The Right Stuff Day Packs And What To Put In Them Trail: Fill & Download for Free

Oh… I’ve got a story for this one. Let me tell you about the disastrous time I naively agreed to guide a group from out of town up a 14,000 ft+ mountain in Colorado. Enjoy the story of my folly.I am an avid trail runner and I have summited several of Colorado’s 14,000+-ft peaks (locally, “14′ers” in Colorado-speak). One of my favorite 14′ers is Longs Peak, outside of Estes Park, Colorado. I’ve been up, down, and around the mountain a handful of times, both hiking and running, on lots of routes and trails. There are many good reasons to like Longs Peak. It’s accessible, it’s short enough to do in a reasonable day, it’s challenging but it won’t necessarily try to kill you at every turn (here’s looking at you Maroon Bells… never again). The most popular ascent routes offer spectacular views from every side of the mountainLongs is challenging enough to be considerably more than your average mountain hike, but not so technical that you need mountaineering equipment to do it safely. Some sections will certainly make your palms sweaty. Not everyone can summit Longs, but most reasonably fit, dedicated hikers have a good shot at it, especially if the weather cooperates, they come prepared, and get an early start. If you complete Longs, you’ll definitely feel like you climbed a mountain.So… what went wrong?Some years ago, a friend of mine was getting married in Colorado. Being the outdoors-y type, he asked if I would informally guide him and a group of guy friends up Longs as part of his Bachelor party weekend experience. It would be something like 6 guys, mostly from out of state, but he assured me they were excited for the challenge. I agreed to take charge of getting the group up the mountain.He put me in touch with the group via email. I sent out a detailed group message explaining what to expect, what to wear, what to bring. Having taken responsibility for guiding them, I wanted to make sure they had a good experience. 14′ers are no joke. Somebody dies on Longs Peak pretty much every year when they get careless or profoundly unlucky. (I lost a friend in college who was hit by lightning while climbing the Diamond section.) If this group was willing to take it seriously, and if the unpredictable weather cooperated, I would be glad to help them achieve the special thrill of standing on such a spectacular summit. In my message on prep and expectations, I emphasized appropriate footwear, clothing layers, and how to bring enough food and water for the challenging, multi-hour expedition.I’d run up and down Longs comfortably in just a handful of hours, but I knew a group of people not used to the altitude could easily take 10+ hours even if they were young and somewhat fit. The date of the hike was July 7th 2007 (07/07/07), a popular date for weddings, and I had to attend a different wedding in Denver later that evening. So we agreed to meet early and try to be off the mountain by early afternoon.To their credit, the group showed up on time at the trail head parking lot at 1am. In the dark morning chill, I shook hands with the group members, gave a quick orientation talk, sized them up, and prepared to hit the trail.One member of the group stood out in particular. I remember he was from Nebraska, so I’ll call him that. While young, he didn’t appear to be familiar with challenging physical activity. More ominously, he didn’t have a day pack. He was literally carrying, in his hands, a regular-sized bottle of Gatorade… and a granola bar.Not going to get you through a strenuous all-day hike.I pulled my friend aside and let him know quietly that Captain Nebraska over there was wholly unprepared and had not followed the instructions I sent. Together, we asked Captain Nebraska if he was really up for the hike, assuming we as a group came together and each shared some food and water. He insisted he would have no problem.And that’s when I made my mistake: knowing in my gut he was clearly not ready to summit the mountain, I agreed to let Captain Nebraska come along on the condition that he promised to turn around when he started to struggle. Why I then thought he would start using good judgment is beyond me today. My doubt of him probably got his testosterone up and he glared at me saying he would keep up fine. The group encouraged him… and I let them do it.Captain Nebraska actually held up really well… for about 20 minutes. By the time we emerged from the last trees into the open meadows above tree-line, he was at the back of the group, puffing and sweating. It was too early for a real break, but we stopped for breathers frequently as I didn’t want Captain Nebraska to have a heart attack. Altitude is hard.Later, as the eastern sky was lighting up and the