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Camping Gear, Equipment Jonathan Hanson Camping Gear, Equipment Jonathan Hanson

When you don't really need it, but . . .

Sometimes quality—and the money you spend for it—is a must when outfitting a vehicle for backcountry travel. 

For example, most people would agree it’s stupid to economize on tires. They are your connection to the road and trail, and your life literally rides on them. Another: I’ve long (probably too long for some readers) pontificated on the value of high-quality tools, arguing that if you have brought out the tools something has already gone wrong, and it would be foolish to risk compounding the situation by using a cheap tool that might not do its job or even break. Likewise, I stand by my stance that you should by the best tent you can afford (read why here). Same goes for air compressors, winches, and many other things for which poor quality can be inconvenient if not downright hazardous.

For other gear, economizing has few if any disadvantages. For example, I own a superb Western Mountaineering goose down sleeping bag that weighs less than two pounds, is comfortable to 25ºF, and stuffs to the size of a loaf of bread. For motorcycle travel or sea kayaking, where weight and bulk are vital considerations, it’s perfect. But for travel in a 4,000-pound truck, why spend $400 when a $90 synthetic-fill rectangular bag from L.L. Bean will be roomier, keep you warm at the same temperature, and have a cozy flannel lining with jumping deer printed on it? Yeah, it weighs five pounds, so what? Or there’s the $35 Lifetime folding table my friend Graham found at WalMart while doing an exhaustive magazine test of camping tables; it won not just the value award but overall as well. We just took it across Australia, and it performed perfectly.

There’s a third category, and it applies when a particular passion is involved and the item in question might not need to be the best—you simply prefer the best. Example: It’s useful to have a pair of binoculars in the vehicle, for identifying distant landmarks, scouting, watching animals, or stargazing. There are plenty of $150 models available that will suffice nicely. But if you’re a passionate birder and naturalist, as Roseann and I are, you’ll want the sharpest, brightest, and most weatherproof instrument you can get. We spent—well, move the decimal point right on the above price and you’ll get the idea—on ours, but every time we look through them we appreciate the superior technology and craftsmanship. They’ve proven worth the expense over and over.

What about cooking in the field? One fellow might be happy to dump a tin of Dinty Moore stew into a cheap aluminum pot sitting in a fire, then eat it out of the pot with a plastic spoon. Dinner takes 15 minutes from lighting a match to finishing. The sign of a cheapskate with no passion? Who knows—he might keep the evening meal simple so he can set up a 5-inch Takahashi astronomical telescope that cost as much as his truck, and split binary stars all night long. 

For many other people, though, one of the high points of each journey is the challenge of creating and serving gourmet meals from a compact traveling kitchen or chuck box—and doing so with an eye on aesthetics. The fridge will be stocked with fresh vegetables and meats, the spice kit will be a kit and not a reversible salt/pepper shaker, and nary a plastic utensil will appear on the table. Table? Sure, that WalMart number might hold up your food, but wouldn’t slatted oak be much more satisfying (at least a tablecloth . . .)? 

And what about kitchen knives? Sure, a blister-pack “chef’s knife” from the grocery store might work, but anyone serious about cooking from scratch is going to want something sharper and better balanced. And probably not just one—a deep-bladed chef’s knife should rightfully be accompanied by a smaller paring knife, and perhaps a longer slicing knife. 

The problem is that within the limited confines of a chuck box, full-size knives can steal a lot of space, and if left loose—and properly sharpened—can be a real hazard, and the edges easily chipped. This conundrum was on the mind of Carl Jonsson, of Tools for Adventure, when he designed the Tiktaalik Field Knife set. It comprises a chef’s knife with a versatile 6 1/2-inch blade, a paring knife, and a serrated slicing knife. The trio—along with two useful high-density plastic cutting boards—fits in a metal case 5 1/2 inches wide by 11 inches long by just 5/8ths of an inch thick. How did he accomplish that? Simple: He left off the handles.

