John Watson has spent two decades pointing a camera and a website at the parts of cycling that competitive racing leaves out. He’s also spent the last five years turning a rusted 1987 Toyota Land Cruiser Troopy into “El Burro”. What this has taught him is that adventure cycling and overlanding are running the exact same playbook.
John Watson runs The Radavist, a cycling website he started in 2006, from his house in Santa Fe, New Mexico, with his wife, Cari. “We’ve got people all over the globe,” he says of the site’s reach, but its roots are personal, built one framebuilder profile and one bikepacking dispatch at a time. Long before “adventure travel” was a marketing category.
A Website Built for the Cycling Nobody Was Covering
Ask John what cycling means to most people and he’ll point you to the two poles everyone already knows. The Tour de France on one end and Red Bull Rampage on the other. “There are an infinite number of nodes along that spectrum,” he says, “and The Radavist looks to shine a light on non-competitive, adventure-driven cycling.”
That gap was wide open when he started. “At the time when I started the website, there weren’t other media outlets covering framebuilders. People who build bikes in a shop one by one. Or bicycle touring and community-driven gatherings,” says John. He also pushes back on how mountain biking sells itself. “Mountain biking’s marketing doesn’t represent how most people ride mountain bikes, and how we like to be better stewards of our trails and public lands. That’s where the ‘Shred Lightly’ mantra came from.”
It’s the same instinct that eventually pulled him toward a very different kind of build. One with four wheels instead of two.
Racks, Bar Work, and the Real Overlap With Overlanding
Fifteen-plus years of documenting bike builds has left John with a strong opinion about what actually makes an adventure rig work, on a bike or in a truck. “Racks,” he says, without hesitation. “I think the era of strapping floppy bags to your bike is coming to an end, and people are finally seeing how racks are crucial for bag and bike stability.”
He draws the line straight to the vehicle side of his life: “Bar work on a Troopy can really elevate its usefulness in the rugged backcountry. Bumper, fender bars, sliders, rear carriers all embody a similar ideology.” Different hardware, same engineering problem. Carry your gear low, secure, and out of the way, whether you’re on singletrack or sand.
Why He Drives an ’80s Car and Rides a Bike the Rest of the Time
John’s daily transportation in Santa Fe is of the two wheel variety. “For my ‘daily driver’ here in Santa Fe, I just ride a bike,” he says. “If I need to carry boxes, I use a cargo bike. For errands, a simple basket bike.”
His road-tripping vehicle of choice is a 1980s-era rig. “Being on a bicycle, you see all sorts of disconnected driver behavior. People on their cell phones, speeding down the roads, in hermetically sealed boxes designed to keep them alive in the event of a crash,” he says. “In a 1980s car, you have no such creature comforts of safety devices, so it makes you a more connected driver. The doors are barely air-sealed, the air con doesn’t work. Windows down, listening to the turbo whirl, and the gearbox drone.” His conclusion doubles as his whole worldview: “People go from home, to their cars, to their offices, and back again. Humans belong in nature, surrounded by fractals. That’s why I love riding a bike around town, taking innercity singletrack and foot paths to get away from the cars.”
Finding El Burro
John had wanted a 70 Series Land Cruiser since he first saw one in Australia in 2008. A vehicle the U.S. never officially got, and one that has to be 25 years old before it can legally be imported. “I wanted a ‘project’ to work on myself, so when I saw the low price on the 1987 HJ75 pop up, I sprang for it,” he says. “Little did I know I’d be working on it for the next five years!”
That five-year build touched nearly everything. A new engine, an Alu-Cab pop top roof conversion, a new drivetrain, rebuilt mechanicals throughout, and heaps of bodywork to eliminate rust.
