2013 Lamentations of a Gear Queen

We've all been there, acquisition-fever takes over, that burning yearning for a shiny new bike, car, house, trekking poles, locking carabiner, whatever, and we're consumed by our consumption!  I confess, back when this camping/backpacking fetish began, I had a raging case of REItis (backpacker gear craving).  It was non-stop greed/lust/desire for one must-have item after another.  Naturally, I talked to my broker, and he told me backpacking equipment was the most secure investment nowadays, so I bought enough packs, sleeping bags, boots, head-lights, stoves, and water-filters to fill a closet.  After all this manic consumption, inconceivably, (seriously, this is the MOST amazing part), there came a time when I barely cast a glance at the Cabela's and REI catalogues, because I frikkin' HAD EVERYTHING!  A kind of peace came over me, acquisition-fever subsided. 

A boy & his GEAR.

In my life, few inanimate objects have inspired the kind of trust and security, which, after thorough, objective experimentation, I've come to possess for my Big Agnes "Storm King" sleeping bag.  It keeps me cozy down to 0ºF.  Time after time, my toes and fingers have been screaming with frosty pain, but experience has brought me confidence and calm:  I know, for SURE, as soon as I climb in, Agnes will ease the pain away.  That's her on the left, the big blue and black one.  Other notables:  I'm holding my incomparable iPhone and InReach satellite extender, while the fabulous Mont-Bell Down-Hugger #5 is the little one-pound purple number on the right.  

Big Agnes paired with Truly Transcendent gear, the Hennessy Hammock tent, (Pear Lake, King's Canyon), which has produced similar security, even reverence, over years of totally trustworthy service.  It was bizarre at first, with a distinct acclimatization period, but eventually, my best sleep inevitably occurs in the crazy hammock-tent.  Weirder still to realize that such deep sleep occurs  within easy reach of my fiercest adversaries, the puma, the chupacabra, and the bear, (curious that I sleep so well in such proximity to their teeth).

After years of wisely camping solo, I foolishly took a trip to Arroyo Seco with good friends Lindsey, Erik and Eric, and saw how other people did this stuff.  It was impressive watching Erik cook gourmet food out in the wild, with pots and fresh veggies, but ironically, it SHOVED me in the opposite direction;  acquisition-fever returned, the race towards "ultra-light" was ON.  Pots, stoves, CUT-OFF toothbrushes!?!?  Why does ANYONE need a toothbrush when they're CAMPING?  I even read an article a few days ago by a zealous ultra-light backpacker eschewing TOILET PAPER!  He had multiple brilliant options:  wooly lamb's ear plant, snow, ROCKS!  He wasn't kidding.  In fact, I stopped backpacking at the age of 18 for one reason:  PAIN.  Fortunately, we live in a time of revolutionary change in materials and engineering, and I'm now carrying a pack, sometimes as light as 15 POUNDS!  Super light, waterproof boots, insect-repelling clothing, trekking poles, and light packs have transformed my trail experience of pain and drudgery, to twinkle-toed skipping through the woods.  Hmmn, maybe I'm taking this "queen" thing too far!

CAUTION!  Viewing this photo may result in enlightenment.

A few months ago I realized that in Baja, all I really need is bug and snake protection.  I typed "bug tent" into Google, and a few hours of internet-research-later, voila!  the new Yama Mountain Gear bug tent, only 10 ounces!  My good ol' Tarptent Moment was 34 oz. so this is a humongous weight reduction.  Not only that, now I can see the scenery through the No-See-Um netting, and no sweltering heat on sunny days.  I found this ideal rock perch a month ago, perfectly flat and level, right on the edge of a beautiful river-gorge.  Since it IS rock, my stakes didn't work.  I adapted with rock-anchors, and as you can see, my trekking poles have become dual-purpose tools, doubling as tent-poles.

Unfortunately, smack in the middle of celebrating the "gear-success" of the bug tent, my BRAND NEW dagburn, carn-sarn, ratsin-frackin Therm-a-Rest X-Therm, (the unanimously praised, very expensive sleeping pad), was gradually deflating under me.  Youch!  I was laying on solid ROCK!  Unlike all my previous Therm-a-Rest pads, (combo foam/air inflation), this new generation, while outrageously light and compact, relies 100% on air inflation.  Luckily, it was a slow leak, requiring only a few refills during the night.  More good news:  REI takes back EVERYTHING no questions asked, so I switched to the much bulkier closed-cell Sol-Lite, the yellow-silver pad you can see below.  Though significantly LESS comfortable than inflatable pads, it is so COMFORTING knowing I can toss it onto rough terrain with nary a care--SECURITY and CONFIDENCE, the raison d'etre of good gear.

