Articles (2020)

Introduction

“They cut 5 ounces off a Fly Creek? Sweet! But HOW? Where? What does it sacrifice? Is it worth the extra money? If I sneeze in the middle of the night, will the tent be able to take the force of my sudden exhalation?” Such was the drift of my thoughts upon hearing about the Big Agnes Fly Creek 2 Platinum, and it seemed likely that many other users would have the same sorts of questions, so we put dear Platinum through a thorough evaluation.

First, what, if anything, does the Fly Creek 2 Platinum sacrifice as compared to the Fly Creek 2? Second, is it worth an extra $130? As natural extensions of those points, I wanted to see how the FC2P compared to similar tents on the market and provide an in-depth evaluation of the tent that would paint a clear picture of the tent even to those unfamiliar with the “standard” version.

Tour

First things first, yeah, it’s hard to believe there’s a legitimate two-person tent in the package. Tossing the stuffed tent in the air, you realize that this presumptuous little bag theoretically contains a double-wall, two-person tent… that’s lighter than many sleeping bags. That viewpoint put some perspective on things for me. We’re becoming accustomed to lighter tent weights, so I’m not sure that some of us continue to appreciate just how absurdly light a 1 pound 13 ounce tent really is. That’s the weight of my 900 fill, 20 degree down sleeping bag! And when I think of it in those terms… dagnabbit, how wispy and worthless could this tent be in a storm?!

It is a little hard to describe the hand-the feel and impression of-the tent fabric. I suppose that it reminds me of titanium, of picking up that first titanium pot with amazement, marveling at the rigidity of the paper-thin pot walls. The fly fabric of the FC2P is very thin, very light, very gossamer, yet imparts a reassuring sense of tenacity and inner strength. The color strikes me as being on the whiter, more silver side of gray… a bit luminescent, not dull or dreary. The seams, of course, are all taped. With a #3 YKK zipper in-hand (destined for a MYOG sleeping bag), it looks as though Big Agnes is using a #3 YKK on the vestibule zipper which makes me wonder, again, why more manufacturers are not using the zipper on sleeping bags. But that’s for another article. The fabric of the micro-ripstop fly feels like it has a bit of give or stretch.

The poles are somewhat larger in diameter than one might expect, with joints that seem plenty stout. It’s a light set of poles, with a simple “Y” shape. The color is a bright sort of anodized fluorescent lemon; I’m not sure if there is any other difference from a standard Fly Creek 2 poleset.

The floor of the inner tent is the same as the fly material, though in a darker gray. The noseeum mesh, though fine, feels plenty resilient in hand. For those of you comparing this to the standard Fly Creek, the canopy of the Platinum is all mesh, whereas the standard version is roughly half nylon/half mesh.

Pitching the tent is fast and painless. Whether I staked all four corners before inserting and clipping to the poles, or whether I started with the poles and then staked, I consistently got a nice, taut pitch without any fuss. I have heard people wonder about the rear corners of the tent, specifically that they aren’t supported by pole structure. In that light, I suppose the FC2P might not truly be a “free-standing” tent, but frankly, that is of no concern. The tent pitches quite solidly. One aspect of the design that caught my attention was the significant amount of clearance between the arch of the ridgepole and the steeply-raked inner roof of the canopy. More specifically, the gap of about 13.5 inches seems a bit incongruous on a tent of minimalist design. It seems like Big Agnes would have modified the poleset and fly to more closely match the slope of the inner tent. Doing so would not only save weight but should improve the tent’s ability to shed weather. In fairness, though, such a re-design would require a whole bunch of work that would yield a tent that didn’t stick to the original Fly Creek geometry. It might be in the best interest of Big Agnes to pursue such a re-design, though, even if it were considered a new tent. Shoot, maybe we could get this thing under 24 ounces!

