The May issue of TGO has a big feature on gear for wild camping. My contributions are reviews of four stoves - Fire Maple Petrel Titanium Ultralight, GSI Pinnacle Four Season, Alpkit MyTiBurner, & Robens Fire Wisp Solo Cook Set UL -, the Gregory Baltoro 65 pack, and the Alpkit Radiant sleeping mat. Another mat is reviewed by David Lintern - the Highlander Nap Pak Arctic.
Also in this section Fiona Russell and David Lintern review six two-person tents from Fjern, Big Agnes, Wechsel, Highlander, MSR, & Hilleberg with a first look at the updated Nemo OSMO Dragonfly. Six three-season sleeping bags from Mont, Therm-A-Rest, Gruezi, Alpkit, Robens, & Big Agnes are tested by Steph Wetherell, David Lintern and Peter Macfarlane.
Four reviewers - Steph Wetherell, David Lintern, Peter Macfarlane and Juls Stodel - pick their favourite mini items of camping gear which range from a lantern and freeze-dried meals to tent pegs and a pump for inflating mats. There's also a first look at the Sigg Gemstone Food Jar and Steph Wetherell reviews the Charmast C2065 Power Bank.
Away from gear Hanna Lindon looks at ways to approach the National Three Peaks Challenge 100 years after it was first done, Louise Kenward explores the relationships disabled people can have with the outdoors, Minreet Kaur has a first wild camp in the Cairngorms, and Bella Falk goes on a Maasai-guided trek through Kenya's Loita Hills.
In shorter pieces Nadia Shaikh peers into pools for short crabs, Jon Moses of the Right to Roam campaign discusses the CRoW Act at 25, Jim Perrin looks at Ben Nevis for his Mountain Portrait, Vivienne Crow introduces the new Roof of England long-distance trail, and Juls Stodel considers where to go to be a hermit. The Skills section looks at new outdoor activities to try.
The theme of Wild Walks this month is big mountain challenges. Simon Stokes tackles the Cairngorms 4000s, James Forrest the Lakeland 3000s, Norman Hadley the Lakeland 800s, Richard Hartfield the Howgills 2000s, and Nike Werstroh the Surrey Three Peaks. Away from walks with numbers Ian Battersby undertakes the Durham Dales Challenge and Chiz Dakin the Nine Edges Challenge in the Peak District.
Below Rakes Rocks. My first camp on the Pennine Way, April 7
On April 7th, 1976, I set out on my first
long-distance walk, a journey that was to set the pattern for the rest of my
life. In the previous few years I had done plenty of day walks in the hills and
a few one or two night backpacking trips. Now I wanted to find out what a
longer trip felt like and whether I could complete one. I chose the Pennine
Way, England’s first official long-distance path, which had opened eleven years
earlier, probably because it was well-known, and also because it’s 270 miles/435
kilometres seemed the right length for a two-week trip. Stretching from the
Peak District National Park up the chain of the Pennine hills and into the
Cheviots before finishing just across the border in Scotland it promised a variety
of landscapes and interesting walking, much of it in places I’d never been before.
My journal
I had no idea if I could do the walk or if I would enjoy
it. On the train to Edale at the southern end of the trail I started my journal
of the trip: “The doubts. Is the pack too heavy? Can I do it in 15 days? Am I
healthy enough? Most important can I mentally cope?”. Only the answer to the
first one was negative. Yes, the pack was too heavy. But otherwise the trip was
a huge success. At the finish I wrote “this is definitely the way to live! I
expect I’ll do it again and lots of different other walks – what a future. This
is not really the end, this is just the beginning”. And what a future it has been!
I’d enjoyed the walk despite the generally wet and misty
weather. My journal again: “Biggest disappointment I think was the fact that
all the land traversed above 2,000 feet was in thick mist and I had no distant
views at all. I think the atmosphere of being so close to nature for days on end
matters as much as views”.
The guidebook I carried the whole way
Fifty years ago the world was very different of course.
