With big claims of terrain adaptability, we put the Old Man Emu Nitrocharger Sport suspension to the test.

The ARB Old Man Emu Nitrocharger range was updated almost two years ago with the introduction of the Sport shock absorber, offering enhancements in valving and terrain adaptability. At the outset, the concept of terrain adaptability sounded more like marketing spin, but having enjoyed more than 120,000km on our last set of Nitrocharger shockies, we were keen to have a closer look.Down at ARB, an assessment of our touring load yielded a pair of heavy-duty 400kg constant-load coils for the rear and matching heavy-duty coils for the front. Heavy-duty Nitrocharger Sport shock absorbers were fitted on all corners, similarly engineered for the Patrol. A steering damper, castor correction kit and wheel alignment completed the installation package.On ARB’s own recommendation, a reinforced rear coil seat kit was fitted by ATOC Auto to protect the chassis from cracks, a weakness inherent in GQ/GU Patrols subjected to heavy load conditions. The guys at ATOC welded the three-piece kit into place, supporting the coil hat and tower structure around the chassis. Fitting charges are additional to the price of the suspension kit.With the new suspension fitted, rim to guard measurements indicate 798mm for the front and 842mm at the rear, a variation of only a couple of millimetres on our original Old Man Emu kit. With the Patrol and Topaz loaded in touring trim, the Patrol sits flat with plenty of air visible under the rear guards. The ride is firm but controlled, riding well over corrugations, patchy bitumen and unexpected bumps. Rather than crashing through big hits, the suspension is composed, testament to the engineering behind it. Taking it to the next level, we punted the Patrol across the coastline of WA, lugging the camper along desolate and sandy coastal tracks, looking for the limits of the suspension. Two months into a 12-month trip, we weren’t about to do anything silly; bogholes, a sprint along undulating soft sand, or hard surfaces embedded with limestone, but in everything we threw at it, we could not find fault. A Simpson Desert trip planned for later in the year will put articulation to the test, but for the moment, it’s a big thumbs up. For the load-carrying ability afforded, the transformation in ride and the safety benefits, we reckon its money well spent.Price: $2060, (four coils/shocks, castor correction kit, steering damper, alignment and fitting)Contact: ARB arb.com.au, 03 9761 6622 ATOC Auto atocauto.com.au, 03 9754 2751

A turbo-diesel engine from Land Rover makes the Ford SZ Territory the perfect SUV.

Aussie-built 4X4s have been thin on the ground – there were the Holden Overlander and XY Falcon 4X4 back in the 70s, but they were low-volume conversions; the big local manufacturers have never got behind the concept. Ridiculous, really, in a country that embraces 4X4s and SUVs for their cabin space and go-anywhere ability.

The only recent vehicle that fits the bill is Ford’s Territory. A softroader that is available in both two- and all-wheel drive, it is the most successful SUV ever built here and it has just got a whole lot better with a major upgrade and the introduction of a turbo-diesel engine.

Many said the Australian vehicle companies arrived late to the SUV boom; the original SY Territory was launched in 2004 and was a huge success. Over its seven years on sale, including a Mk II upgrade, it sold more than 105,000 units. It was close to being the perfect Aussie-family car offering versatility, performance, space and the ability of AWD. It was the space and versatility that buyers flocked for, 2WD models outsold AWD and the Territory’s success contributed to the demise of the Ford Falcon station wagon.

After seven years on sale, the original was getting long in the tooth and buyers were turning away in droves looking for more fuel efficient alternatives to the petrol inline six-cylinder-powered Ford.

A more economical drivetrain, such as a diesel engine, was long overdue, and after many rumours of its imminence, it finally arrived in 2011.

Ford didn’t have to look far for a suitable diesel engine for the Territory. It owned Land Rover at the time, and the 2.7-litre TDV6 powerplant from the lauded Discovery 3 was the logical choice. This engine has been relegated to the entry-level model only in the Discovery 4, supplanted by the 3.0-litre TDV6, and Land Rover is now under the ownership of Tata, but the engine is still made at Ford UK’s Dagenham plant. This is the first time the ‘Lion’ TDV6 engine has been used in a Ford-badged vehicle after previous use in Land Rover, Jaguar, Peugeot and Citroen vehicles.

Ford Australia calls the mill the Duratorq TDCi engine and it continues as a 60-degree V6 with CGI block, aluminium DOHC heads, common-rail direct fuel injection, single turbocharger and intercooling. In the Territory it produces 140kW at 4000rpm and 440Nm at 1900rpm, the same as it makes in the Discovery 4. These are modest specific output figures when compared to some of the latest Euro diesel engines, but it is perfectly matched to the Territory. This is the engine the Territory has been screaming out for since launch and it makes a good thing even better.

The Duratorq-powered Territory is no neck-snapping high-performance SUV like the discontinued petrol six-cylinder turbo was, but it delivers the strong, linear acceleration you expect of a modern turbo-diesel with excellent driveability and exceptional refinement.

It’s become a cliche to say that you can’t tell that an engine is a diesel, but Ford Australia has done an amazing job of isolating the engine from the cabin. With the windows up you can’t hear the engine at idle and it remains smooth and quiet through the rev range.

The high levels of refinement continue on the road. The Territory covers sealed roads in poor and patched condition and gravel roads with consummate ease and in comfort. Potholes and ruts do little to upset the independent suspension and it’s easy to maintain a swift pace in quiet comfort. It’s only when you glance at the speedometer and the poor condition of the road surface that you fully appreciate what a great job Ford Oz has done with the Territory’s chassis. It benchmarked it against vehicles like the Discovery and BMW X5 and has achieved its goals.

The Duratorq engine is backed by a six-speed auto that gives no reason to comment other than it does what is asked of it without complaint. The all-wheel-drive system uses open diffs and relies on the electronic traction control for grip. This is well suited to the light-duty applications in the Territory and, again, is fuss-free.

The TDCi-powered AWD Territory returns a claimed 8.8L/100km of fuel consumption (9.0L/100km for the top-spec Titanium model). For comparison, the 2WD petrol SZ claims 10.6L/100km, while the 2.7-litre TDV6 powered Disco 4 returns 10.2L/100km.

If there is one area for complaint, it is that the steering can get light and vague at some points when punting hard on gravel roads. Ford has replaced the conventional power steering for an electrically assisted system and claims to have matched the old set up, but there were some corners where it lost its feel. The SZ Territory gets more modern styling and every panel bar the roof is new. The updated interior is more Falcon-like and retains the flexibility and usability of the outgoing model. It is available with five or seven seats.

The petrol six-cylinder engine has also received updates to make it more efficient but is now only available with the 2WD drivetrain. The turbo-diesel is available in 4X2 and 4X4 configurations.

The new model, specifically the diesel, should see the Territory get a much-needed new lease on life. Like the model’s initial introduction, the diesel engine comes late but it’s been worth waiting for. If the original Territory was the perfect Aussie family wagon, the diesel engine cements this position. PRICING From $39,990 (TX RWD petrol) to $63,240 (Titanium AWD diesel)

Patagonia conjures up visions of an unrelenting wilderness, untouched by man. Well, it’s changed a bit…

I edged the Patrol even closer to the rock face on my left away from the dizzying drop at my right. The tyres spun and scrambled for a bite of traction on the loose rocky surface of the road that had been blasted and hewn from this mountain’s solid granite mass. If you could manage to tear your eyes away from the narrow track in front, the view was actually awe inspiring.

The snow-crowned peaks of the Andes reared up from around the lake below us. Beyond those peaks, the tongues of glaciers just visible in the valleys between the jagged crests, was the ice-covered massif of Campos de Hielo Norte, one of the greatest expanses of ice outside Antarctica.

We were in southern Chile, in the heart of Patagonia, following the edge of the long lake, Lago General Carrera, from where we had crossed the Argentinean-Chilean border a few hours previously.

Our route swung south, meeting with the Carretera Austral, Chile’s famous road that slices south through the Andes, the occasional gap in the road network, over still impossible sections of country that’s bypassed by ferries or a quick detour through neighbouring Argentina.

That evening we bush-camped on the edge of the ice-melt swollen Rio Baker, our solitude only broken when a horseman searching for his cows trotted by. While we were comfortable enough, it was a bit like sleeping beside your freezer with the doors open – the clouds parted every now and again to let you know there were snow-covered peaks and glaciers seemingly just a stone’s throw away, overlooking our camp.

Our journey through Patagonia had started a few weeks earlier in Valparaiso, Chile’s major port for the country’s capital, Santiago. However, once we had our vehicles off the ship and out of the port, we hightailed it south to get away from the crowds.

The Lakes District stopped us for a few days, though. It is truly magnificent, with the high peaks of the Andes a constant companion, while turquoise blue lakes lay scattered among them. In places, the symmetrical cones of volcanoes dominate the scene, and while they were just lazing away while we were there, with an occasional puff of smoke from their caldera, it does add another dimension to the whole travel experience. Still, it is civilised, with tourist resorts, holiday homes and private enclaves for the rich and famous. We wanted a wilder country and somewhere just south of the Lakes District we officially crossed into Patagonia!

Patagonia; just the name conjures up images of a wild, untamed land, untouched by man, where any person strong enough to live there battles the elements every day just to survive. This is another Sahara or Siberia, with few equal on earth – or it’s supposed to be!

Bruce Chatwin’s outstanding tale,In Patagonia (1977) and Paul Theroux’s equally gripping yarn,The Old Patagonian Express (1979) are classics that any aspiring Patagonian traveller will probably read before or during a trip through these wild, windswept lands. Trouble is, they are so far removed from the everyday experience of the place, that you’d wonder how long they spent in Patagonia. Then again, maybe in the 30-odd years that have elapsed since their travels, the rest of the world has had time to invade and subdue the place.

