Camping has been an American pastime for far longer than anyone reading this website has been alive. However, most of those with RVs tend to take them to manicured campgrounds with facilities, lots of other campers, and a stable connection to the outside world. Last week, I did just the opposite of that by taking a camper out into the wilderness in Washington State where there were no people, no internet, no politics, or anything but my big orange bear-proof capsule, nature, and my own thoughts. Going into that big nothing was easily one of the greatest experiences of my life.
Last week, I finally got to test one of the wildest campers I’ve ever written about. The Mammoth Overland Extinction Level Event trailer, also known as ELE or “Ellie,” was designed to be a bunker on wheels. This is a camper that’s built like a plane because its manufacturer also builds planes. But more than that, it’s just plain silly and fun with its features like a Geiger counter, a bear spray cannon system, submarine-style doors, optional bulletproofing, weapons storage, a drone launch platform, cameras, an observation deck, a sealed cabin with an air-filtration system, and so much more.
ELE was easily the coolest thing I’ve ever slept in and other trailers don’t come close. To be clear, I don’t think the ELE is the best camper ever built, but its mix of genuinely usable features, good build quality, and theme take its cool factor off of the charts.
Yet, this trip turned into way more than just reviewing an orange trailer. It was an adventure I’ve never experienced before.
(Full Disclosure: Mammoth Overland loaned me its very first ELE to use for two nights and three days. Differential Communications, the PR arm behind brands like Mammoth Overland and Overland Expo, loaned me an overland-prepped Ford Ranger. Diff Comms paid for my travel to and from Mammoth Overland’s factory. I paid for my own fuel and provisions.)
If you’re one of our many readers living in a big city or in a flat place like the Midwest or Florida, the idea of just randomly driving out into the wilderness is probably foreign to you. Indeed, if I check a trail map of my home state of Illinois, the only fire roads are at the very southern tip of the state in the beautiful Shawnee National Forest. Even that picturesque forest doesn’t hold a candle to what our friends out West and in the Pacific Northwest can do.
If you’re in a state like Oregon or Washington, you can leave pavement, drive deep into a forest, and perhaps not emerge from the trees for an entire weekend if you wanted to. These states have expansive trail networks spanning far and wide.
There are so many of them that you, like me, might even go an extended period of time without civilization, let alone another human face. You can drive for miles up mountains on trails without any real destinations and on trails that split off from that other trail that also has no real destination. There are just so many trails like that in Washington State alone that I feel like it would take you years to explore them all.
But I didn’t know that when I answered the email from Mammoth Overland. I knew I was going on a solo trip and I figured I wouldn’t be able to talk to my wife or the Autopian team, but I had no real idea what was about to happen.
Yet, I was excited.
Always Moving Forward
I have been living my life pretty much at full throttle since I came out as transgender on Halloween 2014. I sped through my coming out process, got on hormones, donated all of my old clothes, and became “full-time” before January 2015 was even halfway through. I then began navigating my new world at about the same speed, losing nearly all of my friends, dealing with major backlash at work, and upending my relationship with my family simultaneously. And this was a decade ago before most people had even heard of the word “transgender.”
But I never stopped my forward momentum. If anything, I grabbed that steering wheel harder, tore the rearview mirror off of the windshield, and welded the accelerator to the floor. The only path is straight ahead and there is no looking back.
This strategy has resulted in a life I never knew was possible. I advanced in my old IT career, getting high enough that I was coding with Java. I got my motorcycle license and started wrenching on barn-find bikes for fun. Then I closed the gate on the IT path and tried something entirely new when our lovely founders first gave me a chance by letting me onboard at the old site.
When I was 20 I had no idea what life was going to be like at 30. I barely knew what I wanted to do just a couple of days ahead. I felt that there wasn’t a future for me. If you told me that I would spend my late 20s and early 30s traveling the country driving everything from 700 HP pickup trucks to a freaking diesel-electric locomotive, I would have scoffed.
Now, I think that’s just the beginning. I know what I want to do many years out. I want to see if I could get a Smart around the Nürburgring in under 10 minutes. I want to get my private pilot certificate. I want to drive a loaded train, haul with a semi-truck, get into the flight deck of a Boeing 747, and experience as many of the world’s car and motorcycle cultures as possible. I even want to drive a garbage truck just to feel what it is like. There’s a whole world of gasoline, diesel, and electricity out there and I want to experience it. And, maybe, one day I could open the door for other trans people who love vehicles, just as Jason and David did for me.
