The German manufacturer has introduced a new generation of solar charge controllers designed specifically for motorhomes, expedition vehicles, and off-road builds. At the centre of the update is a dedicated charging programme for heated LiFePO₄ batteries, an increasingly common setup in modern overland vehicles, but one that has historically struggled in low temperatures.

Charging Lithium in the Cold—Without Workarounds

Lithium batteries are efficient, stable, and increasingly the default choice for serious travel setups. But they come with a known limitation: charging at low temperatures can damage the cells, forcing many systems to either reduce output or stop charging altogether.

Votronic’s approach sidesteps that compromise. The new controllers are designed to work directly with heated LiFePO₄ batteries, allowing them to charge safely even in cold conditions, without the need for an additional temperature sensor.

In real-world terms, it removes one more point of failure, one more component to install, and one more variable to manage in a system that should ideally look after itself. For vehicles used year-round—winter camping rigs, alpine travellers, or long-distance expedition builds—it translates into something simple: the system keeps working.

More Energy, Faster Recovery

The controllers continue to rely on MPPT (Maximum Power Point Tracking) technology, which is now standard at this level but still worth getting right. By constantly adjusting to the optimal operating point of the solar panels, the system extracts more usable energy compared to older PWM-based setups.

In practice, that means shorter charging times and better overall yield from the same solar array—useful on short winter days or when parked in less-than-ideal conditions. The system also automatically adapts to different battery types, including AGM, gel, and traditional lead-acid, making it flexible across mixed or legacy setups.

An additional detail that will appeal to those running dual-battery systems is the integrated maintenance charging for the starter battery. It’s a small thing, but one that avoids flat batteries after extended stays off-grid.

Built for Installers, Not Just End Users

Votronic has clearly aimed this generation at professional installers and vehicle builders as much as at end users. The focus is on straightforward integration into existing onboard electrical systems, with fully automatic charging processes and an emphasis on operational reliability.

That positioning makes sense. Modern overland electrical systems are no longer simple add-ons, they are integrated, often complex systems where compatibility and ease of installation matter as much as outright performance. A controller that drops cleanly into an existing setup without requiring workarounds or additional components earns its place quickly.

A Quiet but Relevant Update

There is nothing flashy about a solar charge controller. It sits out of sight, does its job, and is usually only noticed when it fails. But this update addresses a known limitation in a growing segment of the market, and does so in a way that reflects how people are actually using their vehicles.

For anyone running lithium systems in colder climates, or planning to, the ability to maintain charging without intervention is not a luxury. It is a baseline requirement that has, until now, often needed careful system design to achieve.

Votronic’s updated range is available immediately through specialist dealers and authorised installation partners.

VOTRONIC

The post Cold-Weather Charging Solved: Votronic Updates Solar Regulators for Year-Round Expedition Use appeared first on overland-europe.

Michele Ricucci is a very well-known and respected photographer and drone pilot. He has had photo exhibitions in multiple places around the world and the footage he gathers is simply fantastic.

‘The Gringo’s Tale’ is his first attempt at writing a book, and let me start my comments by saying that I hope it’s not the last.

Good photographers, to my mind, create pictures that tell a story with a magic blend of either subtlety or bluntness, drama and beauty. The very best seem to weave in an element of ‘clever’ that they see and few others do, until the photographer shows it to them. When I first heard of this book I wondered if Michele could create similarly impactful pictures with words. He can.

‘The Gringo’s Tales’ takes you riding over 9,000 miles across Mexico. Michele sets off with Roberto, a restauranteur friend from Italy, on two decidedly dodgy bikes. Bikes that ‘everyone’ was telling them not to ride across Mexico on. The point was that their budgets were tiny; that saying about tailors cutting their suits according to the cloth they have, came straight into my mind.

Michele is a man who when he made this trip had already bought a second-hand Honda XR 150 in South America and explored on it for over 21,000 miles. Oh, and I should mention that he didn’t have a bike license…

There are a series of layers to the book which kept my attention more than held. One of those is that he has a desire to see the world away from booking dot com and tourist sites. He’s driven to explore off the beaten track and to meet, to spend time with people who have no choice but to make life work with courage and ingenuity, the hard way, but yet have kindness and appreciation firmly in the front of their minds.

Michele is a man who spends less time worrying about how clean a place is but focuses on the point that there is a place to sleep. He’s a man who listens to advice, and then makes a plan to follow his instincts. Most of the time his instincts are both courageous, and spot on. At times they had me asking if he had all his marbles. But read on respectfully and full of hope.

Other than saying that his ‘word pictures’ are great!, I really don’t want to give more away about this book, or I am going to detract from the raw magnetism.