Certainly, we didn’t even know we had entered Patagonia; the trappings of civilisation remaining much the same as elsewhere. We hurried south. We took the ferry across to the island of Chiloe, but the once-rich farming land has almost been deserted as the newfound wealth for this whole southern coast of Chile is found in the sea. Salmon and mussel farms lay scattered across each and every inlet and bay and, along with any other seaborne delicacy that can be harvested, fished for, or caught in pots, are now the region’s lifeblood.

With all the ferries booked out, stifling our plans to continue south on the Carretera Austral, we crossed the Andes into the Argentine section of Patagonia. Ruta 40 is Argentina’s classic drive south that parallels the Chilean border and the Andes, but it never climbs the high peaks. This route, across windswept dry and bleak grey saltbush-like country is slowly being upgraded to blacktop, which will no doubt increase the number of travellers, but it will make the enigmatic and historic Patagonian experience even more elusive.

By the time we got to Tierra del Fuego, the large island at the southern end of South America, we had resigned ourselves to the fact that Patagonia was civilised; the distances tamed by bitumen and fast cars; the isolation muted by phone, TV and internet services; the howling wind (that hasn’t changed) kept bearable by concrete and brick buildings and the bitter winter cold warmed by piped natural gas.

Of course, none of that takes away from the fact that the Andes are stupendous, and among the many peaks there are wild remote places untouched by modern man. And, for mere mortals like us, there was plenty to see and enjoy along their ragged, impressive edges.

At Esquel we joined the throngs (mainly locals with just a few international train buffs) and headed off on a short trip on the old La Trochita steam train – Paul Theroux’s Old Patagonian Express – from Esquel to Nahuel Pan. It was only 20km each way, but the train is so slow and rattly it takes a couple of hours in each direction, the door and door jam, along with the walls moving to a different beat to the wobble of the train on the rails.

Near the tourist beat of El Calafate, we took in the wonders of the Moreno Glacier – one of the dozen or so glaciers in the world still advancing – on one of the most extensive and best boardwalks I’ve ever been on. With damn near half a million tourists visiting annually, you are never alone, but it is worth it!

Adding to the experience, that night we had a great bush camp all to ourselves in the Los Glaciares National Park; when the clouds cleared, the view stretched across a lake to the high peaks of the Andes.

A few days later we bush camped just outside Torres del Paine back in Chile, and next day explored the park with its magnificent sheer fingers of towering rock among what is surely some of the most spectacular mountain country on earth.

The highlight though, for us, was our travels across Tierra del Fuego, the mystical ‘Land of Fire’ named by Magellan on discovering the straits in 1520, and which you have to cross to get to this remote island at the southern tip of the world.

In places, you are among rolling, stream-cut plains that are reminiscent of the Victorian High Plains or the Snowy Mountains. Here, on the Chilean side of the island, there are some top places to camp and enjoy, but time was against us to dilly dally too long and we had to push onto Ushuaia and the road’s end.

Edging up to the Beagle Channel, Ushuaia is hemmed-in by high mountains, and is a fitting place to begin or end a trip through South America, or as a stepping off point for Antarctica, for which it is famous. Still, with a population around the 100,000 mark, and streets crowded with travellers wearing popular brand name outdoor clothing, it is hard to imagine that you are anywhere deemed remote.

Maybe in Australia we’re spoilt with our wide open places and distant hard to get to country that we take for granted. Maybe Patagonia is more of a place conjured in the mind’s eye, and cemented there by legend and literature, than a definitive spot on earth.

Or maybe we simply expected too much. Travel can do that to you. The research, the planning, the anticipation can make even the most spectacular destination almost an anti-climax.

Whatever, don’t let this put you off. An anti-climax of this scale is still a must-see. South America and Patagonia have plenty to offer – you just have to work harder to get really remote!

Even with respected road-car credentials, it was seen as a bold move by VW to move into a market dominated by Japanese manufacturers.