There’s a downside to all of this. In recent years people like me have become a hot-button political issue. It’s easy to get lost, doom-scrolling through horrifying headlines through terrifying headlines. It sucks that my existence is a contentious subject, even more so that the talking heads rarely ever talk to us.
But, in living a full-throttle life there’s never time to process it because you’re always onto the next thing. Maybe it’s a giant air show, a pretty vintage Plymouth, or spending a weekend with family. Or, maybe that next thing is more bad news. I was recently diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes. I’ve been warned about my predisposition to diabetes since I was an early teenager, but somehow I beat the odds, until now. Maybe my genetics caught up with me or maybe I treated myself too poorly during the pandemic. Whatever the reason, it’s here.
My doctor told me it was possible that I could help my condition by treating myself better. So, I started working out, I cut the garbage out of my diet, and I lost 45 pounds. Yet, right before I went on this trip, I was informed that my A1C had skyrocketed. I was rattled. But I didn’t have time as I had a plane to catch the next day.
As I noted in my review of ELE, I started my trip by arriving at the Mammoth Overland factory and meeting the awesome team behind the campers. Then, they tossed me the keys to the gray Ford Ranger outside and gave me coordinates for a few scenic vistas. That was it. For the next three days and two nights, I was entirely on my own on a real choose-my-own-adventure trip.
Most press trips are highly curated. You go to a place, meet up with a bunch of other journalists, and you’re glued to the automaker’s program for the entire trip. There isn’t really any wandering off on your own or changing the parameters of the trip. I have done a solo press trip before when I reviewed the Can-Am Ryker in 2021. In that instance, BRP tossed me a key and told me I had to get from San Francisco to Los Angeles in five days, but it was entirely up to me how I got there. I never left civilization. I always drove on busy roads, stayed near bustling towns and cities, and stayed in populated hotels. I never felt truly alone.
This time, I embraced the solo trip. I opened up an onX trail map and decided to find a large trail system that I could disappear into. I’d never done this before and expected that I’d see plenty of off-roaders out on the trails, but at least I’d be in the wilderness, testing the camper in its natural environment.
Disappearing Into The Green
I chose to keep my adventure roughly in the vicinity of the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. This kept my trip within relatively easy driving distance of Mammoth Overland, which was nice since the Ranger got 10 mpg at best when towing the trailer. But as the U.S. Forest Service says, I chose a place with a lot of history:
The history of Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest claims a colorful past of more than a century of controversy, shifting philosophies, policies or boundaries. Washington state citizens were outraged in 1897 when President Cleveland turned the eight million acres of forest into reserves, keeping them from cutting timber, mining, farming and grazing. Although later legislative action allowed for these activities, it shows how much public sentiment about land use has changed.
In 1905 the forest reserves became part of the newly formed United States Forest Service. In the early years rangers watched over the forest, with their first duty to protect it from fire. Recruits withstood a three-day ordeal to apply for a Forest Service job in the 1900s, having to successfully complete such tasks as: “felling a tree 10 or more inches in diameter with an axe so that it drives a stake into the ground when it falls; tell the boss man what ingredients and how much of each to use in preparing a batch of biscuits; and, pack a horse with all the equipment and personal effects for five days while being timed,” according to a ranger’s letter in the forest’s archives.
In 1908 the Washington reserve was divided into two sections. From Canada south to the Skagit River, the Washington National Forest was established; and from the Skagit River to the Green River the Snoqualmie National Forest. In 1924 the Washington National Forest was renamed the Mt. Baker National Forest. Throughout the years Congress shifted boundaries while forests shifted districts, and in 1973 the Mt. Baker and Snoqualmie National Forests merged.
I entered a trail network from its south end at approximately 3 p.m. on Wednesday. At first, things were as I expected. I parked the truck to take my first picture:
As I did that, some other pickup trucks rolled by, which was as I expected. Yet, as it turns out, those trucks were entering and leaving a quarry near the entrance of the fire road. Once I drove past the operation I stopped seeing vehicles of any kind. My internet waned and then disappeared. Quickly, it was just me, the truck, and the tunes I had saved on a memory card.
