A home in the bed of your truck: Four Wheel Campers

FWC has been an OX sponsor since the beginning.

Over the years, we have been through a lot of vehicle-based camping setups, beginning with a couple of sleeping bags rolled out on the roof rack of my FJ40. We’ve gone minimalist with backpacking tents and stoves, luxurious with family-sized cabin tents and padded cots. We’ve tried roof tents, trailers, truck-bed mattresses. For some time we owned a WilderNest, a pickup shell with a cunning roof that flipped sideways to turn into a bed, with an enormous tent erected semi-automatically above it. I remember spending a mostly sleepless night trying to brace the frame of that spinnaker-like tent in a 40mph Sea of Cortez Norte. It was never quite the same afterward.  Of all the setups that have come and gone, the one about which we wax most nostalgic is our Four Wheel Camper. Mounted first on a 1990 4WD Toyota pickup powered by a willing but overmatched 22RE four-cylinder, then on a 2000 4WD Tacoma with the 3.4-liter six (60 percent more power and better gas mileage), we put over 150,000 miles on that camper, using it as a mobile base for dozens of freelance magazine assignments and several books.

At the time, we lived on a wildlife refuge seven miles down a rough dirt road, so even driving to town for groceries gave the rig a workout. Nevertheless, the sum total of my repairs to that camper was a rebuild of the door, which had begun to sag and needed reinforcing.

Our FWC in the 1990s, Punta Chueca, Sonora, Mexico, visiting Seri Indian country.We loved the FWC’s 30-second transformation into a full-standing-headroom camper with queen-sized bed, fridge, sink, and stove, and a comfortable settee. Sit-down snack at a rest stop on a highway trip? Easy. A couple of years into ownership, we experienced another Sea of Cortez Norte more furious than the first—and slept like babes. The pop-up roof didn’t even quiver. Despite the comfort and strength, the camper’s relatively feathery, aluminum-framed 700 pounds barely taxed the truck, and never kept us from reaching secluded backcountry hideouts.

Gripes? Sure, we had a few. The water tank was too small and mounted too high. The main cabinet doors were flimsy sliding panels of 1/8th-inch plywood. And the three-way fridge gave up even slightly cooling its contents in any ambients over 90ºF. But they were tiny gripes compared to the consummate ease of pulling into a camp spot and having a home ready in less than a minute.

I write this up front so you don’t think what follows is some slavish encomium concocted in trade for sponsorship or ad revenue: We developed our enthusiasm for Four Wheel Campers the old-fashioned way—at full retail. So we jumped at the chance to make a second pilgrimage to the factory in Woodland, California, to visit with owners Tom and Celeste Hanagan, who’ve become good friends over the years. (Alas, this time we weren’t there to pick up a new camper.)

New factory floor in Woodland, CA. Older models belonging to customers, in for modifications or repairs after accidents, are in the lower right.Actually, it’s a different factory, significantly larger than the old one. A good thing, it seemed, because the space was clearly being utilized to the fullest already. A triple row of campers, aligned as if by laser, stood waiting for successive construction steps, from welding of the bare, elegant aluminum frame to final touches in flooring and lighting. There’s now more room for the ancillary shops such as upholstery and carpentry, which were formerly wedged into corners.

Most interestingly, I got an inside look—literally—at the evolution of the Four Wheel Camper under Tom and Celeste’s guidance. The small, high-mounted water tank I mentioned on ours? It’s been nearly doubled in size (now 22 gallons) and moved to the floor under a settee at the front of the camper, perfect for weight distribution. The cabinets now have proper hinged doors. The fridge option now includes a compressor-driven unit guaranteed not to go on strike in summer. And the corners of the main entrance door have been radiused to add significant rigidity. 

The amazing aluminum frame, a work of art.There was more. The roof—which on ours comprised three sections, yet never leaked despite the fact that I through-drilled it to mount racks for our sea kayaks—is now a one-piece, screw-free aluminum sheet that can’t leak. Much of the interior plywood is now superb multi-laminate European birch; exterior insulation is now rigid foam rather than fiberglass. Appliances have been upgraded, headroom augmented without changing the travel profile, the dining table is now a portable unit that can be used outside—nothing seemed to have escaped scrutiny and improvement.

