A few weeks ago, I went for a nice day of hiking at Point Reyes National Seashore, just north of San Francisco. Never been? Beautiful and magical place, dressed in redwoods in the plains and valleys, shrouded in fog in the highlands, majestic Tule elk roaming in large herds. There are even a few backcountry campsites dotted around, some right on the coast, with the Pacific crashing gently – or sometimes very, very violently – in the background.
As I prepared for my hike, I chatted with a middle-aged man as he finished packing his backpack for a multi-day getaway to a campsite about seven miles away. He carefully pinned his camping permit to the outside of a well-stuffed backpack, pulled on a pair of worn leather boots, adjusted a wide-brimmed hat string around his chin, and then, in my opinion, , attached an old folding chair. to his bag with a rope. Not a hiking chair, a metal framed chair that must have weighed at least 15 pounds. I bit my tongue for a moment, then I couldn't help it and told him that there was a picnic table at his campsite, that he wouldn't need to lug that chair all the way.
“I know,” he said. “But this chair has been with me everywhere and it’s so comfortable I wouldn’t camp without it.”
I tipped my cap to the man, then thought about some of the bulky things I'd brought on previous backpacking trips that would have been laughed at by other hikers, but were totally worth it.
• Surfboard and wetsuit. There is a campsite near where this man was heading, with usable waves right out front, with potentially very good waves just a short hike away. I lugged a surfboard and wetsuit the whole 6.5 miles to this campsite, you know, just in case. There's no easy way to do this either. The hike with surf equipment is tortuous.
Surfboard, check. Cast iron skillet, check. Old, heavy hatchet, check.
• Telescope. I don't do this anymore, but in the past I attached a small reflecting telescope in a carrying case to the outside of my bag, with a lightweight tripod stored in a water bottle holder. A huge PITA to carry, but an awesome tool to have on moonless nights in the backcountry. Transforms a regular overnight camping trip into something magical.
• Mini beer keg. I once carried a 1.5 gallon keg of beer to a lake campsite. I didn't travel far, maybe three miles, but I was a hero to my friends for my commitment to beer fresh from the tap. Plus, nothing compensates for the exhaustion of carrying pounds of beer and metal like the promise of a beer at the end of the hike.
• Cast iron frying pan. Sometimes you just have to do it. It's heavy, bulky and greasy, but it's worth it if you're lucky enough to land in a lake with trout.
• Packraft/float tube. Packrafts can be very small these days, some weighing less than two pounds. But many still fall into the four-pound range and take up as much room in a bag as a tent. Additionally, you will need oars, maybe some waterproof clothing. Swimming fins for a float tube too. It all adds up to a bunch of heavy, excess gear that's nonetheless worth hauling around.
• Laptop. Sacrilege? Maybe. But there is no law against writing ten miles deep in the wilderness.
• Infant. Each time, I think: she will make it to the end of this hike. And every time too: No, she doesn't.
Lyrics by Justin Housman
