Caffin on canister stoves in deep cold

Teori-Praktik; English In my quest for the optimal stove for my upcoming ski trip through Sarek National Park I have turned to Roger Caffin. Roger, living in Sydney, is the Senior Editor for Technology at Backpacking Light.com and also an editor of BackpackGeartest.org. Roger started walking in the Boy Scouts and, like myself, started going "lightweight" as he got older - around 2000. Roger has written more indepth articles on stoves, with a scientific bent (he's a PhD), than anyone I know. His articles on these subjects at http://www.backpackinglight.com/ are a recommended read, well worth the subscription fee alone. By the way, all photos below are by Roger and all are from Australia. Maybe not what the Crododile Dundee movies has made you prepared for?
By Jörgen Johansson


Jörgen: Roger, as you know from my article the ground rules are deep cold and two fairly similar stoves. Both have a burner on legs and a hose connecting the burner to the fuel container. The containers are filled with butane/propane mixes or white gas/petrol. No top-mounted gas canisters. Of course the pots and windscreens should be identical and therefore of no importance to this comparison. And since I from my own experiences considera canister stove to be quite practical down to minus 18-20 C (provided I keep the canister in my pocket or sleeping bag when not using it), let's keep in mind that we are talking about temperatures below that.
To start with I listed six factors that I considered relevant for the comparison:
-Weight
-Fuel consumption/weight
-Ease of use (lighting up, shutting down etc)
-Usability in tent/vestibule-Mechanical reliability
-Works well even in extreme cold

I will ask you to comment on all these factors in turn, but first; would you like to comment on the selection? Have I missed some important factor?



Roger: Well, I would add user safety to the list..

Jörgen: Fine, I'll add it and we'll get back to it. Let's first talk about weight. To begin with let's look at the hardware. I've put down the canister as a winner, but the difference might not be that big. What do you say?

Roger: No hesitation here. There are quite a few stoves today which can take either white gas or canister, so the actual stove weight is the same. But the weight of a fuel tank and pump is always greater than the weight of a canister. In addition, you have to add the weight of cleaning and repair gear to the white gas stove - stuff you rarely need with a canister stove. Mind you, many white gas stoves are far heavier - compare the XGK with the almost any remote canister stove.

Jörgen: A comparison of canister and white gas stove weights would have to include fuel consumption and transport vessels etc, which means that one kind of stove could be lighter on short trips and another on longer. My own mpression is that, generally speaking, a canister stove comes out ahead. What are your experiences?

Roger: Well, the fuel tank and pump are always heavier than the canister. If you carry extra fuel you need an extra container of some sort. But there are several more factors here to consider. The first is that butane/propane mix has a higher energy content than white gas, by weight. What's more, in the field you end up using a lot more white gas than a simple calculation would suggest. Part of the reason for this is that you use up a surprising amount of white gas when priming the stove to get it going.

Another reason relates to the ease of relighting a canister stove. This means there is no hesitation about turning it off, while the hassles of restarting a white gas stove mean that users
often leave it running at low power even when not actually doing anything with it. Over all, it is quite common to find that white gas consumption runs between 50% and 100% heavier than butane/propane. That extra weight starts to add up over a few days.

Jörgen: OK, what about ease of use. To me the canister stoves seems toc ome out as winners. What do you say?

Roger: All I can do is laugh. The hassles of running a white gas stove compared to 'connect, turn on and light' with a canister stove make it a complete walk-over. When the canister stove has a piezo-lighter as well, the mismatch becomes ridiculous. Canister stoves are just so easy to use in comparison.



Jörgen: To me cooking inside the tent in winter is of paramount importance to my comfort. Both morning and night I want to be able sit in my sleepingbag with the stove beside me and melt snow as well as cook. My top-mounted canister stove has worked great for this. How do remote canister stoves compare to gasoline stoves in this aspect?

Roger: Oh, I hear you about sitting comfortably inside your tent! We often get bad weather up in the mountains here in Australia, and I always cook in the vestibule of my tent.
My wife lies in her sleeping bag further inside the tent and demands to be fed. This while the storm howls outside...

Let's first compare ease of use between a top-mount and a remote canister stove. Basically, there is very little difference between the two. In fact, one of the things I like about the remote canister stove is the fact that it is lower to the ground than a top-mount. Otherwise, it is still just 'connect, turn on and light'.

I had better add a point here about inverted canister stoves. Basically they are just remote canister stoves, but they include a preheat tube similar to that found on white gas stoves. (Not all remote canister stoves have the preheat tube: check!) The preheat tube allows you to start with a dead-cold canister and cook happily down to about -25 C. That is a huge advantage.

The only thing you have to do is to start the stove at a low power for maybe 10 - 20 seconds - but you can start the stove with the pot already on it. In many cases you can start with the canister upright and then invert it after that time.

One really major advantage of remote canister stoves is that the operation inside the canister is quite different. With an upright canister the energy used to vaporise the fuel come initially from the liquid gas inside the canister. As a result the liquid gas cools down, possibly to the point where it no longer evaporates enough to drive the stove.


This can be dangerous in the cold. Even if it continues to work, the evaporation will be preferentially extracting the propane and leaving the butane. It is quite common for users to complain that their canister is 2/3 full but nothing is coming out of it. Butane boils at -0.5 C: if the propane has been used up and the butane is sitting at -5 C, you have a dead canister.

But when you invert the canister the evaporation of the liquid happens in the preheat tube at the stove, using energy from the flame. The canister does not cool down. The pressure used to
drive the stove comes from the static vapour pressure of the fuel in the canister - a pressure which stays constant as the static vapour pressure stays as constant as the temperature.

The other really major advantage of the inverted canister stove is that the fuel extracted from the canister is the original liquid butane/propane mix. This means that the percentage of propane left in the canister stays constant, all the way to empty. You don't end up with a canister 2/3 full of non-boiling butane. In effect, the propane provides the driving pressure which is given by the pump in a white gas stove.

Jörgen: Another factor of importance in deep cold is mechanical reliability. Are there screws, gaskets, springs and stuff that can fall out or break? Is it recommended to bring tools and spares? Fixing stuff like that in bitter cold is not what I want to do. It seems to me that the canister is a simpler construction with fewer things that can go wrong. What do you say?

