2021 RAM 3500 Tradesman | AEV Prospector | FWC Grandby

[ramblinChet]

This report presents the system validation and verification results for my solar power system and battery bank after 30 days of off-grid travel. The sole power source consisted of two 250-watt solar panels (Rich Solar) connected to a solar charge controller (SmartSolar MPPT 100/30) and a 200 Ah battery bank (two LiTime 12V 100Ah Group 24 Deep Cycle LiFePO4 batteries). Neither the AC-DC charger (Blue Smart IP22 Charger 12V-30A) nor the DC-DC charger (Orion XS 12/12-50A) was used during this period. The objective was to evaluate the adequacy of the solar system and battery bank capacity to support off-grid travel demands.

System validation and verification for a vehicle’s solar-based electrical system involves confirming that the setup meets design specifications and performs reliably under anticipated operating conditions. Validation ensures the system addresses the intended purpose (e.g., providing consistent power for off-grid requirements), while verification confirms proper integration and functionality of components. This process is critical for my setup, where approximately 65% of operation occurs under forest canopy (reducing solar input) and 35% in semi-open areas with partial sunlight, enabling early identification of inefficiencies.

The histogram below illustrates the maximum state-of-charge (SOC) achieved by the battery bank during each 24-hour cycle. Over the 30-day period, the maximum SOC ranged from 64% to 100%, with 18 days recording values between 96% and 100%. Although I did not log the specific times when SOC reached 100%, this value was frequently attained around midday. These results indicate that the system has sufficient solar capacity for most of September’s operating conditions. It will be valuable to assess performance during December and January, when solar input is typically lower. Overall, I am satisfied with these initial findings, as the system exceeded the design goal of providing sufficient power for seven days using solar energy alone, successfully delivering power for the entire 30-day period.


The histogram below illustrates the minimum SOC achieved by the battery bank during each 24-hour cycle. Over the 30-day period, the minimum SOC ranged from 49% to 92%, with 12 days recording values between 79% and 89%. The minimum SOC was typically reached early in the morning, just before sunrise. During the system design, my goal was to ensure the SOC rarely dropped to 25%. The fact that the lowest recorded SOC over the 30-day period was 49%, with all other values higher, demonstrates the system’s robust performance.


The screenshot below, captured from the Victron Energy solar charge controller, displays the energy collected by the system over the past 30 days. The white portion of each column represents the percentage of time spent in Bulk charge mode, while light blue indicates the Absorption phase and medium blue denotes the Float phase. The data shows that the system reached the Float phase on over half of the days, with a few days only reaching the Absorption phase. This indicates that the system was fully or nearly fully charged for approximately two-thirds of the time. On September 23–25, rainy conditions limited solar input, while on September 26–28, the system operated primarily under forest canopy, absorbing as much energy as possible. By September 29, the system fully recovered and reached the Float phase.


This data is associated with the chart above - note I changed Absorption from 120 minutes to 60 minutes on 18-Sep-25. I attempted to attach the CSV file to this post for further review but the uploaded file does not have an allowed extension.


I will periodically measure system performance and publish updates similar to this report. Evaluating the system’s behavior over the coming years will provide valuable insights into its long-term performance and alignment with design expectations. There's no sensation to compare with this - suspended animation, a state of bliss...

 

[redthies]

Nice rig. I’m curious how you make (made?) your living. Your thread detail makes me think some sort of scientist? My build threads are usually about 15 pages. This one reads like a shop manual with the level of detail!

 

[Pacific Northwest yetti]

I think he mentioned aerospace engineer, or something in that realm.

 

[Mekcanix]

Also military

 

[ramblinChet]

Nice rig. I’m curious how you make (made?) your living. Your thread detail makes me think some sort of scientist? My build threads are usually about 15 pages. This one reads like a shop manual with the level of detail!

Thank you for your kind words. I admire your exceptional work in restoring classic Airstreams. As @Mekcanix noted, I am a retired military veteran, having served as an Aviation Warfare Operator and Aviation Rescue Swimmer. This role provided a strong foundation, combining the technical aspects of Naval Aviation with the tactical demands of Naval Special Operations. In high school, I struggled academically, graduating last in my class and finding math particularly challenging. However, my military service instilled purpose and a clear set of goals. After nearly two years of rigorous training, during which many peers dropped-on-request, I recognized that perseverance and inner drive are critical to success.

Over the past few decades, I have held roles as a technician, technologist, engineer, and technical project manager at American, German, and Swiss companies. Additionally, as @Pacific Northwest yetti mentioned, I worked at NASA Langley Research Center and completed all coursework for an MS in Aeronautics. In engineering and technical fields, providing accurate information is critical to ensuring the safety, reliability, and success of an integrated system. Inaccurate data or assumptions can lead to design flaws, operational failures, or costly rework. Despite my professional background, I consider myself an ordinary individual with a passion for designing, building, and testing complex systems. Below is a summary of key insights for all men:

• mind
  • continuous learning and intellectual curiosity
  • mental toughness and resilience
  • discipline and prudence
• body
  • physical exercise as stewardship
  • nutritious diet and hydration
  • adequate rest and recovery
• soul
  • pursuing sanctity through the Sacraments
  • charity and family leadership
  • moral integrity and spiritual combat

Despite my flaws and imperfections, I strive daily to improve in each of the areas mentioned above.

