Archived Posts from this Category
Archived Posts from this Category
We have returned home from our fat-bike expedition to the arctic and it seems almost like a dream. If not for the photos I might not believe it actually happened. We traversed mountain ranges, crossed sea and river ice and experienced temperatures that ranged from 40º to -25º all while following a thin white path that stretched from Anchorage all the way to the arctic community of Kotzebue. Our luck and good fortune were beyond comprehension and the people we encountered without equal.
Every expedition and trip reveals new insight about technique and equipment and we always hope to incorporate that wisdom on the next trip. ‘Fat-bike to the Arctic’ stood on the shoulders of our experimentation over the years and vicarious lessons from others.
Herein I will attempt to outline and review the equipment we used on our 1,000 + mile, winter fat-bike trip to the arctic of Alaska.
Fat Bike: Carver O’Beast
One of the many trail conversations we had involved the importance of locomotion. Typically, we think about the hierarchy of human necessity being; food, shelter and water – but – transportation also belongs on this list. Every terrain on earth has its “appropriate” vehicle. The modern fat-bike is a remarkably well-suited form of locomotion for the Alaska wilderness and long, winter cycling trips are more practical than ever before.
Kim and I both rode Carver O’Beast, titanium fat-bikes and they performed amazingly well. The geometry of this bike is a nice balance between aggressive and comfortable. Many people who embark on these kinds of trips set out with a daily mileage goal. Instead of miles, Kim and I use time and as the daylight increased we added more time to our daily rides. By the end of the trip we were in the saddle for 11 and 12 hours a day. Being comfortable and efficient are crucial when you ride that many hours, every day, for 5 weeks.
Beyond a nice geometry, the O’Beast has a few features that are worth mentioning. Firstly, the top tube of the bike has a swale to it. This is a good feature for winter cycling on a snow trail. It often happens that the trail becomes soft or you encounter snowdrifts and are forced to dismount quickly. When you put your foot down, the snow compresses under your foot and you are standing below the grade of your bike. Without the swale of the top tube, the likelihood of “racking” yourself is very probable and would be a regular occurrence. Because of the bent top tube we never had this problem.
Tire and wheel size has increased over the years since Surly first unveiled the 3.7 inch wide Endomorph tire and the 65mm wide Large Marge wheel. Now, 5-inch tires and 100mm rims are available but not every fat-bike frame can accommodate the increased width. The Carver O’Beast can and for this kind of trip, as wide as possible is best.
On this trip we employed both mans greatest discovery and mans greatest invention: fire and the wheel. Over the eons the wheel has seen many improvements but for fat-bikes the pinnacle of perfection has been reached. The Surly Clown Shoe rim is the right tool for the job.
We both rode the 18-inch frame and even with the swale top tube we were able to carry 5 days of food in our home-made frame bags, in the front triangle of the frame, as well as the folding saw in my case and the titanium stove in Kim’s. The frame also has rack mounts, which we both used for a rear rack.
Titanium frames are typically more expensive than steel or aluminum bikes but the weight savings, comfort and reliability are, for some, worth the extra expense. Carver’s titanium bicycles are remarkably less expensive than other titanium bike manufacturers.
In summery, we love our bikes and strongly recommend the brand. The company is small(ish) and the customer service, top notch.
Shelter and stove: Mountain Laurel Mid and Titanium Goat Stove
Before we embarked, Kim and I spent time testing our Mountain Laurel, floor-less, mid shelter with the Titanium Goat wood-burning barrel stove but this arrangement was still largely theoretical. After 5 weeks of near daily use, we are beyond theory and into the realm of the actual. We opted to rely solely on the wood stove for our water making and food cooking and left our MSR Whisperlite with friends to send if we decided we needed it. Using the wood stove to make water and cook on takes longer than a gas stove but our routine with the stove proved to be a nearly ideal arrangement.
In the evening we would both work together to erect the shelter. This chore consisted of strapping together two collapsible ski poles, handle to handle, with the tips on the end. We used two Voile straps, which are stretchy and very secure. (More about Voile straps later.) Then we would harvest four stakes from whatever was available. Typically, this was willow, spruce or birch branches. Then, Kim would hold the center pole within the shelter, while I set the stakes. Once the shelter was erected, we would either cut snow blocks or scoop loose snow around the perimeter “skirt” that I had sewn onto the shelter.
With the shelter secured, we each set out on our individual chores, which alternated daily. One of us would assemble the collapsible bow saw and harvest enough wood for the evening and morning. Relying on the wood stove establishes parameters as to where we decided to establish a camp. We preferred to be in spruce forests, as dead spruce is the best fuel for the stove. That said, dead and dry willow or alder works very well too. The only fuel we tried to avoid was birch. Even when birch is well cured, it still contains moisture and does not burn hot enough. A typical strategy was to cut down long pieces and chuck them near the shelter. Once a healthy pile had been gathered we would make ourselves comfortable and cut the wood into sub-22 inch lengths. Lastly, we would bring the wood inside the shelter and stack it into a pile.
Simultaneously, the other person would lay out the inside of the shelter with sleeping pads and begin setting up the stove. The collapsible, two-pound, titanium woodstove takes a little practice to set up efficiently. Thankfully, our trip began with unseasonably warm temperatures. By the time we experienced our first evening of -20º we were well organized and stove assembly was a painless task. I always bring a paperback book on trips. This time it was ‘Homage to Catalonia’, by George Orwell. Every page that has been read becomes the evening fire starter. As soon as the fire was lit we would fill the pot and mug with snow, add a little water from the thermos and begin the task of making hot drinks, dinner and water for the evening and next day. Rarely, if ever, was there a time, when the fire was going, that one or two vessels was not on the stove. Once dinner had been consumed and water made we would crawl into our bags and let the fire go out.
In the morning, whoever had been to one to make dinner (‘cookie’) woke early, relit the stove, started coffee, water and breakfast. This lead-time on the morning fire was perfect for many reasons: drying the shelter of frost and moisture from the sleeping bags was resolved and by the time coffee and breakfast was ready, gear and clothing were warm and dry. Even in -20º, we were able to comfortably do our inside chores glove free, in our long underwear.
We eventually learned some handy tricks involving the stove that made life better. By placing spruce boughs under the stove and piling snow around, we were able to keep the stove from melting down into the snow. Willow branches also worked. When disassembling the stove in the morning, we dumped the ashes and embers in a pile outside. Before we were ready to ride, we would warm our hands for one last time on the embers before smothering them. Starting the day with warm hands is a remarkable treat.
There are very few downsides to the wood stove but it’s worth mentioning them and hopefully they will be resolved before our next trip. The most negative aspect of the woodstove, in a sil-nylon shelter is obvious – embers. Most of the embers that made it out of the stovepipe either burn out or were blown away before they came in contact with the nylon but after 5-weeks of use, there are more than a handful of little holes. Whenever we slept in a cabin, I would bring the shelter inside and sew up the holes. Most were smaller than a pinhead but a few were pinky diameter. I would like to experiment with a spark arrester, which could be a piece of fluffed steel wool. Maintaining a good draw is very important so this method would require experimentation. The other drawback to the stove is that the actual barrel is made of very thin titanium. Over the course of the trip, this material became malformed from setting the pots atop it. Titanium Goat has another stove design that turns this concept 90º, with the thicker, non-bendable titanium on the top and bottom and the thinner sheet metal on the walls. However, our barrel stove was remarkable and improvements, in this case, would be nice but not necessary.
