Coated nylon liners form a vapor barrier that keeps moisture in and stops evaporative heat loss. A vapor-barrier liner can add a surprising amount of warmth to a bag. Because drying a bag can be almost impossible in extreme cold, they’re useful in such conditions just to prevent your body moisture from condensing inside the bag and dampening it. Vapor barrier liners weigh 4 to 8 ounces. Although I’ve slept in vapor-barrier clothing (see pages 163–64), I’ve never used a vapor-barrier liner. Makes include Stephenson’s Warmlite, Feathered Friends, Western Mountaineering, Integral Designs, and Dancing Light Gear. Because they’re waterproof, vapor barrier liners can double as an emergency bivy bag. The converse, of course, is also true.
SLEEPING PADS
No sleeping bag provides much insulation or cushioning from the ground because the fill is compressed under your body weight. In summer weather, some hardy souls manage without a pad, putting clothing or their packs under them if it’s cold, but most people, including me, use a pad year-round.
There are two sorts of sleeping pads in general use: closed-cell foam pads and self-inflating open-cell foam pads, though modern versions of the old air mattress have made a bit of a comeback and there are some noninflating open-cell foam pads. Thickness means warmth, though how much depends on the type of pad. Self-inflating mats are not as warm for the same thickness as closed-cell foam pads. The R-value, which measures the resistance to heat flow, tells you how much insulation a pad provides, though not all makers provide this information. The higher the R-value, the greater the insulation. The 1-inch-thick Therm-a-Rest ProLite 3 self-inflating pad has an R-value of 2.3; the 0.75-inch-thick Ridge Rest closed-cell foam pad has an R-value of 2.6.
Closed-cell foam pads are lightweight, reasonably inexpensive, and hardwearing, but they’re bulky to carry. Although they’re efficient insulators, they don’t provide much cushioning, and you can feel stones through them. These pads are made from foam that is either pressure blown or chemically blown; the first is warmer, more durable, and resists compression better than the second, but the two types look identical, and manufacturers rarely tell you which is which. Various materials are used to make pads—Evazote (EVA), Ensolite, and polyurethane are common ones. The big advantage of closed-cell foam is that’s it’s waterproof, since the air pockets in the foam are sealed inside, so it doesn’t suck up water the way open-cell foam does. Closed-cell foam is pretty indestructible, too, though it can be torn apart by spiny vegetation (and duct taped back together if necessary). In time the foam compresses and doesn’t provide as much insulation or cushioning, though it’s still usable.
Closed-cell pads come in different lengths, widths, and thickness, and you can easily cut one down to the shape you want. I find three-quarter-length pads adequate, since I use clothes as a pillow and under my feet if necessary. This saves a little weight and bulk. Weights for short pads start at 3.7 ounces for the 18-by-29-inch NightLight pad from Gossamer Gear. The thickest, longest, widest pads can weigh 20 ounces or more.
Most foam pads have flat, smooth surfaces. But the most comfortable closed-cell foam pad I’ve used, Cascade Designs’ very popular 0.75-inch laminated EVA Ridge Rest, has a ridged pattern that adds softness and traps air for greater warmth. Although it has more bulk than flat-surfaced pads, the 48-inch model weighs only 9 ounces, the 72-inch one 14 ounces. Cascade Designs also makes the 48-inch EVA Z-Rest (R-value 2.2), which has an egg-crate pattern and folds up like an accordion. The 48-inch Z-Rest weighs 11 ounces, the 72-inch full-length one 15 ounces. The Z-Rest is more comfortable than most closed-cell foam pads but in my experience not quite as comfortable or durable as the Ridge Rest. Because of their bulk, closed-cell pads are normally carried on the outside of the pack, wherever there are convenient straps. In hiking through low, dense brush, however, a pad attached to the side or the bottom of a pack is likely to get ripped, as I discovered when bushwhacking down an unmaintained trail in a side canyon of the Grand Canyon. Before it was totally torn apart, I transferred it to the top of the pack, where it was above the bushes. In forests with low branches, of course, the top of the pack is not where you want to put a pad.
Cascade Designs is best known for introducing the first, and in my opinion still the best, self-inflating pad, the Therm-a-Rest, back in 1973, and it has since become the nearest thing there is to a standard pad. I’ve used one of these for over two decades. Therm-a-Rests have a tough waterproof coated nylon shell bonded to an open-cell polyurethane foam core that sucks in air and inflates when you open the valve at one corner. That’s the theory anyway. In reality it takes a few puffs of breath. Once the pad has reached the desired thickness, you close the valve to keep the air from escaping. Self-inflating pads combine the comfort of an air mattress with the insulation of a foam pad and are relatively luxurious to sleep on.
