Last-minute gift ideas

When it's 20 degrees Fahrenheit outside and the only adventure you can think of involves a warm drink in an armchair by the fire, it's time to grab some adventure reading:

OUTDOORX4 – Charter subscription, $25.

ADVENTURE MOTORCYCLE MAGAZINE – Digital subscription, $8.99. 

ANXIETY ACROSS THE AMERICAS – by Bill Dwyer, $13.99

CRAMPBUSTER $9.86. This stocking stuffer will be much-appreciated by anyone who cruises long distance on a bike. From AMotoStuff.com

HYBRIDLIGHT 150C, $50. This is the first solar-powered flashlight I’ve tried that produces a beam useful for more than reading or walking. Its 150-lumen output elevates it to the status of a practical security light—sufficient for, say, checking the bush for the eyeshine of hippos on the way from campfire to tent—and it will do so for eight hours on one charge. Not only that, the 150C can be stored for seven years with only a ten percent loss in charge. Need more? A USB and micro-USB port allow you to quick-charge the light—or charge your cell phone while the light soaks up energy from the sun. Hybridlight

TEMBO TUSK EXTREME DUTY LANTERN HANGER,  $95. If the idea of an “extreme duty” lantern hanger strikes you as humorous, you’ve never used some of the lame examples I’ve tried over the years. This one will last forever and effortlessly support your heaviest vintage Petromax. A mid-pole bracket takes a roll of paper towels, and auxiliary hooks hold kitchen utensils. The hanger  disassembles into an easily stowable 12-inch-long case. TemboTusk

SNOW PEAK MICRO OVAL DUTCH OVEN, $86. Snow Peak’s products show up in my product guides as often as BMW cars show up in Car and Driver’s Ten Best lists, and for the same reasons: Both companies are driven to engineer excellence into the most ordinary product, be it a sedan or a backpacking stove. This compact Dutch oven is no exception. It’s hand-crafted in the famous Iwate region of Japan, using a proprietary silica/sand casting technique, and is just the right size for cooking dinner or dessert for two. Snow Peak 

BAJA RACK JEEP JK EXPEDITION RACK, $970. The Jeep Wrangler Rubicon is America’s world-class expedition vehicle, and Baja Rack manufactures a roof rack worthy of that stature. The full-length rack has a dynamic load capacity of 300 pounds (600 pounds static, if you want to stand on it for photography or game viewing), and mounts to the chassis and A-pillar of the JK with no drilling required. A flat platform in the rear is designed to accept a roof tent, and numerous accessories allow attaching everything from fuel cans to Maxtrax sand mats. Whether you’re pitting your JK against Moab or Mozambique, the Expedition Rack will live up to its name. Baja Rack (Also for Land Rover, Toyota, Mercedes, Hummer)

 

National Luna Weekender 52-liter fridge/freezer, $1470. I’ve never figured out why National Luna calls this the “Weekender.” It’s fully capable of handling enough food for a full-on expedition—as one just did for us on a three-week excursion through Tanzania and Kenya. We kept plenty of fresh food cold in the fridge, and the freezer compartment, in addition to maintaining ice cream at the proper chill, also handily re-froze blue-ice packs for Roseann’s sprained ankle. The aluminum cladding saves six pounds (and $180) over the stainless model, but as far as we could tell is just as rugged. The National Luna repays its premium price with a micro-processor controlled combination of fast chilling and extremely efficient energy usage. Equipt

FORCE K9 TACTICAL VEST, $150. It had to happen: A tactical dog vest. Kidding aside, the Force K9 vest’s PALS webbing allows easy attachment of  a myriad of MOLLE accessories, from pouches suitable for Purina to water bladders. You can even have one custom-tailored to your Black Ops dog’s measurements. They’re missing a bet if they don’t introduce a doggie shemagh. Force K9

 

OVERLAND TRAINING, $CUSTOM. The gift of training keeps giving for years, in confidence and competence down the road. May we suggest a couple of our partners for great training experiences: Through teamwork and the execution of strategic decisions in naturally challenging settings, High Trails Expeditions will teach you and your team—whether business or expedition—how to understand the consequences of actions to yourself and others. This is the ultimate leadership course built for people like us, around overland skills. If your passion is adventure motorcycling, then look no further than Jim Hyde's offerings at Raw-Hyde Adventures. Now with an outpost in southern Colorado's Continental Divide country as well as SOCAL, you can learn with the best, in the most beautiful places. High Trails Expeditions, Raw-Hyde Adventures.
  

TRIUMPH TIGER 800 ABS, $11,000. The reborn Triumph motorcycle company has risen to the same legendary status as its progenitor did half a century 

ago by offering stylishly different takes on its competitors machines, and the Tiger 800 ABS continues the tradition with a three-cylinder engine in place of the twin more common in this displacement range, and a minimalist approach to bodywork. The hardware is all there for adventures anywhere on earth: fuel injection (contributing to 93 horsepower), a six-speed transmission, a twin-tube trellis frame, twin-piston calipers on the dual floating front disc brakes, adjustable seat height, and much more. Triumph at  SunandFunMotorsports (an Overland Expo partner)

 

ALL-TERRAIN WARRIOR BRAVO ($TBA). Shipping-container houses are becoming popular among the alternate lifestyle crowd. Well, here’s a four-wheel-drive house/expedition machine that will fit inside a shipping container for extra-continental adventures. The All-Terrain Warriors Bravo pops its rigid roof to reveal a complete living area (and an out-of-the-mud porch) for a luxurious campsite anywhere on the planet. When you’re ready to move, fire up the fuel-efficient Mitsubishi turbodiesel—with 63 gallons of fuel on board (and 80 gallons of water) you can cover a lot of the planet at a go. All-Terrain Warriors USA

 
The perfect gift: Overland Expo 2014. Give the gift of 300+ session-hours of classes, programs, demos, discussions, and films; shopping close to 200 exhibitors of adventure gear and services; and meeting thousands of like-minded adventurers. Still a bargain at $270 (single), $485 (double) 

CLICK HERE for details.

