MEMBERS

In October, Overland Bound Executive Director, Kent Reynolds hosted a Trail Guardian event at the Mojave National Preserve. On a cool fall morning, 53 Overland Bound member volunteers from California and Nevada joined representatives from the National Park Service and Mojave Desert Land Trust to help with projects at the southeastern California Preserve. By the time members headed home from the weekend, they had logged 650 volunteer hours.

NPS Projects

We are grateful for everything that our National Park Service rangers do. Overland Bound Trail Guardians were more than happy to help them with several projects to make the Preserve safer and more beautiful.

The biggest project at the Fall event was to finish replacing the roof on the Kessler Ranch barn that was built around 1900. OB member Mike Keith and his crew had been working to rebuild this historic structure since it was damaged by the Cima Dome Fire in 2020. Thanks to our members, Kessler Ranch has their barn back.

Joshua Tree seeds collected by volunteers

NPS biologist shows volunteers how to correctly collect Joshua Tree seeds

Mojave Desert Land Trust Projects

In order for new properties to be conveyed to the National Park Service and become a part of the Preserve, all non-historic items must be removed.

To this end, Members helped representatives from the Mojave Desert Land Trust to remove 80 yards of rusted appliances, old vehicles, and other surprising garbage from the Ronnie Crowell Ranch in Cima. The Ranch is now eligible for Mojave Preserve incorporation, which means more land and trails for NPS and the rest of us!

Members also surveyed the Mojave Road to identify damage that would need to be addressed at a later date.

The group found major storm damage along several miles of the road that will be projects for future Trail Guardian events.

NPS Biologist Neal Darby presenting to members on Saturday night

Trail Guardian Program

The Overland Bound Trail Guardian Program exists because governments around the world do not have the resources to keep all of our public lands clean and safe for everyone to enjoy. Since 2018, Trail Guardian events have removed 100 tons of garbage from public lands, with many more clean-up and revitalization projects happening multiple times a year.

Learn more about Overland Bound Land Use and Stewardship.

Organize Trail Guardian events in your community

Become an Overland Bound member today to organize a Trail Guardian event in your community and to participate in trail clean-ups around the globe!

Don’t wait to chip away at this bucket list of overland destinations in the western US. Life’s short and this is only the first list of many recommendations coming your way. 

Links to locations and trails will take you directly to the resource map in Overland Bound One. Be sure to download for iOS or Android for the best experience.

We’ve noted GPS coordinates and What3Word (///) locations for each point of interest. 

01 Southwest Texas near Big Bend National Park

Why it’s on the List

There are few places in the United States where you’ll find more biodiversity than the Chisos Mountains and Chihuahuan desert surrounding Big Bend National Park in far west Texas. More than 1,200 species of plants, 450 species of birds, 56 species of reptiles, and 75 species of mammals call this corner of Texas home. 

Of the 423 National Parks in the US, Big Bend is one of the most remote and least visited. There are more dirt roads than paved in the area, and the backcountry surrounding the park is a playground of off road exploration. Other region highlights include Big Bend Ranch State Park and Terlingua Ghost Town. 

Best Time to Go

Late fall to early spring is an ideal time to check this one off the list. Remember this is the desert. The average summer temperature for the region is 83 degrees, but that’s in the shade. Around the Rio Grande, you should expect summer temps to climb well into the triple digits. 

Options for Group Campsites and Dispersed Camping

There’s lots of dispersed camping along the River Road in the backcountry of Big Bend NP. Make sure you get a permit from a ranger station before heading out. 

Rancho Topanga Campgrounds, Terlingua, TX

29.30326, -103.67956 | /// celebrated.photographed.bolsters

Roys Peak Vista Campsite, Big Bend National Park

29.38830, -103.07780 | /// putters.deposits.joystick

Jack Ass Flats, Alpine, TX

29.62140, -103.56890 | /// lorries.agency.perfected 

Must Do Off Road Trails

Black Gap OHV Trail, Glenn Spring Road

29.13850, -103.11377 | /// gala.perceptual.upended

Difficulty Rating: Easy

Terlingua Ranch Road, Alpine, TX

29.61280, -103.14350 | /// leveraged.tint.lifts

Difficulty Rating: Moderate

Member Recorded GPX Tracks

@TXpedition through Big Bend National Park

29.54275, -104.32540 | /// showbiz.clenching.filaments

Difficulty Rating: Moderate

02 Alpine Loop, Colorado

Why it’s on the List

Alpine Loop (aka Alpine Loop Back Country Byway) is a 63 mile vehicle trail that connects the towns of Lake City, Ouray, and Silverton in southwest Colorado. While some of the Loop can be accessed by 2WD vehicles, you better have a 4WD rig to complete the entire trail. You can complete the main Loop in a day but there are also lots of side trails to explore. In your journey from base camp at 7700 ft. to the summit at 12,800 ft., you’ll enjoy high mountain passes, alpine tundra, mountain meadows, ghost towns, and relics of the silver mining era. Bonus: Alpine Loop is nicknamed “American Switzerland.”

Best Time to Go

You’ve got a very short window to check this destination off your list! Alpine Loop is only snow free and open to traffic from June through September.

