Another little video on backpacking pots & stoves

 

A comparison of  three pots & two stoves.  

A Walk along Glen Feshie and up to the Moine Mhor

  

Video of the walk described in my last post.

Glen Feshie, the Moine Mhor, & two Munros

Sgor Gaoith

The long dry spell is over. Rain is falling heavily. Just a few days ago I was striding across the crisp, crunchy, dusty Moine Mhor – the Great Moss, a vast normally boggy upland – astonished at the dryness. The day before I had marvelled at the shrunken River Feshie. That will change now.

I’d set off down Glen Feshie on a sunny afternoon, though with thin clouds spreading overhead. The fresh leaves of the birches shone bright. The air was thick with heat. Soon the clouds had grown enough to block the sun though it still shone on a distant hillside, turning the pale grasses gold.

Allt Garbhlach & River Feshie

The burns that run down into the Feshie were so low I could easily cross on stones without even dampening the soles of my boots. Their beds looked far too big to have been carved by these little streams. But they had, when the waters were high and rushing down the mountainsides sweeping away everything in their path. The Allt Garbhlach is a constant reminder of this as you scrabble down the steep slopes to its wide stony bed and then scrabble up the loose path on the far side. There used to be a good path with steps here, swept away a decade and more ago. Now little trees are springing up amongst the rubble and debris. They may have a short life.

Creag na Caillich & the River Feshie

I camped in the woods in the narrow neck of the glen, where it’s hemmed in by the steep rocky slopes of Creag an Caillich and Creag na Gaibhre. A fine site amongst old pines and young birches, it had been used before and sported two fire rings, one old, long disused, and grassy, the other bigger, newer, and with blackened rocks and half-burnt logs. There was no litter, thankfully. I don’t think anyone had been here for a while.

Glen Feshie camp

Dawn came with weak sunshine and stillness. The woods were calming and I lingered. Relaxing for half the morning before rousing myself to pack up and move on. Backtracking down the glen I picked up an old path that winds steeply through the trees and up slopes of heather to the fine cairn on Creag na Gaibhre. The path is overgrown and indistinct in places. I lost it a couple of times.  The climb is arduous but the views and the feeling of wildness overcome any weariness.

Broom

Above the trees broom flourished, its bright yellow flowers dominating the landscape. There were dizzying views down stony ravines to the forest and the river far below.

View into Glen Feshie

Creag na Gaibhre is a splendid viewpoint for Glen Feshie and I stopped here for a snack. A breeze was picking up and the sky cloudy so I didn’t stay too long but was soon following the faint path as it continued on to the dark waters of Lochan nam Bo, trapped in a cleft in the hillside, and then over Druim nam Bo, a bump on the broad west ridge of Mullach Clach a’ Bhlair, the high point of this corner of the Moine Mhor and a Munro.

Creag Na Gaibhre

Long before reaching the summit I joined an old estate track that stood out harshly from a distance – two straight furrows driving up the hillside – but which didn’t seem too intrusive when actually on it.

Mullach Clach a' Bhlair

As the steepness eased off and the tiny cairn on Mullach Clach a’ Bhlair appeared (a rather paltry affair compared with the one on Creag na Gaibhre) the view opened out across the Moine Mhor to the distant pointed peak of Sgor Gaoith, also a Munro, and the sweep of Munros – Braeriach, Sgor an Lochan Uaine, Carn Toul – that rise above its eastern edge.

The summit was windswept and chilly. I kept moving, heading for Loch nan Cnapan in the heart of the Moine Mhor. There are ugly bulldozed roads up here and I used these at times though mostly I went cross-country. When wet this can ensure sodden feet and much cursing as you flounder through the bogs. On this occasion I was amazed at how dry it was, drier than I’ve ever seen it. I walked on cracked crusty mud, over pale dried grasses. There was no water in many of the little burns and pools that lace the moor.  The word arid came to mind.

Loch nan Cnapan & Monadh mor

At the loch I found a good flat site. The wind was gusting strongly, so I pegged out all the guylines. As with the evening before the late sun cut under the clouds and lit up the long gently slopes of Monadh Mor a couple of kilometres away.

Loch nan Cnapan camp

A sudden blast of heat woke me at dawn. The sun had just appeared over the hills. There were long streaks of cloud in the sky. The wind had gone. I wandered beside the loch, ate breakfast, dozed, ate another breakfast, somnolent in the heat.