It’s been a long time coming, this new VW Amarok. Word leaked out three or four years ago that the established and respected German company was working on a challenger for the hotly contested ute market, especially the dual-cab segment. Even with respected road-car credentials, it was seen as a bold move by VW to move into a market dominated by Japanese manufacturers.That was viewed both as a plus and a minus by people like us; the plus is the fact VW could ‘clean-sheet’ the vehicle and not suffer from the restrictions and hangovers of a previous model or production facilities. In other words, it could do whatever it thought necessary to create a brand-new, brilliant design.The minus is the fact that, with nopresence in the dual-cab market, it had no starting point, no vehicle from which to glean experience. Sure, VW had its king Kombi – including a dual-cabversion – but that was a long time ago… But now that the Amarok is here, it’s obvious it has been worth the wait. That clean-sheet design opportunity wasn’t wasted by VW, and I’m happy to tell you up-front that what VW has come up with is sensational.Of the 4X4 Australia contributors, Matho (Mick Matheson) was the first to give it a go, driving some lightlymodified Dakar rally support Amaroks last year. With the usual “We’ll wait ’til it gets here,” reservation of sensiblemotoring journos, he gave it a solid thumbs-up. Matt Raudonikis was next, the first feller here to have a lash over local terrain and, although he drove it in closely controlled conditions on a VW-set test loop, he also praised its comfort, dynamics and ability.So it was with a sense of anticipation that we grabbed our first Amarok that we could take anywhere, do anything with, and see what it was like in our usual real-world test conditions.Corralled with the $52,990 (list) Amarok Highline for this off-road drive was Mitsubishi’s Triton GLX-R andNissan’s new Navara ST-X 550. Billed as “Australia’s most powerful tradie”, the ST-X 550 is the new top-line version of the big-bodied, US-styled, Spanish-built (some models are sourced fromThailand) D40 series that debuted in the mid-noughties. The 550 refers to torque output of the recently introduced 170kW single turbo ‘Alliance’ 3.0-litre V6 diesel that Nissan also installs in the Pathfinder (and may appear in the next-gen Patrol). It’s mated to a seven-speed gearbox with a sports mode, manual shift and in Navara, a part-time four-wheel drive system with traction/stabilitycontrol and rear LSD. It’s $60,990.last of our trio is Mitsubishi’sTriton GLX-R. Triton has a 2.5-litre turbo-diesel with 131kW and 400Nm inmanual form (350 auto) and its Super Select transfer which allows full-time4X4 and 2WD, and 4X4 in high- and low-range. Thanks to its blend of ability, safety and value, Triton is 4X4 Australia’s reigning Ute of the Year (two years running!) so is a great benchmark for price ($47,990) and performance.There’s an auto on the horizon but, for now, Amarok has a six-speed manual behind a 120kW, 400Nm 2.0-litre bi-turbo four-cylinder diesel. Our test Amarok was third up the four-model ladder, a Highline. It arrives with VW’s selectable 4Motion dual-range drivetrain that includes a selectable Off-Road mode. The top-spec Amarok Ultimate has the option of VW’s permanent 4Motion system which lacks low-range, but all 4X4 models receive a rear diff lock rather than an LSD. We reckon the Highline with its quality cloth trim and dual-range selectable 4Motion system will be the big seller for family buyers. Ultimate has leather seats, 19-inch wheels and a host of other comfort kit.VW’s marketing information babbles on about the style of the new ute; sentences with phrases like “surfaces that develop over the contours”, and other such nonsense. It also pushes the VW’s safety credentials hard; most car companies do it when a new vehicle comes along; and why wouldn’t they? After years of work and development, they have a product to sell and need to catch people’s attention.The team at VW can feel proud. This is a damn fine-looking truck with great stance and proportions. Its purposeful appearance is free of gimmicks and cliches and manages to tone down the sheer size of the vehicle. Make no mistake, the VW Amarok is a big and roomy vehicle (more on that later).In fact, the no-nonsense appearance of the new VW makes the Mitsubishi Triton – a vehicle praised for its radical, break-free styling when it was launched around 2005 – look almost silly. All those curves and swoops for no benefit apart from looking radical. In the VW, form follows function and it’s apparent that the design team and engineers worked from the inside (and the load tray) out, making it look good after making it comfortable and useful.Getting comfortable So that’s where we’ll start: on the inside. The VW’s driving position – and here I go with the cliche – is a revelation. Of course, it’s no more car-like than , ahem, a well-done car, but the relationship between wheel (with tilt and reach) and pedals feels almost perfectly natural and relaxed, and is a giant leap for utekind. It makes the Mitsubishi, in particular, feel crook. The seat elevation makes Amarok easy to get in and out of, too, and allows a good view ahead. The seat has just the right amount of firmness and has just enough wrap-around to hold you without being too assertive.In contrast, the Nissan’s seats, although large, are hard and flat, while the Mitsubishi’s feel small and under-done. Neither offers much in the way of support. At least Mitsubishi seems to have corrected the rocking that afflicted Tritons, but the lever-actuated backrest rake might leave some drivers wishing for a half-click more or less rake.Rear seating is an important factor for many dual-cab buyers; particularly families who have higher expectations of comfort than, say, three blokes being driven a few kays to their bulldozers. Amarok has easily the largest rear seat of the three. The backs of its front seats are scalloped to give back passengers more knee room, there is more footroom and a lower floor (or higher seat). All three passengers have a headrest, too.The Mitsubishi prompted the cheeky comment of “at least we’re not going to get cold!” when we loaded three testers into it. The outer passengers felt inclined to tilt their heads inwards from the upper cant rail; the centre seat cushion is hard.Although it’s out-bummed by the VW (it’s 100mm or so wider) the Nissan’s rear seating scores well for its overall comfort – cushion, height, and knee and foot room. And when it’s not being used for carrying passengers, the rear half of the Nissan cabin is more useful for carrying gear thanks to the fact the seat cushion can be lifted. Doing so tucks it and the backrest against the rear wall of the cab and presents a relatively flat area for a fridge or boxes. It’s simple and effective. Bonus: there’s netted storage trays under there, too.It’s worth mentioning, as VW proudly does, the fact the Amarok achieves ANCAP’s top safety score of five stars, giving it the thumbs up for family and fleet buyers. That’s due to a beaut chassis design, sophisticated chassis electronics package (that also assists with off-road ability; more later) and a swag of airbags. It wasn’t too long ago that an airbag was the be-all and end-all in vehicle safety with advertising campaigns featuring images of pillow-like objects…On the black stuff Our drive loop was to take in a broad range of conditions, from blacktop (of course) to beach sand, dirt roads and some stiff off-road stuff, to really show strengths and highlight weaknesses in each vehicle’s ability.But first, they’re all designed to carry stuff, and it’s the VW that impressed overall with its tray. It’s deeper (45cm) and wider (150cm) than the status quo, but loses 50mm to the Navara and Mitsubishi in length. The four tie-down hooks are usefully placed near each corner to keep loads in check. Of course, they’re not as versatile as Nissans’ Utili-Track system of moveable clamps… but not as bulky or fiddly, either. Our VW was delivered without any bed protection, so factor that into the budget, along with a hard cover if you want to mimic the Nissan’s. Oh, and why don’t all utes have load area lighting and a 12V socket?Testing utes empty is like testing a fast car slowly, so, as pioneered in our 4X4UOTY testing some years ago, we loaded each vehicle. Two hundred kilos of bagged sand was dropped into each tray to replicate a typical moderate load (big thanks to Drinkwater Landscape Supplies near my place in Redhead, NSW, for that!) and to not only settle the ride compared to unladen, but give the suspension something to do as well.VW seems to have got its suspension right, first time. There’s nothing truly innovative underneath, but what is there is sensibly and stoutly engineered. Up front, the VW has upper and lower wishbones with coil springs, and out back, a live axle and leaf springs. Where VW improves on the norm is with the engineering of its rear; the springs are eyed on huge rubber bushes with the rear shackle not only inverted, but installed on the outboard side of the chassis rail, rather than underneath it. This allows the chassis to be lowered, providing a deeper tray and, by splaying out the rails under the cabin, it has space benefits inside, too. Further helping the chassis is a substantial rear cross member.The Amarok’s thorough suspension design obviously allowed it to shoulder the load with greater stamina. Sure, 200 kegs isn’t that much weight, really, but from the first few kays it’s enough to be noticeable from the driver’s seat in the Nissan and Mitsubishi; both bobbing and flustering, rather than remaining composed like the VW. The Mitsubishi tires first; is it something to do with those needle-thin dampers?The VW’s new two-snailed 2.0-litre engine is as delightful as the Nissan’s is disappointing. The Nissan has a lovely rollicking idle, but we were underwhelmed by the Pathfinder’s alleged 550Nm during 4X4OTY testing last year, and the Navara is the same. In short, it doesn’t offer the wham expected of an engine with the twist and stout of a Jeep Grand or Disco 4. And the trans calibration is frustrating; it swaps cogs when you don’t want it too, and doesn’t change when you do. Sport mode doesn’t seem to make any difference. Cruising revs are 1750rpm at 100km/h… exactly the same as the VW, which is two-thirds the size. The Mitsubishi is a few hundred revs more, which adds to the wind noise and overall higher levels of din in the cabin.The new VW engine is a forthright performer in most conditions, but for a window of maybe 200rpm above idle, where it has a torque gap before the whole torque of 400Nm arrives. Every driver stalled the VW several times on this test and, although we all got used to it, we also got used to the whiff of clutch. It’s something that may trouble a driver who’s stepped straight from a HiLux diesel.The VW’s manual shift is de-coupled from the box it controls to reduce the noise it may transmit into the cabin, but it’s also often tricky to snick into gear. Swapping from vehicle to vehicle, our drivers considered the Mitsubishi’s 2.5-litre engine and five-speed manual less refined, more peaky and with bigger gaps between the cogs (obviously), but it gets on with the task in an honest, tradesman-like manner. There’s not much more to be said there.Handling and road holding are a clear win to the VW. The engine is always on-song, therefore an asset to progress, and the handling predictable and playful. It doesn’t get knocked around by potholes or broken surfaces as much as the other two here. Steering is crisp and communicative, with the first few degrees of wheel twirling getting you an instant response, so it’s easy to correct the VW’s course with subtlety.In contrast, the Nissan feels disconnected until it loads up in corners, where it’s thrown around more than the supple VW; the Mitsubishi’s steering is lazy and lumpy and the ride firm which, with the floaty rear suspension, keeps you busy with corrections. Continuing our frustration with the Nissan’s driveline is the fact that in hilly, winding terrain it conspires against the driver keeping a smooth, flowing pace. An engine of this prodigious output should waft along on a wave of torque… or if it can’t do that, a premium performance engine should be responsive to gear and/or throttle. The Nissan does neither.VW says its Amarok is the most fuel efficient in its class, claiming 7.9L/100km for the 4X4 models in the ADR combined cycle. Our tough testing didn’t deliver figures anywhere near this claim, showing 12.6L/100km for our varied terrain, which included a session on sand. Oddly, our test Triton’s odometer showed a huge disparity with the other two vehicles, reading nearly 15 percent optimistic compared to the other two’s average, despite being driven in convoy with them. As its fuel use was within a teaspoon of the Amarok’s over the same distance, we’re sure it was an erroneous odometer and we’ve corrected its consumption figure using the average of the other two vehicles. The Triton’s corrected figure is 12.9L/100km.VW may crow about its class-leading fuel efficiency, but it’s Nissan that deserves to be happy: Despite our criticisms of its trans calibration and driveability, its big-output 3.0-litre V6 impressed, being within one litre per 100km of the other two. Good stuff.Off-road Okay, so the Amarok is convincingly competent on-road, but what does it do away from it? Well, we’re happy to say it backs up its on-road prowess with almost formidable ability off it, thanks to good, basic hardware and a sophisticated electronics/traction package. The VW has an almost aftermarket level of protection installed by the factory. It keeps its components out of harm’s way with items like brake lines and wiring harnesses all well-routed and tethered. Of note is the sump guard; it’s capable of withstanding the weight of the vehicle as it’s being ‘groined’ over a log or high crown, so protects well from terrain damage – something that we know the Nissan is vulnerable to from bitter experience. The Mitsubishi is marginal underneath, too.After its lethargy on-road, the Nissan seems to wake up on sand; those Newton metres get to work when the black turns to track. But get around that torque pothole and it’s the Amarok that feels the most lively and nimble on the beach. There’s a few flashes from the (switchable, as all are on this test) electronic nanny, but little in the way of momentum-robbing intervention, which the Mitsu seems to suffer from the most.But it’s the swag of smart software that gives the VW its (dare I say it?) all-conquering off-road ability. The Aussie dual-cab buyer is only just getting used to traction control as an asset in arduous terrain; Amarok adds chassis electronics to a diff lock to offer unflustered Land Rover Discovery-like levels of ability.Off-Road Mode tweaks the electronics for better off-road performance. It has hill descent control that works in reverse; the system is intuitively tuned by applications to the brake and throttle, rather than steering wheel buttons; the brakes release softly after the brake pedal is let go. These characteristics offer new levels of confidence to beginners (not always a good thing, we know) and enhanced safety for experienced drivers.Our final fling for this test was in a disused quarry that 4X4 often uses for direct comparisons of drivelines and systems. With the Amarok brushing-off every other exercise we’d asked of it, success in this terrain was a no-brainer. The systems are so seamless and well-tuned, you can barely feel them working.You can sum it up in one sentence: Nothing stopped the Amarok.Put simply, the new VW Amarok offers a breadth and depth of on-and off-road ability and comfort that raises the bar for the dual-cab ute brigade. One thing is for sure, 4X4 Australia’s annual Ute of the Year test is going to be one helluva battle!

The first four-wheel drive scrap began 70 years ago. Those miscreants are still on the prowl and they still wanna start something.

