When we finally terraform Mars, the first colonists will doubtless be issued Montrail Hardrock Wides—kicks perfectly suited to the dusty slopes of 78,740-foot-high Olympus Mons. OK, admittedly, we’re reaching, but our 2005 Gear of the Year trail runners have more than proved their worth on this planet, moving effortlessly from scree to sandstone to the blacktop that took us there.

1. The Hardrock Wide’s firm and deeply sculpted heel cup fits as if it’s been bone-grafted onto your foot. Superstellar. It’s impossible to fumble your stride with your heel so locked in place.

2. Size-EE feet feel at home in the Wides yet never go unsupported—thanks to a full-length polyurethane plate that wraps up, taco style, around the midfoot for torsional control. (There’s a standard width available for skinnier feet.) Overpronation is regulated with the authority of a strict school nun.

3. Montrail embraces chaos theory on the outsole—it’s bristling with triangles, bars, and dots—and the result is traction uphill, downhill, and sideways in dirt. On rock, the rubber lugs are shallow and stiff enough to grip tightly.

4. A midsole of dual-density EVA and a gel insert in the forefoot lend perfect plumpness—enough for forays on asphalt (not always the case with trail shoes) without the foot/trail disconnect that gives you that whoa! feeling on steep switchbacks.

5. Nylon mesh in the uppers ensures good ventilation, and copious synthetic leather embellished with raised rubber bumpers fends off rock scrapes and debris collisions.

The post Montrail Hardrock Wide – Trail-Running Shoes appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

ONE SWEET RIDEForget the South Beach Diet: The cushioning here will convince you that you’ve lost ten pounds. Credit trademarked midsole components (they boil down to strategically tuned EVA and a bit of foam rubber), which render each foot strike a pleasure instead of a pain. A thickly padded, noncreeping tongue keeps the top of your foot as cushioned as the bottom.

Bonus: Even the removable sock liner has its own shock-absorbing inserts.

Bummer: All that cush turns marshmallowy on steep traverses.

The post The North Face Cutback – Trail-Running Shoes appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

SEAMLESS DREAMTrot out the Lizards for trail-running where the term “trail” is generous. Seams in the uppers won’t blow out from abrasion—because there aren’t any. Even the synthetic-leather trim is heat-welded rather than stitched. A fat rubber toe cap provides further armoring. Serious shoe abusers, such as adventure racers and Amazing Race competitors, will appreciate the stout construction.

Bonus: Gore-Tex XCR uppers contribute to all-around environment-proofness.

Bummer: A more aggressive outsole design would improve traction in loose dirt.

The post Timberland Trail Lizard with Gore-Tex XCR – Trail-Running Shoes appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

BRING ON THE BREEZEYou don’t know ventilation until you’ve experienced the GCS Pro. The uppers are like a screened-in porch—take off the shoe and look straight through it to read your watch, if you wish. But its real worth comes with every stride; on a warm fall day in the Sonoran Desert, I could feel air pumping across my feet. Delightful.

Bonus: The best one-yank-and-lock lace-tensioning system I’ve ever used.

Bummer: Airy uppers translate into minimal roll control. Overpronators should look elsewhere.

The post Salomon GCS Pro – Trail-Running Shoes appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

IN THE FIELD Trail runners are built sturdier than street shoes, but they’re hardly indestructible. The midsole cushioning will surrender faster than the French army if you use them for backpacking—or barhopping. Save them for serious weekend mileage and you should get as much as a year (or a single Western States 100) from a pair. Your twisting ankles will tell you when it’s time to hang them up. A firm thumb press where your heel goes will, too. The foam should feel soft, not packed-in hard. On the trail, loosen the laces as your feet swell—but crank them down for steep sections where control is vital.

IN THE FUTURE Tomorrow’s shoes will custom-mold themselves to your feet. Reebok’s Pump 2.0 road shoe points in that direction with its expandable air chambers; tomorrow’s models may employ high-density memory foam or inserts to “cure” around your feet.

The post Trail Runners appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

Ten years back, when the first ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Buyer’s Guide hit newsstands, a soft shell was a menu item at Red Lobster, a GPS receiver was about the size of a shoe box, and, if our earnest product tutorials were any indication, in-line skates required nothing short of an engineering degree to master. “Wheel hardness is rated by a durometer number,” we wrote back in 1995.

gear of the year

Ouch.


