u/theloneoverlanders

2024 Jeep Gladiator Rubicon, AEV Built
I picked up this Gladiator brand new with just 38 miles on the odometer. The first modification I made wasn’t a lift, bigger tires, or anything flashy it was an auxiliary Long Range America fuel tank underneath. Looking back, that was probably one of the smartest modifications I’ve made.
I kept the AEV suspension exactly as it came and stayed with the 37” tires. For the kind of traveling I do, 37s have been the sweet spot: plenty capable off-road without sacrificing drivability, range, or the ability to keep the spare underneath.
Two months after buying it, I installed the Alu-Cab Canopy Camper, loaded it up and immediately put the entire setup to the test: roughly 8,000 miles through Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Canada, Wyoming, Utah, Arizona and back home to Nevada.
Everything checked out.
So in 2025, I stopped worrying about the build and simply used it. Moab, Colorado and as many trails as I could find throughout the Southwest—from Arizona to California. Rocks, desert, mountains, snow, highways and plenty of nights sleeping in the camper.
Then came 2026.
I started the year taking it deep into Baja California Sur, almost all the way to Cabo.
In May came the biggest test yet: Las Vegas to the Arctic Ocean and back.
Just me, my Golden Retriever Maggie and the Gladiator. 73 days, 12,784 miles, through the western U.S., British Columbia, Yukon and Alaska, eventually taking the Dempster Highway all the way to Tuktoyaktuk and the Arctic Ocean. We camped our way across the continent, crossed remote stretches of Canada and Alaska, and drove everything from pavement to hundreds of miles of gravel and dirt.
After all those miles, trails and nights living out of this Jeep, the problems have been surprisingly few. In Alaska, while having the fluids checked, we discovered loose differential-cover bolts on both diffs. They were tightened, the oil looked clean, and we kept going. That’s been the most significant mechanical issue I’ve dealt with on the road.
This Gladiator went from 38 miles on the odometer to being my home on wheels across North America.
And that’s probably the best compliment I can give it:
If I had to start over tomorrow, I’d build the same Jeep again. I wouldn’t change a thing.
The first picture is where it started.
The second is what happens when you actually use it. 😂

I have driven from The Patagonia to the Arctic Sea and Hwy 101 north of San Francisco is my fav road to this day.

Mi hermanos Mexicanos le han dado una lección a este muchacho de humildad. Lamentablemente no creó le puso atención a la clase.

Over a decade ago, I drove to the southern end of the road in the Americas. Reaching the northern end stayed on my bucket list for years, but I finally crossed it off in 2026.
I also drove to the end of the road in Alaska, but honestly, I wouldn’t recommend it. Unless you book well in advance, you can’t actually access the Arctic Ocean there. If your goal is to experience the true end of the road, I think Tuktoyaktuk, Canada is the better destination. You can drive right into town and walk straight into the Arctic Ocean. For me, it was a much more rewarding experience.

I love my Gladiator, but if I could change three things, it’d be simple: give me a little better gas mileage, bigger windows so I can see out better, and a little more room inside the cab. That’s it. I’d still buy it again tomorrow, but those three things would make it a whole lot better for me.

Bear Camp Coastal Road connects Merlin, Oregon, to the Pacific Coast near Gold Beach.
I knew absolutely nothing about this road. On my way to Alaska, I spotted it on my travel map app and decided to take the detour. It turned out to be one of the best decisions of the trip.
If you’re ever in southern Oregon, I highly recommend it. Spend your first night camping along the Rogue River, then hit the road early enough to experience the magical morning mist rolling through the Oregon Coast Range. Keep your eyes open—you never know what wildlife you’ll encounter.
Once you reach the Pacific Coast Highway, stop by Spinner’s Restaurant in Gold Beach. The seafood is fresh, the views are fantastic, and it’s the perfect way to end the drive.
You’re welcome.

This video was filmed at the Top of the World Hwy connecting Alaska with Dawson City, Canada.

When I made it to Anchorage and took the Jeep to the dealer for an oil change, they found that the top bolts on both the front and rear differentials had worked themselves loose, causing a very minor leak.
I was worried that all the deep and shallow water crossings I’d done before even reaching Alaska might have contaminated the differential oil, but thankfully everything checked out perfectly.
Other than that, the Jeep performed flawlessly for 12,456 miles across every kind of terrain I could throw at it.

