#base weight

Tim O'Brien’s critically acclaimed retrospective on the Vietnam War has influenced the titles of two of my favorite posts.  This is one of them.  I love Dorothy Brown-Kwaiser’s concluding comment that we all have non-functional items that really don’t count against the base pack weight of life.  Bacon Bit thru-hiked in 2012 and penned this post that is worth revisiting annually’.

By Dorothy “Bacon Bit” Brown-Kwaiser

(Big Bear, mile 266 to 278 = 12 miles)

If I remember right, that’s the title of a book or short story that we read in one of Ms. Ruth Michaud’s high school English classes.  I don’t remember it well, but I know the title referred to the personal items that soldiers kept with them during times of war.  This is not a war, but we have those kinds of things on trail, too.  And on today’s easy breezy hike, I was thinking about mine.

But first I must explain that many of us know what each item in our pack weighs to the tenth of an ounce.  We carry as little as we are comfortable with.  My base weight (without food, fuel, and water) is around 17 pounds.  I have sent home extra socks, my mug and replacement mug, my belt, the lid to my pot (made one of foil), an extra sports bra, insoles, extra batteries, extra bandages, Tylenol, an emergency blanket, the Data Book, my journal, and a T-shirt.  All of this to shed ounces that turn into pounds.  And yet, I carry a handful of items of no physical use and would never consider sending them home.  Here they are:

I have two gorgeous and unnecessary stuff sacks that a friend got in Guatemala.  I love the colors, and I use them to store my electronics, which are not so beautiful.  I think it gives them better energy.  I also keep my mp3 player in a small Jazzercise sack that my Jazzercise ladies gave me.  I don’t need any of these sacks really, but they make me happy when I see them.  My store-bought stuff sacks are great, but they have no meaning.

I have ribbons clipped to the outside of my bag with an alligator clip.  The clip is from Jazzercise.  The ribbons were on a gift from Ann Maureen Scully, one of the female rangers I work with and deeply admire.  They are what I hope this trip will be – light, bright, happy, colorful, and springing with energy.

I have a dead mouse from my late kitty, Scout.  That stuffed mouse has been killed too many times to count.  Scouters was my little boy and my best bud. He was a little over a year old when he was hit and had just turned from the cute runt with huge paws into a handsome, athletic, full-grown cat.  I still miss him terribly and find myself replaying all moments up to finding him in the road.  When the going gets rough, I reach into my pocket and squeeze that mouse.  Scout and I had a shared passion for the outdoors.

And last but not least, I have the written word.  A couple of poems, cards, and quotes from friends.  Two letters from my mate.  (Who, it turns out, has a wise old 80-year-old inside him, too; and this side comes out in letters.  The wise old 80-year-old lady inside me is also in love.)  All of these I turn to as needed or reflect upon as I hike down the trail lost in thought.  I have read most of them enough that I can just pull out lines and turn them over in my mind.  There is plenty of time to think out here.

We all have things like this in our life … little bits and pieces that usually have no monetary value or physical purpose, but that we would never get rid of.  The values are intangible and cannot be measured.  They do not count against the base pack weight of life.  For they are what make the burden bearable. 

By Howard Shapiro

I just completed reading Heather ‘Anish’ Anderson’s memoir of her quest to be the first woman to set the fastest known record (FKT) for completing the PCT. Needless to say any record set by anyone is significant. A record marks a demonstration of skill and effort that stands out above all others. ‘Anish’s’ effort is outstanding. Her skills are notable but her determination is what is extraordinary. She never viewed herself an athlete but after many years of running ultra-marathons and setting her PCT record she clearly views herself as a very capable and accomplished athlete.I  don’t disagree, but this understanding has raised some questions for me.

Is hiking the PCT becoming one more extreme sport? Is 30-40 miles a day the new ‘gold standard’ for walking the PCT? Is this what people are referring to when they talk about hiking their own hike? Every time I go out on the trail I meet more and more people who are crushing big miles day after day. Honestly, I have no problem with any of this. I simply wonder if what appears extreme to me strikes anyone else that way? As I have completed multiple sections of the PCT I felt various levels of strength and endurance. I always feel better for my effort. Does this make me extraordinary? 

