Backpacking in—rain, cold, and wind.

Adverse weather conditions make life difficult, no doubt about it. After a week of rain, simple tasks like cooking soup or choosing a campsite are slow and tedious. Proper preparation makes camping much more comfortable when the weather goes bad.

Rain
I generally use a light rain jacket and pants on short trips or a large poncho that also covers my backpack on long treks when I need to be light. The Poncho is actually the better option. It covers everything and offers much better ventilation than even the most expensive breathable fabrics. If it is windy I use a gear strap to belt it around my middle securing it in place.

Good quality tents are the next element of comfort. Seam sealed, good air circulation and a decent sized vestibule makes a good wet weather tent. Easy to pitch and breakdown, light-weight and roomy enough to sit-up in. Staying dry has as much to do with procedure as equipment. When I break camp in a rain or sleet storm I pack everything up inside my tent before bailing out to pack the tent away. Staying dry during long persistent rainy weather is almost impossible. The better your system the more comfortable you will stay for longer periods of time.

Clothing
As much as I enjoy and wear jeans I never take them backpacking. They are cold when wet, and dry excruciatingly slowly. You will do much better if you bring one set of quick-drying pants—I use Supplex. Dress in layers. A wind resistant fleece, mittens and a warm hat are a must on any trip. I have water-proof down mittens which double as an important part of my pillow system.

Feet are the most difficult item to keep warm. For people who bring nothing but cotton socks warm feet soon become a distant memory. At least three pairs of wool socks are mandatory on most trips. There is no such thing as waterproof boots. Buy boots of material that will dry reasonably quickly. Besides rain and snow, boots soak up moisture during river crossings, cold dew decorated mornings and muddy trails.

Several times when my feet were extremely wet and cold on snowy mornings in the high country, I have stopped heated water in my Zip Ztove and poured it into my boots. It's better than sex! Well, almost.

First Time Backpacker/But Not the Last

By RAEANNE R. MARTINEZ
Olympic National Park, Wash. — In the fall, my husband decided that our next big vacation should involve something we’d never done before.
His idea: wilderness backpacking.
Wow. OK. I am not the best at packing light or sleeping out of doors, but I try to be a happy camper. And so we signed on to an organized three-day hiking tour in the Pacific Northwest coastal area of Olympic National Park in June.
My adventure began months before the actual trip. To travel light and be one with nature, you apparently need a lot of stuff.
Car camping was our forte, so we never had to figure out how to carry everything on our backs. You drive to a campsite with grocery sacks and duffel bags and a giant Coleman stove and bottles of propane. You bring raw meat to make burgers. Because why not?
But there is another kind of camping that involves packing lightweight, tiny versions of things that fold and zip and squish down. This kind can damage your wallet.
You also need to be mentally and physically prepared.