In Use

The first thing I notice after set-up is the amount of room in the FC2P. It is obviously and significantly larger than other tents that claim to have 28 square feet. In fact, I once overlaid another manufacturer’s “29 square feet” tent on top of a 28 square feet Big Agnes Seedhouse SL2 (the Fly Creek 2’s slightly stockier twin), and found that the other tent was more than a foot narrower than the Seedhouse. In other words, if you’ve been in a tent with the same reported square footage but found it too small, I would still consider trying the Fly Creek. There is a surprising amount of room available for the weight.

More than just square footage, there is also a respectable amount of overall volume available in the Platinum. I have found that many tents on the market have a canopy that significantly encroaches upon the total floor area. I don’t want to start on a diatribe, but on top of reporting highly inflated dimensions, many manufacturers give a false idea of available volume within the tent. In other words, if you look at a diagram of the tent floor, you have the impression that the floor space depicted is also available or practical for use. In reality, as many of us have found, tent walls can slope so significantly upon the floor that the usable area of a tent is much smaller. So when I talk about overall tent “volume,” I’m talking about not only the amount of total floor space, but the amount of total space inside the tent – room you have to lay down, sit up, stash gear, change, stretch, play cards… whatever. And for a modified A-frame design like the Fly Creek 2 Platinum, I think there is an excellent amount of available room. This is a realistic 2-person tent, at least for average-sized people.

There is a stash pocket on each side by the door, and one pocket over the door. They’re simple and effective. The side of the inner tent has a pull-out loop that is clipped to the outer rainfly; when you stake out the side of the tent, then, it creates more available volume inside the tent. Again, simple but effective.

When I see the Fly Creek 2 Platinum pitched I am struck by its grace. Perhaps it reminds me a bit of full sails arcing through a weather-beaten sea. The FC2P fly is taut and athletic, gracefully curved, maybe even supple (does this sound like a wine review yet?). It pitches and sets “just right.” Despite the lingerie-weight fly material, the tent invokes a sense of durability. It lends an air of solid confidence. What this means, outside the somewhat bizarrely poetic description, is that I do have faith in the tent’s ability to weather a storm, as it has also proven to me during prolonged wet and windy hours.

Improvements?

Consider the automotive industry and its extensive use of “platforms.” I remember, for example, people joking about how a given GM car was just a re-badged Chevy/Pontiac/Olds/ etc. Heck, consider the publishing industry… how many revisions of “The Complete Walker” have there been? My point is that platforms can provide legitimate launching points and legitimate differences. Big Agnes has been able to develop a useful and wide range of products on its Seedhouse platform. The most significant architectural difference, in my mind, is the elimination of the rear “wishbone” pole on the Fly Creek models. Aside from incorporating that skeletal change, much of the geometry of the tent seems to have been “tweakable” or left unchanged. Given the Seedhouse platform, I can’t think of anything I’d really want to change with the Fly Creek 2 Platinum.

If I were to change anything about the tent, as mentioned earlier, it would be to aggressively alter the ridgeline. I envision a pole junction with a permanent bend at the tents peak, the pole sticking much more to the ridgeline of the inner tent, perhaps with another “elbow” joint at the feet. It seems as though they could cut pole and material weight while making the tent a little more slippery in the wind. I might consider, if I were undertaking such a revision, adding a 9 to 12-inch stub past the front wishbone, creating a dry entry. That, of course, could take some monkeying around to keep the weight at a net loss.

The only glitch that I really notice is that the ridgepole can have a tendency to get a little snaky. When you stake out the tent it helps to pay attention to what you’re doing, applying equal tension all ‘round the tent, or you can induce some mild “S” curves along the ridge. I didn’t notice this affecting performance, but in theory it would be less stable in a good blow. I envision it being more of a problem if sideways to the wind. Realistically though, for most three-season backpacking conditions I see no issue with the structural rigidity of the tent.