What I do want to say is that if you ride a motorcycle, you will be interested in this book. If you love to travel by motorcycle, you’ll be in awe, and yep perhaps horrified in sections. At others, you’ll be blown away by the stories – the tales of the unexpected, and the skill of the storytelling. I suspect you’ll end the book thinking , ‘Wow, what a ride.’

I had to have a long moment’s silence to let what I’d been reading settle in my mind. It still hasn’t. For sure it’s a keeper and I have no doubt that I’ll be reading it several times more.

Published in January, ‘The Gringo’s Tales’ is available from Amazon.

The post Riding Mexico the Hard Way: Michele Ricucci’s Raw and Unfiltered Motorcycle Journey appeared first on overland-europe.

In 2026, the Colorado-based company marks 25 years in business. A quarter of a century is long enough to see trends come and go, materials rise and fall out of favour, and entire segments of the outdoor industry reinvent themselves more than once. Through that, Big Agnes has remained anchored to a relatively simple idea: sleep matters, and it can be improved.

The company was founded in 2001 in Steamboat Springs, a small mountain town that still shapes how the brand operates. What began as a rough concept for a sleeping system—reportedly sketched out long before it became a product—has grown into a broad catalogue covering tents, mats, camp furniture, packs and clothing. The common thread has been consistency rather than reinvention for its own sake.

Bill Gamber, co-founder and still closely associated with the direction of the company, has often framed it in practical terms. Listen to the people using the gear. Adjust. Refine. Repeat. It is not a particularly glamorous philosophy, but it is one that tends to survive contact with real-world use.

That approach is reflected in how Big Agnes has expanded. Products are not developed in isolation or in idealised conditions, but tested in the same mountains and trails that sit on the company’s doorstep. Over time, that has built a reputation not through marketing claims, but through familiarity. Gear that works, and continues to work.

Earlier this year, the company introduced its VST tent series, aimed at lightweight backpackers and long-distance hikers. The brief is straightforward: reduce weight, improve durability, and retain a level of comfort that makes extended time outdoors sustainable rather than punishing. It is not a radical departure from what has come before, but an iteration of it … something Big Agnes has become known for.

To mark the anniversary, the company is releasing a limited “EST. 2001” collection. It brings together a selection of existing products—sleeping mats, bags, camp furniture and accessories—finished with a design inspired by the alpenglow seen in the nearby Zirkel Wilderness. There is also a small range of apparel and everyday items carrying the same motif.

The collection itself is not the story. It is a marker.

What sits behind it is a company that has grown without losing sight of where its equipment is used. Big Agnes still operates from a small town, but its reach is now global. That brings a different set of responsibilities, particularly around materials, manufacturing and the environments its customers depend on. In recent years, the brand has put increasing weight behind more sustainable production methods and support for conservation and public land initiatives … again, not as a headline, but as a gradual shift in how things are done.

There is a useful moment in Episode 14 of the OverlandEurope podcast, where Bill Gamber talks about the early days of the company and the people behind it. What comes through is not a story of rapid growth or aggressive expansion, but of a team building something they believed in, and then staying close to it as it developed. It explains, perhaps better than any product release, why the brand still feels grounded despite its scale.

Twenty-five years is enough time to establish a reputation. It is also long enough to drift away from it. Big Agnes, for now, appears to have avoided that second part.

And if the past is any indication, the next phase will not be defined by sudden changes, but by the same steady process that got them here in the first place.

The post Big Agnes at 25 Years: Small-Town Roots, Sleeping Systems and Measured Progress appeared first on overland-europe.

In certain circles, he was best known as part of the team behind the 1955 London to Singapore journey—an expedition later documented in First Overland that would go on to define many generation’s understanding of long-distance travel by vehicle. At a time when much of the route remained uncertain or simply did not exist, Slessor and his companions drove two largely standard Land Rover Series I vehicles across continents, establishing what many considered impossible.

Following the expedition, he built a long career with the BBC, producing documentaries over five decades. During that time, his work earned both the support of David Attenborough and formal recognition through a Peabody Award for outstanding journalism.

Yet for all of this, he remained a notably modest man. Driven, certainly, and disciplined in the way he approached both work and life, but never in pursuit of recognition. What mattered to him was the act of doing, of seeing something through properly, regardless of whether anyone was watching.

When he spoke about the past, he did so with a clarity that was striking. Events that had taken place decades earlier were recalled in precise detail, without exaggeration or nostalgia, as if they had only just happened. There was no sense of performance in it, only memory and a quiet willingness to share it.

