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Gear and Food

Gear Head – what to leave in, what to leave out.

Hello trail family – I did not forget you. I have been making my site easier to navigate, so check out the blog categories from the menu and the blog word cloud on the main page to visit the pages that speak to those topics. I am committed to keeping this site alive as some prepare for your thru-hiking adventures next year.

I promised to write a blog about gear in early August while on the trail. Here we are in October, and it is still on my to-do list moving week-for-week. This delay is not just my penchant for procrastination; I discovered that I have a bonified insecurity on the topic of gear. My hangup started before Campo and grew as the pros and bros made conversation about our gear. “What is your base weight? Wow, 15 pounds – good luck with that,” followed by an eye roll. The closest thing I can remember is pulling up to a stoplight back in ’73 next to one of the cool kids in high school. He was driving a candy apple red Pontiac GTO coupe with a beefy 455 HO V8 long-stroke engine. I was in my faded turquoise Toyota Corolla 4-door, 4-cylinder, 75 horsepower looking the other way. Those moments aside, my little car, named Nidwin, did do the job just fine.

Don’t get me wrong; I love gear. It is hard to fathom hiking this trail with the 60+ pound packs full of equipment that didn’t keep hikers as warm, dry, or safe as what is readily available today. After my four-month counseling session, courtesy of the trail, I am ready to rise above my insecurities and share my mistakes so you can avoid mine and make your own. Below is an excel sheet that you can download with my gear list.

Kiki the COVID kitty helping get my gear sorted before leaving for Campo.

Base Weight

Comparing the weight of gear is equivalent to horsepower back in the muscle-car days. And, just like horsepower, there is a lot of gamesmanship (or confusion) on what it means. I found two helpful measures. The first came from an excellent blog on gear by Halfway Anywhere. Halfway provides a valuable summary of top gear, and I used his site extensively. He defines the Big Four as a tent, backpack, sleeping bag, and sleeping pad. Invest in these four items because they are half of your base weight and critical for safety. The second measure, Base Weight, is everything in your pack except consumables (food, water, fuel, toilet paper, etc.). My base weight ranged from 13 to 17.5 pounds, depending on my kit (see below).

There are two problems with obsessing about Base Weight. Andrew Skurka’s blog describes his journey to discovering “stupid light.” Hikers that tout Base Weights as low as 7 pounds are unlikely to be self-sufficient when conditions turn for the worse. The reality of stupid light is that other hikers or rescuers are more likely to need to bail them out. The second issue to consider is your total pack weight when starting a hiking segment. For example, for a six-day section, my total pack weight doubled from 15 to 30 pounds. I needed 2 pounds of food per day, one fuel canister, and I typically carried 2 liters of water. I mention this because many thru-hikers use ultralight packs with little support. They work great at 20 pounds or less but became painful above that. The heaviest carries came in the Sierra with a Pack Weight above 35 pounds for seven days of food, bear canister, warm clothing, ice axe, and microspikes.

Customized Kits

My alternative to going stupid light was customizing my kits for different hiking segments. Changing kits gave me a significant advantage, only possible with Pleasure-Way’s support. In the spreadsheet, you will see five kits across the top: warm segments (1-3 nights, or 4-7 nights), cold segments (1-3 nights, or 4-7 nights), and a snow segment. The table shows how I changed my gear depending on what was coming up next. I recognize other thru-hikers do not have this luxury, but they do ship gear to and from resupply points along the trail for big transitions, like the Sierra.

Setting out on the first seven-day Sierra section. We weighed in above 35 pounds and the smiles are not authentic.
Happier days with my EXOS 38 light pack and kit for a 1-3 day warm hiking section.

The Big Four

TENT: I used the Big Agnes Ultralight Tiger Wall UL2 tent. I have been a fan of Big Agnes for a decade because their gear is light and durable with excellent customer support. The packed weight of the tent is 2.5 pounds, including the footprint. This tent faced wind gusts well over 60 mph on this trip and temperatures in the teens. It also has plenty of room to hang out, store gear, and cook meals. The downside is that nylon absorbs water over multiple days when compressed into the pack. Dyneema Composite Fabrics (DCF, a.k.a Cuban Fiber) is the most promising nylon replacement material. The price has dropped from ridiculous to a 2X premium. DCF was developed and perfected for high-performance sailing. DCF tents are entirely waterproof, lightweight, and the fabric doesn’t absorb water. There have been some drawbacks, such as ventilation, but tent designers are innovating rapidly, and new products are coming out each year. Many models use hiking poles instead of tent poles to further reduce weight and bulk. Here is a site with some of the most popular models. Plan on a six-month lead time to get an order filled. I would have cut one pound off my base weight with one of these 2-person models.