Roger: Servicing a stove as the sun goes down and the temperature drops way below freezing can be a bit worrying. I've done it for both sorts of stoves. In the case of the white gas stoves it was always a messy job. I was not always successful either, so it was biscuits and chocolate for dinner.

In the case of the remote canister stoves I have serviced in the field it was all pretty simple. I removed the valve and wiped it clean and screwed it back in place. Then I removed the jet, cleaned it with a proper little bit of jet-cleaning wire (a careful poke and a wiggle) and replaced it. That took only a couple of minutes and then we had the stove roaring away for dinner. But having to service a canister stove in the field is pretty rare in my experience.

Jörgen: You wanted to add safety for the user to my list. What are you thinking of?

Roger: I've used many white gas stoves in the past and been rather close to some scary incidents. I've lost parts of a sleeping bag and a pack when someone else mishandled white
gas, a long way from civilisation. I've seen the safety valve on a stove release and a huge flame shoot out of it. I know some people who ended up with huge amounts of plastic surgery after a white gas tank exploded. So white gas frankly scares me a bit. It's even worse when you are clumsy with gloves on. I don't see canister stoves presenting those sorts of risks.

And that does not cover the risks of starting a stove in a tent. With a canister stove there is no flare-up at the start, so you can light one even in a small vestibule or even an emergency bivy quite safely. But priming a white gas stove can easily involve a fireball of flame - MSR actually mentions this with the XGK stove. Very few people are willing to risk that inside a tent vestibule! But if there is a howling storm outside or you are in an emergency situation, your options are not great.


Jörgen: To sum it all up; since the issue for me is not if canister stoves work in winter, which I already know that they do provided you keep the canister reasonably warm, but will they work in really, really deep cold. Can I trust them to melt my snow and boil my food under almost any circumstances. On this I give the victory to the gasoline stoves out of, Iguess, tradition and hearsay, since I haven't tried any of them in bitter cold. What do you think?

Roger: That's a lot more complicated. A standard 70% butane / 30% propane canister will give off fuel down to -25 C. An 80% iso-butane / 20% propane canister is almost as good. Canisters with less propane are not so good, and should be avoided. (They are aimed more at the family camping market.) But what matters here is the temperature of the fuel in the canister, not the ambient temperature. As you have indicated, if you can warm the canister up beforehand then you can use it to considerably lower temperatures.

The next thing to consider is how you run the stove. If you put the canister out by itself sitting on the snow it is going to drop down to ambient fairly quickly, and that could kill the stove. On the other hand, if you insulate the canister from the snow and let it pick up a bit of radiant heat from the stove - through a gap in the windshield for instance, then you can keep the contents warm enough. Obviously you do NOT let the canister get too hot for safety reasons, but as long as you can put your hand on it (ie <40>

If you are going to be travelling at -30 C for some time you will inevitably be carrying more gear than a summer walker. You may well be using a pulk or sled to carry some of this gear, and that allows you to carry a bit more weight. At the same time, finding water is going to be more difficult, so you may need to melt a lot of snow. Doing so can literally double your fuel consumption. Under these cold condition it may be worth while considering the use of small LPG containers such as those made by Coleman. These containers hold a larger weight of fuel, and the LPG or propane will work down close to -40 C - without being warmed.

Anyone contemplating travelling below -20 C should be careful to test their stoves and other gear fairly thoroughly close to home. Grease and O-rings may need to be changed for these temperatures. Cheap O-rings can go very hard and leak at -20 C. Viton O-rings are good between -26 C and +200 C, Nitrile O-rings are good between -40 C and +105 C, and PU
O-rings are good between -50 C and +105 C. It's a pity that Viton cannot go lower in temperature; the +105 C upper limit for Nitrile and PU is really a bit low for safe use near
the stove. (But these materials are OK when used on the remote canister connection.) More esoteric rubber are available - at a price.

Many plastics can shatter at the lower temperatures, and can be even more fragile if they have been soaking in fuel for a while. That applies especially to plastic pumps in fuel
tanks: you may need to change them to all-metal ones. I have heard of some pumps reliably disintegrating below -20 C. Below -40 C is (to quote a friend) 'freaking cold'. It requires extremely specialised gear and skill, and I don't have enough experience there to comment.

Jörgen: By the way, all the photos show a Powermax canister från Coleman. Does this mean that those are the only ones that will work under the circumstances you've described? As you're probably aware, Primus and Optimus are Swedish companies and very popular here.

Roger: N-butane is n-butane, iso-butane is iso-butane, and propane is propane.
Lindal valves are Lindal valves from Lindal Group (except for Chinese rip-offs) Canisters are all US Dept of Transport (DOT) approved.

The only thing that matters is the fuel composition - eg 70% butane / 30% propane. There are small variations in the odorant used, but they all have to meet DOT specifications. The reality is that the paint and the brand on the outside of the canisters means NOTHING.. Most canisters of gas are made and filled by one (or two) companies in Korea. That includes Primus. I am not sure who fills the Powermax canisters though - possibly an American company.

Most stoves are made by one Korean company or one of a couple of Chines companies, and that does include Primus and Optimus. And of course, the Chinese rip off the designs and sell clones real cheap. The clones do sometimes have bad variations though.

Jörgen: Thanks Roger. I'll have to sit back and digest all this for a while and weigh my different options. I hope to give my conclusions in an upcoming article soon. And anyone that wants to dig deeper into the tests and research Roger has done on stoves should check at http://www.bushwalking.org.au/FAQ/

Discuss in Swedish here at Utsidan and put comments in English here below.

Canister vs white - gas in winter

Teori Praktik; English I've used a top mounted canister gas stove for several winters, down to minus 18-20 C. It has worked fine. However, for really deep cold, say below minus 25 C or so, it is undisputed that white gas or kerosene rules. Or is it?
By Jörgen Johansson
My question is simply; do I really need something else than a gas canister stove even for deep and bitter cold?