The big question is, what were you expecting? Admit it: you’ve already got an opinion on each of these three fourbies.It doesn’t matter if those opinions are from experience, hearsay or the mere look of the cars. It’s just that opinions create expectations, but expectations aren’t always fulfilled. And fulfilment is perhaps the most crucial reward any of us is looking for when we buy a 4X4 that targets the heart, not the head. Like these.They’re all retro-fourbies trading on various degrees of nostalgia, yet despite initial appearances, each satisfies a different heart. If you expect too much, or too little, from any of them, you’ll miss out in a big way.Having said that, we expect performance from all of them. No excuses, no exceptions. If they want to play the retro game, they’d better show some retro spirit – some of the guts from back in my day when you could buy a real, steel 4X4; when men were men and kids knew their place and, well, anyway…It’s that love of the rosy past that prompted Toyota to build the FJ Cruiser, a tribute to the company’s four-wheel-drive roots that appeared first as a concept car at the 2005 Chicago motor show. Being stuck in the past when its roses were wilting kept the old Jeeps and Land Rovers in production long past their funeral dates, but that’s turned out to be a good thing now that we’ve taken to watering the flowers of history. So what we have here is a thoroughly modern take on one of off-roading’s formative vehicles lined up against two thriving survivors of the genre’s earliest days.The Jeep Wrangler is as direct a descendent as possible of the primal Willys Jeep that bounced out of the shell holes of the Second World War and started everything. It has evolved to become one of the most popular fourbies among younger buyers. Land Rover followed hot on Jeep’s heels as the smoke cleared in the late 1940s and this littlest Defender is as true to its roots as the Wrangler is to its. More staid and slower, it sells to a slightly older, more conservative market that’s keeping Land Rover’s production lines busier than ever.So they’re not really retro. They’re the real deal. This is where the FJ Cruiser is so different. As we’ll see, it is not an FJ40 by any stretch of the imagination. It respectfully tilts its hat to its grandfather, borrows his funky old jacket, turns up the iPod and trips off into the modern world without another backwards look.Which was when some of us had our expectations dashed, but only the crusty old buggers among us. If you’re 40-something or more and were looking to rekindle your youth in a brand-new evolution of the FJ40, keep walking. That’s not what the Cruiser is about. It’s aimed at a younger market that demands mod cons and ease of use, not character and crudeness.Four of us headed bush in the three vehicles to find out more about them. There was GT and I, both in our 40s with a soft spot for old junk and suspicion for new stuff we don’t understand. There was Gemma, who’s not only a girl but a 20-something – and at the lower end of that scale. Brendon, our photographer, was somewhere in between with an artist’s slightly different way of looking at things. We were an appropriate mob for this comparison.THE LANDIE THAT TIME FORGOT “I feel like I’ve just gone back in time,” Gemma said over the UHF, minutes after clambering into the Land Rover.She said it with more derision than wonder. GT and I laughed. After all, we’d grown up with fourbies with long gear levers, upright driving positions, stiff clutches and no sense of urgency. I pictured her struggling to find the headlight switch, bunny-hopping on the jerky throttle, getting lost in the gearbox and falling behind as the diesel-powered little Tonka trundled down the road.The Defender is a vehicle only the most eccentric 20-something would like. We older blokes, though, revelled in it. It was a trip down memory lane but without the dodgy carbs, worn out steering and rattly windows. We found lots of character to like and yet felt reassured by the newness and solidity.Sure, it’s noisier when you’re up to speed, you can see bare metal inside the B-pillar and daylight behind the door seal, but there’s a sense of fun and adventure in every drive because you have to work at it a bit, get active and involved. No, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.There’s a rugged staunchness to the Defender. It lugs a 935kg payload and drags a 3500kg trailer, monstering the other two when an expedition calls. The interior is metal and rubber, just waiting to be hosed out after you’ve found your way from the ends of the earth. Ground clearance, approach and departure angles, gear ratios, suspension travel – they’re all brilliant. Add good off-road visibility, an effective traction control system, matter-of-fact tyres and those two live axles, and you have a vehicle so dedicated to bush work that it’s hard to find fault with it.It’s also the only one of this trio with full-time four-wheel drive, a good thing in all circumstances. When traction gets iffy, lock in the centre diff. Its ultra-low crawling gear – low-range first has an overall ratio of 63:1 – lets it idle over anything, the engine’s anti-stall programming adding to the ease with which the Land Rover deals with treacherous terrain.On potholed dirt roads, the suspension is firm but absorbs big hits that bottom out the others’ struts. It’ll bounce and pitch a bit, but comes into its own when it counts. But truck-like is the only way to fairly describe the ride around town and on the highway. The Defender is not anyone’s idea of an innocuous car…The only diesel here, the Landie is undeniably slow compared with the two petrol-fuelled V6s. It has endless low-speed grunt, but its powerband is narrow and the peak is only 90kW, a handicap that we noticed when rowing through the six-speed box away from the lights and when climbing big sand dunes.The former is a matter of patience, which comes with age, but the latter was downright embarrassing as the Wrangler and FJ blasted past the stranded Defender.In the end, power rules. There’s a big benefit at the pump, though, where the Land Rover saves you heaps.Land Rover doesn’t really worry about electric mirror adjustment and assumes you aren’t fussed about a serious stereo system, but you do get airconditioning and electric front windows, as well as sliding side windows at the back. Overall, it’s pretty basic.WRANGLING AT THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH Jeep has managed to lasso youthfulness and hitch it to the evergreen Wrangler, a fourby that’s like an outrageously fit 80-year-old backpacker. In Rubicon form, the Wrangler is about as hardcore as a 4X4 gets, fitted as it is with a disconnecting front swaybar to increase wheel travel and locking diffs on both of its live axles.It has great approach and departure angles, and while it’d be better off with some extra clearance under the belly, there’s almost nowhere this one won’t go. When we activated all its good gear, it waltzed up, down and around without batting an eyelid. Yes, it was even better than the Land Rover, which is saying something. Low-range doesn’t take you quite as low as in the Landie, but it’s fine all the same.The Jeep’s worse for ride comfort, though. The less well sorted rear end skitters sideways as the axle tramps over holes, lumps and corrugations. The Wrangler is part-time 4X4 but feels much more stable on dirt roads if you whack it into four-wheel drive.In all other ways, it’s easier to drive than the British vehicle. Its power delivery, gear changes, steering and driving position are all familiar in feel and response. The 3.8-litre engine has good power right through the range. It’s not hard to see why these little Jeeps are so popular in the city, being zippy and manoeuvrable (we didn’t mention the Rover’s ship-like turning circle).The carpeted interior is more pleasant, too, yet can still be stripped and hosed out without drama. Speaking of stripping, that’s one of the most attractive things about the Rubicon, which comes with both a hard-top with quickly removable panels above the front seats, and a fold-down soft top. You can have no top at all, too.If you’re really keen, the doors come off and the windscreen folds down, though it takes time and doesn’t necessarily leave it in a strictly roadworthy state. For all that, safety is still okay thanks to the roll cage.Jeep knows that music is a big deal to younger buyers so fits a booming sound system compatible with modern sound-file formats. Option in the big bass that sits in the back and you lose some load space, but it’s a price worth paying for many people.We doubt many buyers would pay much heed to the fact the Jeep has the oldest driveline in the group, its old-tech engine overshadowed by the advanced designs of the Defender’s turbo-diesel and the Toyota’s quad-cam V6. It doesn’t seem important in this context, especially when its performance and economy are not dramatically different from the FJ’s.Overall, the Jeep falls between the Land Rover’s conservative simplicity and the Toyota’s efficient modernity. It’s a fun thing that’s brought enough mod cons with it to deserve its success.THE FJ IS DEAD, LONG LIVE THE FJ Now we step into the modern world. The FJ Cruiser is not an evolution of prehistoric fourbies. It’s a Prado playing dress-ups, with all the benefits that entails. Inside and out, it leaves the other two for dead in terms of civility, creativity, design and usefulness. It’s a bit old school in that it has – like the Prado – a separate chassis and live rear axle, but times haven’t moved so far ahead that we’ll knock it for that; in fact, they’re not a bad thing at all when you’re off-road.We liked the presence of a lever to engage the part-time 4X4 system, as old-timey as both have become.Against the two shorter, narrower and higher 4X4s, it’s only a fraction behind them when you venture into the rough stuff. It bellies out sooner and needs more front wheel travel to match them when you’re that committed, but we know how good a Prado is in the bush and this one’s got it in spades. It has a rear diff lock as standard, the electronic traction control is well calibrated, and rear wheel travel is good, so the FJ Cruiser will conquer terrain that would have stopped an FJ40. The thing is no softie. It could use a hill descent control, though, being offered only as an automatic.Its modern design shines through when you look at how it combines good off-road performance with almost car-like behaviour on the road. Just jump in, turn the key and go, with no need to get adjusted or work things out. It’s as simple and straightforward as the best of Japanese vehicles. Pile in a group of friends and go anywhere in comfort.So the FJ is no style-over-substance show pony. However, its appealing style is also its Achilles heel. The vertical windscreen is low (so low it needs three wipers) and well forward, so sitting in the cockpit is like being inside a pillbox. The massive C-pillar section restricts vision and makes the back seats a bit claustrophobic. Everyone seems to agree that the front end looks great, but from the B-pillar back it’s not quite right, despite retro touches like the white roof and the wraparound rear windows.The suicide doors are a clever bit of work, incorporating the B-pillars and all their structural rigidity, and permitting pretty easy access to the back seats. But they beg the question: why? The answer’s logical: these backwards-opening half doors provide the looks of a two-door with the rear-seat practicality of a four-door. Which still begs the question: why?Why not go for a short-wheelbase two-door like the Jeep and Land Rover, which, of course, are both also sold as longer four-door wagons.We could talk about that all night (and we nearly did on this trip), but that’s the way the FJ is and, when you get down off your high horse, it’s fine and it works.And it does look cool. And it does seat five in ways the other two never will. And it is much better finished inside, with a thumping sound system compatible with everything, rear-view camera, arm rests and plenty more. It has rubber floors and water-repellent seat fabrics, and while we wouldn’t hose it out, we’d slosh a soapy sponge about the place. The safety systems are well advanced on the others, the seats more comfortable, the interior more soundproof and there’s lots more to demonstrate why automotive development went ahead the way it did. And why four-wheeled dinosaurs went extinct – well, most of them.CLASH OF THE AGES Few off-road enthusiasts don’t believe we have a richer and more enjoyable world for the survival of the old Jeep and Land Rover designs, even if most of us wouldn’t dream of owning one. The Wrangler Rubicon and Defender 90 are unquestionably two of the best hardcore fourbies ever built, able to climb the most difficult mountains and cross any navigable terrain.That’s down to their old-fashioned values combined with modern build quality and, on the whole, modern technology. But they don’t really bother with the niceties, particularly in Land Rover’s case; the Jeep does make efforts to keep its younger buyers happier.Toyota has done exactly what it wanted to do in creating the FJ Cruiser. It’s a 4X4 for today, and for today’s young buyers. It’s funky to look at, has a lot of smart features and is well equipped at about the same price as its quite basic competitors. It wins on value, hands down. Just don’t expect it to be a reborn FJ40.We could pick any winner here, simply by specifying the criteria that’d make it win: the Toyota for all the rational reasons; the Jeep for its carefree performance, functionality and open-topped frivolity; the Land Rover because a couple of crusty old blokes on test just liked it. But if you take a good look at them all in the context of their retro appeal to youthful buyers in the Twenty Teens, it’s very hard to deny that the original is the best. Go the Jeep.

Chris Collard pushes on with his trial to cover dirt-only tracks to Canada and finds himself on the trail of early pioneers who had no choice but to make their own route.

