Part 2 of this tutorial examines the specifics of tunnel tent design and functionality and lists the commercially available tents.
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On paper, the Malpais has everything a gear junkie could possibly want, but does real-world experience with the jacket remind us of the disparity between some online dating profiles and the actual person?
Here there be an in-depth review of one contender from Dave Chenault’s Ultralight Waterproof-Breathable Jacket SOTMR, the GoLite Malpais. On paper (or more appropriately, “on monitor”), the Malpais has everything a gear junkie could possibly want. Very light (7.0 oz / 198.4 g), waterproof but breathable, and all the little features… a full hood, full zipper, two pockets, and adjustable cuffs. The Malpais is even made using a three-ply fabric, which should prove more durable in the long haul. But does real-world experience with the jacket remind us of the disparity between some online dating profiles and the actual person?
Weathering the rain in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Note the volume of the hood.
The first thing I noticed was the size and weight of the Malpais in its package. I’ve had windbreakers that felt heavier! When I started handling the jacket, its touch was silky and a reinforced kind of wispy. The tricot scrim of the third ply is of an exceptionally fine gauge, a barely discernible texture to its feel. The inside of the jacket is finished in a clean, restrained manner. The face fabric is about as silky as ripstop nylon will get. The pocket liners are of fine-gauge mesh and laminated to the shell.
Moving outward on inspection, the cuffs are curvy and shaped, with a sleek laminated tab for hook and loop (ie Velcro) closures; the attachment points are three neatly-placed dots of loop. The hood is noticeably large and deep, and its visor is substantial. It seems like one of the “features” most manufacturers skimp on for uber-light jackets is a good brim, and it baffles me, because a good visor can so greatly enhance a good hood. At any rate, that’s here! The hood has two hook and loop dots on back which seemed, frankly, almost superfluous – in essence, one dot is “neutral,” which allows for a single position of about 1.5 inches (3.8 cm) of adjustment. The front cord of the hood is incorporated very cleanly into the shell, a construction I’ve admired time and again when I’ve picked up the jacket, and the small shock cord tightens with a tiny neoprene line tensioner/rack/tri-slidish thing… more on that adjustment piece later.
Detail of the cuff sculpting and Velcro dots, also note the surface texture of the fabric.
Pulling on the jacket made me feel pretty much like the Hulk, as though I was of beastly growing proportions and on the verge of bursting through the material. Although the material almost seems to have a bit of stretch, it ain’t enough to accommodate the fit… this jacket runs a size small. The fit was so strange, in fact, that I had several friends of widely varying body habitus try on the Malpais. Conclusion? The fit is funky and small. It seemed to fit significantly tighter around the chest and shoulders than around the belly and lower back… or perhaps you could think of it as fitting more like a suit jacket than a rain jacket. The arm length was almost short on ME in the medium I would normally wear, and I normally find sleeves to be several inches too long. The cut was extremely restrictive… everyone who tried it on pretty much laughed when they tried to move. (Upon reflection, I suppose you could describe the fit as pear-like, or more Christmas tree than “V.”) One or two of the guys who run between a small and medium found the medium to jussssst fit. It is probably worthwhile to note that I was a retail buyer for about a decade, and between those who trial-fitted the jacket was probably another 15-20 years of experience with technical garments like this.
Needless to say I re-ordered the jacket a size up, going from a medium to a large. When the large came… well, the fit was still funky. And, honestly, still seemed a little tight, though mostly agreeably livable, to all who tried it on. It was strange, having a significant amount of room in the belly, but wondering if you would be able to wear more than a single layer to fit in the chest area of the shell. The large seemed like it would work just fine, though, and we moved on to other details.
The next thing that sprang (er, zipped) to attention was the zipper. I have helped so many people zip up new jackets that I should probably add “Zipper Slayer” to my resume, because I’m just that good and that experienced making finicky zippers work fine. That said, the Malpais zipper remains as curmudgeonly as the first day I donned the jacket. It works, but it’s stubborn. It doesn’t want to start. But once started, it zips up fine and stays closed, and I’ve always been able to get the zipper going (reminds me of getting an old car going in winter).
The pockets are in a great place for an around-town jacket, easy access for the day-to-day stuff, at a comfortable level. However, the pockets are also dead-center of a hipbelt, so if you were planning on wearing this ultralight rainjacket, say, backpacking… well, then, you’d best plan on not using the pockets. They are so perfectly placed at hipbelt level that it seems clear the designers had no intention of this being worn with a pack. Weird. If this jacket is, indeed, intended for use in the backcountry, while wearing a pack, I would recommend the pockets be (a) eliminated or (b) moved higher on the jacket. Bottom line, though, the pockets do not actively interfere with use of a pack… it wears fine with a pack, you just can’t really use the pockets.
I liked the minimalist design aesthetic of the neoprene “line tensioner” adjuster for the hood draw cords. Nice, clean, streamlined look. Field use, however, showed that the tensioners were probably best for the showroom. Quite simply, they don’t hold enough tension to keep their position on the cord when I’ve been in even a mild blow. The jacket would be a better product if these tensioners were simply replaced with a micro spring-toggle type. The neoprene things drove me batty on days I really wanted to batten down the hatches, given that I couldn’t keep things battened.
Battening down the hatches on a blustery day. You can make out the hood drawcord arrangement.
The cuffs fit nicely, and like so many other aspects of the jacket, they fit cleanly. The three dots of Velcro, however, were not quite sufficient for my taste. They do not afford much room for adjustment (think power tools: “on or off” versus “variable speed”), and I found that they would come unfastened periodically, seemingly of their own accord. Over all it wasn’t a big deal, they worked, but they were a bit of a nagging nuisance at times… and I think that sense was heightened by an otherwise great execution on cuff fit.
As the test period continued, I was surprised by how often I found myself wearing the Malpais. This’ll sound stupid, but it’s easy to wear. I think it’s an effect born of the minimal weight and a barely-there kind of feel? I did notice that the extra volume of the lower part of the jacket, combined with the (loaded) lower pockets, required zipping up the jacket to prevent swaying slap-happiness. I found the Malpais comfortable in a wide range of conditions and activities.
Breathability is hard to judge objectively. I generally believe that if you’re moving enough to sweat, you should wear less… so my tendency is to avoid wearing a shell unless it is particularly cool, wet, or windy. I did wear extra layers to stimulate sweat production for some parts of testing. Breathability struck me as average.
The fabric of my Malpais started showing small partial delamination puckers after relatively mild wear, less than a season of use. The good news is that although the points of delamination seem evident over the surface of the entire jacket, it doesn’t seem to be spreading from point to point… it seems “contained.” The delams uniformly stem from the edge of the ripstop grid, and most are contained to the perimeter of those grids, but some do cover, for example, the center of a grid or a few adjoining grids. The location and distribution of puckers made me consider whether it was purely a visual effect, some correlation of the micro gridstop and superlight fabric… but a more in-depth investigation of the fabric surface indicates regular partial delamination. (Some of the lamination difference in, say, seam tape can be seen even on heavier shell materials of other jackets, but the Malpais seems accentuated more than its weight would suggest.) The bumps or bubbles, for example, do not occur just at grid junctions, but also along lines and multiple cells. Also consistent with my experience of waterproof-breathable fabric delamination is a noted concentration of the defects at higher-wear areas of the jacket. How concerned am I about potential delamination? Not particularly, really. Strictly speaking, it shouldn’t affect performance much, and so far it seems as though it probably won’t make a significant impact on garment longevity. It is, however, a cosmetic issue that is indicative of a potential for reduced service life of the jacket. Otherwise, durability of the shell was quite good, holding up to some mild brush-busting kinda travel.
Note “surface texture” on the shell, dimpling suggestive of at least incomplete bonding of materials. Look either side of the seam tape, and also along the tape just above photo center.
So where does that leave us? While the Malpais shines in some areas, it is not an “end-all” piece. The light weight and great hand of the jacket, combined with a full front zip, make it a joy to “just toss on.” (Except when you’re stuck standing there, just trying to get the zipper started.) The jacket fit, however, needs some reconsideration, and the hood desperately needs some cord locks that, well, lock, and a rear adjustment with better range. As I noted earlier, I don’t see the point in putting pockets at “city” level for an ultralight shell… and I’d guess that GoLite decided to produce this jacket more specifically toward the travel-oriented crowd, not the ultralight backpacking crowd. Whoever they’re marketing this jacket for, though, it could use a few tweaks. It works, it’s really light, it packs small, and it’s not likely to blow apart on you anytime soon… all of which make it worthy of consideration, though in certain aspects the jacket is remarkably average.
Enjoying a surprise sunset along Pictured Rocks National lakeshore after a day of cold rain. The Malpais kept me warm and dry.
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 the manufacturer to review this product under the terms of this agreement.
How tunnel tents work, why they can handle extreme weather, and how to pitch them under extreme conditions.
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Developing a relationship with the outdoors and teaching others to do the same, introducing kids to the charm of the backcountry has a magic all its own.
Step by step, five hikers made their way up Bear Canyon at Guadalupe Mountains National Park. Fifteen-year-old Ozzie appeared farther ahead after every switchback. Fourteen-year-olds Ben and Will stopped more often, to marvel at the widening view of the desert expanse below and to rest and wonder what they had gotten themselves into. Grownups Abby and Mina, bringing up the rear, wove in and out of bright hot sun and cool glades, chatting and admiring the kids’ progress. Ozzie never missed a beat. Near the top Ben and Will were really questioning the wisdom of their route choice – 2,000 feet up in 1.8 miles on a warm June day – but when we topped out on the high south rim they were ecstatic. Moving on through the open forest of The Bowl, the level walking was easier, and packs were already lightened from lunch and from drinking some of the 16-20 pounds (7-9 kg) of water each had, to start, for our 2.5-day waterless loop.
To plan this with kids, we drew on all we had learned about winnowing a kit down to make room for the water. Nobody had a single extra garment. Shelter was limited to two Integral Designs silnylon tarps – an 8 x 10 and a SilWing. We benefitted from the park’s ignition ban and did not carry stove or fuel, just no-cook meals. Sleeping bags were thin. Ozzie especially got into the discussion of pack weight, and on his own came up with the idea that razor blades would be better than a knife. Will thought a knife would be more useful. Their back-and-forth banter on razor blades vs. knife continued through the hike, becoming a fun game for all of us. (Mina and Abby thought they had wandered into a real-life BPL forum.) All three kids came home with a sense of accomplishment and an inkling of ambition to plan and go on a trip somewhere even more wild and exotic (in their minds), like Yosemite or Glacier.
Triumphant! Will, Ozzie, and Ben atop Bear Canyon, with the west Texas desert far, far below. Guadalupe Mountains National Park, June 2011.
I, Mina, felt encouraged by how this trip played out, but also understood how far we have to go. In our Camp Fire USA backpacking program, we have many more kids who would have enjoyed it, but who did not sign up because they (or their parents) thought it would be too hard to carry the water. About a dozen of them went on another trip later in the summer, to stream-filled southern Colorado, and had a great time. This winter we’ll have a discussion about what trips to do next summer. Already some who opted out of Guadalupe are showing renewed interest.
For those unfamiliar with Camp Fire USA, the organization was started in 1910 as Camp Fire Girls, by some of the same people who were involved in starting the YMCA/YWCA and Boy Scouts of America, as the original girls’ counterpart to BSA. In 1975 Camp Fire opened all its programs to everyone and is now the only national, fully inclusive scouting-type organization. We are less highly structured than either BSA or Girl Scouts, so programs vary by region. Here in central Texas, Balcones Council’s backpacking program was started in the mid-1990s after I had been taking my older son’s club on weekend backpacking trips to area state parks. I assumed coordination of the whole program, as a volunteer, about eight years ago. I originally got involved as a club leader with Camp Fire when seeking an outdoor program for my then-second-grade older son, that his younger sister could join with him. (We attract many families who do not want to segregate their kids, or who do not want as much formality, and the effect of the girls and boys coming up together in their outdoor adventures is, in my opinion, very beneficial. But that is another discussion.)
For all our adult knowledge, kids often seem to lead the way. I remember back on some of the earliest trips, my then-12-year-old daughter and her best friend, both tiny, would waltz off with the minimum possible in their little external-frame REI Long Trail youth packs – minimal sleeping bags, shared undersized discount-store tent, Pop Tarts and Ramen for alleged nourishment, dime store ponchos, no extra clothing at all, hardly any doo-dads to speak of. They had a great time, rain or shine. The older teens would be burdened down with large tents, multiple changes of clothing, full-body rain slickers, big flashlights, books, towels, etc. In those days we were all “traditional” backpackers. Colin Fletcher spoke of lightening the load, but still recommended a lot of “just in case” equipment and supplies. We restricted our program to sixth grade age and older to increase the odds that the kids would be large enough to carry their own gear successfully. Still, it opened up the fun of backpacking to teens from clubs with non-backpacker advisors, and attracted additional kids who just wanted to get outside, without joining a weekly club.
Jeremy, age 17 in August 1998, setting out on the John Muir Trail.
Our journey to lightweight was sparked by my older son, then 16, who discovered Ray Jardine’s Pacific Crest Trail Handbook in 1997, decided he wanted to thru-hike the PCT, came to his senses and lowered his sights to the John Muir Trail, researched, planned, and solo-hiked it at age 17 in summer 1998, with a little 5 x 8 flat tarp, tennis shoes, a frameless rucksack, and no stove. The following winter my daughter’s club backpacked the South Rim at Big Bend National Park, with 20 pounds (9 kg) of water apiece for three nights. On that trip, my pack, my heaviest since Outward Bound in 1975, weighed 53 pounds (24 kg), nearly half my body weight. It would have been even heavier were I not gradually learning to take less stuff, even though I didn’t know much about lighter stuff yet. A couple of the larger teens, and my husband, carried over 70 pounds (32 kg) each. It was a beautiful trip (two trip members saw a mountain lion!), but it was very hard for all of us. By this time we knew the issue, but we just didn’t know what to do about it.
Taking it all! One of our 17-year-olds, first Pecos Wilderness trip, summer 2001.
In summer 2001 our council-wide program took its first summer mountain trip, to Pecos Wilderness in New Mexico, for a four-night loop up to East Pecos Baldy. Every summer since then we have offered a week-long trip to the mountains somewhere, and held four or five weekend trips during fall-winter-spring (our “season” here in Texas). We have chosen not to restrict participation much – the only firm requirements are attending an initial Orientation workshop, and that a participant must have been on at least one weekend trip with Camp Fire before being eligible for a summer trip. It is an ever-changing group, with some folks just dropping in for a trip or two, some stalwarts sticking with us for years, and many participating on and off when they can, around their busy school schedules. It makes for a challenging learning process, since we are always starting afresh with new kids and parents. Fortunately we always have at least a few veterans around, to set an example. While we recognize the potential benefits of more advanced-training requirements, in the interest of getting more youth (and parents) outdoors and into the backcountry, we have opted to be as flexible as we think we can be in reasonable safety, and do most of our teaching on the trips as we go.
Way up on top of East Pecos Baldy, 12,529 ft, summer 2010. Theresa, center, is following in the footsteps of her older sister, who went on our 2003 and 2004 trips to the same area.
In summer 2005 I drove up to Salt Lake City, on my own, to attend Outdoor Retailer, with the dual goals of learning more about the outdoor equipment industry (I was thinking of a gear resale shop either as a business or as a funding stream for Camp Fire), and of seeking out possible sources of major grants for our program. Neither of these goals panned out exactly, but I did wander the exhibit halls of the Salt Palace mesmerized for three days, and met and talked to a lot of enthusiasts. Off on the side of the big hall was a small table with a really interesting magazine called Backpacking Light, and a couple of friendly guys who were happy to listen to my story of taking kids outdoors – Vic Lipsey and Ryan Jordan. They gave me their cards and some of the magazines. Back in Texas, I looked up the website, then buried myself in the site and the magazines, the enthusiasm there was so contagious. I also emailed a bunch of “thank you” notes to various people I had collected cards from at OR, and was pleasantly surprised by a reply from BPL offering Balcones Council a group subscription to the magazine and the site! (BPL was the only contact I heard back from.) BPL has renewed us each year since, and the group subscription has allowed me to add access for other volunteer leaders.