The Therm-a-Rest ProLite 3 self-inflating pad.
My first Therm-a-Rest, bought back in 1981, was a 48-inch model weighing 24 ounces. Back then the only choice was between two lengths. Now there’s a whole family of Therm-a-Rests, with seven models, many in a choice of lengths and with weights up to 8 pounds. I long ago replaced my first Therm-a-Rest with the 47-inch-long, 1-inch-thick UltraLite (R-value 2.6), which weighs 16.5 ounces. This has been replaced by the tapered ProLite 3 Short, which weighs just 13 ounces owing to new materials and construction methods but is still 47 inches long and 1 inch thick. My original 47-inch UltraLite lasted through both the Continental Divide Trail and walks the length of the Canadian Rockies, plus many other trips, a total of well over a year’s use in ten years, before finally splitting around the valve, where a repair was impossible (the valves used to be metal; now they’re plastic and much better attached). Having found nothing better, I replaced it with a new UltraLite, which is still going strong, though I now also have a ProLite 3. The ProLite 3 has die-cut foam with holes through it, hence the reduction in weight. The warmth is reduced slightly too, but I’ve still found the pad warm on freezing ground. It also has a base that grips well and doesn’t slide about on groundsheets. Like the UltraLite it’s a great three-season pad but for cold temperatures and snow camping I’d supplement it with a foam pad.
PREPARING FOR BED AND COPING WITH THE NIGHT
There’s no right way to prepare for bed, but this is what I do: Once I’ve selected a campsite and erected my shelter, if any, I lay out my sleeping mat and, if it’s a Therm-a-Rest, open the valve. If the ground is cold and I want to sit on the pad, I generally blow it up rather than waiting for it to expand. Then I pull out my sleeping bag and lay it out on the pad. Depending on the temperature, I may lie on or in the bag while I cook, eat, read, make notes, study the map, watch the stars and the trees, daydream, or otherwise while away the evening until I start to feel sleepy. Then I usually strip off my clothes, get in the sleeping bag, arrange a pillow from a fleece or insulated garment, lie down, and adjust the bag until I feel warm enough. Spare clothes go in a stuff sack, which I place on or in the pack, which is either acting as a backrest, if I’m outside or under a tarp, or lying in the vestibule or just outside the tent. My footwear stays nearby too, as do my headlamp, notebook, pens, books, maps, and water bottle, all laid out where I can reach them easily. Except where bears may come around, my stove, pans, and food are on the other side of me, ready for breakfast.
Most nights don’t need coping with because I sleep right through. On very, very rare occasions I’ve abandoned camp in the dark and fled to a more sheltered spot. Usually, though, storms mean only that I don’t get quite enough sleep, and I am glad to see the first gray, distorted edges of daylight through the fly sheet.
But what do you do if you wake feeling chilly long before dawn? First, if you haven’t done up the hood of the sleeping bag or have the zipper partly open, adjusting those may do the trick. Almost all nights grow colder as the hours go by, so you may need to adjust the sleeping bag a few times to stay warm. I’m so used to doing this that I barely wake at all; I just fumble with the drawcords and sink back to sleep. T
he next stage, if you’re still cold, is to put on some clothes, especially a hat and socks, and have a snack. You could even fire up the stove and have something hot. Clothing such as an insulated jacket or a rain jacket can be spread over the sleeping bag for added warmth. Don’t wear so many clothes in your sleeping bag that you compress the fill; that won’t keep you warm. If your pad is only a short one and your legs or feet are chilly, put spare clothing under them to insulate them from the ground. If none of this warms you up, then either you’ve seriously overestimated the capabilities of your sleeping bag and clothing or the temperatures are extremely cold for the area and time of year. In that case, all you can do is shiver until dawn, with the aid of hot food and drink, then hike out and not make the same mistake again.
When temperatures drop below freezing you need to protect gear as well as yourself. Water containers can be wrapped in spare clothing or even stuff sacks and placed on top of the pack to insulate them from the ground. If you turn them upside down, any ice that forms won’t be at the top, so you’ll still be able to get water out. If you’re sure they won’t leak, you could keep water bottles in your sleeping bag; if you fill them with warm water, they’ll act like hot water bottles. I also fill my pots with water. If it freezes it will soon thaw on the stove.
