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Rivian R1T Drives Across the Trans-America Trail

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#1 ·
Motor Trend and Rivian have completed the first crossing of the Trans-America Trail with an EV!


As I pull the Glacier White 2022 Rivian R1T electric pickup truck off its charger somewhere in western North Carolina overlooking the Great Smoky Mountains, I'm reminded there aren't many firsts left in this world. Sam Garcia, one of Rivian's young electric charging engineers, catches me as I walk out of our hotel, loading up for the next day of our epic overland adventure.


"Check it out," he says, handing me a Rivian wheel center cap and an official-looking business card. It reads: "This item flew to space above the Karman Line on Blue Origin's fully reusable New Shepard Launch Vehicle."

Amazon founder Jeff Bezos has ordered a fleet of Rivian vans for his company (not to mention an R1T and an R1S SUV for himself), and just four days earlier he was among the first private citizens to reach outer space on a commercial rocket. A first, but not literally one of this world.

What we're doing, though, is an Earthbound first. The automobile's (re)electrification levels the playing field, allowing upstarts like Tesla and Rivian to compete with century-old giants like Ford and Mercedes-Benz while simultaneously providing car enthusiasts a new opportunity to push the limits of possibility. For example, take our historic electric off-road crossing of the U.S., made possible for the first time thanks to the new 2022 Rivian R1T electric pickup and the Trans-America Trail. The TAT is a 5,000-plus-mile route stretching from the dunes of Nags Head, North Carolina, on the Atlantic coast, to the cliffs of Port Orford, Oregon, overlooking the Pacific.

This route winds around the Appalachians, across the mighty Mississippi, through the Great Plains, and over the Rockies, before threading through the west's high-desert slick rock and redwoods to the coast. Some paved roads dot the trail, but they're few and far between. Because of the endeavor's sheer scale and distance, MotorTrend together with Rivian dedicated 43 days to the adventure, split into five legs. We divided into five crews of staffers as we navigated our convoy of two near-production-spec 2022 Rivian R1Ts and our support vehicle, a Ram 1500 TRX, across the Trans-America Trail.

The new 2022 Rivian R1T electric pickup truck is uniquely suited for this overland expedition. The first modern EV pickup to hit the market, the R1T—and Rivian as a whole—is conceived around the idea of electrifying the outdoors. Leaving the Fords of the world to electrify the work truck, Rivian says the R1T is engineered to ensure we can continue to explore the great outdoors long after the world pivots hugely from the internal combustion engine to the electric motor.

Sized somewhere between a midsize and full-size pickup, the new R1T indeed seems tailor-made for overland travel. Its stylish bodywork boasts a covered 4.5-foot bed, a trunk, a gear tunnel between the rear seats and bed, and a large frunk. Under the skin, the Rivian R1T has four motors (two at each axle for torque-vectoring all-wheel drive) with a combined output of 835 horsepower and 908 lb-ft of torque, backed up by a 300-mile, 133-kWh battery pack and a novel height-adjustable air/hydraulic suspension. Rounding out the package, our test Rivian has all-terrain tires and an available Yakima rooftop tent; our "El Cap Granite" support-vehicle Rivian features a full camp kitchen that slides out of the gear tunnel.

We know going into the journey that it's sure to be many things. Grueling, difficult, and dangerous. Hilarious, stupid, and just plain old fun. No matter what happens, as Rivian engineer Garcia reminds me in North Carolina early in the trip, it's going to be a historic first. Ride along with us here as we partake in the first-ever electric off-road crossing of the Trans-America Trail. —Christian Seabaugh

Leg 1, July 17-July 25, 2021
Nags Head, N.C., to Dalton, Ga.
1,614 miles
"It's Annoyingly Good. "

Christian Seabaugh:
There's nothing like a little existential dread to kick off a 43-day, 5,000-plus-mile overlanding expedition. I spent the better part of three years putting this project together and considered everything from charging strategy along the route (all via public chargers) to what type of gear we'd need.
But now I realize I never stopped to ask myself the question that kept me staring up at a dank Nags Head hotel room's popcorn ceiling the night before leaving: What if the 2022 Rivian R1T isn't any good? What if I just condemned five teams of co-workers (and countless budgetary dollars) to spend more than a collective month in a half-baked science fair project?