How has access to BPL helped our program? Probably most importantly, it has helped me, and some of the other most involved adult volunteers, learn much more about our whole relationship to backpacking and outdoor adventures. By this I mean, not just lightening up on equipment, although that is certainly a critical concern, but the broader skill set that goes with a deeper understanding of how equipment, knowledge, and skills are used in the outdoors. We didn’t just find out about the existence of silnylon tarps and tarptents, we had our minds opened to realize that we, too, could use them successfully. We didn’t just learn about lightweight packs available on the market, we were motivated to select REI UL packs when REI gave us an equipment grant, instead of their “sturdy” conventional packs weighing twice as much. We learned about the issues surrounding water treatment and backwoods hygiene, fire starting, managing altitude effects, weather safety, and backpacking food. Of course, we knew the basics of these issues before, but the depth and quality of information available on BPL helped give us the confidence actually to try out what we were learning, and to let the kids try things out as well. When one of the kids wanted to bring just a bivy for shelter, our BPL reading gave us the confidence to let him do it, and he has continued happily using that old bivy through rain, hail, cold, and wind for the last four years.
Experimenting with a tube tent. Cheap, light, condensation city!
We have added occasional in-town skills meetings to our schedule, between trips, to just get down and practice something for a couple of hours, like effective fire building, setting up tarps, or hanging food bags – things you can’t just read about, but that should be practiced before you need to be able to do them on a trip. We already knew about alcohol stoves and ULA packs, but it was through BPL that we learned about Caldera Cones, Gossamer Gear, Gatewood Capes, mini-dropper bottles and fine headnets, DriDucks, and so many other gear options. Even when, often because of cost to the families, it is not feasible to equip each participant with the lightest of up-to-date gear, for those of us leaders willing and able to invest, it enables us to carry that required big first aid kit, that extra backup equipment, or that notebook with all the signed medical forms and emergency plans and contacts, without overloading ourselves.
Lara and Theresa enjoy success at a firebuilding practice meeting.
Each spring we do a service project at Lost Maples State Natural Area. On this trip, we painted the overlook benches.
In an ongoing program like ours, some issues will always be with us. Because we are always integrating new families, some of whom are complete beginners to camping, or at least to backpacking, or in which the parents know only heavyweight backpacking, we always have folks at every stage of the learning process, from beginners to old hands. Most kids will pay more attention to older kids than they will to adults, so it helps a lot when the high school age teens find time in their busy schedules to keep participating and take on some of the teaching roles. They give our “trailhead talks,” tell stories (“This is what happened when I got separated from the group that time and I didn’t have my whistle with me,” is a whole lot more effective than just “Remember to carry your whistle all the time,”), make themselves available to help newcomers set up shelters or read maps, and entertain with their own food experiments. Parents are actually a greater challenge than kids when it comes to getting a workable kit. Parents are welcome to participate on trips, and many do. Parents tend to worry more (of course, it’s their job) about “what ifs” and want to pack too many redundancies, large quantities, or overkill equipment.
We have to insist that parents allow their youth to assemble and pack their own kits, with, if necessary, an older (or just more experienced) youth to help them sort it out. But with the adults, we have to do as many BPLers have found is necessary with their hiking buddies, and lead more by example than direct instruction. On our first weekend trip for this season, a one-nighter, I had a mom who had hardly even been camping before, let alone walked over a mile from the car, who felt she needed, just for herself, a four-person tent and what looked to me like a week’s worth of food. What didn’t fit in her pack went into a hand-carried grocery bag. She still had a good time and wants to at least send her son on future trips, and she was able to observe other people on the trip happily managing with much less.
A couple of our traditional, “I know what I want to bring, and I can carry it just fine,” parent volunteers, Pecos Wilderness 2010. Note the climbing rope – we had nothing on our route for which a rope would be useful, but being a cautious dad, he brought it “just in case.”
At one end of the spectrum, we have experienced parents wanting to carry the same massive kit they’ve had since the 1980s, and by contrast, parents like the one who asked me to recommend a shelter she could use for her family of four on Camp Fire canoeing trips and share with her older daughter without too much weight when the two of them came backpacking. Following my suggestion, she had a TarpTent Hogback shipped out within a week. Most parents are supportive, especially when they learn that it is better to wash out some recycled soda bottles for water instead of buying a bunch of $10.00 Nalgenes, that we really do recommend kids share a shelter, or that ponchos/DriDucks/closed cell foam pads are not just cheaper, but better for our purposes than their expensive cousins.
One of the most important effects of our BPL membership, though, is its effect on me personally, as the program coordinator. I have a lot of responsibilities in this job, including outreach, recruiting, and arranging for training of adult volunteers, working out – with the group – the destinations and a calendar, preparing and conducting Orientations for new participants, making sure the trips have leaders and assistants, leading trips myself, accounting for trip expenses, helping families locate gear, reporting to the Council and to the group, working with the Council to maintain and update our equipment library, organizing skills meetings, scouting out new destinations, and more. As a backpacking enthusiast, it would be a whole lot easier for me to simply go backpacking a lot, with my husband for companionship (yes, we do that too), than shepherd this whole varied group of teens and families out with me, even after my own three kids are all grown up. I do enjoy watching all these people, especially the teenagers, enter a new world of forest and meadow and mountaintop and learn to make themselves at home there. Every time I visit BPL, I can hang out with a whole community of folks whose enthusiasm is infectious; I feel supported and know that the volunteer effort it takes to keep this program and all these kids finding the magic of the backcountry really is worth it.
Pecos Wilderness 2010. These kids have their kits a lot more streamlined than what we used to carry!
A few simple modifications to make your BushBuddy faster and even more covet-worthy!
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An adventure racing pack with innovative design elements, how does it perform as an ultralight backpack?
While adventure racing might not be on the radar of most ultralight backpackers, adventure racing gear certainly shows up on our pack lists and wish lists quite often. Companies like Terra Nova, OMM, Inov-8, Salomon, and Brooks-Range are well known for their drool-worthy adventure racing equipment and clothing. Now UK-based Berghaus has entered the fray. Their special R&D team, MtnHaus, has given special effort to designing the frameless Octans 40 for two-time Adventure Racing World Champion, Team Orion.
It is not often that Backpacking Light reviews an adventure race pack. However, the Octans 40 has definite crossover appeal to ultralight backpackers. As such, we are reviewing it as a backpack, not as an adventure racing pack.
| Manufacturer | Berghaus |
| Year/Model | 2011 Octans 40 |
| Style | Frameless adventure race pack |
| Sizes Available | One size |
| Fabrics | Ardura 70D RS for main pack body, stretchy mesh for pockets |
| Features | Adjustable sternum strap with whistle buckle, attached lid with two zippered pockets, drawcord closure, EVABREATHE perforated foam on shoulder straps, two side pockets, one front pocket, two zippered hipbelt pockets, removable zippered chest pocket, removable perforated back panel foam pad, four side compression straps, 3-liter hydration bladder holder with two hydration ports, removable quick-release pole attachment straps, haul loop, thumb loops |
| Volume | 2440 cu in (40 L) not including pockets |
| Weight | Manufacturer: 24.7 oz (700 g) Measured: 24.8 oz (703 g) including 1.30 oz (37 g) removable front pouch |
| Volume to Weight Ratio | 98.4 cu in / oz (based on 2440 cu in and measured weight of 24.8 oz) |
| Maximum Comfortable Carrying Capacity |
20 pounds (9.07Â kg) |
| Carry Load to Pack Weight Ratio |
12.9 (based on 20 lb  and 1.54 lb weight) |
| MSRP | $110 (available in the US at www.thetannery.com or www.Berghaus.com) |
The Octans 40 is a feature-rich frameless rucksack that weighs 24.7 ounces (700 g). The pack’s volume should be big enough for most ultralight backpackers: 2440 cubic inches (40 L), plus at least another 500 cubic inches (8 L) in the pockets. The feature set seems minimalist at times, with no back panel mesh and no frame, and yet extravagant (at least in UL terms) with eight pockets, a lid, and a three-liter hydration reservoir holder.
Left: The pack has a large front stuff-it pocket, tightened with a single-buckle closure to the lid. Center: Each side has an angled side pocket and two angled compression straps. Right: On the back, a haul loop, wide contoured shoulder straps, and a light hipbelt with mesh pockets complete the setup. The pack measures 15.5 inches (38.4 cm) from the top of the shoulder straps to the middle of the hipbelt.
Left: Starting at the top: unusually, the lid’s large exterior pocket is made from stretchy mesh instead of a solid fabric, while the bottom layer is 70D ripstop. This means that precipitation would soak anything in that top pocket, but the rest of the backpack would be better protected. The pocket is 10 inches (25.4 cm) wide and has a wrap-around 15-inch (38-cm) zipper. Right: The lid also has a small interior pocket made of the same mesh with a 6-inch (15.2-cm) zipper.
Left: The contoured shoulder straps are made of EVABREATHE – a highly perforated foam that adds structure and padding while increasing breathability. The adjustable sternum strap has a section of stretchy webbing and a whistle built into the buckle. Right: Load lifter straps are not commonly found on frameless packs, but Berghaus included them to aid in pack stability.
Left: The hipbelt’s overall width is 2.5 inches (6.4 cm) wide, with a 1.0-inch (2.5-cm) gap in the middle. This gap saves weight while spreading out the pressure around the hipbone, as opposed to directly on it. Excess strap from the hipbelt can be threaded between the hipbelt and the pocket and out by the hips, so as not to dangle in front of the user. The shoulder straps are attached to the bottom of the pack at its widest point. Right: The hipbelts, however, start 2.0 inches (5.1 cm) inward, which allows them to wrap around the waist more snugly.
Left: The back panel has no mesh, but it does have non-slip printing on the torso and waist area. This is meant to keep the pack from sliding around while wearing a wind or rain shell. Right: The pack seems to be made for precipitous British weather, as there are two water drainage holes on the bottom of the pack body.
Left: A 3L hydration bladder pocket is nearly as big as the whole back panel. Right: Behind that pocket and held in place by a Velcro flap, the red perforated foam pad gives a bit of structure to the pack while also protecting the user against hard, pointy objects from jabbing in the back.
Left and Center: To save weight, MtnHaus used only one buckle, attached directly to the lid, to connect the front pocket compression strap to the lid. Shown here is the top side and bottom side of the two-piece female buckle pressed together through the lid fabric, eliminating the use of an extra strap and sewing. Right: The side compression straps are Y-shaped, increasing the compression area without much gain in weight. The gear attachment loop is adjustable and easily removable.
Kristin and I used the Octans 40 for a number of hikes throughout the European Alps in the Spring of 2011. I am 6’0″ (1.83m) and she is 5’7″ (1.70m) and the shoulder straps and hipbelt are sufficiently adjustable for fitting the pack to our different length torsos.
The foam pad did exactly what it is supposed to do: increase structural rigidity and add cushioning to the back panel. The foam does not absorb water. At 1.48 ounces (42 g) it could be removed to save weight, but this would not be worth it for most backpackers. For comparisons sake, this is almost exactly the same weight as the foam panel on the 2011 GoLite Peak, though the Berghaus foam is slightly denser and thinner and is perforated. I was comfortable carrying about 20 pounds (9.1 kg) with the Octans 40, which is standard for frameless backpacks (see review of GoLite Peak).
The foam pad is of course removable and may even be used by hardy adventure racers as a sleeping pad. Backpackers would probably use a half– or three-quarter-length sleeping pad and put this backpack under their legs. As an added bonus, the size of the foam sleeve (21 x 10 in / 53 x 25 cm) is such that a user could replace the Berghaus pad with their own folded-up sleeping pad, either three-quarter air or torso-sized foam, and it would be held in place and protected from the contents of the main compartment.
The pocket for a very large hydration bladder, is shown here with three sections of a Therm-a-Rest Z-Rest pad for added vertical rigidity.
The hydration reservoir pocket is huge, to the point that it may be considered overkill. I have owned half a dozen hydration bladders, but none are as wide and deep as this hydration pocket, 9.5 x 19 inches (24.1 x 28.2 cm). Out of curiosity on one hike, I was able to put 6 liters into the pocket. On the plus side, the pocket is big enough to slide two to four sections of a Therm-a-Rest Z-Rest. This adds more rigidity to the pack without pushing the center of gravity too far away from the user’s back.
Left: The sweat-soaked back panel after I was hiking on a warm spring day. Right: Kristin preferred to wear the pack leaning slightly away from her body, which helps with airflow.
The lack of mesh on the back panel does not bother me. I have used a GoLite Jam for years, which does not have mesh, and so I am used to it. However, some users might find it uncomfortable. With three layers of fabric and a foam pad in between, back sweat won’t push through to the contents inside the main compartment. The mesh-less back panel is good for backpackers in wet climates, as mesh tends to quicken the break down of waterproof shells.
I think the lid pocket is really great. At first I was unsure why Berghaus put mesh fabric on the top of the lid pocket. Any precipitation would soak right through to the contents of the pockets (but unlikely to get into the pack, as the bottom fabric is 70d ripstop). In sunny weather, the pocket works as well as any, with the added bonus that you can put wet clothing up there to dry (I wash my socks every day). In inclement weather, I have decided that the best use of the lid pocket is to hold a rain or wind shell, as long as the jacket is folded up such that the interior jacket fabric is not exposed. When the jacket is stored there, it can add an extra layer of water protection to the lid or conversely, dry out when the weather is good. When the weather turns ugly, the jacket is accesseble without opening the main compartment. The 15-inch (38-cm) long zipper wraps half way around the entire lid, allowing superb access.
The gear straps work well with trekking poles. It would be difficult to securely strap an ice axe to the lower gear loop, though, and it would certainly pose a danger to the surrounding mesh. In this photo, the pack is definitely under stuffed to have good rigidity for a frameless pack, showing its limit as a dayback.
The side pockets work well with some water bottles, but not others. The pockets are too shallow to securely hold Nalgenes, for example, unless the pack is fairly empty. I have had good luck with certain varieties of 1L bottled water and the 1L Platypus. The front pocket is a nice size and the mesh make it a good place to hold wet items, like a tarp, or trail-accessible items like an extra layer, sit pad, or camp shoes.
Sternum straps don’t generally gather accolades, but I think this one is great. The strap has 6.5 inches (16.5 cm) of vertical adjustment along the shoulder strap. One side of the strap has a stretch nylon which can expand from 1.5 to 3.5 inches (3.8 to 8.9 cm). This keeps the backpack snug and stable, without being as restrictive of torso movements and breathing as a static strap. To top it off, the sternum buckle has a built-in whistle. None of these features are extraordinary, but to have them all was much appreciated. For those who don’t use a sternum strap, this one is removable.
Trying out the thumb loops.
The wide shoulder straps are very comfortable and allow better breathability than most straps that I have tried. The lift loaders are probably unnecessary for most backpackers (and can be cut off to save weight), but are appreciated by adventure racers for load stability. The shoulder strap’s webbing is extra long and has thumb loops at the end. These worked fine when I tested them, but I never got into the habit of using them. Many hikers use trekking poles, myself included, so thump loops are not desired. These straps could be shortened by the user to save weight, or at least to eliminate the dangling portion.
Left: The chest pocket is a super accessible storage space. It is held snugly with four corner straps, each of which has three attachment points to chose from. Right: The pocket is big enough to swallow a large wind shell and the zipper makes access easy.
I am undecided about the chest pocket. It does allow me to keep one more item close at hand, whether it be a map and compass, GPS unit, camera, or a wind shell. There is the choice of three attachment points (little red loops) on each of the shoulder straps and hipbelts, so the pocket can fit around an assortment of bellies. However, the pocket may not be worth the hassle of having to take it off before being able to take off the rest of the pack. This is especially true when there are already two large hipbelt and side pockets.
The hipbelt pocket can accommodate three to four energy bars or a digital camera with room to spare. The chest pocket can attach to any of the three red loops on top of the hipbelt pocket seen here.