Tom and Roseann looking at an interior under construction.A lot of those improvement can even be applied to older Four Wheel Campers. In a corner of the factory was a cluster of customer-owned campers in various stages of repair and renewal. One vintage model at least 20 years old was receiving a new one-piece roof; others were having skins, water tanks, upholstery, or appliances replaced and updated. It was a reminder that a Four Wheel Camper is a genuine investment—as if prices on the used market weren’t reminder enough. We sold ours (to pay off our land) for 85 percent of what we paid for it new, despite all the use and mileage. 

Ack. I just reminded myself that we sold it. Take my advice: If you buy one, keep it. Who needs land if you have a home on wheels? 

Tom and Celeste Hanagan, the power duo behind the quality and success of Four Wheel Campers.

Do I really need a winch?

Recently my friend Sergio Mendez Santiago emailed me from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, where he and his wife, Ruth, are putting the finishing touches on their new Mitsubishi Triton, a fine turbodiesel-powered 4WD pickup (sadly unavailable in the U.S.). Like so many of us setting up a new vehicle, Sergio has been vacillating on the decision of whether or not to install a winch. We both thought it would be a good subject to explore. Since I have a Warn 8274 on my FJ40, and I installed a Warn M8000 on Roseann’s FJ60, I certainly appreciate their value (and I think my objectivity is on solid ground)—however, I certainly don’t think one absolutely needs a winch to be able to undertake even ambitious journeys.

No matter what vehicle you drive, from a two-wheel-drive pickup with street tires to a Jeep Rubicon on BFG Mud-Terrains with diff locks front and rear, a 4:1 transfer case, disconnecting sway bar, etc. etc, you’re going to find yourself in situations for which a judgement call is needed. Obviously the two-wheel-drive pickup will have a much, much lower threshold at which discretion should kick in and you turn around, but the Rubicon will have its own threshold, beyond which you stand a good chance of getting stuck. 

In such cases, a winch can give you the leeway to push the threshold, a little or a lot depending on several factors: 

• Are you with other vehicles that can serve as anchor points for the winch line, or which are equipped with winches themselves?
• If you are traveling solo, are there natural anchor points, such as substantial trees, within reach of your winch line? If not, would it be possible to rig an anchor, such as by burying a spare wheel in sand?
• If the vehicle becomes immobilized, will the situation be immediately hazardous to occupants or the vehicle itself? Examples would be getting stuck in an off-camber situation next to a drop-off, or in beach sand below the high tide line.
• If you are traveling solo, and for some reason cannot self-recover even with the winch, are you a three-hour walk from help, or a three-day trek from civilization?

A winch also provides insurance for situations when you’re simply caught unaware and find yourself stuck—a seemingly firm dry lake bed that suddenly gives way, an innocuous patch of snow that reveals itself as tractionless ice. If you travel solo frequently, and far off the beaten track, a winch offers substantial peace of mind even if you’re not prone to pushing the envelope. And of course with a winch you can assist others, although few people are willing to spend the money solely to be able to act as a good Samaritan.

Speaking of money: There’s more to buying a winch than buying a winch. You’ll need a rock-solid bumper designed to accommodate the winch you’ve chosen. You’ll also need a full recovery kit, including a tree-protector strap, at least two properly rated shackles, a snatch block, a winch-line damper, gloves, and preferably a winch line extension. I strongly recommend replacing the steel winch cable that comes with most winches with a synthetic line, which is far lighter and safer—and more expensive. Even with that weight savings, you’ll probably need to beef up your front suspension to properly handle the mass suddenly placed far out on the front of the vehicle. Finally, you’ll need a heavy-duty battery and charging system in the vehicle—preferably a dual-battery system in case of failure of the primary battery. 

Add up everything and you can figure on tripling the cost of a moderately priced winch by the time you’re finished. (Speaking of which, I urge staying away from the cut-price Chinese clones of Warn and Ramsey winches, for reasons of both quality and ethics.)

