ROVA的Eleven: February/March 2019目录

Kaya It’s always been about rock climbing for me. The van was a vessel for accessing these beautiful rock-climbing destinations in North America. There’s nothing like parking your home at the base of a crag and being able to wake up and do what you love first thing in the morning. Instagram: @OneChickTravels Pedro and Zolo The road is freedom. The road takes us to the empty waves, the scenic trails, the powdery slopes. The road takes us out of the routine and into the unknown. The road challenges our comfort zone and what we think we know. The road brings the world to right outside our door. Instagram: @roamingadventurers Margaux, Ash, Mar and Bruce We are adventure opportunists exploring in our converted Mercedes Sprinter campervan, Bruce. Our van allows…

When I was young, one of my favorite things about camping with my family was helping set up the pop-up camper. I’d squirm in through that little half-door on the side of the trailer and wait while one of my parents cranked the handle to raise the roof, delighting in the whoosh and suck as the camper expanded and the air rushed in. Pop-ups (or tent campers) were big back in the 1980s, when my family traveled around Australia in our little Jayco Swan, two parents on the slide-out bed at one end, me and my (kick-happy, bed-hog) sister on the other. More recently, bigger, more modern RVs have been stealing the show, with their masses of space, fancy proper walls and mechanized slides. But there’s also been a bit…

I had been yearning to hit the road and travel for years. I’d drool over YouTube videos and Instagram pics of people living the life that I wanted. I thought that maybe my work as a professional photographer would be the way to live a life packed with travel adventures. A while back, I flew to New York City for an interview with Columbia Sportswear; they were hiring for a position that entailed worldwide travel, taking photographs and testing gear in wild places—in other words, the perfect job. I wanted that job more than anything, but I never made the final cut. After that, I saw an opening at a magazine that included traveling full-time on the road, and I applied right away. Nope. Then, I saw that Airstream had…

Film photography is experiencing a huge resurgence as an art form, especially among younger photographers. This photo essay, set in the American west, is an argument for the unique beauty of film, and the philosophy of choosing to shoot on it. About a year ago, I found myself sorting through the pictures of a recent trip on my camera’s SD card. I dreaded this process; it meant trawling through the thousands of photos I had just taken, looking for the few good ones. Thirty-two photos of a tourist viewpoint later, I decided that jpg_2242 was definitely the sharpest. Suddenly, a thought came to me: What the hell am I doing? If you’ve ever scrolled through your camera roll and seen 100 pictures of a tree, you understand exactly what I…

You never know when a stranger will ride in on horseback to rescue you. And by “on horseback,” I mean in a beat-up Toyota wagon. We were stranded in Austin while my partner Stephanie’s 1987 Chevy Elite RV was in the shop with a busted engine, just two weeks into our cross-America journey from Toronto to San Diego. After posting about the engine tragedy on Instagram, Stephanie received an unexpected message. A shaggy-haired Texan named Taylor offered to rescue us from the mid-July inferno and take us with him on a road trip to find “crystal caves.” To get there, we’d have to cross the Mexican border. Going by what I’d seen on the news, I imagined a border lined with vigilantes in full army gear patrolling for migrants, and…

I loved reading your essay on overstimulation [ROVA Adventure 10]. I felt like we can all very much relate to this ever-present struggle. – Beckey B I just picked up your magazine for the first time and love it. Great layout and stories, and wonderful photography. Great to see such a beautiful print product out in the world. – Joerg M Thank you for featuring a couple of (slightly) older travelers in ROVA Adventure 10’s ‘Why the Road’ section! – Rita L Laura Hughes’ honest article about rebuilding her life after a breakup on the road [ROVA Adventure 10] was really refreshing. We rarely see the difficult side of this lifestyle, but Laura shows how difficulties sometimes actually lead to bigger and better things. – Simone R Loved Kate Oliver’s…

Human beings have been coming together to celebrate the things we love for as long as we’ve been on earth. And the group of societal misfits and go-getting travelpreneurs that choose the road life is a growing community bonded by a zest for life and a love of the road, so it makes sense that those of us who are part of it choose to bring our rigs together to socialize and meet others. Gatherings of people living on the road certainly aren’t a new phenomenon.RV rallies have been going on for the better part of the last century. In fact, 2019 marks the 100-year anniversary of the first US-based vehicle camping club, the Tin Can Tourists, which was apparently named after these travelers’ main means of sustenance: heated food…

According to the Federal Highway Commission, 4.12 million miles of road stretch out across the States (2018). From coast to coast, or border to border, we can easily traverse this vast infrastructure. Yet sometimes a wrong turn, or a miscalculated GPS command, can lead us down a road that makes us wonder if we are coming or going. Abandoned roads, sometimes called “ghost roads,” exist in every state. From lost highways and byways, to once meticulously planned-out innerbelt systems, these crumbling passageways seem to take us back in time instead of ahead to our intended physical destination. These roads less traveled were once thriving (or intended to be), heavily commuted routes from point A to point B, instead of the roads to nowhere that they have become today. Lakeview Drive,…

