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Make Your Own Gear – Down Quilt or Sleeping Bag
Making a baffled down quilt is simple compared to making a baffled down sleeping bag. Both are described in this article, with the emphasis on the quilt.
Articles (2020)
Selling Lightweight: How Retailers Can Help Your Pack Weight
The interactions between retailer and consumer can have a dramatic influence on the gear carried and experience had by a consumer. We examine the tools both retailers and consumers can use in evaluating gear and determining the best lightweight options for individuals.
Introduction
At some point, when people decide they’d like to give backpacking a try, they generally head to their local shop to get outfitted. Because specialty outdoor retailers are the front line in consumer education, it makes sense that retailers first need to fully understand ultralight philosophies themselves for the greater public to develop an ultralight consciousness.
Regular visitors to Backpacking Light know precisely the type of gear and base pack weights that tend to come out of outfitting sessions at most retailers: heavy! Start out with seven-pound tents and six-pound packs… the rest of the gear adds up quickly, and don’t forget all those quick-dry, wicking, multiple layering pieces! To some degree, this is a function of what manufacturers are making available. At the same time, product offerings are influenced by end-user purchases and sales figures – if "Tent X" sells a lot of units, then the likelihood is that you’ll be seeing more like "X" in the future. I think that products ultimately sell based on what the sales staff likes – or what they find easy to sell. So it becomes vitally important for retail staff to understand how and why virtually everyone can benefit from some aspect of an ultralight philosophy.
Sales are based in no small part on familiarity. If we assume that a novice backpacker has a passing familiarity with traditional backpacking, then we know what kind of expectations they have when they go looking for gear. And frankly, most of them expect to be pack mules! I think it is important for retailers (and their consumers) to realize just how much impact a retailer can have on a person’s limited vacation time. Proper guidance in gear selection can really help make or break someone’s trip.
The UL Soft Sell
That’s why I’ve found – and find with increasing frequency – the vital importance of retailers educating themselves to the point of truly understanding ultralight backpacking, along with more traditional approaches. With that understanding, they can apply ultralight philosophies to backpackers at any interest, age, or intensity level. It is important for retailers too (or especially) to understand that UL isn’t about sawing toothbrushes in half. Toothbrush handles are pretty insignificant. Ultralight is about taking less gear and making significant weight changes in the gear you do select. Understanding UL can be a powerful tool for the business of specialty outdoor shops, sure. But it’s also an important tool and educational component for each consumer who walks through the doors of an (ahem) enlightened shop.
There is no one who wouldn’t benefit from carrying a (relatively) light pack, but many people dismiss UL altogether! Youngsters scoff and say they don’t mind the extra pounds. Other people smile and say they think it’s a bit ridiculous to cut the handle off toothbrushes (they may have a point). Still others say health problems prevent them from doing any backpacking. A packfitter might just accept these comments and sell them heavier gear or let people walk away. However, I think it’s necessary for packfitters to call people’s bluff, to show them in a respectful way how easy it is to lighten a pack, and to show them why and how it can benefit anyone.
People are a bit incredulous when I tell them it’s a simple matter to have a base weight in the fifteen-pound range – and I point out that many book bags on campus weigh more than that. So I developed a straight-forward display that I use as a launching point for many of my outfitting interactions. Part of this is enthusiasm on my part that I hope translates to excitement on the part of my customers. Part of it, frankly, is the pleasure of seeing the proverbial lightbulb click on when people realize ultralight really is possible, easy, realistic – and simple to do comfortably without sacrificing safety.
For the Visual Learners
What I did in my shop was arrange a display on and alongside a shelving system. The shelves are floating and located under a window in hopes of accentuating the airiness of the system. I developed a basic three-season gear list suitable for cold and wet Michigan weather, then went through the shop and grabbed some of my lightest examples of each. I didn’t always grab the lightest, though! I wanted a gear list that would not leave someone feeling as though they were compromising anything. I’ve found that the biggest source of resistance to UL is a perceived need for sacrifice, so I made it a point to grab a full length 1.5-inch thick self-inflating pad, a double-wall free-standing tent, an insulated mug, and other such "luxuries." All told, I still ended up with a base weight of only 13.16 pounds.
I hung the sleeping bag and pack next to the shelves, then displayed the entirety of the gear list on the shelves. I made up a large print sign highlighting the complete pack weight, then printed off several smaller signs itemizing everything with corresponding weights. Cook gear, for example, is all displayed together on the shelf and has a sign over it with a description of each item, brand and model, and the weight. Okay, I admit, it looks a little train-wreckish, but people regularly stop and peruse the display. This area of the store is an important launching point for discussions about outfitting needs.
My favorite people to encounter are those who see backpacking as something they’ll never be able to do again. They have back or knee problems, or they’re too out of shape to carry a fifty-pound pack. When I tell them they can get everything they need for a solo trip – even a plush two-inch pad and a camp chair – for about fifteen pounds, they really perk up. The display allows me to show them exactly how it’s done. It also seems to help people process the low pack weight as a tangible reality.
Comfort, Safety, and Cost
The thing is, you don’t need to carry more to be more comfortable, and this is the point many folks miss. There’s really not much you could add to my list to improve comfort. There’s also no dangerous lack of safety margins. These points seem to escape a lot of people when you talk about lightweight backpacking in general; they assume you’re doing without and bordering on dangerous. I try to reinforce the comfort and safety possible – and expected – within the framework of lightweight backpacking throughout my discussions with people.
It is important to meet individual needs, not to outfit people based solely upon your personal philosophies. In other words, someone might be doing longer trips with infrequent or non-existent resupplies, in which case a heavier framed pack might be their best option. Just because that person’s using a heavier pack, though, doesn’t mean all of their equipment could or should be heavier. On the contrary, it calls for more emphasis on cutting weight of the other items in their pack. As we discuss gear options, I make it a point to talk about the importance of cutting weight when adding weight in other areas, and the fact that adding a couple pounds here and there suddenly adds up to ten pounds.
It’s also important to work within the real-world constraints of budget, desire, comfort, and priority. If someone already has a heavy pack but no tent, then the outfitter’s priority needs to be finding a lightweight tent that fits the person’s needs. A conscientious approach in doing so will help form consumer habits and experiences when it comes to their next gear list or upgrade.
Think of Ounces in Terms of Pounds
I take pains to reinforce the importance of ounces – save three ounces here, two ounces there, and you’ve saved yourself half a pound. Save only two ounces each on eight items in your pack, and you’ve saved a full pound. The stuff adds up quickly. Heavy hiking socks weigh nearly a quarter-pound. Within this framework, I address pack volume as a place to save ounces. This can be tricky footwork for both consumer and retailer. I explain that the same pack model in a smaller volume can save, say, a pound. However, if their gear doesn’t all fit in the pack it won’t carry as well (with gear strapped outside) and the weight benefits are lost. I then show people some demo stuff sacks displayed fully filled out so they can see exactly how much space difference there is between two models – for example, when referencing the difference between a 60- and 70-liter pack, I show them a roughly 10 liter stuff sack. I then explain that the 10-liter sack could easily represent the difference between a synthetic and down bag – reinforcing (a) the potential necessity for them to have a larger pack or (b) the potential importance and interconnectedness of choosing smaller and lighter gear in as many purchases as possible.
60 and 70 liter?! Yep. The reality is that people tend to start out with at least some kind of equipment, it’s usually not the smallest or lightest, and it usually takes them a while to whittle down their kit. There’s also the matter that many people might take trips with no resupply, unlike typical ultralight thru-hikers, and might need some more volume for chow. I still recommend 80- to 90-liter packs for some people who’ll be doing longer trips and winter trips – you have to keep an open mind and fulfill a person’s needs, not your biased interpretation of their needs. Back to those stuff sacks, I also show people how much difference in food volume there can be. For one week, I consume 10 to 15 liters of food. For about two weeks without resupply, I consume about 30 liters of (repackaged) food. Since many sleeping bags take up 15 liters in themselves (and let’s face it, some bulkier synthetics push 30 liters), if you add two weeks of food with an average bag you’ve got 45 liters of pack volume between two key factors. You’ve still got to add shelter, clothes, cook gear, and more. This is why I say to base your recommendations on ultralight philosophy, but to not restrict yourself solely to that philosophy. Help a consumer make a reasonable transition to UL!
One Piece at a Time
Cookware and kitchen stuff can be a great place to examine the balance between UL and more traditional gear. One of the techniques I use with customers is a sort of ratio, typically between price:weight savings. In other words, if a difference of $40 can save you a pound in a cookset, but that same $40 saves you eight ounces in a sleeping pad, get the cookset. (Incidentally, when I want to emphasize the importance of ounces, I speak in terms of pounds. Instead of two ounces, for example, I might phrase it "an eighth of a pound.") I rarely sell anything other than titanium cookware. I suspect that’s unusual for most retailers; I believe that many people simply sell less expensive product because (a) it’s easier to sell and (b) that’s all they think the consumer wants. Spending just a little time and effort to explain the benefits of Ti cookware usually helps people see why it’s a better choice, resulting in a happier customer and shopowner.
On the other hand, alcohol stoves aren’t for everybody, nor are canister stoves. The reality is that liquid fuel stoves are simply more versatile, functional options at times, despite their greater weight. If I have someone who wants to split their time between winter and three-season weather, I’ll probably sell them a broad-bottomed Ti pot and a white gas stove, while explaining why I made those recommendations. I also then suggest considering an upright canister stove for lightweight summer use.
I steer clear of single-wall tents or tarps as primary shelter considerations. The vast majority of complaints I hear from people about any camping experience is that their tent leaked or they otherwise got soaked while in their tent. In fact, it’s not uncommon for bad experiences in a tent to be a major reason people dislike traveling the backcountry. Many of these negative experiences are the result of condensation problems in single-wall tents… so I never sell them. Frankly, this is an area of major sacrifice for many folks that sometimes wouldn’t make sense for them anyway. Not everyone wants to push the edge. Some people like being warm, dry, and comfortable without having to futz or fiddle. And in my area, with plenty of sustained storms and steroidal mosquitos, double-wall tents can significantly help maintain and retain one’s sanity. We have far too much humidity here, too much weather and cold and bugs. In my neck of the woods, finding someone a lightweight double-wall tent is the name of the game.
No One is Always Right
We could talk about how retailers can best serve consumers all day long (which we might well do in the forums), but the last major point I’d like to make is price point. Some ultralight stuff is cheap, some quite expensive. Many retailers shy away from the more expensive products, perhaps afraid of being some sort of predatory horrible sales guy. Maybe they assume that people won’t want to spend the extra money for a superior quality or lighter weight product. Let me just say that I’ve sold $400 sleeping bags to people who were trying to get by with $50 ones, and they were happy to be leaving with the much more expensive bag. Those same people regularly come in to thank me and tell me how much they’ve enjoyed the things I’ve sold them, or how happy they are they spent the extra money.
People are never disappointed to find out that they own a quality piece of gear that works as advertised. They’ll invariably take a great deal of pleasure and pride in that piece of equipment. A truly warm, 20 F down sleeping bag that weighs about a pound and a half? And will last twenty years or more? Awesome! Price is often secondary. So: Sellers, buyers, don’t back away from the bigger-ticket options. They can prove to be money well spent.
It is important to be upfront with customers about your opinions, beliefs, and approaches to equipment, and to realize that those are your opinions, not the one truth for all backpackers. Openly stating your biases as you work with someone is important both for their benefit and to remind you of the lens with which you view the backpacking world. I relate personal experiences. Let’s be real. I didn’t start out with a ten- to fifteen-pound base weight. No one really does. I started with well over a fifty-pound base weight, but I’ve learned. So I take people through pertinent parts of the journey. Your way won’t work for everybody, but by lightening their pack, your ultralight knowledge can help people of all backgrounds and interests by making their time outside more enjoyable.
Walking on Fire: A Light-Hiker’s Guide to Wildfire Awareness, Survival, and Evasion (Part 3 of 3)
We’ve covered several skills of assessing and avoiding fire. Whether passing through, sheltering in, or simply going near a fire area, there are particular hazards beyond immolation to be aware of.
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Packrafting Utah’s Escalante River in Late March
At 1.6 cfs in the Escalante, would there be more packrafting or raft-packing for our intrepid explorers?
Huge sandstone walls along the river are tall enough to fill just about any camera lens. Bill Stadwiser admires nature’s architecture from the vantage point of an Alpacka.
Introduction
I am embarrassed to admit that, after several years of living in Utah, dozens of weeks spent in the western desert, and many nights dreaming away under a shelter slung between two juniper trees, I somehow managed to avoid reading Edward Abbey’s classic work, Desert Solitaire. That is, until a few weeks ago when, upon learning this fact, a friend demanded that I correct this travesty and made sure a copy found its way into my hands. As I lay in bed one February night in Montana, I began to read:
Off in the east an isolated storm is boiling over the desert, a mass of lavender clouds bombarding the earth with lightning and trailing curtains of rain. The distance is so great that I cannot hear the thunder. Between here and there and me and the mountains it’s the canyon wilderness, the hoodoo land of spire and pillar and pinnacle where no man lives, and where the river flows, unseen, through the blue-black trenches in the rock.
Reading our buddy Ed’s words stirred up thoughts of the desert that had been lying dormant ever since I left Utah four years ago. Like Goldie Wilson, the young busboy in Back to the Future who suddenly realizes that someday he is going to become mayor of Hill Valley, a smile came to my face as I said to myself, “River trip in a desert canyon. I like the sound of that.”
Raft-packing?
Stunning panoramic views greet travelers along the Escalante River. Notice the reflection of canyon features on Bill’s glasses.
For years I’ve heard stories about the eighty-mile stretch of the Escalante River above Lake Powell. Friends of mine who have spent their entire lives in Utah have remarked that of all the spectacular backcountry Utah has to offer (and there is plenty) this length of the Escalante ranks among the most enticing.
Andy Heath, a close friend and packraft owner, agreed that Escalante was an alluring destination. We immediately began poring over maps at the library in Bozeman and formulating an itinerary. Andy and I could only find a brief window this spring when our schedules would coincide. Late March was it, and we were confident that we could cover the roughly forty river miles between Fence Canyon and Coyote Gulch in four days.
Desert life flourishes along the river. Is Andy is chasing a photo opportunity or an afternoon snack? A grin like that could suggest either.
Despite our optimism, there was one glaring problem with our plan – low water. As a matter of fact, when preparing for the trip, many of the people with whom we spoke cautioned us that what were planning could not be done. For starters, spring runoff would not be for another couple of weeks, if at all due to the disappointing winter snow pack. We were warned that to run it in March would mean having to walk (aka ‘raft-pack’) much of the canyon. Also, those not familiar with the Alpacka’s tough-as-nails reputation were skeptical as to whether our inflatable boats could survive the maze of sharp stones and thorny Russian olive thickets that higher water levels would normally cover. Upon requesting permits, the rangers looked at us with a certain degree of paternal concern, then explained that the river was only running at 1.6 cfs (no, 1.6 is not a typo). To their knowledge, no one had successfully run the river at that level.
At this point, the only information we had that contradicted the negative feedback we were receiving was a forum posting written by Sheri Tingey, inventor of the Alpacka raft. She claimed that contrary to conventional wisdom, 2 cfs was not only enough water to packraft the Escalante, it was actually ideal. Putting our faith and trust in Sheri’s experience above all else and hoping for a bit of rain, Andy and I thanked the rangers for their advice and asked for permits anyway. After showing us our three bailout options above Coyote Gulch, a semi-sarcastic “Have a nice walk,” was the last thing we heard before heading out the door.
Over time, flowing water does remarkable things to sandstone. This honeycomb pattern found about 100 feet above the river’s current level was just one among the many of the interesting features we encountered. To give a sense of scale, most holes seen here are no larger than an average coin.
Philosophic Thoughts
I find desert travel particularly conducive to generate rolling, rambling, and what some might even call philosophic thoughts, amateur though they may be. Like a flux capacitor surging at 1.21 gigawatts, I noticed the desert transporting my brain to the place where time moves at geological pace, thus altering (and lessening) my brain’s insistence on its own significance and notions of permanence. Reading Desert Solitaire, it is obvious that our buddy Ed had similar thoughts,
Alone in the silence, I understand for a moment the dread which many feel in the presence of primeval desert, the unconscious fear which compels them to tame, alter, or destroy what they cannot understand, to reduce the wild and prehuman to human dimensions. Anything rather than confront directly the antehuman, that other world which frightens not through danger or hostility but in something far worse – its implacable indifference.
Taking breaks from the river to enjoy the scenery and snack is all part of the packrafting experience. Andy secures his boat before enjoying a much deserved midday rest.
Upon entering the canyon and seeing the first series of bends unfold before me, the thought came to my mind that our contemporary attitude towards wilderness conservation and preservation are narrow at best when applied to a land that is so jagged and unfinished. Encountering a place such as the Escalante River – a landscape constantly creating, destroying and re-creating itself – I realized how futile efforts would be to preserve it as it is at this moment in time. Rather, what is worth preserving are the natural, unimpeded processes by which the earth shapes itself free of unnecessary human intervention. Or, to put it into terms Back to the Future aficionados will understand, it is not the Hill Valley clock tower that is worth saving, as the crazy lady would have us believe, but rather the chance for lightning to strike it.
As we made the transition from foot to packraft, the thoughts continued, although subtler and more serene as the energy of the river began to move our bodies and gear. Floating next to the towering walls and meandering twists, this canyon and my packraft collaborated to remind me that change is necessary, inevitable, and utterly fascinating when I sit back and watch it do its thing.
Though water levels were very low (1.6 cfs), Andy and I only encountered a few areas where it was absolutely necessary to portage around obstacles. Here, Andy prepares to put in just below a series of unnavigable boulders.
Desert Quicksand
Those who have explored this area before warned Andy and I to watch out for quicksand. Our buddy Ed is among those offering cautionary advice:
Ordinarily it is possible for a man to walk across quicksand, if he keeps moving. But if he stops, funny things begin to happen. The surface of the quicksand, which may look as firm as the wet sand on an ocean beach, begins to liquefy beneath his feet. He finds himself sinking slowly into a jelly-like substance, soft and quivering, which clasps itself around his ankles with the suction power of any viscous fluid. Pulling out one foot, the other foot necessarily goes down deeper, and if a man waits too long, or cannot reach something solid beyond the quicksand, he may soon find himself trapped.
Andy and I discovered within a few hours of putting in our boats that quicksand is indeed a sporadic reality in the canyon. Upon exiting the boats, our first steps on shore were often tentative ones, never fully sure if the ground would give way under our feet. On one occasion, Andy found his right leg buried up to his knee in goopy sand, with the left precariously balanced on his still-unanchored boat. Fortunately, an inflated packraft is excellent device to facilitate self rescue from quicksand (reason #19 why an Alpacka raft is way cooler than a Delorean), and we were soon laughing about the event.
Navigating through shallow water, gravel bars, and large boulder fields meant for a pretty technical packraft. Here, Andy looks for a passable way through the maze.
Despite all the advanced warnings regarding getting stuck, the one warning we did not receive was to watch out for a different type of quicksand – the metaphorical kind that grabs your brain makes you not want to leave a place. During our float, Andy and I were so thoroughly captivated that we often talked about returning in a year or two to raft the entire eighty-mile stretch between the town of Escalante and Coyote Gulch. During that trip, we mused, we would take our time and explore as many side canyons and gulches along the way as we desired. Though exhilarating, the need to make good time in the shallow water prevented us from exploring beyond the main channel. As a result, the vast majority of the canyon’s secrets still remain a mystery to us, concealed behind the twisting labyrinth of walls, cracks, and bends… awaiting our inevitable return.
Hail to All Good Samaritans in Faded Silver Nissans
Its worth noting that there are definite advantages to reconfirming one’s shuttle plans when preparing for a rafting trip – especially in the desert. At the top of the list of advantages are avoiding the scenario whereupon one arrives at the end of the trail, out of food and short on water to find an empty parking lot. I can say for certain that there is a very distinct sinking feeling that takes place in the stomach upon arriving at said location and receiving a voicemail from your shuttler confirming your suspicions that he or she is indeed not coming to your rescue and that they are “sorry.” Denial, anger, bargaining, and acceptance follow thereafter in short order.
The closer one gets to Coyote Gulch, the more dramatic the canyon becomes. Views like this occur much more frequently as the canyon carves its way deeper and deeper into the rock.
I easily could explore the ways in which our predicament was like Marty McFly finding himself unexpectedly stuck in 1955 (November 5, to be exact) without a fully-operational time machine, but I can recognize a dead horse when I see one, so we’ll just move on. What I will say is that Andy and I found ourselves in the midst of quite the dilemma: stay put for who knows how long and hope someone offers us a ride back to our car or begin the long walk along a seldom-used desert road with unknown/doubtful access to drinking water.
While weighing the pros and cons of each decision, we were delighted to see an old, faded, silver Nissan truck approaching on the sandy road to the west. Tempering our excitement, we gingerly walked up to the man who exited, said hello, and asked him the predictable series of questions people in our situation would ask. As it turned out, the man was a former park ranger and understood our situation all too well. Not only did he offer us a ride back to our car, he actually handed us his keys and told us to drop it off when we were done retrieving our vehicle. I don’t recall his name, and I doubt he remembers ours, but two things are utterly clear to me after the event. Wow, were we incredibly lucky, and man, do I love Utah.
Stephen’s Arch is the grand finale of our trip, providing one final magnificent view of the Escalante before exiting at Coyote Gulch. Here, the water slows through a wide open bend in the river, allowing Andy a luxurious amount of time to take it all in.