I accepted the concept of the trip pretty quickly, even knowing that I might need to dig a hole in the woods to use the bathroom and be rained on all day, every day.
The scenery and serenity would be worth all the potential discomfort, I told myself. Olympic National Park has umpteen trails and campsites, oodles of lakes, several visitor centers, hot springs and various terrains and ecosystems: mountains, meadows, glaciers, rain forests, regular forests, beaches, rocky coastline. The weather could be rainy, cold, hot, humid or windy. Or all of the above during just a few days. In early June, there could be snow here and there. (Prime tourist time is July and August.) No road runs any farther than 20 miles into the 1,442-square-mile park. To get to some of the really good stuff, you’ve got to hike.
But first, the stuff
The organizer of the group trip, REI, had a packing list. ackpacks, hiking boots, hiking socks, sock liners (you need socks for inside your socks?). Rain jacket, rain pants, backpack cover. Headlamp, lightweight sleeping bag, trowel. Trowel? Um, for that whole digging-a-hole thing. Lightweight plates and utensils. Zip-top plastic bags. Lots of them.
Two weeks before the trip, REI canceled it when not enough people signed up.
We decided that we’d take all our newly acquired stuff and go to Olympic National Park anyway.
The prep
I started walking more and working on strengthening my core and my balance with crunches and yoga for toting that backpack. In May, we did some hiking. Because I got good hiking boots and assistance getting fitted at REI, my feet were fine. No ill effects that day from carrying 20-odd pounds on my back, either. The next day? Even the slightest shrug hurt my shoulders.
With a suddenly wide-open itinerary, we had to plan. The National Park Service Web site and AAA Tourbook and maps were great. Then came the Internet and the discovery of the Washington Trails Association Web site, http://www.wta.org/, among other sites.
Several days before the trip, we packed our backpacks and tested our tiny stove. The backpacks then stuffed neatly into large $11 canvas duffel bags.
The trip
Because we could not get to the park early enough on the first day to buy food and fuel, obtain our wilderness permit and hike in somewhere, our first night was car camping at the sparkling blue Lake Crescent, on the north side of the park not far from the closest city, Port Angeles. We had our pick of campsites, which were all nestled amid lush forest.
The next day we drove to Lake Ozette, where we left the car and began backpacking to Cape Alava, the westernmost point in the lower 48 states. The hike was 3.3 miles, mostly along slippery wooden boardwalks. The discomfort from the backpack was worth it when we saw the coast: crashing waves on a shoreline piled with rocks and giant sea-washed logs. Sea lions barked and later we saw seven bald eagles diving for fish.
Hiking on a boardwalk was good for this new backpacker. It had some handrails and stairs instead of balance-challenging ledges or rocks. Still, the hike was excruciating; my back was aching viciously. The next day went much better after I rearranged my backpack, going against the common practice of packing heavy items high and instead putting them as far down as I could. If it works for you, who cares about the rules?