That’s not as odd as it might seem. Each Tiktaalik knife is made from a single piece of Sandvik 12C27 steel. The grip area, normally beefed up by plastic or wood scales (to use the correct term), while flat, is rounded and polished, and surprisingly comfortable and secure to hold, not to mention being effortless to clean. The chef’s knife balances right at the rear of the blade. Each knife fits into a precise cutout in the base of the case, but is easily popped out by pressing down on the tip of the blade. The base, as well as the plastic slab that captures the knives on top, doubles as a very decent cutting board. The closest comparison I know of is the Snow Peak chef’s knife, which comes in a wood case that hinges open to double as a cutting board—however, you have to use the outside of the case, which quickly gets stained and scarred. The Tiktaalik set gives you two cutting boards, and the metal case remains clean. (One suggestion: Fingernail grooves in the top cutting board would make it easier to lift out.)

Sandvik’s 12C27 is, on paper, a fairly ordinary stain-resistant steel, containing about the same amount of carbon (.6%) but less chromium (13.5%) than, say, 440A, which is widely used in moderately priced knives. However, bladesmiths report that 12C27 seems to be remarkably pure, and easily heat treated to 57-59 on the Rockwell (HRC) scale. We’ve been using the Tiktaalik chef’s knife for some time now, both in the field and at home, and the edge hasn’t needed touching up yet—a good sign. 

The Tiktaalik Field Knife set takes up scant room in either our Kanz Field Kitchen or the older, smaller chuck box I made years ago. Yet in use the knives perform virtually as well as much bulkier standard models would. (Roseann says that if she were doing a lot of cooking for a large group she would probably bring a standard chef’s knife—a fair caveat.) At $199 the price is reasonable (the knives alone are available for $149). Could you make do with something less? Certainly. It just depends on your level of passion. 

Tools for Adventure is here. Many other interesting products as well.

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Equipment, Tech, Tips Jonathan Hanson Equipment, Tech, Tips Jonathan Hanson

A million miles of faffing about

Whether your vehicle is advanced . . .

Some time ago I decided to tally the miles I’ve driven in my entire life, beginning with my first car, a 1971 Toyota Corolla (116,000), progressing through the two J.C. Penney furniture-delivery trucks on which I put, collectively, over 250,000, on to my FJ40 (316,000 and counting), etc. etc. I was not surprised to find the total well over a million miles.

So you can assume I have my driving environment completely sorted by now, right? Nope. I am always finding myself short something I could really use immediately, or if I have it it’s buried in the back cargo area somewhere. During that million miles there's no telling how much time I've wasted faffing about, as the English say. So I decided to make a list.

 . . . or basic, you can optimize your driving convenience.