spectacular views of Longs Peak’s famous “Diamond” cliff face were forming out of the darkness, I dropped back with Captain Nebraska to see how he was really doing. I told him he needed to slow down and I would stay back with him at a slower pace while the rest of the group made their way up to the end of that particular trail section. We’d be able to see them the whole way, and we’d catch up with them when they stopped for a breakfast snack. Nebraska didn’t argue. He was starting to realized he might have bitten off more than he could chew.Captain Nebraska did better at the slower pace. When we caught up with the group, everybody shared some of their food with him and we passed around his empty Gatorade bottle for another refill. He seemed humbled and grateful. We were through the meadows, somewhere in the ballpark of two hours in, about to round the northeast side of the mountain and head up towards the boulder fields. At the top of those boulders we would hit the famous “keyhole route”, which would be gnarly indeed. In other words, we hadn’t even hit the tough stuff yet. As the day was warming, some of the group had left extra gear back down towards Chasm Lake below the Diamond cliffs.We pressed on into the Boulder fields. The going was getting tougher. The group was quieter, feeling the altitude. Captain Nebraska was looking a little pale. I talked my buddy who had coordinated the group and told him we’d need to send Captain Nebraska back down the mountain soon. I was worried he was getting altitude sickness. I didn’t want to send him alone, and we didn’t want to split the group.We decided we should find a place where he would be comfortable and then the rest of us would summit as a group. Captain Nebraska could rest, head down when he was ready. The trail down from that point was easy to follow. We’d likely catch back up to him on our way back down and get back to the parking lot together.Most of the group seemed to be doing well and a few of them were really itching for the summit. As long as the weather cooperated, at least some of us would stand on top of the mountain that day.By the time we got towards the top of the Boulder fields, Captain Nebraska was clearly feeling sick. The altitude was getting to him and the continued exertion wasn’t helping. His stubbornness was bordering on dangerous. He needed to rest, hydrate more, and start heading down as soon as he was feeling a little stronger. I let him and the group know this was non-negotiable. Those feeling strong could press on, I’d get Nebraska situated, then I’d catch up with them to get them through the notoriously tricky Keyhole ridge on the back side of the mountain.You can’t stay on the mountain too late or you risk getting caught in the storms that can come up quickly on summer afternoons. We’d lost considerable time on the way up. If we couldn’t summit directly, we’d have to head down anyway.Unexpectedly, there is a little beehive-shaped shelter right below the Keyhole in Longs Peak. It’s a tiny stone building put up in the ’30s to commemorate a mountaineer who died there and her friend who died trying to help her. It’s a good reminder, right before the trail turns particularly treacherous, that the mountain will kill you if you don’t respect it.The “Keyhole” entrance to the tricky ridge route. Notice the shelter to the left.It doesn’t get easier on the backside ridge after the Keyhole. Fear of heights won’t help you here. Notice the red/yellow “fried egg” trail marker.This shelter seemed a likely place for Captain Nebraska to rest for an hour or so and then start heading down. Being in no condition to argue, he agreed to the plan.And that’s when disaster struck. As Captain Nebraska stepped shakily from the boulders towards the shelter, his foot slipped. With a small wrenching sound, the entire sole… of his boot… ripped… completely off… literally exposing his sock. His cheaply glued hiking boot fell apart and he came down hard on his other knee. While his knee was only bruised, you simply can’t very well walk up, or down, a mountain with a merely sock-clad foot.Exceptionally bad news at 13,000 feet.The rest of our group, who had been waiting for us to arrive, saw the boot disintegrate. They seemed shocked and looked dumbly at each other. I was having visions of Captain Nebraska leaning on me the whole way down the mountain. He nearly burst into tears.“Any ideas?” I asked the group as calmly as I could manage.“I brought an extra pair of shoes.” Somebody said. We all brightened and turned to him.“Awesome! That’s great!” I said in relief. “Where are they?”“With the bags we left way back, down by the lake.”Another groan rippled through the group. At the pace we’d been moving, that was roughly two hours back down the mountain. No way could Nebraska get that far without a shoe.I noticed everyone was looking at me. I was the guide. I’d taken responsibility for this fiasco. I’d let Captain Nebraska come this far.