We carried two saws and one 21-inch replacement bow saw blade, which we never needed. The primary woodcutting saw was a Coghlan’s, folding bow saw. Our other saw was a T handled, stainless steel Gerber, with finer teeth. For us, these two saws complimented each other and we used them both, most days.
The Coghlan folding saw is a lightweight, aluminum “bow saw” with two pivot points and a very simple and secure tensioning apparatus. Once the saw is assembled the blade is very taut and thus, it cuts extremely well. On a few nights we opted to sleep in shelter cabins. Trail ethics dictate that you leave the shelter better than when you came, so we always tried to replenish more wood than we burnt. Within most cabins, hanging on a nail, are conventional bow saws with longer blades than ours. Because the tension on these saw blades is not taut, we almost always preferred ours.
The T handled saw had multiple purposes, but mostly it lived inside the shelter and was used to shorten pieces of wood, as needed. We also used it as a snow saw to cut blocks for anchoring the shelter when the snow was compact and would bring a few blocks inside for water making. Both of these saws are light, compact and effective. Since there are pivot points on the folding saw, I carried some replacement hardware and I did replace one pin with a bolt and a locking nut.
I see no reason to improve or change anything about the saws for future trips.
Because of our strange winter, here in Homer, we were never able to give our Airlite Snowshoes a proper test before we left. During our trip we experienced only one storm. Thankfully, not much snow accumulated and we were always able to ride. However, having the snowshoes is insurance and we never debated sending them home.
Because of our stove, we always needed to camp near wood. One evening on the Yukon River we were ready to camp but the trail ran straight down the middle of the massively wide river. Finally we decided to march at right angles off the trail, to the bank and camp. Kim decided to try the snowshoes for the ¼-mile bike push and I tried the Alpacka ‘sled’, without snowshoes.
Unpacking the snowshoes, blowing-up and pumping, with a bike pump, takes around 5 minutes. Once Kim was strapped in, she began pushing and was able to fine-tune her gait to avoid collision with the bike and said it felt very natural. The floatation these snowshoes provide is substantial. The snowpack in this instance was dust on breakable crust with rotten and bottomless snow underneath – terrible walking snow. She stayed on top and was able to reach the shore without strain.
Again, because of our no snow winter we never tried our Alpacka ‘sleds’ before embarking. Even though they are much less heavy than a packraft we sent them home after that evening on the river. It may be that in certain kinds of snow the ‘sled’ would work better, but in cold, dry snow the ‘sled’ offered tremendous resistance. It felt like I was dragging a 4×8 sheet of plywood over sand.
We are back to the drawing board for a lightweight and compact, emergency sled that can haul bike and gear. Since pushing the bike with the Airlite Snowshoes proved to be successful we discussed the new strategy: if riding becomes impossible – push, if pushing becomes impossible – inflate snowshoes and push, if pushing with snowshoes becomes impossible and the situation becomes dire – abandon bike, drag a dry-bag with sleeping bag and food, and snowshoe to safety. Thankfully we never had to make these kinds of choices but it is important to consider options – options that don’t include being rescued by others.
Up to now, we have always used a vapor barrier within our sleeping bags to prevent our sweat from corrupting the down and becoming heavy and eventually lousy with ice buildup. Sleeping in a non-permeable sack or rain gear within the sleeping bag is clammy and no fun. Before our fat-bike to the arctic trip, vapor barriers were the only solution – until we started using the wood stove.
We both use -20º down sleeping bags and two pads – one close-cell foam and one inflatable, air mattress. Our shelter is floorless, so we first lay down the close-cell pad and then the air mattress atop it. This configuration is warm and comfortable and since the foam lies on the snow it never accumulates moisture. When we felt ambitious or the resources were available, we would cut spruce boughs and lay them down under the pads. For the most part, we have found this to be an unnecessary step.
I used a ¾ Therma-Rest, Z pad and a full length Therma-Rest, Neo-Air. Kim used a full length Ridge Rest and a ¾ Neo Air. Having at least one full-length pad is important because this ensures your sleeping bag is completely off the snow.
Body types and metabolism vary widely – this is very apparent between Kim and I. Often I am sweating and removing layers while she is adding another and cracking a hand warmer. Knowing specifically what clothing to bring is something everyone has to discover for themselves and trial and error is the only answer. However, there are some basic ideas that we both adhere to.
Layering is the primary strategy. Being ready to remove layers before you become too hot or adding them when getting cold should become instinctual. I have found that the outer shell can be very thin and light as long as it’s windproof. Raingear, for me, is way too heavy and I eventually sweat. I use Patagonia Houdini top and bottom and find them to be near perfect. They protect from wind and breathe very well. I like them to be oversized so I can add as many layers underneath as necessary.
Modern hi-tech fabrics are amazing and getting better all the time but traditional Alaskan clothing also has its place on our trips. We both use fur mittens, fur saddle covers and ruffs. When the wind is blowing and it’s really cold nothing works as well as fur. I used wolverine for the ruff on my windbreaker, seal mittens and beaver saddle cover. Kim used wolf for her ruff, beaver mittens, a sheepskin saddle cover and a rabbit fur hat. A remarkable feature of fur is that moisture freezes onto it but rather than permeate, it breaks off and is as good as new without excessive care.
Proper footwear is tremendously important for winter cyclists. The basic idea we employ begins with a thin, wool liner sock, knee high vapor barrier sock, thick wool sock, insulated boot and a waterproof mukluk. This system keeps moisture out of the insulation from both outside, e.g. overflow and from within, e.g. sweat.
One very important consideration when fitting boots is that they are not tight fitting. Frostbite is often the result of poor circulation and tight boots are to be avoided at all costs.
My $20 thrift store sewing machine has proved to be one of the most valuable tools I own. Before embarking on our trip, the kitchen table was transformed into a sweatshop as I labored over clothing modifications, new mittens, hats and bags for the bike. For our bikes I sewed frame bags that fit within the main triangle of the frame. I sewed them to be as wide as possible without colliding with knees, while riding.
Before we left, we sent 9 food drops along our route that each contained roughly 5 days worth of food. Fitting the bulk of that food into the frame bag was the goal. We also use ‘feed bags’ on our handlebars for our daytime snacks. Beyond needing a little more capacity, the ‘feed bags’ are great in their ease of access for eating on the go.
We each used one rear rack and had one dry-bag strapped atop of it. Mine contained clothing and the shelter. Under the rack, I strapped the snowshoes and on the side I carried the small tool kit. On the handlebar, I used a harness system, of my own design, which carried a double end dry bag that I made from waterproof flooring of an old tent. This dry bag contained my sleeping bag, down parka, down vest and insulated over pants. Openings on both ends of the dry bag is useful, as I would pack the sleeping bag in the middle and would stuff down over garments on both ends. If I needed one or both layers, the dry bag was still centered and well secured to the harness. On the outside of the harness I sewed wide Velcro straps that held my Z-Rest sleeping pad and another small pouch that carried sunglasses and goggles.
