While perhaps a touch extreme, running Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim (RRR) is not uncommon within trail running circles. But within hiking circles, this trek does not seem to garner much attention, when there are few trips, mile-for-mile, hour-for-hour, that compare. In one day, you pass through 1.6 billion years of geology (four times) and span the grandest Big Ditch in the world (twice).
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Prior to the Terra Nova Laser Photon Elite, the Laser Competition was listed by Guinness World Records as “the lightest two-skin (double-wall) tent.” While no longer the record-holder, at just over 2 pounds, the Laser Competition is still among the lightest double-wall tents on the market.
The Terra Nova Laser Competition is a tent that a year ago held the Guinness World Record for “World’s Lightest (double-wall) Tent”. Although this title is now held by the nearly-identical Terra Nova Laser Photon Elite (2008), the Laser Competition, with its tougher fabrics, is still among the lightest solo double-wall tents on the market.
Weighing in at just over 2 pounds, the Laser Competition is more than just a lightweight experiment, however. It is a fully functional and eminently usable solo tent. It has a spacious interior due to its single-hoop tunnel design and dual carbon struts that maximize space at the ends. The inner and outer tents pitch at the same time, making set-up quick and easy. A taut pitch is also easy to achieve. By using the included pole hood and guy lines, it can also cross to alpine or winter environments and has solid wind stability in moderate winds.
The Terra Nova Laser Competition easily achieves a very taut pitch.
Specifications
|
Year/Manufacturer/Model |
2007 Terra Nova Laser Competition |
|
Style |
Three-season, double-wall, floored tent |
|
Fabrics |
Fly: Watershed SL silicone coated nylon, minimum Hydrostatic Head 4000mm Inner tent: 6.6 nylon Floor: Watershed silicone coated nylon, minimum Hydrostatic Head 7000mm |
|
Poles |
DAC Featherlite 7001 aluminum alloy: 5.0 oz (142 g) |
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Stakes |
Terra Nova carbon fiber stakes (now comes with 2 g titanium skewers) |
|
Dimensions |
Floor area: length 86.5 in (220 cm), width 24.5 / 36.5 in (62 / 93 cm), peak height 37.5 in (95 cm) |
|
Packed Size |
19 x 6 in (48 x 15 cm) |
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Total Weight |
BPL Tested Weight: 2 lb, 5.1 oz (1.05 kg) Manufacturer Specification: 2 lb, 1.8 oz (0.96 kg) |
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Trail Weight |
BPL Tested Weight: 2 lb, 2.0 oz (0.96 kg) Manufacturer Specification: 1 lb, 14.3 oz (0.86 kg) |
|
Fly-only Pitch Weight |
1 lb, 3.6 oz (0.56 kg) |
|
Protected Area |
Floor area: 17.4 ft2 (1.62 m2) Vestibule area: 8.4 ft2 (0.78 m2) Total area: 25.8 ft2 (2.40 m2) |
|
Protected Area/Trail Weight Ratio |
12.1 ft2/lb |
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MSRP |
$370.00 US |
|
Options |
Emergency repair kit: $26.00 US) Groundsheet: $6.00 US |
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Aftermarket Modifications (tested) – Fibraplex Carbon fiber pole set: $44.75, 3.0 oz |
saves 2.0 oz (57 g) over stock pole; |
|
Backpacking Light AirCore NANO Dyneema Guy Line Cord Kit: $15.99 |
saves 0.7 oz (20 g) over stock guy lines |
The Terra Nova Laser Competition is a double-wall solo tent that is similar in many ways to the Hilleberg Akto. It is a hoop design with a single aluminum pole at the center. To increase usable space, the Laser Competition uses a carbon fiber strut at each end for additional support while the Akto uses dual fiberglass rods at each end for a similar purpose. Both tents have inner tents that attach to the rain fly and pitch fly-first, meaning that the inner tent is protected when pitching the tent.
The Terra Nova and Hilleberg tents are also similar in dimensions (see image below). However, one big difference between the two tents is the weight; while the Hilleberg weighs 3 pounds, 2.4 ounces, the Terra Nova weighs a full pound less, at 2 pounds, 2.0 ounces (Backpacking Light measured trail weights). It is this trimmed-down weight that made the Laser Competition the former Guinness World Record holder as “the lightest two-skin (double-wall) tent,” a title which is now held by the Terra Nova Laser Photon Elite (which is approximately 4.2 ounces lighter).
The Terra Nova Laser Competition (left) is similar in dimensions and design to the Hilleberg Akto (right).
The Terra Nova tent uses a silnylon rain fly and floor with a tent body that is made of nylon with no-see-um mesh panels for ventilation. The tent is not free standing, requiring a minimum of ten stakes, and sixteen stakes are needed to use all available guy outs.
The Laser Competition has a ground level pitch, which protects the inner tent and vestibule from rain splash. The vestibule (right) is well sized for a solo hiker.
One advantage of hoop tents is that you get excellent usable space for the weight because of the steep side walls. The Laser Competition is no exception; the inner tent follows the steep arch of the hooped pole on one side and is nearly vertical on the other, making it very spacious for the footprint.
The vestibule is generously sized for a solo tent. The 8.4 square feet are large enough for a pack, shoes, a stove, and other gear.
The Laser Competition is sized generously for a solo hiker.
Inside the Laser Competition, there is enough space for a hiker over six feet to stretch out without touching the ends. This makes it easy to stay in the tent for extended periods without feeling cramped. I also found it easy to sit up, though only in the tall center area.
The interior width of the tent is wide enough for a hiker and a medium pack or a dog inside the tent. While it is cramped for two adults, it is wide enough for my toddler-age son and I to sleep next to each other (it’s our favorite father-son tent).
The tent is wide enough for an adult and a child, but too small for two adults.
The single carbon fiber strut on each end gives a 16-inch tall flat area on the ends of the tent. This creates additional usable space, as well as providing airflow between the tent body and the fly or additional storage space.
The carbon fiber struts create short vertical walls at the ends, which add to head and foot room (and makes a good spot for my two-year-old son Henry to sit).
To pitch the Laser Competition, you simply stake out one end, install the center pole, stake the other end, and insert additional stakes. The inner tent pitches with the fly, making set-up a breeze; I was able to pitch the tent in less than five minutes with minimal effort.
Carbon fiber support struts (left) add height to the head and foot ends of the tent. The inner tent attaches to the fly with toggles (right) and is easily removed.
The inner tent attaches to the fly with seven toggle clips and two quick-release snaps on the ends. Removing the inner tent is a two-minute job and gives extra inside space for cooking, preparing climbing gear, or other tasks. It is also possible to leave the inner tent at home, creating a spacious fly-only shelter that weighs just 1 pound, 3.6 ounces.
The inner tent is easily removed to create a spacious 19.3-ounce floorless shelter.
A drawback of the Terra Nova design is that the fly cannot be removed for an inner-tent only pitch. This limits options during warm or humid conditions. The fly also restricts views from inside the tent, and while the small door opening protects the inner tent during pouring rain, it is a bit of a cramped entry.
To enlarge the entry, the door pulls back with a toggle and a small piece of Velcro to maximize the opening. It is also possible to remove a stake and pull the doorway and fly back to further increase the opening, although I never tried this in the field.
The door pulls back with a toggle for decent views.
At the base of the door, an aluminum clip takes tension off of the zipper for easy closure- a very good idea!
Ventilation on the Laser Competition is a mixed bag. The inner tent has large triangular mesh vents on either end, and the door is half mesh, creating excellent airflow in the inner tent. The outer tent has limited ventilation options. Lower vents are created on the ends by releasing a stake and rolling up the fly below the carbon strut. However, you have to be outside the tent to open the ends, and it takes some practice to get it right without affecting fly tension. The biggest problem with ventilation, however, is the lack of a high vent on the fly. This severely limits airflow through the tent and leads to condensation problems.
During very humid conditions, such as snow camping, excessive condensation sometimes dripped on the inner tent and on one multi-day winter trip, I was forced to pack the inner tent separately because the fly was so wet. A covered high vent, such as that on the Hilleberg Akto, would make a huge difference in ventilation and condensation resistance.
The inner tent has mesh panels on the door and the ends for extra ventilation.
A unique feature of the Laser Competition is its removable pole hood. The hood is a length of waterproof nylon that attaches with lines to the pole ends and ties to the top of the fly in two locations with short cords. It adds 2.7 ounces to the tent, protects the non-waterproof rain fly zipper, and adds two side guy lines.
While a permanent zipper flap and guy lines would surely be lighter overall, the removable pole hood worked well and gives the option of saving a few ounces when conditions are milder and you plan to camp below the tree line. In windy or winter conditions, however, the extra guy lines need to be used, as they are essential for wind stability.
The removable pole sleeve hood protects the seam and zipper from rain and provides two side guy lines.
In the field, the Laser Competition had solid wind stability in moderate to high gusts due to its low height and tapered, aerodynamic shape. The pole hood and optional side guy lines are essential in these conditions. The ground level fly kept the inner tent dry in heavy downpours, even with the zipper open. When the tent was used without the pole hood, the non-waterproof zipper did let in the occasional drip, but it wasn’t a big deal – I just had to remember to keep items in the vestibule away from this area during heavy rain.
Snow loading on single pole hoop shelters, such as the Laser Competition and Hilleberg Akto, is a drawback of the design. Heavy snows can pile up on the fly and lead to tent collapse. While the pointed ends of the Terra Nova tent minimized this concern, it is important to periodically clear the fly during heavy snow accumulations.
While the Terra Nova Laser Competition is an extremely lightweight tent, it is built with materials that stood up well to extended use in a variety of conditions. It is far more than an experiment to build the lightest tent – this is a fully functional and well built shelter. However, don’t expect to find interior pockets, as those were sacrificed at this weight.
The included carbon fiber stakes are lightweight, but very fragile; I broke three on my first weekend using the tent and quickly traded for stronger ones. Apparently, Terra Nova had a similar experience with these stakes, because titanium stakes are now included with the tent.
The Laser Competition came with carbon fiber stakes which easily broke.
At $370.00 US, the Terra Nova Laser Competition is a functional and lightweight double wall solo tent. It is pretty expensive, but you get quite a worthy shelter for your money. For comparison, the $385 US Hilleberg Akto is similar in size, one pound heavier, but has an integrated pole hood, extra guy lines, and increased ventilation. Both tents have their strengths, but if weight is your primary concern, the Terra Nova is your best option.
During testing, I did a couple of upgrades to further decrease tent weight. First, I traded the stock aluminum pole for a Fibraplex Carbon fiber pole set ($44.75, 3.0 oz) which was durable and saved 2.0 oz (57 g) over the stock pole. Next, I swapped the stock guy lines for a Backpacking Light AirCore NANO Dyneema Guy Line Cord Kit ($15.99), which saved 0.7 oz (20 g) over the stock guy lines. After these two upgrades, the Laser Competition trail weight was just 1 pound, 15.3 ounces – extremely lightweight for a double-wall solo tent with this level of durability and usable space.
The Terra Nova Laser Competition is extremely lightweight for a fully functional double-wall solo tent. I also found it to be highly versatile, using it for high alpine climbs, winter snow camping, and summer backpacking with my son. While you may have to go with the Laser Photon Elite to get the illustrious Guinness World Record, the Laser Competition makes up for the added weight with more durable materials.
While the Terra Nova Laser Competition is a very lightweight tent that didn’t really cut corners to cut weight, the absence of a high vent is a serious drawback in ventilation and condensation resistance. I recommend that Terra Nova add a high vent to increase airflow and improve condensation resistance.
My other recommendation would be to replace the carbon fiber stakes that came with the tent with more durable ones. Happily, this has already been addressed by Terra Nova with their latest model.
Seven packrafters with a total of over thirty-five years of experience under their bums share the safety gear they won’t be without, skills that have kept them coming back for more, common – and dangerous – mistakes, and real life rescue stories.
Pertex has an enviable reputation for developing and creating some of the most innovative technically advanced fabrics for the outdoor sports market. Our position of being close to the outdoors means that we know exactly what you need – after all, we’re gear users ourselves. Pertex apparel provides the perfect balance of wind protection, breathability and water repellency with ultra-light weight and stowability. Discover Pertex today.
Andrew Mattox on the Snake River. As packrafters run whitewater more routinely, safety gear and techniques are ever more important.
Part 1 – Packrafting Safety:
A packraft is an inflatable raft that is light and small enough to carry in a backpack. It is most often used by backpackers as a tool to help them cross terrain that includes rivers. The two types of lightweight packrafts available today are the Sevylor Trail Boat and the Alpacka packraft. The Trail Boat is lighter and much cheaper than Alpacka packrafts, but also significantly less sturdy.
Packrafting in some form or another has been around for decades, with backpackers using rafts to cross and float less technical (usually class II and below) rivers to complete loops and traverses. As the sport has grown, backpackers have set their sights on routes that include more whitewater. In some cases river running is as much or more the focus of the trip as backpacking. Sheri Tingey, Alpacka designer, has responded to the sports’ direction by refining boat design over the past seven years so that Alpacka rafts are now capable whitewater craft.
Packrafters usually have a background in backpacking or climbing, with little river running experience and often without a true understanding of the power of moving water. In the past, they have rarely carried safety gear and lacked river rescue skills. That needs to change both for the survival of packrafters and the emergence of the sport as a respected option in the boating community. The necessity of carrying safety gear and having the skills to go along is now coming sharply into focus. In 2007, veteran packrafter Roman Dial worked with Rescue 3 International instructor, Scott Solle to bring an internationally recognized course in whitewater safety to packrafters in Alaska. Another expert packrafter, Forrest McCarthy, brought Scott to Jackson, Wyoming to teach the first packraft safety course in the lower forty-eight.
A dozen packrafters gathered in Jackson Hole, Wyoming in April 2008 for a Whitewater Rescue Technician class. They came from Alaska, New Mexico, Utah, Arizona, Wyoming, Washington, Colorado and Idaho. Seven were experts with over five years of packrafting under their belts while the remaining five were relative newcomers, with two of these never having packrafted at all.
I attended the course and took advantage of the packrafting experience represented there to compile tips on safety, gear, rescue stories, and a list of the most common mistakes.
Part 1 – Packrafting Safety:
Part 2 – Packrafting Safety: Have mad skills.
Part 3 – Packrafting Safety: Common and dangerous mistakes.
Great value on a super-warm, lightweight, 800 fill down parka.
The GoLite Inferno Down Parka is insulated with 800 fill power down and weighs 24.6 ounces (size Large).
GoLite calls it a hooded down jacket, but it’s a down parka by my definition – it has an attached insulated hood, and the body is long enough to cover the bum. A jacket normally comes to the waist. Semantics aside, the Inferno is an ultra-warm down parka, intended for serious winter cold. It’s the right class of warmth for those of us who love to get out in winter cold, and even (gasp!) snow camp in mid-winter, but it’s simply too heavy and too warm for three-season backpacking.
The backside (left) of the GoLite Inferno Down Parka, showing its insulated hood and puffy down chambers. The hood (right) has a drawcord around the brim and three adjustors (1 rear, 2 front) to provide good face protection.
The Inferno is insulated with 800 fill down with sewn-through construction in a horizontal six-inch quilted pattern to hold the down in place. I measured its double layer loft at four inches across the body and sleeves.
It has a relaxed fit, with enough room inside to wear it over a heavy base layer and lightweight insulated jacket to provide even more warmth. The hood is roomy enough to wear over a climbing helmet and has three adjustors to close it in around the face. Sleeves are extra long and have Velcro adjustors on the cuffs.
The inside (left) has one mesh drop pocket and one zippered security pocket. The outside (right) has two zippered fleece-lined handwarmer pockets.
Sleeves on the Inferno are plenty long to overlap the hands, and the Velcro adjustor on the cuffs is easy to grasp with gloves on.
I wore the Inferno parka while igloo camping in February, tent camping on consolidated snow in March and April, and finished my testing while backcountry skiing in November.
Just for fun, I slept in the GoLite Inferno inside a 25 F sleeping bag and a bivy under the stars at 11,600 feet in April. I also wore down pants and down booties. I stayed toasty warm on a 15 F night.
