Articles (2020) - Page 11 of 145

Can backcountry fishing save carried food weight?

This article explores the benefits of backcountry fishing (especially tenkara), including the incorporation of fish in your diet and potential food weight savings.

Introduction

“Many men go fishing all their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.” – Henry David Thoreau

Fishing (also, hunting and foraging) has been part of the backcountry experience since the dawn of humanity. For some, it connects them to their ancestral roots. For others, it allows them to connect to the natural world on a more visceral level. For me, it’s both the feeling of self-reliance and a deeper appreciation of how nature nourishes us, both metaphorically and physically. In addition, I’ve always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie. And the endorphins (happy hormones) released following the adrenaline rush of catching a big, wary trout have a profound impact on my enjoyment of the backcountry.

A hybrid cutthroat from an alpine lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. At about 14 inches in length and with a healthy girth, this fish provides about a half pound of meat, 350 Calories of energy, and more than 40 grams of protein.

In addition to these benefits, fish are a healthy source of protein, omega-3 fatty acids, and essential vitamins and minerals. Cold water trout, in particular, have unusually high concentrations of vitamins D, E, and A, deficiencies of which can have notable impacts on the performance, recovery, and injury risk to long-distance endurance athletes (source). Admittedly, eating one or two trout per day may have a negligible impact on nutrition or performance during a short backcountry trek. However, it’s well-known that eating cold-water fish, including trout, can have profound positive impacts on one’s long-term nutritional health (assuming they were sourced from pristine and uncontaminated water sources or farms).

Consuming fresh fish in the backcountry can also provide a welcome break for the palate that’s accustomed to dehydrated, freeze-dried, pre-packaged, or processed backpacking foods. Enjoying a plate of fish tacos while watching the alpenglow fade on a nearby wilderness peak is admittedly, one of my guiltiest culinary pleasures in the backcountry.

Frying up a pan of trout meat that will be seasoned and used as filling for backcountry fish tacos and shared with two of my hiking mates. Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness, Montana.

But fishing requires some additional gear and unique skills. A deeper skill set, and some experience, is essential if the backcountry traveler is going to rely upon it for part of their caloric sustenance.

That’s why debates about the practicality of fishing and its ability to reduce food weight are not uncommon within the community of enthusiasts who call themselves ultralight backpackers. Therefore, the primary purpose of this article is to explore the specific question: can backcountry fishing save carried food weight?

In order to answer this question, I’ll follow this process:

Calculate the weight of backcountry fishing gear.
Estimate the probability of catching and eating fish every day.
Determine the macronutrient content of that fish.
Evaluate how much carried food weight the caught fish can replace without sacrificing daily nutrition or calorie intake.
Calculate the number of days required to get a return (eating caught fish) on investment (weight of carried fishing gear).
Compare these results using conventional, light, and ultralight backcountry fishing kits.

How much does fishing gear weigh?

The basic elements of a fishing kit include the rod, the reel, line (including leader and tippet), and either bait, lures, or flies.

Conventional (Western) Fly Fishing Kit – 2 pounds

For the purpose of this article, we are going to focus on fly fishing. A conventional fly fishing kit includes a fly rod (which is protected in a cloth rod sleeve and carried in a rigid tube), a fly reel, backing line, the fly line, leaders, tippet spools, flies in a fly box, a vest, and a few tools (hemostats, nippers) and supplies (split shot, strike indicators, and floatant). In addition, it’s not uncommon for backcountry anglers to bring a landing net, but they rarely bring wading gear (e.g., waders, wading boots).

In most of my interviews with anglers who practice conventional western fly fishing into the backcountry, the following gear list is representative of their kits:

Fly rod – 9 ft 5 wt 4pc carried in a cloth rod sock and metal rod tube – 16 oz
Fly reel – 5 wt with fly line and backing – 5 oz
Extra leaders and tippet spools – 3 oz
Flies and boxes – 4 oz
Tools – 2 oz
Other supplies – 2 oz

Minimalist (Western) Fly Fishing Kit – 1 pound

A conventional western fly fishing kit can be lightened up by making a number of compromises that would be appropriate for most backcountry fisheries:

Reduce the length and rated line weight of the rod.
Reduce the size and line capacity of the fly reel.
Reduce the length of the fly line and eliminate the backing.
Replacing plastic fly boxes with foam fly boxes.
Replacing the vest with a hip pack or other type of pouch for tackle storage.
Eliminating the landing net.
Replacing the stock metal rod tube with something less rigid, like a plastic shipping tube with vinyl end caps.

In my experience, I’ve been able to reduce the weight of a western fly fishing kit down to about 12-16 ounces, recognizing that such sacrifices result in the inability to fight extremely large trout, which fortunately, are not common in the backcountry. The reason for this is that I’m carrying a lighter rod, less line, and a smaller reel. In addition, there are some sacrifices made in fly boxes and fly selection, which to be honest, I’ve never found to limit my ability to catch enough fish in the backcountry for reliable meals.

Ultralight (Tenkara) Kits – 0.25 pounds

Finally, at the lighter end of the range, one can assemble a minimalist tenkara fishing kit, which eliminates the weight of a fly reel and fly line.

And at the ultralight end of the spectrum, a tenkara kit can be minimalized to an extreme by including only those essential items required to catch small to medium-sized trout – e.g., rod, line, tippet, and flies.

This is my typical tenkara fishing kit for day fishing near my home. It weighs 7.3 oz. For backcountry use, I take a smaller fly box, replace full line and tippet spools with sections stowed on line cards, and a lighter tackle pouch.

What is the probability of catching fish every day?

Whether or not you catch fish every day depends not only on you and your skill, but on the level of cooperation of the fish! Specifically, the probability that you catch a fish will depend on you finding the fish, the fish wanting to eat, and you being able to catch the fish.

The probability that you catch a fish (indicated by the shaded area on this Venn diagram) will depend on you finding the fish (1), the fish wanting to eat (2), and you being able to catch the fish (3).

Whether or not you find fish depends in part on your skill, and in part on whether or not there are fish in the area where you are hiking. The latter can be mitigated by doing research prior to your trip. Fishing reports from local fly shops, trip reports from backcountry users, and stocking reports (or fish population inventories or surveys) from land and fisheries management agencies can all be used to determine which lakes and streams are most likely to support populations of fish. Once you have identified a water body that houses fish, then your skills come into play. Understanding where fish lie and feed in the waterbody makes your fishing efforts more efficient. Otherwise, you may just be casting into water in the hopes of catching a fish that may never show up.

Know where to look: these two large cutthroat trout were feeding at the mouth of a tiny stream as it flowed into an alpine lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. Stream inlets are a good spot to find fish because they deliver a steady supply of insects and other food into the lake here.

Fish feed in response to a variety of conditions. Seasonality, environmental conditions and the activity of food sources are the two most important. Sunlight (or cloud cover), wind, barometric pressure, lunar phases, water temperature, and air temperature may have an impact on both the activity of food sources and whether or not fish will feed on them. In one of my favorite headwater streams in the Montana Beartooths, I know with almost absolute certainty that calm, sunny, fall afternoons result in a Dicosmoecus gilvipes (October Caddis) hatch that makes trout go into a feeding frenzy.

Finally, once you’ve found the fish and are confident that they’ll eat, you still have to present your line, leader, and fly to the fish so as not to spook it and have them sense that you’re a predator. And assuming you hook a trout that takes your fly, you have one more step ahead of you: land the fish so you know that it’s going to make it into your cooking pan!

How much nutrition does trout meat provide?

Now that you’ve caught your fish, let’s figure out how much nutrition it can provide. The following table shows the relationship between the size of a trout, how much edible meat can be harvested from it, and the macronutrient profile of that meat.

Length (inches)	Weight (ounces)	Edible Meat Weight (ounces)	Protein (g)	Fat (g)	Calories
6	1.1	0.6	3.2	1.6	24
8	2.7	1.3	7.6	3.8	57
10	5.2	2.6	14.7	7.4	111
12	9	4.5	25.5	12.7	191
14	14.3	7.1	40.5	20.2	304
16	21.3	10.7	60.4	30.2	453

Assumptions:

Weight is estimated based on the popular cubic formula used in fisheries science to estimate the weight of average-proportioned rainbow trout, i.e., weight (g) = 0.009 * length (cm) ^ 3.
Edible meat weight is estimated as 50% of the total fish weight for trout.
Macronutrient content is estimated as 20% protein, 10% fat, and negligible carbohydrates.

A hearty dinner for two along the John Muir Trail, Sierra Nevada, California.

How much carried food weight can caught fish replace?

This question can be answered using the previous table (above) as a reference.

My normal backpacking diet has a caloric density of about 120 Calories per ounce, and a macronutrient profile of approximately 20% protein, 50% fats, and 30% carbohydrates.

For the purpose of this discussion, I’ll focus primarily on Calories. Since I’m consuming trout for only one meal of my day, I usually try to catch a hearty portion for a meal, i.e., four 10-inch fish (444 Calories) or some combination of larger and smaller trout that provide me with 400 to 500 Calories.

To keep the math simple, let’s assume I’m targeting 480 Calories for my trout meal. That means I might leave 480 Calories out of my packaged (dry) backpacking meals, which equates to about four ounces of dry food.

You don’t just have to replace food with caught fish, you can also supplement it. For this meal in the High Sierra, I planned on a light mushroom ramen soup for dinner (400 Calories) at a campsite where I wasn’t sure I’d be able to catch fish. I got lucky, and added another 500 Calories of trout to the meal and enjoyed a feast of trout chowder.

How many days of eating fish for one meal a day is required to get a return (eating caught fish) on investment (weight of carried fishing gear)?

The answer to that question depends on the weight of my fishing kit. Here’s a case study from a recent 10-day summer wilderness trek in Colorado, where I ate an average of one hearty trout meal per day (480 Calories).

My fishing kit included the following:

tenkara rod – 2.7 oz
line, tippet, fly on a card x 2 – 0.2 oz
5x tippet spool – 0.2 oz
nippers / hemostats on neck cord – 1.3 oz
foam box with flies – 1.0 oz
tackle pouch – 1.1 oz

Summary:

Total weight of fishing kit = 6.6 oz = 0.41 lb
Total dry packaged food weight left behind = 9 days x 480 Calories/day / 120 Calories/ounce = 36 oz = 2.25 lb
Total weight of spices and carbs (e.g., dry potatoes) added back for cooking fish = 1 oz/day x 9 days = 9 oz = 0.56 lb

Total Net Weight Savings = 0.41 lb + 0.56 lb – 2.25 lb = 1.28 lb

When considering the weight of your fishing kit, you may have to add the weight of a fry pan and spices used during cooking. On some trips, I forgo complexity and simply steam-poach my trout in whatever pot I happen to be using. The meat separates from the bones easily, and just a little salt and pepper is all that’s needed to enjoy a fresh and tasty trout meal in the backcountry.

This is not a substantial amount of weight savings over the course of a 10 day trek. For sustenance alone, it would be somewhat difficult to justify. For the backcountry hiker that doesn’t find any entertainment or meditative value in fishing, the time spent fishing, dealing with gear, cleaning and cooking fish, etc., won’t be worth the savings of a pound or two.

However, it’s refreshing to discover that not only can you save pack weight by bringing a fishing kit, you can also have all of the benefits that come with fishing (as described in the introduction to this article).

Keep in mind that the analysis in this section involves a relatively lightweight kit based on a tenkara-style fishing rod. This, of course, is one of the most compelling reasons to fish tenkara in the backcountry.

The following chart illustrates a case study showing different starting pack weights for 3, 7, 14, and 21-day treks for different types of fishing kits.

Assumptions:

Base weight = 12 pounds.
Fishing kit weights: none (0 pounds), ultralight (0.25 pounds), light (1.0 pounds), conventional (2.0 pounds).
Food weight is 1.5 pounds per day for the case where no fishing kit is carried, and 1.25 pounds per day for the cases when a fishing kit is carried, based on the assumption that the angler will catch and consume approximately 480 Calories per day of fish, which would be equivalent to saving about 4 ounces per day of dry food (if average dry food caloric density is 120 Calories per ounce).

Conclusions from the chart above:

The difference in total starting pack weight for non-fishing and fishing case studies increases as trek duration increases.
For short trips (e.g., 3 days), only the ultralight (tenkara) fishing kit makes it worth the added weight of a fishing kit.
For long trips (e.g., 21 days), carrying an ultralight (tenkara) fishing kit can save as much as five pounds off the total starting pack weight.

Conclusion

Fishing isn’t for everyone. In terms of a backcountry activity, fishing is similar to photography or painting or climbing a snowy couloir in that it may (or may not) be the primary focus of a backcountry expedition, but requires additional gear to enjoy the activity.

However, unlike other ancillary backcountry activities, fishing has the potential to impact your pack weight by reducing the amount of carried food weight. The purpose of this article was to illustrate that point using a quantitative analysis.

For me, I’m a passionate fishing enthusiast, and am particularly passionate about tenkara-style fishing. Using an ultralight tenkara-style fishing kit allows me to not only enjoy that activity in the backcountry, but also to maximize the amount of benefit that comes from reducing carried food weight without adding much extra gear weight.

Finally, when thinking about the questions “can backcountry fishing save carried food weight?” and “can backcountry fishing provide me with a high level of enjoyment that makes it worth the weight of extra gear?” I always gravitate back toward the venn diagram above that asks:

Can you find fish?
Does the fish want to eat?
Can you catch the fish?

Inherent in the answers to each of these three questions is the presumption that you have some level of skill as a backcountry angler. Gaining angling skills and experience can be difficult. Western fly fishing is intimidating, and requires an enormous amount of casting practice and study to be proficient at it. This is part of why I like tenkara fishing. It’s not only lighter, but it’s simpler and easier. In addition, the skills barriers required to become a very proficient tenkara angler come with less practice and less experience. This was a large part of my motivation to develop the new Backcountry Tenkara Masterclass. My hope is that experienced anglers see the benefits of tenkara and can transition quickly and easily, and that new anglers achieve tenkara casting and fishing skills quickly.