History is indeed a brutal judge, and, perused today, the inaugural edition of this magazine would offer the sophisticated gearhead page after page of hindsight-powered giggle fits. But it also underscores a greater truth: ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø equipment and apparel are as much reflections of the day as music, food, fashion, television, or any other slice of the grand Google database that is contemporary American consumer culture.


We can already hear the purists slumping in their external-frame packs. “There’s nothing trendy about gear, and that’s the way it oughta be,” these old-schoolers will argue. “Never mind what color it is,” they’ll huff; “does it have a polytetrafluoroethylene membrane and a tear strength of at least 60 pounds? Does the hipbelt offer adequate padding over the iliac crest?”


True, these things are important, but good design does more than just solve engineering problems: It generates an emotional response. It harmonizes with that ineffable thing called style and the complex connections of trend. And though there have been significant improvements in, say, the available colors and cuts of backcountry-ready apparel—well, for women, that is—we still have work to do. Walk into any specialty gear shop and take a look at the inevitable wall o’ shoes. Bet you an ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø subscription that it’s a stylistic dirge in the keys of moss, slate, and mud.


To be fair, almost every classic outdoor brand—from Cloudveil to The North Face to Marmot—is tinkering with street-smart pieces, and some are rather sweet. The technical DNA is still very much present in these shirts and pants, but you can also wear them around town without looking like you just trekked down from advance base camp. Other innovators are finding ways to reach new buyers—66°rth, a gorgeous technical-apparel line from Iceland, is flying off the racks over at Urban Outfitters. Victorinox is at Bloomingdale’s. Meanwhile, Jeffrey Wolfe, cofounder of the Detroit-based gear chain Moosejaw, is using the Web to reach urbanites who might be too intimidated to venture into that shop with the big-wall-climbing diorama in the window.


The truth is, our world has changed. We’re opening up the lens on a brand-new golden age of cool, one that flips easily between backcountry and front. Today’s shoppers—and, yes, we’re talking about hardcore guys—are unapologetically style-savvy. They know what not to wear. And they’re in the market for hip performance clothing that can carry them from the trail to the office, out on a weekend getaway, or just down to the local java spot for a Saturday-morning dog summit.


Which brings us to this new, expanded, reinvigorated—dare we say, somewhat sexed-up—2005 ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Buyer’s Guide. You won’t find any waffled long underwear here. Nor will you find a lot of royal blue. Instead, for every corner of this guide, we’ve sought out brands and products that work as hard as you do, pieces that have durability completely nailed but also look sharp while performing. When you’re outfitted to look good, you feel good. Job done.


Recognizing that not every moment of your active life is spent on belay (though maybe you wish it were), we’ve introduced a lifestyle section. There you’ll find a wicked espresso machine and a new scooter, plus digital music players, laptops, PDAs, urban attachés, sporty sunglasses that don’t scream “outdoor geek,” and those quintessential pieces of beach-poaching gear, the flip-flop and sandal.


Not that we’ve gone soft on you. You’ll still find our top picks for the best expedition equipment ever—each candidate was subjected to our trademark regimen of torture trials. Tents were set up in the dark in driving rain high in the Cascades; digital cameras were grip-tested on vertical granite faces in British Columbia; luggage was thrown from the roof of a bus in Panama; and at least one bag was peed on by primates in Nevis (yes, really).


As in past years, we’ve bestowed our coveted , from sleeping bags to binoculars to kayaks. When it comes to the equipment and apparel you’ll trust with your life, we take our jobs very seriously indeed.


Question from the back row—the gentleman in the glacier glasses? Yes, you’ve got a point: Today’s ice-blue soft shell will look about as au courant ten years from now as the neon-pink jogging tights in our first issue do today. But you want to look good out there now, right? Then that’s the price you pay, brother.

Gear of the Year

Road Bikes & Mountain Bikes

Giant TCR Composite 2 $2,100

You could pay more than twice as much for a bike and not have this much fun. With a one-piece carbon frame, competition-worthy components, and intuitive handling, this Gear of the Year winner is an entry-level racer that moves “entry level” into the same neighborhood as “elite.”

1. For all its strengths on the hills, the Giant TCR really sparkles on the flats. Settle into a steady groove and you’ll sense that every fiber—in both the hyperefficient carbon frame and your muscles—is working to propel you forward.

2. Descending steep switchbacks or rounding city corners at speed, the TCR dives in and holds its line without any of the nervous twitchiness that can make some race rigs unsettling.