Final Thoughts
While Andy and I are proud to say that we successfully floated the river at 1.6 cfs with relatively few portages (two or three per day on average, of which a grand total of three were mandatory/unavoidable), Andy and I definitely found ourselves wishing for more water on multiple occasions. I will suggest that 1.6 cfs is the absolute bare minimum needed to navigate this river by packraft. Both a light load and a well-tempered boat are also essential under these conditions to maximize buoyancy. Our biggest obstacles faced while rafting were the barely submerged boulders and gravel bars. Each proved hard to spot and could halt progress entirely when encountered unexpectedly. We found that constant attention to river features and the picking of proper water channels were imperative to maintaining steady progress. In short, 1.6 cfs was barely do-able, 2.0 would have been nice, and above 2.5 luxurious.
As far as weather is concerned, March is definitely a shoulder season in southern Utah. As such, we encountered everything from snow to blazing sun. For those wishing to do a similar trip, this obviously means taking the necessary precautions and planning accordingly when preparing a gear list. Fires are both forbidden in and ill-suited for the Escalante River canyon due to the fragile ecosystem, so it is wise to consider a little extra insulation for night, especially if you are a cold sleeper. Fortunately, many items in a typical packrafting kit have multiple uses and can help lighten the load and offset the additional weight of the packraft itself. Some typical examples are as follows: First, an upside-down packraft makes for a luxurious sleeping pad for those of us six feet and under. As a result, a sleeping pad is unnecessary for many packrafting trips. Similarly, raft paddles break down easily and provide solid support for a tarp shelter. Andy and I brought a two person mid and supported it in this way. Finally, a quality dry top (an essential piece of gear at this time of year) negates the need for additional rain gear, so long as you don’t mind your legs being wet during the day.
Finally, though we are all conscious of the amount of weight we pack on our trips, I would encourage folks to consider bringing along some excerpts from Desert Solitaire to most any float in southern Utah. A pared-down paperback copy weighs only a couple of ounces, and there is something wonderful to be gained from hearing Abbey’s words read aloud at night, echoing off the same stone that inspired him to write.
After arriving at the trailhead and finding our shuttle curiously absent, Andy and Bill had to improvise and make friends with strangers. In the background is our Good Samaritan’s Nissan, which he generously let us use without a second thought. Thank you, thank you, thank you, good sir, wherever you are.
Therapeutic Ultralight: Using Lightweight Backpacking to Help Troubled Boys
Getting emotionally disturbed boys working together to take a backpacking trip is a big job… with many setbacks, limited gear, and almost no budget.
Introduction
My journey into ultralight backpacking was an interesting experience. I took one of my first ultralight trips with a group of emotionally disturbed young boys. I was in North Carolina working with Cameron Boy’s Camp, a therapeutic wilderness camp/school for troubled boys.
These boys come to camp from very difficult family situations and, as a result, they are often unable to function in normal society. The camp groups them by age, and they live in primitive campsites of wood-framed tents they build and maintain themselves. Each group – six to ten boys and their three Counselor/Teachers or ‘Chiefs’ – is responsible to plan their own program together, based on the needs and desires of the group.
As the boys build trusting relationships with their Chiefs and each other, they learn to clearly express their frustrations, rather than acting them out. When they do act up, natural consequences (like being late for meals) are a powerful learning experience. As boys learn to work together to build a tent, chop wood, or pack a canoe, they learn social skills they can use back home with their families.
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Pre-Lightweight Backpacking & Camping days: Jerry and my brother, Daniel, in Alaska.
Hiking across a pass in Alaska.
The author, in Alaska, in his traditional heavy gear. My, how far he’s come.
In preparation for a backpacking trip, we took the boys canoeing and camping on North Carolina’s Great Pee Dee and Lumber Rivers. Notice how the paddles and gear are organized in a neat row. This trip was a huge factor in preparing our group for a good backpacking trip.
Dragging a canoe around a log jam on the Lumber River. We insisted we were building character, but the boys weren’t convinced it wasn’t just work.
Without lightweight gear, nor the time or budget to go shopping, we relied on technique and smart packing to limit the weight. The only packs that fit our little guys were these old external frame packs.
Ready to go, with the author (far left) and Chief Sue (the only woman!).
The ‘h’ tree. A popular camp landmark, boys used to climb it when it was smaller. Some of them probably still manage to shimmy up when Chiefs aren’t looking.
Hiking – proud to have accomplished something big, the boys were lighthearted on the trail.
We broke up hiking with fun activities like playing at the pond and on the rope swing. An excuse for the younger ones to rest without feeling like a hindrance as well as nipping some building tension, everyone loved the rope swing.
Looking for our first campsite. The winter sleeping bags (all we had) weighed nearly five pounds each, requiring us to really buckle down on other things without skimping beyond safety for the boys, who were our number one concern.
Our first campsite, ready with tarp. Everyone else slept under this while I gave my new Equinox poncho tarp a go.
Chow time and happy campers. Happy, squirrelly campers.
Hiking past Big Sam’s Lake. Austin, at the back, carried our tarp, which is why his pack is so bulky.
Exploring a tree, another break we took to keep the trip fun. The boys are trying to see how long they can balance on the trunk.
Chief Sue helps the boys set up camp. They did a great job of helping and figuring things out, knowing that we didn’t have all the answers, they saw themselves as part of the solution.
Our last campsite. Notice how the backpacks are laid out along a log to keep things organized, which was tremendously helpful when it came to knowing where everyone’s gear was, getting settled at night, and packed up in the morning.
Six to eight miles with the Frontiersmen. I’ve done longer, I’ve done lighter, but I doubt any of my other trips have had the lasting significance of this one.
Year One with the Frontiersmen
I had an interest in taking my group, the Frontiersmen, backpacking from the very beginning. In fact, a short backpacking trip was planned when I joined the group. The idea was to go on canoeing trips over the summer, then try to catch the fall colors for our backpacking trip.
Unfortunately, the group was in no shape for a wilderness excursion. Things were plenty wild enough around camp. In my first week, we found ourselves holding down three boys that wanted to fight, while they and the rest of the group were screaming obscenities at each other for two hours straight. Every group goes through periodic ‘Cain-raising’ phases, as new boys test the system. Eventually, natural consequences kick in, and the boys decide it’s not worth it. In the meantime, however, things were just too chaotic to go off in the backcountry.
I escaped the craziness for a while on a vacation with my brother, Daniel, and friend, Jerry, to Alaska. We planned a two-night backpacking trip, carrying traditional gear. The trip was fun, but on the second day I reinjured a knee I’d hurt while playing with the boys. We bailed on the trip and spent the rest of the time doing shorter day hikes. I didn’t know much about ultralight backpacking, but I made up my mind that I’d lighten my pack next time.
Year Two with the Frontiersmen
Going into my second spring at camp, things had stabilized a lot, as most of our group were the same boys from the year before. We got the guys camping on an island in the middle of a lake. With the group coming together a bit more, we canoed down the Lumber River for about five days. The trip was a huge success. Logjams and low water forced the guys to work together more.
Next, we did a three-week canoeing trip on the Pee Dee River, which was also a big success.
Meanwhile, I had discovered Lightweight Backpacking and Camping by Ryan Jordan and was diligently trimming my pack weight. Sue, my new co-Chief, gave me a homemade tarp tent; I replaced my old Therm-a-Rest and eliminated extra stuff I didn’t really need. I also bought a new Gregory Z-55 pack to replace my twenty-year-old Gregory pack that weighed around seven pounds.
After the Pee Dee trip, we counselors felt we could handle backpacking. The guys were functioning very well together and some were on their way home. The problem was it was now fall, and with Thanksgiving, Christmas, and various camp activities, we wouldn’t be free to take a trip until January. It was then or never, because I was leaving at the end of the month. Obviously backpacking in cold weather had its challenges, but I thought if we used the lightweight principals I was learning, it might be possible.
Planning the Trip
I also felt that another trip would help the group maintain cohesion. Two of our older boys had left as well as two counselors. Austin and Alex were eleven years old and were both doing pretty well at camp. The other four, Daniel, Howie, Nic, and Hunter, were all nine years old and were fairly new to camp. The newer boys hadn’t really bought into the idea that camp was part of the solution to their problems. I was often the only one holding the group together, and I wanted them to come together as a team before I left.
I spoke to Chief Tim, our Assistant Director, to see if we could plan a quick backpacking trip. There wasn’t really time to plan a major trip to the mountains, and it would have been too cold to be practical anyway. Tim suggested we do a two-day trip around the huge chunk of backwoods that the camp owned.
The guys were excited about the idea of backpacking. This motivated them to put more effort into keeping the group functioning well. If a boy was getting out of line, another would say, “We can’t act like this if we want to go backpacking.”
The camp didn’t have any truly lightweight gear, and we didn’t have the time or budget to go shopping. I was mostly relying on technique and smart packing to keep weight down. This was where Lightweight Backpacking and Camping came in handy.
Another group had already claimed the newer backpacks for a trip on the Florida Trail, so the only packs that would fit most of our little guys were old, external frame packs. They actually worked out pretty well, as they were fairly light and simple for our boys to pack.
I nearly choked when I saw the winter sleeping bags. With the bags weighing close to five pounds, I realized we would have to skimp any way we could. However, we couldn’t go too light. A cardinal rule of being a good Chief is to always look out for the needs of your group. If you’re not taking good care of them, you’re destroying the trust you’ve worked so hard to earn.
I used the ‘Super Ultralight’ chapter of Lightweight Backpacking and Camping to give me ideas. Eventually, we came up with the following list for each boy to carry:
- One extra hoody (one was worn)
- One Red Ledge waterproof/breathable raincoat (more as a windbreaker)
- Extra socks
- Two water bottles
- Foam pad
- Sleeping bag (-10 government surplus)
- Plate and spoon
- Poncho
We had Austin and Alex, our two oldest boys, carry a tarp and large pot. Chief Sue and I would carry all the other gear, a few extra clothes for emergencies, and the food.
Learn by Doing
It was very much a ‘learn as you go’ trip. My friend and previous co-Chief was gone, so I had to run the group and train Chief Sue, who was new. Neither of us had taken a group backpacking at camp. Besides that, none of the camp’s previous groups had gone this light before, and we were figuring it out as we went. This was where support from the boys was huge. Our boys were smart, and they knew we didn’t have all the answers. Instead of getting nervous about this (which often happens with such kids), the boys jumped in, and we figured things out together.
We got some awesome help from Chief Tim and Brian, our supervisor, in packing up, but mostly it was the boys’ project. I made it clear: if they wanted to go, they had better pull their weight. The boys helped plan the meals and pack them in bags. They helped find gear in the warehouse and got it organized. With a list, they then pulled together their personal items and packed them. In spite of the constraints we had to work with, the heaviest pack for an older boy was around seventeen pounds (including water), with the younger boys carrying about twelve pounds. The boys had some trouble adjusting their packs’ fit, but no complaints about weight. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to try out my new Gregory pack. I just had too much group gear to haul. I did go extremely light on personal gear, though. Sue and I each had our packs maxed out carrying all the stuff the boys couldn’t. There was no way we could have done this trip with traditional backpacking gear.
On the Trail
On the first day, we hit the trail in high spirits. The boys were proud to be backpacking. The attitude of accomplishing something big gave them an extra motivation they often lacked. I had pitched this trip idea to them as the coolest, most challenging trip a group could take. We hiked slowly, stopping to find walking sticks and explore. For a while we alternated between yelling encouragements and jokes up and down the line with singing crazy camp songs.
The only real glitch of the trip was more an accident than bad behavior. One boy flicked mud into Alex’s face with his walking stick. It was a LOT of mud. I could see it in his eye as he tried to blink it out, so I got out an unused water bottle and had Alex lie down, irrigating his eye using most of the 34-oz bottle until it was clear. Alex handled it well and said he was good to go. The eye wasn’t red or anything, so I guessed there was no need for a doctor.
The rest of the group was somewhat annoyed, however. They were all concerned about Alex and felt that the boy with the stick was unkind in not showing more concern for someone he’d just hurt. I suggested he apologize and maybe ditch the stick, since his flinging it around was a safety hazard. Needing to move on from this, I got the group hiking quickly, coming upon a rope swing nearby. This proved just what we needed to help everyone relax.
By late afternoon, the smaller boys were tired. They didn’t complain, but they let me know they wanted to rest soon. When I told them the campsite was near, they plowed on. I was proud of their attitude. One reason we had to reach this specific campsite was that we’d cached water there, as water in the creeks was considered unsafe.
At Camp
Our campsite was located near Big Sam’s Lake, a popular spot for the groups to go fishing. We split into two teams at the campsite, and Sue took some of the guys to dig a latrine and rig up a bear bag. A couple of other boys helped me set up the tarp. I realized we’d forgotten stakes, so I had two of the boys to sharpen sticks instead.
I had brought my new Equinox poncho tarp to try out, but I could easily imagine it getting ruined by careless boys. I told the guys to watch out for it, and almost took it down, but when Chief Sue and her crew came back, the guys with me spread the word to watch out for Chief’s new toy. “Be careful of Chief Luke’s tarp – it’s delicate, and he really likes it.” This personal concern was appreciated, and it was better than they’d treated tents in the past.
Cooking was a bit of a challenge, because we’d left the grill we used on canoeing trips. We could have propped the pot on rocks, but there were none, so we improvised. We made tripods out of walking sticks and belts to hold up a crosspiece for a pot to hang from.
Before bed at camp, groups always have a ‘pow-wow,’ or an evaluation of what they learned and accomplished for the day. That night, the boys were clearly feeling good about themselves, and we encouraged them to keep it up and make it the best trip ever.
Good People Make for Good Stories
We had a funny incident when we started hiking the next morning. One of the boys, who shall remain anonymous, had a pair of jeans that were quite a bit too big. “Chief” he called back, “my pants are falling down.” “Don’t worry,” I said “your hip belt should hold them up.” He disappeared around a corner, then I heard a panicked “CHIEF!” I got around the corner, and there he was with his pants around his ankles. The other guys tried not to embarrass him as he got himself put back together. I helped him adjust his hip belt so it didn’t push his pants down anymore, and we had a good laugh together.
We hiked through a creek bottom most of the morning. I showed the group how to purify water with iodine tablets or a filter. I also tried out a rope swing over the creek and got my feet wet. “Chief, you got a problem with water,” Austin teased, “you dumped your canoe on the Pee Dee and now you get your feet wet!” He was referring to the fact that I’d been the only one to tip a canoe on our trips so far. That accident was particularly memorable because the sleeping bags were all in my canoe.
We were making great time, so we took it easy. We spent a lot of the afternoon exploring around a pond. The guys had fun balancing on a fallen tree and playing around the water.
When I called a halt we gathered up in a circle, like we always did when it was time to make a plan of action. To keep things organized, I laid out the campsite plan for the group. I pointed out the fireplace and the two trees we’d rig the tarp off. I then instructed the boys to lay their packs along a log in a neat row.
The boys now had a routine for a backpacking camp and moved more quickly and with less required instruction than the previous day. We made bear bagging a group activity; everyone had a few tries at throwing the rope over the branch about twenty feet up. Of course most of the boys couldn’t throw that high, and if they could, they got the rope tangled up. It made for a pretty entertaining show.
Our campsite was looking good when my old co-Chief Aaron (who’d become a supervisor) came by to check on us. He’d put a lot into the group, and it was fun for him to be part of our success. He gave me a package of cookies for the guys as a sort of celebration. We certainly celebrated. There were more cookies than we really needed, and we let the boys splurge a bit.
That night around the pow-wow fire, we asked the boys what they thought of our trip. They all expressed a real feeling of accomplishment. They’d all felt like the little runts of camp when the older boys pulled off adventures and we hadn’t. The boys also pointed out that we’d done this trip without any big problems. I agreed it was an awesome trip and bragged on the boys because I was truly thrilled with them. They’d helped us Chiefs plan and pack for a trip none of us had done, they’d trusted us while we figured things out on the fly, they’d encouraged one another when they got tired, and they’d shown initiative in helping meet the needs of the group. I could not have asked for more out of them.
Conclusion
The trip had been exactly what I’d wanted. It had challenged the guys to put more effort into helping each other than they otherwise would have done. As a result, the guys realized what they could accomplish by working together, and they would hopefully feel more confident in seeking help at the camp.
Aaron and Brian had both put a lot of hard work into helping get the Frontiersmen off the ground, and they were happy to see us backpacking. After two years of hard work, it was a fantastic way to end up. I told one of my friends, “We went backpacking; I can die in peace and go to Frontiersmen Heaven.”
About a week later it was all over, I said my good-byes and moved on to a job in Colorado. Over the last few months, the boys and I had become very close and leaving was hard. We’d come a long way together: campers that used to treat me like dirt were bawling that I was leaving.
I’m grateful to Aaron, Sue, Brian, Tim and all the other awesome staff at camp for all the work they did to make the trip possible and to make Frontiersmen a good group. I’m also glad I had Ryan Jordan’s book to make our trip a logistical possibility.
I’ve lost track of most of those boys, though I know two have since graduated from camp and seem to be doing very well at home. Another was pulled out a bit prematurely, but his mom also reports good progress. Since then, I’ve done plenty of longer, lighter, and more scenic trips. But the one I’ll always consider my most significant was the six to eight miles I covered with the Frontiersmen.
Terra Nova Laser Photon Elite Tent (2008 Model) Review
With a trail weight of just 1 pound 11 ounces, it’s the Guinness World Record holder for the lightest double-wall tent commercially available, but that doesn’t mean it’s perfect.
Introduction
Alpine camping in the Terra Nova Laser Photon, a one-person double wall tent with a trail weight of just 1 pound 11 ounces.
Weighing just 1.7 pounds (trail weight), the Terra Nova Laser Photon now holds the Guinness World Record for the lightest tent, specifically “the lightest two-skin tent commercially available”. It’s targeted for mountain marathons and adventure racers, but it’s actually very suited for ultralight backpacking. My review evaluates the efficacy of the Laser Photon in relation to the previously reviewed Terra Nova Laser Competition and Hilleberg Akto and the new Terra Nova Laser Elite and Tarptent Scarp 1+. How do these ultralight double wall solo tents compare in terms of livability, weight, and value?
Specifications
|
Year/Manufacturer/Model |
2008 Terra Nova Laser Photon |
|
Style |
Three-season, one-person, double-wall, non-freestanding tent with floor, one vestibule, and one side entry door |
|
Included |
Tent body, fly, one aluminum hoop pole, twelve titanium stakes, pole hood, pole sack, stake sack, tent stuff sack |
|
Fabrics |
Proprietary. Inner tent is high thread count ripstop nylon, about 1 oz/yd2; fly is Watershed SL2 2000mm; floor is Waterbloc SL 4000 mm |
|
Poles and Stakes |
One DAC Featherlite 7001 aluminum center hoop pole, two 17.25 in (44 g) carbon fiber end struts, twelve titanium 1-gram stakes 5.25 in (13 cm) long |
|
Floor Dimensions |
Manufacturer specifications: Length: 87 in (220 cm) Width at center: 36.6 in (93 cm) Width at ends: 24.4 in (62 cm) Height: 37.4 in (95 cm) Measured specifications: Length: 86.5 in (220 cm) Width at center: 37 in (94 cm) Width at ends: 26 in (66 cm) Height: 35 in (89 cm) |
|
Features |
Very lightweight fabrics, carbon fiber end struts, strong aluminum hoop pole, one-gram titanium stakes, large vestibule, large side entry door |
|
Packed Size |
18 x 5 in (46 x 12 cm) |
|
Total Weight |
Measured weight: 1 lb 12.1 oz (0.8 kg) Manufacturer specification: 1 lb 11.8 oz (0.79 kg) |
|
Trail Weight |
Measured weight: 1 lb 11.2 oz (0.77 kg) Manufacturer specification: 1 lb 10.1 oz (0.74 kg) (excludes stuff sacks) |
|
Protected Area |
Floor area: 17.4 ft2 (1.62 m2) Vestibule area: 8.4 ft2 (0.78 m2) Total protected area: 25.8 ft2 (2.4 m2) |
|
Protected Area/Trail Weight Ratio |
12.1 ft2/lb |
|
MSRP |
£330 (about US$435) |
|
Options |
Footprint (8.3 oz/235 g/£40, about US$53) |
Design and Features
The Terra Nova Laser Photon is a lighter version of the Laser Competition. The design and dimensions of the Competition and Photon are exactly the same. Both are a tunnel design, with a center hoop pole and end struts for support, and a large vestibule protecting the entry. The inner tent and fly are attached and pitch as a unit. The design is very similar to the Hilleberg Akto and Tarptent Scarp 1+, which will be compared with the Terra Nova tents in the Assessment section at the end of this review.
Based on measured trail weights, the Laser Photon is 6.8 ounces lighter than the Laser Competition, which previously held the Guinness World Record for lightest double-wall tent. The weight savings is achieved through the use of lighter fabrics and one-gram titanium stakes. The lightweight fabrics used in the Photon are impressive. The inner tent is a high thread count nylon, and the fly is a lighter version of silnylon; both appear to weigh about 1 ounce per square yard. Although the emphasis in the Photon is light weight, it’s interesting to note that the main hoop pole is aluminum rather than carbon fiber. The cost for the weight savings is £50 (about US$70).
Views of the Terra Nova Laser Photon. Entry is from the side (top left) via a zippered door to the left of the center pole. The ends (top right) are raised by a carbon fiber strut attached to the inner tent. The rear view (bottom left) shows the tent’s ground level fly, which protects the inner tent from splash back. In the top view (bottom right), the entry is at the top of the photo.
The complete tent stuffs into a small but ample lightweight stuff sack (left). The tent is “secured” with twelve of Terra Nova’s new 1- gram titanium stakes (right). The stakes are 5.25 inches long and weigh 1.28 grams each.
