Tuesday, 18 January 2022

Packs I've Used On Long-Distance Walks

The North Face Back Magic II, Pacific Crest Trail, 1982

This is an updated feature that first appeared in 2018. I've made some edits, added some new words, a new pack, and a few different pictures.

Thinking about the packs I’ve used over the years, especially on long-distance walks, I realised that the big change has been in capacity and weight – as gear in general has got more compact and lighter so have the packs I use. However, despite all the developments in materials and designs the packs I used over forty years ago would be fine today. Over the years I’ve gone from external frame to internal frame to, briefly, frameless and back to internal frame. Here’s a run-down of the key packs.

After a couple of poor choices when I started backpacking – a cheap external frame that broke and a better quality one with no hipbelt and a difficult to use packbag – my first good pack was the Camp Trails Ponderosa, which came with an external frame called the Astral Cruiser. I bought this because it was recommended in the first backpacking books I read, Teach Yourself Backpacking by Peter Lumley and The Backpacker’s Handbook by Derrick Booth (much later I pinched the last title for one of my books). The Ponderosa was a classic external frame pack of the time. In 1976 I used it on my first walk longer than a weekend, the Pennine Way, and found it a little unstable on rough terrain though very comfortable on good paths. However, the hipbelt ripped off towards the end of the trip and I had to sew it back on. 

Berghaus Cyclops Scorpion, Pacific Crest Trail, 1982

That failure meant I wanted a new pack for my first really long walk two years later, Land’s End to John O’Groats. Berghaus, then still a fairly new company, had recently launched their internal frame Cyclops pack and they looked tough, so I picked one of these, the 80 litre Serac. This proved comfortable and survived the walk so for my next long trip, the Pacific Crest Trail in 1982, I went for a bigger Cyclops model, the 100 litre Scorpion, reckoning I’d need the extra capacity. I did and could have done with more. At one point I carried my heaviest every load – 23 days supplies plus ice axe, crampons, snowshoes, and extra clothing. The pack almost disappeared under all the gear on the outside. 

The ridiculously heavy load, Pacific Crest Trail, 1982

The Scorpion performed well but after around 1500 miles the frame snapped – probably weakened when I let it bounce down a steep snowy pass in the High Sierra. As the frame was sewn-in to the padded back and was an unusual asymmetric X shape I couldn’t replace it. Unable to find an internal frame pack big enough I replaced it with an external frame one, The North Face Back Magic II. This had an equally unusual frame, an asymmetric hour-glass shape. It handled the last 1000 miles of the PCT fine but developed a slight bend in the frame on the airplane on the way home. I still have it. Maybe I’ll try it again soon.

The North Face Back Magic II, Pacific Crest Trail, 1982

Next came my 1985 Continental Divide Trail walk. After the broken Cyclops frame I looked for a different internal frame one and ended up with the Karrimor Condor 60-100, another huge pack with the biggest side pockets I’ve ever seen. This lasted around 2000 miles and then one of the shoulder straps snapped. It had rubbed against the hard plastic reinforcement in the hipbelt and slowly weakened – if I’d spotted this I could have padded it. After that I checked packs more often. I replaced it with an even bigger 125 litre Gregory Cassin, bought because it was recommended by Colin Fletcher in the latest edition of The Complete Walker. It was very heavy but also the most comfortable pack I’d yet used.

Karrimor Condor 60-100, Continental Divide Trail, 1985

I went back to the Karrimor Condor 60-100 for my 1988 walk the length of the Canadian Rockies but the hipbelt design had changed and I couldn’t get it comfortable – I obviously hadn’t tested it at home adequately. By this time I was reviewing packs for magazines and so had quite a choice of models. Lowe Alpine, who’d invented the internal frame pack, had sent me a prototype for their first external frame model called the Holloflex. This had the most massive padded hipbelt I’d ever seen plus a plastic frame that was said to be extremely tough. With sore hips from the Condor I fancied that hipbelt and had the pack sent out to me. It did prove superbly comfortable but the hipbelt began to part from the frame towards the end of the walk and ended up being held on with duct tape. The Holloflex never went into production due to the costs. It was the last time I used an external frame on a long walk.

