Land Rover's Terrain Response explained

Greetings! 

I recently purchased a 2011 Land Rover LR4 HSE with the heavy-duty package.  I’d like to know in detail how the Terrain Response system works so that I can make full use of it.  Simple labels on the settings, like “Snow,” “Sand,” etc., are not enough! In particular, I’d like to know all of the vehicle’s attributes that are controlled by the Terrain Response system (such as throttle response, transmission, brakes, electronic traction control) and how each is modified in each of the settings.  

I have tried to get this information from Land Rover USA and from my dealer with no success.  Surely this information is available. How can I find it? 

Thanks!

Jan N,  Los Alamos, New Mexico, USA

My Machete "Build"

I’ve been a fan of machetes since I was a kid. They fill a unique niche somewhere between a hatchet and an axe, yet can do things neither of the others can.  

But I’ve found two problems common to a lot of commercially available machetes, especially in the U.S. First, many of them are too long for most uses. The longer the blade, the more imprecision is introduced to one’s swing (and if the blade is sharp you don’t need the extra momentum). Second, the upswept tip on the typical U.S.-style machete is useless and frequently dangerous. If you’re swinging at, say, a branch you need to sever, and rather than hitting it with the meat of the blade you instead make contact near that tip, the angle can deflect the tool back toward you at considerable speed. 

Years ago someone gave me a machete, the brand of which was long worn off but which appeared to be of fine quality. It was typical of those supplied in millions to the military by the Ontario Knife Company in several wars. It had a proper full tang, and the handle was secured with no fewer than four rivets. But it was saddled with an absurdly long 24-inch blade, and the typical upswept tip. I’ve used it now and then, but mostly rely on my old, shorter surplus machete. 

Recently my friends Sergio and Ruth Santiago from Mexico gave me a beautiful machete with a leather-wrapped grip and a stylish leather sheath. Its practical, short blade reminded me of that too-long machete, so I decided to do something about it. I used a cutoff wheel on my angle grinder to lop off about seven inches of the blade, while at the same time modifying its shape to eliminate that upsweep. Now if the tip makes contact with a branch, it’s more likely to dig in rather than bounce off. A little grinding, some cleaning and sharpening, and I’ve got a really usable tool. 

If I were buying a machete today I’d get one of these: 

http://www.machetespecialists.com/sh13incrgowi.html 

Nice short, thick blade, safe tip, comfortable wood handle. A little shorter than my modified machete, but the slightly thicker blade gives it enough punch to get through small limbs in one swing.

Equipment review: micro stoves, part 1 of 3

Let’s be frank here: Adventure motorcyclists are essentially divided into two species—those who ride a BMW R1150GS or R1200GS, and those who ride anything else (including other BMWs). We can argue about whether or not the big GS bikes are the best adventure motorcycles on the planet, but you can’t deny they’re the most prominent, and their fans make the most zealous Sturgis-tattooed Harley rider seem fickle.

To continue the Linnaean angle, the mega-GS riders I know generally separate into two sub-species when considering camping equipment: They either think, I’m riding a zillion-pound motorcycle. What difference does it make what my equipment weighs? Or, I’m riding a zillion-pound motorcycle. I need to save every gram I can on equipment. 

If you’re a member of the former group, and you’re in the market for a stove, I can happily recommend a three-burner Partner Steel model, which will strap on your rear luggage rack with room to spare. A 20-pound propane tank should give you plenty of cooking fuel. For the latter group—or any of you who ride mere mortal motorcycles, I offer a review (the first of three, with a final winner to be chosen) of two micro stoves.

We've Come a Long Way

My first backpacking stove was a beautiful little white gas SVEA 123, considered “light” at the time despite being made from solid brass, which has a density not far this side of neutron star core material.

How times have changed. Compare the 18-ounce heft of that SVEA with the 1.9 ounces of a Snow Peak LiteMax Titanium stove. Sure, the LiteMax has no built-in fuel tank, but add a full canister of isobutane/propane mix and you’re only up to 8.5 ounces, less than half the mass of the empty SVEA.

However, as important as weight is to a motorcycle traveler, it’s not the only consideration when choosing a stove. Stability, efficiency, wind resistance, boiling time, and simmering ability all factor in as well.

Furthermore, weight can be deceptive. Canister stoves are virtually always lighter than liquid-fuel stoves even with a canister attached, since they require no pumping mechanism—but for most trips you’ll need more than one canister, and the weight (and bulk) of them adds up quickly.

Then there’s disposal: Recycling spent canisters is an on-again, off-again possibility in many communities. Sometimes they’re just trash. (JetBoil makes an excellent tool for puncturing empty canisters, required for recycling in most areas.)

First in a Series of Stove Duels

I decided to take a highly opinionated, who-made-you-the-expert? stab at pronouncing which is the best lightweight stove on the market. However, rather than review every single one of the dozens of models available, I’m cheating a bit—I’ve chosen what fairly broad experience has led me to believe are:

• Two of the best top-mounted canister stoves
• Two of the best remote-canister stoves, and 
• Two of the best liquid-fuel stoves. 

