The backpacker's dilemma

The sign above has hung in my kitchen for as long as I can remember. I don't remember how or why I got it, but it has always resonated with me. And never more than when preparing for a backpacking trip.

My younger grandson Miles and I are going to hike the Philmont ranch this July. While the hike itself is only about 55 miles over 12 days, the elevation is high and the temps will probably be warm during the day and cold at night in the mountains of northwest New Mexico. And I will be hiking with teenage boys who have a good deal more strength and stamina than this old man. 

I have found one key to a happy backpacking experience is to balance low weight and campsite comfort. Backpackers run the gamut from ultralight hikers who shave ounces from their packs by cutting the handles off their toothbrushes and taking a razor blade instead of a pocket knife to ambulatory glampers who hump folding chairs and cappuccino makers. I like to think I trend to the lighter side, but I am sure I would get laughed at by both ends of the hiking spectrum.

When looking at backpacking equipment, you quickly find that light weight comes with a high cost. For about every pound you shave from a tent, sleeping bag, or pack, figure adding about $100-$200 to the initial purchase. Hmmmm, is it worth $400 to replace my 3.1-pound bag with a 2.5-pounder? Perhaps if I were hiking the AT or for months at a time, but for 55 miles and less than two weeks? I don't think so.

Still, I will try to keep my "base weight" (everything but food and water) to about 25 pounds, knowing my final weight will be at least ten pounds more than that. Since some of the Philmont camps are dry, we will be carrying quite a lot of water. Each member of our 11 hiker group will also be expected to carry his part of the required shared equipment - tarp, cooking equipment, ropes, first aid kit, etc.

I sometimes project my strategies for lighter weight backpacking to my everyday life as well. Do I travel "light in life, taking only what I need"? Small house, small car, one set of dishes, and only a few pair of shoes. Collected art from my travels and a few family heirlooms, but overall, no more than could fit into a modest sized Uhaul trailer. Pretty good, I thought.

Until I read Nomadland* by Jessica Bruder about how economically challenged people (many my age or older) have figured out how to survive on their monthly $500 Social Security checks by being "house-less." living in campers, vans, and even cars, mostly avoiding formal campgrounds where there is a nightly charge (boondocking.) When I thought previously of the "nomad" lifestyle, I viewed it through primarily a recreational lens. Campers I ran into were - where else - in state and national parks - recreating. I've known one couple who has lived in a big motorhome for years, working remotely. But Bruder examines a whole new culture of those living on the road out of economic necessity.

I know I can fit my hiking needs into a 65L backpack that weighs under 35 pounds. But could I fit all my daily, everyday needs into a small camper trailer or van? I suppose. Though I'd miss my knickknacks, my recliner, and probably get pretty tired of wearing the same few sets of clothes everyday. Happy to travel light in life - I just don't need to take it to the ultra-light extreme.

*Not yet seen the movie which is based on this book.