“Ok.” I said. “Ok. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll go get the shoes and bring them back up here. Nebraska, you stay put, eat, drink, and rest. Those of you who are feeling up to it, press on towards the summit. There are a few other hikers you can follow. Keep going uphill and you can’t miss it.”One of the other guys raised his hand. “I’m not feeling so good either. I’ll stay here with Nebraska and go down with him once Joel reaches us with the shoes.” We were relieved not to leave Nebraska alone.We divvied up food and water, I left most of my gear with Nebraska in order to make the fastest time possible. I jumped from boulder to boulder back down the field and positively enjoyed myself when I hit the proper trail. Running down mountains on a beautiful summer day is my idea of fun. I passed some hiking groups who were ascending and they gave me funny looks. “Not as funny as the look you’ll give me when I pass you again going back up.” I thought.I got the shoes, took a quick breather, gulped some water, and started back up the mountain. It was decidedly less fun on the way back up. But I made it, and Nebraska was in better shape when we got there. Fortunately, the shoes were a close enough fit that he could make them work.Nebraska and the other one not feeling so well started slowly down the mountain. I’d made good enough time that I was able to catch the summit group and ultimately stand with them on the glorious summit, making everything feel worth it.We’d lost enough time that, on the way down, my friend who organized the group told me to go on ahead. He was feeling fine, he knew the way now, he knew the group wouldn’t be moving fast, and we’d agreed beforehand that I needed to make it to the other wedding in Denver that evening.I ran all the way back down the mountain, all the way to the car this time (passing some groups for the 3rd time that day, one of whom asked if I was lost). It was about a 7 mile run down, after the full ascent and with an extra few miles of running ascent/descent on the middle section. Physically, I was completely fried.Back in the parking lot, I was driving a stick-shift car and my left leg was struggling to operate the clutch. I made it to my apartment in Louisville (just outside of Boulder), showered, changed, stuffed some food into my face, and headed to the wedding in Denver, knowing I’d sit in traffic trying to hold the clutch pedal in with my exhausted, shaky leg.I arrived at the wedding just in time. As I hobbled towards the venue, my phone rang. It was the fiance of the friend who’d taken over the group when I left. She was wondering why she hadn’t heard from anybody. I was surprised because I’d left them hours ago when they were well on their way down, which is of course faster than the way up. They should have been off the mountain by now. It was nearly 6pm. I told her they were fine when I left them, just moving slow, and that they should be in touch before long.I learned later that they didn’t get off the mountain until after 9pm.And that’s the story of why I don’t take groups up mountains unless they’re absolutely prepared. I’m no longer afraid to send people back plenty early if they’re struggling.Oh, and for crying out loud, buy good quality hiking boots!See you out there!

PackingGet the best backpack you can find. A good backpack sits well on your back (please don't just go buy one, find a store that will help you adjust it and find a good one), has at least one outside mesh pocket, ideally two, one external small compartment that can be locked, and around 40 liters of volume. Do not (believe me) buy one of those backpacks with a curved frame. They might sound more comfortable, but curvature screws with your storage.Edit: Hoshank Ailani asked for pictures of backpacks. But since there are tens of thousands of backpacks, and less than a tenth of them will be the same between countries, that's a daunting task. Also, I am on the road and don't want to spend my time finding the perfect backpack someone in the US, Lebanon, France, and Japan can buy. So, instead, have a drawing:Have an easily accessible outside pocket that can be lockedHave comfortable straps that can be adjusted well (you won't be wearing the same things every day, layers mandate change of strap length. Also have small pockets there, for camera, cigarettes, knife, flashlight, and condoms.Have wide and comfortable hip straps. Also have a pocket here, for other things you might need and more condoms.Have side mesh for bottles, your map, and other things you need to get to quickly but not as quickly as the things in your strap pockets. Have