This was long before mobile phones or the internet. Away from roads and
villages there was no means of communicating with the outside world. When you
were alone in the hills you really were alone. Calling for help or advice was
not an option. Navigation required careful use of map and compass. There were Pennine
Way guidebooks though and I carried Wainwright’s Pennine Way Companion
the whole way, poring over it eagerly in the tent every night and writing notes in the log section.
Log pages
My one regret now is that I didn’t take photography
seriously back then. I just carried a simple point-and-shoot Instamatic compact
camera which produced small square photos. Due to the weather I didn’t take many
pictures and most are blurred or out of focus, due, I think, to the poor
quality of the camera, and my lack of ability. I have no pictures of myself on
the walk.
High Force, April 15. The wet weather meant the waterfalls along the way were all splendid. The wet weather and poor light was also a bit much for my camera!
I don’t know what the pack weighed but looking at my
equipment list I can see why it was too heavy. Apart from coated waterproofs
(non-breathable back then) my clothing was all cotton – string vest, t-shirt,
cord jeans, windproof jacket – and wool – thin sweater, thick sweater, shirt,
trousers, socks, gloves, balaclava – but why did I take so much of it? I don’t
know but I did note at the end that I only needed to wear one pair of socks at
a time (two was standard) and that I should find something lighter than corduroy
jeans for warmer weather. Of course a clothing revolution was coming in fast
and the next few years would see the arrival of breathable waterproofs and
synthetic replacements for cotton and wool that were lighter and more compact.
But overall my clothing and equipment worked fine. I never got very cold or
very wet and the camping went well.
Camp at Top Withens, April 9
I have one item of equipment left from that trip, the
Trangia stove. It still works too and goes on the occasional outing. The tent –
a Saunders Backpacker II – was excellent. Long after the walk and after a fair
bit more usage the coating cracked and began to flake off and the nylon
flysheet became brittle. But it was as good as there was then. The down sleeping bag
was wonderful too. I’d borrowed it as the only one I had was a thin summer one
that I knew wasn’t warm enough for April. Having to return it at the end was a
blow!
My pack was my pride and joy, an American Camp Trails
external frame model that cost what seemed like a fortune and which was very
comfortable. However, I wasn’t so impressed with it when I had to sit on a damp
hillside repairing the hipbelt which had torn off. But otherwise it carried the
load well.
I resupplied
with food along the way and seem from my notes to have eaten a great deal of malt
loaf, cheese, and chocolate biscuits. I had muesli for breakfast and packet soups
and dehydrated meals in the evening. A few of the latter were Springlow specialist
camping meals, which you could get in outdoor shops. From memory they were
horrible! Not having thought about them for decades I did an online search but
all that turned up was an antiques site offering a “Vintage 1950's Unopened Tin of Springlow Cabbage with original contents”!
The logo is the one I remember though. Mostly I dined on Batchelors Savoury
Rice in different flavours, which was all that stores along the way had that
was suitable.
Fifty years on that Pennine Way walk is a distant happy memory. I can
just about recognise the young man who set out on that adventure. I can see how
he became the person I am now. I am so glad I did that walk.
Here’s my gear list as written in my notebook – in several different
places for some reason!
With a big storm approaching and unsettled weather already
here venturing into the high mountains didn’t seem a good idea so I decided on
an overnight trip in my local moorland hills. There were places I’d still never
visited despite living here for over thirty years. This seemed a good time to go
and see them.
The field of young pines with the Cromdale Hills in the background
For once I set off from the front gate and into the local
woods. I soon left the dense forest, a mixed plantation of Scots pine, larch,
and Sitka spruce that was thinned a few years ago (to make it more suitable for
capercaillie the estate said) and passed by a fenced area full of young pines.
When we first moved here this was a boggy field used for grazing sheep. That
stopped many years ago and young trees started to appear, seeded from the nearby
pine plantation. Since then the estate has planted some more pines and erected
a stock fence, though this seems unnecessary as plenty of trees have sprung up
outside it. Still, it’s good to see a new forest growing.
The Cairngorms
Beyond the trees I headed up onto rough heather moorland.