Day two of backpacking included hiking along the coast across rocks and over, under and around giant logs at low tide. It wasn’t easy, and we realized another big hike wasn’t in our future that day. Instead, we did car camping at the Hoh Rain Forest campground and short hikes from there. Next lesson: Don’t force yourself to do something just because it’s on the schedule.
You will end up needlessly pooped.
This sort of rain forest doesn’t feature giant snakes or parrots, though there are giant ferns, moss and flowers everywhere. The park service says these temperate rain forests get more than 12 feet of rain a year. When a tree dies, other things sprout on the trunk, and life just keeps thriving.
Another example of plans gone awry came when we drove to the northeast part of the park to Hurricane Ridge to do another hike: The trail was still covered in snow. That mountainous part of the park was majestic (would you expect anything less from a range with Mount Olympus?).
It’s also one of the most popular areas of the park, so after days of minimal exposure to people, we were surrounded by tour buses idling, tourists bustling and parents and kids hollering. We had put our packs and ourselves to the test and came out fine — and we didn’t even get rained on.
This park has so many trails and campsites there’s sure to be one to satisfy every hiker.

"The List"

"The List" by Richard E. Mallery, a.k.a. Dick E. Bird

Most novice backpackers make the same first time mistakes—they pack and attempt to carry too much gear. While hiking the Continental Divide Trail, my brother-in-law hooked up with me to do a sixty-mile section in the Targee National Forest just west of Yellowstone. Before we headed out I went through his gigantic pack and pulled out a whole roll of toilet paper, a super-size tube of toothpaste and a whole roll of duct tape. Often first time backpackers take along gear that they have and not the gear they should have. I have seen people hauling old canvas boy scout tents that weigh more than my whole pack. I spent a night in a very crowded shelter at Egypt Lake along Canada’s Great Divide Trail. A French Canadian lad from Quebec noticed my wood burning titanium Zip Ztove and struck up a conversation with me about ultra-light backpacking. He had many questions about my gear and suggested to me that he too pared his gear down to a very reasonable load. I later noticed he was sleeping on one of those large inflatable mattresses that require an air compressor to fill when unexpected house guests show up.There is also the other extreme—what I call the "ultra-light backpacker syndrome." It’s easy to recognize ultra-light backpackers—they want to borrow stuff from you. There is a limit to how much discomfort I am willing to submit to for a little solitude. When I first read Ray Jardine’s book I thought the guy was some kind of nut. I ended up reading the book three times. Ray changed my backpacking life. I am in no way an ultra-light disciple of the "Ray Way" but he did make me rethink my whole pack. My pack is twice as heavy as Ray’s but lighter than it used to be.Tarps are nifty little shelters but I still like sleeping in a tent when the sleet is blowing in sideways. My little Hilleberg "Akto" weighs under three pounds and it’s a bomb shelter that has kept me warm and dry in the most radical weather conditions. I tried Ray’s corn pasta diet. He can eat the stuff cold for months on end. After one hot meal I decided I hate corn pasta. I prefer my dehydrated refried beans. You don’t want to hike behind me but I guarantee they pack as much octane as his corn pasta. Ray’s ounce paring did make me retool my cooking apparatus. I decided I would rather splurge and carry an extra 11 ounces and eat my beans hot. My Zip Ztove requires carrying no fuel and has worked efficiently in all kinds of conditions. Besides the light weight of the titanium construction there is no need to carry a fuel source.The beauty of Jardine’s book was the fact that it made me rethink everything I stuffed into my pack. Today I carry about 26 pounds, plus food and water. I have "the list." When I go out and when I come back I study "the list." I am constantly refining my gear and deciding what I really need. My latest light-weight technique is the "Google Camera." I’m blind in one eye and have no depth perception. I can’t take a decent picture if Nikon sponsors me and sends a sherpa along with all their latest gear. Last fall while hiking in Glacier National Park it struck me that a Google camera would be the ultimate light-weight picture capturing device. I simply committed to memory the things I saw along the trail that I wanted to record in pixel perfect format—Ptarmigan Tunnel, a grizzly bear standing on two hind legs sniffing me in the air, Granite Park Chalet, Hidden Lake. When I returned home I found that hundreds of people that see with both eyes and know how to take wonderful photographs have already recorded my memories and uploaded them to Google Images for me to enjoy—total weight—0 oz.A light weight clothing wardrobe is as simple as creating the ability to layer up and down. Consider every possible extreme combination of wind, rain, snow, sun, temperature and terrain. Do some self analysis of what you really need to be comfortable and safe. Any item that will do double duty is that much more beneficial to attaining a lighter load. The outer layer of my foul weather system is a large hooded poncho. It is also the ground sheet for my tent. Unlike a rain jacket the poncho covers not only me but my pack. It offers better ventilation while hiking. Hiking in a rain suit is much the same as hiking in a sauna. The open-sided poncho let’s much of your body heat escape. In windy conditions I use a web strap from my pack as a belt to keep the poncho from bellowing open.Gloves and mittens are another clothing item I have experimented with. Gloves did not keep my fingers warm enough. Fleece mittens worked better but were not waterproof. A wet rain would suck the heat right out of my hands. I finally started carrying waterproof, down mittens which are light, keep my hands warm and dry, while also doubling as the most comfortable backcountry pillow I have ever used.Lightening your load does not have to be uncomfortable or unsafe. It just means "thinking outside the pack." If you don’t use it, lose it. Experimenting with gear and technique can be one of the great joys of packtoting.