In the Backcountry Tenkara Masterclass, we spend a great deal of time helping you become a better tenkara angler. We offer comprehensive instruction on gear selection, rigging, casting, stealth, presentation, and more.

Recommendations

Learn about tenkara gear, skills, and tactics in the new Backcountry Tenkara Fishing Masterclass
Shop tenkara rods, lines, accessories, and flies at Tenkara USA

Tenkara Speaker Series No. 1: TJ Ferreira and John Geer

Join us live online at our 2023 Tenkara Speaker Series with TJ Ferreira and John Geer of Tenkara USA. We’ll chat about Tenkara USA history and products, industry trends, and what’s next in the world of tenkara, and end with a live audience Q&A!

The live stream of this event is open to the public. In addition, the recorded version will be made publicly available here for about 24 hours following the event. After that, the recorded event will be available to all enrolled participants in the Backcountry Tenkara Masterclass.

Introduction

Join us live online at our 2023 Tenkara Speaker Series. The first event will feature TJ Ferreira and John Geer of Tenkara USA. We’ll chat about Tenkara USA history and products, industry trends, and what’s next in the world of tenkara, and end with a live audience Q&A!

Event Details

What: Live presentation & audience Q&A with Ryan Jordan (Backpacking Light), TJ Ferreira (Tenkara USA), and John Geer (Tenkara USA).
When: Thursday, April 13, 4:00 PM US MDT

Watch the Recording

The recorded version of this live stream is now available in the Backcountry Tenkara Masterclass.

Down to the Valley: Embracing the Desert Trail from the Mojave Desert to Badwater Basin

Drew Smith journeys from the Mojave Desert to Badwater Basin finding beauty in a seemingly desolate place.

You don’t have access to view this content.

Desert Crossing

An introspective account of what one can learn about themself through the story of crossing Saudi Arabia’s Hejaz region.

Introduction

Sheets of torrential rain pelted the group as lightning flashed in the dawn. We headed to the steep lava spur we would have to climb that morning, timing the flashes and sounds to gauge the lightning’s distance, “One, one thousand, two, one thousand, three, one thousand… one kilometer away.” The decision to break camp at dawn was an easy one: a cluster of tents in the open desert is no refuge in thunder. The storm rapidly grew closer as a stiff westerly off the Red Sea brought the squall inland. Then we were in it. We labored forward but were repeatedly pushed back by the force of the gale as thunder bolts struck the ground a few hundred meters away. We knew then that this would be no ordinary desert hike.

Just in time we managed to take shelter in an empty farmhouse, soaked minutes into that day’s twelve-hour march. The roughly 300 mile (482 km) off-trail desert crossing across the Hejaz in the Arabian peninsula was continuously flanked by lava tracts, mountains, and craggy hills. We were advised against using camels and cameleers because of the difficulty of crossing the occasional highway or railway. With scanting present-day knowledge of wells, we would have to resupply in town, and because we were on foot, water resupply points would have to be no more than 2 or 3 days apart. We decided on a 17-day foot journey that we hoped would provide some pace and rigor and, in the vast cleanness of the desert, would ultimately provide some spiritual insights.

For the Purification of Oneself

The spiritual benefits of a hike often come weeks and months later. During the hike itself one is occupied with the more prosaic physical aspects of basic survival: water, food, fatigue, and exposure to the elements.

One is often thinking beyond the usual simple binaries typical of modern life: hot or cold, hungry or full. Rather, one is thinking about countless nuanced variables. For example, how the summation of those dark clouds on the horizon, the direction of the wind, and our compass bearing towards the mountains forces us to think about flash flooding in the wadis when we pitch camp tonight. Or given this morning’s warming temperature so-and-so should preemptively apply breathable tape to the hotspot on his toe to avoid blistering, or how we need to improve ventilation tonight to reduce condensation next to these pools.

However, for purification of the self, there are few things better than a hike. The rigors throw into sharp relief shortcomings in one’s character and become a means for sublimating the lower self: in the extremity of narrow circumstance when group safety is paramount, annoyance must turn to cheerfulness, pride to humility, cowardice to courage, and anger to forbearance. Newcomers soon learn to accept with equanimity the howling of wolves at night, the feeling of thirst when an unexpected fence blocks a resupply point, encounters with packs of dogs, and the suffering of blisters. No hiker expects to be coddled, nor can they be frozen by the events of the day.

Boxed inside the four comfortable corners of the small screen, car, cubicle, and house, character often atrophies. Moreover, we unthinkingly accept the many absurdities of modern monocultures as they slowly bend our nature. Repeated over months and years, across generations, it is no wonder that modern man is now a mere shadow of his former self, far from nature and far from his own nature. One researcher termed the modern malady of disconnection from the natural world Nature Deficit Disorder.

As a means for reclaiming one’s primal nature, there are few temporary expedients—truly effective pattern interruptions—more powerful than a distant walk of a few days somewhere natural and remote. Hiking in beautiful, desolate surroundings, living on nothing but what one carries, being vulnerable to the often terrible vagaries of weather, and making but human-scale progress in the wide expanse of a rich divine tapestry, are all a means to pass beyond the created world into the presence of a higher power.

Desert Routines

We experienced a variety of terrain and weather conditions that included baking basalt fields reflecting heat, lava tracts impassable except by traversing hand-and-foot over boulders, miles of mud so soft that a misstep could pull a shoe off, windswept gravel plains gray in the gloaming, sandstorms so fierce that we were forced to put our sunglasses on before sunrise, hours of dune chains so maze-like that the group stayed together to avoid losing a companion, and camps pitched on the lee side of berms as cold winds pounded our shelters under brooding clouds on desolate flats. But it was not all hardship. There were broad swards of lush green, cool date palm groves, and shaded pools of fresh rainwater in which to bathe.

Such is the blessing of walking, that elemental and irreducible of all primal activities, that time expands. Days feel like weeks, and weeks like months. The group sometimes walked in two’s or three’s, but more often we would string out across a couple of hundred meters, alone in the desert until the next break. We were under open cloudless sky or a canopy of stars, in intimate contact with the texture of the land, across vast clean sands stretching to the horizon all around, amid the metronomic patter of our steps.

We soon settled into a routine in which everyone played their part: navigator in front, pacer at back, as well as a timekeeper, wood collector, fire man, reader, and so on. After sleeping 8 or 9 hours, the day began after a “camel up” of 1 or more liters of water and we would be on the road, headlamps dancing in the night. Using our standard 50 minute walk, 10 minute rest routine per stage, we walked three stages before stopping for a 30 minute breakfast, four more stages before a 1 hour midday break, and several stages in the afternoon depending on the distance to our next landmark.

Ten minute breaks were always over before we expected. We had just enough time to remove shoes and socks to cool our feet, take a few sips of water, lie down, usually on sand or rock, and prop up our feet on our packs. We were all motivated to keep hourly breaks brief because we knew the math: long breaks reduce miles per liter of water, and mean carrying heavier packs between resupply points. In order to maintain the forward impetus and ensure self-discipline, every minute of delay after a break subtracted a minute from our breakfast or midday breaks or added a minute of walking to the last stage.

Breakfast varied but beans, sardines, cheese, dates, and nuts were our high-calorie staples. Midday breaks were taken at resupply points or rain water pools where we filtered water for the next 24 to 48 hours. Campsite selection began just before sunset, but often at night. With wood collected and shelters pitched, a fire was made and we would gather round for a dinner of more beans, sardines, cheese, dates, and nuts, adding pasta when water supplies permitted. We were famished so every meal was delicious.

By Compass & Map

The most challenging part of the entire expedition was a three day crossing to a landmark 16 feet (5 meters) wide 56 miles (90 kilometers) away, the edge of a dead end road, reached by orienteering through a vast expanse of barren sands, gravel pans, rocky outcrops, lava fields, and towering mountains. Along the way there would be no roads, no shops, and no smartphone coverage to fall back on. Just a compass and a paper map. GPS had proven fatefully inaccurate by several kilometers earlier in the trek so relying on it was not seriously considered. In some sections there would be no shade from rock or shrub, only our packs propped up on trekking poles to lie down beside and hide our heads under for a brief respite from the sun.

To add to the challenge, the landmark we would have to set a compass bearing for was a dead end road pointed straight at us, nestled deep inside a labyrinth of mountains. And because the edge of this road was surrounded by such hostile terrain, it precluded the luxury of “aiming off” our compass by bearing slightly off-target and yawing into the length of the road. A single mistake would force us due east on half rations – an unwelcome prospect. We planned for water consumption based on exertion levels, temperature, and 12 to 14-hours carrying a load. This provided for roughly half a pint (284 ml) while walking and a quarter pint (142 ml) otherwise during waking hours, which allowed for a margin should our speeds fall below 2.5 mph (4 km/h).

On the second day of the crossing, we hoisted on our fully-laden packs in the dark and began the day’s journey under a beautiful waxing moon. The sawtooth range soon silhouetted the twilight sky in the east as we descried three rows of mountains looming on the horizon, each rising higher than the next. As the light gathered, the last one, towering menacingly above the rest, sat shrouded in the mist some 37 miles (60 km) away. “Our next water resupply point is at the base of that.”

Among the many blessings of walking is that, even after setting our compass bearing for a distant landmark such as a mountain peak, we would have to select a new landmark every few hours because the previous one had come too close. By midmorning we could not see where we had set off from. We drew an important life lesson from this: even something small like a single step, done repeatedly, takes one great distances in less time than one imagines. Walking taught us something about the rewards of patience.

On the morning of the third day, the edge of the dead end road sat before us. We celebrated that evening in camp, safe in the knowledge that the most logistically challenging section of the journey was behind us.

The Issue of Food

The hike taught us something about abstemious eating. Regardless of how much one tries to eat on such an endeavor, one is always in a calorie deficit. But because we were mostly in a fat burning state, we were assured by the knowledge that a lean person has over 100,000 calories stored as fat while less than 2,000 calories stored as glycogen. We learned the lesson that one needs a lot less food than one imagines. A 17-day hike smooths consumption patterns after the first few days and one learns a great deal about one’s actual physical needs, putting the lie to the standard received wisdom on the need for daily calorie replacement.

We had estimated 2 lbs of food per day which, at a caloric density of about 125 calories per ounce, works out to 4,000 calories per day. However, based on an approximate 400 calories per hour walking 2.5 to 3.7 mph (4 to 6 km/h) steadily over difficult terrain carrying a full pack, 200 calories per hour pitching and breaking camp, 150 calories per hour sitting, and 100 calories per hour sleeping, our caloric expenditure was much higher.

Looking at the last 4 days (28 mi (45 km) of walking 2.5 mph (4 km/hr) for 3 days, or 11 hours excluding breaks, and 34 miles (55 km) of walking 2.5 mph (4 km/hr) for 1 day, or just under 14 hours excluding breaks, which meant less overall time for rest), this worked out to 6,000 to 7,000 calories per day. Without a doubt, we were not eating this much. We experienced ordinary hunger, but no one in the group experienced weakness due to lack of food. In fact, with our standard fare of beans, sardines, cheese, dates, and nuts, we were likely eating far less than 4,000 calories, a caloric deficit greater than 2,000 to 3,000 calories per day. Judging by how we felt, if we had been forced to go with half as many calories, we might have done so. Hunger, as it turns out, is mostly just habit, and eating sparingly, even during something as demanding as a journey of many days on foot, suffices most.

Further Along the Hejaz

The traditional people of the Hejaz we met along the way were of all kinds, but all were special. There was the date farmer who invited us for dinner, gifting us all black and white checkered scarves. There was the teacher who drove his car alongside us in the noon day sun insisting all the while that we come for lunch. When we reached the shop to resupply, he paid for everything without question.

On another occasion we had been trying to find shelter for a break after battling a cold sandstorm from dawn to sunrise. The small town was quiet but, quite miraculously, we came to an open door in which an august man sat before a wood burning fireplace. He invited us in and, with sand still grinding at our teeth, and cold from the morning, it was bliss to drink warm milk and eat dates. We politely declined breakfast as we did not have the hour or so it might take. Later, he would send a packed breakfast to our next break.

There was the man in the dilapidated truck who paid for our lunch and drove off. There were the migrant workers who would try to hand us money thinking we were poor, on one occasion an entire day’s wage and on another occasion bringing us a welcome hot lunch. There were the factory workers who gave us access to their kitchen and bathroom, all a much needed luxury after days on the trail. And there was the police officer who had said with a smile, “If you need water or food, just call 911.”

Alongside the route, sometimes in the middle of nowhere, there would be tiny mosques the size of a room, or rest houses, invariably with the key left on the outside. These were a welcome relief from the elements and a reminder of the generosity that embodied these people. Hikers are a rare sight in many parts of the world, so it is often an exciting spectacle for locals to see nine vagabonds tramping across the desert.

On the last day, we slowly made our way towards the end of our journey, walking into town, a patina of ochre lava dust on our packs, shirts discolored by sun and cuffs tattered by terrain, faces weather beaten. We found something in the desert beyond ourselves; something that gave new meaning to our lives; a new perspective transcendent beyond mere materiality.

Amid this introspection to lift our horizons and see beyond this world, a lady walked up to us and asked, “Did you just come across the desert?” Nodding wearily, “Yes.” “Did you walk the whole way?” “Yes.” And then she mentioned the unmentionable. “You guys are all over Tik Tok.” A mocking riposte. And a sobering reminder that we were back in the world.

Episode 79 | The 12 Stages of Backcountry Tenkara

In this episode of the Backpacking Light podcast, Ryan discusses the 12 Stages of backcountry Tenkara fly fishing.

Listen

Summary

In this episode of the Backpacking Light podcast, Ryan discusses the 12 Stages of backcountry Tenkara fly fishing.

Take the Course

Backcountry Tenkara Fishing Masterclass

In this Episode:

This episode is targeted to the backcountry angler who may be new to tenkara fly fishing, to help them understand (1) how tenkara fishing fits into the overall backcountry experience, and (2) the process of stalking, casting to, and catching fish.