The clouds cleared and the distant shining white Cairngorms appeared under a
deep blue sky. The sun was warm and I thought about removing my hat. Dark
clouds on the horizon suggested this might be unwise however. It would have
been as soon sleet and then snow was driving in on a gusty wind. Instead of
removing my hat I was struggling into waterproofs.
The weather changes
The storm continued as I climbed through a rugged area of
small crags and ravines dotted with self-seeded trees and onto higher moors
where there was no protection from the wind and the wet snow.
Wintry!
I was aiming for a little loch called the Black Loch at the head
of one of the burns running down into Glen Tulchan. It looked an interesting
situation, tucked into a very narrow little steep-sided glen just below a broad
moorland ridge.
The Black Loch
The skies cleared and the sun shone again as I had my first
sight of the loch. I’d thought I might camp by it but as soon as I looked down
I knew that just reaching it would be difficult enough as steep heather-clad
slopes dotted with little crags ran right down to the water. A careful
traversing descent took me down to the foot of the lochan and the start of the
winding defile of the Black Loch Burn.
The Black Loch Burn glen after a snow flurry
The floor of the glen was a boggy mass of reeds, tussocks
and heather with the burn winding through it. The ground oozed. There was no
path, the walking was tough, and camping here out of the question. It’s a
lovely hidden little glen though and I enjoyed my rather stumbling walk along
it. The weather changed again, another burst of snow arriving, but the sky was
clear by the time I reached the estate track running down Glen Tulchan and the
walking became easier.
The land was still boggy and tussocky until I reached some Caledonian
pinewoods. Here I found a dry site in an area of dead bracken. The clouds were
racing overhead but it was calm here. The pine forest was lovely but I spent
the evening in the tent as there were more snow and sleet showers.
View from the tent at dawn
Dawn came with sunshine and a frost. There was frozen
condensation on the tent walls. I lingered over breakfast, reluctant to leave
this tranquil spot. And also reluctant to don my cold wet socks and boots,
sodden from the bogs of the Black Loch Burn the day before. As always once on
they didn’t feel too bad. The anticipation was worse than the reality.
One of the fords
There was a stream to ford just beyond camp and then another
two further down the glen. I just splashed through. I was not going to have dry
feet today. More old pinewoods made the glen pleasant and a little wild.
Ben Rinnes
As the land grew tamer and the first fences and cultivated
fields appeared I left the glen on an estate track that took me back up onto
the moors with views over the trees to snow-topped Ben Rinnes.
Across the next glen I could see an extensive cross-hatching pattern on the hillside. I'd never seen anything like this before and couldn't work out what it was for. Back home research showed it's called narrow strip matrix or maze cutting and is done to provide more edges to the heather as part of management to boost grouse numbers for shooting. I'd seen burnt patches and shooting butts on the moors here as grouse shooting is a major land use but nothing like this.*
Glenmore Loch
As clouds began to build again I descended to little
Glenmore Loch, a pleasant artificial pool where I saw mallard ducks and a
heron, and then up onto the slopes of Tom Mor, on top of which is the mast that
provides my wi-fi. The mast was visible but there was no signal here.
Looking back to Glenmore Loch as the clouds roll in and sleet begins to fall
Now on familiar ground I hurried down the track to the road
home. Distant hills were disappearing into the mist and light rain and sleet
was falling. The world turned grey. I could have done without the last hour’s
walking. I’d visited some local country I hadn’t seen before, had a restful
camp, and a good walk though. It had been a low key but pleasant trip and the
weather suggested I’d have had a much rougher and less enjoyable time if I’d gone
to the higher mountains.
*The Tulchan Estate, which owns and manages this land, was recently reported as being up for sale for £67 million. However indefatigable land campaigner Andy Wightman explains on his Land Matters blog that there's some sleight of hand going on with the sale of 100% of the shares so that various taxes need not be paid. It seems the estate is both for sale and not for sale at the same time.