My lovely campsite at Rock Creek in Washington. One advantage of the nylon tents is the ability to sleep without the rainfly, keeping things cool, and staying connected with nature. I loved this place so much I wrote a Haiku.
Rock Creek
     Rock Creek reflected
     with leaves gently swirling
     to water over rocks.
          Ribs

BACKPACK(S): I had two packs available to use in my different kits; the Osprey EXOS 58 and EXOS 38. I am super happy with this choice. They are not the lightest packs, but they have a suspension system that carries more weight than advertised and provides much-needed ventilation on hot days. Using DCF packs without suspension, Hikers looked like they just got out of the shower, covered in sweat from their packs. Whatever you get, make sure you get fit in person from someone who knows what they are doing and then load it up to 30 pounds. I spent 13 days on the trail the summer before the PCT, ensuring my pack was right for me. This piece of gear becomes part of you. I remember talking to thru-hikers over the years, and I noticed that they never take their packs off. I was the same way. I took it off maybe four times during a 12-hour day.

SLEEPING BAG(S): I started with the Western Mountaineering VersaLite sleeping bag and immediately fell in love. This bag is only 2 pounds and lives up to its 10-degree rating. I also love the near full zip feature so that you can turn it into a quilt for warmer days. When the heat started to go through the roof, it was just too much. I was lucky to find the Western Mountaineering SummerLite bag at a fabulous store in Redding, Hermit’s Hut. The SummerLite, a 32-degree bag, worked from northern California to the border but would not have been warm enough in the desert during springtime or the Sierra. When you look at these bags, you may get sticker shock, but they are worth every penny and will last for decades with proper care. Western Mountaineering only sells through small retailers. I got both of my bags from the Hermit’s Hut but order yours well before peak season.

Modeling my Western Mountaineering VersaLite sleeping bag and Arc’teryx Cerium SL Down Jacket on the top of Mt. Whitney. It was in the low teens and I needed all of this and a cup of coffee to warm up.

SLEEPING PAD(S): I also had two options for sleeping pads. I used the Nemo Switchback foam pad in the desert to avoid getting a puncture from the pokey things on the ground. The advantage of a foam pad is that it easily attaches to the outside of the pack, allowing me to use my smaller pack. You don’t need to inflate them, and they also make for a relaxing afternoon nap. The disadvantage is the thermal R-Value is 2.0, which means more heat loss to your biggest heat sink, the ground. They also are bare-bones (no pun intended) when it comes to comfort. For colder sections and comfort, I used the Thermarest NemoAir XTherm inflatable pad. The R-Value is 6.9, giving three times better insulation. Yes, inflating the sleeping pad at the end of a long day is a pain, but 10 minutes meant much better sleep. The other downside is that they are noisy when you roll over, so there is a weird symphony from hikers camping nearby. As the night progresses, everyone starts to shift positions synchronously, another way that thru-hikers support one another.

Electronics

As I have shared earlier, I am a big advocate for carrying a satellite communication device. The Garmin InReach Mini worked well for Pleasure-Way and me. It was fun to look at the message log at the end of the trail and see that we had exchanged over 400 messages. Mostly, the messages were short affirmations that all was ok. There were some cases where she shared weather and fire hazards. Primarily, this allows thru-hikers to take charge of getting rescued. I also took out rescue insurance from the American Alpine Club. The other decision one needs to make is what power source to use. I decided to use power packs because they are small and durable. I kept my phone in airplane mode all the time and reduced the power usage of the screen. I was able to keep my phone, and the Garmin charged for seven days on a 10K mAh pack, but it was very tight. Others bring solar panels and attach them to the outside of their packs during the day. They are certainly getting lighter and more durable, so worth checking out for long sections.

