

Big Bend National Park requires permits for day use ($25/car, $20/ motorcycle, $12/bicycle, 7-day pass) as well as for backcountry camping ($12/vehicle) and developed camping ($14/vehicle). You may only camp in designated sites. Permits must be obtained in person at the visitor center no more than 24 hours before your trip.

SUGGESTED CAMPSITES

Twisted Shoe Campground Accommodates 1-2 vehicles Flat parking, scenic views, hiking trails 29°13’26.3”N, 103°14’27.8”W Terlingua Abajo Accommodates 3-6 vehicles Flat parking, scenic views 29°11’55.5”N, 103°36’15.9”W

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Johnson’s Ranch Accommodates 3-6 vehicles Flat parking, trees and shade, protection from wind 29°01’22.8”N, 103°22’09.9”W Gravel Pit Accommodates large groups Flat parking, river access, multiple sites 29°09’05.1”N, 103°00’08.7”W McKinney Spring Accommodates 2-3 vehicles Flat parking, hiking, wind protection 29°24’22.2”N, 103°05’26.1”W OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

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

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OVERLAND CONSERVATION

Craig Childs Photography by Sinuhe Xavier

Soaring Over Utahʼs Fractal Desert An opinion by Craig Childs on the proposed Bears Ears National Monument.

Craig Childs sits atop a chockstone in one of the many canyons that sit unprotected. A hummingbird makes its home on a sandstone flake.The roads are unimproved and vast.

From the air, you can’t tell who owns the land below. Castle towers of red sandstone and flanks of high desert mesas could either be ranchland or federal wilderness. It all looks the same. Our plane dipped through a gap at the head of Fry Canyon in Southeast Utah and white worm-like canyons spread out beneath us. Our 1946 two-seater Cessna felt every slight turn of the wind. We had to fly light, paired down to a couple of backpacks and minimal overnight gear. Hopping from one old uranium mine to the next, we were using the homemade infrastructure of a 20th-century mineral boom to find our way around. We were not on any sort of official mission, just two friends bumming around a favorite landscape that is now facing impending change. Starting in the 1940s, prospectors mined yellowcake out of holes and shafts dug across this part of Utah. Between 1946 and 1965, 10 million pounds of uranium were produced in the White Canyon District, the land that unfolded below us. You can still find dynamite caps stashed behind boulders and the ruins of trucks oxidizing in the sun. Miners left roads and remote airstrips, and most are slowly turning back into the earth. Uranium prospecting fell off decades ago. Now, you don’t see much of anything on this land...certainly not well pads or heavy machinery eating into cliff bands. We saw a few 4WD dirt roads and even fewer fences. Most of the simple air strips we used were bladed by bulldozers more than a half-century ago. One was so lopsided and rutted it took four attempts to land; sand and rock went flying as the tires spun, with the pilot gunning us back into the air for another try. At every site, we staked down the plane and set camp nearby, cooking over an open fire beneath a dome of stars. In light of a recent armed occupation of a wildlife refuge in Eastern Oregon by a self-styled militia during a protest over government land ownership, I was glad this area had not been given over to private hands. Like much of the West, this part of Utah is mostly administered by a federal agency, the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). It is commonly referred to as public land. In other words, subject to BLM approval, land you can do almost anything on. This particular region of mesas and canyons is now up for consideration as a National Monument, which would limit future development. No more mines, no more airstrips. On the other hand, if business interests are allowed to take hold, well pads and their cherry stems of gated dirt roads could come for natural gas,

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and a reserve of tar sands (for oil) in the guts of one of these mesas might be strip mined and trucked out. The industry that came through here in the 1940s-1950s uranium boom consisted mostly of small-time operators. Demand for the extraction of oil-rich bitumen from tar sands goes beyond anything these early prospectors could have imagined. If mining comes to this region again, it would look nothing like the last time—the land will be gutted. Sinking and popping back up in rough morning air, the plane gradually rose to an altitude of 2,000 feet. The dendritic canyons of Cedar Mesa feathered beneath us. My memoIf mining comes to ries from decades of travel in these canthis region again, it yons flooded into the bends and leaning would look nothing shadows of cliff walls. Under these fractal like the last time—the miles of caprock, you’ll find ancient ruins, land will be gutted. 1,000-year-old rock and mortar granaries, and cliff dwellings—more reasons to protect this area. I remember painted handprints along with broken pieces of intricately designed pre-Columbian pottery carpeting the ground— this place is a museum in and of itself. Navajo, Hopi, Ute, and Zuni tribal members have made an unprecedented alliance to preserve this region in an effort to keep their ancestral sites out of the scopes of future industry. The proposal for Bears Ears National Monument encompasses every canyon, boulder, and ruin we were flying over. Named for a pair of twin buttes that stand in the center of the landscape like two bear ears, this would essentially be a two-million-square-mile park. I’ve been pushing for this to happen: publishing articles about it and even being part of an advocacy film. While I wait for President Obama to say yes on his way out of office, I feel at the same time a pang of dislike for the idea. It might be the only way to save this epic and indeed monumental landscape from development. Although I’d rather see no monument, obligatory trailhead signs, and informational kiosks at all. I prefer the country the way it is, as seen from a 150-horsepower cloth-wing tail dragger that dates back to the first of the uranium prospectors. But who am I to slam the door behind me and proclaim no one else should be let in? The lesser of two unpleasant options was the monument, so I put my weight there. I have been on some of these roads already with 4WDs. A friend with a tricked out old-school Land Rover once took me deep into the last threads of uranium roads. We stacked up rock ramps around boulders that had fallen in the way and climbed over them like a crab, tires cocked at odd angles. On one occasion, we left the vehicle and set off with backpacks, disappearing into a nest of canyons. With no trail to follow other than the intricate shape of the land, we slept in dry alcoves and clambered along cliff edges with all of our gear on our backs. When tires couldn’t take us, we relied on our bodies. Every glance from the airplane window kindled another recollection. I would freeze it all if I could. But the plane kept going, and the canyons kept coming. I wait to find out what comes next.