Beyond these bags I carried a ‘gas tank’ bag on the top of my top tube and another small bag below my saddle, on the frame. These bags carried the sewing kit, small parts, twine and odds and ends for field repairs.
Pairing down the tool kit consists of trying to anticipate what might actually happen or go wrong while underway and being reasonably prepared for a flat tire, loose bolts, ripped tent, punctured sleeping pad, etc. etc… You can never be fully prepared for everything that might go wrong but with a few multi-tools and some ingenuity many issues on the trail can be solved.
Beyond spare twine, webbing, buckles and Velcro we also carried a couple spare Voile straps. These straps were in use on our bikes to securely lash snowshoes and snowshoe crampons to the rear rack as well as lashing the ski poles together each night for the center pole of the shelter. The straps also became useful for me when my oversized water bottle cage broke. Without the cage I had no good way of carrying my 64oz thermos. By padding the sharp metal of the broken cage, with a chunk of sleeping pad foam and lashing it back onto the frame with the Voile strap I was able to continue using the cage. These straps have been well proven in temperatures as low as -40º and are both useful and versatile.
Changing tire pressure on a winter bike trip is like changing gears – you do it often depending on conditions. Carrying a decent pump that moves a reasonable volume of air is important. When adding air, I would count how many pumps and after a couple weeks out was in a fine tune with my PSI.
Similar to the tool kit, you can never carry enough First Aid to field all scenarios but you can cover many of the likely solutions in a compact package. For us, analgesics, Band-Aids, skin cream, talcum powder, sunscreen, burn cream, tampax (for big gashes) and an ace bandage are the bulk of our little red kit and thankfully we needed to use it sparingly.
Taking care of skin is a daily chore when the air is dry and windy and the sun reflects off the snow. We used SPF 30 several times a day and in the evening applied Bag Balm. Saddle rash was resolved by using diaper ointment. (Go ahead – laugh.) Talcum powder is useful to help dry feet that have been in vapor barrier socks all day.
‘Prevention is the best medicine’ in general but especially on a long, remote trips. Listening to your body, good nutrition, rest, hydration and early detection of potential problems are important to successful fat-bike expeditions.
Almost every community in rural Alaska has central utilities. As a result, recharging batteries is reasonable. Our technology is fairly sparse but, for us, very important. We carried a DeLorme InReach tracking device, headlamps and cameras.
The InReach tracking device ‘pings’ our location at a set interval and delivers the data to a website with a map. People who want to follow your progress can visit the webpage and see your path and current location. The device allows you to text up to 40 messages a month and ultimately it can be used to send an SOS. Being able to text is a great feature. My thoughts about rescue are to never require one. However, accidents do happen. If you ever were in a dire situation and needed help, texting someone who could call the local SAR would be so much better than hitting the SOS button and having the Air National Guard called out. But if your life depends on it – do it.
We both carried DSLR cameras, one lens apiece, several spare batteries loads of memory and chargers. Photography is very important to me and the weight of a full frame camera is not a burden. If Bradford Washburn could lug around a Fairchild F6, I can carry a Canon 5D. There is a chance that I will never cover that terrain again and I would hate to miss an opportunity to capture a great image. We both carry our cameras in dry bags, on our bodies.
The cameras typically perform well in the cold but it is important when bringing the camera inside to keep it in the dry bag while it warms. Taking it out prematurely will result fogging the glass and sensor. The same is true when going back out. I often leave the camera outside if I am only going in for a while.
Every trip reveals insights, thoughts and ideas to incorporate into the next adventure and even though we felt adequately prepared for this trip there is always room for improvement. Listening to others and sharing advice is a way to save yourself making unnecessary mistakes but experimentation requires a willingness to fail. There is an art to wilderness travel and each discipline comes with its own palette. Winter fat-biking is still a young pursuit, not full of bibles and stuffy codes. Adventure by bike is a noble and elegant way to experience the world. I hope this gear review is helpful.
In the beginning, we dived into lightweight backpacking with more guts than knowledge. We took off across the Alaska wilderness with a homemade fleece sleeping bag that was both too cold and too heavy, a too-small ‘space blanket’ tarp that leaked in spite of its weight, little Sevylor packrafts that popped at the slightest provocation… We were kind of lightweight, and kind of uncomfortable.
In the decade since then, we’ve traded out everything in that original gear kit, creating a setup vastly more functional and comfortable, with hardly any change in weight. We carry sleeping pads. A real packraft. A pyramid shelter. A nice sleeping quilt. Lighter shoes. Better insulation. We swapped out our short-lived Gore-Tex for more durable but equally light and breathable Dermazax. And we’re still often sad when it wears out too quickly.
Our new gear combined with new skills and knowledge that let us push limits we couldn’t even imagine when we first started trekking.
We first took pictures on an old point-and-shoot with a few rolls of film. Then a disposable. Then a digital point and shoot. On each expedition we took a few more pictures. On each expedition, they got a little better.
Camera gear – 2007
We began to share these expeditions with others – first by typing up my journal entries along with a few pictures and maps on our old AKTrekking website. A few people visited. Then a few more. We kept walking, looking, photographing, writing, and learning.
Soon, what had started as a hobby overtook our lives and work, becoming our mission – becoming Ground Truth Trekking.
By the time we began our year-long journey to the Aleutians, the point-and-shoot had been replaced by a digital SLR with two lenses. Each time we hit a town, I carved out a few hours of time between frantic packing and planning and eating to type out a blog post on a borrowed computer, trying to share what we saw and learned.
Then we had kids. Wearing a toddler for a 300-mile journey in the Northwest Arctic our speed dropped from nearly 20 miles a day to just 10. Now with Lituya’s arrival bringing us up to 45 lbs of children, any notions of light, fast A to B travel disappeared, at least for awhile.
Life on Ice is the adventure that sprung from these limitations. It’s a journey to explore in detail, with base-camping and toddler-paced walking, keeping everything just light enough that we can uproot and move the camp across the glacier – around 65 miles through the course of the journey. But a new style of expedition brings about a whole new crop of needs we’ve never had to think about before. Without the ability to reach new towns every week or so, we’d need to set up remote food caches. We’d need a solar charger to recharge camera batteries. I didn’t feel comfortable being out with small children without a form of communication, so we’d need some kind of satellite device in addition to the EPIRB. After the great reaction we’ve gotten to our first movie (due out on DVD soon! Really!), we figured a bit more video gear would be a good idea. Hig’s gotten into timelapse photography… And the technology just kept adding up, in a great pile of incompatible proprietary batteries, chargers, memory cards, and cables.
If we’re bringing everything else, why not bring the internet? Heck, the 10 foot diameter tent with a woodstove in the middle is hardly different than a 24 foot diameter yurt with a woodstove in the middle. It’d be just like home! Except for the necessity to carry it around every week or two across remote wilderness terrain. It seemed we were planning the heaviest ultralight expedition ever, and the stress of figuring out all the technology was worrying me even more than finishing up the rain gear.