 
Contact us to arrange a GIFT CERTIFICATE or

our new OVERLAND BUCKS—JUST FOR SPENDING ON GEAR AT OVERLAND EXPO!

 

The Land Rover conundrum - solved.

 

They’re not unreliable. They’re simply co-dependent.

I arrived at this conclusion in a single flash of realization after driving Land Rovers many thousands of miles in East Africa, and putting in equal time in Land Cruisers on many of the same routes. Unlike the passionately monogamous fans of either vehicle, I love them both and see their individual strengths and weaknesses with what I feel is a nearly complete lack of prejudice. 

The 70-Series Troopie is the undisputed king of load-hauling, its cavernous cargo area capable of swallowing a scandalous mountain of kit if the third row seat is removed (remove the second row and it could double as a hangar). The running gear is mightily overbuilt, and the naturally aspirated, six-cylinder 1HZ diesel engine—still the powerplant of choice in Africa—provides all the lazy momentum one needs and will seemingly run forever, while remaining simple to service (unlike its powerful but much more complex twin-turbo V8 descendant). With a factory rear locker the Troopie will conquer any obstacle one is likely to encounter on safari, and with 180 liters of fuel in the stock tanks it has country-crossing range. The Troopie’s biggest disadvantage is its stiff suspension, even with the move to front coils and longer rear leafs in 1999. Parts, on the rare occasions you need them, are also extremely expensive, at least in East Africa.

The Defender soundly trumps the Land Cruiser in ride comfort—more of an advantage than you’d think if you haven’t done 300 miles of Tanzanian B-roads in one day. The Defenders we normally use are further enhanced with TJM coils and the superb Koni Raid shock absorbers, and are simply unflappable in any conditions and under any load. The 300Tdi—like Toyota’s 1HZ since supplanted but still the favorite of bush mechanics—is a good old plodder and provides excellent fuel economy. And—again not to be underestimated—the squared-off internal configuration of the Defender makes it a perfect blank canvas for installing all sorts of platforms and cargo barriers, which allow packing more equipment than mere measurements would indicate. The ubiquitous Wolf Pack boxes slot in particularly well.

That boxy Defender shape is efficient. It holds all this.

Downsides? The Defender retains the driving compartment dimensions of its earliest progenitors, designed when the average Englishman was probably not much taller than his more famous compatriot Thomas Edward Lawrence, whose height was variously pegged between five-four and five-six. Legroom is only adequate even for my five-nine frame, and all proper Defender owners can point proudly to the calluses on their outside elbows where they repeatedly slam into the door during normal operation of the steering wheel. It doesn’t help that Defender “seats” should always be described inside quotation marks.

Land Rover: Comfortable ride, but watch that right elbow.

Then there’s the reliability thing.

First let’s bin the snide dismissals of Land Cruiser disciples who’ve never driven, much less owned, a Land Rover yet claim personal encyclopedic statistics of fault-ridden Defenders. We can also dismiss those amusingly irrational Defender defenders unwilling to admit any flaws in their cherished British steeds. One fellow I know whose Land Rover blew a differential on a cross-Africa trip categorically refused to call it a breakdown because, as he insisted, “Differentials are maintenance items.” Okaaaay . . .

Troopie: Cavernous, but an inferior suspension.

Nevertheless. On a purely personal—and, admittedly, too-small-to-be statistically-significant— level, out of three major trips on which I’ve driven Defender 110s, I’ve experienced a notable mechanical fault on . . . three trips. During the first, the vehicle we drove would sporadically and completely unpredictably simply . . . stop running. The engine would die and the starter would turn healthily but futilely. Yet, oddly, after a nap of ten minutes or so (discovered completely by accident the first time), it would start right up again and run perfectly. As yet unfamiliar with the vagaries of the 300Tdi, I quickly learned about part #RTC6702, the fuel cutoff solenoid. Apparently, when this part is nearing the end of its life the electromagnet inside will randomly lose connectivity and cut off the fuel supply, only to randomly reconnect after a brief hiatus. It’s a ten-minute replacement job once you know about it.

On the second trip, with a group of ConserVentures volunteers and a pair of Defenders, we faced the challenge of ascending the Nguruman Escarpment—the 2,000-foot west wall of the Rift Valley—via a private, little-used, and in places very steep track. Shortly into the climb, it became obvious I had virtually zero traction in the 110 I was driving. The center diff lock was not operating—and when the center diff lock on a full-time-four-wheel-drive vehicle is not operating, you have a one-wheel-drive vehicle. We were rescued by none other than Philip Leakey of the anthropologist clan, who towed me (with his beat-up 80-Series Land Cruiser) 15 kilometers to his property halfway up the escarpment, after which Roseann towed me the rest of the way in her 110. 

In a twist of irony, the next trip resulted in the exact opposite problem. To access the farm of some friends down a muddy and slick road, I engaged the center diff lock to ensure traction to both axles. When we left and hit tarmac again a few days later, I moved the lever back to the right to disengage it. The next hundred kilometers went smoothly, but then, as I had to negotiate a tight roundabout and was admiring a brand new Kenya Wildlife Service Land Cruiser pickup, I heard and felt the squeal of tires protesting at being forced to turn at different speeds—the diff lock was still engaged. I climbed under the 110 with a flashlight and quickly found the problem: The lever that engages the lock had popped out of its arm. Repair took a couple of minutes.

Lever (right arrow) fits into arm (left arrow)

And then it hit me. At the exact moment the trouble had manifested itself, I had been experiencing, as Jimmy Carter once put it, “lust in my heart” for that spanky new Land Cruiser. Could it be . . . ?

I lay there and thought back to other situations. East Africa is rich with lustable (to coin a word) expedition vehicles. On the previous trip, the day before we were to climb the escarpment we stayed in a research camp run by the local Maasai community. I distinctly remembered a German couple who had visited in a well-kitted turbodiesel Toyota Hilux, which I had inspected approvingly—while the Land Rover in which I was shortly to be immobilized stood by silently. Broodingly . . .