3. Giant has always offered great parts for the money, and the TCR doesn’t disappoint. Five years ago, a frame of this quality could have cost close to $5,000. To get it hung top to bottom with Shimano’s precision Ultegra drivetrain for just over two grand is unreal.

4. The TCR is available in five sizes, with Giant’s compact road geometry allowing for enough seat-and-handlebar-stem combinations to keep pretty much anyone comfortable and properly posi-tioned for the big ride.

5. The compact frame design and one-piece construction keep this 17-pound-seven- ounce rocket light and rigid—no extra tubing or complex joints to add weight or flex. You’ll climb faster. Period.

GT i-DXC 1.0 $2,600

GT designed its new i-DXC around the latest version of the company’s superefficient i-Drive suspension setup, so it rides as comfortably as a cross-country bike—without sacrificing race-day speed. Whatever your singletrack agenda, this Gear of the Year winner is equally equipped to play in the backcountry or jump into the competitive fray.

1. GT’s ingenious i-Drive isolates the drivetrain from the suspension to keep the distance between the cranks and the rear wheel constant. This eliminates the annoying chain “kick” that plagues many suspension setups.

2. The aluminum frame provides a rigid and necessary counterbalance to the cushy suspension. The rear triangle holds up under aggressive turns and hard, side-to-side cranking.

3. Wildly popular Crank Brothers Eggbeater pedals top off a great components mix—including a Shimano XT drivetrain that’s precise enough for racing yet burly enough to spare you a lot of expensive visits to your mechanic.

4. Four inches of travel adjust on a dime with Fox’s 3.5-pound F100R fork. Laterally stiff and sensitive as you want it to be, the front suspension improves handling in all situations.

5. Fox’s new Float RP3 rear shock really shines. By flipping a small lever, you can adjust pedaling efficiency as conditions dictate—more for climbs, less for drops—without losing any big-hit reserves.

Gear of the Year

Digital Cameras & Digital-Audio Players

Apple iPod Photo

Apple iPod Photo

Sony Cyber-shot DSC-V3 Pro $600

Sony’s 7.2-megapixel DSC-V3 nabs Gear of the Year by combining the soul of a pro-level SLR with silicon guts capable of punching out truly tack-sharp images. Thanks to a blindingly fast processor, you won’t have to forfeit now-or-never moments to “shutter lag”—that maddening pause between hitting the button and nailing the snap.

1. Thanks to its Real Imaging Processor—one of the speediest in the biz—the V3 will fire off eight pics at a respectable two frames per second before coming up for air. And that’s at full resolution.

2. Some of the best photo ops occur after dark, but it’s tough to set up a shot you can’t see. At least, it used to be. Select the V3’s infrared mode and frame up your otherwise blacked-out subject via a surveillance-cam-style black-and-white view.

3. The V3’s magnesium-alloy-and-plastic body flies in the face of the market’s tiny-is-best obsession. A good thing? You bet. While the V3 still fit inside my pack lid, its rubberized right-hand grip was easy to hold on to—even with sweaty digits—during a white-knuckle Latin America bus ride.

4. Almost all digicams—and let’s not forget some cell phones—can shoot movies, but few offer the V3’s TV-screen quality and 30-frames-per-second clarity. And with its anti-reflective 2.5-inch LCD preview screen, reliving your directorial debut is easy, even in bright sun.

5. You won’t find a competitively priced digital camera that can capture movement with such rapid autofocus and shutter response. Even with the zoom fully maxed out, I snapped a perfectly focused shot of a mountain biker coming in hot around a bend at dusk.

Apple iPod Photo $499

The killer app of the digital music revolution leapfrogs the pack by inviting your camera to the party. This 40-gig Gear of the Year champ easily organizes and pumps out 10,000 songs—or up to 25,000 photos, which you can spin through about as quickly as you can shuffle a deck of cards.

1. The lightning-fast 220-by-176-pixel LCD display renders your digital photos in 65,536 brilliant colors. View splashy album-cover art when playing a tune or set some shots to music before plugging into your plasma TV for a very 2005 slide show.

2. Apple’s iTunes Music Store—accessed via free OS X and Windows software—offers an impressive music catalog. Albums typically run $10, while single tracks go for 99 cents a click. Jam out to iTunes exclusives from the likes of U2, plus celebrity playlists.

3. No other player offers so many cool accessories. To wit: A media reader will transfer photos directly from your digital camera’s memory card to your iPod, FM transmitters will pipe your tunes through your car stereo, and a voice recorder will archive memos, interviews, and lectures.