How It Got Its Name
“We were on a car camping trip out above the Maze district in Canyon Country over the holidays when my friends, Kim and Kyle, gave our 75 its name: El Burro,” John recalls. The route that day was full of deep ruts and side-hill traverses, the type of terrain only a donkey could traverse. “The 75 just tractored through everything, leaf springs flexing and never hiccuped once. It’s reliable like an old burro…”
A Truck He Can Actually Fix
For John, the appeal of an older rig comes down to self-sufficiency. The same value that drew him to framebuilders over mass-produced bikes in the first place. “Knowing exactly how to fix any problem with the tools and spares I carry in its cargo hold” is what he gets from El Burro that a modern vehicle can’t offer. “Everything is meant to be field-serviced. Granted, the HJ75 has an ECU now with the engine swap, but anything else in it can be fixed with pretty simple tools.”
The One Thing a 37-Year-Old Truck Doesn’t Do Well
Living out of the Troopy for weeks at a time has one clear downside. Comfort on long highway hauls. John’s regular routes aren’t short. Bozeman, Montana to Santa Fe is a 17-hour drive following the Rockies. Santa Fe to Portland, Oregon runs 22 hours. “We’ve upgraded to Scheel-Mann seats, and the new engine is a Cummins R2.8. The air con barely works, but these vehicles weren’t designed to go 80 mph (130 km/h) on the highway. The whole highway driving experience is hot and hectic.”
His workaround is simply to avoid that experience altogether. “I much prefer taking the slow road places and only put in 8-hour days driving backroads, stopping to ride singletrack, fish, or lounge by a river to cool off.”
Traveling New Mexico With Reverence
New Mexico’s history shapes how John approaches every trip he takes, at home or away. Santa Fe sits at 7,200 feet, surrounded by 19 Pueblo tribes, on land he’s direct about. “Our city is at 7200′ elevation (2200 m) and is on stolen Pueblo land, in a country that was stolen from the indigenous peoples. Living in a place like Santa Fe ought to bring these sorts of historical conversations to light.”
That awareness travels with him. “So when I travel, I like to learn from the original cultures of the area. I think being a white dude who lives here means I should document it and write about it with reverence and respect,” he says. John’s openly critical of how outdoor media typically frames the outdoors. “Outdoor media is so much about ‘conquering’ the land, particularly mountain biking, where you ‘decimate’ a trail. To me, those comments are gauche as hell. Let’s live symbiotically with nature and take the time to soak in its grandeur.”
An Overlanding Culture Built on Necessity, Not Fashion
John’s quick to distinguish New Mexico’s four-wheel-drive culture from the version popularized in states like California. “Most people actually need four-wheel drive just to get home,” he says. “Our roads get thick and slick with any amount of precipitation, and unlike places like California where the lifestyle ‘overland’ thing became popularized, these rigs are a necessity for outdoor living. Want to do a river trip? A fly fishing expedition? Or hunt in our high country? You better have four-wheel drive and mud tires.”
He’s blunt about the contrast. “There’s an honesty and utilitarianism here that is absent in many states who fetishize bolting ladders, Rotopax, and Maxtrax to their cars.” The terrain backs that up. “We’ve been stranded at camp sites for extra days while the roads dry out. Some of the most harrowing times in the 75 have been after a monsoon in Canyon Country where the Bentonite clay tracks wreak havoc.” With Arizona, Colorado and Utah all close by, the rhythm of the year follows the landscape. “We spend the shoulder seasons traversing the desert landscapes, and in the summer, we’ll head to the high country.”
Two Wheels or Four?
John’s go-to recommendation for visitors with a capable rig is the Carson National Forest, with its mix of technical doubletrack and hard-to-reach backcountry fishing. Note that Pueblo land limits how freely you can link routes together. “You’re not allowed to drive off-road on an indigenous reservation, so many times, you’ll hit a gate that says ‘This is Pueblo Land, No Trespassing,’ and you have to go around.”
But when the trip is on bikes rather than in a truck, his answer circles straight back to The Radavist’s whole reason for existing: “I love taking people on the CDT from Cumbres Pass in Colorado to Martinez Canyon, just north of Abiquiu. 100 miles of singletrack!”