And the trip before that? I had stopped by the Toyota dealer in Nairobi and picked up a couple of brochures, which I casually and heedlessly stored in the center console of the Land Rover. 

The more I thought about it, the more suspicious parallels I found. The beat-up Series III 88 I’d brought home a few years ago to a house already occupied by two Land Cruisers, and whose rear prop shaft had blown a U-joint two days later? Of course . . .

Lying under the 110 with its diff lock now free, I mused on what Land Rover disciples frequently point out as the salient difference between their vehicles and Japanese pretenders: the so-called “personality” factor. Land Rovers, it’s argued, have it, while Land Cruisers, however competent and reliable, are simply appliances with no more soul than a refrigerator. I’d always viewed this idea dubiously—now I wasn’t so sure. Land Rovers, it appeared, did have personality, and that personality included the clairvoyant ability to detect the slightest hint of disloyalty, and to react in the most immediately petulant way possible. Nothing major, mind you; just a reminder of your interdependent relationship.

Come to think of it, it does sort of look like a tipped-over refrigerator . . .

An obvious experiment presented itself. We still had several hundred miles to drive before reaching Arusha, where we were to return the vehicle. I resolved to remain utterly faithful to Solihull products for the duration. As we drove south toward Namanga, whenever I spied a Land Cruiser or Hilux coming toward us I did the mental equivalent of closing my eyes, sticking my fingers in my ears, and repeating lalalalalalala to distract me from the approaching “appliance.” That worked for a while, but then I went active: At the first hint of a familiar approaching Japanese silhouette, I concentrated, envisioning instead a customized Defender 130 Crewcab with Michelin XZL tires, a Superwinch Husky, and a full Safety Devices roll cage. Or I imagined a completely restored 101 Forward Control equipped with a Bagnold sun compass. Or I pictured Sarah Batten, the lovely director of the Land Rover Experience training division (whoa, careful with the “lust in the heart” thing there, Jonathan).

Anyway, call it coincidence, but it worked. The 110 purred along happily through Kenya and into Tanzania, carried us down the long, brutal track to Lake Eyasi and back with what seemed like even more perfect suspension control than usual, and gave me the distinct impression that the needle on the fuel gauge was retreating at a slower pace than it had been. Was there a bit more get up and go in the 300Tdi on the road back past Ngorongoro? Whatever—I was convinced I had uncovered the secret to the “unreliable” Land Rover mystique.

We parked in front of the excellent Café Barista, in downtown Arusha, to get a cappuccino before returning the 110. As we came out I noticed a really nice Mercedes G-Wagen drive by—the bare-bones turbodiesel African version, not the leather-wrapped U.S. model. I would have given it a closer look, but the damned key was refusing to open the Land Rover’s door, and . . .  

Vintage pocket compass

I admit to a bit of an obsession with always being aware of cardinal directions—even in the briefest and most inconsequential of circumstances, such as while transiting between gates in a strange airport. I have a good sense of direction and can remain oriented through multiple turns in unfamiliar terrain (such as, for example, during a recent densely overcast day in downtown Brussels), but I need a base map in my head to start with, and I’m not deluded enough to think I can instinctively tell which way is north in such conditions. In fact, my first guess in Brussels was just about 180 degrees off—oops. 

Meet my friend, the pocket compass. It’s a WWII-vintage Wittnauer with a jeweled flat needle, a push-button lid and needle lock on its nickel case, and a ring in case I ever want to attach a fancy silver chain to it (in case I ever start wearing a waistcoat while traveling). There’s nothing elaborate about it—it pretty much points toward magnetic north, period. 

I know what many of you are thinking: An iPhone (or, I imagine, any smartphone) can do exactly the same thing with a free app. Technically, you’re right, but trust me, it’s not the same. 

First, I can deploy and check this compass in a couple of seconds, far more quickly than the slide-to-unlock and multiple-step sequence of the iPhone. Plus, if one employs the iPhone compass one appears to be just another dullard staring mindlessly at one’s iPhone. Flip open the Wittnauer on a foreign city street, and complete strangers (at least, those not staring at their iPhones) stop and inquire admiringly of it, then go on to offer detailed directions and/or tips on where to go and what to see. This happened to me on the supposedly aloof streets of New York City. Twice.

The Wittnauer company dates from 1890, when Albert Wittnauer immigrated to the U.S. from Switzerland and opened a watchmaking shop with his brothers. The U.S. Navy adopted the company’s precision timepieces for early aviation tests, and in 1941 (after merging with the Longines company in 1936) Wittnauer won a contract to produce pocket compasses for the military—mostly to be included in aircraft survival kits. I’ve yet to determine how many nearly identical compasses the company produced for that contract, but it must have been a zillion, because they’re still easy to find in perfect working order. Some are stamped “U.S.” on the outside of the case; others (mine included) are not—it seems random. You can buy decent examples for around $40, or spend $150 for a mint example in its original pouch and box. 

If that seems steep for a simple seven-decade-old instrument, just remember that your iPhone won’t be worth $40 in five years. If you’re like me, I’m willing to bet you’ll soon be loath to leave the house without that reassuring lump in your pocket.

An excellent source for pocket compass history is Kornelia Takacs's book Compass Chronicles. She also sells selected vintage pieces (including the superb example above) on her site, here.

Update on 2013-12-19 01:56 by Jonathan Hanson

Two correspondents have mentioned the exquisite Brunton Pocket transit. I'm lucky enough to own the vintage model once owned by my old scientific illustration professor:

It's bulky, but superbly accurate, and capable of measuring slip faces on dunes and a host of other angles. A true classic.

Storing camper jacks

Reader Steve sent the following question:

I noticed that you don't have jacks mounted on your FWC. Did you not purchase these items, or did you just take them off? If you did take them off I was wondering where you stored them? I was going to get clever and replace the bolts holding mine onto my Hawk with clevis pins and lock pins but discovered this was almost as fiddily as dealing with the bolts and nuts. I always have a socket set and wrenches with me anyway. Do you store them in the camper or in the truck when you travel? I was just wondering if you had a preference? I have a Ford F350 diesel crew cab with a 6.5 foot bed and the area behind the front seats is bigger than some apartments I've lived in so I turned it into a storage area with a bench. Anyway, I was just wondering if you had any brilliant ideas for dealing with this problem that I hadn't thought of.