I met Tim at a point when I was unsure which direction to take professionally. Over a series of long conversations at his home in London and during stays at his house in France, he spoke about his own life, the decisions he had made, and the challenges he had worked through. What stood out was not just the experience, but the clarity with which he viewed it. He had an ability to cut through uncertainty without forcing an answer. Those conversations gave me direction and ultimately led me towards journalism. He was my friend and mentor, and together we worked on one of my first articles, revisiting the London to Singapore expedition that had defined the beginning of his own public life.

He also held a clear and, at times, critical view of how overland travel has evolved. In 1955, he and his companions set out in basic vehicles with limited equipment, relying on judgement, adaptability, and a willingness to proceed into the unknown. In later years, he observed, the emphasis had shifted towards increasingly complex vehicles and equipment, often beyond what is necessary. While modern technology makes certain challenges more manageable, it can also encourage people to push further into difficulty than they might otherwise choose, sometimes with less understanding of how to extract themselves when things go wrong. For Slessor, the principle remained simple: travel did not need to be complicated to be meaningful.

Beyond First Overland, he wrote several other books, including Lying in State and Out West.

He remained, throughout his life, an advocate for straightforward, affordable travel, with the focus set upon experience.

For those who had the benefit of his time, that example will remain.

The post Tim Slessor, First Overland Pioneer and BBC Documentary Producer, Dies at 95 appeared first on overland-europe.

You go for the landscape first. The Pyrenees in the north, sharp and quiet, where tracks disappear into forests and the air feels cleaner with every kilometre. Then, the land softens as it rolls south through vineyards, olive groves, dry stone walls, before finally breaking open along the Mediterranean, where light, salt, and history sit side by side.

But it’s the people who make it stick.

Catalonia has a strong sense of identity. Not loud, not performative—just present. You feel it in small conversations in a bar de poble (village bar), in the way food is prepared without fuss, in the quiet pride behind local traditions. This isn’t a place built for tourists. It’s a place that lets you in slowly, if you pay attention.

For someone who travels to understand, not just to see, it works.

You can follow old trading routes into the mountains, park up beside a forgotten monastery, or sit with a winemaker who’s been working the same land for generations.

There’s space to move, but also depth if you stop.

Catalonia offers both: distance and detail. And that combination is rare.

Is it then surprising that after a day exploring backcountry trails, we rolled into Capmany to find a restaurant and let the day’s events settle into something we could actually hold onto?

The tracks had led us down out of the Albera foothills, tyres dusted white, the heat still shimmering off the bonnet. Capmany didn’t announce itself. It simply appeared. Stone walls, a church tower, the low hum of a place that had been here long before anyone thought to write about it.

We parked without much thought and walked in, following instinct rather than a map, until we found Cal Ferrer. A restaurant built into arched foundations. Five tables outside on the pavement, a few more inside a bare-bricked room.

Modern, yes. But no theatrics. No menu engineered for passing trade. Just honest food that belonged to the land we’d been driving through and wine that hadn’t travelled far at all. The kind of place where conversation sits low, where time loosens its grip, and where the day, dust, distance, small discoveries start to make sense.

This is where we found it. A simple, remarkable dessert. Creamy cheesecake, served with a spoonful of jam. Luscious. And, to my surprise, crustless… a quiet win for anyone with gluten intolerance.

That detail stayed with me. Because it meant this wasn’t adapted. It wasn’t reinvented. It had always been this way.

And that’s the thing about places like this. Recipes don’t change much.

To put the icing on the cake, so to speak, if you have a GROVE or Omnia oven and are prepared to sacrifice a little gas, you can pull this five-ingredient dessert together wherever your wheels stop turning for the day.

Treat the recipe below as a practice run at home. Then downsize the ingredients for travel and the oven you use.

Tristan Brailey has made this more than a few times. It never misses.

Serves 8-10
Cook time 25-30 min
Equipment Large bowl, whisk, springform or round baking pan (or Omnia silicone baking mould, as in the photo)

Ingredients:

1 kg Philadelphia (or any other cream cheese)
360 g sugar
7-8 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla essence
some brown cane sugar (for a slightly caramelised crust)

Preheat the oven to 170°C.

Using a whisk, combine all the ingredients in a large bowl until smooth and creamy.

Line a 10-inch (26 cm) springform pan or round baking pan with butter, oil, or enough parchment paper that it extends past the edges of the pan. This will help you remove the cheesecake from the pan later on, and will prevent it from sticking. (You can use a smaller pan for a higher cheesecake but may need to bake longer so that the center isn’t too runny.)

Bake on the centre rack for about 25-30 minutes (in the Omnia: for about 30 minutes at medium-low heat.

Note Because of the smaller size of the mould, I used a lesser amount of the cream cheese mixture). The cake will rise quite a bit but don’t worry, it will settle when it’s out of the oven.