BACKPACKING LIGHT

The Amazon Outdoor Store

Dinosaur Sighting? Long considered a Cadillac of backpacks, the legendary Dana Design Terraplane is indeed a classic, the same way that steel-finned cruisers of the 1950s defined class and style. But for adherents of lightweight and ultralight, the Terraplane is an overstuffed weighthog. Can hikers attain the same level of durability, function and reliability from products that exude a fraction of the heft? And will lighterweight gear help bring back the minions who have given up long-distance tromps in the woods? That's one of the debates currently raging in a backcountry which, in some locales, is thinning out of people. by Todd Wilkinson, NewWest.net If ever Boomers want to show their age on the hiking trail, here's a showstopper to use when communicating with the nimble of feet and mind half as old: Drop the name "Euell Gibbons" and then ask your dumbstruck listeners to identify what food stuff ol' Euell hustled for. The answer will not be revealed here. Youngsters—this you gotta Google for. The fact is that the heyday of Gibbons' profile as a Granola-ee TV celebrity also represented something else: the late, great Golden Age of backpacking in America when millions of (largely middle class Caucasian) families hit the trails, turned over rocks in our national parks, forests, and deserts, enrolled in Outward Bound and NOLS courses to build character, and fueled the rise of the modern outdoor gear industry. In the years since, little has changed and yet everything has. Despite there being more of us earning more money and now having far greater options for leisure activities at our disposal, the trend line demographic for the number of those seeking outdoor adventure -- i.e. those willing to trek more than a mile from roadside trailheads -- is in a spiral. Some believe a death spiral. Most national parks in the country report that backcountry use is stagnant while demand on frontcountry areas in the form of developed campgrounds, fishing docks, picnic areas, and bike trails continues to surge. Although the outdoor gear industry is spending huge amounts of advertising dollars to capture larger market share in the estimated $5 billion outdoor retail industry, most manufacturers are concerned about what the future holds, members of the Outdoor Retailers Association say. The cold reality is that besides having LESS time on our hands to get out and find ourselves in a world of greater electronic distractions, most increasingly-urban Americans find the idea of trudging dozens of miles with a heavy pack toward remote campsights to be utterly unappealing. In a word, backbreaking. There is an exception to the truth above. One innovation, initially started by a group of eccentrics but now being eyed with swoon by large manufacturers, is the arrival of light and ultralight camping gear. According to recent studies, the number of regular hardcore backpackers -- once pegged at about two million -- has decreased by 20 percent since the end of the 1990s alone. During the same period, the number of those individuals who engage in lightweight backpacking -- about 360,000 -- has increased 350 percent and is rapidly growing. The movement has made a revolutionary breakthrough in paring down the weight of an average backpack and gear load from between 40 and 70 pounds to less than 10 without sacrificing safety and (not too much) comfort. Ryan Jordan of Bozeman, Montana is one of the gurus who established an online magazine devoted to reviewing new lightweight products at www.backpackinglight.com. Two other pioneers are Demetri and Kim Coupounas of Boulder, Colorado, who founded the gear company GoLite. This spring, a delegation of lightweight advocates met at the headquarters of the National Outdoor Leadership School in Lander, Wyoming which has introduced the rewards of hiking, self-reliance and survival to thousands worldwide. For generations, NOLS has not only taught the value of adventure backpacking but its instructors have emphasized redundancy to keep clients out of harm's way. A similar mantra has been preached by the Boy Scouts of America. But as adherents of lightweight say, it's true that everyone who goes into the wilderness needs to be prepared for inclement weather and other risks, but redundancy in the amount of clothing we pack, the provisions we carry, and the gear we heave on our spine can, by using common sense and better technology, be reduced.

(SEE FULL STORY)