Steve, we didn't buy camper jacks for two reasons: First, we have the luxury of being able to leave the camper on the truck all the time, rather than needing to remove it for utility when not traveling. And second, should we have to remove the camper for maintenance or repair, I have a friend who owns a set of jacks who is a remarkably cheap date - a pound of good coffee or a six-pack of quality beer is enough to get all sorts of stuff out of him, including professional welding and, recently, replacing a broken window in our middle-of-nowhere cottage when we were out of the country. I'll probably have to pay him for the glass, though.

Where was I? Right: We did make sure to buy jack brackets when we ordered the camper, as adding those later would be a real pain.

It sounds from your question that you occasionally remove the camper while traveling, to establish a base camp and leave the truck free for exploring - a great idea. It would be nice to avoid taking up interior storage space with them, no matter how generous that space is in your F350. Looking back at a couple of projects we've done on the JATAC, I wonder if you could exploit the underside of the camper overhang, as we did for our table (here), and fabricate a bracket that would securely hold the four jacks. Musing on the issue, I looked at Yakima accesories and found their Rattler Wheel Straps (here). Depending on their rating and the weight of your individual jacks, you might employ those plus some sort of safety backup.

Another spot might be the side overhang on your camper, if there is one, where we store our Hi-Lift jack (here). I also know several people who've fabricated a Hi-Lift jack mount on the rear wall of their camper, to the right of the door. Finally, if you have steps to access the camper's roof, it would be simple to make a mount to store them there. Sorry for the lack of a definitive answer, but I hope this gives you some ideas. Let me know what you wind up with. And if you need some fabricating work, I have this friend . . .  

Welcome home . . .

 . . . after a research trip to northern Kenya filming traditional Samburu blacksmiths. At Dulles Airport we had the following exchange.

Customs officer: "What's in the long tubes?"

Us: "Four spears, two bows, knives, and a bunch of arrows."

Customs officer: "Have a nice day."

Great to be back in the U.S.

Embracing the wheel

Filming Samburu blacksmiths in northern Kenya.For years and years I refused to use rolling luggage for airline travel. My personal creed went something like, If I can’t carry it, I’m carrying too much. I made month-long-plus trips for magazine assignments carrying nothing but a medium Filson duffel, a rucksack, and a Lowepro Omni Pro Extreme camera case inside a Pelican 1500. I looked down with arch superiority on tourists pulling wheeled suitcases the size of hide-a-beds, and rolled my eyes when dodging rolling carry-ons on the way to the gate. It was satisfyingly stylish . . . usually. I remember one jog to catch a flight in the full-summer-humidity of Miami when I arrived at the ticket counter unstylishly drenched in sweat, while a Hawaiian-shirted bloke almost totally hidden by his full-suspension Samsonite looked on in bemusement. 

In the last couple of years, however, several things have changed about the way I travel and what I need to take on extended overseas journeys. On the carry-on side, my camera equipment has expanded, and I’ve had to add the impedimenta required to fully exploit the Canon 5D MkII for video work—electronic eyepiece, shotgun mike, etc. A laptop is now de riguer for writing, staying in touch, and updating websites. (Random confession: I’ve also become helplessly attached to the Bose noise-canceling headphones I got as a birthday present.) And while I’ve kept my personal checked baggage under control, the increasing number of projects and friends Roseann and I have in East Africa means we often take on the roles of diplomatic couriers, except without the immunity part. For example, on the trip during which I’m writing this, we’re carrying 125 books documenting a recent project (and weighing a pound each) to a Maasai community in the South Rift Valley; plus 36 syringes of equine de-worming medicine, a set of four rubber Cavallo hoof boots, an anti-wind-sucking collar (another equine device; too arcane to explain here), and two 12-volt spotlights, all for friends in Nanyuki who are starting a horseback safari business. (Apparently, in distinct contrast to human medications, veterinary drugs are vastly cheaper in the U.S. than in the developing world.)

The 1510 makes a fine impromptu desk for downloading images to the Mac Air at day's end.

So something had to give. Since the camera equipment was inching toward 30 pounds on its own, and was unthinkable as checked baggage, it was the sensible choice to go wheeled. But I had further criteria. Given the value of the lot, maximum protection was necessary from those people who will cram their own baggage against whatever is already in the overhead bin. I also wanted something fully dust- and waterproof for more remote flights off dirt strips, and for use as a vehicle-based case in the bush. Okay, let’s be frank: I also desperately wanted something that didn’t look like a normal rolling carry-on. Pathetic.

Thus I regretfully consigned my superb but wheel-free Billingham 550 camera bag to more local duty (carrying it was beginning to give me a gait even more like Quasimodo than my usual off-kilter walk), and ordered the obvious solution: A Pelican 1510 carry-on. Wheels, extendable handle, check (sigh). Crush, dust, and water-proof, check. Über-cool look, check—and of course the very first time I stood in line with it, the guy behind me remarked favorably, then asked, “Camera equipment?” So I suppose you could also call it an über “steal me” look—but then that’s half the point of carrying it on, right? The other being to spare it from the care of baggage handlers—although if I’m forced to check it on some overbooked flight, the contents now stand a way-better-than-average chance of surviving.

The 1510 is comfortably under the size of so many carry-ons I see these days, which barely fit into an empty overhead bin, much less one already occupied. It fit end-on into the bin over our seats on the 767 that took us from D.C. to Brussels; in fact, two of them fit side by side with room left for other passengers’ items.

Two? Yes—after seeing how well the 1510 worked for camera equipment, Roseann ordered another while we were in D.C. (one-day delivery via the brilliant and facilitative Amazon Prime) to use as her regular carry-on. All the same characteristics that worked for cameras worked just as well for her laptop, iPad, backup hard drives, journal, GoPro, and spare clothes.

