Get to know the Showcasers at Overland Expo SoCal
If you’ve ever crossed paths with the @FourWheeledNomad(s), you know that they have some of the most fascinating and dynamic travel stories, spanning from meeting on a scuba dive boat in the Red Sea, to traversing the globe on two sets of two wheels, and then swapping their motorcycles to continue their overland journey by truck. Lisa Morris and Jason Spafford are some of the most interesting — and entertaining — storytellers around. At Overland Expo SoCal, Lisa and Jason will be camping in the Showcase & DIY Area in their 2015 Hilux MK7 Double Cab, which they have named “Rhino”. Attendees will be able to join them for a rig tour and also for a special showing of their short film, followed by an “Ask Us Anything” Q&A. To learn more about Lisa and Jason, continue reading below.
Tell us about your rig:
Engineered for Full-time Overlanding
Meet Rhino, our 2015 Hilux MK7 Double Cab, built to take on the world with legendary durability (thanks Top Gear) and relatively decent fuel efficiency. Powered by a 2.5L turbo diesel engine, it’s designed for long-haul expeditions across the toughest terrains. But what may set Rhino apart is the carefully curated suite of upgrades that transform him into an optimum iteration of an overlanding rig.
At the core of our setup is the Alu-Cab ModCap Family Camper, a lightweight yet rugged canopy camper from OK4WD. With integrated LED lighting, smart storage solutions, and rock-solid durability, it’s an appealing basecamp on wheels. The Alu-Cab Shadow 270° Awning offers instant shade and shelter, while their 50-litre water tank keeps us hydrated on the go.
Inside, Goose Gear cabinetry and a seat delete system maximize storage efficiency, keeping our gear seamlessly organized. Thank goodness we both err on the neat side, stowing our stuff in designated areas only occasionally turns into organized chaos.
Comfort in all seasons is covered with a Dickinson Marine Fireplace and an app-controlled Chinese Diesel Heater, ensuring warmth at the flick of a switch and tap of a screen. For a touch of luxury, we’ve added a Joolca Hot Water System, making outdoor showers a joyful event rather than a bucket of warm water and soap.
Keeping provisions fresh is a National Luna 60L Legacy Smart QC Fridge/Freezer, and power management is dialled in with a Redarc Power System and Sunflare Xplor BLOX Solar Panels — giving us off-grid independence wherever the road takes us.
The build is reinforced with a CBI Off-Road bumper, providing both protection and rugged aesthetics.
Cooking in the wild works with a 2-burner stove, and downtime is made comfortable with HEST bedding and Helinox chairs.
Superior Handling and Comfort
To handle any terrain with the required confidence, ICON Vehicle Dynamics suspension and wheels provide a smooth yet capable ride, while BF Goodrich All-Terrain Tires ensure grip and durability in just about any environment. Including climbing a volcano in the Highlands of Iceland!
Inside the cab, scheel-mann heated seats offer unmatched joy and lumbar and sitting bone support for long days behind the wheel. When the sun sets, LED lighting illuminates both the interior and exterior, making night-time setups child’s play.
Essential rescue equipment and a custom wrap that ties it all together. Rhino isn’t just a pickup truck—he’s our home, our lifestyle, and our ticket to exploring the more remote corners, one wilderness mile at a time.
All-time favorite campsite?
We’re not ones for campsites, but ask us to name our favourite wild camp, and we’d be hard-pressed to choose just one after 25 years of travelling on more than off. Pick a spot in rural Patagonia and you’re already onto a winner. Or anywhere bathed in beautiful light, framed by a dramatic backdrop, with not another soul around. It could be a handful of miles from your doorstep but that’s our kind of paradise. Lovely jubbly!
What’s your go-to overlanding meal?
Smoky Campfire Quesadillas – Crispy, Cheesy, and Finger-lickin’ Good
These golden, crispy quesadillas are the perfect combination of melty cheese, smoky black beans, and caramelized veggies—an absolute campfire comfort food that’s ridiculously easy to make!
Ingredients (Serves 2-3):
- 4 large flour tortillas (or whole wheat for extra heartiness)
- 1 ½ cups shredded cheese (cheddar, Monterey Jack, or a melty blend)
- 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
- 1 small red onion, thinly sliced
- 1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
- 1 green bell pepper, thinly sliced
- 1 tsp smoked paprika (adds a subtle campfire smokiness)
- ½ tsp cumin (for a warm, earthy flavour)
- ½ tsp garlic powder
- Salt and pepper, to taste
- ½ tbsp olive oil (or butter, for extra crispiness)
- 1 avocado, sliced (for serving)
- ½ cup salsa (your favourite kind—mild or fiery!)