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Craig Childs contemplates the ancient pueblo. Rain drapes itself across White Canyon. Craig Childs and Ace Kvale take shelter from the wind as a pale moon rises. During our five-day excursion in Southeast Utah, the group saw no other people. OVERLAND JOURNAL SUMMER 2016

Publisher’s Note: Environmentally responsible vehicle-based travel has always been our charter, with the goal being the preservation of the remote places we explore, while still advocating recreational access by 4WD and adventure motorcycle. National Monuments permit recreational and vehicular access, but prevent commercial development of specific public lands to protect these wild places—something we can all believe in.

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OVERLAND CHEF

Fresh Off the Grid

Dutch Oven Chicken Marbella

Turning a crowd-pleasing oven dish into a one-pot backcountry wonder.

CHICKEN MARBELLA Serves: 3-4 | Preparation and cook time: 45 minutes (15 minutes active, 30 minutes inactive) Equipment: 10-inch cast iron Dutch oven, charcoal 1 cup chopped prunes 1 cup pitted green olives ½ cup dry white wine ¼ cup capers ¼ cup red wine vinegar 6 garlic cloves, roughly chopped 2 tablespoons dried oregano 2 bay leaves 1 teaspoon salt 4 chicken thighs, skin left on 1 tablespoon olive oil 4 teaspoons brown sugar

elivering big flavor with a minimal amount of effort, Chicken Marbella is one of those meals that routinely defies expectations. Originally appearing in the Silver Palate Cookbook in 1982, this Mediterranean-inspired baked chicken dish uses chopped prunes and olives to produce a sweet and savory sauce that is absolutely irresistible. It’s simple to make, easy to scale, and never fails to impress. So what’s the catch? Unfortunately, the original recipe requires an oven—not a piece of equipment available to most overlanders out on the trail. However, we’ve developed a Dutch oven “campfire” version that can bring this flavorful, crispy-skinned chicken classic out on the road.

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APPETIZER: A premixed salad MAIN: Chicken Marbella served over couscous BEVERAGE: The leftover wine DESSERT: Fresh fruit and hard cheese

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At home, place all ingredients except for the oil and brown sugar in a freezer bag to marinate. Place in your ice chest for at least 6 hours and up to 48 hours. At camp, prepare 27 coals. You can use wood embers if you must, but you’ll have to guestimate the proper heat ratio (you’re aiming for 425°F). Once the coals are ready, knock them into a flat pile and place the Dutch oven on top of all of them. This will produce the high heat required for browning. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in the Dutch oven. The oil is hot and ready when a drop of water instantly sizzles when it hits the pan. Remove the chicken from the marinade, and dust 1 teaspoon brown sugar over the skin side of each thigh. Brown the thighs skin side down over high heat until crispy and deep golden brown (about 6-8 minutes). Flip to brown the other side (around 2 minutes). Pull the Dutch oven from the heat. Add the marinade (liquid, prunes, olive, capers, and all) and cover. Set the oven on a bed of nine coals and evenly distribute 18 coals on the lid. Bake for 30 minutes, until the thighs are cooked through and their juices run clear when pierced with a knife.