I then drove for miles around this mountainous area, taking me about four hours to reach my camping spot for the night, an area overlooking Mt. Baker, the Skagit River, and some communities below. I had to skip a bunch of trails to make it here with the time I had. At least on the first night, I wanted to set down before I lost all sunlight. I was in an unfamiliar place, after all.
By the time I reached camp it had been four hours since I last saw a vehicle, a person, or even a mammal of considerable size. It was as if I entered another realm where it was just me, a Ford Ranger, and an orange camper. I even expected someone else to be camping where I was. I found rock piles where people clearly had fires here in the past, but on that night I was all by myself.
It looked like this area should have been covered by trees, but it appears they were cleared out either by a logging operation or something else. Either way, I was at roughly 3,300 feet to 3,500 feet or so with a perfect view of Mt. Baker to the north.
The Liberation In Solitude
The weird part was that I wasn’t entirely away from civilization. The Skagit River was maybe about a mile down the mountain I was on and I could see cars driving down roads off in the distance. I even got to hear the air raid sirens which notified volunteer firefighters of an emergency. Despite that, I felt like I was in a world all on my own. I was so near civilization, yet so far. It was dead quiet with just me, the camper, and my piss-poor attempt at cooking a steak in a pot.
As the sun approached the horizon I popped a chair on a cliff’s edge and just sat there. For the first time in as long as I could remember I took my foot off of the throttle. I sat in near total silence with just a gentle breeze and nature around me. In that moment there were no other people, no Internet, no news, and nothing else but what felt like myself and infinite time.
I thought about my life until that point and where I wanted it to go. I broke down a bit, realizing that I’m doing something I never thought possible and you know what? This human condition thing is pretty awesome.
Eventually, the sun dipped below the mountains and then disappeared. I heard some animals nearby so I hopped in the camper, closed the doors, and popped out of the roof hatch. That night, I stargazed from ELE’s roof platform, seeing more stars in the dark of night than I’ve seen in the longest of time. I was still alone, too, with nothing but ELE and nature. The solitude further sunk in, but I wasn’t scared. Instead, it was liberating. I got one of the best night’s sleep after retiring to ELE’s bed.
I woke up the next day refreshed, and once again, I was totally alone. I got to watch a mountain sunrise in the cool air surrounded by nature. Eventually, I heard the sound of truck tires hammering their way down the pavement below. People were waking up, going to work, and the state of Washington was gearing up for a warm Thursday. But there I was, now 17 hours since I last saw another person, and my world was different than theirs.
Eventually, I made my way down the trail system and touched pavement some 20 hours since I last saw a face. I didn’t need to do this. I could have driven down the many trails I skipped the night before. Admittedly, I had a strong desire to go swimming, but I didn’t have much luck finding bodies of water on the trails. Somehow, I snaked my way to the Stillaguamish River. It wasn’t quite the picturesque clear mountain lake swim I had dreams of, but I still had a ton of euphoria taking a dip and hiking local trails.
Refreshed, I hit the trails again, driving on the fire roads around Mt. Baker itself before heading off in random directions, passing through a town called Concrete, and wrapping my way around the mountains of the Illabot Peaks. I had no idea where I was going or even what I was doing, but no matter where I went the solitude was refreshing.
It wasn’t all relaxation, either. I was smart enough to download some offline trail maps, which seemed like cheating, but I needed them because the fire roads around Washington aren’t always wide enough for an overland-prepped truck, let alone a camping trailer. Sometimes I encountered trails with so little clearance that trees bashed the roof tent on the Ranger while ELE did some trail clearing of their own.
In one instance, a trail became so tight that I decided to bail before I got stuck someplace without an easy way out. My trail maps only told me that this trail was of moderate difficulty, and while that was true, I was shoving a rig that was far too big somewhere it clearly didn’t belong. Clearance got progressively worse as I drove and I began to think about being forced to reverse the truck and trailer for who knows how long.
But how do you turn a 4×4 truck plus a trailer around when the trail you’re on isn’t even wide enough for the truck alone? Well, I had to get creative. I found a small clearing just large enough to shove ELE into, leaving barely enough space for the Ranger to inch over.