For snow camping, I prefer a down parka that has a lot of water resistance so I can wear it when it’s snowing lightly and not get wet. Of course I want it to be lightweight, but not so fragile that I have to constantly protect it from being snagged or punctured. Finally, I want lots of pockets so I can stash anything I want to keep warm and handy.
The Inferno’s two outside zippered fleece-lined pockets are definitely useful for warming hands and holding snacks, but they are barely large enough to hold winter gloves or a hat. That’s not necessarily bad, because I prefer to stash those items inside the jacket in drop pockets. Unfortunately, the Inferno has only one medium-sized drop pocket. I wish it had two big ones; they add very little weight to the garment and are extremely useful for stashing and drying gloves and socks, keeping a water flask from freezing, or warming a fuel canister. The inside security pocket is a good place to store valuables, sunglasses, etc.
For pure warmth, I found the Inferno to be sufficient for my winter camping needs. The combination of 800 fill down and sewn-through construction provides a good balance of warmth and value. The 800 fill down provides plenty of loft and warmth for its weight, much more than the 650 fill down in many jackets, but doesn’t run up the cost like premium 850+ fill power down and baffled construction. In really cold temperatures, it’s easy to don a lightweight insulated jacket under the Inferno for extra warmth and to eliminate cold spots.
Note that the Inferno’s shell and lining is 22 x 30 denier recycled polyester. It’s nice that it’s recycled, but what about durability? Nylon is considered to be stronger and more abrasion resistant than a polyester fabric of equal weight. According to GoLite, the polyester fabric used in the Inferno weighs about 10-15% more than a 15 denier nylon and is equal in durability. That said, the Inferno needs to be treated the same as any other low denier fabric. Polyester is also more hydrophobic than nylon, so it is less likely to absorb water and more likely to retain its breathability. I liked the Inferno’s polyester shell; it has a very soft hand, feels warm to the touch (nylon feels cold), and is adequately durable with reasonable care. It did not snag easily like other lightweight shell fabrics I have tested. The Velcro cuffs on the sleeves do not damage the shell fabric, which is another problem I have encountered on other jackets.
When wearing the Inferno during a light or heavy snowfall in cold weather, the snow slides off without wetting the jacket. Wet snow sticks more and wets through at the seams, but the Inferno is too warm a jacket to wear at those temperatures (around freezing) anyway. In those conditions it’s better to wear a waterproof-breathable shell jacket over a thin insulating jacket.
Overall, I am very pleased with the materials, design, and performance of the GoLite Hooded Inferno Jacket. It’s an excellent balance of light weight, warmth, wind/water resistance, durability, and value. Its attached hood and longer body and sleeve lengths allow a clothing system capable of providing lots of warmth in serious winter cold. The Inferno is a great choice for winter snow camping or any activity in really cold temperatures.
I looked for comparable products, and found that the Inferno seems to occupy a class of its own. Many similar jackets, for example the Outdoor Research Megaplume Down Jacket (33 ounces, US$325), have 650 fill power down compared to the GoLite Inferno’s 800 fill. High-end down parkas like the Nunatak Torre Parka (28 ounces, US$619) have 850+ down fill and baffled construction, but they have a big price tag too. Overall, the Hooded Inferno Jacket from GoLite meets the needs of the serious winter adventurer who wants lightweight performance gear without breaking the bank.
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Manufacturer |
GoLite (http://www.golite.com/) |
|
Year/Model |
2008 Hooded Inferno Jacket |
|
Insulation |
800 fill power down |
|
Materials: |
Outer shell is a 100% recycled combination of 22d base yarns and 30d ripstop polyester yarns with DWR, lining is the same fabric without DWR |
|
Features |
Attached insulated hood with three adjustors, fleece chin-guard, full front zipper, insulated draft collar behind the zipper, two outside zippered fleece-lined hand pockets, one inside mesh drop pocket, inside zippered security pocket, hem drawcord with two adjustors |
|
Weight |
measured weight men’s L 24.6 oz (697 g), manufacturer specification 25 oz (709 g) |
|
MSRP |
US$275 |
Want to try tenting in the snow, but haven’t done it before and not sure how? Haven’t time in the evening to build a snow cave or an igloo just for one night? We walk you through the basics of what gear you need, how to choose a good site, how to create a platform, and how to pitch your tent (or a tarptent if you are brave).
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At 2 pounds, 10 ounces, the Montana is the lightest two-person double-wall tent available, but extreme lightness comes with a few tradeoffs.
Four-season version of the Big Sky International Montana 2P after a snowy, windy night at 11,600 feet.
At 2 pounds, 10 ounces trail weight for the three-season version, the Big Sky International Montana 2P can claim the title of world’s lightest two-person double-wall tent. If you’re willing to fork out an additional $260 for a spinnaker fly and carbon fiber poles, you can reduce the trail weight down to an incredible 2 pounds, 4 ounces. Likewise, at 3 pounds, 15 ounces for the four-season version, it’s also the lightest two-person double-wall four-season tent to be found anywhere. To minimize weight, the Montana is a completely different design from other Big Sky tents; it has an end entry and vestibule on the front and a less usable vestibule on the rear. Extreme lightweight is very nice, but how user-friendly is Big Sky’s newest tent design, and how well does it perform? And how does it compare with other lightweight double-wall tents from Big Sky and Terra Nova?
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Year/Manufacturer/Model |
2008 Big Sky International Montana 2P (Note: review and specifications are based on Rev. A of the Montana 2P; the current model is Rev. C) |
|
Style |
Three- or four-season, two-person, double-wall tent with floor |
|
Fabrics |
Standard fly and floor are 1.3 oz/yd2 (44 g/m2) silnylon; summer interior is no-see-um mesh; winter interior is 1.1 oz/yd2 (37 g/m2) uncoated ripstop nylon; very light fly is 0.9 oz/yd2 (30 g/m2) spinnaker fabric |
|
Poles and Stakes |
Summer version uses two lightweight carbon fiber or aluminum poles; winter version uses three heavy duty carbon fiber or aluminum poles; a minimum of six stakes are needed for a secure pitch |
|
Floor Dimensions |
Length: 84 in (213 cm) Width at head end: 56 in (142 cm) Width at foot end: 46 in (117 cm) Front height: 45 in (114 cm) Rear height: 24 in (61 cm) |
|
Packed Size |
19 x 5 in (48 x 13 cm) |
|
Total Weight |
Tent is purchased a la carte, with numerous options to choose from. Example summer configuration is 2 pounds, 12 oz (1.25 kg), winter configuration is 4 pounds, 1 oz (1.84 kg) (includes fly, tent body, aluminum poles, compression stuff sack, six stakes, stake sack) |
|
Trail Weight |
With aluminum poles, summer configuration is 2 pounds, 10 oz (1.19 kg), winter configuration is 3 pounds, 15 oz (1.79 kg) (excludes compression stuff sack and stake sack) |
|
Protected Area |
Floor area: 32.7 ft2 (3.04 m2) Vestibule area: 13.2 ft2 (1.23 m2) Total area: 45.9 ft2 (4.64 m2) |
|
Protected Area/Trail Weight Ratio |
17.5 ft2/lb for summer configuration; 11.7 ft2/lb for winter configuration |
|
MSRP |
Varies with options selected; US$348.75 for the summer version with lightweight aluminum poles; US$496.90 for the winter version with heavy duty aluminum poles and SnoAnchor stakes |
|
Options |
Summer or winter fly, summer or winter body, lightweight or heavy duty aluminum or carbon fiber poles, several stake choices, guylines, storage bag, X-cord, footprint |
The design of the Montana 2P departs from other Big Sky double-wall tents, as it has one end entry with a vestibule on each end, as opposed to two side entries with vestibules on their popular Evolution 2P and Convertible 2P tents.
The distinctive design elements that set the Montana 2P apart from the Evolution 2P are as follows:
The Big Sky Montana 2P is available in four-season and three-season versions. Using Big Sky’s a la carte approach, buyers can configure the tent any way they want. A typical four-season version (left) has an uncoated nylon interior, snow flaps on the fly, and three heavy duty lateral poles for support. A typical three-season configuration (right) has a mesh interior and two poles.
Purchasing a Big Sky tent is like ordering a la carte in a restaurant – it allows you to get exactly what you want, but you need to make a decision on each component rather than order a pre-selected package. You have your choice of flies, interiors, poles, stakes, and accessories. For example, many hikers prefer a nylon interior instead of a mesh interior in a three-season tent; with Big Sky’s a la carte system, that’s no problem. I recommend getting Big Sky’s “Y-Not” stakes; they weigh only 0.5 ounce more than a set of titanium shepherd hook stakes and hold a lot better.
By choosing the appropriate components, the Montana 2P can be configured as a lightweight three-season tent or a sturdier lightweight four-season tent. Big Sky qualifies the latter as “WinterLite,” meaning it’s “Suitable for camping in snow and cold weather and capable of withstanding moderate wind and snow loads. Please note that this shelter is not ‘Mountain,’ ‘Alpine,’ or ‘Expedition’ rated and is NOT intended for use in extreme weather conditions.” With their WinterLite rating, Big Sky has basically created a new tent category (as defined above) for hikers who want to do an occasional short duration winter camping trip under better weather conditions.
Views of the Montana 2P, winter version. The front end of the tent (top left) has a large entry vestibule and large zippered entry door. There is a large high vent at the top of the vestibule. The rear end of the tent (top right) also has a large high vent. The side view (bottom left) shows the Montana 2P’s length (13 feet). The top view (bottom right) shows the tent’s proportions.
My testing for this review was based on Revision A of the Montana 2P (left photo, foreground tent), which has a pointed front vestibule and smaller pole sleeves. The tent has evolved to the current Revision C (left photo, background tent), which has a trapezoidal front vestibule, a window, and larger pole sleeves. The right photo provides a closer view of the front of the current tent (Revision C).
Inside features. The tent’s body is attached to the fly with clips at the front and rear (top left), but there are no attachment clips in the tent’s mid-section, so the interior drapes inward. The floor shape and dimensions (top right) are identical to other Big Sky two-person tents. There is no access to the rear vestibule from inside the tent (bottom left). The Montana has two smaller mesh storage pockets at the front end (bottom right), which are minimal compared to the four large pockets at the front and rear of the Evolution 2P and Convertible 2P.
Outside features. The Montana 2P has large, closable top vents at the front (left photo) and rear of the tent (right photo). The smaller rear vestibule does not have any access other than lifting up the rear of the tent.
The Montana also has a fly-only option, consisting of the tent fly, poles, X-cord, and footprint (if desired). The X-cord connects the four corners of the tent to keep them from spreading. In both summer and winter versions, the Montana’s fly-only option will create a really light and roomy single-wall tent.
The Montana’s “fly first” design (tent body attached to the fly with clips, so it sets up as a single unit) allows the tent to be set up very quickly and also allows it to be set up in the rain without getting the interior wet. Setup is simple: lay out the tent, insert poles into sleeves on the fly, and stake it out. Six stakes (four at the corners and two on the ends) are required for a secure pitch. I recommend adding a set of four guylines and stakes for use in windy conditions.
The front (entry end) of the tent has a larger, taller vestibule and large zippered door which permit easy entry for both occupants. However, only half of the space is usable for storage because room is needed for entry/exit. Inside height is 45 inches at the front and 24 inches at the rear, so headroom for sitting up is adequate only at the front of the tent.
As mentioned, there is no access to the smaller rear vestibule from inside the tent. That is actually a moot issue because of the limited headroom at the rear of the tent. It’s easier to access the rear vestibule from outside the tent, but there is no access other than pulling the rear stake and lifting the tent. Smaller items can be inserted under the bottom edge of the fly. To be fair, Big Sky only claims one+ vestibule for the Montana; the pointed rear vestibule is mainly there to stake out the rear and deflect wind.
Although the floor dimensions and area of the Montana 2P are exactly the same as the Evolution 2P and Convertible 2P, interior space is much less usable because of limited headroom and draping sidewalls of the inner tent body (see photos in previous section). Since the Montana is a double-wall tent, there is little problem with occupants or gear getting wet from brushing against the interior tent walls. The headroom situation inside the Montana 2P is a little better than a traditional Tarptent, with adequate headroom for sitting up and dressing only at the front of the tent. You must duck low to reach anything stored in the rear of the tent.
For a better viewing experience, please download the Flash Player. Video tour of the Big Sky International Montana 2P tent.
I found the Montana’s design to be very wind stable, especially if the rear of the tent can be pointed into the wind. On a windy day, I tried pitching the Montana with only two long stakes (Easton 9-inch tubular) at the ends, and it easily withstood a 20 mile per hour wind (measured). However, I don’t recommend that as standard practice; it’s better to completely stake out the tent and use guylines as well, to protect your investment.
While silnylon tents from most manufacturers require seam sealing by the customer, Big Sky tents do not; they come seam sealed from the factory. Big Sky would not reveal their process, but I can verify that the Montana 2P is waterproof. I sprayed the seams using a garden hose with 30 pounds of pressure and found no leakage.
The Montana 2P performed admirably in rain and snow. The tent is A-frame shaped in cross-section, so it sheds snow well. Snow flaps on the four-season fly are very functional to help anchor the tent down and eliminate spindrift in wind-driven snow. The front and rear vents are also closable to further minimize spindrift.
The tent’s fly reaches nearly to the ground on the long sides of the tent and is raised more on the vestibules. Ventilation is adequate when there is at least a light breeze and/or the entry door is left open at night, and even better if the front vestibule is left open as well. I experienced little or no condensation most of the time. However, it is subject to heavy condensation or frost on the inside of the fly on a calm/cool/damp night or rainy conditions – condensation is very hard to avoid under such conditions. The difference with a double wall tent is the condensation is on the inside of the fly, and the tent body (nylon or mesh) minimizes contact with the moisture.
Heavy condensation on the inside of the tent’s fly on a calm/cool/damp night.
Although the Montana 2P (three-season version) is about 13 ounces lighter than the Convertible 2P and about 11 ounces lighter than the Evolution 2P, it is clearly not as user-friendly. Both the Convertible and Evolution are side entry, with two doors and two vestibules, while the Montana 2P has only one entry and one+ vestibule. Although the floor dimensions and area are the same for all three tents, the Convertible and Evolution are remarkably roomier inside, with abundant headroom. Each has four large storage pockets, compared to the Montana’s two small ones. With the entry doors open, occupants can easily reach items stored in the side vestibules, so the vestibules are incorporated into the tent’s usable space. Thus, compared to other Big Sky tents, headroom and usable space are a definite tradeoff for the weight reduction in the Montana 2P. Still, it is not hard to accept the Montana 2P on its own terms and savor its lightness. To illustrate, the two person Montana 2P is 11 ounces lighter than the popular one person Big Agnes Seedhouse SL1 and has a heckuva lot more room. Bottom-line, the Montana 2P will probably appeal more to hikers who value light weight more than convenience and usable space.
The four-season version of the Montana 2P is equally remarkable in its lightness – a four-season two-person double-wall tent that weighs 4 pounds. The Montana’s design is fairly typical for a four-season tent, a tried and true A-frame shape that sheds wind and snow well, especially with the foot of the tent facing the wind. The small vestibule at the foot end cuts the wind and provides some gear storage to keep it from getting lost in the snow. My biggest wish for the four-season version is to add clips between the tent body and fly at the center of the tent to pull it out more and keep it taut. The four-season version has a pole sleeve at the center, so the clips can easily be sewn in.
Weight-wise, the closest competitors to the Big Sky Montana 2P are the Terra Nova Laser and Argon 900. The Montana 2P beats the Laser by half a pound and the Argon 900 by a couple of ounces. Both Terra Nova tents are side entry with one door and vestibule.
Although I present typical summer and winter configurations in the above photos, the beauty of the Big Sky a la carte system is that users can select the components that best meet their needs, budget, and conditions. The flip side of having more choices is more complexity, and Big Sky’s website does little to simplify the tent configuration process.
The Montana 2P is the lightest two-person double-wall tent available. It’s also the most customizable double-wall tent available (along with the Convertible), with multiple fly, body, pole, and stake options available to create an array of three- or four-season configurations. The entire tent can be quickly set up as a single unit.