Let it start to cool gradually by leaving it out on the counter. After an hour or so, move the cake to the fridge to cool completely. Let the cake cool fully before taking it out of the cake tin. After a few hours in the refrigerator, your cheesecake should be chilled enough to cut. (I recommend making this the day before you want to eat it, as it really benefits from a night in the fridge.)

Enjoy with a glass of sherry!

The post Capmany Cheesecake: A Village Recipe That Never Left the Empordà Hills appeared first on overland-europe.

Daylight was fading as we took a last walk through the twisted alleys of Antigo de Sarraquinhos. One house still showed signs of life. A dim bulb hung above a doorway at the top of a rough wooden staircase, and inside, hams and chouriça hung blackened under decades of smoke.

José and I stepped closer. A dog lifted its head from the landing above, watched us for a moment, and then let out a low, deliberate growl. It was enough to stop us where we stood. That brief encounter set the tone for what followed.

Not every journey requires distance, time, or elaborate preparation. In the far northeast of Portugal, beyond the reach of the coast and well outside the usual routes, lies Trás-os-Montes, a region shaped by isolation, hard seasons and a way of life that has changed little over time. This was a four-week journey into that landscape.

A Region Shaped by Isolation

Trás-os-Montes sits behind the mountains, enclosed by the Douro gorge and a series of rugged ranges that once cut it off almost entirely from the rest of the country. Roads arrived late, and with them only gradual change. Even today, the region retains a sense of distance. Villages cling to hillsides, populations have thinned, and younger generations have long since left for the coast or the cities.

What remains is a way of life shaped by necessity rather than design. The landscape still dictates the rhythm of the day, and those who remain carry a quiet self-sufficiency that reveals itself only slowly. But once trust is established, doors open without hesitation.

The history runs deep. Jewish communities fleeing the Inquisition settled here, leaving traces that still surface in local traditions. Smuggling routes developed across the borderlands, shaped as much by terrain as by need. Farmers endured extremes of climate that locals still describe, without exaggeration, as nine months of winter followed by three months of heat.

You begin to understand this not through explanation, but through observation.

Encounters with a Vanishing Way of Life

We had come to Portugal to explore three regions, but it was here in the northeast that the journey slowed and began to take on a different weight.

In Vinhais, during the Feira do Fumeiro, the air was thick with smoke and the steady movement of people passing between stalls. Families displayed sausages made to recipes handed down over generations. Some were dark and heavily cured, others lighter—variations that trace back to a time when Jewish communities adapted their food to avoid persecution while maintaining tradition.

Each product carried a history that was rarely explained, but always present.

That sense of continuity extended beyond the festival. Invitations came easily, and without ceremony. One farmer, with no introduction beyond a handshake, summed it up simply: “I don’t have much. But what I have is yours.”

We found ourselves standing in smoke-filled lofts where meat cured slowly above open fires, and in kitchens where bread was still baked in stone ovens. These were not demonstrations or curated experiences, but working spaces, unchanged in their purpose and largely unchanged in their form.

Life here is not presented. It is simply lived.

Borders, Smuggling and Survival

At Rio de Onor, the border between Portugal and Spain runs directly through the village. It is both a line and, in practice, something less defined.

The population has dwindled to only a handful of residents on either side, and the local dialect is fading with it. But the stories remain, carried in conversation and memory.

In the café, people observe first. Then, gradually, they talk.

Smuggling was once part of everyday life. Not organised crime, but a practical response to isolation. Coffee, cloth and small goods moved quietly across the border, sometimes tolerated, sometimes punished.

We met a retired police chief who admitted, with a hint of a smile, that everyone understood what was happening. Enforcement, he suggested, was not always a priority.

A former carpenter described nights spent transporting goods across the Douro gorge using ropes and handmade wooden gondolas. The risks were real, as were the consequences, but the alternatives were limited.

Here, geography dictated everything … including how people adapted, and where they chose to draw their own lines.

Off-Road Through a Forgotten Landscape

Portugal offers something increasingly rare in Europe: the ability to travel long distances off-road, legally.

With the support of local authorities and our guide, we followed trails that wound through forests, climbed ridgelines and dropped into remote valleys where entire settlements had been abandoned.

The effects of recent wildfires were visible across large areas. Hillsides lay blackened and silent, yet in between, the landscape opened into wide views across the Douro and beyond. Tracks led to long-forgotten mining sites and villages that seemed untouched by time.

Driving here is not about technical challenge. It is about access. Access to places that remain beyond the reach of conventional travel, and to a landscape that reveals itself gradually, rather than all at once.

A Moment That Stays With You

Domingos Moura introduced himself with a raised fist and quiet pride.