The hipbelt is excellent. It is comfortable to wear, yet does a good job of transferring pack weight to the hips. I think this is partially due to the unique design: the hipbelts are sewn 2.0 inches (5.1 cm) in from the normal attachment point (the outermost edge of the pack). This placement really allows for a good fit, which is maybe how Berghaus got away with such a light hipbelt. The hipbelt pockets are nicely sized – big enough to be useful, but not too big as to get in the way. Hard items, like my camera, did not dig into my hips. The one-way #3 YKK zipper operated smoothly and allowed ample access to the pocket. The stretchy mesh fabric adjusted to the contours of the contents.
While appearance doesn’t generally affect performance, something has to be said about the visual charactaristics of the Octans 40. The Intense blue and blaze red colors, along with the giant Berghaus logo, make this pack really stand out, and not necessarily in a good way. For racing, standing out might be seen as a good thing. For backpackers, however, the colors might be considered too bright to have a place in the wilderness. I don’t like the glaring colors, but some might appreciate the ability to flag down emergency helicopters with the pack (I generally own a bright rain shell for this reason). Certainly, white pockets aren’t the best for backpacking as they show dirt too quickly.
The focus of the Octans 40 is on speed, which means that function is given a higher priority than low pack weight. If the net effect is that an added feature enables the racer to go faster, then it would be worth the weight penalty. Accordingly, the Octans 40 has a lot of pockets for easy, on-trail access, and a few features that a backpacker might not need. There are a few little things that could be done to lower the weight, like eliminate the interior lid pocket, shorten the hipbelt and shoulder strap webbing, shrink the hydration reservoir sleeve, and remove the load lifter straps.The Octans 40 is definitely light, but there are several backpacks on the market that are A) lighter, B) weigh the same but also have a frame, or C) weigh the same and use more durable materials.
The Octans 40 is relatively tough and should last a long time, but it’s not burly enough for winter alpine use. The 70 denier ripstop is a nice middle ground between ultralight sil-nylon and ultra-durable Dyneema Gripstop. The abundant use of mesh, however, might be a weak point in the long run. That being said, we found the mesh to be reasonably durable and suffered no holes, snags, or abrasions. During our testing period, Kristin and I were also traveling, and we used the Octans 40 as a travel bag, so it saw a lot of use.
Unfortunately, the pack’s compression system is too limited to make the Octans 40 usable as a day pack. The color scheme, particularly the white mesh, isn’t ideal for wilderness settings. The pack is only available in one size, so it will not fit those on either end of the spectrum of torso or waist sizes.
However, there are plenty of reasons to like the Octans 40. The plethora of pockets will be appreciated by those who like to be uber-organized. The volume hits a sweet spot that should please most ultralight backpackers. The shoulder straps and hipbelts are some of the best I’ve used. There are a lot of well thought-out features and design innovations. At $110, the pack certainly represents a very good value. I bet it makes a killer adventure racing pack!
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 the manufacturer to review this product under the terms of this agreement.
The Starbursts are packed. What else could they need?!
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Does a bigger diameter result in stronger poles, and what’s the weight trade-off?
Easton Mountain Products have been making trekking poles since 2008 and introduced the three-piece adjustable CTR-70 trekking poles in 2010. The long-time carbon fiber tent pole maker’s effort boasts some of the category’s largest diameter carbon fiber shafts, which should equate to very strong poles. Does the equation actually pencil out, and what kind of trade-offs does this mean for weight conscious backpackers?
| Manufacturer | Easton Mountain Products |
| Model | CTR-70 Trekking Poles |
| Style | Three-section collapsible, adjustable length |
| Shaft material | Carbon fiber |
| Tip material |
Carbide |
| Length extended: | 52.5 in (140 cm) |
| Length collapsed: | 25.5 in (65 cm) |
| Weight listed | 20.5 oz (580.5 g) |
| Weight measured: | 20.1 oz (570 g) |
| Incl. snow baskets | 2 oz (57 g) |
| MSRP | $120 |
The Easton Mountain Products CTR-70 trekking poles in extended and collapsed position. The included winter snow baskets are a nice touch.
The Easton Mountain Products CTR-70 Poles were the company’s first trekking poles, but had many years of their tent pole making experience behind them. It shows.
The CTR-70 poles are made of three sections of carbon fiber with a multi-directional carbon layer construction. The shafts, which are in three telescoping sections, are pretty beefy at 19 mm diameter for the upper, 17 mm for the middle, and 15 mm for the lower section. The sections have been painted and the weave of the fiber can’t be seen through it.
The lower and middle sections have adjustment marks applied in 1-inch (2.5-cm) increments which, when set to the corresponding marks, will adjust the pole from 39 to 52.5 inches (100 to 140 cm) in 2-inch (5-cm) steps. Of course, they can be set to any length in between also. A “stop” is printed 1 inch (2.5 cm) above the last mark on both sections.
The patent-pending Rock-Lock clamps are Easton’s answer to slip free pole security. Tension is set by rotating the lever in or out, and when closed uses a cam action to clamp down on the shaft sections.
Attached to the lower ends of the upper and middle pole sections are Easton’s patent-pending Rock-Lock clamps. The clamps are a low-profile toggle joint design that uses a cam action to lock the pole sections in place. To adjust the Rock-Lock, you rotate the buckle lever to the desired position (which increases or decreases the pressure put on the shaft), re-engage the toggle joint, and snap the lever closed. Once set to the desired tension, the lever can be locked and unlocked for collapsing the pole without losing locking tension. In the picture immediately above, one of the clamps is in the open position, the other is closed. The body of the Rock-Lock wraps around the shaft and itself when closed.
Left: the extended grip gives plenty of room to grasp anywhere on the top 13 inches (33 cm) of the poles. A very big, wide (and sweat inducing) Dura-Light strap can be adjusted by means of pulling the locking plug (top right) adjusting the length and popping the plug back in (bottom right).
At the top of the CTR-70 poles is an extended gripping area made of EVA foam. The upper portion of the grip is pretty good sized, maybe the largest I have had to date on my various trekking poles. The grips are not right-and-left, so it does not matter which pole you grab first. The very top of the grip is a more durable rubber-type material, which will take more abuse when palming the top of the poles on a steep descent. The extended portion of the grip is a 7.25-inch (18.4-cm) continuation of the EVA foam.
The handles have a pin running through the top, which is used to hold the Dura-Light webbing straps, which are the widest straps I have ever seen on trekking poles. The straps adjust by way of a knurled locking plug in the back of the grip. The adjustment strap runs over and back under it. Lifting the strap upwards allows the plug to be pulled out for adjustment. When the plug is pushed back in and pressure is applied downward to the strap (such as it would be in use), the strap is locked in place.
One thing I found right away is that the straps are so big and wide that, while very supportive, they made my wrist sweat like crazy. After my first trip with them I pulled them off. I weighed the straps to find that yanking them saved a full ounce (29 g) per pole!
At the business end of the CTR-70 poles is a hard nylon tip with a press-in, replaceable carbide point. The carbide is concave instead of knurled at the tip. A set of small trekking baskets came attached to the poles. While all my other trekking poles made me purchase wider snow baskets, Easton sees fit to include them. Nice!
Three-season use with the Easton poles. Clockwise from top left: Hiking in the San Gabriel River through The Narrows. Crossing a creek on the PCT. Climbing above the raging North Fork Kern River. Stormy hiking high in the Sierra Nevada near Piute Pass.
Because of a horrible work situation, I ended up getting to really put these poles to the test. I put 600 miles (966 km) of backpacking in with them. In California, I used them heavily in the Sierra Nevada where I hiked in Yosemite, Kings Canyon, and Sequoia National Parks along with a lot of other State Forests and Wilderness Areas. These trips saw elevations to over 13,000 feet (3,962 m) and a lot of rough rocky trails. The poles also saw a lot of river and stream crossings with trips along, and in, the Sespe and San Gabriel rivers. With record snowfall, normally placid streams were pretty challenging at times and I literally leaned heavily on the CTR-70 poles.
I also used them quite a bit in Minnesota, much of it on snow either pulling a gear sled or carrying a pack. Most of the trips were on the North Country Trail in Itasca State Park, Paul Bunyan and Mississippi Headwaters State Forests, and Chippewa National Forest. The most memorable trip was three days backpacking in Voyageurs National Park where we were just a couple miles from the border of Canada. It got down to -31 F (-35 C) on that trip. We alternated hiking on frozen lakes and then going onto “land” to try to trace the Cruiser Trail System. There was so much snow that we hiked over the brush and downed trees, many times punching through and thrashing our poles in the hidden branches. My hiking partner lost two baskets to the brush, only being able to save one, while my Eastons never blinked. On the frozen lake, the tips bit nicely into the ice, allowing me to propel myself somewhat.
Winter use for the CTR-70 poles.Top: Climbing to find the Cruiser Trail in Voyageurs NP. Bottom left: Bootin’ it on the Halverson Trail in Paul Bunyan State Forest. Bottom right: Crossing Kabetogama Lake in a frigid snow storm.
The Rock-Lock clamps work quite well. I never had them slip while they were in the closed position. I specify “closed position” because I found that since the poles are identical (not right or left), the upper lever on my right-hand pole will sometimes bounce off heavy brush into my side and catch the cargo pocket of my pants. Every once in a while it is enough to pop the lever open. If the poles were made with the Rock-Locks spun around on one pole, this would never happen.
Other than that, the Rock-Locks are great. They are fast and easy to adjust, so much easier than my twist lock poles. This is especially nice when using with a shelter like the Nemo Meta, where raising the pole after placing it inside works best. The CTR-70 poles worked great with my other pole-supported shelters too. Their length is perfect for Henry Shires’s Sublites.
Gimme Shelter, the Easton poles being used for support with a Nemo Meta 2 in Yosemite, a Henry Shires Sublite Sil in Itasca, and one of his Tyvek Sublites on the PCT at Dove Spring.
Although I had problems with the straps, the grips themselves are great. They are the best fitting grips I have used to date. I have large hands and many grips are too skinny to be comfortable. Like Goldilocks said, “these ones are just right.” I do not ever use the extended portion of the grip, but I do palm the top when descending steep areas. I found the grip quite comfortable for this application too.
The poles are very strong, and the standard BackpackingLight weight test shows it. With the pole resting on two chairs 43.3 inches (110 cm) apart, I hung a collapsible bucket with 25 pounds (11.34 kg) at the center. The pole only deflected 1.2 inches (30.5 mm), as can be seen to the right.
Durability has been very good. I really beat the crud out of these poles. Once when trying to go under a deadfall at the same time as I stepped over another one, I caught my pack and ended up taking a fall. My right pole flipped over the lower tree, hitting the ground handle down with the upper section of pole leaning on the trunk. I fell onto the pole and grimaced, expecting to hear the crunch of another pole. (I did mention not being nice to poles, right?) Instead, I literally bounced off the pole. I carefully tweaked it, testing to see if it was cracked, but could find nothing wrong.
On one very overgrown section of the North Country Trail, I used the poles to shove branches and saplings away. Sometimes they were too strong to move and ended up pushing me off the trail. The poles held up fine to this too. But they finally met their match a month ago when my brother-in-law and I bushwhacked to the top of a peak and then cut down it to intercept the Pacific Crest Trail in the San Gabriel Mountains. I slipped on a steep section of granite and slid downhill until I was stopped by a large boulder. Unfortunately, my left pole was between me and the rock, and my thigh or hip snapped the pole near the top of the lowest section.
When we were first asked to look at these poles, Easton said they would be 17 ounces (482 g) per pair. That was a lot more than I was used to for three-season, and when they came at the now properly stated higher weight, I was a bit disappointed. That is one reason I decided to wait to use them in winter where I have heavier poles anyway. I ended up really liking the poles and used them for almost every hike I took over the past 17 months. I can only compare them to my Black Diamond Alpine CF carbon fiber poles, which have been my go-to winter pole for a few years now. While the Eastons are an ounce (29 g) heavier, I find them much more comfortable and think they are a stronger pole. I know they are much thicker than my BDs. My buddy that kept getting his baskets torn off? Carbon fiber Black Diamonds.
While I will go back to a lighter pole for three-season use, I am going to see if I can buy a new section to replace the one I broke and keep these for my go-to winter poles. Anybody want some Black Diamonds?
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.
Baby steps: out of love for her outdoorsy husband, Margie looks before she leaps and books a weekend in a Utah yurt, THEN learns the definition of “yurt.”
A few weeks ago, I was watching the E! channel and admiring the latest in celebrity fashion when my husband peered over his Wall Street Journal and mentioned that he would like to visit a yurt.
A what? Is that one of those exotic huts on the sandy beaches of Fiji?
Fingers crossed, I beat a trail to my computer. From Google, I learned that a yurt is not an exotic hut on a tropical island. Instead, it’s a circular tent-like structure with a lattice wood frame and canvas walls. Darn. Well, no matter. For once, my very outdoorsy husband actually asked for something, and I resolved to get it for him. Within minutes, I had reserved a yurt in the secluded mountainous region of Utah’s high Uintas.
When the reservations were made – and after I gave myself a well-deserved pat on the back for acquiring the perfect Christmas gift – I began preparing for a romantic wintry getaway. I imagined gentle snowflakes falling outside while my husband and I cuddled before a crackling fire inside. We’d eat delicious food, read good books, and maybe take a hike to the frozen river before returning to our yurt for an evening of solitude and relaxation. It was a picture-perfect plan – a trip my husband would never forget.
When I bragged to my girlfriends about my impending escape from civilization, I was surprised by their reactions. Every one of them found it necessary to wish me good luck. Did I need luck? Would my ready, fire, aim approach to the ideal Christmas gift backfire? True, I hadn’t done my homework. Recognizing this, I was faced with a couple of choices. I considered embracing the “ignorance is bliss” attitude. Instead, I decided on the “better late than never” approach and did some ex post facto research. For an indoor girl, the results of my research were a tad frightening.
I learned that some yurts are extravagant and offer all the luxuries of a five-star hotel, while others, such as the one I’d rented, are considerably less lavish. My yurt’s description included such amenities as a pit toilet (Google says that’s another word for “outhouse”), bunk beds, and a wood burning stove. The disclaimer (the one I signed without reading it), informed me that any of these items may be missing or broken, so come prepared.
Our yurt: not too shabby!
Reminding myself that I’d been camping a time or two and could surely survive a few days without the comforts of home, I decide to maximize my experience by packing extra supplies – an air mattress and maybe a few spare gallons of water to heat up for a sponge bath. The take-along-extra-supplies idea changed when I learned that we would be parking our car at the trailhead and skiing to the yurt while pulling our provisions on a sled. Fortunately, the disclaimer describes the trail as relatively easy. Whew! Wait, what do they mean by relatively? Time to downsize – replace the cast iron Dutch oven with an aluminum mess kit and leave the extra water at home. After all, if we need more water, we can always follow the advice in the aforementioned disclaimer – melt snow. Why didn’t I think of that?
As it turned out, pulling our supplies over the river and though the woods wasn’t all that difficult. At least that’s what my husband said. He didn’t even complain when I hitched a brief ride on the back of the sled he’d built especially for the occasion.
When we finally arrived at the sign directing us toward the yurt, my pulse quickened. I’d gone to a lot of effort to get this far and I was excited, at long last, to get a glimpse of my yurt. A short detour off the trail led us to our journey’s end. When I saw my yurt, blanketed in newly fallen snow and secluded amongst the aspens and evergreens, I forgot about the not-so-relatively-easy hike and hurried to get a closer look at my home away from home.
From our front porch, we were treated to stunning views of Mount Beulah and a snow covered meadow below Dead Man’s Pass – lovely in spite of its name. The yurt was surrounded by thousands of acres of unspoiled forest and offered incredible scenery as well as terrain perfect for skiing and snow shoeing.
No key was needed. The door wasn’t locked and it’s wasn’t necessary to check in. However, you do need a reservation and a trip permit. Inside the yurt we found cozy accommodations that were more than adequately stocked with everything a person could need. Way to under promise and over deliver! My husband built a crackling fire and, within minutes, the yurt was toasty warm and filled with the rustic comfort only a wood burning stove can provide. The fire also supplied the means to cook the tin foil dinners I’d learned to prepare prior to the trip. They were delicious – thanks to Youtube for the tutorial.