Fate stepped in and pushed me down some steps in November 2006, breaking my fibula at the ankle, requiring surgical repair. I asked my surgeon if I could backpack the following summer, and he said “If you can get your pack down to thirty pounds, you can backpack.” My lightweight journey was launched in earnest.
I’d always wondered how to get my backpack lighter. I am on the short side of average height in the U.S., being five feet, four inches tall, and in my early adult life, I weighed 125-130 pounds. The general rule at the time was that your pack should be no more than one-third of your body weight.Yet I had to carry a tent, pad and sleeping bag all sized for an average man; my pack usually hovered around fifty pounds, and when I was the leader responsible for a group of teenagers, with the larger first aid kit, emergency paperwork, educational readings, and all else added to my load, I would sometimes be carrying fully HALF of my body weight! I’m strong, but ten miles is a looooong way carrying that much weight.
Over the years, I pared down my pile of luxuries whose individual impact was negligible but whose cumulative burden outweighed (literally) their benefit. I didn’t really need and rarely ever used the cheese grater, the candle lantern, the star chart, or the solar shower, so they stayed home. I paid more attention to the amount of food I came home with, and the number of warm layers never touched. I made sure I carried more of each than I ever had used, but reduced my emergency buffer to a more reasonable volume. I bought the women’s bag, pad, and packs when they were finally available. I dealt with my fear of running out of reading and limited myself to one thin paperback. I made a compact and lightweight watercolor kit. At the same time, past the age of forty, I gained a few pounds, so that by the numbers I was "allowed" to carry more, but by the body it felt even more important to lighten up.
In 2005 I was backpacking on the PCT at the base of Mt. Adams. Several lightly-loaded through-hikers, and some people just hiking long days, passed me, all carrying the same pack (which shall remain nameless and unendorsed), light and slim and half the size of mine, and it made my gearaholic nerve endings jangle in recognition and desire.
Fate stepped in and pushed me down some steps in November 2006, breaking my fibula at the ankle. After eighteen months of trying all sorts of things and hoping the X-rays would look better, it became clear that I would need a surgical repair. In December 2007, I got a bone graft and a metal plate. When I went in for my January check-up, I asked my surgeon if I could backpack the following summer – it had been so hard not being able to join the trips while I was healing! He said, "If you can get your pack down to thirty pounds, you can backpack." My lightweight journey was launched in earnest.
In February, fate more gently nudged me in the right direction. Still on crutches, at a training out of town, I noticed a colleague’s BPL bumper sticker and was introduced to Backpacking Light. So began months of web searches, reading forums, reading library books, reading blogs, making lists, etc. I tallied up the gear I had and its weight, and I made a wish list of gear to replace it, calculating the cost per weight saved to determine where I would get the greatest benefit with the least expenditure. I did not want to use lightening my load as an excuse for amassing more stuff and spending money I didn’t have. I kept my eye on eBay and other on-line retailer’s winter sales. I went to REI garage sales. I went to shops selling used and discounted gear. Selling and trading in some of my old gear, I ended up spending about $300 on some clothing, a shelter, pack, lighter trekking poles, a cook system, and a sleeping quilt.
I re-thought a lot of my assumptions and habits. The basic premise, that to the extent possible everything carried should have multiple uses, made so much sense to me that it was easy to put into practice. I once had hypothermia, so my anxiety when I am cold worsens my physical discomfort, but I was willing to try sleeping with a lighter quilt wearing all my warm clothing instead of carrying three pounds of bag that only got pulled out at night. Alcohol stoves excited my inner tinkerer, and freezer bag cooking was a no-brainer extension of my old habit of dehydrating my own soups, noodle dishes, and stews. My cooking outfit came down to well under a pound, fuel and all. Instead of a book, I had my iPod loaded with podcasts. I was excited when I saw the weight tally of my base gear plummet: a twenty-four-ounce backpack! A twenty-four-ounce shelter with floor and mosquito netting! Meanwhile, I worked with my physical therapist to make a training schedule to get ready for the trip. After nearly two years on the couch and a ‘new’ ankle, I wanted to do it right and hike happily and safely.
When I had my gear, a day’s water and all my food loaded for my trip in Canada, my pack weighed 31 pounds. I was thrilled! With excitement and curious anticipation, I started back, after so long waiting, to the place I love the best: on a trail surrounded by wilderness. My ankle was sore at the end of the day, but there was no lack of icy water in which to soak (or dunk, rather) my lower leg for thirty seconds. I was comfortable and happy on the trail. More of my time and attention was devoted to enjoying and painting my surroundings. I was enjoying the journey more and laid down at night more relaxed than exhausted, with fewer kinks to work out of my spine.
I might have chosen a different path to my new lightweight backpacking style, but I am glad I got here. I look forward to more trips, maybe even with longer mileage days, in my lightweight future.
Backpacking Light’s Andrew Skurka on Vapor Barrier Liners: What they are, how they work, and when to use them.
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Ultra-warm, ruggedly-built, waterproof, lightweight boots insulated with Aerogel.
The lightweight Salomon Tundra Boot, insulated with Aerogel, is comfort rated to -40 F. Men’s boot on left; women’s on right.
The Salomon Tundra Mid WP insulated boot probably has the highest warmth to weight ratio to be found anywhere. It’s insulated with Aerogel, which was developed by Aspen Aerogels for NASA, and is claimed to have the highest thermal insulation value of any solid material available. Aerogel is a silicon-based solid with a porous, sponge-like structure in which 99.8% of the volume is empty space. It’s one thousand times less dense than glass, which is another silicon-based solid. Aerogel is not like conventional foams, but is a special porous material with extreme microporosity on a micron scale. The individual pores are only a few nanometers in size. A nanometer is one billionth of a meter.
A disc of Aerogel (left) feels weightless. Aspen Aerogels incorporates Aerogel into a fabric called "Spaceloft" (center) for use in footwear and garments. In the Tundra, the Spaceloft fabric surrounds the toebox and the sides of the foot; areas that are most vulnerable to getting cold. The chart (right) shows that Aerogel’s insulation value/inch (clo) is about three times that of other synthetic insulations.
This boot was initially introduced in fall 2007 as the Aspen, which was significantly taller (11 inches in back, 12 inches at the side). The Aspen was replaced by the Tundra in fall 2008, and the new boot measures 9.5 inches at the back and 10 inches at the side. In short, the Tundra gets it right (read my comments in the following section).
The overly tall Aspen boot (left) was replaced by the Tundra (right) one year later.
The Tundra is nicely designed, and is constructed of very durable materials (see specifications table). The uppers are all synthetic, with a very durable molded rubber/fabric (like Hypalon) lower section cemented to the outsole. Both the toe and heel have rugged bumpers for extra durability, and the heel has a notch for snowshoe and crampon straps. The grippy outsole has Contragrip rubber which remains flexible in extreme cold temperatures.
I tested the Aspen and Tundra on several day trips while snowshoeing and ice fishing, and on four multi-day winter snowshoeing trips where I camped in an igloo (two trips) or a tent (two trips).
My first reaction to the Aspen was that it was way too tall! When I laced the boots all the way up and snowshoed in them, my ankles were very tired at the end of the day. They were like walking in downhill ski boots! The solution I found was to lace them only part-way so my ankles were more free to bend. Salomon apparently recognized the problem early-on, because they replaced the Aspen with the shorter Tundra one year later. By the numbers, the Tundra isn’t that much shorter (9.5 inches in back versus 11 inches), but it does, in fact, get it right. I am very satisfied with the height of the Tundra in terms of ankle support and flexibility. Although Salomon calls the Tundra a mid-height boot, it is clearly a full-height boot in my opinion.
Although the Tundra is no featherweight, it is remarkably light for an ultra-warm boot. The measured weight of the Tundra in men’s size 12 is 26.8 ounces/boot. To put that into perspective, the popular Keen Growler (insulated with 200 gram KeenDry) weighs 22.5 ounces/boot in size 12, and Baffin Outback (a lightweight pac-type boot with a removable liner) weighs 34 ounces/boot in the same size.
I tested the Tundra while snowshoeing, winter camping, and ice fishing. Note the boot’s durable upper, rubber toe and heel bumpers, notch to hold a snowshoe (or crampon) heel strap, and snug fit around my leg.
I found the Tundra’s fit to be slightly on the snug side. A size 12 normally gives me ample room for two pairs of socks, but I found room for only one pair of heavy wool socks without being too tight. I suggest sizing up one size above your hiking shoe size. The width is adequate for my wide feet, but they are not super wide.
The Tundra is especially suited for snow travel. The uppers are made of durable materials, with a tough toe bumper and molded rubber/fabric (like Hypalon), with no exposed seams, in the lower section to resist abrasion in crusty snow. I also like the snug closure of the gusseted tongue and furry collar around my leg to seal the top of the boot. They lace up quickly with one yank on the laces. Curiously, the laces are extra long, so rather than contend with loose laces, I wrap them around the top of the boot and knot them, as shown in the photo above.
The Tundra’s Contragrip outsole has an aggressive tread and the rubber remains flexible in extreme cold.
For sheer warmth, the Tundra is delightful, especially on day trips in really cold weather. Although it is true that Aerogel provides a lot of warmth with minimal bulk and weight, the -40 F temperature rating of the Tundra an approximate and optimistic claim (as is the case for most insulated boots). Their actual warmth depends on the weather and the user’s activity level, fitness, metabolism, foot perspiration, circulation, exposure time, clothing, and sensitivity to cold.
The Tundra is definitely waterproof; I did not have any leakage at all during my testing. However, I did have some moisture buildup inside the boots from sweat, which can compromise their warmth. It was not an issue on day trips in cold temperatures, as long as I kept moving, but it was problematic on multi-day snow camping trips. On one -11 F morning it took several hours for my feet to warm up. I weighed the boots and my socks on several occasions when my feet became chilly, and found that it took only a few tenths of an ounce of moisture to cause cold feet. I found that I could minimize the problem, and keep my feet warm, by changing my socks frequently and drying them in my sleeping bag. But it’s very difficult to avoid moisture buildup in a boot with a membrane. Although pac-type boots are heavier, their removable liners are a distinct advantage because you can dry them out in a sleeping bag overnight.
Overall, the Tundra is remarkably rugged, lightweight, comfortable, and warm, and deserves our highest rating for day trips. The moisture buildup issue on multi-day trips depends a lot on the hiker, temperatures, activity level, how much his/her feet sweat, and how much they manage moisture by changing socks.
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Manufacturer |
Salomon Sports (http:// http://www.salomonsports.com/) |
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Year/Model |
2008 Tundra Boot |
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Insulation |
Aerogel incorporated into "Spaceloft" fabric |
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Materials |
Upper is water-resistant fabric, synthetic leather, and molded rubber/fabric (like Hypalon), midsole is molded EVA, traction rubber outsole |
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Features |
Winter Contragrip outsole, proprietary waterproof-breathable membrane, molded EVA midsole, gusseted padded tongue, polyester fleece lining, furry top closure, rubber toe cap, rubber heel cap with molded notch for snowshoe or crampon strap, external heel counter, self-locking eyelets |
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Weight |
Measured weight men’s 12 26.8 oz/boot (760 g), manufacturer specification 24 oz (681 g) for men’s 9 |
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MSRP |
US$170 |
Foremost among the challenges that spring hikers face is the presence of melting snow and the prospect of continuously wet feet. Ryan Jordan presents his two favorite footwear systems for cold or warm spring conditions.
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The first event leading to lightening my load happened in 2002. I was in a loving relationship with a woman who only wanted the best for me. In other words, like a lot of relationships where one person is overly stubborn and the other knows a better way, my first major move toward a lighter pack involved nagging.
Last year, I hiked the entire Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada carrying a pack with an average base weight of less than five pounds. In the past, I had hiked the Marble Mountains with a pack weight of fifty pounds, which included college text books. It would be misleading if I said the heavy days were all bad. I’d be outright lying if I said lightweight isn’t much better.
I love the smell of musty canvas. It meant school was out for summer vacation, and we were going camping. Old hiking and camping gear reaches down through my childhood roots deep into my core. My Coleman white gas lantern still lights up friends around a campsite picnic table, and my thirty-seven-year-old Svea 123 stove sounds like a helicopter flying overhead. When I hear one today, I salivate, remembering a hot dinner at the end of a long day’s hike. I used a rain fly from a Eureka Timberline tent as my tarp on my very first solo backpack in 1979. I use my 1972 Mountain Master frame pack today to carry fifty-pound loads of water up to a remote water cache on the Pacific Crest Trail. Every old piece of gear has its links to old outdoor memories and has a warm place in my heart.
So, when I was first introduced to the word ultralight, from the deepest place in my heart I knew (and I knew it to be fact) that I did not need to change to ultralight, whatever that was. I understand how heavyweight and midweight backpacking lifers don’t want to change and even get defensive at the sound of the word "light" or the question "how much does it weigh?" when it comes to backpacking gear. I take comfort in knowing what is wrong with a new idea, especially before I get the facts. One thing I am still certain of, though, is hot chocolate tastes better cooked over white gas than it does over solid fuel and always will. Still I was en-Light-ened and here’s my story.
The first event leading to lightening my load happened in 2002. I was in a loving relationship with a woman who only wanted the best for me. She met a couple of ultralighters and insisted I talk to them. In other words, like a lot of relationships where one person is overly stubborn and the other knows a better way, my first major move toward a lighter pack involved nagging.
I knocked on No-Milk’s and Krunch’s door carrying my full pack.
"Come in!"
He grabbed a scale; she grabbed a yellow legal pad and a pen. No-Milk said "Empty your pack." One by one, they weighed and recorded everything in my pack for a grand total of thirty-five pounds. Next, Krunch danced into the room with her tiny little pack, a GoLite Breeze. She dumped it and, item by item beside my list, recorded a thirteen-pound base weight! She then handed me a trash bag as she and No-Milk pointed out the "Don’t Need" items. Extra clothing, extra gear, all the mess kit but one pot, the big knife… without replacing any gear yet, I was already down ten pounds in less than an hour.
I was surprisingly very accepting to No-Milk’s and Krunch’s gear makeover process, but we hadn’t started replacing my old gear yet. I learned something huge here right from the beginning of their process. The first thing was to show up. But it was when they listed my gear ITEM-BY-ITEM that helped facilitate (and continues to facilitate) my lightweight changes. I didn’t become ultralight all in one go. I replaced my heavy raincoat. A week later I replaced my five-pound sleeping bag. I bought a fleece jacket. Item-by-item. One bite at a time.
As I said before, I didn’t have the facts; I didn’t know what my items weighed; I didn’t know what I needed and what I didn’t; I didn’t know what was available; I didn’t know what my alternatives were. In fact, I was always a loner backpacker, not part of a backpacker community of any sort, where I could learn anything about what was out there. I had just been using the same old, sturdy, lasts-forever gear for years, hardly ever needing to replace anything.
Using No-Milk and Krunch as mentors, I started changing out my gear. Both had worked for outfitters, and both were experienced hikers. I bought some of what they used, including a GoLite Breeze pack and Z-Rest sleeping pad. I rotated in a titanium cook pot, solid fuel tabs, and a mini Bic lighter. The biggest change occurred when I started becoming part of the lightweight hiking community as the new guy with lots of questions. I started becoming excited about the changes and the improvements. I spent time in the stores talking to salespeople when they were lightweight backpackers themselves. I spent more time on the trails and, therefore, met and talked to more hikers about their gear. All I ever wanted to think about or talk about was gear. I had been enlightened. I was on fire. Sometimes I felt more like I had been finally "saved."
As the gear changes continued for me (and for my girlfriend, who had also caught the bug), we found there was one piece of gear more valuable and important than all the others for reducing weight: our computers. Or, more accurately, the internet. Before, I didn’t know I had choices. Now I had more choices and more information in three months than I had seen in my entire life.
Then came a test. Kelly (the girlfriend) and I did a simple loop in the Sierra that included a long climb up New Army Pass (elevation 12,300) with full packs. With our new, light packs, it felt like a day hike. As we reached the top, weather came in, and it was the works: lightning, thunder, hail, and rain. With our new, light packs, we jogged over the pass and downhill to safety, doing a ten-mile reroute to get out of the weather that day. That extra ten seemed like nothing. I don’t remember even taking breaks. We were enlightened.