  • High-quality window cleaner: Even if you’re conscientious enough to put window cleaner formula in your vehicle’s washer bottle instead of plain water, it won’t be strong enough to deal with the really impacted bugs you murder at highway speeds. Yet most common household window cleaners contain ammonia, which dries out rubber seals on vehicles and should never be used on windows with aftermarket tint film. Premium cleaners such as Invisible Glass work well and won’t harm tint film. The corollary to this is, keep your wiper blades in good shape. Test them periodically, before you get caught in a downpour and find they chatter uselessly back and forth. 
  • Blue shop towels: These aren’t actually the best for cleaning windows (some pros insist newspaper is the best, followed by a microfiber towel for drying), but they have so many other uses that the versatility wins.
  • Dial-type tire pressure gauge: Eschew the cheap pencil gauges and do it the professional way. Tires have become so reliable that they’re easy to ignore, but maintaining proper—and consistent—pressure reaps benefits in safety and economy. If you spend more money on a gauge you’re more likely to use it. I’ve found the models from Accu-Gauge to be good for the money.
  • Flashlight/headlamp: LED of course. I like models that combine a low, 10 or 15-lumen setting for reading or doing repairs with a serious, over 200-lumen high beam. You can go the lithium route and not have to worry about replacing batteries for a very long time, or take the available-anywhere-on-earth-and-cheap AA approach.  
  • Knife/fork/spoon set: This might seem odd, but I’ve frequently found myself buying some snack on the road better eaten with utensils, and having a set easily accessible is nice. I keep a Snow Peak titanium set in the center console. Steel would be fine, but the titanium saves on GVW and enhances fuel economy. Just seeing if you were paying attention.
  • First-aid kit: Keep it in the vehicle and don’t cannibalize it for other uses so you find yourself without the basics when you need them.
  • Lens cleaner cloth: A detail, but nice to have and more effective than your shirt. Tucked in a little ziplock in the glasses compartment of fancy overhead consoles, or in the registration pocket of the sun visor.
  • Hand cleaner/degreaser towlettes: Not the ubiquitous Wet Wipes; I’m talking about those infused with proper degreaser, such as the Fast Orange or Scrubs wipes. You can get them in a bulk dispenser tube or little packets.
  • Nitrile gloves: Degreaser towlettes are all well and good, but it’s better not to get greasy in the first place. I keep a couple pairs in the Land Cruiser, 40 or 50 in the Land Rover ;-)
  • Work gloves: The newer fabric mechanic’s gloves are okay, but I still prefer leather.
  • Mini binoculars: As a naturalist and birder I of course own a de rigueur set of absurdly expensive German-made binoculars, but I keep an inexpensive compact 8 x 20 set from Pentax in the glove box for impromptu observing. If they’re stolen I won’t be tempted to slit my wrists.
  • Flares: Either the traditional fire-and-brimstone type or the battery-operated LED versions. Foldable reflective triangles are also suitable.
  • Ground tarp: Years ago I bought a military surplus canvas folding stretcher. It’s incredibly stout, has handles up and down the sides, and folds flat. It’s perfect for working under a vehicle. And, of course, it would serve as a stretcher if needed.
  • Insulated water bottle: Leave a steel bottle full of water in your parked vehicle in Arizona in summer and it will soon be hot enough to brew coffee. The insulated versions are far better.
  • Notebook/pen: Mileage, fuel purchases, fuel economy, restaurants, birds sighted, road conditions—there’s no end to the stuff crammed into my notebook. The Field Notes brand is a superb source for indestructible products.
  • Multitool: Despite that 60-pound tool case in the back, I like to have a multitool to grab for quick non-critical fixes or tasks. 
  • Ice scraper: Yes, we have these in Arizona.
  • Bug-out bag: Actually an article on its own—a day pack stocked with supplies you might want if there is ever a need to precipitously abandon your vehicle. Sign up for Mark Farage’s excellent discourse on this at the Overland Expo.

Any other suggestions? Comment or email me.

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Equipment, Recovery, Tech, Tools Jonathan Hanson Equipment, Recovery, Tech, Tools Jonathan Hanson

Airing down—and up—the pro way

One of the most frequent questions people ask me is, “What’s the the best thing I can do to improve my vehicle’s off-pavement performance?” Many of them seem distinctly disappointed when I answer, “Air down your tires.” I’m sure they’re hoping I’ll facilitate some expensive and impressive modification—diff locks, external-bypass shocks, three-piece titanium wheels, something that would justify putting a stylish brand sticker in a window. But the fact is that nothing is easier to do or more effective at providing several instant benefits than reducing your normal street tire pressures to suit the immediate conditions. I’ll repeat: Nothing.

First, lower pressure increases traction by increasing the contact area of the tire and allowing it to better deform around obstacles and grip them. Flotation in sand is enormously enhanced with the longer footprint provided by lower pressure (not so much greater width as many suppose).

But the advantages don’t end there. Lowering pressure alleviates stress on the vehicle by effectively reducing the spring rate—the tires flex enough to absorb impacts that would otherwise have to be dealt with by the springs and shocks. That translates to much greater comfort for the driver and passengers.

Finally, the above characteristics contribute to reduced impact on the trail. We saw first-hand evidence of this on a recent crossing of the Simpson Desert in Australia, via the Madigan Line—so-called after Dr. Cecil Madigan, who led the first scientific expedition across the area in 1939. The Madigan Line cuts directly across the huge field of parallel sand dunes that characterizes this part of the Simpson—1,130 sand dunes to be more or less precise. The dunes themselves are stabilized and well-vegetated, but the bare track still needs to ascend and descend each dune, and despite the very sparse traffic on this route the final approaches and crests are often cratered with “hoon holes,” where those who disdain airing down—or even engaging four wheel drive—have left huge divots from futilely spinning tires or frantic, lunging ascents.