I will never quit.

 

[ramblinChet]

PA Wilds Pennsylvania BDR-X

Part One of Two​

After completing the Mid-Atlantic Backcountry Discovery Route and sharing campfires with old friends in the Pennsylvania woods, I was drawn deeper into the Keystone State’s wild heart. Months had passed since I’d tackled a forested loop like this, swapping the open High Plains and Black Hills of Wyoming and South Dakota for Pennsylvania’s dense woodlands and rolling ridges. The PA Wilds, spanning over two million acres of public land in north-central Pennsylvania, is a rugged expanse of deep valleys, high plateaus, and pristine streams. Daytime temperatures linger in the crisp 40s to 50s, dipping into the 30s at night as autumn’s chill settles in. Occasional rain showers slicken the trails, creating the perfect conditions for a reflective, immersive ride. The PA Wilds Pennsylvania BDR-X, crafted by the Backcountry Discovery Routes team, stretches roughly 470 miles, offering ample dispersed camping opportunities. While ambitious riders could complete it in three days, I recommend four or five to savor the scenery and side trips.


One standout feature of the BDR-X loops is their flexibility - you can start the trail anywhere. Having just completed the Mid-Atlantic BDR, I opted for a "zero day" of rest at an Army Corps of Engineers (ACE) campground in the Tioga-Hammond Lakes Recreation Area. The ACE manages approximately 4,000 recreation sites across 423 projects, often near dams and reservoirs. Camping in these quiet, scenic spots by the water offers profound health benefits, blending adventure with tangible recovery. Lakeside serenity and stunning views reduce stress and anxiety, while the natural silence enhances sleep quality - the view out my backdoor says it all. It’s a chance to reconnect with how our ancestors lived, rejuvenating both body and mind.


A highlight of full-time travel is enjoying home-cooked meals at local restaurants, a weekly treat I cherish over corporate chain eateries. Chains like McDonald’s, Starbucks, and Wendy’s have traded vibrant reds and yellows for drab gray and black minimalist designs, resulting in forgettable, boxy urban facades. If you’re in Mansfield, Pennsylvania, make a stop at Eddie’s Restaurant for a warm, hearty meal. After dining, I spent an hour captivated by stories from a retired Pennsylvania State Trooper in his late 80s, savoring every moment of our conversation.


With a full tank of gas and ample water, food, and drinks, I joined the trail in Rexford at the 12 o’clock position, heading anticlockwise. Within minutes, I was immersed in Susquehannock State Forest, followed by Hammersley Wild Area and Elk State Forest - all on the first day. If you’re aiming to spend a week in the forest without retracing your steps, this route is your perfect match.


Late one afternoon, I encountered a group of ten wild turkey hens strutting along a quiet trail section. Their glossy feathers shimmered in the early fall light as they moved in a loose, synchronized flock. For nearly a minute, they trotted ahead, their spindly legs kicking up small puffs of dust, seemingly unfazed by my presence. Then, as if on cue, they scattered swiftly into the dense underbrush, vanishing with a rustle of leaves and faint clucks, leaving me alone on the silent trail.


One joy of overlanding is pulling into a primitive campsite after dark and falling asleep imagining the sunrise view. You’d think years of this lifestyle would sharpen my mental picture, but I’m still awestruck by the natural beauty I wake to - sometimes even shocked. No human could craft something so intricate and breathtaking, a landscape that shifts with every minute of every day, endlessly.


The Elk Country Visitor Center in Benezette, Pennsylvania, is a must-visit, showcasing the largest wild elk herd in the northeastern United States. It features interactive exhibits, a theater, educational wildlife displays, a hands-on discovery room for kids, panoramic viewing areas, and accessible trails for year-round elk observation in their natural habitat. This prime stop along the PA Wilds BDR-X offers a perfect pause for elk sightings amid stunning forests and trails.


What I loved about this trail was how each day felt uniquely special, despite following a single-state loop. Exploring the Quehanna Wild Area, followed by Moshannon State Forest, felt like living a dream, driving through pristine forests, wetlands, and streams. Though the trails were smooth enough for 25 mph, I slowed to 15–20 mph, windows down, smiling the whole way. Traveling solo let me set my own pace, free to linger without affecting others.