A couple days later, we took a small trip up Mt. Whitney, carrying our packs to Outpost Camp (our base camp) at 10,300 feet. We had twenty-two pounds total with food, water, and bear canister. Not a record breaker, but a huge difference and a good start for us. I was convinced the process worked and was ready to continue the path to enlightenment.
Then came an event that generated more commitment to the lightening up that I had done so far. Kelly cancelled a 240-mile backpack trip we had been planning in the Shenandoah Valley to stay home and work. So I said, "Then I’ll hike the Pacific Crest Trail." What that really meant at first was, "I’m really ticked off, and I’ll show you." Now I was committed to planning my gear for a five-month thru-hike. In planning for the PCT, I was able to reduce my thru-hike base weight to thirteen pounds.
In April 2004, I attended the Pacific Crest Trail Kick Off. At the Kick Off, I entered the Gossamer Gear G-Force contest, where judges Glen Van Peski and Read Miller would select the pack or system they would use to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. Among the contestants were Billy Goat, who looks like a billy goat, and Carl Rush (who won the contest) with packs of eight and nine pounds, respectively. I wanted a system like theirs.
After the contest, I chatted with judge Read Miller about lightweight gear, and he remarked "What I think is right today… may be different tomorrow." Right then, I realized this is about constant change and constant evaluation, which is right in line with what I understand as part of the process of spiritual transformation. Lightweight backpacking as a spiritual way of life, like a Buddhist. It all seemed so easy to understand now. On top of all that, Read’s clarity simply justifies my obsession with buying and trying new gear.
Immediately after the Kick Off, I hiked 1800 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail. I didn’t wait until the hike was over to keep dropping weight. I was near other hikers and other hikers’ gear and ideas. I dropped to nine pounds by mile 900 and remained there for the rest of the season. With the lighter weight, I was now hiking some thirty-mile days.
Returning home I stuck to the Path of Enlightenment. I once realized that if I wanted to be successful, I needed to do what successful people did. I had the "want to," but I was still seeking more "how to," or how to get a lighter pack. I needed to know what the successful people did. I had already become acquainted with Read Miller, Glen Van Peski, and the Gossamer Gear website. Ron Moak of Six Moon Designs gave me more than an hour of his time at the Kick Off.
Then someone suggested Backpacking Light. There I found names like Ryan Jordan and Don "Lobo" Wilson and articles they had written. I found gear. Ultralight gear. Spinnaker tarps and poncho/tarps. New stuff, new ideas. I was about to drop many more pounds.
And beyond all that, what I found were a series of gear lists. I used a few of these. I think they were labeled lightweight, ultralight and super-ultralight. I used these gear lists to organize my thinking and for new ideas on gear I had not yet considered. From these gear lists I made my own gear checklist that is the basis for every gear list I use today. The lists are like boxes to sort things out in. I use a gear list for every outing, to sort things out and help select the specific gear for that trip. A desert overnight in summer will have different gear than four nights in northern Washington in mid-September. The gear list is the backbone of my constant evaluation. With gear lists, I could more clearly see what I needed. I also saw that there were things that I could not afford and things that did not exist… yet.
I take after my father. He use to tell people about me, "He’s been taking things apart since he was three. At eight he got one back together." That was the next step. I started putting things together. I started making gear. Lightweight gear.
So I made my own packs, poncho/tarps, stoves, headlamps, and in 2005, I won that G-Force contest with an entry of a system weighing 5 pounds, 5 ounces. I then used that system (cell phone added) to hike 1300 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail. Twenty-five-mile days were nothing. I got no blisters, no shin splints, no injuries of any sort. I was happy, light on my feet, having fun. Just me and a six-pound base weight. Keeping score, I had now completed the PCT with an average base weight under ten pounds.
The transformation (or should we just say obsession) continued. I lightened up more. A 2.5-ounce poncho/tarp, a 3.9-ounce pack with padded belt and shoulder straps, less one girlfriend, a one-ounce complete kitchen… and on and on. In 2007, I hiked the entire Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada with an average base weight of under five pounds. I am the only person to ever do this.
Backpacking is my passion. It’s what I do. I live in the backcountry near the Warner Springs trailhead of the Pacific Crest Trail. Five or six months of the year, I’m away from home hiking on that trail. In the winter, I hike more locally in the mountains and the desert. You might say it’s almost all I do for fun.
How has going light transformed my wilderness experience? A lighter pack gives me more wilderness experience and therefore more fun. More in the immediate experience, more in each day, and more in my lifetime.
In the immediate: when I wear a ten-pound pack as opposed to a fifty-pound pack, I feel better. When I feel better, ANY experience I have will be better. I feel better rock-hopping over a stream, ducking under branches, hopping over fallen trees. Long ascents feel shorter (in fact, any distance seems much, much shorter). After two hours of hiking, I don’t need a break. I don’t stop, which gains two or three miles right there. When I come to a place I WANT to take a break, I have plenty of time and plenty of energy. Hiking at a normal pace takes no effort. Heavy feelings that go with a heavy pack are gone, making room for lighter feelings, which are more appropriate to having fun in the wilderness. If I want to pick something up from the ground or check out something off trail I can squat, bend, run, jump, dance, and climb. Going light gives me more out of each moment.
I have more energy throughout the day. I am not wearing myself out on those long (now seeming shorter) uphills. I’m never exhausted. I can hike as long as fifteen hours and up in a day, sometimes over forty miles. I’m always ready to start up again at the end of a break. And at the end of the day, I have plenty of energy to make camp, make dinner, explore a bit, and sing around the campfire. In the morning, I’m up and jumping, ready to go again. Going light gives me more out of each day.
The real difference is in the long run. Everything I love about backpacking won’t do me much good if I can’t backpack. I plan to hike well into my sixties, maybe my seventies, and hopefully into my eighties. In fact, gear is getting so light that by the time I’m eighty, the gear should carry me. Lightweight gear will give me much more fun and enjoyment out of my lifetime. The old camping and hiking equipment I mentioned earlier may be heavy to use, but it does have a nostalgic link to my past experiences. On the other hand, lighter gear will be my link to my future experiences.
The Sigma DP1 is a unique compact camera with a large sensor capable of taking superb quality photos but it is slow to use with some poor design features.
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Compact cameras are the obvious choice for lightweight backpacking due to the low weight and size. Digital cameras have advantages over film cameras, too, as there’s no need to carry films (at a weight of 0.8 oz per roll) or struggle with changing films with cold fingers whilst keeping the camera protected from sunshine, dust, snow or rain. Most film compacts use the same film as bigger SLR cameras and the best film compacts can achieve the same quality photographs as an SLR. This is not true with digital compacts because the sensor is much smaller than that in any DSLR. The Ricoh GR-D II, one of the most highly rated digital compacts, has a tiny 7.18 x 5.32 mm sensor, while the Canon Rebel XSi/EOS 450D has a 22.2 x 14.8 mm sensor and a full frame DSLR like the Nikon D700 has a 24 x 36 mm sensor (the same size as 35mm film). The size of the pixels that collect the image data has to relate to the size of the sensor so a digital compact has much smaller pixels than a DSLR. For complex technical reasons large sensors and large pixels produce higher quality images than small sensors and small pixels (if they didn’t there’d be no need for full frame DSLRs let alone medium format digital cameras). So, a 12 megapixel (mp) DSLR will produce a better image than a 12mp digital compact. In fact, so big is the difference, that a DSLR will produce higher quality images than a digital compact with more pixels.
DP1 rear panel showing screen and controls.
There is also the question of noise (speckling on the image). The sensitivity of digital cameras to light is known as the ISO (also used for film speed, which is film’s sensitivity to light). Low ISOs (50, 64, 100) produce high quality images but require slow shutter speeds. High ISOs (400 upwards) don’t produce as high quality images but faster shutter speeds can be used. This is important when backpacking as images may be taken in poor light and when the wind (or being out of breath!) makes it difficult to hold the camera steady. The difference between noise at high ISOs between digital compacts and DSLRs is great due to the tiny sensor as noise increases with both lower pixel size and higher sensitivity. Even the best digital compacts produce noisy images at speeds above 200 ISO while DSLRs can produce images with little noise at 800 ISO. Images from my 6mp Canon 300D DSLRare virtually noise-free at ISO 400; those from the 8mp GR-D compact have noticeable noise.
DP1 rear panel compared with the Ricoh GR-D rear panel. The GR-D has better laid out controls that are easier to see.
The obvious solution for producing DSLR quality images from a compact camera would be to use a DSLR sized sensor. However this is technically difficult and also, I suspect, unattractive to camera makers who see the compact and DSLR markets as separate and would like to keep them that way. (Why buy a DSLR if a compact can do the same job?). So tiny sensors stayed in digital compacts, meaning you had to choose between light weight and low bulk or high quality images. Until the DP1, the first and so far only compact camera with a near DSLR size sensor, came along. Its sensor measures 20.7 x 13.8 mm, much closer to the Canon XSi sensor than the GR-DII sensor. And the image quality is similar to that from a DSLR even at high ISOs. Indeed, the same sensor is found in the Sigma SD14 DSLR.
The DP1 rear panel showing the open menu.
This image quality is the main reason to consider the DP1. It’s the only compact camera that can compete with DSLRs. Unfortunately however other aspects of the camera are not so good, as I shall describe below.
Specifications
| Pixels: | 14.06 mp (2652x1768x 3 layers) |
| Lens: | F4 16.6mm, 35mm equivalent 28mm |
| Dimensions: | 112 x 65 wide x 57mm deep |
| Sensor size: | 20.7 x 13.8mm |
| Screen: | 230,000 pixels, 2.5 inches diagonal |
| Shutter: | 15 seconds to 1/2000 second |
| Aperture: | F4 to F11 |
| ISO: | 50, 100, 200, 400, 800 |
| Exposure modes: | Manual, Auto, Program AE, Shutter AE, Aperture Priority AE |
| Metering: | evaluative, spot, centre weighted |
| Focusing: | auto, manual |
| Image Format: | Raw, JPEG Fine, Normal & Basic |
| Memory: | SD/SDHC card |
| Battery: | Li-ion BP-31 |
| Sigma Weight: | 250 grams without battery and memory card |
| BPL Weight: | 255 grams without battery and memory card |
| Cost: | $999 |
| Accessories: | Sigma VF-11 viewfinder: 14 grams. $149 Li-on BP-31 battery: 29 grams, $20 |
| Megapixels: | A Curious Puzzle |
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Sigma says the DP1 is a 14.06mp camera. Open a DP1 raw file in Sigma Photo Pro software, which is provided with the camera, and the size will be given as between 10 and 18mb, depending on the detail in the image. Open the same file in Adobe Photoshop Lightroom and the size will be given as 4.6mp. What is going on? The answer lies in the sensor type and the definition of the word "pixel". "Pixel" can mean either the photo detector or the location of that detector. All digital camera makers except Sigma use Bayer sensors which, put very simply, have red, green or blue pixels (photo detectors) that are combined when a photo is taken to form an image. The pixel count is the total number of pixels on the sensor. Sigma uses a Foveon sensor that has three layers of photo detectors, each collecting red, green and blue colors. A section through each layer counts as one pixel location. Thus there are three pixels at each pixel location. How many pixels an image has depends on whether you take the photo detector or location figure. Each Foveon layer is 2688 x 1792 pixels, or 4.65mp. There are three layers so Sigma says there are 14.2mp in total. Others say that as there is one pixel location per three photo detectors at each pixel location and the image file size is 2688 x 1792 there are only 4.65mp.
This 400 ISO image, converted from a raw file, has good colors and a smooth, natural look. 1/1250 seconds at f5.6.
Does this matter? Zealots on both sides argue passionately and interminably that it does. For those of us interested in the actual images I don’t think it’s significant. In terms of quality the DP1 produces images that are comparable to the 12mp Canon XSi/450D DSLR and far superior to those from any other compact camera, regardless of the number of pixels. How much the Foveon sensor affects this is debatable but my view is that the sensor size is far more important. What’s clear is that the DP1 produces images of a higher quality than expected from a 4.6mp sensor. Foveon devotees argue that Foveon sensors produce "better" images than Bayer sensors. I can’t say that I can see any meaningful difference when Bayer and Foveon images of the same scene are processed in the same software.
The complex detail of this tree is captured well at ISO 100, 1/25 at f8. The camera was hand held. Using the viewfinder made it much easier to keep it steady.
The DP1 is a rather subdued black compact that doesn’t stand out in any way. Nobody notices you using this camera. The rectangular body has a rather old-fashioned look to it. There’s no hand grip, not even a slight bulge in the plastic, but it’s still comfortable to hold.
Unlike many compacts the retracted lens is not flush or almost flush with the body and protrudes some 20mm. Even so, with dimensions of 112 x 65 wide x 57mm the DP1 is quite small and can be easily carried in a jacket pocket or in a small pouch on a belt.
This image taken in woodland in bright sunlight with great contrast between sunny and shaded areas shows that the camera can capture details in these situations. ISO 100. 1/25 second at f8.
The lens does not have an automatic cover when retracted. A separate lens cover is provided, attached to the body with a short piece of string. This cover is slightly awkward to fit and can blow about in the wind when not on the lens. However untying it would probably lead to loss, at least in my case. There is an accessory from Sigma called the HA-11 available which has a collar with a 46mm filter thread and a lens hood so filters could be used instead of the lens cap. I haven’t tried this.
The DP1 lens is a fixed 16.6mm, which is equivalent to 28mm in 35mm. This is a moderate wide angle lens. Any fixed lens has limitations of course but 28mm is good for landscapes. (Sigma has announced that there will be a DP2 with a 24.2mm lens, equivalent to 41mm in 35mm, so there will be an option for those who find the DP1 too wide). The lens has a maximum aperture of f4, which is quite slow. In low light a high ISO and slow shutter speed are required.
On a dull day the colors on this hillside have come out well and there is detail in the cloudy sky. ISO 100. 1/80 at f5.6.
The LCD screen is reasonably bright and a reasonable size. However it is quite grainy and, peculiarly, it turns monochrome in low light. It also smears more easily than other screens I’ve used (they all smear to some extent). As there is no viewfinder the screen is used for composition. In bright sunshine this can be difficult as the image is hard to see. Also it is harder to hold the camera steady holding it out so you can see the screen rather than having it to your eye. There is an optional viewfinder available, the Sigma VF-11. This is tiny and ultralight but quite expensive. It has frame lines, which are not completely accurate but which act as a guide. It does not show any exposure information of course. Using the VF-11 does make picture taking a two-stage operation – check the exposure on the screen and make any alterations then bring the camera to the eye – but I prefer using it, both for more accurate composition and for stability.
There are five exposure modes, selected by a dial on top of the camera. The mode, the aperture and the shutter speed are shown clearly on the screen and can be changed using the right and left arrow buttons on the camera back. I prefer to use manual mode as this gives the greatest control but the other modes are accurate in even light.
Most of the controls are on the back of the camera and here there is an amazing example of poor design. Who ever thought that black letters and symbols on black buttons was a good idea? Presumably a designer concerned with appearance rather than function. As it is, memorizing the button functions is a good idea as it’s hard to see the black letters and symbols in anything other than bright light. Oddly some of the buttons do have white labels. Why not all of them?
A difficult shot straight into a low sun has been handled well by the DP1 at ISO 50, 1/640 seconds at F5.6.
The button in the centre of the arrow buttons brings up the menu. This appears on top of the live image if you don’t switch the latter off first. Many of the features you might often change are in the menu and it is a fiddly and time-consuming business to do so (and difficult with thin gloves on and impossible with thick ones). When the camera first appeared the ISO setting, which most users will probably use often, was in the menu. However a firmware update means the two zoom buttons, used for viewing images on the screen at different sizes, can be set to change different settings including ISO. I have one set to change the ISO and one to change the image quality. This improves the ergonomics a little but compared with the GR-D and the 450D changing settings on the DP1 is still more awkward and slower.
The firmware update also introduced 50 ISO, which does produce very fine images, but 1600 ISO for low light photos would have been more welcome.
There are three metering options – evaluative, centre-weighted and spot. Evaluative works fine for landscapes and I use this most of the time.