A few slabs of neatly positioned stone placed to the side of the arid track bore the hand-etched words: Destination Unknown. Another: A story with no beginning and no end.Each bore a contemplative pearl of wisdom. We were on Guru Road, in north-eastern Nevada, and meandering through a museum of contemporary reflection. It was a bit ironic, though.We knew our destination, the 49th parallel at the Canadian border, but we had no idea what point along its 3000km demarcation we would intersect. And, as for ‘no beginning’, we started at the beginning, of course.This was the beauty of an overland trek like Border to Border. A few weeks off work, a handful of maps, and the rest was a blank slate. Except for the end: Canada.To the north lay the flat expanse of the Black Rock Playa, its fissured and desiccated skin stretching out like a sea of alabaster. In the distance, the great Black Rock rose above the desert, casting an inverted shadow across what appeared to be a vast and shallow lake.At Black Rock’s base lay a hot spring and the decaying remnants of an 1800s buckboard wagon. Stretching north, the weather-faded tracks of the Applegate-Lassen Emigrant Trail. Our target for the night was the Black Rock Springs.Alkali flats and the trail of death With the discovery of California gold in 1849, an obsession swelled in the eastern US to go west. From places like Independence, Missouri, entrepreneurs, teamsters and ladies of questionable repute lined up to secure a seat in one of the thousands of wagon trains heading west.Following the Donner party tragedy, which ended in the cannibalism of three dozen souls after the wagon train became snowbound in the winter of 1846-7, pressure mounted to establish a shorter route.Prominent California rancher, Pete Lassen, in an attempt to attract settlers to his land, volunteered to lead one of the westbound wagon trains. When his first group approached the normal turnout to the California trail, he veered north along a faint track left by explorer Lindsay Applegate.Despite the fact Lassen’s route was more difficult and 200 miles longer, newspapers hailed it “a faster way to California”.In the spring of 1849, there were an estimated 22,000 emigrants en route to California. By August, hundreds of wagons had followed Lassen’s tracks into dry and desolate wasteland, now known as the Black Rock Desert.Water and grass for livestock was quickly depleted, and, for the late summer wagons, the situation soon became desperate. Without food and water, ox teams began to suffer.Delirious, they stampeded towards a distant lake – the same mirage we were seeing – only to collapse onto the barren playa, perishing where they fell.By late summer, abandoned wagons and grave sites littered the desert and the Applegate-Lassen trail would come to be known as the 1849 Trail of Death. We spun the JK’s speedometer to about 120km/h and headed for the base of Black Rock.Though mid-summer (when the dry lake should be dry), it was quite wet. Not good! I realised, as mud splattered up the side of the JK, we were about to be in deep doo-doo. We were dead centre of the playa and 25km from the nearest vehicle – or winch anchor. I lifted from the accelerator and carved a slow 50km arc towards higher ground. Though the JK was a mess, somehow we made it. At least we’d be sleeping in a camp of our choice that night.Hot springs, campfires & high rock We’d originally intended to search for Murder Rock, where Pete Lassen was bushwhacked by Indians, but ended up camping near a large hot spring at Soldier Meadows. It was a moonless night and we were two hundred kilometres from the nearest megamall. The only light in our camp was the faint blue glow of the northern constellations as they swept around the North Star.High Rock Canyon is the perfect place for an Indian ambush. We entered on a narrow two-track, sheer cliffs rising to the north and south. At times, the valley floor narrowed to less than 20m. Our tyres were following ruts in the limestone ledge – evidence of steel wagon wheels of the 1800s. We’d read accounts that bands of Paiute Indians waited on the high cliffs for wagon trains to enter the canyon – then sent a barrage of boulders over the edge, scattering livestock in a mass confusion. As we made our way west, we couldn’t help but keep a guarded eye on the skyline above.Mud bogs, rock stars and the backcountry 2160km: Restaurant, Lakeview, Oregon. The guy at the next table leaned over and said, “You two must be lost… no one comes to Lakeview on purpose. That your fancy Jeep out there?” I’d researched the Oregon Backcountry DiscoveryTrail, which was designed as an all-dirt, north-south route connecting California and Washington. We were on page one and searching for signs of the trail.Avoiding the tar road, we zigzagged through thick pine forests, dodged cattle and backtracked numerous times before getting stonewalled near the western edge of Hickey Ranch, Oregon. We eventually retreated to the tar road for a few kilometres to get to the township of Adel. Two dusty pick-ups sat outside a rustic and weathered roadside cafe – the only public establishment in the town. Inside, a couple of mud-on-your-boots horsemen helped us with information on the area. After a chinwag and cup of coffee, we parted ways with a new plan.The tourist entrance to the Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge is from the north. But our new friends had told us of a little-known road from the south – the Central Oregon Military Wagon Trail (circa 1880). Little-known was spot on; the overgrown switchback hadn’t seen traffic in years. Once on the plateau, the refuge was magnificent. Pronghorn antelope roam in small herds over the sage-covered terrain.The rains that hindered our progress through the Black Rock left the next 40km rather soggy. Antelope watched from a guarded distance as we slogged through the hub-to-fender-deep water. Temperatures dropped through the night and, peering out from our tent the next morning, everything was white. Our fingers were a bit on the frostbitten side by the time we wrapped up chalet de ARB, stuffed everything in the Jeep and got rolling.2459km: Wagontyre, Oregon. People of central Oregon are akin to those of the outback – as down-home as can be. Bob and Cheryl James set up shop – the Wagontyre cafe/general store/fuel depot – and, with a town population of two, they stay busy. We grabbed fuel, a burger and hot coffee. The skies cleared by midday and we were heading for the Ochoco National Forest. We’d gone from arid desert to dense forest to waterlogged plateaus, and were now in the heart of Oregon’s timber country. Logging roads created a tangled web of Ys, forks, dead ends… places to get lost.As you pass through the sleepy burg of Seneca, Oregon, you think you are awakening from a whimsical dream. Pines and firs carpet the adjoining foothills; dogs lay in semi-catatonic states on farmhouse porches, and the occasional cow or bobcat stroll across the street. Bobcat? While topping off the tanks at the general store, a bobcat leapt out of a tree a few metres away, and into a large wooden building. Another feline darted past. Hmmm…?The bobcats were Big and Bob, and belonged to the character standing on the porch, JW Everitt. JW, an avid dual-sport rider, is one of the most interesting guys I’ve met. A gifted musician, he’d played with Crosby, Stills and Nash, and Jackson Brown, recorded his own titles and is now the owner of the Bear Cat Lodge. Built in a 1900s-era logging bunkhouse, the Bear Cat is one of Oregon’s premier lodges and the only one dedicated to cool overland travellers (yes, if you’re not cool you don’t get invited back). We struck up a conversation, and he invited us to stay the night.2760km: Rolling into the 1890s mining town of Sumpter, Oregon, is like stepping into a 90-year time warp. Faded hand-painted billboards adorn weathered brick buildings and wood-plank boardwalks line the streets. On the side streets, rickety wooden barns lean at precarious angles. Across from the red brick ice-cream parlour, which is still serving, we stepped into the Elkhorn Saloon. Every head in the place turned to check out the tourists as we swung open the creaky wooden doors.2892km: Between the Wallowa-Whitman and Umatilla National Forests lies the town of La Grande. It was well past dark by the time we filled the tanks, and though we were tempted to get a room for the night, the darkness called for a night run. The wind howled like a pack of hungry hyenas by the time we reached the cliff-side track off Mt Emily. To our left, a vertical wall; to the right, we stared into an abyss of inky blackness. We knew what was down there. Nothing.The rutted two-track, just wide enough for our JK and barely illuminated by our high-beams, was only visible to the next bend. The thought of a tree blocking the road, and the sheer drop-off just outside Suzy’s window, kept my eyes pinned beyond the hood. As we bounced through freshly filled divots in the road, water splashed off the tyres, over the precipitous edge and into the emptiness below. We wouldn’t see our sleeping bags till 0100hrs that night. Beyond lay the state of Washington.We were winching the first tree off the trail before 0830 the next morning. It was chilly, overcast and deep snowdrifts lay ahead. After more than 3000km on the track, this was the first chance to deploy our Warn 9.5ti winch and Viking winch rope. It was also the first of about a dozen trees we’d wrestle out of our path.With the BFGoodrich KM2s aired down to 8psi, we churned north, pulling tree after tree out of the way before clearing the reaches of the Blue Mountains. Ours were not the first tracks of the season, but we didn’t see a soul all day.3273km: While Oregon brought us 600km of forest-lined dirt roads, southern Washington would show us the hard working farmers of North America – hundreds of kilometres of perfectly groomed wheat fields. Washington is the third largest producer of wheat in the US – 90 percent of it exported to Pakistan, Japan and the Philippines. As spectacular as they may be, and the gravel roads did meet our all-dirt criteria, after a hundred kilometres we made a break for the Idaho border.Entering Idaho near Moscow (yes, Moscow, Idaho), our maps indicated multiple dirt tracks north. However, neither the DeLorme Atlas nor Garmin Map Source identifies private land. Most of the region is owned by logging companies, and an array of locked gates and closed roads became our nemesis. After a full day of dead ends and extended backtracking, we were faced with taking the tar roads or heading back to Washington. The decision was for Washington and the city of Spokane.After dropping my lovely bride at the airport, I returned to the place where we got on the pavement. Alone at this point, I was only 150km from the Canadian border (2.5 hours on paved roads), yet I’d log 500 clicks and 60 hours before reaching the 49th parallel. Near the Little Falls River I cleared Washington’s farmland and was back in the highlands.The township of Usk would be my last chance for fuel before pushing on to the border through the Kaniksu National Forest. Just after sunset I located a side-track in the thick trees to camp on. Of the few people I’d talked to that day, they all shared a common question: “You camping?” and “You’d better watch out for grizzly bears – keep an eye on your dog.” Despite the calm, moonless night and clear skies, Radar and I jumped with every creak, crackle and swoosh from the blackness.Heading east, the area is a stunning example of the grandeur of the Pacific Northwest. Towering peaks, bottomless crystal-clear lakes, and deer darting across the trail are reason enough to come here. But my mix of paper and digital maps was a world of confusion. The main tracks wound around the mountains like a python on a wallaby – I wouldn’t suggest attempting to save time by finding that short cut. By late afternoon I’d made little progress, and I found myself parked near a fire lookout tower on top of Old South Baldy; another dead end.“I must have missed the turn, it was that other left.” Closer inspection revealed the Forest Service sign lying in the bush. Ah, victory! The problem was a very large tree lying across the trail. I grabbed my snatch block and unspooled 30m of winch rope. After multiple pulls, repositioning the line, strap and attachment point each time, there was just enough room to slip around.An hour had passed and the sun was heading for the horizon. I loaded up my gear and … 200m round the bend was a *&#$% dead end.4289km: Smackout Pass, Harrier Creek and Quinn’s Road are the direct dirt routes from Ione to Northport, save 20km. This night is where my final push for the border got interesting. The only apparent route to Northport was on an overgrown track over Black Hawk Mountain. It was about 2200hrs, I snatched yet another tree out of the track, then another. Abandoned for some time, the native flora had reclaimed the route, leaving only two parallel depressions in the grass. Somewhere on the lee side of Black Hawk, a faint quad track appeared and became my guiding light. But did it come from Northport or from where I just came? Had I missed the tracks?A left turn put me on another tree-shrouded, cliff-side road. The quad track was gone. Should I continue on? I could see lights from a ranch house in the valley below. Two hundred metres in, forward progress ceased; a washout. With zero room for error, I begrudgingly slipped the JK into reverse and cautiously backed out, stopping several times to reset my mirrors (after branches knocked them out of position). Beat-dog tyred and a little nervous (okay, scared), I retreated to the Y-junction, located the quad track again and followed it down to the valley. Camp that night was on a boat ramp of the mighty Columbia River. The Canadian border would be mine tomorrow.4416km: The US-Canadian border, which shadows the 49th parallel for nearly 2000km, is an extension of boundaries set forth in the Treaty of Paris (1783) between the British and French. With the tightened security after 9/11, I was expecting sound-sensing equipment in the trees, border patrol officers creeping around in the bush, floodlights… something!My first attempt was a bust – 200m short; several three-metre divots and a US Government warning sign. The second attempt was the ticket. I wound around a clear-cut area to a landing at the top of a ridge. Beyond lay Canada. I was completely alone, bar Radar, my dog. There were no warning signs, border patrol agents or helicopters. I waited, expecting some new friends with badges and guns, but no one showed up.The journey or the destination It may be cliched, but the axiom, it’s not the destination, it’s the journey, holds an undeniable truth. The destination may be a remote peak, or simply an imaginary line in a forest. The views may be spectacular and the air clean and clear, but often it’s just a place, a waypoint on your GPS or coordinates on a map. However, when you look back, it will most likely be the journey remembered; people along the way and travelling mates. While the destination motivates us, it’s the journey that fills life’s palette with colour.