2011 – Camped out behind the yurt testing the Titanium Goat tent and stove
The goal was to share what we learned on Malaspina with the rest of you in real time. Which seemed like a good idea, until I found myself in a frantic flurry of Googling, holding a SPOT Connect and an iPad, failing to make them work at all, and learning that even if they did work Hig had mis-interpreted the advertising and they wouldn’t be capable of what we wanted in the first place. Today the iPad and SPOT went back in the mail â€“ at least we can return them for a full refund.
I was tempted to do the same with the rest of the tangle of batteries and cords – to ditch all the gadgets and technological crutches in one fell swoop. But I do actually love to take pictures. And I want to be able to call the pilot if we need him. Piece by piece, the rational arguments for including each piece of technology end up winning out over the emotional appeal of a sweeping gesture.
Now we have a new plan. We’ll rent an Irridium 9555 sat phone. Through some laborious typing on the phone’s keypad we can send up to 1000 character messages to an email address, to David Coil, who will kindly paste them into Twitter/Facebook (once a day or so?), keeping us in the modern age after all, for better or worse. When our visitors show up (we’ll hopefully have 4), we will send them off with handwritten notes for this blog – old-school messages to transcribe for a digital world.
All this techno-planning is either a modern luxury, or a modern curse. But the tradition of expedition stories predates Facebook by a good number of centuries.
With two months worth of Rite-In-The-Rain paper, my expedition journal weighs over 12 ounces for this trip, with a couple mechanical pencils thrown in for good measure. As a writer, these pages are a comforting constant – perhaps the only thing we’ve carried, unchanged, for our entire decade worth of expeditions. I write by headlamp, while everyone else is asleep, often with cold cramped hands and an exhausted body. It’s an nonnegotiable ritual. Every night, no matter what the day brings, I fill a few pages. Great stacks of these journals pile up in a box on my shelf, pulled out for material for my books and other writing. The paper may be higher tech than it used to be, but in spirit, it’s not much different than the journals of explorers from centuries past. Whatever I can or can’t Tweet from the middle of the wilderness, I’ll bring these pages back with me.
So for the record, here’s the technology we are planning to bring. Of course, this could still change…
|Canon Digital Rebel 600D (T3i)||1 lb 4 oz (570 g)|
|Canon EF-S 10-22mm f/3.5-4.5 USM||13.6 oz (386 g)|
|Canon 70-200mm f/4L USM||1 lb 9 oz (705 g)|
|Canon EF 50mm f/2.5 Compact Macro||9.9 oz (280 g)|
|Pentax Optio W90 (for timelapse)||5.78 oz (164 g)|
|GoPro HD Helmet Hero||5.9 oz (167 g)|
|Garmin Oregon 450 GPS||6.8 oz (192.7 g)|
|Irridium 9555 sat phone||9.4 oz|
|Electro Bear Guard UltraLite (Energizer, two 80′ wires, ground rod)||1 lb 2 oz|
|Brunton Solaris 26 solar panel||1 lb 12 oz|
|Olympus LS-11 US linear PCM recorder (audio)||6 oz|
|2 headlamps (undecided on type)||about 6 oz|
|EPIRB (McMurdo Fast Find 210 Personal Locator Beacon with GPS)||about 5.3 oz|
|200 GB of SD memory cards||1 oz|
|LP-E8 Battery charger with 12 V DC input||An oz?|
|W90 Battery Charger||An oz?|
|AA charger with USB output and 12V DC input||A couple oz?|
|8 AA rechargeable batteries||8 oz|
|6 AAA rechargeable batteries (for headlamps)||about 4 oz?|
|4 AA Li-ion batteries for backup||about 2 oz?|
|Three W90 Batteries||About 2 oz?|
|Two Canon LP-E8 batteries||An oz each?|
|12 V cigarette lighter adapter cord (female)||An oz?|
|12 V cigarette lighter adapter cord (male)||An oz?|
|USB cord (for charging GoPro helmet cam)||Less than an oz.|
|TOTAL||11 lbs 9 oz|
For a less organized but more complete view of our planning, feel free to check out our Life on Ice Google Spreadsheet.
With an old bike wheel and some alder branches, Hig tests out a possible way to cart kids and stuff for two months of Life on Ice
Last week’s sunny days had me hurrying to get the garden in. This week, we spent our mornings poking under kelp fronds and turning over rocks in the super-low tides, using our toddler as a good excuse to explore like kids ourselves. In between, I’ve been hurrying to finish bits and pieces of paid computer work. But something is looming…
Our next big expedition – Life On Ice – is 4 months away. Which seems like a long ways off. Until it doesn’t.
Until I realize that to feed the family for two months, I’m going to need to prepare and pack somewhere close to 350 pounds of food. Until I realize that all our gear from the Chukchi coast is worn out and leaking – and all four of us need clothing that will stand up to the fall rainstorms on Alaska’s Lost Coast. Until I realize that somehow we’re going to have to pick up two kids, some food, and a basecamp’s worth of stuff and physically carry it all across the gravel-strewn ice. Until I realize that this is a different kind of trip than any we’ve done before, with an even larger family.
Mostly, we’re cooking healthier options. But chocolate brownies will be a special treat in the middle of nowhere.
We’re going to the edge of the Malaspina Glacier, the largest lowland glacier in North America. We’re going because climate change makes this coast one of the most dramatic and quickly-changing places we’ve ever seen. We’re going because it’s an amazing place, with twisted forests growing on the ice and supercooled springs in the alder, between a storm-tossed coast and towering peaks. We’re going because we hope to paint a visceral picture of the rapid climate change we often overlook – in a place so dramatic we can’t possibly overlook it. And we’re going, at least in part, because it’s difficult. Because it’s an adventure.
We’ve spent years working on winnowing our gear down to be minimal and light. But this time we need more. Not just more food, more clothing, and more diapers, but totally new pieces of gear we’ve never tried, and some we haven’t yet invented.
On this expedition we’re embracing the oxymoron of a portable base camp. Titanium Goat is sponsoring us an awesome-looking tent that we’ll be able to heat up and dry out in (around 6 pounds including the woodstove). Given the weather we expect, I suspect this will make the difference between a great adventure and some very whiny children. Alpacka Raft has given us an extra long packraft that we can cram all four of us into. Because we’ll be camping in one place for an extended chunk of time, we’ll bring a small electric fence for bears. Because we’ll want to do lots of photography and make updates from the field, we’ll have a bunch of electronics with us. Because we won’t be anywhere near a town the entire time, we’ll need to recharge batteries and wash diaper covers in the field. We’ll need to set up a series of food caches before we start, and we have to calculate right from the beginning – no gorging ourselves in town, buying more, or giving away extra mashed potatoes to our hosts.
We plan to be human-powered for the whole two months. So those 3 basecamps? Only home for 3/4 of the time. The other two weeks will be spent as nomads, somehow figuring out how to move the camp and our family 25 or 45 miles between them.
Could we use a unicycle wheel, some alder branches and a packraft to make a cart that we could pull over rock-strewn glacier ice?
I don’t know. But we’re working on it.
