I just watched Glen Van Peski's video on "What's in my pack?"
Glen is the founder of Gossamer Gear. He knows his stuff. He regularly goes on backpacking trips using the gear he made, and it clearly works for him. He carries some stuff specific to his own needs (prevention or treatment of fever blisters due to sun exposure, padding to put around scar tissue on his feet) but even with that his base weight is 4.7 lb. That includes his backpack, shelter, and sleeping bag. It's impressive.
The thing is, as I watch the video it's obvious to me that his setup just would not work for me. He keeps his sleep socks in his shoulder strap - I tried that and mine got soaked. He has no dry clothing to change into. His shelter has no bug screening whatsoever, it's a small tarp. He had no bug dope. Basically, his gear would need to be supplemented to work in a wet, buggy environment. Like, oh, say, the whole east coast.
It occurs to me that most of the serious ultralighters are westerners. And I think in part it's because they *don't* have to continuously protect every item from the elements, and they aren't besieged by mosquitoes and biting gnats at every turn.
I'm not saying that these guys aren't experts. They definitely are. I'm just saying I don't think their methods are as appropriate to my environment as I would like. Which means that I'm never going to be super ultralight unless I start hiking elsewhere.
If you're super healthy and resilient, you can take a fair amount of abuse and be fine. I'm neither super healthy nor particularly resilient, so I need things like dry clothes to wear in camp. Glen carries a lightweight rain jacket, sleep socks, gloves, and a hat. No backup shirt. No backup pants. He says that he normally doesn't even carry a down vest - he gets in his sleeping bag. He carried a vest for the demonstration, mentioning that he would bring it if he were camping with people who liked to hang out at night.
Also I noticed that he didn't have every little thing in ziplocks. I've learned the hard way to put all my stuff in ziplocks. One big ziplock to put all your food in may keep the odor in, but it won't protect the individual food items once a little moisture gets in that bag. He had no pack cover. A pack cover, or pack liner (or both!) is essential to me. I've been through rain storms with a pack cover, with my gear inside the backpack in drysacks, where my gear STILL got wet. I've had whole weeks go by that way! Combining days of soaking wet with no dry clothing to get into, and a minimalist sleeping setup (no insulation on the bottom, and only a torso pad for cushioning) is a recipe for hypothermia and misery for me.
So I think that Ultralight might be divided up into two categories. One for wet camping, and one for dry. With the possible exception of drought years, the Appalachian Trail will almost always fall into the wet category. I'm pondering coming up with my own Wet Ultralight list.
Showing posts with label wet clothing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wet clothing. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Monday, November 1, 2010
Long distance hiking in the rain
When you're hiking, you have a lot of control. You choose your own gear, food, and itinerary. You often choose your companions. You walk at your own pace. You can listen to your own music. You choose what days to take off. But there is one thing you can't control.
Weather.
Generally speaking, when you picture yourself hiking, you probably imagine nice weather. What kind of masochist automatically pictures pouring rain? But the reality is that if you are long distance hiking, you will eventually end up walking in the rain. Or sooner than eventually. Both hikes I started at Springer Mountain started in rain (and a little snow.) Going out for long periods means you give up the ability to plan around the weather. You can't say "Oh, let's not go this weekend. It shouldn't be raining next weekend." For one thing, you may not know if it's currently a weekend or not.*
But for another, you're already there. Likely you don't have handy transportation. And you have a limited** amount of time (and maybe a limited amount of food) to get where you're going, so you can't just not hike when it's raining. Thruhiking means walking when it's beautiful and also when it's utterly crappy out.
Both conditions often happen on the same day. Multiple times. Sun, rain, sun, rain, until you lose count. To some extent, you might stop noticing. You know your gear is stowed as securely as you can get it in your backpack, and you just keep hiking. You probably think most about it when you want to get something out of your pocket, and remember that you shouldn't because moisture will damage it.***
Just hiking in the rain isn't so bad. It can be fun. Remember stomping in puddles? Still fun now. For a while. But hiking in rain that goes on all day, or for several days or weeks at a time, loses the attraction. Wet feet are unhappy feet. How many pair of socks do you carry? And how long do you think the dry pair will stay dry after you shove your blistered feet back into those wet boots?****
The first time you get soaked, you will probably want to wear your dry clothes the following day. This is a mistake most only make once. Because once you've gotten them wet, you have nothing dry to put on when you stop. And that's hypothermia time. It's vital to keep dry clothing in reserve. And what this means, every damn wet morning, is putting on your cold. wet. stinky. clothing. It's shudder-worthy, but necessary. Knowing that you have to do this is a survival skill.
