What do the lessons from Scott Lesak’s thoughtfully outfitted, but overloaded, Montero tell the rest of us?

First, most obviously, is that if possible one should keep the all-up weight of the vehicle below the manufacturer’s GVWR. It’s easy to add a set of heavy-duty springs or air bags and then just start throwing stuff in, but just because the truck sits level doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerously overloaded. Scott showed a great deal of thoughtfulness by calculating the total weight of his Montero; how many of us have done the same, or paid five bucks at a commercial scale to see what our fully loaded overland vehicle weighs? With solid figures in hand, it’s a lot easier to decide if action is necessary to alleviate the situation.

However, rather than assembling a completely modified vehicle and camping kit, and then finding out what it all weighs, a better and less expensive strategy would be to learn from Scott’s example, and pay attention to weight from the beginning, when first modifying the vehicle and buying camping gear.

It’s common for those starting out in the overlanding world to be tempted to get the “look” down first (I certainly was). Those winch-mounted bull bars, roof racks with six driving lights, and multi-function rear bumper/swing-outs look absolutely ace, but each one not only adds weight, it does so in the worst possible place: on the ends of the vehicle, and on top. Decide carefully whether or not you really need each. How I wish more manufacturers made sturdy winch bumpers without the bull bar, which very, very few of us really need. But apparently the market demands the full-on Aussie look . . .

Camping equipment can get out of hand easily too. Personally I think it’s odd to drive a 4,000-pound vehicle somewhere, then sleep in a five-pound mountaineering tent and cook over a microweight backpacking stove, as some friends do—but if sleeping and eating are just chores to be dealt with for you in between hikes or fishing, why carry more weight? I like to tell people to evaluate their priorities and splurge there first. For example, when car camping I like to have a tent with stand-up headroom inside, and real cots to sleep on. But I’m happy with a single-burner stove and one-pot meals. Roseann enjoys cooking, so she prefers a more comprehensive kitchen. We’ve picked and chosen to arrive at a compromise—a modest-sized but full-height tent and lightweight aluminum cots; a well-equipped kitchen mitigated by such things as a Worthington aluminum propane cylinder, which weighs half what an equivalent steel tank does. The result is a comfortable camping setup for two people (a vital distinction from Scott’s family situation). Yet, according to my calculations taking into account the known weight of our FJ60 (with M8000 winch, Slee rear bumper, and 40 gallons of diesel), with everything aboard we are just nudging past its 5,380-pound GVWR—not too bad.

When loading gear for a trip, remember that everything adds up, not just the big bulky items. Do you really need an axe, or would a hatchet or folding saw suffice? One day not long ago I finally tossed out the never-used 25-pound choker chain in our winch kit. What a difference that made. I also discovered we had somehow wound up with two folding shovels in the vehicle—not really necessary. And what on earth was that old three-D-cell Maglite still doing stuffed under the front seat? Two pounds saved . . .

If you do find yourself unavoidably abusing your vehicle’s GVWR, there are several ways to mitigate the potential side effects. First, make sure your most vital item of safety gear—the braking system—is completely up to snuff. Eschew the $49.99 lifetime brake job at the muffler shop and install the best brake pads and shoes you can find. Likewise, suspension bits should be the best available. I’ve found that, especially with shock absorbers, you really do get what you pay for. If your vehicle is equipped with anti-roll bars (a.k.a. sway bars), consider upgrading them to thicker units to reduce body roll in turns (although this will diminish compliance on trails unless you have disconnectable bars). And when on a trip, force yourself to check everything on the vehicle religiously, from the tires on up, every day—particluarly those pieces that take the most abuse from weight.

Research your vehicle to see if there are well-known weak points in its running gear or chassis. The internet has made this child’s play—you can bet if a vehicle has a common problem, word will get out. For example, a search for “Toyota Tacoma frame problems” will acquaint you with the known weakness in the rear of the frames on first-generation Tacomas. Several companies sell weld-in gussets to address the issue on this otherwise superb truck. Mid-80s Chevy trucks are notorious for numerous frame, shock-mount, and steering box weaknesses. Even Ford’s recent über-truck, the Raptor, is showing early signs of a serious chassis flaw, at least for those owners who insist on driving them like the commercials suggest. All these problems have been extensively discussed on the web.

Finally, most obviously: Pay attention to your driving, and adjust it to suit the lower capabilities of the overloaded vehicle in terms of braking performance, emergency maneuvering, side-slope security, and so on.

What would I do differently in Scott’s place? Monday-morning quarterbacking is the easiest job in the world. However, given the situation he described, I’d be very tempted to look into a 4WD-capable utility trailer from one of the growing number of companies offering them. Offsetting the hassle of a trailer would be the elimination of that 150-pound roof rack (and ladder), and the redistribution of its load, along with much more gear from the Montero’s cargo bay—which would likely mean that the 100-pound drawer system could be tossed out, along with, perhaps, the 45-pound cargo barrier. That 280 pounds of water could go in the trailer as well, as could the jerry cans which now have to reside on that 200-pound custom rear bumper and swing out. Toss that too (or go for a much lighter Hi-Lift-capable bumper with just a tire mount). With the fridge in the trailer the 50-pound fridge slide could go. We just lost over 500 pounds in one paragraph—which would, ahem, go some ways toward offsetting the weight of the trailer (although towed weight is much different from carried weight). The entire load would be distributed much more evenly (and lower), relieving the burden on the Montero. I’d be curious to see a controlled experiment regarding highway fuel economy comparing a vehicle with a high roof load to one towing a utility trailer. I strongly suspect the trailer would add more drag, but it might not be a huge difference.

On the vehicle itself, a few things jumped out at me, but again from my own perspective. The Garvin roof rack seems immensely heavy—the full-length aluminum Front Runner rack we use when necessary on our FJ60 is light enough for me to lift with one arm, yet sturdy enough to stand on. Scott’s 12,000-pound-capacity Mile Marker winch is actually well-matched to the total weight of his vehicle (gross weight x 1.5 is the general rule), but depending on frequency of use I’d be tempted to go with a Warn M8000 and synthetic line—total weight less than 80 pounds—and employ snatch blocks to increase pulling power. That would not only save weight but would remove it from the end of the vehicle, where its effects are magnified.

Scott apparently knows what he needs in the way of tires, given where he wants to go (those dual diff locks and 43:1 crawl ratio are clues). For myself, I’ve never seen a need for tires larger than 33-inch on a vehicle that size. That would eliminate the need for the body lift, thus saving rotating weight (the worst kind) and lowering the center of gravity at the same time.

In the end, while Scott is certainly stretching the load-carrying ability of his vehicle, he could have done much worse than to choose the fine second-generation Montero as his platform. Here’s hoping it and Mark’s twin hold up for many thousands of miles of family adventuring.