Sgor Gaoith

Eventually I packed up and started across the rough ground – all knolls and hollows -towards Sgor Gaoith, aiming for the old path that runs along the rim of Coire Odhar in Gleann Eanich. I think this is the finest way up Sgor Gaoith as it gives superb views.

Once I’d located the path, which seems to start somewhere out on the Moine Mhor, I followed it round to the Fuaran Diotech spring and nearby ruined hut. There’s a pool by the ruin. The burns running in and out of it were dry. A flat grassy area makes for a good pitch here. I’d used it just the year before (see this post). Someone had camped here much more recently and had left a ring of rocks, the grass still green underneath. I moved the smaller ones onto the ruin’s walls and rolled the bigger ones into the pool. I wish people wouldn’t do this! Or at least replace the rocks when they leave.

Allt Fuaran Diotech

The Fuaran Diotech spring was still running strongly, soon leaping down the crags into Coire Odhar. Cool, fresh water. I needed it. I relished it.

Sgor Gaoith

Refreshed I continued along the path. Soon it converged with the main thoroughfare coming from Carn Ban Mor. Two walkers were just heading back down this, three more were heading for the summit just ahead of me. On the top five more were relaxing in the sunshine. The view of Loch Eanich and Braeriach was spectacular, as always.

Braeriach & Loch Eanaich from Sgor Gaoith

Leaving for the wide scar of the standard route I met a walker heading up, the eleventh person I’d encountered, and the last. All of them were in a half hour period and on or near the summit of Sgor Gaoith. I met no-one else all trip,

I was soon over Carn Ban Mor and heading down the long stony path to Glen Feshie. As I descended the wind picked up and so did the heat. Sweat-soaked I was glad to reach the glen.

Pictures & Memories from a Walk in the Uinta Mountains

Red Castle Lakes from the ascent of Wilson Peak

Sorting through old photos from film days for an upcoming project I found a folder of colour prints from a trip twenty-four years ago when I spent eleven glorious days hiking in the Uinta Mountains. I hadn’t thought about this walk for many years and I was delighted to these pictures again. The area looks really spectacular! 

The Uinta Mountains form a long east-west running spur of the Rocky Mountains in north-east Utah. They are alpine mountains, snow-covered for more than half the year and with a myriad lakes and streams. Forests rise to around 3,354 metre (11,000 feet). Above the trees are vast open grassy bowls dotted with lakes, above which rise long, steep, rocky ridges. Most of the area is protected in the 460,000-acre High Uintas Wilderness, the largest wilderness area in Utah.

I’d gone to Utah for the annual Outdoor Retailer trade show, which was then held in Salt Lake City. After the show GoLite, one of the pioneers of lightweight gear though sadly long gone, had taken a group of us to the Uintas to try some of its new stuff at a high camp and on an ascent of 4,125m (13,528 feet) King’s Peak, the highest summit in Utah. After we’d climbed the mountain and survived an exciting thunderstorm at a timberline camp the others departed and I had the next nine days to myself.

I spent the time walking to the eastern end of the range and then back again by a different route. It was a wonderful walk. I was above timberline much of the time and climbed a couple more peaks including 3981 metre (13,060 feet) Wilson Peak. The weather was dry and mostly sunny until the last two days when there were more thunderstorms.

GoLite had supplied me with much of my equipment for the walk, including pack, tarp, sleeping bag, and most of my clothing. Its gear back then was some of the best around.

These photos were taken with a 35mm Ricoh GR1s compact camera with fixed 28mm lens, which I carried as back-up to my SLR camera. I used slide film with the latter. I’d forgotten I’d taken any prints until these turned up! Whether I took any more than the 36 I’ve just come across I don’t know. The prints aren’t captioned or dated so I don’t know exactly when or where most of them were taken. From internet images I have only identified the location of one picture, which is at the head of this piece. If anyone can identify any of the others I’d be grateful!

I wrote a feature for The Great Outdoors magazine after my trip which was reprinted in my book Out There: A Voice From The Wild if you’d like to read more about it.

How Satellites Have Changed My Hiking Life: A Look At Tech & Backpacking Part 1

Igloo Ed Huesers using a handheld GPS device in Yellowstone National Park in 2009

Working on the forthcoming republication of High Summer, the story of my walk the length of the Canadian Rockies in 1988, I’ve been struck by one huge difference between then and now, the rise of electronic and digital tech. Whilst all the backpacking clothing and equipment I used wouldn’t look too out of place now and its functions haven’t changed at all I now carry items that were the stuff of science fiction back then (which is appropriate as many of them require satellites in space to operate). I’ve written about this in general in a new introduction to the book but I thought it would be interesting to look at the timeline of the changes and how and when new items were added and the effect they had.

