Drive : Page 9 of 11 : American Adventurist

The 2017 Toyota Tacoma TRD Pro comes with a lift, upgraded struts, rear locker, center LSD, and specially tuned traction control with what some of us can only imagine is a delightful, 6-speed manual gearbox. Opt for the automatic, and you also get hill-start assist, 5-mode Multi-Terrain Select traction control, and Crawl Control, which is basically low speed cruise control for when things get a bit touch-and-go. You know what makes all this possible? Hundreds—if not thousands—of feet of electrical wiring connecting myriad sensors and servos to a digital, controller area network (ie; CANbus). In other words—computers.

ON TECHNOLOGY

There’s a good chance you’re reading this on a small computer that fits in the palm of your hand. It’s probably also a high definition video camera, remote control, virtual assistant, and—haha—telephone. How much better is your life because of this magical ingot of plastic, aluminum, and glass before you? And yet, do you still remember your significant other’s phone number? Your mom’s phone number? How strong are your navigation skills after so many positive experiences with Google Maps?

Technology is a double-edged sword. While it can make our lives better. It can also make them tougher. Computer controlled robots enable better build quality at lower, relative prices. Gone are the days of the factory freak, the new car with better than average performance due to an assembly line anomaly. Ask just about any professional auto writer about overall build quality and you’ll discover there is no shortage of anecdotal evidence the auto industry has never been better.

ON PROGRESS

Adventurists like us tend to romanticize self-sufficiency. We pride ourselves on our ability to get out and explore remote locations, to provide for our own needs—water, shelter, food—and to apply our skills to the situation at hand. We can start a fire without matches. We can catch food without weapons. We can survive where others can’t.

At the same time, we love the latest cutting edge technology—especially when it comes to our machines. That new, top-of-the-line Tacoma? We all want one. Okay. We’d all take one if they were giving them away for free. Toyota has long been synonymous with “off-road ability.” But for all it’s modern bells and whistles, for all it’s technological prowess, it’s still missing something, isn’t it. It’s an amazing machine, but does it speak to our sense of adventure like, say, and old Troopy.

ROSE COLORED

We look back at the old machines with both deep respect and fondness. Things were simpler then. Your hands and feet were mechanically connected to the bits making everything go, stop, and turn. These were the glory days for sure, but we also know why those of us who enjoy exploring primitive roads, cooking over fire, and sleeping in tents aren’t all driving rugged, old vehicles. We like our air conditioning, cruise control, and modern conveniences. We pride ourselves on “roughing it,” but how rough is relative.

Still, we love the old machines. We love the classic lines, the simple systems, and the rugged self-sufficiency they represent. That’s why I was so happy to meet Carter Beckworth. Three years ago, he imported an old Troopy. He went through it with a fine tooth comb, welded in a few new panels here and there, and got it out on the trail where it belongs. It’s not his first Land Cruiser, but it’s his favorite. We had a chat about one of his recent adventures.

There’s plenty of stories out there celebrating the elegant simplicity of older machines like your Troopy, but I haven’t seen many about people walking the walk, ya know? It’s one thing to import an old, never-sold-here truck and play with it on the weekend. It’s something else entirely to load up your family and drive off into the mountains with it.

[CB] The Colorado trip was a nice one for all of us. We had a blast and saw some beautiful country, did some camping and exploring. Ran some of the more challenging trails in the Gunnison area and the Alpine Loop near Lake City, and some in the San Isabelle down near Trinidad. We also found a potential route to get us down into central New Mexico. We ran out of time to try it, but it is on our list. Maybe this winter, while the desert is cool.

When we got home, I got a new muffler put on due to rock rash. Also replaced leaf spring bushings that were looking chewed. That is one of the key things in travel with an older truck, but truly it applies to anything—know your rig. Pay attention and do a solid pre-and post-trip inspection. Know the condition of everything that can fail. If something seems iffy, fix it. Right now.

Don’t you worry about breakdowns?

[CB] When I got my Troopy, I took it apart, checked everything, made adjustments, resealed everything that holds oil, and made improvements as needed. I know what condition everything is in, so why worry? Of course anything can break. Brand new stuff breaks everyday! Dealership shops are full of new, broken cars. Old trucks have soul. That is something you can’t buy or bolt on. It comes with time and miles. Nothing’s better to me than twisting the ignition and hearing the old girl rattle to life at the start of a new journey.

How often do things wear out or require fixing on your Troopy? Can you speak to how that compares with a more modern rig?

[CB] I would say the key to reliability in a old rig is to have a known baseline. I wouldn’t recommend going out and buying a 30 year old truck, adding gear and goodies, and hitting the road . That is a recipe for disaster.