Stage 1 – Select Gear. Choose your Tenkara rod, line, flies, accessories, tools, and supplies.
Stage 2- Plan a Hike. Use online mapping, fisheries and land management agency regulations, streamflow data, and other beta to discover and prepare for fishing in the backcountry.
Stage 3 – Rigging. Lines, leaders, tippets, and knots.
Stage 4 – Survey. Study where you’re fishing to learn where fish lie and to help you plan your approach.
Stage 5 – Approach. Use stealth tactics to put yourself in position to cast.
Stage 6 – Cast. This is the heart of the art and practice of tenkara.
Stage 7 – Manage Drift. Plan where you want your fly to go and use the rod to guide it.
Stage 8 – Fly Movement. Manipulate your fly and impart motion to it to elicit strikes.
Stage 9 – Hook Set. Detect the strike, set the hook. Fish on!
Stage 10 – Landing. Get the fish to net, and prepare it for release – or the fry pan!
Stage 11 – Hook Removal. Your safety – and the safety and health of the fish – depend on effectively and carefully removing the hook.
Stage 12 – Release (Cook). Revive and release the fish to ensure its maximum chance of survival. Or for the backcountry chef, ensure a great meal!

How to Subscribe

Apple Podcasts | Spotify | RSS

More Episodes

Backpacking Light Podcast Index

Credits

Executive Producer - Backpacking Light; Show Director and Host - Ryan Jordan; Producer - Chase Jordan; Theme music: Look for Me in the Mountains written by Chris Cunningham and Ryan Jordan, performed by Chris Cunningham (acoustic guitar, lead and harmony vocals, harmonica), Chad Langford (upright bass), and Tom Murphy (mandolin), produced by Basecamp Studios in Bozeman, Montana.

Feedback / Tips / Questions

podcast@backpackinglight.com

More Backpacking Light

Disclosure

Sponsorship Policy: Backpacking Light does not accept compensation or donated/discounted products in exchange for product mentions or placements in editorial coverage, including any podcast episode content not excplicitly identified as sponsored content. Some (but not all) of the links in these show notes may be affiliate links. Learn more about affiliate commissions, influencer marketing, and our consumer advocacy work by reading our article Stop wasting money on gear.

Tri Peaks: Winter Scrambles in the Santa Monica Mountains

An essay on how day hikes and trail runs can enhance our outdoor experience when the wilderness isn’t accessible.

“There’s no altitude here,” I complain to my friend. He grunts some mild form of agreement, mostly out of politeness. Rob is a professional climber who teaches at a gym in Rancho Cucamonga. For him, altitude, in one form or another, is a prerequisite for daily life.

We met on the Devil’s Backbone near the summit of Mt. Baldy, a stretch of trail notorious for consuming greenhorn hikers. It hugged the ridgeline, boasting 2,000 foot (600 m) drops to either side. The bolt anchors fixed into trailside boulders did nothing to ease my nerves.

Rob had approached me from behind, lean and sinewy as a mountain goat and very nearly as agile. In his sixties, he had somehow bypassed the tedium of aging. Rob lived in Azusa for the express purpose of summiting Baldy twice a week. His students found this admirable. I found it flat insane.

winter-scrambles-tri-peaks-simons-1 — Sunrise over Sandstone.

No wonder then my protest as to accessible altitude fell on deaf ears. At any given moment Rob was likely strapping on a harness and crampons. For me “accessible” meant carefully marked trailheads, bluebird skies and a chance of rain considerably below 20%. Having grown up in Southern California, where heavy weather meant thick smog, snow was not part of my repertoire.

Yet following a summer season which saw me tromping the Sierras with daily gains in excess of 5,000 feet (1500 m) and distances surpassing 20 miles (32 km), the casual day hike over cooperative terrain sounded a bit, well, pedestrian. I had fostered a strong-willed dependency on altitude. Maybe it was the pleasant tingle of oxygen deprivation and its simultude to a double shot of vodka before it hits. I was managing withdrawal from the trail poorly, guilty of certain lapses. I had cold-soaked trail food in my kitchen out of nostalgia and had taken to wearing my Altras, replete with gaiters, about town. Each morning I awoke to break down camp at 4am only to discover myself confined to the abundance of a California King. I had not yet stooped to the marital death-knell of a sleeping bag laid at the bedside, but I could not be very far from it.

I rise early on a Wednesday, and as the thought is first materializing I am already cramming my pack with water and health bars and instant coffee packets. I am out the door and in the car before the notion fully surfaces, Maybe I should try a day hike… Yes, it’s true that I looked down on them as nouveau riche for transit buses, but I had also heard that legendary mountain athlete Kilian Jornet had run 56 hours out the front door of his house. He did this along the high spine that links the local fjords of Norway in a practice known delightfully as “skyrunning.”

a winding road in the middle of a mountain range — Red rocks and empty roads.

I set out to achieve a poor man’s imitation and find the Pacific Coast Highway oddly tolerable at 5am, lacking its daily droves of surfers who vault across four lanes of traffic to catch a primo wave or a fender. Hang a right on Yerba Buena, just after Neptune’s Net, and it’s twenty minutes up the mountain to the Mishe Mokwa trailhead. I have been told Mishe Mokwa means “white man’s trail” in the Chumash language and, contrastingly, that Mishe Mokwa was a great bear in Chippewan tribal mythology. Both these explanations were furnished by outspoken white men. I have yet to ask the bears about it.

By the bright glare of my headlamp I take a first glance at the map. My aim is to string together a series of peaks to form a bracelet. It looks feasible enough with the peaks laid out neatly in a clockwise fashion: Sandstone Peak, Bony Peak, Exchange Peak, Tri Peaks, and Big Dome. Admittedly, I’ve done no research to ensure they do in fact exist or are indeed worth the effort, but I’m too joyful to be bothered. For the first time since winter barred me from the Sierra I am back in pre-dawn darkness, choking down a cold-soaked sludge of varied grains which tastes mildly repulsive and fills me with fibrous pleasure. The sun lifts slowly to paint the sandstone. The landscape here, flushed red and rumpled, would not be out of place either in Sedona or a post-terraformed Mars.

Sandstone Peak proves to be an uncomplicated uphill jaunt. It is the highest point in the Santa Monica Mountains, which is much like saying Moe was the smartest of the Stooges. It is also called Mount Allen, enjoying dual title much as Mt. Baldy does as Mt. San Antonio.

Boney Peak (which upholds this tradition, known also as Boney Mountain) is perhaps the most loved of the bunch. It is a longstanding holy site of the Chumash Native Americans, and out of respect I circumvent it. That and I completely miss the turnoff.

Adjacent Bony Peak stands Inspiration Point, a place no more or less inspiring than any of the countless outcrops the trail has already provided. It vies for hikers’ attention by sporting an oversized and tarnished compass set into its crest onto which passersby set their loose change. This is either for good luck or because our currency is digital.

a summit compass in the middle of a rock — The compass dial atop Inspiration Point, with loose change left my recent passersby.

Next up: Exchange Peak with its sprawl of shrubbery stymying the hesitant explorer. One must simply attack the mountain, bushwhacking through a veritable cheese grater of undergrowth. Trending west will help avoid the sheer eastern face, which is a challenge best suited to those with a high tolerance for falling. On summiting the prominence (from the west) a celebration is in order. I suggest some variety of nut bar, which pairs nicely with a sports drink packet of the raspberry variety.

Then comes the long slog through a gravelly wash during which I convince myself I am undoubtedly off-trail. I am not, of course, but in seeking out the trail I promptly lose it. The sun reaches its zenith and a parfait is in order. I have not packed a parfait, of course, nor a cold beer, nor chocolate ice cream. A central feature of desert hiking is the craving for cold food. I have heard rumor of an ancient Chumash village excavated in these parts, and as I meander about, I wonder if it might have a soda fountain.

I fail to find the village, but by luck alone I stumble on a signpost for the trail. It is here that the distinction between trail and wilderness becomes purely theoretical. I scramble up dusty slopes that show no reasonable adherence to the green line on my map and am often reduced to waving my GPS as a divining rod before me. I commit myself to trail ducks, which are sort of micro-cairns; neat little heaps of balanced rocks meant to orient the hapless wanderer, placed by others who were presumably at least somewhat less lost then I am themselves (although the false duck is not unheard of.)

three rocks stacked on top of each other on a rocky hillside — Ducks of questionable provenance.

I end up following these trail ducks to a bladed cusp of sandstone. If this is indeed the trail, the word itself is worthless. I note with trepidation the exposure now beneath me. I’m not gambling with my life just yet, but certainly my ankles. A fall would splinter them to kindling – in Sierra-talk, Class 2.5.

At this point, while considering a tumble down the mountain, I realize I do not miss the High Sierra whatsoever. Just as Kilian did not miss the Matterhorn (which he ran) or Kilimanjaro (which he ran) or Everest (…you get the picture) while traipsing along his local ridgeline. It is the old adage of the young prospector who sails around the globe only to happen on the goldmine buried just beneath his home.

My treasure, it becomes apparent, will be at best a golden leg splint. I am gingerly lowering myself down jagged chutes and narrow rifts. I toss my pack beneath me at each drop to test the distance. My thinking is if the pack explodes to dust on impact, maybe I shouldn’t follow.

By slides and tumbles and falling backpacks, I round the north face of the Tri Peaks where finally my course bears eastward and the terrain loses its malice. I reconnect with the Mishe Mokwa trail and begin a long and lovely section of extravagantly maintained trail. Now this is proper trail, thoughtless trail, steady and even, where one can ease into a rhythm and lose themself to time completely. Until now the course entailed a degree of constant vigilance. By comparison, Mishe Mokwa is no more demanding than a couch.

I trace a scenic gully and enjoy the long-tufted pipestems that fringe the trail. They seem to nod shaggy agreement, though are ruthless if ingested. Proud foxtail and budding anise make select appearances, but the main show is the sandstone. I pass Split Rock and Balance Rock which are exactly as expected: a massive chunk riven in thirds, another roosted on a crag. The trail gains some, then descends, intersecting with the Backbone, and a brisk 300 ft. beneath me gleam the parking lot and trailhead.

Five hours. The Tri Peaks bracelet. A morning passed in the local mountains. Do I recommend it? Sure I do. If you can’t get to the Sierra.

Episode 78 | Stove System Performance (Flame Power vs. Fuel Efficiency)

In this episode, we’re going to address stove system performance and specifically, flame power vs. fuel efficiency.

Listen

Summary

In this episode, we’re going to address stove system performance and specifically, flame power versus fuel efficiency.

In this Episode:

The Gear Swap turns 20 this year – Watch the Video!
The new Backcountry Tenkara Fishing Masterclass will be offered live on March 28 at 6-8 PM US MDT – enrollment opens on March 21 – sign up for the newsletter to get notified.
What’s the difference between stoves vs. stove systems vs. cook kits?
The fundamental characteristics of STOVE performance are NOT boil time and fuel consumption.
How are burn rate, energy density, and flame power related?
Why is high flame power so important?
Why is low burn rate important?
How StoveBench is used to evaluate stove performance.
Why a stress test will reveal more about a stove than a kitchen counter test.
Showdown: MSR Pocket Rocket Deluxe vs. Soto Amicus.
Upright Canister Stove Reviews, StoveBench Tests, and Gear Guide

How to Subscribe

Apple Podcasts | Spotify | RSS

More Episodes

Backpacking Light Podcast Index

Credits

Feedback / Tips / Questions

podcast@backpackinglight.com

More Backpacking Light

Disclosure

Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacks for Backpacking

A curated guide to Backpacking Light resources on ultralight backpacks – gear, skills, podcasts, forums, research, education, product recommendations, and more.

Welcome to the Backpacks Trailhead

Understanding Ultralight Backpacks

There is a wide variety of ultralight backpacks to choose from. Different packs are better suited to various trips, seasons, and styles of backpacking. There are specialized backpacks for thru-hiking, fastpacking, week-long trips, multi-sport trips, and more. Lightweight backpack style, volume, and material inform decisions on the rest of your gear, so choosing the right pack is integral to your backpacking experience.

About this Trailhead

This article is one of Backpacking Light’s curated gateway pages (a trailhead, so to speak). Here, you’ll find information and resources about backpacks for ultralight backpacking. We’ve got resources for what size pack you need for ultralight backpacking, how to pack an ultralight backpack, and even how to make an ultralight backpack.

About this Trailhead: Curated and maintained by our staff, this Trailhead page includes an overview of the topic and links to information and resources at the Backpacking Light website. Those resources may consist of gear reviews, technology and testing, research, skills articles, online education (webinars, masterclasses, or other types of online courses), podcast episodes, forum threads, product recommendations, and other discovery tools, including our Gear Finder, Gear Shop, and Site Search engine.

Navigating this Trailhead

What are backpacking packs?

What separates a backpacking pack from something you’d carry to a coffee shop or a college campus?

Backpacking packs carry the gear needed for multi-day, self-supported travel in natural environments as efficiently and comfortably as possible. They have features designed to accommodate outdoor gear like water bottles, sleeping pads, etc.
Pack makers construct backpacking packs of light, durable, waterproof (or all three) materials.
Traditional backpacking packs utilize a frame structure – either an internal frame or an external frame – to distribute weight and contribute to long-term comfort.
Ultralight backpacking packs are often (but not always) frameless but still retain outdoor-specific features like durable, lightweight materials and gear storage options.

a man scrambles along a rock face wearing a backpack — Backpacking packs have significantly different features than packs designed for carrying around town.

Do I need a lightweight backpack?

Many traditional backpacking packs work best for weekend or weeklong trips and range in volume from 50 liters to 80 liters. While these packs certainly work to carry low-volume, lightweight gear, the pack’s weight (anywhere from 3 – 6 lbs / 1.3 kg – 2.7 kg) would comprise a disproportionate amount of the weight carried.

A backpack sits on the ground with mountains in the distance. Strewn about are various other supplies. Photo: Tully Henke — This long expedition across Russia demanded a pack that could handle heavy loads without itself being too heavy (Photo: Tully Henke).