So I thought I'd simply list some of the pros and cons, for these types of stoves as I see them. It will be a combination of my own experiences and what I've read and heard. I will then lean back and wait for the response from people reading what I've written. Maybe then I can write a second article on this subject where I formulate some of the opinions and experiences that will have surfaced after this process.

I will look at a number of factors that I think are important for any stove in deep cold and then give my verdict on what I think performs best. The ground rules are, as mentioned, deep cold and two fairly similar stoves. Both have a burner on legs and a hose connecting the burner to the fuel container. The containers are filled with butane/propane mixes or white gas or petrol. No topmounted gas canisters.

Examples of the canister stoves could be Primus Spider or MSR Wind pro. White gas could be Optimus Nova+ or Markill Pheonix. Of course the pots and windscreens should be identical and therefore of no importance to this comparison. And since I from my own experiences consider a canister stove to be quite practical down to minus 18-20 C, please remember that we are talking about temperatures below that.

The factors I feel to be relevant for my own way of operating in the winter are the following. Feel free to comment on my selection:

-Weight

-Ease of use (lighting up, shutting down etc)

-Usability in tent/foretent

-Works well even in extreme cold

-Fuel consumption/weight

-Mechanical reliability

Factors like availability of fuel in all corners of the world as well as price I will keep out of this discussion. Let's just assume that for this particular trip in deep cold both fuels are just as available and that differences in price is of no importance since we have unlimited funds. At least when it comes to backpacking gear. At least according to our spouses....

Looking at the above factors and trying to appoint a winner for each factor when choosing between canister gas and white gas I come up with the following:

-Weight = canister

-Ease of use = canister

-Usability in tent = canister

-Works well in extreme cold = white gas

-Fuel consumption = canister

-Mechanical reliability = canister

So far it seems ridiculously simple. The canister stove wins on all counts excepting one. However, let's not make the common mistake of thinking that all the above factors have equal importance.

Since we are talking about extreme cold this factor is obviously more important than for instance weight. If a stove doesn't melt your water and cook your food in extreme cold it's obviously useless and the fact that it's ligth doesn't really matter. In fact, all the above factors except reliability in extreme cold is of course the reason for many people to use canister stoves when it's not that cold.

However, if a canister stove could be considered to be reliable, if not super, in extreme cold, then all the other factors would give the canister stove a landslide victory. And to me it seems that it does. That is, work, if not optimally, in deep cold.

In order for a canister stove to work reliably in deep cold there are as far as I can see two tricks that does the trick:

-You should do your best to keep the canister warmer than the surrounding air

-You should turn it upside down while using it

Since both these are easily accomplished it seems to me that the canister stove wins hands down even in deep cold. But I could be wrong. Please give me your take on this.

Comments in English below, comments in Swedish at this link at Utsidan.se.

Fjäderlätt at Swesport 2010

New gear Last sunday we visited Swesport - the Swedish sports industry fair. It's mostly an exhibit of winter products, but we managed to find a few interesting news for lightweight backpacking too.
Martin Nordesjö

Marmot, represented by Granitbiten, brought two new jackets that caught our attention. First of all, the Trail Wind Hoody will replace the Ion windshirt.

Trail jacket is M, Martin is XL.

The greatest improvement is that the Trail feels less like maternity wear, mainly thanks to a drawstring. It will be a bit lighter than the Ion and a bit more expensive. But Marmot will keep their aggressive pricing, so we can still count on it being less expensive than many competitors.

The other interesting jacket is the new Essence rain jacket. It's a 2,5 layer jacket with Marmot's own Membrain Strata laminate. It weights 195 grammes in size M, and the price will be 1500 kronor. There will also be a pair of Essence pants, at around 140 grammes.

There were quite a few newcomers at the fair.

Carsten at Akzo helps
Jörgen fit an Aarn bodypack

Aarn packs may not be the most ultralight backpacks around, but they are definitely an alternative for those who have to carry heavy gear but want to do it comfortably without the heaviest pack. It is Akzo, former importer of Gregory and Bask, who will bring Aarn packs to Sweden. The thing that separates Aarn packs from the rest is the way they put weight on your chest, not only on your back, thus creating a better balance.

Another newcomer is British shoemaker Inov-8.

Recolite 190 and Roclite 288
made Jörgen a happy camper.

They actually appeared on the Swedish orienteering and trailrunning market last year, but I don't think Jörgen and I are the only ones to have imported other models more suited for walking. So we really hope the Nordic distributor will realize that there is a market here for those. Jörgen actually started beaming when he laid eyes on the new Recolite shoe/sandal hybrid. 190 grammes per shoe is not bad at all, even though they are intended for "recovery" use. We hope to lay our hands on a pair to see if they are good for "real" use too.

A third newcomer is Canadian apparel brand Westcomb. It looks mostly like a skiers' brand, but we did see an interesting lightweight padded jacket with unknown weight. There seemed to be an abundancy on the fair of lightweight jackets with down or synthetic filling, so it will probably be easier and easier to find good, warm jackets.

In the same stand as Westcomb we found a new Esbit stove.

Is it possible to
burn firewood in this?

A lightweight meta tablet stove that might just work with small firewood too. Anyway, the pot had a nice small size for the solo hiker who only wants to heat a cup or two of water.

Canister stoves in the cold - insulated or not?

Teori Praktik Niklas Lagström is product manager at Primus. When I talked to him I figured he was the right person to solve all my wintertime gas canister problems. Like; Can you use canister stoves in deep cold? And should you try to insulate the canister from the cold or not? As usual it turned out that there are no simple answers.
By Jörgen Johansson

Jörgen: Niklas, could you tell us something about who you are and how you've become product manager at Primus?

Niklas: I have always been using outdoor products since I grew up and was early interested in scouting, climbing and sea kayaking. One of my other interests are technical product development and how to improve the things I used. While I studied to master of science I started to work at Naturkompaniet (the largest outdoor retailer in Sweden) and later on, I got picked up by Primus when they where looking for a product manager. Now, I can use all my interests during my work, which is a fantastic position!

