Into to Backpacking II: Gear Needs vs. Gear Wants

When you start talking gear, the desired list of "wants" is definitely never-ending.  Even after years of investing in pieces here or there over time, something else is always on the horizon that I'm saying I "need."  And herein lies the problem.  Most of what I say I need isn't really needed at all.  It would just be better than what I already have.  (Which is why it really is, after all, a "want."  See the problem?)

When it comes to wants vs. needs, I think I've set up a list of "best practices" which keeps it pretty simple.  It is too easy to become obsessed with things you convince yourself you need for the sake of convenience or comfort.  But you can make a good adventure happen without anything fancy.  And you don't need an array of fancy items right away to get your foot out the door and into the wilderness.

1. When you aren't sure of exactly what you need, borrow it until you know exactly what you want.

The first time I went camping the only thing I invested in was a pair of boots.  It was 17 degrees one week before Christmas and my brother and I drove through the night in the snow to Yosemite.  Pretty much everything else I wore or used was borrowed, even to the point of looking (and feeling) pretty ridiculous.  My brother and I still laugh at just how ridiculous I looked on that trip, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.  So many things in my life changed on that trip.  Suddenly I gained some perspective about things in my life, I grew so much closer to my brother, and I fell in love with discovering National Parks in a tent.  Why would you ever wait for that to happen until you could amass the right tent, and the right jacket, and the right headlamp?  I had none of that stuff.  And it is still one of the best memories of my life.  Believe me, you'll eventually buy your own tent.  You'll have to because you'll fall in love with being in the outdoors so much.  And when you do, you'll know exactly what you want after trying it out with someone else stuff so many times.    

2.  Buying generic is nothing to be ashamed of.  Respect your own budgetary constraints.  

My first base layer was an REI mid-weight in the $40 range, and probably on clearance because they were last year's colors.  I already knew that Patagonia base layers were higher quality and that SmartWool was really ideal, but I just couldn't justify the price.  There is no one on the trail inspecting whether or not your shirt is of "wicking" material or made of "anti-microbial" properties, anyway.  Those expensive items are things I've collected one at a time as gifts from my husband or family for special occasions, over years.  My REI long underwear did me just fine for a long time.  Don't let anyone convince you otherwise.  My $100 Merrell hiking boots are just fine, too.  No need for $200+ Soloman's.

3.  Don't upgrade just for the sake of upgrading.  

I am still using my bulky aluminum mess kit from my girl scout days.  That was almost 20 years ago.  Believe me, this mess kit is NOT ideal.  Never mind the fact that it's so old, the mug gets too hot to touch when I prepare my coffee in the mornings, and I realized recently that a big part of the kit is left completely unused every time.  It's really not very efficient, but I'm still not convinced it is a real "need" at this time.  This kit still works, and good, quality pieces are pricey.  I already know I'm going to be forking out $80 for a water filter pretty soon, so this just isn't at the top of the list.  I'm OK with that.  So it's a few extra ounces and I have to use a sock to hold my cup...  It's not a deal breaker.  Use what you have for as long as you can and invest when the time is right after you've done your research about exactly what you want, how you'll use it, and how often.

4.  Buy on sale or with a coupon.

Anytime you are looking to add something new to your stash, do whatever you can to hold out for a sale, or a coupon.  There isn't much rhyme or reason to my overall shopping philosophies, but being a member of the REI co-op is a no-brainer.  20% off coupons come around a few times a year, and that's the time to buy your new tent or your rain jacket.  Their sales are also usually pretty decent.  End of the season, just like anything else in retail, is when you can score the best discounts.  And if you just can't hold out, we get a dividend back every spring on full-price purchases we made throughout the year, so even that isn't a total loss.  I always feel good about what I buy there, even if it's more than I would have liked to have spent.  Also I like what they do to support environmental causes, community outreach, and youth education.  So I prefer them over any other "sporting goods" store.

5.  Splurge only when you absolutely know that something is - without a doubt - "the one."

After I returned home from a trip to the Black River with legs torn up from thorns, I decided it was time to get some decent hiking pants.  Determined not to spend a lot, I tried on every single pair of pants my size (plus AND minus 1) on the sales rack, and eventually exhausted all reasonably priced options in the store.  Like any woman who has ever shopped for jeans knows, finding pants that fit just right is like finding a needle in a haystack.  Just before giving up completely I found a pair of PrAna converters that I figured I'd try on "just to see."  Of course I knew immediately that they were perfect.  And they were $80.  But you don't understand, I had to have these pants.  I swore to my husband that I would never take them off for as long as I LIVED because I loved them so much, and it was true.  I do literally everything in them.  He actually suggested I get a pair in another color because they are all I ever wear.  When something is exactly right, you can't replicate it.  It will pay for itself over and over again and you will never regret it.  So splurging on something here or there isn't something you have to feel bad about.  There are times and places when it's what you gotta do.  And I get that.    