The lighter your total gear weight, the lighter a pack you can comfortably use – it’s a positive feedback loop. Having a lightweight gear kit but using a pack designed for carrying heavier loads doesn’t make much sense once you’re committed to the idea of lightweight or ultralight backpacking philosophy.

Of course, there are exceptions when needing to haul heavy loads:

Trips: Packing Light With 95 lbs: 40 Days Without Resupply in Far Eastern Russia
Podcast: Episode 26 | Load Hauling

What is a backpack for ultralight backpacking?

For this Trailhead, we will be focusing on backpacks designed for ultralight backpacking.

If you want some more info on ultralight backpacking philosophy, read this primer:

Culture: What is Ultralight Backpacking? (How We Talk About Ultralight)

Ultralight packs on the market currently typically meet the following criteria:

They have a capacity of between 35 and 65 liters.
They have a total weight of under 2.5 lbs (1.1 kg), with most being approximately half this weight.
They increasingly contain light, durable, waterproof materials such as Dyneema Composite Fabric (DCF), Ultra High Molecular Weight Polyethylene (commonly, Ultra), or laminated nylon (X-Pac and similar fabrics).
They have frameless or lightweight frame designs.
They often lack zippers, padded hip belts, internal compartments, and other standard features of traditional backpacks.
They are often manufactured by smaller or cottage companies and often have options for customization.

Our community discusses the usability of ultralight packs in this forum thread:

Forum: Can I use an Ultralight Backpack?

a man wearing a small pack scrambles down a jumble of rocks. — The ultralight backpacking philosophy unlocks a rich variety of possible experiences (Photo: Ryan Jordan).

Should a pack be the first thing I buy?

If you are in the early stages of assembling your backpacking kit, we recommend that a pack be one of the last items you buy. Ordering your purchases in this manner allows you to buy a pack that fits your gear. Discovering that your bear canister and your pack aren’t compatible is annoying.

a close-up of a backpack with shoulder-strap pockets. In one of the pockets is a container of bear spray. — If you backpack often in grizzly bear country, it might be wise to consider a pack that can easily accommodate bear spray (Photo: Andrew Marshall).

Gear compatibility is less of an issue with larger volume packs (over 55 liters). Still, for persons using packs under 40 liters, it is best to have your backpacking kit assembled first. Then you can experiment with different packs to see which ones best accommodate your specific gear.

If you are a more experienced backpacker or interested in a dissenting opinion, here’s an article to check out:

Culture: First, Buy a Smaller Pack

Why aren’t low-volume, ultralight backpacks featured in brick-and-mortar gear shops?

It is still somewhat rare to see ultralight, low-volume packs in brick-and-mortar stores. This rarity is because:

Ultralight packs’ appeal is limited to a more niche demographic.
They require a refined set of skills and gear often not found among folks who are just dipping their toe into backpacking.

In other words, the people using ultralight packs are usually experienced backpackers with dialed-in, specialized gear and the specialized skillsets to use that gear.

a yellow backpack sits on the edge of a lake with a mountain in the background. Various gear is strapped to the outside of the pack. — What gear is likely to go on the outside of your pack? It’s a good question to ask before making a purchase (Photo: Mark Wetherington).

But some larger companies like REI Co-op are starting to break into the ultralight pack market. The advantage to consumers with this new development is that these packs are easy to find and try on. Here’s a review of one example:

Gear: REI Co-op Flash 55 Review

What size pack do I need for ultralight backpacking?

Here’s what you need to consider before buying a low-volume, ultralight backpack:

The weight of your gear.
The weight of the food and water you are likely to carry.
The volume of your gear + the volume of the food and water you are likely to haul.
Your budget.
Your most common trip types and use cases.

If your total load for a trip is usually less than 25 lbs (11.3 kg), transitioning from a traditional framed pack to a low-volume, ultralight backpack makes sense. Depending on your body type, musculature, and trip type, you might be able to make frameless packs work for loads up to 35 lbs (16 kg).

a man stands facing away from the camera while wearing a small backpack. — Choosing the correct pack size for your gear is crucial (Photo: Stephanie Jordan).

Here’s what our community has to say about pack volume:

Forum: Pack size for UL thru-hiking – 40L too small?

Consumer Advocacy Warning: Be wary of listicles written by bloggers or media outlets with titles like “Best Frameless Ultralight Backpacks” because they are often little more than canned, formulaic articles (sometimes written by AI-bots or outsourced to SEO contract writers) filled with affiliate marketing links. They seldom offer performance analyses based on extensive experience in the field. We’re not going to recommend any ultralight backpack that we think is best for you. Instead, we want to give you the knowledge and skills that empower you to make the best possible decision on your own. Backpacking Light is in the business of sharing information between its members, educating consumers, and consumer advocacy – not in pushing you to buy gear. When we make a product recommendation – always consider that the product may not work for you.

a black backpack on the banks of an alpine lake. A sit pad is strapped to the top and a fishing pole is sticking out of it. — This ultralight pack contains Tenkara fishing equipment (Photo: Mark Wetherington).

The type of landscape that you most often backpack is an important consideration:

Desert areas often require long water carries that add weight and volume.
Alpine areas often require ice axes, crampons, or other snow or glacier travel equipment. These gear types are bulky, sharp, and need unique storage options.
Many National Parks require food storage devices such as bear canisters or Ursacks.
Most fabrics used in ultralight backpacks are reasonably durable. But suppose most of your trips are cross-country and involve scraping your pack against trees, shrubs, and rocks? In that case, you might be disappointed in the longevity of ultralight backpacks.
If you’re bikepacking or packrafting, then considerations unique to those activities will play a part in your pack choice.

A photo from behind of a man skiing up a hill while wearing a backpack. On top of the pack is an orange sleeping pad. — This winter trip required a closed-cell foam pad in addition to an inflatable pad. Choosing a pack that easily accommodates specialized equipment is important. (Photo: Rachael Shaw Marshall).

Here are some articles on specialized gear or use-cases to help you get your kit dialed in:

Gear: Gear List: Tenkara Fly Fishing in the Northern Rockies
Gear: Gear List: Winter Backpacking on Packed Snow Trail
Webinar: Winter Hiking and Backpacking Gear Part 2
Gear / Video: Lightweight Backpacking Gear for Mountain Travel (video)
Skills: How to Use an Ursack
Culture: How Biking to Trailheads can Enrich Backpacking

And here’s a forum thread on another specialized use case that will inform your pack choice – fastpacking:

Forum: Ultra Runners know nothing about Fastpacking

Why use a low-volume pack?

The less volume a pack has, the lighter it tends to be, and the less gear it can fit. Less gear means less weight.

Using a low-volume backpack with an ultralight backpacking kit is an enjoyable, elegant mode of travel. It has significant appeal for people looking for an efficient and unencumbered means of moving through natural landscapes.

a man stands on a snowy cliff wearing a small backpack — Ultralight packs are designed to help the user move quickly over varied terrain. (Photo: Stephanie Jordan).

What volume to use?

The needed pack volume will vary between seasons and locations. Factors such as insulation or auxiliary equipment (i.e., ice ax, crampons, bear canister, etc.) come into play as well.

Most ultralight backpackers on three-season week-long trips can get by with a 40-liter pack. If you are only out for a few nights or have a low-volume kit, you can utilize an ultra-low-volume pack in the 25 – 30 L range.

People needing extra volume due to low temperatures, long water carries, or more than a week between resupply points might need a 50-60 L pack.

a man walks along a dirt bridge over a marshy area while carrying a huge backpack loaded down with gear. — Backpacking with children is one of the occasions when you might need a lot of storage space even though you are an ultralight backpacker.

Suppose you need space in a pack for extended periods between resupply points or carrying bulky technical equipment. In that case, higher volume packs of 60 L or above might be necessary.

Here are reviews of five backpacks we’ve looked at recently. They represent a spread of volumes suitable to all the above use cases. We’ve sorted them by volume from lowest to highest:

Gear: The Red Paw Packs 28L Flatiron (28 L)
Gear: The LiteAF 35L Curve (35 L)
Gear: The Hyperlight Mountain Gear Junction (55 L)
Gear: The Gossamer Gear Mariposa (60 L)
Gear: The Seek Outside Divide 4500 (50 – 75 L)

It’s worth taking a moment to examine how gear companies arrive at volume numbers. Generally speaking, when a company claims their pack is X volume, X refers to the total possible volume. This number includes external pockets and fully extended roll-top closures. Don’t count on getting 40 liters of gear into the primary compartment of a 40 L backpack unless a company specifically says you can. The fluidity of such standards is the subject of Rex Sanders’ Standards Watch series. He talks about backpack volume standards here:

Testing & Research: Standards Watch: Introduction

How to fit a low-volume pack

A properly fitting pack is the most critical factor in your comfort while backpacking (other than weight). No amount of bells and whistles or super light fabrics will counteract the misery of using an ill-fitting pack. The standard measurement used to select a pack is torso length.

Using a fabric tape measure or similar flexible measuring device, measure between the iliac crest and the C7 vertebra. The iliac crest is the top of your hip bone. The C7 vertebra is the bone that sticks out from the back of your neck when you tilt your head forward.
This measurement is called “torso length.”
Match your torso length to the recommended pack size on the website of your chosen pack-maker. If the pack maker doesn’t have a chart or sizing guide, email them and ask.
Sizing up usually yields the most comfortable result when between two sizes.
Sometimes pack makers will have additional sizing options that depend on chest and waist measurements.

A man scrambles up a field of talus while wearing a backpack — A well-fitting pack is especially important when scrambling (Photo: Stephanie Jordan).

What features should I look for in an ultralight backpack?

A safe generalization is this – ultralight backpacks offer fewer features than traditional backpacks. But many in the ultralight community would clarify that ultralight backpacks offer fewer needless features.

a man walks through deep snow near a frozen creek while wearing a backpack adorned with lots of straps and buckles. — Some people might want or need a fully-featured pack like the one shown here. Others might benefit from a more minimal approach.

Frame or frameless?

Telemark ski bindings or AT ski bindings? Clipless cycling pedals or flats? Ford or Chevy? Statler or Waldorf? In the ultralight backpacking world, the binary question is this – framed or frameless?

a shot from above looking down into a minimalist pack with gear visible. — If you look closely at this image, you can see the thin closed-cell foam pad used as a virtual frame in this minimalist pack (Photo: Mark Wetherington).

A few key things to note about frameless vs. framed packs:

Frameless packs will always be lighter than framed packs of a similar volume and fabric.
Frameless packs can also be more convenient on trips where your mode of travel might vary (such as in packrafting or bikepacking). In cross-country travel, the lack of a frame means less chance of a rigid part of the pack getting snagged on a branch or rock.
Internal-frame packs are more forgiving with the arrangement of items placed inside them. When using a frameless pack, you risk uncomfortable lumps poking into your back if you carelessly pack your gear. You can use a piece of closed-cell foam to create a virtual frame in frameless packs. Some packs come designed with this in mind.
Framed packs can usually handle heavy loads better than frameless packs.

Here are some recent reviews of some of our favorite frameless packs:

Gear: The Palante V2
Gear: The YAR.gear Mountain Drifter 38L
Gear: The Atom Packs Atom

Here are reviews of a few framed packs:

Gear: The Vargo ExoTi BOG (external frame)
Gear: The Osprey Lumina 60 (internal frame)

Hip belt or not?

A hip belt has three purposes :

To remove shoulder strain by transferring pack load to the hips.
To provide stability.
To provide a location for hip belt pockets or gear storage.

There is a reduced need for hip belts in ultralight backpacking because light loads (sub 25 lb / 11 kg) put much less strain on the shoulders. For this reason, many, but certainly not all, ultralight packs lack padded hip belts. Some have minimalist unpadded hip belts to aid stability or provide pocket/gear storage space. Some ultralight packs have removable hip belts so that you can adjust your strategy as your use case changes.

a shot from behind of a man walking down a forested trail while wearing a simple black backpack. — The Atom Pack by Atom Packs lacks a hip belt. There’s no need for one at the loads the pack is designed to carry (Photo: Dan Durston).

Load Lifters and Compression Straps

Load lifters are adjustable straps that run between the top of the shoulder strap and the frame (internal or external) of a framed pack. They pull the weight of a pack further or closer to one’s body, further alleviating shoulder load.

Compression straps cinch down across the sides, top, or front of a pack to create a more compact, stable load and prevent shifting within the pack. Load lifters and compression straps have less practicality on ultralight packs because you generally carry less weight.

Here’s a review of a pack that has an internal frame that interfaces with load lifters when needed but is removable for lighter loads.

Gear: Durston DD40 Pack

Pockets and water access

Ultralight pack makers have more-or-less settled on a standard three-pocket design when it comes to the main body of the pack:

A large vertical pocket on the rear of the pack.
Two smaller vertical pockets on the sides of the pack.

Increasingly you may find additional pockets:

On the shoulder straps.
On the hip belt.
Modularly attached to the exterior of the pack.

Some gear makers claim that their side pockets – which many hikers use for water storage – are accessible on the go without removing the pack. In practice, this is seldom the case. To reach gear in side-pockets, they must be cut and angled so that a hiker can reach around behind their torso at an awkward angle to remove the object. The more drastic the pocket angle/cut (and easier it is to reach gear), the less secure that gear is. The upshot is that vertical side pockets that are easy to reach sometimes let water bottles slide out when a hiker scrambles or bends over to tie a shoe.

a man stands on an overlook looking out at a lake. The pack he's wearing has a sleeve for holding water bottles sewn into the hipbelt. The water bottle sits at his hip. — The Nunatak Gear Bears Ears 50 takes an interesting approach to water bottle storage. Note the location of the water bottle sleeve sewn vertically into the hipbelt (Photo: Andrew Marshall).

The solution is to reserve side pockets for gear that you don’t need on the go and store your water somewhere else. Check out this article that explores the issue fully and provides a wide variety of solutions:

Skills: Where Do I Put My Waterbottles When Backpacking?