Jörgen: When we met recently we talked about using canister stoves in winter and whether to use insulation on the canisters or not. So I thought it would be interesting to get some advice on how to use my canister stove optimally for winter trips. For several years now, I've been amazed at how well my top mounted canister stove Primus Micron works even when it's really cold. In winter I wrap a piece of cell foam around the canister, which you've told me sometimes is really stupid and sometimes work really well, depending on the outside temperature.

Niklas: Well, it can be both a good and a bad idea to insulate the gas cartridge. As I guess you all know, gas cartridges work worse and worse the colder it gets. In addition to that, the physical basics about gas are that it needs heat to get from liquid to gas. The heat normally comes from the surrounding air but if it is really cold outside, or the cartridge is insulated, all heat must be taken from the liquid. Colder liquid means less pressure and soon there will be NO pressure.

On the other hand, if the container is much warmer than the surroundings, it will lose less heat to the surrounding air if it is insulated – and this heat can be used for keeping the pressure up!

Is it good to insulate the cartridge? Short answer is “it depends...”.

Jörgen: Let me describe how I handle my canisters today. When I don't use the stove, the canister is in the front pocket of my anorak or in my sleeping bag. I'm guessing that due to this my canister almost never is colder than, say 5 Celsius, when I start to cook.

Niklas: This is a good start. When the gas cartridge is warmer than the surrounding air, it may be a good idea to insulate the gas cartridge. If after the cooking, the temperature in the gas cartridge is still higher than the surroundings, then the insulation helps all the time.

Table below shows how much a certain amount of liquid gas lowers in temperature if the cartridge is fully insulated. For example, if you have 100 gram of gas left in you cartridge, cook in five minuter (uses 13 gram of gas) will lead to a decrease of the gas cartridge with 22 degrees plus (or minus) the decrease of temperature given by the surrounding temperature.

Jörgen: OK, let's move on to how I cook. I never cook for long, I just bring water to the boil. Usually only 0,2-0,5 liters depending on if it's cocoa, coffee or rehydration of a freeze dried meal. However, in winter I have to melt snow for drinking water, which means producing something like 1-1,5 liters of water morning, noon and evening. This takes it's time. Let's say it's -5 Celsius where I am.

Niklas: This is where insulation becomes a bad idea. Melting snow uses a lot of gas, and this means that the gas cartridge itself will decrease its temperature a lot… If you have the half full (100-150 gram gas left) cartridge I mentioned earlier, and cooking for 10 minutes, this means that the decrease in temperature due to the use of gas will be somewhere around 30-40 degrees. Then, the -5 Celsius around is much warmer and would be much better for the cartridge.


Jörgen: OK, let's say it's -20-25 degrees Celsius, what should I do differently?

Niklas: Now, insulation becomes interesting again! Since the surrounding temperature together with the decrease of temperature due to gas use will become lower than the gas boiling point, you will have problem to get the gas out of the cartridge. If you only have the impact of the decrease of temperature made by the used gas (and starting at plus 5 degrees as you said), the cartridge will just reach the surrounding temperature and therefore, insulation is a good idea!

Jörgen: OK, so to sum this up I have to take into consideration the temperature of the canister, outside temperature and how long the burner will be running. And we've only been talking about me, travelling solo. If I'm cooking for two the burner time increases and the advantage of using isolation on my canister decreases. Is that about right?

Niklas: Yes, that is completely right!

Jörgen: Dear reader, right now I’m sitting here, hoping that Niklas has a nice Christmas vacation without any thoughts whatsoever about canisters and temperatures. I’m also trying to sum up what he told me and to see if I can formulate some practical ideas. So far these are my conclusions:

- The gas boiling temperature is -15 C. This means that below this temperature you do not get any gas out of the canister. If you turn it upside down (which you cannot do with a top mounted canister stove) you can get liquid out of it. If the surrounding temperature is lower than -15 C, but the cartridge is warmer, it is a good idea to insulate the cartridge, since no heat can be taken from the surrounding air to gasify the contents in the canister.



- If the start temperature of the gas is high, say +10 C and the ambient temperature is -10 C you start out cooking with an insulated cartridge. It will take around 5-6 minutes (depending on a lot of factors) before the use of the gas has decreased the gas temperature to -10 C. Then you should remove the insulation to slow down the continued decrease in gas temperature.

- So, if the start temperature of the gas is higher than the surrounding air, insulation is always a good idea. The problem is knowing when the gas no longer is warmer then the ambient air.

- If the start temperature of the gas is the same as the surrounding air, insulation is always a bad idea, since the cartridge itself will become colder than the surrounding air, which we want to avoid.

- And to complicate things; if I use a windscreen that totally surrounds stove and canister the heat from the flame bouncing of the bottom of my pot will add some heat to the canister, helping it to stay warmer for longer. Or forever, depending on outside temperatures, amount of gas and…

By the way, a lot of things are done with canisters that Primus really can’t recommend. Like windscreens that totally surround pot and stove, which can cause overheated canister that could explode. Some people using canisters connected to the burner with a hose also put the canister into the pot were they are melting snow or heating water in order to raise the temperature of the gas inside. I have also seen different contraptions of metal working on the principle that part of it sits inside the flame of the burner and conducts heat to the canister, around which the rest of the metal is tighly cinched.



I don’t know if I’m less confused now than before, but I suppose that I am confused on a higher level. Have to talk about this with Niklas when he’s back…

Discuss this (in Swedish) at Utsidan or in English below

Etasolo – Jetboil competitor from Primus

Gear scoop In our report from the Primus event some weeks ago we left one new product out: the Etasolo. It looked suspiciously similar to a Jetboil PCS stove. What was that all about?
By Martin Nordesjö

I felt I needed to ask Primus a few questions. How come they made their own Jetboil? It turned out that there was a connection between the companies.

— From the very beginning Jetboil bought their valves and burners from us, says product manager Niklas Lagström.

But about 1½ years ago Jetboil decided to get their parts from another source. Unfortunately the new units had problems with gas leaks (more at Jetboil). Many stoves were recalled and the subsequent delivery problems made the market look in other directions.

