It was July in upstate New York, and the forecast called for a hell of a day: unusually hot and humid. I planned to start my summit hike at dawn and left my farm while it was still dark. My border collie rode shotgun as my truck’s headlights illuminated the way up mountain roads to the trailhead. We would only be out for the day, but with my busy schedule as a farmer, recreational time outside is precious. I had flagged the date on my calendar weeks in advance and planned the route to a T. The night before, I prepared my daypack with all the things I’d bring to get the most out of my time outdoors. If all went according to plan, by 11 a.m. we’d be taking in a view of the Adirondacks while sharing bites of mochi.

I hike because it’s a chance to experience primal pleasures. For me, that means a hard walk uphill in miserable heat to what feels like the one cool breeze in the entire county. When I find it, I am staying put for a good while—sometimes until dusk, finding my truck by headlamp. That is why I carry a heavy pack. It has the magical ability to alchemize sore muscles and sweat into gratitude and instant nostalgia.

I love the weight. For a day hike, I find the novelty of discomfort that goes along with it appealing. I am only out for a matter of hours, and I know full well that I’ll return home to a hot shower and my comfortable bed. The burden of distance isn’t mine to carry, so instead I carry books and stoves and sometimes even a shelter. I’m not looking to cheat hardship. I’m actively embracing it.

My heavy pack, dog, and I would cover just seven miles of trail that day, but mileage wasn’t the point. We hiked together all morning, feeling the day turn uncomfortably warm. This meant a lot of water breaks. We rested near some puffball mushrooms. In fall, the foam balls turn into husks with spores that, when flicked, explode like puffs of smoke—which is why their Latin name, Lycoperdon, literally translates to . But right now they remained intact as my dog finished her water and we continued on.

When we finally arrived at a well-earned view, I was coated in sweat and my heart was pounding. I flung off my 20-some-pound pack and soaked in the bliss of being weightless again among rolling mountains and puffy clouds before sitting down to split a sandwich with my dog, something we’d both looked forward to since dawn.

While she napped in the shade, I dug into my pack. This was the best part of the day. Out came a hammock, a travel pillow, and a beloved hardcover novel. I set up the hammock before making a cup of coffee on my stove and pulling out the thermos of crushed ice to chill my fresh brew. For the next few hours—the hottest part of the day—I swung in my mountain paradise, sipped iced coffee, and read a book about a lute player.

If you’re an ultralight hiker who made it this far into this essay, I am frankly shocked. I was certain I lost you somewhere around pillow and hardcover book. But I wasn’t exaggerating. I carry at least 20 pounds of gear for a day hike, and I do it with gusto. Sure, I like backpacks, headlamps, and boots as much as the next hiker with an internet connection, but I am a little weary of the ultralight trend. It’s borderline gear worship seemingly targeted at people more excited about purchasing outdoor equipment than actually being outdoors.

Making your pack as light as possible seems to be the new goal, even for people just heading out for a day. So many gear reviews focus only on this quality, suggesting the value of Dyneema over nylon, paring down first-aid kits, and forgoing cooking altogether in lieu of cold-soaking mush. When I watch a 22-year-old video host who could pass as a linebacker warn his viewers to be wary of the hidden weight of tortillas, I can’t help but laugh.

Listen, if consuming expensive thru-hiking gear gets you excited about being outside, enjoy your dopamine where you can get it. It’s your money and your hike. But I urge you, at least every once in a while, to be a draft pony instead of a race horse on the trail. Be gloriously selfish in your carried treasures! Bring everything you need to bake a pizza on a flat stone by a sunset campfire. Pack your tent just to take a nap in the shade. Tote around guidebooks and learn how to tell an elm from an ash. Bring a suit and towel to swim in a river. Or perhaps start by changing your online views to  instead of titanium spoons.

For most of us, hiking isn’t a race you can win. If ultralight is your thing, enjoy it, but make sure your entire reason for being outside isn’t to justify a purchase or test gear. Take time to savor the fresh air, the sunshine, and some sweat. Throw in all the creature comforts, regardless of how many ounces they weigh, to make the effort worth it. And for the love of Sisyphus, take some time to stop and smell the wolf farts.