Here are reviews of two packs that do a good job of providing access to water (Hint – the trick is shoulder-strap pockets) or demonstrate modularity:

Gear: The Mountainsmith Zerk 40L Review
Gear: The Nashville Pack Cutaway Review
Gear: Superior Wilderness Designs Movement 40L Backpack Review

a medium shot of a man wearing a backpack with shoulder strap pockets. The shoulder strap pockets contain gear and a water bottle. — Shoulder-strap pockets are a great place to store small water bottles. (Photo: Iago Vazquez).

Or read this review of the Nunatak Gear Bears Ears 50, a pack that approaches the issue in an imaginative new way.

Gear: The Nunatak Gear Bears Ears 50

Other external gear storage

Some gear – like ice axes or closed-cell foam sleeping pads – are too sharp or bulky to fit inside a pack’s main internal compartment or primary pockets. Many packs have daisy chains, shock cords, hook-and-loop closures, or other attachment methods to accommodate bulky or sharp gear. Look for a pack that includes external gear storage options that match your needs. Increasingly, cottage industry pack makers will be willing to work with you to modify a stock pack to match your kit.

A man stands facing the camera and wearing a backpack with an extra pouch at the chest. — Modular, third-party pouches are a great way to manage on-the-go gear access (Photo: Stephanie Jordan).

How best to access gear while on the go is an old question.

Modular utility pouches (third-party or pack-specific) are ideal for managing small-but-crucial gear that needs to be accessed quickly. Check out this article:

Skills: Keeping Gear Handy on the Trail with Multi-Use Accessory and Utility Pouches

How do you pack a backpack?

Developing a consistent system for packing your pack is an easy way to spend more time enjoying your backpacking trips and less time looking for misplaced items. The specifics of how you pack your backpack will vary depending on:

The gear you have.
The climate and weather you are in.
Whether your pack has a frame or not (and what type of frame).
Your habits and idiosyncrasies.

Conventional wisdom says:

You should store the heaviest items at the bottom of your pack.
Putting the heaviest items low in the back helps maintain the center of gravity and prevents an off-balance effect.

an empty pack on the ground surrounded by a pile of gear — Best practices for bag packing have changed over the years (Photo: Mark Wetherington).

But a lot of gear weighs much less than when the backpacking community developed its traditional packing dogma.

The upshot is that most backpackers these days tend to pack their backpacks in ways that make the most sense when unpacking them at camp. They store items that aren’t needed during the day further down in the pack, often with food meant for later in the trip. They also store sleeping gear towards the bottom. The shelter is usually packed towards the top to allow for quick setup after arriving in camp. Items needed while on the trail (like water filters or snacks) are packed in external pockets or at the top of the pack.

As for where to put those tent poles – well – there’s a reason so many ultralight backpackers use trekking-pole supported shelters.

We talk about packing system philosophy more in this article:

Skills: Why and How to Organize and Pack Backpacking Gear on the Trail and in Camp

And here’s a review of our favorite stuff sacks for internal organization.

Gear: Hyperlite Mountain Gear Pod Review

How do I keep my gear dry?

Pack covers have generally fallen out of favor with lightweight and ultralight backpackers because:

They are a pain to stop and put on.
They are prone to leaking around the edges.
They snag on branches and brush.
They don’t help you much if you accidentally submerge your pack while fording.

a shot straight down inside of a backpack showing a stuff sack — Waterproof stuff sacks are one strategy for keeping gear dry inside of backpacks (Photo: Andrew Marshall).

Instead, most users incorporate a trash compactor bag or specially made pack liner into their system. Others use waterproof or water-resistant stuff sacks or compression sacks. Some people create redundant systems and use a combination of the two.

How to make an ultralight backpack?

We recommend starting here:

MYOG: Ultralight, Ultradurable, Ultracheap: A Backpack Made from Car Airbags
MYOG: DIY Ultralight Backpack: My Search for a Perfect Pack
Members Blog Post: Proposal for a Novel Backpack Component: Movable Lumbar Pad

What brands are the main suppliers of lightweight and ultralight backpacks?

The list below is not comprehensive, but it does represent a good starting place. Some of these companies focus solely on lightweight backpacks, and others have various products to offer.

Since choosing a backpack with the proper fit and features for your hiking style is so use-case-dependent, it is best to cast a wide net. Look at (and more importantly, try on) several different backpacks before deciding.

Link Disclosure: The brand links below link to our brand gateway pages, which provide an index to articles, gear swap listings, and member reviews related to that brand. Likewise, all links on this page will direct to original content created by Backpacking Light. You may find affiliate links elsewhere on our site (read our disclosure letter here), but we don’t use them on this page.

What do Backpacking Light Members say about backpacks?

These recent forum threads contain discussions about lightweight and ultralight backpacks and related topics.

Forum: UL Backpack – Thoughts/Recommendations
Forum: Backpack recommendation
Forum: Choosing the right backpack
Forum: Tests say claimed backpack volumes not even close
Forum: Factors that influence the ability to carry weight in a backpack

More Resources

More Pack Reviews

Gear: Durston Kakwa 40 Review
Gear: Hyperlite Mountain Gear Junction Review
Gear: Sea to Summit Ultra-Sil Nano Travel Day Pack Review
Gear: Seek Outside Flight One Review
Gear: Elemental Horizons Kalais XT Pack Review
Gear: KS Ultralight Gear R-50 Backpack Review
Gear: Hyperlite Mountain Gear Porter 5400 Backpack Review
Gear: Hanchor Marble Backpack Review
Gear: Paradox Packs Evolution Pack System Review
Gear: Granite Gear Crown 2 60 Review

More Relevant Podcast Episodes

Podcast: Episode 52 | Gear We Love 2021 Edition
Podcast: Episode 31 | 40 Days Unsupported in Russia
Podcast: Episode 24 | The Backpacking Gear We Love, and Why
Podcast: Episode 20 | Skills Short – Backpacking With Children

Search and Browse: More Discovery Tools

Search for Backpack Reviews in our Article Archives
Browse the Backpacks Category in our Category Browser to find more articles, Member Gear Swap listings (classified ads for used gear), Member Gear Reviews, and more.
Search the Forums for all forum threads about backpacks.
Browse our curated recommendations for backpacks in the Backpacking Light Gear Shop. The Gear Shop is a product research & discovery tool to explore Member gear reviews, Gear Swap (used gear) listings, and more info about specific products recommended by our staff and members.
Find backpacks on sale using our Gear Finder search engine.

Help us Maintain this Page

If you found value in other related resources at Backpacking Light that you’d like to share with our community, please post them in the comments section below. No external links or resources, please – there are other places in our forums appropriate for that.

Musings: Hiking in Grizzly Country

Musings about backpacking in grizzly bear habitat.

Where the Wild Things (That Can Easily Kill You) Are

Most of the landscapes we backpack in have pretty clear-cut answers regarding which Potentially Hazardous Animals (PHAs) one might reasonably expect to encounter in the backcountry. PHAs are one of backpacking’s newest three-letter-acronyms (TLAs), for those In The Know (ITK), just FYI.

Humans, unfortunately, seem to exist as PHAs in every landscape desirable for backpacking. Rattlesnakes, scorpions and venomous arachnids have a fair degree of landscape coverage, while alligators occupy a considerably smaller landscape. Black bears cover a wide swath of the appealing backpacking landscapes in the continental United States, with grizzly bears occupying smaller and more sharply defined areas of habitat.

As someone who backpacks extensively in areas that are on the fringes of the expanding habitat of grizzly bears, the lack of certainty of exactly which apex predator might be ambling along the trail in front of me creates an interesting mix of apprehension and awe.

hiking-in-grizzly-country-musings-1 — Bear track in the snow in Montana’s East Pioneer Mountains. A grizzly had recently been spotted in the area. What do you think, is this a black or grizzly bear track, and why?

If you’re planning a backpacking trip to Glacier National Park, Yellowstone National Park, or the Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex, your odds of seeing a grizzly bear in its natural habitat are far greater than anywhere else in the Lower 48. Each of these areas have long-established regulations by their respective land management agencies to prevent human-bear conflicts, with the parks featuring dedicated infrastructure and/or explicit instructions on how and where to store food, sleep, and eat at the designated campsites. To a certain degree, I’ve found some comfort in these preventive rituals when backpacking in Glacier and Yellowstone and knowing that there’s a better-than-average chance that the previous occupants of the campsite did the same thing and, presumably, made it out of the backcountry alive.

In the national forests of western Montana and northern Idaho, where I do the majority of my backpacking, grizzly bears have begun to venture in from the Northern Continental Divide Ecosystem (to the north) and the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem (to the southeast). Part of their historic range, the Bitterroot, Pioneer and Beaverhead Mountain ranges have been absent of sustained populations of grizzly bears for over a half-century. Food storage regulations and cultural norms for those recreating outdoors in this area are well-established in regard to preventing bear and human conflict, but it is also not terribly uncommon to come across a campsite where it is abundantly clear that those who stayed there did not follow the letter, or even the spirit, or basic “bear aware” camping. Scraps of food in the fire pit (which is seemingly always annoyingly located right next to the best place for a tent) and bits of trash (of both the micro and macro varieties) around the campsite periphery can cause a bit of justifiable unease if you’re planning to stay there that night. You can control what precautions you take, but you can’t control those of the people who camped there before you.

a view from the top of a mountain looking down at a lake — Grizzly sightings in western Montana are becoming more common in areas formerly on the fringes of grizzly bear habitat as bears expand their range and seek suitable habitat.

Being Bear-Aware, but Not Bearanoid

As grizzly sightings become more common on the fringes of the established grizzly bear ecosystems, the notion of seeing one on a trip into my local Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness and nearby public lands becomes more pronounced. When backpacking solo, as I often do, the mind tends to wander just a bit further when pondering the source of a mysterious noise outside the tent at night than it does in places without the chance of encountering a grizzly bear.

I once gave two Continental Divide Trail thru-hikers a ride on my way to a five-night bikepacking trip in the Beaverhead Mountains. They shared with me that they’d seen a grizzly at a lake I would be passing by on my trek, and resultantly I found myself scratching it off my list of places I’d plan to camp.

a small black bear standing in a lush green field

Black bears are common in Great Smoky Mountains National Park and food-conditioned bears can cause headaches – or much worse – for backpackers and other park visitors. This young black bear was photographed in Cade’s Cove, GSMNP. Photo: Douglas Wielfaert.

On a trip to the East Pioneer Mountains two years prior, a lake just over a ridgecrest from where two friends and I camped during a four-day fall fishing trip had been the location of a grizzly bear sighting and rumors that it had gotten into food stored improperly at a campsite. This information added a slight bit of initial tension to the trip, which was further punctuated by a large bear track we came across in fresh snow. Fortunately, the tension dissipated after stellar fishing at the alpine lakes and cold beers around the campfire. With the peace of mind that our food was stored properly, our eating area was far enough away from camp, and after seeing no signs of bears at the lake we camped at, we knew that we had taken every precaution we reasonably could.

But reason often doesn’t enjoy a primary role in managing our fears. And with backpacking, “packing our fears” is something that is best avoided. Even if the weight is only a mental one, it can have nearly as detrimental an impact on a trip as an extra few pounds in the backpack. Like most people who spend significant amounts of time outdoors, the calmness and serenity that tend to wash over me when in uncrowded and profoundly beautiful places are one of the reasons why I keep returning to wilderness areas.

Practicing proper food storage and not adopting the attitude of “there’s only black bears here, so it’s not a big deal to sleep with my food” – that seems to be distressingly common among some ultralight backpackers – is doing a good thing for both myself and any bears around – grizzly or otherwise. Once a bear is food-conditioned, the likelihood of it injuring humans and eventually having to be euthanized becomes a sad reality. Making the risk mitigation of proper food storage and not cooking too close to camp part of my habits don’t cost anything or add too much of a hassle as it is, so adopting them sooner rather than later seems most appropriate.

Appreciating Nature On its Own Terms

When asked about what they like about the landscapes they backpack in, a common refrain among hikers is to praise the “pristine” or “natural” state they believe it to be in. The mountains aren’t manicured to meet a certain image determined by an algorithm to be the most stunning; the forest floor isn’t maintained by a landscaping crew to create an illusion of lushness; the water levels of a waterfall aren’t adjusted to create maximum effect – these aspects just simply exist (Note: Indigenous inhabitants had profound impacts on landscapes that we are only now beginning to acknowledge, however that topic is beyond the scope of this essay – for conversation’s sake, we won’t spend time dispelling this erroneous notion among many backpackers but will instead address its relationship to the topic at hand). And few, if any, backpackers would probably prefer to backpack in an area that was specifically designed to cater to their whims, fancies, and specific tastes in natural splendor. After all, who would really want to hike in an area that is the equivalent of a soulless Spotify playlist? Isn’t the lack of personalized, taste-specific curation part of the allure of the outdoors? There’s a bit of nuance involved in that most people choose to backpack in the areas that resonate with them, but that’s an entirely different animal than backpacking in an area that is managed specifically to resonate with you (which, hopefully never becomes an option – Metaverses and Outside, Inc. NFTs be damned).

However, when the topic of grizzly reintroduction comes up there is often ambivalence – if not downright opposition – from some outdoor recreationists who are reluctant to share the natural landscape with another apex predator. But isn’t denying the return of grizzly bears to their historic range akin, at least in principle, to a ludicrous request that some natural arches in Kentucky be curved just ever-so-more to be more visually appealing? Or that rattlesnakes should be removed from Utah to allow for more care-free canyoneering? It’s saying “we like it natural, but not that natural”.

Learning to quell, or at least manage, the low-level anxiety that comes from backpacking solo in soon-to-be grizzly habitat – with the possibility of running into one becoming higher each year – helps me to view the situation less as a potential hazard and more as an opportunity. Like lightning, unbridged creek crossings, and unstable talus, the wildlife we encounter can be unpredictable but risks can be largely mitigated. While no risk can be eliminated entirely from the pursuit of life, liberty and the bliss of backpacking, we can recognize that the reward – witnessing the return of an amazing animal to its historic range – inherent in that risk can add a more holistic context. Although it might not help you get back to sleep any better when you awake after hearing something scratching on the whitebark pines outside your tent.

footprints in the sand near a river — Grizzly tracks along the Thorofare River near the border of Yellowstone National Park. Photo: Ryan Jordan.

