The inside of the van is coated with a thick layer of dust. It creeps along the makeshift kitchen area region, entrenches by itself into the worn ground, and sinks deeply into the weathered upholstery. The chalky substance isn’t just from the rutted dirt road we’re at present bumping down it has been accumulating above a year and a 50 percent. It’s dust from 11 various countries—from sandy Baja beach locations and sea-certain transport containers to bridge the Darien Hole, to the wind-battered roadside camps of Patagonia.
With just about every road bump, dust puffs up to coat the van’s driver, Zach Lazzari, and his co-pilot, Shale. The 11-year-previous dog serves as traveling companion, nighttime guard, curious conversationalist, and hassle-free icebreaker: She’s an impossibly fluffy purple mutt whom Lazzari located a ten years back in a Montana animal shelter. There, in a constructing total of canine needing properties,