On the other hand, I told myself, Rivian's confidence in our Trans-America Trail expedition is reassuring. From the instant I pitched the story back in 2018 until now, Rivian never wavered in its support for this boondoggle. It's even dedicated a rotating crew of engineers and technicians to join us so we can suggest ways the company might iron out any last-minute issues as the R1T neared its September 1 on-sale date.

The trip's first leg, running from Nags Head, North Carolina, fittingly just a stone's throw from the site of the Wright Brothers' first flight, to Dalton, Georgia, will prove what I've gotten us into. This section of the Trans-America Trail is among the easiest, purely by virtue of its location. The trail passes through North Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, and Georgia, three of which were among the original 13 colonies, and aside from their most remote reaches, all are well maintained.

My sense of dread faded after senior editor Aaron Gold and I met Rocky and Holly. Like all Rivian pre-production vehicles, the trucks are named for national parks. Our white 2022 R1T, Rocky, is named after the Rocky Mountain National Park, while our support truck is Holly, after Hawaii's Haleakalā National Park.

After meeting our companions, we pulled Rocky off the Nags Head Woods Preserve's charger, put North Carolina's Outer Banks in our rearview mirror, and crossed back onto the mainland. Our first stretch—leading to our planned Level 3 DC fast charge during lunchtime—was a narrow, tight, twisty ribbon of asphalt that cut through the countryside, the perfect place to get familiar with the R1T.

Despite being loaded with four people, a rooftop tent, a frunk full of bags, a gear tunnel full of Shift Pod Mini tents, and a bed containing yet more luggage and an ARB refrigerator, the 2022 Rivian R1T—which, mind you, is an electric pickup riding on 20-inch all-terrain tires—was shockingly good to drive on asphalt. Power, courtesy of four permanent-magnet motors capable of spinning up to 18,500 rpm, is delivered in one big, smooth, effortless gob, like soft-serve ice cream.

The R1T handles well, too. Its quick and precise steering, roll-free suspension system, and quad-motor setup result in instant and incredibly precise torque vectoring. It's capable of diving hard into corners and rocketing out of them. On pavement when driven hard, the Rivian feels more like a sports car than pickup.

That probably helps explain why Gold and I rolled into our first charge stop with about 4 miles of electric range remaining. Rivian engineer Garcia looked a bit stressed as he told us we used somewhat more of the battery's range than he anticipated. But what do you expect with a truck like this?

Once plugged in and chatting over lunch from Holly's kitchen, Rivian's staffers asked us what we thought of the R1T.

"It's annoyingly good," was all we could think to say. No brand-new automaker has any right to build a vehicle this competent right off the bat. And that initial impression held true as the pavement increasingly gave way to gravel, mud, and water crossings the farther west we traveled.

We first hit gravel later that afternoon, soon after our charging stop. The rural road disappeared beneath us without fanfare, and we were off-road for the first time on the Trans-America Trail. During the next few days, the TAT would consist largely of gravel, dirt, rocks, and the occasional water crossing as we zigzagged up mountains, skirted gaps, and shot through valleys.

Rocky seemed happy no matter what we threw at it. Switching from All-Purpose to one of the off-road drive modes (Off-Road Auto, Rock, Rally, and Drift) loosens the reins on the stability and traction control systems, and it also changes the R1T's power delivery and ride characteristics. This all makes it easy to generate, as Gold put it, "surprisingly good speed on bad surfaces."

We learned rather quickly the trail was a bit more difficult than it seemed in those early days. One evening, as Gold piloted the 2022 Rivian R1T down the rocky two-track, we debated whether it was worth slowing down to protect the tires. Gold, cruising at about 15 mph, thought he ought to lose some speed. With 20 miles (and yet still many hours) to our overnight stop, I thought he could bump up his speed a bit. Fate decided for us before we reached an agreement: A sharp rock caught our Rivian's tire right between the treads. The full-size spare, stored in the trunk in the R1T's bed, went on quickly. But changing a tire in the middle of the woods as the sun set was no more convenient.

Our support Ram 1500 TRX was the next casualty, suffering a similar puncture when we picked up the trail the next morning. Although the unplanned (but not necessarily unexpected) tire changes were a pain, they were hardly the biggest challenge we experienced on the first leg.

After four days of Gold and me trading seven-hour stints behind the wheel, we found ourselves at a fork in the trail somewhere in North Carolina's western woods near the Tennessee and Georgia borders.

