We’re starting to dust off backpacks and tents this first week of spring, and somehow we’ve already packed too much gear even though we haven’t even gone anywhere yet. Made us think of this classic. – Ed.
We must call him Jeffrey. Not Jeff. Not Jay. And certainly not “Turd Head,” which was the nickname we’d given him. Jeffrey was his name. He insisted on it.
Every day at six in the morning Jeffrey would rise from his tent and stride through camp wearing-and I’m not making this up-red and white-striped silk pajamas. He also carried a Dopp kit the size of a German shepherd, and he’d march off through the woods, dragging the kit, in search of water and some quality time with whatever ointments and potions he’d brought.
The rest of us would blearily stare at him from our sleeping bags, where we were happily fermenting in the same clothes we’d been wearing for weeks. Who brought silk pajamas into the Sierra? Who, aside from Hugh Hefner, even owned silk pajamas? And personal grooming? We all brought toothbrushes on our annual two-week sojourn into the Stanislaus National Forest, but none of us would stoop to actually using the thing for anything other than cleaning out a trout we’d just gutted.
I would have forgotten Jeffrey the way I’ve forgotten the other 60 or 70 members of Boy Scout Troop 242 if it weren’t for this one fact: I swore that no matter what happened, I’d never grow up to be like him. I’d never be the dude who stuffed his backpack with grooming gear, a hot-milk frother, and a full-size backgammon set. It would be frivolous, unmanly, and just plain wrong.
Everything is so very clear when you’re 12. Life, however, has a way of making fools of 12-year-olds.
Oof. Photo: Justin Housman
For the record, I’ve never toted a milk frother into the backcountry and I don’t even know how to play backgammon. But who wouldn’t bring a pair of clean underwear for every single day on the trail? And not just one, but two wet-weather outer layers? You need a compass, because I’m sure as hell not going to rely on my Casio to find the way, and a couple knives, because I’m always misplacing those things. And enough white gas to keep all of Norway warm through the next 30 winters. Binoculars, the books I haven’t gotten around to reading yet, and all the stuff that I actually can’t do without. My backpack loves me, my back not so much.
Everyone knows not to overpack, but there’s an art to it that continues to elude me three decades after first slipping into a hip belt. It’s directly related to my chronic overthinking. What could go wrong on this trip? No, wait-what could go horribly wrong? Like so wrong that they make a “inspired by actual events” movie out of it starring that guy from Scarecrow and Mrs. King? Because that’s who I’d totally want to play me….What was his name? Bruce Boxleitner? I wonder why he wasn’t in more movies. He was a really good actor.
See? I overthink. But I’m coming to grips with it. My back demands it.
It comes down to this: have faith less in what you bring and more in who you are. Sure, one should be prepared to deal with the worst-Boy Scout’s motto!-but obsessing about the expiration date on your second can of grizzly bear repellant and trying to squeezing a backup GPS receiver alongside your ninth pair of wool socks, well…there’s a line between prepared and paranoid and I’m still trying to find my way back to the lighter side of it.
Backpacking is about letting go. That includes not only the creature comforts, but the deadlines, the constant nagging fears, and the second thoughts. We’re allowed to leave all that behind when we enter the woods. No, we’re supposed to.
I’m still working on it. In the meantime, you can call me “Jeffrey.”
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Been there, done that. For 10 years as a NOLS mountaineering instructor during the mega-pack days. And now I have the chronic back issues to show for it!
Had a similar experience when I went to Philmont as a kid. There was this one leader who brought waaaaay to much extra crap to the point where his pack weighed 80lbs. We were all right at around 50lbs. 10 miles in he is struggling hard and we all had to distribute his extra crap among us. He was quite the “Turd Dad.”
I am more ar the minimal end of the spectrum. That said, I always carry extra, like two to three pair of socks in a right ziplock bag. After two weeks, matted, wet and sweaty socks are not that comfortable, so it’s nice to change into a dry pair.
I eliminated the misery of backpacking, by adopting a beast of burden from the bureau of land management. since 1992 my burro has taken the load off my back. a mountainsmith day pack and/or a hydration pack is all I have carried all these years of backcountry backpacking! easily tamed and trained the burro is a backpacker extraordinaire! p.s. if you are a cold climate and hot climate backpacker forget the llama. they cannot tolerate the heat. the burro’s genetics are from the hot and cold deserts of north Africa. they are very durable, rather maintenance free beasts…….