“It already has a name, you know.” I tell this to my husband, Steve, after, sight unseen, we buy a Land Rover Defender 110 from a couple driving through Africa. We’ll pick it up in Ethiopia and drive it back to our current home in Botswana. There are so many logistics to figure out; so many real issues to take care of. But I’m focused on the name. The Landy comes with a name already, in fact. Her current drivers call her Henrietta. The drivers before that called her Harvey. But for us, she’s Toto. Sometimes, in bouts of impromptu celebration, we blast Toto’s “Africa” and dance around our flat—overwhelmed with the joy of living in Botswana. Anticipating the eventual heartbreak of leaving, I vowed that our next vehicle would…

Rolling south from Las Vegas on I-15, a traveler might feel the urge to press more heavily on the gas, and the few landmarks don’t offer much motivation to the contrary. In the rearview mirror, the man-made oasis of Primm beguiles with neon casinos and a yellow roller-coaster: Nevada’s last grasp at your wallet. Just west, on the California side of the road, mysterious towers flash white-hot in the corners of your eyes—enormous boilers, with hundreds of thousands of rotating mirrors pointing sunlight at them, generating solar power by the gigawatt. By exit 286, for Nipton Road, there’s no apparent reason to stop—not even gas or food. Not here, in the parched endless scrub, where a summer day can melt your tires, and where your cell phone is only slightly…

The Keweenaw Peninsula is a largely unknown gem located in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, only accessible by one bridge to the mainland. I attended college in Houghton, Michigan, on the mainland side of the bridge, and after five years had begun to call this area my home. During a conversation with a Yooper (that’s someone from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, for those wondering—UP becomes Yoop) at a bicycle shop, I had asked him what he liked so much about living such a secluded life on the Keweenaw Peninsula. He replied, “It’s God’s country; God made it and forgot about it.” It’s a particularly interesting region in that regard; the natural beauty of the Keweenaw is indisputable; scenic lake drives, rivers, waterfalls and beaches give this region a reputation for stunning…

Sometimes, the fog gets so thick on the Delmarva Peninsula that drops of dew will form on your eyelashes. When that happens, it’s as if you’re looking through a watery kaleidoscope. A slight tilt of your head will make the shoreline sparkle and dance. Listen hard for the muffled putt-putt of a fishing boat carefully making its way back to the dock, and take a deep breath so that the salty air fills your nostrils. Welcome to the eastern shore. The eastern shore of what, though? And Delmarva where? The most thorough search on a map won’t turn up either locale. Both the eastern shore and Delmarva are more of a state of mind than actual places, but break down the word Delmarva and you’ll find yourself with Delaware, Maryland…

The road to adventure isn’t always a smooth one. When my wife, Rachel, and I set out on our five-week adventure, pulling a decrepit camper around the United States, rather than worrying, I prepared. Fearful thoughts about trailer tires exploding and my tow vehicle dying in the middle of nowhere still crept in now and then, but I felt prepared—and I couldn’t have predicted the issues that we would actually face. Nobody wants to hear a story in which everything goes according to plan. Trouble distinguishes a vacation from an adventure. The airline lost your luggage and you had to wear your sister’s panties for a couple of days. A package of cookies slid off the dashboard in Montreal and got stuck under the brake pedal. These are the stories…

Ten Sleep is a place for beer, mule deer, rock climbing, and picking the brains of locals; locals who, in an elegantly rough way, unjar the type of wisdom only found in solitary folk who have somehow managed to cultivate a well-traveled life by staying put right in the heart of the mountains. It’s a place that’ll warm you from the core. When my girlfriend and I arrived in town, exhausted and ready for a drink, we made our way straight to the Ten Sleep Saloon, where we were greeted by an oddly comforting sign: TITS. This Is Ten Sleep. We had found a little diamond in that rough western land. Our reason for choosing this ranch town and its canyon counterpart as a stopping point was simple: glorious bands…

I’ve driven through 44 states; I’ve seen a lot of roadkill. Louisiana was the only state where I saw an alligator on the shoulder. It was also the only state where I ate alligator (a different one), jambalaya and boudin, and saw a tiger at a gas station. Driving through southeastern Louisiana showed me that there’s more to the Pelican State than wetlands; however, the swamps and marshes are still a big part of the culture (and, surprisingly, less mosquito-infested than I’d expected). But we weren’t in Louisiana to go swamping—we were there to eat. They say you are what you eat, and there’s no better way to find out exactly what you are than by getting off of the highway and sampling the local fare. I chose to head…

It was the end of the year. Christmas had yet to arrive, and my wife and I were ready to get out of the big smoke. There’s a lot to be said for living in the city, but peace and serenity are not among those things—especially in a city like New York. 2018 was a pretty massive year for us in a lot of ways—some good, some not so much—and we were aching for some much-needed convalescence. We were faced with a decision about where to go for our two-week break, and instead of choosing Europe or Costa Rica, we decided to find our own sanctuary that would allow us some space from reality, and the ability to pretty much stay put for the duration of our break. This would…