My most used stove and pot combination for winter camping for more than
a decade has been the Jetboil MiniMo as it has a regulated burner and a wide
pot with a heat exchanger. I’ve long thought this by far the best of Jetboil’s stove systems
so I was excited to hear that a
successor was being launched featuring some of the new features that appeared
in the revamped Flash 1.0L last year (my
review here).
Melting snow with the MiniMo
The new model is called the TrailCook, and is available with
1.2 or 2 litre pots. I have the
TrailCook 1.2L to test. These are my first thoughts. I’ll be testing it very
soon.
Where the Flash is intended for boiling water only the
TrailCook is designed for cooking as well. To that end it has a regulated
burner like the MiniMo to give good flame control for simmering. Regulated
burners also work better in the cold than non-regulated ones like the Flash and
the power output should remain constant as the gas canister empties.
TrailCook control
Like the Flash the TrailCook burner has a single twist and
click dial that turns the stove on, activates the Piezo igniter, and controls the
flame. Also like the Flash the igniter is protected in a ceramic casing and
there’s a rubberised coloured grip zone you can hold without burning your
hand.The burner head is the same size
as the Flash too.
Burner, Piezo & Pot Support
The pot support is a completely different new design.
Instead of a metal ring onto which the pot locks there are three folding arms. The pot sits securely on these but doesn’t lock in place. You can’t
tip it very far without the pot falling off. It’s much more like a conventional
pot and burner design. Other pots can sit on the supports though none I’ve
tried so far are very stable.
TrailCook 1.2L pot
The pot has the usual heat exchanger on the base – Jetboil
calls this a Flux Ring. The pot is made of ceramic coated aluminium so that
food won’t stick. To avoid scratching the coating I think it’s probably wise to use non-metal
utensils. The total volume is 1.2 litres, but there is a maximum fill line of
700ml marked inside. This along with 300ml and 500ml marks plus ones for cups
and ounces is engraved in black inside the black pot and difficult see without
a light. There’s an insulating neoprene
sleeve round the pot so you can hold it without burning your hand.
The pot has a secure insulated metal handle that clips over
the top of the pot for storage and to keep the lid in place. This is much
better than the limp fabric handle on the Flash. It’s needed so you can hold
the pot firmly while stirring food. The transparent synthetic lid has steam and
drain holes and a flip-up insulated knob.
The TrailCook 1.2L comes with a 300mll bowl that fits on the
base – not available on the TrailCook 2.0L – and a plastic foldable canister
stabiliser. The total weight is 591 grams. Without the bowl and stabiliser it’s
496 grams.
Burner, 100-size canister, & stabiliser in the pot
The burner, stabiliser and a 100 size canister will fit
inside the pot. A 230 size canister will also fit inside but not with the
burner. To protect the ceramic coating I would always wrap the canister in a
cloth and store the burner in the cloth bag provided.
TrailCook 1.2L & MiniMo
So how does the TrailCook compare to the MiniMo? The MiniMo’s pot is a bit smaller at 1 litre,
which I prefer for solo use, and does lock onto the burner, which I also prefer.
The MiniMo is also lighter than the TrailCook 1.2L at 413 grams in total and 366
grams without the plastic bowl that fits on the base. That’s a significant
weight difference. The MiniMo is also slightly smaller when packed. I’m not
sure about the ceramic coating on the pot. The MiniMo doesn’t have this and I’ve
not had big problems with food sticking.
Important features shared by the MiniMo and the TrailCook
are the regulated burner and the wide pot. These are what separate them from other
Jetboil stove systems
The new plus points of the TrailCook are the single igniter/
one-off-switch/flame control (though the lack of a long lever means you have to
get your fingers near the burner to use it – this is where the grip zone is
useful) ), the ability to use other pots, the long handle, which is easier to
hold firmly than the fold-out ones on the MiniMo, and the lid which is easier
to get on and off than the MiniMo’s. The Piezo igniter is better protected too
and so should last longer than the one on the MiniMo, which failed some time
ago. And it you use the bowl the TrailCook’s feels much tougher.
The MiniMo is being phased out but will be available for a while longer.