I then jackknifed the trailer and performed my most dangerous U-turn ever. I saw nothing past the Ranger’s hood but sky and I had a margin of just feet before the Ranger would tumble down a mountain. But, I pulled it off. I was so triumphant, I stopped to get myself a snack.
To further illustrate how deep I’ve gotten myself, I found two abandoned vehicles on one of the trails in the area. It looked like this truck broke down and the owner decided to abandon it rather than haul it out miles to the nearest paved road.
Or maybe it was stolen? Either way, the poor Nissan had been there for a while.
The trail maps weren’t trustworthy, either. I drove on the trails all day and decided to make camp next to a body of water. I plotted my route using onX and things seemed easy enough. I found myself passing by more abandoned cars and even a sweet bridge on the way to camp.
Then, one of the trails just ended. My trail map suggested that this trail should have continued, but there was no path forward. The tracks left in the ground by other vehicles suggested that I wasn’t the only one caught up by this.
Once again, I found that there wasn’t enough room for the truck and the trailer to turn around, so I backed ELE right to the edge of a cliff, pushed the truck’s brush guard into a branch, and inched my way out. By the end of my trip I think I had to do maybe five or so frustrating U-turns either because the maps were wrong or I missed a turn.
But, just as the sun disappeared, I reached camp.
Calm Waters And Tranquility
I decided to camp for the night at a place called Texas Pond. This was a known dispersed camping spot with limited infrastructure including a couple of picnic tables, a fire ring, and a pit toilet. It also has some history, from Discover Darrington:
This was once the location of the guard station for the Suiattle-Finney Forest District, now part of the Darrington Ranger District. Tommy Thompson was the first ranger at Texas Pond. A Sub-Ranger Station, or guard station, was built mostly by Tommy. When it was completed in 1908, he married his sweetheart Ella and there they spent their honeymoon and lived until 1914. There was also a large cedar bolt camp at Texas Pond which Tommy and Ella supervised. You can still see the chute which was used to send the cedar bolts down to the Sauk River. A steel wheel was used to control the water level of the pond.
When the water was lowered to drain down the chute, the bolts were pushed through and onward to the Sauk River. Today many of the massive cedar stumps can be seen throughout the pond. One may canoe here to examine things further. In 1913, plans were made to relocate the guard station to the Suiattle River drainage. Since funds were limited, local materials were utilized, Tommy again, building the guard station mostly by himself. His skills as a builder, using logs with dovetail joint corners are a testament to his outdoor skills. This building still stands today in service as a vacation rental.
Despite Texas Pond having a website and a pin on Google Maps I once again found myself alone in the darkness. The solitude hit differently on that night. I wasn’t on top of an overlook with cars buzzing around nearby and towns giving off some light pollution. It was pitch black and there was nothing but the sounds of pond water gently lapping against the shore and nocturnal animals moving about.
It was so dark out that I didn’t even dare try to visit the pit toilet. Thankfully, ELE’s lighting system delivered and I must have been something like a ball of light in the middle of darkness. But once those lights were off, I found myself in the darkest of the dark nights I’ve ever experienced and the only light at all came from the moon and the stars.
I woke up the final morning to catch another sunrise and eventually, I made it right to about a full day without seeing another person. I showered naked in nature, went for a hike, and explored the Texas Pond. And again, there was nothing but my own thoughts and nature, an experience I never had prior to that trip.
I returned the truck as a refreshed Mercedes with a new perspective on the world. I finally let off the gas and took the world in. I tuned out the digital landscape, ignored social media, and detoxified myself from, well, everything. Admittedly, I wasn’t ready to go back. I wanted to be in the wilderness forever.
If you can get a chance, go on a trip by yourself. Leave everything you don’t need behind. Don’t bring a Starlink with you or anything like that. Just find someplace pretty and set your stakes or your RV down. You’ll experience something unforgettable. I can’t wait for the next time I can disappear into the middle of nowhere and find tranquility I’ve never experienced before.
(Images: Author)
Welcome to my back yard, Mercedes! I’ve spent years exploring the Mount Baker Snoqualmie fire roads, and I’ve done most sections of the Backcountry Discovery Route, which lets you overland all of WA State from the Canadian border to Oregon, without touching asphalt (and connects to a similar one in OR, and CA).