We had two paths forward: Bear right and hook up and around the mountain ridge on what appeared to be dirt and gravel roads, or bear left and take the shortcut, dropping straight down the gap and following a creek to pick up the trail again on the other side. Highlighted ominously in red on the official TAT map to signify its difficulty, we chose the left route.

The first obstacle set the tone for what was to come: an offset, slick, muddy berm that dropped steeply toward the stream. The Rivian R1T took it all in stride as we twisted and turned down the increasingly vertical wet trail, the trees and brush closing quickly around our convoy's trucks.

The trail devolved into a narrow, muddy, soupy, rocky mess. Heavy tree cover and damp air led to a Jurassic Park feel as we piloted our R1T down the trail. The TRX roaring in the distance behind our two electric pickups as it struggled over obstacles only added to the impression. Together we pressed on, scrambling up slick rocks caked in sludge, down soft embankments that dropped from underneath before climbing back up again, and over and through the flowing creek as we funneled gradually toward the other end of the gap.

The 2022 Rivian R1T felt unstoppable as we crept silently through the woods; the only sounds were a tire's occasional sneaker squeak over slick rock, the creek alongside us, and photographer Darren Martin's footsteps as he sprinted through the woods to shoot. The trail became more difficult and more fun as we worked our way through the bypass, crisscrossing through mud pits and up over boulders. The R1T was incredibly impressive, ambling up and over everything in its path, never lifting a tire, never stumbling, and never letting us see it sweat.

We finally rejoined the trail as the sun began to dip behind the Appalachians. We still had four more hours and 35 miles of hard off-roading ahead of us before we'd hit our evening campsite. Although the effort was grueling, the dread I had felt the night before we left Nags Head was long gone, replaced by excitement. Realizing how lucky we were, Gold and I pointed the R1T's nose toward the next trailhead, put the hammer down, and pressed on.

Leg 2, July 28-August 4, 2021
Dalton, Ga., to Bartlesville, Okla.
1,892 miles
"The Rivian R1T Saves Our Ram TRX. "

Miguel Cortina:
A rooster tail of dust caused by two camouflage-green Honda ATVs coming toward us was the first sight of civilization we had seen all day. But as they neared, I couldn't take my eyes off the poker-faced guy carrying a rifle. His partner, a blonde woman in her late 40s wearing camo cargo pants and a gray T-shirt, drove the ATV. Behind them came their children, also displaying impassive expressions. MotorTrend photographer Renz Dimaandal and I stood in the middle of the trail deep in the northern Mississippi woods while the rest of the team waited a few steps away behind a blind turn.

"Renz, what's going on?" senior features editor Jonny Lieberman asked through a walkie-talkie. "Stand by, Jonny," Dimaandal whispered, his eyeglasses fogged by 106-degree weather as sweat ran down his face. "Uhh. Can't you tell me what's going on?" a confused Lieberman asked. Our photographer didn't reply.

Surprised to find us on the trail, the family's attitude changed from hostile to cordial by the minute. After explaining our Trans-America Trail journey, the locals stood in disbelief.

"They're electric trucks!?" the lady shouted in a peculiar Southern accent we hadn't heard before, even after our breakfast that morning at Waffle House.

"The trail is completely washed out just up ahead. Big storm dropped 17 inches in one day," she said. "Y'all are not gonna get through unless you have a chain saw."

Before they bade us bonne route, her partner looked at us and warned: "There's big rattlesnakes where y'all are headed. Big … 13, 15 rattles." I looked behind me. Dimaandal's shirt was already drenched in sweat, and now his face turned pale, eyes wide. Before leaving Los Angeles, he confessed that snakes are his biggest phobia. This was the beginning of our Sunday afternoon in Mississippi.

Up until that moment, the 2022 Rivian R1Ts passed each obstacle effortlessly thanks to their Jeep Wrangler-like approach, breakover, and departure angles. But the 5-foot-deep sinkhole caused by the recent storm indeed prevented us from going forward. Locals had carved a narrow passage through the forest next to the trail, but at first sight it looked only wide enough for ATVs, not trucks. A glimpse at the Rivian's range estimate indicated we had to give it a try; turning around would disrupt our charging plans.

With Lieberman carefully maneuvering our dusted Rocky, I spotted his every move while he navigated through the woods. Once the R1T cleared the narrowest obstacle, Lieberman had to circumvent the stumps the locals had left behind if he was to avoid puncturing a tire. I don't remember hearing any cheers, but there was a palpable collective sense of relief when Rocky made it through to the other side. Holly was next, and Rivian engineer Kenneth Tsang snaked the other R1T accurately through the forest, avoiding any scrapes or dents.