I was mildly disappointed to find that my sample Fly Creek 2 Platinum weighs a little over spec. It’s not really a big deal, I guess, but it is 1pound 14.4oz instead of 1 pound 13oz with guylines removed. Given that Big Agnes has been so good about reporting the dimensions of the tent, I wish the weight had been just as accurate.

That brings me to the big question: is the Big Agnes Fly Creek 2 Platinum worth $130 over and beyond a “base model” Fly Creek 2? Well, that depends. If price is your most significant consideration in a tent purchase, or if you have developed a price:weight spreadsheet for all the gear you own or are considering, you could probably save 5 ounces in your overall pack weight for less than the $130 difference in the Fly Creek 2 and Fly Creek 2 Platinum. If, however, you’ve already stripped the rest of your weights down, or if what you’re most concerned about is tent weight, then yeah, the Platinum wins. As I’ve said in other reviews, that person you see driving down the street in a Ferrari would probably do just fine with a Civic. But sometimes the performance or the specs provide an element of fun or interest that appeal to a user. I have found no disadvantage of the Platinum as compared to the standard Fly Creek. For me, and in my recommendation to UL friends, the Fly Creek 2 Platinum is one of my highest recommendations for an ultralight 2-person tent.

Disclosure: The manufacturer provided this product to the author and/or Backpacking Light at no charge and is owned by the author/BPL. The author/Backpacking Light has no obligation to the manufacturer to review this product under the terms of this agreement.

The Foray is not the Muzak version of backpacking tents. It does not blend quietly unnoticed into the background. That is not to say that it is punk rock, or death metal, or jazz or country. I suppose if any kind of music, the Foray would be classic rock, AC/DC perhaps, or ZZ Top. It’s there, it’s in your face, it’s doing things its own way, it’s confidently different, but it also fits within convention. There’s some fuss and theatrics, but at the end of the day, the Foray is clearly all about getting the job done. Righteously, with fun.

Brooks-Range jumped into the market with a slew of exciting products. Shelter-wise, though, their initial offerings left a bit to be desired. Not everyone needs an aluminized cuben single-wall like the Rocket! Not to worry. Brooks-Range is now offering the Foray, a 2-person double-wall backpacking tent that weighs a scant 3 pounds. Sounds great, but were the specs like an online dating profile? Was the area of 30 square feet accurate? How’s the living space? What’s shakin’ in the Foray world?

TOUR

You can’t miss the bright yellow, the black dots on the fly, the hooded vestibule vents, or the profile of the Foray. Bright yellow, hey, you’ll get found when your GPS batteries die and you have no idea how to navigate out. Color, whatever. The black dots intrigued me, though. They’re kind of… brutish, purposeful swatches boldly proclaiming their presence. The 4.75-inch diameter dots are, naturally, guyout reinforcement patches. The patches over the front pole also have ties to secure the pole; the ridgeline patch at the rear also ties off to that pole. The front-most patch on the ridgeline has a direct link to the pole. The center side tie-outs are canopy-only, and those half-moons along the bottom are just for staking out.

The vestibule is a well-considered, practical application of the concept. It uses two stakes, providing a wider entry. The generous overhang provides a ton of protection for the inner. The hooded vents zip closed if the weather so requires. They call it a 6-square-foot vestibule, but it’s the biggest darn 6’ vestibule I’ve ever seen. My rough measurement suggests an actual floor area of about 9 square feet for the vestibule!

That dramatic ridgeline slope is all business. It is clearly intended to provide serious storm-worthiness while keeping the interior, well, livable. In fact, the combination of serious guy-outs, steeply-raked side profile, & color give the impression that this is, first and foremost, a mountain tent. It is a mountain tent designed for minimum weight. Oh, and then we look inside and see a summer “liner.” But that’s all good.