- Sour cream or Greek yogurt, for dipping (optional)
Cooking Method:
- Heat it up: If you’re cooking over an open flame, place a cast-iron skillet or griddle over the fire. If using a stove, set it to medium heat.
- Sauté the veggies: Add a splash of olive oil and toss in the sliced onions and bell peppers. Sprinkle with smoked paprika, cumin, garlic powder, salt, and pepper. Sauté for about 5 minutes until soft and slightly charred.
- Assemble the quesadillas: Lay a tortilla flat, sprinkle half with shredded cheese, then layer on the black beans and the sautéed veggies. Top with more cheese (because melty goodness is key!) and fold it over.
- Crisp it up: Lightly grease the pan with a tiny bit of oil or butter and place the quesadilla in. Cook for about 2-3 minutes per side, pressing down gently with a spatula, until golden brown and crispy. The cheese should be perfectly melted inside.
- Slice and serve: Cut into wedges and serve hot with fresh avocado slices, a generous dollop of salsa, and sour cream or Greek yogurt if you fancy.
Pro Tip:
For an extra kick, throw in sliced jalapeños, a drizzle of hot sauce, or a handful of fresh cilantro before folding. And if you have leftover grilled veggies from another meal—toss ‘em in!
Perfect for eating under the stars with nothing but good vibes and a crackling fire. Enjoy!
Best silver-lining story?
Head over heels by Lisa Morris
At 19-years of age, I was brimming over with excitement about to spend a week on a “liveaboard.” Buoyed up by the prospect of exploring warm, crystal clear waters for six days on a diving safari off the Red Sea Coast. Luring you to what lies beneath — my kinda bliss, adventure and absorption. What I couldn’t have envisioned was meeting the love of my life while almost costing him my own life into the bargain.
It was the year 2000 and as the university’s dive chairman, I’d organized the trip among club members. Jason constituted the last minute extra, enabling me to charter a full boat. Intelligent blue eyes peering from a shock of blonde hair fixed me with a disarming smile. “Hi, I’m Jason,” smiling while shaking my hand at Gatwick Airport. Heat rising from my neck, I blurted out a response, silently cursing my reddened cheeks.
Out of convenience as much as personal intrigue, I buddied up in a dive pair with Jason. Praying he could handle himself in: choppy waters with sizeable swells; fast descents in stiff currents; greeting a frenzy of sharks; and diving at night. Fortunately, he grew gills quickly and stayed comfortable in every scenario enveloping him. The aqueous sights were a kaleidoscope of colour, generated by the fat fusiform bodies of fish gliding past each other. Sleek dolphins appeared, swimming parallel with the vessel, leaping out of the water as though to get a look at the curious creatures above.
Every night was alive with postprandial contentment and people, but there was nobody where we sat on the upper deck but light and warmth—and each other. No nearby city veiled the sky with light, the stars were held undisputed dominion over the night. Stretched at length, I watched the moon on its slow voyage. Not yet full, but a promising luminous white flooded the sky.
Like all great trips, this one had gone too quickly. F’underwater over, the ensuing 24-hours gave rise to one more vacation day and the time to release a diver’s nemesis: the build-up of nitrogen in one’s system from breathing but not utilizing the gas at depth. Someone suggested four-wheeling in the Hurghada desert. Sun blazing out of a bleached muslin sky, I took the precaution of wrapping a turban across my face to keep the sand whipping to a minimum.
From the outset, I couldn’t stop stalling the machine; intent on showing me that it was quite prepared to go nowhere if I wasn’t prepared to give it some gas. After a painstaking half hour, finally, I was away. Growing confident by the mile and throwing all caution to the desert wind. Hot on my heels, Jason kept pace over the undulating terrain. Emitting shocked little whoops, was all I could do not to scream in unbridled joy. Namely taking on bigger sand hills and getting away with it. Adrenaline racing, getting more air and bouncing back down in crazed delight. I admit, I was amped!
But enthusiasm began to outweigh skill. Both exhilarating and frightening, I stayed within a hair’s breadth of control. Out of nowhere, I came bounding towards the biggest sand dune confronted to date.
I could feel every single atom of my body, blood charging to carry round the sweet stuff to every cell and muscle fibre. I told my backside to brace up, which on its own accord, began to lift off the seat. In an involuntary handstand, I started to arc over the handlebars as my legs were launched above my head. As I proceeded to hurl through the air, my mind somersaulted in a spectacular parabola of emotions. Consciously acknowledging that I was flying, to calmly assuming I’d roll onto the sand, dust myself off and jump back in the saddle.