But our semi-relaxation evaporated when we realized our Ram was simply too wide. No matter how many angles we tried, there was no way it could fit through. A tree had to go.

I admit we brought too much recovery gear on this adventure, but a ray of sunlight illuminated the electric chain saw when I took it out of our gigantic Pelican case. Our new friends happened by to see how we were doing, and they helped us cut the timber.

With the chain saw plugged into the Ram TRX's 120V outlet, Rivian's technician and former U.S. Marine Jordan Alvarado tried to fire it up. Nothing happened. Everyone cursed. "Let's hope it works in one of the Rivians," Lieberman said. When the electric chain saw's song interrupted the sound of cicadas, we lifted our arms as we cheered. And then we realized our macho, conventional support truck had been saved by the newest player in the pickup game. Now who's the chaperone?

That wasn't the only time the Rivian R1Ts turned into good Samaritans. Just a couple of days earlier, a Chevy S10 truck was stuck in a ditch on the side of the trail about 30 minutes outside of Waterloo, Alabama. Its owners—a couple in their late 50s—were trying unsuccessfully to load tree branches into the bed to put enough weight on the rear tires to gain traction. They cried for help when we arrived. Pete Herath, one of Rivian's development engineers, strapped the S10 to Holly and towed it out of trouble effortlessly; the Chevy's four wheels were back in business in less than 10 seconds.

What's more, the 2022 Rivian R1Ts delivered more moments of joy and friendship with strangers than any other car we've driven across the country. The R1T is a natural conversation starter, not only because of its unique styling and electric motors but also because of its capabilities. As we crossed the Mississippi River into Arkansas, we came across a Trans-America Trail rest stop, which was more of an antiques shack than a place for downtime. A few local comrades having coffee on the porch were blown away to encounter the Rivians.

"We've seen bikers, overlanders, and even a few cyclists, but this is the first time we've seen an electric vehicle swing by," one of them said. Their faces brightened even more when we mentioned the Rivian R1T's 11,000 pounds of towing capacity and showed them how much interior space the truck offers.

We came across another antiques hut that revealed part of the TAT's history: thick photo albums full of travelers, stickers from all over the world, and much more. After we signed our names in the visitors' book and had our obligatory picture taken, one of the gentlemen pointed toward a wooden sign on the porch's roof.

"Port Orford, Oregon 3,598 miles," read the west-pointing sign. We had a long way to go, but more epic adventures and eclectic experiences lay on the horizon.

Editor's note: Come back to MotorTrend.com on Monday, September 13, to read the concluding Part II of our Rivian and Trans-America Trail journey.
 
Discussion starter · #14 ·
Here's part 2 of the Motor Trend article!


Editor's note: This is the second and final installment of our exclusive feature story about our adventures tackling the challenging Trans-America Trail in the 2022 Rivian R1T electric pickup truck. Read Part 1 here.


Leg 3, August 5-15, 2021
Bartlesville, Oklahoma, to La Sal, Utah
1,502 miles

"Four powerful electric motors trump any transfer case. "

Frank Markus: The first part of our Rivian R1T on the Trans-America Trail odyssey provided some cute practice hills, and storm damage threw Leg 2 a curveball or two. But Leg 3's Rocky Mountain challenges would either confirm or deny the 2022 Rivian R1T's off-road adventure-vehicle chops. That's why the MotorTrend Group's foremost four-wheeler, Sean P. Holman, was assigned to this leg. But to reach these marquee obstacles we first had to cross a bunch of Oklahoma prairie land, which threw us some entirely different obstacles.

After a day of getting familiar with all the electric pickup truck's screens and functions, we enlivened the next day's gravel-road transit stage by sampling full acceleration and testing the Off-Road Rally and Drift modes. Holman and I both needed numerous corners to determine—while the overt torque-vectoring of Drift mode can guarantee TikTok-worthy drifts—whether the rear-biased diff-lock-simulating Rally mode felt more natural. People who already know how to set up for a power-oversteer corner will love Rally, and novices can nail a lurid slide every time in Drift.