A CLOSER LOOK

The poleset, as so many are these days, is permanently connected via stout plastic swivels. Pole ends have a ball that snaps into a socket receiver. The ridge pole extends about 1-foot forward of the main arch; the rear end of the ridge extends about a foot past the rear arch. The Jake’s Foot connection of rainfly to tent body/pole tip seems like a nifty idea. The plastic foot that the pole fits into has a cross-wise rod for the fly to clip to; the fly has a wide flat clip that snaps onto the rod with a positive “snick.” It works fine, but in practice I found it required some futzing and fumbling, both in attaching and taking apart, that I would rather not experience. I’m surprised this fitting continues to see use.

Although there are robust center-panel guy-outs on the fly, there is no correlating link to the inner tent. There is less air space between the fly and body of the Foray than we typically experience; if there were a simple toggle or something so you could hook the center of each side to the fly, it would provide a bit more livable space for essentially no weight.

Bottom-edge side tie-outs are a bit odd. There is one on both the tent body and the fly, but the loops do not “meet up,” thus requiring a stake for each loop. There’s a tiny second loop on the fly, and it just about meets up with the tent body loop, but if you use that second loop it “staples” the edge of the fly right to the ground, minimizing airflow. The bigger loops are frequently referred to as “ski loops” on winter tents, but seem a bit out of place here. This brings up one issue I have with the Foray’s design. On one hand, storm-worthy tents are great, and this is clearly designed for such weather. However, this is NOT a four-season tent, and I feel that the fly should not go as close to the ground as it does. In summer you usually need maximum ventilation, and having the rainfly extend nearly to the ground reduces available ventilation.

Sorta kinda along this line of thought, I get the impression that the inner tent was adapted to the dimensions of the fly. Well, yeah, duh. But what I mean, more specifically, is that there is so little air space between the inner and outer tent that it almost seems like the designers said “Okay, we’ve got this fly. Let’s just make the inner the same, but scaled down two inches all around.” I had more “inner meets fly” incidents than I’ve had with any number of other similar tents I can remember.

So how ‘bout that body? It kind of strikes me like that person you keep dating, and dating, and dating… there’s a ton to love, but you’re not quite sure whether to take the hook. First, you can easily get a couple of standard-sized sleeping pads side by side, with a bit of room to spare. Bonus! There’s (relatively speaking) a ton of room in the “upper half,” nearest the door. The side walls are relatively steep, plenty of shoulder room, and not spacious but a realistically usable space for two. I am, however, completely baffled by some aspects of the door.

A tight zipper radius is found at the apex, doesn’t zip as readily, and frankly I didn’t find that extra bit of zipper particularly useful, anyway. I would just straighten out the zipper run. Second weird part of the door: there is roughly a foot of netting (of the upper canopy) that extends past the floor of the inner tent. Now, this does mean that the floor of the inner is very well inside the fly, and very well protected in any weather, but the upper volume added is not as useful as a longer floor would be. Although Brooks-Range specs the Foray as having an overall floor length of 90 inches, the real-world usable length is the 78” measurement they give, which I confirmed with my own measurements. The front width I found to be 50” and the rear width I found at 42”, both of which are precisely the measurements B-R has posted. After fiddling with some numbers, I think that B-R came up with an area of 30 square feet by using the full 90” length (the max usable length, from door into depth of foot “V”, was 86”) and erring toward the 50” width. Using the 78” length and calling the width an even 47” by my rough calcs are about 25.5 square feet of practical, usable floor area.

There is a distinct relationship between the front and back “halves” of the tent. While I greatly admire the low profile of the rear end, I found that with two people in the tent (or one person on one side, gear & dog on the other) my feet hit the top of the tent inner. What’s remarkable about this is that I’m 5’6” and have size 9 feet, and my feet are hitting the top of the tent inner when my head is just about butted up to the bottom of the tent door. WHOA! Not cool. Brooks-Range could fix this problem without too much futz (yeah, right… like re-patterning a tent is no futz!). I suggest inducing slightly more arch in the foot/rear-end pole and correspondingly raising the foot area of the inner. Wouldn’t require much to be effective. The easier part of the fix: make the door go straight down from the end of the ridgepole, instead of sloping foot-ward to the floor. It would be an easy gain of a foot in overall length, and I think users would far prefer the livability of the resultant space. The inner tent would still be very well protected from weather.