Rock-hard frozen boots are difficult to get on and awkward to wear. I store wet footwear inside a stuff sack on top of the pack or other item so they aren’t on the ground and cover them with any spare clothing. If the temperatures aren’t much below freezing, this is enough to keep them from turning solid. Placing them next to your sleeping bag helps stop them from freezing too. You can store them in your sleeping bag, though I’ve never done this—it sounds too uncomfortable. Some people use them as pillows, but when I’ve tried this it feels too unpleasant to persevere with for long. If boots do freeze, placing them in the sun can thaw them out quickly. Putting a bottle of hot water in each boot is effective too. Otherwise hiking in them will thaw them out eventually, though it’s not fun.
Battery-dependent gear—headlamps, flashlights, GPS, altimeters, cameras—needs protecting from cold too. I keep them off the ground, and if it’s really cold in the morning I remove the batteries and store them in my pocket for a while.
Preparing for bed and a good night’s rest.
Although slightly heavier than many closed-cell foam pads, the ProLite 3 is much less bulky and can be folded and packed inside the pack, where it is protected from damage. I would never carry a self-inflating pad on the outside of a pack unless it was in an extremely tough stuff sack. To deflate a self-inflating pad you open the valve and slowly roll the pad up, either on a ground cloth or on your thighs, squeezing out the air as you go. Keep pressure on the rolled pad—I kneel on it—while you close the valve. The deflated pad can then be rolled or folded as you choose. Open-cell foam has a “memory.” Leave it compressed for a long time and it’ll stay compressed. At home, Therm-a-Rests should be stored uncompressed with the valve open. This also allows moisture from breath to escape. Breath doesn’t harm Therm-a-Rests. I always blow mine up rather than waiting for it to inflate.
Therm-a-Rests require care. I don’t throw mine down on the ground and sit on it without checking for sharp objects that might puncture it. In fact, I don’t put it on bare ground at all, I always use a ground cloth. In case the pad does spring a leak, you can get a repair kit containing patches and glue. The HotBond Repair Kit weighs an ounce, and I usually carry it. Sticky-backed nylon repair tape can be used too, or even duct tape as a last resort. Finding a pin-prick-sized leak can be difficult, however. The best method is to immerse the pad in a creek or pool and watch for bubbles. Because of the foam core, self-inflating mats still supply a little insulation if punctured. Look after your pad, and punctures should be rare. I’ve only had three in twenty-one years, during which I’ve slept on a Therm-a-Rest at least a thousand nights. DEET-based insect repellent (see page 337) can damage the coating, another reason for not using DEET or at least wiping it off yourself before handling or lying on a pad. Prolonged exposure to ultraviolet light can damage a pad too, as can solvents. Various other self-inflating mats are sold by Slumberjack, Outbound, Artiach, Exped, Big Agnes, and Pacific Outdoor Equipment. POE makes InsulMat mummy-shaped pads, which is a nice idea. I’ve tried the full-length, 1-inch-thick InsulMat Max-Lite 1.0 (R-value 3); it’s very comfortable and weighs a reasonable 25 ounces. Perhaps the most interesting alternative to a Therm-a-Rest is Bozeman Mountain Works’ tapered 1-inch-thick TorsoLite. It’s only 32 inches long, but it weighs just 10 ounces.
Traditional air mattresses are very comfortable but also cold, since there’s no fill to hold the air in place, so it moves around and conducts ground cold upward. Few traditional air mattresses are still around, though Big Agnes makes one, the REM (Rest Easy Mama) Air Core. The mummy-shaped version of this weighs 19 ounces and is 72 inches long and 2.5 inches thick. Despite the thickness, however, it’s rated only down to 35°F (2°C), and if it punctures it will be much less comfortable than a deflated self-inflating mat.
The most luxurious—and expensive—air mattresses are filled with down. Pump these up (don’t use your breath; it will dampen the down), and they form a supportive and warm bed. Stephen-son’s Warmlite introduced down mattresses way back in 1975 with their DAM (down-filled air mattress) models. The lightest 56-inch one weighs 18 ounces and is 3 to 4 inches thick. Its stuff sack doubles as a pump. Much more recently Exped has introduced its Down Air Mattress, which weighs 32 ounces (plus 6 ounces for the stuff sack, which incorporates a pump), is 70 inches long and 3.5 inches thick, and has an R-value of 9.54, equivalent to over four ProLite 3 Therm-a-Rests. Exped’s mattress is filled with 8.8 ounces of 700-fill-power down.