4. Store contacts, reminders, and text files on the iPod’s calendar and scheduler, compatible with Microsoft Outlook and Apple’s iCal. An alarm gets you to your meeting on time, and a sleep timer lets you doze off to the Shins without sucking your battery dry.

5. Stuck in Layover Land? Apple stocks its iPods with diversions aplenty. Play solitaire, Parachute, Brick, and other vintage video games. Then test your knowledge of your own music library via Music Quiz, Apple’s equivalent of Name That Tune.

Gear of the Year

Camping Tents & Sleeping Bags

Sierra Designs Reverse Combi $240

At six pounds 13 ounces, the Reverse Combi is the heaviest of the eight new-for-2005 shelters we tested—and is probably the most tent you’ll want to carry. But this Gear of the Year’s thoughtful design and creature comforts threw our usual light-is-right rules out the mesh window. Perhaps bigger is better.

1. When you’re not obsessing over pounds, you can draw from a more appetizing menu of features: The Reverse Combi’s color-coded webbing speeds setup; pole tips lock into grommets for stability; and doors tuck nicely into side pockets to stay clean and out of the way.

2. If the Combi feels roomier than its 4.5-by-seven-foot floor plan suggests, it’s not the single-malt talking. Sierra Designs cleverly located varying diameter pole sections to create steeper walls and more living space than other similarly configured tents.

3. While many of today’s tents are cut prosciutto-thin to shave ounces, this shelter’s floor, body, and fly are made of heavier-gauge 70-denier nylon or taffeta nylon. With a new antimicrobial finish—designed to head off potential stuffsack funk—the Combi conveys a reassuring air of solidity; I expect it will still be inviting abuse in 2015.

4. Many side-entry tents have just one door, and heeding nature’s call can also mean waking up your camping chum. Luckily, the Combi gives each occupant an escape route. Another twofer: dueling 11-square-foot vestibules, each with a door that rolls up and out of the way.

5. With the rain fly staked out taut, the dome hunkered down like a tortoise, scarcely shuddering during a night of meteorological Sturm und Drang below Washington’s Mount Stuart. One quibble: The vestibules have pretty small windows.

Marmot Atom $229

Behold the Gear of the Year: A 16-ounce, 900-fill-down wonder that’s destined to be the new sleep standard for fastpackers and anyone else who appreciates gossamer weight in a three-season bag. Marmot’s ultrastuffable Atom practically vanishes into your pack.

1. How feathery is the Atom, with its Ÿber-premium down and superlight Pertex fabric? It reminded me of a chunk of San Francisco fog I once spotted scudding along California Street. How compressible? Picture a cantaloupe.

2. The Atom’s trapezoidal footbox—the bag’s bottom end swoops upward like a ski tip—won’t force you to splay your feet sideways.

3. Its 40-degree threshold might seem sketchy, but this nocturnal nest is all you need for most late-spring-through-early-autumn outings: It kept me—as well as several eager-to-try-it friends—toasty on a chilly September summit attempt yet stayed cool on summer car-camping trips to my local crags.

4. With its half-zip, the Atom won’t be mistaken for a stateroom, but it slips on like silk pajamas and is roomy enough around the shoulders for sleepers who don’t toss like a Maytag all night long.

5. Not many above-freezing bags sport a mummy hood, complete with an insulated face muff, and a cinch cord to batten down the hatches on brisk nights. Outfit yourself with a wool cap and some merino long underwear and push the Atom’s rating down to the frost line.

Gear of the Year

Road Runners & Trail Runners

Nike Free 5.0 $85

For decades, world-class athletes have conditioned their feet—and upped the speed at which they shift from one foot to the next—by leaving their shoes at home. Nike gets barefoot-running religion with the Free, which distills the training shoe to its very essence. For an ultra-minimalist platform, this year’s Gear of the Year winner is an astonishing performer.

1. Try out the Nike Free sans socks. Even sockless, there’s no chafe: Soft synthetic suede covers a seamless elastic-mesh upper. On both longish runs and quick neighborhood trots my feet felt solidly encased—yet were free to move where they pleased.

2. Most running shoes are designed to flex underfoot in front of the laces. The Free, scored on the underside like a chocolate bar, can be squished down to the size of a mango, and the shoe moves and bends every direction your foot would naturally.

3. Forget rock-solid heel plates locking your dogs in place. The Free instead offers a millimeter of elastic mesh. Thus liberated, my feet found a neutral, ultra-comfortable zone—instead of one dictated by multiple layers of material.