The auto focus is accurate but slow. There are single and continuous drive modes but the latter will only take three shots before it stops to write the images. It takes around 6 seconds to record a JPEG image, 8 seconds for a raw image. This is not a camera for action photography. There is a manual focus option, operated by a wheel with a scale running from 0.3 meters to infinity. The same scale appears in the viewfinder when manual focus is selected. If the manual focus is pre-set there is no focus or shutter delay but you still have to wait for the image to be written. I’d still set manual focus if I thought I might want to take photos quickly.
A partly shadowed snow and rock scene caught well at ISO 100, 1/320 at f5.6.
The DP1 will take three sizes of JPEG or raw files. I can’t see any point in using anything other than the best (Fine) JPEG or raw with a camera like this unless there is a shortage of card space. The camera uses tiny SD, SDHC or multi-media cards. A 4GB card will hold around 258 raw images or 1225 Fine JPEGs. Cards weigh 2 grams each.
I viewed JPEGs in Sigma Photo Pro (SPP) and Adobe Photoshop Lightroom 2.1 and found the results somewhat erratic, with some images dull and flat and others luridly bright. The contrast, sharpness and saturation can all be altered in-camera to change the appearance of the JPEGs. The best results come from raw files though. I processed these in both SPP and Lightroom and obtained more detail and more accurate colors than with the JPEGs.
A crop from left centre of the previous image has good detail in the cliffs and the snow.
The DP1 has a histogram but it is disappointingly small and hard to read. There is no live histogram when viewing the live image either nor any highlight warnings when viewing the playback image. The histogram can be a valuable tool for accurate exposure and I use it rather than the exposure meter. With the GR-D I can see a live histogram and alter the exposure before taking the photo while with the 450D I can view the histogram with any blown highlights indicated on the playback image after taking the image and retake the photo if necessary (the 450D also has a LiveView feature but it’s slow to use and I only do so when using a tripod). The DP1 histogram can sometimes be useful but with some images the line is almost flat and it can be impossible to see if it runs off the right side, showing overexposure and blown highlights.
There is a small pop-up flash operated by a small lever. With a maximum range of 4.3 meters (at ISO 800) it’s limited to close-up objects.
The DP1 uses a small lithium-ion battery that Sigma says will take around 250 images at 25°C. This is the same as the GR-D battery but much lower than the 600 claimed for the 450D, which of course has a larger battery. Apart from the fact that the temperature may often be well below +25°C if you playback images often or use the flash the number of images per battery charge will be less. I minimize screen use on trips of more than a few days. I also carry a spare battery. On a trip of more than a week, which I have yet to take with the DP1, I would carry at least two spare batteries. There is a battery life indicator but it isn’t very accurate (something I’ve found with other digital cameras). Overall I’m getting about 200 images per battery charge, without much flash use but without paying particular care to screen use.
A self-portrait with the DP1 on a tripod. ISO 50, 1/80 second at f10.
An extreme crop of the figure in the previous image still has good detail and color.
Despite the greater number of negative points compared to positive ones I like the DP1 because of the image quality. No other digital camera anywhere near as light or compact as the DP1 will produce such good photographs. Yes, the operation of the camera is slow and clumsy and can be infuriating. For this I much prefer the Ricoh GR-D, one of the best designed cameras I have ever used. But once I see the images from the two cameras there’s no contest and I’ll take the DP1 every time. That is, for landscapes. The slowness of the camera means it’s useless for any action shots. Camping shots where people are not moving too fast are possible but if you want grab shots of your companion spilling dinner or leaping over a stream you’ll miss them with the DP1.
To gain the most from the DP1 raw should be used and time taken over the photographs anyway. This is not a point-and-shoot but a camera for photographers who think about settings and don’t mind altering controls and delving into menus. In that sense it’s a camera for serious photographers rather than snapshooters. You need to be happy with a fixed wide angle lens too.
Do you need such high quality images? For web use and small prints compacts with small sensors will be adequate as long as low ISOs are used. But for large prints and high ISO photographs the DP1 is the only compact really worth considering.
Dusk in the mountains. The DP1 has captured the snow and the sky well in this fairly low light shot. ISO 200. 1/50 second at f5.6.
Highlights from the April 2008 Rescue 3 International Whitewater Rescue Technician course for packrafters held in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.
A well-designed binding system like Crescent Moon’s can give you a day blissfully communing with nature and provide an excellent snowshoeing experience. It’s the most important feature of a snowshoe. A poorly designed binding can be an exercise in frustration with repeated adjustments from straps that come loose or freeze and distractions that can actually make your outdoor experience less than enjoyable. Crescent Moon’s SPL binding is considered by most outdoor enthusiasts as the best binding you can put on your feet. Visit Crescent Moon Snowshoes to learn more.
Practicing rescue techniques: paddling to save a swimmer who has lost his boat.
For a better viewing experience, please download the Flash Player. Video: Have Fun and Avoid Drowning – A How-To for Packrafters
Imagine you are floating down a swiftly flowing wilderness stream in your packraft. You go over a small drop and the stern of your packraft is sucked into a hole – what Roman Dial refers to as being “bandersnatched” – and you flip over backwards. Underwater, you stay calm, pull your spray deck open, and swim to the surface to get some air (letting go of your paddle in the process). You and your boat are being swept downstream, and you can’t quite get a hold of its slippery surface. It’s time to cut your losses, forget about rescuing your gear, and get yourself to the bank. The water is swift, but only a little over waist deep so you stand up in order to walk to the bank. Oops, you’ve jammed your foot between two rocks. Before you have time to think, the current pushes you off balance, and your foot becomes wedged in even deeper. The force of the current bends you forward and holds you under the water. You can’t free your foot or push yourself into a standing position. Soon you run out of air and drown.
Foot entrapment is the number one cause of death for whitewater boaters. The first step to avoiding this and other hazards on the water is education. Take the time to understand the powerful forces created by moving water as it flows over and around obstacles, learn about and use proper safety gear, and seek training in rescue techniques and practice so your skills are sharp.
If you packraft in whitewater enough, you will eventually take an unplanned swim. Make sure your swim has a different ending than the above scenario:
In short, be someone others want to boat with – safely equipped, capable of rescuing yourself, and prepared to rescue your companions. Taking a whitewater rescue course is a great way to learn about rescue equipment and gain skills and practice them in real whitewater conditions safely. This video shows highlights from the Rescue 3 International Whitewater Technician Course held in Jackson, Wyoming in April 2008.
Resources
Wilderness Trekking School. Backpacking Light’s Wilderness Trekking II – Packrafting.
Dial, Roman. Packrafting! An Introduction and How-To Guide (Backpacking Light, 2008).
Scott Solle, Rescue 3 International instructor, http://www.solgear.com.
Segerstrom, Jim, Barry Edwards, Mark Hogan, Phil Turnbull, and J. Michael Turnbull. Whitewater Rescue Technician Manual (Rescue 3 International, 2005).
Walbridge, Charles and Wayne A. Sundmacher, Sr. Whitewater Rescue Manual (Ragged Mountain Press, 1995).
Carol Crooker’s essay on enlightenment shows that Mother Nature can be a pushy broad, but she gets the job done.
The mountains and rolling tundra plains of Adak Island, Alaska.
I’m not kidding. Mother Nature would not allow me to even begin a backpacking trip no matter how hard I tried until I "saw the light." Over the space of fourteen years Nature opened up her floodgates every time I tried to go backpacking. Miraculously, the first trip where I paid attention to the weight of my pack contents was gorgeous. Of course, she couldn’t resist a reminder that I needed to stay on course by spitting some rain, snow, and sleet (in May) as I climbed out of the Grand Canyon on that first enlightened trip.
I grew up dreaming of outdoor adventures. My family car camped once or twice, but I longed to cut the ties with civilization and get deep into the backcountry. I finally got my first chance as a newly commissioned officer in the Navy. I was stationed on Adak, one of Alaska’s Aleutian Islands. The mountains in the center of the island are surrounded by undulating, tundra covered plains and beg for exploration. After a few months on the island, I decided to take my first ever backpacking trip. I cobbled together gear from the rental shop and through catalog orders. I paid no attention to the weight or volume of the gear. Consequently, I had trouble getting it all into – or lashed onto – a pack left over from a summer of traveling around Europe.
Adak is known as the "Birthplace of the Winds." I was used to near constant 20 knot winds, 40 knot winds were common, and even higher not unusual. I had expected my backpacking trip to be windy, so when I heard the Coast Guard’s warnings of rain and gale force winds on the radio the morning I was to go, I wasn’t dissuaded. There was so much gear lashed to the outside of my pack I had to take it off to get out my door. I splashed through puddles and threw my pack into the back of my old red "island" pickup truck. I had wanted to backpack all my life, and I was determined to do it now, during the few days I had off. I drove out to my starting point through sheeting rain, jumped out, and struggled into my pack, instantly soaked from the freezing downpour. I could only see about a yard in front of me. I finally got Mother Nature’s message that this was not a good idea when I found I was so buffeted by the winds I couldn’t walk a straight line. I reluctantly gave up on my backpacking dream for the time being and trundled back to my room in the bachelor officer’s quarters.
I got another chance to go backpacking four years later. I was now in the Navy’s graduate school in Monterey, California and a friend, Gail, invited me to go along on a backpacking trip to Yosemite during a school break. I was thrilled. Another friend Dave, offered to help me shop for gear. After a three-hour drive to the nearest REI, I grabbed a cart, and Dave and I swept through the store. I threw in whatever he felt I’d need, including a Jansport external frame pack, a Therm-a-Rest sleeping pad, and a huge green synthetic sleeping bag with no concern whatsoever for weight. Once my cart was piled high, I pulled out my credit card and paid a small fortune for my weighty gear.
Three Yolla Bolly Wilderness adventurers smiling because we are finally dry after four days of hard rain.
Soon after, Gail and I and a couple of others set off from Monterey for Yosemite. We planned to hike to Tuolumne Meadows after spending our first night in a drive up camp ground. Gail had supplied me with a top of the line L.L. Bean Gore-Tex tent for the trip. It had started raining during the drive, so there was no shared camaraderie around the camp fire that night. We all just crawled into our tents as quickly as we could set them up. I spent a long uncomfortable night in the chill as condensation dripped down on me from the tent walls. My sleeping bag was soaked by morning and the forecast was for four more days of rain.
We decided to abandon Yosemite and find dry weather. Once again, Mother Nature thwarted my attempt to backpack heavy. We drove toward the coast and out of the rain to Point Reyes. The camping area there is a mile from the parking lot so I did get my first chance to hike with the huge load I had assembled. The backpack felt like a car tied to my back, and I was glad I didn’t have to haul it any further. But I loved the experience: the views at the camp site were gorgeous and no other campers intruded upon us until a day and a half later. I became even more determined to get into the backcountry, despite the discomfort of hiking with a heavy pack. Mother Nature’s rather strong hints had not sunk in yet – it still hadn’t occurred to me to pack lighter.
I rarely took time off for vacation while I was in the Navy, but I made an exception ten years later at my final posting before retirement. I was stationed on Treasure Island, a man-made island that sits beneath the Bay Bridge connecting San Francisco to Oakland. I’d been within a few hours drive of some of the most beautiful forests in the U.S. for a year and a half but hadn’t yet found time for anything other than a few day hikes. That coupled with the fact I knew I’d soon be moving east to the desert city of Phoenix, Arizona, and I jumped at an invitation to join two acquaintances on an unusual backpacking trip.
Our trip would be guided by a licensed counselor who was also schooled in Native American rituals. I needed clarity on my imminent transition from a career in the Navy to civilian life. The idea of immersing myself in nature with someone trained to help me sort out any insights was appealing.
Our guide and one of my friends in the back of our guide’s truck – a dry sanctuary that all of us could fit into.
We three novice backpackers met with our guide and settled on a five-day trip into the Yolla Bolly Wilderness north of San Francisco. We would drive to the trailhead, backpack six miles to a nice spot by a stream and waterfall, and set up a base camp. Still clinging to my dream of backpacking one day, I had kept all the expensive gear from my aborted Yosemite trip and carted it from duty station to duty station over the last ten years. It was still in great shape, so I was set except for a tent. I rented a Clip Flashlight from a local store, and I was outfitted.
It should be obvious by now that I am a pack rat. I hold onto things because I feel they will keep me safe during any eventuality. This same psychology applied to what I put in a backpack. I wanted to have the gear that would make me ready for any and all challenges. It is probably easy to imagine it might take both a licensed counselor and an act of God to break me of my insecurities.
The sky was overcast as I crossed the Golden Gate Bridge to rendezvous with the rest of my group. It began to sprinkle as we drove north. After a few hours of driving, it was raining steadily. By the time we entered the forest an hour later, the dirt road was muddy and slippery, but we pressed on to the trail head.
We decided to camp near our cars the first night, since by now the rain was heavy. We’d re-evaluate in the morning. Once again I had paid no attention whatsoever to my pack weight and Mother Nature showed her displeasure with my slow learning curve. Rain pounded our tents all night and didn’t let up when the sun rose. Our guide was concerned that the steep, rocky trails to our intended camp site might wash out and that the site itself might be flooded. We agreed to remain camped at the cars.
The sign warns of "Extreme Heat" but we experienced beautiful, mild weather until our climb to the rim on the last day when it rained, snowed, and sleeted. Note those heavy leather boots. The Grand Canyon Field Institute instructor insisted on light packs but sturdy boots.
It rained hard for the next two days. We kept ourselves busy with rain drenched walks, journaling, naps, and meetings in the back of our guide’s pickup to interpret our dreams. On the morning of the fourth day, the other two women approached me and said they had had it with camping. I agreed. We went to the guide to discuss cutting our trip short. He listened closely with his counselor’s attitude. When we were done, he had a suggestion: would we consider staying and observing 24 hours of silence and solitude instead? Oddly, that sounded like a good idea to us and we agreed. The rain was still coming down hard and steady.
We spent the next 24 hours alone and in silence. Not talking kept me from complaining about the continued rain. It made me become more observant of my surroundings and at the same time drew me inward to contemplate the deeper issues of my life. I took a long walk in the down pour. For the first time, the rain became a magnifier of the beauty around me rather than an irritant. Standing on a knoll in the center of a clearing I looked up to see a buck eyeing me from one hundred yards. After four days, I felt a part of the forest, and I sensed a connection with the buck I would have been blind to a day before.
The fifth and last day dawned clear, crisp and sunny. We broke our silence in a medicine circle by passing a talking stick. I shared that I felt a new feeling of oneness with all creation. We closed our circle with a ritual of gratitude and headed home, happy with our adventure.
Our spiritual ceremony that last morning in the Yolla Bolly Wilderness must have appeased the Big Mother. Or maybe she realized this last trip had finally broken through my civilized preconception of what it meant to be "prepared for anything," and I was now ready to listen to a subtler message about what it meant to truly be prepared. For what ever reason, she steered me to the guidance of a consummate lightweight backpacker.
My Jansport external frame pack on a trip soon after my first "real" backpacking trip (and just before I retired it), eleven years after I bought it in a frenzy of heavy gear buying.
A year later as a new resident of Arizona, I wanted to experience more of my state – and finally backpack after fifteen years of disaster. I signed up for a four-day Grand Canyon Field Institute trip to Horseshoe Mesa in the Grand Canyon. The instructor sent an eleven page document covering what gear to bring. He said we’d be carrying 24 pounds of water down a steep trail and emphasized repeatedly that we needed to make everything else light. I heeded his advice closely, once again outfitting myself from scratch (except for my old Jansport external frame pack), but this time paying close attention to weight. I bought a tarp and a Pocket Rocket canister stove and replaced the Therm-a-Rest with a 3/8 inch closed cell foam pad. My total starting pack weight with food but minus the three gallons of water was 26 pounds. Mother Nature must have approved because the weather was gorgeous – clear and sunny and mild. She couldn’t resist driving home a reminder of what was important in the backcountry though, and the skies spit freezing rain, snow, and sleet as we ended our trip by climbing back out of the canyon.
It has been ten years since that first "real" backpacking trip. I’ve become a passionate lightweight backpacker. I still like to be prepared, but now I reach my comfort zone more through acquired skills and experience than by carrying all sorts of heavy gear I "might" need. The longing I felt for nearly forty years to get into the backcountry has not diminished. I feel it anew if I haven’t been out in more than a couple of months. I am renewed on each trip and those experiences are tremendously more enjoyable because Mother Nature insisted I carry a light pack.