If it didn’t seem a little bit impossible, it wouldn’t be a good adventure.
Is it crazy to take an infant or a toddler on a wilderness backpacking expedition? Per mile, it’s definitely more work than the adults-only version. Per day, it’s actually more relaxed. Outdoor adventure is magical at any age – it’s even better when you’re still young enough to get carried from place to place! With a little preparation, this holds true even for extended journeys through storms, bugs, bushwhacking, and all the other hassles and hazards of the wilderness.
On request, I thought I’d do a post that covered a bit more of the “how-to” of trekking and backpacking with a toddler – at least what we’ve figured out so far. Gear listed is what we took on our most recent month-long expedition to the arctic with our 18 month old son. Infant gear isn’t covered in detail here, but we found traveling with an infant to be much the same as with a toddler, only simpler.
Reducing your gear weight, always a good idea, becomes even more important when you’re trying to fit more people’s stuff in a smaller space, and carrying a kid to boot. We carry around 30 pounds of gear (not counting food, water, or clothing that’s being worn) for the 3 of us – 5 pounds for the person carrying the kid, and 25 pounds in the other adult’s pack. Food and water can easily bring that total up to 60 pounds on a week-long leg. For winter (and when baby #2 shows up), we’ll need more. If you’re hiking in a less inclement environment or are less of a photo geek, you’ll need less. Our gear list includes a number of things (water bottles, cameras, etc…) that don’t change much with a kid along, and aren’t specifically listed below.
I’m listing all weights for total family gear rather than individual packweights, since carrying the kid pretty much requires that the gear will be split unevenly.
I’ll start with packing, since this is the crux of going out with a baby or toddler. How on earth do you carry everything and carry the kid as well? I carry him on my back, while Hig carries the bulk of the gear in one large pack. We prefer frameless packs, even for fairly heavy loads. They take more care to pack well, but are lighter. In order to try and fit a little bit more stuff, we each have front pouches that clipped onto the pack straps (for Hig) and clipped onto the loops sewn onto the baby-carrying wrap (for me).
A wrap is basically a long rectangular piece of cloth that can be wrapped in various ways to hold a baby. It has the advantage of being very simple, very light, and keeping the weight of the kid close to the parent’s body. Many of the available versions are made of heavy cotton that would be awful when wet. So we made one ourselves out of very very light cotton fabric, similar to cotton gauze. Of all the many ways to carry a kid with a wrap, I used a “rucksack tied in front” carry. This ends up resembling a backpack with shoulder straps and a tie around the waist or under the ribs. We attached a series of small string loops to the part of the wrap that usually ended up on my shoulders, so I could clip on the front pouch to carry more gear.
Now what to do to make sure everyone stays happy and we actually get where we’re going? At 18 months old, we found that while Katmai was awake, a schedule of 1-2 hrs of walking followed by an hour or so of playtime worked best (if he was napping on my back, we just kept walking). We did coax him along further if it wasn’t an appropriate stopping spot, or the weather was terrible. We were usually out for 12 hrs per day from camp to camp, but only actually traveling about half that time.
Keeping him entertained while on my back involved lots of talking to him about what we were seeing. He loved pointing out trash on the beach, we looked for birds and mushrooms, and we played a lot of the “I see” game, where he listed everything he could see. It also helped him to have a small car (hot wheels size) he could hold onto and vroom on my shoulder. I carried a sippy cup and some pilot bread crackers in my front pouch, so I could give him water or a snack without stopping. When he got sick of the scenery, we often sung “Old MacDonald” to him.
A soft carrier like a wrap doesn’t have any inherent storage capacity, so all the other gear has to be carried in a separate pouch or in the other parent’s pack. A wrap has a bit of a learning curve to figure out how to wear it comfortably.
When Katmai was a baby, we carried him on the front (also in a wrap), allowing both adults to carry packs. When I wasn’t 6 months pregnant, I was also able to carry a significant amount of gear in a oversized fanny pack (lumbar pack) that sat beneath Katmai on my back. Many people use baby backpacks, which have the advantage that they have some space to carry stuff as well as the kid. But they’re huge, bulky, and heavy (usually at least 5lbs, compared to 1lb for a wrap). They don’t hold the kid close to your body, which makes it much harder to maneuver through brush without whacking them, and means that the weight is not carried as well. There are other kinds of carriers that hold the kid close, such as mei-tai and Ergo-type carriers. These might have a shorter learning curve than a wrap, but often are made out of heavy cotton that would tend to get soaked easily. Another option is to use the Eskimo style method of just wearing the kid under your coat – no carrier required. I saw people doing this all over the arctic, and it would work great in cold weather, but I’ve yet to figure it out myself!
We actually use gDiapers all the time at home as well, but they’re a perfect solution for backpacking. Basically, the idea is that you have a hybrid system, where the outside of the diaper is reusable cloth, but the inner part is a compostable paper pad. So rather than carrying out dirty diapers, you can simply burn the dirty pads in a campfire, or compost them in a hole like you would do for adult waste. The cloth outsides rarely get dirty. The plastic liners frequently get dirty, but are very easy to rinse, even in the field. We did a little bit of handwashing of the cloth and plastic parts in the field with a little bit of biodegradable soap we brought along, but mostly were able to make it to town (every week or so) to do laundry there.
The cloth outsides are heavy cotton, and not quick drying. So when they do need to be washed (not often), or when the kid sits in a stream (hopefully not often), they take a while to dry.
Disposable diapers are simpler, but would all have to be hauled out. Cloth diapers could be reused, but would all need to be handwashed, and would take a long time to dry.
Our clothing setup is primarily designed to deal well with cold and wet weather. Therefore, we use fleece (which drains quickly and stays warm when wet) as the first layer of insulation for both adults and kids. A synthetic puffy top adds additional lightweight warmth for the cold, and breathable raingear keeps most of the water out. We don’t bring any changes of clothing for the adults, other than a dry pair of socks to sleep in. It minimizes weight, and when we’re cold, we wear everything. We did bring two full fleece sets for the toddler (one sweatshirt and pants, one one-piece suit) as well as extra socks, since he’s much more likely to sit in a stream than an adult, and won’t be kept warm by walking. His fleece suit was big enough to go over the top of his other clothes, and the raingear was big enough to go over the top of that, so we could bundle him up in everything if necessary.
The toddler’s fleece suit had pockets to fold over his hands, which we used in maximum cold. He had a thin long-sleeved shirt that could keep the sun off him in warmer weather, as well as a wide-brimmed hat (which also kept most of the bugs off). We use sneaker-style non-waterproof shoes for adults, but brought waterproof ones for the kid (he’s not walking enough to keep his feet warm). All the rubber boots we found were too heavy and clunky for a small toddler, so Hig constructed a homemade version out of neoprene.
I’m a small to medium woman, but use a men’s large raincoat when backpacking with a toddler. A slit cut in the back allows his head (and arms if he insists) to poke through, and allows me to put him under the coat in inclement weather.
Our fleece layer for adults was a one-piece fleece suit, which is weight efficient, but ended up being too awkward to change into and out of with a kid on my back. Cutting a slit in the back of my raincoat meant that more water leaked in, whether or not the kid was underneath it. Standard commercial waterproof/breathable raingear always has a short lifespan, and leaks are inevitable. Katmai’s neoprene booties are not commercially available.