Mantras, Mandalas, and Meditations: A hike through the hidden Tibetan Kingdom of Nepal – the Nar Phu Valley and Upper Mustang Regions

An account of a trek through Nepal’s Central Himalayan Nar Phu Valley and Upper Mustang region near the border of Tibet via an ancient trading route.

You don’t have access to view this content.

Unresting Event

See how backpacking and forest ranger work in the High Uinta Wilderness and Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument influenced Ben Kilbourne’s record, Unresting Event.

I cinched shut the pack collar, flapped the red brain over it, clipped the buckles, and tightened the straps. I hoisted the beast (a 115-liter Dana Designs Astralplane) onto one shoulder, threaded the other arm through the other strap, and buckled the hip belt. With eight days of food, a book, a satellite phone, paperwork, and a full three-season kit, a wilderness ranger’s pack is heavy.

As if that wasn’t enough, I selected from among my potential weapons the seven-pound shovel that I’d wield against boy scout poop, clogged water bars, and illegal fire rings. Then pulled my final item from the truck bed: a small guitar inside a black fabric case. I threw the strap of the case over my shoulder and let the instrument drape in front of me. It was four and a half pounds of pure extravagance on top of the 50 or so pounds I was already carrying for work and survival.

My colleagues naturally thought I was crazy. They also appeared to be gifted with some ascetic tendencies of which I was often jealous. They were content to work all day and then simply eat and sleep afterward. Physical comfort during the day would have overridden any desire they could have had to create. I carried my burden with some combination of sheepishness and pride, like some sort of secret task I had to see through. While I was envious of my fellow rangers’ ability to live simply I was also aware that I was who I was: an artist, musician, and creator. I was someone who didn’t feel content leaving experience untalked about.

I am not a guitar player, by the way. I play better than someone who has never picked one up, but that’s not saying much. Most guitar players would not recognize me as kin. This makes it seem extra strange that I was willing to add four and a half pounds to my total pack weight. But I did.

Week after week I hauled my little guitar through half-dead lodgepole and carpets of whortleberries. Crumbly white and red rock passed under it mile after mile where it swung like a slipping saddlebag from the belly of a riderless, deranged, and lost burro. Its contents could have been useful for someone, somewhere, but probably not me, probably not here. The first of the day’s clouds shuffled steadily east on an invisible conveyor belt in the sky and I hauled my burden forever onward. When it rained, I pulled a pack cover over the case and then plodded dripping under dripping trees the final miles to camp.

Untitled — Somewhere in the High Uintas.

The Forest Service issue tent at the time was the Big Agnes Seedhouse SL2, which I pitched often in dumping rain, my guitar leaning against a tree nearby. I entered backward, peeled my rainjacket off, then my boots, and fell back into the tiny dome of protection.

After pouring boiling water into the freeze-dried lasagna bag, I slipped off the sopping cover, unzipped the case, and remove the badly out-of-tune Baby Taylor. Under the steady patter and thwap of rain falling on the tent fly, I tuned the tinny instrument to itself, turning my head and leaning in close.

I searched for a chord or two or three that would fit the day, the dripping canopy of trees around me, the afternoon thunder, the steaming lakes, and the humanlessness of it all. Being alone out there. I opened my notebook to see what I wrote that day or the night before at a different but similar campsite.

I sensed the trees around me: spruce, fir, lodgepole. Sliding the capo up to the 6th fret, I strummed an A minor shape with the pad of my thumb, a D-sharp minor in that position. The trees around me were both community and individuals. Pulling my first finger off the B string, I imparted the 9th on the D-sharp minor — a sense of mystery. Letting the melody descend but land hard on the 5th, I tried to match it to something I recognized in the stone beneath me. Quartz sandstone exists in an unfathomable timescale and because it’s beyond comprehension it feels eternal, unresolved, and unresolvable.

Even though I spent 70 nights per season in the High Uintas Wilderness, I was still just visiting. I repeated the same plucking pattern and then resolved it to a C-sharp major chord. Even when I’m not present, the trees are always there battered by winds, basking in sun, and standing silently in January drifts. A rhythm developed and on the second round of D-sharp minor pull-offs, I resolved to a B-flat minor: a sense of doom settling in like fog and distant thunder among the resolute beauty of the mountains themselves. The chord paralleled the sentiment of knowing there are things one will never know.

Through this process, I began to clearly see how badly I want to be more than a visitor in the more-than-human world. Now I read in my words a yearning to be part of a community predicated on nothing but its selfsame desire to be. Today I hear in the music heavy tones that link this desire to the words.

I was lamenting my daily immersion in objects and ideas that, to me, didn’t feel real. I was saddened by being beholden to an economy, what I saw as a completely made-up idea that not only had nothing to do with the mountains but is built on ideas that might run counter to them.

Listening now, I hear myself swimming through a world founded on what I perceived as lies while looking for the truth. And I hear myself believing that the world of the Uintas — or any wilderness — is fundamentally true. The complexities of wilderness may be a different discussion for a different day. For the purposes of this essay let’s agree to see it as I saw it when I was 27.

I also hear myself trying to nearly disappear into the gestalt of the wilderness: the trees, the fog, and the big skies. As I sat in my tent, the music took over, and the billboards and bright lights of the human world faded away, the real magic started to happen. Songs slipped from my control and started to do the work for me. Before I knew it, the raven — that everywhere bird from cities to deserts to tundras — came to tell me that I was still me and always would be no matter where I might go. I was just like him. He told me that this big truth applies to everything that exists. You’ll never be anything other than what you are.

But it’s not that simple. He also functioned as the voice reminding me there was value in my attempt to fully immerse myself in the land. He validated my effort to share the desire for this attempt with others. Was it really the raven who burst into my song squawking these affirmations? Or was I telling myself what I needed to hear? In a way, it doesn’t matter. Writing the song unearthed something special.

The process is essentially a form of praise. It’s going to church, paying my respects. I’m asking the land to give me the strength to live the community values I see in it. In the mythology given to me by this particular landscape, the raven is the liaison between human and more-than-human worlds. He acknowledges both prayer and action.

The land is where all of our metaphors come from. What other world is there? It’s the source of all mythology. Raven (Knows Its Worth) is a song born of the Uintas. The landscape was the medium I used to build a narrative which I didn’t become aware of until I started singing. Stories exist out there, just waiting for someone to unearth them. Once stories are written down, put to chords, and sung, I find myself emphasizing certain parts. I accentuate particular words and draw out others. Through this practice and repetition, I learn more about myself and the place alike.

When mythology develops, I can use it as a language with less effort. Raven appears again and again, both in the trees above me as I pass alone through dense woods in the late afternoon and in subsequent songs, dying without attaining all her ultimate desires, for example. (It’s a fear we all have, and an inevitability.) I see myself coming to terms with it by letting the more-than-human world experience it in a song. For if the real world too dies still wanting — I must have reasoned deep down — it’s the truth. Through this songwriting process, I find myself accepting my own mortality more easily. I find community and camaraderie out there. I wrote the album Unresting Event and several other digital releases and hundreds of unrecorded songs using some variation of this landscape-inspired process. And I’ll probably continue doing so.

Throughout that time I worked other field jobs, so not every song on the album Unresting Event was written in the Uintas. I spent time crossing Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument with that same Dana Designs pack on my back. It was filled with quinoa, dried beans, dried milk, dried cheese, masa, and tuna packets. The wilderness therapy staff’s rations. That year, I got used to sleeping on a foam pad under a flat tarp strung between junipers. I felt like I was inching closer to the limits of human need.

Below the gray and pink cliffs and above the white cliffs I plodded with a large group through the piñon and juniper. High desert imagery seeped into songs like the red mud that stained my clothes and skin. Monsoons, wet sagebrush, dozed junipers, and the cows that prompted the shredding were the mediums that later became arranged into music. The landscape tells its story and I place it in a human framework so I and a listener can relate. Sometimes I let it stand on its own to question human and non-human differences.

The primary theme in the Escalante region turned out to be the same as it was in the Uintas: a desire to never have to leave. I hear myself wondering if it’s possible to learn to subsist — the ultimate form of praise. Just by learning how to sleep on a foam pad and needing no more than a 45-degree sleeping bag and a blue Wal-Mart tarp, I feel close to the possibility. Of course, I am not close. Deep down I know this. But I hope that at least I can listen well enough to be rewarded with some intimation of the mystery that’s held within the place.

The first nighthawks appeared in May, the last in September. All summer long, I came to expect them every morning and night. Nighthawks first peent, an almost feeble sound that reminds me of my desires for the unattainable things I write and sing about. Then when they dive, the wind rushes through their primary feathers, producing a roar I mistook at first for a vocal growl, but rightly grasped as a metaphor for trying.

That first May nighthawk fell roaring, snagged some invisible insect out of the air, swooped skyward again, flapped teetering into the lavender distance, and I opened my notebook and wrote:

Nighthawks at dusk came with their two calls

With the one like loss and the other like light

My site held both, neither one alone

I could make one stay make one go

I wish I had written, “one like desire and the other like trying,” for that’s what I was really getting at. But the realization is the same; I have the agency to dive for that insect. I too can try. That was the message I needed to hear at the time, so it was the metaphor I found in the world. It’s not the only metaphor, of course. But that’s the beauty of the creative process. We find truths in the world we couldn’t invent on our own and form them into roadmaps that will guide us. And that’s where this process intersects with backpacking or any nature-immersion activity. The more we’re out there, the more metaphor we come to have at our disposal.

Unresting Event is now 7 years old. I listen to it now and wish much of it was different, but overall it holds up all right. Without the band, I don’t know what it would be. During my off days in the summer of 2013 I presented the songs to my friends and through a blending of drums, bass, electric guitars, and our voices in harmony, we made them into more than the sum of their parts. Melodies take the actions of the raven or the nighthawk and plot them onto memory. The drums put them in motion. The bass anchors them to the gut. In this way, both the players and listeners of Unresting Event get to revisit the landscape and the human walking through it over and over again in a form that is pleasurable. Through this process, we don’t forget what’s out there: the source of all metaphor and the only world there is.

Author’s note:

Credits for the musical numbers in Unresting Event go to:

Songs, vocals, electric guitar: Ben Kilbourne

Drums, acoustic guitar, harmonies: Matt Laser

Bass, pump organ, harmonies: Wren Kennedy

Recording: Jesse Ellis

Read more by Ben Kilbourne.

Yama Mountain Gear 1P Cirriform Min Tarp Review

The Yama Mountain Gear 1P Cirriform Min Tarp ($210 in silpoly) is a one-person, 2-trekking pole, side/end-entry full-perimeter tarp shelter.

You don’t have access to view this content.

Episode 77 | Planning, Pooping, and Campfires (Backcountry Leave No Trace Challenges During the Winter)

In this episode of the Backpacking Light podcast, we’re going to examine some of the principles of Leave No Trace in the context of winter backcountry travel, with a focus on planning, pooping, and campfires.

Listen

Summary

In this Episode:

Introduction
Trail Days Online
Benefits of Winter Backpacking
Importance of Leave No Trace in the Winter
Seven Principles of Leave No Trace
Planning (Plan Ahead and Prepare)
Search and Rescue (Winter vs. Summer)
Winter is Not “Summer, But Colder…”
Fitness & Equipment for Summer Travel Isn’t Sufficient for Winter Travel
Carrying a Garmin inReach Does Not Replace Planning, Preparation, and Fitness
Pooping (Dispose of Waste Properly)
Catholes in Deep Snow and Frozen Ground
Snow, Runoff, and Water Contamination Issues
Packing Out Poop in the Winter: Gear and Skills
Campfires (Minimize Campfire Impacts)
Why We Have Wildfire Risk During the Winter Today
Marshall Fire Review
Mountain Wave Wind Events
Wet Spring, Summer Droughts, Dry/Cold Winters, Ignition Events, Winter Winds: The Perfect Storm
Ryan’s Trail Days Online Presentation: The Intersection of Recreation Impacts and Recreation Ecology

Links, Mentions, and Recommendations

Live Event: Backpacking Light Trail Days Online
Masterclass: Women’s Backpacking with Anna Swarts
Podcast: Episode 72 | The Cottage Industry with Lloyd Vogel
Podcast: Episode 54 | Foot Injuries, Training, and Rehabilitation for Hikers with John Zombro
Article: Leave No Trace Winter Backpacking Best Practices, by Mark Wetherington
Podcast: Episode 67 | How to Poop in the Woods (Skills and Tools for Backcountry Pooping)

How to Subscribe

Apple Podcasts | Spotify | RSS

More Episodes

Backpacking Light Podcast Index

Credits

Feedback / Tips / Questions

podcast@backpackinglight.com

More Backpacking Light

Disclosure

Episode 76 | Vapor Barrier Gloves and Socks

In today’s episode of the Backpacking Light podcast, we are going to explore vapor barrier systems for the hands and feet.

Listen

Summary

In today’s episode of the Backpacking Light podcast, we are going to explore vapor barrier systems for the hands and feet.

In this Episode:

What is a Vapor Barrier?
What does a Vapor Barrier do?
Insensible vs. Sensible Perspiration – activity vs. non-activity
Vapor Barrier Performance vs. Ambient Temperature
Challenges of Keeping Hands and Feet Warm
Vapor Barrier Layering Systems
Examples
Ryan’s Systems
Disclaimer: The Risk of WPB and Vapor Barrier Handwear Systems in Extreme Cold

How to Subscribe

Apple Podcasts | Spotify | RSS

More Episodes

Backpacking Light Podcast Index

Credits

Feedback / Tips / Questions

podcast@backpackinglight.com

More Backpacking Light

Disclosure

Backpacking Food

A curated guide to backpacking food ideas, meals, ingredients, strategies, skills, podcasts, forums, research, education, product recommendations, and more.

Welcome to the Backpacking Food Trailhead

Making Sense of Backpacking Food

Backpacking food is just as important for the success of a trip as the gear you bring. But backpackers commonly treat food ideas, choices, preparation, gear, and storage as afterthoughts.