Inside features. The entry door in the fly (top left) ties to the side; a large vestibule prevents rain from directly entering the inner tent. The five-foot wide zippered entry into the inner tent (top left and right) is huge; when unzipped, the door lays on the tent floor. Note the rear strut and large air space between the inner tent and fly, as well as the large vestibule space. The floor (bottom left) is 87 inches long and 37 inches wide at the center, which is ample for a taller person plus some gear. Each end of the tent has a mesh vent (bottom right), plus a large mesh panel at the top of the entry door.
Performance
Setup is easy and fast: stake out one end, insert the center pole, stake out the other end, and complete staking. That’s the good news; those one-gram stakes are another matter. The carbon fiber stakes supplied with the Laser Competition broke easily, so Terra Nova came up with one-gram titanium stakes to replace them. Let me be the first to say that they don’t work either. The first time I set up the tent I had a lot of problems with the stakes turning and releasing the guylines, then vanishing in the vegetation. I spent a lot of time on my knees finding the stakes. In my opinion, the one-gram stakes do not have enough holding power and are easily lost, so they are entirely inadequate. I replaced them with six-inch titanium shepherd hook stakes (0.22 oz/6 g each), which did a fine job of securing the tent. The tent has a total of ten attachment loops at the base of the inner tent and fly, plus four guylines (two on the center hoop plus two on the ends). This sounds complex, but four pairs of loops can be attached to single stakes, bringing the number of stakes for a secure pitch down to ten. The net weight gain from using the heavier stakes is 1.56 ounces.
Terra Nova provides twelve one-gram stakes (center) with the Laser Photon tent, which are little more than a toothpick (bottom). I replaced them with some “real” six-inch titanium stakes (top), which are still very light and provide a secure pitch. Alternatively, you can purchase the tent with Terra Nova’s two-gram stakes, which are 4.75 inches long.
The interior of the Laser Photon is quite roomy for a one-person tent. Its 87-inch floor is long enough for a taller person, but headroom is limited (measured at 35 inches at the center and 15 inches at the ends). I’m six feet tall and found the tent’s height acceptable both while lying down and sitting up. The floor’s 37-inch width at the center provides some extra room for gear. Contributing most to the tent’s roominess is its large vestibule (20 inches wide at the center) and 60-inch wide zippered door which combines the vestibule into the tent’s usable space.
During my summer, fall, and winter testing I was able to use the Laser Photon under a range of conditions. The tent’s tunnel shape, ten stakes (my modification, which includes four guylines), and fly to the ground design makes it extremely wind stable. It easily withstood 45 mph gusts with only minor deflection. When I endured a spring duststorm in southern Utah, I discovered a shortcoming to the version of silnylon that Terra Nova uses for the fly – dust really sticks to it, bad! Silnylon (silicone impregnated ripstop nylon) is available in different formulations, usually different ratios of silicone and polyurethane, and this one appears to be mostly silicone. Dust sticks to it like a magnet. Fortunately, the dust washes off with clear water.
Dust really sticks to the silnylon used for the Photon’s fly (left); a Utah duststorm turned the fly from green to brown! I found the Photon to be very wind stable and strong enough to withstand light snow (right).
The Photon is sturdy enough to withstand a light to moderate snow -if you slap the walls of the tent frequently – but it’s obviously not designed or built to support a heavy snow load. Dry snow readily slides off, but wet snow sticks to the tent (as shown), causing significant deflection. The ground level fly does a good job of keeping wind and wind-driven snow out of the tent, as well as shielding the inner tent from splash-back from heavy rain. Also, the ground level fly in combination with the nylon inner tent are very effective in retaining heat – on a cold March morning I measured the outside temperature at 33 F and the inside temperature at 50 F, a seventeen-degree difference.
The zipper on the Photon’s fly (left) is not waterproof and does not have a storm flap, so water will seep through. I found the dripping inside to be minor, and it falls in the vestibule, not the inner tent. Terra Nova includes a pole hood (right) made of polyurethane coated nylon that ties on over the ridge pole, and incorporates two guylines. It weighs 3.1 ounces in its stuff sack, and is not included in the tent’s weight. It’s most useful for windy/rainy conditions where extra support and protection are needed. I found that sealing the seams with diluted silicone is sufficient to prevent leakage (except the zipper) for normal three-season backpacking.
While the Photon’s ground level fly keeps wind and snow out, it also keeps moisture in. Translation: the tent is not very well ventilated to the outside, so condensation is a significant problem. There is a large air space between the inner tent and the fly, and good ventilation between the inner tent and fly via mesh vents at both ends and in the door, plus the door can be opened partially or entirely. Moisture readily passes out of the inner tent, but there are no vents in the fly to exhaust moisture out of the tent. Unlike the Hilleberg Akto, for example, which has a high vent on the vestibule and two end vents on the fly, the Photon does not have any vents at all on the fly, and the fly extends down to the ground. Condensation is minimal in breezy or windy conditions – in fact the ground level fly is an asset when it’s windy – but on a clear, cool, calm night it’s a recipe for condensation. Under such conditions I found light to moderate condensation or frost on the inside of the fly, and in rainy conditions I found heavy condensation on the inside of the fly. Fortunately, the inner tent and fly can be easily separated so the wet fly can be packed separately.
The Laser Photon can be pitched using only the fly, poles, and stakes to create a two-person floorless single wall tent weighing 20 ounces (with ten titanium shepherd hook stakes). The inside dimensions in this configuration are 102 inches long x 63.5 inches wide x 37 inches high.
Assessment
Its one thing to pare out weight to achieve a world record for the lightest two-skin tent commercially available, but it can potentially conflict with functionality. The one-gram stakes created for the Photon are a good example; they are more of a novelty than something truly functional. Under tension, they easily turn and release a guyline attached to them, and their small heads disappear in the vegetation. I personally would not entrust a high end tent costing £330 (about US$435) to those toothpicks! Rather, I would opt for more secure stakes (adding 1.6 ounces, as described above), and save some weight somewhere else. The same philosophy applies to the lack of even a minimal mesh storage pocket inside and a storm flap over the zipper, which would add another ounce. And while we’re at it, how about adding a high vent or two to lessen the condensation problem?
To offset the weight added from my refinements, I suggest switching to a carbon fiber hoop pole (a two-ounce savings), a C-shaped entry door into the inner tent (a one-ounce savings, and the door would tie off to the side rather than lay on the floor), and using thinner elastic and Spectra cords on the guylines (a one-ounce savings). Such refinements would make the Photon more user-friendly for ultralight backpackers.
As mentioned earlier, the Laser Photon is similar in design to several other tents. The following table provides details for comparing the tents.
| Tent | Floor Area (ft2) | Vestibule Area (ft2) | Ventilation | Trail Weight (lb) | Cost (April 2009) ** |
| TN Laser Photon | 17.4 | 8.4 | None | 1-11.2 | £330 (approx US$435) |
| TN Laser Elite | 17.4 | 3.0 | None | 1.7 | £387 (US$500) |
| TN Laser Competition | 17.4 | 8.4 | None | 2.1 | £280 (approx. US$365 |
| Hilleberg Akto | 18.3 | 8.6 | 1 top vent, 2 end vents | 3.1 | US$420 |
| Tarptent Scarp 1+ * | 19.0 | 12.5 | 2 top vents, raised sidewalls | 2.8 | US$295 |
| *The TT Scarp 1+ has two doors and two vestibules | |||||
| **Terra Nova and Hilleberg tents are available from US dealers; cost varies | |||||
Some highlights and observations from the comparison table are as follows:
- The Laser Elite is Terra Nova’s latest model. It’s the lightest tent here, but its 23-inch interior height limits its appeal mostly to adventure racers
- The Laser Competition weighs 6.8 ounces more than the Photon and costs about US$70 more
- Although it has a good reputation, the Hilleberg Akto is a bit heavy and pricey
- The Laser Photon would be a good value if it included a carbon fiber hoop pole, plus other refinements described above
- The Tarptent Scarp 1+ weighs a bit more than the Laser tents, but it has more floor space, two doors and two vestibules, more headroom, better ventilation, and costs a lot less
Overall, the Terra Nova Laser Photon tent is a mixed bag – it utilizes a very stable and roomy design, and its ultralight, but it needs several refinements to make it more user-friendly and functional for ultralight backpacking.
What’s Good
- Sub two-pound one-person double-wall tent
- Utilizes a tunnel design to minimize weight, and maximize interior usable space
- Inner tent and fly pitch together as a unit
- Very wind stable and storm worthy
- Very taut and has a large air space between the inner tent and fly
- Huge vestibule
- Plenty of space for one person plus gear, or one hiker plus a dog
What’s Not So Good
- No high vent or end vents on the fly to exhaust moisture, so condensation is an issue
- One-gram stakes are not adequate to secure the tent
- Hoop pole is aluminum instead of carbon fiber
- No storage pocket
- No storm flap on the zipper
- Dust sticks badly to the silicone nylon fly
- Toggle and loop tieout for the vestibule door are difficult to reach
Recommendations for Improvement
- Add high vents
- Add a mesh storage pocket
- Switch to an C-shaped zipper on the entry door to save a little weight and allow the door to be tied off to the side
- Add a storm flap to protect the zipper on the fly
- Replace the one-gram stakes with more substantial and functional stakes
- Replace the aluminum hoop pole with a carbon fiber pole, or offer it as an option
Walking on Fire: A Light-Hiker’s Guide to Wildfire Awareness, Survival, and Evasion (Part 2 of 3)
We can now distinguish parts of a fire, know some basics of wildfire behavior, and are familiar with the fundamental suppression method. We come to the crux question: how do you get away?
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Walking on Fire: A Light-Hiker’s Guide to Wildfire Awareness, Survival, and Evasion (Part 1 of 3)
As light hikers, we cover large distances and travel more deeply into remote areas than many other wilderness users. As a result, we’re more likely than most wilderness users to encounter uncontrolled and unreported fires. How do you assess the fire and anticipate its movement? What do you do?
Walking on Fire: Part 1
Introduction
You’re six days through a week-long thru-hike, making good time. It’s a brilliant, bluebird day. You’ve gone light on food, but it feels so good to be out in the mountains that you hardly notice. Your spouse is meeting you at the trailhead, only ten miles ahead. You crest the final pass and gaze downvalley.
Your chest tightens. The forest canopy is awash in pale gray smoke, rising upslope towards the ridgeline. Although no flame is visible from here, it’s clearly a big fire, at least a quarter-mile across. Vertically, it stretches from just above valley-bottom to timberline – and the trail goes right through the heart of it. As if on cue, an usually large puff of smoke and dust emerges from the near edge. A moment later, a muffled, clattering crash echoes through the valley: the sound of a big tree falling. Your heart rate jumps. You’ve got 2,100 calories of food left and no communications equipment. You’re in trail shoes. Your ride is on the other side of the burn.
You stop, breath deeply, and wash the jolt of adrenaline form your system. First, you realize, you need to assess the fire and terrain. Only then can you form a plan.
As light hikers, we cover large distances and travel more deeply into remote areas than many other wilderness users. As a result, we’re more likely than most wilderness users to encounter uncontrolled and unreported fires. Fortunately, the same factors which increase this likelihood – light loads, mobility, speed, and comfort in the backcountry – also make the light hiker unusually well-suited to respond to such a situation.
How do you assess the fire and anticipate its movement? What do you do?
The Nature of Flame
The Fire Triangle: Venerable icon of fire science, the fire triangle depicts the three critical components of fire.
Start With How We Cook
To understand wildfire behavior, we need to start with the fundamental nature of fire. Let’s examine a familiar tool: the liquid-fuel stove. In a stove, we combine an ignition source (heat) with oxygen and fuel. This starts a self-sustaining, exothermic (literally “heat out”) chain reaction called combustion. In a liquid stove, fuel flow-rate is usually used to control combustion intensity, but oxygen is used as the control mechanism for the physical location of the fire. The metal fuel-supply tube contains moving fuel and becomes very hot, but with the tube wall separating fuel from oxygen, no combustion occurs inside it. Combustion occurs only at the fuel aperture, where the fuel “daylights” and circulates with oxygen-rich air. A byproduct of this reaction, at the atomic level, is the release of photons, which we observe as flame.
A 100,000-acre forest fire burns under the same constraints as a stove. In fact, we can push the metaphor a lot further. Within the metal fuel tube, a process known as preheating occurs, in which the fuel is warmed. Since combustion only occurs above a certain temperature (which varies for different fuels), this heating prepares the fuel for combustion. At a certain point in the fuel tube, the liquid becomes a gas. It is these vapors – not liquid fuel- which actually combust with the oxidizer (oxygen).
A critical point: it is the vapor which combusts, not solid or liquid material. The carbohydrate and hydrocarbon fires we naturally encounter, from burning trees to burning cars, are flammable vapors combusting with atmospheric oxygen. Fuel is heated until it releases flammable vapors, the vapors mix with air, and the mixture combusts. Fire as we’re generally familiar with it is a reaction occurring in hot gases, and it behaves as such.
When you wrap an aluminum heat-shield around your stove, you create the “oven effect” of a heat shield, reflecting and/or capturing and re-radiating infrared heat. A pile of logs does the same thing – as does steep canyon walls. Dumping a cook pot of cold water on the stove absorbs the combustion heat, robbing the chain reaction of its “heat engine” and thereby extinguishing it, and may also momentarily occlude the oxygen supply.
When you blow out your stove – or a candle – you’re literally pushing the “cell” of hot gas away from the fuel source. The cell burns out or dissipates. You’ve literally blown the heat “off” the stove. If that object is hot enough (i.e., the metal on the stove), it will re-supply the heat-of-combustion, and the chain reaction will begin again. For this reason, it’s easy to blow out a candle or burning pine needle (except in very dry conditions), but a superheated log may endure even momentary immersion in a helicopter bucket drop: its mass forms a huge “heat battery.”
Fire on the Land
Basic Fire Behavior, Suppression, and Assessment
South Libby Fire, 2001
Our Hotshot crew marched through an ashy moonscape, skirting a burned and very unhappy little rattlesnake. Near midnight, we set to work cutting line up Libby Peak, following the fire edge and a flagline left by our scouts. Without solar heating and daytime winds, the fire had “laid down,” but was still burning actively in places. In fire lexicon, “humidity recovery was poor,” meaning the temperature stayed high and the humidity low all night. Tearing a swathe of cleared brush and barren soil up the mountain, we snaked along the very edge of the fire. The contingency plan was simple: if the fire started heating up ahead of us or spots fires started below our position, we’d step across the low-intensity edge behind us, and walk into the wilderness of ash behind it. There was nothing left to burn out there.
After sunrise, Tony, our superintendent, pulled us back into “the black” to await recon. We hiked up to a ridgeline and saw, for the first time, what he’d had us cutting around: an entire drainage running up the mountain, incinerated. The entire bowl, perhaps a half-mile or more long, had been sterilized. Black skeletons of trees and white ash were all that remained.
We sat down in the ash and held position as the fire wakened to a new day. A helicopter landed on the ridge and took Tony up on recon. Smoke activity increased, sending iron-gray plumes up from the mountain’s timbered flanks. Trees torched intermittently on a distant ridge, shooting banners of orange flame into the sky.
Miles to the north, a white cumulous cloud rose from an unseen valley, a series of wispy, lens-shaped cirrus clouds on its crown. Silent and alabaster, it bespoke – to the cognizant eye – violent and infernal events below.
It turned out this was the “column” from the Thirtymile fire. As we watched, it was burning four firefighters to death.
Technical Points of South Libby: South Libby demonstrates some basic and very practical fire science. In the following analysis, we’ll look at
- Parts of a Fire
- Topography: How Fire Interacts with Terrain
- Basic Fuel Types: What Burns and How
- Isolating the Fire and Mopping Up: The Basic Firefighting Acts
- Torching: Fuel Arrangement and Vertical Fire Behavior
- Nighttime Laydown
Parts of a Fire
Parts of a Fire: The three basic parts of a fire exist simultaneously across scales and can be identified on most flames.
Any given patch of fire has three basic parts – head, flanks, and heel or back – and five common ways of spreading – head fire, flanking fire, backing fire, spotting, and roll-out. In the graphic, we see the three spread types associated with the parts of a fire: head, flanking, and backing fire. These fire “types” occur on any given patch of fire, from a candle flame to the 175,000-acre Tripod fire.
At South Libby, we “anchored” at the vertical bottom of the fire, on the low-intensity heel. From there, we dug all night upslope on flanking and backing portions, where it was – in fire parlance – a “surface burn.” The head fire, on the other hand, had been so hot earlier in the evening that it had sterilized an entire drainage.
When interacting with any flame, practice differentiating the three basic parts of a fire. As you learn to differentiate them at a glance, you’ll be able to identify the hotter, faster-spreading parts of a fire almost instantly. The fatal Thirtymile Fire – which we watched “blow-up” – arguably resulted in four deaths because the trapped crew thought they were at the heel of the fire – the backing portion – when they were in fact near the head.
Light Hiker Tactic: Aside from actual flame angle measurements, nothing indicates head, flank, and backing fire as well as smoke. Activity may vary due to varying fuel types, but smoke almost always goes into the black at backing fire, along the fire front at flanking fire, and away from the fire and into unburned areas at head fire.
Topography: How Fire Interacts with Terrain
Basic Topographic Effects.
An idealized fire, on a continuous fuel bed, on a flat horizontal surface, and in the absence of wind, will spread in a more-or-less perfect circle. Very few of us, however, hike in an idealized windless version of Iowa. Usually, we’re in wind and rolling or mountain topography, which changes everything.
Wind, by displacing the hot gases via air movement and the radiant heat flux via flame-angle, will progressively attenuate the perfect circle of a flatland fire into an oval that gets progressively longer and thinner, as wind speed increases.
As terrain gets steeper and more complicated, terrain rapidly becomes a major influencer on the fire, eventually dominating it. This is partly through terrain’s place at the top of the food chain: mountain topography shapes local winds and controls water flow, creating the microclimates and vegetation patterns that further influence fire. Fortunately, fire interacts with topography in a reliable set of ways.
Basic Wildfire Topographic Effects:
- Fire sends heat, smoke, and flame uphill at a rapid rate in proportion to the steepness of the slope.
- Fire sends rolling and burning material downhill.
- Fire flows up gullies, draws, box canyons, and other features that funnel airflow. This is known as the “Chimney Effect.”
- Fire flows into saddles and passes.
- Fire typically loses intensity when striking a ridgeline, after running up slope.
- Deep gullies and enclosed terrain can have an oven effect, containing heat.
- Slope winds (diurnal updrafts, nocturnal downdrafts, and foehn or gravity winds) will drive fire.
Basic Fuel Types: What Burns and How
Spread Rates in Different Fuel Types: Three fires in otherwise similar conditions, at the same time, “t“, after ignition. All have spread from origins at roughly the same points (the white circles at middle and right, the small patch of black at left), with different spread rates (how fast they spread) and residence times (how long they burn on a patch of given ground). Residence time (coupled with intensity) affects the final temperature of the “black,” and hence the amount of time until it is inhabitable.
The nuances of fuel type are as varied as the biome itself and are further affected by humidity and arrangement. However, for a quick and intuitive ability to interpret fuel types, we can split them into three loose categories: Fine, Light, and Heavy. The cheat sheet on them:
Fine Fuels: Flashy Fast-Movers. Fine fuels are grass, pine needles, twigs, chaparral brush, and any other fuels that burn with a tinder-like intensity and speed.
- Burn hot, fast, and flashy.
- Can spread at very high rates in conducive arrangements (cured tall grass, standing), moving more quickly than most people can run.
- Cool quickly after burning.
- Absorb rain and atmospheric moisture rapidly.
- Can dry again in less than thirty minutes of sunlight and/or warm, dry wind.
Light Fuels: Sticks and Kindling. Light fuels, for this discussion, include kindling-weight twigs and a variety of sticks. Fine fuels will often readily ignite light fuels, and light fuels assist in igniting heavier fuels. Light fuels will usually equalize with ambient humidity over a period from thirty minutes to several hours.
Heavy Fuels: Environmental Equalizers. Heavy fuels include large branches, downed logs, and standing snags.
- Ignite and engulf relatively slowly.
- Generate tremendous heat when fully engulfed in flame, if dry.
- Burn for long periods, if dry throughout.
- Act as heat sinks for the fire around them, if wet.
- If dry, burning heavies can superheat the environment they burn in, making it hostile for some time after they are consumed.
- Absorb rain and atmospheric moisture very slowly. Rain squalls have little effect on them.
- Carry their moisture loads for days or years. Heavies reflect the environmental norms of drought or rainfall, not the last few days’ weather.
Light Hiker Tactic: Fuel Type Assessment on the Landscape. The categories of Fine, Light, and Heavy are metaphorical. In reality, fuels exist on spectrums of surface area, humidity capacity, thermal mass, and energy content, but these categories are useful tools.
Standing in any given place on the environment, break down every readily burnable thing you see into Fine, Light, and Heavy Fuels. Knowing how each burns (fines are flashy, heavies burn long and hot, and lights are in-between), what scene of fire intensity and duration does this create for you?
Isolating the Fire and Mopping Up: The Basic Firefighting Acts
Basic Suppression Sequence: Head fire is most difficult to contain. In this case, line is dug at “stand-off range.” Holding it may be difficult.
The basic wildfire containment technique is to isolate the fire by separating the burning fuel from unburned fuel. This done by creating a firebreak, a space which the fire won’t burn across. Isolation via firebreak is the primary tactic used on most remote fires in the western U.S. High-pressure water pumps, foam, helicopter water-drop, and other technical innovations are only accessories to the basic act of isolation.