Wheels are sturdy, but noisier than some. Since Roseann might be the consummate connoisseur of carry-on bags—she’s been through . . . six? eight? . . . looking for the perfect model—I can give the Pelican 1510 no higher praise than to note her nod of approval. 

I found the case’s extendable handle to be very quick to deploy or stow; however, the grip is strangely squared-off and less than comfortable—no big deal, as I’ll simply fire up the Dremel when we get home and round it off a bit. The newer Pelican latches are much easier to use than their originals, although still not quite as effortless as those on the old Hardigg Storm cases (since Hardigg was bought by Pelican; why not just copy them?). The over-center hinges easily hold the lid open even on a bouncy road.

Handle is uncomfortably square - but hackable.

As I write this, we’re in Isiolo, near Samburu country in the north of Kenya. The 1510 and its TrekPak divider system (see below) have been performing superbly as a vehicle-based camera case. It’s been riding on the rear bench in the Land Rover, and I strapped it to the back of a Boda Boda taxi (the ubiquitous Chinese motorcycles that carry people everywhere in East Africa) for a spine-jarring cross-country ride to a hill where we wanted to do some filming. When the exterior gets dusty we either brush it off or douse it with a bucket of water. The contents are nearly as easy to access as they were from the Billingham, although in the configuration as I have it now I can’t store a body with lens attached inside, as I could with the soft bag. It would be possible with less equipment, but the trade-off has been worth it.

Strapped in the back seat of the Defender. We’re also near enough to Somali bandit country that the first thing I spotted (and, er, bought) in town was a long-bladed stabbing weapon known locally as a “Somali sword.” If by some remote chance we need to flee from a dodgy looking roadblock in the bush farther north, I can be sure our camera gear will shrug off all the dust and banging around and vertical G-forces one experiences inside a Defender with its 300 Tdi at redline on a corrugated Kenyan two-track.

Two-piece latches are much easier to operate than Pelican's originals. Steel padlock insert is another improvement. 

Dual-Sport Adventure Touring Motorcycle Boot Review by Carla King

by Carla King (carlaking.com)

After my second dual-sport ride my poor little Tour Master street boots were trashed. My friend's motocross boots fit okay, but they were too heavy and noisy to walk in. It was clearly time to go shopping. Looking through the crop of serious four-season, full-height, dual-sport adventure-touring boots, I decided that boots with the features I was looking for ranged from $350 to $550 in price. After a couple of months grilling the adventure riding community about their choices, I decided on the TCX Infinity GTX (Gortex) adventure touring boots, formerly branded Oxtar. This is a review of the TCX Infinitys and it's followed by a review of my shopping experience that includes descriptions of competing boots with reasons for eliminating them from my list.

Above is a series of photos of my first try-on of the boots. (Click to enlarge.) They were easy to put on, the buckles are very adjustable, and I like the elastic collar at the top. I also like the understated look of them. I'm wearing my Olympia Moto Sports Mesh Tech jacket and pants. The pants unzip all the way to the hip making it very easy to put on and take off your boots.

The Contenders

• TCX Infinity GTX Boots $359, X-Desert $399
• Aerostich Combat Touring Boots $367
• Gaerne Balance Oiled Boots $395
• Forma Adventure Boots $299, Boulder $279, Cape Horn $299
• SIDI Discovery Rain Boots $350, Adventure Rain $400, Adventure Gore-Tex $550
• Alpinestars Toucan Boots $449
• Dainese Carroarmato Gore-Tex Boots $369

Standard on most of these boots are ski boot-type buckle closures, sturdy heel and toe cockpits, and reinforced material that protects the ankles. They're all tall boots, and most have additional padding along the front that protects you from the commonly experienced shin-to-footpeg bashing syndrome. Features I was looking for specifically included:

• A tall boot with shin protection
• Sturdy heel and toe compartments
• Stiff ankle area (little side-to-side bending allowed!)
• Solid protection for the malleolus (ankle bones) on each side of the foot
• Waterproof breathable Gore-tex or similar material
• A padded elastic collar around the top to keep out rocks and dirt and water
• Maximum flexibility for walking
• Sticky sole for street, dirt and mud
• Footbed strong enough to stand comfortably on the pegs
• Understated look, no logos
• Ease in putting them on and taking them off

Picture This

I collected the boots into lookalike groups (see photo below, click to enlarge) because I think most of us have an idea of the "look" we want. Simple or complex, sleek or clunky, old school or hi-tech, black or brown, understated or colorful. I hope that the review of the boots I chose in combination with my shopping experience and this pictorial comparison of boots with prices will help you choose the right pair. I'd love to hear your thoughts, your concerns, frustrations, compromises, and your experience with boots of your past, present, and future. Did I leave your favorite boots out? Do you agree or disagree with my impressions? I know this is a hot topic, so I look forward to hearing from you in the comments area at the end of this article or via the contact form on my website, or join the discussion on my Facebook page.

TCX Infinity GTX Boot

The TCX Infinity GTX is classified by the company as a "touring adventure" model. It fit my requirements for a dual-sport adventure touring boot crafted from waterproof yet breathable material with an elastic collar at the top to keep out water and debris, a quick and very adjustable buckle and velcro closure combination, a sturdy sole that would not slip on rocks, street, or mud, a flexible heel, and enough comfort to take a short hike. I also liked their understated look in comparison to the clunkier (and more protective) models I looked at. TCX Infinity customers consistently report 100% satisfaction with their boots, without the "buts" or "if justs" that riders wearing other brands often mention. To further recommend the TCX, many told me that they are loyal second- and third-time buyers who purchased the Infinity after many years of dual-sport riding in their Oxtars. (Oxtar was rebranded TCX after the acquisition of the company by Novation S.p.A. based in Montebelluna, Italy.)

SIZING

Let me first state that I can wear men's sizes because I have a wider foot than the average woman. Luckily for me, most boots start at at European size 40, a woman's size 9. The TCX starts in size 38. However, most stores stock size 42 and up, but can order them from the factory. Plan ahead, because this can take six weeks or more. My size 40 with a cushy sole insert fits great. I put them on and forgot about them, and that's the best recommendation I can give for any piece of gear. As I mentioned in my review of the Schuberth C3 modular helmet, the best gear both protects you from a possible mishap and provides enough comfort to forget about it and enjoy the ride.

