Best Overlanding Vehicle
The best overlanding vehicle is the one you already have. Not what you were expecting? Maybe you thought I’d offer something rhapsodic about the Land Rover Defender and its 60-year history of exploration. Perhaps a lecture on the supreme reliability and cargo-carrying prowess of the 70-Series Land Cruiser Troopie? Or I could nominate the everyday workhorse of explorers, scientists, and jihadists around the globe: the Toyota Hilux, an overachiever whether ferrying a darted black rhino to a wildlife refuge or serving as a “technical” mounted with a 12.7mm machine gun*. The patriot in me might bring up the Jeep Wrangler Unlimited, the descendent of a long line of light-duty vehicles that has successfully morphed into America’s own world-class expedition platform.
Traveling along the White Rim Trail in a Jeep Liberty – Photo by Randy Langstraat
Overlanding
I’ve been lucky enough to spend considerable time in each of these vehicles, and I could make a case for any of them as the “ultimate” overlanding machine. The problem is, I think way too many people put way too much emphasis on buying or building (or simply pining for) the perfect vehicle, and not nearly enough on simply getting out and exploring with what they already have. I’ve lost count of the emails I’ve received, and the forum threads I’ve read, that begin, “I’d like to get into overland travel, but I only have a CRV/RAV4/Freelander/two-wheel-drive truck. What should I buy instead?”
And it’s not just the vehicle, but the equipment bolted to it that becomes a roadblock. An astonishing number of people on those same forums are almost ready to embark on an epic adventure, just as soon as they get the winch mounted. Or the roof tent, or fridge, or two-meter radio or diff-lock or HID driving lights.
Toyota Hilux in Maasai – Photo by Jonathan Hanson
While all those people were almost ready to go, my dear friend Lorraine Chittock, a longtime photojournalist, bought a 1978 Chevy Van—an ex-police-surveillance vehicle from Florence, Arizona, complete with a hole in the roof for a periscope—for $750, tossed some camping gear and her two dogs inside, and drove to the tip of South America. And Lorraine looks like a spendthrift compared to the couple I mentioned in OutdoorX4 Magazine’s first issue, who drove a $250 Peugeot across Europe and Asia.
Lest I come across as superior, be assured I struggled with the same syndrome for a long time in the early days with my FJ40. I kept putting off opportunities to take it to memorable places, telling myself the skinny stock tires on it would be inadequate, or that I really needed this or that accessory. Baja? Shouldn’t I have better suspension or an auxiliary fuel tank?
Finally I realized it wasn’t fear of the lack of preparation that kept me procrastinating—it was fear of the journey itself. Once I got over that, I stopped worrying about whether a stock FJ40 would be suitable, and simply began planning (and taking!) trips suitable for a stock FJ40—a subtle shift in thinking but a momentous change in doing.
Troopie and sand sea – Photo by Jonathan Hanson
The same holds true for any vehicle. The Sahara Desert, after all, has been crossed by two-cylinder Citroen 2CVs with all of 28 horsepower. There are endless opportunities for once-in-a-lifetime journeys well within the capabilities of that two-wheel-drive pickup or Honda CRV or RAV4—even if it doesn’t yet have canvas safari seat covers.
If you’re rich enough to build the “perfect” overland vehicle and go traveling with it, fantastic. If, like most of us, you only have the funds for one or the other, just take what you’ve got and go travel.
*Legend has it the term “technical” for a machine-gun-equipped pickup originated with non-governmental organizations that needed protection in hazardous regions, but didn’t want to alarm funders. Thus they referred to freelance armed escorts as “technical support” in annual budgets.
* OutdoorX4 Magazine – Promoting responsible 4×4 adventure travel and outdoor recreation