Overall my first impressions of the TrailCook are positive though I wish it
was a bit lighter. Now I have to use it and see what I think then.
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A sunny forecast for the equinox suggested a walk to
welcome the spring. Glen Feshie and the Moine Mhor beckoned (it always does). I
hadn’t been there since last August – far too long. The sun was indeed shining
and the air was warm as I set off down the glen. High above I could see
remnants of a recent snowfall edging the rim of the Moine Mhor plateau.
The Allt Garbhlach, the biggest stream forded, running into the river Feshie
Snowmelt and recent rain filled the streams rushing down
from the hills. Care was needed to cross them without getting water in my
boots. I just managed it apart from a few splashes. The river Feshie itself was
roaring but not as full as I’d thought it would be, enabling me to walk on
shingle banks next to the water where the river had swept away the path. That happened many years ago and a new steep narrow trail now climbs over a wooded spur above the
river, essential when the shingle is under water.
Shingle banks by the river Feshie
After a third ford I searched out a campsite, finding one close
to a flooded boggy area that was overflowing into a stream in little cascades,
an unusual sight.
A bog above a stream
From my tent I could look up to snow-streaked hills. All
around were ancient pines and their much younger offspring along with juniper
bushes and slender birches. It was a wonderfully peaceful camp.
A view to the hills
Once the sun disappeared the temperature dropped rapidly and
I was soon in my sleeping bag and warm clothing in the tent heating up water
for some hot soup and then a spicy meal. Then it was time for a long sleep.
Early morning
The equinox dawned chilly, the overnight temperature 2°C, but the rising sun was
soon filtering through the trees and warming the world. However clouds quickly swept
in over the tops, clouds that were moving fast and occasionally covered the sun.
I stayed in the tent for breakfast.
The old track
The sun was shining again when I set off. My plan was to
follow an old track up the flank of the south-west ridge of Mullach Clach a’
Bhlair and then up to the summit on a clearer path. The old track isn’t marked
on Ordnance Survey maps but the start of it is on Harvey Cairngorms maps though
it disappears after half a kilometre or so. I remembered I'd descended it many years earlier but I couldn't remember much about it.
The track became less distinct as it left the trees
What I found was a little-used overgrown off-road vehicle
track, often just two indistinct lines cutting through the heather with little
trees growing between them. Once out of the forest the heather was thicker and
deeper and the track almost buried. The line could still be followed though. As
the slope steepened it became stony with water rushing down it, a stream rather
than a path.
Lochan nam Bo
Eventually the track reached windswept Lochan nam Bo and joined a clearer track that ran up the broad ridge over Druim nam Bo to Mullach Clach a
‘Bhlair. The views were spacious, a wide world after the confines of the
forest. To the south the air was hazy, the distant hills shadowy shapes.
The summit of Mullach Clach a ' Bhlair. From the left on the horizon Braeriach, Sgor an Lochan Uaine & Cairn Toul
Once I reached the summit the snow-covered higher summits to
the east were sharp and clear. Beinn Bhrotain, Monadh Mor, Cairn Toul, Sgor an
Lochan Uaine, Braeriach. Wonderful familiar names, Wonderful familiar
mountains. I never tire of them.
View over Coire Garbhlach to Meall Dubhag. The distant tiny pointed summit of Sgor Gaoith is just visible on the right
Although still sunny a strong gusty wind kept the air cold
so I thought about descending back to Glen Feshie down a wide track just a kilometre
away. This is the main way up to the Moine Mhor from this end of Glen Feshie.
Snowbanks on the edge of Coire Garbhlach with Sgor Gaoith just poking up on the left and Braeriach on the right
I was at the start of the descent when a steep hard snowbank
stopped me. I couldn’t see how far down it extended or how much steeper it became. Just walking down it without
donning my crampons seemed unwise. I was reluctant to stop and put them on for
what might only be a short distance though. I also realised I was reluctant to
leave the heights and the huge views and feeling of freedom so soon. The wind was at my back now, the sun was bright, and I was going well.