Anecdotally, I had the tent set up in my yard when we were hit with winds strong enough to remove the top half of a maple tree about 40 feet away from the Foray. The Foray stood proud through the storm with no evidence of, well, anything afterwards.

I feel as though I’ve used an undue amount of digital ink describing shortcomings of the Foray. It is, however, an excellent tent. It’ll stand up to just about any 3-season weather you throw at it, you can actually fit two people in there, and it’s wicked light for its class. (Brooks-Range specs the tent at 2 pounds 9 ounces, I found 2 pounds 9.75 ounces.) I believe that the attention I gave to the shortcomings was because this tent has a ton of promise, and is “so close to being there.” I would be really stoked to see a revised version. In the meantime, the Foray is very worthy of your consideration, particularly if you want a very light, very storm-worthy 3-season tent.

When I first heard that I’d be testing a Timberland boot, I couldn’t help it: First image that came to mind, the leather boat shoes I used to wear. Second thought, rap. Third thought, the bright custard-y work boots. “Timberland” did not equal “ultralight backpacking” at any part of my mind. But I enjoy experimentation and surprises, and waited, somewhat bemused, for the arrival of my sample Cadions.

The Timberland Cadion, as I soon discovered, could do the trick for ultralighters. This isn’t a boot to dismiss based on brand familiarity.

When I pulled the Cadions out of the box I immediately noticed the aesthetic and the light weight of the mid-top. The aesthetic brings to mind the swoopiness and busy-ness, with consideration for stream-lining, of a trail runner. Its upper fabric is reminiscent of a stout laminated fabric that you might find on a heavier rain jacket; for some reason it reminds me of a mid-weight dry bag. The boot appears to be well-constructed. There is a significant rand surrounding the boot, with a rubbery diamond matrix wrapping from the heel to over the instep. The hardware is all stout metal, and the upper hooks have a lot of depth… a lotta hookage, as it were. The Cadion’s tongue is gusseted up to the second hook, some extra height helping the Goretex liner keep your foot dry.

Next thing even a casual eye would probably notice: the relative narrowness and low volume of the boot. It is not a bulky or cavernous boot. Rotating the boot in hand reveals a relatively deeply-lugged Vibram sole.

In my work as a buyer, pack-fitter, and boot-fitter, I found that people (primarily men) frequently think they need a huge, super-wide boot… but, in reality, they do not need such a boot. On one hand, you want some room to prevent blisters. On the other hand, too much room makes a boot sloppy (and blistery, and less sure-footed). I throw these thoughts into the ring here because I’ve found that so many people think they have monster feet when, in reality, they measure a very average “D” width. That said, my feet are a very average “D” width. And, although my biggest problem fitting shoes is excessive width and volume, I found the Cadion to be a relatively low-volume, narrow fit.

The Cadions let me know if I mistakenly wear a pair of my thicker socks. If you use aftermarket inserts, you’ll have to use lower-volume ones. While these boots are probably ideal for those with distinctly narrower feet (the fit reminds me a bit of La Sportiva, perhaps a hair more snug?), I found them perfectly serviceable for my average feet.

Timberland did a nice job balancing the amount of support with some trail-feel. It’s been years since I’ve worn Salomon XA Pros, but I remember wearing that shoe on the trail and thinking that it had a great amount of support underfoot, and a slightly unusual amount of feel under my big toe. I get the same kind of feeling with the Cadion. (This is just an impression, folks… If you research the midsoles and combined support or flex of each piece of footwear, and find that, actually, the Cadion has 124 pounds of resistance at 60 degrees flex, compared to an old XA Pro of 119 pounds at 54 degrees flex-and yes, I’m completely making up bogus “testing” specs for things that aren’t really tested-if you find, somehow, that the two are not all that similar… that’s okay! I’m just trying to relay my initial impression of the feel.) I spent a stupid amount of trail miles contemplating whether the amount of feel under the ball of my foot was too much, or just right… and finally realized that I didn’t seem to be having any problems, so all was probably good.