“I don’t have much,” he said again. “But what I have is yours.”

That evening turned into wine, cured ham and conversation in a dimly lit cellar. The kind of evening where language becomes secondary and understanding settles in without effort.

The next day, we returned. Lunch was already underway. Soup over an open fire, meat, vegetables and wine, everything produced within a short distance of the table.

Then came the moment of repayment.

“You have eaten at my table,” Domingos said. “Now you must take the cows to the field.”

So we did. Not just his cows, but the village herd, moving from house to house, gathering animals and guiding them out towards pasture. No instructions were needed. The animals knew the way, and the dogs maintained order.

At the edge of the field, Domingos stopped and looked across the valley.

“You can leave now,” he said. “I’m going to sleep under that tree.”

And with that, the day came to a close.

Expedition Overview

Region: Trás-os-Montes, Northeast Portugal
Duration: ~4 weeks
Terrain: Mountain tracks, border trails, remote villages
Focus: Cultural immersion, history, off-road travel
Access: Combination of public routes and permitted restricted areas

This journey was originally published in
OverlandEurope Magazine — 2019 Edition

The full article includes:

• extended interviews and local encounters
• deeper historical context
• full route details and locations
• complete photography series

The post Exploring Remote Portugal: A Journey Through Trás-os-Montes Borderlands and Forgotten Villages appeared first on overland-europe.

Fourteen journalists stood outside the manor house at Gut Damp in northern Germany, umbrellas raised or hands buried deep in jacket pockets against the Baltic chill. In front of us sat a row of Grenadiers: Station Wagons, Quartermasters and Utility models. Freshly washed and spotless for the presentation, their tyres still clean enough to betray the fact that the real work had not yet begun.

Parked slightly apart from the others, and rather neatly positioned at the foot of the manor house steps, stood the new Black Edition, suitably dramatic in the grey light.

But that was not the real reason we were standing in the rain. We were here because the Grenadier had been criticised… not for its off-road capability, a question long since settled, but for something far more sensitive in the modern automotive world.

The vehicle’s ladder-frame chassis, solid axles and mechanical simplicity were exactly what INEOS had promised under the phrase Built on Purpose. That part of the story was not in doubt. The debate centred somewhere else: steering feel, on-road behaviour, and the increasingly unavoidable intrusion of electronic driver assistance systems demanded by modern regulation. INEOS knew it. The journalists knew it. And the engineers standing quietly among us knew it as well.

The purpose of the gathering at Gut Damp was simple: to present Model Year 2026 and demonstrate that the company had listened.

For me, the conversation carried a slightly different weight. Over the past two years, I have test-driven the Grenadier Quartermaster for more than twenty thousand kilometres across motorways, through villages barely wide enough for mirrors, over mountain passes and along the kind of broken tracks that define overland travel. Living with a vehicle changes your perspective, to the extent that some supposed flaws that appear during short test drives fade into the background once the machine becomes part of daily life, while others reveal themselves as deliberate engineering decisions that make far more sense away from smooth asphalt. The Grenadier falls firmly into that category.

That does not mean the criticism was entirely misplaced. Drivers accustomed to modern SUVs, vehicles engineered primarily for urban roads, sometimes struggled with a steering system that behaved differently from what they expected. The absence of aggressive self-centring and the relaxed feel around the straight-ahead position were enough to trigger some particularly harsh verdicts.

INEOS listened and, remarkably quickly for an automobile manufacturer, the engineers went back to work. The result now stands before us as Model Year 2026.

The critical changes are not cosmetic. They are mechanical, deliberate and focused. Steering geometry has been revised, the turning circle reduced, ADAS systems reworked to become far less intrusive, and even small details such as interior storage and climate control refined in response to real-world feedback. Perhaps most surprising of all in the current automotive climate, pricing remains unchanged across European markets… a detail that did not go unnoticed among the group standing in the rain.

But the real question remained unanswered.

Did the work actually change the driving experience? Because no amount of engineering explanation delivered beside a row of spotless vehicles can substitute for what happens once the engine starts and the road begins to unfold ahead. That answer would arrive the following morning.

Steering: the criticism INEOS chose to answer

The Grenadier’s steering became one of those subjects that automotive journalists like to circle. Some called it vague, others described it as antiquated, and a few seemed genuinely unsettled by it. The irony is that none of those descriptions quite captured what was actually happening.

The original system was designed around durability, mechanical feedback and predictable behaviour on rough terrain. Solid axles, a recirculating ball steering box and long suspension travel inevitably produce a different sensation at the wheel than the electrically assisted rack-and-pinion systems common in modern road cars. Drivers expecting the latter often interpreted the difference as a fault.