Water and Cooking

I used the Sawyer Squeeze water filter, and it worked great. I needed a better water bag to get unfiltered water since the Sawyer bags are known to fail. The CNOC VECTO was the most popular on the trail, but I couldn’t find one given their popularity. I would guess that I filtered close to 1000 liters of water on my trip and only replaced my filter three times with no failures. The other big question is whether or not to bring a stove. I estimate that a fourth of the thru-hikers were cold-cooking. You add cold water to dehydrated food an hour or so before eating instead of adding boiling water. It sounds disgusting to hit camp, tired and hungry, and chow down on cold biscuits and gravy. And what about my proper second-breakfast of gourmet oatmeal and coffee saturated with freeze-dried heavy cream. All in, my stove, mug, and fuel weighed 8 ounces. I will likely keep this as a creature comfort.

Clothing

Many of my errors came in the clothing category. Looking back at my original list, I ended up cutting about half of my clothing. You don’t need more than one of anything, except socks and underwear. I also got lighter versions of everything as I went along. The most critical piece of clothing is socks, and I am a huge fan of the Injini toe socks. I used the no-show lightweight and midweight socks, depending on the temperature. I HAD ONE BLISTER IN 2653 MILES. That is freaking amazing. The toe socks removed heat better and isolated my toes eliminating blisters between toes. I also rinsed my socks once or twice a day and dried them on my backpack as I hiked. Other favorite items include my Columbia sun shirt, REI Sahara pants, Arc’teryx Cerium SL Down Jacket, and Dirty Girl Gaters. The bottom line is to get good stuff that works and only bring one; that is enough.

Hiking Shoes

Last but certainly not least is the shoes that will support and protect your feet during the 5.3 million steps needed to cover the distance. Selecting shoes is a vital gear decision because most hiker injuries are feet and ankle-related. It is also the most expensive piece of gear because you will need five pairs to replace the shoes every 400 to 500 miles, as recommended. I was fighting pain in my left foot metatarsal joint during the four months before I even started on the trail. I could have been one of the first hikers to flame out had this not gone away. I went with the Hoka One Stinson shoes because they are the most cushioned shoe out there. I got a lot of comments about the shoes because they are noticeably wide and cushioned. They are not very durable, so I went through six pairs and one grand to keep my little piggies happy.

Categories
Hiking the PCT

Northern Sierra Melting Pot

PCT hikers generally assume that the Sierra Nevada section ends at Sonora Pass, where they are relieved to stop carrying their food in a bear canister. Geologists know the Sierra continues another 270 miles to the North Fork of the Feather River, where I ended hiking today. The name “melting pot” came to me early as I saw the ever-changing combinations of high desert, deep forests, polished granite, basalt columns, and volcanic cones. The name made even more sense as I started to adjust to the heatwave that swept across the west.

I have now closed the gap between California’s southern sections with the start of the Cascades. I am excited to be at mile 1501 and ready for my trek northward from Castle Crags. Heat is my new reality, and once again, I need to re-think my gear and approach. I hiked three days with temperatures bordering on 100 degrees, and I immediately noticed the added energy required to cool my body when I am already operating in a caloric deficit. My plan is to lighten my gear and carry more food, but one thing I can count on is continuously making adjustments.

The Desolation Wilderness is a small but spectacular section near South Lake Tahoe starting with Aloha Lake.
Climbing up Dick’s pass provides a great view of Suzie Lake in the foreground and Aloha Lake in the distance. The polished granite reminded me of Yosemite, but the volcanic peaks look much more like the Cascades.
I like to start hiking around 6 AM and then enjoy a proper second-breakfast of gourmet oatmeal and coffee. This friendly face watched me as I sat above Lake Tahoe.
I stopped dead in my tracks when I spotted this “Tahoe Bouquet.” It was as if someone had arranged the Mules Ears (yellow), Indian Paintbrush (red), and Nuttall’s Larkspur (purple).
After leaving Donner Pass, I had my first sustained thunderstorm. Sierra Buttes flashed ominously in the distance.
Hiking Sierra Buttes was a 3500-foot climb from Sierra City, featured in Cheryl Strayed’s book and movie. I got started at 6 AM, and the views looked more like Oregon and Washington.
The hottest and most difficult section covered over 20 miles of hiking through the North Complex fires of 2020. The 100-degree heat radiated back from the barren landscape. This was my most challenging day yet on the trail.
One hiker described the Canyon Valley Spring as the “cold nectar of the gods.” These springs tap into artesian sources where hikers can reach the water before it disappears into the dry ground.
100 Degree Hiking
    Heat comes in waves
    Straining my body's cooling
    Each breeze is pure joy
         Ribs
Categories
PCT Reflections

What’s in a (trail) Name?