Options for Group Campsites and Dispersed Camping 

Mill Creek Campground

37.90659, -107.39056 | /// bells.yelling.wavelength

The Crags

38.87145, -105.12057 | /// adventurer.duty.preferably

Angel Creek Campground

38.00594, -107.69234 | /// lollipop.spoken.decked

Must Do Off Road Trails

Yankee Boy Basin Trailhead

37.97940, -107.75910 | /// marshes.immaterial.intention

Difficulty Rating: Moderate

Black Bear Pass, Telluride, CO

37.89731, -107.72779 | /// successes.alarming.discuss

Difficulty Rating: Hard

Member Recorded GPX Tracks 

@LifestyleOverland did the primary loop: 8 hours

37.93375, -107.56840 | /// tangible.prefect.lawyers

Difficulty Rating: Moderate

  03 Southeast Utah near Canyonlands National Park

Why it’s on the List

Southeast Utah is heaven…or at least Mars. Utah is home to 5 national parks and the towering cliffs of red rock are the main attraction in the state’s southeast corner. Zion National Park in southwestern Utah is the state’s (and the country’s) most visited parks, and for good reason. But if you keep driving north on the 15 and then east on 70, you encounter the majestic “other” side of the state, home to Arches, Canyonlands, and Moab.

Best Time to Go

Spring or fall. Late summer and early fall visitors should expect afternoon thunderstorms.

Options for Group Campsites and Dispersed Camping 

Spring Canyon Bottom

38.62111, -109.99976 | /// refresher.support.accepts

Devil’s Kitchen #1

38.13626, -109.86024 | /// eating.raffle.triangular

Dirty Devil Overlook

38.17216, -110.46194 | /// holder.voters.careful

Must Do Off Road Trails

Colorado River Overlook

38.16900, -109.7605 | /// gross.refilling.richly

Difficulty Rating: Moderate

Hell’s Revenge

38.58335, -109.53089 | /// alpha.replicated.brightened

Difficulty Rating: Moderate

Fins and Things

38.58226, -109.50709 | /// vitamin.including.condiment

Difficulty Rating: Moderate

White Rim Trail

38.45930, -109.79520 | /// hang.loops.luckily

Difficulty Rating: Moderate

Member Recorded GPX Tracks 

@probablytheguy did Schafer Trail

38.47131, -109.81131 | /// streamline.gurgled.multiples

Difficulty Rating: Easy

@JPaul did Metal Masher

38.60335, -109.70108 | /// experiments.generates.belongs

Difficulty Rating: Hard

04 Eastern Sierra, California

Why it’s on the List

The Eastern Sierra refers to the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains between the city of Lone Pine and the Nevada border. Covering roughly 24,000 square miles, the region includes world-class outdoor destinations including Mammoth Lakes, Bodie Ghost Town, Mono Lake, and parts of Yosemite and Death Valley National Park. If attractions aren’t your thing, the Eastern Sierra is also our favorite region for dispersed camping and 100% off-grid adventures.

Best Time to Go

As long as you’re prepared for sudden temperature and weather changes, you’ll have a great time visiting year-round. Winter is chilly and you might see snow and hail in the highest elevations. Take note that summers don’t get too hot (rarely above 90 degrees), which means it’s the most popular time for people to visit. Spring and fall are lovely and you’ll encounter fewer tourists.

Options for Group Campsites and Dispersed Camping 

West Lake on USFS Trail

37.20120, -119.1300 | ///  impresses.discoveries.menu

Big Springs Campground, Crestview

37.74857, -118.95046 | /// cuff.lighthouse.parsnips

Dinkey Creek 

37.07470, -119.15427 | /// grazed.hotdog.agriculture

Must Do Off Road Trails

Laurel Lake Trail

37.61875, -118.90834 | /// countryside.wove.vessel

Difficulty Rating: Moderate

Kavanaugh Ridge and Dunderburg Mill

38.10370, -119.25088 | /// inherit.chaotic.brewers

Difficulty Rating: Moderate

Member Recorded GPX Tracks 

@glacierdog did Mono Mills narrow gauge railway to Aurora, NV

37.89190, -118.95850 | /// jams.export.laundry

Difficulty Rating: Moderate

@TahoeTime did Bridgeport to Bodie Ghost Town via Chemung Mine

38.30890, -119.21111 | /// camps.inhabited.visited

Difficulty Rating: Easy to moderate

05 Oregon Back Country Discovery Routes (BDR)

Why it’s on the List

Oregon has it all. Moody coastlines, towering mountain ranges, high deserts, and canyonlands. The Oregon Off-Highway Vehicle Association designed off-highway routes throughout the state to help you see everything that Oregon has to offer. The main route is 1500 miles. You can do the entire trip in 6 discrete sections that are designed for off-road capable vehicles including trucks, ATVs, and motorcycles. The routes are intended to be self-supported backcountry trips so be prepared.

Best Time to Go

The routes open every year once snow has melted and close once snow begins again. Historically, June is the earliest that the routes open. Keep in mind that you’ll encounter mosquitos earlier in the season so don’t forget the repellant. If you go later in the fall, trails will be especially dusty.