In the case of my Troopy, I believe it to be reliably equivalent to a 3 year old truck. I brought it in from Australia, took it apart, and started with a known, solid platform three years ago. Everything was taken apart and checked and repaired or replaced as needed. I have total faith in the truck since I know every inch of it and stay ahead of failures. Really, since I got it on the trail, the only stuff that has failed has been trail damage; spring bushings, exhaust parts, the occasional blinker, and an alternator that didn’t like to swim. I expect about a 10 year run with newish reliability. At that point I’ll tear it apart and start over.

I’m going through this phase with our old 60 series right now. Recently, my daughter and I resealed the axles, transmission, and transfer case. I redid the head and carburetor and re-bushed the springs.

The 60 was our previous overland rig and my wife’s daily driver for about six years. It was starting to need attention, so she got a new Tacoma and our 15 year old got the 60—that she is now helping to rebuild. Once we are done on the 60 should be in good shape for a long time. And my daughter and I will have had a good time and created a stronger bond. As far as compared reliability to a new truck, you are going to spend more time tuning and tinkering on an oldie, but they required more attention than modern cars do anyway, so that really doesn’t count.

I’ve been on “expedition” trips where new vehicles didn’t make it due to mechanical failure and my old girl kept on going. Newer vehicles are tech heavy and when they quit you are just done. The old rigs can be coaxed along and rigged to get you clear of trouble. I’ll take that over creature comforts any day. I once drove the 60 series 50 miles with a bad fuel pump by pressurizing the fuel tank with my 12 volt air compressor.

I don’t have much faith in our Tacoma. Nice truck don’t get me wrong, but it doesn’t inspire me. When far off in the backcountry, I’m a nervous wreck with it. I worry about the security system, the battery—why did the AC compressor quit after fording that creek? Will it start tomorrow morning? I don’t have any such worry with my cruisers. I know—short of the engine blowing up—I can get back home. I’ll just McGyver the thing and make it happen. That can’t be done with the new stuff. Too many parts that could fail and leave you stranded. Parts are parts and any can fail.

Once you have an old rig squared away, I feel it is just as reliable as a new one if not more so, due to the simplicity of the machine.

Thank you to Carter and family for letting us share this conversation!

Do YOU have an old adventure vehicle? How does it it speak to you? Ping us and let us know! We’d love to hear more about it.

Continued from Part I: I’m not sure anyone wanted to leave the cabin, but camp was broke, coffee was had, and the drivers’ meeting commenced. We were headed for a resupply stop before hitting Dante’s View for some photos, and then to camp somewhere in the valley below.

Day 3: Badwater, Furnace Creek, Dante’s View

We headed for Warm Springs via Butte Valley Road, playing leap frog with another group of vehicles due to frequent stops for photos, and passed some friendly looking burros (who I think may have been the same burros that were up to no good in our camp last night). Prior to hitting U.S. 190 we hopped out of the vehicles to stretch our legs, snap some pics, and air up the tires. We crossed through Badwater on our way to Furnace Creek—on the main route for most tourists, Badwater was a good reminder why we choose to do the types of trips that we do, spending most of our time in the back country.

At Furnace Creek we stopped for gas and any other needed supplies. The command decision was made to hit Dante’s View in the morning the following day so the sun would be in a better place for photos of the valley. It was discovered that we had cell phone reception so several had to take a moment to get their Instagram photos posted. Once everyone was resupplied we were off to find a camping spot at the base of Dante’s View.

We ended up on a very small plateau above a closed down mine near the base of Dante’s View, and circled the trucks for camp far enough away from the road that we had no unexpected guests, except for the weather. A significant storm was rolling in through the valley so the priority was to get camp setup, and fast.

With camp secured it was business as usual until: appetizers, cocktails, and a fire until the storm pushed us out. We prayed for snow over rain, and our prayers were answered. As we enjoyed the splendor of a light snow on the front of the storm and a fire with good friends we were granted a second gift in the form of a 15 minute long snow storm followed by clear skies and a beautiful night with great friends.

Before bed there was one last order of business: we had been breaking camp and hard charging every morning, so no one really had the opportunity to make a good breakfast. The discussion of tomorrow’s breakfast was brought up. Dave asked if everyone wanted to put a hold on the hard driving, and go sit down and have breakfast in one of the restaurants the following morning. Everyone’s eyes said the same thing: yes to a good breakfast, no to a crowded restaurant. So I brought up the idea of a tailgate breakfast somewhere convenient. We could break out the Skottle’s and all our breakfast foods we brought to cook a big community breakfast. The decision was unanimously agreed and the plan was set!

Day 4: Resupply, Tailgate Breakfast, Ubehebe Crater and the Racetrack Playa

The wind howled that night, but we were all snug in our tents and bags. After a good night’s sleep we woke to coffee and tearing down camp. For the most part, anyone who didn’t already have a system in place for breaking down camp at the start of the trip, was now a well-oiled machine. Camp was broke quickly which gave us time to enjoy our coffee and chat a little before we confirmed the daily plan at the drivers’ meeting.