— Our customers asked us if we couldn't produce a similar product. Sometimes demand dictates development, and that's why we launch this stove. Etasolo is lighter and more wind-proof, with a smaller packed volume in addition. As a result of our own development we have managed to solve the problem with the piezo unit being crushed when you pack the stove up. The canister is simply placed over the burner and the piezo is shielded in the concave canister bottom.

Etasolo information
Weight:	365 g
Price:	899 kr (€86) in Sweden
In stores:	April 2010

Discussion thread at Utsidan (in Swedish)

A light day - my way

Teori-praktik Here is the second installment among the articles summarizing how I use my light equipment during an ordinary day. Of course, there are no ordinary days. And I'm not saying that my way is the best. In fact, I seem to continually change how I do things, always trying to improve on my (never ending) road to perfection. So perhaps how I do things today might give you, as well as me, inspiration on how to improve your gear and the use of it tomorrow. And since this is a forum for lightweight backpacking I've included the weights of much of my gear in the narrative. In case you wonder. An article about a "light" breakfeast is found here.
By Jörgen Johansson
It usually doesn't take me long to get into gear after leaving camp. On the average day, that seldom occurs, I'm wearing mesh watersport shoes, thin nylon "ladies" socks from the supermarket on my feet. My legs are covered with homemade synthetic pants made from a sweat pants pattern weighing around 160 gram. Under these I wear merino wool boxer shorts, preferably without a fly, like those from Backpackinglight. The lack of a fly makes me less self consciuous while using them as shorts in hot weather.


My torso is also covered in delightful merino wool, a Icebreaker Kent is a long time favourite, weighing in at 220 gram in Large. On top of this I usually need a light windshirt most mornings. I prefer one with a hood, since the hood adds an awful lot of warmth in comparison to the extra weight. The one I currently use is a Marmot Ion, which is very symphatetic to my wallet, albeit a bit short and wide at the waist.

Now, since this is a pretty chilly morning, only a couple of degrees above freezing I also wear a pair of thin fleece gloves (34 grams) and my extra merino long arm hoody. This one is from BPL and it's zipped up to my chin with the hood up. On top of the hood I have a particulary ugly baseball cap I've made myself. It is made of Pertex Equilibrium which makes it fairly windproof and very fastdrying. I handkerchief size piece of Equilibrium is usually tucked into the crown, but can be let down to protect ears and neck. On top of all this is the hood of the windshirt.

With double meriono shirts and the windshirt on top I warm up pretty fast once I start moving. After about fifteen minutes I can take both hoods of and continue hiking in my cap. After thirty minutes I take of the gloves and slip them into the belt pouch of my pack. These pouches come from Gossamer Gear.

After about fiftyfive minutes of hiking like this I'm getting really warm and it's time for my usual hourly break. Since the ground is a bit damp and cold I take the cellfoam sleeping pad from underneath it's bungee cords on the outside of my pack, and spread it to sit on. This gives me a chance to stretch my legs out with the pack for a pillow/backrest. It also gives me a chance to slip of my shoes, but only after filling my mug with water in the nearby stream.

Now it's time for the luxury of stretching out completely, relaxing every muscle that comes to mind and taking a couple of deep breaths. To empty my mind of everthing, except how the clouds are slowly drifting across the sky, and the tinker bells of the little brook. After about a minute I rouse myself and eat some chocolate, raisins and hazelnuts while I'm drinking my cup of water.


After five or ten minutes of this (after all, why hurry, I'm on vacation) I put my cup away and roll up my pad. I just slip it under the elastic bungees, which is faster than strapping it in place. The bungee cords are also lighter than ordinary packstraps.

Since the day is warmer I can take off my merino hoody and put it in the waterproof drybag at the top of my pack. There it will probably rest until I put it on before going to bed. I suspect that the windshirt will be tucked into an outside pocket of the pack in 10-15 minutes as well.

All morning I follow a valley gently sloping down towards a river. Every hour I take a break and drink at least one, sometimes two cups of water. I never carry water if I can avoid it, and in Scandinavia you can most of the time. Other areas are drier and if you have to cure your water in order to drink it you can't avoid carrying some. But water is heavy and I try never to carry more than 500 ml. With that I can take two of my hourly breaks. If I want to drink between breaks I simply dip my cup in a stream in passing, without taking my pack off.


Around noon I come to the river and after a short while find a place where I think I can ford it. But I might as well be tanked up and rested before I do that, it looks kind of deep, and the water moves swiftly.

The autumn chill in the air makes it really nice to roll out my pad in the sun and pull out my cooking gear. A short walk and I can fill my collapsible water bottle with 1,5 liters in the river. This will be more than enough.

I prefer the stove on my left side and most of my gear, except the utensils and what I'm cooking right now, on the right side. But that's not so important. A handy rock or tree trunk to rest my back against is more important, but sometimes the pack serves as well.

The piezo igniter fires up the canister stove faster than a pig winks. Half a liter of water in the pot, a piece of foil as a lid and some titanium foil as wind break are rapidly added. From my pack I dig out my spoon, cup and a plastic bag with some dried home dried meat and powdered potatoes. All set. This gives me the chance to relax, pull of my wet socks and put them out to dry, and pull my cap over my eyes for a couple of minutes.

When the water is boiling I take it from the stove and pour some hot water in my cup for spare. I then add the meat and potatoes to the pot, stirring with my spoon. It's swelling and becomes a bit too thick, so I add some of the water from my cup. Perfect. I pour out the remaining hot water on the ground and add cold water to the cup.


While munching I contemplate the river. Wonder how cold it is? If it's really cold and deep enough for me to have to swim parts of it, the chill could be risky. You loose energy really fast in cold water. Maybe there is a better place to ford upstream.

After having packed my gear I dip the thermometer into the river and it says 8 Centigrades. That is not tempting. I've waded and swimmed colder water, but only for 5-10 seconds. This river is wider and there is really no telling for how long it's deep enough to force me to swim instead of walk. Better to play it safe and follow it upstream for a while. That is in the general direction of where I'm going anyway.

I find no place to ford all afternoon. The river is getting narrower, but the water is moving faster, which is not a good combination. Every hour I take my break, eat my nuts and chocolate and drink the water I need.