Learning about winches and winch lines at OX10.Oh, one more thing: A winch is fully capable of maiming or killing its operator or nearby spectators. So if you do install one, you are obligated to learn its proper and safe use. 

Given the significant expense, the significant associated modifications, and the learning curve, it’s tempting—and a perfectly reasonable strategy—to simply do without the winch; to use prudence when faced with questionable situations, and to make sure you have alternate methods for self-recovery.

To start with, a high-quality air compressor will enable you to properly reduce tire pressure when needed. Obviously you don’t need a compressor at all to lower tire pressure, but if all you have with you is an inexpensive compressor that takes a half-hour to inflate them again, you’re much less likely to air down when it’s called for. Very frequently, if a vehicle becomes stuck in soft sand, all that’s needed to get underway again is to reduce tire pressure to one bar (around 14 psi) or even a little lower. 

A good compressor, like this Extreme Air, is an important tool, especially if you decide to go winchless.A good shovel is mandatory. The cheap little folding “military” shovels are better than nothing, but a one-piece pointed shovel with a stout D or T handle is much better. A KERR (kinetic energy recovery rope) or equivalent snatch strap is also mandatory. Even though we have winches on both our Land Cruisers, the KERR approach is much faster—we used a strap on our last trip twice, once to free a truck from a ditch and once to pull a fallen tree out of the road.

Some people swear by sand mats, others spurn them, still others seem to view them as a necessary overland fashion accessory. The lightweight aluminum replacements for the old surplus steel PSP are much easier to manage, as are even newer plastic designs such as the Maxtrax. But sand mats are still a bulky, mostly single-purpose tool. You must make up your own mind if the terrain you explore makes them worth carrying.

Sand mats, like these plastic ones from MaxTrax, are another good addition to your kit.Another love-it-or-hate-it tool is the exhaust jack, essentially a giant heavy-duty balloon you inflate with the vehicle’s exhaust. An exhaust jack can lift one side of a vehicle clear of even clingy muck. However, I’ve witnessed more failures of these things than makes me comfortable, from incompatible exhaust pipes to failed blow-off valves. Here’s an example from LROTV:

Hi-Lift versus exhaust jack

Put me in the hate-it camp.

Finally, of course, there’s the Hi-Lift jack, the tool everyone loves to hate. Awesomely versatile, fond of jamming, and dangerous if used incorrectly, the Hi-Lift can do everything up to and including winching—if you’re careful. 

I think one of the best uses for the Hi-Lift is as a “casting” jack. Sometimes when a vehicle is stuck in a rut, the only thing needed to regain traction is to move it sideways out of the rut. In such a situation, you can jack up one end of the vehicle until the tires are clear, then simply shove the vehicle sideways off the jack and on to firmer ground. It sounds and looks quite alarming, but is perfectly safe if done carefully. This was the first thing I was taught to do with a Hi-Lift, but the technique seems to have been mostly lost. 

A Hi-Lift can be used to lift buried tires out of sand in order to insert sand mats, but you’re wasting effort if you lift the body of the vehicle and have to overcome suspension droop. Better to use the optional fitting made to hook onto a wheel; then your efforts will produce immediate results.

Winching with the Hi-Lift is glacially slow, and requires a fair amount of chain and other accoutrements—but it works, and its very slowness gives you time to think and avoid unsafe moves. There are several kits made to turn the Hi-Lift into a winch; this video is about the most succinct I’ve seen on the actual process:

Winching with a Hi-Lift 

So there’s my stance. A winch is a valuable accessory, but I would never let the lack of one stop me from exploring—in fact my FJ40 had no winch for the first 20 years I owned it, including all the time I was guiding other vehicles into remote beaches in Mexico, and towing a trailer full of sea kayaks. If you wonder whether it’s possible to accomplish higher-level expedition travel without a winch, I give you Tom Sheppard, who has soloed 100,000 miles of the Sahara in a succession of Land Rovers and a Mercedes G-Wagen—not one of them burdened with a winch.

Do I really need a winch?