The yurt at dusk.
My first opportunity to make friends with the outhouse came late the evening of our first day. I took a flashlight along, but didn’t need it. Though the sky had grown dark, and the moon illuminated the landscape perfectly. Gazing at the black sky and the thousands of brilliantly shining stars, I relished the beauty that exists in my own backyard – well, two hours from my backyard, but you get the gist. It was an exquisite encounter with nature such as I have never had before. Although using a pit toilet is not enjoyable – and there is basically no way to improve the experience – the walk to and from the outhouse more than made up for any unpleasantness. Even in the frigid temperatures (a couple degrees below zero) I lingered outside for a time, enjoying the beauty of my pristine surroundings.
My and “my” yurt.
In the morning, my husband used the mess kit to prepare a delicious breakfast of omelets and bacon before he set out on a cross country ski trip. I stayed behind and enjoyed a glorious day relaxing while reading Sherlock Holmes, sipping hot cocoa, and thoroughly savoring the temporary interruption from my ordinarily busy life. Existing for 72 hours without my cell phone, laptop, and television altered my attitude toward living simply. I appreciated the opportunity to sit in silence in a beautiful setting where, for a brief time, life was uncomplicated. The necessity to downsize from a heavy cast iron dutch oven to a lightweight aluminum mess kit could be seen as symbolic of the perspective shift I experienced while on this trip. I’m hoping to incorporate this new approach into my daily life by lightening up, literally and figuratively.
My yurt adventure was a magnificent experience that pulled me way out of my comfort zone and gave me memories to last a lifetime. Unlike my husband, I would never want to live in a yurt; but I am excited for my next yurt adventure.
Part 2: Details on the ten jackets in the report.
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The sights, sounds, and moods of the Ozark Trail.
Plans for a winter backpacking trip began percolating in my brain, followed by the acquisition of supplies needed for said trip. Unfortunately, inventory shortages and holiday travel had me sweating the arrival of a couple of pieces of mission critical gear the week and day before my departure. I found myself fretting over plans B and C, as well as beating myself up over time not budgeted adequately. Truthfully, I had far too much to do in the time I had left. My lackadaisical demeanor was transitioning into panic at a rapid pace, and familial relations in my house were bearing the brunt of my madness. Thankfully, my gracious wife, whose patience with me never tires (a bit of an exaggeration) stepped in to fill sandwich baggies with rations of granola and chips. This was not my plan for the final moments of quality time we would have for the next ten days or so. For you gentlemen still developing your marital prowess: if your wife has permitted you to exercise your primal instincts in the backcountry, do not expect her to tolerate you seam-sealing your tarp after dinner the evening before your departure.
Keep right.
With backpack stocked, the remaining logistical hurdle was a lengthy car ride to the trailhead to leave a car, followed by another lengthy ride to the opposite end of the trail. Our frenzied departure made the mood in the car about as warm as the snow-blanketed hillsides. A gray, overcast day didn’t help lift spirits either. The serpentine road and pickups loaded with firewood willed upon us a pace more apropos of the setting. As the miles and minutes ticked by, I was increasingly anxious of my departure. Small talk did little to ease the mood. Tackling this piece of the Ozark Trail had been on my list. I was excited to be executing my plan; unfortunately my gut was in knots. I scanned the trees for blazes or a sign indicating the trailhead. Finally, a double blue blaze appeared on a tree. I finished sealing my pack with hesitation. Once the lid was closed, our paths would part and disappointment would collide with excitement, as a new adventure began.
I could still hear the panicked barking of my dog as I wound through the trees and up the hill. Fighting back the tears, I refused to look back. As the barks and the car engine faded away, the tranquility of the snow-covered hills began erasing the emotional waterfall that had cascaded over me. I settled in to a steady pace and tried to put some trail behind me in the remaining daylight. The snow on the trail was undisturbed, with the exception of deer tracks. Some human footprints near the trailhead had stopped, and it looked like the deer and I were the sole occupants of the Ozark Trail today.
The Ozark Trail, often confused with the Ozark Highlands Trail (which I hiked and wrote about here, is across the state line in Missouri. There are plans of connecting the two trails someday, creating a 700-mile trans-Ozark Trail system. For now, the two trails remain separate, maintained by their own collectives. Looking for solitude and a chance to test my winter kit, I decided to scratch the backpacking itch in January, rather than wait for spring to pop. The Ozark Trail consists of more than a dozen named sections, most of which connect to make a 227-mile main spine. The remaining sections bring total trail mileage to over 300 miles. I chose to hike the main spine and save the spur trails for shorter trips. Humbled by my attempt to yo-yo the Highlands Trail, I built in a touch of slack to my itinerary. I packed food for 10 days, assuming a day or more could be wasted with bad (unsafe) weather conditions. If things really unraveled, there were several road crossings where a hitchhike to town could resolve the problem.
Winter along the Eleven Point River.
The frenetic energy of getting my food packed and gear accounted for was beginning to subside with each plant of my trekking pole. Preparing for an extended outing is like the last steep miles of a long climb to a mountain meadow: anguish followed by blissful calm as the resistance eases. The sun was sinking lower and the cloudy day was bringing a close to hike-able daylight. So much energy expended for the day to hike for only an hour was bothersome to me. However, a few pinks and reds in the sky followed by coyote yips and the hoot of an owl reminded me why I had come outside.
I awoke to find my pyramid shelter unstaked and laying on the foot of my sleeping bag. I was feeling a bit clumsy, but grateful the weather had cooperated with my haphazard set-up. Finding one’s trail legs takes a day or so. Once a routine is established, the engine fires rather mindlessly. A cloudy and gray day provided little motivation, but views from bluffs above the Eleven Point River made for nice pauses. Around mile fifteen, rain drops began to pepper me, eventually settling into a light rain that would follow me for the next eight miles. Satisfied with my efforts and needing a break, I sought refuge from the rain and fog under a cedar tree, that upon closer inspection made for an ideal place to bed down. With shelter up and a warm cup of tea in my belly, I mustered the energy to start a fire.
Attempts to contact my wife and assure her of my well-being were denied by the remote locale, even though I could see a tower on a hilltop miles away. So, I laid next to my campfire and reflected. The warmth enveloped me like a soft blanket. I had heard some hunting dogs running through the hills earlier and wondered if they had found their prey or shelter for the evening. It felt reassuring to hear those dogs in the woods. Drops of water falling in the leaves and my campfire’s occasional crackles were the lone sounds of a wet evening in the hills above the Eleven Point. Food, shelter, and fire: Maslow would have found little to be ungrateful for this evening.
Fixer-upper Chevy.
An early morning creek crossing dampens feet and spirits. Not to be deterred, I soldiered on and found the Hurricane Creek crossing not particularly daunting, despite forewarnings of flash flooding history. Water sources are marked on the National Geographic maps provided by the OTA (Ozark Trail Association). The Ozarks are chalk full of wet drainages. However, winter dries many of them out until the rains of spring replenish the hills. The OTA has done a nice job of listing water sources, but some were dry, and many unmentioned water sources were wet. I never went without water, but I carried water a lot of unnecessary miles as well.
Solo trekking without a communication source is a careless choice. However, once one tethers oneself to a communication device, a piece of isolation is compromised. I agree to notify my wife of my status and check hers as well. Unfortunately, miscommunication and my tunnel vision have created tensions I would rather not worry about on the trail – or at home, for that matter. One such misstep had marred the start to my hike and had me distracted.
The trail meandered through a maze of hollows and short ridge lines, impressing upon me the hard work of the OTA and their trail volunteers. Several birds, including woodpeckers and blue birds were spotted. The bird activity provided distraction from a gray day. By afternoon, clouds had cleared and a sunny day concluded with me on a hilltop hovering over another campfire. Chocolate in my tummy and my fire waning, I glanced over my shoulder and saw the sky had filled with stars that shined like diamonds. Life was good.
Before the dark.
Clear skies yielded to clouds once again as I made my way towards the Current River section. A biting wind fought me early and never really let up. Hopes of refilling my water bottle at a creek adjacent to an old mining operation were dashed by bone dry conditions. Should I have expected anything more from the Devil’s Run? Undeterred, my search for hydrological salvation continued. Curious horses, an abandoned 1950’s Chevy Coupe, and a blood-thirsty Weimaraner made for excellent diversions on a cold and cloudy day. The highway 60 crossing marked my beginning of the Current River section and also afforded a good enough signal for my first phone call to the woman upstairs (my wife). Invigorated by conversation and a fresh dose of calories, I forded Pike Creek sans footwear. The Current River section hosts a lovely palette of Ozark geology: rocky glades, igneous rock formations, scenic overlooks, wooded river bottoms, shut-ins, and sinkholes all pepper the landscape.
Rocky Creek shut-ins.
I concluded my third full day of hiking at the Peck Ranch Conservation area. Peck Ranch is owned by the Missouri Department of Conservation. The agency benefits from an 1/8th cent sales tax levied on basically every purchase of outdoor, hunting, and fishing gear in the state. This tax has no sunset and inspires some vitriol in the state. However, the MDC does oversee an impressive number of public lands, as well as manage a robust fisheries and wildlife stock that many Missourians benefit from. Currently, MDC is restoring much of Peck Ranch’s short leaf pine trees. One could argue a number of ways that nature doesn’t really care, but diesel tractors and a pocket full of cash put up a helluva fight. The sunset was hinting at a few pinks and looked as though the clouds may part on my final push towards camp. A scattering of deer leaped ahead of me on the trail. A cup of tea and my campfire were beginning to feel like a routine. Stars began to appear and the cold drove me to bed. I had barely settled in when a pair of promiscuous wildcats let out a blood curdling scream. Bald eagles, robins, bluebirds, woodpeckers, deer, and wildcats were rolling out the welcome mat.
Yucca and tombstone.
Some days start off so nicely that no matter how one tries, it can’t get better. A brisk climb to the top of Stegall Mountain provided 100-mile views and warm sunshine. I descended into the National Park Service-owned Ozark National Scenic Riverways. Comprised of the Jack’s Fork and Current Rivers, the NPS property consists of the river corridor. The trail passes one of the park’s interpretive sites at Klepzig Mill, a grain mill built at the beginning of the 20th century and later converted to a power source for local residents. Struck by the “local” economy of sourcing one’s food and power, I looked out the door of the little shack perched on the side of the creek. Bottomlands rich with soil vastly better than the surrounding rocky hillsides certainly provided the impetus for development along this creek. The quiet valley was certainly a different place then. Gone was the self-sustaining pioneer spirit, replaced by a NPS history lesson. If memories are the only thing we preserve, are we any better off? The bark of dogs snapped my train of thought and sent me down trail.
100-mile views from Stegall Mountain.
Doorway into the past.
Views from the bluffs above the Current River crafted a lovely midday hike. Unfortunately, as the trail snaked back behind the bluff my spirits sagged and sore feet began to remind me of the 100 miles I had put behind me. A less than ideal spot below a county road offered me views of the nicest sunset yet. Puffs of smoke from my campfire hung in the air, as the setting sun took the horizon through a technicolor dreamland. Sagging spirits and sore feet were little competition for such a sublime setting. I fed my fire wood and my belly chocolate, refusing to take a second of this for granted.
Spring house cloaked in fog and frost.
Each day, one gets the chance for a fresh start to their journey. Perhaps daybreak is my favorite time of day for a reason. An early start by headlamp found me hiking under a crescent moon and stars. As the sun’s rays illuminated the Blair Creek valley, a silver coating of frost blanketed thickets and grass. Ruins of an old spring house emerged from a foggy pond, backlit by the sun’s glow. A piece of vertebrae in the trail prompted inspiration to have the backbone and fortitude to see my journey through. Sunshine and nice trail were moving this day along rather well.
Solar and lunar.
Prior to this hike, many of my coworkers had asked me why I was going out on this journey alone. Obviously, those who backpack and trek don’t require validation of this question. However, the curious among us need satisfactory explanation as to why one would venture out in the middle of winter alone. The reasons are too nebulous to explain. In a nutshell, I don’t know why I’m going out. That’s ok. I’m completely satisfied with the journey, not the destination. I came down the hill and crossed a small creek. Something white caught my eye in the leaves by the creek. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a deer skull and antlers. Antler sheds are a precious find, but finding them attached to a skull is a goldmine for collectors. There was no way I could expect to haul my find out of the woods. I still had several days of hiking and would risk damaging the skull if I strapped it to my backpack. I snapped some photos and replaced the skull back by the creek. Walking away, I was somewhat disappointed by the thought that my find would never decorate a cabin, but I hoped too that another hiker would be fortunate enough to find it before hungry animals chewed up the antlers. Either way, someone or something would benefit from the treasure. On our journey, tangibles need not be collected as measure of success or happiness, simply seeing and remembering is often the best reward.
Take only memories.
Unfortunately, all good days on the trail must come to an end. On a long hike, one resigns oneself to periods of transition. Unfortunately, these transitions seldom come into focus until the journey’s completion and subsequent reflection. In the moment however, it can seem as if the whole trip has taken a turn for the worse. The conclusion of my day was spent in a rather unsightly stretch of trail too close to roads and marred by motorized traffic. Political signs, beer cans and stop signs angled for real estate at road crossings. I pushed forward in search of greener pastures. The conclusion of hiking for the day took me through an extensive blow down of trees with lots of ATV traffic, as evidenced by the muddy trail. I sought refuge in the Grasshopper Hollow Fen complex for the night. I later learned that a trail crew was working feverishly to clean up the destruction a derecho (a rare low pressure system with hurricane force winds) had levied upon the area more than a year ago. The ATV traffic was actually their equipment that was being used to reestablish the trail, since hundreds of mature trees had been blown across the trail. I felt somewhat childish and ignorant after meeting a couple of the trail crew members a day later, especially since they were so apologetic about interrupting my hike with their ATV and chainsaw. I extended my thanks for their hard work and allowing me an open pathway.
Journeys are like eating. Fast food and fine dining both accomplish the same task, filling our bellies, and yet are totally different experiences. Walking a trail end to end is the same task for anyone. However, one person’s experience will obviously differ from another. One can slow the second and third course as much as they want, but the dessert signals the show is coming to an end. The next couple of days on my trek took me inside of 100 miles to go. Signs of measurable progress included my broken trekking pole, ripped tights, shredded socks, and a burn hole in my sleeping bag. Perhaps we stay away from the end as a means to pass the early days, but as the end approaches, we know it’s safe to start thinking about that final push to the finish. Sadly, as I was starting to think of the end of my hike, the weather was absolutely stunning. Crisp mornings with the moon and stars still hanging above me gave way to sunny afternoons in the 40s F. Trails followed the contours of Ozark ridge lines and made for swift passage. Sunsets cast an amber glow upon dried grasses. Each evening found me huddled around a small fire clutching a cup of tea and penning my thoughts for the day as the sun set and my dinner cooked. I found myself inside an emotional tug of war. I could spend a lifetime tending my fire, but the pull to be home with my family was a burden that even an idyllic moment in the woods couldn’t bear.
On the trail of… something.
My short trek was like a campfire. Early on, during the wet lonely nights it seemed like the journey would fail. However, mile by mile I kindled and nursed it. Here I sat next to a warm blaze, confident the fire would last. There were coals and plenty of fuel, but sadly I would have to extinguish it and move along. Each day I would build another. Coyote howls were some of the first sounds each morning. One of my final mornings found me moving along a contour where I flushed out a flock of wild turkeys. Moments later I could hear hound dogs bellowing in the distance. A smile perched on my face as I couldn’t help but think of those dogs my first day on the trail. Here we were, still chasing prey. I pushed along a few more miles, catching a howl or two from my companions. They were getting closer. Moments later the crunch of leaves under foot behind me signaled a visitor and a white and tan dog with radio collar attached to her neck appeared. I could see the look of disappointment in her eye as she sniffed in circles behind me. Sure she had found her quarry, but knowing better she turned and retreated.