These scientific pursuits dramatically reduced Rocky's driving range, prompting the Rivian team watching our battery via the cloud from aboard Holly to request we engage Conserve mode. (Our white pickup was named after the Rocky Mountain National Park; Holly, driven by Rivian staffers, took after Haleakalā National Park.) This decouples the rear motors and lowers the suspension for improved aerodynamics (you can select normal height safely on rough roads). We were blissfully unaware of our range shortfall, because while Rivian was able to load the entire Trans-America Trail map into our nav system, it couldn't provide turn-by-turn navigation to intermediate waypoints. We simply followed a yellow trace, with no "distance to destination" reading to compare against our remaining range.

We were coming up 15-20 miles short, though, so we switched off the climate control and enjoyed the 100-degree "breeze." Holly took the lead to allow "drafting," but the sideways dust missing our car completely indicated this was pointless. Our range dropped to zero with at least 10 miles to go, prompting various dire warnings, but Rocky soldiered on and reached the charger. Penurious driving left Holly with some 40 miles of surplus range, which would have been sufficient to flat-tow-charge Rocky a few miles to give us the energy we needed, had we needed it.

A ferocious thunderstorm that night soaked the region, turning some of the next day's two-tracks into linear chocolate fondue pots. After successfully negotiating several of these, one finally exceeded the traction capability of our Pirelli Scorpion All Terrains, and we ground to a halt. Traditional "rocking" (repeatedly shifting from drive to reverse) prompted warnings to stop before shifting, but it worked as expected and yet failed to free us. Eventually we pulled four MaxTrax traction pads from the Rivian frunks, and with persistence and a game willingness to become covered in mud, we eventually self-extracted from the 40-foot mire (which Holly and our support Ram 1500 TRX wisely circumvented). Holman suggested Rivian consider a "tire-cleaning" mode that would spin one tire at a time fast enough to sling mud out of the treads. We were left to wonder: Might the forthcoming Tank Turn feature also have helped pop us out of the ruts we were stuck in?

On day four of Leg 3, climbing the shale-strewn switchbacks of County Road B037 near Homestead Canyon, New Mexico, we got our first taste of windows-down, silent climbing through nature. With nothing but the sound of tires on rock or shale, we frequently crept right up on deer, chipmunks, and other nature, seemingly catching them unawares.

We climbed the most on the next day, and all the mountainous trails took a toll on Rocky's trick McLaren/Rover-esque hydraulic cross-linked anti-roll system. Suddenly, with Holman at the helm, we both noticed the truck had begun swaying more from side to side. Down in Salida, the team swiftly diagnosed a fault in one of the two right suspension struts, and replaced them both in the parking lot that evening, shipping the compromised parts to HQ for a post-mortem.

Our penultimate day on Leg 3 led us over passes named Cinnamon, California, Hurricane, and Black Bear in and around the San Juan National Forest. The one-way descent from the latter down into Telluride is a bucket-list trail for every avid four-wheeler. Having tackled it twice before in well-prepared Jeep Wranglers, Holman led the charge.

Rivian offers no hill-descent control, per se, but the various brake-regeneration levels, especially high and maximum, offer sufficient retardation to creep down the steepest grades with little or no use of the brake pedal. The off-road modes all disable brake hold during brief stops, though a lengthier stop will engage it, requiring a bump of the accelerator to continue. Holman counseled against this feature in favor of a selectable creep torque that simulates the behavior of a combustion four-wheeler with a super-low crawl ratio. We also had to constantly remind ourselves that brake hold never activates in reverse, so the brake must be applied firmly during a reverse-to-drive shift on an incline. A more consistent policy would be welcome here.

Rivian offers no "invisible hood" tricks—some automakers use cameras to stitch together a forward view from which the vehicle is digitally erased or made transparent, the better to see obstacles—but there are ample camera views forward, rearward, and of each tire. The rearview camera comes on automatically in reverse but switching back to drive then requires three jabs at the screen to restore the front view—tedious when executing a multi-point turn on a narrow switchback with a precipitous drop-off to the front. Another easy software fix.