Enjoy your time in the wild, and don't ruin it with thoughts about what you "need" to make it happen.  It's amazing what you can go without and still change your life for the better.  Just don't hike the canyon without something to carry a gallon of water that doesn't include a jug.  Because that is most definitely a "need!"

Aravaipa Canyon

Over spring break, Brian and I secured a permit for the Aravaipa Canyon wilderness.  This bullet has been on Brian's eternally long bucket list for many years, inspired by Edward Abbey's essay. It was so awesome, we can't believe we waited so long.  Already we have plans to go back in October.

Much of the hike was through Aravaipa Creek, which runs perennially.  Those who say Arizona has no water are obviously missing out. 

We went with my sister and brother-in-law who also enjoy backpacking canyons, and have a few more lightweight trips under their belt than Brian and me.  Like all good outdoors-men & women, we loved "nerding out" on all things camping, including comparing gear and sharing stories by the fire.

The water was beautiful to wade, bathe or swim in.  Clean and full of native fish.  Although we had heavy wind throughout the first night, the sun came bursting through after that.  The night sky was bright with stars and the birds aplenty.  Couldn't ask for a better way to spend our time off.

Intro to Backpacking I: Thoughts on Backpacking Philosophy

My husband and I consider ourselves professional car campers, but we are still finding our stride in the backpacking world.  Generally speaking the fanaticism which often clouds this activity turns me away from it, as obsessing over ounces seems to suck all spontaneity out of the adventure, before the adventure has even begun.  Also, I feel that this mentality excludes many people from trying it out for themselves because the gear seems so expensive and so exhaustive, and the planning so intensive.  But I'm here to tell you a secret.

It doesn't have to be that way.

You should never let a $350 backpack come between you and The Grand Canyon just because somewhere someone who seems to know something told you that's what's required.  It's not.  You can hike the canyon in a $30 backpack from Walmart.  I know, because I did it.  But that was many years ago, which I'll write about some other time.

For now... we just returned for a three day trip with my sister and her husband and we took way too much food, (as you can see).  We knew we were taking too much, even for four of us.  But the best way to truly figure it out is to keep trying, (not just reading about it on the internet), so we learned a lot on this trip that I will put to great use on our next four day adventure planned for May.  

It isn't only about ounces.  It's also about preference.  So we took too much food, who cares.  Next time we'll know better because this time we didn't.  And that's just fine with me.  

Next up:

Intro to Backpacking II:  Gear Needs vs. Gear Wants

Baby Dresden

Today I drove to Gilbert to help my sister paint her nursery.  Baby Dresden was born unexpectedly last weekend and they have been playing catch up, or slow down, or speed up, or sleep-when-you-can ever since.  So today, while the temperatures reached 80+ with a carefree breeze, we rolled up our sleeves and dove head first into "seafoam."

With all windows open and sun spilling into the room, Dresden slept off and on as we worked, and then checked, and then worked and then checked, to make sure that she was still there, still moving, still breathing, still lovely all curled up in her cradle.  We spoke often of how her teeny little body is even able to process life outside of the womb, her skin all crinkly and her limbs awkward as she crosses her eyes, but mostly closes them and sleeps.  Or eats.  This little life is miraculous and humbling.  These are the thoughts I had while painting on the first day of spring break with my sister, wishing for Brian, relishing the weather, and enjoying the company. 

The garden in March

Brian is gone which means I am tasked with caring for his beautiful garden.  While gardening was something we first envisioned us both embracing together, side-by-side, reality just didn't work out that way.  I don't seem to have quite the patience for it, and actually, I'm OK with that.  Many a night he groans as he heads out to water, and many a night he regretfully tells me he forgot to.  But mostly he faithfully trudges out and I am happy enough not to join.

Sunday afternoons find him tending to the garden on hands and knees, but I'm much happier in the kitchen with no agenda but recipes in front of me.  We have made peace with the fact that mainly it's his garden.  I just get to enjoy the fruits of his labor, like turning peppers into jelly or tomatoes into sauce.  I think I have the better end of the deal.

The creamy blossoms of spring have shown themselves for the first time on our two-year-old orange tree.  Someday I look forward to juicing all of my own citrus and not only the leftovers from the neighbors, although they are very generous to pick them all and give them over to me!

Our garden is not as "landscaped" as those you find in magazines, but of a more spontaneous quality.  Our kale, for example, is wild and overflowing, but full and healthy.  And oh, so giving!

 Even the cilantro, which has mostly gone to seed, is happy to offer its charming, delicate flowers and I am just as happy to admire them.  Not at all regretful that its turning indicates a natural bitterness, because it's doing what it does, which is to live and then not, and that never ending cycle of ending but returning seems just right.  There was plenty of cilantro to go around this time and they'll be plenty more at the next.  In the meantime, why cut them off?  The plant is too lovely to take it so seriously.  I suppose that's why I'm not the one in charge of it!