Chris Townsend Read online

  Lightweight hiking shades into ultralight hiking instead of being clearly separate. Arguably a pack weight below 20 pounds, including food and water, defines the ultralight hiker. Ultralight hiking works best in summer conditions on good trails in places with generally benign climates and is best suited to those who like to keep moving and spend as little time as possible resting or in camp. It also requires expertise and fitness—there’s no backup gear to get you out of trouble. I’ve tried the ultralight approach on weekends when I wanted to cover high mileage, managing to get my total load down to 16¼ pounds including food for two days (see sidebar, page 30). I enjoyed the light weight, but I worried that any extended period of stormy weather would be unpleasant. I wouldn’t want to travel with such minimal gear for long, but if you’re interested in high daily mileage and stoic enough to endure minimal comfort in camp in bad weather, this could be the way to go.

  Even though I don’t try to reduce my pack weight to the absolute minimum—I like a pack with a hipbelt, a roomy shelter, enough warm clothing to sit outside in comfort, a proper stove, a paperback book, and more—my overall pack weight has come down because I’ve incorporated some ultralight items and because there’s been a general reduction in weight of much standard gear. These days my average loads are a good 10 pounds lighter than those from several years ago; the ultralight movement has certainly benefited me and, I think, all backpackers.

  Green Gear

  Given our interest in unspoiled wilderness, it’s not surprising that many backpackers and hikers are deeply concerned about the environment and involved with conservation groups. This concern spills over into outdoor equipment companies, and many of them are also involved in the environmental movement in various ways, usually by making cash donations. Companies often list the campaigns and organizations they support in catalogs and on Web sites. Some have environmental audits and do their best to minimize their impact on the environment. Many use recycled materials in both products and packaging. Whatever the companies’ motivations (and the more cynical—or realistic—may have doubts about some of them), using recycled materials does less damage to the environment than using virgin materials and is therefore recommended. Patagonia was first on the market with recycled fleece garments way back in 1993, and it still makes these along with other environmentally friendly stuff. It also promotes various environmental and conservation causes through its catalog and Web site (patagonia.com) rather more strongly than most companies. Even some huge corporations pay attention to the environment these days. Nike, for example, has a Reuse-a-Shoe program whereby you can return old sports shoes (any make, not just Nike) for recycling. The rubber from old shoes, called Nike Grind, can be found on several of the brand’s hiking shoes (see nike.com/nike biz).

  Using gear made from recycled materials is only a first step, of course. What happens when you’ve finished with it? Donating it to a worthy cause, selling it, or passing it along to friends is preferable to sending it to a landfill.

  Buying quality gear in the first place is a good idea too. Top-quality items usually last longest, covering the high initial cost, and perform best, making it less likely you’ll want to replace them. Equipment lasts longer with proper maintenance, too. Annie and Dave Getchell’s The Essential Outdoor Gear Manual covers repair and care of everything from packs to kayaks and is highly recommended. Repair centers exist, but unless you live near one or near an outdoor store that will forward gear, you will have to mail your gear to them, so they’re worth using only for major problems you can’t fix yourself.

  TARGET WEIGHTS

  CHECKLISTS

  For any walk you have to decide exactly what to take. Here I find a checklist essential (see Appendix 1). No two hikes are the same, and I doubt I’ve ever taken exactly the same gear twice. When, where, and for how long you go will determine what you carry. You need to know about the weather, the terrain, and the environment. I work from a complete list of all my gear, then distill a shorter list for the walk at hand. Because I know what each item weighs, I can work out how much gear I’ll be carrying. Adding about 2 pounds of food per day, plus the weight of my camera gear, tells me what the total load will be. At that point I review the list to see if anything can be left out or replaced with a lighter alternative. For a major trip that will last many weeks, I repeat this process obsessively, though this rarely makes much difference. With experience, you’ll probably find that your first list needs only a little tinkering.

