My wife and I first got into off-road, vehicle-supported camping (a.k.a. overlanding) several years ago, before it really started to become a big deal. We owned an older Jeep Rubicon, some camping gear and the two of us, (along with our dogs) enjoyed exploring back-country double-track. We eventually moved from Austin, Texas up to Salida, Colorado to be closer to some of our favorite public lands.
It was there we first heard a few people – mostly out of state folks with tricked out “rigs” – describing what we and our friends had been doing for years as “overlanding”, a term we’d heard before, but mostly used by folks traversing places like the Australian outback.
After a while, we purchased a rooftop tent for the Jeep and started using the term “overlanding” for what we were doing on our days off. Then one day, while following a route from an off-road guidebook, we came across an old rancher about 40 miles off the pavement, west of Gunnison, who sort of helped us get a better view of our epic voyaging.
We had just pulled over to let him pass on a steep, rocky, narrow forest road which eventually wound its way up into the mountains. A herd of black Angus cattle was following along behind his ancient two-wheel drive Ford pickup. Periodically, he toggled a switch to release feed pellets for the cattle trailing behind.
Over the loud bellowing of the hungry herd he greeted us.
“Mornin’, where you folks headed?
My reply – which I regretted the second the words left my mouth – was “following the — overland route up to the old mine”.
The old rancher directed a stream of tobacco juice onto the ground outside his window and just smiled at us. “— overland route? Hmm, ain’t ever heard this road called that – our place is up there, near the old mine. I reckon the missus and I just call this route ‘the way to the mailbox'”.
A crusty old Colorado rancher deftly served us some humble pie for breakfast that morning and helped give us a different perspective on the “exotic route” we thought we were exploring.
Be Safe – Share The Road/Trail
The lesson? For all those of us who’ve “discovered” some amazing off-road route – one that requires our fancy technology to traverse – the truth is that for many locals it’s just the road home, or where they go to work. When a ranch’s driveway can be 20 or 40 – or even a hundred miles off the pavement – doing what we do for fun suddenly seems less intrepid and unique.
It’s also humbling when the locals are regularly traveling some of these routes in ordinary, stock vehicles – not the zombie apocalypse machines everyone thinks they need.
We find that, given all the hype and monetization of everything related to off-road travel, a little perspective helps us think differently about what we do for fun. The definition of overlanding is going to be vastly different, depending on who you talk to, and their preferences, resources, and interests. Overlanding really is whatever you want it to be, from crossing the outback to heading up to an old mine in Colorado to camp under the stars.
The Good Old Days – Back in the late 70’s my dad took our family on a three week trip across parts of Texas, New Mexico and Arizona, taking dirt roads and trails way back into the boondocks. We camped out of our old horse trailer, (all washed out of course) pulled by my dad’s two-wheel drive Ford truck. Not that many people drove 4×4’s back then because of gas prices, and although our old truck had mud grips, we ended up stuck on more than one occasion.
Once, a Navajo lady driving a rural school bus helped pull us up a muddy hill, and we repaid her – and the kids on the bus, with a batch of cookies my mother had brought along. Though nobody had coined the term yet, we were “overlanding”, in what we had, and having a great time doing it!
It’s supposed to be about having fun, not what gear you own or what you drive. Have fun, be safe and when you’re out and about, “overlanding” to some far-flung destination, please be sure to politely share the road with those who are simply using it for their livelihoods, including ranchers, and forestry workers, as well as just local folks who might be making a 100 mile, literal milk run to town!
See you on the trails! 😉