‘Extraordinary’ is a quality that appears to permeate our society these days. Whether it is politics, how many followers you have on social media, sports, and now, seemingly included is hiking, just to name of few. So as I read Heather’s story I couldn’t help but reflect on my own experiences walking the PCT. First, let me be clear, I am NO Heather! Even at my best, I don’t think I could do the miles she did even for one day. She sustained an average of forty plus miles a day for two months. To add to ‘Anish’s’ credit, she had  previously completed the PCT in a more typical fashion, walking the distance across four or so months, years before her record effort. In sports parlance she is no rookie.

The fact remains doing anything faster, stronger, better than ever before can be a reasonable goal. This certainly pushes the themes around hiking related to base weights and mile averages that appear to be a current focus of conversation in hiking circles. This conversation appears to lead to an unspoken and/or spoken expectation we have for ourselves or one that emanates from the hiking community to go harder, faster, lighter,etc.

Every time I get ready to hit the trail I face the challenge of trying my best to pack lighter and smarter than the last time. I have had mixed results. Over the past fifteen or twenty years the ‘go lite’ movement has really taken off. Nowadays it seems that most of the people one meets on the trail are sharing base weights, and exchanging the various strategies that they have employed in the quest to go lighter and smarter.They do a lot more than saw off their toothbrush handles. 

There are some things that are difficult to impossible to work around in the effort to go light. For example, carrying enough water in dry areas or sections is a big consideration. One liter of water weighs about 2.5 pounds. Carrying three liters approaches eight pounds alone.

Stoves and fuel are another challenge. In the southern sections of the PCT I have met people who go ‘stoveless’. This takes on many forms and is a very individual decision. 

Clothing can be one more problem to solve. Rain gear or no rain gear? Boots or trail runners? One extra change or no extra change? You can see the path to lighter and smarter is marked by numerous questions and considerations.  

There are many keys to going lighter and smarter. First of all it is probably a pretty good idea to not pack when you are hungry. In addition to simply buying and assembling your food, get rid of the extra packaging. If you know how many calories you will actually eat, you can choose light but calorie dense foods that will help you reach that target daily caloric number. 

When I meet up with my hiking partners we determine what we have together that is redundant. Someone has the camera/phone, someone else the first aid kit, and someone else the stove, etc. Our group doubles or triples up on our personal items and to be honest that seems like a small sacrifice to me but for the casual observer may appear to be ridiculous. 

Over the years we have continually downsized our portions of bug dope, toothpaste, and medications. We use small canisters and plastic bags to reduce the size of things.We are continuously trying to carry less and it has been an ongoing evolution of sorts 

Multitasking  items is one more great strategy. Determining what can be used in more than one way is the epitome of efficiency. A pot can be a wash basin. A bandanna has multiple uses. Socks, in  a pinch, can be mittens. Some use their hiking poles as selfie sticks, just go to You Tube for the proof.

 We have yet to give up our tent. We did try a tarp but the combination of bugs, wind, and rain convinced us that wasn’t the best fit for us. Sure we could multitask our hiking poles to hold up that tarp but when the rain came there just wasn’t enough space in the middle where we all migrated to get out of the drops. The tarp has stayed home ever since but not for so many of our peers. 

With my partners, each of us usually carry a ‘spork’ as we need that and our own cup for breakfasts. Later in the day, we use our utensils to share a mutual bag of freeze dried something or other. Each of us also carry a journal  and something to read.Some people eliminate those items and do it all on an electronic device, reading, journalling, taking pictures, and for some, blogging.  

As for what to wear, well that is something that is as different as one mile can be from another along the PCT. I have to admit that hiking in the North Cascades has either prepared me for the worst or has just made me paranoid for all the worst case scenarios that can march through my head. Mostly I am cautious at best and in the very least would make a Boy Scout  proud. I am very prepared and my preparedness has plagued me as I have ventured beyond the North Cascades and tried hard to lighten my load and adjust to my new surroundings each time. 

