50 Years of Stoves I've Used On Long-Distance Walks

In the Grand Canyon on the Arizona Trail with the Optimus Nova

This is an updated piece I first posted in 2018.

Unlike with other items choosing a stove for a long-distance walk is partly dependent on an external factor – what fuel can you buy along the way. This has changed over the years but is still an important consideration. When I began backpacking in the 1970s the fuel choices were almost the same as today – canisters, meths/alcohol, paraffin, and petrol/white gas. The big difference was that canisters were butane only, which was less efficient, especially in the cold, than today’s butane/propane mixes. Canister stoves have another disadvantage, which remains today. Most can’t be easily repaired in the field. 

My stove choice over the decades has gone from meths/alcohol ones through various petrol/paraffin pressure stoves with one diversion into canisters before going back to meths/alcohol and then changing to canisters.

My original Trangia

 

On my first long distance walks, the Pennine Way in 1976 and Land’s End to John O’Groats in 1978 I used a Trangia methylated spirits stove. I couldn’t find out if canisters were available along the way (this was long before the Internet of course) and anyway didn’t like the canister stoves I’d tried. Petrol or paraffin pressure stoves were an option, but I’d never used one of these and was a little nervous of them. As it was, while heavy and bulky, the Trangia worked fine in all conditions. I still have it.

With the Svea123 on the Continental Divide Trail

For the Pacific Crest Trail and Continental Divide walks in 1982 and 1985 I used a Svea 123 white gas stove, as this was the model recommended by Colin Fletcher in his superb The Complete Walker, which I read to learn about backpacking in the Western USA.  Alcohol stoves hadn’t yet caught on in the USA – that was to come two decades later – and general advice was that white gas in various forms – gasoline, Coleman Fuel, generic white gas – was the only fuel I’d find everywhere. The Svea, an upright brass tin can in appearance, worked well, once I’d got used to priming it with liquid fuel and realised I needed a separate windshield for strong winds, though using it with leaded petrol, which I did a few times, was always a little unnerving as it flared badly. 

In the Richardson Mountains in the Yukon Territory with the MSR Whisperlite

I stayed with white gas  but changed stoves for my 1988 Canadian Rockies and Yukon walks. MSR had brought out the Whisperlite Internationale, which was lighter than the Svea and came with an encircling windshield and a separate fuel tank attached by a long hose. Again it worked really well.

In the Jotunheimen on the Scandinavian Mountains Walk with the MSR X-GK

For my Scandinavian Mountains Walk in 1992 I changed to a different MSR stove, the X-GK II, because the only fuel available everywhere was paraffin in various forms and the X-GK ran well on this relatively dirty fuel and was easy to clean. Mostly I used lamp oil, a clean type of paraffin, but I did use some paraffin that smoked badly and clogged up the stove so being able to strip it down and clean it quickly was a boon.

All these stoves were quite heavy and I wanted something lighter for my next walk, the Munros and Tops, as this would involve a great deal of ascent. This was the first walk when I really tried to keep the overall weight down. I reckoned a canister stove would be okay in Scotland as it would be easy to replace if it failed and I’d manage for a few days on cold food if I had to. Canister stoves were a bit heavier than today back then but still very light compared to the stoves I had been using. I took one of the lightest then available, the Coleman Micro, a simple screw-in burner. The first one of these did fail. The second was fine. 

A chilly camp on the Arizona Trail with the Optimus Nova

I really liked the light weight and ease of use of a canister stove but the failure had confirmed my views that relying on one on a remote walk wasn’t a good idea so for the Arizona Trail in 2000 I went back to a pressure stove, the Optimus Nova. This was a bit easier to use than the MSR models, so I used it again on my 500-mile circular walk through the High Sierra two years later.

The Caldera Ti-Tri at a wet camp on the Pacific Northwest Trail

During the 2000s the ultralight backpacking movement took off in the USA and with it came a wealth of alcohol stoves made from drinks cans. People also realised that various forms of alcohol suitable for stove use could be found in hardware stores and gas stations and that this availability made it an excellent fuel for long-distance walks. I tried a few of these little stoves and really liked the Trail Designs Caldera Ti-Tri, which was like an ultralight version of the Trangia but could also be run on solid fuel tablets or natural fuel.  