Recently my friend Sergio Mendez Santiago emailed me from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, where he and his wife, Ruth, are putting the finishing touches on their new Mitsubishi Triton, a fine turbodiesel-powered 4WD pickup (sadly unavailable in the U.S.). Like so many of us setting up a new vehicle, Sergio has been vacillating on the decision of whether or not to install a winch. We both thought it would be a good subject to explore. Since I have a Warn 8274 on my FJ40, and I installed a Warn M8000 on Roseann’s FJ60, I certainly appreciate their value (and I think my objectivity is on solid ground)—however, I certainly don’t think one absolutely needs a winch to be able to undertake even ambitious journeys.

No matter what vehicle you drive, from a two-wheel-drive pickup with street tires to a Jeep Rubicon on BFG Mud-Terrains with diff locks front and rear, a 4:1 transfer case, disconnecting sway bar, etc. etc, you’re going to find yourself in situations for which a judgement call is needed. Obviously the two-wheel-drive pickup will have a much, much lower threshold at which discretion should kick in and you turn around, but the Rubicon will have its own threshold, beyond which you stand a good chance of getting stuck. 

In such cases, a winch can give you the leeway to push the threshold, a little or a lot depending on several factors: 

• Are you with other vehicles that can serve as anchor points for the winch line, or which are equipped with winches themselves?
• If you are traveling solo, are there natural anchor points, such as substantial trees, within reach of your winch line? If not, would it be possible to rig an anchor, such as by burying a spare wheel in sand?
• If the vehicle becomes immobilized, will the situation be immediately hazardous to occupants or the vehicle itself? Examples would be getting stuck in an off-camber situation next to a drop-off, or in beach sand below the high tide line.
• If you are traveling solo, and for some reason cannot self-recover even with the winch, are you a three-hour walk from help, or a three-day trek from civilization?

A winch also provides insurance for situations when you’re simply caught unaware and find yourself stuck—a seemingly firm dry lake bed that suddenly gives way, an innocuous patch of snow that reveals itself as tractionless ice. If you travel solo frequently, and far off the beaten track, a winch offers substantial peace of mind even if you’re not prone to pushing the envelope. And of course with a winch you can assist others, although few people are willing to spend the money solely to be able to act as a good Samaritan.

Speaking of money: There’s more to buying a winch than buying a winch. You’ll need a rock-solid bumper designed to accommodate the winch you’ve chosen. You’ll also need a full recovery kit, including a tree-protector strap, at least two properly rated shackles, a snatch block, a winch-line damper, gloves, and preferably a winch line extension. I strongly recommend replacing the steel winch cable that comes with most winches with a synthetic line, which is far lighter and safer—and more expensive. Even with that weight savings, you’ll probably need to beef up your front suspension to properly handle the mass suddenly placed far out on the front of the vehicle. Finally, you’ll need a heavy-duty battery and charging system in the vehicle—preferably a dual-battery system in case of failure of the primary battery. 

Add up everything and you can figure on tripling the cost of a moderately priced winch by the time you’re finished. (Speaking of which, I urge staying away from the cut-price Chinese clones of Warn and Ramsey winches, for reasons of both quality and ethics.)

Learning about winches and winch lines at OX10.Oh, one more thing: A winch is fully capable of maiming or killing its operator or nearby spectators. So if you do install one, you are obligated to learn its proper and safe use. 

Given the significant expense, the significant associated modifications, and the learning curve, it’s tempting—and a perfectly reasonable strategy—to simply do without the winch; to use prudence when faced with questionable situations, and to make sure you have alternate methods for self-recovery.

To start with, a high-quality air compressor will enable you to properly reduce tire pressure when needed. Obviously you don’t need a compressor at all to lower tire pressure, but if all you have with you is an inexpensive compressor that takes a half-hour to inflate them again, you’re much less likely to air down when it’s called for. Very frequently, if a vehicle becomes stuck in soft sand, all that’s needed to get underway again is to reduce tire pressure to one bar (around 14 psi) or even a little lower. 

