When the doors of the C-130 Hercules cargo plane opened over Alabama, I wondered what the hell I was doing. I was older than most of the other prospective young Paratroopers making their first jump in the U.S. Army Airborne School. The school is in Fort Benning, Georgia but the dropzone is located just across the state line, in Alabama. But the first time that those doors open and one realizes that they are about to step off into 1,200 feet of air at 200 miles per hour, the dropzone could have been on Mars for all it mattered.
I was in my second year of university when a Marine recruiter stopped into the gas station where I worked while attending school, to fill up his government-issued automobile. “Have you ever considered becoming a U.S. Marine?” He pitched his line while I was washing his windshield. I had not, but I had recently seen a movie about Marines parachuting into Grenada to rescue Americans. The fact that it was actually Army Rangers and not Marines was lost on me, but regardless, I was taken with the adventure. What is more adventurous than parachuting into a foreign land and exchanging gunfire with the enemy? Curiosity got the better of me and I did visit that recruiter at his office, some days later. I told him that I wanted to jump out of airplanes, and he told me that the only thing he could guarantee was to make me a Marine. Since all the recruiting offices were located in the same nondescript strip mall, I walked next door to the Army office and told the man that I wanted to jump out of airplanes. He offered me a $6,000 bonus if I signed-up to jump out of airplanes. My brief time in the Army from 1987 to 1991 would end up being an adrenaline-fueled non-stop adventure that involved hot spots all over the world, from the Sandinista incursion into Honduras in 1988, the U.S. invasion of Panama in 1989, and the Persian Gulf War in 1990. They say that timing is everything.
Though I was only in the Army for a short time, it taught me how to live on very little. The 82nd Airborne mission at the time was to parachute into hostile airfields and secure them for several days until regular forces could be brought in. We jumped with packs or rucks, as we called them, but those were for ammunition and radios. Food was MRE’s (Meals, Ready to Eat) and those were broken down into just the important parts needed to survive for several days. A pouch of beef stew, a chocolate bar, a packet of cheese spread or peanut butter. More emphasis was placed on water, with everyone carrying two 1-quart canteens and an additional 2-quart canteen. When it comes to survival, and survival is what we were doing for two or three days, water is more important than food. Although it never felt that way after several days of little to no food. While I was in the Army, I made a promise to myself that once I got out, I would never let myself become cold or hungry again. That promise to myself has not been entirely successful.
Everyone has a calling, whether they choose to recognize it, or not. My calling is Jeeps and exploring the west, which is something that I have done since I bought my first Jeep in high school. The exploring back then was a lot closer to home, but growing up in Oregon coastal mountain range, I had quite a bit of exploring available to me. It is not that way anymore, as most of the Coast Range is privately owned and now has gates to keep the public out. Fortunately, large swaths of the west are publicly owned and remain open. Now that I am older and a little bit bolder, I enjoy getting lost in the backcountry and discovering places that are rarely seen by the general public.
Traveling in a Jeep is quite a bit more primitive than doing so in a van because everything other than sleeping takes place outside. Hoping outside to brew a hot cup of coffee on a brisk winter morning takes a bit of fortitude, and the motivation to cook a hearty breakfast is often challenging. And, while there is enough space to carry a portable toilet just like a van, there is no space inside to set it up. Where the Jeep shines is off the road, of course. It is smaller and nimbler than any van and has the ground clearance to crawl over obstacles. My Jeep has been through several evolutions over the years, so it is a pretty good compromise between long distance traveling comfort and off-road performance. In the tradition of the classic Volkswagen Westfalia campervans, the roof can be raised to form a tent that is accessible from inside the Jeep, and the mattress is nearly queen-size. A large power bank runs a space heater, an electric water kettle, a small rice cooker, and a hot plate. I used to use gas camping stoves but have found electric cooking to be more convenient. The downside to Jeep travel is inclement weather. I can sit inside the Jeep or the tent, but that is about it. I do sometimes carry a secondary tent shelter that attaches to the side of the Jeep, but it is heavy and cumbersome to store. Storage space is a challenge, inside a Jeep.
I hope you enjoy my photo journeys around the west, and if you ever have any questions, feel free to email Roy at this site URL.