Options for Group Campsites and Dispersed Camping 

Cabin Lake Campground

43.49470, -121.05680 | /// sights.diversions.luminosity

Owyhee Mountains

43.34607, -116.99733 | /// bloomers.bluntly.sensing

Two Color Campground

45.03704, -117.44641 | /// quail.coder.promotions

Boulder Park Campground

45.06560, -117.41023 | /// chances.drones.contraband

Must Do Off Road Trails

La Dee Flat OHV Park

45.21224, -122.21316 | /// kilt.gambles.campaigning

Difficulty Rating: Easy, Moderate, Hard

Browns Camp OHV

45.60209, -123.33375 | /// divisional.verifying.cameras

Difficulty Rating: Easy

Member Recorded GPX Tracks 

@MRose did Spring Creek Run

45.37010, -118.29738 | /// truthfully.fingertip.brains

Difficulty Rating: Easy

@TR8R did Gates to Mill City

40.68352, -118.07042 | /// seamlessly.hinders.turns

Difficulty Rating: Easy

Add these bucket list destinations to your Overland Bound One offroad app and have a look around the area for dispersed camping sites, views/attractions, trails, gas stations, mechanics, medical care, and recorded tracks left by Overland Bound members.

When we left them in Part 1, the Van Stralen family was feeling good after traversing what was left of an avalanche in the British Columbia backcountry. Now things start to get really good/bad. Lots of winching, tons of recovery gear, ample good spirits.

Words and Pictures by Epic Family Road Trip OB 4010

After crossing the avalanche, we continued down the trail. We began to see a lot of signs that moose were in the area, so we radioed back to the other Jeep to keep their eyes peeled, hoping to see a moose or two, and if we were really lucky, we might find an antler shed.

As we traveled along the road we failed to realize that we were gradually climbing in elevation. Thankfully there were no more avalanches covering the road ahead, but as we drove on, the trail became snow-covered. Very patchy at first and then deeper and deeper until suddenly we began to lose traction.We backed up out of the snow to see how deep it was and to assess the situation. It was slushy spring snow which looked more like small ice pellets, and if you tried to pack it into a snowball it would just fall apart. The sun was shining, the weather was warm and we figured the snow covered roads would probably turn back to slush and gravel somewhere not too far up ahead. We had a set of MaxTrax, two Warn winches, and a good supply of recovery gear. We had both of our fridges stocked with food plus plenty of dry food. We had a week’s supply of freshwater plus our life straw filter bag where we could filter an endless supply out of the many rivers and lakes ahead.We had about a half a tank of gas in each Jeep, a full 17-gallon auxiliary tank in both Jeeps, and our 10-gallon fuel caddy on Vandi was also full. We had our tents, warm sleeping bags and Mr Heater “buddy heaters” with plenty of spare propane. Because we can only carry so much gear and had planned to spend the winter in the southwest, we didn’t have good winter boots with us. We did have hats and gloves and figured we could layer up on jackets if we got cold.

Taking all of this into consideration we decided to go for it.We knew we would get stuck a few times and probably have to use our recovery gear, but we were ready for an adventure and didn’t mind putting in a little bit of hard work. We aired down our tires to about 12 psi and started into the snow. We are running Milestar Patagonia MTs on both Jeeps, which have proven to be great all-around tires for rocks, mud, and snow. With Worsley in the lead, we began blazing a trail through the snow. By slowly moving ahead we were able to pack a trail and stay up on top of the snow, with Vandi following in our tracks behind.In areas where the trees were thick on the other side of the trail, the snow was much deeper. It was so deep in spots that if we got out of the Jeep we would sink right down to our waist. On uphill sections, despite our best efforts, our tires would start spinning and we’d get stuck. The only way forward was to get out the winch and start pulling. We use synthetic lines on both winches as well as soft shackles, and a strap to loop around trees.

The first recovery was successful and before long we were back riding on top of the snow again. Little did we know that this would be the first of many recoveries.Driving back through the tracks we had created on the way in was incredibly easy compared to blazing the trail and within what seemed like minutes we were back at the cut off we had missed. The cut off the trail was now right in front of us, but to our dismay, it was a steep incline deeply covered in snow.

We were now getting low on fuel. Wesley had a half a tank left from the auxiliary and Vandi was at 1/4 tank.

That’s when it hit me. “I have a plan,” I said over the radio. “We are getting out of here on the trail we came in on.”

When you are so focused on a destination and have worked so hard to get there, turning back is not an easy decision, but in this case, it was the right one. With the rain that fell this morning and the trail that we blazed the past two days we should have no problem getting all the way back to the avalanche where we started two days ago. We should have enough fuel in Vandi to at least get there, if not farther and enough fuel in Worsley to go find a gas station and bring fuel back.

We all agreed that this was the best plan of action, so without any further ado, we began backtracking off the mountain. Despite the disappointment of not reaching the town of Elkford, it did feel good to be moving steadily again.We tethered the two jeeps together so that if Worsley got stuck, Vandi could pull backward and if Vandi got stuck, Worsley could give a little tug and we’d be back on the move. What took days to drive in took only a few hours driving back out and soon we found ourselves back at the avalanche and on gravel once again. After all we’d been through the last couple of days we weren’t going to let an avalanche or anything else stand in our way. Soon we had crossed over and were heading for fuel. We drove until Vandi was right out of fuel and set up camp for the night.