Backpacking Light’s Wilderness Trekking School Photo Essay.
Click a thumbnail to view the image gallery.
Although each student came to the course with a solid base of outdoor experience, it is safe to say that there was much to learn about the finer points of the well-tested and researched theory ‘Less is more.’
Mike Clelland the magician, performing tricks and making pounds disappear before our eyes.
Navigation proved challenging at times and often required input from several brains. As the course went on, instructors took an increasingly ‘hands off’ approach, allowing students the chance to refine their skills. Joe, Johannes, and Praveen work on finding the way together, while Martin resolves to figure it out on his own.
Instructors got to teach important skills, such as setting up shelters in pretty much the best classroom on earth. Instructor Ryan Connelly (right) shows Michael and Juliet the how to adjust guy line tension using Spectra cord.
The weather for the entire trek was gorgeous. Actually, ‘gorgeous’ doesn’t even really cover it. What word do you get when you combine gorgeous and ideal and perfect and sublime? Never mind – just take a look at Praveen’s smile and you’ll know.
Standing (from L to R) Mark, Juliet, Michael, Johannes, Joe, Martin, and Instructor Mike Clelland. Crouching in front (L to R) Instructor Ryan Connelly and Praveen.
Views during the Rocky Mountain course were crystal clear and breathtaking. Joe just won the least competitive game of ‘king of the mountain’ ever played.
Footing on the trail wasn’t always a walk in the park. WT1 students often had to navigate significant changes in elevation over unstable terrain.
Perhaps the greatest advantage of hiking with a light pack is your increased capacity for conversation.
Praveen and Joe discuss life back east – all while hiking in the best of the west.
No man-made classroom could ever complete with the northern Rockies. Instructor Ryan Connelly explains local features of the Gallatin Range… Geology professors, eat your heart out.
Trail days included a lot of walking and talking, but also a good deal of time to be alone with your thoughts. Michael enjoys having his head in the clouds and his feet firmly on the ground.
With cooler temperatures and softer light, twilight is an exceptional time for hiking in the northern Rockies. (L to R) Praveen, Michael, Juliet, Joe, and Martin enjoy an evening stroll through an open field at 8,500 feet.
Juliet arrives at the highest part of the trek, Hyalite Peak (10,298 ft). Can you tell she’s excited?
Accustomed to hiking trails on the east coast, including what he described as ‘the longest green tunnel in the world’ (the Appalachian Trail), Joe found the views in the Rockies to be truly spectacular.
Poets are known for their ability to transcend the common, the average, the mundane and enter into the world of magic. There, they unearth linguistic jewels from the depths of their experience and haul them back up to the rest of us through the labor of writing. Rumi, the thirteenth century Persian poet who entered that world of magic often and well, once brought us back the following nugget in response to the question, “Where, where can I be safe?” Rumi answered,
This is not a day for asking questions.
Not a day on any calendar.
This day is conscious of itself.
Of course, Rumi, who lived 300 years before the advent of the Gregorian calendar and never traveled faster than on horseback, probably experienced time in a very different way than we do today. Yet the implications of his observation – today is not a day on any calendar – gives us reason to pause and reflect on what it means to encounter time and place without the artificial grid of numbered days superimposed over our raw experience. Isn’t this altered and otherworldly encounter with nature what we time-starved moderns seek, at least in part, when we head for the trail?
Of course, just try using Rumi’s line on your boss next time you’re late for work and see what happens. Simply because one would rather be frolicking amidst tall grass and communing with nature on her terms doesn’t mean that August 22, 2008 didn’t officially come into being at 12:00 a.m. A critical mass of people believing something to be true can indeed make it so – especially in the case of a concrete organizational concept like a calendar.
So, as a fellow believer in calendars and a consenting party to their use (and misuse), I have to admit that Friday, August 22 had been weighing on my mind for the better part of the preceding eight months. This was the day that Backpacking Light’s very first Wilderness Trekking I course (WT1) was scheduled to begin. As part of the team of instructors that was helping to create, organize, and teach the course, I couldn’t help but feel a crescendo of excitement as the day approached. By the time the August 21 page of my Far Side daily calendar was lying face down in a recycling bin, there was a miniature orchestra playing ferociously in my stomach, and I had begun to suspect that the tiny conductor might have a drinking problem.
Yet there they were – students from all over the U.S. and even one from Germany, seeking to shed some pack weight and perhaps hoping to dive across that mysterious border to the place where calendars don’t exist. The five-day course was set to begin, and my stomach’s conductor was going to have to pull himself together.
Although Rumi was probably right about calendars, his claim that today is not a day for asking questions sets off red flags and sirens in my brain. Questions form the very basis for exploring our world, which is but one reason we should hold them in the highest regard. In Rumi’s defense, though, Yoda once told Luke during his Jedi training to “clear your mind of questions,” which in retrospect was probably exactly what Luke needed to hear. Maybe it’s just that questions have their own time and place.
If that’s true, then August 22, 2008 at 1:00 p.m. was definitely the time, and the northern Rockies near Bozeman, Montana was definitely the place for asking questions. Rightfully so, since ultralight backpacking is a decidedly scientific, and thus inquisitive, activity. As ultralight backpackers, we observe, we question, we hypothesize, we take measurements, we note, we experiment, we notice we were wrong, we discuss, we try again, we get it right, we celebrate, we later, rinse, repeat. As much as anything, WT1 was about imparting upon students a healthy regard for the scientific method.
Because we wanted to harness the knowledge and experience contained within the entire group, then elevate each member’s overall understanding, the classroom portion of WT1 was based largely on discussion and activity. Of course, much of the discussion in the course naturally gravitated to gear talk, but instructors were careful to initiate conversations centered on other important matters such as UL philosophy, safety, menu planning, cooking, and a wide variety of other ultralight skills. In all, there seemed to be a healthy balance between listening and speaking, between standing and sitting, between having fun and getting down to business.
Yet despite their warm and welcoming demeanor, when it came to pack weight, instructors could be downright ruthless. During one particularly productive gear-weighing session, instructor Mike Clelland encouraged a student named Mark from southern California to eliminate all redundant items from his packing list. Like an experienced magician dazzling his audience, Mike made extra gadgets, changes of clothes, alcohol gel, and even silverware disappear before our eyes. When it was all said and done, three pounds were gone from Mark’s back and everyone was looking at Mike like he had just pulled a rabbit from a hat, except that the hat was a stuff sack and the rabbit was gear that eventually hopped its way into Mark’s suitcase. Who wants to carry a three-pound rabbit into the backcountry anyway? (See below: Numbers Game.)
As the first day of class drew to a close, everyone was wiped out from the day and ready to turn in. Everyone, that is, except for Mike, who somehow always managed to remain ever vigilant and highly caffeinated.
As students woke to a delicious breakfast on August 23, there was still much preparation and classroom ‘work’ to be done. Although the sun was coming up in a cloudless sky in its usual way and from its usual direction, we could sense that there was something special about this day. This, of course, was the day that everyone had been waiting for, the day where we would leave the classroom behind and put all of what we had learned to the test in one of the most beautiful and rugged proving grounds in the lower forty-eight – the northern Rocky Mountains. After learning all about UL stoves and discussing the finer points of hiking efficiently, we concluded classroom activities around noon and enjoyed a wonderful lunch before gleefully grabbing our packs and making for the trailhead.
Prior to leaving for the trek, students were asked to turn in their watches and cell phones in order to help create a simpler and more authentic wilderness experience. Aside from a weight-saving measure, this was primarily a symbolic act meant to signify the official ‘unplugging’ of ourselves. As might be expected, many students experienced a small degree of separation anxiety when letting go of these items, and one student even half-joked, “my whole life’s in this thing,” as he handed over his phone. Yet by the time we had been on trail for several hours, and this same student had felt the joy of a sub-eighteen pound pack on a perfect day in the Rockies, it’s safe to say that he had gained a different perspective as to the meaning of life – at least as far as it related to its location in his cell phone. The unsung heroes of this lesson were instructors Mike Clelland and Ryan Connelly, who took turns burying a satellite phone deep in their packs, bearing the weight silently and without complaint so that others might walk less encumbered.
At times the hiking was steep and intense. For starters, virtually the entire trek took place above 8,000 feet, which proved a hefty challenge for students more familiar with life closer to sea level. There were also a considerable number of ups and downs along the way, as we would follow the uneven ridge by day and drop down into drainages and canyons most nights. Wishing to maximize weight savings, instructors encouraged ‘tanking up’ at water sources, which was a foreign concept for many students and one that certainly pushed several past their current comfort zone. Nevertheless, stretching water supplies and reconciling expected drinking sources with the map became a big topic of conversation for the group, and many took to the challenge of trying to run out of water just before reaching the next source. Towards the end of our time in the field, one student, Joe from North Carolina, remarked, “I’ll probably never carry as much water with me as I used to, so long as I can reasonably expect to find more along the way.”
Perhaps the greatest advantage of hiking with a light pack is an increased tendency towards meaningful conversation – a pleasure WT1 participants took full advantage of during their stay. Heavy packs are conversation killers for several reasons. Not only can they cause you to be out of breath, tired, and altogether uncomfortable, but they also force you to look down at your feet most of the time and miss out on all the interesting scenery and conversation starters. It wasn’t long before our ultralight group had moved well beyond the normal water-cooler chit chat that’s always comfortable (and usually meaningless) and found ourselves immersed in deeper discussions about life, philosophy, spirituality, hopes, and dreams. Occasionally, there were long-winded discussions, during which participants looked each other in the eye, smiled often, and continued talking despite prolonged uphill sections of trail – a feat only attempted by those carrying a light load.
For many of us, August 23 was the last day of the course. This is not because we canceled the next three days, but rather because backcountry days on trail without watches and phones have a tendency to blend into one other in a delightfully serene way. As August 23 wound down and presumably became August 24, our orientation to the world changed in subtly profound ways. Without watches, we measured time by the sun, often determining when to wake, walk, eat, rest, and learn based only on its position in the sky. We measured distance by the location of water sources, and even though, when discussing the map, our sentences contained words like “hours” and “miles,” these words took on less and less relevance as we slid even deeper into the wilderness experience. By the end of the course, it was hard to remember what the actual day of the week was, let alone the date. Our calendars had indeed melted away, and somewhere Salvador Dali was smiling.
These three remaining days were nothing if not wonderful. Perhaps the most important lesson came from the integration of the science and the magic of ultralight hiking – these two opposing yet somehow complimentary modes of inquiry. As such, the greatest lesson of the course was an implied one: just because we love our scales, love weighing our gear, and love keeping track of how much we carry doesn’t mean that we carry our scales and spreadsheets with us into the backcountry. That would defeat the purpose. In the end, the same could be said for calendars.
| Rocky Mountain: Numbers Game | |
| Days on trail: | 3.5 |
| Miles hiked: | 32.9 |
| Highest elevation: | Hyalite peak – 10,298 ft |
| Blisters: | Zero!!! (light packs + Hydropel = happy feet!) |
| Average initial pack weight for students: | 17 lb. 13.7 oz |
| Average final pack weight for students: | 11 lb. 2.9 oz |
| Lowest initial pack weight: | Johannes: 14 lb. 8 oz |
| Lowest final pack weight: | Johannes: 8 lb. 8 oz |
Measurements of carbon monoxide levels produced by the Brunton Vapor AF Stove.
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The true story of how Jamie survived in the woods with his paper coat.
I guess you could say I needed something. I wasn’t sure what that was, but I knew I was struggling without it. Over the previous seven years I had lost my childhood home to fire, lost my mother and brother to heart attacks, and lost my father to leukemia. I had been transferred twice for my job in less than two years. My wife and kids were exhausted with the transfers. The new job was turning out to be something different than what I had expected, and it was not working out. Simply put, things were bad.
While I was reading everything I could to make changes with my work, I came across an interesting exercise: "Write down the things you want to achieve in your life; don’t let perceived possibility influence what is written." I did, and one of them struck me. Until that moment, I had forgotten my childhood dream, but there it was: "Hike the Appalachian Trail." I was soon turning forty and, with a wife and two kids, the thought of ever completing the Appalachian Trail seemed like an absurdity.
When I was a child, my family often went camping, and I had taught myself to backpack as a teen. I had even completed a few overnighters as an adult, but nothing in many years. My gear was sitting in the attic showing years of non-use. It was good gear, but traditional, and weighed 27 pounds.
| Jamie’s Traditional Gear List | |
| (3 Season, 20+ F) | |
| Base Weight Items: | Weight (oz) |
| Packing: | 95.0 |
| North Face Moraine Internal Frame Pack | 88.0 |
| Sleeping Bag Stuff Sack | 3.0 |
| Clothing Stuff Sack | 3.0 |
| Misc Items Stuff Sack | 1.0 |
| Shelter/Sleeping: | 162.0 |
| North Face Cat’s Meow Synthetic Sleeping Bag | 60.0 |
| Ridgerest Pad | 14.0 |
| Sierra Designs Starlight Tent (2-person) | 88.0 |
| Cooking: | 45.8 |
| Platypus Water Bottle | 1.3 |
| Iodine Tabs | 3.0 |
| Nalgene 32 oz bottle | 6.0 |
| Sigg Fuel Bottle | 4.0 |
| MSR Whisperlite Gas Stove | 13.0 |
| Food Sack | 1.0 |
| Aluminum Pot & Lid, Strap & Clamp | 11.0 |
| Plastic Cup | 2.5 |
| Camp Soap & Plastic Scrubber | 2.0 |
| Lighter | 1.0 |
| Plastic Spoon | 1.0 |
| Extra Clothes: | 68.0 |
| Generic Gore-Tex Parka | 24.0 |
| Generic Gore-Tex Pants | 18.0 |
| Fleece Jacket | 16.0 |
| Wool Gloves | 3.0 |
| Wool Cap | 3.0 |
| Wool Socks | 4.0 |
| Miscellaneous: | 44.5 |
| Compass & Map | 5.5 |
| Paper, Pencil, ID, Money in Plastic Case | 3.0 |
| Mini Mag Light | 4.0 |
| Bug Dope | 3.0 |
| Personal Items (TP, Toothpaste, Toothbrush, Mirror, etc) | 5.0 |
| Parachute Cord | 3.0 |
| Leatherman Pocket Tool | 10.0 |
| Repair Kit (Needles, Thread, Buttons, Duct Tape, Wire, Safety Pins) | 4.0 |
| First Aid & Repair (Ace Bandage, BandAids, Tape, Moleskin, etc) | 7.0 |
| Extras: | 20.0 |
| Camera | 8.0 |
| Small Radio | 4.0 |
| Extra Batteries | 2.0 |
| Book | 6.0 |
| Total Base Weight (oz) | 435.3 |
| Total Base Weight (lbs) | 27.2 |
It wasn’t my intentional to do anything about the AT idea. For some reason, though, things ended up happening. I researched online and found blogs, which I read intently. I started to make a list of what people were carrying and discovered that some were using techniques to lighten the load. I created a list of what a lighter weight hiker would carry. Thru-hikers were carrying 3-pound packs, 2-pound sleeping bags, and lightweight tents. I was thinking I could drop 10 pounds from my old setup without any sacrifice. For what though? What would I do with a new set of gear? My job was getting worse and life seemed like it was closing in on me.
I found myself in a local REI, browsing. Then I saw it, a Gregory G-Pack. One of the packs ‘those’ guys were using. It was light – under 3 pounds with all the features. I met Ross, a cool REI-guy who told me about his thru-hike of the AT. There I was, actually talking to one of ‘those’ guys. He explained that the G-Pack was solid and would do me well. I could tell my wife was wondering what on earth was I doing buying a backpack and, truthfully, I didn’t know myself. I just knew I needed it. So there I was, no trip planned and a bunch of old dusty gear that was too heavy. But I had a new, lightweight pack! It felt good.