In the circle of fastpackers and trekkers, we treat our game like a buffet restaurant: quantity over quality. Knowing when to get up from the table is a fine art. For those of us raised to clean our plate, that means overstaying our welcome from time to time. Why hike the entire trail? Because it’s there. Why eat everything on our plate and be miserably full? Because it’s there. My second to last morning on the trail looked like the previous mornings, however, a low layer of clouds and fog slowly set in with a biting wind. I had been spoiled the previous day by temperatures well beyond seasonal norms. I had even wished at one point for a pair of shorts to replace my tights. Fighting some tightness in my Achilles tendon and the pervasive chill in the air, my mind was having a hard time engaging. Aside from an owl in the early morning, I saw very little wildlife moving. The sun finally broke through and granted some warmth to my chilled bones, but getting a message out to my wife proved futile. I wanted to finalize my arrival home, but the network would not allow me anything. Later in the afternoon, I approached a trailhead and encountered a hiker who informed me of a developing dangerous winter storm expected to bring extensive ice and snow to the area by the following evening.
Ice flows punctuate the leaf litter on the hillside.
I had already moved into finish mode and now an impending winter storm exacerbated my rushed mood. I had planned for a final push of thirty miles on my last day with an empty pack and the car in sight, but quickly called an audible and extended my mileage goal for the day. The hiker had kindly offered me a ride to the trailhead, but I politely declined, knowing the finish was too close and there was food on the plate. Unfortunately, the Ozark Trail has been abused by illegal ATV traffic in some places. During my frenzy to log extra miles for the day, a motorcyclist approached me from behind on the trail. Not in any mood to deal with clowns today, I simply turned around and demonstrated no plan to yield my trail to them before they sped off into the woods. My unfortunate guess is that no effort has been made to end illegal trail abuse. There was a lot of ATV usage in the area. Between the county and U.S. Forest Service, I would guess a lack of resources to enforce and some general ambivalence towards the problem ultimately leads to the type of behavior I witnessed. Undeterred, I squeaked out an additional handful of miles and managed to have a nice sit by the fire, despite missing the final sunset of the trip.
The embers of my final campfire reflected back on my face and the last glow of dusk disappeared from the horizon. I had run down the battery on my phone attempting to get a message out. Instead, I replayed the past 48 hours in my head. Two days of warmer than average weather in January and obvious signs of little to no animal activity along with an apparent cell network overload seemed to spell out conditions the day hiker had mentioned. A storm of historic scale would overtake the area in the next 24 hours, I later learned. I had passed up a guaranteed ticket home in order to hike 25 more miles. The gravity of my choice was looping through my head. I knew I would make it back to my car. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure driving home would be an option. Stuck at an interstate motel in a winter storm wasn’t high on my list of priorities at this time, but I was committed to see the trail through. I threw a few sticks on my fire, journaled some more, and finished my chocolate bars off.
My final morning out of camp was supposed to be a melancholy but celebratory experience. I had passed a small roadhouse in the country on my way to the trailhead. I was going to treat myself to a cold beer and a hot cheeseburger, watch some TV, and maybe answer a few questions about my mangy appearance and why on earth I would backpack in the winter. Now, I wasn’t sure if I would even make it all the way home, much less have time to stop for beer and food. I stepped out of camp well before sunrise. I could see drops of precipitation floating in front of my headlamp. My pace was hurried. My mood was too. The greatest threat to my safety was falling tree limbs in an ice storm and/or hypothermia. I managed to get a message to my wife and eventually spoke to her in person. The developing storm was expected to bring extensive rain, ice, and snow with it. Getting back to my car was going to be fine, but the four-plus-hour drive home was not a guarantee. Upon exchanging weather forecast information, my phone’s battery abruptly died. Not exactly the photo finish I’d recommend to others.
Courtois crossing.
Rain showers dotted my hike back to the car. Temperatures in the upper thirties offered no respite. The final miles of the Courtois section of the Ozark Trail skirt the ridge above Courtois Creek and bluff top views give a bird’s eye look at the surrounding countryside. A lovely set of caves also grace the bluffs too. Unfortunately, they are closed due to the white nose fungus that is killing off native bat populations. One final creek crossing numbed any remaining feeling in my feet. Passing through the adjacent campground, I was greeted by a pair of unattended dogs. I prepared my trekking pole for combat and my canine foe barked louder. Upon exiting the campground, I chuckled to myself. Here both of us were with bigger barks than bites, neither of us sure what we were getting into.
Bluff-top respite.
Plans do nothing but confine our goals to a limited boundary. Perhaps that’s why I like the Lennon lyric so much: “…life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.” Getting outside of the plan is sometimes harder than no plan at all. Had I known what the weather conditions were going to be, I would have planned a much more aggressive finish to my hike. My wife later explained that she had held back on giving me the weather forecast, knowing that I would just worry about it and the possibility of it changing wasn’t worth the stress. I know for sure my hike would have materialized much differently in the final days had I been more aware of the weather. However, I’m glad to have someone keeping me slightly insulated from reality. Technology tethers us to our families, lives, etc. but kept on a leash, technology can allow us to push our boundaries, for better and worse.
The final miles of my hike peeled off in a mindless stupor. I was emotionally and physically drained. I was no longer in any state of mind to care whether my bed or a motel bed would be home for the evening. Some hot food and a shower would suffice. I could sleep in my car. Each time I return from a hike, I’m grateful for the solitude that it has afforded me. The noise and distractions of civilized life seem so loud after tuning out. Finishing these trips is so anticlimactic, but yet the tide of emotions that arrives in the following hours rivals the finish line celebration at a major marathon. To some, that would indicate it is about the destination. However, there is no destination without a journey. Why we journey is up to us. Get as much out of it as you can because there’s one destination that doesn’t give second chances.
Part 1: Why should you buy a WPB rain jacket? And why would you buy one that weighs more than 8 ounces (227 g)?
A rain jacket is, for most backcountry travelers, an inevitability. There are certainly areas of the world where precipitation is unlikely enough to render raingear useless weight, and places either warm or cold enough that precipitation is not a concern. In very warm climates, one can just get wet without suffering ill effects, and in very cold places the certainty of precipitation falling in the form of snow combines with the limits of current WPB (waterproof-breathable) technology to make other shells better choices. Most backcountry areas don’t fit into any of these categories, or only do so in certain seasons, and thus anyone hoping to experience the backcountry in safety and comfort ought to bring something to keep liquid precipitation off their backs and out of their ears. The reasons for this become a lifetime axiom for anyone caught out in a rainstorm without raingear. Water promotes heat loss with impressive efficiency, and renders almost all insulations drastically less effective. The necessity of raingear is a lesson best learned in theory first, rather than from the potentially hazardous school of hard knocks.
Better bring your raingear: the author testing the Haglofs Ozo in Alaska. Photo by Paige Brady.
That said, the reputation of WPB rain jackets is less than stellar. They’re reputed to keep precipitation out while not keeping sweat in, yet can fall short in one or both arenas. Breathability is typically the attribute which comes under fire, and in many cases, breathability can be so poor that some hikers have advocated abandoning WPB raingear altogether. Add the substantial expense of WPB jackets, and there appear to be compelling reasons to avoid these supposedly “essential” pieces of outdoor gear.
I examined the various alternatives to WPB jackets in my Lightweight Alternative Rainwear State of the Market Report, investigating the numerous solutions which might address the weight, limited use, and deficient functionality of WPB jackets. The details are discussed in greater depth in that series of articles, but in summary I found that while things like poncho-tarps and silnylon capes can indeed prove efficacious for many lightweight backcountry travelers, they have many limitations, which explain the ubiquity of WPB shells. Even the best poncho-tarps suffer in wind, while bushwhacking, and during any backcountry mode of travel other than walking. Capes are even worse. Modern day iterations of the cagoule, such as the Packa, are good in high winds and off trail, but are made of impermeable fabrics and even their best venting options still renders them less breathable than the worst WPB jacket. Perhaps the single greatest revelation I took out of testing alternative rainwear was an appreciation for just how good modern WPB jackets can be. The best such garments fit closely, yet don’t bind. They seal out even the worst weather, while still letting out a substantial amount of perspiration. They not only protect the hiker, climber, skier, boater, or cyclist from rain, snow, and the various combinations thereof, they also keep out spray from waves, wind, and the brutal soaking that can come from dripping wet brush and scrub. And, as I discovered in this report, the best do all of these things while weighing very little indeed.
The ideal WPB jacket would provide flawless and immutable waterproofing and weatherproofing, yet breathe as well as a single thin base layer. Neither of these is yet possible. WPB technologies still rely on a DWR (durable water repellant) treatment of the outer shell fabric to function, and even the best of these coatings need maintenance. These requirements are easy to fulfill in civilization, but expeditionary users may find doing so more problematic. More familiar to most will be the large extent to which current WPB technologies fall short of ideal breathability. Put a WPB shell on at the base of a steep climb to keep the cold rain off, and with warm humidity/a hard hike/a forceful perspirer/etc. the WPB membrane will soon be keeping water in as well as out. Too much perspiration accumulated and trapped will lead to the very thing the WPB jacket was put on to prevent: accelerated cooling via evaporation.
A tester’s burden: the author ponders his quiver.
Readers desiring a more indepth knowledge of why WPB technologies fall short of our breathability ideal, or merely a definitive understanding of exactly what various WPB technologies consist of should read Alan Dixon’s Waterproof Breathable Fabric Technologies: A Comprehensive Primer and State of the Market Technology Review. Dixon’s article was published eight years ago, but for better or worse the information contained therein in still highly relevant and largely up to date. The three WPB technologies found in the jackets tested here are Gore-Tex, eVent, and polyurethene, which are the three major technologies discussed by Dixon. In this respect, not much has changed in the world of lightweight WPB shells.
The operative word here is “lightweight” (to be defined shortly). As Will Rietveld discussed in his coverage of the 2011 Outdoor Retailer Winter Market, numerous new technologies and variations on old approaches are all attempting to maintain the weatherproofness of the existing WPB membranes, while improving breathability. The extent to which these new technologies achieve this aim is still being assessed. Alas, none of theses garments come especially close to being lightweight, and thus none are reviewed here. In the near future, this will hopefully change, though as discussed below there are historical reasons to be cautious when applying optimism to the evolution of the raingear market.
I’ve become accustomed to having only modest, practical expectations when it comes to the breathability of my WPB jackets, though, as mentioned above, wearing a truly non-breathable shell will put the supposedly lackluster performance of Gore-Tex and PU in good perspective. Over the years, I’ve learned to adapt my habits, both in terms of clothing selection and hiking pace, to suit the strengths and weaknesses of existing WPB jackets. Occasionally I find myself getting especially sweaty on an ascent, and then especially cold on a descent, but wearing minimal quick drying layers, strategic venting, and hiking a bit slower all conspire to avoid the worst of the WPB chill. The other virtue of all WPB shells (or at least all the ones tested here) is that they are windproof. If you’ve got to be a bit damp while out in the cold, there is a lot to be said for being able to slow the rate of drying (aka evaporative cooling) if you are so inclined. I’ve often found being damp and warm preferable to being dry and cold.
If I’m willing to compromise on less-than perfect breathability, I am not inclined to compromise on weatherproofing. Given the state of outdoor clothing design and technology in the last decade, there is no reason for a WPB shell to not do a really good job at keeping weather out when you want it to. (Note that waterproof is part of weatherproof, but far from the whole story.) I live in northwest Montana, and have both Glacier National Park and the Bob Marshall Wilderness complex in my backyard. Both receive lots of precipitation. Both have exposed alpine terrain and densely vegetated canyons in close proximity. Both receive snow in most months of the year. I tested the shells beginning in early spring and continuing through summer to autumn, almost exclusively in home terrain but also on trips further afield in Montana and one summer trip to Alaska. Packrafting is a major part of my wilderness travel, so every test shell saw use on the rivers and creeks on Glacier and the Bob. I also ski, mountain bike, and climb a few mountains, and the jackets came along for those, too.
My ideal shell fits closely enough to not flap in the wind or get in the way during climbing and paddling, but still has enough room for a mid-weight insulating layer (thick fleece or mid-weight synthetic jacket) and the dead air space between insulation and shell to maximize warmth. I don’t bring a down coat unless it’s cold enough that rain is not possible. I find hoods invaluable, and insist on a big one with a generous, structured brim to keep drips out. I want a hood to cinch equally well around a bare head or the hood of my insulating coat, and in either case to move with the head even if the shell is unzipped a fair bit. I favor anoraks over full zip coats, as they layer and wear more seamlessly without the bulk of the zipper, are simpler, and are a bit more durable insofar as the zipper is concerned. I’m 5’11”, hover around 160 pounds, have a 38” chest and 33” sleeves on my dress shirts. Pockets on rain shells don’t excite me too much, as I find pockets on inner garments to be a more reliable place to put things out of the weather. I do get excited about long sleeves, drop tails, and good detailing that doesn’t absorb water. I like to hike fast and all day, don’t cancel trips when the weather is less than desirable, and probably sweat more than average.
A good hood is a beautiful thing: the Haglofs Ozo.
All these preferences, prejudices, and idiosyncrasies should be taken into account when reading the individual jacket reviews, found in Part Two of this report. There is a lot of diversity in features and fit amongst our test shells, many of which I’m not especially convinced will suit other hikers perfectly. Keep your own body type, hiking style, preferences, and previous experience with other shells in mind, and take my conclusions with the consequent grains of salt.
The Vital Importance of DWRA durable water-repellant treatment on shell fabric is vital to proper functioning of a WPB membrane. I’ll go out on a limb and assert that the overwhelming majority of “failures” experienced where a WPB membrane seems to leak is due to user error: improper maintenance of the DWR. A DWR treatment on a shell allows the material to shed water and not become soaked. These treatments are all degraded and eventually worn off by dirt and abrasion on the surface of the shell fabric. Countering this is simple: wash your shell occasionally in non-detergent soap, rinse it thoroughly, and dry it briefly (~10 minutes) on medium heat. For the most part, modern DWR treatments are fairly effective, and this process will usually do the trick to revive the coating. If, after such a treatment, water splashed on your shell doesn’t immediately bead up, you’ll need to reapply the DWR using one of the various commercially available wash-in or spray-on products. Follow the directions and don’t skimp! Test your shell periodically, especially the week before a big trip in questionable weather. Failure of the DWR does not lead to a failure of the membrane, which would allow water to leak in. The saturated shell fabric does render the process by which perspiration is passed through the membrane impossible, which means that, just as with a coated, non-breathable rain jacket, you will wet out from the inside. During very wet and cool conditions, evaporation from the sodden exterior fabric can even lower the dew point just inside the shell enough that condensation forms inside the jacket, just as it does on the inside wall of a tent during especially unsavory conditions. These are difficult conditions where synthetic insulation shines, and, even with its apparent weaknesses, WPB technology is much better than the alternatives. Expedition usage, where proper care and reapplication of DWR is not possible, in another issue entirely and beyond the scope of this article. Think of cleaning your shell and occasionally reapplying a DWR coating like changing the oil in your car: if you don’t do it, you might still do okay for a while, but that’s only because you got lucky. |
For the purposes of this report, lightweight rain jackets are only those whose manufacturer claimed weight was less than 8 ounces (227 g), made of WPB fabrics, and had a hood. Why this somewhat arbitrary weight benchmark? There are two reasons: pushing the state of the art and culling the herd.
There are a lot of WPB shells on the market. It seems that each major company makes at least half a dozen distinct models intended for various sorts of consumers. The very first BackpackingLight Raingear Roundup, a decade ago, had a cut off of sub-13 ounces (369 g). It included 17 garments, of which only five were made of WPB fabrics and had hoods. A similar weight limit today would include more garments than could be comprehensively reviewed in a relevant amount of time. Even going down from 9 ounces (255 g) to 8 (227 g) narrowed the field substantially. There is also much to be said for extolling the state of the art in outdoor gear. BackpackingLight has long been, in its best moments, a gadfly to an industry all too often driven by style and short term profit. Witness the early boosterism for eVent, Pertex, and Cuben Fiber, or Roger Caffin seemingly single-handedly being responsible for every MSR Reactor being sold with a big ugly sticker on the pot. Today I ask the question: why would a company make a WPB rain jacket that weighs more than 8 ounces (227 g)?