Once the fire is contained, the primary extinguishing method is “dry mopping,” or churning any hot fuel in with damp soil. This isolates burning material at a fine scale (by putting soil between pieces of burning fuel) and uses the water in the soil to extinguish the fire.
As a salty old foreman of mine once said: “Separate the green stuff from the black stuff, put the brown stuff on the orange stuff, and stay out of the gray stuff. It’s not that complicated.”
Light Hiker Tactic: Quickie Fire-Isolation. With a very small fire, simply scrape the area around it down to mineral soil. In most cases, this will stop all spread. In more forgiving conditions, just sweeping back the most readily available fuel (pine needles atop a damp organic soil) is enough. Pouring or splashing water around the edge may also work, at least temporarily.
Light Hiker Tactic: Dry Mop-Up. Whether containing a small fire or putting out your own campfire, some simple and reliable dry-mop techniques are:
- Churn damp soil from under the fire into it. This is known as “potato patching.”
- Rub or “scrub” heavy fuels with soil, when they are cool enough.
- Check for heat hiding in cracks or fissures in logs.
- Chip off any exterior scab of charcoalized wood. This charcoalized layer can insulate heat beneath it. The burnt scabs are known as “gators” because they look somewhat like alligator hide.
- The dry mop is complete when you can dig your hands through all parts of it and handle all fuels without discomfort. This is known as “cold trailing.”
- After this, the fire-area may resemble a churned-up garden.
“Potato-patching” is a common hallmark of smokejumper tactics. You may have encountered aging areas of heavily worked ground, mixed with old burnt wood, in remote wilderness areas. Now you know: these are probably old smokejumper fires.
Torching: Fuel Arrangement and Vertical Fire Behavior
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| Vertical vs. Horizontal Fuel Arrangement: At left, a “tipi” fire uses vertical fuel arrangement and inward angled fuels (which help channel air), creating an oven effect. A powerful central heat column drives efficient ventilation via a single large convection cell, and preheats the higher-placed fuels. At right, fuels are spread horizontally. Ventilation is broken up into micro-cells. Heat escapes upward, failing to preheat other fuels, weakening the heat engine. |
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Fire spreads vertically as well as horizontally, and vertical spread – where fuel arrangement allows it – is more spectacular as a result of gas dynamics. From our perspective, the most important behavior is torching, the process by which fire climbs up and ignites the canopies of trees. Key points of torching:
- Often indicates increased fire activity. Increases in the torching rate often mean the fire is ‘heating up.’ A fire that is frequently torching should be given a lot of space. This fire may produce crown runs, in which the fire runs through the canopies of tightly spaced trees.
- Radiant heat potential. A torching tree or large mass of ground fire can produce enough infrared radiation to burn exposed skin. It’s a bit like being microwaved. Light-Hiker Tactic: If you must pass through an area with large flames and high radiant heat, pass through quickly. Consider wearing long sleeves, long pants, and a hat. A dry bandana can be used as a face-shroud in extreme situations.
- Spot fires and ember-cast. Torching often creates ember-cast, which may start spot fires. Spot fires are covered later, in Part III.
Nighttime Laydown
Fire is influenced by moisture, wind, latent temperature, and solar heating. Nighttime hours create a familiar drop in temperature, but also a rise in relative humidity (hence nocturnal dew), and frequently a lessening of solar-driven winds. In most situations, the fire will “lie down” (decrease in activity) overnight. Weather conditions and solar exposure being equal, wildfires burn hottest in mid-late afternoon (4:00 p.m. is a good landmark for the peak activity) and may continue to “roll” well into the darkness hours, easily to 8:00 or 9:00 p.m. in the right conditions. Fires are usually most quiescent during the hours before dawn (around 4:00 a.m.). This corresponds to the hottest and coolest portions of the day, which tend to rotate around the planet with a significant lag behind solar noon and midnight. This will be modified by changing weather (a cloud layer rolling in) or solar exposure (the fire might be on a very steep east aspect and lose its solar heating shortly after noon).
Light Hiker Tactic: Night Crossing. If you need to transect an area with an actively burning fire, wait until weather conditions and time-of-day cause the fire to “lie down.” Knowing that fire activity tends to lag behind solar time allows you to avoid the otherwise-easy mistake of attempting to transect a fire just as it enters its most intense burning period.
Light Hiker’s Tool: Basic Fire Behavior Screamsheet. My own experience in fire consists of three years Hotshotting and three years smokejumping – a very modest career, in light of all there is to know about fire. It’s therefore with real hesitancy that I list what I consider the most useful principles. That said, the key wildfire survival and avoidance principles, as I would summarize them, are:
- Fire follows the terrain, burning fast and hot uphill.
- Wind pushes fire.
- Watch the smoke. Smoke provides information about what the fire is doing.
- Fire spreads very quickly, but burns out very quickly, in dry grass and other light fuels.
- Fire spreads slowly, but burns hot and long in logs and other heavy fuels.
- Ravines, saddles, box canyons, and drainages funnel wind, and thus funnel intense fire. They are dangerous places if fire is below you.
- Higher temperatures + lower humidity = increased fire intensity.
- Lower temperatures + higher humidity = decreased fire intensity.
- Fire usually ‘lays down’ at night, in the rain, and as conditions cool.
- Fire mirrors water as it moves through the environment, in both time and space.
- It takes more than one rainstorm to put out most wildfires.
- Don’t ever assume a fire is out or “dead” (no longer capable of activity) unless it has been totally cold-trailed. One ember can ultimately generate a blow-up.
- A burned environment is radically destabilized.
- Nothing about fire is random.
Fire and Water
How Fire Moves in the Environment
Air flow, topography, weather, fuel type, and fuel arrangement are basic parts of fire behavior, but they don’t necessarily help us make more than cursory sense of what a given fire is doing. With these tools alone it’s very difficult to gauge what a fire will do. Anticipating fire requires an appreciation of its fundamental counterpart: water.
Chena Hot Springs, near Fairbanks, Alaska
Chena Hot Springs was a wet, cold, uncomfortable fire. The “grunge” was going around camp, which was itself a series of mud parking lots. In the zeal to create neat, disciplined rows of tents, my tent had been pitched atop a bush. Periodically, it rained. For the better part of a week, my leather boots and a conservative inventory of socks were somewhere between uncomfortably damp and sodden. We cold-trailed through the tundra along a complex, multi-fingered fire edge, ploughing through black spruce. Resinous spruce needles poured down our collars as we dug our bare hands through the damp moss and ash, feeling for hot embers.
Cold trailing in the tundra was interminable. Varying fuel moistures and burning intensities in the deep, vegetative layer had created a multi-level burn, hence multiple edges. The surface burn crept through lichen, cranberry, moose poop, and other material at the very top of the tundra. Incidentally, I have never seen much fire performance out of burning ungulate droppings. Their fuel arrangement is too compact, and they retain internal moisture too well. Usually, they are heat sinks. They are no substitute for cow pies or yak dung.
Below the surface was a rich, mossy mat, which the fire ate through more slowly, lagging behind the surface burn. Below that was deeper, moister organic material, through which the fire only burned in highly favorable conditions, but was triggered by a big heat source, like a log. The result was multiple fire tiers at ground level, each with a different edge, sometimes separated by tens or hundreds of feet, which combined with horizontal moisture variations from small-scale terrain and vegetation changes. The resulting fire edge was a maddening, three-dimensional mosaic of heat, ash, and unburned material. Under the right conditions, an ember almost anyplace in the entire Rubik’s Cube had the potential to creep beyond the furthest edge, and ignite a new flame front.
Below all this, sometimes less than twelve inches down, was permafrost. Mopping out smokes, we’d chop into the dirty ice, excavating chips of it to mix with the smoldering moss. As we worked atop one of the world’s largest continuous masses of ground ice, running from the Canadian Atlantic to the Bering Sea, almost none of it was available to influence the fire.
A thunderstorm rolled through. We spread out off the ridges and sheltered under space blankets as the light rain fell. Gusty winds raked their chill fingers through the boreal forest. The cell passed, then the sun broke through and heated the upper surface of the tundra. The fuels began to dry out again. Hidden heat re-emerged from sheltered nooks in the mossy edge, and the fire resumed its advance.
On hot portions of the fire, the black spruce were generating crown runs. Green and verdant, looking only a step removed from a temperate rainforest, they burned intensely in atmospheric humidities that would have laid down a fire in most Rocky Mountain biomes. Why? Hydro-botany, to coin a term. To survive the bitter interior winters, black spruce “drop” most of their water content. Although still green and wet-looking, come spring they are dry “resin bombs”: live masses of cellulose and resin, ready to burn hot.
Fire Mirrors Water
The Chena Hot Springs fire was a tour of water in the environment and how it influences flame. It’s no coincidence that humans across cultures place fire and water at opposite ends of the elemental spectrum, and they’re often associated with opposite-but-associated polarities: Yin and Yang, Sun and Moon, Male and Female, Chocolate and Peanut Butter.
Water is not combustible, in any state. Water has tremendous heat capacity – perhaps 200 times that of air – and the evaporation of water consumes even larger amounts of heat energy. For combustion to occur in typical forest fuels, the fuel must be heated sufficiently to vaporize the fuel’s water content, driving it out as steam. Only then, once at least the surface layer of the fuel is dry, will the fuel become available for burning. This is the basic way water inhibits burning.
To understand the movement of fire in the environment, look to water. Everything in our environment exists in a constant equilibrium with atmospheric humidity. If the air is more humid than the fuel, water transfers into the fuel. If the air is drier, water liberates from the fuel into the air. This process occurs rapidly for fine or light fuels with their high surface-area-to-volume ratio, which go from soaking wet to tinder-dry in less than half an hour, but slowly in heavy logs, which carry moisture loads in their heartwood from one year to the next. Incidentally, this also explains why in a hot summer in a climate with a decent annual moisture average, often only the outer inch or less of a log will burn: as the fire burns inwards, it encounters a trend of moisture increasing towards the annual average. Eventually, it sputters out.
On a large scale, the different water content of our environment is easily observable as changes in vegetation. On a smaller scale, microclimates have a major affect on fire behavior. Moisture tends to collect preferentially in draws and bottoms, where to some extent it may counteract the chimney effect of these areas. Shade elevates relative humidity. Proximity to water sources (the proverbial riverine habitat) increases the amount of water available for evaporation.
Vegetation itself creates microclimates, since living plants are – in effect – biological water pumps. Large masses of living vegetation, like a timber stand, will increase humidity of the area, through a combination of shading, cellular respiration, and the their own standing water mass. Concentrations of dead and downed trees in timber stand make more dry fuel available, and may also make the whole area drier by action as massive moisture-sinks.
Subtly, humidity even varies with distance from the ground. Dry tinder held near damp ground dampens more quickly than it does at eye-level. Fire, in turn, will change its behavior through these microclimates.
At the risk of sound romantic, fire and water dance with one another. It’s a bit like the tango: intricate and flashy, but based on a clear underlying relationship and rules. Water leads, less obtrusive but very communicative, in a dark suit. Fire follows, athletic and spectacular, a red satin dress.
Light Hiker Tactic: Quickie Microclimate Assessment. Humidity is a quick indicator for how intensely the fire is likely to behave in any particular area. If you come upon an uncontrolled wildfire, you want to be able to calibrate specifically how fuels in the local area are burning. Look to see if there are areas where fire isn’t spreading or burning well. This will help you calibrate your sense of local conditions.
To find areas that won’t burn, seek green grass, water-loving plants, and stands of living trees like willows and cottonwoods. Dead and downed wood that is heavy in your hands has higher water content, and therefore will ‘burn cool’ or even act as heat-sink, impeding the fire.
As a general principle, these types of terrain or microclimates have a certain humidity character:
- Riparian / Riverine Areas: More humid than the general terrain.
- Riverine Whitewater: Extremely humid. The air carries an increased load of moisture due to aeration and suspension of the whitewater.
- Swales and Depressions: Often collect humidity. Look at the plant character.
- Ravines and Draws: May or may not be more humid than the general area. Avoid them unless these areas exhibit clear evidence (ex: green water-loving plants, whitewater, etc.) of high humidity and are not threatened from below. Otherwise, they are terrain-channels for fire and smoke.
- Ridges: Drier than surrounding areas. Although fire is often less intense on ridges than in draws and terrain concavities, this may be counterbalanced by lower humidity. Again, look to the plant type and health for clues.
Next week: Part II
- Escape & Evasion
- Using the Tools You’ve Got
ZPacks Blast 18 Backpack Review
At less than four ounces and roomy enough for a weekend of SUL gear (30L), the ZPacks Blast 18 certainly qualifies as “SUL” by the standard set several years ago by the Gossamer Gear G6, but is far more durable (yet has a similar weight as the first G6).
Introduction
There are two problems with the SuperUltraLight ethic.
The first is that it motivates SUL aficionados to develop throwaway gear that may last a season, if you’re lucky. I once used a tarp made of an extremely light Cubic Tech fabric (CT0.3.K08, at 11.4 gsm) that blew up in one unfortunate midsummer wind gust in the shadows of the Tetons, while camping at the uppermost campsite near the treeline in the North Fork of Cascade Canyon. And my every attempt to manufacture, take care of, and otherwise use so-called “SUL” packs (including spinnaker versions of the Mountain Laurel Designs Prophet and Gossamer Gear Uberlite G6) made with lightweight spinnaker nylons, polyesters, and Cuben Fibers, has resulted in failure of the fabrics at the seams caused by repetitive stress.
I think SUL gear such as this can serve specialized purposes for the casual hiker, for the hiker who might not care about disposing (and replacing) gear on a regular basis, or for the hiker interested in saving every gram of weight possible for a single expedition (e.g., Andrew Skurka used an ultralight Cubic Tech tarp on his Great Western Loop trek, and I used a Cuben Tech pyramid shelter for the Arctic 1000).
The second problem with the SUL ethic is that it motivates people to apparent insanity, by which every possible bit of function and durability is sacrified for the sake of meeting a weight spec. I’m speaking a bit tongue in cheek about this insanity of course, since I seem to be a regular participant and proponent of it, but I do increasingly value that elusive and ill-defined metric we call the “performance-to-weight ratio”.
That’s why I was pretty excited when I took my new ZPacks Blast 18 backpack – a heavy duty Cubic Tech weekend pack that weighs a scant 3.3 oz – out of its mailing envelope…
The ZPacks Blast 18 is made from a stronger, heavier Cubic Tech fabric (CT5K.18), bringing abrasion resistance and strength to SUL packs without adding much weight. The base model as configured here weighs only 3.3 oz.
Durable SUL
Joe Valesko, the designer of the Blast series and the owner of ZPacks, made a prototype out of the same fabric (CTK5.18). He put it to good use, completing the 2,600-mile Pacific Crest Trail with it in 2007.
At less than four ounces and roomy enough for a weekend of SUL gear (30L), the ZPacks Blast 18 certainly qualifies as “SUL” by the standard set several years ago by the Gossamer Gear G6, but is far more durable (yet has a similar weight as the first G6).
So, what might differentiate the Blast 18 from other SUL packs is its durability. Instead of the sub-30 gsm Cubic Tech variants found among manufacturers promoting SUL tarps, stuff sacks, and other gear, the Blast 18 uses Cuben Fiber 5K.18, a 48.4 gsm fabric with a stiff hand that gives the pack robust shape, waterproofness, and outstanding durability in both seam strength and abrasion resistance.
About the Fabric
The primary problem with the use of Cuben Fiber in outdoor gear is its seam strength. The fabric is better characterized as a plastic film reinforced by a low-density fiber matrix than conventional woven outdoor gear fabrics, which are typically high density wovens reinforced by waterproof coatings and/or calendaring.
Cubic Tech CT5K.18 is far more durable than its ultralight cousins (e.g., the model CT2K variants) primarily because of its weight, film thickness, and higher fiber density than CT2K.08.
The bottom line is that CT5K.18 has good tear strength (190 lb/in, vs. 105 lb/in for CT2K.08). And, while I don’t have data for seam strength or abrasion resistance, my field testing and inspection of seams under load indicates that CT5K.18 may actually be suitable for long term use and thru-hiking. Don’t expect a miracle, however: this fabric is still considered ultralight and won’t perform to the strength standards of most heavier woven fabrics. Seams will fail over time if you consistently pack heavy loads in a pack like this (I found seams starting to separate in response to the all-day stress of hiking with 35-lb loads), and the fabric is more subject to punctures from sharp things (e.g., thorns and deadfall), more so than woven nylons such as the 210 Dyneema grid ripstops that have been popular in packs by ULA and others.
Specifications
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Volume: |
1800 cu. in. |
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Weight: |
3.3 oz (Base Model) |
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Price: |
$105 (Base Model) |
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Fabric: |
Cubic Tech CT5K.18 |
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Shoulder Strap Padding: |
1/4” Closed Cell Foam |
Features
- Nonelastic drawcord top closure
- Two side water bottle pockets with elastic closure
- Large rear pocket with elastic closure integrated with top side drawcords for compression and securing gear
- Frameless design, no back padding or other structure
- Padded shoulder straps
- Optional build-to-order features are available for extra cost and weight. For example, a full featured pack containing a padded wing belt with belt pouches (1.9 oz, $39), sternum strap (0.3 oz, $6), shoulder strap daisy chains (0.2 oz, $8), hydration port ($4), hydration sleeve (0.3 oz, $10), outside shock cord loops that could secure a sleeping pad or tent horizontally (0.4 oz, $7), shock cord compression system (0.4 oz, $9), top strap (0.4 oz, $9), haul loop (0.4 oz, $2), one ice axe loop (0.1 oz, $4), sleeping pad sleeves (0.5 oz, $20), two shoulder pouches (0.6 oz, $28) would come to a weight of 8.8 oz and cost $251.
My favorite “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that” feature of the Blast 18 is the circumferential compression cord that serves three functions: a strap for securing tall gear extending from the pockets (such as trekking poles), load compression for the upper part of the pack, and the elastic closure for the top of the back pocket.
Load Carrying Capacity
The base model of the Blast 18 does not include a hip belt, has a narrow profile, and rides high on your back (the nature of most small packs). This creates a bit of bob and wobble, but padded shoulder straps, the narrow design, and high center of gravity makes “heavier” loads (less than 15 lbs) more comfortable than belt-less packs that are fat and short, and ride low.
Assessing the load carrying capacity of a frameless pack, especially one without a waist belt, is sort of a silly exercise. Your ability to carry a load will depend primarily on the strength and conditioning of your trapezius and deltoid muscles. Most casual hikers have not conditioned these muscle groups in a way that is optimized for carrying a heavy load in a frameless pack. In other words, you condition the muscles by carrying the load. My experience tells me that most folks will find 15 pounds acceptable for long distances (e.g., more than six hours of hiking per day), and 20 pounds acceptable for short distances (a few hours of hiking per day). Those with well-conditioned shoulder muscles can usually accomodate 25 to 30 pounds for short distances and 20 to 25 pounds for long distances. Thru-hikers who have been on the trail for several weeks with a frameless pack may find 35 pounds, or more, acceptable at both short and long distances.
Short shoulder straps on a small pack means that it rides high on your back, which I prefer for small volume packs that do not have a hip belt. It keeps the center of gravity high, which relieves back strain, but demands more from your trapezius and deltoid (shoulder) muscle groups.
I could never recommend a previous SUL pack such as the Gossamer Gear Uberlite (G6) or the Mountain Laurel Designs Prophet 40 (Spinnaker Version) with weights greater than 25 pounds over long distances and durations. However, I think the Zpacks Blast 18 (even at a similar weight as the other two) would be up to the task, and I’d have no hesitation recommending it for the thru-hiker interested in tackling a Triple Crown Trail, assuming they were intentionally careful with their gear.
Volume Capacity
Eighteen hundred cubic inches is not a lot of capacity.
It’s generally accepted by our community that it’s just enough for a day or two of food and a simple, ultralight kit of summer gear. My summer ultralight kit easily fits into the Blast 18 without overcompressing insulating gear, and in addition to three days of food, includes a 30-degree synthetic quilt, a torso-sized inflatable sleeping pad, a breathable bivy sack, synthetic insulated jacket, rain jacket, rain pants, a two-person tarp, solo cook kit, and other basic essentials. I keep a windshirt in the back pocket, a water bottle in a side pocket, and lunch in the other side pocket.
In the photos for this article, the Blast 18 is packed with a spring kit for snow cave camping, and includes a 20-degree down sleeping quilt, synthetic insulated jacket and pants, an eVENT bivy sack, a TorsoLite pad, a 3/4-length 5mm foam pad (folded and placed against the back panel), a liquid fuel stove and 1.3L pot, and 1.5 days of food, in addition to basic essentials. My snow shovel and wind jacket (which I’m wearing) go in the back pocket, while food, fuel bottle, and a water bottle get stashed in the sides. The insulation of my sleeping bag, jacket, and puffy pants gets a little more compressed with my spring snow kit, but not enough that I have concern about damaging the insulation.
The outside pockets of the Blast are generously gusseted, so they expand sufficiently for the stowage and retrieval of gear without feeling like you are stuffing your hand into a jar of pudding to find something. The back pocket was plenty big enough to stuff the body of a solo single wall TarpTent into, and the side pockets expanded to easily accomodate a full two-liter Platypus bottle.
Gusseted pockets provide plenty of width for the stowage of bulky gear, but not much height. I was not comfortable putting in a tall, 2-liter Platypus bottle in the pocket, and it ended up coming out of the pocket while bushwhacking. I didn’t really see this as a disadvantage of the pack, so I simply changed my style accordingly and switched to a shorter water bottle. On this trip, I used one packet to pack my lunch and fuel canister (a large Powermax canister), and the other pocket for my water bottle (a 600ml Evernew bottle).