Graham and I actually aired down our Land Cruisers prior to hitting the dunes, on the stretch leading to the old Andado Station, a fine track but well-known for its long stretches of corrugations (or washboard as we refer to them in the U.S.). I reduced our pressure from 40 psi, which we’d run on the paved Stuart Highway to Alice Springs, down to 32, and Graham did likewise (he’d found his tubed tires on split rims at a harsh 50 psi). It took much of the sting out of the sharp undulations and eliminated the skip-fishtailing that can occur with higher pressures. (An Australian writer described those corrugations as “brutal.” All I can say is he needs to see the corrugations on the seven-mile dirt track to our house in Arizona. Or those on the road from Namanga to Amboseli. But that’s another story.)

Once in the dunes, we further reduced pressure to around 22 psi. This is well above the 14 we might run in very soft sand, but it worked perfectly on the combination of flat, compacted inter-dune track and the chewed-up ascents and descents. We even summited the famous Big Red dune outside Birdsville with no drama.

Once past Birdsville, on the high-speed gravel Birdsville Developmental Road, we re-inflated—and that’s where the catch is for many people who grasp the concept of airing down, appreciate its advantages, but rarely if ever do it.

Why? Because a lot of those people carry a compressor that cost them as much as a couple of pizzas and is about as effective at actually adding air to a tire, despite the “150 PSI!” claims on the box. A single 45-minute session laboriously moving four tires from 25 psi to, say, 28, while their $29.95 compressor buzzes and vibrates in circles like an enraged chihuahua, and that’s it. The thing gets tossed in the bottom of the tools, to be used in the event of an actual flat, if at all. The same people likely used the point of their Swiss Army knife to depress the valve to deflate each tire, another laborious procedure. It’s little wonder they inflate the tires on their new truck to 40 psi and never budge from that.

We knew better. And we were, after all, in Australia, home of some of the best expedition equipment manufacturers on the planet. In Sydney we had picked up a pair of ARB E-Z deflators, and two ARB portable Twin compressor kits (CKMTP12). The single-cylinder ARB High Output compressor on our Tacoma has been working perfectly for several years operating a locker and inflating tires, so I was eager to compare the more powerful Twin in field use. 

Airing down takes less than a minute per tire with the E-Z deflator, which unscrews and captures the tire’s valve core, allowing a much greater volume of air to exit the valve stem, and gives you precise control with its sliding actuator. The only faster way I know to air down four tires is with a full set of the superb set-and-forget CB Developments Mil-Spec automatic deflators—but that full set will cost you $400, versus $40 for the ARB unit. An E-Z choice, if you will.

Regarding portable 12V compressors, as with so many other products it’s been my experience that you get what you pay for. The $30 units that plug into a cigarette lighter simply won’t cut it for field use. I know people who’ve been happy with the ubiquitous Masterflow MT50 and its variations, which are available for less than $100; these clip directly to the battery, meaning they can draw more amperage, but they are still achingly slow, and I can recall at least three failures related to me by users. Simply put, if you’re going to go the pro route for airing down (and repairing) tires, you need a pro-level compressor. You do not want to get caught after a section of soft sand with all your tires at 14 psi, no way to inflate them, and 30 miles of rocks ahead. (Especially when it's been six days since you've seen another human.)

Ignore the psi rating—virtually any pump will produce more than enough theoretical pressure. It’s the cfm (cubic feet per minute) rating and duty cycle you need to evaluate. The cfm is self-explanatory. Duty cycle refers to how long the unit can run before it needs to shut down and cool off. A 25-percent duty cycle means the pump can run for 15 minutes out of an hour. It’s easy to see the relationship: A high cfm rating means little if the duty cycle is poor, and a 100-percent duty cycle means little if the cfm rating is below standard. Furthermore, some compressors display an impressive cfm rating at zero psi, but will fall off significantly with higher pressures. Look for factory specs that list both. 

The Australian-built ARB Twin boasts a 100-percent duty cycle, produces 6.16 cfm at zero psi and an impressive 4.68 cfm at 29 psi. How does this relate to the real world? Back on the Birdsville Developmental Road to air up, I hooked up the Twin’s leads to our Land Cruiser’s battery, flipped the rocker switch, connected the chuck to the first tire (still at 22 psi), settled back on my heels to wait a couple minutes, and, er, what? The tire seemed to rise awfully quickly. I disconnected and checked the pressure: 42 psi. I was only aiming for 38 . . . 