Satellites are the key to these changes, satellites for navigation and for communication. So they come first. This is the space age!

Satellite Navigation

Silva Multi Navigator

Magellan launched the first consumer Global Positioning System device that used a satellite array to calculate its location on the ground just a year after my walk and similar ones soon appeared during the 1990s. I tested a few for The Great Outdoors magazine. One of the earliest was the Silva Multi Navigator which I tried in 1995*. This was a bulky device weighing 227g that ran on 2 AA batteries. Like other GPS devices it gave your position in Lat/Lon or grid numbers which you could then find on a map. You could record tracks so you could retrace your route and it had an electronic compass and a barometer/altimeter. It sounds very basic now but seemed like magic at the time. You could stand on a featureless hillside in thick mist, press a button and a grid reference appeared. Plot that on the map and you knew where you were to within maybe ten metres. Amazing!

I wasn’t though convinced enough of the value of GPS devices to take one on my round of the Munros and Tops in 1996. With 512 summits to climb I wanted to keep the weight of my load down and decided GPS was something I could do without. In retrospect there were a couple of times it would have been useful but mostly it would have just sat in the pack.

SatMap

The next development was GPS mapping and a decade after using the Multi Navigator I was using a SatMap device with maps on it. Now I could see where I was without having to read the grid reference on a map. Amazing again and, I thought, much more useful.

My first smartphone in use on the Pacific Northwest Trail in 2010

In 2007 Apple launched the iPhone and the smartphone revolution began. I could immediately see the advantages of these tiny computers for long-distance walks. They could take pictures, carry books to read, show your position on a map, link to the internet, and even be used for phone calls. In 2010 I bought one, the HTC Desire, and took it on the Pacific Northwest Trail with all the maps downloaded on to it. Long before I finished the trail I was hooked. I’ve never been backpacking without a smartphone since. I’ve never carried a standalone GPS device again either. There seems no need. I do still carry printed maps though. I like the overview a big map sheet gives and anyway I think I’d feel underequipped without one plus a magnetic compass. Twenty-five plus years of using them on hundreds of days has left the need for them ingrained. I do virtually all my navigation with the smartphone however.

For communication with the outside world the first smartphones were only useful when there was a signal though, which was hardly ever in wild places. On the Pacific Northwest Trail I was just as out of touch most of the time as I had been on earlier walks. I was just less likely to get lost, which would have made a huge difference on the Canadian Rockies walk where I spent around a week somewhat unsure of my whereabouts. That part of the walk would have been unrecognisable if I’d had GPS mapping.

Satellite Communication

SPOT & Garmin InReach

With satellite navigation established satellite communication soon followed and being in touch without a phone signal became possible. I’ve been using a GPS** satellite communicator the last thirteen years (I was surprised to discover it was so long but my first gear list with one is dated January 2011). Until two years ago this was a SPOT unit which I just used to send an ‘I’m OK’ message from camp each evening. It had no screen so ironically it didn’t show my position, though it did to the recipients of the message. Still, I had my smartphone to show where I was in case I didn’t know.

It wasn’t long before satellite communicators with screens and two-way messaging became available. I was happy enough with the basic SPOT for a while but then I was sent a Garmin InReach Mini 2 to test in 2022. As with my first smartphone I was quickly hooked. Especially as it linked with my phone so I could use its much bigger screen for sending and reading texts and emails. I still send the basic OK message each day but when needed I send more info such as when I expect to finish a walk and I can also receive messages and news from home.You can read my full review of the InReach Mini 2 here.

Satellite communicators are key safety devices of course and can be used to call for help just by pressing a button. I’ve never had to do this and obviously hope I never will but having it is a reassurance, as much to my family as to me, as is being able to let them know I’m OK every day. Before this was possible they were used to me disappearing for weeks at a time but now I suspect they’d think that irresponsible.

GPS has changed navigation and communication in the outdoors greatly, making the first much easier and the second possible. Whether this is good or bad or a mix of both is another matter. Whatever anyone thinks the change has happened.

There are other electronic and tech devices that didn’t exist for the first half of my backpacking life too – e-readers, weather trackers, portable battery packs. I’ll go into these and what they added to my backpacking in terms of utility and weight (or reduction in it) in Part Two of these all-things techy posts.

