There’s a funny tension that shows up once you’ve been overlanding for a while. On the one hand, you want to cover ground, keep moving, see what’s over the next ridge. But then camp rolls around, and you’re bone-tired, cold, maybe hungry—and suddenly, the idea of “comfort” starts to matter more than it did back at the trailhead.

It took me a few years (and a lot of trial and error) to stop treating comfort like some kind of weakness. Turns out, if you don’t find a rhythm between moving and resting, the whole thing starts to wear thin.

There’s no merit badge for misery—being prepared just means you get to enjoy the view longer.

Comfort Doesn’t Mean Glamping

Let’s get that out of the way. I’m not talking about lugging around a or a full size foam mattress and comforter and a bunch of fairy lights. But I’ve learned that a decent chair, an insulated mug, and a dry place to sleep go a long way. After days of dust and sun and washboard roads, small comforts start to feel like essentials.

I used to scoff at people with full kitchen setups. Now? I’ve got a two-burner stove that I’d defend with my life. Nothing tests your patience quite like trying to make dinner while kneeling in the dirt over a shaky single-flame burner in 15 mph wind.

The Setup Matters—But So Does the Tear-Down

You don’t realize how important teardown time is until you’re breaking camp in the rain. By then, of course, it’s too late to wish your setup packed faster. I’ve seen folks bring gear that looks great on Instagram but turns into dead weight after a few stops.

These days, I ask myself: Can I set this up and pack it up in five minutes? If not, it probably doesn’t belong in the rig.

Moving Without Rush

When you’ve done enough trips, you stop trying to hit a checklist of destinations. Funny enough, some of the best nights I’ve had were stops I hadn’t planned—places I only found because I was willing to stop and explore something that looked interesting. That’s the thing—good gear gives you the flexibility to stop when it feels right. You don’t need luxury, but you do need gear that doesn’t fight you. It’s not about staying in one place or racing to the next—it’s about staying comfortable enough to enjoy the moving and the stopping.

A Few Hard-Learned Comfort Wins

• A real pillow. Not the blow-up kind. Just bring one from home. Your neck will thank you.
• Shade. Whether it’s a tarp or an awning, don’t underestimate the ability to get sunburned in the morning — even something like the FSR 270 Awning V2 can turn a harsh campsite into a livable one.
• A setup you can manage solo. Sometimes your buddy bails, your wife is tired, or you’re out early before anyone else is awake. You need to be self-sufficient.
• Reliable storage. I don’t care how fancy your fridge is if you can’t find your spoon.

Final Thought

There’s no badge for suffering. The point isn’t to prove how tough you are—it’s to get out there, stay out there, and want to do it again. So find that balance. Let yourself be comfortable enough to enjoy the view, and ready enough to keep chasing it.

Not sure where to start? Our Overland Gear Checklist breaks it down by priority.