My friend Jim Douglas is a reliable source of pithy, astute observations. On a recent outing he posed a question vexing in its simplicity.
“What is the difference between overland clothing and just…clothing?”
As someone who has been bouncing around remote corners of Southern Africa and North America in 4x4s since age six, I felt I should be qualified to answer. Yet in the untold thousands of miles of travel over a lifetime, I realized the question had never crossed my mind. In the back of my Land Rover was a pile of clothing from the apparel company Sportiqe, garments designed and advertised as their Overland Collection. Jim and I set ourselves the task of exploring his inquiry.
This is why we go overlanding. Photo by Nick Bratton.
When I retired from mountain guiding all my gear was specialized, compact, and ultralight. My clothes were sleek and technical, engineered for compatibility with climbing harnesses, backpacks, and use while wearing gloves. I continued to bring these on my vehicle-supported expeditions even though they were mismatched to the demands of overlanding because that’s what was in my closet.
With my days climbing frozen waterfalls and alpine peaks (mostly) behind me, I discovered that taking complex, high-performance, expensive clothing on road trips was superfluous. The needs of the vehicle-supported traveler are different. I don’t have to fit water bottles in my chest pockets to keep them from freezing. What I need is clothing that is simple, tough, and comfortable.
If there’s a common thread between driving my Land Rover across a desert and climbing the Northwest Couloir of Eldorado in the Cascades in winter, it’s that both experiences are rife with discomfort, albeit of markedly different natures. Overlanding has burgeoned in popularity during the pandemic as a rewarding way to travel independently in wide open spaces. Yet the iconic wilderness landscape photos depicting the allure of overlanding on social media don’t convey the jarring roads, hours of dust, or swarms of mosquitoes that are also integral to the experience. And here’s where Sportiqe’s Overland Collection begins to make sense.
The ice climber’s wardrobe is not ideally suited to overlanding.
With a tag line of “roam in comfort,” Sportiqe has identified what matters on a bumpy road trip (i.e. overlanding): simplicity, durability, and yes, comfort. When I’m on day four of the Washington Backcountry Discovery Route, my butt is sore and my back is out of alignment. I need to wriggle under my Land Rover to check for leaks (it’s a Land Rover), lounge in my camp chair watching the iconic wilderness sunset, and not look like a complete dirtbag when I stop to refuel and buy more ice. I also would rather spend my money on taking trips than on gear, despite the parallel pandemic of people burning huge amounts of cash on accoutrements whose purpose is to make them look like rugged adventurers. Sportiqe’s clothing isn’t cheap – in any sense – but it’s also not expensive and from a design standpoint it’s a solid value.
The Ranger quilted shirt jacket is a 100% nylon, lightly insulated piece that can be worn as a middle or outer layer. I like its basic styling with a whiff of western flair, its relaxed fit, and its quality construction. The seams are straight and tight, the fabric is tougher than the gossamer material found on most puffy jackets, and the pockets are right where I want them. It also features a hidden internal pocket into which you can pack the entire jacket. This could be useful for saving space when not in use. I haven’t yet found a need for this but we’ll see if that changes after ten days in the desert.
Jim and the Ranger with Lucy the boxer. Photo by Nick Bratton.
I’m not a hoodie kind of guy but the Olsen Hoodie has me rethinking that. Its soft poly-cotton-rayon blend fleece fabric is stretchy and warm. The tailoring is cozy without being snug and the subtle colors are distinctive without being loud. In cool conditions this is something that I want to wear all day. It looks good on Jim. If your body shape is trim and straight it will fit you well. If you have curvy hips, linebacker shoulders, or a nonlinear midriff the proportions may not match as well, so consider a bigger size. To my surprise, this is my favorite piece in the collection so far.
The Olsen is a winner. Photo by Nick Bratton.
It's a leap to reconcile my mountaineering mindset with the idea of a cotton jacket, but here’s another example of where needs differ. Initially I’m skeptical of the Madera jacket. It looks and feels like a technical synthetic softshell but it’s cotton with a hint of stretch. I haven’t yet had a chance to test it in brisk conditions, but so far I like its minimalism: no zippered pockets, no straps, no cords, no Velcro. Like with many other garments in the lineup, it only comes in black. All the better for concealing motor oil, spilled coffee, and keeping a low visual impact in the wilderness.
Lucy gives the Madera a solid paw. Photo by Nick Bratton.
Fleece is a requirement for residency in the Pacific Northwest and Sportiqe includes a handful of basics in the Overland Collection. These forgo the rich and diverse color palette of manufacturers like Patagonia, but I get the sense this is intentional. The prices are also much lower and they also use recycled materials – both good. There’s not much to the Prescott jacket, women’s Jasper pullover, or unisex Payson vest, and that’s the point. No frills, yet functional, durable and, once again, comfortable. Sportiqe also offers the Jasper in white, which contrasts with the rest of the lineup. It will probably show dirt but provides a visual counterpoint to the darker choices.
The Payson Vest was a strong favorite in initial testing. Photo by Nick Bratton.
My initial take is that Sportiqe’s Overland Collection achieves its design goal of simple, durable, functional, comfortable clothing at a reasonable price point. It’s not fancy. For the most part the colors are low key. I think they understand the needs of the intended user. Did Jim and I answer his question? Like all thought-provoking puzzles, the solution is slippery. The only way to find out if Sportiqe’s clothing is up to the task is to use it for the intended purpose. Stay tuned for the field review when I return from a 10-day California desert road trip (aka overlanding) in November. And the pictures will be much better, because a real, fantastic photographer will be on board.
A sneak preview of the field test. Photo by Nick Bratton
Postscript
Prospective customers making informed decisions about their purchases take interest in a company’s corporate ethics. I spoke to Sportiqe co-founder Matt Altman and asked about his commitment to sustainability. His approach to running the company includes putting people before profit. He and his co-founder, Jason Franklin, have chosen several community-based social impact organizations with which to share corporate revenues. Partners are a conservancy supporting the Grand Canyon, a program transitioning people out of homelessness, a Nepalese youth education philanthropy, and an autism research center. What does this have to do with overland clothing? Nothing. It’s about making the world a better place and that is something I admire. Sportiqe is pursuing B-corp status, which tells me they are structuring their company in alignment with their values.
Author’s note: in the interest of full transparency, I share the nature of my relationships with gear companies when I mention them in The Atlas. As a writer, my most valuable asset is my credibility, so readers need to know about special consideration I receive from manufacturers and vendors. Sportiqe provided me and my travel companions with samples from the Overland Collection at no cost, along with financial support to defray expenses of our desert trip. In exchange for this, I am writing reviews of their products and my team is providing photos and video to the company for use in its marketing materials. I approach these reviews with the same objectivity as I do my articles about gear where I have no relationship with the manufacturer.