Spend real time with the vehicle, however, and the logic becomes clearer. A steering system that remains stable over broken ground, that does not kick violently when a tyre strikes a rock or rut, and that maintains composure when both front wheels are working independently across uneven terrain is rarely going to feel like a sports saloon on perfect asphalt.

INEOS understood this balance from the beginning, but they also recognised that the criticism around on-road behaviour, particularly around the straight-ahead position, was persistent enough to warrant attention.

For Model Year 2026, the engineers introduced a modification that sounds modest on paper but proves highly effective behind the wheel. The steering box now incorporates a variable ratio around the centre position. Where previously the ratio remained constant, it now tightens from 17.4:1 to 15.2:1 within the first 45 degrees of steering input either side of centre.

In practical terms, the steering becomes more responsive during the small corrections that dominate motorway driving and fast country roads, and the improvement is immediately noticeable. At Autobahn speeds the Grenadier tracks more confidently, requiring fewer micro-adjustments from the driver, while the sensation of float around the straight-ahead position, a frequent point of criticism in early reviews, has largely disappeared.

Yet the fundamental character of the system remains intact. The steering still communicates the road surface and still lacks the artificially strong self-centring common in modern SUVs. Drivers encountering the Grenadier for the first time may notice that difference during the first few kilometres, but the brain adjusts quickly, and once it does, the behaviour becomes entirely natural.

INEOS also revised the bump stops, reducing the turning circle by one metre. Originally, the vehicle allowed additional clearance for heavy-duty snow chains, but in reality, few drivers required it. The result is noticeably improved manoeuvrability, particularly in tight environments. At one narrow village junction during the drive, Hans-Peter Pessler, INEOS Automotive’s COO, offered a simple instruction from the rear seat: “Turn the steering wheel early and fast.”

It works.

For those considering larger tyres, an inevitable topic in overlanding circles, the MY2026 changes have not altered the practical limits. Tyres up to 33 inches remain comfortably within the vehicle’s envelope.

INEOS has not reinvented the steering. They have simply sharpened it.

ADAS: technology required by law, tamed by engineers

If steering was the most visible criticism, the second source of irritation came from modern regulation. Across Europe, mandatory driver assistance systems continue to expand, and whether drivers welcome them or not is largely irrelevant. Manufacturers must install them. The real challenge lies in doing so without turning the driving experience into an exercise in frustration.

INEOS was clearly aware that the original Grenadier occasionally crossed that line. The speed limit warning, in particular, had a habit of making its presence annoyingly known at precisely the wrong moment.

For Model Year 2026, the system has been recalibrated with something approaching common sense. The warning tone is now a deeper, softer gong that fades quickly into the background, making it far less intrusive in normal driving. Should drivers wish to disable it, a soft button located permanently at the top of the centre touchscreen allows the alert to be switched off instantly.

The same philosophy applies to lane keep assist. Rather than fighting the steering wheel, as many vehicles still do, the Grenadier gently applies braking to the rear wheels to guide the vehicle back into the lane. The effect is subtle, controlled and, most importantly, unobtrusive.

Emergency braking has also been updated to recognise pedestrians and cyclists, while a driver drowsiness monitoring system now sits discreetly inside the rear-view mirror housing.

Hans-Peter Pessler addressed the subject with refreshing honesty.

“Maybe you can ask your readers,” he said, “what they think about ADAS systems… why do we need this?”

The comment drew quiet laughter, but it also reflected a broader truth. If these systems must exist, the Grenadier now demonstrates that they can at least operate quietly in the background… and that is probably the highest compliment any ADAS system can receive.

Smaller refinements and a Black Edition

Beyond steering and electronics, MY2026 introduces a series of smaller refinements that become more relevant the longer the vehicle is used.

The HVAC system, for example, has been revised to address uneven air distribution. On previous journeys in extreme cold, I found myself wearing a sweater and jacket behind the wheel while my passenger remained comfortable in a T-shirt. Even during the two-hour drive from Hamburg to Gut Damp in a MY2025 vehicle, the system occasionally wandered in temperature without human input. Revised airflow guides and additional control mechanisms now aim to stabilise temperature and improve circulation throughout the cabin.

Elsewhere, practical additions such as seat-back storage nets improve day-to-day usability, while subtle exterior changes, including revised headlamps with two independent LED rings for driving lamps and indicators, and more visible rear branding, refresh the design without altering its identity.

The Black Edition, standing apart during the presentation, represents a different kind of update. With black wheels, black trim, dark roof lining, carpets and privacy windows, it clearly targets buyers drawn to vehicles such as the New Defender or the G-Wagen. Yet beneath the styling, the mechanical architecture remains unchanged. The ladder-frame chassis, solid axles and core drivetrain are all still present, but front and rear diff locks are not available.