4. Acknowledging that every foot has its own idiosyncrasies, Nike sells the Free with two sculpted inserts. Start with the thicker one and, as you strengthen the muscles in your feet, move on to its thinner counterpart.

5. The midsole and arch support are much thinner and softer than those in conventional shoes, but there’s still enough lift and protection to guarantee some stability without compromising freedom of movement.

Montrail Hardrock Wide $93

When we finally terraform Mars, the first colonists will doubtless be issued Montrail Hardrock Wides—kicks perfectly suited to the dusty slopes of 78,740-foot-high Olympus Mons. OK, admittedly, we’re reaching, but our 2005 Gear of the Year trail runners have more than proved their worth on this planet, moving effortlessly from scree to sandstone to the blacktop that took us there.

1. The Hardrock Wide’s firm and deeply sculpted heel cup fits as if it’s been bone-grafted onto your foot. Superstellar. It’s impossible to fumble your stride with your heel so locked in place.

2. Size-EE feet feel at home in the Wides yet never go unsupported—thanks to a full-length polyurethane plate that wraps up, taco style, around the midfoot for torsional control. (There’s a standard width available for skinnier feet.) Overpronation is regulated with the authority of a strict school nun.

3. Montrail embraces chaos theory on the outsole—it’s bristling with triangles, bars, and dots—and the result is traction uphill, downhill, and sideways in dirt. On rock, the rubber lugs are shallow and stiff enough to grip tightly.

4. A midsole of dual-density EVA and a gel insert in the forefoot lend perfect plumpness—enough for forays on asphalt (not always the case with trail shoes) without the foot/trail disconnect that gives you that whoa! feeling on steep switchbacks.

5. Nylon mesh in the uppers ensures good ventilation, and copious synthetic leather embellished with raised rubber bumpers fends off rock scrapes and debris collisions.

Gear of the Year

Storm Shells & Soft Shells

REI Taku $199

Remember that high school buddy who souped up an old Datsun 510, then went looking for suckers to race? The Taku is his kind of jacket. At first glance this 2005 Gear of the Year pick is just another storm shell, but a closer look reveals a whole lotta functional horsepower.

1. The co-op deploys both “hard” and “soft” fabrics in all the right places, tapes all seams, and pulls off impressive abrasion resistance throughout. Swaths of Elements—REI’s three-layer waterproof-breathable fabric—shed Cascades-grade deluges on hood, shoulders, and cuffs.

2. An inside zipper flap shuts out drafts and keeps this jacket looking sleek, while rubberized pulls make opening and closing effortless, even with chubby gloves.

3. Thanks to stretchy, snug-fitting side panels, the Taku’s hood cinches around both your head and face for a fit that feels custom-molded. Even in the whipping wind at Point Reyes National Seashore, the hood stayed put, my peripheral vision remained clear, and I could actually hear what my friend was saying.

4. A single sidepiece, span- ning from waist to wrist, prevents the Taku from riding up when you reach, midcloudburst, to clamp your bike down on the roof rack. Near-invisible core vents, positioned out of the path of pack straps, afford full access to your base-layer pockets.

5. Go ahead, layer it with a deep-pile fleece. The Taku’s well-tailored, articulated design—seven fabric panels per facing side—won’t make you feel like you’re wearing a snowsuit.

Patagonia Ready Mix $199

Sick of the bulk and crinkle of traditional shells? The doctor prescribes the new bargain-priced Patagonia Ready Mix, an airy dream of silky, stretchy protection that packs down to the size of a pomelo. This sensual soft shell is all you need for everything but the soppingest, most high-impact endeavors, which is why it gets Gear of the Year.

1. Cycling in Portland, Oregon, one particularly nasty day, I was amazed by how the supple Ready Mix thwarted a spanking rain. As I madly pedaled my way to an espresso joint, Patagonia’s durable water-resistant Deluge finish kept me dry as biscotti.

2. Spacious chest vents eliminate the need for pit zips—and double as glove compartments, without significantly sacrificing airflow. Plus the Napoleon pocket can easily stash a couple of hoagies.

3. Inside and out, welded seams fuse 3.4-ounce double-weave stretch panels, which are oriented for pitch and yaw to allow maximum freedom of movement. Reinforced shoulder, elbow, and hip panels—constructed of beefier 5.5-ounce poly—protect chafe points. She may be soft, but she’s tough, too.