Around four o'clock in the afternoon my body craves coffee. It's also time for a sturdier meal, than snacks, to last me until suppertime around eight o'clock at night. So while the water is heating I take a couple of soft mini tortillas from my pack and roll some 100 mm lengths of thin beer sausage inside. These make nice sanwiches of sorts together with coffee and snacks.


About an hour after my coffee break the threathening clouds decide to start letting down some rain. It's only a drizzle, "a nice, soft day" as the Irish say. I put on my windshirt, which sometimes is enough, but not this time, so I unfold my umbrella. This means that I have to stick one of my walking poles in the pack. So with one hand alternating between holding the remaing pole and the umbrella, I trudge on.

After a while the undergrowth thickens, so I decide to put on my waterproof-breathable rain pants so as not to get soaked from brushing against the wet foliage. This is the perfect combination, since it's a bit uphill, and not really cold. Thanks to the umbrella and the windshirt, zipped open halfway down my chest, I am able to regulate my body temperature better than with my rain jacket on.

Or at least for a while. Because the trees are thinning out, and when I get above timberline the wind picks up. I pull the windshirt hood over my head and zip it up completely. Leaning the umbrella against the wind it gives pretty good protection against the driving drizzle. One arm of the windshirt gets a bit wet, but since I'm not cold that is no problem. I know it will dry out quickly.

However, as the rain increases I realize it's time to fold up my umbrella and put on my light rain jacket. It's an Haglöfs Oz, weighing under 200 grams in XLarge, that has been with me for a couple of seasons now and has served me well. I put on my fleece gloves as well and move on.


The next hourly break is not so idyllic as the first one of the day, but I always stop and fill up with calories no matter how poor the weather. The worse the weather the more you are going to need them. Not wanting to stop and rest for a while is for me a sure sign that my blood sugar is down and that I REALLY need a break and some calories. If it's particulary nasty weather at lunchtime I sit in my tent, sometimes in my sleeping bag while I cook. But I always take my breaks and I always eat and drink. That always makes me feel better. After all, I'm on vacation.

This time I hunch in the doubtful protection of a boulder that could have been higher. I get my weight of my feet for a couple of minutes, sitting on the rolled up foam pad, while I drink my cup and eat half of what is left in my goody bag. Next stop will be camp.

Discuss in Swedish at Utsidan here
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Packrafting - a beginner in whitewater

Turer A clever person would of course have taken a basic course in packrafting, before going on a trip like mine this summer, between Abisko and Nikkaluokta. For those who have read about that trip here and in Outside Magazine it's pretty obvious I needed it. Well, you can't always be clever, but at least I was really motivated when going to Bozeman, Montana to join the BackpackingLight.com course in September. It was quite an experience.

By Jörgen Johansson

The course convened over muffins and coffee at a pond just outside Bozeman. Half a dozen students and four instructurs where pretty soon inflating the rafts. Andrew Skurka, our head instructor, pretty soon had us easing out onto the pond.

What we practised on the pond was 'wet reentry', which basically meant that we sat down in our packrafts and threw our weights around until it capsized. You then had to get out of the spray skirt, turn the raft the right way up and heave yourself back into it. Not as easy as it sounds (if it does), since the thing had a tendency of flipping you right back into the water again. The trick was to, with a mighty heave, get your center of gravity as far inside the boat as possible. We kept this up for an hour or so, much to the delight of a couple of classes of schoolchildren, whose faith in grown-ups must have taken a beating that morning.

After this we got on our bus and drove up to the Yellowstone River, which was going to be our home for the rest of the course. We started out in the lower parts of the aptly named Paradise Valley, with new practises of wet reentry, now in moving water and with a pack strapped to the foredeck. This turned out to be considerably more difficult, so the practise in the pond was really valuable.

Our instructors where hovering while we tried to offset the current pushing our legs under the raft, while flowing downstream, and do the mighty heave that would get our chest well into the boat.
The rest of the afternoon was spent flowing sedately down the Yellowstone, and getting increasingly familiar with the packraft and other members of the course.

The September weather was really benign, and packrafting with a group in circumstances like this turned out to be a really sociable activity. Lots of time to drift around and talk to various members of the group. The occasional stretch of rippling water where fairly easy to negotiate and when the sun set we made our camp and built a fire on the beach. Due to land restrictions we were only allowed to camp on public land, which had to be below the high water mark. This was reasonably easy this late in the season.

The second day we bussed up to Gardiner, on the border of Yellowstone National Park, and then got on the Yellowstone River again. Since boating of any kind, execept of course for power boats on Yellowstone Lake, is prohibited in the park we didn't enter it. But upstream from yesterday as it was, this was a different river. At least to inexperienced land lubbers like most of us students.

Going up to Gardiner we stopped the bus along the road, which followed the river the whole time, and walked over to watch some of the major rapids in Yankee Jim canyon, like The Boxcar. Looking down at this foaming maelstrom from the road certainly made it's impression. So this is what we would have to go through before nightfall? All of us students were very carefully not saying anything at all.

On this, the second day, we practised paddling in whitewater and rapids getting increasingly more difficult. I got dunked once, inspite of my spinsterish approach, leaving the more aggressive stunts to the young guns. Some of those got dunked more than once, some just breezed through the whole thing.
The main lesson for me in whitewater this day was: Lean forward and bully your way through. A good addition to this was: Once you've committed yourself to a route, go for it with all you've got. I guess this could be a lesson for life as well. Changes in midstride will usually land you on your ass.

As the afternoon progressed we went deeper into the canyon and the rapids became more and more challenging. After going through some particularly white whitewater, we rested in an eddy. Our instructors then said: Congratulations, you've just run the Yankee Jim.

Yes, we had in fact run the rapids we had looked at from the road earlier that day, with some trepidation. For me it was really good psychology not to tell us this beforehand and it felt like a great victory at the end of the day, with arms and shoulders turning into noodles and blood sugar going down.

