My Precious – The Trek

TLDR: Here’s my gear in nerd form:  https://lighterpack.com/r/83o22b

I’ve been grappling with my gear for a few months. Gear shopping gives me dopamine hits, like I’m productively moving a trip forward when, I’m actually parked on the couch. The gear I choose will be my world for four to six months—my bedroom, wardrobe, technology, kitchen, and bathroom. And if that isn’t enough pressure to select right, I also have to carry everything for thousands of miles. I’ll admit to being a total gear junky, but not the type with racks and bins of gear. Most of my gear fits in my pack, and it’s worn and adored. I’m a gear Gollum, clutching my pack while hitching and shopping, terrified of getting separated from my beloved stuff. My gear was spendy, but my connection is less about price and more about the memories. We bonded over hundreds of cozy nights and thousands of epic miles. My quilt and I are tight, and don’t come between me and my green spork.

Lighter than Air

I dance to the ultralight groove. I’m concerned with the weight I carry because it greatly impacts my trip. On stretches where I need extra food, water, or gear, my shoulders tap me on the shoulder and ask, “Are we there yet? Now? Soon? Can we take a break? Are we close? Maybe sit on that log? How ‘bout now?” Weight matters to me, especially this year.

To go ultralight, we can either buy light gear or take less stuff. Do one or the other or both, or neither if that puts the sprinkles on your cake. I do both. I want to use everything in my pack daily, except my first aid and repair kits. If it isn’t that level of necessary, then I probably won’t bring it. And I want each piece to weigh as little as possible. I do prioritize safety; I’ve got a quilt that has kept me warm at fifteen degrees, a full-length insulated sleeping pad, a palatial two-person tent, bomber rain gear, and dry sleep clothes. But my base weight for this trail hovers just above ten pounds in cold weather and just under for summer.

As a returning thru-hiker, choosing gear is easier. My new trekking poles, sun hoodie, shoes, and crash pad replace the same models used on both trails. My pack, pack liner, runner’s flask, and rain pants served me on the PCT. The sleeping pad, quilt(s), tent, spork, battery bank, headlamp, stakes, puffy jacket, fleece, Buff, inReach, ball cap, wallet, Ursack, and head net have done the CDT and PCT. Some items have also visited the John Muir Trail, Tahoe Rim Trail, Oregon Coast Trail, and section hikes. Good gear should last for years, except for a hiking outfit, which will be shot by the monument.

Bears be Crazy

Foremost in gear contemplation is bears, and how not to feed them. After hiking around Lake Tahoe’s entitled bears, I greatly appreciate regulations that separate bears from hiker’s food. Camping with Tahoe bears is like camping with hangry frat boys jonesing for Taco Bell. Even though I have a long history of sleeping with a food pillow, I plan to follow regulations involving the junction of food and bears, but without a bear canister. I can avoid that, right? Absurdly, I own two bear cans, but I don’t want to bring either because I hate carrying a canister. In. So. Many. Ways. I am bringing an  Ursack, which I loved on the CDT. Of course, everyone loves these until a bear chews it up, and then they don’t.

I bought my Ursack at Dave’s Outfitters in Montana (there is no secret handshake, but it feels like there should be to get into a place so cool), and he taught me how to maximize it, so I give Dave credit and a fist bump for why no bear chewed it along the CDT. His strategy is to keep your food in some other food bag all day. In the evening, pack food (etc) in an odor-proof Opsak liner, and then into an Ursack. and tie it to a tree, just close enough to see if it gets raided and make a fuss. In the morning, transfer the food back to the bag and stick the Opsak and Ursack away in the bottom of your pack. Keep your grubby hands off them, especially at meal times. Hauling an Ursack out every time you need a snack or storing food without a liner negates the whole point of it not smelling like food. I have a rope to hang it and, obviously, I will not be camping anywhere that requires a bear canister.

Oddities

My gear is fairly standard for light thru-hiking gear, except for my runner’s flask. I use a My Hyperlight Mountain Gear Waypoint pack, which has broad shoulder pockets that hold a big phone or a small water bottle. In one pocket, I carry a collapsable runner’s flask with a tube and bite valve, so I can drink without pulling out a bottle. The flask collapses as I drink so the water doesn’t slosh, and it’s easier to fill and monitor than a water bladder. Someone last year called it my hampster bottle, a very accurate description, and how I have referred to it since. Do be warned: iIf your pack doesn’t have stable shoulder pockets, a hampster bottle will bounce around and swat you.

Rain, Rain Go Away

Rain gear never survives for multiple trips, and since all rain gear seems horrible, maybe that’s okay. It gives me hope that this year, this trail, I will stay dry. In the past, I have used OR Helium rain jackets, which are fabulously comfortable for windy conditions and look nice in town but aren’t good for rain. For stormy Washington, Montana, and Colorado, I used an AntiGravity Gear silnylon waterproof jacket, which kept me 100% dry in downpours. This jacket doesn’t breathe at all, so it wouldn’t work for sweaty hikers or steamy weather, and it doesn’t serve as a wind jacket. Plus, mine is poofy and neon orange, chosen for the Oregon Coast Trail’s highway walks, and while it does make me very visible, it looks like it belongs in an eighties aerobics video. For Georgia, I decided to try Columbia’s OutDry Extreme jacket. So far, it seems effective in a downpour, more comfortable than a silnylon jacket, and hopefully will breathe adequately. Unfortunately, while I no longer look like Richard Simmons, the OutDry gives Storm Trooper vibes. Is that an upgrade? Perhaps not. This should get me through spring weather. I bought a poncho for the summer.

So I should be recognizable on the trail, especially when it rains. (Does it always rain? Because it sure sounds like rain is the one constant.) I will be the unmistakably fashionable Storm Trooper Hampster.  

Happy Trails, Golden

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