To take my mind off work, I began intently researching gear. I needed a tent and sleeping bag. I bought a Marmot Hydrogen bag and MSR Hubba tent. Both were much lighter than the items they replaced. Every few days a package would arrive with something new for my kit. Before I knew it, I had everything I needed for a trip, and it all weighed less than 15 pounds!
| Jamie’s Lightweight Gear List | |
| (SNP I 9/29/2007, 2.5 Days, 40 F to 75 F) | |
| Base Weight Items: | Weight (oz) |
| Pack: | 46.5 |
| Gregory G-Pack | 44.0 |
| Stuff Sack for Sleeping Bag | 1.8 |
| Stuff Sack for Clothes | 0.8 |
| Shelter/Sleeping: | 89.5 |
| Marmot Helium 30 | 23.5 |
| Ridgerest Pad | 9.0 |
| Hubba Poles, Stakes, Bags, Tent, Fly, & Footprint | 57.0 |
| Cooking: | 22.3 |
| Platypus Water Bottle | 1.3 |
| Aqua Mira | 2.8 |
| Gatoraid Water Bottle | 1.5 |
| Fuel Bottle | 0.5 |
| Vargo Triad Stove | 1.0 |
| Food Sack | 1.0 |
| Aluminum Pot, Lid & Clamp | 9.5 |
| Plastic Cup | 2.5 |
| Camp Soap | 0.8 |
| Plastic Scrubber | 0.1 |
| Mini Bic Lighter | 0.5 |
| Foil Windscreen | 0.4 |
| Plastic Spoon | 0.5 |
| Extra Clothes: | 38.3 |
| Marmot Precip Jacket | 12.3 |
| Marmot Precip Pants | 9.0 |
| Fleece Shirt | 14.8 |
| Extra Socks – Merino Wool | 2.3 |
| Miscellaneous: | 19.5 |
| Compass | 2.5 |
| Map | 1.0 |
| Paper, Pencil, ID, Money | 1.5 |
| Princeton Tec Headlamp | 3.0 |
| Bug Dope | 1.5 |
| Personal Items (Contact Case, RX Pills, Contact Solution, Toothbrush, Toothpaste, TP) | 3.0 |
| Parachute Cord | 1.3 |
| Swiss Army Knife Classic | 0.8 |
| First Aid & Repair (Ace Bandage, BandAids, Tape, Moleskin, Matches, Antibiotic Ointment, Ibuprofen, Antihistamine, Antacid, Decongestant, Wire, Needle, Thread, Duct Tape, Button) |
5.0 |
| Extras: | 16.8 |
| Camera (Empty) | 5.5 |
| Batteries | 1.8 |
| Book | 6.3 |
| Cell Phone | 3.3 |
| Total Weight (oz) | 232.8 |
| Total Weight (lbs) | 14.5 |
With work continuing to deteriorate, I had to get away to consider my future. I settled on some trails in the Shenandoah National Park that were familiar as a teenager, but that I’d not been on in over twenty years. I was going in solo with a much older body, looking to hike three days, covering over 30 miles, with all new gear. I remember stepping from my truck and walking to the Ranger at the gate to get my permit. It was late September, and the morning air felt cold. I was nervous. In my synthetic T-shirt and hiking pants, I began to shake.
| Worn/Carried Items: | Weight (oz) |
| Columbia Titanium Short Sleeve T-Shirt | 5.7 |
| Columbia Convertible Pants | 13.3 |
| Poly Boxer/Brief | 2.8 |
| REI Merino Wool Ankle Socks | 2.3 |
| Bandanna | 1.1 |
| Watch | 0.9 |
| Columbia Boonie Hat | 2.8 |
| Komperdell Carbon Hiking Staff | 10.4 |
| Merrell Hiking Shoes | 37.7 |
| Total Weight (oz) | 76.7 |
| Total Weight (lbs) | 4.8 |
I hit the trails and, within the first mile of climbing up, I was winded. Then I ran out of water. A bit scared, I covered a frantic distance, reaching a small stream by night fall. On the whole, the trip was amazing. I spent time swimming in the Moorman River, hiked until dark and nearly fell off a waterfall (lesson learned), and had a strange huge animal visit my camp after I cooked dinner (a bear?). I was excited and terrified during the trip, but in the end I felt the most alive I had in years.
Blackrock Summit, Shenandoah National Park.
I purchased a copy of Lightweight Backpacking & Camping, and I began to look at gear differently after reading it. I wanted less weight, but my gear still included a framed pack and tent. I questioned each item and researched options. It was time for a second trip, to a place I had always wanted to visit: the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Much planning went into creating a 45-mile loop for four days in November, again alone.
My gear was similar to my first trip, though 2 pounds lighter. I dropped the Hubba footprint and replaced items like my cookware with a titanium pot and my fleece shirt with a Mont-Bell UL down inner (which my family dubbed my "paper coat"). My gear was now just over 12 pounds. My attitude was slightly lighter as well, as there was the prospect of a new position at work.
I headed out, hopeful, the Sunday before Thanksgiving on a snow-covered trail north of Clingman’s Dome, but wondered if I had enough gear. My trip took me through mountains, streams, and valleys. The night temperatures were in the thirties, and I slept warmly. My gear worked flawlessly, and I was gaining confidence.
Fork Ridge Trail, Smokies.
I considered going from lightweight (less than 20 pounds) to ultralightweight (less than 10 pounds). I had already trimmed everything I could trim, so something else had to change. I studied Lightweight Backpacking and Camping like it was the Bible. I became a member of BackpackingLight.com and scoured the forums.
The only option was forgo the tent for a tarp and bivy, but I admit I was afraid of sleeping out in the open alone in the woods. If I was to go ultralight, I had face it, so I purchased an Integral Designs 5 x 8 foot silnylon tarp and Mont-Bell Dry-Tech bivy. I stuffed my gear into my first frameless pack, a Granite Gear Virga. It all weighed 8.5 pounds, well under my goal of 10 pounds!
| Jamie’s Ultralight Gear List | |
| (SNP II 1/11/2008, 2.5 Days, 22 F to 55 F) | |
| Base Weight Items: | Weight (oz) |
| Pack: | 23.0 |
| Granite Gear Virga | 21.0 |
| Granite Gear Medium Stuff Sack for Clothes | 0.7 |
| Granite Gear Large Stuff Sack for Sleeping Bag | 0.8 |
| REI Stuff Sack for Shelter Items | 0.6 |
| Shelter/Sleeping: | 54.6 |
| Marmot Hydrogen 30 Degree Sleeping Bag | 23.4 |
| Mont-Bell 90 Self-Inflatable Sleeping Pad | 9.9 |
| GG 3/8" ThinLight Sleeping Pad – 3/4 Length (Trimmed) | 4.9 |
| Integral Designs 5 x 8 SilTarp | 6.8 |
| Mont-Bell Breeze Dry-Tec Bivy | 6.3 |
| 8 Ti Stakes + 33′ Spectraline | 3.4 |
| Cooking: | 13.5 |
| Platypus 2.5L Water Bottle | 1.3 |
| ClO2 Purification Tabs (20) | 0.5 |
| Platypus 1L bottle | 0.9 |
| Trip Tease Cord 35′ + REI Stuff Sack for Food | 1.9 |
| 8 oz Fuel Bottle | 0.6 |
| Titanium Pot .9L | 4.9 |
| Vargo Triad Stove | 0.9 |
| Plastic Measuring Cup | 0.8 |
| Camp Soap – Microdropper | 0.5 |
| Plastic Scrubber | 0.2 |
| Mini Bic Lighter | 0.4 |
| Foil Windscreen | 0.4 |
| Titanium Spork | 0.6 |
| Extra Clothes: | 33.1 |
| Marmot Precip Jacket | 12.4 |
| Marmot Precip Pants | 8.8 |
| Mont-Bell UL Down Jacket | 6.9 |
| REI Oslo Gloves (90/10 Poly/Wool) | 1.4 |
| Fleece Cap | 1.4 |
| REI Merino Wool Light Hiker Socks – Low | 2.2 |
| Miscellaneous: | 12.4 |
| Mesh Bag | 0.4 |
| Keychain Thermometer/Compass | 0.3 |
| Cell Phone (Typically Useless) | 3.3 |
| Black Diamond Ion Head Light | 1.0 |
| Swiss Army Knife Classic | 0.8 |
| Personal Items (Contact Case, RX Pills, Contact Solution, Toothbrush, Baking Soda) | 2.9 |
| First Aid & Repair (Pen & Paper, Deet, Gauze Pads, Medical Tape, Moleskin, Ibuprofen, Decongestant, Antihistamine, Antibiotic Ointment, Extra Contacts, Repair Kit in Film Can: Duct Tape, Needle, Thread, Matches, Extra Battery) |
3.8 |
| Total Base Weight (oz) | 136.6 |
| Total Base Weight (lbs) | 8.5 |
It was now January, and the temperatures were low. I had a job interview in Richmond, Virginia which took me again close to the Shenandoah Mountains, so I planned a trip to follow. I would go back to White Oak Canyon, where I first started backpacking as a teen. But this time I would start the loop further away down the AT and add a side trip to the summit of Old Rag Mountain, something I was never able to do on any of my previous three trips to the area as a youngster because of the distance and load. I covered 35 miles over the 3-day trip. The temps dropped down into the low twenties. I slept under a tarp, my fears were gone, and I was now officially an ultralightweight backpacker.
Summit of Old Rag Mountain.
Surviving a sub-freezing night alone in the woods under a tarp.
I got the job and things were really turning around! Because I was busy learning the new role, my next trip was not until the following Memorial Day, and I was determined to get into the super ultra light weight category (< 5 pounds) by that time. I changed to a poncho tarp, wind shirt, and sub-one-pound quilt. My pack was the GoLite Ion at a scant 9 ounces. I went to the smallest Ti mug I could find and changed to a Gram Weenie stove. The final tally was 4.95 pounds; I was just under the SUL cutoff!
| Jamie’s Super Ultralight Gear List | |
| (Pisgah Trip, 5/26/08, 2.5 days, 38 F to 75 F) | |
| Base Weight Items: | Weight (oz) |
| Pack: | 9.1 |
| GoLite Ion | 9.1 |
| Shelter/Sleeping: | 37.7 |
| Mont-Bell Thermal Sheet | 14.3 |
| GG 3/8 ThinLight Sleeping Pad – 3/4 Length (Trimmed) | 3.5 |
| GoLite Poncho Tarp | 10.8 |
| Mont-Bell Breeze Dry Tec Bivy | 6.3 |
| 8 Ti Stakes | 2.3 |
| Spectraline (24 ft) | 0.7 |
| Cooking: | 9.6 |
| Platypus 2.5L Water Bottle | 1.3 |
| ClO2 Purification Tabs (20) | 0.5 |
| Platypus 1L bottle | 0.9 |
| Trip Tease Cord 35′ + REI Stuff Sack for Food | 1.9 |
| 4 oz Fuel Bottle | 0.6 |
| 3 oz Everclear Bottle | 0.4 |
| Snowpeak Trek 450 | 2.4 |
| Gram Weenie Stove + Pan | 0.5 |
| Camp Soap – Microdropper | 0.3 |
| Mini Bic Lighter | 0.4 |
| Foil Windscreen & Foil Lid | 0.3 |
| GSI Collapsible Spoon | 0.3 |
| Extra Clothes: | 12.0 |
| GoLite Wisp Windshirt | 2.9 |
| Mont-Bell UL Down Jacket | 6.9 |
| REI Merino Wool Light Hiker Socks – Low | 2.2 |
| Miscellaneous: | 10.9 |
| Keychain Thermometer/Compass | 0.3 |
| Cell Phone | 3.3 |
| Book – The 2 oz Backpacker | 2.4 |
| Microlight | 0.3 |
| Saline – Microbottle | 0.4 |
| Sunscreen – Microbottle | 0.5 |
| Deet – Microbottle | 0.6 |
| Pen w/Duct Tape & Needle | 0.3 |
| DentaBurst Brushes x 4 | 0.1 |
| Floss | 0.2 |
| Contact Case | 0.5 |
| Pills (4 Immodium, 4 Benadryl, 8 Sudafed, 16 Ibuprofen) | 0.4 |
| Extra Contacts | 0.5 |
| Gauze Pads | 0.1 |
| Matchbook | 0.2 |
| Swiss Army Knife Classic | 0.8 |
| Ziploc Bag | 0.3 |
| Total Base Weight (oz) | 79.3 |
| Total Base Weight (lbs) | 5.0 |
I hit the Pisgah National Forest. The weather turned rather cold for late May in NC. One night, temperatures dipped into the upper thirties. My Mont-Bell thermal sheet and UL down jacket held off the cold, but I wished I had not left my fleece cap behind. Regardless, I had traveled my first twenty-plus mile day and was astonished to cover 50 miles in two-and-a-half days.
The pose in the Pisgah.
The new job was great, and a business trip took me to Eugene, Oregon. This was too close to Three Sisters Wilderness Area to pass up. Gear modifications were called for, as snow and cold temps were strong possibilities in late September. I also decided try one more thing: a zipper-less quilt. I went with a GoLite Ultra 20 quilt and put it in a Jam2 pack. Wanting lighter rain gear, I also bought a GoLite Virga jacket and Reed pants. My gear list for the trip was 6.5 pounds.
I covered 77 remarkable miles, completing the loop around the Three Sisters in three-and-a-half days. Day three was a true record-breaker for me at 27 miles. Life was now good!
Green Lakes in Three Sisters Wilderness Area, Oregon.
I don’t think a journey into enlightenment can be complete until you pass it on. In sharing my many stories with anyone who would listen, I finally found someone interested in going with me on an ultralight trip. Scott was the father of one of my children’s friends. He was the determined type of individual that might just be up to a challenging trip. We considered our options and wanted to hike to the top of Mount Mitchell, the highest peak east of the Rockies.
Having worked my way through so many pieces of gear, I now had nearly two full lightweight sets. I put together a spreadsheet of what I could supply, mapped out the trip, purchased consumables, and off we went. My pack weighed approximately 6.5 pounds, and Scott’s was 7.5 pounds.
| Scott’s UL Gear List – 1.5 Days | |
| (Mount Mitchell, NC – Nov 2008, 20 F to 55 F) | |
| Base Weight Items: | Weight (oz) |
| Pack: | 22.3 |
| Granite Gear Virga Frameless Pack | 20.6 |
| REI Medium Tuff Lite Stuff Sack | 1.0 |
| Granite Gear Air Bag Stuff Sack #5 | 0.8 |
| Shelter/Sleeping: | 52.2 |
| Marmot Hydrogen 30 Degree Sleeping Bag | 23.4 |
| Ridgerest Sleeping Pad – 48 inch Trimmed | 8.0 |
| GoLite Poncho Tarp | 10.8 |
| Mont-Bell Breeze Dry Tec Bivy or Ground Sheet | 6.3 |
| 8 Ti Stakes | 2.4 |
| Paracord (24 ft) | 1.5 |
| Cooking: | 8.5 |
| Platypus 2.5L Water Bottle | 1.3 |
| Platypus 1L bottle | 0.9 |
| ClO2 Purification Tabs (8) or Aqua Mira | 0.5 |
| REI X-Small Tuff Lite Stuff Sack | 0.6 |
| 4 oz Fuel Bottle | 0.6 |
| Brasslight 550 Ti Mug | 3.2 |
| V8 Can Stove | 0.3 |
| Camp Soap – Microdropper | 0.3 |
| Mini Bic Lighter | 0.4 |
| Foil Windscreen | 0.2 |
| GSI Collapsible Spoon | 0.3 |
| Extra Clothes: | 27.0 |
| Wind Jacket | 5.0 |
| Fleece Jacket | 16.0 |
| Fleece Gloves | 2.0 |
| Fleece Cap | 2.0 |
| Extra Socks | 2.0 |
| Miscellaneous: | 8.8 |
| Cell Phone or BlackBerry | 5.0 |
| Mini LED Light | 0.3 |
| Toothbrush | 0.5 |
| Floss | 0.2 |
| BandAids/Gaze Pads/Blister Care | 1.0 |
| Meds (4 Immodium, 4 Benadryl, 8 Sudafed, 16 Ibuprofen) | 0.5 |
| Small Knife | 1.0 |
| Ziploc Bag | 0.3 |
| Total Base Weight (oz) | 118.8 |
| Total Base Weight (lbs) | 7.4 |
The trip was a huge success. We hiked 15 miles and gained over 5000 feet in elevation the first day, despite not hitting the trail until 11:00 a.m. The daily temperatures dropped to below freezing as we prepared to camp. We set up our poncho tarps, heated our freeze-dried dinners, and warmed ourselves by a small fire before going to bed shortly after 8:00 p.m. to fend off the cold. Scott was in my Marmot Hydrogen (30 F bag) and me in my GoLite Ultra 20 Quilt. My new gear included a MLD Ultralight Bivy and an Integral Designs Silponcho.