My truck hit 100,000 miles on the trail, and the stats look solid: 14.3% idle (476/3,334 hours) and 85.7% drive time (2,858/3,334 hours). My total engine hours are about average for 100,000 miles, with lower-than-typical idle time and higher drive time. The moving average of 35 mph (100,000 miles/2,858 hours) impressed me, aligning perfectly with my mixed trail (15–20 mph) and backroad (50–55 mph) driving habits.


Here’s an adventure secret: when I spot a vehicle approaching on a trail, I slow down, find a spot to pull over, and roll down my window. As we pass, I hang my arm out, smile, and at least say hello. In today’s world, it’s common to keep windows up and eyes forward, avoiding contact - I’ve been guilty of this too. But in small towns or deep in the forest, that open window and smile often lead to stopping, shutting off engines, and sharing a conversation with a fellow traveler.

In this case, despite traveling in opposite directions, the gentleman shared a tip about a private club an hour ahead, just off the trail. He assured me that if I walked in, sat down, and chatted with a member, someone would gladly sign me in. I took his advice and spent the evening swapping stories with hunters and fishermen over a hot, scratch-made meal.

As I drove back into the dark forest alone I though about old friends - and we have just one world, but we live in different ones...

 

[ramblinChet]

PA Wilds Pennsylvania BDR-X

Part Two of Two​

Exploring forest service roads or trails through national forests and state wildlife management areas requires preparation for unexpected challenges, such as locked gates, which I recently encountered. These routes face seasonal closures during winter or spring for snow or mud, and temporary summer or fall shutdowns for maintenance, fire risks, or post-hurricane repairs, as seen in North Carolina’s forests. Hunting seasons further complicate access: gates often open in fall for archery and deer hunts but close post-season to protect nesting wildlife or support habitat recovery. Some areas restrict vehicle entry to permit holders or allow only foot access behind yellow gates. Washed-out bridges, avalanche-prone stretches, or quota restrictions may also force detours. To navigate these challenges, consult local ranger districts for real-time updates and equip your vehicle with the latest offline maps. Above all, maintain a flexible mindset - resolving unexpected navigation issues is part of the overlanding adventure!


Pennsylvania’s elk, descendants of Rocky Mountain elk reintroduced from the West a century ago after the native eastern subspecies was hunted to extinction by the 1870s, have thrived through decades of conservation. From a low of 14 animals in 1936, the herd now numbers approximately 1,400 and is the largest free-roaming population on the East Coast spanning north-central counties like Elk, Cameron, Clinton, Clearfield, and Centre. This photo captures a cow elk pausing in the woods to glance back at me, a testament to their quiet integration into Pennsylvania’s forested trails. Elk, larger and more robust than deer, tend to be calmer and less skittish but may startle or bolt if approached too closely, especially cows protecting calves or bulls during rutting season.


Most of my trail time under the cover of darkness is spent alone, likely for two reasons: (1) most travelers drive during the day and sleep at night, and (2) dust kicked up on trails at night lingers longer due to reduced wind, with powerful lights illuminating suspended particles, causing “dust-outs.” Personally, I relish being alone in the forest at night, embracing the primal unease tied to limited visibility, unfamiliar sounds, predators, or the risk of getting lost or injured without help. Darkness heightens amygdala activity - triggering fear, anxiety, or aggression. Combined with isolation and an unpredictable forest setting, it’s no surprise adrenaline kicks in. Evolutionary psychology suggests men, historically hunters or warriors, may be wired to seek such high-stakes challenges.


As mentioned in a previous post, properly mounted and aimed off-road lights are invaluable for night riding, casting powerful beams to reveal the trail’s texture and obstacles. The PA Wilds BDR-X includes seven optional “hard” routes that slow your pace to 5–10 mph but are not technically demanding. Some of these routes are overgrown or less maintained than primary roads, breaking up the steady 15–20 mph travel. I encourage you to explore a few of these options for a richer experience.


This vista is one of many along the PA Wilds BDR-X. I love driving through a tunnel of trees and emerging to a breathtaking view like this. Late in the day, I pulled over, fired up my diesel cooktop, and prepared a hearty meal with plenty of meat as the sun sank below the horizon. As night fell, the forest came alive with clicks, chirps, hoots, and howls. Smiling, I decided to spend the night at this overlook. I was only a day or two from completing the trail, but I wasn’t ready for it to end just yet.


The eastern segment of this trail loop was notably distinct despite its proximity to familiar routes, such as the Trans-Pennsylvania Adventure Trail and sections seven through nine of the Mid-Atlantic BDR. Overlap with these trails was minimal, approximately 10-20%, which is remarkable given their close alignment. While navigating Rothrock or Bald Eagle State Forest, I initially expected familiar terrain, yet the trail revealed previously unexplored paths, showcasing impressive route diversity. The accompanying image captures a 10.5-mile, challenging section south of Poe Paddy State Park.