Standard rubber boots could work for a toddler old enough to fit into them, and no boots at all are needed for a non-walking baby. Gloves would be good for a toddler old enough to wear them, to aid in playing at cold stops. In warmer weather, shorts might be necessary.
We use one big family sleeping bag for all three of us, with the parents on the outside and the kid in the middle. In inclement weather, the kid stays the warmest of anyone. Our bag is a home-modified half-bag, meaning that it has normal sleeping bag insulation on the top (synthetic), but only a thin nylon sheet on the bottom, making it much lighter than a full bag of the same size. The thermarest sleeping pads provide the bottom insulation. The toddler doesn’t get his own sleeping pad at this point – he’s light enough not to need one – but we pile extra gear for him to sleep on under the bag between the adult pads. On the top edge of the sleeping bag, we’ve stitched a fringe of mosquito netting to protect us all from the bugs. In weather conditions that are marginal for the weight of our synthetic bag, we bring a lightweight down quilt (much smaller than the bag) and use it inside the main bag for a little extra insulation boost.
With three people in a bag wiggling around, air gaps between us were somewhat inevitable – making the bag less warm than it is for two people snuggling close. Katmai often crawled partway or completely out of the bag in his sleep, and objected to the mosquito netting unless we put it over him after he fell asleep. There’s no commercial bag that fits three – you have to make or modify your own. And of course, putting a toddler to sleep can be a problem wherever you are! We tried to maintain some consistency between the home and backpacking bedtime routine.
Especially if you’re not used to sleeping together, separate bags might be easier, either for the kid or for all three people. It would prevent squishing, and allow people to move around freely. It would almost certainly be a heavier solution, however. With a bug-proof shelter, the mosquito netting on the bag wouldn’t be necessary.
Our shelter is an 8 foot by 8 foot pyramid, and made of a single layer of silnylon. This is incredibly light for the space, and easily provides room for all 3 of us plus gear, plus a little room for Katmai to play inside. But it requires a bit more thought to use than a heavier tent. No poles are included, but it requires a center pole for setup, so we use the raft paddle (a long stick or tied together trekking poles also work). The corners and sides have strings that must be staked out – we use rocks and sticks as stakes. It doesn’t have a floor, so we use the packraft as a groundcloth on wet ground. Without a floor, it does not completely seal from insects, so we put mosquito netting on our sleeping bag.
A pyramid shelter is super convenient for packrafters, because you’re always carrying a long pole and a waterproof groundcloth already. Without that, it’s a little less convenient. The single-wall design makes it more susceptible to letting some water in in severe storms. And bugs will get in, so a separate bug solution is required.
For weight and space, it’s hard to beat a pyramid shelter. But there are more and more lightweight tents coming out all the time. Backpacking Light is a good place to look for reviews and info about lightweight hiking gear.
The 5lbs of food per person per day was more than we needed. On an earlier trip we brought 4lbs per day, which wasn’t quite enough. Toddlers need around 1200 calories/day according to the info I read, around half of a normal adult intake (a backpacking adult will eat more), even though they seem very small. Our food is usually a mix of dry stuff to cook over the fire, and snacks. Snacks included chocolate, cookies, dried fruit, chips, pilot bread crackers, peanut butter, cheese, and smoked salmon. We found that to really get much food into our toddler, the cooked meals were the best. Oats with berries (picked fresh on the tundra) was the biggest hit, closely followed by minute rice with dried veggies, butter, and cheese. We also carried spaghetti, dried instant beans, instant mashed potatoes, and spices. While our kid is certainly old enough to feed himself, we fed him quite a bit on the trip trying to minimize waste, mess, and burned mouths. Even so, without clothing changes, his clothes could get messy at mealtimes – feeding him in raingear helped a lot (we could sponge it off easily).
Our 18 month old was still nursing on our most recent trip, but getting very little milk due to my pregnancy. On earlier expeditions, mother’s milk was a much larger percentage of his diet.
We’re more cavalier about water treatment for adults, but with a kid along, we treated all our water with a steripen purifier, which uses UV light to sterilize water in a nalgene (or other wide mouth) bottle. It’s the lightest non-chemical option we’ve found, and seems to work well. To allow him to drink while we’re walking, we brought a sippy cup as well as our normal waterbottles.
When aiming for a diet high in calories but low in weight, we find some amount of junk food is inevitable. We just decided to let the kid eat more junk than usual, though we did still limit him. We’ve had 2 copies of the steripen – one worked well, and one had some sort of manufacturing flaw that made it finicky. Good to test it before the trip.
In a place where fires are not allowed or not practical, some sort of cookstove might be necessary. A separate bowl and spoon for the kid might be nice, but would also be messier.
The double-duck packraft is designed for two people, and it can fit all 3 of us as well as a week or so of gear. We sit face to face in the raft, with one adult holding the kid, and the other adult paddling. The pack is strapped onto the back of the boat (behind the paddler). We usually put some of our gear beneath the inflatable seats to lift us up higher, which makes more leg room in the boat. Though single-person packrafts are capable of running heavy whitewater, the family system is suitable only for fairly mellow conditions. Given that we’re only running in mellow conditions, we skip the life vest for adults, and only bring one for the toddler.
Keeping a toddler entertained in the boat (and not wriggling over the side) was often a challenge, and having one parent dedicated to keeping hold of him was critical. He really really wanted to paddle the boat himself, and go visit every beach, so distractions were key. Playing with a small toy car, playing with the zipper on my coat, or eating snacks all worked well, as well as the same sort of looking at and talking about our surroundings we did while walking.
Compared to the one-person Alpacka packrafts, the two person version was slower to paddle and more prone to letting waves over the side. It would probably be difficult to all fit in one raft for extended periods of time if the two adults were particularly large, or if the kid was older than a toddler.
You can go somewhere where a raft isn’t necessary (harder in AK). With a younger baby, a parent can wear them while paddling a single person packraft. That’s also only good for mellow water, since swimming while wearing a kid is quite difficult. We’re still brainstorming ideas for packrafting with two kids – check back next summer for that!
All dressed up and ready to go
New packrafts and drysuits came in the mail from Alpacka! today. Now I’m ready to take off! (minus all the junk in my house and tasks still on the whiteboard – the whiteboard is the very last thing we’re giving away)
Video – Urban Deconstruction
I decided it’d be fun to do an intro video that showed our neighborhood (being demolished and reconstructed). So I thought I’d try clipping some video bits together and add narration. Sounds easy? Apparently not. I went through about 4 different programs and temporarily broke Hig’s computer, before finding out that the default already-installed Windows Movie Maker (which crashed on Hig’s computer), worked fine on my own. The resulting < 2 min video is not at all worth that trouble, but you can watch it anyway.
Our expedition page is up at Backpacking Light now! Check out the podcast, where we talk about the trip mission, and intro article I wrote. And keep coming back to check for more podcasts and updates along the way.