At "Maximum" suspension height, 15.0 inches of ground clearance is available, but even running in "High" at a slightly lower height, we only dragged the battery tray once and heard a second clunk jouncing off a large rock. A fresh set of Pirellis installed two days before and set to 38 psi (48 is the highway setting) provided surefooted traction, and the 2022 Rivian R1T's tidy dimensions (and cameras) allowed us to traverse the entire trail with no spotter. (Spotting might have prevented some scarring on the passenger-side cladding on one switchback-apex rock.) That's damned impressive for any fully stock production pickup truck loaded to a 4-ton gross vehicle weight.
Note we didn't say "especially an electric truck." Because by the end of this leg the Rivian R1T's 835-hp four-motor powertrain had proven its obvious advantages for off-roading. Peak torque at 0 rpm negates the need for elaborate low-range gearing and transfer cases. The narrow, centrally mounted direct-drive transaxles naturally leave room for super-long control arms and halfshafts, allowing superior articulation and sharper steering angles. And electric motors can instantaneously manage their own traction control more efficiently than an engine and separate brake system can.
Off-road adventure-vehicle chops proven, we handed Rocky and Holly off to the Leg 4 team. We were certain they'd conquer most every Moab obstacle any other production-spec off-road pickup truck could tackle.

Leg 4, August 16-23, 2021
La Sal, Utah, to Tremonton, Utah
1,239 miles

"We could've run the whole story with only photos and video from Utah and no one would notice. "

Scott Evans: Leg 4 began on a bad foot, and then we broke that foot. Just 62 miles from the start line, half the wheel studs on our Ram 1500 TRX support truck's left-rear sheared off at 80 mph, and the other three lug nuts were barely hanging on.

An hour and a half earlier, we'd changed that wheel in a parking lot in Grand Junction, Colorado, after walking off the plane to a flat tire. Let's just say 5 p.m. on a Sunday in Utah isn't the best time to go looking for a shop, but after working our connections in the Moab area, Chris Martin at Nation's Towing saved our bacon and had the truck repaired by 8 p.m.

Day two was a cakewalk by comparison, and that's the day we did Hell's Revenge. Of course, half the reason it was easy was due to our copious pre-planning. The Pack Creek Fire burned a substantial portion of the southernmost district of the fragmented Manti-La Sal National Forest two months prior, closing the official Trans-America Trail route. An alternative route, uploaded to the trucks over the air, skirted us around the edge and up to Moab.

While Hell's Revenge isn't part of the trail, we couldn't go to Moab and not test what the 2022 Rivian R1T is capable of. Even loaded down with bed-top tents, ARB refrigerators, recovery gear, and four passengers each, Rocky and Holly pumped themselves up to their maximum ride height and climbed over every obstacle.

The next day, we did Moab's Wipeout Hill trail just for funsies, which stopped being fun when we busted Holly's left-front tie rod attempting an obstacle that would've caught out any stock 4x4. Post repair, we celebrated by blasting up and down a massive sand wash at freeway speeds and making tacos for the whole crew on Holly's pullout camp kitchen (after plugging a sidewall puncture on the Ram).

Climbing out of the slickrock canyons the next day, the technical and slow-paced trail opened to wide, well-maintained dirt roads on the top of the mesa where we could cruise at 80 mph thanks to the Rivian R1T's incredible suspension compliance, body control, and grip. A finicky Electrify America charger that didn't want to connect barely dampened the day, which peaked in a canyon filled with 8,000-year-old Native American rock art that, much like the environment at large, had to be painstakingly restored after years of defacement by other humans.

Flash flood warnings and an overnight thunderstorm portended struggle ahead. Now in the Manti-La Sal's northernmost district, we drove deep into a birch forest before ascending the 10,271-foot Skyline Drive pass that looks all the world like the Swiss Alps, where we were hit with sideways snow. In August. The snow became hail, then sleet, then just plain rain as we descended, prompting worries of flash floods as we raced the runoff down the mountain.

A much less troublesome fast charge at Scipio—Utah's truck stop, Dairy Queen, EV charger, and petting zoo all in one—left us with plenty of juice to blast through the endless giant puddles that littered the two-track trail across the valley floor. We all cackled like 7-year-olds until we discovered the slightly bent skidplate on Rocky we'd caught on a rock a few days prior was now bent at a 90-degree angle by the water; it had to be reattached.

Delta, Utah, gets 10 inches of rain per year and averages half an inch in August. The storm we drove through on the mountain dumped 6 inches in less than two days. This meant we spent three and a half hours covering a whole 15 miles the next morning, with nearly half that time spent on the last mile.

We thought the shallow lake we came to first would be the worst of it, but both Rivian electric pickup trucks made it through with a little luck and a lot of entry speed. It was the mud that got us, though. Ever let a chocolate lava cake sit too long and it becomes a gooey mess? That's what we tried to drive through, except it smelled like manure. It wasn't long before we stuck Rocky in a bog. Holly popped us out with a kinetic recovery rope when MaxTrax recovery boards couldn't bite. The boards worked better when Holly then got stuck twice. Thankfully, it was effectively the last time we'd see mud. After crossing the Swasey Mountain Wilderness, it was nothing but dusty dirt roads across endless miles of desert.