  ULTRALIGHT OVERNIGHT SUMMER TRIP IN COASTAL MOUNTAINS

  One purpose of this trip was to try a pack with no frame or hipbelt and an ultralight load. I covered 30 miles and 8,600 feet of ascent, mostly cross-country in rough, rocky terrain, and the light load made the trip seem like a day hike. The temperature was in the 60s during the day and the 40s at night with no rain and only light winds.

  I wore or held 4 pounds of the items above, so my basic pack weight was 12.25 pounds. My camera gear weighed 3.25 pounds, but this was all carried in a padded case slung across my body. I had 3 pounds of food at the outset, making a pack weight of 15.25 pounds and a total weight of 22.5 pounds.

  I keep a list of all my gear on my computer. Before each trip I make up a specific checklist, print it out, then check off each item as I pack it—and not before. (It’s all too easy to remember that an item is hanging up drying somewhere, check it off, and then forget to go and get it. I know. I’ve done it.) You can list the gear on a database that adds up the weights for you. There’s even a little program that does this, which I’ve used for a number of years now: the Backpacking Gear Weight Calculator, developed by hiker Chris Ibbeson. You add your gear in various categories along with the weights and any notes you want to remember. For each trip you check the items you want to take and the program computes the total weight. You can get further details at www.chrisibbeson.com/pages/GearWeightCalculator.html.

  CHOOSING AND BUYING

  The highly competitive nature of the outdoor equipment market means that styles and names change rapidly—companies come and go, brand names are taken over, new materials emerge. While many changes are cosmetic and have more to do with fashion than function, some do involve new designs and practical improvements. There are basically four sources for the latest information on equipment: specialty stores, mail-order companies, manufacturers and importers, and outdoor magazines (see Appendix 3). All of these have Web sites, of course.

  If you can find a good store with staff members who use the equipment they sell and know what they’re talking about, give it your support. The employees in such a store can keep you well informed and advised. Popping in to chat and look at the latest gear can be enjoyable, too. Being able to handle gear and see it in three dimensions and talk face to face with real human beings beats cyberspace any day, in my opinion.

  Paper catalogs still exist, of course, if you prefer them; however, Web sites are now the norm and arguably the best way to access information. If you don’t have a good store nearby, buying through the Web is a good alternative. Equipment Web sites—from companies like Campmor, REI, Backcountry Equipment, and Mountain Gear—often feature equipment comparison charts and may have “house brand” items not available elsewhere. Many small specialty manufacturers whose products you may never find in a store have Web sites. Indeed, the Web has provided the opportunity for these companies to market their gear much more easily.

  Gear manufacturers and retailers can hardly be expected to be objective about the gear they make their living from; for that you need to consult outdoor magazines and the plethora of hiking Web sites. Most test and review gear, often in great detail. They also carry news of the latest items and developments. (See Appendix 3.)

  The leading specialty magazine for many decades has been Backpacker, which regularly carries detailed comparative gear tests and publishes an annual gear guide (March issue) listing specifications for thousands of items. Backpacker also publishes an Editor’s Choice issue (April) of new gear. I find Backpacker’s gea
r reviews useful and informative. When the magazine’s staff reviews gear I’ve tried, I usually agree with the findings, though not always. (I’d be worried if I always did!) Outside and National Geographic Adventure cover a much wider field of activities but often have features of interest to backpackers. In Canada, the same applies to Explore.

  Of the many hiking Web sites, three stand out for their gear reviews. The site BackPackGearTest.org has masses of detailed reviews provided by readers. These vary in quality but can be interesting and useful. Ryan N. Jordan’s Backpacking Light (backpackinglight.com) is more authoritative and has detailed comparative reviews as well as features on lightweight backpacking in general. As of June 2004, Backpacking Light is also a print magazine, published quarterly. The Lightweight Backpacker (backpacking.net) was one of the first backpacking sites and has grown to a vast size. It has both staff and reader reviews, backpacking philosophy, checklists for different types of trips, and much, much more. For general information on ultralight gear, Trail Quest (trailquest.net) has much useful stuff including gear reviews and details of how to make your own gear. Many of these sites sell gear too.

