Ah, memories you have stirred up!
Yearly car camping and horseback camping, for a week, in Oregon and Washington, (Elk Lake, Spirt Lake, Aneroid Lake, et al) from about age 6, with my parents. No worries about gear, either the sort or the weight. Canvas tent, fiberfill sleeping bags, cot, Colman white gas stove, and lantern, cooler for food, and a rowboat on the lake (father brought an old Evinrude outboard, for fishing) all packed up in the family Chevy station wagon.
Usually asked my neighbor, my age, to accompany us.
Marvelous days!
Sent to camp in the summer at age 12, with weekly camp outs, for overnight to five nights. Fiberfill sleeping bag, with all equipment rolled up inside and affixed to light pack frame.
Cooking over wood fire, usually beside salt water. Came to despise the Boy Scout cook kits invented by Satan to torment impatient adolescent boys, which blackened on both sides and required a couple of hours with an SOS or Brillo pad to get down to bare aluminum
Returned to the camp for 11 summers as a counselor. By this time, had graduated to a Trapper Nelson pack and frame, and carried a #6 GSW cast-iron skillet purchased at Hudson Bay in Victoria. Together with a #10 can meals were considerably improved
When I moved to Seattle in 1969, I took a mountaineering course from Bellevue Community College. Gear changes included freeze-dried food, Kelty pack and frame, down sleeping bag, Svea 123., Sigg Tourist, and miscellaneous other light gear replacement. Weight saving with that lighter gear was blown away by the addition of rope, slings, chocks, pitons ice-axe, crampons, et., etc.
Hiking and camping in the 20’s and 21’s. Packed weight down to 12 lbs. (however, never could cotton to frame-less packs.
Unfortunately, my hiking days are over with development of CHF (at 78). But I have had a good run and I remember.
A Dream of Mountaineering
Po Chu-I (772-846)
https://versatilerealtor.wordpress.com/2008/12/17/a-dream-of-mountaineering-po-chu-i/
At night, in my dream, I stoutly climb a mountain,
Going out alone with my staff of holly-wood.
A thousand crags, a hundred valleys–
In my dream-journey none were unexplored
And all the while my feet never grew tired
And my step was as strong as in my young days.
Can it be that when the mind travels backward
The body also returns to its old state?
And can it be, as between body and soul,
That the body may languish, while the soul is still strong?
Soul and body–both are vanities;
Dreaming and waking–both are unreal.
In the day my feet are palsied and tottering;
In the night my steps go striding over the hills.
As the day and night are divided in equal parts–
Between the two, I get as much I lose.