If you want more comfort than closed-cell foam but don’t like the idea of a pad that can puncture (my partner, Denise Thorn, won’t use a self-inflating pad for this reason), there are pads that provide this. They tend to be heavy and bulky, though, since they use open-cell foam with a waterproof cover, often in combination with closed-cell foam. Mountain Hardwear pads are such a combination. The cover zips off so the foam can be removed for cleaning and airing. The lightest model is the Superlight 60, at 24 ounces. It’s tapered, 60 inches long and an inch thick.
Despite all this choice, I regularly only use two mats, and for many years I used only one. Much to my surprise, after some eighteen years of using a Therm-a-Rest, I have reverted to a closed-cell pad for some trips. During my Therm-a-Rest years I did occasionally use closed-cell pads on short trips, but I never found them very comfortable. However, when I came to hike the Arizona Trail I wanted a pad I could chuck on the ground without bothering about cactus spines or sharp stones, so I took a Ridge Rest. I soon found myself quite happy sleeping on stony ground on this pad, and I’ve gone on using it—I really like not having to worry about puncturing it and being able to throw it down where I like. It’s often said that as you get older you feel the bumps and hardness of the ground more. I seem to be the opposite. When camping on snow, I usually carry both Ridge Rest and ProLite 3, though in spring I sometimes take just one. The combined weight is 22 ounces, still light for a winter pad.
OTHER COMFORTS
Pillows
For a pillow, I simply use a fleece or insulated top stuffed loosely into a large stuff sack (usually the one that holds the sleeping bag). I put this makeshift pillow under my sleeping bag hood so that if I turn over with the bag in the night it stays put. For those who prefer more organized comfort than soft clothing provides, you can get lightweight pillows. Integral Designs make a delightful-sounding Primasilk pillow with Primaloft fill and a silk shell that weighs 4 ounces.
Chairs and Chair Kits
Carrying chairs is unusual in the wilderness, though I did once see two hikers with lawn chairs strapped to their towering packs. Rather than carry these, you can adapt a pad with a chair kit. Cascade Designs makes kits for all their Therm-a-Rests, and they’ll undoubtedly work with other pads. I have a 12-
ounce Lite Chair that fits shorter pads. It consists of a piece of nylon that slips over each end of the mat, with adjustable straps linking the ends. Tighten these straps and the mat folds up so you can sit in it, adjusting the tension until it feels comfortable. Many years ago my companion and I each took one of these devices on a fairly leisurely eleven-day hike in Yosemite National Park, where weight wasn’t paramount. It was very pleasant sitting outside in our chairs each evening. However, we both punctured our Therm-a-Rests, despite the tough nylon base of the chairs. I figured I’d have been as comfortable sitting against a tree, a boulder, or my pack, and I’ve never taken the chair backpacking again, though I do occasionally use it—with the Ridge Rest—when camping from the car.
Some pads come designed to be used as chairs, or maybe it’s the other way around. Crazy Creek was first with these and now offers sixteen models. I have an Original Chair. It weighs 22 ounces and consists of a 15.5-by-33-inch closed-cell foam pad encased in ripstop nylon with carbon fiber stays in the sides and adjustable straps. It’s very comfortable as a chair but a bit narrow and short for a sleeping pad. It’s good for car camping, but I’ve never taken it backpacking. Crazy Creek also makes the Thermolounger Shell (22 ounces) into which you can put your own 48-inch pad.
Relaxing in a hammock.
Hammocks
Hammocks might seem to belong to tropical expeditions rather than most backpacking, but they’re gathering a following, mainly owing to one design, the Hennessey Hammock, which was developed for hiking use. The original Hennessey has expanded into nine models, of which the Ultra-light Backpacker A-Sym is probably the best for hiking. (I haven’t used any of them.) This hammock comes with netting and a silnylon fly sheet and so will keep out bugs and rain. There’s a Velcro-closed slit in the bottom for entry, so you don’t have to swing yourself in from the side (and maybe rapidly exit the other side, as I’ve done when trying out hammocks). The weight is 31 ounces. If there are no trees to hang it from (it has extra-wide webbing so it won’t damage trees), it can be pitched as a tent using trekking poles. Oh—it can be used with a sleeping pad to make a chair, too! A-Sym is short for asymmetrical, and it’s designed to make it easy to lie diagonally across the centerline, which is supposed to be more comfortable. There appear to be many happy users, and if I were looking for a hammock, this is the one I would choose. There are plenty of others. Hammocks.com stocks more than three hundred—most too heavy for backpacking, of course—while Speerhammocks.com offers hammocks more suited to backpacking along with kits so you can make your own plus a book on hammock camping.
Chris Townsend Page 35