  Quality

  Today, outdoor companies are international. Globalization is the name of the game. Much high-quality equipment from reputable companies is made in the Far East, a region once known only for budget items. You may want to buy gear made at home for patriotic or environmental reasons, but you don’t need to do so to ensure that you’re getting good quality.

  It’s wise to check carefully and thoroughly every bit of gear you buy. However reputable the company, and however good the quality control, a faulty item occasionally slips through. It is better to discover that your tent door zipper jams or that the snaps fall off your jacket when you’re home rather than when you’re out in a raging blizzard. Check that stitching is neat and unbroken and that seam ends are finished properly. (With filled garments and sleeping bags, you can’t see the interior work, but if the shell is put together well, chances are the insides are too.) All waterproof-breathable garments should have taped seams; check that the tapes are flat and run in straight lines. The same applies to tents with pretaped seams. You should be able to spot any gross manufacturing defects before they cause problems in the field.

  Cost

  Buy the best you can afford. During a mountaintop blizzard, a few dollars saved on a cheap jacket are meaningless. This doesn’t mean you need to buy the most expensive items or that you can’t go hiking if you can’t afford top-of-the-line gear. There are huge price ranges—especially in clothing, where high prices often just mean the latest style, color, or fabric rather than better performance. Indeed, the most expensive gear is often too complex and heavy for backpacking. The simplest, lightest designs—not the most costly—are best. If you don’t want the latest colors or styles (and why does this matter in the wilderness?), last year’s models can often be had at knockdown prices. Cosmetic “seconds” can be good value too. Before I started testing gear for magazines, and therefore had an endless supply of the stuff pouring through the door, I looked for gear at sales and in surplus stores. My first down sleeping bag had a patch on the inside where it was torn in the factory. This didn’t affect the performance, but the cost was half that of a perfect bag. I used to wear army surplus wool shirts—itchy next to the skin but fine if worn over another layer. I enjoyed sorting through piles of gloves, socks, hats, and other items in surplus stores—a sort of treasure hunt where I never knew just what wonderful bit of gear would turn up. I still occasionally go through the bargain bins in outdoor stores and have to remind myself that I really don’t need another hat, however inexpensive. Web sites like eBay can provide bargains too, though I have never bought anything on them. As I write this, a quick look at eBay’s Camping, Hiking, Backpacking section reveals an REI down sleeping bag for $9.99 “suitable for a youth or small adult” (no other specifications listed) and a new Arc’teryx Khamsin pack for $150 (list price $233) among a mass of car camping gear and some rather dubious “genuine black leather” packs (new, $7.95—for genuine leather!). Thrift shops may have hiking gear too, especially clothing. With care you can put together a top-quality backpacking outfit for very little money from sales, seconds, and secondhand stores. Doing this is certainly better than buying brand-new budget gear that probably won’t last long.

  Depending on where and when you plan to go, there are critical items for which money should be no object, but other items need not be expensive or even cost anything at all. You probably have clothing in your closet that will do for most hiking. Remember, too, that good gear isn’t a substitute for skill. Equipment is no use if you don’t know what to do with it. An experienced backpacker can function more efficiently and safely with a minimum of basic gear than a novice can with the latest high-tech designs. Many of us learned with gear that seems primitive now, but it let us get into the wilderness and survive there. Don’t let a lack of gear keep you from getting out there. Just be careful to tailor what you do to your skill level and the gear you have.

  Making Your Own

  One way to cut costs is to make your own gear. This is also a way to design items the way you want. I’ve never made my own gear, but I’ve hiked with people who have and I greatly admire them. I can see that using an item you’ve made gives it a value and personal meaning that a store-bought item just cannot have.