Gregory Cassin, Yukon Territory, 1990

Two years later I went back to the Gregory Cassin for a walk the length of the Yukon Territory and again it was fine though by the end of that trek it was looking rather worn so I decided it wasn’t up to another long walk. By this time New Zealand company Macpac had arrived in the UK and their packs, made from a canvas like polyester/cotton fabric, looked really tough so I took the 90 litre Cascade on a 1992 walk the length of the Scandinavian mountains. Most of the way it was fine but towards the end of the walk the buckles on the hipbelt and shoulder straps started slipping annoyingly often.

Dana Designs Astralplane, Cairngorms, 2021

During the 1990s I led many ski tours, including camping expeditions to places like Greenland, Spitsbergen, the Yukon Territory, and the High Sierra. For this I needed a monster pack that was very stable as well as comfortable. A bit of research and I discovered the 115 litre Dana Designs Astralplane. I bought one and it was superb, the most stable huge pack I’ve ever tried. It proved very tough too. Indeed, I still have it and it’s in fine condition. I’ve never used it on a long-distance walk, however. I did take it on a two-week walk in Yosemite National Park in 1995 and have used it a few times for one and two night trips with bulky gear I’m testing, most recently in December 2021. It's indestructible.

Aarn Natural Balance, Munros & Tops, 1996

The packs above all weighed in the 2.5 -3.5kg range. That’s heavy. The ultralight gear revolution had begun in the early 90s and there were now frameless packs that weighed less a kilo. I didn’t find them comfortable with more than a very light load. For my next walk I did want a lighter pack though. Climbing all the Munros and Tops in one walk meant far more ascent than on any previous long-distance walk so I wanted to keep my load as light as possible whilst still being comfortable and functional. I tried a few of the new lighter packs but wasn't convinced by any of them. Then Aarn Tate asked me to try some prototype Natural Balance lightweight packs. As I’d be able to change packs quite easily this being a walk at home rather than abroad, I agreed and ended up using several models in the 65-75 litre range. When these packs were being shuttled around I used a 70 litre Lowe Alpine Alpamayo, which was fine, or an Arc’teryx Bora 60, which was very comfortable but unstable when scrambling as I discovered on the Aonach Eagach. This was the only walk I intentionally planned on using several packs though as I’ve shown above having one pack last a whole walk was rare.

Gregory Shasta, Arizona Trail, 2000

Whilst the Aarn packs were good with medium loads I needed one that would handle much more for the Arizona Trail, which I walked in 2000, as I knew I’d be carrying large quantities of water at times. Still not convinced by lightweight packs I returned to Gregory and the 82 litre Shasta, which survived the walk and carried the weight well.

GoLite Pinnacle, Pacific Northwest Trail, 2010

During the first decade of this century the development of lightweight packs moved fast and soon there was quite a choice of models that would handle quite heavy loads. Having used one of the lightest ones, the GoLite Pinnacle, on several two-week TGO Challenge crossings of the Scottish Highlands I decided on one of these for the Pacific Northwest Trail, which I walked in 2010. The 72 litre Pinnacle had no frame, just a lightly padded back, and a fairly minimalist hipbelt. However, the curved shape meant it was surprisingly comfortable. The PNT was too much for it though. After three weeks the shoulder straps began to deform and feel uncomfortable. Holes started to appear in the fabric too. GoLite replaced it with the heavier though still lightweight Quest which had a frame, and which was excellent for the rest of the walk. I reckon the Pinnacle was probably a rogue model that had slipped through quality control.

GoLite Quest, Pacific Northwest Trail, 2010

Whatever the reason for the failure I decided that my experiment with frameless packs for long walks was over. The comfort of the Quest, which was still far lighter than the packs I’d been using not many years before, was a key factor in this. 