Coming originally from the East Coast, it took a while to get used to the solitude and and scale of “middle of nowhere.” Of course many Western states have this feature, but there’s something special about Washington’s climate and landscape
Hope to see you again in this neck of the woods, literally.
Glad you had this experience, and even happier you shared it with us. I sometimes forget that a large portion of our population live in densely populated areas that they never leave. I know that seems obvious, but sometimes Experience Bias is a sneaky-strong influence. I’d encourage you to spend some more time outdoors backpacking or even backcountry ADV motorcycle riding – both will expand your capabilities and horizons as a human, as well as have a huge health benefit. As a side note, I’m actually sitting in my truck camper writing this from Kentucky on my way home from a solo cross country dirtbike / mountain bike trip to the Black Hills. It was the first time I’d driven across rural Iowa and Illinois. It was amazing in it’s own way, but I was struck by the lack of healthy / quality food options in the small towns scattered along the route – It seemed like there wasn’t anything available except the processed and frozen options at Dollar General type places, and the few restaurants I saw were pizza or sub places. maybe I was just looking in the wrong places, but I can see how hard it would be to live a healthy lifestyle out here. I live in a small rural mountain town, but we have farmers markets and butcher shops. Anyway, thanks for this piece, it was great.
Welcome to camping in Australia…
I’m so glad to know you visited my neck of the woods. Skagit, Stillaguamish are are names I know really well, but the beauty of it is only you know where you got to. I only know my spots, mostly along off the I-90. Next time you’re in the area I’d love to show you my diesel, a 16 horse Beta (i.e. a marine Kubota)
Damn, I just realized it’s been over 20 years since I’ve seen a night sky that wasn’t glowing with at least some light pollution. Sounds like a great trip. Makes me miss my old wagon even more (I hate trying to sleep in a tent).
I’m more of a day trip person (indoor plumbing is my jam) but I’d say that natural beauty is often company enough no matter how lonely you are.
Mercedes seems to be living her best life and we’re all in for the ride. I for one am totally for it. I did the train journey to the Grand Canyon on her recommendation and it was a highlight of my spring vacation roadtrip.
Never had a better detox than hitching up a backpack and a tent and heading out aimlessly into the woods. The silence and focus of nature is innate. Good for you for finding yourself and then reveling in it!
There is something to stillness and silence that is rejuvenating-I believe science is fairly definitive on meditation, as an example. Good opportunity to listen to a higher power, if you so choose.
Another excellent piece. I am more of a hike in and out, sleep in a tent and bag kind of guy, but I am interested in that Ranger.
Mercedes, what a start losing that much weight! I’m in the same boat as you, I lost the genetic lottery, and not even being pretty athletic (but admittedly too heavy) mattered. Hell, I even had a heart attack at 42, so yeah I definitely lost that lottery! You will figure out exactly what diet works for you, exercise, and let me tell you some of these new injection medications are wonderful. I’ve been taking Dulaglutide (Trulicity) .75 mg for three years now and my a1c is consistently around 6.0. You got this girl!
This feels more like real camping to me, would really enjoy the solitude and the beauty, but I’m never 100% clear on where you’re allowed to do this. I know some types of federal land, mostly out west, but, beyond that? Hell, I don’t even know how to figure out which Walmarts and Cracker Barrels let you use their parking lots
Also, I feel like you almost buried the bit about losing 45lbs like it’s no big deal, that’s a really significant amount, enough that you probably even feel the difference when you just walk around and stuff. I’ve only dropped about 20 since January, and I know I feel it
It can be a little confusing. Basically, “bandit camping,” or Dispersed Camping as it’s officially known, is permitted on county, state, and federal lands that are not clearly marked otherwise. The feds have a confusing alphabet soup of agencies, but if it’s not a National Forest or National Park (both of which have camping rules), it’s probably Bureau of Land Management.
I look for signage, cross-check the OnX app, and pack out all my crap.
I don’t know much about onX, other than in the premium levels one can see ownership boundaries. That would give a user an indication of public land and the responsible agency.
I’m most familiar with BLM, Forest Service and National Park lands. The BLM is permissive about camping in areas not designated as “wilderness.” The Forest Service is more restrictive and wants people to camp in designated sites. Designated sites often have no amenities. National Parks, in my experience, allow camping only on paved pads with amenities for a fee.