What a feeling of relief as we sat by the fire that night enjoying a delicious meal.  That night was one of the most pleasant and restful sleeps we’d had in a long time.

The next morning Carol and I got up and drove 40 minutes into town to pick up a can of fuel so we could continue our journey.
Reflections

Tire chains might have helped but would not have made it so we could just drive without getting stuck. Chains work best when you’re on a snow covered hard surface like a paved or gravel road, but in the conditions we were in where you are riding on top of 3 or 4 feet of snow, chains can actually work against you. The problem is that they will dig a hole in the snow faster than the tire would and once that happens you’re stuck.
8 pounds of tire pressure seemed optimal for these conditions. Would you have gone lower?

Mountains are very beautiful but also very dangerous and mother nature can be unforgiving. Never venture into the mountains unless you are fully prepared and confident that you can get out.
Always carry a satellite-based communication device like a Garmin or Spot, and make sure that someone knows where you are at all times. Send them your coordinates and status on a regular basis.
Challenges and tough situations create many opportunities for character building and family bonding.
Lastly, as part of the Overland Bound community, we had the confidence knowing that if we really got into trouble, we could send a message and within a short time, we’d have a small army of overlanders heading our way.

Words and Pictures by Epic Family Road Trip OB Adventure Partner 4010

It was March 17 and we had just returned to town after exploring the beautiful Lincoln National Forest with our friends from Lifestyle Overland.

As we came back on the grid to restock our supplies we checked in on the news to hear that a global pandemic had been declared and that the Canadian border was going to be shut down. We also heard that our travel insurance might not cover pandemic-related issues and so we made the decision to begin the trip north to Canada.

It was painful to drive through New Mexico, Utah, Idaho and Montana without exploring the endless wild backcountry in these beautiful states.

Three days later we crossed the border into Canada.On the way north we had received so many offers of places to stay, meals to be had and people just checking in to see how we were doing and if we needed anything.

As we crossed into Canada, we took a moment to reflect on and express our thankfulness for the kind, caring and hospitable people of the United States. We knew that tough times were ahead but that the American spirit would prevail.

We had planned to explore the canyons in deserts of the South West for a few more months and then make our way up the coast to visit Carol’s parents and siblings in Oregon. All of that would have to be put on hold for the time being.

The border crossing we chose was between Montana and British Columbia. We were somewhat familiar with the area as we had stayed the year before in the small town of Radium Hot Springs for a few months while snowboarding in the mountains.At the border, they notified us that we needed to self quarantine for 14 days and so we rented an apartment and hunkered down. We couldn’t wait to get back in the Jeeps and begin exploring.

Once our time was up, we stocked up on food and began exploring the country trails looking for places to camp. We couldn’t believe it. There were logging roads everywhere leading to smaller roads and remote backcountry trails. You could camp wherever you wanted.

The beauty of this area is breathtaking. There are snow capped mountains in all directions, vast forests, wild rivers teeming with fish and wildlife like bear, elk, mountain sheep and deer in abundance. We created a path through the snow and set up camp near the Kootenay River. After a delicious dinner and being very careful to clean up every last scrap so as not to attract a bear, we fell asleep in our rooftop tents listening to the sound of the nearby rapids tumbling over the rocks.One day when we were back in town picking up supplies, a gentleman and his daughter noticed our Jeeps and came over to offer us directions to some of their favorite camp spots and left us with a map book of the backcountry in the area.

All National and Provincial Parks as well as recreational areas like the many local hot springs in the area were closed due to Covid. Crown-land (which is public land in Canada) was still open and so that is where we began exploring.

We camped beside pristine lakes where we could drink right out of the lake, under snow-capped mountains, beside rushing rivers and in the high elevations overlooking spectacular views.

As the weather continued to warm up, more and more trails became exposed from under their cover of snow and we began to venture deeper into the wilderness.We have auxiliary fuel tanks on both Jeeps which allows us to go for days without fueling up and gives us about double the range of a stock vehicle.  

We were both getting low on our primary thanks but had our reserves still available. It had been quite a while since our last fuel up, so we set our sights on the small mountain village of Elkford, which according to our maps looked to be about 40 km away. The plan was to head into town fuel up and then find a camp spot for the night.

There is no cell service out here so we rely heavily on my map books and satellite-based GPS.

We made our way along the trail slowly and carefully, dodging rocks that had tumbled down during the winter. We encountered patches of snow and ice on the trail in the high elevations and mud-covered tracks in the lower spots. We stopped every once in a while to take pictures and enjoy the wilderness around us.As we rounded a corner we came up to the remnants of a snow avalanche that must have fallen during the winter and now completely blocked our way.

We had a decision to make. Do we turn around and drive all the way back to where we had started a few days before to refuel and perhaps try to find an alternate route, or do we try and climb over the snow avalanche with the Jeeps and carry-on down the road to Elkford as originally planned?