While marketing on the ZPacks website suggests otherwise, items are easier to retrieve out of the side pockets while on the trail than to put back, because of the elastic pocket closures. However, this is no fault of ZPacks in my opinion, but a flawed expectation of the user. With a pack like this, swinging the pack off your back (even while walking, if you have to) and grabbing something out of the side pocket is such a trivial exercise that to belabor the need to access side pocket gear while on the go seems to reflect fundamental incompatibilities with the ultralight ethic. This isn’t adventure racing, this isn’t an adventure racing pack, and it’s not going to be loaded with enough gear that stopping for a moment to remove the pack shouldn’t provide great amounts of disruption to your wilderness experience. If it does, then there may be other problems that have nothing to do with the pack!
When hiking with a pack that weighs only 10 or 12 pounds, swinging the pack off and grabbing the water bottle out of it, rather than inventing new yoga positions to retrieve the bottle from a side pocket, is a preferable modus operandi for me. There is something aesthetically satisfying about tossing a pack on and off your shoulder when everyone else is struggling to load their behemoths to their body.
The Blast 18 will provide enough capacity for overnights and weekend trips for the hiker willing to keep their kit simple and compact, but some discipline will be required in the selection of bulky gear, because volume is limited.
A Note About Packbag Shape and Dimensions
The Blast 18 is symmetrical and uniform, making it an ideal pack for rolling a sleeping pad inside for virtual frame structure. My preference is to fold the pad and wear it against the back panel for padding and to provide some shape that gives the pack more contact surface area with your back, which feels better for carrying heavier loads.
The Blast 18 is a nearly perfect cylinder, which makes it an ideal pack for those that like to pack a foam sleeping pad as a cylinder inside the pack, then stash gear into the middle of the cylinder. I’m personally not a fan of this configuration, but have to admit that unlike most other “shaped packbag” packs that are not cylindrically symmetrical, this configuration works well with the Blast 18. As noted below, depending on perspective, you might find this packbag shape appealing or a liability.
In addition, the Blast 18 carries both small and overstuffed loads well (i.e., a load where the top collar is fully extended, as in the photos), because it maintains a thin, tall shape that does not ride low on the back (an important characteristic of a pack without a waist belt).
Final Analysis
What’s Hot
- Durable but ultralight fabric.
- Simple, symmetrical design.
- Gusseted outside pockets provide easy access and meaningful capacity.
- Compression integrated into back pocket closure provides gear security on the sides of the pack as well.
- Drawcord closure provides better volume utilization for the weight over roll-top models.
It doesn’t get any simpler than this: a drawcord closure provides the best utilization of packbag volume for the weight, allows for fast and easy access to the packbag, and requires little trim and hardware. Unlike a rolltop closure, however, the drawcord style suffers from lesser protection from precipitation, something that could easily be alleviated if the pack had an option to add a sewn-in top flap or pocket. I dealt with the limitation simply by stowing my gear (as you probably will anyways, regardless of closure type) in waterproof bags. Even in heavy precipitation (rain and wet snow), I never really missed having the roll-top, which surprised me.
What’s Not
- Add-on options provide custom build-to-order pack to suit needs but can result in a very expensive pack and can more than double the weight of the base model.
- No option for a top pocket or flap to extend storage and/or keep water/snow out of the drawcord closure.
- Drawcord closure string is extremely thin and may cut fabric of extension collar over the long term.
- Construction techniques and styling reflect classic young cottage “garage manufacturing”. The quality is high and the pack is well sewn, but makes use of simple construction techniques that limit shaping and styling options.
Market Comparison
I think it’s important to consider the ZPacks Blast 18 in context with its primary competitor, the Gossamer Gear Murmur (Mountain Laurel Designs was not manufacturing a sub-30L SUL pack at the time of this writing, but they were offering a more richly-featured pack also made with Cubic Tech CTK5.18, the 2009 Revelation, which is heavier and more durable than the previous 2006 model that we previously reviewed).
| Manufacturer/Model | Packbag Volume | Weight | Relative Durability | Suspension | Other Features | Price |
| ZPacks Blast 18 | 1800 cu. in. | 3.3 oz | Excellent (1.5 osy Cubic Fiber CT5K.18) | padded shoulder straps | two side pockets, one back pocket, drawcord closure | $105 |
| Gossamer Gear Murmur | 1700 cu. in. | 7.5 oz | Fair (1.1 osy nylon spinnaker) | padded shoulder straps, webbing waist belt | two side pockets, one back pocket, rolltop closure, pad sleeve, | $80 |
| Mountain Laurel Designs 2009 Revelation | 2000 cu. in. | 6.2 oz | Excellent (1.5 osy Cubic Fiber CT5K.18) | padded shoulder straps, winged hip belt, sternum strap | two side pockets, one back mesh pocket, rolltop closure, cord compression | $170 |
The relative strengths of the Blast 18 are its weight and durability, while the Murmur offers more features at a lower cost. The Revelation offers greater capacity, more refined styling, and when compared to the scenario of adding options to the Blast 18 that match the features of the Revelation, the Revelation comes in slightly less expensive.
Unfortunately, I find it hard to justify spending more than $100 on such a small pack that requires little in the way of sophistication to effectively carry light loads, but in the absence of other options, my personal choices do lean towards the more durable packs, because I’m more confident of their longevity, an important consideration for me as I continue to pursue a lighter and simpler lifestyle.
The very simple construction techniques of the Blast 18 are both functional and effective, but lack the refined styling and aesthetic of more evolved packs that use more sophisticated manufacturing techniques.
Recommendations
I found myself not wanting much after using this pack. I did replace the drawcord closure with a thicker string because I have found very thin strings abrade and cut through Cubic Tech fabrics over time. The weight penalty for replacing the string was negligible.
The ultra-thin drawcord that ships with the pack feels like a cutting wire. I ended up replacing it with a thicker (2mm) cord, which not only alleviated my fears about the cord cutting into the Cubic Tech fabric, but it made it easier to use while wearing gloves or mittens.
My only complaint with the pack is in its packbag shape. While the sausage design (symmetrical cylinder) works well for enclosing a rolled-perimeter sleeping mat (into the center of which gear is stowed for stability), it’s not particularly stylish and doesn’t rest against your back when fully loaded as well as it could. Carrying the Blast 18 stuffed to its gills feels a bit like hauling a log on your bag (albeit a soft, light one), because it does sort of roll and bobble here and there. I was able to mitigate this effect somewhat by folding my foam pad into thirds and using it as a virtual frame against the back of the pack, but for this to work most effectively, I would have prefered a slightly wider packbag. In addition, I’m a fan of packbags that taper from a smaller cross section near the bottom to a larger cross section near the top, because they accomodate widely varying load capacities a little better (although, this is less of an issue with such a small volume weekend pack like the Blast 18).
Photos: Ryan and Stephanie Jordan; Olympus E-510 Leica Summilux 25mm/f1.4.
MSR Hyperflow Microfilter with Modified Cartridge Review
The MSR Hyperflow was previously reviewed in 2008, and was found to be light and convenient for crystal clear water, but it died very quickly in any other water. MSR acknowledged this problem and modified the cartridge to handle poorer water quality. The modified cartridge is tested here to see if there is an improvement.
Hyperflow kit, courtesy MSR.
Introduction
The technical details of this filter were fully covered in the first version of this Review. Basically, the cartridge filter has a whole mass of fine ‘micro-porous’ tubes all bundled together. The tubes have tiny 0.2 micron holes in the walls for the water to flow through: holes are small enough to block the bugs. Water is pumped from the outside of the tubes into them, to emerge at the open end. MSR call this a ‘Hollow Fiber Membrane’.
The problem with the first version, was that the walls of the tubes have a very limited area, and the fine holes were quickly blocked by the suspended matter found in any water which was not crystal clear. MSR eventually acknowledged this problem (after our first Review) and issued a statement which was added to our original review:
“We have identified a flow performance issue with some of the hollow fiber filter cartridges contained in MSR HyperFlow microfilters. The performance issue DOES NOT affect the product’s ability to filter safe drinking water, but can be frustrating, as the flow rate of the filter may not perform to product specifications. The issue has been rectified, and all filter cartridges currently in production for the MSR HyperFlow microfilter perform to flow specifications. We have worked with our retailers to replace units they have in stock that may have this issue. Any consumer that is experiencing less-than-expected flow rates on this product right out of the box or after back flushing is urged to call us at 1.800.531.9531, and we will send a valid replacement filter cartridge at no charge if the original was manufactured prior to November 11, 2008. (Please have the filter element handy, as we will ask for the serial number for our records and manufacture date verification.)”
As the cartridge tested was dated well before November 11, we requested a replacement one. A few weeks later, a complete replacement filter kit was received. The contents were identical to the first kit received, except for the date code on the cartridge inside the pump. We do not know whether all requests will be dealt with like this.
This review is concerned with testing the new cartridge in a similar manner as before.
Preliminary
MSR claimed with the first kit that the outlet would fit into ‘most water bottles’. This was tested with a 1.25 liter PET fizzy drink bottle (my standard free water bottle), and I could not get the outlet to fit. The instructions with the new kit made the same claim, so another attempt was made. This time, with a bit of ‘persuasion’, the outlet was fitted into the inside of the neck of the PET bottle.
The Hyperflow fitted into the neck of a 1.25 liter PET bottle.
However, for reasons which will become apparent shortly, most of the testing was done with a silicone extension hose on the outlet, as shown here. This arrangement was also used in the first Review.
The Hyperflow with an extension hose on the outlet.
Performance Testing
In the first Review, the author used water from the dam on his farm. This is a large dam and does have some ducks living on it. The water is not sparkling crystal clear mountain water, but it is not that bad. Until the author and his family (wife and two small children) got their house and a rainwater tank built on the farm, this was their drinking water.
The water being filtered, before and after.
Here we have the dam water in a flat orange 20 liter basin. You can see a few little bits of ‘stuff’ at the bottom of the basin: this stuff is so large that the Hyperflow prefilter blocks it easily. Also shown to the right are two PET bottles of the water: one from the basin and one filtered. I would defy you to pick which is which. (The right hand one is from the filter.)
The water in the basin was allowed to settle before filtering started. Then, 8 liter of water was filtered with the MSR Hyperflow from the basin into water bottles of known volume. MSR recommends doing a backflush after 8 L, so this was then done. The MSR recommendation, which was followed, is for 10 strokes of backflushing using clean filtered water: about 0.5 L.
Results
The first few liters of water were pumped with the filter between the author’s hands, and the water did flow very quickly at the start. But after that, things deteriorated. The stages of testing are documented below with comments. Each filtering stage represents filling one 1.25 liter PET bottle with filtered water, except for the final (6th) stage which represents a bit over one PET bottle, to make up the full 8 liters. Each backflushing stage is one stroke (of the recommended 10 strokes).
While reading the results below, it may be worth noting that the packaging for the filter still claims that the filter will handle ‘more than 3 liters per minute’. You may judge.
Filtering
1. Easy pumping between hands – 1.5 seconds per full stroke, about 30 seconds/liter
2. Fairly easy pumping, as above
3. Getting a little harder
4. Getting a little harder
5. Switched to pumping vertically with one end on the ground, to get more force
6. Taking 3+ seconds for the downward stroke
Backflushing
1. It took ~30 seconds for the pump chamber to half-fill with water.
2. It still took ~30 seconds for the pump chamber to half-fill with water.
3. The ease of filling the pump chamber started to improve.
4. The ease of filling the pump chamber started to improve.
5. The ease of filling the pump chamber started to improve.
6. The ease of filling improved to the point where the chamber would fill to 9/10 full.
7. The ease of filling improved to the point where the chamber would fill to 9/10 full.
8. The ease of filling improved to the point where the chamber would fill to 9/10 full.
9. The ease of filling improved to the point where the chamber would fill to 9/10 full.
10. The ease of filling improved to the point where the chamber would fill to 9/10 full.
11. It took 10 seconds to 3/4 fill, and 15 seconds to fill to 9/10.
My wife trying out the filter.
Filtering
1. Despite the backflushing, the pumping was still hard: 2.5 – 3 seconds per downward stroke.
2. As above, after a brief attempt to pump ‘between hands’.
3. Getting a little harder.
4. Gave my wife a go: she said the force was OK if she took 8 – 10 seconds per downwards stroke.
5. Tolerable downwards force needed at 6 – 7 seconds per stroke.
6. Tolerable downwards force needed at 6 – 7 seconds per stroke.
Backflushing
1. It took only 4 seconds for the pump chamber to 3/4 fill with water.
2. As above.
3. As above.
4. As above.
5. As above.
6. As above.
7. As above.
8. Possibly even slightly easier still, but not by much.
9. Possibly even slightly easier still, but not by much.
Filtering
1. At the start, a 4 second stroke was managed, but this had become 6 seconds by the end.
2. As above.
Pushing on (or downwards) with the testing.
You may notice in the photo here that I have taken off my thongs. That is because I was using one of them between the pump base and the ground. Without that buffering layer of foam, the bottom of the pump was steadily drilling into the soil. A lot of shoulder weight was being used to get the water through the filter. Anyhow, at this point my wife declared it was coffee time. I was getting a bit tired around the shoulders, so I willingly gave up. I could not see any point in continuing the testing: there would be no sudden miraculous improvement.
Other Observations
The inside of the filter cartridge was carefully inspected before and after each backflushing stage. Because I knew what to look for, I was able to see a very faint green/brown tinge on the surface of the filter tubes, but it was so faint that a casual user might not see it. It did seem that the same tinge was there before and after the backflushing cycles, meaning that the backflushing process was not able to remove it. This by itself calls into question the effectiveness of the backflushing process for handling typical organic ‘stuff’ in a water supply. That the backflushing process did not seem to have much effect on the pumping force anyhow, supports that doubt.
The first one or two bottle-fulls were pumped very easily. In fact, the first half of the first bottle was pumped so easily I did briefly wonder whether there was a filter cartridge there at all. The same ease of filtering has been reported with crystal clear mountain water by some users. It seems highly likely that if all the water supply contains is pure water and various bacteria and protozoa, then the filter would provide excellent service. It would be a fool who expected to encounter nothing but such perfectly clear water.
The first backflush cycle was, to my surprise, extremely difficult to get going, right from the very start. Yes, it was being done with filtered water. I do not believe that anything could have got into cartridge via the clean water to block up the inside of the micro-porous tubes. More startling was the discovery that the second backflush cycle was much easier to do. I have no explanation for this at all. However, as may be seen from the results above, backflushing did not seem to clear much of the muck (whatever it was) off the inlet face of the filter, despite my best efforts.
It could be argued that filtering 20 liter of water is hardly a good test of the filter. This would be true if the filter had worked well. But since the filter died almost at once – after the first couple of liters, I do not think further pumping would have proven anything I had not already discovered.
I mentioned in the first Review that I had also tried pumping this dam water through a Katadyn Hiker filter with no problems. I wrote there that the Hiker is widely regarded as the benchmark filter against which other filters are often compared. It uses a large pleated filter with a very long life, even on this sort of water. (That was tested.) It is my considered opinion that despite all the technological marvels embodied in the micro-porous tubing in the MSR Hyperflow, nothing substitutes for a multi-layer filter with a *big* surface area. The surface area on the MSR Hyperflow is just not big enough, and there is only one filter layer: the finest.
Summary
In the first Review, I wrote that the design of the MSR Hyperflow is nice; the filter is light, and that it works well with crystal clear water. All that is true, but many water supplies are not crystal clear, and the revised MSR Hyperflow cartridge still fails with less than perfect water, despite the changes.
The packaging still claims a flow rate of ‘more than 3 liters per minute’ I was struggling to get a flow rate of one tenth of this after filtering a few days worth of water. This claim is not credible.
We know that MSR is aware of this problem, is concerned about it, and has attempted to address it. The new cartridge is better than the old one, but it is still quite useless for any walker who has to deal with unknown and variable water supplies.
Specifications
|
Manufacturer: |
MSR |
|
Year/Model: |
2008 |
|
Manufacture: |
various plastics and polymers |
|
Materials: |
various plastics and polymers |
|
Filter specification: |
0.2 micron. Claimed to remove bacteria and protozoa to a degree which meets EPA requirements for water purification. This does not include viruses. |
|
Claimed filtering rate: |
‘more than 3 liters per minute’ |
|
Measured filtering rate: |
down to about 1 liter in 2 minutes, despite backflushing and force |
|
Filter life: |
can be down to 20 L if water not crystal clear |
|
Weight: |
~220 g (7.8 oz) for minimal kit of pump, full-length hose and inlet filter |
|
MSRP: |
Filter Kit: US$99.95 Replacement cartridge kit: US$39.95 Replacement prefilter: US$14.95 Maintenance kit: US$19.95 |
What’s Good (from here and the previous review)
- A fairly low weight
- A neat design
- Can be repeatedly backflushed
- Useful inlet filter
- Cartridge and inlet filters can be replaced
- Removes bacteria and protozoa to EPA specifications
What’s Not So Good (from here and the previous review)
- Quickly blocks with any water which is not perfectly clear
- Valve design can collapse under pressure
- Nalge bottle connector is not ergonomic – and leaks
- Needs an outlet hose added to the kit
- Unsafe for winter use when freezing is possible
- Silicone grease for the O-ring is not included with the kit
- Does not remove viruses (most microfilters have this limitation)
The Performance of Alcohol Fuels for Backpacking Stoves
Part Two: Water/Alcohol Blends
The performance of a particular alcohol stove fuel is generally related to the amount of heating energy in that fuel, which changes when you blend water into different alcohols. But how does it change, and which blend should you use?
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Aniakchak Adventure
Packrafts open up the lunatic fringe of National Parks. We hiked into the Aniakchak Caldera and Surprise Lake to packraft down the Aniakchak to the Pacific Ocean.
There are many reasons that bring folks to those places deemed ‘the end of the world.’ We had come to run a river. The Aniakchak River offers the unique setting of paddling a river from its headwaters in the heart of a volcano, through a 2,000-feet deep gorge in the crater rim and down miles of splashy whitewater as steep as a stairwell. The Aniakchak is one of twenty-five flows in Alaska protected as Wild and Scenic, but it’s in a class of its own when it comes to river adventures. This stunning clear-water meanders thirty-five miles across the vast wilderness of the Aleutian Mountains to its terminus in a Pacific Ocean lagoon.
Relief map of the Aniakchak Caldera and River, with out starting point marked by the red laser. Due to its remote location and notoriously bad weather, Aniakchak is one of the least visited units of the National Park System. The star attractions of the monument are the impressive six-mile wide, 2,500-feet deep caldera formed during a massive eruption 3,500 years ago, and the wild river that flows from it.
Agnes Stowe hikes across the flat tundra plain on the western edge of Aniakchak National Monument and Preserve (ANMP) in southwest Alaska.
Seth Holden spends a night in a cabin on the way up the Aniakchak Caldera. Known to locals as the Caribou Cabin, the run-down shack sits atop a knoll six miles out of Port Heiden in ANMP.
Seth Holden and Agnes Stowe take a snack break with a cloud of mosquitoes. You’ve got to love spring in the Aleutian Range!
Agnes Stowe and Seth Holden find shelter from the wind above the caldera at Birthday Pass.
Agnes Stowe and Seth Holden at camp near Surprise Lake.
Surprise Lake and hot springs – some parts of the lake are clearly hotter than others.
The beauty and barren landscape of an active volcano never fails to keep you humble and awe-struck.
Seth Holden ready to packraft down the Aniakchak River, displaying the easy beauty of a packraft: its portability.
Agnes Stowe and Seth Holden getting ready to go on the Aniakchak. The designated wild river flows thirty miles from Surprise Lake in the Aniakchak Caldera to the Pacific Ocean.
The thirty-mile Aniakchak is rated whitewater IV and is part of the national wild and scenic river system. Several stretches of Class III and IV whitewater are found in the first fifteen miles.
Seth Holden gets a face shot.
Agnes Stowe paddles it in.
Restored cannery cabin at the mouth of the Aniakchak River.
At journey’s end – the lower half of the river meanders to a lagoon on the coast. It’s a peaceful way to end such a dramatic river run.
Crux Rapids on the River
Our trio was enjoying the whitewater rodeo of the river’s upper half, where the average gradient sits at a very steep seventy-five feet per mile. My partners were two other Alaska adventure junkies from Anchorage: Agnes Stowe and Seth Holden. The last time we were together was a year ago on the gigantic alpine wall of the Mooses Tooth, getting pummeled by freezing spindrift. Here on the river, the weather was perfect for hypothermia; a steady drizzle hung in the air while the afternoon temperature soared into the low… forties. We were on the lookout for the second crux rapids where the Aniakchak drops eighty-three feet in one boulder-strewn mile. Our plan was to scout this section to gauge the danger to life and limb. We would play the conservative card; any injury out here would be a serious situation. Besides, in this weather, just going for a swim would be life threatening. You gotta love early July in the Aleutian Range.
Packrafting the Aniakchak
Over the last five years, the Aniakchak River has become an Alaska packrafting classic. The typically week-long adventure is equal parts trekking and paddling. Using the tough little ‘Tingey Dinghy’ to run the river addresses two major hang-ups of the Aniakchak for traditional rafters.
First, it’s much easier to get there (by walking). A party can wait a long time for the weather to cooperate for a float plane dropoff at Surprise Lake. Michael Funke of Anchorage-based Alyeska Mountain and River Guides knows this all too well. Funke, who has guided rafting trips down the Aniachak River, said, “You have to be pretty sure that the weather is going to hold before you try to fly in from King Salmon, or else you end up paying for a lot of flights back and forth. [A guide] can easily end up losing money on a trip.” Without any monitoring devices in Aniakchak National Monument, gauging what the weather is doing at Surprise Lake is a difficult guess, to say the least.