Many forests I explore are working forests, where I occasionally encounter company-specific signs like the one shown. These signs often indicate weight restrictions, typically signaling bridge limitations ahead. In this instance, I proceeded confidently, as my fully loaded truck and camper combination weighed 8,960 pounds on a certified scale, well below the posted limit. In areas with active logging, bridges are commonly rated for 15–20 tons (or 40–80 tons with a permit). However, in remote sections, single-lane bridges with ratings as low as 4–5 tons, or even 3 tons, are frequent. When designing an adventure vehicle for a specific region, consult the local ranger’s office to verify bridge weight ratings. For a versatile, go-anywhere rig, I recommend a maximum weight of 10,000 pounds. Beyond this, many bridges become inaccessible due to weight restrictions.


On dirt or gravel trails in state and national forests, particularly in dry seasons with low humidity and minimal traffic, a thin layer of fine silt and clay particles accumulates on the surface creating a powdery crust that's easily disturbed by vehicle tires; when driven over, this leads to dust being kicked up through tire shear and turbulent wake eddies, with the worst speeds being 15-25 mph, as this range generates optimal turbulence to loft particles upward without rapidly dispersing the cloud. The dust, can hang in the air for several minutes - typically 2-10 minutes for clouds rising 10-20 feet high - governed by Stokes' Law, where tiny particles settle slowly in still air. Aggravating factors include forest canopies that shelter the trail from wind shear, creating calm micro-climates with low air movement, thermal updrafts from daytime heating that counteract settling, and dry conditions turning the plume into a lingering "dust fog" that reduces visibility and poses safety risks.


In wrapping up my adventure on the PA Wilds Pennsylvania BDR-X, I can confidently say it's one of the very best overland trips east of the Mississippi, offering an immersive 500-mile loop that plunged me deep into the heart of Pennsylvania's vast forests, with about 90% of the journey unfolding on rugged dirt and gravel roads that tested my truck while rewarding me with serene, untamed beauty. Plan for spring, summer, or fall to avoid winter's challenges, and set aside 5-7 days to fully savor the route without rushing - plenty of time to detour to nearby attractions like the breathtaking Kinzua Bridge Skywalk, the elk viewing areas in Benezette, the stunning vistas of Pine Creek Gorge (Pennsylvania's Grand Canyon), or the dark-sky stargazing at Cherry Springs State Park. Camping opportunities abound right along or near the trail, from dispersed sites in state forests to established campgrounds making it easy to pitch a tent under the canopy and wake to the sounds of nature after a dusty day on the trail.


Third boxcar, midnight train. Destination, Bangor, Maine...

 

[ramblinChet]

Mid-Atlantic to North East Backcountry Discovery Route Connector​

This long-awaited connector bridges the gap between the north end of the Mid-Atlantic BDR at Lawrenceville, PA and the southern start of Northeast BDR at Hancock, NY. It features sections of fantastic dirt forest roads and twisty tarmac. At 142 miles, this track can be accomplished by the average rider in just a day, and features plenty of fuel and lodging opportunities, plus camping in Salt Springs State Park.

In early 2018, while searching for off-road trails to explore in Virginia, I discovered the newly released Mid-Atlantic Backcountry Discovery Route (MABDR). Captivated by its promise of adventure, I began tackling the 1,100-mile route in 275-mile sections, each journey spanning three to four days. My navigation system at the time was rudimentary: a series of screenshots from a digital map, sequenced from south to north and stored on my laptop. To navigate, I would display a screenshot (always oriented north) on my device, use a manual compass to estimate my true direction, and mentally track my progress by comparing approximate distances and directional changes against the terrain. Traveling through dense forests, often under the cover of darkness with scarce road signs, posed significant challenges. Yet, remarkably, this method allowed me to successfully complete the entire MABDR, fueling my passion for backcountry exploration.

By mid-2019, the team at Backcountry Discovery Routes (BDR) unveiled the Northeast Backcountry Discovery Route (NEBDR), expanding the possibilities for adventure riders. However, when I studied the map, I noticed a significant gap between the northern terminus of the MABDR in Lawrenceville, Pennsylvania, and the southern starting point of the NEBDR in Hancock, New York. This disconnect intrigued me, as the two routes, while geographically close, lacked a seamless link - likely due to the complex terrain and land-use considerations in the region. I hoped the BDR team would eventually bridge this gap. My wish came true earlier this year when they released an official MABDR-NEBDR connector route. Spanning approximately 150 miles through the scenic landscapes of northern Pennsylvania and southern New York, the connector is a thoughtfully designed path of backroads and farm roads. While less rugged than the MABDR or NEBDR, its value lies in uniting these iconic routes, enabling adventurers to experience a continuous journey across the Mid-Atlantic and Northeast. This connector deserves a brief review for its role in creating a cohesive adventure, as illustrated by the accompanying map.