The prudent thing would have been to turn around and find an alternate route, but we were feeling adventurous.
“Let’s just put Worsley in 4 low, lock the hubs and see if we can even get up on the avalanche.” “If we sink in, or it looks like we won’t make it we’ll back out, turn around and go with Plan B.”
This sounded like a reasonable plan so we edged the Jeep forward, stepped on the gas, and to our surprise found ourselves perched up on top of the snow avalanche.

From there it was just a matter of filling in the deep spots with rocks and logs as we made our way across the avalanche.To traverse the final ten feet of the avalanche we attached our winch to a huge log that was lying on the road ahead and soon we found ourselves back on dry ground on the other side.

We cheered our accomplishment and after high-fives all around, we realized that we were now fully committed to our plan. Going back would be much harder now as the avalanche was a lot steeper on this side compared to the other side.

Because a trail had already been blazed by Worsley we were able to drive Vandi up and over the avalanche without even stopping.With a great sense of accomplishment and the feeling that we could make our way through pretty much anything that we might encounter ahead, we carried on down the trail.  

Only 30 km and about an hour on the trails and we would be in town fueling up.

Stay tuned for Part 2 when we find out just how wrong we were, and how an expected 1-hour drive turned into three days of struggling to get out of the ever deepening snow covered mountains.

What would you do if your entire world and worldly possessions sat on the edge of a muddy abyss? Jorge and Jessica Gonzalez of Live Work Wander share through words and illustration one of the most harrowing moments of their life on the road.

Words by Jorge Gonzalez | Illustrations by Jessica Gonzalez

Memorial Day Mud Hole

 There are experiences that once felt take on a phenomenology all their own, quite distinct from the typical internal firings of the mind. Memory is such a strange thing, inhabiting a thick soup of swirling, blurry mental images mixed with odd, spicy sensations. As if by simple recall, the hairs on the back of your neck become electric, the pace of your blood quickens, thickening into heavy plasma as your heart remembers the acute sensation of panic, adrenaline, and focused action all filtering into ventricles and atriums and all those other bits in your chest. The scalp warms and tingles, lips purse tightly, your abdomen numbs, breaths are shorter, and all at once you recall that this feeling is only familiar because of its proximity to a mental picture of an event in which you very much felt completely alive.

In such psychosomatic sensations, you are immediately transported to the event in question as if living it again in that moment even if you’re just sitting, as I am, on a couch in suburban Colorado attempting to piece together this story from a patchwork of mental sparks and a tingling scalp.

The meadow that morning was vibrating with the scent of blossoming wild flowers, their names a mystery to me, weaving their incense in the open spaces, smelling as fresh and familiar as the moist dirt in which they grew. Underneath a deep cyan sky we did our calisthenics and yoga at sunrise, you know, to get the blood flowing and to hold age at bay with its attendant slowing metabolism forcing that familiar Sponge-Bob-Dad-Bod to take amorphous shape.

We’d recently made it to Wyoming in hopes of finally exploring an area that had, at that point in our travels, eluded our touch, and we camped just off Forest Road 870 in Medicine Bow National Forest. It was a camp spot which if I’m honest, was poorly chosen as our Syncro’s aggressive all-terrains carved a path in the soft green growth of the meadow, in a place that isn’t for camping but for allowing our Mother to grow wild. That is to say, meadows are for Her and not for our four wheel drives. Take care to not follow our example.

For years we’d passed through Wyoming promising ourselves to delve into its wind and range where once the mighty bison roamed and the Cheyenne people settled; to explore those parts of its backcountry that don’t bear the names Teton or Yellowstone or Beartooth. Much of the area in the south is underrated, as if forgotten simply for being in the shadow of such titanic locales in the north west of the state.

But there’s something about Medicine Bow, about the name, that moves us deeply. According to the Wyoming State Parks website, the story behind the name is thought to have originated from the Amerindian tribes that called the area home. They

“…found mountain mahogany in one of the mountain valleys from which bows of exceptional quality were made. It became the custom of friendly tribes to assemble there annually and construct their weapons. At these assemblies, there were ceremonial powwows for the cure of disease which, in the hybrid speech that developed between the Indians and the early settlers, was known as ‘making medicine.’ Eventually, the settlers associated the terms ‘making–medicine’ and ‘making–bow’…”

The name Medicine Bow National Forest—later appropriated by the Department of Agriculture and the U.S. Forest Service—denotes the forests which happen to be in the watershed created by spring snow melts. Its name and etymology strikes a chord in our hearts that beckons us to set foot in that forest or better yet, to traverse its myriad road networks in our Volkswagen Syncro and camp among its aspens and pines, to listen to its birds sing between the gentle rustle of leaves dancing in the still cool spring breeze.

Returning then to that beautiful morning in the forest, the sun barely having crested above the still snowy ranges in the distant edges of the scene. Our goal there was one of exploration as always but also to skirt around a closed section of HWY 70 that, if we could navigate the forest road network system properly, would spit us out on the other side of the closure giving us open tarmac that lead to our ultimate goal of getting nearer to Medicine Bow Peak. So with a rough plan in hand, we set off to see if we could get around the closure just by navigating on backcountry forest roads.