Second, once on the Aniakchak, the oarsman will have his hands full to keep a fourteen-foot raft off the numerous rock gardens and shallows along the upper river. We were thankful to have the nimble little boats to make quick maneuvers between the volcanic boulders. It was also a plus to be able to cruise through the occasional stretch of six-inch water without having to drag.
Hidden Creek
We had marked a waypoint for the rapids, and Agnes called out when she read a tenth of a mile from the creek on her wrist-mounted GPS. Downriver, I could see the current cut a sharp right before crashing through several large boulders. We had reached the rapids of Hidden Creek, and they were coming up mighty quickly. The river was too hemmed in and swift for a quick pulloff. I frantically searched for an eddy of any kind to stop our descent.
“Rapids! Rapids! Rapids! ” I yelled back over my shoulder and quickly skidded into a last chance eddy right on the drop’s edge. The roar of the rapids was beyond deafening; you felt it more than heard it. Just a few feet from our swirling eddy, the Aniakchak launched into a train of six-foot waves packed tightly between a few wicked drops. Agnes and Seth joined me in the crowded eddy, sliding in bumper-boat style.
“Holy *&$%! Bear! Bear! Bear!” I yelled in alarm. Right behind us, two very healthy brown bears were taking in the show less than twenty feet up river. They were right on the water’s edge, eyes wide and equally brown, wondering what to make of us in our little rafts.
“Who do I spray: myself, you guys, or the bears?” joked Seth as we all prudently unpinned cans of pepper spray.
“Do these things still fire if they’ve been under water all day?” asked Agnes. The uncomfortable face-off ended once the bruins picked up our chatter. Two thousand-pound bear butts ran off into the endless sea of alders. It’s amazing how quickly a critter the size of a minivan can disappear in this country.
Because it was a safe encounter (most of them are), we got to savor it for a while. The national monument is their home, after all, and the river one of their busiest thoroughfares. Coastal brown bears migrate down from winter dens to start feeding on grasses along the coastline. Later in the summer, bears feed on runs of Pacific salmon: Chinook, sockeye, pink. The sockeye run all the way to spawning grounds at Surprise Lake in the Aniakchak Caldera, and the bears follow. None of our trio was bear-phobic and we all had a deep understanding of how to best conduct yourself in grizzly country. Yet for some reason, bashing through the alders to scout the upcoming rapids was no longer very appealing. After a quick “wadda ya think?”, we voted to just run blindly into the maelstrom around the corner. How rough could it get anyway?
Remoteness by the Numbers
Our run of the river was the culmination of a week exploring the Aniakchak National Monument in the lower portion of the Alaska Peninsula. Aniakchak holds the title for the most remote and least visited unit of our country’s National Park system. Official numbers show a measly twenty-six recreational visits last year. That was down over fifty percent from the 2006 season, which saw sixty.
“Prior recent years have been in the 150-300 range,” reported John Quinley, Assistant Regional Director of Communications for Alaska National Parks. There are three years on the National Park Service fact sheet that list zero recreational visits for Aniakchak: 1995, 1996, and 1997. Maybe that’s a fluke. A survey of park use for someplace like Aniakchak is not an exact science. Even though I registered a trip plan with the park office in King Salmon, the National Park Service does not require any paperwork from those headed into the monument. Quinley agreed that without a paper trail, it would be hard to get exact numbers.
“I think for big, remote parks like this the numbers should be viewed as sort of order of magnitude. Which, in the case of Aniakchak, is still very little public use compared to other parks in Alaska,” he said. By comparison, Bering Land Bridge National Preserve outside of Nome counted just shy of 800 recreational visits last year, putting it in a distant second place for most unloved park. Denali saw that many in 1928 and now regularly sees half a million annual visitors.
Back to the Rapids
Perched on the edge of the Hidden Creek rapids, I pushed out, and the current took me like a freight train. A couple very quick paddle strokes got me lined up for the first drop. I tried to boof (launch off the ledge, clearing the keeper hole underneath), but the 25-pound pack strapped to the front made it next to impossible. My little Alpacka crashed into the first of many six-foot waves at the bottom of the drop. A wall of icy water engulfed me, and I could feel hydraulics of the keeper hole pulling down on the raft’s stern. Flipping over backwards is a common way to go swimming in a packraft. I leaned forward as far as I could and turned on the paddle.
Safely out of the keeper hole, the waves kept coming bigger, faster, stronger. The wave trains were too close together to get in sync with. At the second drop, my boat was launched skyward; the bow pointed straight up, my view filled with the steel grey sky. Again, I pushed hard toward the bow. Behind me, I could hear the hoots and calls of my companions as they enjoyed a similar ride. A small eddy presented itself, and I pulled over just in time to watch Agnes get crushed under a wave. She pulled it off in good style, resurfacing from the froth with a huge grin on her river-soaked face. The rapids slowly died down after an hour of paddling. A wide flood plain opened up in front of us; the river meandering in long corners out to the coast.
Our trio emerged from the rugged mountains wide-eyed, hearts racing, and more than a little damp. About an hour after the severe drops of the Hidden Creek rapids, the Aniakchak mellowed into a broad river valley. A suitable gravel bar was found for camp at the confluence with Albert Johnson Creek. With the amount of bear traffic along this corridor, we chose a site where we could see for miles in every direction. Or more importantly, where our yellow tents could be easily spotted (and hopefully avoided) by passing bruins. A light breeze dried our paddle outfits and kept the mosquitoes to a minimum.
Wooly Worm and Wily Char
In the evening silence, we could hear char slurping in side eddies across from our little island. Protective tubes emerged from our tiny rafts, and we got busy stringing up our fly rods. Mosquito patterns surprised two wily char right off. More followed as we continued our barrage of the far cut banks. Not one fish presented any great size, most were in the 12- to 20-inch range, but all came to hand with the same shocked look of surprise. After about an hour assault, the battle of wits came to an end with not another strike top water. A few deep drifts with a wooly worm brought a few last fish before the plunging temps chased us into the tent.
We couldn’t have asked for a better final day on the Aniakchak. Even though the sun never really came out, several breaks in the thick cloud cover opened up our horizons to views of the Aleutian Mountains. The light breeze continued to keep the bugs down as we packed our rafts for a day of casting our way to the coast. From our camp it was twenty miles of meandering river, full of classic bends, cut banks, confluences and riffles full of char and possibly trout. Seth stuck to dries while I tied on a hefty egg-sucking leech with the thought of drawing out the more skeptical fish. Agnes switched up as the water changed from shallow flats to deep channel. The three of us coasted lazily down the current in our Alpackas, casting to fishy looking water while rubbernecking the weathered mountains that hemmed us in. Dredging deep with the leech pattern brought up some nice char in the 20-inch range, and pretty much every pattern appealed to the iron-gray fish.
Sockeye Rocket
Just as we were settling into an easygoing rhythm of catching fish and exploring gravel bars, Seth had to up the ante. We knew that sockeye salmon would be moving up the lower Aniakchak by this time (early July) and began to float over their schools a couple of hours below camp. While stopping for a leg stretcher, several revved up sockeye splashed in an eddy mid-current. Agnes and I watched as Seth paddled out to investigate. Within minutes he had a hooked up on a sockeye that took off like a rocket. A five-pound raft does not offer much of a fighting platform for such a hot fish, and Seth was getting pulled around in the sluggish current. From shore, we tried to coach him to terra firma as he tried to paddle and play a salmon on his six-weight rod. Tight turns threatened to upend his packraft as the sockeye tried to shake the hook. The battle grew obviously futile, and our entertainment came to an end with the snap of a blood knot.
Our heckling and laughter echoed down river as we paddled to make some miles. The shadows of sockeye darted underneath our rafts as we passed by. We stopped to fish a couple shallows as we neared the lagoon terminus of the Aniakchak. Coastal brown bears began to appear around every bend. We watched them scramble through thick willows high above the river to avoid getting too close to us. I spun my boat around just in time to catch a large brown ford the river minutes behind us. The more bears we spotted, the less we stopped. Besides, it was getting late, and a historic cannery turned public use cabin awaited us on the coast.
Winding Down
Our wild and crazy river that had emerged from the heart of an Aleutian volcano was quickly becoming part of the Pacific. Paddling into the stillwater of the lagoon, we began to pick up a gentle swell. Waves crashed on the beaches, and gulls fought over dead sockeye that had been brought to shore. The seals were also following the salmon and trailing us in curiosity. The Pacific bobbed in a gentle swell, and we paddled out around a rocky point to a cabin overlooking Aniakchak Bay. Our journey back would begin with a Cessna pickup on the beach and end late at night after flying on three different sized aircraft. Back at home in Anchorage, all the following week, I would look long in disbelief at the small river that flows out of a volcano in the lower left-hand corner of our wall-sized Alaska map.
| CATEGORY | FUNCTION | “AG’S ITEM” | WORN (OZ) | PACK (OZ) | |
| TREKKING CLOTHES | |||||
| BOTTOM LAYER | TNF Trekking Pants | 7.6 | |||
| BOTTOM LAYER | Patagonia Lightweight Capilene Bottoms | 6.0 | |||
| TOP LAYER | Patagonia Long Sleeve Capilene 3 | 5.8 | |||
| TOP LAYER | Patagonia Capilene Tee | 3.6 | |||
| BASE TOP | Moving Comfort Sport Bra | 3.0 | |||
| BASE BOTTOM | Patagonia Hipsters | 0.8 | |||
| SHELL | MH Soft Shell | 14.8 | |||
| EXTRA CLOTHES | NEOPRENE GLOVE | Hydroskin Titanium (M) | 3.0 | ||
| INSULATION HAT | Smartwool Hat | 2.0 | |||
| TOP LAYER | MH Buttery Hoody | 10.4 | |||
| RAIN PROTECTION TOP | Patagonia Grade VI Jacket (S) | 10.0 | |||
| RAIN PROTECTION PANTS | Sheri Tingey Paddle Pants (M) | 14.6 | |||
| BOTTOM LAYER | Lufus Tights | 5.8 | |||
| EXTRA BOTTOM LAYER | Patagonia R4 Tights | 7.0 | |||
| LINER SOCK | Hot Chili Liner Sock | 2.0 | |||
| SOCKS FOR BED | Smartwool Hiking Socks | 4.2 | |||
| BASE TOP | Moving Comfort Sport Bra | 3.0 | |||
| BASE BOTTOM | Patagonia Hipster (x2) | 1.6 | |||
| INSULATION TOP | Patagonia Micro Puff Pullover | 11.2 | |||
| INSULATION BOTTOM | Montbell Down Pants | 6.0 | |||
| FOOTWEAR | NEOPRENE SOCKS | Sealskin (M) | 4.4 | ||
| SOCKS | Smartwool Lightweight Ski Socks | 2.8 | |||
| SHOES | Teva Rodecker Water Shoes (W9.0) | 22.2 | |||
| SHOE GAITERS | OR Running Gaiters | 3.0 | |||
| SLEEPING SYSTEM | SLEEPING PAD | Insul Mat | 14.0 | ||
| SLEEPING BAG | MH Phantom 32 Sleeping Bag | 23.6 | |||
| PILLOW | BPL Inflatable Pillow | 1.2 | |||
| COOKING SYSTEM | COOKING POT | Evernew Titanium Pot w/ Sack (1.3L) | 5.2 | ||
| STOVE | Mini Bull Design Atomic Stove | 1.6 | |||
| FIRE STARTER | Lighter | 0.6 | |||
| CLEANING KIT | Sponge and Soap | 1.0 | |||
| WINDSCREEN | Homemade Aluminum Windscreen | 0.8 | |||
| UTENSILS | Light My Fire Spork | 0.4 | |||
| DISHWARE | 2 Cup Ziplock Container w/ Lid | 1.4 | |||
| WATER BOTTLE | 2L Platypus | 1.2 | |||
| PACKING SYSTEM | PACK | Golite Gust w/ straps (S) | 20.0 | ||
| DAY BAG | Wxtex 15L | 6.2 | |||
| ODERPROOF BAGS | OPSAK (x3) | 3.8 | |||
| PACK LINER | Sea to Summit 35L | 2.2 | |||
| RAIN COVER | Sea to Summit Rain Cover (XS) | 2.2 | |||
| PACKRAFTING | PACKRAFT | Alpacka Yak w/ Spray Deck | 78.0 | ||
| INFLATION BAG | Alpacka Inflation Bag | 3.4 | |||
| PADDLES | Aqua-Bound Manta Ray | 36.0 | |||
| THROW BAGS | Homemade 50′ Dyneema Rope | 10.8 | |||
| PFD | Extrasport Rescue PFD w/ Knife | 38.2 | |||
| HELMET | Black Diamond Half Dome | 13.0 | |||
| TIE-DOWNS | “3/4“” x 60″” (x2)” | 1.6 | |||
| PADDLE LEASH | Scotty Paddle Leash | 1.8 | |||
| FISHING GEAR | FLY ROD | TFO 9ft 4wt 4pc (x2) w/ Ultralight Case | 12.6 | ||
| FLY REEL | TFO MKI Floating Line | 6.6 | |||
| FLY BOX | Morell Fly box w/ Assorted Wet Flies | 0.8 | |||
| FLY BOX | Plastic Container with Dry Flies | 0.2 | |||
| ACCESSORIES | “Gink, Forceps, Extra Leader, License” | 2.0 | |||
| MISC. GEAR | SUNGLASSES | Native Dash Sunglasses | 0.6 | ||
| POLES | REI Peak UL Carbon Trekking | 12.5 | |||
| TOWEL | MSR Pack Towel Personal | 3.0 | |||
| TOILETRIES | “Tooth Brush, Tooth Paste, Personal Medication, Lip Balm, Mesh Bag” | 2.2 | |||
| EMERGENCY KIT | Fire Starter and Signal Mirror | 2.8 | |||
| NAVIGATION | Map and GPS | 3.4 | |||
| BEAR PROTECTION | Counter Assault Bear Deterrent | 11.4 | |||
| BUG PROTECTION | Headnet | ||||
| SUN PROTECTION | Patagonia Airius Cap | 1.0 | |||
| CONSUMABLES | WATER TREATMENT | Aqua Mira | 3.0 | ||
| FUEL BOTTLE | 8oz Fuel Bottle w/ alcohol | 0.4 | |||
| FUEL | alcohol (24 oz) | 23.2 | |||
| FOOD | 1.2 lbs/day x 10 days | 12.0 | |||
| Total Weight Breakdown | oz | lbs | |||
| Total Weight (Worn/Carried) | 88.1 | 5.5 | |||
| Total Base Pack Weight | 394.0 | 24.6 | |||
| Consumables Weight | 38.6 | 2.4 | |||
| Total Pack Weight | 432.6 | 27.0 | |||
| Total Skin Out Weight | 520.7 | 32.5 | |||
| CATEGORY | FUNCTION | “MATT’S ITEM” | WORN (OZ) | PACK (OZ) | |
| TREKKING CLOTHES | BOTTOM LAYER | MH Lightweight Trekking Pants | 12.0 | ||
| BASE LAYER | Patagonia Briefs | 3.4 | |||
| TOP LAYER | DuoFold Tee | 4.6 | |||
| SHELL | MH Soft Shell | 18.2 | |||
| EXTRA CLOTHES | TOP LAYER | Patagonia Capilene Long Sleeve | 7.6 | ||
| TOP LAYER | DuoFold Long Sleeve Tee | 10.8 | |||
| BOTTOM LAYER | Smartwool Lightweight Bottoms | 7.6 | |||
| BOTTOM LAYER | Patagonia Tights | 8.6 | |||
| BASE LAYER | Patagonia Briefs | 3.4 | |||
| SOCKS | Smartwool Socks | 1.0 | |||
| SOCKS FOR BED | Thick Smartwool Hiking Socks | 2.4 | |||
| RAIN PROTECTION TOP | Patagonia Spector Pullover | 6.8 | |||
| RAIN PROTECTION PANTS | Sheri Tingey Paddle Pants (L) | 15.2 | |||
| INSULATION TOP | Patagonia Micro Puff Pullover | 12.0 | |||
| INSULATION BOTTOM | Montbell Down Pants | 7.2 | |||
| NEOPRENE GLOVE | Hydroskin Titanium (M) | 3.0 | |||
| INSULATION HAT | Wigwam Stocking Hat | 2.0 | |||
| FOOTWEAR | SOCKS | Smartwool Hiking Socks | 2.4 | ||
| NEOPRENE SOCKS | Sealskin (M) | 4.6 | |||
| SHOES | Salomon Amphibian Water Shoes (M8.5) | 23.4 | |||
| SHOE GAITERS | REI Running Gaiters | 3.8 | |||
| SLEEPING SYSTEM | SLEEPING PAD | Insul Mat | 14.0 | ||
| SLEEPING BAG | MH Phantom 32 Sleeping Bag | 22.4 | |||
| PILLOW | BPL Inflatable Pillow | 1.2 | |||
| SHELTER | TARP | Integral Design SilTarp 2 | 14.6 | ||
| TENT | Stephenson Warmlite 2R | 44.2 | |||
| STAKES | Aluminium Tent Stakes (11) | 11.0 | |||
| COOKING SYSTEM | UTENSILS | Light My Fire Spork | 0.4 | ||
| DISHWARE | 2 Cup Ziplock Container w/ Lid | 1.4 | |||
| WATER BOTTLE | 2L Platypus | 1.2 | |||
| PACKING SYSTEM | PACK | Golite Gust Pack (M) | 20.0 | ||
| PACK LINER | Sea to Summit 35L | 2.2 | |||
| RAIN COVER | Sea to Summit Rain Cover (XS) | 2.2 | |||
| PACKRAFTING | PACKRAFT | Alpacka Yak w/ Spray Deck | 78.0 | ||
| PADDLES | Aqua-Bound Manta Ray | 36.0 | |||
| THROW BAGS | Homemade 50′ Dyneema Rope | 10.8 | |||
| PFD | Lotus Design Whitewater PFD | 32.2 | |||
| HELMET | Black Diamond Half Dome | 13.0 | |||
| TIE-DOWNS | “3/4“” x 60″” (x2)” | 1.6 | |||
| PADDLE LEASH | Scotty Paddle Leash | 1.8 | |||
| FISHING GEAR | FLY REEL | TFO MKI Floating Line | 6.6 | ||
| FLY BOX | Morell Fly box w/ Assorted Wet Flies | 0.8 | |||
| FLY BOX | Plastic Container with Dry Flies | 0.2 | |||
| ACCESSORIES | “Gink, Forceps, Extra Leader, License” | 2.0 | |||
| MISC. GEAR | SUNGLASSES | Smith Empire Sunglasses | 0.6 | ||
| POLES | REI Peak UL Carbon Trekking | 12.5 | |||
| SUN PROTECTION | Patagonia UL Cap | 1.2 | |||
| BUG PROTECTION | “Sportsmen Max Repellant, Headnet, Bandana” | 3.8 | |||
| FIRST AID KIT | “Band-Aids, Floss, Hydropel, Tincture of Benzoin, Ibuprofen” | 5.6 | |||
| REPAIR KIT | “Duct Tape, Leatherman Micra Tool, Lighter, Patch Kit, Lighters, Compass, Safety Pins, 1/2“” Clamp, Ditty Sack” | 10.0 | |||
| TOILETRIES | “TP, Lighter, Wet Wipes” | 4.8 | |||
| EMERGENCY KIT | Fire Starter and Signal Mirror | 2.8 | |||
| NOTEBOOK | “””Rite in the Rain”” All-Weather Journal & Nalgene Marker Pen” | 1.0 | |||
| BEAR PROTECTION | Counter Assault Bear Deterrent w/ case | 12.4 | |||
| CONSUMABLES | FOOD | 1.2 lbs/day x 10 days | 12.0 | ||
| FUEL | alcohol (12 oz) | 11.6 | |||
| SPIRITS | Flask of Pendelton Whiskey (8 oz) | 11.2 | |||
| Total Weight Breakdown | oz | lbs | |||
| Total Weight (Worn/Carried) | 86.7 | 5.4 | |||
| Total Base Pack Weight | 433.4 | 27.1 | |||
| Consumables Weight | 47.2 | 3.0 | |||
| Total Pack Weight | 480.6 | 30.0 | |||
| Total Skin Out Weight | 567.3 | 35.5 |
MYOG: Bubble Wrap and Duct Tape Camera Case
A durable camera case made from cheap and free materials.
Click an image to view the slideshow
Gather your materials.
Mark the bubble wrap.
Cut the bubble wrap to size.
Make cuts to form bottom flaps.
Fold over bottom flaps.
Cut off extra material from bottom flap.
Cover the case in packing tape.
Cover all or part of the case in duct tape.
Cut and fold the duct tape to form it around the corners of the case.
The final product Bubble Wrap and Duct Tape samh case.
Background
Before I set off on a thru-hike of the Pacific Northwest Trail in 2007, I partook in a drastic re-thinking of every piece of gear in my backpacking kit. I sewed a spinnaker tarp, some silnylon and Tyvek stuff sacks, modified my ULA Conduit pack, and weighed everything countless times. One might say I cut the handle off the proverbial toothbrush that has become the metaphor for ultralight backpacking to the masses. I copied ideas from Backpacking Light articles and forum members and scoured the Internet and my peers for suggestions and techniques, until I’d created a gear list that I believed would serve me well for two straight months of twenty-mile days. There was one item that continued to mystify me, as I could not find a commercial product or homemade solution that was just what I wanted – a case to hold my point-and-shoot camera.