While pursuing my MS in Aeronautics, I explored the phenomenon of temporal distortion experienced by pilots during high-stress events like aircraft ejection, where time feels dramatically stretched or slowed. Intriguingly, a similar distortion emerges when traveling full-time through remote landscapes for weeks or months at a time. In these wilderness settings - far from clocks, structured routines, or digital notifications - time loses its usual cadence. After a week immersed in nature, the brain’s prefrontal cortex relaxes. This shift heightens sensory awareness and fosters a present-focused “flow state,” where time feels expansive or even irrelevant, mirroring the serene continuity of the landscape.


On a quintessential Pennsylvania day, the countryside reveals its timeless charm along quiet rural roads. Rolling green fields stretch toward the horizon, where a small family farm nestles peacefully. Such serene landscapes invite us to pause, soak in the pastoral beauty, and savor the unhurried rhythm of the journey.


A solitary dead tree often draws my gaze during my travels. To me, this once-vibrant tree embodies the fleeting nature of earthly life, pointing toward eternal hope. Its silent presence, like the loss of a pet or loved one, urges a shift from the temporal to trust in God’s enduring promise. Traveling alone grants me the freedom to pause and reflect on such timeless truths.


The northern reaches of eastern Pennsylvania, particularly in Bradford, Susquehanna, and Wayne Counties, are a patchwork of thriving farmland. With only a few small state parks and game lands scattered across this region, the prevalence of agriculture likely shaped the careful design of the connector route linking the Mid-Atlantic and Northeast Backcountry Discovery Routes. This rural landscape, vibrant with crops, underscores the challenge of crafting a path through such cultivated terrain.


Roadblocks occasionally disrupt travel along rural routes. Near a small town, where cellular reception allowed access to a digital map, I quickly rerouted around an unexpected obstacle. For overland journeys, choose a navigation app such as GAIA GPS or onX Offroad that supports downloading detailed regional maps in advance. Relying solely on a basic route display risks frustration when detours are needed due to unforeseen closures.


Curving forest roads reveal stunning views, with evening sunlight glowing through tall trees. The route mixes dirt, gravel, and paved sections, often simple farm roads.


Pausing on the trail as the sun sets, I savor the calm beauty of the moment. With darkness falling, I rely on my vehicle’s lights: headlights and fog lights perform adequately, but the A-pillar lights shine for spotting wildlife in the ditches. The 30-inch Diode Dynamics light bar, with three center spot lenses and two outboard flood lenses, balances forward visibility with peripheral illumination, ideal for overland trails at 25–30 mph. Choose lights based on your specific needs, not just what’s popular or flashy.


Rolling along a quiet Pennsylvania trail at night, my vehicle’s lights cut through the darkness, clearly lighting the path ahead. The powerful illumination, likely from a well-chosen light bar, excels on stretches like this old rail-bed. However, navigating switchbacks on mountain slopes reveals a gap: my setup struggles to light the sides, making tight turns trickier. For such terrain, consider adding side-mounted lights to enhance visibility.


Arriving in Hancock, New York, I found a laundromat to tackle nearly a month’s worth of laundry. While waiting, I checked a local map and spotted a promising field by the East Branch of the Delaware River, near a boat launch - a reliable sign for camping. After dimming my off-road lights, I settled into a flat, well-used spot in the field, fired up my diesel heater, and prepared a quick meal before bed. With plans to meet an old friend in the morning for our first shared trail in a year, I rested easy under the quiet night sky. All I want is to have my peace of mind.

 

[Pacific Northwest yetti]

"While pursuing my MS in Aeronautics, I explored the phenomenon of temporal distortion experienced by pilots during high-stress events like aircraft ejection, where time feels dramatically stretched or slowed."

The stress response, and why/how the brain does this is a pretty cool thing. Even how it shuts down the prefrontal cortex. And its been keeping us alive in bad situations for a long time.

 

[chet6.7]

"While pursuing my MS in Aeronautics, I explored the phenomenon of temporal distortion experienced by pilots during high-stress events like aircraft ejection, where time feels dramatically stretched or slowed."

The stress response, and why/how the brain does this is a pretty cool thing. Even how it shuts down the prefrontal cortex. And its been keeping us alive in bad situations for a long time.

Like when I was getting a gopher snake out of the road and it struck at me, I jumped 3 feet high.

 

[ramblinChet]

North East Backcountry Discovery Route

Part One of Six​

The Northeast Backcountry Discovery Route (NEBDR) spans seven states; Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine, covering approximately 1,300 miles before concluding at the Canadian border. My journey took a full two weeks, logging 1,556 miles and 67 hours of drive time, with just a handful of stops at intriguing historical sites. A typical day involved 4-5 hours behind the wheel, though my overall pace averaged 20-25 mph, slightly above the norm; I attribute this to the route's balanced mix of roughly 50% on-road and 50% off-road sections. Keep in mind that seasonal closures affect portions of the trail, so plan for it to be fully accessible from early June through late October. Depending on winter snowfall, spring and early summer can bring muddy, rutted, and slick conditions, particularly over rocks and in low-lying areas. Flies and mosquitoes are also prevalent during those warmer months, so pack plenty of bug spray. For optimal conditions - mild weather, dry trails, and minimal insects - September and October stand out as the prime window to tackle this adventure.