I don’t know how I could have possibly been so… stupidly absent-minded, but there were several occasions when I grimly pulled on the Cadions for a day hiking in the rain, forgetting that the Cadion is a Goretex boot! After splashing through several deeper puddles in a row I remember being surprised at how perfectly dry my feet were. Ha! The flip side: some days my feet were warmer than I cared for, but, for whatever reason, I didn’t find the Cadion to be as hot as other Goretex footwear I’ve worn. Maybe there was just less foam and stuff in the boot, maybe it’s just mental, maybe Timberland worked some kinda magic, but they seemed a bit cooler than your average GTX boot.

The Cadion also feels noticeably light, for a mid-top. I’ve worn heavier shoes, to be sure. It’s not a boot that will weigh your feet down after a day on the trail. With its sleeker fit, it’s also not a boot that will be jutting out to grab roots, rocks, and trail debris as you pass through. This stream-lined profile, combined with a closer fit, vaguely remind me of a rock-climbing shoe, but without the discomfort.

If you tend to think “waffle-stomper” when you hear the word “boot,” even though that boot is arguably half-way to a shoe, these will change your mind. It doesn’t have the clunkiness. It doesn’t have the weight. And it doesn’t have the “I have a 2 x 4 strapped to my foot” kind of feel. Shock absorption and walking comfort are excellent, without those qualities jumping out and calling attention to themselves.

The upper hook eyelets have the best, grabbiest hold I’ve noticed. The eyelets themselves are quite deep, with a recessed pocket of sorts furthest in. I never had the boots come untied. Conversely, sometimes I found it a bit more difficult to unlace the Cadion than I expected. In the end, I felt that having a boot that didn’t come untied was worth having to futz a wee bit more when taking them off.

The sole durability issue I had was, er, the sole. Both the right and left boot experienced some delamination of the sole from the midsole under the ball of my foot. It was just that lug on both boots. It did give me the opportunity to see the integration of the webbed midsole integrated under the outsole. The outsole and midsole otherwise have shown no sign of premature degradation.

When it gets right down to it, I would, indeed, consider this a mid-high (or mid-low, if you prefer) boot for ultralight or lightweight backpacking. It is not a boot that I would recommend buying online. Instead, I would recommend trying on the Cadion at a brick-and-mortar store. Although the fit could be considered roughly parallel to a broadly generalized “La Sportiva” kind of fit, it would be in your best interest to try this one on. Although relatively low volume and relatively narrow, as compared to a vast market of wide and voluminous footwear, I think this will do well for a number of backpackers.

The Timberland Cadion feels good after a day of logging some miles, gives a decent amount of support without announcing itself, and keeps me plenty dry splashing through early-season puddles. I was pleasantly surprised by how well Timberland approached this segment of the market, and they’ve reminded me to keep an open mind to purveyors I wouldn’t normally consider as “ultralight.” I wouldn’t describe the Cadion as my “end-all” boot, but I’ll gladly wear it on the trail.

The manufacturer provided this product to the author and/or Backpacking Light at no charge and is owned by the author/BPL. The author/Backpacking Light has no obligation to the manufacturer to review this product under the terms of this agreement.

Introduction

In the winter of 2011, Rab came out with the Infinity down jacket, one of the first commercial garments to use Pertex’s new Quantum GL 10D fabric (25 g/m²). The Infinity also marked the first time Rab used 850 fill power down in a product. This winter, GoLite entered the ring with the similarly designed, but lighter, Bitterroot down jacket, which also features Quantum GL and 850 fill power down. Both jackets have a bevy of features, like a full front zip, zippered hand pockets, internal pocket(s), and a hood.