So far in 2026, I’ve been lucky enough to camp in some truly incredible places from Cabo to the Arctic Sea. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
As amazing as the snow-covered mountains and glaciers of Alaska were, my favorite night of camping this year was right here on this old pier in Baja California Sur with my friend Julian.
It wasn’t the scenery that made this place unforgettable. It was the people. We went to bed and woke up surrounded by kind local fishermen who were happy to share part of their catch after spending hours out at sea. It was the mysterious fog that stayed with us until late in the morning. It was the gentle sound of the ocean, constantly crashing against the old concrete pier, slowly reclaiming what once belonged to it.

I own the smaller camper, an Alu-Cab mounted on my Jeep Gladiator. My friends Lorenzo and Vicky have a Four Wheel Camper on top of their full-size truck.
They’re two very different setups, but both are incredibly capable. Mine is smaller and easier to maneuver on tighter trails, while theirs offers a lot more living space and comfort for longer trips. At the end of the day, it really comes down to your travel style and what matters most to you. There’s no right or wrong choice, just the one that fits your adventures best.

A few days ago I posted about what happened to Maggie while we were at the Arctic Ocean. Those were some of the scariest days I’ve had in a long time, especially being so far from the nearest veterinarian.
I’m happy to say she’s now back to her normal self, acting like nothing ever happened. Watching her run, play, and demand attention again has been the biggest relief.
Thank you all for the kind words, advice, and the countless messages checking in on her. It truly meant a lot to both of us.

I drove the Going-to-the-Sun Road from east to west on opening day, June 22. The place was absolutely packed, but it was still incredibly beautiful.
If you’re planning a road trip to Going-to-the-Sun Road and want to drive the entire road like I did, I highly recommend going east to west. Most people drive it in the opposite direction, and the traffic heading that way was bumper-to-bumper for much of the day. Meanwhile, my side kept moving and let me spend more time enjoying the views instead of staring at brake lights. 🚙🏔️

A few days ago Maggie and I were at the Arctic Ocean, hundreds of miles from the nearest veterinarian. While we were there, her neck suddenly swelled up, her face started swelling too, and she stopped eating and drinking. I was terrified.
There wasn’t much I could do except start driving and hope I could get her help in time.
The nearest vet was about 900 miles away, and over 500 of those miles were on the Dempster Highway, a gravel road where you can’t exactly make good time. On top of that, I had to wait for a couple of ferry crossings along the way.
The first clinic I reached was in a very small town. They wanted to help, but they simply didn’t have the equipment or staff to handle what was going on. They recommended a veterinary hospital in Dawson Creek, another five hours away through heavy rain and some pretty rough driving conditions.
At that point I had already been driving for well over a day, but stopping wasn’t really an option.
When we finally got to Dawson Creek, everything changed. The hospital was open, they had the equipment they needed, and the veterinarian who treated Maggie was incredible.
It turned out she had a serious infection in her neck caused by a tiny piece of wood lodged deep in the wound. At the same time, something had apparently bitten or stung her face, causing a separate swelling issue. The combination of both problems happening together made everything look much worse.
After a minor surgery to clean out the infection and a few days of medication, she’s back to acting like herself again.
I know a lot of dog owners here can understand how scary something like this is. What surprised me most wasn’t the driving, the exhaustion, or the uncertainty. It was realizing how much Maggie means to me. For a while there, I honestly thought I might lose her, and that hurt more than I can put into words.
Thankfully, she’s currently snoring next to me and demanding bacon again, which feels like a pretty good sign.

On the way to Alaska I took a pretty different route. From San Francisco I followed Highway 101 along the coast up to the Olympic Peninsula, crossed into Vancouver Island, then caught the ferry from Port Hardy to Prince Rupert through the Inside Passage before continuing north into Alaska.
Before turning around I made it all the way to the Arctic Ocean in Tuktoyaktuk. Since then I’ve been heading south on the Alaska Highway. Today is day 50 since leaving Las Vegas, and I’ve made it to Alberta.
I wasn’t planning on spending much time here, but this part of Canada is absolutely beautiful. I’m camping along the Icefields Parkway tonight after spending the day around Jasper, and I can see why people rave about this area. The weather has been a mix of rain, clouds, and the occasional patch of sunshine, but honestly I don’t mind. Coming from Las Vegas, rain is almost a novelty.
The cooler weather has been a nice change too. I’ve been wearing a jacket pretty much every day for the last several weeks. Once I get down into Idaho in a few days, I’m guessing that streak is about to end.