The post The Case for Hiking with a Heavy Pack appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

Most of my time outdoors is spent with only one hand free. I fly-fish, ride horses, and practice falconry. I’m usually holding a rod, reins, or a redtail and only have my right hand free to access much needed gear. Regular backpacks aren’t ideal during these endeavors, because I end up taking them off and on. Shoulder satchels and messenger bags are often too large and cumbersome and are meant for a person with two free hands. The ultimate solution: sling packs. 

I took each of these out several times while trail riding horses, fly-fishing in rivers, and hunting with my hawk, and I can also confirm that these picks are equally great for hiking, kayaking, and any other sport where it pays to have easy access to gear.

Osprey Daylite Sling

Waist Strap: No
Volume: 6 liters
Weight: 8 ounces

This is the  I tested, and it was perfect for both throwing over your shoulder to bike into town or use on the river to carry gear for brookies at a local stream. Anything beyond an energy bar, water bottle, phone, and wallet will require a larger pack, but sometimes your time outside is short and sweet, and this sings that song. If your load is light, and you want something that looks as good in town as it does in the woods, this one is for you.

L.L.Bean Rapid River Sling Pack

Waist Strap: Sewn in
³Õ´Ç±ô³Ü³¾±ð:Ìý8.5 liters
°Â±ð¾±²µ³ó³Ù:Ìý19 ounces

You don’t have to be a trout fisher to appreciate a technical pack with this many compartments and heavy padding for precious cargo. With several zippered pockets, helped me stay organized, even while carrying a lot of gear.

Orvis Safe Passage Sling Pack

Waist Strap: Optional
³Õ´Ç±ô³Ü³¾±ð:Ìý10.5 liters
°Â±ð¾±²µ³ó³Ù:Ìý16 ounces

Also a , the Orvis Safe Passage is made for comfort. It’s less stiff than many others I’ve tried, which means it contours perfectly against light layers. The most recent incarnation of this pack has a removable waist strap and a bonus water-bottle pocket. If you need a general one-handed pack for a variety of outdoor activities,  you’ve found your sling.

Pineo Bandolero Hawking Bag

Waist Strap: Sewn in
Volume: 12–16 liters
°Â±ð¾±²µ³ó³Ù:Ìý18.5 ounces

 is the perfect match for someone who wants a more useful version of an outdoor messenger-style bag, especially for cold-weather adventures. Easily the largest capacity of the slings I tested, the Pineo Bandolero felt like it was a part of my body. It has three main compartments (the large bag itself is divided in half), and the front pocket features a snap designed to open and close with one hand thanks to a genius loop. Though it’s meant for people hunting with birds of prey, if you need something easier to access while wearing gloves as you snowshoe or ski, this is the answer.

The post The Best Sling Packs appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

Most of my time outdoors is going hard on day trips with my two border collies by my side. As a farmer, I have a difficult time leaving for a few nights of backpacking, so I pack as much as I can into day hiking in upstate New York, where I live. I like going hard up a summit and, when I reach the view, stopping to make hot tea and read a chapter of a book before I hike out. It’s wonderful, but it means carrying more weight than the average trail runner or view seeker. I need a pack that can accommodate my plan for hot beverages, stories, photographs, and all the supplies for me and at least one canine. These four packs had the chops to get the job done from summit to social life and served as my everyday carry as a feral woman.

To help describe their best features, I assigned a dog breed to each model, because some adventures are all about speed and versatility, while others are built for hauling lots of gear across the wilderness. Whether your hike requires a sheepdog or sled dog, I’ve found the perfect pack for you.

The Test

I took each of these packs out several times on summer and fall summit hikes. I loaded them up with the same weight (15 pounds) to really push their limits and provide me with a full day of snacks, water, and other gear. When the trail part of the day was over, these packs came with me to town to visit friends or my local brewery. These were my favorites, each suited to a specific single serving of daylight outdoors.