4. Dig the subtle touches: an offset zip that ends up next to—not under—your chin; a self-cinching hood; a smushy visor that holds its form; Swiss-cheese-like hook-and-loop closures at the cuffs to shave weight; and watertight zips.

5. The smart design of the Ready Mix meshes slinky comfort with serious utility. Like a classic shell, it’s fully featured, but its cocktail of unbeatable breathability, easy one-hand cinching, ultralight heft (only 14 ounces!), and windproof fabric shifts the paradigm.

Gear of the Year

Luggage & Backpacks

Eagle Creek Switchback Max ES 25 $295

Here’s a cleanly designed multitasker with the right goods for road tripping, globe-trotting, or anything in between. Trundle this 2005 Gear of the Year fave up to the reception desk at the W Hotel without looking like you’re fresh off the mountain, then zip off the bomber backpack to launch into the urban jungle—or more challenging environs.

1. Don’t sweat the baggage handlers. The Switchback protects your possessions like a fortress, with a tough skid plate, corner guards, and beefy ripstop-nylon construction. Because the design gurus deploy heavier fabric only at abrasion hot spots, the whole package stays relatively light: 11 pounds.

2. As far as wheelies go, this 4,300-cube hybrid hauler drives like a dream, thanks to an ergonomically curved locking handle that shifts your load onto the rollers. A side-haul grip and padded top handle offer good grab when the time comes to muscle the Switchback up into the TGV vestibule.

3. Forget futzing with extraneous organizational doodads in the main compartment. Zip open the top panel to reveal a spacious interior rigged with an adjustable mesh-buckle system that compresses and secures take-alongs, plus a zippered laundry pocket.

4. The detachable daypack ain’t no afterthought—at 1,500 cubic inches, it’s plenty big for urban or rugged forays. (It easily garaged my laptop for morning caffeine recon missions.) Dual stow-away water-bottle holders inject trekking DNA, and the front zippered pocket sports sleeves for gizmos and paperwork.

5. In bipedal mode, the zip-out backpack suspension and 3-D lumbar material are downright plush, especially where it matters most—over your tailbone. Sculpted shoulder, sternum, and load-lifter straps are all fully adjustable—and ready for any multi-day trek.

Osprey Atmos 50 $199

At first glance, this hauler might seem born out of Lockheed’s Skunkworks, but relax: Our Gear of the Year pack will get you there and back in a flash. A matchless mesh suspension setup saves aches and ounces, while the main compartment smartly stows as much or as little as you like. You’ll be sure to uncover something new every time you take the Osprey out.

1. Like a stretchy cotton hammock, the breezy back panel keeps you happily cool while it supports up to 3,000 cubic inches of swag. Hinged aluminum stays direct weight to the hipbelt, and the shoulder straps comfortably bear the balance.

2. A sleeping bag, clothes, food, and other sundry items slide easily into the main compartment, while accessible twin side pockets hold Nalgenes, fuel, or even a flask filled with whiskey—you devil, you! On the outside, diagonal compression straps tote trekking poles and the kitchen sink.

3. Shoulder straps and hipbelt are perforated to save weight without skimping on comfort.

4. Helpful extras make a good pack better: A supple shovel pocket can stash just-in-case raingear; there’s a bonus cubby behind the mesh back panel for an extra hydration pack (or a smelly shirt); and bottom compression straps batten down a sleeping pad nicely.

5. Don’t be the fiddler. Light and fast means well-placed straps and seams that steer clear of pocket zippers, grant-ing hassle-free access to your must-have stuff. On a sun-drenched trail, I easily shed and stored layers—without adding frustration.

Gear of the Year

Light Hikers & Kayaks

Garmont Eclipse XCR $120

Stripped-down light hikers can leave weekend adventurers craving a little more of everything. But, just like my pre-ramble, all-you-can-eat Southern breakfast, the Eclipse XCR fills the plate. Balancing strength and flexibility, this waterproof Gear of the Year winner made a meal of Alabama’s rugged Pinhoti Trail in a hard winter rain.

1. Ankle sprains are the Achilles’ heel of low-cut footwear, but the Eclipse XCR fights back. A high inner cuff stabilizes the joint to discourage it from rolling inward, while a rigid leather strip lining the outside of the upper cuff kept me secure on the scree.

2. Many load-bearing hikers have overbuilt heels that impart a ski-boot gait—not pretty when you’re negotiating a crowded pub with a full, après-tramp pint. However, the back of the heel on the Eclipse swoops upward, for sneaker-like strolling.