Left Las Vegas 47 days ago and I am only 547 miles away from reaching the Arctic Sea n my gladiator Rubicon.
I took this picture today n The Top of the World Hwy near Dawson City 🇨🇦

Every now and then, a story finds you on the road.

This is the story of CPL Stephan B. Ayala, USMC.

I never met Stephan. I never served with him. I never shook his hand or shared a laugh around a campfire with him. Yet, as Marines, we are brothers. And brothers don’t get forgotten.

In 2021, the incredible people at Erase the 22 entrusted me with Stephan’s story and his memory. Their mission is simple but powerful: to ensure that veterans lost to the invisible wounds of war are never forgotten. Since that day, Stephan has traveled with me everywhere I go.

His photo has ridden on every vehicle I’ve owned since then. He has crossed deserts, mountains, borders, and thousands upon thousands of miles. He has camped under the stars in places most people will never see. From Baja California to Alaska, from remote dirt roads to busy highways, Stephan has been there for every adventure.

From everything I have learned, Stephan was the kind of man everyone wanted around. A devoted husband, a loving father, a loyal friend, and the kind of Marine who could make an entire room laugh. His sons were his world, and those who knew him remember a man who never met a stranger and always carried a smile.

Like too many veterans, Stephan fought battles that few people could see. Battles that even those closest to him may never have fully understood.

That is why I carry his photo.

Not because I knew him personally, but because remembrance matters. Because every veteran’s story matters. Because no Marine should ever be reduced to a name on a memorial or a date on a headstone. We owe it to them to remember how they lived, who they loved, and the impact they left behind.

Tonight, when I set up camp somewhere in Alaska, Stephan will be there. Tomorrow, when I continue toward the Arctic Ocean, Stephan will be there too. And when this trip ends, his journey won’t. He’ll continue traveling with me wherever the road leads next.

I never knew CPL Stephan B. Ayala, but he is my brother.

And thanks to Erase the 22, and to everyone who chooses to remember, he will never be forgotten.

Semper Fidelis, Marine. 🇺🇸❤️

Gone, but never forgotten.

Every now and then, a story finds you on the road.

This is the story of CPL Stephan B. Ayala, USMC.

I never met Stephan. I never served with him. I never shook his hand or shared a laugh around a campfire with him. Yet, as Marines, we are brothers. And brothers don’t get forgotten.

In 2021, the incredible people at Erase the 22, entrusted me with Stephan’s story and his memory. Their mission is simple but powerful: to ensure that veterans lost to the invisible wounds of war are never forgotten. Since that day, Stephan has overlander with me everywhere I go.

His photo has ridden on every vehicle I’ve owned since then. He has crossed deserts, mountains, borders, and thousands upon thousands of trail miles. He has camped under the stars in places most people will never see. From Baja California to Alaska, from remote dirt roads to busy highways, from the dusty Utah trails to Cabela’s parking lot Stephan has been there for every adventure.

From everything I have learned, Stephan was the kind of man everyone wanted around. A devoted husband, a loving father, a loyal friend, and the kind of Marine who could make an entire room laugh. His sons were his world, and those who knew him remember a man who never met a stranger and always carried a smile.

Like too many veterans, Stephan fought battles that few people could see. Battles that even those closest to him may never have fully understood. I do because I face that battle everyday of my life.

That is why I carry his photo.

Not because I knew him personally, but because remembrance matters. Because every veteran’s story matters. Because no Marine should ever be reduced to a name on a memorial or a date on a headstone. We owe it to them to remember how they lived, who they loved, and the impact they left behind.

Tonight, when I set up camp somewhere in Alaska, Stephan will be there. Tomorrow, when I continue toward the Arctic Ocean, Stephan will be there too. And when this trip ends, his journey won’t. He’ll continue traveling with me wherever the road leads next.

I never knew CPL Stephan B. Ayala, but he is my brother.

And thanks to Erase the 22, and to everyone who chooses to remember, he will never be forgotten.

Semper Fidelis, Marine. 🇺🇸❤️

Gone, but never forgotten.