WOMEN'S SIZING

Women who wear smaller than size 38 and women with narrow feet will not be able to wear the TCX Infinity or any of the boots mentioned in this review. The boots I shopped for were designed for men, which means they are constructed for wider feet in larger sizes. (I never appreciated my feet so much until now!) The pickings for women in the dual-sport and adventure category are slim. All I could find were SIDI's Vertigo Lei and Fusion Lei, which are, of course, compromises. As a side note, I hope that the industry catches on to the numbers of women who want boots in this category. The number of women who attend adventure motorcycle events like Overland Expo, Horizons Unlimited, and the Carson Valley / Tahoe Adventure Rendezvous is approaching fifty percent and we're all wearing boots designed for men's feet.

SAFETY FEATURES

The TCX Infinity had all the features I wanted: Reinforced heel and toe cockpits, stiff ankle area with malleolus protection on both sides, sturdy footbed and sticky sole, shin protection, reinforced toe and heel cockpits, rubberized shift guard, two cam-lock buckles, thermal heat-resistant suede on the inside of the shin, a velcro closure, and a Gore-tex fly or gaiter.

FOOTBED AND SOLE

All TCX boots are made with an anatomic, replaceable footbed that is manually fitted around a foot-shaped mold. There is no break-in period, and the boot flexes easily at the front and back of the heel. This means walking is comfortable, though the footbed is stiff enough that you wouldn't want to trek more than about a mile without a break. It's stiff enough to stand on the footpegs for hours but, unlike many of the stiffer MX boots, you can still feel the pegs under your feet. The sole is patterned in a sticky black tire-tread pattern that channels water out to the edges so you don't slip in water and mud.

COMFORT

The boot feels custom-fitted with its combination of adjustable cam-lock buckles, the wide velcro closure, and the padded elastic collar. It fits snugly with your pants in or out of the boot, or even with a motocross knee and shin guard tucked inside. A couple of inches of Gore-tex on the inside at the top of the boot keeps the foot cool and dry. In the past few months I've ridden in both very hot and very cold conditions, through water crossings and across desert sands, and on miles and miles of tarmac, with no discomfort at all.

RIDING IN THE TCX INFINITY

I throughly tested the safety features of the Infinitys at the Carson Vally / Tahoe Adventure Motorcycle Rendezvous in August. The first ride was a challenging day along the boulder fields and shale trails far into the hills and valleys. I opted for the "medium-level" off-road instead of "beginner," but it turned out to be a rather advanced run. Still, I made it, after bouncing off a few times (at slow speeds). This amused most, but irritated a few, of my fellow riders. And they were all fellows, making it all the more embarrassing for the sole woman in the group, even after one rider was trucked out after a collarbone-breaking fall 18 miles into the hills. Because someone else rode my bike down a particularly steep descent, I can also attest to their comfort while picking your way down a rocky trail.

Yeah, yeah, I see the boulder. Now where's my bike?

REPLACING MY STREET BOOTS?

Since then I have instinctively chosen the TCX Infinitys over my comfy but battered old Tour Master street boots, even for all-tarmac rides. It's pretty clear to me now that I will never go back to street boots. Today's touring boots have so much protection embedded into a not unstylish product that I don't find it necessary to choose. In comparison, the street boots, though they're safety conscious in their class, seem much too short and flimsy. Perhaps if I had chosen one of the more clunky models made with a lot of TPU (Thermoplastic polyurethane) like the SIDI Rains ($350-$400), Alpinestars Toucan ($449), or TCX's X-Desert ($399) I wouldn't be as willing to wear them for a spin on my Guzzi cruiser. But I think the Infinitys are good looking enough to pass for cruiser wear.

I choose the TCX Infinity boots over my street boots when I cruise on my Guzzi.

OTHER OPTIONS FROM TCX

If you're the kind of rider with multiple bikes and multiple sets of gear, you're going to love looking through the stylish selections that TCX offers. The brand provides a full range of foot protection for all kinds of riders including categories for custom bikes, street, touring, enduro, motocross, and ATV. I especially like their high-top sneaker style boot. Check them out. They have a great reputation for comfort, safety, and style.

I also glanced briefly at the TCX Touring Adventure / X-Desert Gore-text ($450) with lots of plastic hard parts, but they were too clunky for my taste. Riders attracted to the Alpinestars Toucan or the SIDI Adventure series should take a look, though. If you're on a budget, consider TCX's Track EVO Waterproof boots. They have all the safety features, are lightweight, and the $239 price point is rather surprising. They're waterproof but without breathable Gore-tex those prone to swamp foot will need to pass.

THE SHOPPING JOURNEY

Because shopping for gear is such a journey, I'd like to share it with you, explaining why I eliminated the contenders from my list before I decided on the TCX Infinity.

AEROSTICH COMBAT TOURING BOOTS

I'm going to start with the Combat Touring boots ($367) made by SIDI for Aerostich, which are a very popular boot with the adventure riding crowd. People love their Combats but there are several reasons I ruled them out. First, though they're padded, they are the only model that does not have a reinforced shin guard on the front of the boot, and I seem to hit my shins on the pegs a lot when I'm riding off-road. So the Combat seemed to me to target the dual-sport rider who rides the occasional fire road, unlike most of the others in this quality/price point, which offer true off-road protection in the single-track class. Another factor that determined that this boot was not for me had to do with the fact that it's made entirely of untreated leather. It's incredibly heavy, stiff, and difficult to walk in until a very long and painful (according to many reviewers) break-in period. I think there are two camps when it comes to boots: high-tech and old style. I love sloshing through puddles and mud and being able to just hose them down and forget them between rides. I'm not crazy about the constant maintenance involved in keeping leather soft and waterproof. The Combat is fastened by a single buckle at the ankle which, in comparison to the other boots, seems unusually stingy for a boot in this class. Many reviewers report that the dual velcro fasteners wear out, too. I wonder why they don't add a second buckle, like most everyone else, with a single velcro fastener at the top? On the Combat, adjustment depends upon a lace-up cord between the outer and the gaiter that looked to me to be fumbly and futzy. Indeed, reviews commonly state that the laces stick to the velcro closure, which eventually frays them into oblivion. But the feature I loved on the Combats was the elastic collar at the top. Brilliant! When I saw it I remembered how, on a recent ride through a deep water crossing, water literally poured into the boots I was wearing. I imagined that this elastic collar would solve that problem, along with deterring the large quantities of pebbles and sand I was constantly dislodging from my borrowed MX boots. In the end, two factors killed the Combats for me: Lack of safety features, and the leather material. Leather's lack of immediate-gratification flexibility requiring a long break-in period and constant maintenance. Not to mention the lack of a breathable Gore-tex lining. The Combat is a 100% old-school boot. Enjoy, luddites!