Sometime during the winter of 2006, I grabbed a piece of bubble wrap and some duct tape and threw together a crude sleeve to hold my Canon Powershot SD400, then started carrying it around with me in the left-hand pocket of my pants… all the time. What I thought was a throw-away project, manufactured from scraps of garbage and a few lengths of tape, not only worked wonderfully, but was so durable and easy to use that I ended up carrying it with me for the entire 1200 miles of the PNT the following summer.
The author on his 2007 Pacific Northwest Trail Thru-Hike.
My coworkers during 2006 and 2007 nicknamed my creation the samh case, and a couple of them even created their own for their cameras. Although I didn’t expect Version One to last very long, I managed to carry it in either my pocket or the hipbelt of my backpack every single day for nearly three years.
Version Two
Recently, Version One of the samh case was finally put to rest, as it had become quite tattered, and a few holes had appeared. Having been so pleased with the product I had literally thrown together in a few minutes, I decided to create Version Two using a similar design, but with the addition of a few steps and a bit more precision.
The original samh case after nearly three years of continuous use.
Make Your Own
Below and along the right side of this page, you will find photos and instructions to create your own lightweight and durable camera case. I mention that it’s lightweight and durable, but with use of the proper reused materials you could even jump on the current “go green” bandwagon and score some points with treehuggers by carrying a recycled product. And yes, I can get away with calling people “treehuggers” because I am one too!
Time Required:
- About one hour
Materials:
- Small sheet of bubble wrap (or similar, soft packing material)
- Duct tape and packing tape (or similar)
- Scissors
- Marker (optional)
The Process
Step One:
- Place bubble wrap bubble-side down on a flat surface and lay camera atop it. Roughly eye how much material will be needed to cover the camera in its entirety. Aside from on the “bottom” of the case, none of the material will overlap.
Step Two:
- Take the roughed-in piece of material and wrap it carefully around the camera body. With the marker and scissors, figure the exact size the material needs to be to provide a snug fit when complete. The material and tape will stretch slightly over the course of time, so getting the right fit is important. Size the depth of the pocket of the case so that the camera will sit a few millimeters below the “mouth” of the case.
Step Three:
- With the material sized properly around the camera body, place a small piece of tape on the side seam to hold it in place. Using the scissors, the next step is to make four cuts. Starting at the bottom, make a cut along each corner of the case right up to the camera body. This will create four flaps of material that will be folded over each other to form the bottom of the case.
Step Four:
- Fold the flaps of material over each other to form the bottom of the case. Start with the narrow sides first, one then the other, placing a small piece of tape to hold them together. Next, fold the side piece (that doesn’t have a seam running through it) over the two narrow flaps. Cut off the fourth, seamed flap and place a piece of tape cut to the proper size across the entire bottom.
Step Five:
- Aside from holding the case together, use of tape provides durability and aesthetics. I have chosen to use two varieties, both packing tape and duct tape. The packing tape creates a water-resistant shell, and the duct tape gives a nice texture when gripping the case in hand.
- With the camera held within the walls of the bubble wrap creation that should now look somewhat like the final product, carefully wrap the entire structure in packing tape. This can be as precise or hasty a job as you wish. Being precise will create clean lines of aesthetics. Being hasty may lack pleasing aesthetics, but will still be durable.
- Be sure to wrap packing tape over every bit of the bubble wrap. The packing tape is the material that gives the case its sturdiness. At the top of the case, place the tape so a few millimeters hang over the edge. Next, snip this short flap of tape with the scissors at each corner and fold the flaps inward, protecting the bubble wrap at the mouth of the case where the camera slides in and out.
Step Six:
- Once the outside of the case is completely covered in packing tape, place some duct tape around it to create a soft, textured feel and to create a more appealing appearance. At this stage, things to consider are the use of various colors of duct tape, whether or not you wrap the entire case in duct tape, or whether you want to cut a logo or design into the duct tape. For this version, I simply wrapped duct tape around the bottom of the case and a thin strip around the case near the mouth.
Garmin Oregon 550t Promises Hi-Res Topo Mapping Display, Touchscreen, and Integrated 3.2MP Camera
While GPS units are getting bigger and heavier, at least they are also becoming more functional. The Garmin Oregon 550t integrates 100k topo maps, a hi-res display, and a 3.2MP digital camera.
The Skinny
- User controls: Touchscreen
- Camera resolution: 3.2MP with 4X digital zoom and geotagging capability, direct integration with Picasa
- Compass type: 3-axis
- Internal memory: 850mb (Micro SD card accepted for additional storage)
- Topo Maps: U.S. 100k preloaded, with 3D capability, 24k maps available
- Battery Type: NiMH (rechargeable), 16-hr battery life
- Altimeter: Yes, barometric
- Weight: 6.8 oz
Commentary
You may want to read the press release below, then scroll back up here for the commentary.
I’ve all but given up hope for a GPS that provided the minimal weight, battery life, tiny form factor, and basic functionality of the Geko 301.
So while I was intrigued by the Garmin Colorado 400t Review we published last year, I couldn’t get terribly excited. Poor battery life, a less-than-bright-enough screen, lack of pre-loaded topo maps, and yet another change in user interface (the addition of a rocker wheel and button) couldn’t capture my attention enough to upgrade from my smallish lightweight HCx, or, of course, my favorite and the one I use the most, my Geko 301.
The Garmin Oregon 550t may change that, but I’ll reserve judgment until we get our hands on them.
I do like the prospect of longer battery life, a slight reduction in weight from the Colorado 400t, preloaded 100k topo maps for the entire U.S., and the additional of a digital camera.
Now, being sort of a camera snob, I don’t have high hopes for the quality of the digital camera included with the Oregon 550t. However, the fact that it is integrated is pretty appealing to me, since I do a lot of day tripping via foot and packraft, especially to new and unknown areas. The idea of being able to grab a GPS like this, a jacket, and some food, without fear of not having a map or camera with me for documentation of the trip, is a seductive one.
For backcountry use, however, it gets sketchier. I’m not at the point where I can justify a 6.8 oz weight penalty in order to simplify navigation.
However, for complex navigation, where I may be spending inordinate amounts of time pinpointing particular spots, the Garmin Oregon 500t offers an attractive solution for me. I can envision using it to pinpoint a packrafting take-out on a nondescript river, when I’m trying to bushwhack as little as possible to a nearby trail. Or, when I’m trying to reach the entrance to a slot canyon from a high mesa. Or, when I’m trying to get over and the right pass or notch when on a winter traverse.
So, once I filter my GPS needs and wants through my own personal lens, what screams out to me about the Oregon 550t is not only its camera as a utility tool for journaling and documenting a trip, I’m eager to enjoy its usability, and specifically, its touchscreen. I can’t imagine an application that is more suitable for touchscreen use than a GPS. Since the iPod Touch was introduced, I think a lot of folks have been patiently waiting for a true touchscreen GPS. I can only hope Garmin delivers and capitalizes on touchscreen usability, so we’re not fiddling around learning the touchscreen at the expense of simply releasing trendy technology.
However, Garmin has a track record for well-researched, thoughtful, and usable products… so I am cautiously optimistic.
Manufacturer’s Press Release
Picture perfect: Garmin® Oregon® 550 with built-in camera offers touchscreen GPS for all seasons, all reasons.
OLATHE, Kan./May 7, 2009/Business Wire — Garmin International Inc., a unit of Garmin Ltd. (NASDAQ: GRMN), the global leader in satellite navigation, today announced the Oregon 550 and Oregon 550t touchscreen handheld GPS devices, integrating a 3.2 megapixel digital camera, which creates geotagged images, and a 3-axis compass into the popular series of intuitive touchscreen handhelds. The waterproof Oregon 550’s easy-to-use interface and versatile features make it the ideal solution for customers looking for a multipurpose GPS device.
“As everyone looks for ways to do more with less, Oregon 550 and Oregon 550t can be the one GPS device you turn to for all of your activities, in any climate, on any terrain, at any time of year,” said Dan Bartel, Garmin’s vice president of worldwide sales. “Easy enough for beginners to master, Oregon will guide you in your adventures, capture the highlights and bring them back home.”
There’s no need to tote a separate camera in your pack or pocket, as Oregon 550’s 3.2 megapixel autofocus digital camera with 4x digital zoom automatically geotags each photo with the location of where it was taken, allowing you to mark, remember and navigate back to that exact spot in the future. With this waterproof digital camera, you can take and view pictures in landscape or portrait orientation, and 850 MB of internal memory offers ample storage. These pictures can then be printed or stored and shared online, making every trip even more memorable. Once your Oregon 550 is connected via USB, you can use my.Garmin.com to detect Oregon’s photos, simplify the selection and uploading processes and then store those photos on Picasa, a popular online photo sharing community for friends and families around the world.
The built-in 3-axis compass and enhanced sunlight-readable touchscreen are two other key additions to the Oregon 550 and Oregon 550t (which features preloaded 100K topo maps for the entire U.S. in state-of-the-art 3D elevation perspective). The 3-axis tilt-compensated electronic compass shows your heading even when you’re standing still, without holding it level. And Oregon’s glove-friendly, color 3-inch touchscreen display is brighter and easier than ever to read and use in all conditions, responsive to the touch of your finger, yet resistant to the forces of nature. Weighing only 6.8 ounces, the Oregon 550 and Oregon 550t come with two precharged AA NiMH batteries. These batteries provide up to 16 hours of life on a single charge and don’t lose energy when not in use. The included battery charger saves you money and reduces waste as batteries get recharged and reused. Also in the box is a carabiner clip and USB cable for high-speed USB connections. A microSD card slot provides even more storage for photos, mapping and memory and allows you to view pictures from other devices with Oregon’s picture viewer.
Highlighting its versatility, Oregon lets you customize five profiles — automotive, marine, recreation, fitness or geocaching — making the most useful features the easiest to access through shortcuts.
On the trail: With its high-sensitivity, WAAS-enabled GPS receiver and HotFix™ satellite prediction, Oregon 550 locates your position quickly and precisely and maintains its GPS location even in heavy cover and deep canyons. And you can store up to 2,000 waypoints, 200 routes, 5,000 geocaches and a tracklog of up to 10,000 points and 200 saved tracks. On the mountain: The built-in barometric altimeter tracks changes in pressure to pinpoint your precise altitude, and you can keep an eye on changing weather conditions by plotting pressure over time. On vacation: Explore with confidence, thanks to the detailed U.S. topographic maps preloaded in the 550t or the worldwide shaded relief basemap in the 550. On a mission: The simple-to-use touchscreen interface makes it easy to navigate efficiently and tackle your task quickly. In a group: With Oregon 550, you can share your waypoints, tracks, routes and geocaches wirelessly other Oregon and Colorado users. Out geocaching: Go paperless with Oregon, which can store up to 5,000 caches, by quickly downloading cache information from Geocaching.com. Oregon stores and displays key information such as location, terrain, difficulty, hints and description, so that you don’t have to tote printouts with you. (And lucky geocachers may even stumble upon a limited-edition Oregon geocoin.)
And Oregon does the work of several devices, just by adding various accessories to suit your activity or optional MapSource® microSD cards preloaded with detailed maps.
On the road: Optional City Navigator mapping provides detailed street maps, millions of preloaded points of interest and onscreen turn-by-turn directions to your destination, and an optional Auto Nav kit adds a suction mount and car charger. On a hunt or on a hike: Using a separate TOPO U.S. 24K DVD or microSD card brings you the highest level of topographic detail available, with maps comparable to 1:24,000 scale USGS maps, featuring terrain contours, topo elevations, summits, routable roads and trails, parks, coastlines, rivers, lakes and geographical points. On the water: Add BlueChart® g2 maps, which provide everything you need for a great day on the water, including depth contours, navaids and harbors. On the run or on a bike: Ideal for a trail workout, the lightweight Oregon is compatible with Garmin’s heart-rate monitors and speed/cadence sensors, and an optional handlebar mount makes it easy to track your speed, distance, elevation and location.
And wherever you are, whatever you’re doing and whomever you’re with, you’ll always have Oregon 550’s built-in camera to capture the moment, record the location and share the memories.
Oregon 550 and Oregon 550t are the latest breakthroughs from Garmin, which has spent 20 years using technology and innovation to enhance users’ lives, making Garmin a household name in the automotive, aviation, marine, wireless, outdoor and fitness industries. For more about features, pricing and availability, as well as information about Garmin’s other products and services, go to www.garmin.com, www.garmin.blogs.com and http://twitter.com/jakesjournal.
Therm-a-Rest NeoAir Sleeping Pad Review
Backpacking Light has been able to spend time with a pre-production Therm-a-Rest NeoAir Pad in the laboratory, in our living rooms, and in the field. Does the product deliver?
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The Performance of Alcohol Fuels for Backpacking Stoves
Part One: Three Straight Alcohols and Alcohol Blends
Light alcohol stoves are very popular, but there is a lot of confusion over what sort of alcohol should be used and whether blending different alcohols together has any effect. In this, Part One, we comprehensively examine the performance and safety of three common alcohol fuels and of a range of blends.
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MYOG: The Incredible Rulk – Rucksack and Pulk Combo
It would be so nice to have a light pulk strapped onto my pack so that I more or less would be able instantly to switch back and forth between pack and pulk. Witness the creation of the Incredible Rulk!
Editor’s Note: Read more about Jörgen Johansson on the BPL Wiki.
Overview
In my mind, a disproportionate number of my army days were spent dragging a pulk through heavy snow. On different sorts of missions that our instructors dreamed up “behind enemy lines,” we waded through deep snow on skis, hauling pulks laden with grenade launchers, machine guns, explosives, and ammo… not to mention the twelve-man tents swollen with snow and ice. Then there were the stove and stovepipes that irregularly blessed us on cold nights under the aurora borealis of northern Sweden. After a couple of days and nights, even the packed tents were so choked with ice that they made the pulks nearly the size of minivans. All this was pulled by two men with huge packs and machine guns dangling on their chests, dressed in camouflage that had once been white, back when we had first started from the regiment.
In spite of these Freudian overtones (bigger is better!), there have been times since when some rational part of my brain has realized that there might be circumstances when it is in fact quite energy efficient to pull something behind you, rather than carrying it on your back. But so far, the only foray into pulks since those long past mid-winter nights has been pulling my kids when they were small, on shorter ski outings. Until this very winter that is, in the year of our Lord, 2009.
There has been an idea brewing in my mind for quite a few years that could be described: It would be so nice to have a light pulk strapped onto my pack so that I more or less would be able instantly to switch back and forth between pack and pulk.
This year, while preparing for a ski trip up north around the Arctic Circle, I finally went from mulling to doing. Using thin aluminum sheeting and surprisingly little effort, I actually fashioned something that could charitably be called a pulk. And since the main idea was strapping the whole thing to my pack, I christened it The Rulk, combining the words “rucksack” and “pulk.”
This is the story of how The Incredible Rulk was made and how it fared during a four-day winter trip.
Material
The pulk part of the Rulk was fashioned out of 1 mm aluminum sheeting, bought locally for the equivalent of $6.00 US. If you want to get technical, the grade of aluminum is called EN 1050A-H14/24 over here, but it’s just plain aluminum sheeting with no special features. The sheeting was 1000 x 400 millimetres, which is some 40 x 16 inches. I came to these measurements after hastily stuffing my Golite Jam2 with an old synthetic sleeping bag (to make it really full), then measuring the length and width of this package.
To strap the Rulk tightly to my pack, I used four plastic clips, the kind you can buy in boating stores. In fact, my local boating store had recently moved and couldn’t find more than two, so I had to snoop around and finally found the rest in a store specializing in flags. The clips are normally used to attach the flags to lines and poles and are basically a sturdy, plastic carabiner. I wanted them sturdy so that hooking them through holes in the aluminum wouldn’t wear them out, and I wanted them plastic so that they would be quiet against the aluminum and also not wear it out.
To pull the Rulk, I used a few yards of 4 mm parachute-type cord that I happened to have laying around. Two ends were fastened (with two more of the clips described above) through holes drilled in the aluminum. I fashioned a belt made out of webbing and a buckle salvaged from an old pack, and I used some thin plastic hose to line and protect the cord where it passed through the aluminum.
The waistbelt was simple and worked well. The cord looped around to the other hip and was about 5 feet long. On it was a plastic clip that hooked on to a similar length of cord fastened to the Rulk.
Summing up the shopping list:
- Aluminum sheeting, 1 mm, cut to the size of the (full) pack, or 1000 x 400 mm (40 x 16 in).
- Seven plastic clips
- About 5 yards of 4 mm nylon cord
- Two lengths of plastic hose with an inner diameter fitting the cord
The Production Phase
I have made my own camping gear before: packs, tents and clothing. But I’m really no great shakes at doing stuff with metal. However, after emigrating to Canada in my late teens, I worked at a ranch in Alberta where I saw that the most amazing things could be fashioned out of pieces of scrap metal. Also, I’m one of those guys who doesn’t care what it looks like as long as it works. As a result, I wasn’t afraid of giving the construction a try… so no one else should be either, even if you don’t have a misspent youth in Alberta to fall back upon. If I can make a Rulk, anyone can.
I simply grabbed the aluminum and a piece of plastic PVC pipe. The diameter of the pipe was approximately 6 inches, which seemed the right size. I was only after something that could be used as a mold to give the front end of the Rulk an upward curve for ease in pulling over the snow. Using this drain pipe and a piece of wood as a cudgel, I shaped what was to be the front end in a nice curve upwards, taking less than ten minutes, since the grade of aluminum was quite soft and malleable.
After this, I measured the Rulk against the pack and decided that it was a bit long for my Jam2. Lacking a pair of tin snips, I used a hacksaw to cut about 4 to 5 inches off the back end (I would later discover that this would turn out to be a bit too much). I used a file to smooth the hack-sawed portion, as well as to round the corners of the whole contraption to avoid accidentally slashing anything important to me somewhere far from the emergency ward.
Starting out. The pack extends some inches aft (on the left) of the Rulk, and the cellpad is cinched in place using sternum strap and hip belt.
This done, I measured about 4 inches in from each of the long sides and drew a line up to where the upward curve in the front began. I was a bit hesitant about how this would work and how the shapes would fit together, but it came out surprisingly well. I just bent the long sides along the lines, using the edge of a table and my knee to hold it in place while following the pen-marked lines. The metal was bent at approximately a 30-45 degree angle. Voila! I now had a sort of trough, curved at one end, with slanted sides, but completely open and un-troughlike at the other end.
Time to bring out the power drill and a half-inch bit. I drilled eight holes along the sides of the almost-trough. These holes came out with jagged edges in the thin sheeting and had to be filed to a semblance of roundness and smoothness. One pair of holes was at the corners of the curved front part of the pulk. However, I did not want to pull the Rulk by these holes, because it would undoubtedly straighten the curve and generally disfigure the whole artistic installation. So I added another couple of holes at the front end of the bent, long sides of the trough, which were where the line to my waist was actually fastened using one of the plastic carabiners. The line went from there, with an approximately 4-inch liner of plastic hose to protect it as it ran through the forward hole on top of the curve. The line then was looped back, using about five feet of cordage, through the opposite hole (which was lined with plastic hose), and attached with another clip to the Rulk. This left a loop of cord that would be attached to a similar length of loop from the waist belt, using another plastic clip.
It all sounds incredibly complicated described with words, so I am hoping that my picture is worth a thousand for illustrative purposes:
The cord pulling the Rulk is fastened by the plastic clip/carabiner to the aluminum. A 4-inch length of plastic hose ensures that the cord is protected from abrasion while running through the hole in the upward curving front end.
That leaves the remaining four holes in the Rulk unaccounted for. These were spaced, two on each of the long sides of the Rulk, in such a way that they would be lined up with the fasteners for the compression straps of the Jam2. I simply tied a plastic carabiner to the end of some cordage, hooked the clip to the hole in the Rulk and looped the cord through the webbing loop attaching the buckle of the compression strap to the pack fabric. The cord was then attached to itself using a friction/prusik knot which enabled me to hook on to the Rulk and cinch the whole thing really tight to the back of the pack, using the friction knots. This way, the Rulk can be cinched tight even if the pack varies in size and bulk.
Friction knots and plastic clips attach the Rulk firmly to the pack, which are easily adapted as the pack shrinks or grows.
I can honestly say that it took longer to purchase the material than to put it together. Doing what I’ve described will not take more than an hour, even if you’re an all thumbs person like yours truly.
The last thing I did before packing it all up and getting on the northbound train was to put the whole rigmarole on the scales: 885 grams or just short of 2 lbs. Not bad. The big question now was, like with wheels on a cart, would the Rulk make moving the load so much easier that it would be worth this extra weight?
The Test Phase
The Setting
Since the proof is in the pudding, I moved rapidly to the next phase in the development of the Incredible Rulk: the ski trip. Actually, this particular trip was something that had been in the back of my mind for a long time. Some thirty years ago, me and a pal went on a winter trip with ultra heavy loads in deep snow. After about half a day of this, we decided to take advantage of a nearby railway, known as the Inland Rail, to enable us to move in more comfort. Or to be exact, to enable us to move at all.
The Inland Railway is a narrow gauge railway worming its way along the wooded spine of Sweden for some 800 miles. In fact, it was once built as an alternate way of connecting the north of Sweden with the middle portion. The main railway connection between the more populous south and the northern woods and mountains is along the coast of the Baltic, while the Inland Rail has always been a struggling alternative, built about a hundred years ago for defense purposes, among other things. In the time of my initial experience, thirty years ago, there was a daily train in each direction, making it fairly easy for my buddy and I to use the excellent skiing between the rails, stepping to the side twice a day to wave at the littel diesel powered train chugging past.