We'd camp that night just over the border in Nevada, returning to Utah the next day to run north along either side of the state line. The Ram's sidewall plug finally failed, pausing us for another tire change. The official trail began to divert onto pavement, so we strung together some dirt roads to keep us off the highway until West Wendover, Nevada, where we could charge up for a run at the Bonneville Salt Flats over in Wendover, Utah. Another unusual summer storm soaked the salt with sideways rain, limiting us to a photo shoot.

Arcing northeast around Bonneville and the Great Salt Lake on our last day of Leg 4, we stopped briefly at Promontory Summit to consider the allegory of the Trans-Continental Railroad. Much as the railroad radically changed transcontinental travel, crossing the country off-road for the first time with an EV feels like as much of a sea change.

Unlike every other leg, nearly all 1,239 miles we traveled had been within the state of Utah despite the wide variety of terrain and topography. Much of the Beehive State is a desolate, unspoiled place, with enormous mesas split by deep and ancient valleys with precious few dirt roads scrambling over, around, or through them. There are even fewer towns in between. Water shaped the state and the west at large, and it shaped our journey in far less time.

Unseasonable storms wrought havoc on low-lying communities and spoiled the trail and the salt, driven by man-made climate change perpetuated in part by internal combustion engines. Before that, a man-made fire destroyed a national forest and closed it to vehicular recreation. Touring Utah's trails via electricity did not change any of that, but in the face of the stark realities of human-driven environmental destruction, it made our all-electric crossing of the Trans-America Trail feel like a vital first step.

Leg 5, August 23-29, 2021
Tremonton, Utah to Port Orford, Oregon
1,439 Miles

"Hubris and the Sprint to the Finish. "

Christian Seabaugh: I didn't know it, but the smoke in western North Carolina should've been a warning. The "smoke" in the Great Smoky Mountains is usually caused by high vapor pressure produced by the lush rainforest that lines them. The Cherokee called the mountain range Shaconage, or "place of the blue smoke," but the smoke we saw against the mountains had a distinct, red/gray tinge to it. According to local news outlets, it was wildfire smoke that drifted thousands of miles east from California and Oregon.

More than a month later in Northern Utah's high desert, we faced down that same smoke much closer to its source as we kicked off the final leg of our Trans-America Trail overland expedition. No fewer than four of Oregon's active wildfires lay in our way, and though we'd still largely be able to stick to the official Trans-America Trail, the fires meant we'd have to detour off trail at multiple points on our fifth and final leg.

Reuniting with Rocky, our Rivian R1T, at a campsite in Tremonton, Utah, was almost as exciting as seeing my parents again after a year and a half apart due to the pandemic. Dirtier now, with a proud brown patina of grass-caked prairie mud from Oklahoma and Colorado, and a confluence of sand from Moab and Nags Head inside, Rocky felt just as solid navigating Utah's sweeping Bear River Valley as it did when I left the truck at the end of the first leg in Georgia.

The first few days on the trail again, as the muddy savannahs of northern Utah turned into farmlands and the empty prairie of Idaho's Snake River Valley, were largely uneventful. The Trans-America Trail in this part of the country largely mirrors the Oregon Trail, and aside from the massive rooster tails behind us as we blasted across the plain at 80 mph (not to mention the F-15 fighter jets out of nearby Mountain Home Air Force Base buzzing us as we crossed their bombing range), it was easy to be lulled into quiet appreciation of what these barren plains might've felt like for the settlers moving westward in the 19th century.

While we had the luxury of ignoring the fires in Idaho, they became a more immediate concern as we crossed the Snake River into Oregon, leading us to frequently consult the Rivian's 15.6-inch infotainment display and our Gaia GPS app for detours. Where possible, we always chose the unpaved paths over the paved ones, leading us to "discover" fields of wild Christmas trees, massive redwoods, cratered lakes, and even floating volcanic rocks (who knew?!).

But the fires were unavoidable on our penultimate day. Oregon's Jack, Buckhead, Rough Patch Complex, and Devil's Knob Complex fires stood between us in Crescent, Oregon, and our finish line on the beach in Port Orford, Oregon. Even if we wanted to push on through the thick smoke on the Trans-America Trail, route closures and fire breaks blocked our path. The only possible way forward was to take a hauntingly beautiful rural highway that arced south along the Rogue River, dumping us onto I-5 and into a Grants Pass charging station, just a stone's throw from our overnight campsite.