In the NW Highlands on the Scottish Watershed with the Ti-Tri

 

In 2010 I took the Ti-Tri on the Pacific Northwest Trail and was so delighted with it that I used it on my next three long-distance walks, the Scottish Watershed, Yosemite Valley to Death Valley and . I’ll almost certainly use it on the next one too, though with the new Kojin burner rather than the 12-10 one as the Kojin is more durable and can retain unused fuel.  

Ti-Tri at a desert camp on the Yosemite Valley to Death Valley walk

The Ti-Tri performed really well. I did indeed use the Ti-Tri with the Kojin burner on my next long walk, the GR5 Through the Alps in 2018, and it performed really well. I didn't use it on my long walk the year after that though.

The Ti-Tri on the GR5

The summer I walked the GR5 in the Alps I had planned on hiking the Continental Divide Trail in the Southern Colorado Rockies, following the high route I'd been forced to abandon for a lower one due to snow on my CDT thru-hike in 1985. But wildfires meant much of the route was closed early in the summer so I changed plans and went to the Alps instead. Those wildfires also meant that stoves without on/off controls were banned. The Ti-Tri doesn't have an on/off control.

The next year late snow meant the Colorado Rockies were wet and wildfires were not a threat. However knowing regulations might ban stoves like the Ti-Tri if conditions changed I decided to take a canister stove, the little MSR Pocket Rocket 2. Since the only other time I'd used such a stove on a long walk, the Coleman Micro on the Munros and Tops walk in 1996, fuel efficiency had been improved enormously. In the Rockies I got eleven days out of a 230 gram canister. In 1996 it was around five days. The Pocket Rocket was much lighter than the Micro too. It worked fine.

In the previous version of this piece I said that I’d almost certainly go back to the Ti-Tri  on my next long walk. I didn't, though this was due to new pots rather than stoves. A year after the Colorado Rockies walk Jetboil launched the Stash stove and pot combination. This was far lighter than any previous Jetboil stove system with a heat exchanger pot. I'd used various Jetboil systems before and the MiniMo and had become a favourite for winter use but I'd never considered one for long-distance walking due to the weight. The Stash was different. It didn't weigh any more than the stove and pot I'd used in the Colorado Rockies and was even more fuel efficient due to the heat exchanger.

The Jetboil Stash pot & Soto Windmaster stove on the Cape Wrath Trail

The Stash stove was okay, not that different from the Pocket Rocket 2 in performance in fact, but there were better stoves, one being the Soto Windmaster which has a regulated burner and some wind protection. So when I walked the Cape Wrath Trail I took the Stash pot and the Windmaster stove. The combination was excellent - fast boiling, amazingly fuel efficient, and reasonably wind resistant. 

Fire Maple Petrel Ultralight Titanium Stove & Fire Maple Petrel Ramen pot on The Moray Way

The Stash pot isn't available as a standalone however. It only comes with the Stash stove. However soon after it appeared Fire Maple launched the first of its Petrel pots with heat exchangers. I tried one and was impressed. But it was tall and narrow and I prefer wider, shallower pots as they are easier for stirring food, eating out of, and cleaning. Soon, though, Fire Maple brought out a wider Petrel pot and then an even wider one, the Ramen 800 ml. I used the latter with the Fire Maple Petrel Ultralight Titanium stove on the Moray Way this year and it worked well.

I can't now imagine using a pot without a heat exchanger on any long-distance walk. They are so much more efficient in terms of fuel use. I could get a Ti-Tri cone or similar that fits a heat exchanger pot but I'll probably go on using canister stoves. Which one? Probably the Windmaster or the MSR Pocket Rocket Deluxe as these are regulated and both fit the Petrel pots. 

I made a little video about the stoves.

Substack piece on my Canadian Rockies walk

Great Snowy Mountain Range & Keily Creek in the Northern Canadian Rockies

I've written a piece on my 1988 length of the Canadian Rockies walk for Ash Routen's new At the Edge of the Map magazine on Substack.  Described as "independent reporting and analysis on global adventure, expeditions, and exploration" this looks an interesting venture. 