a front mesh to stuff wet things into so they can dry while you walk.Be about 40 liters and make sure they are sized to actually go on a plane as carry-on.Have an arrow pointing at something I wanted to point out but totally forgot what it was. This arrow is optional.Get a Travel Sheet (like Cocoon®) and you'll be much freer in deciding where to sleep. Sheets are very light, can serve as a blanket to sit somewhere, and make hostel sleeping SO much less disgusting.1 lbs on your feet is 7.5 lbs on your back. That means you'll want to get the lightest shoes that still work for you. Trail runners are nice, I had a pair of sandals and a pair of decent walking shoes that also doubled as formal shoes.Lighten your load wherever you can. Superlight Travel Sheet, saw off the handle on your toothbrush, etc. etc.Make three envelopes: one with all your original documents, driver's license, etc. One with copies. And a third one with more copies. Always guard the originals like your life. Always.Get a daypack. I use the Ultra-Sil® Day Pack, which is small enough to be attached to a keychain but can, unfolded, hold 20 liters and up to 150kg of load (above 5kg it gets rather uncomfortable for long walks, though). Whenever you stay somewhere for more than a night, move all your day stuff into the daypack and get the backpack somewhere safe. Or, if you need a better pack, just move things you don't need for the day into your daypack, and store that.Go on LighterPack and make your packing list. Experiment. In all cases you should stay below 15% of your body weight for backpacking. That gives you a few extra for a liter of water and maybe something you purchase along the way.Trim everywhere. Don't bring your 5D Mk. III and six lenses, bring something like the Sony RX100 III and call it a day. Seriously, that little bit of image quality and convenience is not worth the hassle.TravellingTake as much non-plane public transit as you can. Every time you take a cab or a rental car you'll pay yourself silly, every time you take a plane you'll lose gear (knives, eating utensils, liquids) you have to repurchase.Get a drop somewhere. If you, for example, travel through Europe get a drop in Munich, one in Paris, and one in London or so. A drop is a place with an address people can send you things to. Friends, public services, that stuff. If you need something, let someone know to send it. If you don't need something or if you bought something for home, send it home, don't lug it around with you.Bring things you can trade. Local things from your home town, for example. Small (key chains, fridge magnets, etc.) and whimsy does best. Very often did those make me friends, get me fed, or were used as trade for the same local item to send home.Have a friend at home whom you inform at short intervals that you're still around. Have them get nervous if they don't hear anything from you for three weeks. That could mean the difference between rotting in a jail in Laos and moving on.ClothingPack the least amount of clothing you can get together. Wash your things in hostel rooms and public laundries. I only had, for example, two pairs of pants. Sometimes, when I had laundry day in a laundromat, I'd put on my rain poncho, throw both of them in the wash, and wait, naked except for the poncho, for things to clean and dry.Get Merino wool socks. They don't stink quickly.Get a poncho (see above) and pack one trashbag so you can seal off your backpack. Worst case cut a few holes in the trashbag and use it as poncho if your poncho is gone or damaged.CustomsHere is where it gets complicated. Not because it's hard to follow but because there seems to be a "lowest/strictest common denominator" idealism in some people. I'll skip over that. You're a guest wherever you go. Be an ambassador for your country, but be it in the context of your host country. Dress as the locals do. If that means veil or long clothes, wear them, no matter how hot it is. If that means you don't light a light on specific days, don't do it. If it means jeans and t-shirt, do it. You're traveling to meet new people and cultures, start by becoming one of them on the outside and letting them into your inside.Once all that is done, you'll go out and fail. A lot. You'll freeze, you'll sweat, you'll hate your life, love it. You'll meet nice people and assholes, you'll find help when and from whom you least expect it, get hurt as well. You'll win and lose. And every time something goes totally FUBAR you'll learn. Soon you'll have your pack legs and you'll just be free. Just don't expect it to happen right away. As I always say, you'll always be a little wet, a little tired, and a little in pain. And you'll always know, and not doubt for a second, that this is the most amazing thing you could possibly do.