Having completed over 40 adventure routes in recent years, I'd rank the NEBDR among the very best. While many of those trails leaned heavier on off-road segments (70-90%), with varying lengths, none matched the NEBDR's unique immersion across seven states: lands originally inhabited by Native American tribes for millennia, colonized by Europeans in the early 17th century in pursuit of religious freedom, transformed into pivotal self-governing entities during the American Revolution, industrialized powerhouses in the 19th century, and now a region celebrated for its elite educational institutions, rich cultural heritage, and stunning natural beauty. My recommendation? Carve out 3-4 weeks next September or October to embark on an expedition that's truly in a class of its own.


Here’s a snapshot of my good friend Dennis, a civil engineer with decades of experience on projects across Asia, and his wife, fine-tuning their truck on the morning we embarked on our NEBDR adventure. We first bonded in 2017 at the Mid-Atlantic Overland Festival, hosted by Main Line Overland, and have since explored trails together each year, conquering routes like the Allegheny Discovery Route, Sedona Backcountry Trail, and Green Country Oklahoma Adventure Tour. Dennis’s rugged 2011 Ram Power Wagon, equipped with a 5.7L HEMI, 4.56 gears, an Atlas 3.8:1 transfer case, Scheel-Mann seats, and brand-new 37" Mickey Thompson Baja Boss tires, was primed for the challenge. After a hearty sit-down breakfast and a final top-off of our fuel tanks, we hit the trail, ready to navigate the Northeast’s diverse backcountry.


As a mechanically minded adventurer, I find myself captivated by the engineering of bridges like the green steel girder spanning the West Branch of the Delaware River, but Dennis and I weren’t even supposed to be here - Paul and Matt had orchestrated this NEBDR run while we were locked in for a Colorado trip the same week. In a twist worthy of a sitcom, they convinced us to switch allegiances, only for both to bail last-minute, leaving just the two of us veterans to roll across and disappear into the forest.

Bail early, regret eternally; push through, claim the views.​

The NEBDR’s intensity surges along River Road, a rugged seasonal track skirting a sheer drop-off beside the Delaware River. Dennis and I, piloting our full-size trucks fitted with campers, navigated a grueling gauntlet of tight trees and jagged rock outcroppings, creeping at 5 mph or less for over an hour. The only others daring this stretch were a few adventure motorcyclists and side-by-sides, their wide-eyed stares shouting “you’re insane” as they wedged into scarce pull-offs to let our rigs lumber past in the opposite direction. This pulse-pounding section tested our vehicles and resolve, proving early why demanding off-road stretches like these require both skill and grit.


Here’s a tale worth sharing: our descent of over 1,000 feet in under two miles along a narrow, bumpy, unmarked tar-and-chip road turned dramatic when Dennis’s new PowerStop brakes failed, nearly sending him into the back of my truck at a sharp 160-degree turn where I’d slowed down. Unable to stop, he barreled through the bend and up a short, tight path toward a private hunting camp. At the bottom, we halted to inspect his brakes, letting them cool while diagnosing the failure, when two adventure motorcyclists rolled up, noting they’d spotted a Rotopax on the trail a few miles back and asking if we’d lost one. To my astonishment, a quick check confirmed I had lost one, prompting me to drive back up the trail, and fortunately, I retrieved it, transforming my surprise into relief as it became a quirky memento of our chaotic plunge.


Encouraged by the Rotopax's recovery and a burst of optimism during our unplanned stop, I ventured further back up the trail to track down the AT Overland Rotopax Holder side strap that had also become loose enough to fall off since I failed to secure it properly. Relying on a fascinating aspect of human vision - our natural ability to pick out man-made objects amid nature’s randomness, driven by their sharp edges and consistent colors, I scanned the roadside with keen interest. As I drove slowly, I pieced together the mishap in my mind: picturing the canister’s slow shift across the bumpy miles, nudged by tight turns and rough spots until it finally fell. Luck struck again; the strap was right there, sparking a thoughtful pause on how this unfolded - Dennis’s brake failure forced our halt, which brought the adventure riders with their helpful tip, giving me the time to drive back a few miles, search for both lost items, and reclaim them, turning a breakdown into an unexpected triumph on the trail.


This striking image suggests a near-mythical haven, but take a moment to picture the full scene: the trail humming with the rustle of leaves beneath you, the faint calls of hidden birds resonating through towering trees, and the fresh aroma of hardwoods and moist earth wafting through the air - a sensory richness that nature always reveals. My photos fail to do justice to that vibrant reality, a shortcoming I regret, as I am unable to truly capture the wild’s embrace. I encourage everyone to step into nature themselves, where wild beauty, as hinted here, waits to be experienced firsthand.