View across the Moine Mhor to Sgor Gaoith
So I turned away from the steep snow and headed north across the
Moine Mhor towards Carn Ban Mor and another track that would bring me down
to the road in Glen Feshie not far from my car. There might be steep snow on
this too. If there was I’d just have to deal with it.
Snow and water on the Moine Mhor
The walk across the Moine Mhor was glorious, the landscape
shimmering and glowing. I crossed many snowfields, some soft, some crisp and
crunchy. There were several pools where the edges of a snowbank had collapsed into a
hollow. The water in them was dark. Small streams rippled across the brown moorland where the snow had thawed.
Looking back to Mullach Clach a' Bhlair
Reaching the final track I turned and looked back to the
gentle rounded dome of Mullach Clach a’ Bhlair. Clouds were building up again.
I didn’t mind. The equinox had been splendid.
There were snowbanks on the descent but none that needed
crampons. I soon left them behind. Dusk was falling as I reached the first
trees. A couple of stumbles and my head torch came out for the last half hour. A full mountain and
forest day was over.
With my old Therm-A-Rest Ultralite and a tent full of mats ready for making a video
I started thinking about mat and tent combinations for the
first time last year. The idea had never occurred to me before because it had
never been necessary. Why would the two items affect each other? Until fairly
recently they didn’t but now some mats are thick enough to reduce headroom and
end space in a tent, especially a lightweight solo one.
Camp on the Cape Wrath Trail with the Therm-A-Rest NeoAir XLite NXT. 2024
I decided to make a little video about this as I’d never
seen it discussed anywhere. Then I thought I might as well talk about the different
types of mats and my views on them and that became the main theme of the video.
Mat thickness does appear at the end! Reviewing the different mats I’ve used over the years and
the advantages and disadvantages of each seemed a good subject for a written
piece as well. So here it is, with photos from over the decades.
1978 in the Cairngorms with a closed cell foam mat strapped to my pack
Back when I started backpacking closed cell foam mats were all
there were. The standard was the Karrimat, usually in bright yellow. They were 9mm
thick and warm enough most of the time. There was a thinner green 3mm version
too. I used this for a few years. How I ever slept on such a thin mat I can’t
imagine now.
Closed cell foam (ccf) is tough and durable. That’s it’s big
advantage. CCF mats can be chucked on the ground with no fear of punctures and generally
treated roughly. They do lose a bit of thickness after much use and the edges
can get tattered. But they still work. Given that the cost is low in the first
place they’re great value for money.
Closed cell foam mats are great for just chucking on the ground and using as a seat or to put gear on
Ccf mats aren’t very heavy (200-400 grams depending on thickness)
but they are bulky. They’re usually carried on the outside of packs, which is
convenient for using one during the day as a sitmat. The big drawback is that
they’re not very comfortable. As there was no other choice I used ccf mats on
hundreds of nights in my first decade of backpacking, including my first long
walks, the Pennine Way and Land’s End to John O’Groats.
Camp on the Pacific Crest Trail with my first Therm-A-Rest self-inflating mat. 1982
Then around 1980 I discovered the existence of a new self-inflating
mat called a Therm-A-Rest that was filled with open cell foam and said to be
far more comfortable than ccf. I soon got one and discovered that the claims
were true. The comfort was a revelation. No more ccf for me! (I wrote a
piece about the invention of the Therm-A-Rest back in 2018).
With the Therm-A-Rest Ultralite on my Canadian Rockies walk. I was obviously confident in its durability. It lasted the trip. 1988
That first Therm-A-Rest was quite a bit heavier at 652 grams
than ccf but I still took it on my Pacific Crest Trail thru-hike. I just loved
the comfort. Cascade Designs, the makers of Therm-A-Rest, then brought out an
UltraLite version that weighed 468 grams in the ¾ length version so I changed
to this and took it on the Continental Divide Trail, Canadian Rockies, Yukon
Territory and Scandinavian Mountains walks, totalling about 7000 miles and
hundreds of nights. I also used it on all the shorter walks I did during the
ten years it lasted. It is by far my most-used mat.