Osprey Tempest 20

Border Collie: Light, smart, adaptable
Volume: 20 liters
°Â±ð¾±²µ³ó³Ù:Ìý1 pound, 10 ounces
Rain cover: Not included

Some would say the  is overdesigned, with its bevy of stitched-on loops, hooks, bevels, and toggles. But they would be wrong. I took this pack out for four different daylong trips and ended up using every single feature, from the comfy sheath on the left arm strap to the helmet toggle (which held both a cowboy hat and a riding helmet). My favorite feature is the oversized mesh waist belt with big pockets. It perfectly fit my hips (and I have hips) without sliding or chafing even on the hottest, sweatiest hikes. It comfortably holds a 300-milliliter hydration bladder in its own chamber outside the main compartment and away from your gear, which I really appreciated. This is the border collie of the lot: light and quick, adaptable, and smart—ready for a trail run, bike ride, or any activity that demands constant movement and quick access to snacks.

REI Co-op Trail 40 Pack

Siberian Husky: Strong, comfortable, workhorse
³Õ´Ç±ô³Ü³¾±ð:Ìý40 liters
°Â±ð¾±²µ³ó³Ù:Ìý2 pounds, 13 ounces
Rain cover: Included

Hands down the  in the group. The overstuffed shoulder straps, waist belt, and padded back are so cushy that this pack feels like strapping into a nap, even when loaded for an overnight trip—which is exactly what it was. Because this was the volume leader of the group, I decided to take it camping. I threw in a tent, inflatable sleeping pad, stove, change of clothes, first aid, food, water, and cookware. (I had to strap the sleeping bag on the outside—it isn’t magic.) It still felt well distributed and meant for harder work. And the best feature—this pack is panel loading instead of top loading—means you don’t need to take everything out to find something vital stashed deep inside. This is the Siberian husky of the lot: willing to haul more and go a little farther, but way comfier to snuggle with than seems reasonable.

Deuter Speed Lite 24 SL

Golden Retriever: Dependable, versatile, handsome
³Õ´Ç±ô³Ü³¾±ð:Ìý24 liters
°Â±ð¾±²µ³ó³Ù:Ìý1 pound, 12 ounces
Rain cover: Not included

 would be my go-to for a hike I’ve never done before, because it can handle any situation or season. It’s extremely light and ready for afternoon treks around a pond loop, or it can be loaded up for an overnight shelter-to-shelter hike. It has straps and a daisy chain for extra gear if you’re out of room or need a place to stash trekking poles, and it was the second most comfortable under a heavy load, which is amazing considering its base weight. This was the only pack in the group that people stopped me on the trail to look at, mostly because it comes standard with a fake flower I pretended not to like. As the golden retriever of the lot, the Deuter Speed Lite is handsome, dependable, and ready to get up and go at a moment’s notice.

Fjällräven High Coast Trail 26

Weimaraner: Inconspicuous, sleek, surprisingly tough
³Õ´Ç±ô³Ü³¾±ð:Ìý26 liters
°Â±ð¾±²µ³ó³Ù:Ìý2 pounds, 8 ounces
Rain cover:Ìý±õ²Ô³¦±ô³Ü»å±ð»å

 is technically a unisex pack, but I’m including it because it’s the most stealth outdoor product I’ve ever used. Anyone looking at it would see something not far from a regular school pack, yet it’s designed for the trail. Its frame is fixed and light and hugged my back without any seams, bumps, or irritation. You can slide in a full three-liter hydration pack, no problem. The waist belt may be its weakest feature, being thin and not well padded, but it was comfortable even with a full load, and the chest straps made the High Coast feel like I was wearing it, not carrying it. The fabric is an eco-material called G-1000, coated with a natural wax that sheds water and handles abrasions but feels like space suede. It even packs its own small rain cover for when it pours. For what it’s worth, this pack felt the easiest to bring into town with me, being so minimalist in appearance. Sleek, European, and ready for a waterfall day hike or a night in a hotel, the High Coast is the Weimaraner of my picks.

The post The Best Women’s Daypacks, Explained as Dog Breeds appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.