After four days of averaging a little better than 32 mph while moving (not to mention more than 10 hours behind the wheel), the four-and-a-half-hour journey on paved roads felt like a cop-out. There was serious debate about gamely pushing on that same day toward the finish line, just a tantalizing 150 miles or so away on the trail. Ultimately caution won out: The Pacific Ocean would have to wait one final day.

August 29, 2021, our final day on the Trans-America Trail, started out with a normal 7:45 a.m. departure time. We broke camp and pointed our electric pickup's nose toward the Pacific one final time. The trail, a gorgeous, paved road that wound into the mountains of the Rogue River-Siskiyou National Forest, terminated into a gravel two-track that followed the Elk River to Port Orford and the finish line.

Staring at Port Orford's windswept Paradise Point beach from the safety of the gravel overlook, staff editor Conner Golden, Rivian tech Joel Carrasco (a fellow Leg 1'er), and I couldn't help but feel like we'd gotten off fairly easily on Leg 5. Sure, we'd spent a week coughing from wildfire smoke, but compared to North Carolina's muddy rainforests on Leg 1, chain-sawing through the woods on Leg 2, the foreboding Rockies on Leg 3, and the Russian roulette of weather and terrain Utah threw at Leg 4, this leg had felt, well, routine.

It was with this false sense of confidence Conner, Joel, and I decided it was a stellar idea to "quickly" plow Rocky forward onto the beach for an Instagram shot so there'd be no question we'd really traveled from the sands of Nags Head, North Carolina, to those of Port Orford, Oregon.

I distinctly remember a cheer from our doomed trio as I buried my foot in the "throttle" and the Rivian R1T met Oregon's beaches for the first time. I knew right away I'd made a pretty big mistake. Almost immediately Rocky started bogging down in the incredibly soft sand. I tried to keep the momentum up and make a beeline back to the exit, but it was no dice. We were good and stuck, buried nearly up to our rocker rails. Hubris is a helluva drug.

Recovering the Rivian was an all-hands-on-deck affair as we aired down to 15 PSI, shoveled MaxTrax under all four corners, and fought 50-mph winds and sandstorms to get out. It cost us more than 45 minutes (not to mention a heavy dose of pride) to undo the mess I caused, but there is no doubt: Together, we and Rivian completed the first-ever all-electric crossing of the Trans-America Trail. And it was absolutely worth it.

Postscript: Why Does This Even Matter?
Typically when I pitch a big feature story like this electrified Trans-America Trail overland expedition, I do so selfishly because it's the type of story I would like to read. But as our teams got further into the multi-year planning process, watching the world change around us, it became increasingly obvious this one was far bigger than "just" something I'd want to read.

For starters, the achievement is significant: The 2022 Rivian R1T is the first all-electric vehicle to cross the U.S. off-road, thanks to the Trans-America Trail. The R1T completed 7,686 miles on the route, tackling every conceivable type of terrain from mud and rocks to gravel and sand—and facing down thunderstorms, snow, floods, and more. The Trans-America Trail was essentially the ultimate shakedown run for the very nearly production-ready truck.

But then there's also what this means for us car enthusiasts, gearheads, and petrolheads—however you identify yourself—and the average automotive consumer. There's no denying a certain type of change sucks. It's scary. It's difficult. Just think about how rough 2020 was (and 2021 continues to be) for all of us as we came to grips with a worldwide pandemic. But, to quote the unofficial U.S. Marine Corps motto: Regardless of the troubles we face, we improvise, adapt, and overcome.

The same thing occurs now as society transitions from the internal combustion vehicles we all grew up with, know, and love, to the latest electric vehicles. It's easy to focus on anxieties like charging or range, but during 43 days of hard off-road driving through rural America we didn't run out of power once. Nor did we have any issue finding chargers for our Rivian R1Ts. The largest pain points were the occasionally unreliable Electrify America fast chargers.

If MotorTrend's band of leadfoots can cross the country off-road in an electric pickup truck, then the once-per-year 500-mile road trip the average driver might take should be a cakewalk in comparison. Vehicles like the R1T prove that no matter what fuels our cars we'll still be able to do the things that fuel us, including travel to the places we please and do the things we love. Just like before. —CS