County and state parks we try to avoid because they, like National Parks, allow camping on designated sites for a fee.
“Yet, right before I went on this trip, I was informed that my A1C had skyrocketed.”
Oof, you have my sympathy!
You’ve already done the cut out junk and lose weight things, congratulations on that. Losing weight is NOT easy.
Something else you might try is a keto diet. As a diabetic, carbs are your frenemy. You need some carbs to stay alive but too much is like sandpaper grinding down your insides. I’ve seen the consequences firsthand, you do NOT want to go there.
Keto minimizes carbs so it helps. Fiber helps too, mostly to keep you feeling satisfied longer to cut the snack cravings.
There is some good news. A small amount of alcohol with meals can help:
https://diabetes.org/health-wellness/alcohol-and-diabetes
Of course YMMV so if you haven’t already done so check with your doctor about all this first.
Keep working at it, you’ll get there.
I went on a solo trip around the western half of the country when I was 22. I had asked a couple friends if they wanted to come with, but none did, so I said well I’m going anyway. I never got anywhere remote like you did, but doing that trip solo was one of the defining moments of my life. I stopped when I wanted, ate when and where I wanted, my only responsibility for two weeks was getting to my next city. And what I found was a sense of total freedom I’d not experienced before or since.
Excellent article. I once drove around New England for a week, car camping at trail heads and doing solo hikes during the day. You reminded me of the inner peace that can be found in letting go of life’s chaos for just a little while, so well done for that. The world is so quiet when you get away from civilization.
But how do you cook a steak in a pot? That trailer has to have a flamethrower hidden somewhere.
One does have to ask: what about the camper? What does it do well, and not? As the owner of an overland type trailer, one that doesn’t look like a lunar lander, I have a natural skepticism towards the high priced over the top rigs. With your RV experience, I hope a more technical review is forthcoming.
See, this is why context is important! 🙂
My review of the trailer itself is right here:
https://www.theautopian.com/what-it-was-like-sleeping-in-a-bulletproof-bear-spraying-camper-called-extinction-level-event/
I get a twinge of sadness whenever someone gets to camp somewhere remote enough that it’s genuinely dark save for starlight and/or moonlight. When I grew up, it was easy enough to experience in camping or scouting outings. Even my home in what would be considered an “exurb” today was in a place that got plenty dark at night. (And nobody lit up their houses like prison yards, either, which helped.) As I’ve gotten older, light pollution has gotten painfully obvious to me and I miss the dark nighttimes of my youth, the blackness often punctuated by far more fireflies than we’re likely to see today.
I’m glad you got to experience the peace and stillness of nighttime genuinely away from developed areas. Yes, it might be jarring to our modern, always-connected selves. But stay with it, go back to it, and you’ll find it’s comforting to just be yourself in the middle of the wilds, under a blanket of distant stars.
Great writeup Mercedes, sounds like you had a great time! QQ, if you have a quick idea: Have a 24 GTI, and i’d love to be able to get a small camper to pull so me and the pup can do some of those kinda weekends. You are clearly tied into the camper scene – have any good recommendations? Ive seen some of the cool smallish ones you have written about, but most of them dont seem to be out yet or are only in Europe at this point. Oh, and I dont need to worry about the zombie apocalypse…
Great insight, and it’s great to read about how you’ve stood above all the BS.
I have found a similar peace while on canoe trips in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, which is in northeast Minnesota. Because it’s a wilderness, no vehicles are allowed, but there’s no roads anyway. Canoe is the only way to get around.
Now my trips up there have been with my BIL, so I wasn’t alone. But I did take a 6000-mile solo road trip in 2014 to meet my birthmom and bio-sibs for the first time, and that trip was mind-blowing. Had the wife and kids been with me, I’d have spent all of my time stressing about their needs instead of focusing on a life-changing reunion with my biological family.
What an article!! You have my immense jealousy on this trip! Those photos are breathtaking!
Great story, SO glad you enjoyed yourself.
I am not brave enough to do this with a trailer but I do this kind of camping a lot in mn, nd, sd and WI and have done it in most of the western states at least once.
This is what I have my jeep for.
