If I had to trace my overlanding roots, they’d lead straight back to a frozen January weekend in 2017—deep in Michigan’s Manistee Forest. I’d just joined a small Facebook group called Midwest Overlanders—barely a couple hundred members back then, now over twelve thousand strong—and signed up for their winter campout and trail ride.
My wife and I loaded up our trusty first-gen Jeep Grand Cherokee with the basics: a beat-up Coleman tent, a couple of heavy blankets, a Buddy heater, and some brand-new MAXSA traction mats. It wasn’t fancy, but we were eager. By the time we reached the forest that Friday night, darkness had swallowed the snow-covered trails. A handful of rigs were already circled around a roaring fire, their owners swapping stories and gear dreams through clouds of frosty breath.
That night, temperatures plummeted to 14°F. Our non-insulated air mattress turned to ice, and our thin tent barely trapped the Buddy heater’s warmth. Every so often, an engine sputtered to life somewhere in the dark—someone else trying to thaw out.
By morning, we were all swapping survival stories and laughter over steaming mugs of coffee. The warmest of the bunch were three guys from JCR Offroad/Victory 4×4—Caleb Forbes, Corey Giffing, and Bradley “Jeepin Bubba” Cohron—swinging in hammocks with underquilts like pros.
When it came time to hit the trails, our group of over a dozen rigs, split into two groups. I joined the “challenger” group, eager to test my new 35-inch Mickey Thompson Baja Claws. The slick snow made every turn unpredictable. We watched Fletch from All Things Overland get his Xterra buried in a frozen creek, a cheap tow strap snapped with a loud crack before he was finally yanked free. Bubba managed to high center his Wrangler and trailer on 37s on a snow drifted route, Caleb proudly snatch roped him free. Later, my own Jeep slid on a snow-packed road into Caleb’s Wrangler, thankfully just glancing off tires and sending me into the snow-covered ditch—earning me a good laugh, a few apologies, and some more recovery experience.
As the day faded, we reached a quiet riverside clearing just as the sun dipped below the trees. Burgers sizzled over camp stoves, and stories flowed as easily as the laughter. Half the group stayed for another freezing night, but my wife and I—cold, tired, and wiser—headed home with a new understanding: gear doesn’t make the adventure. Experience does. …experience in knowing what warmer gear is needed.
Those early, icy trips shaped everything that came next. Two years later, I was back in Manistee with the JCR crew, better equipped and even more hooked. What started as a hobby with a social media page turned into a passion—and eventually, a small business: Narrow Road Adventures, crafting the very gear we once dreamed of, rooftop tents, rooftop awnings, etc.