Lightwave Ultrahike, Scottish Watershed, 2013

In 2013 I chose the internal frame 1.23kg 60 litre Lightwave Ultrahike for the Scottish Watershed, partly because it was far more water-resistant than most packs and I thought the walk could be quite wet, as indeed it was. The Ultrahike was excellent, but the shape wasn’t right for my next walk. In 2016 I walked 500 miles from Yosemite Valley to Death Valley with an internal frame ULA Catalyst pack because I could fit a bear-resistant canister in the top, which I couldn’t do in the Ultrahike. I carried heavier loads than recommended in this pack – I had eleven litres of water at one point in the desert – and it was fine. 

ULA Catalyst, Yosemite Valley to Death Valley, 2016

I’d planned on using the 1.4kg Catalyst on my next long walk – it is one of my favourite packs – until I was offered a much lighter pack to test, the 60 litre internal frame Gossamer Gear Mariposa, which weighs 945 grams and handles 15kg loads well. After some initial testing I really liked the design and the comfort, so I took the Mariposa on the GR5 Through the Alps walk from Lake Geneva to the Mediterranean Sea and was really pleased with it. I loved the massive pockets in particular. I then took the Mariposa on the fortieth TGO Challenge in 2019. Unfortunately, one of the load lifter straps ripped out and whilst I managed without it, the pack wasn't as comfortable.

Gossamer Gear Mariposa, GR5 Through the Alps, 2018

My next long walk was on the southern part of the Continental Divide Trail in Colorado, a section where I'd been forced by snow and storms to take a lower route in 1985. On this I took another new test pack, the 1.2kg internal frame Sierra Designs Flex Capacitor 40-60, which proved comfortable and stable. I did miss having a front pocket but discovered that the flat zipped lid meant I could lay out gear in the top of the pack and have quick access to it. I did overload the pack with ten days food at one point and the hipbelt did slip a little under the extra weight but with five to six days food it was fine.

Sierra Designs Flex Capacitor, Colorado Rockies, 2019

My final words on this piece were “for my next walk? Probably the Catalyst, Mariposa (which is away being repaired), or the Flex Capacitor. Unless, of course, a new pack arrives to test that I like.” Well, one did arrive last autumn, the 925 gram Atom Packs The Mo EP 50 (review here) and I may well use this, though more likely the 60 litre version. 

Atom Packs The Mo EP50, Cairngorms, 2021

Saturday, 15 January 2022

A Look At The February Issue Of The Great Outdoors

The first issue of The Great Outdoors in 2022 is out now. Due to the vagaries of magazine publishing it's the February issue, the January one having come out last December. I've very little in this issue (there'll be much more in the next one), just a brief look at how my favourite winter jacket, the Paramo Aspira, has lasted over the years. This is part of an advertising promotion for Nikwax, which is the way magazines now have to function to survive as so much direct advertising has gone online to Google, Facebook and others. The independence of gear reviews won't change though and any promotions like this one will be clearly flagged. 

With gear reviews you'll see more names this year as the team has been expanded and there are now seven of us. In this issue Alex Roddie and Judy Armstrong review men's and women's down jackets. 

There's quite a mix of other material in this issue and as always I've enjoyed reading it. I don't see it until the issue is published so it's as new to me as any other reader.

In the main features Meera Dattani selects some excellent multi-day hiking trips in Britain and beyond (there's a few I fancy); Katie Featherstone goes on a backpacking trip in Iceland; Roger Butler explores the Carneddau in winter; and also in the snow David Lintern traverses the Loch Lochy Munros (brilliant photos).

This issue also has The Great Outdoors Readers Awards for 2021. Fifteen different categories cover everything from Campaign/Campaigner of the Year to Walkers' Pub of the Year.

In shorter pieces the Route of the Month covers the Arrochar Alps, with a map by Jeremy Ashcroft and photos by James Roddie; the Comment Piece has David Lintern looking at the issues behind 'corporate rewilding'; and Jim Perrin's Mountain Portrait describes Ben More on the Isle of Mull.