WPB hooded shells that weigh less than 8 ounces (227 g) have been on the market for a long time. The 2005 BackpackingLight Raingear Review listed half a dozen. One, the Marmot Essence, is still with us today (and reviewed for this report). The other five have either been reincarnated in substantially different models (OR Zealot versus today’s Helium II), or discontinued with no comparable replacement (Patagonia Specter). The Specter is a particularly interesting case; it was the lightest shell tested in 2005 and developed a cult following for its blend of light weight and excellent weatherproofing, yet was discontinued. Earlier this year Patagonia told me, in an exchange over Twitter, that they had durability problems with the Specter, and in 2009 I saw Kevin Sawchuk rip his (heavily used) Specter along the back neck seam while pulling it off after a long wet day. So then, can a sub-8-ounce (sub-227-g) WPB shell cut it for serious, long-term use?
The shoulder area of a 15-month-old Marmot Mica. Raingear durability is a real concern, so long as that concern has realistic implications for field use and is not merely illusory reassurance.
There are three general ways to make a WPB shell light, and each comes with its own set of reasons why such a light shell would not be desirable. (I’m framing this with the perhaps not universal assumption that anyone would, if value, performance and durability were good enough, choose the lightest shell available.) A light outer fabric is a good way to make a shell light, as is a lighter WPB membrane/coating. Dispensing with features, like pockets, full zippers, and sophisticated hoods, is the third way. Durability is the chief objection to the first two, with climbers, bushwhackers, the indelicate, and the paranoid expressing concern that the fabric required to crack 8 ounces (227 g) will be too fragile for their needs. Coating durability is also a concern. Windshells used to use polyurethene coatings to enhance water and wind resistance, and the 4.4-ounce (125-g) first generation of the Sierra Designs Isotope (mentioned in the 2005 article) had so little PU inside that it wasn’t waterproof enough. One jacket tested for this report, the Montane Litespeed H2O, has a lighter PU coating that is advertised as very water resistant and as a result more breathable than fully waterproof PUs. It should be noted that the mature version of the Isotope weighed 5.4 oz, and was found by BPL testers to be fully waterproof. So then, why has there been so little progress in the lightening of WPB rain jackets?
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Rain Jackets (WPB, less than 8 oz, Hooded) |
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| Jacket | MSRP | WPB Membrane | Claimed Weight oz / g | Measured Weight oz / g |
| Montane Spektr | 319 | eVent | 7.4 / 209.8 | 7.7 / 218.3 |
| Montane Litespeed H20 | 150 | PU | 6.3 / 178.6 | 5.6 / 158.8 |
| GoLite Malpais | 250 | PU | 7.0 / 198.4 | 7.2 / 204.1 |
| OR Helium | 140 | PU | 6.9 / 195.6 | 6.4 / 181.4 |
| Marmot Essence | 175 | PU | 6.0 / 170.1 | 6.4 / 181.4 |
| Haglofs Ozo | 328 | Gore-Tex Paclite | 6.4 / 181.4 | 7.0 / 198.4 |
| TNF Triumph Anorak | 180 | PU | 5.8 / 164.4 | 5.5 / 155.9 |
| MontBell Versalite | 179 | PU | 7.4 / 209.8 | 7.0 / 198.4 |
| Rab Pulse | 175 | PU | 7.0 / 198.4 | 7.0 / 198.4* |
| OR Helium II | 150 | PU | 6.4 / 181.4 | 6.8 / 192.8* |
| DriDucks Micropore | 19 (w/ pants) | Propore | 6.0 / 170.1 | not tested |
| RainShield 02 | 31 | Propore | 5.5 / 155.9 | not tested |
| ZPacks WPB Cuben Rain Jacket | 225 | Cuben Laminate | 4.5 / 127.6 | not tested |
| * Unlike the rest of the test jackets, which were a men’s medium, the Pulse and Helium II were tested in men’s large. | ||||
It’s easy to look at the 2005 report, then at the list of sub-8-ounce (sub-227-g) WPB shells assembled for this test, and conclude that the industry has been, at best, marking time. Previous BPL testing, such as that cited above, and use in the field, like the use of the aforementioned Patagonia Specter by Roman Dial and Jason Geck during the Arctic 1000 Expedition, has demonstrated that sub-8-ounce (sub-227-g) shells can be used in the most serious and committing conditions around. While the durability of the coatings in such light shells may not be universally laudable, history and the testing for this report seem to indicate, even given strenuous use, that it is not a design constraint. Lack of features may have been an objection previously, but is no longer. Shells in the current test group have multiple pockets and fully adjustable hoods as good as any on the market, and even pit zips. Coating/membrane durability and features cannot be considered valid reasons for rain shells weighing more than 8 ounces (227 g).
As mentioned above, durability of the shell fabric is probably the most substantive justification for heavy raincoats. I’m not at all sure I’d want to climb a wet, sharp granite off width in any of the test jackets. Then again, I didn’t actually try that (I don’t do such uncivilized things now that I’m old and wise), and I might be surprised. I certainly was surprised by some of the test jackets, the best of which shrugged off some nasty abuse with no concern whatsoever. I suspect the real reason most WPB shells remain so heavy has to do with consumer pressure. In the most recent BPL Raingear Review, in 2008, Will Rietveld inquired of an eVent representative why no lighter garments had yet been made with their technology. She replied that manufacturers had not yet demanded the light fabric that such a garment would require. Plainly, the market pressure, or perceived market pressure, for truly lightweight WPB garments has not increased substantially in the last half-decade. Companies are doubtlessly keen to avoid returns, but more than that I imagine, many folks see the semi-transparent PU coatings on the Marmot Essence, Triumph Anorak, or Rab Pulse and think that such a thing just cannot keep them dry. It may be a case where perception is reality.
Rain shells can be handy even on sunny days. Justin Baccary stays dry in a classic GoLite Virga on the Middle Fork of the Flathead, Montana.
This is a shame, as my testing revealed some of the sub-8-ounce (sub-227-g) shells currently available are superbly functional and durable. While some users no doubt need a more durable shell fabric, and some might need features currently unavailable in a sub-8-ounce (sub-227-g) shell, I assert that many folks choose a heavier shell in order to gain a sense of security, which is not reinforced by practical need. Aside from the careless and the especially brutal, a sub-8-ounce (sub-227-g) rain jacket will probably serve most users just fine.
An incredibly breathable full-zip rain jacket that manages to fend off precipitation without using a membrane.
The Páramo Vista is a full-zip rain jacket that forsakes the traditional membrane for a Nikwax Analogy Pump Liner. The idea behind the liner is to mimic the fur of an animal and push water out. This is done to protect the user and the user’s insulation from the typical precipitation, condensation, and perspiration. The Pump Liner is then combined with a Directional microfiber outer fabric whose purpose is to deflect both wind and precipitation. While this sounds like a bunch of marketing lingo, my experience has been that the Vista lives up to the hype.
Wearing the Vista on a winter trip to Mt. Rogers in Virginia.
I have been wearing the Vista for a couple of months now and received it just prior to winter here in the southeastern U.S. For the most part, every time I’ve been out in any kind of precipitation, the Vista has been along for the ride. We’ve seen freezing rain, hail, sleet, snow, and high winds. I’ve been interested in the Páramo concept after hearing how well regarded it is in parts of Europe that share a similar climate. Unlike the western U.S, here in the southeast we’re more likely to experience freezing rain than snow, and if we do get snow, it’s a usually a sloppy wet mess.
Features clockwise from top left – two large front pockets, a single large mesh interior pocket, Velcro closed cuffs, and a double zipper.
Given its weight and combined use of both a liner and shell, the Vista is best used in winter. While not much heavier than some more traditional rain jackets, this is definitely no 6-ounce (170-g) pullover. What the Vista offers for that weight, though, is an incredibly breathable jacket, and the liner adds enough warmth for it to take the place of both a mid-layer and shell. The Vista also offers a large variety of features, including a reverse double zipper backed by snaps, two large and well placed hand-warmer pockets, adjustable Velcro cuffs, and a single-pull hem drawcord. The Vista also features a scooped tail, reflective piping, and a fully adjustable hood with a wired peak and rear retainer that allows it to be stowed away. While both the hand-warmer pockets and main zipper have redundant closures, which definitely adds weight, the design allows for increased ventilation while still offering some protection from the elements.
The Vista hood is fully adjustable, stows away with a rear retainer strap, and has a wired peak.
Based on my field use, the Vista lives up to the Páramo reputation. Even when the microfiber outer fabric completely wetted out while waiting on friends to pack up camp during a snow storm (I was very worried), I found it to be completely dry after a mile or two of time on the trail. I never found my base layer (usually a lightweight merino hoody) to be damp and usually felt just on the cool side of warm. On a few occasions when I did start to feel too warm, I found it very easy to adjust the zipper while leaving the snaps closed in order to gain a little extra ventilation. For what it’s worth, Páramo does offer a lighter jacket called the Quito, which also features pit zips. However, when speaking with Páramo they suggested the Vista was a better match for backpackers due to a reinforcement on the shoulders (to prevent water ingress under the load of pack straps). Páramo products can maintain water repellency throughout the life of the item, but this requires periodic use of Nikwax products for replenishment.
| Year/Model | 2011 Páramo Vista |
| Style | Full-zip hooded rain jacket |
| Fabrics | Nikwax Analogy Light |
| Weight | Manufacturer Specified: 19.82 oz (562 g) assumed size M BPL Measured: 19.8 oz (561 g) |
| Features | Two large chest pockets, one large mesh interior pocket, adjustable Velcro cuffs, stow-away fully adjustable hood with wired peak and retainer tab, two-way reversed zipper, scooped tail, single hem drawcord pull |
| MSRP | US $332 (at time of writing) |
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 the manufacturer to review this product under the terms of this agreement.
The advantages of having a lightweight, frameless backpack are huge – but without that heavy frame, the backpack has all the qualities of a large sack. For maximum comfort, you’ll need to pack carefully, in a way that gives your backpack form and balance.
The advantages of having a lightweight, frameless backpack are huge – but without that heavy frame, the backpack has all the qualities of a large sack. For maximum comfort, you’ll need to pack carefully, in a way that gives your backpack form and balance.
On a partial hike of the Appalachian Trail, I learned the importance of packing correctly using a GoLite Gust, a durable and capacious pack that weighs a little over a pound. My sleeping pad became a frame, and my tent poles gave the pack structure. It took me a while, but eventually I figured out a system that worked for the Gust. Depending on the materials available (i.e. your gear) and your type of pack, the exact formula will vary. However, you’ll need to consider form, balance, and functionality when packing your ultralight backpack, regardless of its type.
Ultralight packs come in a wide array of sizes and styles – if they don’t include a frame, you’ll need to build one using your gear.
Before you do anything, make sure your pack is waterproof. Unless you want to carry a bulky raincover, drop a lawn-and-leaf or trash compactor bag into your pack. This provides a waterproof buffer between the elements and your belongings. Since the material of most ultralight bags is quite thin, your pack won’t retain much water. It’ll get wet, but it won’t get heavy, and that’s what matters. Spraying your pack with silicone waterproofing spray is another option, although the coating will wear off over time. Pack your gear into Ziploc bags for another layer of protection.
To build a frame into your pack using your gear, the two most important items are soft padding to go against your back and a stiff frame to give it form. Internal frame packs have these features built into them, but that becomes redundant once you realize that the items you commonly carry with you can be repurposed to create a frame.
If you’ve ever taken a pack apart, you may have noticed a thick foam pad that looks a lot like your sleeping pad. Why carry two near-identical objects on your back when one can serve the purpose of the other? It’s this that I love about the ultralight mentality – eliminating redundancy. By folding your sleeping pad in three, you can create padding for your back. With the GoLite Gust, curl the folded padding so that it fits more easily and stuff it into your pack so that it forms a nice solid foam back for your pack.
If you’re carrying tent poles, they’re great for giving form to your pack. Arrange them so that they run parallel to your spine when the pack is worn, and stuff your other belongings around them to keep them upright and the pack rigid.
Tent poles plus folded sleeping pad equals a makeshift frame for an ultralight pack.
Although weight distribution matters less for ultralight packs (there’s less weight to go around), it can still make a difference. For optimal comfort, keep your heavier items close to your back and near the middle or top of your pack, depending on what you find comfortable. First, drop your sleeping bag into your bag so that it ends up on the bottom of your pack. You don’t want too much weight in the very bottom of your pack; a lightweight sleeping bag is ideal.
If you’re like me, food is one of your heaviest items (I once ran into the “GoLite Guy,” Demetri Coupounas, hiking the Long Trail with a backpack full of kelp – yuck!). Split your food into two bags and sink one down each side of your pack to balance the load.
To distribute the weight of items like stove, fuel, and headlamp, wrap each item in a piece of clothing. This protects your gear and silences items that might otherwise bump together and clank as you walk down the trail. Be consistent so that you can find your gear when needed – for example, my headlamp always lives inside my woolen hat, near the middle of my pack.
Retain a small bag filled with your food for the day and keep that near the top of your pack so that you don’t have to dig down into your pack until the end of the day when you make camp. Pack other items you might need during the day, such as your rain jacket, near the top of your gear. If it begins raining, you won’t have to risk getting all your other items wet while digging out your rain gear. Pack your rainfly or tarp above your sleeping bag. When setting up camp, if you can get the rainfly up first, you can set up your camp in style without getting any wetter.
Whether you’re bringing water bottles (I prefer Gatorade) or a hydration bladder, keep it accessible. Pack it near the top of your pack or in the front pouch.
For the sake of consistency, once you’ve worked out a system that works for your pack, stick to it. This will make packing your bag a habit instead of a chore, and you’ll know where each object lives in case you need to get to it quickly.
Remember, don’t overload the pack, even if it’s as accommodating as the Gust. The thin shoulder straps of ultralight packs aren’t designed for heavy loads. To keep your pack comfortable, stick within the manufacturer’s weight recommendations. The Gust gets uncomfortable around 30 pounds, and does better with loads under 25 pounds or so.
Hiking part of the Appalachian Trail with my Gust pack – my first extended backpacking trip – I came across a fellow hiker with the same pack. He had socks stuffed underneath his shoulder pads and, loaded down as I was, I thought “Great idea!” Now I know better – lighten your load if your shoulders are getting sore. An ultralight pack works only if you pack it with ultralight gear!
The votes are counted, photos drooled over, and the top ten are in. Congrats to all who entered – the eye candy was gorgeous!
Thank you to all who contributed! We’re unable to publish all of the over fifty entries, but it was a tough race with many evocative and lush photographs. Though I wasn’t a judge, it was fun to collect the images and captions, learning a bit more about each of the photographers in the process. Here are the top ten entries, with the photographers’ captions and the judges’ commentary on each. Special thanks to our judges: Ryan Jordan, Chris Wallace, Damien and Renee Tougas, and Tony Wong.
Congratulations to the winners!
Sierra Sunrise: Mount Banner as viewed from Thousand Island Lake, Ansel Adams Wilderness, Sierra Nevada, California. Shot with a Canon G10.
Ryan Jordan: With reflections, I prefer a more symmetrical composition, and I miss just a tiny twinge of blue in the dark sky, but the alpenglow on this peak is unreal and I really, really, really want to camp here.
Chris Wallace: I love the alpenglow here, but I find it lacking an easily identifiable focal point (my eyes are not drawn anywhere in particular).
Damien Tougas: I love the way this photo makes me feel; when I look at it I feel both a chill of cool air and the warmth of the sun. Although the color of the sky seems a bit unnatural for my tastes, it does provide a nice contrast to the mountains.
Renee Tougas: The color on the mountain is fabulous. It would have been perfect if the water was still.
Tony Wong: I love the combination of overall sharpness of the image in the light and dark areas and how the photographer captured the early morning light on the mountains. The image would have been a little nicer if the shot composed a little "lower" so that tip of the mountain in the reflection on the water was not almost touching the bottom edge of the photo.