*I can’t remember all the dates I started using stuff of course. I consult a Word document containing lists of the gear I’ve used on just about every overnight or longer trip since 1993. It now runs to 490 pages! Luckily Word’s search engine works well.

** Now there are several global navigation satellite systems they should correctly be referred to as GNSS. However GPS was first and is established as the generic term so I’ve stuck with that.

High Summer Update

Mount Sir Alexander, a great view on a tough day of cross-country travel. September 3.

As it's over a month since I mentioned the new edition of my book High Summer about my walk the length of the Canadian Rockies in 1988 I thought I'd give a brief update and show a few of the pictures I've scanned so far. 

Unnamed lake near the Graham River. October 5.

The book should be out in the not too distant future once I've sent more images to Andrew Terrill, who is publishing the book through his imprint, Enchanted Rock Press. Andrew then works some magic on the images to prepare them for publication, which will be in colour in the e-book and black and white in the print edition (due to the cost of colour printing). Andrew has also recently posted an update on his blog with some of the pictures he has prepared. 

Brew stop on a cold sunny day in the forest in the Hook Creek valley. September 18.

There will be far more photos in the new edition than the twenty in the original one, which will, I hope, show much more about what the walk was like and the variety of landscape, weather, and terrain involved.

Trail in the rain near Maligne Pass. August 1.

Now back to scanning more slides!

Halfway River. October 6

Now back to scanning more slides!

High Summer: Backpacking The Canadian Rockies republishing update

A month ago I posted about plan for a new edition of High Summer, my book about walking the length of the Canadian Rockies back in 1988 that has long been out of print. Andrew Terrill is republishing the book under his imprint Enchanted Rock Press and today I sent him the text with some added footnotes and a new introduction. There's no publication date yet but we're getting closer.

I have also been sending Andrew batches of images scanned from the slides I took during the walk for consideration for the book, which will have far more pictures than the original edition. I've posted a few of those images here, though I can't say say yet whether these will actually appear in the book.

I'm scanning the slides with my Sony a6700 digital camera and Sony 30mm macro lens on an old lightbox. The originals were taken with two Pentax SLR cameras and 24mm, 28-70mm, and 70-210mm Tokina lenses on Fujichrome 50 and 100 ISO colour transparency film and for one section where my supply box failed to arrive Ektachrome 100 and 200 ISO transparency film. 

I took over 3000 transparencies so selecting ones to scan is taking time. I love doing it though. I haven't seen most of these photos for over 30 years.

Glacier Peak Circumnavigation - 2001!

Continuing my search through old photos for my next book project I came across a packet of colour prints labelled Glacier Peak. These are from a 95-mile 8-day circumnavigation of Glacier Peak in the North Cascades in Washington State that I walked in October 2001. Half the trip was on the Pacific Crest Trail, which I'd hiked 19 years earlier. I'd thought this one of the finest sections on the northern half of the PCT and was glad to be back. 

Finding these prints had me digging out my journal of the trip, which is full of words like beautiful, magnificent, glorious, superb, and spectacular. I was clearly impressed! The weather was excellent throughout, the temperatures mild for the time of year. 

The route led from deep forests of huge trees up to high passes with splendid and dramatic views. The autumn colours were brilliant. The mountain landscape was awe-inspiring. 

Several of my camps were high in the mountains with stunning vistas all around. At every one I only needed to crawl under my tarp to sleep, in order to keep the dew off my sleeping bag. Mostly I sat outside, absorbing the wilderness.

This was one of the finest short backpacking trips I've ever done, as perfect as I could imagine, and reliving it again through these pictures and my journal is wonderful. I'd love to be back there again.

Current information on the trip here. 

Photographic note: The colour print film was Kodak Gold 200 ISO. The prints are machine-made postcard-size ones. I could probably get better results from the negatives. I photographed them handheld with my Sony a6600 camera and Sony E 35mm f1.8 lens.

Remembering John Hinde & Skye Trek

Skye Trek students on the narrow path above Lochan Leum an t-Saigairt in Glen Pean, 1983

Back in the early 1980s I spent three summers working for Outward Bound Loch Eil leading backpacking trips across Knoydart and the Isle of Skye to Glen Brittle. The course was the brainchild of the late John Hinde and was called Skye Trek. John was a top mountaineer and a veteran of RAF Mountain Rescue. I learnt a great deal from him on those trips. Each course consisted of three groups, all setting off from different points on the edge of Knoydart. Given the terrain of both Knoydart and Skye these were tough walks for the teenage participants, many of whom had never been camping or hillwalking before.