In the Wild Walks section Alan Rowan tackles the two Munros  Mayar and Driesh in the Eastern Highlands in winter conditions; Stefan Durkacz has a coastal walk on the Dalmeny Estate on the edge of Edinburgh; Vivienne Crow has an icy walk over three little hills above Coledale in the Lake District; Steve Eddy discovers some local paths in the Wye Valley; and Fiona Barltrop has a rare snowy walk on the South Downs.

Friday, 14 January 2022

Getting Back Into It: A First Short Walk With A Pack This Year

View over Strathspey to the Cairngorms at dusk

After a series of very short local strolls - 1-2 hours - without a pack I ventured out recently with a small rucksack and went a little further up a local hill, crossing some rough terrain en route, to see how my operated on hand would respond. 

I learnt that my hand, with the bandange gone and just a plaster over the hole, didn't hurt too much as long as I was careful not to press down on anything. I don't think I could comfortably handle a treeking pole or ice axe yet and a big pack could be awkward - that has to wait a week or two at least. 

I also learnt that little exercise for the last three weeks along with rather too much rich winter warming food means more than my hand needs to get used to the hills again! But it's a start.

Thursday, 13 January 2022

Book Review: The Vanishing Ice by Iain Cameron

For many years Iain Cameron has been recording snow patches in the Scottish hills that last into summer and sometimes right through the year. From noting patches for his own interest he has become an expert researcher, writing regular reports for the Royal Meteorological Society and co-ordinating other snow researchers, mostly via social media. He’s appeared on radio and TV and his work is featured in newspapers regularly as interest has grown. Now he’s written an excellent book about his passion.

The Vanishing Ice is an extraordinary book about an extraordinary subject. Just why would someone take a tape measure on a risky walk into remote mountains to measure a shrinking patch of old snow? This book gives the answer, and will I’m sure inspire many others to join the author’s band of snow patch aficionados, of which I confess I am one though without the dedication or expertise of Iain Cameron.

A book on snow patches might appear to have a narrow focus but that’s not the case and the book is wide-ranging and full of interest. The story of how the author became intrigued by snow patches and how he began to record them is fascinating. Laced throughout the book are many exciting often hazardous adventures in the hills visiting snow remnants located high in hard-to-reach gullies and lying on steep icy slabs. Checking snow patches is not easy work but it does take the researcher into spectacular, rarely visited places and the author’s love of these shines through.

Iain Cameron’s mentor, the late Dr Adam Watson – scientist, environmentalist, and snow researcher - has a chapter to himself, as the person who encouraged the young snow researcher and set him up as his successor in snow research. Like Adam Watson Cameron has strong opinions and isn’t afraid to voice them too. In a chapter entitled ‘modern perils’ he lambasts the trend for risk aversion and outsourcing responsibility to others. “The authority of self-appointed guardians of our hill safety must always be questioned, and never be allowed to become received wisdom …... I cleave to the dreadfully old-fashioned view that personal responsibility is the single most important attribute a person can possess.” I agree whole-heartedly!

Inevitably in a book on snow climate change rears its head and the author covers the decline in the survival of snow patches, showing how the data demonstrates this clearly. This is a sad, reflective section of the book. Overall, though, the tone of the book is life-affirming and positive. This is someone doing what he loves in the mountains and making a contribution to knowledge as he does so. This particularly comes out in the chapters on the areas where snow lies late, both in Scotland, and south of the border. From Aonach Mor to a cave in the Peak District (yes, really!) the author takes us on a grand tour of snow patches, with much geographical information and historical research thrown in.

The book is illustrated with excellent photographs showing snow patches and the remote, awkward-to-reach places many are found. Especially dramatic and beautiful are those of snow tunnels.

The Vanishing Ice is an outstanding book that I really enjoyed reading. It’s highly recommended for anyone interested in the hills and in snow.

This review first appeared in The Great Outdoors.