Brooks Range, Arrigetch Peaks. We made a big circle, first floated a short distance down the Noatak River, hiking up Portage Pass to the Alatna, floated down the Alatna, then backpacked through the Arrigetch, and finally floated down the upper Noatak River to our starting place – 14 days.
Ryan Jordan: I yearn for this scene to appear during the magic hour of dawn or dusk, whatever gives me alpenglow on those peaks, and colors that are a little less harsh, but given the lighting limitations, the technical quality of this image is superb.
Chris Wallace: I find the colors washed out a bit, but the shelters provide a great sense of scale and make me want to camp here.
Damien Tougas: The scene is beautiful; I really want to camp here. While the colors feel a little washed out to me, I think the composition and location are great.
Renee Tougas: This photo makes you want to camp here and pack light to get there. The composition is great. The color seems a bit washed out, but I think that’s just a time of day lighting issue.
Tony Wong: This photo draws me in to explore all of it with my eyes. The shelters in the foreground makes the photo immediately personal, making me imagine that I could be there. They provide scale to the image and make the foreground more interesting. It would have been better if the shot had been composed a little higher so that the peaks on the upper right side included more of those white clouds and offered more room to "breathe" vs. being pinched by the top edge of the photo. The one missing element of this photo was if the sky had been much deeper, darker, and blue… overall, more contrast to bring out the details in the mountains in the background.
Taken in Iceland, the first day of the Laugavegur hike. The incoming storm wasn’t yet reducing visibility; in the background you can see the rhyolite-coloured hills, typical of that area. The photo was taken with an Olympus E420 + kit lens.
Ryan Jordan: This image has everything – terrific composition and technical quality, beautiful color, and interesting lines that draw the viewer in. This would make a fantastic enlargement, when the viewer can identify the hikers. For web viewing, the people are too small. I want to know if they are in pain or smiling.
Chris Wallace: I love the the vivid color and expanse of the scene, but I’d prefer the hikers be more identifiable.
Damien Tougas: The crispness of the colors and lines in this photo really grab me, the scene is really nice too. There is so much going on here visually that it almost feels like too much to take in at once.
Renee Tougas: I love the soft mounds in this photo – it speaks peace to me. Whereas the sky has a sense of foreboding – such a striking contrast. I love the scale of the humans here – small.
Tony Wong: The wonderful contrast of textures and colors makes this photo a joy to look at. There are so many different elements that are well captured- rock, snow, dark, brooding clouds, and water off in the distance. Small details of the trail meandering along the crest of the ridges rewards closer inspection and shows people as the smallest thing to provide perspective and context of the landscape. Only thing that I could want is a little more detail of the people on the trail, if they were closer to the photographer when it was taken.
Elly descending toward Taylor Lake near Durango, CO; finishing up a four-week thru-hike on the Colorado Trail with a hail storm hot on her heels. Camera: Canon G12, f/4 1/80 ISO100 Hiker: Elly Harder
Ryan Jordan: A harshly lit sky detracts a little from this image, but composition is strong, color is natural, and her pack is sufficiently light!
Chris Wallace: All the greenery makes me feel a little at home, and I love having the female hiker showing how to get it done, but the sky could be a bit more colorful.
Damien Tougas: This photo makes me want to go backpacking right now. I love all of the varying shades of green, but the overexposure of the sky washes things out a bit towards the top of the photo.
Renee Tougas: The scene is wonderful, the foreground action against the backdrop – great composition. It would have been perfect if the foreground was more illuminated, seems a tad dark, but that’s simply a natural cloud and lighting issue.
Tony Wong: I really like this photo because of the woman on the trail in the foreground and the beautiful backdrop with the lush green surrounding the lake and trail covered mountains. The strong composition of this photo is that it’s completely familiar as one of those special moments on the trail that is just so recognizable. Unfortunately, what distracts on this photo is the softness and dull colors of the foreground. If the sky in the distance had more contrast, it would serve to make for a more complex and interesting skyline.
Our Norwegian friend reaping the sweet reward of backcountry skiing in the mountains of Norway’s stunning west coast. Camera Data: Panasonic TS1 Focal Length: 29mm (in 35mm equivalent) Exposure time: 1/500 sec. F number: f/10.
Ryan Jordan: Placing trekkers who are far away in an image of such grandeur is difficult – this photo accomplishes this well with a simple, snow-dominated background and outstanding framing using cloud shadows, the horizon line, and rock. The position of the trekker in the frame is first rate – my eyes keep coming back to him/her.
Chris Wallace: It took me multiple viewings before I saw the trekker and their trail, but the colors are eye catching and I love the clouds.
Damien Tougas: I really like the composition of this photo, especially the way the sun, clouds and sky feel alive. The extreme contrast between the rock and the snow feels like too much, but was probably necessary to prevent overexposure of the snow.
Renee Tougas: A bit dark overall (polarizer?) but what a great scene.
Tony Wong: Shadow and light do well to light the singular and distant path cut into the snow by the lone adventurer. I love how the clouds catch the light and ride along the ridges of the snow covered peaks to softness what is a stark environment. The composition and shadows of the photo allows for complexity in enjoying the scenery in what could have easily been a washed out and featureless photo. The only complaint is the softness in foreground of the image at the lower bottom right.
The location is the high camp on Denali, Alaska, looking at Mount Foraker. Although a Denali trip is probably not backpacking ‘light,’ for me this is very much in the context of exploring beautiful places and challenging myself. The person in the photo is having a moment to herself and enjoying the surroundings. She’s stated, to her, “This is my most favorite place in the world.” This picture was shot with a Canon S95 and enhanced using Adobe Lightroom.
Ryan Jordan: Washed out colors that are slightly too warm for me to be natural don’t detract from the fact that I want to sit here, view this scene, and write in my journal.
Chris Wallace: I really love seeing the hiker sitting there on that ledge, but I’d like a little more vivid color.
Damien Tougas: The first word that comes to my mind when I look at this is "dreamy." I feel like the guy sitting on the rock dreaming of mountains beyond my reach. Exposure of this scene must have been difficult – the guy sitting on the rock feels dark, while the rest feels a bit light.
Renee Tougas: Impressive scene, doesn’t say much about lightweight backpacking per se. Doesn’t speak to me as much as the others.
Tony Wong: A dreamy landscape of clouds surrounding a snowing island in what seems the edge of space heights. The ledge of rock planking out for the lone and bundled figure makes this shot interesting because it allows the viewer to place themselves into the photo. If there were more contrast or color in the sky to bring out the blue, it would make for an even bolder image.
Taken in the Pyrenees Mountain (on the south of France) during a three-day hike in February last year. I’d opened my eyes at 3:30AM with a beautiful starry sky: I have to take a picture! I’ve made about 20 pictures with different time exposure until 5:30AM, just one picture was nice this one! Taken with my Nikon D90, 10 minutes exposure.
Ryan Jordan: In this image, I’m wanting more strength and color from the sunset, I want to be closer to the shelter (but with a wide view offered by a wider lens), but the star trails are mesmerizing. A great technical image of a lightweight shelter in a beautiful environment.
Chris Wallace: Absolutely love the star trails and lit shelter, but I wish the sunset were more colorful.
Damien Tougas: This photo is well done technically, and has a lot of really good ideas going on. I think that composure could be better, as everything feels a bit too far away.
Renee Tougas: This is my least favorite (totally subjective). I’d like more color in the tent (I’m a color girl).
Tony Wong: The bright light illuminating the shelter in the provides a warmth and makes the starkness of the environment seem more inviting. The blur of the stars above creates a sense of motion and action in what is a moment frozen in time. I have no idea of where that orange glow is coming from in the lower right, but its soft glow casts a light that allows for the details of the ridge in the background and the footprints in the snow to be seen. I am wondering if that orange light was gone, would the heavens be darker and the streaks of the stars more stunning?
Usted Esta Aqui. Taken on the trail to Laguna de los Tres in Patagonia, Argentina. One hour 45 minutes from Laguna de los Tres. Two hours from El Chaltén. One of our favorite trails. There were two nice camps on the way, one for backpackers and one for climbers. Fitz Roy kept playing hide and seek behind the clouds. Details: Taken with Nikon D90. 16-85mm Nikkor lens. Hand-held. 1/320. f8. 16mm. ISO 200.
Ryan Jordan: Slightly blown highlights in the sky and just a smidge too much yellow don’t detract greatly from this image, and the tension between the sign that tells you how much time it will take to get to the lake, against the high peaks that say "don’t even try me, pal" is awesome.
Chris Wallace: The colors here are unreal and really make me want to be there in person, even though the sky is a bit bright.
Damien Tougas: The green evokes the smell of fresh mountain air and those jagged peaks look so inviting. The overexposure of the sky detracts from the grandeur of the scene and draws my eye to the sign, which I am sure wasn’t the intended focal point.
Renee Tougas: The sign dominates the scene a bit too much. The cloud looks over exposed but those mountain peaks, the composition draws you in.
Tony Wong: The "primitive" wooden trail sign makes this shoot something special. That it is not in English lets you know that you are somewhere "exotic" and invites you to explore the map to guess where you are in the world. The stunning background with its vibrant colors, green foliage, and snow draped stone spires only confirms that you are somewhere far from home (North America). The only flaw in this photo is that the image seems a little bit overexposed that loses contrast and details in the hills and mountains in the distance. The blue sky would have been nicer if it were not overexposed.
Sony Cybershot 25 mm wide-angle lens, 14.1 megapixels. Lovely visions looking east from the Apache Peak area of the San Jacintos in southern California. Morning rime ice covers the area. Caught a greet-the-day pose by my daughter as we hiked the PCT in May 2011.
Ryan Jordan: This image has it all, including the authentic expression of smugness that comes with carrying a very light pack.
Chris Wallace: I’m partial to more color, but I definitely feel the cold by looking at this and love the posing hiker.
Damien Tougas: The sky is beautiful, the composition is really good, and I just love the way everything feels so crispy cold. For me, it is missing a certain sharpness that I think would make this a truly amazing photo.
Renee Tougas: Love the playfulness in a natural place. Quite grey, I’d love a smidge of color.
Tony Wong: I love this photo because it simply captures the snowy beauty of the illuminated backdrop against the fun, whimsical joy of a young woman posing for the camera. Yes, the image of the woman’s face is a bit too soft, but with the soft haze of the white clouds lingering everywhere, it can be forgiven and seems to blend into the rest of the shot. The heavenly rays of the sun reaching down through the clouds to give light and warmth to this cold environment makes for an enjoyable photo. My only desire is to have more detail and clarity on this woman’s face to capture the emotion of the moment.
Hiking up to the head of the Ashburton Glacier on the south island of New Zealand one bright morning. Camera: Fujifilm FinePix AX300.
Ryan Jordan: Good technical quality, nice color, and solid composition make this scene a beautiful one. I wish the avalanches were more prominent as part of the image.
Chris Wallace: The trekkers making their way up reminds me of past trips, but I wish there was more to the sky.
Damien Tougas: The exposure, contrast, color, and scene all work really well. I think it would look better if the people were a little closer as I think it would add more life and color.
Renee Tougas: Sky in the top right corner too dark. Great composition and story – where are they going, where have they been?
Tony Wong: The intricate details in the snow with the adventurers in them is what makes this photo compelling. Fine details abound, from the footsteps in the foreground to the crumbling trails of snow that have slid off the step sides of the mountains on the right to give texture to what could easily be an overexposed and bland landscape of whiteness. I like that the adventurers are close enough that we can see the details of their packs and imagine the effort in their task to reach the top. The deep color of the sky helps, but I wish that it were a bit brighter and lighter in blue in the upper right corner contrasted with what is already a darkly contrasted image of the rock.
A very lightweight hoodless windshirt utilizing Pertex’s newest lightest fabric – Quantum GL. In addition to his thorough evaluation, Will includes a discussion of the versatility of a windshirt.
The hoodless Montane Slipstream GL Jacket is made of the new Pertex Quantum GL fabric and weighs just 2.3 ounces (65 g) in size men’s Medium (photo by Glen Van Peski).
Is an ultralight windshirt an essential piece of gear in an ultralight gear kit? There are good arguments pro and con, and during my testing of the new Montane Slipstream GL Windshirt, I kept that key question in mind.
The Montane Slipstream is an ultralight no frills windshirt; its only real feature is a full-height #3 front zipper. It does have a tape stiffener behind the zipper that doubles as a storm flap, raglan sleeves, standup collar, dropped tail, and the cuffs and hem are elasticized. No hood, no pockets.
The fabric is Pertex Quantum GL (GL means “Good and Light”) which is 10 denier and weighs 0.8 oz/yd2 (25 g/m2), compared to 15-20 denier 0.9 oz/yd2 (27 g/m2) for standard Quantum. Actually, each one is a family of fabrics, but GL is finer and lighter. The shiny surface comes from calendaring to make the fabric stronger.
| Manufacturer | Montane |
| Year/Model | 2011 Slipstream GL Jacket |
| Sizes Available | Men’s XS to XXL (runs about a half size small) |
| Style | Hoodless jacket with full-height front zipper |
| Fabrics | Pertex Quantum GL 10 denier 0.8 oz/yd2 (25g/m2), 100% nylon ripstop, air permeability 1.0 cc max (JIS L 1096/ASTM D737), spray rating 80/20 (JIS L 1092), abrasion resistance 10,000+ at 12.5 kPA (BS EN ISO 12947-2), DWR finish |
| Features | Full-height front YKK #3 zipper, stand up collar, raglan sleeves, articulated arms, elastic cuffs and hem, dropped tail, stuff sack included |
| Weight | Size men’s Large tested. Measured weight: 2.43 oz (69 g) Manufacturer weight: 2.3 oz (65 g) size Medium |
| MSRP | US$104 |
Front and rear views of the Montane Slipstream Jacket.
I took the Slipstream windshirt on seven backpacking trips and several day hikes during spring and summer 2011, where I encountered cold winds, chilly evenings and nights, rain showers, and snow showers.
The first thing you should know about the Slipstream is that it runs small. My sample is a size Large and it fits like a Medium, which I found to be okay for a windshirt since I frequently wore it over just a baselayer. I have fairly long arms and torso and found the sleeves and body to be long enough. The resulting fit is trim and has the advantage of less flapping in the wind.
The Montane Slipstream Windshirt in size Large can be worn over a thin midlayer, such as the Patagonia Ultralight Down Sweater shown. If you want the windshirt to layer over more than that, you should size up.
The Slipstream does its primary job well. I wore it over a baselayer while hiking several high altitude windy ridges and 13,000- to 14,000-foot (3963- to 4267-m) peaks, such as the ones shown, and it made the difference between chilly versus warm while hiking.
A dynamite combination for hiking in changeable weather is a thin windshirt over a baselayer. A windshirt provides an amazing amount of warmth and comfort for its miniscule weight. The main issue (for me) while summer hiking in such conditions is getting too warm, rather than cold, so I prefer a very thin windshirt. And the Slipstream, like other windshirts, is comfortable when it is cool, overcast, and breezy or windy. When the sun comes out, or the wind stops, the windshirt is too warm and has to come off.
I also found the Slipstream very useful when worn over a thin insulation layer in camp; it makes a significant difference by reducing convective heat loss and holding heat in. I even wore it in my sleeping bag on several nights for extra warmth, and didn’t have any problems with it feeling clammy.
In the field, I found the Slipstream will shed brief rain quite well (left), but wets through fairly quickly. The lack of a hood is a disadvantage in rain. My indoor puddle test (right), where I put the backside of the jacket over a funnel and added a cup of water to create a puddle, was quite revealing. The photo was taken at the beginning of the test, but after an hour all but a few drops of the water had passed through the fabric. Conclusion: the jacket’s DWR treatment provides only limited water-repellency; the jacket is far from waterproof.
Carrying a backpack over the windshirt did not abrade it at all.
Out of curiosity, I performed the same test on the MontBell Tachyon Anorak (discussed below), and found the same result. This reinforces the notion that a windshirt with DWR treatment can shed brief rain, but is not adequate rainwear for significant rains.