Victory is MINE!  My 5-year, multi-stage project is complete.  Around 100' up, where my Eno DoubleNest hammock has been successfully hung between two redwoods.  We're not talkin' eight feet up, or 30', 50', or even a silly "portaledge" hung from one branch, NO, this is a PROPER hammock, strung between two redwood trees, one hundred feet above the forest floor.  A place where a man can BREATH, move his elbows around, soak in a MILLION DOLLAR view of the Monterey Bay, FOR FREE!  (not counting the untold hundreds spent on GEAR).

Surely, this is it, my midlife triumph, the closest I could possibly come to re-living my teenage treehouse, and it MUST be the most important story in this email, so why the hell did I bury the lead?  Simple, because I'm an addict:  gear-fixation is all-pervasive.  So, big deal, 100' up a tree, got it.  Now let's get to ogling that delicious GEAR, RIGHT?!  Mmmm, yum, CARABINERS!

It sure didn't FEEL like a victory.  In fact, I was basically a fly in a spider web.  When I lowered myself into the sleeping bag, still wearing my climbing harness, tied into two separate ropes to two separate branches, I'd been climbing up and down, back and forth for 6 hours.  DADBURNIT!  My frikkin' sleeping bag was bunched up underneath my back, but as I tried to pull it up around my head, my fingers began locking up, my arms, shoulders, and back started cramping into painful knots.  (Speaking of knots, just relish those gorgeous eight-on-a-bight and blake's-hitch knots, we're talking the ne plus ultra of elegant simplicity, eliminating the need for mechanical ascenders, the "less-is-more" of good gear!).

I was scared and trapped in my self-inflicted, cold, painful straight-jacket.  There were two simple things I needed to accomplish:  slowly, carefully pull the bag out from under me, (which took an endless HOUR, no exaggeration), and calm my panicked mind. Using the relatively new habit pattern of moment-to-moment mindful breathing, the old, entrenched habit pattern of fear was soon overcome;  incredibly, I got a full night's sleep!  Though just a baby at the technique of Vipasana, I am extremely thankful to Gunaratana and Buddha for this powerful and tangible victory, one I value far more than the little treehouse project.  Plus, thanks to my excellent equipment, I was somehow able to climb down the next day, HOORAY!  

I'm pretty sure everyone will agree that the solution to avoiding a repeat of this harrowing problem is newer and better gear!  No worries;  I bought it weeks ago, and, like me, it is panting anxiously at the chance to get back up there and make it right!

Just like my good ol' treehouse, this hammock is almost impossible to spot from the ground, even when you're staring right at it.  Heck NO, I don't leave this precious rope out;  it goes in a dry-bag, stashed in a "secret hiding place."

The remainder of this email is strictly intended for serious gear-heads. You've been warned.  It gets pretty silly.  As if it wasn't already.

The anti-climax:  two weeks later, Icicle Ridge, WA. 

Gear mix & match:   two weeks earlier, I accidentally left my hammock-tent tarp 100' up in my Eno hammock, so for this trip, I brought along the tarp-half of my new Yama Mountain Gear Stratiform Shelter.  It was made to fit over the Bug-tent, not this hammock-tent, but it did keep me dry through some nasty rains.  Thanks Gen!

Powerhouse REI in Bend, OR.  Please don't tell my wife.  I haven't been to work in WEEKS!  I realized that all these ridiculous adventures keep me too far away from the REAL source of great gear;  now I spend each day lounging languorously around REI stores, where I can view and fondle all the wonderful stuff to my heart's content.  Sublime!

Turns out, gear is protection from pain.  Almost every item I carry is a barrier preventing suffering from bugs, rocks, bears, sun, thirst, hunger, rain, cold, etc.  In the acquisition phase, it is always a compromise between money and quality.  In the functional stage, ironically, the more things I carry, the heavier my pack, the more it hurts.  Every single trip requires a balancing act to pare down my load to the absolute minimum of clothing, shelter, food, and water, so my dogs won't be barking at me too much, too soon.  I've learned to live with a little discomfort.  The goal is to reduce the pain to a low roar, so I can open my brain to all the JOY of the wild.  

Thanks for joining me on the journey.  Here are a few more photos:

https://picasaweb.google.com/107161978117607741609/GearQueen

The best wingsuit video I've seen to date.  Absolutely, POSITIVELY watch it FULL SCREEN! 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaMTSOI1Zk4

Acknowledgements:  I credit Erik Grabow for teaching me the phrase "gear queen;"  Ed Kendig for the phrase "acquisition fever;" and Brett Crockett for the phrase "REItis."  With clever friends, who needs brains?

I am blessed beyond all measure by two of the best Fathers a boy could have, my dear Father-In-Law Kayo, and my very own Dear Dad--I am proud and honored to be your son.

love, mas

© Mark Swanson 2013