Pulling away from our camp and leaving the meadow, the forest enveloped us, our Syncro and its whining turbo a loud reminder to the surrounding wilderness that at some point, civilization always defaces the quiet calm that rests in the space between trees. In the spring snow melt, mud puddle after mud puddle pushed and pulled our Syncro in various directions, its tail swinging out in some especially deep sections, thick brown water splashing up the sides of the van and sometimes flying into our open windows. In the rear of the van, Petunya our schnauzer rested sleepily even while the van tossed and trundled in ever deepening puddles and over fallen logs that themselves lay sleepily across our path. Linus, our little 7lbs dachshund, sat up, yawning from time to time no doubt wondering when lunch would be served and how best to weasel his way into either my arms or Jessica’s. But Jessica’s were busy with a steering wheel and gear shifter, and mine were busy attempting to hold our camera steady to log the adventure. Sorry, Linus. Not sorry.

Mud sucks. No really. It sucks. Literally. It pulls you to where it wants and then it almost seems to inhale you, locking you in its mushy jaws before inexplicably deciding to spit you out in the opposite place you intended. The New York Times has quoted Mud as saying:

“Hey, you may want to go left, but I’m gonna make you go right because I Am Mud and F*ck You.”

Fake news? Maybe, maybe not. I’m sure someone on Twitter has 240 characters to set us all straight.

Measures can be taken to mitigate mud’s stubbornness like airing down tires to 15psi or lower, having a nice set of 35” muddies or larger, a gas guzzling supercharger, chromoly everything, and maybe having a winch on board. You know, big boy stuff; the kind of goodies mall crawlers are made of. But let’s be real, our Syncro was our home and as such it was set up to maximize all-terrain travel in mild environments, not mud terrain travel in back country Wyoming at the start of the snow melt when literally everything is saturated in water. The road beneath our Goodyear Duratracs was a thick, earthen milkshake, but with adventure afoot, May the Mud be Damned™.

For all the nastiness and stickiness of the mud however, we were having a good time challenging ourselves on the track; learning the Syncro’s responses to inputs and learning from each other the value of willful difficulties taken on together. Jessica—being the expert driver and navigator that she is—sat resolute in her captain’s chair driving through pond-sized mud puddles sideways, her focus never leaving the goal to which we’d set ourselves.

Just under two miles in, we were faced with what looked like a deep puddle. To the left of it was a bypass that had been created by locals who knew better than to traverse that particular mud hole. Not wanting to press the adventure any harder than absolutely necessary, I walked to the edge of the hole, assessed it was too deep to cross and pointed out the bypass to Jessica.

Not only did we not want to chance the deeper crossing for fear of getting stuck, we also had to keep in mind that were we to get into too deep of a water crossing, our Syncro would lose throttle response. The engine conversion on our van had a drive-by-wire system installed but the sensor that sent throttle application to the ECU was not water tight. Thus, if the sensor found itself in water much deeper than a foot or so, the Syncro would lose all throttle response and she’d be, ahem, dead in the water. With that in the back of our minds, we saw fit to not take the apparently deep water puddle and opted instead to head left and through the bypass road created by the locals. Mud, being the bitch she is, had other plans for us.

After assessing the mud hole, I made my way back to the Syncro and explained the route and our angle of approach to the bypass around the the deep puddle. The sun was now higher, clouds covering huge swaths of blue sky, birds were chirping making the sweet sounds of spring, and a light breeze filled our Syncro. We both stared down the barrel of experience and saw that the path led between 2 aspen trees and then into a smooth bypass. All we had to do was approach at speed, miss the mud hole and trees and we’d be on our way in no time.

With granny gear engaged—the VW Syncro does not have a low range transfer case so VW’s engineers instead opted for a compromise with a kind of torquey-er gear setup in the gearbox allowing the Syncro to harness more torque for situations like these—the Syncro center knob pulled to indicate our front differential with a solid shaft was active, and our rear locker locked to maximize forward momentum in the event one rear tire gets bogged, Jessica feathered the throttle and set off towards the bypass.

We try to live by the maxim: “Drive as slow as possible and as fast as necessary.” As we slowly approached the angle to climb onto and then into the bypass section of road, the amount of throttle Jessica applied at the outset was insufficient. In this instance, Jessica, though being the better off-road driver of us, didn’t heed the “as fast necessary” conditional of the maxim.

Approaching the lip of the bypass without enough throttle, the mud on the lip grabbed our front tires and sucked us to the right toward the mud pool. The rear lockers, usually great to have on when in the mud to maximize traction and forward momentum, worked against us in this instance by pushing the vehicle quickly forward in the direction that the mud was sucking the front of the van.

“Oh shit.” I exclaimed as it became clear that the amount of throttle wasn’t going to be enough to get us over the lip.

“Oh shit!” I yelled as the engine stuttered under the lack of throttle and the excess of deep mud. The bouncing of the Syncro in that short space throwing us and our dogs around the cabin because we were traversing deep ruts at a 90º angle.

“Oh my god, SHIT!” The Syncro was facing 90º away from our intended route. The engine stalled. The van stopped. We sat perched precariously on the edge of the deep pool of muddy snow melt; the passenger side submerged, the driver side hanging on for dear life to the lip of the embankment. The mud pulled us further toward the deep watery brown pool. Out of my window I could see the thick saucy soup of cold water and mud staring me in the face, like a witch beckoning our Syncro to enter her brew.

