I didn’t have all of the answers.

All I knew was that I had spent the better part of my adult life, over 20 years, dreaming about chasing the horizon. There was always some practical excuse holding me back.

“Maybe I’ll be in a better position to travel next year,” I would tell myself.

Years passed, and the opportunity never presented itself. I began to resent my job as a web developer, which paid the bills with some money left over for myself. It was empty and passionless, and my fire was almost completely extinguished.

It was time to take a chance; a desperate gambit to live life on my own terms, to pursue my passion for adventure, and to rekindle the flame.

So without having all of the answers, I quit my full-time job, left my Pennsylvania residence, and hit the road in my 2013 Jeep Wrangler Unlimited Rubicon.

The Jeep

I’ve been a four-wheel drive adventure enthusiast for quite some time. Since the late 1990s, I would often take my vehicle out exploring the state forests, or to stretch its legs at the local off-road park.

In this chapter of my life, I drive a 2013 Jeep Wrangler Unlimited Rubicon, which I bought used in 2015. Prior to departure, it was equipped with little more than an Ursa Minor J30 camper top and a Genesis Dual-Battery Kit. While on the road, with the help of a friend, I installed a 3.5” AEV Suspension and 35” BFGoodrich All-Terrain tires.

Many have asked, “What made you choose the Jeep for your adventure?”

Other than the fact that four-wheel drive facilitates the exploration of primitive routes, my answer is, “Nothing. The Jeep makes me smile.”

That is all that really matters. Adventure has nothing to do with what you drive. It simply determines how far in you can drive before you have to continue on foot.

Making Ends Meet
Before setting off, I had saved no money for this endeavor. This wasn’t a holiday, this was the pursuit of a mobile lifestyle, one that I wanted to do my best to sustain while on the go.

Web development enabled me to work remotely. So, prior to departure, I lined up some freelance work that I’d be able to perform on a regular basis to make ends meet. It wasn’t much, but it was some semblance of security.

The Journey is the Destination
I wasn’t traveling with a destination in mind. I was heading west simply because I’d seen so little of it. It was my intention to travel in short bursts, and to spend at least a few days wherever I’d end up, to get to know the area and to discover its charms.

To facilitate both work and travel, I set a weekly schedule to establish a rhythm:

On Mondays, I would travel. This would often be a 200-300 mile hop from one region to another. I never planned this hop more than a few days in advance, and any planning was akin to throwing a dart at a map.

On Tuesdays through Fridays, I would focus on doing work on my laptop, usually at coffee shops or public libraries. I would also spend a little time getting to know the surrounding towns and communities.

On Saturdays and Sundays, I’d venture off the beaten path, and into the wilderness. I’d look specifically for beautiful places to camp along primitive roads, and seek out areas ripe with outdoor adventure.

This worked very well, as it minimized travel fatigue and maximized discovery. I ultimately traveled thousands of miles using this strategy, but since it was in short bursts, it didn’t feel like I traveled very far at all. Furthermore, it also minimized the amount that I’d spend on fuel between paychecks. If you like pleasant surprises and unplanned adventures, I highly recommend this travel style as opposed to driving directly toward some distant point on the map.

A Cold Start
It had been a mild winter, up until the day that I commenced traveling. A winter storm named Stella was on its way to blanket the northeast in snow.

As I made my way to Thomas, West Virginia, a vibrant and artistic small town adjacent to the Monongahela National Forest, it began to snow. The snow fell gently at first, and then became more intense. I try to avoid driving at night, but I wanted to arrive in Thomas before any of the roads were shut down.

I rolled into town at midnight, found a discreet place to pop the camper, and climbed into my sleeping bag while wearing several warm layers.

The next morning, a thermometer reported that the outdoor temperature was 5 degrees Fahrenheit, and the Jeep was covered in roughly six inches of snow. The snow continued to fall for several days, and the temperature remained well below freezing.

While I was sufficiently prepared, the storm tested my resolve. I wasn’t about to give in just because of some inclement weather.

I remained in Thomas for the remainder of the week, and then pressed onward to warmer climates.

Secret Falls in Kentucky
My travels took me to Slade, Kentucky, which is home to the Red River Gorge, a well-known haven for rock-climbing enthusiasts. While I wasn’t there to climb myself, it was a destination abundant with scenery and adventure culture.

Upon arrival, I immediately befriended a couple named Cody and Timberly, self-proclaimed dirtbag rock-climbers who lived in a van within the camping area where I was staying.

I was in the nearby coffee shop working on my laptop, when Cody wandered in.

“Hey, do you want to go for a hike to this waterfall?” he asked, as he handed me his phone which displayed a picture of a spectacular waterfall.

I was immediately sold, and I responded simply by closing my laptop.

