There Are Pandas, and Then There Are Pandas.
And this isn't either of them! The Pandas we're talking about here, are watches, not bears. And what got me thinking about them (again) was a link posted this morning by @cm.rook who pointed a few of us to the very attractive (and not terribly priced) Yema "Rallygraph" Panda which, in it's most traditional arrangement, looks like the one on the left, but can also be had in the version on the right: The model on the left is a true Panda, while the model on the right is called a reverse Panda. The reason for that distinction is clear--Panda bears, only come in the first arrangement. Now at this point, everyone should be thinking about the most well-know Panda, The Rolex Panda, which is actually a Daytona, and among Rolex Daytonas, the most famous of which is the Paul Newman Daytona, which was famous first, because it was Paul's, and second because it sold at auction for $17.8 million (US Dollars). The story of that auction is well-known so I'll only...
Nov 8, 2019
I managed to do this for years, always wishing I could spend more time in the backcountry, more time car camping with my friends, just more time in the wilderness. I had heard of ultralighters - crazy wilderness people who liked to sleep under logs and cover up with forest duff. I had no interest in that…I liked my tent thank you very much. Even if it did weigh 12 pounds.
The years went by, and I found myself going out less and less, frankly because it really wasn’t very comfortable. Kind of funny when I look back on things, because I kept carrying all that heavy gear (and extra stuff!) because I thought it made me more comfortable. Yet it was so hard to carry a 60-pound pack over the rolling hills of southern Indiana, and northern Michigan, that I really never went anymore. It just really wasn’t much fun.
But I missed being in the forest. A lot. A friend of mine casually mentioned how much she liked to backpack, and I thought, I really need to get back out! So we agreed to a trip on a great little 2.5-day trip in northern Michigan called the Manistee River Trail. It makes a loop with the North Country Trail, and this would be CharlieDog’s inaugural backpacking trip as well. I couldn’t have been more excited!
As I mentioned, this was my first CharlieDog trip, so there was a huge learning curve in that department. But this was also my first backpacking trip in probably 10 years, and my backcountry skills in general were quite rusty. It was brutally hot, Charlie was pretty miserable and when we lost the trail junction to the NCT we ended up just calling it a night and backtracking. We got back to the car tired and achy after very few miles overall (maybe 15 total for the whole weekend?), I had the largest blisters I’ve ever had, and I decided I needed to get out more.
So that fall we headed further north to the Porcupine Mountains in Michigan's upper peninsula. This would be more miles (25!), more days (4!), so more food (=more weight). Again I packed up the trusty Gregory, the REI half dome that sleeps 4, the MSR Whisperlite white gas stove, and the heavy Zamberlan boots.
That first day we were passed by a group of three backpackers who carried what looked like day packs, wearing little gym shoes and using trekking poles. I scoffed at them, thinking they were the types who would sleep under a log and use forest duff for a blanket, being eaten by bugs all night and having snakes and spiders crawl all over them while they slept, eating nothing but GORP for food because they weren’t carrying a stove.
We ended up in a campsite along Lake Superior relatively close to the under-log-sleepers-with-teeny-packs. Charlie, who still did not have good trail etiquette (and apparently neither did I…), kept wandering over to their site to say hi. Which meant I kept going over to get him back.
The rest of that trip we kept being passed so easily by these folks, they were just flying along like they were on a day hike. We were laboring under these crazy heavy loads with crazy heavy boots trying to be agile over rocks and roots and down some slippery descents.
When I got home after that trip, sore, tired, and again blistered from sweating so much in my all-leather waterproof boots, I fired up The Google and came across a website called BackpackingLight. I read everything on that site, all the forums discussing gear I had literally never heard of. They talked of these packs and shelters and cooksets and -gasp- QUILTS! like it was the easiest thing in the world to do.
I started to realize that I could lighten up without being a crazy woodland creature, that I could actually be comfortable on the hike without giving up the comforts I liked in camp. I learned about the difference between CAMPING and HIKING, and that I could actually choose gear based on which kind of trip I was going to take.
So down the rabbit hole I went, and made the same mistake so many others made before me: instead of drinking ALL the kool-aid, I just took sips. Which meant buying a new pack that weighed just 4 pounds empty instead of 8.
I bought a high quality down sleeping bag - and luckily I only swapped that out for a quilt (or 2…) before stopping.
My MSR Whisperlite was replaced by a 4 oz canister stove, which was replaced by a caldera cone/alcohol set up.
I’ve pretty much stuck to Exped synmat UL7 and downmat UL7 pads through the years - I’ve tried a few others but keep coming back to these.
Then there’s the tent.
The 9 pound 4-man REI Half Dome was replaced by a 2-man REI quarter dome. Which was replaced by a Big Agnes Fly Creek 2.
I bought some heavy “shock absorbing” poles, then some Black Diamond cork handled monstrosities, and now I have the awesome Locus Gear poles that I can’t imagine replacing with anything else.
As my gear lightened up, I found myself flying over the trails and leaving my friends behind when normally I was the slow poke (my trail name was even Mosey for a while).
I’m getting older, and my joints don’t work as well as they used to, or as well as I’d like. Going ultralight was not some crazy cult I joined, or even a “movement.” It was a way to simplify, to ease that burden of carrying a ginormous pack over rocks and roots and hills and mountain passes, and to make it to the end of my hiking day with energy to make camp with a smile on my face, and eat a wonderful cooked meal with my friends or next to my dog.