Does the burro ride in the front or the back? Please, don’t say the roof box.
In my youth I did multiple expeditions into the Alaska Range. We used aircraft for resupply, but travelled into and out of the range on foot, logging hundreds of miles on skis each trip. A typical starting pack weight was 80 to 100 pounds. On my final trip I skied into Denali with a 60 pound pack and shared pulling a 50 pound sled load of group gear. These days at 71 years old my base weight is 10 -12 pounds, and my total pack weight for a week-long backpack is never over 30 pounds. And my back and knees thanks me!
I was once a pack mule to Boy Scouts and college friends. I have learned my ways of carrying too many clothes etc. I am still an old boy scout. I have lightened my pack in so many ways, but I am still an EMT so I still carry a rather full kit of medical supplies. I can leave many personal comfort items at home but not my FA kit.
Try reading Stoic philosophy, maybe even “practicing poverty”, as Seneca would put it. The point is that it’s not that big a deal to be a little cold, a little hot, a little sore, a little embarrassed, or even a little hungry. It makes you fear the what-if and worst case scenarios a lot less, and allows you to walk in the woods with much less fear, and therefore much less gear.
God, this reminds me of when I first started “Backpacking” and I mean a 50 pound duffle bag with backpack straps…packing. It was horrible dragging that thing around Ireland back in 2009! Lesson was learned, though. By the time I went on my two-month backpacking tour of Western Europe, I was carrying 22 pounds in an actually Gregory Pack. Some life lessons just need to be done the hard way.
I’m in this club.
I have been backpacking since the mid 70’s. I still even have some of that original equipment, which testifies to its quality construction…..as well as its weight!
I stick with what works (i.e. I’m to cheap to by new stuff if old stuff still works). As the old stuff wears out though I do replace it with new light/ultra light gear.
Aside from that I do like my comfort and am willing to carry some luxury items (hammock, chair, shower). All pack oriented and weighing ounces, but they do add up. However worth it to me.
It’s the same with car camping, etc.
“Cram-Tight-us” (noun) : An affliction caused by the amount of available space of a vessel (backpack, truck, etc) and your brain believing you must cram as much crap as you can into said space.
“Honey!…I still got a 13 by 9 by 6 inch hole here…grab the clock off the mantle and my weed-eater battery”.
Used to be a packing minimalist, hope one day to be again, but two things cured me of my miserly packing tendencies.
#1 joining SAR.
No, not the horrors of all the ill-prepared hikers who we bailed out, but all the gear we were *required* to carry. I used to chafe against/scoff at some of the personal gear requirements for our SAR back-country packs, until that one time I actually used the length of wire (“Wire? Wtf do we carry wire for?”) that was on our “required gear” carry list to repair a lost hiker’s busted crampon. It wasn’t pretty, but it got him down the mountain.
#2 Having kids.
For the parents out there, this one requires no explanation. Never have I schlepped so much crap around (*everywhere*, not just outdoors), then I do with two young children.
As anybody (else) with a MOLLE II large ruck knows, it’s altogether too easy to become the Backpacker Who Carries Too Much…
I think we all have overpacked for most trips at one time or another.
With backpacking it’s best to start with an overnighter or a 2 nighter and see how minimalist you can go. Your fears can be allayed by the knowledge that you will be back at the car the next day 🙂
Once you see that you can do it, packing for 4 and 5 day trips is easier.
That said, just being out there means you made the first best decision.
I tend to keep my backpacking trips to one or two nights (its Scotland and the ability to roam in the ‘wild’ is becoming more & more limited, damn micro dams that produce sod all electricity but require intrusive service roads etc.). I do pack a few small luxuries: a small bluetooth speaker with an internal memory card with music (helps at night with my tinnitus), coffee and coffee maker (got a new gadget, the Twist Press, yet to use in the field), and merino wool socks for wearing in my bag. I also carry a SAM splint as I once broke an ankle hiking & could have benefited from it (now I know if I ever leave it home, I’ll need it!). However, the main additional weight is dog food and I also carry an insulted dog coat as it can get really cold at night (at any time of the year) and if my dog is not running about I don’t want to be worrying about her getting cold! So it helps both of us sleep.
“the books I haven’t gotten around to reading yet”
This line hit hard.