A good compressor, like this Extreme Air, is an important tool, especially if you decide to go winchless.A good shovel is mandatory. The cheap little folding “military” shovels are better than nothing, but a one-piece pointed shovel with a stout D or T handle is much better. A KERR (kinetic energy recovery rope) or equivalent snatch strap is also mandatory. Even though we have winches on both our Land Cruisers, the KERR approach is much faster—we used a strap on our last trip twice, once to free a truck from a ditch and once to pull a fallen tree out of the road.

Some people swear by sand mats, others spurn them, still others seem to view them as a necessary overland fashion accessory. The lightweight aluminum replacements for the old surplus steel PSP are much easier to manage, as are even newer plastic designs such as the Maxtrax. But sand mats are still a bulky, mostly single-purpose tool. You must make up your own mind if the terrain you explore makes them worth carrying.

Sand mats, like these plastic ones from MaxTrax, are another good addition to your kit.Another love-it-or-hate-it tool is the exhaust jack, essentially a giant heavy-duty balloon you inflate with the vehicle’s exhaust. An exhaust jack can lift one side of a vehicle clear of even clingy muck. However, I’ve witnessed more failures of these things than makes me comfortable, from incompatible exhaust pipes to failed blow-off valves. Here’s an example from LROTV:

Hi-Lift versus exhaust jack

Put me in the hate-it camp.

Finally, of course, there’s the Hi-Lift jack, the tool everyone loves to hate. Awesomely versatile, fond of jamming, and dangerous if used incorrectly, the Hi-Lift can do everything up to and including winching—if you’re careful. 

I think one of the best uses for the Hi-Lift is as a “casting” jack. Sometimes when a vehicle is stuck in a rut, the only thing needed to regain traction is to move it sideways out of the rut. In such a situation, you can jack up one end of the vehicle until the tires are clear, then simply shove the vehicle sideways off the jack and on to firmer ground. It sounds and looks quite alarming, but is perfectly safe if done carefully. This was the first thing I was taught to do with a Hi-Lift, but the technique seems to have been mostly lost. 

A Hi-Lift can be used to lift buried tires out of sand in order to insert sand mats, but you’re wasting effort if you lift the body of the vehicle and have to overcome suspension droop. Better to use the optional fitting made to hook onto a wheel; then your efforts will produce immediate results.

Winching with the Hi-Lift is glacially slow, and requires a fair amount of chain and other accoutrements—but it works, and its very slowness gives you time to think and avoid unsafe moves. There are several kits made to turn the Hi-Lift into a winch; this video is about the most succinct I’ve seen on the actual process:

Winching with a Hi-Lift 

So there’s my stance. A winch is a valuable accessory, but I would never let the lack of one stop me from exploring—in fact my FJ40 had no winch for the first 20 years I owned it, including all the time I was guiding other vehicles into remote beaches in Mexico, and towing a trailer full of sea kayaks. If you wonder whether it’s possible to accomplish higher-level expedition travel without a winch, I give you Tom Sheppard, who has soloed 100,000 miles of the Sahara in a succession of Land Rovers and a Mercedes G-Wagen—not one of them burdened with a winch.

What is the best simple, portable power pack?

Do you have a recommendation for an (affordable) portable power pack, the kind that can jump-start a dead vehicle battery and power A/C off it? Basically a portable car battery. I had a Statpower Portawattz for the last 10 years that has served me well, but I am looking to replace it. It was around $100 +/- and looking to stay in that range. Thought you all might be able to recommend a brand.

Eric Wallace

Research Specialist, University of Arizona School of Natural Resources

Swedish steel meets English wood

(WARNING: If you are annoyed by unapologetic encomiums to fine, hand-crafted tools made one at a time by one person at a time, do not read further!) 

Some time ago I splurged on a Gränsfors Bruks Scandinavian Forest Axe, after eyeing them for years. If you aren’t familiar with the brand, Gränsfors Bruks has been making axes and hatchets in Sweden since 1902. While countless other companies—including some fine American brands—gradually sacrificed quality for quicker, cheaper production, Gränsfors Bruks took a step backward in the 1980s and returned to making only best-quality tools. Craftsmen in the forge in Hälsingland stand before fearsome flywheel-driven trip hammers to form the heads, then stamp their initials in the steel (mine was made by Kjell-Åke Sjölund). After annealing, tempering, and sharpening, an oiled hickory handle is inserted with a hydraulic press, then fixed with two wedges, one wood and one steel. 