John Muir Trust Wild Nature Diary & Calendar 2027: Highly Recommended!

 

The annual Wild Nature Diary and Calendar are always a joy to receive and the 2027 ones are no exception. Yet again photographer John Beatty has put together an impressive collection of images by top landscape, nature, and wildlife photographers.

It's hard to single out any image in the beautiful collection in the calendar but if I had to choose just one it would be James Roddie's gorgeous photo of the forest in Glen Affric in autumn. This is one the best forest pictures I've ever seen. Every month has a wonderful image though - mountains, animals, flowers, birds, butterflies, waterfalls, all wonderful and each with an informative description.

The diary has the same mix only with far more images from far more photographers, including John Beatty himself, as there's one a week plus some lovely double-page spreads at the front. There's also a  Foreword by wildlife cameraman and television presenter Hamza Yassin and a message from the chair of the John Muir Trust. 

For any nature lover these are wonderful gifts. They're available from Wild Nature at £14 for the Diary and £18 for the Calendar.

More Rain In Glen Feshie

Beasts in the glen

Not long after the stormy trip through Glen Feshie and over the Lairig Ghru with Tony Hobbs, as described in this post, I was back in Glen Feshie with Wolfgang Petter and his friend Stefan. The original plan, as with Tony, had been a walk in the NW Highlands but the weather forecast had us changing that to an overnight trip in Glen Feshie. Not that the forecast for the Cairngorms was good but Glen Feshie should be sheltered from the storms forecast for the hills.

River Feshie in the rain

We certainly had shelter from the wind. There was barely a breeze as we walked up the glen. But not from the rain, which fell much of the time. High above the tops were hidden in thick grey cloud. The wetness had one benefit though. The autumn colours glowed.

Stefan viewing the River Feshie and the Allt Garbhlach

The river surged and roared. Stream crossings required care to keep feet dry. The vegetation was wet though and at times pushing through it unavoidable.

Impressive horns!

Shaggy and wet, Highland cattle, introduced into the glen to break up the ground so that more varied vegetation can grow, stared at us from damp meadows. Some were on the track at a stream crossing, unbothered at our passing by.

Wolfgang outside his tent

We made camp on some reasonably flat ground not far from the river, or at least one of the many channels it formed. The rain continued and we were soon undercover, making hot drinks and food.

Dawn view

Rain fell most of the night, or at least it was doing so the few times I woke, and the tent was soaked in the morning. There was much condensation inside the flysheet too. Given that the air and the ground were saturated this wasn't surprising. I was warm and dry in the inner tent anyway.

Wolfgang admiring a patch of blue sky

Dawn came with drifting mists and swirling high clouds. There were patches of blue at times though and the rain had stopped. With no need to leave early as we were just walking back down the glen we wandered about admiring the clouds, the mist, the river, the forest, the wildness. Peaceful, magical, perfect.

Early morning clouds & mist

The walk back along the glen was uneventful. It didn't rain. The cattle had moved on. The streams were already lower than the previous day. There were masses of fungi in the damp forest.

River Feshie channel near camp

Wolfgang made a video of the trip which should appear later in the years on his McPetter's Schottland YouTube Channel. He has already posted a video of the trip to Craig bothy he and Stefan had made the week before our trip.

There were fungi everywhere

Ten Years Ago: The Strangest Last Day Of A Long Walk - wake up in Death Valley, go to sleep in Las Vegas.

Death Valley camp, morning, October 23, 2016

On October 23, 2016, I had the strangest end to a long-distance walk I've ever experienced. It was the last day of a month-long walk from Yosemite Valley to Death Valley in California. I woke up in the wilderness with mountains behind me, desert in front of me. No sign of humanity. I went to sleep in a hotel room in downtown Las Vegas. No mountains. No desert. Just the bright, noisy city.