It enters the lifestyle SUV space without surrendering the engineering that defines the Grenadier.

The drive

By early afternoon the convoy finally leaves the road and climbs onto the muddy estate tracks surrounding Gut Damp. The tyres and bodywork that looked so immaculate during the presentation quickly adopt a far more appropriate appearance.

Schleswig-Holstein is, however, famously flat. Mud on a level playing field may be entertaining, but it hardly represents a serious test of a vehicle designed for mountains and remote terrain.

What the conditions do confirm is reassuring. Nothing in the MY2026 revisions suggests any negative impact on the Grenadier’s off-road capability.

But the real verdict will not arrive here.

That requires altitude, distance and rough ground… and that is exactly where the Grenadier will be heading next.

For now, Model Year 2026 delivers something rather rare in the automotive industry: a manufacturer that listened to criticism, and responded quickly.

The post INEOS Grenadier 2026 Driven: Sharper Steering, Calmer ADAS and Stable Pricing appeared first on overland-europe.

This season, that fleet will include a new arrival: the INEOS Grenadier.

White Desert has partnered with INEOS Automotive to deploy a small fleet of Grenadiers in support of its Antarctic operations. Four station wagons and one Quartermaster pick-up will operate around Wolf’s Fang Runway, the company’s private ice runway located deep within the Queen Maud Land region.

The vehicles will support both guest transfers and the day-to-day logistics required to keep the remote operation running. Movements between the runway and Echo Base—White Desert’s luxury camp on the Antarctic plateau—cross terrain defined by extreme cold, shifting weather patterns and the ever-present risk of hidden crevasses beneath the snow.

Before reaching the ice shelf, the vehicles completed a journey that few production 4x4s ever experience. The fleet travelled from Cape Town aboard the polar research vessel SA Agulhas II, the South African government’s icebreaking research and supply ship. Once the vessel reached Antarctica, the vehicles were craned onto the ice shelf before travelling inland to Wolf’s Fang.

Notably, the Grenadiers arrived in factory specification. According to the companies involved, the vehicles are operating without modifications—an approach intended to demonstrate the platform’s baseline capability in extreme conditions.

For White Desert, which began Antarctic operations in 2005, reliability is more than a marketing phrase. The company’s expedition model depends on disciplined logistics and equipment capable of functioning in an environment where mechanical failure can quickly escalate into a serious safety issue.

Founder and CEO Patrick Woodhead summarised the company’s approach plainly: “We don’t bring anything into Antarctica unless it earns its place. The Grenadier has shown it can be trusted in extreme conditions, while still offering the kind of comfort that makes long days on the ice sustainable.”

That balance between durability and operational practicality appears to be the central reason behind the collaboration. The Grenadier was developed specifically with remote expedition work in mind, drawing on traditional ladder-frame construction, permanent four-wheel drive and mechanical simplicity intended for field serviceability.

INEOS Automotive CEO Lynn Calder framed the deployment as validation of the vehicle’s engineering philosophy.

“It’s testament to our engineering and manufacturing teams that White Desert has put its faith in the Grenadier,” she said. “It was designed and built precisely for the thrill of adventures and expeditions in the most remote places on the planet.”

Alongside the operational deployment, the two organisations are documenting the project through a short film series. The footage will follow the vehicles from their arrival aboard the SA Agulhas II through testing and real-world use on the Antarctic ice.

The opening chapter captures one of the more unusual logistics operations in modern expedition travel: vehicles suspended from a ship’s crane and lowered onto the Antarctic ice shelf before beginning their inland journey.

While the Grenadiers have already reached the continent, the partnership will be fully active during the upcoming Antarctic season. Additional episodes of the film series will be released over the coming months, offering a closer look at how the vehicles perform in one of the most unforgiving environments on Earth.

For a vehicle designed around the idea of working where others cannot, Antarctica may be the most direct proving ground available.

INEOS GRENADIER

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In this episode of the OverlandEurope Podcast, we don’t retell the headline story for the hundredth time. We talk about what followed: the real aftermath, the real value, and the parts most people skip.

Elspeth opens up about how dyslexia shaped her early life, being labelled “stupid,” learning to adapt, learning to fight, and learning to stand on her own feet.

That thread runs right through the ride … and through everything she did afterwards.

We also dig into her second career as an architect specialising in extreme conversions: water towers, unusual listed buildings, projects that “no other architect wanted to touch.” She explains how the problem-solving and negotiation skills from long-distance travel translated directly into planning battles, regulations, and the constant push to find a way through.