GAERNE BALANCE OILED

When I put the word out on Facebook that I was shopping for adventure touring boots, I received more recommendation for Gaernes than any other brand. I'd already ruled them out for many of the same reasons I ruled out Aerostich's Combats, but wow, do they ever have a wildly dedicated fan base. The consensus is that the break-in period is almost non-existant, they're lighter, extremely comfortable, and they're brown, not black. I wouldn't mention this except that so many men point out the rugged mountain-man look of them. "The kind of boot Steve McQueen would wear," was one review. This glimpse into male vanity gave me a little laugh, but I understood. They do have a "rock-star adventure rider" vibe about them, and I'll bet they look great with one of those workmen's kilts. Gaerne's Balance Oiled boots ($369) are pre-oiled and fully waterproof right out of the box. They claim that oil-tanned leather is more breathable than the PU (polyurethane) coated leather that "modern" boots use, and the "Aquatech" membrane inside keeps your feet totally dry. Originally created for trial riders (hence the name "Balance"), this model has hard inserts in the heel and toe but no reinforcement in the ankle. This means they are a bit too bendy for someone in the habit of putting herself at risk of frequent dual-sport get-offs. However, the leather is much thicker than street-boot leather and, in combination with the interior padding, gives you a fair amount of cushion. Like most of the modern, high-tech boots I looked at, the Balance Oiled do have three buckles and a shin guard. Resellers tout it as the most comfortable boot they've ever worn, claiming a five-mile hike is not a problem. Gaerne also uses a modified MX boot midsole that's reportedly stiff enough to protect against folding when striking a hard object, but flexible enough to feel your footpegs. I must admit that the combination of old and new school features tempted me, even in spite of my logo-itis -- they put a big white G across the front. What to do? Probably just have a go at it with my fat black Sharpie. Sizes start at an American 8, but smaller sizes are available by special order for about $40 more. A budget version of this boot is the Gaerne Pro-Tech ($284) which is not waterproof.

FORMA ADVENTURE

Such are the consequences of timing that if Forma had been on my radar when I was shopping for boots, this review may have featured their Forma Adventure boot ($299), with the TCX Infinity description placed about here. Forma is very popular in Europe and Australia but virtually unknown in the USA because they didn't have a US distributor until recently. Like the Gaerne, the Forma Adventure is made from beautiful pre-oiled leather and it comes in brown or black. Plus, it has all the hi-tech features of the TCX and others in this roundup: adjustable buckles, a shin plate, and sturdy heel and toe compartments. It's a beautiful combination of old school and new tech and I definitely want to try it on. The Drytex liner in Forma boots is, like Gore-tex, completely waterproof and breathable. It has great ankle support with molded inserts on the inner and outer ankle. So it's rigid and supportive, but built for comfort. In fact, it's more flexible at the toe than other adventure boots, and fans say it feels much more like a hiking boot. This really attracts me because I, like a lot of adventure touring folks, like to spend a significant time off the bike to explore, whether it's a short hike in a state park or a trek through a new town. Retailers stock sizes starting at 42 but you can special order sizes 38-41. And for you Steve McQueen types, yep, it also comes in brown. The only down side for me is that the Formas, like the Gaernes, Alpinestars and one of the SIDI models, suffers from logo-itis. Honestly, I'd pay more for a version without logos. For $20 less you might consider the Forma Boulder ($279), which does not have waterproof, breathable lining, but the untreated breathable nubuck suede leather is naturally breathable. If you like the look of the TCX Infinity but it's too expensive for your budget, take a look at Forma's Cape Horn ($299) touring boot, which looks a lot like it, though it lacks the elastic collar and the same level of heel and toe reinforcements.

SIDI RAINS

I have a few friends who have invested in SIDI Adventure Gore-tex ($550) and swear that everyone else should wear them, too, even though they complain loudly about the squeak. In fact there's an entire thread on "The SIDI Adventure Squeak" in ADVRider, with wearers recommending solutions from furniture polish to baby powder. The SIDI squeak is background music at any adventure motorcycle event, no apologies required. But with all the complaints on this defect I can't imagine why SIDI hasn't solved the problem, especially as their boots are among the most expensive in the bunch. If they don't do something about it soon, I predict that all the other manufacturers will start to brag about their anti-squeak technology. The feature set of the more expensive two versions of this boot - the Adventure Gortex and the Adventure Rain - seemed too over the top for me, too "MX" for the kind of riding I'd be doing. Very reinforced. Lots of plastic. Clomp clomp. But unlike the SIDI Adventure Gortex ($550) or the Adventure Rains ($400), the Discovery Rain ($350) has the coveted elastic collar around the top, which made me look twice. (By the way, the SIDI website no longer lists the Adventure Rains, so they may have discontinued the model. However, many of the superstores still carry them.) I was tempted, but in the end did not choose the Discovery Rain because of 1) the SIDI squeak and 2) logo-itis. I simply do not like wearing corporate logos. Logos on the more expensive Adventure Gore-tex and Adventure Rains are more subdued. The Discovery Rains have large white letters emblazoned across the front of the boot. To further complicate the shopping experience I discovered SIDI's Armada Gortex ($400), a beefy and good looking waterproof "convertible" boot in black leather with Gore-tex lining. The outer dual-sport sleeve provides ankle and shin protection and, once removed, reveals a fully-finished, good-looking cruising boot.

