The great migration into cargo vans has begun as more and more people convert their vans into campers and hit the road. They’re heading off to national, provincial and territorial parks, stopping at recreation sites, or finding wild camping spots down by the lake. And a lot of them are doing it in a Ford Transit.
I know, because I met a lot of these people during our own, 20,000-kilometre odyssey across Canada that took us up into Alaska, the Yukon and BC this summer over 11-weeks of travel in our own, off-grid Ford Transit. We even met people from Europe who shipped their Transit over by boat to explore Canada in their own van, which is celebrating 60 years across the pond.
For us, this was the trip of a lifetime, a dream to own a brand new van, explore our own country, and to experience a different adventure every day. We wanted to feel like we were genuinely living life and not letting our time go to waste. The beauty of a van, of course, is there is no unpacking, setting up, taking down and repacking. A van is like camping without the hassle and discomfort, and you don’t have to book anything in advance. If it rains, so be it. For us, every time we arrived somewhere, down went the welcome mat and out came the camp chairs.
As an automotive writer, I found it relatively easy to pick the right van once we decided to commit to such a grand plan. Having already driven just about every make and model in the automotive universe, the choice came down to the Ford Transit, Mercedes Sprinter, or Ram ProMaster. After much research, the Transit appeared to have everything going for it — high roof, extended length, AWD, good reliability (how could millions of Transit vans out for delivery be wrong?).
The Transit platform seemed to hold the advantage in every regard: less expensive than a Mercedes, better built than a ProMaster, the most powerful engine (a 3.5L EcoBoost V6 with 310 hp and 400 lb-ft of torque). A Transit would also not suffer the complications of diesel or encounter the potential difficulty in getting a diesel Benz fixed in a remote place since there are so few dealers, compared to the thousands who can service a Ford.
Our AWD, EcoBoost T350 high roof extended Transit began as a humble cargo van. Built to my specs at the Kansas City Assembly Plant in Claycomo, Missouri, our Transit then transformed into a beautiful, off-grid camper thanks to the craftsmanship of Wilderness Vans in Lethbridge, Alberta. And that van became our home for 11-weeks, doing everything we asked of it, without a single issue.
Leaving Ottawa on a sunny and warm mid-July morning, we headed north to Sudbury, Ontario. Over the next several days we crossed the top of Lake Superior, over the plains into Saskatchewan’s Grasslands National Park, then into the Rockies and north past Kluane into the Yukon and then Alaska.
In BC, the Heckman Pass into Bella Coola — a 1,524 metre descent over 19 kms on grades of 18 per cent — meant switching into first gear and going easy on the brakes (it’s also better to not look down over the perilous edge of death along the narrow road). Those rocky roads up to the trail head off the Duffy Lake Highway? No problem. The Dempster Highway in the Yukon — probably one of Canada’s harshest roads, full of washboard, rocks and gravel, and big trucks? No issues.
The Dempster, of course, passes by Tombstone Territorial Park, one of the most scenic alpine parks in Canada. Up here, with highs of 15 - 20 degrees Celsius in summer, the weather is ideal for hiking, and the peaks and vistas are truly alluring. The Grizzly Ridge Trail, an 11-kilometre hike with an 800-metre gain, begins in a forest but delivers ever-improving views of rocky peaks until you see the jaw-dropping spectacle of Mount Monolith, the highest peak in the park.
Much of the Yukon, in fact, is as captivating as it is gorgeous, wild and free. Just outside the unique town of Carcross, we found a small campsite on Tagish Lake. The water here was crystal clear, just as it was at Kusawa Lake. The cold water limited our swims to mere minutes, but the refreshing feel was hard to replicate. Of course, there are bear warnings everywhere, and the baby grizzly that meandered peacefully beside our campsite underscored the rawness of the land we were occupying.
Nor is the Yukon over-run with tourists, like Alaska. While Alaska has drop-dead beautiful vistas with snowy peaks and glaciers, the Yukon has something more: Whitehorse, for example, has some great restaurants and all the services anyone needs, while Dawson City is like stepping back into the early 1900s: wooden boardwalks, pioneer-style buildings, cafes with delicious baked goods, a bar that opens at 8 a.m. (and was already busy), and incredibly friendly people all making it feel like you’ve been transported back to the goldrush era. Plus, it’s all surrounded by what seems like never-ending tundra and forests.
Further south, into the Cariboo region of BC, the summer fire situation had worsened. Even in Bella Coola, the smoke became quite thick near Tweedsmuir Provincial Park, probably one of the best places in Canada to see grizzly bears, many of which come to the area’s rivers to feast on salmon in the fall. And Bella Coola is like the Land That Time Forgot, rich in indigenous history, totally undeveloped, massive cedars, Douglas fir and hemlock, not a fast-food or chain restaurant in the entire valley. It’s gorgeous.
Equally stunning was Tatlyoko and Tatla Lake, where late summer breezes warmed our skin and the bugs stayed away. With no one else around, we simply savoured the peace and quiet, swam in the clear blue waters against a backdrop of mountains, enjoying the ease of cooking and living with a class-B camper. We could have stayed all summer.
Our Transit, lifted with a 2.5-inch Quigley lift that maintains the Ford factory warranty, has joined an expanding legion of Class B campers, built on the van’s factory chassis with bed, fridge, stove, shower, toilet, kitchen and storage, all configured into the van’s original body, much of the power coming from solar panels. In Canada, the Class B campervan market has grown from 50,000 units sold in 2014 to 84,000 in 2024, the provinces of Ontario, Quebec, Alberta and B.C. leading the purchases.
For us, the converted Transit was simply a way to get outside, to see and explore our great country — to feel more alive and free than we have ever felt in our lives. Sure, after 11 weeks on the road, it was good to be home; but it felt sad to be done, so we’re going on another big trip next year.
Derek McNaughton is a freelance Canadian journalist who just happens to have fallen in love with #vanlife in his Ford Transit