I dreaded the thru-hiking tradition of receiving a trail name. I made snarky comments to others like, “what is this, summer camp, come on.” Most people would shrug at my lack of creativity, but a Norwegian hiker vociferously countered my disdain. He said, “you see, the trail name is important, and it must be given to you by another hiker because something funny happened. When you meet people, you tell them your trail name and then your story – and they laugh and remember you.”

Ribs, Twister, Pilot, Pack Mule, and Rabbit

Upon some reflection, my reaction was masking some deeper insecurities. The idea of being given a trail name conjures unpleasant and downright mean nicknames. Since I am hiking solo and am coming off the trail to stay with my trail angel, I am not hanging out in the hiker hostels where the funny business truly happens. Who will know me or even care about the sexagenarian that hikes at a steady pace 12 hours a day – nothing funny or exciting about that. Even in high school, Shakespeare’s Juliet taught me the significance of our names when she asked, “What’s in a name?” But all that changed with my trail family.

I met Twister many miles ago and did him a favor by giving him a ride. When hiking together, we ran into the rest of the crew, drinking at high noon in Agua Dulce. By chance, I camped with them after crossing the Mojave – and a family with no name was formed. Our family was diverse in years, with 30, 40, 50, and 60-year-olds. We hiked hard for eight days together, covering almost 25 miles a day.

As always, the daily conversation centered on water, how much we needed to carry, and whether there was a reliable source at day’s end. I realized that my trail angel could meet us with the van to provide water. But instead of just water, she brought ribs, beer, fruit, and more. Rabbit gave me the name Ribs and my motto – the trail provides. My name encourages me to pack more food, lest my ribs become a dominant torso feature. Beyond that, my name reminds me of my impermanence and calls me to be present for each and every step

My trail angel’s trail magic prowess grew. She has met and supported over fifty hikers with food and drink that make all the difference. Twister offered her a trail name, Pleasure-Way, to honor the van that she drives, becoming a beacon for those who need an extra boost to keep moving.

Hikers gathering for trail magic at an obscure road crossing
Twister, in red, offered the name Pleasure Way, after feasting on chicken beer, fruit, and Pop Tarts
Miyagi, Twister, and Pack Mule making quick work of carbo-loading for the upcoming 2K foot climb

Categories
Hiking the PCT

The Amazing South Sierra

This is my fifth trip into the Sierra Nevada mountain range. It stretches 400 miles long and about 70 miles wide for a mind-boggling 40M square miles. I got to take the journey through 110 miles of the southern end of this magical place with my son Scott. The scope of this gem is hard to fathom, and the photos shared might blur together. But each and every valley or vista we traveled called for deeper exploration.

One request frequently faced by PCT hikers is for family or friends to join them on a portion of the hike. This often ends badly as the finely tuned bodies and packs required for thru-hiking meet their guests’ not so finely tuned bodies and packs. I had no such concerns about Scott, given his penchant for ultra-marathons and other endurance events. But even he admitted that the 30-year age advantage did not fully account for my 750 miles on the trail. He did, however, make up the difference by the time we reached Mt. Whitney and left me hiking in the dark.

The trip started frantically picking up Scott in Reno, driving six hours to Kennedy Meadows, and sorting gear and food for a week. We got a late start, and neither of us was in very high spirits as the mid-day heat and reality of 110 miles loomed ahead.

Sorting our gear and food for seven days
Leaving Kennedy Meadows with a hot sun and monstrous packs

The first two days were through the transition zone of high desert to alpine abundance. We had to carry water to last a full day, given the infrequent opportunities to fill.

The first day ended at the South Kern River – a morale booster
Our campsite on the second day provided views of what was to come

By day three, we kicked into gear to start climbing from 6K feet into the 10K – 14K feet elevations that would be our new home. The living systems were changing before our eyes.

The Bristlecone Pine forests greeted us at every turn
We camped at an alpine lake at over 11K feet

Days four through six included epic adventures from climbing Mt. Whitney (14.5K ft) before sunrise to hiking through mountain plains that looked like Peru and climbing over Forester Pass (13.2K ft) with a snowstorm closing in. The physicality of the place consumed me – this was tough work. But that faded rapidly as the majesty fueled me. I could spend a week exploring any one of the dozens of mountain basins we saw. This place is a must-see if you lose yourself in wild places.