The winner of each duel will face off in the final.  

I looked at top-mounted canister stoves first. The major advantages and disadvantages of this style can be summarized thusly:

Advantages:

• Extremely lightweight and compact
• Extremely simple to assemble and operate
• Quiet and clean-burning
• Excellent simmering ability
• Most affordable to purchase

Disadvantages:

• Least stable of three stove types
• Marginal cold-weather performance even with mixed fuel
• Canisters are bulky on long trips
• Susceptible to wind (and care must be used with wind deflectors to avoid overheating of the canister)
• Generally slower boil times than liquid-fuel stoves (although speed of assembly and lighting compensates)
• Difficult to quantify remaining fuel
• Fuel costs are higher
• Canisters often not available in developing countries

Of all the top-mounted canister stoves I’ve used, I like the Primus Express Stove and the Snow Peak GigaPower the best, for their light weight, simplicity, and affordability.

Primus Express Stove (on Snow Peak canister), $54Snow Peak Gigapower (above right), $40 ($50 w/pietzo)

The Express also comes in a titanium version, but the scant .4 ounce saving (2.5 versus 2.9) isn’t worth the extra $20 to me—that’s a set of titanium utensils which would save more weight. Snow Peak has the fine newer (and slightly lighter) LiteMax, but I prefer the four-trivet stove base on the GigaPower, and it folds more compactly as well.

There are other good stoves out there. The JetBoil is absolutely fabulous at boiling water quickly, but I find the system cumbersome for general cooking duties, and even its titanium versions are fairly heavy. The MSR Pocket Rocket was a contender, only passed over because—just once—I had one of its three trivets fold up on me while I was setting a pot on top, and almost lost the whole thing. Another near miss was the Optimus Crux Lite—an excellent stove that is a champ at simmering, except I’ve occasionally had the flame die unnoticed when on its lowest setting.

So—let’s decide between these two. Both are designed to use standard Lindal-valve canisters, and each company’s proprietary canisters contain an isobutane/propane mix, which enhances low-temperature performance (pure propane would be best as its boiling point is -40ºF versus butane’s +31ºF, but pure propane requires a stout steel canister).

Primus Express

Snow Peak Gigapower (above right)Weight difference is negligible: 3.25 ounces for the Snow Peak versus 3 ounces for the Primus. However, my Primus includes a piezo igniter; the equivalent GigaPower is 3.75 ounces. So a slight .75-ounce nod goes to the Primus here.

Both stoves are effortless and speedy to employ. Less than 30 seconds out of the stuff sack for either and you’re cooking.

I timed boiling for each, using 500 ml of water (note my commitment to scientific rigor by using 500 milliliters rather than a crude pint) in my favorite do-it-all solo pot/kettle/bowl, an MSR titanium Titan.

The GigaPower accomplished the task in 3 minutes, 13 seconds; the Primus was slightly quicker at 3 minutes, 7 seconds. Again, a slight nod to the Primus. (I used Snow Peak canisters for both to eliminate differences in fuel. I suppose Primus could protest, but since their stove was faster anyway . . .) Both stoves simmer extremely well, but the burner of the GigaPower spreads the flame over a wider area, so it wins there. 

Stability on top-mounted canister stoves is marginal at best. You should always provide a flat, firm surface for this type of stove. (I discovered the Snow Peak Baja Table while I was sea kayaking. It’s a cunning aluminum contraption that’s just high enough to get food prep and cooking off the ground, and which doubles elegantly as a cocktail table for a Kermit Chair.)

The Primus has a wider trivet assembly then the GigaPower, but the latter has four trivets versus three, which I find adds security. More importantly, the Primus, at 14.5 centimeters tall, sits 1.8 cm higher than the Snow Peak—almost three-quarters of an inch. That might not seem like much, but with these tippy stoves every bit helps. Win to Snow Peak.

What else? The wire-loop valve on the Snow Peak sticks out farther than the plastic knob on the Primus, so you don’t have to get your hand so near to the flame to adjust it. Both stoves fold very small, but the GigaPower collapses into a symmetrical shape, while the three trivets on the Optimus protrude somewhat even when folded, creating slightly awkward storage inside a pot.  

Since I already knew I liked both these stoves, choosing between them was difficult. I’d happily carry either, and do. But when the time came to pick one, my hand finally strayed to the Snow Peak GigaPower. Its balance of features and performance tipped the scales ever so slightly.

Next time we’ll look at two of the best remote canister stoves on the market. 

Snow Peak

Primus

Overland Review: Sportsmobile, 50 years strong

Put the words “conversion” and  “van” in the same sentence, and you’re likely to induce imagery of smoked bubble windows and orange shag carpeting. You can almost hear strains of KC and the Sunshine Band. A Sportsmobile is a different beast. More a remanufactured overlanding vehicle on a Ford or Chevy platform than a mere “conversion,” the Sportsmobile is not only a seminal product in its field (2011 marks the company’s 50th anniversary), but can be configured as a heavy-duty, four-wheel-drive, self-contained camper capable of extended journeys in the most remote regions on earth. 