How hard could it be to use only the dirt between the borders of Mexico and Canada? That dirt being the USA!

A light haze is drifting like a translucent blanket above the western horizon. The afternoon sun, like a retina-burning laser, sears a hole though the fiery orange soup.Adjusting my visor to the down position, the rays underscore my blind. Squinting, I sit up straight to ease my eyes. The mid-June air is warm, but not unseasonable. After all, we’re crossing a fissured and desiccated dry lake in the middle of the southern California desert. I make out a shape in the distance that begins to take form as we approach.I lean over to my driving buddy, Del Albright, and say, “Does that look like two guys sitting under a tarp?” Del laughs, smiles and looks on. We’ve hardly seen anyone for days, since we left the Mexican border; Del probably thinks I’m seeing a mirage, or suffering from heatstroke. With a second glance, his expression turns serious; he flicks off the radio and is all business. “Soldiers.”Startled by our stealth approach, one of them appears to reach for an M16 as he leaps from his chair. We slow down as he approaches Del’s open window. About nineteen years of age, he is wiry, fit, and energetic. Del’s smile returns. “Where did you guys come from?” PFC Zach declares in a Texas drawl, “They got live bombing exercises going on, we’re supposed to be keeping people outta there.”

FIVE DAYS FLASHBACK

I’d been day-dreaming of doing a major overland trip for some time. And, unlike past adventures like crossing the Kalahari or trekking through Morocco, this needed to be an adventure that anyone could do. The other criteria was that it needed to be in a region where AK-47s are not standard issue for teenagers, and inoculations not required.

I’d received an assignment in British Columbia, Canada, which sparked the idea. But where to start and what would make this an epic adventure? Logic determined that I should start at the beginning, or, in this case, the bottom. Mexico! The next obstacle was to carve twenty-plus days out of my schedule.

My flight home from BC hit the tarmac at 0030. I slept for four hours, Del arrived at 0600, and we headed for Los Angeles. I’d talked Jeep’s brand manager, Scott Brown, into loaning me a four-door JK for three weeks. It wasn’t your average JK; it was the Overland, one of Mopar’s Underground Engineering concept vehicles – a real head turner.I was introduced to the Overland while shooting Mopar’s Trail Calendar in Moab, Utah. Sporting an ARB roof rack and Series III tent, AEV bumpers, a Warn winch with Viking winch rope, it oozed adventure from every angle. The 35-inch BFG KM2s didn’t hurt the ‘we’re cool’ profile either. At 1500 hours, and 700km later, Scott handed us the keys and we headed for the Mexican border.As the crow flies, Google Earth pegged my route to be 1816km. Yahoo Maps came up with 2448km (about 27 hours if you don’t stop for fuel, food or potty breaks). Well, we’re not birds and Yahoo gives the direct route – on tar roads, which is boring. So, how far would it be on the road less travelled – the dirt track – and how long would it take?

NEW MATES AND FIGHTER JETS

The Mexican border cuts across the Algodones Sand Dunes, stretching east for 3000km to the Gulf of Mexico. In places, this high-security demarcation is no more than a bold red line on a government map. In California, though, zona de internacional is a three-metre barrier resembling thousands of cattle grids standing on end. It also sports a 30-metre restricted area on the US side.

How do we know this? We parked ten feet from the ferrous fiend and within five minutes a half-dozen US border agents converged on us like Radar (my dog) on an unguarded bag of beef jerky. As we parted, I mentally queried what I would encounter when I nosed the JK’s bumper against the 49th parallel (Canada).

My research revealed that there would be too much snow in Montana and Idaho, so we’d stick to the Wild West: California, Nevada, Oregon and Washington. I slipped in a Jimmy Buffet CD, reset the trip meter, switched on Spot (our satellite transponder) and turned the wheels north.251km: Slab City is one the most God-fearing and bizarre enclaves one will behold. Passing through was like a 20-minute acid trip through a sectarian Tom Petty video. We parked at the base of God Mountain; a fifty-foot man-made precipice rising from the desert floor, and poked around the various forms of Godly art. The population is only a few hundred and we didn’t see a soul, but we sensed we were not alone.With all forms of modern navigation technology at hand, one would think we’d know where we were going. Not so! A few hours later we were being escorted out of a bombing range by a civilian-looking guy in a hired cargo truck. We didn’t believe him until a couple of jets did a low pass on our position and disappeared over the next range. Plan B: We diverted to the Bradshaw Trail through the Orocopia Mountains, cut north and headed for Joshua Tree National Park.My Jeeping mate, Del, is a perpetual joker. He’d also done several tours in the military and knows how to roll with the punches; a good guy to travel with. He’d ride with me for ten days, to Reno, Nevada, where I’d kick him to the curb in lieu of my lovely (and much better looking) wife.

KILLER BEES, MARINES AND M16S

Our intended route into the park had a gate across it, and a road closed sign. It was clear at this point that the all-dirt aspect of our trek to Canada would need to be modified slightly to find fuel, access the national parks and skirt around numerous military bases.In the north-east corner of Joshua Tree NP is the Old Dale Mining District, which had its heyday in the 1880s. After a close encounter with a rattlesnake, we hunkered down for the night near a decaying ore rig. As our fire illuminated the canyon walls, we cracked open a few coldies, gazed at the drifting constellations and surveyed our maps.

336km: Skirting the Twenty-nine Palms Marine Base (more bitumen) put us on the east side of Johnson Valley, home of the King of the Hammers. It was late afternoon when we met our new Marine buddies, Zach and Nick and their M16s. The soldiers had been dropped off with a case of MREs (meals ready to eat), radios and a few jugs of water. And the M16s? Only our vivid imaginations. However, with heightened US military activity, we’d need to keep a closer eye on our maps.520km: The 1800s US policy of Manifest Destiny was the impetus for the expansion of the iron horse across the west. And in the days before the automobile, railroads became an expedient lifeline to the east. The map indicated our track continued past the Topeka-Santa Fe railroad – and it did, but there was no crossing. Del raised an eyebrow, laughed and turned up the radio. I slipped the JK into low-range, jumped the tracks and headed towards the Mojave Desert.

Encompassing much of Old Mexico (Southern California, Nevada and Arizona), the Mojave ranges from barren salt flats to palm-lined oasis – a must-do.Death Valley summers can chase the mercury well past the 45 degree C mark, and it was 27 degrees C when we awoke in our camp near Warm Springs. Del already had the coffee hot, and the harmony of Jimmy Buffet’s Four Lonely Days drifted through camp. It became a mascot song of sorts, and numerous karaoke auditions would occupy the cab in upcoming days on the road.The route of our previous day, Henry Wade Road, holds a secure footing in the region’s annals. Though written accounts vary as to the number of desiccated souls left behind by the first wagon train to stray into Death Valley, no one disputes how the area received its moniker. A survivor of the ill-fated 1849 expedition, Henry Wade returned the following year en route to California with his family.