Backpacking News--Colin Fletcher

Colin Fletcher, acclaimed, reclusive writer on backpacking
By Valerie J. Nelson, Los Angeles Times June 18, 2007
LOS ANGELES — Colin Fletcher, who was considered the father of modern backpacking for his lyrical and practical writings on hiking, including "The Complete Walker" and "The Man Who Walked Through Time," died in June in Monterey, Calif. He was 85.
Mr. Fletcher died at Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula of complications related to old age and injuries suffered in 2001 after he was hit by a car, said Chris Cassidy, a business associate.
"He brought this idea that you didn’t have to be a nut case to take long solitary walks in the wilderness at a time when a lot of people were really looking for ways to create holistic lives and escape from the craziness of Vietnam and the stresses of the ’60s," said Jonathan Dorn, editor in chief of Backpacker magazine.
Bruce Hamilton, deputy executive director of the Sierra Club, said that Fletcher helped start a movement by "speaking as an adventurist who would share his own exploits then tell you to lighten your load by cutting your toothbrush in half."
"He was to backpacking what Jack Kerouac had been to road trips," wrote Annette McGivney in Backpacker magazine in 2002.
Romantic conflict inadvertently inspired Mr. Fletcher’s walking-writing career.
In 1958, Mr. Fletcher decided to hike the length of California from Mexico to Oregon so that he could engage in "contemplative walking" and decide whether to get married.
Six months and 1,000 miles later, he married his girlfriend and wrote his first book, "The Thousand-Mile Summer" (published in 1964), which detailed his route across the Mojave Desert and up the Sierra Nevada range.
The marriage ended within weeks, but the man some call "the J. D. Salinger of the high country" had discovered a way to communicate.
"He found he could touch people in a grand and far-reaching way and have friends without having them in his hair all the time," said Chip Rawlins, who helped update Mr. Fletcher’s "The Complete Walker IV" (2002) and considered Fletcher one of his heroes. The first edition of "The Complete Walker," published in 1968, is an exhaustive guide to outdoor travel that is regarded as the backpacker’s bible.
"Colin was cranky, opinionated, irascible, yet I found him quite wonderful, actually," Rawlins said.
Outside Mr. Fletcher’s Carmel Valley home hung a sign that said: "Beware of the Man!" Once he touched fame, Mr. Fletcher guarded his home’s location and scratched a decoy name on his mailbox.
In 1963, beckoned by the Grand Canyon’s beauty, Mr. Fletcher became one of the first humans to walk the length of the chasm. He wrote about the two-month trek in "The Man Who Walked Through Time" (1968).
"I saw that my decision to walk through the Canyon could mean more than I knew. I saw that by going . . . deep into the space and the silence and the solitude, I might come as close as we can at present to moving back and down through the smooth and apparently impenetrable face of time," he wrote.
The "artfully worded account" "introduced an increasingly nature-hungry public to the spiritual and physical rewards of backpacking," McGivney wrote in 2002. The book remains in print.
In all, Mr. Fletcher wrote seven books in a 35-year span, providing what he termed "great, granular detail" about camping, he told the Associated Press in 1989.
At 67, Mr. Fletcher hiked and paddled solo 1,750 miles down the Green and Colorado rivers and recounted the experience in "River: One Man’s Journey Down the Colorado, Source to Sea" (1997).
Of his need for the trip, he wrote: "I needed something to pare the fat off my soul. . . . And I knew . . . there is nothing like a wilderness journey for rekindling the fires of life."
Of his works, Mr. Fletcher favored "The Man From the Cave" (1981), possibly because he related to the main character — a gold prospector who inhabited a cave in the Nevada desert, said Carl Brandt, his longtime agent.
"He had worked out a life for himself that was very, very happy," Brandt said. "The three things he loved the most were walking and writing and then, oddly enough, tennis."
Born March 14, 1922, in Cardiff, Wales, Mr. Fletcher was an only child who traced his love of walking to his mother, who enjoyed venturing out in the rain.
He first backpacked as a commando for the Royal Marines in World War II and spent five years in Africa, mainly farming. Several odd jobs followed, including prospecting and laying out roads for a mining company in Canada.
Well into his 70s, Mr. Fletcher continued to hike. He was working on an autobiography when he was struck by a car while walking near his house. He suffered severe brain trauma, many broken bones, and other injuries.
As he aged, Mr. Fletcher had admitted it was harder for him to convey a sense of wonder about the back country. "I’m not young anymore," he said in the 1989 AP story, echoing a line from "The Thousand-Mile Summer:" "I’m no longer rich with the rewards of inexperience."