On a trip through California last month, we visited Alan Feld, the owner of Sportsmobile West (there are two other divisions as well), in his factory in Fresno, to see the entire process of building the vehicles, from stock van to completed Sportsmobile.

Once the minimal factory interior is removed from the van, the vast rectangular box is essentially a blank canvas, open to a number of semi-stock interiors or nearly any custom configuration a customer can dream up.  If you want to go beyond the basics of stove, fridge, sink, bed, and toilet, you can add flat-screen TVs, captain’s chairs, furnaces and AC units, a shower—the list goes on. The roof can be permanent full-height or a retractable “penthouse.” Everything from counters to plumbing is of first-rate quality.

I enjoyed looking at the well-thought-out interiors, but it was the four-wheel-drive conversion process that most interested me. I’ve seen them done poorly and seen them done well, but rarely have I seen one done as well as here. So seamless is the installation that, looking at a half-finished chassis on a rack, it was impossible to tell where the Ford factory parts left off and the Sportsmobile parts took over—except that the latter were arguably stronger.

The heavy-duty front axle, springs, and transfer case are all made in California. Furthermore, Alan has been on a mission to source as many components as possible from the U.S. and even his own state. He uses a stout, all-gear Atlas II transfer case (made in Paso Robles, CA), an equally stout Dynatrac Pro Roc 60 axle assembly, and, as of quite recently, leaf springs manufactured right there in Fresno. The extended-range fuel tanks are also manufactured in California.

The result is a comfortable and surprisingly capable machine—at the 2011 Overland Expo, even the veteran Camel Trophy team members who ran the Land-Rover-sponsored demonstration course were surprised at the Sportsmobile’s tolerance for side-slope angles. And it’s well-built enough that the company provides a 50,000-mile warranty. 

Mercedes Sprinter van camperSprinter with bike bay in rear, camper in front.I should note that Alan is also using the Mercedes Benz Sprinter van as a base for some beautiful camper conversions. Although the four-wheel-drive version of the Sprinter is not (yet) available in the U.S., we do at least get the brilliant BlueTEC V6 turbodiesel, which is capable of 20-plus mpg on the highway. One completely self-contained unit I spent some time in was stickered around $75,000—a bargain considering the combination of Mercedes and Sportsmobile quality, and more so when compared with some far more expensive but troublesome “conversions” I’ve seen. It got me dreaming of that loop up through the Maritime Provinces we’ve always wanted to do. I’m beginning to think a “conversion van” might fit right into place between our Land Cruisers. 

Just to be sure: Despite lurking behind stacks of parts and peeking through closed doors at Alan’s factory, nowhere could I find a hidden stash of smoked bubble windows or shag carpet.

Overland Tech: Battery welding in the field

Welding with automotive batteries is one of those near-mythical skills, like seating a tire bead with starting fluid, that most people never even attempt. But unlike explosive bead-seating, which a quick YouTube search will confirm can go wrong easily, battery welding is pretty straightforward. Recently, Doug Manzer had an opportunity to try it in the backcountry of Utah. 

Doug and his 11-year-old son, Nick, were on a solo-vehicle trip in their Toyota FJ Cruiser, towing a military M416 trailer modified by Doug for camping duty. While climbing a series of 90-degree rock ledges, both front spring mounts tore off the trailer’s frame. Inspection revealed that insidious rust had weakened the mounts. 

Doug had seen Matt Savage’s video of battery welding on one of Overland Expo’s 60-Second Overlander spots, and realized he had the perfect opportunity to try it. However, he only had two batteries with him, and was lacking a few other needed items, so he and Nick left the trailer and made the three-hour drive to the nearest town, Green River, for supplies. 

Click for larger imageBack on site, Doug hooked up his existing AGM batteries, including the main Odyssey, in series (positive to negative) with a purchased lead-acid battery, to create a 36-volt power source. He used a standard jumper clip on the positive terminal and a welding rod holder on the negative end. A C-clamp and the Toyota’s receiver hitch served as a makeshift vise for cutting 2 by 5-inch rectangles of flat steel to create a spring mount reinforcement. 

In his first attempt, using 6011 and then 6013 rods, Doug actually found the arc too hot and focused. A 316 rod turned out to be perfect for the thick, mild steel. A few rough but strong beads later, and father and son were on the trail again. So adequate did those welds turn out that all Doug did on returning home was to clean them up a bit. He’s certain the battery-powered field repair is far stronger than the factory mounts.

An interesting postscript: The Odyssey battery, reinstalled in the FJ Cruiser, started it right up after welding duty. But a check of the new lead-acid battery at home showed it to be 90 percent discharged. Chalk up one more anecdote for the superb Odyssey.

(Editor’s note: For those intrigued by the concept of battery welding, but inexperienced at using sticks, check out the excellent Ready Welder, a wire-feed unit capable of welding steel up to 1/2 inch thick using three batteries.)