On a less happy note, Hig’s committee is giving him lots of last minute grief about the text of his thesis. I keep telling him he’d be better off ditching science altogether to do something more fun, flexible, and useful (like work on Ground Truth Trekking with me), but so far, he’s not listening. Wish him luck in the sprint to get all the edits in and jump the hoops. Otherwise, I guess he’ll be finishing the writing in 9 months, after False Pass.
This is probably the last pre-trip post I’ll write. Countdown at 3 days, 14 hours, 25 minutes and 19 seconds!
Tiny camcorder – Panasonic SDR-S10
Because more electronics are always better when backpacking 4000 miles…
We couldn’t resist the opportunity to play with video on this expedition – and therefore we have a new little camcorder which records to SD cards. The Panasonic SDR-S10. Supposedly both shock and water resistant, which should come in quite handy for the rather rugged use we intend to put it through. More toys! In our defense – this one only weighs 7 oz (compared to our 5+ pounds of still camera gear).
It’s not a feature movie quality camera, but we’re much more accomplished still photographers than videographers anyway. This should be fun for You Tube. I’m not sure how often we’ll have enough bandwidth to upload video on the way, but there should be at least some (with more on the web when we return).
Below is a short test video – ignore the dusty lens (we’ll clean it).
House of Chaos
All is chaos here. And I have a new camera to document it. There are piles to give away, piles of gear to sort, and just plain piles. To be sure to get all mail-order gear we need (mostly electronics) by June 9th, we’ve been on an online spending spree. With the result that I’ve been tracking about 5 packages at once, one full of expensive camera gear.
FedEx refused to find my house three times in a row despite having the correct address – I’ve got their customer service menu memorized. But today, finally, the camera was here!! And I only had to call FedEx 5 times!
Our camera gear
I’m very excited to have new camera toys. Current setup = Canon digital rebel Xti, EF 24-105mm IS L lens, and EFS 10-22mm. And a gorillapod (trying to get away with the medium size), assorted batteries, memory cards, charger, and card reader… All together a little over 5 pounds (2.25kg). It’s a good thing I like photography. In an attempt to cut down on the memory card stack, at least, I’ve ordered some new 8gb cards.
And with my pretty new camera toys, I’ve been taking pictures of the rest of my new toys… The wide angle lens is particularly fun for these indoor photos – easily showing my terribly disorganized house, the entire sleeping bag, my feet…
Luckily, unlike the camera gear, our new summer bag/quilt came out very light. We made it out of 2 layers of Climashield XP, and Momentum fabric (with a sheet of standard nylon on the bottom – it’s not insulated on the bottom). It weighs barely more than a pound and a half, coming out to less than 13oz for each of us.
Skis and Boots
Second Ascent was very nice to pull skis out of the back room for me, despite it being long past skiing season. I struggled with what to get, and thought about the Karhu Karvers, but ended up deciding to go with this more standard backcountry set up – I’ll have a lot of skiing on rivers, lakes, and swamps, and I want to glide. This setup should work much better than what I had on the Skilak Skiing Shakedown. And I got many odd looks getting on the bus on a beautifully sunny May afternoon with skis and ski poles.
And Montrail shoes. Hig and I are usually the type to own only one pair of shoes at a time – usually worn out from at least one major expedition, and worn every day. Now suddenly we have all sorts of shoes! Or at least we have a large number of pairs of Montrail Vitesse and Hardrock shoes. Check out our page on Montrail’s athletes and events page. I was reading the other day about backpackers with growing feet on the backpacking light forums, and was pleased to see we’re not the only ones. Perhaps for the next expedition we will have to up the size of the shoes again – one way our load gets heavier…
Lens we’re getting…
Top news today: We got a Shipton-Tilman Grant from Goretex! Looks like it’s time to finally go and order the new camera lens we’ve been eyeing (Canon 24-105 IS f4/L) – it’ll get most of the range we want, at good quality with IS, plus be way lighter than our current lens setup. I’m excited about the IS – should help a lot for photos in the raft and in the dimly lit rainforest.
We also got a present in the mail from Backpacking Light – the Bushbuddy Ultra Stove. This is a beautiful little piece of equipment. At 5.1 ounces (145 grams), it’s about as light as our steel can version, but much better designed, with an air preheating chamber, a pot stand that collapses in for storage, and other cool features. So far, it’s been tested in the extreme conditions of our front porch, but I’m excited to try it in real life.
It’s beautiful spring weather here in Seattle, but with departure barely more than a month away, we’re pretty much stuck inside at our laptops for now. No more shakedowns. Any gear we haven’t tested yet will be tested on the real thing.
Licking the last crumbs of food
I was updating the website some yesterday… (putting up a press release, some photos, and other things). And I thought I should figure out a more accurate route schedule. This led to me spending most of the day poring over maps and Google Earth images of coastal British Columbia, drawing detailed route lines that we’re surely not going to follow.
Echo Bay, B.C.
Is there really food here?
And what unnerves me, far more than any difficulties of terrain, or water crossings, are the towns.
In the past we’ve made up food boxes ahead of time, and mailed them all to towns and villages. This time, that’s completely impractical. So we’re going with the “buy food locally” approach.
This leads to me staring at low-res Google earth files, squinting at blurry topography. The internet tells me “Other amenities available at Echo Bay include a Post Office, Grocery Store and Arts and Crafts stores”. I see a white smudge. When we wander in this July from the middle of nowhere, licking the last crumbs from our food bags, I sure hope that’s true…
by North Pacific Seaplanes.com
But mostly I’m staring at the maps because I love maps. I can spend hours and hours planning routes, imagining what it’s like to be in all these places. I’ve recently discovered a cool thing on the web called Panoramio. Turning on their layer in Google Earth lets you see photos taken at different locations. Info is sparse for most of where we’re going, but there are some interesting pieces – like this aerial photo of some of the granite ridges and lakes on the northern B.C. coast.
Grandmother’s ski boots
We leave here on June 9. At that point, the gear we’ve figured out will be the entire sum of our earthly possessions for the next 9 or 10 months. And it’ll have to get us through some very harsh terrain in some very harsh climates, far far away from the nearest REI….
Kind family members will be mailing some things to us (replacing worn out gear, and warmer stuff/skis for winter). But we have to figure all of it out right now. So we’re understandably a little obsessed with gear.
Those ski boots I was complaining about from our shakedown hike? My mother just reminded me that those were my grandmother’s. They’re older than I am. They were never meant for anything but trails. And they never fit me in the first place.
Time for something more like what Hig’s got (Karhu Convert II). Heavy, but much more useful.
MLD pyramid in our front yard
We just got our pyramid shelter and eVENT rain mitts from Mountain Laurel Designs (one of our sponsors). The shelter weighs about a pound, and the rain mitts barely even register on my scale. We’ve gone with a flat silnylon tarp in the past, but a flat tarp is more fiddly to set up. This pyramid style is made of light spinnaker fabric, is roomy, and fast to set up with our paddles as poles. I’m excited to use it somewhere other than my front yard…
Montrail just agreed to sponsor our expedition with some shoes! I’m very excited, since Montrails are our favorite backcountry hiking shoes – I’ve worn and worn out many pairs of the Montrail Vitesse over the years. We can’t decide whether we like the Vitesse or Hardrock better, so will be trying some of each.