The night was windy, and we woke to a cold 20 F morning, but we were fine. We hiked out and on our way stopped to talk to some people going up. They asked where we camped and questioned how that was possible since our packs were so small. My companion excitedly handed his pack over so they could feel the light weight. He began explaining how it worked and how he too was an ultralightweight backpacker. We completed the 27-mile trip in 28 hours.
Author using new poncho tarp and bivy with quilt.
Scott’s first time in a tarp and bivy. Not sure how his tarp survived the winds pitched like that, but it did.
What started as an absolute low in my life has turned out to be a high. I don’t know if I will ever thru-hike the AT, but I don’t think it matters, now that my lightweight journey has reached a pinnacle. As my kids put it, "Dad has learned to survive in the woods with his paper coat."
I do want to thank my wife and kids for their support during this much needed journey and thank the online community at BackpackingLight.com for the wealth of knowledge to make it possible.
Author and friend at the new lookout tower on the summit of Mount Mitchell, North Carolina.
Coghlan’s celebrates 50 years of service to the Outdoor Industry.
One of the very first camping products I purchased as a young boy was a toaster for a camping stove. An assemblage of wires connected to a plate that sat atop a gas stove, it afforded one the opportunity to enjoy … toast … while camping.
The first time I used it over my Svea 123, I was in awe, watching the bread slowly brown. Then, I turned it over with caution, not wanting it to slip from my clumsy pre-pubescent fingers and become tainted with the soil that loomed below. Then, I watched the other side brown. This was magic! When my toast was done, I carefully dressed its crunchy surface with butter, cinnamon, and a load of refined sugar.
With some trepidation, wondering (hoping! praying!) if my camp toast would taste like Mom’s, I took my first bite. I chewed. And chewed. And swallowed.
And noticed a funny thing.
A white gas aftertaste.
I fed the rest of the toast to the squirrels.
I wrote the company upon my return to home and told them about my experience. I received an envelope, with a typed reply stating that my toast might taste better if it was used on a propane stove or campfire.
I eventually figured it out, and enjoyed toast on fires and camp stoves for many years in my youth.
That toaster was manufactured by Coghlan’s, perhaps one of the most recognizable brands in our industry. Coghlan’s green packaging reliably adorns the walls from Wal-Mart to back-alley camping stores to summer camp trading posts across the U.S.
When I was a kid, I had two favorite stores. One was the REI store that sat atop Seattle’s Capitol Hill. This is where I got my adventure fix: peering at photographs of famous Seattle mountaineers like Lou Whittaker climbing impossibly tall peaks across the globe, holding a fiberglass-shafted ice axe in arrest position on the show floor (“hey! what’s that little kid doing with that thing?”), and crawling into a TNF Mountain Tent dreaming about being battered by storms at the South Col.
My other favorite store was a long ways from REI. I don’t even remember the store name, or the location. I just remember that Big Green Wall.
The Big Green Wall was home to every single camping accessory that a young boy needed: tent stake mallets, stoves configured from folding metal and little cans, egg storage containers, pocketknives, long-burning emergency candles, lensatic compasses, and of course, camp stove toasters.
My dreams were spent at REI. My allowance was spent collecting gear from the Big Green Wall, home to Coghlan’s accessories.
Norm Coghlan founded Coghlan’s as a gas appliance store in Winnipeg in 1959. Norm’s customers would inquire about better ways to toast their bread on camping stoves. Coghlan’s had the answer, and soon developed their very first accessory: the Camp Stove Toaster.
Soon, in response to customer demand for niche-market camping accessories that filled very specific needs, Coghlan’s grew its accessory line. Today, two warehouses in Winnipeg and St. Paul ship more than 450 different accessory products to 30 countries worldwide.
Coghlan’s integrity as a brand is undeniable. They have had a long history of outstanding customer service to both end-users and its retailers. When I was twelve years old, I purchased a Coghlan’s pocketknife and I couldn’t figure out how to use one of the tools on it. I wrote a letter to Coghlan’s and received a handwritten reply back with carefully drawn pictures showing how to use … the can opener.
Coghlan’s remains a family-owned company today and is an inspirational model to me as I ponder my own role as the CEO of a growing company in which my family is engaged: a place where my wife used to pack shipments in our garage, my son assembled and sealed dropper bottle kits, and my mother-in-law still ensures the smooth processing of our accounts payable. I often wonder what Norm Coghlan might be thinking as he looks back on 50 years of family ownership.
Coghlan’s remains the oldest client of Opportunity Partners: more than 250 of Coghlan’s products are assembled and packaged by people with disabilities. In addition to the powerful social contribution, Coghlan’s participation in the Opportunity Partners program allows them to bring products to market at economical prices, ensuring that camping accessories are affordable to the masses. That Coghlan’s does not discriminate against the privileged is perhaps their most powerful contribution to growing our industry, where trends towards more technology, more innovation, more cost, and more dependence on affluent customers is resulting in sweeping layoffs and production cuts. Coghlan’s may not be a completely recession-proof brand, but it has the right economic model in place to keep our industry thriving as we tighten our purse strings.
Coghlan’s continues to add new products (while preserving their oldies but goodies) to their lines. While not revered among the lightweight backpacking community as a “cutting edge” brand making the lightest products, it would be hard to find any one among us that hasn’t been touched in a positive way by a green-packaged Coghlan’s accessory at some time in our lives.
Two summers ago, my (then 9-year old) son purchased a Coghlan’s pocketknife from the Big Green Wall at the Trading Post of K-M Scout Ranch in Lewistown, Montana. Last summer, he saved up and purchased a Coghlan’s wood saw. We don’t find Coghlan’s in Barrel Mountaineering, but there is a Big Green Wall in Bozeman’s definitive camping store, the Powder Horn, and it never fails to draw us in.
Happy 50th Birthday, Coghlan’s, and congratulations for recently shipping your seven millionth Camp Stove Toaster.
Thank you for your service to our industry and country, and for inspiring us to enjoy the outdoors without breaking our bank.
Maybe you too have been touched by Norm Coghlan and his vision. Let us know by participating in the forum below.
There is a cost of doing business in the outdoor industry, especially as a collective whole. Can social media alleviate some of that cost, or is it simply a mechanism for increasing the clutter of information coming from OR?
My inside source (let’s call him Mortimer) at an outdoor industry trade association tells me attendance at ORWM’09 (in terms of visitor-days) will be down significantly this year.
Some of this must be attributed to the economy. People are traveling less, and for shorter periods, to save money. Mortimer tells me that hundreds of faithful OR attendees may be skipping out this year, and most of the rest will be shortening their stay.
Maybe an environmental idealist will avoid going to the show to save on CO2 emissions. I almost never think about my own impact when driving down to Salt Lake City from Bozeman, but I can’t help to start adding it all up in my head when I walk onto the Salt Palace floor and think to myself: “Do we all really need to be here?”
But it goes deeper than conservation, certainly. What if this same industry that touts its service to the environment and social causes channeled some of what it spent on Outdoor Retailer to actually fund, oh, I don’t know, how about land acquisition for conservation and drinking water technologies in the villages adjacent to those cool places where we like to go trekking? We are talking about a pool of money well in excess of $100 million annually to tap into, if the Outdoor Industry completely nixed its trade shows and invented new ways of doing business. This is not a new idea, of course. Many industries have dramatically reduced their trade show footprint and are becoming more profitable as a result (simply through cost reduction!). It would seem logical, given that the average profit margin for a specialty retail shop is only 3%, that the industry would take a harder look at reducing its environmental footprint and lost opportunity cost by making Outdoor Retailer a little lighter.
In America, we are privileged to live in a capitalist culture where a single person starting out of their garage has the potential to create massive wealth. The Internet increases that potential, certainly. The Outdoor Industry Association has long advocated business growth as its primary objective. But just because you can grow huge, does that mean you should? One argument for a growing a trade group or industry is to increase that industry’s voice in the fight for social (or political, or environmental, or …) causes. But the costs of industry growth – including affluenza, development, and the unquenchable thirst for profit – cannot be ignored.
Given the explosion of media technologies in the past three years, it’s hard not to argue that the utility of the trade show as a meaningful mechanism of doing business may be waning in an age where phenomenal productivity can be realized via other forms of communications.
If the last decade has taught us anything as a business culture, it’s that, actually, yes, meaningful relationships can be fostered remotely, and face to face relationships, while more emotionally fulfilling than an e-friendship, may not be as important as we think for doing business, especially in an economy where saving money and making sales are more important than spending on travel and other discretionary expenditures. The bottom line: the vast majority of routine business is done online today.
It’s been fairly obvious to us over the years that the Outdoor Retailer summer and winter markets are not exactly hotbeds for launching ultralight innovation, and the actual number of groundbreaking “ultralight” products that have been introduced there have been very limited.
However, the same technology that may be killing the need for trade shows is also making them more exciting and accessible to the general consumer. We’ve certainly taken advantage of that technology in the past (and will continue to do so in the future) because we are committed to providing our members with as much information as possible to guide their consumer decisions.
However, communications technologies are also cluttering the information space. We’ll probably see dramatic increases in OR clutter this winter due to the explosion in popularity of Twitter, Facebook, and blogs over the past six months.
What that means to the consumer is that there will be more information to sift, more time to waste sifting it, and more energy put into (once again) trying to sort out marketing and the emotional excitement of a new products (and telling the world about them) from information that actually provides consumer value.
Some social media theorists believe that we are in a golden age of social media: rapid growth, excitement on behalf of both writers and readers, and expanding technologies. As with any technological golden age, social media too may “grow up” and normalize itself into a useful, efficient means of communicating.
But I don’t see that happening for some time. I think the excitement of “being connected” is too irresistible to people, and the temptation to tell the world about useless things before hitting the SUBMIT button is too high.
Instead, I see the meaningful evolution of social media through the growth of disciplined writers who care about providing useful information, and our own discipline in being extremely careful about what types of social media we are subscribing to, so we can effectively and efficiently filter the information to get exactly the information that we need. As for Mortimer, he admits that he’s not tasked with the discipline of objectivity this January: you’ll find him posting frequently on a time schedule, justifying the existence of OR with hype and enthusiasm.
Which brings me to a thesis about doing business in the future and how social media can be part of that. Imagine a virtual trade show by which we syndicate, perhaps, live HD video feeds from our home offices, showcasing our new product lines to whomever would like to “drop by” and see them – strictly opt-in of course. Companies could even schedule virtual “private” appointments (the porn industry has already proved the success of this) where more intimate business can be performed. Heck, retailers could even go through online order forms with their sales reps in real time and transmit orders to the warehouse before they closed the call. The company’s marketing and PR folks could manage live news, interaction with the media and the public, and private appointments with huge audiences (and new customers!) in a way that could never be done on the floor of a trade show. This isn’t utopia, of course. It’s simply one alternative for making our industry footprint lighter in a dramatic way, and allowing more companies to play (a booth at a trade show like OR costs a company $10,000 or more – effectively pricing out the innovators in the industry that delivery cutting edge products to the earliest adopters and thought influencers – our cottage companies).
But for now, I suppose we all owe it to ourselves to experience the current and somewhat heavy state of social media by subscribing to as many Twitter feeds, Facebook pages, and blogs as possible, so we can have an appreciation later for obtaining meaningful value from a simpler, lighter strategy of information digestion.
After all, didn’t most of us come to enjoy a light pack by experiencing the pain of a much heavier load?
Like everyone else, we too are experimenting with Social Media. We haven’t written our Social Media Vision Statement yet, but I do have a rough draft proposed: “We hope to not waste your time.”
Enjoy the coverage this year from ORWM’09 – the media industry will insure that there will be no shortage of information about new gear this year!
The Cairngorm Plateau consists of bare, stony undulating terrain and can seem benign in clear, summer weather. However it’s edged with cliffs and steep slopes, and poor visibility is common as clouds sweep across the slopes. Join Chris Townsend as he crosses the Plateau on a freezing winter day.
Click a thumbnail to view the image gallery.
A lone Scots pine protrudes from the snow on the moors below the Cairngorm Plateau. The peak in the background is Creag an Leth-choin, which translates as Lurcher’s Crag. My route led across the partly open stream seen in the center of the picture, then up the ridge above that stream.
On the western edge of the Plateau looking down into the Lairig Ghru (pass of Dhru), a deep steep-sided trench cutting through the hills. In the distance, the snow-free lower ground of Strathspey – the wide valley of the River Spey – can be seen with the snow-capped Monadh Liath (grey hills) rising on the far side. The pointed peak left of center is Creag an Leth-choin.
Looking south down the Lairig Ghru pass with the little ponds called the Pools of Dee glinting in the sun. The slopes of massive Braeriach (brindled upland) rise on the right with the pointed peak of Cairn Toul (peak of the barn) to the left. Note the windblown clouds curving over the summits, a sign of changing weather.
As I climbed the last boulder-covered slopes to the summit of Ben Macdui, the clouds thickened over Braeriach and began to sweep across the Lairig Ghru and onto the Plateau.
Looking back north across the Plateau from the slopes of Ben Macdui as the cloud sweeps in over the peaks along the northern edge. Two lines of steps in the snow can be seen. Mine is the one on the left.
On the western edge of the rounded summit dome of Ben Macdui above the Lairig Ghru. The sun still shone on the summit, but to the north the cloud was thickening fast and Strathspey was now dark under the thick grey blanket.
View from the western edge of Ben Macdui across the Lairig Ghru to Braeriach, capped by a thin layer of cloud, and the huge bowl of An Garbh Choire (the rough cirque) with smaller side bowls cut into the slopes above.
View from Ben Macdui to the flat-topped Cairn Toul, whose steep east face plunges down into the Lairig Ghru, where the infant River Dee runs out of An Garbh Choire. To the right of Cairn Toul is Sgor an Lochain Uaine (peak of the green pool).
The great sweep of the western wall of the Lairig Ghru from Cairn Toul over Sgor an Lochain Uaine round An Garbh Choire to Braeriach. The route between Braeriach and Cairn Toul is one of the other superb high level walks in the Cairngorms.
In the featureless heart of the Cairngorm Plateau looking across hidden deep Glen Avon to the still sunlit peak of Beinn Mheadhoin (middle mountain).
By the time I reached the northern edge of the Plateau on my way back, I was in mist much of the time. The rocky edges of the Plateau faded in and out in the swirling air. This is Pygmy Ridge on the cliffs of Stob Coire an t-Sneachda (the peak of the cirque of the snows). The little pools on the floor of the cirque can just be seen bottom left.
A last view down the Stob Coire an t-Sneachda cliffs (popular for winter climbing) to the pools on the floor of the cirque. Shortly after this photograph was taken, the mist closed in completely, and I descended from the Plateau in poor visibility, worsened by the fading of the late afternoon light.
The Cairngorm Plateau lies between the summits of Cairn Gorm (blue hill) and Ben Macdui (Macduff’s hill), the second highest mountain in Britain, in the northeast Scottish Highlands. The plateau covers over eight square miles, the largest area over 3,000 feet elevation in Britain. The Plateau consists of bare, stony undulating terrain and can seem benign in clear, summer weather. However it’s edged with cliffs and steep slopes, and poor visibility is common as clouds sweep across the slopes. Good navigation skills are essential to find a safe descent route in such conditions. The Plateau is also subject to extreme weather. Heavy snow is common in the winter, often brought on strong winds. From October to May, winds over 100 mph occur every month and 173 mph, the highest wind speed ever recorded in Britain, was registered by the weather station on the summit of Cairn Gorm in March, 1986.
This means that hiking on the Plateau in winter is always a challenging adventure, especially as there are only seven or eight hours of daylight. On this occasion, late in 2008, I set out on a freezing but sunny day intent on crossing the Plateau to Ben Macdui.
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