  Making complex items like geodesic dome tents is of course way beyond most people’s skills, so home gear making tends to be the province of ultralight hikers who want very simple, basic gear. Ray and Jenny Jardine made their own gear for their ultralight long-distance hikes because they couldn’t find what they wanted commercially. There are details of how to do this in Beyond Backpacking. There also are many Web sites about making your own gear, especially alcohol and solid fuel tablet stoves made from soda cans. The Lightweight Backpacker has a whole section on making gear, with instructions for everything from packs and shelters to stoves and headlamps. Trail Quest has a fair amount of information on making gear too, though it is scattered among the other topics.

  Color

  When I began backpacking, most items were green, brown, or blue, with an occasional splash of orange. However, the past two decades have seen an explosion of brilliant colors and multihued equipment that shows no sign of abating, to the point where some dully clad hikers—who don’t go to the wilderness to see bright displays of nylon—mutter about “visual pollution.”

  Overall, I’m with the “dull crowd” rather than the peacocks. I prefer being inconspicuous when outdoors, blending in with my surroundings without broadcasting my presence like a neon sign. For a while, I was concerned I might be mistaken for someone using the outdoors as a backdrop for pseudomilitary games. At least one bright item of gear ensured this was unlikely (as would a Sierra Club or Greenpeace badge on my pack). Now, however, the outdoors is also used as a backdrop for “adrenaline sports,” which seem to require tight, shiny, and very bright clothing. I don’t like the idea of nature’s being a backdrop to anything, but I no longer worry about being mistaken for those who use it as an adventure playground or a mock battle-field. If I’m going to worry at all, I’ll worry about the future of wilderness.

  GEAR FOR A TWO-MONTH ARIZONA TRAIL THROUGH-HIKE IN SPRING

  Although this trip lasted two months, the same gear would be suitable for much shorter desert trips in spring or autumn. I took the large, heavy pack because I knew I would have to carry a great deal of water. I carried a gallon for a few hours most days, and three gallons on a few occasions. I took eight small water containers rather than a couple of large ones so that if any of them sprang a leak, most would still be OK. The rigid water container was for filling from trickles and shallow pools. The plastic coffee filter was for filtering visible dirt. Because I was resupplying in small towns along the way, I took a multifuel stove. Automotive gas was always available. Most nights were above freezing, but some were below, and the lowest overnight temperature was 21°F (−
6°C).

  A different visual issue is photography. When I hiked the Pacific Crest Trail, I wore dark blue and green clothing and used a sludge-brown tent. In the photographs, I look like a black smudge, and the tent blends neatly into the background. A bright garment, especially a red one, can give a splash of color that makes a striking photograph, assuming the wearer is meant to be prominent.

  Why object to bright colors? There are many vivid hues in nature, but there’s a difference between a field of flowers and a sheet of red nylon. I remember reaching a mountain pass and staring down on a beautiful green bowl dotted with green groves and blue pools and having my eye drawn instantly to a searing yellow tent pitched in the center of a meadow. On another occasion a line of orange- and red-clad hikers dominated a distant ridge, destroying any feeling of wildness and solitude. These are aesthetic reasons, but I think they’re important, especially in popular backcountry areas where blending in helps make the place seem less crowded. Of course if the background is colorful, bright gear may not stand out. A red tent can disappear into the fall colors of a huckleberry-covered mountainside.

  Of this total, 5 pounds were worn or carried every day, leaving a basic pack weight of 27 pounds. I also had 6.25 pounds of camera gear; 3.75 pounds of it were normally in a case slung across my body. The remaining camera gear upped the basic pack weight to 29.5 pounds. The pack never actually weighed this little, however, since I always had food, fuel, and water as well. At one point I carried six days’ food (12 pounds) and three gallons of water (24 pounds), which, with stove fuel and extra items like camera film and paperback books, made for a total pack weight of 70 pounds.