Today the Inland Rail runs only in the summer, bringing tourists to areas far away from the throbbing city life. Quite a ride, and one that can be recommended. My own thirty-year-old idea of skiing the whole length had been whittled down by facts of life like work, family, and inclination, to the point where skiing between the two most northerly stations of Jokkmokk and Gällivare sounded ideal. In the end, I chose to start a bit outside Jokkmokk, because I wanted to be as far out in the Arctic taiga as possible.
I also found out that, in spite of the railway normally not being used in winter, it had in fact been plowed for a train running a month before my trip, in conjunction with the Jokkmokk winter market in late February.
Side Note: The Jokkmokk winter market has a history that runs back to the early 1600s, and you can still walk between different Sami tepees and buy furs and cured or uncured reindeer meat in many different recipes. However, some visitors to the market seem to prefer an entirely vegetarian diet consisting mainly of distilled beverages. Nothing much has changed for hundreds of years, except for the arrival of snowmobiles.
To sum up, all this indicated that skiing with a Rulk could probably be a very comfortable way of travelling the 70-mile stretch in the four days/three nights that I had planned.
The Trip
All this boiled down to reality on March 18, 2009, when a taciturn taxi driver left me where the road crossed the railroad tracks about twenty minutes north of Jokkmokk. If my previous experiences with the collision of bright and shiny backpacking ideas with dull reality were any indication, the first ten minutes would probably tell me if the Rulk was feasible or a complete flop. One of my personal favorite flops along this line was when I tried to make skins for my skis out of an old cotton bedspread. It only took two minutes to prove that the bedspread stretched about 10%, then flopped uselessly on each side of the skis.
This, of course, would be quite different.
Well, at least hope springs eternal.
To start with, my filled-to-bursting GoLite Jam2 pack was a bit longer than the sleeping bag stuffed model from my garage endeavors. Three to four inches of pack were sticking out behind the aluminum Rulk. I hoped this would be all right. The pack curved away from the snow and would not really be dragging, and I imagined that in twenty-four hours, the food I would consume would have shortened the pack sufficiently for the fabric not to wear too badly.
Second, the heavy cell pad normally strapped to back of my pack had already diminished the perfection of design I had envisioned. The pad had to be strapped to the top/outside of the Rulk while I wearing it as a pack. This was easily fixed using the five-foot length of cord used to pull it while in Rulk mode. I just wrapped it around the pad and tied a simple knot. When switching to Rulk mode, I untied the cord and used the sternum strap and hip belt of the pack to attach the pad to the top of the load. Alas, this was a slight imperfection compared to being able to switch from pack to Rulk in seconds, but no big deal. Instead, it took about one minute to make the switch.
To shift to a carrying position, the cell pad would have to be moved to the upper back of the aluminum sheeting and fastened with the dangling cord.
Without going into details, I can say that the pack contained what I thought would bring me safely and comfortably through some seventy miles of forest just north of the Arctic Circle (which more or less passes through Jokkmokk, where I had picked up my taxi). This was also meant to be a test of mid-winter lightweight gear for arctic Scandinavia. Unfortunately, what could be termed mid-winter up here normally ends around March 1, so I was a couple of weeks late, due to my work situation. In March, the days grow longer, and the sun makes the days less frigid. However, the nights are often pretty cold, often dipping down to -20 to -30 C (0 to -20 F).
A cold night coming down on the Inland Rail.
The pack base weight was some 9.5 kg (21 lbs), with 3 kg (6.5 lbs) of food and fuel added. The clothing was sturdy: Paramo pants and anorak for deep winter, deep snow, and wood chopping for fires. For mountain trips without fires in non-mid-winter conditions, I’ve used thinner shell clothing with good results.
Did the Incredible Rulk Rise to the Occasion?
In brief, yes. It survived the initial ten-minute litmus test with flying colors. The sun was shining, and the temperature was just a couple of degrees below freezing, which, in combination with the hard surface between the rails, made for perfect skiing. In fact, it turned out to be so easy to pull the Rulk that I did not use it as a pack at all for the whole trip. So, if that was all it took, it could be called a rip-roaring success.
The Rulk on the trail among the scraggly spruce of the Swedish taiga.
But of course, this only meant that the basic idea was feasible, or at least better than the bedspread skins. Of course, attaining perfection on my first prototype isn’t realistic. The biggest overall problem, and something that needs to be addressed for the Rulk to be used outside of railways, is that it did not track well.
With the cord as the only attachment, there is no stability transferred from the person pulling to the Rulk itself. It kept sliding all over the place behind me, following gravity and the law of least resistance. This usually meant that it followed one of the two grooves right alongside the steel rails. These made for slightly higher friction than on pure snow, and therefore more work for me. It also turned out that, over time, the friction from this groove changed the original, up-curved front and sled-like shape into something more similar to a half pipe.
The Rulk became deformed, from sled to half pipe, running in the rut beside the steel rail. It scooped some snow, but the snow was dry and the original shape was easy to restore by bending the aluminum when necessary.
An effect of this deformation was that the Rulk scooped up a bit of snow in front, snow that then traveled along the pack and fell off the rear end. This wasn’t much of a problem for this particular trip, since the snow was dry and didn’t wet the pack. The half pipe also made for lower friction, simply because it was adapted to the groove. This adaption, much like my original bending, was made possible by the relative softness of this particular grade of aluminum.
The deformation was no big deal, since it was very easy to press the aluminum into other configurations when circumstances changed and a more sled-like front was preferred.
However, the poor tracking combined with a relatively high center of gravity also made the rig a bit unstable. It tipped over on its side quite a few times, like when I tried to change directions and pull it out of the rut. In fact, part of one day the wind was pretty strong and also running at right angles across the track. During this period, the Rulk actually blew over onto its side a couple of times when I passed some marshy areas where the trees were scarce and gave little lee. However, this was not a big problem, since the whole Rulk was so light that it was easy to put it on its right keel and continue the trek. However, in a hard wind on the tundra, it would have been a lot more troublesome… which is where the beauty of the Rulk comes into play. When it’s not working very well as a pulk, you just hoist it onto your back, and if you are a lightweight backpacker, this is no big deal.
The high center and instability were also a disadvantage in the deep snow beside the tracks, particularly on one night when I had to go a couple of hundred yards away from the railway to make camp. I sank to my knees, even with skis, and progress was not so speedy. The Rulk did not track well in my ski tracks, but instead tended to end up on its side, being a real pain. During these circumstances, the simple cords would probably best be replaced by the traditional poles used for pulks, which are bolted to the pulk and fastened at the hip belt.
Poles such as these might solve the whole stability and tracking problem, but would also off-set one of the major advantages of the Rulk, which is being able to switch almost immediately between back and snow transport. Poles to handle this would have to be light, stiff, and collapsible in order for the Rulk be what it was intended. I’ve been mulling over some ingenious way of utilizing the poles for my BD Firstlight tent here…
Conclusions
The Incredible Rulk turned out to work very well for the trip I undertook. I believe it is a piece of gear that most definitely could be developed further and might prove to be a valuable addition to the gear list for ski and snowshoe trips. It might even be worth its weight for thru-hikers on snowy passages, if dragging the pack would make post holing less exerting.
However, the basic idea is there and tested on one admittedly special occasion, and anyone who wants to improve on my Rulk is welcome to it. In fact, if it could turn out to be a collaboration project, an open source hardware version of Linux, no one would be more pleased than me.
Not to be forgotten: the Rulk is the perfect perch for the hourly intake of water (kept in pockets to keep from freezing) and snacks.
*** ALERT *** APPALACHIAN TRAIL HIKER FOUND!
*** ALERT *** APPALACHIAN TRAIL HIKER FOUND!
UPDATE 5/2/09 4:07 PM:
KEN KNIGHT WAS FOUND TODAY AND WALKED OUT UNDER HIS OWN STEAM. HE IS AT THE HOSPITAL AND MORE DETAILS WILL LIKELY FOLLOW ONCE WE HAVE THEM. -Addie Bedford
Name: Ken Knight
Height: 5’4"
Weight: 180-200 lb
Point Last Seen: Punchbowl Mountain on the Appalachian Trail in VA
Time Last Seen: Sunday, April 26, 9:00 – 10:00 a.m.
Unique Characteristics: wearing a dry-bag style backpack with a bright orange packbag, hiker is vision-impaired.
If you have info, please contact us: publisher@backpackinglight.com.
Photo above taken Wednesday, April 22 on the Appalachian Trail.
MSR Carbon Reflex 2 Tent Review
MSR utilizes lightweight fabrics, carbon fiber poles, and elegant design to achieve a sub-three-pound double-wall tent for two.
Introduction
The MSR Carbon Reflex 2 tent utilizes lightweight fabrics and carbon fiber poles to achieve its sub-three pound trail weight. The tent is elegantly designed to maximize interior volume and usable space.
The new Carbon Reflex tents for spring 2009 are the lightest tents ever from MSR and set a new standard for a lightweight tent from a major manufacturer. The Carbon Reflex 2 reviewed here is based on the popular Hubba Hubba, but weighs about one and a half pounds less, arriving at a trail weight of slightly less than three pounds. The low weight is achieved by using lightweight fabrics and mesh, carbon fiber poles, and a unique one-plus pole design consisting of a single hoop plus a top strut. All of this weight reduction was accomplished without compromising the tent’s interior volume or floor space. How did the Carbon Reflex 2 fare in our field tests, and how does it compare with lightweight tents from Big Sky International and Terra Nova?
Specifications
|
Year/Manufacturer/Model |
2009 MSR Carbon Reflex 2 |
|
Style |
Three-season, two-person, double-wall, non-freestanding tent with floor, 1.5 vestibules, and one side entry door |
|
Included |
Tent body, fly, two carbon fiber poles, eight aluminum stakes, pole repair sleeve, two guylines, pole sack, stake sack, tent stuff sack |
|
Fabrics |
Body is 20d x 330T ripstop nylon 66 and 20d polyester mesh; floor is 40d x 238T ripstop nylon 6, 10,000 mm PU coated; fly is 20d x 330T ripstop nylon 66, 1000 mm PU and silicone coated |
|
Poles and Stakes |
Two Easton FX carbon fiber poles, eight MSR Needle stakes (7000 series aluminum, anodized, 6 in/15 cm long) |
|
Floor Dimensions* |
Manufacturer specifications: Length 84 in (213 cm), width 50 in (127 cm), height 40 in (102 cm). Note: the measured floor width at the center is actually 40 in (102 cm), see * below. |
|
Features |
Easton carbon fiber poles, “unbendable” aluminum alloy stakes, 1+ pole design (ridge pole plus top strut), unique geometry provides maximum interior space, front vestibule and zippered rear window access to rear vestibule, water-resistant zipper in fly with two sliders, large L-shaped mesh entry door with two sliders, four interior mesh pockets, multiple ceiling loops, StayDry entrance (fly overhangs entry door so rain does not hit the tent floor) |
|
Packed Size |
20 x 7 in (51 x 18 cm) |
|
Total Weight |
Measured weight: 3 lb 2.8 oz (1.44 kg) Manufacturer specification: 3 lb 4 oz (1.47 kg) |
|
Trail Weight |
Measured weight: 2 lb 15.8 oz (1.36 kg) Manufacturer specification: 2 lb 13 oz (1.28 kg) (excludes stuff sacks and pole repair sleeve) |
|
Protected Area* |
Manufacturer specifications: floor area 29 ft2 (2.7 m2); entry vestibule 9 ft2 (0.84 m2), rear vestibule 5 ft2 (0.46 m2), total vestibule area 14 ft2 (1.3 m2); total protected area 43 ft2 (4 m2). Note: the actual floor area is 23.3 ft2 (2.16 m2), see * below. |
|
Protected Area/Trail Weight Ratio* |
14.4 ft2/lb (based on manufacturer area specifications) |
|
MSRP |
US$499.95 |
|
Options |
Footprint (6.3 oz/179 g/US$39.95) |
|
* |
We normally use manufacturer floor and vestibule data in our specifications table and trust that it is accurate, but this time it is not. The width of the tent’s floor at the center is 40 inches, not 50 inches as specified or implied. Thus the floor area is actually 23.3 ft2, the total protected area is 37.3 ft2, and the protected area/trail weight ratio is 12.5 ft2/lb. |
Design and Features
The new Carbon Reflex 2 is basically a lighter version of the popular Hubba Hubba. Weight was trimmed by eliminating the hubs and wishbones at the ends of the tent, eliminating one door and shrinking the vestibule, and going to carbon fiber poles instead of aluminum. The total weight reduction (based on manufacturer total weights) is 1 pound 7 ounces. The extra cost for this weight savings is $200.
It’s important to note that the Carbon Reflex 2 has only one entry, while the Hubba Hubba has two. The rear vestibule has been retained, but it has been reduced to a storage area accessible only from the inside through a vertical zipper.
Views of the MSR Carbon Reflex 2. Entry is from the side (top left) via a vestibule-protected L-shaped mesh entry door. The end view (top right) shows the larger entry vestibule on the right and small storage vestibule on the left. The rear view (bottom left) shows that the rear vestibule does not have outside access. In the top view (bottom right), the entry is at the top of the photo.
Views of the tent body. MSR has simplified the pole structure (left) to a single ridge pole plus a top strut that maximizes interior headroom and extends the vestibules. The top view (right) shows that the tent’s floor is rectangular. The body is mesh except for a diamond-shaped nylon ceiling panel.
Although the tent floor is specified to be 50 inches wide, I measured it at 40 inches wide seam to seam in the center of the tent. I reported the discrepancy to Cascade Designs, and the response I received from their tent designer was: "We measure the floor width from the widest point inside the tent, which is near the stake loops". I measured the tent floor between the stake loops at the ends of the tent, and found the width to be 46.5 inches. The extra width at the ends of the tent has little practical use; the center of the tent is 40 inches wide, not 50 inches as implied in MSR’s specifications. The length is 84 inches as specified. This means the floor area is actually 23.3 square feet, rather than the specified 29 square feet. See my further comments on this issue in the Performance and Assessment sections of this review.
Inside features. Although the floor (top left) is specified to be 50 inches wide, I measured it at only 40 inches at the center, wide enough for two standard 20 inch wide inflatable sleeping pads. Each corner has a mesh storage pocket (bottom left), which is a nice feature. The rear vestibule (right) is actually a storage area accessible only from the inside through a vertical zipper, which limits the passage of larger items like a backpack.
The Carbon Reflex 2 comes with two Easton carbon fiber poles, a pole repair sleeve, and eight aluminum alloy stakes (left). The fly attaches to the ridgepole (right) with six clips, five Velcro loops, and two grommets at the ends of the top strut.
Performance
Setting up the Carbon Reflex 2 is a conventional process and is not fast as claimed:
- Lay out the footprint (if you purchased one) and stake the corners.
- Lay the tent body on top of the footprint.
- Attach the ridgepole to grommets in the tent body and footprint.
- Attach the tent body to the ridgepole via six clips and attach the four corner tieouts to the stakes.
- Attach the top strut over the ridgepole to grommets on the tent body.
- Lay the tent fly over the tent body, attach four Velcro loops to the ridgepole, attach grommets on the fly to the ends of the top strut, and attach corner buckles to the tent body.
- Stake out the front and rear vestibules and end guylines.
As I said, setup is not fast and could be a bit stressful while in the rain or wind. However, once the process is learned, it is straightforward.
Once assembled, the Carbon Reflex 2 is a tight unit. The inner tent is very taut and maintains a 3-inch airspace between it and the fly, more at the top. The tautness also enables the zipper on the entry door to be operated with one hand. The 49 inch long top strut is a simple and clever design element; it maximizes interior headroom and usable space, and also extends the vestibules so rain does not fall directly into the tent.
The most noteworthy drawback of the Carbon Reflex 2 is its single entry door. This means that the sleeper in the back of the tent must climb over the front sleeper in order to enter and exit the tent. My wife and I found it quite livable, but it helps a lot for the rear sleeper to be smaller and more nimble
As mentioned in the previous section, the tent floor is 40 inches wide, not 50 inches as specified. As shown in one of the photos above, the tent is wide enough for two standard 20 inch wide sleeping pads and that’s all. That said, we did find the interior of the Carbon Reflex 2 to be adequately roomy. The roominess is enhanced by the tent’s top strut which maximizes interior headroom and usable space. We also liked the side entry into the tent’s four corner storage pockets, which is ergonomically more efficient than a top entry.
Although I was not able to test the tent in winds stronger than 20 miles per hour, I at least found that the Carbon Reflex 2 is stable in moderate winds. The tent is basically a dome shape which helps it shed wind.
The MSR Carbon Reflex will handle a coating of snow, but that’s not its forte’.
During our testing I was able to evaluate the tent’s storm worthiness and condensation resistance on several occasions. On two winter camping trips in southern Utah, nighttime temperatures dropped into the upper teens under clear calm conditions, and we saw no more than light condensation (frost) on the inside of the tent fly. On a 10-day trip in southeastern Arizona we experienced one all-night rain and several nights in the 30-34 F range. With the tent’s vestibule and mesh door closed every night, we had moderate condensation on the inside of the tent fly. On a March trip to New Mexico’s Chaco Canyon National Historical Park, we slept in the tent on a clear, calm night with a 40 F temperature drop, and had moderate condensation on the inside of the fly. The tent does not have a high vent, and we were frankly quite surprised and impressed with the tent’s storm and condensation resistance.
Although we were not able to test it, the Carbon Reflex 2 can also be set up in a fly & footprint mode as shown. The fly clips to the footprint at the corners. Trail weight in this setup is 2 pounds 2.1 ounces.
Assessment
It would appear that MSR’s objective in designing the Carbon Reflex 2 was to get the trail weight below three pounds, which is remarkable since the tent is made of polyurethane coated fabrics rather than silnylon. Why not silnylon, which is the de-facto standard in the lightest double-wall and single-wall tents popular with backpackers? The answer is CPAI-84, which is a voluntary camping tent flammability standard developed in 1980 by the Industrial Fabrics Association International. The standard may be voluntary, but many states require tents to meet that standard, and there is always the liability concern of larger manufactures. Thus MSR and other larger manufacturers stick to polyurethane coated fabrics that contain a flame retardant and strive to make those fabrics lighter and better performing. MSR’s 20 denier ripstop nylon has the advantages of lightness, fire retardancy, a polyurethane coating on the inside that will accept seam tape, and a silicone coating on the outside to shed water. Small companies take their chances with silnylon under the "voluntary" nature of the standard and clearly warn buyers of the flammability of silnylon. Big Sky International even provides a swatch of silnylon for the buyer to burn and allows for the buyer to return the tent if he is not comfortable with its lack of fire retardancy.
A three-pound target weight is probably the reason that the Carbon Reflex 2 has only one entry door plus a rear storage area. Obviously two doors and two vestibules would be much better, but there are few opportunities to offset the weight, thus the compromise.
Overall I am very impressed with the design and functionality of the Carbon Reflex 2. It is elegantly designed and very taut. It resists wind, rain, and condensation well. Its drawbacks are its single entry door for two people and overstated floor width. Functionally, the floor area and vestibules are adequate for two people plus gear, but the tent is not as spacious as the specifications imply.
In spite of its light weight, the Carbon Reflex 2 is still a durable tent and will last many years with reasonable care. But how durable are the carbon fiber poles? Easton FX poles are supplied with the Carbon Reflex, which are stiffer and more durable than Fibraplex poles. The most common types of damage to carbon fiber poles is crushing them or breaking them at a connection. When assembling the poles, it’s very important to make sure that every connection is completely inserted. MSR’s lifetime pole guarantee states: "MSR offers a limited warranty, to the original owner, on all MSR tent framework. If your tent pole breaks, MSR will repair or replace it, free, for the lifetime of the tent, upon postage-paid delivery to the MSR Product Service Center."
The closest comparisons to the Carbon Reflex 2 are the Big Sky International Evolution 2P and the Terra Nova Laser. In a comparable configuration with carbon fiber poles, the Big Sky Evolution 2P has a trail weight of 2 pounds 13.5 ounces and cost of about US$481 (almost the same), but it has two doors and two vestibules, a true 29.75 square feet of floor space, two top vents, a window, and it’s freestanding. The Evolution 2P’s width is specified to be 56 inches at the head end and 46 inches at the foot end; I measured it and found it to be right on. The Terra Nova Laser has a trail weight of only 2 pounds 8 ounces, but its 22.3 square foot floor space (trapezoidal, 35.4 inches wide x 91 inches long) is very tight for two people, and it costs about US$463. Overall, the Carbon Reflex 2 compares somewhat favorably with the competition, but the final decision depends on the value placed on fire retardancy and two entry doors instead of one.
What’s Good
- Sub-three-pound (trail weight) two-person double-wall tent
- Elegantly designed to minimize weight and maximize interior usable space
- Easton FX carbon fiber poles and lightweight Needle "unbendable" stakes
- Tent is very taut and maintains an air space between the inner tent and fly
- StayDry entrance (fly overhangs entry door so rain does not hit the tent floor)
- Adequate space for two people plus gear
- Wind stable and storm worthy
- Surprisingly little condensation
What’s Not So Good
- Only one entry door
- Floor width and area are less than specified
- Difficult access to rear vestibule from inside the tent
Recommendations for Improvement
- Somehow, squeeze a second door into the feature set without adding weight
- Revise the specifications regarding the floor width and area
- Switch to an L-shaped zipper for improved access to the rear storage area
Train Yourself to Hike a 30-Mile Day
You have been invited on a summer backpacking trip that will cover 30 miles in one day, including 2,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, and your anticipated pack weight will be 15-20 pounds. You have 15 weeks to prepare. What is the best way to get your body and mind ready for such an outing?
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