ALPINESTARS TOUCAN GTX

The Alpinestars Toucan ($449) is well-respected for their MX line. The Toucan is rich with safety features and it's also an extremely light weight boot at 2.12 lbs. You'd think that a boot of this weight would have greater flexibility but actually they're quite stiff, and they also lack the elastic collar around the top edge. Like the SIDIs, they were somewhat clunkier than I could live with. If you like this boot but can't afford the $449 price tag, take a look at their Scout model at $249. Also take note, the Alpinestars don't squeak.

DAINESE CARROARMATOA GORE-TEX

I don't know anyone who wears the Dainese Carroarmato Gore-Tex boots ($369) but they're gorgeous and very comfortable. I might have considered them except that I was by now committed to the idea of that elastic collar around the top of the boot. I would certainly recommend taking a look if you're more street touring oriented than dirt. These boots are so good looking that you could wear them with normal clothing, and they also come in white with turquoise buckles. Now that's Italian!

A SEEMINGLY UNLIMITED SELEC

The range of dual-sport or adventure boots is staggering, and this selection is as far as I got without getting completely overwhelmed. I know people who wear BMW's dual-sport boots and they probably belong in this lineup, too, but they don't advertise online and I didn't get to the dealer. If you bought a BMW from a dealership, you may well have them, along with a lot of other branded BMW gear. What other boots did I leave out? Offerings from Europe - Wulfsports, for example, which a few of my British friends love. What boots do you love that I left out? I'd love to hear about them in the comments section at the end of this post. I'll also continue the discussion on my Facebook page.

Recommendations

The overlap in touring, dual-sport, adventure touring, trials, and motocross is as varied as there are companies who provide them. Most of the trials boots I looked at online seem to have more protection than the Aerostich Combat boots, which are marketed as adventure touring boots. Your decision will vary according to the type of riding you do, size, weight, style, and price. I think the final decision comes down to these three factors:

• Safety - What features can't you live without? Mine included shin guards, heel and toe reinforcements, and ankle protection.
• Riding style - I ride mostly street and dirt roads, with enough technical trail riding to warrant seriously protective gear. And I aspire to ride more dirt. But if you ride mostly street with the occasional fire road you'll need less protection than someone who rides to search for good single track.
• Price - Adventure touring boots are expensive, but even if you need to watch your budget you don't need to sacrifice safety. There are plenty of options in the less expensive trials and MX boot categories to choose from. And don't forget Craigslist, eBay, and check out the selection of used gear in my friend Jessica's Yellow Devil Gear shop in Los Angeles. She ships!

Final Thoughts

Despite lusting a bit over the Forma Adventures and the SIDI Armadas, I don't regret choosing TCX Infinity. They've already proven themselves on long tarmac rides and single-track challenges. They've protected me from a fall in a boulder field, from a slide on shale, from water crossings and desert sands. I have forgotten that I'm wearing them for very long periods of time. Cleaning them requires a quick swipe with a sponge and the occasional touchup with black shoe polish. And they're understated enough that I can get away with wearing them off the bike with tights and a skirt. In adventure motorcycle touring, less is more, so if I wear these and pack my flip-flops, well then, it looks like I'm ready for Baja.

Join the Discussion

What boots do you wear for adventure touring? Join the discussion.

What is it?

A teaser - this little tool is intrinsic to a new development of a product I've already reviewed quite favorably. The development makes the product even better. Anyone recognize it? I covered the brand with a Post-it note.

Update on 2013-11-02 09:17 by Jonathan Hanson

The customized Trekpak/Pelican 1510 system, top layer.

Here's the rest of the story. 

Some time ago I reviewed the then-new TrekPak camera case divider system (here). I was impressed by the perfect combination of padding and shock protection offered by the relatively thin (and thus space-efficient) proprietary TrekPak divider panels. Experiments with a Pelican 1550 proved I could fit noticeably more equipment in the same volume, with equal or superior protection compared to pluck-foam or hook-and-loop foam panels. And the system was very nearly completely custom-fit.

Very nearly. The kit comprised top and bottom open-cell foam pads, a pre-cut perimeter of the TrekPak closed-cell-foam/plastic-core material, plus a bundle of pre-cut sections of the same stuff to build the interior. I found I could accommodate just about every piece of camera gear I wanted—but there were a few gaps, a few places where I couldn’t quite make the existing piece stretch where I wanted. At the time I mused that it would be nice to have panels available a la carte, but TrekPak founder Georgia Hoyer is going one better and will be offering complete, do-it-yourself kits for several models of Pelican cases. These will comprise the same top, bottom, and perimeter pieces, along with a bundle of bulk-length separator panels.

She sent me one for the Pelican 1510 rolling carry-on case I’m testing as airline transport for our camera and video equipment. I sat down with some cardboard for templates, messed around for a few minutes with placement, and then started cutting with the cunning little double-bladed cutter included in the kit. Given the generous depth of the 1510, I fabricated a two-layer system, using sections of panel as padding between them.

When I finished, I was—to use the British term—gobsmacked at the amount of equipment I’d successfully, and neatly, packed into the relatively compact (universal carry-on compliant) 2,700 cubic inches of the 1510. There were enough interior panel sections to construct exactly the matrix I needed to exploit the available space. The total comprised:

Two Canon 5D MkII bodies

Two flash units

300mm F4 L lens

70-200 F4 L lens

24-105 F4 L lens

17-40 F4 L lens

100mm macro lens

15mm fisheye lens

1.4 converter

Electronic viewfinder for video work

Two battery chargers

Two spare AA battery holders

Four spare camera batteries

Flash extension cord

Lens hoods

Card reader

Card holder

Flashlight

Simply put, I cannot imagine a better system for carrying and protecting expensive optical equipment. TrekPak has successfully produced something that existed only in my imagination for the last 25 years. Highly recommended.

Bottom layer.

TrekPak is here.