Why the Hercules Made Sense
The Alu-Cab Hercules roof conversion wasn’t a hard decision for John. “I was friends with the dudes at Fit Garage after meeting Alex and his partner after a Baja trip in Los Angeles when I lived there. They were doing dozens of Hercules conversions each year, so it was a no-brainer,” he says. “Once I got the HJ75, I sent them a deposit and immediately drove out to get the conversion done.”
What sold him was the space it added to a notoriously cramped cabin. “What I love about the Hercules is how it adds so much livable space to an otherwise cramped cabin of a 75 or 78 series,” he says. He and Cari built their camp routine around it: “Cari and I love to be outside when we camp, so our kitchen is outdoors on the 75, with a Shadow Awning if it’s sunny or rainy, and we primarily use the Hercules as a bed.”
True to his own minimalist streak, the interior build is deliberately simple. “The buildout is pretty bare bones. Nothing fancy,” he says. “I designed it in Rhino, a 3D modeling app I used when I was an architect, and built it from 80/20 aluminum.”
Standing Up, Staying Warm, Getting Further In
The pop-top itself changed the day-to-day experience of the rig in ways John didn’t fully anticipate. “Being able to stand up to put your pants on in the morning, or camp in sub-0º weather in Death Valley thanks to the Webasto heater, makes the pop-top a no-brainer,” he says. Plus it opens up terrain that softer rigs just can’t reach. “Being able to 4×4 wheel into hard-to-reach places, while the Sprinter Vans and Subarus are camping in the easy-to-access campgrounds. We love the 75 series for its capability, and the Hercules just upped its ante.”
The Trips It’s Made Possible
John points to two specific situations where the Hercules changed what he was willing to attempt. The Mojave desert is a favorite, but the only enjoyable months to visit carry real risk of heavy rain and snow. “The Hercules has been perfect for us to be holed up during inclement weather,” he says. The same goes for elk season. “Having a dry, warm and cozy spot to return to after freezing in a backpacking tent for a few days is always clutch.”
What Surprised Him Most
After years with the setup, which detail stands out most? “The mattress is so much more comfortable than any other roof top tent I’ve used. We added a 1″ layer of latex to the top, and now I sleep better in the 75 than I do at home,” says John. He also points to the cross ventilation from opening every window, and how the tent handles the weather New Mexico throws at it. “Hands down, being in it during heavy rainfall and storms is the most secure I’ve felt sleeping in a vehicle. It’s such a solid feeling setup.”
Slower Adventures, Same Appetite
The definition of adventure has shifted since John started documenting other people’s meaning of the word. “Even just ten years ago, I was all about minimalist travel. Riding my bike further, longer and suffering more,” he says. “Now I take it easy, enjoy the scenery, stop to wet a line on a creek for fish, or for a photo.” Cari has her own version of the same habit: “Cari loves to see old hand-painted signs, so we’ll always stop to take a photo for those.”
His Advice for Anyone Feeling the Itch
For readers who see El Burro, or a Radavist bikepacking story, and want their own version of it, John’s advice strips the whole pursuit down to essentials. On four wheels or two. “Buy an old four-wheel drive, make sure the tires are in good shape, and just get out,” he says. “You don’t need anything more than you’d take on a backpacking trip. Same with bike camping. Just add your camping stuff and go!”
In His Own Words
Watson didn’t need to be asked twice about the gear itself. “I’ll just add that I’m amazed at the quality of Alu-Cab’s products,” he says. “I’ve never had an issue with anything you guys make. In a world of junky products, making something that lasts is so important, so thank you!”
From framebuilders to fourbies, the throughline has never really changed. Build it simple, build it to last, and use it to get further from the sealed-off, hermetic version of life John’s spent two decades riding away from.
Photos courtesy Paul Kalifatidi, Kyle Klain, Sinuhe Xavier and John Watson.