3. Smallish tongues can shift, often leading to chafing at the intersection of ankle and foot. To reduce slippage, Garmont equipped this hiker with a broader tongue that extends down toward the ankle on the inboard side of your foot.

4. Even after shouldering a 30-pound pack, the plastic web in the cushy midsole kept my feet in the game. I could feel the material working like an in-shoe backbone, supporting my soles and lessening fatigue without compromising flex.

5. You won’t slosh around in these bad lads, thanks to a Gore-Tex XCR membrane, which functions like a pair of rubber galoshes. But watch out: XCR can choke in high temps; my toes felt damp after trekking through steamy ravines in the soggy Chattahoochee National Forest.

Dagger Crazy 88 $1,150

Ready to go pro? Then you already know that tricks are for kids—and success hinges on huge air. Enter Dagger’s Crazy 88, our Gear of the Year selection. This boat is a masterly equation of length, width, weight, and volume distribution, all of which pull together when the time comes to skip off the lip and into the big time.

1. The upswept cockpit increases the boat’s overall buoyancy; while popping out of front flips and back flips, I felt like I was on a trampoline.

2. Dagger equipped the Crazy 88 with an add-on called an Overthruster. The detachable plastic pod—about the size of an airline meal tray—increases the boat’s volume, ergo its buoyancy. Plunging into the same hole avec and sans Overthruster proved its worth: an extra foot or so of vertical.

3. The Crazy 88 was designed for radical maneuvers like aerial backstabs—picture a back-to-front rotation at a 45-degree angle—but Dagger also softened up this boat’s lines. Result: You’ll quickly recover from a botched stunt—and maybe even call it a new move!

4. An inch or two svelter than the rest of the Dagger fleet, and boasting a flatter hull, this 28-pounder—among the lightest of the ten boats I tested—is both spry and damn fast.

5. Simple and lightweight outfitting—the padding that keeps you snug and comfy in the cockpit—dials in a perfect fit with little fuss. A removable wedge raises the seat to deter thigh cramps, and your perch moves fore and aft on a track to accommodate your height.

Gear of the Year

Sunglasses & Binoculars

Rudy Project Maskeryna $125

Rudy Project hits the sweet spot where sportsworthiness becomes fashion and vice versa. This frameless wonder fends off 70-mile-an-hour winds as effectively as ski goggles, but it’ll also turn heads in Santa Barbara. Add dreamy optics and negligible weight and the result is a Gear of the Year award.

1. The whole shebang—lens and tendril earpieces—is a springy unit that holds onto the head delicately yet quite securely. Without being conspicuously sport-shield-like, the Maskeryna gives all the protection any athlete could ever need.

2. The no-frame wraparound uni-lens is undeniably chic—but it’s also trs sportif, at just over half an ounce. You’ll forget you’re wearing it. Plus the Maskeryna slayed the wind when I stood up in a convertible doing 75 on the Ventura Freeway.

3. The best polycarbonate lenses are injection-molded under very high pressure—and Rudy pummels these shades with over five and a half tons of it per square inch. The result? Crystalline clarity and acuity, plus improved scratch resistance.

4. A warm orange-brown tint blocks blue light—a bane of sharp focus—rendering everything suitably crisp and 3-D. But don’t blink; you might miss the perfect view: This tint also helps speed up visual navigation and, by extension, your road- or mountain-biking pace.

5. Silicone-compound schnoz pads anchor the Maskeryna when you’re sweaty and taking hits and dips from the trail and can also be adjusted for fit. Vanity points: These slender, teardrop-shaped grippies don’t leave deep, red nose-dents.

Brunton Epoch Zoom $1,900

A couple years back, Brunton bagged its first Gear of the Year award with the burly, waterproof, scalpel-sharp Epochs. For 2005, greatness gets an upgrade. The new Brunton Epoch Zoom invites you to view the whole horizon, then drill in tight with the touch of a lever. Result? Another trophy for the mantel.

1. The gunmetal-gray synthetic-rubber coating is simultaneously supple and grippy, and helps these big barrels stand apart from the competition you’ll find at the local wildlife refuge.

2. Most zoom binoculars are gimmicks, with the required extra glass and adjustment lever contributing little more than weight. But the Brunton Epochs are a serious high-performance tool; they allow you to optimize magnification—from 8x to 15x—for the task at hand.

3. A burly but light magnesium-alloy frame keeps the weight of these feature-rich magnifiers at a respectable 32 ounces, while also providing a stout chassis to rebuff the knocks and dings of heavy field use. Oops, backed the Land Rover over your Epochs? The company will resupply anywhere in the world at no charge.