And then there’s the modern angle: social media, GPS, over-planning, and the quiet loss of that rare feeling of being truly alone in the world, untracked, unbuffered, living off your decisions. Elspeth doesn’t romanticise danger, but she makes a clear case for simplicity, spontaneity, and one idea every traveller should carry: go and get lost.

If you travel, want to travel, or have ever come home from a big trip and felt oddly displaced, this one is worth your time.

ELSPETH BEARD

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SPONSOR: This episode is brought to you by Taking the Pea

The post Podcast #22: Elspeth Beard – The Ride Ended, The Lessons Never Really Let Go appeared first on overland-europe.

The first time I saw the Land Roamer Pioneer, it stood out immediately. Not because it was loud. Not because it tried to impress. But because everything about it suggested intention. Purpose. Experience.

Land Roamer is a young company. That much is clear. But the Pioneer doesn’t feel like a first attempt. It feels like a product that has already lived somewhere remote and come back wiser. And that matters.

In overlanding, the difference between a weekend camper and a global travel platform is rarely marketing. It’s engineering. It’s weight distribution. It’s storage that actually works. It’s whether you can live inside the thing for months without slowly going mad.

The Pioneer is built as a separate cabin for 4×4 pickups. That decision alone says something about the philosophy behind it. Instead of integrating everything into the vehicle body, Land Roamer chose a self-contained living unit. There are advantages to that approach which seasoned travellers immediately appreciate.

The cabin remains structurally independent. It isolates the living space from vibration and noise. It allows the base vehicle to be replaced in the future without rebuilding the home. And it keeps the concept modular … something that matters once you start thinking in terms of years, not holidays.

Inside, the Pioneer doesn’t scream luxury. It delivers it quietly. The layout feels deliberate. A fixed bed that doesn’t require daily gymnastics. A dinette that works for eating, working, or simply waiting out weather. Real storage, not token cupboards, but over 900 litres of usable space. Drawers that feel engineered rather than assembled. Surfaces that suggest long-term durability rather than showroom gloss.

You get the impression that someone has lived in this. Tested it. Refined it.

The kitchen is practical. Thoughtful ergonomics. Options for induction cooking. Heating solutions designed for cold climates rather than brochure climates. It feels like equipment meant for Scandinavia, the Balkans, Central Asia as opposed to summer in southern France.

And then there’s the systems integration.

Modern overland travel has changed. Extended autonomous journeys now demand serious electrical management. Solar input. Battery storage. Heating. Connectivity. Charging. Increasingly, travellers are integrating systems like Starlink. The Pioneer acknowledges this reality.

A central control system brings the cabin’s utilities together in one place. It’s clean. It’s organised. It suggests that someone understood that expedition travel in 2026 is both analogue and digital. You still need robustness. But you also need connectivity.

From a structural perspective, the cabin appears solidly constructed. Weight distribution is clearly part of the design brief. The centre of gravity remains sensible for a pickup-based platform. That’s critical. Many high-end solutions forget that physics is not optional.

The Pioneer doesn’t.

What impressed me most was not a single feature. It was coherence. The way everything felt part of one idea: extended, autonomous travel without compromise.

There is a difference between building a product to sell and building a product to use.

Land Roamer’s founders developed and refined the Pioneer through their own travel experience. That shows. The design choices feel lived-in rather than theoretical. It’s not overloaded. It’s not gimmicky. It feels calm. Considered.

For serious overlanders planning multi-month or multi-year journeys, that calm matters. You want your equipment to disappear into the background. You want it to work quietly, reliably, without constant adjustment.

Of course, this is not an entry-level solution. Nor is it meant to be. The Pioneer sits firmly in the high-end segment of pickup expedition cabins. It’s aimed at travellers who are building something long-term. Something global.

And this is where Land Roamer’s current offer becomes interesting.

As part of its early production phase, the company is offering significant incentives for early adopters … effectively rewarding those willing to be among the first to commit. At the time of writing, this includes a substantial option package value for pioneer buyers.

For a young brand confident enough to do that, it signals two things: belief in the product, and a desire to build references quickly within the overland community.

For potential buyers, it means that now may be the most advantageous moment to step in.

Overland travel is full of trends. Platforms come and go. Designs evolve. But occasionally a product arrives that feels less like a trend and more like a platform.

The Land Roamer Pioneer feels like that.

It’s not trying to reinvent the idea of expedition travel. It’s refining it.

If you are building a vehicle for extended autonomous global travel—something capable of crossing borders, climates, and years—this cabin deserves serious consideration.

You can explore the full technical specifications, build philosophy, and current early-adopter offer directly via Land Roamer’s website.

Visit Land Roamer to learn more about the Pioneer and the current early adopter incentive.

We look forward to an in-depth test under real expedition conditions soon.

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