The result is as elemental a tool as humans can make, the latest iteration in an unbroken line dating to the first time a Neolithic tinkerer lashed a knapped hunk of flint to a stick and discovered the magic of force multiplication.  

My Scandinavian Forest Axe looks almost dainty next to a standard American felling axe (which Gränsfors Bruks also makes, along with such intriguing anachronisms as throwing axes and replicas of 7th-century bearded axes). Just 25 inches long and 2.6 pounds, I can choke up on it one-handed to lop small limbs off a larger branch, or back off to a two-fisted grip and power through a six-inch-diameter trunk in 30 seconds flat. It wouldn’t be my first choice for building a Dick Proenneke-style cabin in the North Woods, but if pressed it could probably handle it—and it’s nearly perfect for every job I’m likely to encounter around the house or on an overland journey. 

But . . . sometimes you need a saw. 

An axe is unexcelled at certain tasks: splitting logs, quickly trimming branches off larger limbs,  notching logs, cutting through green wood that can bind a saw, or sharpening stakes made from branches. Of course your axe also makes a decent hammer for pounding in those stakes. 

A saw is a more precise instrument. It’s generally faster for cutting through dry wood, and produces less waste. If you need to trim trailside overgrowth, a saw can take off a limb surgically at the node, leaving the shrub or tree looking more natural. 

The axe is of course the more “dangerous” tool, capable of cleaving tibias as well as trees. However, while I’ve never experienced an injury from a hatchet or axe, I have suffered innumerable nasty tearing cuts from carelessly handled saws, and my acquaintances report similar histories. I theorize the perceived “danger” in swinging an axe might induce sensible people to be more careful with it than they are with a saw. So I’ll call that comparison a draw—as long as you use both tools properly. 

So—which saw to carry with my fine Swedish axe? 

I own a couple of good folding saws—a Gerber Sports Saw and a Bahco Laplander. Both are excellent for limbs up to about three inches in diameter, and the compact configuration allows them to fit into tight spots. But they’re fairly light-duty tools. For bigger logs, and more comfortable extended use, I prefer a bow or buck saw, and since the buck saw can be broken down, it makes the most sense for a vehicle. 

I looked at the clever Trail Blazer buck saw, which collapses to fit into its own handle tube. However, its 18-inch blade offers little advantage over a folding saw. Besides, as a companion to the Gransfors axe its all-metal construction seemed rather soulless. What I needed was a wood-framed model. I thought I had it when I browsed through the Lehman’s site (lehmans.com) and discovered their beautiful hickory buck saws, which are made by a local Amish craftsman. Excellent—except the Lehman’s saw wasn’t designed to be broken down quickly, and its 28-inch blade rendered it a bit too large for most field use. 

Finally, a burst of recovered memory led me to the Woodlore site (raymears.com) in England. Founded by Ray Mears, the avuncular English survival expert whose television programs are a refreshing antidote to the gritted-teeth epics from the strictly-for-entertainment bug-eating fringe, Woodlore’s online shop offers a modest selection of high-quality gear—and in the saw section, there it was. 

The Woodlore folding buck saw collapses in seconds when not in use, and the just-right 24-inch blade is tensioned with a simple Spanish windlass arrangement, which helps keep total weight down to less than two pounds including a fine canvas and leather case that incorporates a slot for the saw and another that accepts—ready?—a Gränsfors Bruks Scandinavian Forest Axe. 

Sold. 

Not that I needed more convincing, but I was pleased to discover the Woodlore saw is made by Chris Boyton, an English longbow maker well known to me (I once made my own longbow, and Chris’s work was an inspiration and template). The wood is light but strong European beech of excellent, straight grain, and the included Bahco blade simply whizzes through logs up to five inches in diameter without shifting, or ten inches if you roll it and make a second cut from the other side. 

So now I’m delighted to own an elegant pairing of axe and saw that carry together perfectly, complement each other’s strengths, and should last a lifetime. And I know the names of the craftsmen who made each one—a rare thing in our world.