Following a short drive in the Red River Gorge, we hiked for two miles along a technical footpath to Copperas Falls. Although the Red River Gorge was a popular tourist destination, this serene trail was poorly marked and clearly one of the area’s better-kept secrets.

The waterfall itself was absolutely stunning. It spilled over the edge of a 40-foot amphitheater and into an aquamarine pool.

Cody had his climbing gear, and we thought it’d be fun to rappel down next to the falls. After setting up the rope, we began our descent. I slipped at the very top and bruised my coccyx against the rocks, but I quickly regained my composure and eased myself down the rope with a sore butt and wounded pride.

This amazing experience yielded a lasting friendship, fond memories, and demonstrated the benefits of reaching out to others for local knowledge.

Crisis in Big Bend National Park
My first foray into a National Park was at Big Bend, located in the southwestern corner of Texas. Big Bend National Park is a mountainous desert landscape adjacent to the Rio Grande River. While the park is heavily regulated, it is a vast wilderness area well-suited for vehicle-supported exploration, offering both maintained and unmaintained roads.

Coincidentally, it rained steadily for a whole day during my visit. I was unaware of the impact that this would have on the land, however I did possess the common sense to postpone any exploration.

The following day, under clear skies and 100-degree temperatures, I set off to explore Black Gap Road, an approved, unmaintained route that required four-wheel drive at all times.

For the first 2.5 miles, Black Gap Road was enjoyably technical, with mild climbs and scenic views overlooking the valley. Occasionally, I’d have to traverse a wash-out that required some thoughtful line-picking.

It wasn’t until I descended to lower elevations that I was thrown a curveball.

I encountered a short section of trail that had mud washed over it. While this mud was obviously from the recent rain, I approached with false confidence, as I’d had no issues heretofore.

Without hesitation, I eased the Jeep into the mud, which was unexpectedly thick. To make matters more difficult, the terrain was uneven here, requiring the front axle to climb up a short embankment. The mud wasn’t having it. The Jeep slipped awkwardly to the side, and then came to a stop, axle-deep in pancake batter.

I tried forward and reverse to no avail, and immediately abandoned my efforts to avoid sinking deeper. I was now in crisis mode, and had my Garmin inReach satellite communicator close at hand, in the event that I would need to summon assistance.

There was no avoiding getting dirty on this one. Wearing only a pair of swimming trunks, I climbed under the Jeep and used my arms and my entire upper body to clear the mud out from around the tires and low-hanging components.

I then placed rocks and used a small shovel to lace the ruts with dry gravel.

I worked steadily for two hours in the scorching desert heat until I was able to effortlessly drive the Jeep out of this predicament.

Since there was no bypass available, I reversed course and made my way back to camp. A crisis was averted, but it was a sobering reminder of how quickly things can go sideways.

Reunion in the Pacific Northwest
Five months after leaving Pennsylvania, I found myself in Portland, Oregon.

I was at the airport waiting for my teenaged son, Cole, to arrive on his flight. Cole resides back in Pennsylvania with his mom and her husband, whom I cherish as family. Before I set off, we agreed that he would join me for a week to share a part of this amazing adventure.

Although I’d been keeping in touch with Cole throughout my travels, I was a sobbing mess when he finally emerged from the gate. I missed him dearly, and it was the longest we’d ever been apart. To his teenaged frustration, I couldn’t stop hugging him!

We spent the week exploring the Oregon coast, from Pacific City to as far north as Astoria.

Throughout the week, we would camp at discreet locations in the Tillamook and Clatsop State Forests, located just a short distance from the coast. Dispersed camping is allowed in these state forests, although campfires were not, so we found relatively few obvious campsites. Most of the time, we would simply seek out a remote clearing.

Cole and I visited the beaches and the tourist destinations, such as Cannon Beach and Tillamook Air Museum. We went for a beautiful hike to the end of Cape Lookout, and visited Ecola State Park. In Astoria, we experienced the Oregon Film Museum, and enjoyed lunch on the pier.

We were father and son, experiencing new places together for the very first time, and it was the highlight of my journey.

The Turning Point
I had been on the road for nearly 6 months, slept in my Jeep for 167 consecutive nights, and traveled a total of 17,000 miles.

Immediately following the 2017 solar eclipse, I returned to Pennsylvania.

There was nothing about this endeavor that was easy. There was no rest. I had to constantly seek out safe places to spend the night. I also had to continuously ensure that I was able to pay my bills. Like an unending game of chess, I was always weighing my options, and planning my next move.

However, despite all of these challenges, my gambit paid off.

I learned that it is possible to live life on your own terms. Within six short months, I collected what felt like decades of experiences. My outlook has changed, as I now see a world full of possibilities, rather than limitations.

The horizon is my home.

I may have completed this particular circuit, but the adventure is far from over.

OutdoorX4 Magazine – Promoting responsible vehicle-based adventure travel and outdoors adventure