If you're lucky, when you wake up with wet clothes, it's sunny and warm out. You can put on those clothes and they'll dry while you wear them. But likely it's not sunny and warm. Likely it's still drizzly. So put those dry clothes back in their drysack, camper.***** Put on your wet stuff. Scream if you must. Don your raingear****** and get moving. Stay moving until the time comes when you can set up camp and get back into your dry stuff and your nice warm sleeping bag. Or you will be one very, very sorry person.
*Weekends are best defined by day hikers. You see dayhikers for the first time in a while, it's probably a Saturday.
**Six months is still a limit.
***Your ipod, your toilet paper, your journal, your food, your guidebook, your one remaining dry item of clothing.
****15-65 seconds, depending on your socks. Btw, don't wear socks at night if your feet are blistered. Even dry socks hold in moisture. Let your feet dry out as much as possible.
*****Or double layered trash bag, or ziplocks, or whatever method you use to keep dry things dry.
******If you have any. Some people don't. I think they're nuts.
Weather.
Generally speaking, when you picture yourself hiking, you probably imagine nice weather. What kind of masochist automatically pictures pouring rain? But the reality is that if you are long distance hiking, you will eventually end up walking in the rain. Or sooner than eventually. Both hikes I started at Springer Mountain started in rain (and a little snow.) Going out for long periods means you give up the ability to plan around the weather. You can't say "Oh, let's not go this weekend. It shouldn't be raining next weekend." For one thing, you may not know if it's currently a weekend or not.*
But for another, you're already there. Likely you don't have handy transportation. And you have a limited** amount of time (and maybe a limited amount of food) to get where you're going, so you can't just not hike when it's raining. Thruhiking means walking when it's beautiful and also when it's utterly crappy out.
Both conditions often happen on the same day. Multiple times. Sun, rain, sun, rain, until you lose count. To some extent, you might stop noticing. You know your gear is stowed as securely as you can get it in your backpack, and you just keep hiking. You probably think most about it when you want to get something out of your pocket, and remember that you shouldn't because moisture will damage it.***
Just hiking in the rain isn't so bad. It can be fun. Remember stomping in puddles? Still fun now. For a while. But hiking in rain that goes on all day, or for several days or weeks at a time, loses the attraction. Wet feet are unhappy feet. How many pair of socks do you carry? And how long do you think the dry pair will stay dry after you shove your blistered feet back into those wet boots?****
The first time you get soaked, you will probably want to wear your dry clothes the following day. This is a mistake most only make once. Because once you've gotten them wet, you have nothing dry to put on when you stop. And that's hypothermia time. It's vital to keep dry clothing in reserve. And what this means, every damn wet morning, is putting on your cold. wet. stinky. clothing. It's shudder-worthy, but necessary. Knowing that you have to do this is a survival skill.
If you're lucky, when you wake up with wet clothes, it's sunny and warm out. You can put on those clothes and they'll dry while you wear them. But likely it's not sunny and warm. Likely it's still drizzly. So put those dry clothes back in their drysack, camper.***** Put on your wet stuff. Scream if you must. Don your raingear****** and get moving. Stay moving until the time comes when you can set up camp and get back into your dry stuff and your nice warm sleeping bag. Or you will be one very, very sorry person.
*Weekends are best defined by day hikers. You see dayhikers for the first time in a while, it's probably a Saturday.
**Six months is still a limit.
***Your ipod, your toilet paper, your journal, your food, your guidebook, your one remaining dry item of clothing.
****15-65 seconds, depending on your socks. Btw, don't wear socks at night if your feet are blistered. Even dry socks hold in moisture. Let your feet dry out as much as possible.
*****Or double layered trash bag, or ziplocks, or whatever method you use to keep dry things dry.
******If you have any. Some people don't. I think they're nuts.
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