Kristin wore the Infinity and I, the Bitterroot, through three months of backcountry skiing and camping in the European Alps and mountains of Norway. How do the two fare, on paper and under real world conditions?

Specifications

*See final note at end of article. New retail price is $199 as of March 2012.

Common Features on all jackets:

850 fill power down, Pertex Quantum GL shell and lining, stitch-through baffle construction, insulated hood with nonadjustable elastic closing, elastic cuffs, full front zip with YKK5 zipper, zippered hand pockets with YKK3 zipper, double cordlock hem, and stuff sack included.

Additional Features:

*Microfleece lining only on outer side of pocket, not on palm side. See photo in Performance.

Performance – Apples to Oranges

Kristin and I wore the jackets throughout a winter and spring of backcountry skiing. We wore the jackets at our snow camps, during lunch breaks, on summits, and even at night to boost the temperature rating of our 3-season quilt. We stuffed and unstuffed the jackets every day for months on end.

First, the fabric. At no time did the feathers poke through the Quantum GL. There are no tears, signs of abrasion, or unraveling seams. Moderate snowfall did not penetrate the Quantum GL, even though the fabric is not DWR treated. Call me impressed!

The jackets are both very warm for their weight thanks to the light fabric and large amount of high-quality down. The Rab has quite a bit more down and feels like it is overstuffed. After months of use, the Infinity still lofts fully. Originally, the GoLite jacket had nearly as much loft as the Rab. However, by the end of our testing period, there were certain areas that had compacted slightly, like the inside of the elbow and the armpit. This isn’t necessarily indicative of a difference between the jackets. I do sweat more and am a warmer sleeper than Kristin, so it’s possible that this moisture wilted the GoLite down feathers slightly. Rab has a simpler stitching pattern on the back, which could save a bit of weight and cost compared with Golite’s more complicated pattern. GoLite’s stitching creates more cold spots but should also better hold the down in place. I’m unaware if there is any consensus on which method is better.

Kristin generally wears a size small, but had to move up to a medium Infinity for her arms to fit. With the medium, the sleeves are nice and long, but the torso is still on the short side and the torso has way too much extra space. Rab keeps the torso short so as to not interfere with a climbing harness. However, Kristin (like most females I know) really prefers a longer torso to cover most of the hips for better warmth retention.

The GoLite zippers are more finicky. The hidden zippers on the hand pockets are more likely to catch. I often had trouble starting the front zipper on the Bitterroot – I generally have this problem with two-way zippers. Furthermore, I find it unnecessary to have a two-way zipper on a jacket unless the torso is seriously long. For those who prefer a two-way front zipper, the Bitterroot is the way to go. Otherwise, the Infinity gets the nod here.

The two interior pockets on the GoLite were more useful than the single Rab pocket. The Bitterroot’s small pocket held my camera batteries and iPhone, and the large one held gloves or socks for drying, a hot water bottle, or even the jacket itself! Meanwhile the Infinity’s interior pocket was just large enough to hold a phone, point-and-shoot camera, and/or a few snack bars.

Direct Comparison – Apples to Apples

Upon returning to the States, I got hold of a regular production Bitterroot (the orange one that I had tested out in the field was a prototype) and an Infinity, both in mens medium. Now I could compare apples to apples. The direct comparison highlighted a few differences between the jackets that Kristin and I noticed earlier, but couldn’t be sure if the variance was from comparing mens and womens models. The Rab hood is thicker, more snug and has a higher collar. Rab’s hood is meant to go under the helmet, whereas GoLite says that their hood is helmet-compatible.