What does our gear have to stand up to?
Water (Oceans and Rivers)
And yet more water (Frozen)
Water (From the Sky)
The upshot is that everything will be beat up in alder thickets, soaked in every possible way, and needs to hold up for 9 months (or as long as is feasible). And since we’re carrying it for 4000 miles, weight is at a premium.
I’ll leave winter gear for later, largely because we haven’t actually got all our skiing stuff yet. The four biggest weight categories for our gear are Rafting (about 7lbs each), Clothing (5.5 lbs), Electronics/Communication (3lbs), and Shelter/Sleeping (2.5lbs)
Rafting: Packrafts are the most crucial piece of gear for our trip, allowing us to cross fjords, paddle to islands, get around calving glaciers, and cross or float major rivers. Without them, this route would be completely impossible. However, an Alpacka Raft with a spray deck weighs almost 5 pounds, and the kayak paddle adds another 2 – so they are the heaviest part of our gear.
Hig in drysuit
Clothing: Our primary clothing will be the drysuit and the powerstretch fleece suit. We wear the drysuit alone if it’s not cold, and add the fleece when it is cold. Very simple. I don’t believe in base layers. And we find that you really don’t need all that many configuration options to deal with different temperatures. Even though the fleece is heavier than most insulation (almost a pound and a half for a full body suit), it deals with water light years better. Even after extensive soaking, powerstretch fleece only holds about 2x its weight in water, and drains it really quickly.
We’ll make some concession to the fact that we’re starting about 12 degrees latitude south of our usual stomping grounds, and probably carry a light T-shirt and shorts for the very beginning of the hike. And then of course we have socks (Teko), gloves (hardware store), rain mitts (Mountain Laurel Designs), and hood (us).
At some point in the fall or winter, when it gets cold enough, we’ll add the Cocoon synthetic-insulated clothing from Bozeman Mtn Works.
And of course, the Montrail Hardrock/Vitesse shoes.
Canon Digital Rebel w/telephoto lens
Electronics/Communication: To fulfill the environmental mission of the trip, we must do a lot of recording. Photography and writing have been very important parts of our trips for years. And on this journey, we will be taking photographs for our sponsors and collaborators as well as ourselves – and I’m writing a book. So no skimping allowed. We carry a digital SLR (Canon digital Rebel – likely upgrading to the Xti version), and are planning to get a 24-105mm lens for it. This is in fact an improvement over what we’ve done in the past, with separate telephoto, macro, and wide-angle lenses. I’ll miss the flexibility, but not the 8lbs of camera gear!
We’ll also be bringing a GPS – one that can take memory cards. Not because we need one for navigation, but because we’ll be using it to locate photos. This way, when we get back, you’ll be able to see all our pictures on maps and Google Earth.
Then, as if this wasn’t enough we’re also planning to get a small digital camcorder (maybe the Panasonic SDR-S10?), becase we’d like to play around with video, and might bring our tiny (2oz) digital voice recorder.
Luckily writing notes are easy. I always bring a simple Rite in the Rain notebook, and write journal entries nightlsy (plus notes during the day).
Shelter/Sleeping: With all those gadgets, we’re lucky we’ve managed to pare down our home away from home… Sharing a homemade sleeping bag, under the pyramid shelter, with a pair of light 3/4 length thermarests (also doubling as life vests), we only have 2.5lbs of home each.
Ok, so my last blog post kind of sucked (too much rambling text about what happened). So here’s the lowdown on what we learned from this trip (along with a couple more pictures I didn’t have room to fit in).
Skis: Maybe better skiers than us can handle skinny trail skis in hilly forests. We need all the help we can get. So going against the grain of our usual preference for the lightest stuff we can get away with, we’re planning to go with wider backcountry skis (metal edged) and stiff boots for this trip.
Skiing through the forest: Slower than we’d hoped. When you’re not only sinking into the snow, but also carrying it with you (in 6 inch layers on the bottoms of the skis), even five miles of forest is really really long. Luckily a lot of our winter travel will be over tundra. And it doesn’t really matter if the whole trip takes longer than 9 months… But on this shakedown, we were on a tighter schedule. So we bailed. We ended up relying on the “no spontaneous generation of snowmachines” principle (where a snowmachine comes from, there must ultimately be gasoline, humans, and roads), and hightailed it off our map after the second day of continuous forest, down a snowmachine trail to the road.
Open section of the Kenai River
Drysuits: Awesome. Still a few bugs in the beta test version, but we’ll be getting them back with better wrist gaskets, and I think they’ll be beautiful. Both more comfortable and more waterproof than anything we’ve ever had. And in the winter, the roomy top let us stuff waterbottles and cold-sensitive electronics down the front – giving us the appearance of some oddly boxy beer bellies.
Paddling the Kenai River
New thermarest-life vests doing well
Old Ski Boots from the Seventh Grade: More awful than I could have imagined. Too small, and not very warm (which I was expecting). Also completely formless, with holes tearing out at the bottom, no control at all over the skis, not at all waterproof, almost impossible to get on wet, and completely impossible to get on frozen (which I wasn’t expecting). Needless to say, they’re in a dump in Alaska now.
Alpacka Rafts as Sleds: Great. In all the temperatures we had (probably zero ish to about freezing), they slid across the snow beautifully, saving us from lugging a pack. And the spray deck kept everything under control inside, allowing us to be complete slobs about packing them.
Kenai River frozen solid
Stoves: You always need more air holes. Always. And don’t tip over the stove. Better yet, let Hig deal with the stove so it’s not my fault if it does tip over. (I think we might be better with a shorter and wider can?)
Shelter: Making a shelter with every last scrap of fabric and figuring that we can just barely fit inside…? In real world conditions (i.e. not a backyard test), we can’t really fit inside. Lesson? Don’t procrastinate so much on ordering fabric.
Fur Ruff: There’s a reason the Inuit have used them for thousands of years. I didn’t have one yet, but Hig was raving about the way it cut the wind and kept his face warm.
Flat Water Alpacka Travel: I just don’t understand why no one else does this. We paddled 12 miles from the Homer Spit to Seldovia, with one rest break in the middle. People are impressed when we tell them this. Propelling a boat forward on calm seas is not impressive. In fact, it is a pleasant and dirt cheap way to visit Hig’s family in Seldovia (just a little more time consuming)
Burnt forest on the moraine hills
Burnt Forest: I’ve never been on a trip in a recently burnt area before. Aesthetically, it’s really kind of an intriguing landscape. And interesting to see what still lives there (a few ptarmigan and squirrels). Fires have been huge in Alaska in recent summers – a combination of very dry weather and spruce-bark-beetle killed trees in some areas. Some people think that with global warming, increased fire in Alaska’s boreal forests will end up turning them back into grasslands.
Ultimate lesson? It was a great trip. We’ll fix a few things, get a few more pieces of gear, and it’ll work out one way or another. When I remember how awful some of our gear was for our first major summer trip (800 miles down the Alaska Peninsula), I realize we’re far better prepared now. And I realize that we can make it work out somehow even if we’re not.