Again faced with dwindling supplies, Wade acted on a hunch that an old Indian trail would lead his group from this hellish wasteland. Decades later, in the 1880s, 20-mule teams of the Harmony Borax mines used this route to haul ore to the new Mojave Rail Station.The route from Warm Springs to Goler Wash is not to be missed. Striated canyon walls stretch high from the valley floor, peppered with decaying mines and cabins. Goler Wash is a narrow and hidden cleft in the western slope of the Panamint Range. Though commonly known for its access to Barker Ranch, the 1969 hideaway of Charles Manson, the canyon was actually named after John Goler, a member of that first wagon train in 1849. We kicked around the charred remains of the ranch before heading to the ghost town of Ballarat (population: three) to visit George ‘Big Hands’ Novak.Settled into an old blue office chair like a comfortable cat, George, now in his late 80s, is no stranger to the desert. Arriving in 1947 to do some prospecting, he took a liking to solitary desert life. Six decades later, his mining days are of a bygone era. His new gig is managing the Ballarat store, museum and post office with his son Rocky. We shared cold Cokes, while George spun yarns of desert days past, and Del banged out a few tunes on the piano.800km: Saline Valley spreads out from the base of Grapevine Canyon. Beyond are the Saline Valley Hot Springs. Once a refuge for hippy fallouts from the 1960s, the palm-lined paradise is surrounded by desert. As we set up camp, afternoon shadows stretched across the valley while two stray coyotes eyed us from a distance. Long overdue for a bath, we grabbed our towels, a bottle of Patron Tequila (tequila: it’s a Yankee thing), and slipped into the hot springs for a fiesta under the stars.1230km: Bodie, CA, latitude N38 12’ 46”. A chilly wind blew through the paneless wood-framed windows of a 19th century church, kicking up a swirl of dust as it exited a pair of open double doors. Down the street was one of Bodie’s sixty-five saloons: dusty beer pitchers on the bar, pool cues leaning against the wall – yet void of life. It appeared as if the entire town just up and moved one day. This was Bodie.

With a reputation for gunslingers, gamblers and ladies of pleasure, the people of Bodie have never minced words when it comes to hard rock mining, drinking or pay dirt. In its heyday – around 1880 – preachers and ladies of society had moved to Bodie in an attempt to save the township from Satan. They were a hardy lot, and, as winter snows encapsulated the town (which sits at 2530 metres), most folks stayed the course.The steam engines continued to whistle, town folk shovelled snow tunnels, and proper church services were still held on Sunday. The famous quote, “Goodbye God, I’m going to Bodie,” was penned by a young girl whose family moved to Godforsaken Bodie from the refinement of San Francisco.

TOMBSTONES, BUCKET OF BLOOD SALOON, AND THE BIGGEST LITTLE CITY

We’d crossed into the state of Nevada, the sky was clear and cold, and the compass beckoned north. Antelope darted across the track as we traversed a narrow canyon to Fletcher Junction and the remnants of the Pine Grove mining district.One of the truly special things about Nevada is that the Wild West and wide-open spaces remain. And you can get just about everywhere on a dirt track, if you choose. We slipped down to Smith Valley for fuel before traversing the lee slope of Mount Como, through the Como Mining District and on to Virginia City. As the days on the road became weeks, the JK cab was taking on the aroma of a dirty sock bag, and we figured a hot shower, some good grub and a few coldies were in order. Just past 10pm, we wandered into the Bucket of Blood saloon. The origins of the name were a mystery to us, but we speculated that somewhere in the mix of drunken miners and handy revolvers, tempers flared and blood was spilled.1646km: The skyline of the World’s Biggest Little City came to view as we descended Rattlesnake Mountain into Reno, where I’d be joined by my lovely wife Suzanne.

JOHN FREMONT, THE SMOKE CREEK DESERT AND BRUNO’S

Colonel John Fremont, a civil war veteran and explorer, was the first white man to glimpse the deserts of northern Nevada. His charge, from 1841 to 1846, was a government-funded survey of the Oregon Territory and Sierra Nevada Mountains. After meeting Kit Carson on a Missouri riverboat, and working together on several westerly expeditions, the two left St Louis with 55 men for a five-month survey of the west.On January 5, 1843, ground-fog obscured visibility to 30 metres, many of their livestock and horses had died or been stolen by Indians, and Fremont’s crew needed greener pastures. A scouting trek revealed the waters of Pyramid Lake to the south and the Smoke Creek Desert (named for the rising smoke from Indian campfires through the fog). We speculated that Fremont’s vantage point may have been the peak to our east as we veered north on Winnemucca Ranch Road.1830km: We lit our campfire in the lee of Eagle Head Peak at around dusk. Looking out over the Smoke Creek Desert, we couldn’t help but envision the heavy fog that Fremont and his men witnessed. Smoke rising from scattered Indian camps was a constant reminder that they were not alone. Unlike Fremont, however, we were only graced with the howl of a lone coyote that night.In the town of Gerlach, Nevada, there is a sign that reads: ‘Gerlach, where the pavement ends and the West begins’. My departure from the Mexican border seemed like a distant memory. The trip meter clicked 1890km, just a bit more than Google Earth’s estimated as-the-crow-files distance from Mexico to Canada, and we hadn’t even made it to Oregon yet. We still hadn’t unspooled our winch, but the snow and felled trees to the north would undoubtedly change that. Topping up our fuel and water, we nosed the JK onto the Black Rock Playa, a 50km-long alkali flat. Beyond lay the High Rock Canyon, the Trail of Death and Oregon Territory.

The tough trek into Walcott Inlet is the best wilderness trip in the whole of the Kimberley. Who says? Ron and Viv Moon do!

The climb up Magpie jumpup is tough. I slipped the Patrol into low-first and let the transfer box’s Gearmaster rock-crawling cogs haul the Patrol and the Tvan up the rock ledges, the engine ticking over just above idle.The jumpup we were traversing is just one of a number of steep, rocky climbs on the track to Walcott Inlet in the Kimberley’s far west. The only access these days is via Mt Elizabeth station and while the entry fee of a hundred or so bucks may seem a little steep, you only have to realise it takes a crew from the station and Bachsten Camp two to three weeks to cut the track through after every wet season ends to know that it’s worth every cent.This vehicle track was first established by Peter Lacy (current owner of Mt Elizabeth) and his brother back in the early 1960s to open up access to the Munja pastoral lease for a new purchaser. Since then, the Lacys have kept the track open and it has never been an illegal track, as some local greenies would like to promote it.Along the way you’ll also cross a few creeks and a couple of major streams, which, in the dry season, are generally nothing more than a pleasant trickle over some rocks. Nearby there is nearly always a spot to camp.Passing through the rugged ranges, the observant traveller will see a cave or overhang here or there and closer investigation will often reveal some fabulous Aboriginal art. A giant reclining Wandjina (sea spirit) decorates one cave we found while in another the many heads of mouthless Wandjinas dominate the rock canvas.In others, we’ve found the age-old remains of burials while in hidden places we’ve found the enigmatic Bradshaw figures, their lithe bodies still seeming to dance to some ancient rock music.Bachsten Camp, about two-thirds of the way along the route on the edge of Bachsten Creek, is a top spot to spend a couple of nights. In the surrounding hills and rocky outcrops there is plenty to discover and after a hot day of walking and exploring the creek is a delightful spot to cool off.From here, the track gets rougher and tougher, although you may have thought that would be impossible. Still, halfway up one climb is the closest place to stop for the short, rocky walk into Wren Gorge. Here, a large pool surrounded by red-raw rock cliffs receives its water from a trickling waterfall. It is a magical place.As you get closer to Walcott Inlet, you finally break out of the ranges as you skirt the lower reaches of the Calder River before its confluence with the Charnley River at the very head of the inlet.

You’ll pass the remains of Munja Camp and of the old mission close by. Just a couple of kilometres later, and about 220km from Mt Elizabeth homestead, you’ll come to Lone Dingo Camp on the edge of the inlet, marked distinctly by three large boabs.This place is at times mossie and sandfly city, but the fishing is something else and there are few places as remote as this that you can reach by vehicle – in Australia, let alone the Kimberley!That’s just part of the magic, and while you can do the trip in two days, one way, it’s better to take your time to explore, discover and enjoy. In fact, that’s not a bad approach to life in general.TRAVEL PLANNERWHEN TO GO From mid-May to the end of October is about the only time vehicle access is possible. Access may be closed off in future years.STANDARD AND TIMES This is a hard, two-day trek (one way) on obscure, sometimes non-existent tracks. Rocky step-like climbs and creek crossings mean that this is not for the faint-hearted. If you are the first vehicle through for the season it will be much harder, as the grass makes finding the track a challenge. Good navigation skills are essential. Tyre damage is very possible.PERMITS, ACCESS AND CAMPING Permits and keys are required from Mt Elizabeth station, 08 9191 4644, for the route west of Mt Elizabeth.No facilities are provided in the bush camping areas.To stay at Bachsten Camp, call 08 9191 1547; you must contact them beforehand. Hot showers, toilets and a pleasant camping area are provided. This route is closed during the wet season, generally up until May, when a team and tractor has slashed the route to Walcott Inlet.ACCOMMODATION AND FACILITIES The closest supply points to this route are at the Mt Barnett Roadhouse, 08 9191 7007, and the Immitji Store, 08 91917471, both on the Gibb River Road. Mt Elizabeth station, 08 9191 4644, offers excellent accommodation and camping. You must be self-sufficient in every way. Fresh water is scarce at Walcott Inlet, although there is normally some a few kays back in the last major creek you cross.INFORMATION, MAPS AND GUIDES The best map is Hema’s The Kimberley, while Ron and Viv Moon’s The Kimberley – an Adventurer’s Guide is the best book on the region.VEHICLE RECOMMENDATIONS This track is only suitable for well set-up 4X4 vehicles with low-range, good ground clearance and sturdy tyres. A winch may also come in handy. Note: All GPS readings in WGS84 datum.

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While bullbars have to be the most prominent protection device on most 4X4s, paying attention to your rear end will reap not only additional protection to your pride and joy, but also give handy carrying capability for your off-road travel.