Hotel corridor, Las Vegas, evening, October 23, 2016

Las Vegas felt surreal, an aberration. The real world was mountains, deserts, trees, rivers, lakes, wildlife. Las Vegas was bright lights, crammed-together tall buildings, traffic, and endless advertisements for casinos and shows. What strange reality was this? 

I wandered into the Grand Hotel where I'd booked a room. To reach it I had to walk through a vast hall of slot machines. In my room a huge television offfere money off the first few bets and told me I could spend my time in Las Vegas gambling without ever leaving my room. That's why the room in this luxurious hotel was so cheap. Money came from accommodation was to lure you in.

My hotel.

Ignoring the gambling lures (I don't gamble so it wasn't hard) I headed out for something I did need: a meal. The hotel didn't offer this. Why eat when you could bet? Outside it was pouring with rain, something I was told never happens here. I wore my waterproof jacket, the first time it had come out of my pack since I set off on the walk. At least there was something natural here. Rain.

To cope with the strange unreality of Las Vegas my mind switched into detached observer mode. I was not part of this world, I was here simply to watch, to experience a place I never intended visiting again. 

I posted some commentary and some different still pictures on my YouTube channel.

The year after the walk I wrote a piece about it for The Great Outdoors magazine which is available here. I also wrote a piece on the gear I used.

Autumn Storms in the Cairngorms on a four-night trip

Approaching Bod an Deamhain 

We should have been in Torridon. At least, that was the plan. A forecast of stormy weather had us deciding to shift the trip a few days forwards. The forecast shifted with us. Maybe Torridon wasn’t a good idea. The forecast looked a little less stormy in the Cairngorms. Also, there we had options for more sheltered routes than in Torridon, with more trees, more long glens. The Cairngorms it would be.

This was Tony Hobb’s annual autumn trip to the Highlands. Stormy weather was not unusual on these ventures though the previous year we’d had fairly benign conditions in Glen Affric. Two years before that however Storm Agnes caught us in the Eastern Cairngorms.

By the time we were setting off on this trip the forecast looked stormier in the Cairngorms. We weren’t going to escape it. Summits and plateaux seemed unwise. I planned a glens and passes route that would give us two nights out of the four in forests.

First camp, Glen Feshie

The walk down Glen Feshie was uneventful. It was early October and the autumn colours were just beginning. The glen was lovely and peaceful. We found a good site deep in the woods and had a pleasant first camp.

Glen Feshie

The next day we continued up the glen as the sky grew darker and the wind began to strengthen. The first spots of rain fell as we left the last trees. Jacket hoods went up and down as showers came and went. Autumn colours glowed. The twin waterfalls on the River Eidart, one wide, one thin, looked superb.

Eidart Bridge & Falls

Then it was onto the shallow watershed between the River Feshie and the Geldie Burn. This is bleak wide-open moorland with no shelter. The rain was hammering down now, stinging bare skin. Hoods stayed up. The strong gusty wind was hitting us from the side. We were thankful not to be walking into it. I felt tired but plodded on. There was nowhere for a comfortable camp.

Colour in the storm

A brief break in the clouds gave a brilliant rainbow, the only colour for several hours. The Geldie began to gently descend with slopes closing in on either side. We found a good, fairly sheltered site right by the burn. Exhausted I was soon out of wet clothes and into my sleeping bag. During the night I woke with a streaming nose and a headache. A cold! Damn! That explained my weariness.

Early morning at camp by the River Geldie

Dawn came with golden light and a feeling of warmth. The land glowed. The sun shone. Briefly. Within an hour the clouds had thickened and the glorious brightness had faded. 

Sunrise, River Geldie

We debated what to do. Crossing the high Lairig Ghru pass was still the shortest way back to the start so we decided to take the most direct route there rather than the longer one we’d originally planned. Commitments meant we hadn’t a spare day for me to sit out my cold here, something I would have done otherwise. I did not feel like walking far, or even at all.

In Glen Dee

Instead, we had a relatively short day and walked to the River Dee and then followed it into the mouth of the Lairig Ghru. The clouds raced overhead and swirled round the mountains. There were showers but no prolonged rain. The landscape became more dramatic as the mountains closed in, the great crags and slabs of Bod an Deamhain (the Devil’s Point) dominating the view. Tony found a couple of patches of grass Just big enough for the tents amongst the bogs, heather and tussocks. They made comfortable sites.