There are so many great places in national forests to camp. I love not having to make campground reservations. Just grab my stuff, my multi-use vehicle maps and go.
Next time you want to go and not see people for a few days Check out the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest in Wisconsin or the Superior national forest in northern Minnesota. It is a lot closer to Illinois. I will remote dispersed camp for the rest of my life I love it so much.
PS. I would even share some good spots if you promise to keep them to yourself. 🙂
Great write up, reminded me about my first time alone in Baja, sometimes a trip like that can reset so many perspectives
There’s a book in you somewhere, or perhaps a documentary. I’d read/view it.
Nice write up. Washington has some of the thickest forests I’ve ever tried to navigate through. The wild raspberry’s are everywhere there 🙂
Definitely worth fighting the bears for.
What a great experience for you! I’m so glad you got to do that. I’ve started recording long form video from places I enjoy being for the times I’m back at work and need to feel a little of that again. Here is my latest if you are feeling the need to sit by a high mountain lake anytime.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6BZ0D2dAGM
Well written article – loved the adventure and the great, honest, from the heart, narrative. Sometimes a path one takes can really illuminate your purpose.
I love adventuring in the unknown, whether that’s hiking up Mt. Jefferson at night, or camping in the middle of Nebraska under the Milky Way’s 200 billion stars. It is a great way to cut through all of society’s issues and…just…relax.
I do honestly love you Mercedes.
Yet there’s WAY too much redundant stuff in the follow up articles posted. Sorry.
Maybe being a bit harsh here, but too much redundancy can cause boredom, or the decision not to read the article with the same stuff you read from the original. Just in the hope that there’s something new to digest.
Which does not help the click count. Serious.
Would probably become a member if you and DT could include less reruns of the same constantly.
Wish you a nice weekend.
There’s a saying in our industry and it’s “write for the readers you want, not for the readers you have.” The vast majority of people reading this website are not members and likely aren’t reading everything we publish. There’s going to be a high percentage of people who read this who did not read the last one.
So, the redundancy can get annoying for loyal readers, but it’s helpful for the people who didn’t read previous entries. Admittedly, it’s hard to find the perfect balance between presenting new and old information, because as you say, old information may bore existing readers, but then that information is also new for new or infrequent readers.
The funny thing is that I used to get straight to the point and readers complained that there wasn’t enough context. I’ll try to find a better balance in the future. I hope you have a great weekend, as well!
I agree with Mercedes on this. Many times I read an article and it only provides a link to the previous article. I now have to lose my train of thought (oh shiny thing!!!) to get up to date when a few sentences in the original would have helped. I often get lost and never make it back to the original.
Again my apologies.
Just in a shit place today. Sorry. I love your stuff actually. My bad here.
Yet re-reading the history of a bus builder, camper builder, plane maker, etc. just feels a bit much at times. But that’s on me, again mea culpa here. I worked in broadcast media for many, many years. But realize that you have made great points. I will just learn to skip the redundant things.
“The mantra was keep it simple. Because that’s what we are about. Don’t waste air time with too much detail. People have short attention spans.”
To quote Don Henley: “is the head dead yet?”
And just realized that has probably clouded my perspective too greatly. And to be 100% honest here, I do sit and yell at the TV, especially the “news” on offer in America.
As mentioned before here many times, modern media has become pretty much a generic joke. From News on TV to magazines, to especially broadcast radio, to the WWW thing. Probably because I am old, and stuff changes, but 90% of what I see or hear is all “copy and paste” these days.
I’m glad you enjoy the camping. There’s not much better than to clean out the brain with new fresh experiences and contentment that Nature has on offer.
And you take great pictures too. Again, I very much appreciate the hard work and effort by you. Have a good one.
As someone with ADD, when we were forced to read old “classics” in school written by authors who were paid by the word to write for people with limited life experience and little other sources of entertainment, I learned to skim stuff if I find it either repetitive or too verbose (writes the tricephalic dog who posts excessively long comments). I do miss important stuff sometimes, but it’s the only way I can read some things. Thankfully, Mercedes is not Dickens, but I get what you’re writing in a general sense.
I didn’t realize Mercedes already wrote about this until I read these comments. Reading this adventure for the first time and I’m loving it. The journey, the solitude, the cleansing of mind and spirit, all of it