This BDR is broken down into eight sections approximately 150 miles long, some shorter and a few longer. These first two sections take you in an easterly direction across New York while wandering to the north and south along the way, featuring a mix of minor paved roads, dirt paths, and challenging rocky stretches. What stood out the most to me was the lack of primitive camping and limited ability to procure food and gas. There are a few options for staying at State Parks, private campgrounds, or motels so plan ahead and consider pre-booking during peak seasons to avoid availability issues. All in all, I was impressed with this route through New York and think of the state in a different, more positive way after this trip. You will pass through small towns like Callicoon, Downsville, and Andes; charming rural hamlets in New York's Catskill and Delaware River regions, celebrated for their scenic beauty and outdoor recreation.


Over the years, traveling mostly alone but sometimes with others, I've noticed a daily pattern emerge. We generally wake up with the sunrise, relax in our campers, prepare breakfast, clean up, and then step outside to greet fellow travelers and sketch out loose plans for the day. We hit the trail around 0900-1000 and typically stop for lunch between 1200-1300; if near a small town, we might detour to enjoy each other's company at a restaurant or visit a museum together. Eventually, we return to the trail for a few more hours of exploration before discussing possible campsites - sometimes just minutes away, other times an hour or two further. On this particular day, we stopped in Fleischmanns, New York, a quaint Catskills village in Delaware County with a population of about 210, originally named Griffin Corners and renamed in 1913 after the Fleischmann yeast family who developed it as a luxurious summer resort in the late 19th century, for a relaxing lunch.


God, in His infinite love and wisdom, created the world not as a mere backdrop or a test of endurance, but as a magnificent gift for us to enjoy and steward. This was no accident; it was an act of paternal generosity. The world - its mountains, rivers, creatures, and seasons - was crafted for our delight, to reflect His glory and draw us closer to Him. Even now, in our fallen state, we glimpse this in the splendor of nature, which the Psalms celebrate: "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament proclaims his handiwork" (Psalm 19:1). We are invited to enjoy it, not as idolaters of the material, but as grateful children who see God's fingerprints everywhere.

Did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

 

[ramblinChet]

North East Backcountry Discovery Route

Part Two of Six​

During my overland adventures, I often awaken in the dead of night, drawn outside by an irresistible pull to gaze upward at the star-strewn heavens, where the Milky Way arcs like a luminous river across the velvet sky. From my training at Naval Aircrewman Candidate School (NACCS) during the aviation physiology phase, I know our eyes begin adapting to darkness almost immediately - cones adjusting in seconds for basic shapes, with significant rod sensitivity kicking in within 5-10 minutes - but full dark adaptation takes 20-30 minutes. This knowledge echoes my nights flying missions off aircraft carriers, where we'd brief in ready rooms bathed in subdued red lighting, then navigate dim red-lit passageways to the flight deck, preserving our night vision since red wavelengths stimulate cones without bleaching the rods' pigments. From the dawn of humanity, man has paused amid the wilderness to stare into the infinite expanse, pondering existence and the divine; in those quiet moments under the stars, I feel a profound connection to that ancient wanderer, sharing the same awe and humility before creation's vast mystery.


As I wandered along a dusty back road through New York’s countryside, I paused before three towering trees draped in vibrant Virginia creeper, their crimson leaves blazing against a lush green backdrop, backlit by the low autumn sun. The vines climbed skyward, weaving a vivid tapestry that contrasted sharply with the forest’s rich depth. Strong shadows stretched toward me, cast by the trees, creating an almost mystical reflection on the ground - a dance of light and shade that seemed to mirror the creeper’s fiery ascent. Traveling through such rural expanses, beautiful sights like this never cease to amaze me, each scene a fleeting gift.


Winding along a narrow dirt road deep in the Catskill Mountains, I marveled at the forest's full autumn symphony - towering hardwoods ablaze in crimson, gold, and amber, their leaves carpeting the path like a fleeting mosaic underfoot. This ancient range, explored by Lenape peoples before Henry Hudson's 1609 voyage sparked European settlement, became a muse for 19th-century Romantic painters like Thomas Cole, whose Hudson River School canvases immortalized its misty peaks as untamed American wilderness. In the 20th century, grand resorts buzzed with vibrant entertainment amid lavish summer escapes that faded by the '70s.


Cruising through the quaint town of Catskill in my adventure vehicle, I was struck by its charming streets lined with historic brick buildings. Founded in the late 17th century by Dutch settlers, Catskill evolved from a trading post along the Hudson River into a bustling 19th-century hub for shipbuilding, tanning, and commerce, its riverfront thriving with steamboats and mills. Today, Catskill pulses with a vibrant arts scene, boutique shops, and festivals like the Catskill Mountain Film Festival, blending its rich past with modern creativity.