RidgeRest closed cell foam mat strapped under my pack on the Arizona Trail. 2000.
I stayed with Therm-A-Rest self-inflating mats for many more
years and walks. In all that time I only ever had two punctures, both quickly
found and mended. I did go back to a closed cell mat, a Therm-A-Rest RidgeRest,
for the Arizona Trail as I wanted to sleep out under the stars whenever I could
and I reckoned there might be too many spiky things in the desert for a mat
that could be punctured. With a ridged surface (hence the name) this was more
comfortable than the flat ccf mats of earlier years but I still missed the
comfort of a self-inflating mat and returned to one for future walks.
Original NeoAir, 2008
Until, that is, Therm-A-Rest reinvented the air bed with the
inflatable NeoAir. This was said to be even more comfortable than a
self-inflating mat as well as being lighter weight and more compact when
packed. I was convinced. I still am but soon found a big disadvantage –
durability. Over the years I’ve had inflatable air beds from half a dozen
different brands fail, often out in the wilds where repair was difficult if not
impossible.
Camp on the Pacific Northwest Trail with the inflatable mat that later failed. 2010.
The first time an inflatable mat became a deflated mat was
on a cold stormy night on the Pacific Northwest Trail when I found myself
wrestling the mat into a freezing lake in the dark trying to find the leaks. I
did have a short thin ccf mat with me but also a quilt, the only time I’ve used
one on a long walk. You really need a warm mat with a quilt! I did manage to
find and patch the leaks though the mat still went down several times a night.
As soon as I could I swapped it for a self-inflating one.
In Death Valley with a NeoAir XLite mat and a foam pad to protect it. 2016
With a few mats the problem has been the internal walls tearing
so one end of the mat swells up like a balloon. As well as making a mat
difficult and then impossible to use this also led to the fear that it might explode
during the night with an almighty bang.
In the Colorado Rockies with the Therm-A-Rest self-inflating mat Andrew Terrill loaned me after my inflatable mat failed. 2019
Three times on long walks I’ve borrowed old well-used
self-inflating Therm-A-Rest mats to replace failed inflatable ones. There was a
message there but it took me a while to learn it.
Keeping warm in an igloo on a Therm-A-Rest Prolite Plus & a Therm-A-Rest RidgeRest. 2007.
I still use inflatable mats. I don’t trust them though so I
always carry a ccf mat as well, , (usually a 190g Multimat Superlite 8), which
rather cancels out the weight and packed size advantage of inflatables. And I
am thinking of going back to a self-inflating mat despite the extra weight and
bulk. I still have a Therm-A-Rest Ultralite and a Therm-A-Rest Prolite Plus.
It’s time I used them again. The Multimat plus my lightest inflatable mat, the Therm-A-Rest
NeoAir XLite NXT, weighs 560g, the Multimat plus the Prolite Plus is 640g. I
have heavier ccf and inflatable mats I use occasionally but those are my
lightest combinations. I don’t 120g is significant except maybe on long trips
where weight really matters.
Sitting on the Multimat Superlite 8 with the NeoAir XLite NXT just visible in the tent. 2023.
As well as being more durable an advantage of a
self-inflating mat is that there’s still some insulation if it does deflate as
it’s full of foam. They don’t even out bumps and dips in the ground as well as
an air bed, though better than ccf, but they don’t fail often either. You also
don’t need to think about headroom in a tent either. My thickest self-inflating
mat is 3.8cm, my thinnest air bed 7.5cm. In a small tent with a 90cm high point
and low ends the difference is noticeable.
This 9cm thick mat really restricted the space at the foot end and the headroom in this small tent
Links to mats mentioned:
Multimat Superlite 8
https://amzn.to/4boow7z
Therm-A-Rest RidgeRest
https://amzn.to/4slnb8X
Therm-A-Rest Prolite Plus
https://amzn.to/4bdiXKE
Therm-A-Rest NeoAir XLite NXT
https://amzn.to/4bFurqh
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