I bled a bit out and moved to the other three tires. I didn’t set a watch to any of them, but it certainly took no more than a minute per tire to reinflate from 22 psi to 38. That rivals my benchmark for powerful compressors, the Extreme Outback ExtremeAir Magnum. And the ARB doesn't have a single "Extreme" in its name.

As a reliable and durable tool for remote use it would be hard to imagine a better configuration than the ARB Twin, given the extensive redundancy: Two all-ball-bearing motors, two cylinders, two inline fuses, and internal thermal protection for each motor. Twin air filters are washable sintered bronze, not paper. It’s highly moisture and dust resistant (the cooling fan is actually sealed to IP55 specs); the cylinder bores are hard anodized and the piston seals are Teflon-impregnated carbon fiber. In addition, the portable kit incorporates a four-liter aluminum air tank, which enables the system to run most air tools (it’s regulated to 150 psi). For the distinctly premium price, I wish the kit came with the ARB inflator that incorporates a dial gauge, rather than the simple clip-on chuck that is standard. But the waterproof case is strong, and the organizer pockets keep hoses and accessories neat—an underappreciated feature on expeditions where entropy nudges things toward clutter. The battery clamps are sturdy, the inline fuses easy to access if necessary, and there's a solidly mounted quick-release fitting for the air line next to the (lighted) power switch. You’ll know you’re dealing with a substantial piece of equipment when you pick it up—the whole package weighs 33 pounds, about as much as a Hi-Lift jack. The compressor alone weighs 19.4. 

If you prefer a built-in compressor (I normally do, but we haven’t yet decided on the final configuration in the Troopy), the air filters of the Twin can be relocated, rendering the entire unit submersible. ARB was not messing around when they designed this compressor.

The Twin is a significant investment ($830 for the kit; $520 for the compressor alone). But consider these two facts: 1) As stressed above, varying your tires’ pressures to suit conditions will do more than anything else to enhance your vehicle’s off-pavement prowess, your comfort, and the condition of the trail, and 2) Tire failure is by a significant margin the number one reason for breakdowns in the bush. With a high-quality compressor such as the ARB Twin you have both scenarios covered with professional-level ease.

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Camping Gear, Equipment Jonathan Hanson Camping Gear, Equipment Jonathan Hanson

A singularly excellent product

I won't get any free gear out of this, because I'm afraid I don't think as highly in general of The North Face products as I did 20 years ago, but their Base Camp duffel is outstanding.

We stuffed one with all our ancillary gear on the way to Australia. Multiple handles facilitated grabbing easily whether it was on an airport luggage carousel or deep in the recess of our vehicle's cargo compartment. The 1000-denier laminated nylon material is tough and easy to clean, and a D-shaped main zipper makes loading easy as well. Shoulder straps—which are actually contoured—meant I could sling it over my shoulder and leave two hands free for other luggage. And compression straps kept everything in its place. The giant TNF label ensures everyone in the airport knows you're on your way to do something ADVENTUROUS.

I'm something of a duffel-bag snob (or connoisseur if you prefer), but I'll put the Base Camp right up with my top two duffels, the B.A.D. (Best American Duffel) and the classic standby Filson. One of our Filson duffels has been to Africa a total of nine or ten times; we'll see how the TNF compares in a few years. 

 

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Overland Tech and Travel is curated by Jonathan Hanson, co-founder and former co-owner of the Overland Expo. Jonathan segued from a misspent youth almost directly into a misspent adulthood, cleverly sidestepping any chance of a normal career track or a secure retirement by becoming a freelance writer, working for Outside, National Geographic Adventure, and nearly two dozen other publications. He co-founded Overland Journal in 2007 and was its executive editor until 2011, when he left and sold his shares in the company. His travels encompass explorations on land and sea on six continents, by foot, bicycle, sea kayak, motorcycle, and four-wheel-drive vehicle. He has published a dozen books, several with his wife, Roseann Hanson, gaining several obscure non-cash awards along the way, and is the co-author of the fourth edition of Tom Sheppard's overlanding bible, the Vehicle-dependent Expedition Guide.