In the early days the clothes I wore and packed were pretty good for being outdoors but they were heavy and bulky. Since that time, I have gotten so much better at choosing what I bring and wear. I have left my wool sweater and replaced it with a light down jacket. My army surplus trousers have been  replaced by shorts and a medium weight set of poly-pro long johns, my cotton t-shirt with a light poly-pro top. Needless to say I have reduced not only the number of clothing items I bring but the weight of each one too. Unlike some  ‘go lite’ people, I do carry more than one pair of socks and a few other items. Wherever we are we always carry raincoats, sleeping bags, and pads.

Knowing what you have and how to find it in the dark is the other challenge. Some people will mark things with glow-in-the-dark tape. I haven’t done that despite how good of an idea it is. Honestly, I am usually in my bag well before dark. I am not sure I would appreciate the tape as much as I appreciate the idea. I do carry a headlamp. Headlamps are a small sacrifice in weight and provide me that extra assurance I can find my hat if I get cold in the middle of the night or determine what is making that racket outside the tent.

There are any number of ways to hike lighter and smarter. If you have ideas that work for you and you would like to share them, we would be happy to share those here. Send us your ideas at [email protected]

Howard Shapiro

I have been randomly re-reading through some of my past journals from PCT hikes. There are numerous reflections, feelings, goals, and an over riding sense of awe and wonder as to where I am, who I am with, all the while trying to make sense of what it all means. No matter how gloomy it looks outside, rereading these passages helps to put me right back on the ‘sunny side’ of the trail. Even if I am reading about a slog in the rain my mood brightens recalling how I made it. I eventually dried out, I kept on going and then some. 

Another theme that I notice throughout the many decades worth of writings is how I approached every section and ultimately every day and night on the trail. I have consistently over compensated in a variety of ways. That got me wondering what that was/is all about? Obviously there is a fear factor involved. The ‘what ifs’ and associated worst case scenarios fill that corner of my imagination. Unfortunately for me, that is not unique to the PCT. There are other parts of my life where that same fear factor crawls out from under my bed or out of my closet. 

Fear is real and irrational. Sometimes simultaneously and sometimes very separately. I am no psychologist or psychiatrist but I do know that fear can be powerful. Fear does not have to be complicated either. If it were, then as little kids the dark would be nothing. Add in a one or a few more elements and fear gets more complex. As I examine my own fears I realize that there is more than one answer to my question.

Part of my fear centers on failing. That certainly falls under the ‘what if’ category. What if I get really bad blisters? What if I run out of food? What if the tent leaks? Then there is the ultimate ‘what if’, what if I don’t complete my hike? And on and on, you get the picture. My imagined or assumed failure has something to do with my level of preparedness and something to do with fate. No matter how many times you change your socks you may still get blisters. People do get sick and have to leave the trail. Things happen no matter how prepared one is and often they are out of our control. The ‘fates’ take over. 

Setting fear aside, there are other over compensations that I have made and continue to make. Some of these are sound and I won’t change them while others appear to have evolved over time. For example, on my first effort on the PCT the clothes I packed , and there were a lot, were far different and fewer from those that are on my list today. As comfy as that gray ragg wool sweater was it left the list and the building along with Elvis. Those heavy leather hiking boots have pretty much walked themselves out of my life. At the time they had a place but today not so much. To compensate I have gone to lightweight hikers and hiking poles. Instead of wool I tend toward polyester. 

Then there is water. I often find I don’t drink enough but never want to get caught out. In 2015 Rees and I found ourselves hiking a really dry section toward Walker Pass. It was hot, it was dry, and the water sources minimal. The next two years I walked the southern sections from Campo. The dry memories of 2015 stuck with me. I was not going to ‘die of thirst’ or dehydrate...no way!