To this end (pun intended) a Kaymar rear bar has been fitted to our long-term JK Wrangler. This has removed the weight of the spare off the vehicle door and allowed the addition of a jerry-can holder. The bar integrates well into the backside of the Jeep, providing a tough yet subtle design that looks like it was always meant to be there.

The benefit of isolating the weight of the spare from the original door mounting can only help to maintain the door’s integrity and allay the possibility of developing rattles or dust-sealing issues after extended use on corrugated roads. Access to inside the vehicle is easy, despite having to reach underneath bar-mounted accessories to release the swing-away arms via ergonomic rubber-coated handles.

Both opening and closing feels firm and secure and doesn’t require a huge amount of force to achieve each operation. The arms are also equipped with quality gas struts and they swing away nicely – and quickly, as the warning label states! In order to increase the durability of components in what can be a pretty filthy area of your fourby, Kaymar has made sure the pivot roller bearings are dust and weather sealed.

We got the bar pretty well coated and the action of the carrier showed no sign of deterioration in its smooth action. In addition, the use of sealed LED modules increase the longevity factor over traditional globes in the integrated light units. We opted to have the single wheel carrier, but you can choose a twin wheel unit for tyres up to 33-inch.

The carrier can cope with 35s, but only one at a time. Of course, as with all Kaymar bars, you can specify work light, hi-lift jack and aerial mounts. The integrated tow bar also adds flexibility and, when the tongue is removed, the bar has increased our departure angle. A happy ending.

• Price: $3000 plus fitting
• Contact: kaymar.com.au, 03 9739 4110

When they talk of the Top End, they often forget about the topmost end of them all, NT’s Cobourg Peninsula.

No matter how difficult the track – and how remote the destination – it is almost impossible to really get away from it all. There is one place, though, tucked up in the north-east corner of Arnhem Land, where you really are away from it all. A long way.The Cobourg Peninsula reaches into the Arafura Sea like a hand seeking refuge from the mainland. To protect it, and its surrounding waters and islands, the entire area has been declared a national park.The Garig Gunak Barlu National Park embraces 4500 square kilometres of archaeological sites, wetlands, swamps and lagoons, monsoon rainforest and mangroves, coral reefs and seagrass meadows. The clear waters teem with aquatic wonders such as dugong, dolphins, six species of sea turtle, tropical fish and corals, and enough trophy-size fish to make any fisherman drop to his or her knees.If ever blue waters enticed, these do. They’re warm and clear and gorgeous – but with sharks, crocodiles and stonefish, it simply isn’t safe. The Arafura Sea and the sandflies are reminders that no matter how stunning mother nature can be, she can also torment and tease.A visit to the Cobourg Peninsula entails some serious planning. A permit is required and your application should be made at least a week in advance, or longer for school holiday periods, as campsites are limited.The camping fee isn’t cheap, so try to spend at least three of the seven nights allowable. You must bring everything with you, including all fuel, food and water; the nearest supplies are in Jabiru, which is 320km away – not exactly convenient. If you enjoy a cold one at the end of the day, the nearest bottle shop is at Humpty Doo, so stock up there, but remember that alcohol may not be consumed on the road through Arnhem Land; keep it packed discretely in your vehicle.This is a great destination for group travel, so if you can arrange a convoy, all the better. Make sure someone in the group has a radio or satphone in case of emergency; Black Point has a public phone that only takes phone cards. Bring any medications that may be required, including antihistamines for the guaranteed sandfly bites. Toss in a shadecloth, nibbles for watching the sunset from Smith Point and a willingness to relax and do nothing.Oh, and if you have a boat with a reliable 20hp-plus motor, emergency gear/spares and a high freeboard for rough waters, tow it up for some outstanding fishing and sightseeing.Your Cobourg adventure begins in earnest at Cahills Crossing. Don’t mistake the boat ramp for the river crossing – something that has happened, believe it or not. Engage 4X4, check the depth marker at the river crossing since the East Alligator River is tidal, then make your way carefully across.Unfortunately, your permit does not allow you to stop between here and the park boundary, but no one said you can’t drive slowly to take in the stunning floodplains.A second reason to take it slow is the abundant wildlife: watch for dingoes, wild horses, red-tailed black cockatoos, frill-necked lizards, goannas, pythons and wallabies, just to name a few. The third reason for caution is the road itself, which is rife with dips, corrugations and sharp bends.At 43km from Cahills Crossing, a track to Nabarlek continues straight while you will turn north towards Murgenella and the Cobourg Peninsula. The Cooper Creek crossing is at 53km and is worth a drop into first gear or low-range if it’s flowing. Don’t walk it first as estuarine crocodiles are most likely present.The same applies to Angulari Creek, at 90km. Murgenella Creek is 134km out and can be a bit rough – mind the resident croc that patrols the crossing.The community of Murgenella is closed to all visitors, so continue on and at 156km watch for a ‘Cobourg 120km’ sign and veer left. At 160km, the road develops a series of blind bends where it is easy to slide out of control on the loose gravel if you’re not careful.The boundary of Garig Gunak Barlu National Park is 187km from Cahills Crossing. Here, the road narrows and stays that way to Black Point, at 278km. Check in at the ranger station to confirm your arrival, then it’s another 2km to a junction. Turn left to Smith Point for mandatory sunset viewing and a walk on the beach, or right to the campgrounds, which are 5km beyond the airstrip.After this drive, which is best done at the start of the day, all you will want to do is set up. Position your tent or camper for maximum shade (with a little luck you will have been assigned a site with a shade sail). If you have a screen enclosure of any kind, set that up too, since the sandflies are like carnivorous predators here. Pay attention to your surroundings at all times as campers have seen crocodile tracks running from the beach to a nearby billabong.The next thing to do is to stop by the cultural, environmental and historical display at the ranger station. The Agalda, Madjunbalmi, Muran and Nagaindjagar clans have occupied this area for about 40,000 years, trading with neighbouring Macassan sailors for centuries before Australia was ‘discovered’.In 1838, the British claimed the area and established the Victoria settlement. This began with typical British bravado and ended in despair a decade later. Visitors with a boat can visit the ruins, 25km south of the Black Point boat ramp. The trip requires an information sheet and registration with the ranger. Allow at least six hours for the return trip.Other information sheets at the Black Point Cultural Centre are worth a look. The notice board includes commercial tours with Venture North from Black Point to Victoria settlement (twice a week or on demand) and also fishing charters (minimum of three). However, these are best booked in advance with Venture North.The beach to the south of Smith Point has a rocky area with interesting pools at low tide. There is a coastal 4X4 track from Smith Point to Stewart Point with several scenic lookouts, but make sure that this 30km return drive doesn’t put your fuel supply in jeopardy (and check with the ranger first). The Lamilmil Swamp walking track is 1.5km long and begins at the ranger station.The fishing at Caiman Creek, 14km back along Garig Road, is meant to be good, but, again, check with the ranger. You can also launch a boat at Caiman to explore the estuary and go fishing. The Black Point ramp provides access to all of Port Essington, but these waters are for equipped, experienced boaters only. Wildlife watchers will want to look out for banteng, an endangered species of Indonesian cattle, roaming near the airstrip at night.Mostly, though, a trip to the Cobourg Peninsula is about relaxing and enjoying the scenery. The Garig language group called the Arafura Sea lala, and it is that clear blue lala, sparkling like cut crystal, that you’ll remember long after your Cobourg adventure is over.TRAVEL PLANNER: WHEN TO GO The dry season, generally from May through to October. School holidays can get very busy so it’s a good idea to book well in advance.DISTANCES Cahills Crossing to Smith Point, 560km return. Nearest fuel is at Jabiru, 39km one-way from Jabiru to Cahills Crossing. Factor in an additional 50-100km at Smith Point for coastal drives and tracks to Smith Point and the boat ramp.DIRECTIONS TO START Travel east on the Arnhem Highway into Kakadu National Park, turn north to Ubirr and drive 37km to the Border Store and Cahills Crossing.DRIVING TIME Four to five hours from Cahills Crossing.NEAREST SUPPLIES Jabiru has fuel, food and services.WHAT TO TAKE Everything including all food, water, spares, a tarp for shade, first aid kit, medications, sun and insect protection, enough fuel for a 750km return trip. Radio or satphone in case of an emergency. Phone card for the phone at Black Point.TRACK DIFFICULTY Moderate with numerous creek crossings that can vary in depth (check depth markers). Expect dust, corrugation and slippery bends. Take a high-clearance 4X4 with and two spares; permits are only issued to 4X4s.WARNINGS Tents and camper-trailers only; no caravans. Caravan storage available at Kakadu Lodge and Caravan Park in Jabiru (08 8979 2422). If you are allergic to sandfly bites, take strong precautions as they are at the top of the food chain here.The track can be closed with little notice due to damage or for ceremonial purposes.Tides at Cahills Crossing are about six hours behind Darwin; a high tide can prevent you from crossing, check on bom.gov.au for the NT tide table.CAMPING Two campgrounds near Smith Point, Area 1 (no generators) and Area 2 (quiet generators). Both have composting toilets, cold showers, bore water, barbecues, some sites with shade sails.FURTHER INFORMATION Northern Territory National Parks, nt.gov.au/nreta/parks. Venture North, 08 8927 5500, venturenorth.com.au.CONTACTS Black Point Ranger Station, 08 8979 0244. Jabiru Health Clinic, 08 8979 2018.FEES & PERMITS Permit required from Cobourg Peninsula Sanctuary and Marine Park Board, PO Box 496, Palmerston, NT 0831; phone 08 8999 4814, fax 08 8999 4524. You must check in with the ranger upon arrival at Black Point.Camping fee, $220 per vehicle with up to five passengers for seven nights. Transit fee through Arnhem Land, $12.10.MAPS The Garig Gunak Barlu NP Fact Sheet includes three small maps.