Guiding my adventure vehicle across the Rip Van Winkle Bridge, I gazed at the shimmering waters of the Hudson River below; its a timeless artery that has carried dreams since time immemorial. Named for Washington Irving’s Rip Van Winkle, the idle dreamer from his 1819 tale who napped through the American Revolution in these very hills, this 5,040-foot bridge, opened in 1935, links Catskill to Hudson, New York. Engineered with a cantilevered 800-foot main span and piers sunk deep into the riverbed, the bridge stands as a testament to progress. Crossing it, I feel Rip’s timeless wanderlust, my journey echoing the river’s ancient currents and the call to explore.


Section three of the NEBDR begins in eastern New York near the Massachusetts border, dips into northeast Connecticut’s tranquil riverine trails, climbs through Massachusetts’ Berkshires via Beartown State Forest’s rocky double-tracks, and crosses into Vermont. In New York’s Berkshires, Taconic State Park – Copake Falls Area offers serene gravel paths, with Bash Bish Falls, a 60-foot cascade, luring visitors to its 19th-century trail. Passing through North Canaan, Connecticut, it brings to mind the perspective of Catholic theologians like St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas; Canaan is the Promised Land, a divine gift symbolizing God’s covenant with His people, allegorically guiding the soul toward heavenly rest and eternal salvation. I pause, pondering the Puritan settlers who named North Canaan in 1738, their faith in a new land’s promise mirroring my own journey’s search for meaning through these timeless trails.


As we pressed northward through western Massachusetts, our tires gripped more gravel and rocks than pavement, weaving through Beartown State Forest’s 12,000 acres and October Mountain State Forest, the largest in Massachusetts at 16,460 acres. Dennis and I relished the rocky double-tracks, crawling at 10-15 mph, but our anticipation burned for Vermont’s Green Mountain National Forest (399,151 acres), where pavement nearly vanishes and primitive campsites abound. Reflecting on our journey from New York’s Catskills, through Connecticut’s brief riverine loop, to these Massachusetts wilds, we faced a curious challenge: sparsely populated regions offered scarce food and gas, yet dispersed camping remained surprisingly limited, pushing us to plan meticulously.


The next morning we celebrated crossing into Vermont and immediately beginning Section 4 which winds through southern and central Vermont, starting just north of the Massachusetts line and traversing roughly 150 miles of the Green Mountain National Forest's dense woodlands, where overlanders can enjoy off-road gravel and dirt tracks that test intermediate to advanced skills. Reviews on forums praise it as the route's pinnacle, with "hero sections" like the infamous "Figure 8" loop and Class IV unmaintained roads - riddled with deep ruts, loose rocks, steep hill climbs/descents, and occasional water crossings - demanding low-speed crawls at 5-10 mph, often bypassed for easier alternatives but hailed as "intense yet rewarding". Occasional reroutes due to washouts, highlight seasonal vulnerabilities (best June-October), while highlights include a unique floating bridge crossing and abundant primitive camping; overall, riders call it the "most challenging and best segment" for its immersive forest immersion and vanishing pavement.


Our first alternate "harder" option, a grueling four-mile stretch, took nearly an hour to navigate, with sections so tight I couldn’t stop to snap photos. Five days into the NEBDR, we’d covered just 35% of the 1,300-mile route, projecting a 15-20 day finish at our 20-25 mph pace, a concern since Dennis had only two weeks off. With Vermont and New Hampshire’s trails likely staying rugged we faced tougher terrain ahead. Dennis also needed to budget time for a 600-mile return drive from the Canadian border to his Delaware home. As someone who crunches numbers early, a habit honed from mission planning and technical project management, I know small adjustments can reshape outcomes, much like the long-term forecasting I did at NASA Langley Research Center for multi-year projects which required estimation of breakthrough technologies that didn’t exist at kickoff. If we were going to complete this as a team we needed to push harder, balancing speed with the trail’s demands, to stay on track.


In the dawn of powered human flight, when the Wright brothers’ fragile Flyer first stuttered into the skies above Kitty Hawk in 1903, a new romance bloomed between man and the heavens, each trembling ascent a defiant kiss against gravity’s pull. Barnstormers and dreamers, fueled by grit and gasoline, piloted rickety biplanes over patchwork fields, their wings humming with the promise of a world unbound. In those early days, pilots danced with the wind, their machines of wood and canvas creaking under the strain of ambition, chasing horizons where earth and sky blurred into one. As John Gillespie Magee Jr. later wrote in High Flight, they “slipped the surly bonds of Earth” and “danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings,” capturing the exhilaration of those pioneers who, with every flight, wove love letters to the infinite, their hearts soaring as high as their fragile craft. Tonight we sleep at Somerset Airfield, a relic of early 20th-century aviation ambition now repurposed as a dispersed camping area within the Green Mountain National Forest. Fly me to the moon...