Darn them and thanks to many kind trail angels there were water caches as I walked north. I didn’t want to count on them however I am eternally grateful for every last one. No dehydration or even the slightest hint of dying from lack of water. Still, I likely carried more water than I needed.

I also carry more food than I probably need as well. This is due to a combination of a fear of starving (irrational) and liking food (reality). Balancing that has always been a challenge. Some of the worry around food likely stems from reading too many survival stories where a lack of food played a pivotal role. Two thoughts come to mind around food. First being holed up in a tent while a Sierra thunderstorm threatened and hearing two hikers checking out a nearby bear box for any left behind food. There was none and they likely didn’t draw straws to see who was ultimately going to eat who. They survived I am sure but I NEVER want to find myself in their position. 

The second thought is from a few years ago hiking out of the Whitewater area. I had just resupplied and was going alone for about twelve days toward Cajon Pass. I had it all and then some! There was plenty of food and lots of water along with everything else. I came up onto a ridge and met another hiker. We exchanged greetings and then he called it like he saw it and said, ‘You are not going light, are you?’ I know what I was thinking  I wanted to say but could I say? I simply acknowledged his observation and shuffled along under the weight of my pack and my over compensation. 

In these times of incredibly low ‘base weights’, going without a stove, etc. I feel like I am sailing into a headwind as I try to come to terms with my over compensation. I keep trying to trim things down and consider what I really need verses what I think I need or may need. There is a picture of me on the first day of my first PCT hike. My back is bowed since my pack weighs slightly half less than I do. My stomach sticks out and I look overweight. Well, I am but not my physical self. The combination of my pack and my mental over compensation have paired up against me. All these years later, I am doing much better but compensation for every possibility can be overwhelming. Over compensating can be a validation and hinderance. that requires me to balance the two. 

All my over compensation does serve some purpose even though I cannot readily or consistently defend it. On one hand it got me to where I am. On the other hand it may have slowed me down. I know over compensation and it is a relation but not always a friend. It is a companion but not always welcome. It is woven into my life on and off the trail. In fact I hear it calling me from my closet or is it under my bed? I better go look. 

Howard Shapiro

Over the past many years gear has gotten better and lighter. As hikers many of us have embraced the better and lighter equipment that is available. We have also tried to integrate or totally embrace the ‘Go Lite’ philosophy in our experiences. I have tried hard to reduce what I carry and as a result have attempted going lighter and lighter. To the casual observer it may not appear I have been very successful. 

One idea that has picked up more and more momentum over the past many years is the idea of ‘cowboy camping’. In my effort to try to go lighter I have tried this too. Maybe you have camped this way your self. On a warm, starry night there is nothing quite like sleeping without a tent, but sleeping like a cowboy or cowgirl might have. 

A reason for the interest in cowboy camping may be more rooted in simplicity and not stargazing. Cowboy camping helps us lighten our loads and certainly addresses our weight saving goals. ‘Base weight’ is a part of that continuous goal and is a powerful standard that is not far from many a hiker’s thoughts. Leaving your tent at home can contribute to reducing a hiker’s base weight by as much as several pounds. 

Leaving your tent behind is a big decision. Having no tent simplifies your experience for sure. It also leaves you a bit more vulnerable to the elements and maybe one or more nocturnal friends. A tent puts a small bit of nylon between you, the raindrops and snowflakes and... well, who knows what else? 

Tents are added weight. Going without one is certainly going to lighten your load. When planning to sleep under the stars, knowing the details about your location and expected weather can shift the balance between “never again” and “great success.”  Before camping cowboy-style, consider the following:

Are there any weather or safety alerts for the area you’ll be staying?

What’s your water source?

Do you need a permit to camp?

What local wildlife should you be aware of?

Are there any other rules or regulations you should know about? For example, some parks and regions require food to be in a bear-resistant container.

What are your thoughts and experiences with cowboy or cowgirl camping verses using a tent? We would really like to hear from you. As you consider your thoughts and experiences take a moment and go outside and look at the stars. 

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