Backpacking 101--Backpacker Magazine Founder

How the 1970s Backpacking Boom Burst upon Us
Appalachia, Winter/Spring 2007
When I started Backpacker magazine in March 1973, the baby boomers’ boom in backpacking had brought such a huge increase in numbers to the trails that new backpackers in that year exceeded the total number of all backpackers on the trails just four years earlier. The number of backpackers has more than doubled since then, bringing more than 15 million pairs of their boots onto the trails every year. If that doesn’t startle you, consider this: More than 31 million hikers, including backpackers, use our backcountry trails annually.
To put these numbers into perspective, right after World War II, I used to have the trails pretty much to myself on any summer weekend. There were so few of us that it was unlikely to see other hikers on even the most popular trails before Memorial Day or after Labor Day.
By the late 1950s, I ran into not just an occasional hiker, but two or three others on any summer weekend. With the increased numbers came increased trashing. It was common to find a long string of gum and candy wrappers strewn along a popular trail, not to mention tissues and cigarette butts. Campsites were beginning to become worn from over-use. In the 1960s, campsites on the Appalachian Trail (AT) had as many as 128 hikers camped on a busy summer weekend.
Most of the increasing numbers of hikers were on trails for the first time. I became so concerned about the impact of this rapidly increasing trail use that I decided to do something about it. That eventually led to my starting Backpacker magazine. Here is the way that story unfolded.
The Spark of an IdeaOne morning on the AT in 1963, I woke up in camp, yawned, stretched, and heard the patter of rain on my tent. I changed my hike plans, snuggled a little deeper into my sleeping bag, and decided to cook breakfast beneath the tent fly. The only others at this campsite that morning were some teenage boys standing around a campfire. I barely could see them through the trees.
While eating my oatmeal, it began raining more earnestly, causing the other campers to scurry out of sight. At first I paid little attention. But while savoring my coffee and beginning to peel an orange, it dawned on me that those campers had taken down their tent and left camp with no intention of returning to put out their fire.
I got annoyed, finished my orange, drew on my pants, and went over to put out their fire. I saw that they had scattered tin cans, paper plates, cups, forks, spoons, scraps of food, assorted plastic containers, and wrappers all about their campsite. It took me almost an hour to pick up the rubbish.
To say that I was irritated by the culprits is a gross understatement. I entertained all sorts of sadistic ideas, like, say, shoot them, strangle them, or at least toss them in a pokey until they learned better trail manners. But then compassion won the day. I realized that they obviously were youngsters new to the trails and clearly did not know how to behave in the woods.
The question reverberated wherever I hiked after that: "What could be done to get newcomers to be more respectful of our backcountry?"
I had such mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was pleased that more people were coming out to the woods—for they, too, would become sensitive to preserving the beauty of our backcountry. On the other hand, so many of them were careless and, albeit inadvertently, they were despoiling the backcountry I loved so much.
Naturally, I thought, "There ought to be a law." Obviously, that was impractical, because it would be impossible to police American’s vast stretches of backcountry. It might even produce the opposite, more trashing, simply out of rebelliousness. Don’t many of us go to the trails simply to get away from rules? How, then, to influence new hikers, if not by laws?
Hiking Heroes I EmulateOne day a year or so later, on a lonely trail in the Presidential Range of New Hampshire, a seemingly grandiose idea came to mind. It was after I had enjoyed a swim in an eddy of a cascading stream. I was stretched out upon a wide flat rock to dry in the mountain sunshine. I virtually had nowhere to go and all the time in the world to get there. It was one of those rare moments in life that make it seem that all’s well with the world. That’s when the idea struck.
I was allowing reveries to swirl idly in my mind. I wondered what it would have been like, for instance, to be a Native American back before the arrival of Europeans. Suppose I’d been hunting all day, taken a refreshing dip in the stream and now was lying out on the rock in the sun.
That fantasy was followed by other visions, one of which found me as a fur trapper taking a break from tracking along my trap line in the olden days of the fur trade. Or what if—I chuckled at the thought—it were a couple hundred years ago, and I were an itinerant preacher stopping for a moment in the lazy afternoon sun to jot down some notes before hiking into town to preach at my camp meeting? And then, and then—I have a vivid imagination—what of all those others who might have lain out on that rock in ages past?
For some reason, don’t ask how, it struck me that one way to influence newcomers would be to fuel their fantasies with heroes they would like to emulate. Other hikers, "newbies" included, had to be something like me—with active imaginations fed by heroes. What if we experienced hikers gave new hikers square-shouldered, jut-jawed backwoods heroes to emulate?
On other hikes, I considered my own heroes and how they had influenced me. I was an admirer of Pinkham Notch hutmaster Joe Dodge, who seemed immortal. He was the most down-to-earth, easy-to-chat-with fellow you could imagine, even when I could not afford $4.75 for a bed at the lodge. By the time I met him he was near the end of his 30-plus-year career at Pinkham; he had become an institution as, pretty much, the founder of the hut-to-hut system in the Presidentials and the weather station atop Mount Washington. I so admired Dodge tales that I had searched and eventually found his famous insect repellant, called something like "Joe Dodge’s Smoke-Eaters’ Firefighters’ Mosquito Repellant."
- William Kemsley, Jr. is the founder of Backpacker magazine.