When I was a small child my father took my little brother and me backpacking in to camp at Lake Eiler on the Pacific Crest Trail.The Eiler/Barrett Loop trail section is relatively easy for a seven mile hike; It gains only about 750 feet, ultimately topping out at 6500 ft. in elevation. It is a beautiful place to set up a tent. Jeffrey, Lodgepole and White pines tower over a trout filled lake as placid as glass, nestled underneath the volcanic Freaner peak in the chilly mountain air.After setting up our teepee tent and making a fire pit, I immediately took out Daddy's tackle basket, snapped his rod together and went off exploring down at the water's edge to find myself a peaceful spot to cast in my line and do some fishing. Alone. Away from the BOYS.Soon I had found the perfect log to sit upon and daydream. I must have spent hours sitting there even though the fish weren't biting. It grew dark. I left the pole propped up on the log and wandered back into camp where we rehydrated some rice and beans from a packet and had a wonderful supper underneath the stars while listening to the crickets chirping and the fire crackling. Why is it everything tastes so good when cooked outdoors over an open fire?The next few days were spent exploring, playing in the water, swimming and searching for pine cones and other delightful treasures. We had a wonderful adventure (for the first three days.)Then the skies suddenly darkened. The clouds rolled in very quickly. Thunder could be heard in the distance. A light sprinkle suddenly became a torrential downpour which cut our camping trip short.We pulled down the teepee and hurriedly stowed our gear in our backpacks, divvied up amongst the three of us as fast as we could stuff it in. Then we ran for the trail head. The skies cracked open like an egg and the rain spilled out in one seemingly solid sheet. The trail thick with pines, was claustrophobic and dark and the pathway which had been such an easy stroll on the way in, now became a difficult slog as mud caked our hiking boots and suction made them heavy and thick on our feet.We were hiking at a slow pace- we were just little kids, the mud making the trail slippery and sodden. We were about three hours into our hike and only halfway to the trailhead and the car, when I suddenly remembered the fishing pole which I had left propped up on the log by the lake's edge. "Daddy! I forgot to get the fishing pole!" I was nearly in tears. Daddy stopped walking. We all stopped walking. We stood there a moment dripping wet. Then Daddy made a critical decision. It had been his father's fishing pole and too precious to leave at the lake. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. He handed them over to me."STAY ON THE TRAIL. Do not leave it for anything! You will come to the parking lot. Get in the car. Turn it on. Turn on the heater. Get warm. Lock the doors. Stay inside the car. I will get the pole and I will come right back and meet you at the car."Okay Daddy.I watched him turn and run back up the trail. He was gone.We were now two little kids alone in the middle of the deep, dark, scary forest. Soaking wet. Hansel and Gretel in the storm. We whimpered and shook more from fright than from the cold. We turned and slogged on. An hour later our little adventure turned from being merely concerning and slightly frightening to flat-out shriekingly terrifying (for that is when the lightning caught up to the thunder.)Picture two tiny children running between a gauntlet of 150 foot pine trees in the drizzling rain as lightning is crashing down all around them in the forest, so close they can hear trees exploding and toppling over! BOOOM! CRAAACK! We ran as fast as our little legs would carry us down the trail. We ran so far my lungs felt as if I was suffocating from the water in the air. Finally, out of breath we had to stop to take a break.There was a fallen tree in our path we needed to climb over. I recognized this landmark from our hike a few days earlier. Daddy had helped us both climb over it on the way in. I took off my pack and threw it over the top of the tree then climbed over. It was very thick, slippery from the wet moss and it took some balancing to get over. I asked my brother to throw me his pack over then grabbed his arms to hoist him over the tree. It was at that moment that my nose began to tingle. "Do you feel funny?" No sooner had the words left my lips when a great white electric fireball of lightning exploded in the treetops right above our heads. Branches of shrapnel and smoking bark rained down on us and stuck hissing like steaming arrows in the mud, a miniature forest of their own. "RUN!" I yelled at my brother but he was already gone, ahead of me on the trail by 50 yards.I don't think we stopped running for the next mile! We were two exhausted little kids by the time we reached the trailhead and the car. I opened the door, threw my soaking pack in, got our wet gear off and took out some dry clothes for both my brother and myself to put on. Of course, he would have to be satisfied with wearing "girl clothes" for the time being as we'd abandoned his pack back at the fallen tree. I started up the car, glad for the heater to kick in. I popped a cassette tape into the player. It was the soundtrack from the movie Grease."Go Greased Lightning you're burning up the quarter mile- Greased Lightning! Go Greased Lightning!"(I'm not making this up when I write that the irony of these lyrics are just now striking me as I pen this account.)We listened to the full soundtrack three times by the time Daddy made it back to the car. By then it was really dark and my little brother had drifted off to sleep. I was also sleepy and very hungry, but more than that I was just so relieved to see my Daddy!Daddy.I smiled when I saw he had the fishing pole as well as my brother's backpack in his hand. He told us he was very proud of us for being brave kids and finding our way out all by ourselves. He told us we were true "Mountain kids."That was the day we proved it to not only to him but to ourselves as well.As we drove down the mountain in the storm towards home I felt very proud of myself, too. I drifted off to sleep with my head pressed against the cold, rain- streaked window.https://www.trails.com/tcatalog_trail.aspx?trailid=HGS040-037