Painful to Carry Gear That’s Still Totally Worth Carrying

Couple weeks ago, I set out on a nice day hike up in Point Reyes National Seashore, just north of San Francisco. Ever been? Gorgeous, magical place, clothed in redwoods in the flats and valleys, fog-shrouded in the highlands, majestic Tule Elk wandering in great herds. There are even a few backcountry campsites scattered about, some right on the coast, the Pacific gentlyโ€”or sometimes very, very forcefullyโ€”crashing in the background.

As I prepped for my hike, I chatted with a middle-aged man as he finished packing his backpack for a multi-day jaunt to a campsite about seven miles away. He carefully pinned his camping permit to the outside of an overstuffed pack, pulled on a pair of well-used leather boots, adjusted a full-brim hat string around his chin, and then, unbelievably to me, proceeded to strap an ancient folding chair to his bag with rope. Not a backpacking chairโ€”a metal framed chair that had to weigh at least 15 pounds. I bit my tongue for a moment, then couldnโ€™t help myself, and told him there was a picnic table at his campsite, he wouldnโ€™t need to lug that chair all the way.

โ€œI know,โ€ he said. โ€œBut this chair has been with me everywhere, and itโ€™s so comfortable I wouldnโ€™t camp without it.โ€

I tipped my cap to the man, then thought about some of the cumbersome things Iโ€™ve carried on past backpacking trips that would have made fellow hikers scoff, but which were totally worth it.

โ€ข Surfboard and wetsuit. Thereโ€™s a campsite near where this man was headed that has serviceable surf just out front, with potentially very good surf a short hike away. Iโ€™ve lugged a surfboard and wetsuit the entire 6.5 miles to that campsite, you know, just in case. Thereโ€™s no easy way to do that either. Hiking with surf gear is tortuous.

Surfboard, check. Cast iron pan, check. Old, heavy hatchetโ€”check.

ย 

โ€ข Telescope. I donโ€™t do this anymore, but in years past, Iโ€™d strap a small-ish reflecting telescope in a carrying case to the outside of my pack, with a lightweight tripod tucked into a water bottle holder. A massive PITA to carry, but an awesome tool to have on moonless nights in the backcountry. Turns a regular night camping into something magical.

โ€ข Mini keg of beer. I once toted a 1.5-gallon beer keg to a lakeside campsite. I wasnโ€™t hiking a great distance, maybe three miles, but I was a hero to my friends for my commitment to fresh-from-the-tap beer. Plus, nothing offsets the exhaustion of carrying multiple pounds of beer and metal like the promise of beer at the end of the hike.

โ€ข Cast-iron frying pan. Sometimes you just have to. Itโ€™s heavy, cumbersome, and greasy, but itโ€™s all worth it if you luck into a trout-holding lake.

โ€ข Packraft/float tube. Packrafts can be seriously small these days, some sneak in under two pounds. But plenty are still in the four-pound range and take up as much room in a pack as a tent. Plus, youโ€™re gonna need oars, maybe some waterproof clothes. Swimfins for a float tube, too. It all adds up to a bunch of heavy, excess gear thatโ€™s nevertheless absolutely worth hauling.

โ€ขย Laptop. Sacrilegious? Possibly. But thereโ€™s no law against getting writing done ten miles deep in the wilderness.

โ€ข Toddler. Every time, I think: Sheโ€™ll make it all the way on this hike. Also every time: No, she doesnโ€™t.

Words by Justin Housman

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