On top of it all on Mt. Whitney
Looking back at Mt. Whitney, now a tiny bump on the horizon
The mountain plain stretched for miles as we approached Forester Pass
Summiting Forester Pass (13.2K ft) required scrambling over a cornice at the top
We had miles of snow to contend with on the north side of Forester Pass
Our final look back into this fantastic area as we left through Kearsarge Pass

Categories
Hiking the PCT

Mojave

Hello again. I have been busy at my day job, which involves a green 38-liter backpack and two hiking poles. Today is my seventh day in a row with two more left to Kennedy Meadows, the doorstep of the Sierra. As I type this on my phone, I find myself at mile 658 and at 8,000 feet.

One of the most anticipated (or dreaded) sections of the PCT is the Mojave desert crossing north of LA. It is only 60 miles, but the temperatures often require carrying large quantities of water and hiking at night. I hiked with a rainstorm closing in that dropped snow in the surrounding foothills. I will let my photos tell the story.

The Mojave trek starts at hikertown. This funky enclave is a microcosm of trail life.
The first leg follows the California aqueduct teasing anyone who didn’t bring enough water.
The next 20 miles follow the LA aqueduct.
The storm closing in at dusk.
I camped on a wind farm under a full moon.
Hundreds of 3MW windmills created a surreal light and soundscape.
A morning rainbow and cold wind greeted me on the second day, but the rain did not return.
I hiked through the wind farm for over 30 miles.

Categories
Hiking the PCT

Well, now

For the first few days on the trail, I felt like I was setting the agenda. That bubble burst this week. After ten days and 200+ miles, it is clear that the trail and everything surrounding it provide the experience, and I am here to learn (one way or another). My lesson so far is to connect with what is, don’t add my delusional views, whether blissful, angry, or needy. Then I must decide what I will make of it. I will be relearning this lesson every day, and I sense there are many chapters to come.

Crossing a welcoming meadow north of Warner springs.

Segment 2 started with two hot days, little water, and questionable sources. With 10K feet of climbing, I began to get angry, thirsty, and hungry. All these growing obsessions were neither accurate nor helpful. The bliss-meter took a nosedive. I found refuge at Mike’s Place, a renowned oasis in the Lost Valley of all places. Never has a tortilla filled with a hot dog slathered in refried beans tasted so good.

This was one of the better water sources.
Good strumming and conversation at Mike’s Place.
Encouragement from previous travelers.

I climbed the San Jacinto mountains for the next three days, known as one of the PCT’s most challenging and dangerous sections due to the exposure and volatile weather. On the first day, I faced 60-mile hour winds and on the second deep snow. It is beautiful, but every few steps, I post-holed waist-deep, risking injury. I decided to detour around the final 30 miles as an even stronger wind storm approached. My learning was put to the test as my ego argued against all evidence to fight through the conditions and my fatigue. I chose to learn and hike another day. Well, now, my trail angel just arrived.

Climbing into San Jacinto.
I started to post-hole on every step and quickly lost the trail. Following other tracks only made it worse as they also wandered through the basin.
Categories
Hiking the PCT

Segment 1 Recap

I am sitting in a peaceful campground outside of Julian, California, enjoying my first “zero.” For thru-hikers, a zero is a day off, meaning zero miles hiked that day. I have planned five zeros over the first 700 miles, so these are mighty precious. Since Alesia is supporting me in our van, I have been able to stay in the vehicle at some road crossings. It has helped me push the mileage and recover more effectively, an incredible advantage as I get myself into PCT shape.

Crossing the 100-mile mark

Alesia’s family knows how to read and interpret box scores. I can’t do either – but here is my PCT box score for the 1st of 26 segments. In five days, I covered 109 miles with 12K feet of climbing. All 26 segments comprise 2650 miles and 390K feet of climbing. The home team is off to a great start. Other statistics include bliss-meter pegged at 110%, 0 injuries, 0 blisters, 0 sunburns, and 0 rattlesnake bites. I went from COVID-19 zoom-zombie to a 10 hour per day hiker, which just shouldn’t happen on paper. I ended up doing this segment one day faster than planned. Here are a few photos from the journey so far. I fell in love with the rugged and vast terrain from Campo to Warner Springs.

Looking back at Scissors Crossing, where we boondocked.
An amazing meadow with wildflowers near Warner Springs.
I crossed this meadow near sunset.
Eagle Rock near Warner Springs.
Bliss meter pegged, even as I finished a 32-mile day.