We camped in good spirits that evening, with an interesting assortment of light shelters. They were pitched on a perfect beach below the high watermark and carefully anchored with stones. However, around 10 pm the Sheriff turned up with an aggravated land owner and evicted us all. Unknown to everybody there was obviously some law stating that even if you were on public land you couldn't camp closer than 500 yards to somebodys house. So we had to move the whole camp. Made me pretty grateful for the Swedish law of common access, which lets you camp on anybodys private land for one night, as long as it's not on their actual lot.

The third day included more pratice with whitewater. We went down the same stretch of the Yellowstone as the day before, but this day was really different. We knew that we had taken Yankee Jim without casualties yesterday, and that made for a more relaxed day.

Above is shown some practise around a 'hole', which is the washing machine thingy between the instructor and the packraft coming over the rock-induced wave. A hole tends to suck you back, and being under water in a hole can be a dangerous thing. The water is so churned up and filled with air that you get no flotation even with a PFD. If you are unlucky you'll be churned around in this until the river freezes, at which time most people would be dead.

Here I am, tightening the straps before heading into Yankee Jim canyon for the second time. The lesson for day three that stayed in my mind was: Finesse your way down.

If the day before in Yankee Jim hade been like going into the jaws of hell, this day was more like a walk in the park. It's seldom after childhood that you will experience going from not being able to do something at all to being able to do it at least moderately well in in only three days. I came away from this course feeling very satisfied and also a bit addicted...

Below you'll find links to some films. The first two show me in some of the practice parts of the Yellowstone River on day two. They're from Andrew Skurka and Backpackinglight.com.

The third film shows Andrew and Ryan Jordan scouting the Yankee Jim a couple of days before the course. It shows some of the tougher passages of this canyon, where everyone was to busy to film during the course.

Me on a long stretch of moving water

Me on a short stretch of faster moving water

Andrew Skurka and Ryan Jordan scouting the Yankee Jim Canyon.

Comment on this article in Swedish on Utsidan here and in English below.

Andrew Skurka - going far, going light

Teori-praktik One of the more visible individuals in ligthweight backpacking right now is Andrew Skurka. He's done some hikes in later years that most of us just dream of, and he's only just begun. I had the good fortune to have Andy as an instructor on a Backpacking Light course in packrafting recently, and decided that I wanted to know more about him.
By Jörgen Johansson All photos by Andrew Skurka


Andrew started his backpacking career, if there is such a thing, in 2002 along the Appalachian Trail. Since then he's done a number of really long hikes, and he carries very light loads. In 2004-2005 he walked 12 500 kilometers across North America. In January 2007 he tested lightweight gear in "America's Icebox" during a 620 kilometer hike in northern Minnesota. In April 2007 he started out on the Great Western Loop in the US and finished 11 000 kilometers later in November. In the summer of 2009 he hiked and packrafted 1100 kilometers through four mountain ranges of Alaska, and wound down as one of the first non-Alaskan rookies to win the Alaska Wilderness Classic.

Jörgen: Andrew, you’re 28 years old and have done an amazing amount of long hikes in the last 4-5 years. I don’t exactly imagine that you’re making a fortune from this, so something else must be driving you. What is that?

Andrew: Before delving into the heart of your question, I’ll address your financial assumption since there are many who probably are thinking, “I’d love to have that life but I need to work.” You’re right, I’m certainly not making a fortune from this, but since 2006 I’ve stayed financially profitable by developing a handful of income streams – including public speaking, course instruction, private client guiding, writing, website sales, and sponsorships – that cumulatively have been greater than my expenses, which is of course the other side of the equation and which I fiercely keep to a minimum. Remember, you don’t need to earn much if you don’t spend much.

This life works for someone like me – I’m a 28-year-old bachelor who has not outgrown the frugality of my university days and I am proud if I end up sleeping more nights on the ground during a year than I do inside – but I don’t think it would work for anyone who has high lifestyle standards, has a lot of debt, or who needs to support someone other than themselves.



Now, regarding the motivation for my trips, I’d say that it boils down entirely to the potential for personal growth, challenge, and reward. I once thought it necessary to wrap a trip into a greater purpose, but nowadays I’m quite comfortable with saying that I do these trips because, in essence, I can and want to – my life is at its best when I’m “out there.” I have a really good civilian life too – I come from a great family, I have great friends, I travel a lot through business, and I am based out of the beautiful state of Colorado – but it just isn’t quite as fulfilling or as rich as my life outdoors.

Jörgen: You are carrying very light loads nowadays. That wasn’t always so. Tell us about your conversion and why have you shifted from “traditional” to lightweight gear.

Andrew: My first long hike – in fact, my first backpacking trip, really – was in 2002 on the famed 2,170-mile Appalachian Trail. I had never heard of “lightweight backpacking” before, and I definitely had never seen a “lightweight backpacker,” so I started the AT like most people do: with a pack that weighed too much, consisting mostly of worthless items. I think my pack weighed 38 lbs minus food and water when I started.

In my first journal entry I started a list of things I was going to throw away or send home as soon as I had an opportunity – the relationship between my pack weight and my hiking experience had become clear by the first hill, and I knew if I was going to hike fast and far, and enjoy it, then I would need to hike light too.


Jörgen: When you are advocating lightweight equipment some people say that ultra light gear makes for less comfort and safety than the usual stuff. Have you encountered this and what is your opinion?

Andrew: Lightweight gear can be less comfortable and less safe than traditional gear, but it entirely depends on who is using it. Lightweight backpackers are able to carry less because they offset what they do not have with skills. It’s no accident that I call one of my speaking presentations a “Lightweight Backpacking and Skills Clinic” – lightweight backpacking is not just about gear; it’s about skills too.

A skilled lightweight backpacker knows how to find comfort with a 3/8-inch-thick torso-length foam sleeping pad by bedding down on a soft layer of pine needles or forest duff; and they can safely camp under a handkerchief-sized tarp by finding a protected campsite and achieving a taught pitch. An unskilled backpacker, in contrast, will be uncomfortable because they will sleep on soil that’s been packed down and denuded of needles and leaves; and they will be unsafe because they will find an exposed campsite and they don’t know how to pitch their tarp correctly, leaving it limp and susceptible to the wind.