“Shit. SHIT!” I exclaimed.

“It’s alright. It’s alright.” Came Jessica’s voice of focus and calmness. Water was beginning to fill the back of the van where sat my computer and hard drives. At that moment, the Syncro’s inclinometer read a reasonable 27º off camber and we could feel the van slowly sliding deeper into the mud puddle, lazily angling further off-camber as the witch in the mud pulled us closer.

“It’s alright.” She breathlessly repeated over and over. Like a flash she jumped in the back of the van and pulled my computer and hard drives to safety. Petunya, now wide awake, was looking around in bewildered bemusement at why her humans were all in a fluster. Linus was aloof as always, probably wondering when lunch would be served and that it better not be delayed by whatever the hell was happening at the moment.

With the van slipping further off camber, making my way out was more a careful climb up to an escape hatch than a simple exit of a vehicle. Sucking in my dad bod as I squeezed passed the steering wheel, gingerly opening the door to minimize movement in the van, I managed to squish out of the driver’s door which was now looking as if it were more parallel to the sky than to the ground. Once outside the van, I set my camera down to capture whatever was to transpire next all the while cussing and distressed. My scalp tingling, my heart pounding through my chest, my blood rushing as if it wanted to burst the veins that carry it from heart to head to feet and back. Time stood still. My belly numbed, a clear indication of my body sending blood to extremities that now needed the extra kick of adrenaline-addled-plasma.

Inside the van, Jessica had the pups ready for me to pull to safety. The van slid further. Our inclinometer went from reading 27º at the outset of the situation to now showing 30º off camber. The passenger side of the Syncro was now in over a foot of ice cold brown water slowly seeping in through the door jambs and filling up our living area. If there was to be a roll over and if our home were to find itself on its side in deep muddy water, ensuring our little family was safe was the first priority. I stood outside ready to receive Petunya first. Jessica moved slowly and deliberately as the van continued its slide, now 32º off camber, and she deftly handed me my sweet Petunya and then little Linus through the rear drivers side window of the van. I set them down and off they went to explore the forest no doubt thinking this was where we’d be camping for the evening. I can’t say the thought did not also cross my mind.

Next came the computers, hard drives, and then some bedding. If we were going to be stuck out here and if the Syncro finished the roll, we’d definitely want something to keep us warm in case rescue was slow in coming or if the situation worsened in some way. Just then, rain began to fall on us. Thick drops poured down splashing on newly animated green leaves; a rush of water making the ground wetter, the mud hole deeper. Thirty four degrees now. We could hear the suspension creaking and the mud popping and smacking as if chewing peanut butter.

Jess climbed out of the van and we turned to getting out our recovery straps. We had 2 ARB winch extension lines and one tow strap along with a number of shackles. In that moment, I remembered a story a fellow Syncro owner had told me about how he righted his rolled van in Baja by running a tow strap through the driver’s window and out the first rear side window using the b-pillar as an attachment point. Feverishly Jessica and I ran one of our winch extension straps through the windows as described and fastened the other end of the strap to a thick aspen tree a few feet away. The Syncro slowly creaked further off camber: 34.5º and then she stopped. The strap somewhat taut.

With the Syncro now safe from rolling and the witch in the puddle retreating from her beckoning spell, Jessica and I embraced, catching our breath, and shaking out the adrenaline that was yet left in our aching veins.

“I just didn’t give it enough throttle to get over this bank here.” She explained. “I took my foot off because I didn’t want to inadvertently slide into this tree and instead of avoiding the tree we slid into this mud. I’m so so sorry.” She sat with her thoughts quietly playing back the event in her head. Jessica isn’t one to dwell, to let the calamity of circumstance defeat her iron will.

And so we began to attempt to devise a plan as to what we could do next. Backing up wouldn’t be possible as any movement would likely roll the rig. We couldn’t drive forward and down and then out of the mud pool because of the throttle sensor issue. We had three options: attempt self-recovery with our hi-lift jack; walk five miles back to civilization to get help; or use our Garmin InReach to call for help.

We attempted option one first: use the hi-lift as a winch to pull the van backwards. I removed the hi-lift from the front of the van which required that I enter the puddle, and that was when we learned of the true depth of this “puddle.” The water in some places reached up to my waist. Fully 3.5ft deep and the mud at the bottom of the puddle was doing everything it could to rip my feet from my ankles. There was no way even if we’d attempted to hit this mud hole in the very middle that we would’ve ever made it out. Never mind the throttle issue. That mud was too thick and too deep for our 30” all-terrain tires to adequately manage.

With the hi-lift removed and my underbits frozen from their dip in the cold snow melt water, I attempted to use the hi-lift, tow strap, and extra winch extension strap to extract our Syncro from the hole. It was a completely futile effort. The tow strap stretched too much under load making the actual distance we could pull the van backwards with the hi-lift before it ran out of notches a whopping 1.5 inches of distance. Fail.

As we stood further assessing our predicament and resolving to use our Garmin InReach to call for help, an older married couple appeared on their mountain bikes coming from the direction in which we were heading.