Camp in Glen Dee

Still feeling rough the next day I was slow to get ready and we had a late start. I was slow plodding up the path to the Lairig Ghru too. We passed the dark Pools of Dee in their stark boulder fields and reached the 835-metre summit of the pass just before dusk. The wind was gusty but not too strong and any showers were brief. We had, we thought, done the hardest part of the day. Now we just had to follow the path slowly down into the forest and find a sheltered camp site.

Braeriach from Glen Dee

We were wrong. The wind was ferocious, blasting down, funnelled through the narrow gap of the pass. Without trekking pole we’d have been knocked over, often. At times all we could do was brace ourselves with the poles and try and keep our feet until a gust eased. We were walking by headlamp with Tony’s dog Bella, who had no problem finding the path, leading the way. The terrain here is rocky. Being blown over was not a good idea. Caution and slowness were the only safe way to proceed.

Beside one of the Pools of Dee

Eventually we came out of the narrow gap and onto a better path. The wind was now merely fierce. It continued so down into the forest and we went further than we’d hoped before camping on a site we’d used before where the wind was a little less powerful. We were in fact only a few kilometres from the road. But there was no point going on. We needed to sleep before driving. It had been an exciting trip, a memorable trip, one to talk about in future. But I was glad it was over.

A Look At The November Issue Of The Great Outdoors

In this issue I look at new items of gear that caught my eye at this year's Outdoor Trade Show. In reviews Kirsty Pallas and James Roddie each try out three pairs of hiking boots. In the Gear Opinion piece James Forrest gives a realistic assessment of waterproofs and what you can actually expect from them. Also on the always relevant matter of coping with rain Will Renwick describes how he deals with wet weather.

The main theme of the issue is bothies, which, of course, are good places to shelter from the rain. A long piece looks at the story of bothies and the sub-culture that goes with them through the eyes of those who know them best, including pieces from authors Kat Hill and John Burns, who have both written books on bothies.  And in her Uphill Struggles column Mountain Bothies Association trustee Juls Stodel gives advice on what to do about snorers.

The Wild Walks pages cover bothies too. In Scotland James Roddie visits the tiny Lairig Leachach bothy in the Grey Corries, Simon Stokes climbs Suilven via Suileag bothy, and Alex Roddie Ben Lomond via Rowchoish bothy. In the North Pennines Vivienne Crow visits Greg's Hut enroute to Cross Fell. Not far away in the Lake District Norman Hadley finds Mosedale Cottage a welcome overnight stop on a long walk on the Far Eastern Fells. In Eryri/Snowdonia Andrew Galloway finds refuge in Penrhos Isaf bothy deep in the woods of Coed-y-Brenin. Further south in Wales in the Cambrian Mountains Carys Rees stays in the Lluest-cwm-bach bothy in the Elan Valley.

This is also the annual TGO Challenge issue and there's a selection of stories from this year's event.

Away from bothies and rain Francesca Donovan and Stew Hume embark on a piecemeal approach to Glyndwr's Way in Mid Wales and David Myers has a winter walk on the GR131, which links all seven Canary Islands.

The opening spread is a splendid photo by Alan Novelli of Duncansby Head and Sea Stacks on the far north-east tip of the Scottish mainland.

In a moving piece RSPB Scotland's peatland project manager Sally Berry writes about the wildfire that devastated parts of the RSPB's Abernethy reserve in the summer and the incredible response of the local community.

In her nature column Nadia Shaikh falls for the tiny, cute but aggressive goldcrest.

Francesca Donovan reviews Alastair Humphrey's latest book Unwilded - Finding Our Way Back To Nature and finds it calming and inspiring.

Jim Perrin's Mountain Portrait is Win Hill in the Peak District which he says is the best sunset bivouac site in Britain.

Queues to reach the summit of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) were in the news again last summer. Carys Rees discusses this phenomenon with her mountain rescue and ultra-running colleague Rob Smith, who is also a professor of sociology.