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Continued from page 136

On the boat, the men were listless at first, but after 48 hours the boredom of the sea turned the tide to my favor, and they warmed to small amusements. A wooden door was dragged out and turned into a card table. They’d bait a line (no pole) and let me fish with the cook for our dinner. (The side dishes were invariably coconut-seasoned.) They taught me Somewhere in the islandhow to make a toy sailboat out of a going fun, I’d lost track of coconut and gave me a lecture about the fact that I was running sharks when I jumped off the side with a band of Colombian of the docked boat. I trusted them. contrabandistas. They were also doing good business. They’d collected 80,000 coconuts which filled the main deck, burying the motorcycle and other cargo they’d picked up in Panama. We made it to the Colombian coast at dawn on a Friday morning after the promised seven days at sea. It’s rare that the magnitude of a situation in the moment it’s happening feels as big as it will later (after retold and ballooned by nostalgia), but the sight of a new continent after a true voyage pulled at some buried emotion inherited from ancestral explorers. I crouched on top of the coconuts in a wet, salty sleeping bag and marveled at the Colombian shoreline. It was a moment of pure magic that etched itself into my permanent memory. Even more so because of the next words I heard uttered by a crew member: “This is your stop.” It didn’t make sense. All that was visible ashore was jungle and beach—no town, no dock. But in a matter of minutes there was a tiny, prop-engine boat next to ours. They used the ship’s pulley system to har-

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ness the bike and lower it over the side into this new baby boat, then tossed my bags over, held me by the wrists, and dropped me into the craft with two new Colombians. They motored me to a deserted swatch of beach—as in, on the sand— that belonged to a country famed for its guerilla warfare. I didn’t know where I was and had no form of communication, passport stamp, or customs papers. The adventure equation seemed absent of exhilaration, and the scales tipped toward panic and fear. Somewhere in the island-going fun, I’d lost track of the fact that I was running with a band of (harmless) Colombian contrabandistas. This was not a passenger ship; my foreign motorcycle and yours truly were just as much a part of the contraband as anything else. But travel mercies are a gracious friend to youthful naïvete. There was a foot trail into the jungle, smoke rising from somewhere beyond the first line of trees, and enough dead palm fronds to make a path through the sand. Further down was a Colombian village, whose residents would be surprised to see one blonde girl and one beastly motorcycle, having just ridden straight from the sea at 7:45 in the morning. They pointed me in the right direction and the adventure equation balanced.

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TAIL LAMP

Tracy Motz

Smugglers’ Freight One traveler’s nautical hitchhike with 80,000 coconuts. 136

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ust after my 24th birthday, I flew from New York City to a farm in Ohio and bought my first motorcycle, a Honda Shadow ACE 750, for $5,000 cash. The idea was to untangle some of my big life decisions by seeing the country on it, a plan that inspired equal parts exhilaration and gripping fear in me, which felt like the proper equation for adventure. The original plan was to ride from New York to California and back, but wandering can be an enchanting business. Eighteen months later, still under the spell, I put two feet down in Panama. After clearing Guatemalan mud pits, Salvadoran police escorts, and a Nicaraguan election campaign, I pushed onward to South America. The Pan-American Highway that runs the length of North and South America had been my main route through Central America, but it breaks at a village called Yaviza in Panama, leaving a 62-mile swath of jungle and swampland with no major access before it picks up again in Turbo, Colombia. This unpaved stretch between continents is the famed Darién Gap, and was at the time fertile ground for disappearances, robberies, and other nefarious deeds. Instead of tempting fate, I followed the Panama Canal to its east side where it spits out into the Caribbean Sea at the crumbling, colonial port town of Colón. In it was the Panama Canal Yacht Club, a green and white cinderblock building with a Chinese restaurant attached, where sailboats were said to sometimes ferry skinny dual-sport bikes across the Caribbean to Cartagena, Colombia. But my meaty low-slung cruiser was rejected by every sailor readying to cross. “Too much of a liability,” they said. The search for a ride was eating time, and desperation landed me at Dock #3—a short, off-kilter slab of cement and the base for Colón’s “less official” maritime business. There was a reclaimed Colombian fishing boat: named the Don José, with rust spots smeared down its side and green tarps pulled over the main deck that was taking a load of goods from Panama’s Zona Libre (its massive dutyfree zone) back to Colombia. Its owner was fat, dressed head to toe in designer knockoffs, and open to new cashflow ideas. He’d gotten wise to the coconut oil boom early on, and explained in Spanish I sort of understood that in addition to his dutyfree hustle, he planned to spend seven days at sea buying a haul of coconuts from a network of island gatherers. I paid him $300 cash, met the 10-man crew at a crowded casino/discotheque on a Thursday night, and on Friday we sailed. We motored around the islands of the San Blas Archipelago, a cluster of white sand dots in the Caribbean, to buy coconuts from the indigenous Kuna people. The women there paraded toward us in patterned, primary-colored molas with ornate headbands and beaded jewelry around their wrists, ankles, and necks, carrying burlap sacks full of coconuts. The crew counted their stocks out one by one, and the captain paid them 10 cents for each coconut: I watched him hand over $2.40, $6.80, $1.70, and so on. It was a slow, steady labor. Continued on page 134

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adventure