“Uh oh. What on earth got into to think you could go on this road?” He asked probably wondering why anyone would take a camper van on such a muddy track. We explained our route, that our van was four wheel drive, and explained how we were attempting to climb onto the bypass when he interrupted;

“Well, be glad you didn’t get past this hole. It only gets much much worse ahead, and down there few, if any, vehicles will be willing to come rescue you.” Speaking of rescue, he told us that if the InReach didn’t work for us, that he’d come back with his tractor and pull us out. He gave us a way to reach him and he set off towards his home some 5 miles away to see about getting help out to us.

Using the Earthmate app to connect our phone to the Garmin InReach device, Jessica wrote to our friends in Fort Collins:

“This is Jessica. SOS. We are stuck nearly tipped over on a FR in the western part of Medicine Bow NF.

Need you to contact someone maybe from emergency services or forest service nearby here.

We are both ok and dogs ok. Need someone with winch.

Attempting self recovery with our hi-lift and tow straps but not sure if it will be enough.”
A response came quickly:
“Got coordinates, looking for help.”
Thirty minutes later came another response:
“Help is en route.”

The debacle had started at around 0930hrs and at 1343hrs help arrived. A blue dually Dodge pickup with a flatbed came slowly down the trail towards us. Driving it was a woman named Megan, and along side her was her husband Brian – a sheriffs deputy – their daughter Siobhan, Rod – a friend of the family –, and Jacques the mountain bike guy we’d met a few hours earlier. Finally Jess and I could catch our breath a bit.

As the recovery effort got underway, I asked Brian if he came down that road often and he answered that he only ever comes down this way to rescue people. It seems even the locals avoid this stretch of road in the early spring. We both felt less idiotic knowing that we had endeavored to tackle a stretch of road that unbeknownst to us was more difficult and hazardous than we’d anticipated.

We attached the Syncro to the blue dually with our tow strap while re-attaching the 2 ARB winch extension straps to trees to keep the van from tipping over as the recovery progressed. The dually slowly pulled the Syncro back, inch by nerve racking inch. After being pulled back about 8 inches, the rear wheel of the van came completely off the ground, our inclinometer now reaching 43º off camber. We repositioned one extension strap to keep the van from rolling while the other extension strap was attached to the hi-lift jack on both ends to keep the strap taut and prevent the rig from sliding laterally. This is pretty hard to describe so I won’t attempt to go into more detail other than to say the recovery itself took more than 30 minutes to complete. At one point, both driver side tires were many inches off the ground and all that kept the van from rolling were those extension straps we’d fastened to the van. I will forever be grateful we had those on board as I’m not sure how in the hell we would’ve gotten Ripley the Syncro unfucked from that particular situation without them.

As the dually pulled, it too got stuck in another deep puddle necessitating the use of our Maxtrax to get the Dodge unstuck. Once unstuck, the recovery proceeded until finally our Syncro was back on level ground. My heart slowed, my clenched fist loosened, my ears relaxed and my scalp cooled. I could feel my knees bend a bit and breath returned normally to me at that moment.

For more than 4 hours our home — the only home we have in the world having 4 years earlier forsaken the middle class picket fence and 9-5 life for an existence made of travel and adventure — was precariously perched on a mud bank slowly sliding into a deep puddle of brown, slurry water. The years of effort and work and love we’d poured into that van were at risk of severe setbacks if the van had rolled.

We’ve played this series of events back in our minds a thousand times. If Jessica had opted at the moment when the slide began to mash the throttle thus catapulting us further in the direction of the deep puddle, there is no doubt in my mind our Syncro would’ve ended up on her side. If we hadn’t acted as quickly as we did in removing our precious dogs and our computers before quickly fastening the van to a tree, she would have rolled. If we hadn’t had the equipment on board that we did: the straps, the shackles, the Maxtrax, the hi-lift jack, rescue would have been nearly impossible. In fact, I don’t know how we could’ve avoided a roll without many of those items. It was Jessica’s calm reasoning and my preplanning and research in the event something like this ever happened, that prevented this situation from being much worse.

When I recall this story, when my heart’s pace quickens and my scalp lights afire, when my palms start to sweat again, I am thankful that the situation went exactly as it did. The thoughts of how much worse it could have been all cycle in my head as I play this story back. The one thing I never find myself wishing for is that we hadn’t attempted it. I do wish we’d had a winch on board, and ironically enough, when this whole thing happened, we had a Warn Zeon 10-S winch in the mail being shipped to us in Jackson, Wyoming. Since this debacle, we have had a winch on board each rig we’ve owned and never once needed it.

After the rescue that day, the family that pulled us out of the mud invited us to their ranch to take care of any mechanical issues the van may have had, to clean all our gear that had been inundated on the passenger side of the van, and to take a shower to wash off all the mud we’d gotten stuck to our skin during the debacle. They even invited us to share in a Memorial Day cookout. Oh, I didn’t mention that this happened on Memorial Day 2017. It was a day our minds and bodies will not soon forget.

Jessica and Jorge have been overlanding the world and sharing their stories since 2013. Check them out here and (most definitely) here.