William Kemsley Jr. may well be considered the father of modern hiking and backpacking as his influence rests heavily on the backpacking world that we enjoy today. As founder of Backpacker magazine (for decades and still the most popular and important monthly magazine for hikers and backpackers) and co-founder of The American Hiking Society (the voice of the American hiker and one of the most influential nonprofit organizations lobbying Congress today) he has established his legacy as one of the most important figures in the backpacking community. He is also a former board member of the National Parks & Conservation Association, Appalachian Mountain Club, Big City Mountaineers, and a longtime member of the prestigious Explorers Club. In addition, he authored numerous books on hiking and backpacking, including the best selling Buyer's Guide to Backpacking Equipment (Simon & Schuster) and Whole Hikers' Handbook (William Morrow). He now lives in northern New Mexico, and enjoys hiking regularly and backpacking many times a year in the Grand Canyon.

Backpacking 101--The Basics

Before overzealous newbies to backpacking go tromping off into the woods, there are four essentials you’ll need to pick up at the local outdoor store or gear shop: a pair of boots, a sleeping bag, a tent and a backpack.
Boots: In real estate, location is everything. In hiking boots, fit is everything.
Unfortunately, a majority of hikers are walking around with boots that just don’t fit right.
Nothing ruins a weekend or weeklong trip faster than hot spots and blisters. You can avoid them by finding a pair of stomps that conform to your feet.
Most gear shops have someone on staff trained to assist you in this process. Do yourself a favor and take advantage of the service and always insist the boot fitter measure your feet.
Additionally, boot fitters can customize your boots to accommodate that bunion or add padding to keep your narrow heel from sliding around in the boot.
There is no shortage of quality footwear available, no matter your foot shape. Be sure to give yourself plenty of time to properly break in your new boots. Your feet will thank you.
Sleeping bag: Before our backpacking trip through New England last summer, my wife and I picked out a pair of fancy new mummy-style sleeping bags. I loved mine. My wife felt like she was sleeping in a straightjacket.
The mistake we made was we didn’t climb into the bags and test them out before we bought them.
Bags come in all shapes and sizes and to find the right one, you need to know a few things about your nocturnal habits.
Do you toss and turn at night? Are you a cold sleeper?
Most bags have a temperature rating. Know what you’re getting yourself into and buy a bag rated a few degrees warmer than what you think you’ll encounter.
You can buy down-fill or synthetic-fill bags. Go with down if you want something lighter. Synthetic bags are better if you’re headed for a wet-weather destination.
Tent: Our trip through New England last summer included a four-day stay in Maine’s Acadia National Park. The rain was relentless, but our tent performed admirably.
Again, the most important consideration in buying a tent is to know what you’re getting yourself into. If you’re planning to hike the Appalachian Trail, the lighter the better. If it’s a weekend with the kids, you’ll want something with a little more room.
When we bought our tent, the salesperson insisted we pitch it in the store. There’s nothing worse than getting caught in the dark with a tent you don’t know how to set up. Practice a few times before hitting the trail.
Backpack: You’ve got your sleeping bag and tent picked out. Now you’ve got to find something to carry them in.
Again, comfort is key. My first extensive backpacking trip included a 20-mile round-trip through Arizona’s Havasu Canyon with 40 pounds of gear strapped to my back. The knots in my shoulder and back muscles suggested the pack was not the right one for the job.
A pack specialist should measure your torso to find a pack that fits. Before you leave the store, load it up and give it a test-run. If you’re going away for a weekend, you won’t need a pack designed to carry two week’s worth of gear.
All this new gear can put a serious dent in the wallet, but remember it’s a long-term investment. Quality gear will ensure enjoyable and, more importantly, comfortable outings for several years.
Now get out there and enjoy the great outdoors.