First off was the climb to Dante’s View, which was a paved winding road. When we made the peak the wind made the previous night’s wind look like a slight breeze. Everyone got out and looked around to check out the view. Some of the braver souls stayed and took pics while others took the time to sit in their vehicles out of the wind and reflect on the trip so far. From there we headed to Stovepipe to resupply and then on to Mesquite Dunes for breakfast.

Mesquite Dunes is on the main highway that runs through Death Valley, and has a large parking lot capable of parking trucks, trailers, and RVs. When we arrived we were able to take two of the RV parking spots with 4 of our vehicles. We set up the cooking tables and Skottle’s between the vehicles and the cooking began. Everyone pitched in what breakfast items they had, leaving themselves enough for the last morning. Richard and Jacki jumped in and started preparing the food as Cris and I cooked. This was my first experience with the Skottle, to say I was impressed would be an understatement. I had a ton of questions about it, such as what can’t be cooked on it, how small does it pack down, and the biggest question being: how hard is it to clean. After cooking hash on it and of course burning some to the grill I got to see just how easy it was to clean. We heated it up and just scraped the layer of burned on hash with ease. Right then and there I decided I would be purchasing one once we got home. After breakfast, everyone was able to take some time and enjoy the dunes. Our next destination was Ubehebe crater but before we made that move Brian, Aislinn, and Garrick broke from the group and headed for home. They would later be followed by Matt and Cody.

The drive to Ubehebe crater was an easy drive on a paved road with a proper parking lot. Ubehebe crater is a 600 foot volcanic crater that’s approximately ½ a mile across, and named after Ubehebe Peak 24 miles southwest of the crater. It is unclear why it was named for a peak so far away, and many mistakenly think its name means big basket. The crater is a maar—created by a combination of hot magma hitting water and creating steam, which expands and explodes releasing the pressure. From the crater we headed out to the Racetrack on one of the worst washboard roads I’ve been on in the Tacoma. Airing down helped significantly but it was still bad, which made arriving at racetrack that much more satisfying.

Racetrack Playa is a valley that has been wrapped in mystery, it is a dry lakebed known for its strange moving rocks. Sometimes these rocks are called sailing rocks, the rocks leave a long track behind them as evidence that they moved. After parking we walked out to the Grandstand, or as some call them, the islands. The Grandstand is a large picturesque outcropping of rocks in the middle of the playa.

A handful of us climbed the Grandstand for a better view. We discovered something amazing on the grandstand: Henry the World’s Largest Dachshund was a great climber. Granted we had to carry him back down part of the way, everyone knows heading down is always more difficult than going up.

We said our farewells to Matt and Cody, then the rest of us headed for Homestake Dry Camp for the night. Once camp was setup and the fire was started we could tell we would be in for another cold night. Jerry broke out the night’s appetizers in the form of pot stickers cooked on the Skottle, and moonshine.

Day 5: Lippincott Mine Road, Saline Valley, Olancha Resupply, and Home

That night was the coldest night we had with temperatures into the single digits. In the morning we woke to ice on the windshields and tents, so a morning fire was started and a big breakfast was made with coffee for all. At 9am it was still only 16 degrees.

Lippincott Mine Road is a narrow shelf road from the Lippincott Mine down to Saline Valley. It should only be run by vehicles with four wheel drive that have the ability to recover themselves (or be recovered by others in your party). It has been rated as one of the more dangerous roads and is considered the most difficult wheeling road in Death Valley.

In our group we had three Toyota Tacomas, a Land Cruiser FJ60 and FJ80, a Nissan Xterra, and the infamous BlkWgn (a Dodge Power Wagon pulling a small off road teardrop trailer). Dave put the FJ60 with his winch behind the Power Wagon for recovery purposes, and we ensured that every second vehicle had a winch for the same reason. Much to our surprise the road was in very good shape and only had a couple narrow spots, which Cris made look easy. I personally have never seen Cris not be able to drive the Power Wagon anywhere we take the Tacoma, and Dave who has wheeled with Cris a lot more than I stated the same thing. Once down the hill we entered Saline Valley and headed back to U.S. 190, where we aired up and drove to Olancha for fuel before heading home.

Like most adventures, this one started as an idea that was properly planned out and executed. It just requires the right people to take that step, to take an idea and put it into play. We had some very experienced individuals on this trip along with some very new adventurers. This trip was by no means an easy trip with the extreme cold and the long days of travel from point to point. We had survived five days in the infamous Death Valley, seeing some great landscapes and picturesque night skies. I am looking forward to more adventures with a group of people I am proud to call friends.

Tag: Drive

Life With An Old Troopy