There are various options for preparing and storing backpacking food and an abundance of gear to help you accomplish whichever strategy you choose. Making sense of it all can be a bit overwhelming. But as with all things related to backpacking, it is worth spending the time to become informed about your options and aware of which ones are the best for you and your specific trips.

Bringing the right food – in the right amounts – is crucial to enjoying your backpacking trip. Photo: Ryan Jordan

About this Trailhead

This article is one of Backpacking Light’s curated gateway pages (a trailhead, so to speak). Here, you’ll find information and resources about backpacking food ideas, cooking gear, and food storage techniques.

We’ve got resources to help you dial in nutrition and calories per ounce, techniques and cooking equipment for preparing food in the front country and backcountry, and information about different backpacking food ideas, choices and storage strategies.

About this Trailhead: Curated and maintained by our staff, this Trailhead page includes an overview of the topic and links to information and resources on the Backpacking Light website. Those resources may consist of gear reviews, technology and testing, research, skills articles, online education (webinars, masterclasses, or other types of online courses), podcast episodes, forum threads, product recommendations, and other discovery tools, including our Gear Finder, Gear Shop, and Site Search engine.

Navigating this Trailhead

How do I plan my backpacking food menu?

Depending on if you’re doing a multi-week thru-hike or a quick overnight trip, your food choices will vary significantly and might depend on:

dietary restrictions
allergies
caloric needs
available cooking and storage gear
willingness to cook and do dishes
season and weather conditions
wildlife activity in your backpacking area
and more

Your food choices are highly dependent on factors like personal taste, trip type, allergies, and more. Photo: Drew Smith

Figuring out what works best for you will come with time, experience, the advice of others, and trial and error. Perhaps the biggest two considerations are:

How much food do I bring backpacking?
What kind of food should I bring backpacking?

These links provide consistent, data-driven, nutrition-first answers to these questions.

Skills: How Much Food Should I Pack? (How to save weight on backpacking food based on the energy-mile theory)
Podcast: Episode 003 | Backpacking Food and Nutrition
Webinar: Backpacking Food and Nutrition
Podcast: Episode 028 | Making Your Own Backpacking Meals
Skills: Food Planning Using Pounds Per Person Per Day

Bringing the correct amount of food is often a matter of measuring, weighing, and dividing. Photo: Drew Smith

It’s also worth making sure you will actually eat the food you plan to bring with you. Altitude and exhaustion can both make backpacking food hard to choke down. Read this article for some insights on how to choose food you’ll actually eat:

Skills: Trail Food: Keeping it Interesting and Energizing

How do I resupply backpacking food on long trips?

There are three methods to resupply on long trips.

Bring all your needed food with you (no resupply).
Cache food or have it sent to drop-off points like post offices, ranger stations (where applicable), or hostels.
Resupply along the way at grocery stores, general stores, and gas stations.

This trip necessitated bringing along all the food that would be consumed, as there were very few resupply points along the way. Photo: Victoria Griffin

Grocery store backpacking food resupply hacks?

Supplying and re-supply at grocery stores, general stores, and gas stations is a very common way of handling backpacking food. It requires the least amount of prep upfront and provides the greatest flexibility and often the lowest pack weights. The downsides are it can be the most expensive option, and choices are often limited at small-town grocery stores. And of course, on serious wilderness excursions, there aren’t any stores.

Making and storing your own backpacking food ingredients takes time and energy, but often yields delicious results. Photo: Drew Smith

But you don’t have to only look for stores along the way. You can always use grocery stores as a supply depot before you leave, and bring along or send yourself the meals you prepare.

Becoming adept at recognizing which grocery store brands, meals, and snacks require the least amount of repackaging, are shelf-stable or safe to keep unrefrigerated for days at a time, and are easy to cook or consume in the backcountry is something that will come with practice and the advice of others.

Store-bought backpacking food, some of it re-packaged into more suitable portions for daily use. Photo: Victoria Griffin

Tap into our community’s expertise for help with this:

Forum: Easy Ultralight Backpacking Foods from the Grocery Store
Forum: Grocery Store Recipes for a beginner Backpacker
Forum: USA Supermarket resupply; what do you buy ?

The next step is preparing and packaging the foods that you’ll be bringing along.

How can I prepare backpacking food?

The most common ways of preparing meals for the backcountry are dehydration and freeze-drying. Each method has pros and cons. Check out this forum post:

Skills: Home Freeze-Drying vs. Other Trail Food Preparation Strategies
Forum: Freeze-dried vs. dehydrated backpacking food

How to dehydrate backpacking food

Dehydration is the least cost-intensive way of preparing backpacking meals at home. Some backpackers use kitchen ovens to dehydrate food (an imperfect method) and others purchase inexpensive dehydrators (a much easier and safer approach).

Dehydration machines are fairly inexpensive and work well on certain types of fruits and vegetables. Photo:Drew Smith

But dehydrated meals can sometimes take a long time to re-constitute, and each food item comes with its own dehydration methods, challenges, and drying times. For this reason, if you are going to prepare backpacking food in a dehydrator at home, you must dehydrate each ingredient individually and then combine the ingredients in your packaging after they are dried.

Drew Smith’s article on food dehydration is a user-friendly and comprehensive entry point into dehydration:

Skills: How to Dehydrate Food for Backpacking

Once you’ve dehydrated your food, storing it properly is important so you don’t end up with rancid or spoiled supplies while in the backcountry. Drew’s article (above) also covers this point.

Using a vacuum sealer to extend the lifespan of dehydrated food. Photo: Drew Smith

And don’t miss these other Backpacking Light resources on food dehydration:

Book Review: Ultralight Recipes for Backcountry Explorers
Forum: Directions for dehydration
Forum: Why do you dehydrate?
Forum: What to dehydrate and why?
Forum: Nutritional info on dehydrated food

Here’s a trip report that illustrates a food strategy using dehydrated ingredients in action:

Trips: Great Smoky Mountains Backpacking Loop (Sinks-Little Tennesee River Trip Report)

How to freeze-dry backpacking food

Freeze-drying is an incredibly effective way of preparing backcountry meals. Freeze-dried backpacking food is lighter and reconstitutes better than dehydrated food, and it often preserves flavor and texture better as well. As a bonus, you can prepare freeze-dried meals as meals – in other words, you can cook or buy a meal and freeze-dry it all together rather than by individual ingredients as with dehydration.

All the ingredients on this tray can be freeze-dried in the same batch. Photo: Drew Smith

The downside to freeze-drying is the gear needed – a freeze-dryer – is prohibitively expensive for the average backpacker. We recommend splitting the cost with one (or more, ideally) friend and then preparing meals together in bulk for your adventures together.

Here’s our review of a freeze-dryer that fits in your garage:

Review: Harvest Right Home Freeze Dryer Review

The Harvest Right Home Freeze Dryer. Photo: Drew Smith

And don’t miss Drew Smith’s ongoing exploration of the Harvest Right Home Freeze Dryer as he explores the science behind freeze-drying and the recipes that are possible with it.

Skills: Is Buying a Home Freeze-Dryer Worth the Money?
Skills: Freeze-Drying Your Own Backpacking Meals: How to Eat Your Favorite Town Food on the Trail
Technology: How Does Freeze-Drying work? (The Physics of Making Freeze-Dried Backpacking Food
Technology: Why Freeze-Dried Backpacking Food Retains Taste and Nutrition
Technology: Why is it hard to freeze-dry liquids?

Freeze-drying is an ideal, if expensive, way of preparing delicious backpacking food. Photo: Drew Smith

Packaged backpacking meals

If making your meals isn’t your thing, there is an abundance of freeze-dried and dehydrated backpacking meals to choose from. In the last several years, several new companies have entered this market and provided backpackers with a surprising variety of meals and options for those with dietary restrictions, allergies, or picky palettes. In other words, you don’t just have to stick with Mountain House or Backpacker’s Pantry anymore (though even these meals have improved in the last few years).

Packaged meals are high on convenience and have an ever-expanding range of flavors, but can be a bit expensive. Photo: Andrew Marshall

These meals can be a bit pricy, especially if you’re eating one or more per day on a weeklong trip. But by mixing them in with homemade meals, you can bring costs to a reasonable level. There’s something to be said for the convenience of buying a packaged meal well in advance of your trip, especially for those short on time and kitchen space.

Backpacking Light has spilled a lot of ink on packaged freeze-dried and dehydrated meals over the years. Explore it here:

Gear Guide: Dehydrated and Freeze-Dried Backpacking Food: Dinners
Gear Guide: My Year of Lentils: A Survey of Packaged Vegetarian and Vegan Backpacking Meals
Video: Good To-Go Herbed Mushroom Risotto Review
Podcast: Episode 057 | Cottage Industry Interview: Food for the Sole

This packaged backpacking meal is heavy on carrots, peanuts, and spices. Photo: Andrew Marshall

Several packaged backpacking meals showed up in our 2021 Staff Picks article:

Gear Guide: 2021 Staff Picks

The following article isn’t about food per se, but it does feature three backpacking food makers – Good To-Go, Food for the Sole, and Pinnacle Foods:

Culture: Ultralight Cottage Gear Makers Reflect on the Last Few Years

Sweet potatoes and kale feature heavily in this packaged backpacking meal. Photo: Andrew Marshall

Backpacking food preparation methods: cooking or cold-soaking?

When preparing food in the backcountry, the options are cooking or cold-soaking. Both have tradeoffs, with cold-soaking being the lightest and arguably the most simple option. But the comfort of a hot cup of coffee or a warm meal at the end of the day can have psychological benefits for some hikers. Many backpackers prefer this comfort over shaving a few ounces off a base weight.

Some meals can be cold-soaked or reconstituted warm, depending on eater preference, time, and equipment. Photo: Drew Smith

What is cold-soaking?

Cold soaking is exactly like what it sounds like – put dried ingredients into a container and add cold water to rehydrate the contents. Rehydrating takes significantly longer than using hot or boiling water, and there are some limitations on what ingredients rehydrate best using this method. But for a lightweight and simple approach to preparing meals, it’s hard to beat cold-soaking.

Cold-soaked meals can be as delicious as hot meals, especially if they are designed to be enjoyed cold. Photo: Andrew Marshall

Here are some cold-soaking tips from our community:

Forum: Cold soaking food help/suggestions
Forum: Cold soaking containers
Forum: No-cook/stoveless/soaking method for PCT thru-hiking
Forum: Cold soak system review

Cooking backpacking food in the backcountry

While cold-soaking has become more common in recent years, particularly among thru-hikers, most backpackers still opt to cook their meals in the backcountry. The most common cooking method is to bring water to a boil using a stove before pouring the water into a bag containing a dehydrated or freeze-dried backpacking meal.

There are some people who enjoy cooking food over an open fire, but please practice Leave No Trace principles, use established fire rings like the one shown here, pay attention to the laws in the area you are backpacking. Photo: Victoria Griffin

Cooking in this style often eliminates the need to do dishes. But some meals do involve putting ingredients into your pot at some stage of the cooking process, which, unfortunately, means doing dishes – unless you don’t mind having tuna-flavored coffee with bits of pasta the next morning. Details on the gear needed for cooking are covered later in this trailhead.

Skills: Lightweight Mealtime Routines for Group Cooking
Skills: Backcountry Cookfires: Overview and Techniques for Cooking Over an Open Flame
Skills: Reducing Winter Pack Weight: Wood Fire Cooking in the Snow
MYOG: Supporting a Pot Over a Can-style Alcohol Stove

What are the different types of backpacking stoves?

If you’re not cold soaking, then you’re going to need a stove to boil water for your meals. There are many different types of stoves to choose from, but upright canister stoves, integrated canister stoves, remote inverted canister stoves, alcohol stoves, or wood-burning stoves are the most common for lightweight backpacking. We could probably do a whole trailhead just on stoves alone, so some of this information will be abbreviated out of necessity.

Not all stoves are created equal. We put them to the test in StoveBench. Photo: Ryan Jordan

What is a canister stove?

Upright canister stoves, integrated canister stoves, and remote canister stoves all use a fuel canister (usually but not always a blend of isobutane and propane). With a remote inverted canister stove, the pot and stove assembly are separate elements. The stove assembly screws into the fuel canister, and the post sits on top of the stove assembly.

An integrated canister stove uses a pot that is combined with the stove elements for greater wind protection and heat transfer. The downside is these types of stoves are usually heavier than the pot/stove combo used by upright canister stoves.

With a remote canister stove, the stove assembly is connected to the fuel canister via a fuel line. The upside to this system is that the fuel canister can be turned upside down to burn liquid fuel instead of gas – an advantage in cold conditions.

From left to right: An upright canister stove, a remote canister stove, and an integrated canister stove. Photo: Ryan Jordan

Our StoveBench protocol and gear guide combine to form a comprehensive body of work on modern upright canister stoves. It’s a go-to resource for anyone in the market for a new upright canister stove:

Testing: StoveBench: A Stove Testing Protocol for Comparing the Performance of Backpacking Stoves
Gear Guide: Upright Canister Stove Reviews, StoveBench Tests, and Gear Guide
Podcast: Episode 011 | Canister Stove Reviews

Testing stoves with StoveBench protocols. Photo: Ryan Jordan

And don’t miss Roger Caffin’s long-running series on the development of his remote inverted canister stove. These articles have taken different forms over the years, but all are instructive:

Testing: V1
MYOG: V2
Forums: V3
MYOG: V4
Forums: Engineering the V4 Winter Stove
MYOG: V6

Using the Caffin V6 (remote inverted canister stove) in the field. Photo: Roger Caffin

And finally, check out this article where Ryan Jordan applies the StoveBench protocol to the Jetboil Stash, a recently released integrated canister stove.

Testing: Lipstick on a Pig? Wind & Cold Temperature Testing of the Jetboil Stash

The Jetboil Stash had some interesting results when we subjected it to StoveBench. Photo: Ryan Jordan

What are some other types of backpacking stoves?

Alcohol stoves use denatured alcohol as a fuel source. They tend to be very light, and the fuel is readily available in places that may not sell fuel canisters. But they are not allowed in some land management units because they are hard to put out once lit, and can be a hazard if knocked over.