Jason foresaw the incident in his mind’s eye and watched as it transpired in slow motion. I had barely cleared the first mound and failed royally on the second. He had no choice but to follow suit. With presence of mind, Jason abandoned ship, lest he hit me astride the four-wheeler. Landing in a heap, he was forced to watch his machine come raining down on me.
Upon impact with the sand, I blacked out. Blessed with no idea of having been kissed by a 400-pound quad bike. Erupting a series of gasps and moans, I opened my eyes. While the group assembled to conjure some sort of evacuation plan on my behalf, Jason had the shocked look of a fish pulled out of the water when I reached consciousness. The realization struck that I wouldn’t be brushing myself off, raring to go again. Our Egyptian guide took one glimpse in my direction and within half a heartbeat, left me marooned and sped off from whence he came.
A sand storm soon descended, burying me alive. Much as I tried, I couldn’t suppress my grizzly outbursts, which stopped Jason in his tracks. Striving to keep my spine unmoved, me hydrated and my head above sand, was all the aid he could administer while help remained well out of range.
Eventually, we heard a distant hum, a murmur of anticipation. A minibus loomed on the horizon making its steady approach towards us. With rampant urgency, Jason hailed it down. An unassuming group of Italians peered out the window to see what was causing the commotion. Derailed by a language barrier, he gestured animatedly for the tourists to step out in order to slide me down the middle, on the floor. The intention was clear to Jason, at least: have the day-trippers return to their seats, and deliver me to the nearest hospital. Rapido!
Misunderstanding, the driver abandoned his guests and bolted like his own life depended on it, with Jason and I holding on for dear life. I felt vaguely disembodied. Jason said something amusing and in the haze of injury, I held tighter to my anchor as the tide of his laughter uplifted me. “Don’t. Make. Me. Laugh — it hurts.” But you should laugh more, it suits you: see how the furrows around your brow vanish and your ears ease back? I thought. I squeezed his fingers, a Morse code to convey what was in my heart. He nodded — You don’t have to tell me anything is what he was saying.
Rudimentary as the Egyptian medical services were almost two decades ago, I managed to get an X-ray. “One cracked rib, some bruising. You will heal fine,” affirmed the medic. Unconvinced, I smiled my paper-thin joy at Katy, who’d insisted on staying behind to help me clean up and dress.
Late evening, the nearly deserted airport gave way to empty wide corridors, dark newsstands, and closed coffee shops. The signboards at the gates were blank and the rows of plastic chairs unoccupied and ghostly.
Right away, a problem emerged. There was only 15 minutes prior to take off. The airport security guard’s cold gaze travelled over me. “You no fly. You too late.” I felt a small shiver pass up my spine, despite the stifling heat. Sweat popping out on my face, I repressed a twinge of fear flapping under my ribs and uncorked a high-calibre glare of my own. Aviation regulations to respect, the guard refused to listen to a word I said. It was dismayingly clear that I was anything but homeward bound.
In need of further medical attention, a light dawned. Whether this next attempt was the result of deduction, intuition, hope or merely stubbornness, I clung to it. I proceeded to summon a mini thunderstorm on my face. Becoming lost in the crying the way a motorboat gets lost in sound and spray. I felt ridiculous. Yet there I was: blubbering in frustration as the precious minutes leaked away. I was a muss of snot, tears, sand and filth.
“Okay! You go. NOW!” Ushering me onto the plane with an expression that beggared belief at my puddle-forming performance, I did so with the utmost dispatch. “Thanks!” I said, with all the gratitude it was possible to infuse into one syllable.
During the flight, a thread of terror needled my chest as I started having difficulty breathing. Seized with alarm, Jason paced the aisle while I assured him that negotiating the passage of oxygen, dispensed by the flight attendant, was helping enormously. The air was charged with invisible cross-currents of emotion. I studied him as I might examine some specimen set before me: I saw the smile that struggled for purchase on his face and failed, and then I saw the haunted and hunted look that came in its wake.
Meanwhile, on the ground, my mother tried her level best to remain calm, having been informed I’d been in an incident but remained unscathed, to involved in an accident and sustained grievous injuries. Meeting me alongside a flashing ambulance on the runway, “drama queen” felt like a weak term against the probable injuries I’d sustained. Likely only a couple of cracked ribs and some bruising—already showing in a map of purples and yellows. Although tender in places, I could still walk and talk.