So how does the Slipstream compare with using a lightweight rain jacket for windwear, and how does it compare with other lightweight windshirts? For backpackers who insist on minimal pack weight, a windshirt can be left out in favor of using a lightweight rain jacket like The North Face Triumph Anorak (5.85 ounces/166 g for size men’s Large, which is the lightest woven fabric rain jacket currently available) for both windwear and rainwear. I have tested it, and find the Triumph plays the dual role very well.
The main difference is the Slipstream is thinner and lacks a WP/B polyurethane layer, so it has a wider comfort range, meaning it’s more breathable and remains comfortable to wear over a broader range of conditions. I can wear the Slipstream while hiking uphill carrying a backpack and stay comfortable much longer than I can with a lightweight polyurethane laminate rain jacket. The Slipstream blocks the wind and breathes well enough to stay comfortable, much of the time. However, when the breeze stops or the sun comes out, the windshirt gets too warm and I have to take it off.
But in a practical sense, if you don’t need windwear very often, a lightweight rain jacket will suffice. Perhaps the prudent thing to do is pack a windshirt when you expect to encounter conditions where it’s truly needed. And when you get into exactly those conditions, it’s gold.
In areas or seasons where rain is not a big issue, some hikers carry only a windshirt and use it for both wind and rain protection as needed. The Slipstream has a DWR treatment, so it sheds water well and will suffice in short duration showers, but its main disadvantage for such use is the lack of a hood.
How does the Montane Slipstream compare with the MontBell Tachyon Anorak, which received a Highly Recommended rating in a recent Backpacking Light review? The data in the following table tell a lot.
| Manufacturer and Model | Hood | Zipper Length in (cm) | Weight (oz/g) Size Men’s M | MSRP (US$) |
| Montane Slipstream Jacket | No | Full-height | 2.3 (65) | 104 |
| MontBell Tachyon Anorak | Yes | 7.5 (19) | 2.3 (65) | 89 |
| The North Face Triumph Anorak | Yes | 12 (30) | 5.6 (166) | 179 |
Some highlights:
A windshirt is a very versatile piece of gear, especially when you hike where the weather is highly variable (I suppose that applies most everywhere). The ideal conditions for a windshirt are some combination of cloudy, cool, and windy; and that occurs a lot where I hike.
The Montane Slipstream is equally as nice as the MontBell Tachyon, so the choice gets down to personal preferences and how you will use a windshirt:
Overall, the Montane Slipstream performs well for its intended purpose. However Montane’s small sizing is an issue. It’s irritating to purchase a garment in your normal size, only to find out that it runs small, and have to exchange it for the next larger size. MontBell has overcome this issue for selling in the US, and it’s about time for Montane to do the same.
A windshirt is really handy to maintain comfort while hiking at high elevations where the weather can be highly variable.
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.
A large but still lightweight pyramid that can shelter three to four adults in all four seasons.
The Mountain Laurel Designs (MLD) SuperMid is a large floorless, single-pole, non-freestanding shelter. With enough coverage for up to four people, this lightweight silnylon shelter offers an excellent amount of space for its weight, as well as four-season weather protection. MLD also offers optional perimeter bug netting (sewn-in) as well as a bug tent insert which converts the SuperMid to a double-wall shelter (although you do lose a bit of floor space, and three occupants becomes more reasonable).
The SuperMid pitched with joined trekking poles at a river-side camp.
Like MLD’s other pyramid shelters, the SuperMid allows for a very quick deployment, which is excellent for inclement weather: stake out the four corners in a reasonably square shape, unzip the door, insert and raise the pole, and tighten the corners. Done. I love shelters that are this simple and easy to pitch. MLD has designed the SuperMid so that it can be pitched using a single pole or supported by a limb above using an exterior loop sewn to the apex. The single support pole can be anything from a site sourced staff (limb), to joined trekking poles, to a packraft paddle.
The SuperMid pitched using a site-sourced pole and rock at a higher-elevation camp near Mt. Rogers, Virginia. The next morning found several inches of snow accumulated on the ground and shelter.
I was able to use the SuperMid on several overnight trips, including a camp next to a river with temperatures in the low teens, and a camp just off Mt. Rogers in Virginia where we woke up to several inches of snowfall but with temperatures never dropping much below freezing. I tried using connected trekking poles as well as a site-sourced pole and rock for support, both of which sufficed. However, if you are expecting high wind or heavy snowfall, I would recommend a third-party carbon pole or a large stick for support. Wrenching the corners down with trekking poles for support seemed weak. I didn’t experience condensation on either occasion, even with accumulated snow blocking some of the lower ventilation.
The SuperMid sealed up and using the side-panel tie outs to create a little more usable floor space.
The SuperMid provided plenty of weather-protected floor space for myself, my wife, Robin, and our border collie mix trekking companion, Max. I found myself positioning the base of the support pole closer to the door (as opposed to directly under the apex) and canting it inward to make sufficient space at the rear for Robin and me to sleep next to one another. The additional tie outs on the sides were welcome for both wind protection as well as the ability to claim a bit more usable floor space.
| Year/Model | 2011 Mountain Laurel Designs SuperMid |
| Style | 2-4 person pyramid shelter |
| Fabrics | 1.3 oz/yd2 (44 g/m2) silnylon |
| Weight | Manufacturer Specified: 24 oz (680 g) BPL Measured: 27.6 oz (782 g) with corner lines, liberally applied seam sealer, and stuff sack |
| Dimensions | Manufacturer Specified: 8.9 ft (2.71 m) x 8.9 ft (2.71 m) x 5.75 ft (1.75 m) BPL Measured: 8.83 ft (2.69 m) x 8.83 ft (2.69 m) x 5.75 ft (1.75 m) |
| Protected Area | Manufacturer Specified: 70 sq ft (6.5 sq m) BPL Measured: 68 sq ft (6.32 sq m) |
| Floor Area/ Weight Ratio | 40.24 sq ft/lb (.008 sq m/g) based on 68 sq ft (6.32 sq m) floor area and weight of 1.69 lb (767 g) |
| Features | Closable peak vent, Dyneema X reinforced apex with interior and exterior hang loops, both doors can be opened and tied back, mid-height door snaps allow for partial closure, eight ground level perimeter tie outs with LineLocs, center side-panel tie outs on all sides for reinforcement in high wind |
| MSRP | US $295 |
| Options | 18-inch (46-cm) perimeter bug netting along bottom (adds US $75), InnerNet (adds US $195) |
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 the manufacturer to review this product under the terms of this agreement.
Build an igloo using the “hub and spoke method” and lightweight backpacking tools.
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Crossing the deepest river gorge in North America with unmaintained trails, poor communication, and a little conflict: will frustration be followed by triumph or a turn-around?
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Are You an Ultimate Hiker? Andy Skurka’s approach to backpacking.
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Many of us have dreamed of being able to complete a thru-hike or to hike 30 miles a day or more.
In his book The Ultimate Hiker’s Gear Guide Andy Skurka offers tips to help people do just that. The book covers not just the gear but the techniques of becoming an “Ultimate Hiker.”
Part One introduces Skurka’s approach to hiking, which he calls “Ultimate Hiking.” The Ultimate Hiker is someone whose objectives for a trip involve hiking long distances by perfecting their gear, hiking style, and knowledge of the conditions. An Ultimate Hiker is someone who wants to hike and explore, not make camp and laze around.
The “Ultimate Camper” is on the other end of the spectrum. The Ultimate Camper, on the other hand, is someone whose main focus is on activities such as bird watching, photography, hunting, fishing, hanging out with friends – in other words, anything other than hiking. Such campers have a different set of goals, where lightweight packing and advanced camping skills are less crucial to their success.
Skurka’s target audience is the hiker who would like to hike with lighter gear and more efficiency, like an Ultimate Hiker, but who does not have the knowledge to do so. Such hikers are called “Campers by Default” – they may want to hike farther into the wilderness or complete thru-hikes, but they are limited by improper gear and a lack of knowledge about backpacking.
Once an Ultimate Hiker has settled on an objective for a trip, the next step is learning what conditions will be like along the route of travel. Skurka discusses ways of finding relevant information for planning a trip and a gear list. He looks at weather information, likely vegetation density (for off trail travel), trail conditions (for shoe choices), likely snow conditions, remoteness of the route, water availability, and sun exposure among other things. All this information is used to pick the right gear for a given trip.
Part Two covers gear and techniques and takes up the majority of the book. Skurka put some thought into making the guide detailed enough to be useful, but not too “nerdy.” One way he does this is by breaking up the text frequently with charts, side bars, and special sections devoted to different topics. For example, he discusses different types of packs in the main text, then has a “Skurka’s Pick” sidebar listing his favorite packs for different conditions. The “Tried and True” pages focus more on techniques that go along with the gear being discussed. This approach makes the book more focused and readable.
Below is an overview of the different chapters with a few highlights.
Skurka actually goes into a lot of detail about what clothes to wear and bring along. He’s hiking in his clothes more than he is resting in his tent, so a good clothing system that helps to regulate his body temperature is worth thinking about.
I was hoping after all his trekking Skurka would have an answer to the search for better rain gear. Unfortunately, he does not. According to a “Skurka’s Picks” section, all rain gear fails given enough time. I agree with this, but shoes fail too, and Skurka discusses how to deal with that event. He doesn’t give any advice for how often a raincoat should be replaced or how it should be maintained to prolong its life.
On the other hand he has a couple tips for maximizing comfort in the rain. For example, he suggests fleece insulation in cold, wet weather. Assuming you’ll get somewhat soggy no matter what, he found fleece insulated better when wet than synthetic puffy insulation like Polar Guard.
There’s a good discussion of shoes. Skurka explains why trail runners are appropriate for most wilderness treks (snow being the main exception) and how to choose a good pair. Although he likes trail runners, he doesn’t really address the issue of minimalist shoes, which are becoming more popular. He does say he feels the Five Finger-type shoes are too minimal for most hikers, but doesn’t say much more, which is unfortunate. The minimalist shoe debate is not just a question of how much protection your feet need, but of how you should be planting your feet and the importance of zero drop shoes as well.
Beyond the basic shoe choices there are also a number of tips for maintaining foot health on a long trip. Skurka suggests protecting your feet by washing socks daily to prevent blisters from grit. He also uses low gaiters so grit stays out his shoes and socks to begin with.
Will This Book Help if You are Already an Ultralight Backpacker?A lot of BPL readers already know plenty about light hiking gear. If that’s you, the question you might ask is “Will this book help longtime BPL readers?” I think the answer is definitely “Yes.” I tested this theory by comparing my experiences on a Colorado thru-hiking attempt (I had to bail out towards the end due to an injury). I hiked with a relatively good set of gear, but a number of small changes suggested in the book could have made my hike less painful, more efficient, and possibly gotten me all the way to Durango. First, I had dirty socks, which led to blisters. This isn’t a problem on weekend hikes, but it is on longer hikes. Skurka suggests washing socks daily to prevent this and is a big fan of preventative first aid on any hot spots. If I’d washed my socks and watched my feet more carefully, I probably could have hiked a bit further. Also, if I’d been wearing gators, my socks would not have gotten so dirty to begin with. I was chronically hungry, and I lost a noticeable amount of weight on the trip. If I’d considered how much more food Skurka uses on his long hikes and his recommendations for calories per day, I might have packed more food and been happier. I hiked at night several times, but my light was too dim to work well; night hiking was slow and felt claustrophobic because I couldn’t see much. One night I had to stop early because I just couldn’t see well enough to be sure I wasn’t wandering onto a game trail instead of following the faint foot trail. Skurka’s solution for this is to wear one headlamp on the head and one on the waist for night hiking. The light on the head can be a focused spotlight for seeing landmarks at long distances while the waist light is a diffused floodlight close to the ground. This does a better job of lighting the path for his feet. This two-light strategy gives the advantages of both a floodlight and a spotlight without having to switch between lights. This trick would have made my evening hikes a lot more pleasant. There were days I pushed myself really hard to make a mileage goal and ended up feeling beat up and sore in the evening. While working hard is part of long distance hiking, I was probably pushing myself too hard in a couple of cases. Whether this caused my injury or not, I’ll never know, but it certainly didn’t help. In a section entitled “How to Hike Fast,” Skurka recommends hiking longer rather than trying to hike faster and injuring yourself. I could have hiked longer if I’d taken his advice on lights (see above), so I could have ultimately hiked farther into the evening. |
Skurka prefers quilts to mummy bags except for temperatures under 20F/-7C. Interestingly most hikers seem to pick quilts for the weight savings. Skurka mentions that, but focuses just as much on the flexibility of a quilt. Because of their variable girth, it is possible to layer more clothes under a quilt. He prefers down most of the time, but occasionally uses synthetic for prolonged bad weather. A “How 2” section covers how to deal with the drafts in a quilt. Sleeping pads are also discussed.
Skurka prefers a tarp for many situations both for weight savings and simplicity. If the weather is quite poor, he uses a Mountain Laurel Designs “Mid” with a bug net as necessary. A “Tried & True” tells how to spot likely camping areas on a map and how to pick a specific spot once you find a good area.
Skurka prefers maps to GPS. He emphasizes the importance of “staying found,” which basically means you should consult the map often enough to know where you are at all times. He suggests the best types of maps to use for navigating and lists a variety of resources for finding good maps of one’s route.
Skurka is a big fan of trekking poles and devotes an entire chapter to picking the right poles and using them properly.
This chapter covers both food choices and the nutritional needs of long distance hikers. Skurka doesn’t eat significantly differently from other hikers, but he sometimes carries a lot more food as his trips get longer. A “How 2” gives a couple of his favorite recipes for meals. He also gives tips for choosing food, such as how to make sure food is edible in cold temperatures or won’t melt in warmer temperatures.
Although he prefers alcohol stoves, Skurka has used every type of backpacking stove available. This experience helps him summarize their advantages and disadvantages for travel in different seasons and situations. A “How 2” shows how to make a simple alcohol burning stove.
This chapter explains the basics of hydration, finding and purifying water and ways of carrying it.
This chapter covers all the little odds and ends a hiker carries, like pocket knives, blister care, sunscreen, bear spray, etc. One gem in this chapter was Skurka’s guide to LED headlamps (see sidebar).
Skurka saves packs for last because pack choice depends on the gear and food being carried. Assuming you have lightweight gear, he suggests frameless packs. His summer pack is a GoLite Jam; for winter he sizes up to the Pinnacle. He only uses a framed pack when he’s carrying more than 30-35 pounds. A “Tried & True” section describes how to pack gear properly. Skurka’s choice in packs is really the only area I’d argue with him. He says when he’s between torso sizes, he goes down rather than up. I prefer the opposite. My opinion is shared by Will Rietveld in his detailed study of frameless packs. Rietveld suggests erring on the side of longer torso length and folding the sleeping pad rather than rolling it as Skurka does. The method Will describes is considered the best way to keep most of the weight off the wearer’s shoulders. From the pictures in the book, it looks like Skurka’s pack is a size small, and like he’s carrying a lot of the pack weight on his shoulders.
When his pack is light and well balanced, Andrew barely notices that it’s on. (Photo courtesy Andrew Skurka.)
Part Three is a series of sample gear lists for hiking in a variety of U.S. locations from the eastern forest to pack rafting in the desert southwest. A final page gives a few tips for finding gear more affordably.
This book was not written to please “Gear Geeks” or to answer every question about hiking gear. It was written for hikers who need advice on becoming Ultimate Hikers. Judged by that standard I think it does quite well.
On the one hand it provides new hikers with an easy to use guide to gear. If you have no idea what “internal frame packs,” or “shaped tarps” mean that’s fine. This book will explain all that and be readable enough you’ll actually read the whole thing. If you think you’d like to try some lighter weight gear or more ambitious backpacking but aren’t sure where to start, there’s plenty of solid advice.
If you already have a good gear kit and are familiar with ultralight backpacking this is a book that can help you learn techniques to take your hiking to the next level (see my Colorado Trail experience sidebar for an example of this).
In spite of these gripes, it’s still a solid book. My hope is that Skurka will fix these on a future edition, but for now, I also hope he’ll get down to business writing a book about the Alaska Yukon Expedition.
© Beartooth Media Group Inc.
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