An alcohol stove in use. Photo: David Chenault

They also have less focused flames than canister stoves, so they can take longer to boil water. They can also be subject to performance degradation in windy conditions. Still, they have their proponents, and for good reason. They are light, simple, burn cleanly with little-to-no odor, and are easily created/modified by MYOG enthusiasts.

Solid fuel stoves burn chemical tablets as a fuel source. They are extremely light, as is the fuel, but they can make a strong chemical smell and are highly susceptible to performance loss from wind.

A chemical stove. Photo: Darin Banner

Wood stoves are just what they sound like – small stoves that burn wood as a fuel source.

A wood-burning stove. Photo: Chris Murphy

Explore some Backpacking Light content on alcohol stoves and wood stoves here:

Gear Review: Alcohol Stove Comparison: Trail Designs (12-10 and Kojin) vs. Zelph (Starlyte and Starlyte Mod)
Gear Review: Clikstand T-2 Alcohol Stove System
Skills: Still my favorite cook kit
Forum: Alcohol stove newbie
Forum: Alcohol stoves: DIY vs pre-fabricated
MYOG: How to make a lightweight fuel bottle for alcohol stoves
Forum: Inexpensive wood stoves
Video: Field Notes: Winter Backpacking in Southeast Wyoming Using a Wood Stove

Should I use a windscreen?

Backpacking stoves of all types are impacted to some degree by wind. Listen to this podcast to learn why, and what you can do about it.

Podcast: Episode 042 | Skills Short – Windscreens

In our Windscreens podcast, Ryan Jordan demonstrates different types of windscreen materials. Photo: Ryan Jordan

What backpacking pot should I use?

Even if you’re cold soaking and don’t need to bring along a stove, you’ll still need a container to rehydrate your meal. Repurposed food containers – such as those which originally held gelato or peanut butter – are the most common option. Some backpackers use mylar food bags or the bags the cold soak meals were originally sold in.

Simple titanium pots are the lightest option for cooking and last for decades. If your cooking involves more complex meals cooked in the pot, then products with some type of non-stick coating will make post-dinner clean-up much easier.

Wide, shallow pots are more fuel-efficient (all other things being equal) but don’t nest as well with fuel canisters while packing. Photo: Andrew Marshall

Pots come in all shapes and sizes, and some have added technology like heat exchangers. baffles, or lids that screw down. What pot you choose is dependent on your favored cooking method, the amount of food you cook or water you boil, and the weight/space needs of your packing system.

Testing: Is a heat exchanger pot worth the weight?
Gear Review: Vargo Bot 700 Review (First Looks)
Gear Review: MSR Titan Kettle SPOTLITE REVIEW
Gear Review: Spotlight: ALOCS Kettle
Forum: 2L pot vs. 1L pot

What type of utensils do I need on a backpacking trip?

For most backpackers, a basic spork – of titanium or heavy-duty plastic – is all that is needed to eat in the backcountry. In a hobby focused on minimalism and efficiency, bringing along a fork and a spoon just doesn’t make much sense. For those who typically eat out of freeze-dried backpacking meal packages, there are longer-handled spoons to make reaching the bottom of the bag an easier task.

A long spoon is handy for getting food out of deep packaged food bags. Photo: Andrew Marshall

Some backpackers prefer to bring along (or carve while on a trip) wooden chopsticks instead.

Gear Review: Tritensil Review (gear review)
Humor: Top 10 Reasons to Carry a Spork
Forums: Spork vs. spoon
Forums: Lightest Folding Spoon Ever?
Forums: Toaks vs. Optimus long handle spoon

Editors Note: Andrew Marshall here. I can’t let this section go by without indulging in a small rant about my biggest pet peeve in backpacking, which is sporks. Sporks fail basic functionality tests as both forks and spoons. They have tines that are too small to be effective as a fork and large slots which make them ineffective as spoons. My two cents? Just use a spoon. I dare you to find a food you will eat routinely on a backpacking trip which demands the use of small spork tines. It’s possible to extrapolate this concept into a larger debate around specialized vs. multi-use gear. I’ll leave that for another day. (Your mileage may vary…)

What’s the best way to store backpacking food while camping in the backcountry?

Properly storing your food is essential to keeping wildlife safe, ensuring that future campers don’t have issues with habituated wildlife, and making sure that you don’t have a trip ruined after your food is eaten by a bear.

An Ursack is a light(er) way to protect food from bears than a bear canister. Photo: Ryan Jordan

Hanging food was, for many years, the go-to method of securing food in the backcountry. But even in the best of circumstances, it has its drawbacks. Finding the right tree and branch can be time-consuming and often impossible, depending on where you are backpacking.

Cords can damage trees, and squirrels and other rodents sometimes climb down the cord and gnaw through the thin fabric of bear bags. And in many land management units, hanging food is not allowed.

For all these reasons, bear hanging is slowly falling out of favor. However, the method still enjoys great popularity east of the Mississippi, where deciduous forests with overhanging branches are more common.

Bear canisters are a fairly foolproof way of protecting your food from bears, but can be hard to pack on many ultralight packs. Photo: Andrew Marshall

Products like Ursaks and bear canisters offer near-certain protection for your food if used properly and eliminate the hassle of finding trees appropriate for hanging.

Online Course: Protecting Your Food From Bears
Skills: How to Use an Ursack
Forum: Bearikade Expedition MKII / Outsak UL / Bear Vault BV500
Forum: Bear-bagging above treeline
Testing: How Safe Is Your Food? Investigating the effectiveness of odor-proof bags

What brands are the main suppliers of backpacking food, stoves, and cooking and storage supplies?

The list below is not comprehensive by any measure, but it does represent a good starting place. Every brand listed here makes quality gear that we or our contributors have tested and can recommend.

Good To-Go’s Thai Curry is a favorite at Backpacking Light. Photo: Andrew Marshall

Backpacking food is an intensely personal choice, and variations in preparation and cooking spring from those initial choices. Our advice is to try a bunch of different food and food strategies and see what you like before investing heavily in gear. We also recommend that you make use of our forums and the collected wisdom of our community.

Link Disclosure: The brand links below link to our brand gateway pages, which provide an index to articles, gear swap listings, and member reviews related to that brand. Likewise, all links on this page will direct to original content created by Backpacking Light. You may find affiliate links elsewhere on our site (read our disclosure letter here), but we don’t use them on this page.

Packaged Meals

Bear resistant food storage:

Stove and stove accessories:

Cookware

Food Prep and long-term food storage

Outdoor Herbivore’s CinnaMonkey Chomps are another favorite of the Backpacking Light editorial staff. Photo: Andrew Marshall

Search and discovery

Discover more food-related content using our search tools.
Browse the Food and Consumables category in our Category Browser to find more articles, Member Gear Swap listings (classified ads for used gear), Member Gear Reviews, and more.
Search the forums for all threads about food.
Browse our curated recommendations for food, cooking, and storage tools in the Backpacking Light Gear Shop. The Gear Shop is a product research & discovery tool to explore Member gear reviews, Gear Swap (used gear) listings, and more info about specific products recommended by our staff and members.
Find food on sale using our Gear Finder search engine.

Help us maintain this page

If you found value in other related resources at Backpacking Light that you’d like to share with our community, please post them in the comments section below. No external links or resources, please – this trailhead is designed to be an index of content at Backpacking Light.

DISCLOSURE (Updated April 9, 2024)

Backpacking Light does not accept compensation or donated/discounted products in exchange for product mentions or placements in editorial coverage. Some (but not all) of the links in this review may be affiliate links. If you click on one of these links and visit one of our affiliate partners (usually a retailer site), and subsequently place an order with that retailer, we receive a commission on your entire order, which varies between 3% and 15% of the purchase price. Affiliate commissions represent less than 15% of Backpacking Light's gross revenue. More than 70% of our revenue comes from Membership Fees. So if you'd really like to support our work, don't buy gear you don't need - support our consumer advocacy work and become a Member instead. Learn more about affiliate commissions, influencer marketing, and our consumer advocacy work by reading our article Stop wasting money on gear.

Strange Homecomings: A Journey on the Colorado Trail

Nikki Stavile returns to Colorado finding her home state changed but finds solace in the unpredictable mountains along the Colorado Trail.

You don’t have access to view this content.

Episode 75 | Winter Layering for the Legs

Much attention is paid to layering for the torso, head, hands, and feet – but the legs are often ignored. However, during winter conditions, an intentional layering strategy for the legs can make the difference between comfort and misery. For mild winter conditions, a layering strategy may look similar to a 3-season lower body layering system. However, when temperatures drop below freezing, and snow and wind increase, the strategy needs to change a bit. Listen to this episode to explore some of these strategies so you can stay warm and comfortable when the mercury drops.

Listen

Summary

In this Episode:

The classic 3-season layering system
Why this system fails in the winter
The challenges we face: cold, wind, and snow
Layering strategies on the trail
Layering strategies in camp
Layering strategies while sleeping
This podcast is advertising free

Links, Mentions, Recommendations

Event: BPL Trail Days Online 2023!
Webinar: Winter Hiking & Backpacking Gear Part 1 | Part 2
Ryan’s Winter Layering System #1 (mild conditions)
- Merino Wool Base Layer Bottoms (same as summer)
- Woven Nylon Trekking Pants (same as summer)
- Patagonia DAS Light Pants (insulated side-zip pants)
- No rain pant

Ryan’s Winter Layering System #2 (stormy conditions)
- Polartec Alpha Direct Pants (MYOG)
- Waterproof-Breathable Rain Pant (with side zips for ventilation)
- Patagonia DAS Light Pants (insulated side-zip pants)

Ryan’s Winter Layering System #3 (extreme cold)
- Brynje Super Thermo Mesh 3/4 Bottoms
- Polartec Alpha Direct Pants (MYOG)
- Waterproof-Breathable Rain Pant (with side zips for ventilation)
- Feathered Friends Volant Pants (down-insulated side-zip pants)

P1010434 — Carol Crooker and Ellen Zaslaw stay comfortable in the wintry landscape of the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness in their puffy pants. Photo: Ryan Jordan.

How to Subscribe

Apple Podcasts | Spotify | RSS

More Episodes

Backpacking Light Podcast Index

Credits

Feedback / Tips / Questions

podcast@backpackinglight.com

More Backpacking Light

Disclosure

Listen

Summary

In this episode, we address winter shelter stakes for frozen ground, hard snow, and unconsolidated snow.

Episode 74: Shelter Stakes for Winter Backpacking

In this Episode:

News:

Avalanche Awareness and Safety Live Stream Q&A – January 18
Trail Days Online – February 23-25

Shelter Stakes for Winter Camping:

Issue #1: Frozen Ground
- getting the stakes in
- pulling the stakes out
- what kind of stakes to use
- the hammer

Issue #2: Deep, Hard Snow
- long and skinny

Issue #3: Deep, Unconsolidated Snow
- skis, snowshoes, poles
- deadmen – blizzard buried, fabric anchors, metal plate anchors, stuff sacks, sticks
- sintering (good for shallow snow)
- removing deadmen from icy ground
- guylines around natural deadmen

Mentions, Links, Recommendations:

Vargo Titanium Nail Peg (not the ultralight version)
MSR Stake Hammer
MSR Blizzard Stake
Suluk46 Olik Titanium Snow Stakes
Sorex Carbon Fiber Tent Stakes (9 inch version)
Winter Backpacking on Packed Snow Trails (Gear List)

How to Subscribe

Apple Podcasts | Spotify | RSS

More Episodes

Backpacking Light Podcast Index

Credits

Feedback / Tips / Questions

podcast@backpackinglight.com

More Backpacking Light

Disclosure

Username
Password
	Remember me

Introduction

How much does fishing gear weigh?

Conventional (Western) Fly Fishing Kit – 2 pounds

Minimalist (Western) Fly Fishing Kit – 1 pound

Ultralight (Tenkara) Kits – 0.25 pounds

What is the probability of catching fish every day?

How much nutrition does trout meat provide?

How much carried food weight can caught fish replace?

How many days of eating fish for one meal a day is required to get a return (eating caught fish) on investment (weight of carried fishing gear)?

Conclusion

Recommendations

Related Content

Introduction

Event Details

Watch the Recording

Introduction

For the Purification of Oneself

Desert Routines

By Compass & Map

The Issue of Food

Further Along the Hejaz

Listen

Summary

Take the Course

In this Episode:

Related Content

Listen

Summary

In this Episode:

Welcome to the Backpacks Trailhead

Understanding Ultralight Backpacks

About this Trailhead

Navigating this Trailhead

What are backpacking packs?

Do I need a lightweight backpack?

What is a backpack for ultralight backpacking?

Should a pack be the first thing I buy?

Why aren’t low-volume, ultralight backpacks featured in brick-and-mortar gear shops?

What size pack do I need for ultralight backpacking?

Why use a low-volume pack?

What volume to use?

How to fit a low-volume pack

What features should I look for in an ultralight backpack?

Frame or frameless?

Hip belt or not?

Load Lifters and Compression Straps

Pockets and water access

Other external gear storage

How do you pack a backpack?

How do I keep my gear dry?

How to make an ultralight backpack?

What brands are the main suppliers of lightweight and ultralight backpacks?

What do Backpacking Light Members say about backpacks?

More Resources

More Pack Reviews

More Relevant Podcast Episodes

Search and Browse: More Discovery Tools

Help us Maintain this Page

Where the Wild Things (That Can Easily Kill You) Are

Being Bear-Aware, but Not Bearanoid

Appreciating Nature On its Own Terms

Related Content

Author’s note:

Related

Listen

Summary

In this Episode:

Links, Mentions, and Recommendations

Listen

Summary

In this Episode:

Links, Mentions, and Recommendations

Welcome to the Backpacking Food Trailhead

Making Sense of Backpacking Food

About this Trailhead

Navigating this Trailhead

How do I plan my backpacking food menu?

How do I resupply backpacking food on long trips?

Grocery store backpacking food resupply hacks?

How can I prepare backpacking food?