Multiple X-rays in my local Accident and Emergency department revealed the truth as stunning as the events that gave it birth. Nagging frustration assuaged, it turned out that I’d suffered: three broken ribs, soft tissue damage to my neck, internal bleeding and a punctured lung. Undeniably, I shouldn’t have flown home. One minute I was cock of the walk, next a feather duster.
Had I not have landed in the mercy of sand…a wave of pain made me wince and crashed me out of my reverie. Still, what a reason to stay in touch with the guy of whom I’d grown rather fond. A stinging rush of affection compelled me to start writing him. Six weeks of bed rest and I was still finding sand in my ears. All the while wondering if those stranded Italians managed to catch a break. A quarter-century later, by a quirk of fate, Jason and I are still together.
In all of life, there is nothing better than love. Who was this guy? My soul mate, my best friend. Sometimes my opponent. But always the love of my life.
What is an area of overland travel that you think you have nailed, and what is an area of overland travel that you feel you could use some improvement in?
Mastering the Art of Full-Time Togetherness
If there’s one aspect of overland travel that Jase and I have hopefully nailed by now, it’s the ability to thrive in each other’s company 24/7—even after a quarter-century of adventuring through life side by side. The high highs? They’re incredible. Watching the sun sink behind a rugged horizon together, sharing the first sip of coffee in a place we never imagined we’d be, or hitting that sweet spot of unspoken understanding when maneuvering through chaos—it’s a bond forged through countless miles and moments.
But, of course, with constant companionship comes the occasional clash. Fatigue, becoming hangry, or simply one of us waking up on the wrong side of the sleeping bag can turn minor annoyances into full-blown grievances. When that happens, we’ve learned that space—however small—works wonders. Whether it’s one of us taking a solo stroll, throwing on headphones, or just breathing through it, the key is respecting each other’s need to reset. And when words do fly? A bit of humour (and a snack for the one playing “diva”) goes a long way in diffusing tension.
What We’re Looking to Improve
One area of overland travel I’d love to refine is deepening our connection with the local food scene—beyond just eating well. Seeking out farmers’ markets, discovering small-scale growers, and meeting beekeepers for the kind of honey that drips with character would add another layer of richness to our journey. I want to unearth people making incredible, handcrafted foods—homegrown fresh produce, probiotic-rich wonders like sourdough, kimchi, sauerkraut, and kombucha. The kind of gut-loving goodness that makes our microbiomes break into a happy dance!
We’re also making a more conscious effort toward clean living, steering clear of anything with nasties in it. That means scrutinizing labels and avoiding foods loaded with preservatives, additives, and ingredients that belong more in a chemistry set than a meal. The Yuka app has been a game-changer, giving us a clear insight into what we’re putting into our bodies (and onto our hair and skin, for that matter). Knowing that the foods and toiletries we use are free from hidden toxins makes a world of difference. More than that, Yuka ranks products not just for personal health but also for their impact on the environment. Championing items that manage to tick both boxes is exactly where I want to be—it’s part of knowing my why.
Beyond that, I’m also in the process of showing up for myself more. Setting aside space in the mornings or evenings for meditation—drawing from Dr. Joe Dispenza’s work—is becoming non-negotiable. Even if it’s as simple as closing my eyes, sitting cross-legged outside, and letting the world hush for a moment, it’s a way to decompress, clear the mental clutter, and find calm amidst the constant motion of life on the road.
What does your “division” of labor look like while traveling?
When it comes to the division of labour on the road, Jase and I are honing a well-oiled but ever-evolving machine. Add in lots of laughter and the occasional eye roll. I handle anything involving words, whether it’s crafting the print and digital articles, the upkeep of social media, or managing partnerships.
Jase, on the other hand, is the maestro behind the lens, capturing jaw-on-the-floor visuals that tell the story better than I ever could. His skillset isn’t exactly cut out for wielding the English language with a Gandalf-like finesse, and conversely, I couldn’t spot a good composition and frame a good shot if it jumped out and gave me a haircut. So, we stick to what we’re good at, and it tends to work.
Beyond that, I’m the food scout and camp chef, while Jase—former electrician and all-around practical guru—keeps our vehicle running smoothly. We both pitch in on cleaning duties (neither of us can live like pigs in muck for long), and while Jase is the calm, steady problem solver, I bring the high-octane enthusiasm, quick-fire laughter, and occasional bout of ridiculous excitement. I love making Jase laugh, and he gets me giggling too. And though I probably shouldn’t say this, we do have blue jobs and pink jobs in terms of harnessing each of our skill sets—but hey, if the system works harmoniously, why fix it?