Skye Trek group in Glen Pean, 1983

By coincidence I had recently found a couple of old B&W prints of one of my Skye Trek groups when I read this post  by David 'Heavy' Whalley, another mountaineer and ex-RAF Mountain Rescue leader, in which he mentions John Hinde and refers to a blog of John's diaries put together by John's daughter, Fiona Wild. This blog contains an account of a 1983 Skye Trek on which I was one of the group leaders. Reading it brought back many memories of John and those trips. I had been thinking about Skye Trek earlier in the year too, when I followed much of the Knoydart sections of the treks, as described here and here. With Tony Hobbs I followed the same route through Glen Pean shown in the photos from forty years ago.

In his Course Director's Notes John writes "several Primus stoves were damaged by irresponsible students, and it is suggested that Trangias might be more “student-proof” alternatives for next year" (this did happen). The Primus stoves were the old paraffin type with the burner sitting atop the fuel tank which had to be pressurised with a pump. This brought to mind an incident when John and I had retired to our sleeping bags upstairs in Pean Bothy leaving the students chatting downstairs. Suddenly there was an almighty bang and a big thump on the floor. Charging downstairs we discovered that the students had blown the burner out of the stove by seeing how much they could pump it. Luckily nothing caught fire. 

By another coincidence I was thinking of this episode when I read a news report  today of a gas stove catching fire and being thrown out of a bothy where it exploded. Take care with stoves in bothies! (And tents). 

 

Refilling & Recycling Backpacking Stove Gas Canisters

Backpacking stove gas canisters tend to be replaced when almost empty because the heat from them is no longer enough to be of use. At least that’s what happens to my canisters. Stoves with regulators, low profile stoves with preheat tubes so the canister can be turned upside down, and stove systems with pots with heat exchangers are more efficient at using up gas than simple screw-in canister top stoves but there is always a little gas left when the stove no longer puts out heat.

This presents two problems. How to get the last gas out of a canister and what to do with the growing pile of almost empty canisters, given that they can’t be recycled with gas still in them. There are two different tools for this that actually complement each other.

The first is a gas transfer tool that lets you fill one canister from another. This consists of a two-way valve that screws into both canisters. To ensure the gas flows from one canister to the other there needs to be a heat differential between them with the canister you’re filling colder than the one being emptied. Putting one in the freezer for five minutes and the other in sunshine, or at least a warm room, should be enough.

Once the canisters are screwed in place and the valve is opened you can hear the gas rushing into the bottom canister. Once this stops you can close the valve.

To avoid overfilling a canister, which would be dangerous, I weigh the canisters and ensure that the total amount of gas in both canisters is less than that in a full canister – around 75-85%. Canisters have the amount of gas marked on them – 110g, 230g, 450g are common – so If you know the weight of a full canister (about 380g for a canister with 230g of gas, the size I mostly use, depending on the brand) you can work out how much gas a canister contains.

The tool I use for this is the FlipFuel and it works really well.

 

Now it might seem that this fuel transfer process leaves one canister completely empty, but I haven’t found this to be so, which is where the other tool comes in. To be recycled a canister should be punctured and preferably at least partly flattened (they are tough - try a sledgehammer!). To ensure there is no gas left before puncturing the canister another valve can be attached that vents the very last bit. This valve is part of the Jetboil CrunchIt Butane Canister Recycling Tool which also has a sharp spike for puncturing the canister when fully empty.

I was surprised to discover that when no more fuel would transfer between canisters and I attached the CrunchIt to the apparently empty one gas was still vented, sometimes a surprising amount. Only when the hiss of this has died away and I can’t hear any gas coming out even with my ear close to it do I puncture the canister. The empty canister can then be recycled with other metal cans.

Before I discovered the FlipFuel I was wasting a lot of gas by venting almost empty canisters with the CrunchIt. Now I use the two together.

The valves of both tools are designed for the common Lindahl Valve used on most small gas canisters designed for backpacking stoves. The brand of canister doesn’t matter.

I should point out that I always use both tools outside and nowhere near any open flame.

These are not items I’ve ever carried with me, but I guess on long trips I might do so if I was taking several canisters and thought I might want to transfer fuel between them or puncture and flatten empty ones for carrying. They’re both small and at 36g for the FlipFuel and 32g for the CrunchIt wouldn’t add much to the load.