So, I do rely heavily on my backcountry skills to compensate for equipment that I am not carrying. But there is no reason that relatively inexperienced and unskilled backpackers cannot go light – I would not recommend that they immediately jump to my exact gear kit, but I’m quite confident that they could drop to a 15-lb base weight and have everything they needed and wanted for a 3-season trip. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that no person, however ill experienced, should go backpacking in 3-season conditions with more than 15 lbs. You can squeeze a lot of foolproof equipment into a 15-lb pack: fully enclosed shelter, gas stove, good rain gear, warm sleeping bag, etc.

Jörgen: Regarding footwear for short and long hikes I know you prefer light shoes of the trail runner type. There are boots for “demanding expeditions in rough terrain”. Most of your trips seem to qualify on this aspect, so why don’t you use heavier shoes?



Andrew: First, I have been a competitive runner since I was 14-years-old so I am biased towards running shoes – my feet feel at home in them. That said, there are many good reasons to wear running shoes for long, technical trips: they are lighter, they dry faster, they breathe better, they are more sensitive (i.e., for scrambling and boulder-hopping), and they are lower to the ground for improved stability.

I do not like “waterproof” shoes in wet conditions: they are ineffective in keeping the feet dry (Water comes in over the tops or it wets through; or sweat builds from the inside.), they take longer to dry out, they are heavier, they are more expensive, and they are hotter and less breathable when it’s not wet. I find that waterproof shoes are fairly effective in dry, snowy conditions (Fall, Winter, early-Spring).

I will not say that boots are not necessary, for example, I prefer them for snowshoeing and hiking in snow (when there’s not enough to warrant snowshoes) when temperatures are between 10 and 40 F. But I am still using a lightweight boot – either the Timberland Cadion GTX or the La Sportiva FC 3.0 GTX – and extending the boot well beyond is recommended use; these models are considered “light hikers,” not winter backpacking boots.

Boots are probably not necessary for the majority of applications for which people use them – I see many people wearing boots (often waterproof boots) for easy day hikes and for weekend backpacking trips in 3-season conditions. I firmly believe that these individuals would be better served by breathable, lightweight trail running shoes.

Jörgen: With a load as light as yours a light backpack seems to work very well, but for people who just recently has started to pare their packweights towards 5-10 kilos baseweight, what size and weight of pack do you recommend? When would you suggest that a person could shift from a pack with a frame to a frameless pack?

Andrew: I have to refer you to manufacturer recommendations for this question – there are too many variables here, and the answer will change from person to person. For me, I go back and forth between two packs: since 2004 my 3-season thru-hike pack has been the 50L GoLite Jam; I size up to the 70L GoLite Pinnacle for winter trips, for 3-season trips with large food volumes,and for instructing or guiding.



Both of these packs are frameless, and I always cut out their built-in foam pads because I prefer to use my own sleeping pad as a “virtual frame.” As far as when to go with a frameless pack versus when to go with a framed one, if my load is regularly going to be 12-15 kg or more I think it starts to make sense. Last summer I used a framed pack for the for the first time since 2002 while hiking and packrafting in Alaska – but my base weight was 10 kg and I was regularly carrying a week of food (so up to 18 kg total).

Jörgen: You’ve been to Iceland, infamous for high winds, and you’ve been to Alaska, parts of the world which are similar to the above timberline and tundra mountains of Scandinavia. What kind of shelter, ie how light, would you choose for this type of terrain and how do you motivate your choices?

Andrew: I have had good success with fully-enclosed tarps in both locations – I used a 22-oz GoLite Shrangri-La 2 in Iceland and a 16-oz Mountain Laural Designs DuoMid in Alaska. (The Shrangri-La works well with trekking poles, whereas the DuoMid pitches nicely with a packraft paddle.) I got caught by windy storms in both locations and was very comfortable and confident. The additional challenge in Iceland is the dust that gets blown around by the storms – but I can think of only two good solutions that that (a house and a car) and neither of them are packable.

Jörgen: One thing that I find truly interesting and stimulating are your thoughts on “lightweight living/lifestyle”. Could you explain what this is all about? And how could people like myself, sitting in a suburban house with a couple of children and a job, connect to this?


Andrew: I’m not ordinarily much of a philosophizer, but I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I want from life and how I can best achieve that. The answer is this “lightweight lifestyle,” which promotes some of the same principles that guide lightweight backpacking – including “Less is more,” and “Simpler, not more complex” – as general life principals, in order to focus more on the one thing that actually leads to personal happiness and fulfilment: one’s relationship with self, others,and nature (and/or a God).

I don’t understand why Western culture seems to push this false idea that the pursuit and accumulation of stuff (or “gear”) is desirable, because it actually undermines one’s relationships. Think about it – instead of spending time with our family and friends, in the outdoors, and building community, we are captive to jobs that consume our energy and that stress us out, and to bills for things that we are “supposed” to have like nice cars, big homes, and flat-screen TV’s.

The solution seems pretty clear to me: figure out how to spend less so that you can work less, so that you can spend time with the things that are really important to you. I think this quality of life argument is the best reason to adopt the lightweight lifestyle, but another big motivation for me is that it’s also more compatible with my love of the outdoors – my environmental footprint is much smaller because I consume and waste much less.

Jörgen: What’s on the agenda for you this upcoming year? Are you going to spend it on a porch somewhere, or will you be going on some other wilderness treks?

Andrew: The porch scenario was meant to be a joke, right? Next year I am planning to do another “long” trip, and the most attractive idea I’ve developed is a 6,500-km effort through Alaska and western Canada.


This trip is on a whole new level from what I’ve done before: I learned how to go “far, fast, and light” by following the Lower 48’s extensive trail system, and over the last two years I’ve learned how to “adventure” by going to places like Iceland, Alaska, and the Colorado Plateau. This trip will merge the “far, fast, and light” experience with the “adventure” experience – it’s going to be big, and interesting, so stay tuned.

Jörgen: Thank you, Andrew. You bet we will stay tuned, and a pretty good place for this is of course www.andrewskurka.com

Discuss this article here at Utsidan (in Swedish) and below for comments in English.