The GoLite hand pockets are in a lower, more natural position whereas the Rab pockets are higher to avoid overlap with a climbing harness. The womens Infinity has micro-fleece lining on the outer portion of the pocket but not on the inner side. This is an excellent compromise,as it saves weight over a fully-lined pocket but still provides a soft touch to the more sensitive side of your hand, which happens to be the side that rests against the pocket (seriously, this is harder to describe than it is for you to go put your hands in your jacket pocket and see what I mean). I don’t understand why the women get this feature and the men do not. Similarly, the Bitterroot has a micro-fleece chin liner on the womens model, but not the mens. My chin stubble tears up the chins on most of my jackets over extended use, so I would appreciate the extra comfort and protection for the jacket, from me!

The mens jackets were cut like most down jackets – boxy and too much space around the torso for my preference. There was too much extra space even when wearing a thick baselayer and MontBell Thermawrap Parka. I also found that there was too much volume around the upper half of my arms, particularly with the Bitterroot. I exclusively wear mens medium-sized clothing, and particularly like the trim fit of MontBell and many European brands, so you may prefer the “standard” sizing of these jackets.

Conclusion

Both jackets are excellent. They are well made, very warm and pretty darn light considering all of the features. They are also designed for different users. The Infinity has more down, consistently smooth weather-proof zippers, a down-filled draft tube, snugger hood, higher collar and harness-friendly hand pockets. If you want maximum warmth and weather protection, this is clearly the better choice. On our scale, the Infinity jackets weigh less than Rab’s specifications, whereas the Bitterroot weighs more, relative to GoLite’s specs. Finally, the Infinity retails for $75 less than the Bitterroot, meaning you get a lot more jacket for the money.

However, the Infinity may be overkill for certain users. If you’re mostly backpacking, I’d definitely consider the Bitterroot. It may not be quite as warm (based on the amount of down and lack of draft tube), but has a hip-covering torso and is 3 ounces (85 grams) lighter. The interior pockets are very useful, the microfleece-lined hand pockets are soft on the hand and in a more comfortable location, and some might prefer the two-way front zipper.

Final note: As this article went to publication, GoLite announced their new direct-to-consumer business model which substantially lowered the retail price of their entire line of products. The Bitterroot now retails for $199 – an excellent value and a significant savings over the Infinity. With this new pricing, it’s harder to make a compelling argument that justifies spending the extra $100 on the Infinity.

Disclosure: The manufacturer provided this product to the author and/or Backpacking Light at no charge, and it is owned by the author/BPL. The author/Backpacking Light has no obligation to review this product to the manufacturer under the terms of this agreement.

Overview

The Rab Kinetic is a hard shell jacket that offers full features at a minimal weight. Much like it’s slightly lighter, but less featured sibling, the Pulse, the Kinetic is made of Pertex Shield Plus. Shield Plus is a 2.5 layer polyurethane coated fabric much like those offered on most other hard shells in this class. Compared to the previous Pertex Shield, the new Plus fabric has a much better feel, almost tissue paper-like. I much prefer the feel of the new Plus on my bare skin over the more trash bag-like feel of the previous Shield.

Just like the Pulse, the Kinetic offers a full zipper (YKK Aquaguard) backed by an internal storm flap, a roll down helmet compatible hood, and a single exit hem drawcord. The Kinetic, also like the Pulse, comes in a medium cut, and that is where the similarities end. The Kinetic weighs in at one ounce more than the Pulse, and that extra ounce comes from the addition of a stiffened brim, two mesh-back hand pockets in place of the single chest pocket, and adjustable velcro closures on the wrists in place of the elastic. Undoubtedly those changes will be well worth the extra weight to some and not worth the bother to others.

I have been using the Kinetic both on the trail and in town for the past couple of months and have found the performance quite favorable. Here in the Southeast, I find it practically impossible to hike with any hard shell during the warmer seasons. With our ridiculously high humidity I always find myself wet, either from my own perspiration or simply the rain itself, so unless hypothermia is a risk I usually choose the rain. With that said, if you’re looking for a lightweight shell capable of dealing with foul conditions the Kinetic is an excellent piece of gear.

Specifications