4. The view through these binocs is bright and true: no fogging, color aberration, or distortion on the edges, thanks to nitrogen-filled barrels and fully multicoated lenses and prisms.

5. A supersize, center focus wheel hooked to a variable-speed focusing system—offering fine-tuning close in and lightning-quick target acquisition farther out—makes for smooth transitions from that warbler in the willows to the hawk on the horizon.

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How exactly do you go about getting 80 people, 14 boats, and several thousand pounds of equipment from one end of the deepest river canyon in the world to the other? You view it like a king-sized, 150-mile-long obstacle course fiendish enough to confound even the most talented river runners, Himalayan trekkers, and canyoneers, and plan accordingly. Success at making it from one end to the other will require—in addition to a very large pile of gear—perfect coordination between a paddling team and two ground teams, each with its own logistical challenges and objectives.

Tsangpo Gorge

Eye in the sky: satellite close-up of the Tsangpo Gorge

Chevrolet Avalanche

Approach vehicle: The Chevrolet Avalanche

Navigation

Satellite images provided by Space Imaging lent the team an eagle’s eye view of entire gorge in advance with detail never before available. Photographs showing rapids, side canyons, trails, and passes have been downloaded into the team’s laptop computers and on to CDs with resolution five times higher than what was possible just four years ago. Waypoints from the satellite images will be programmed into Garmin GPS receivers to keep the team on course. And, just in case of a major technological hiccup, they also have a complete set of ancient Russian topo maps.


Paddling

While February in the Himalayas might not seem like ideal kayaking weather, it is vital to attempt the river before the spring melt raises the river flow to impossible levels. Because hiking next to the river is impossible for much of the way, the seven paddlers will be out of reach of the ground teams for as much as five days at a time, so the boats are equipped with food, sleeping bags, and bivy shelters, as well as climbing gear in case the team becomes trapped by an unrunnable rapid and has to climb out. The kayaks used span a range of brands-Pyranha, Liquid Logic, Riot, and Perception-but are generally medium-volume models (70- to 75- gallon), large enough to carry gear but maneuverable enough to negotiate Class VI rapids. In deference to the extremely cold river water, the paddlers are wearing full dry suits with fleece underlayers.


Ground Teams
While the paddlers focus on navigating the river, the ground teams will face an equal challenge safely traversing the steep slopes and passes of the gorge. The primary ground team, led by David Allardice, who runs Nepal-based outfitter Ultimate Descents, will leave with the paddlers from Pe and attempt to parallel them downriver. The team will benefit greatly from the presence of Ken Storm, Jr., a five-time Tsangpo veteran. The second ground team, headed by Rob Hind, a former guide for Ultimate Descents, will start from the village of Pelung on the Po Tsangpo River and head downstream to rendezvous with the paddlers near the confluence. The expedition has hired five Nepali Sherpas, all of them with extensive Himalayan experience, to supervise the 60-plus local porters. Four of the Sherpas will accompany the primary ground team; the other will trek with the second team.


Mountaineering
One of the crux moves of the expedition will be when the paddlers leave the river to skirt the unrunnable section between Rainbow Falls and the confluence of the Po Tsangpo River. Then paddlers and ground team will climb to the 11,000-foot-plus Sechen La Pass before descending to the village of Payi and then on to the confluence. The conditions at the pass could still be icy and treacherous, so the group is equipped with crampons, ice axes, and avalanche probes and beacons. Primary ground team member and experienced mountaineer Andrew Sheppard will coordinate this section.


Communication

Communication equipment will provide a vital, and possibly lifesaving, link among the paddlers, between the paddlers and the ground teams, and between the expedition as a whole and the outside world. Iridium satellite telephones, with Web links via laptop computers, will handle communications between the ground teams and emergencies; ham radios will maintain the connection between the ground teams and paddlers, and the paddlers will use Motorola Talkabouts to stay in touch with each other. The ground team has a 1,000-watt Honda generator for major backup power and recharging the laptops, and the satellite telephones can be plugged into solar panels for recharging.


Mother Nature
In the upper, spruce-forested reaches of the gorge at or above 9,000 feet elevation, the climate is alpine, and frigid air masses sink off the ice-covered flanks of the peaks to sweep the river. Yet at the bottom, less than 1,000 feet above sea level, the Tsangpo runs through dense jungle-complete with leeches and venomous snakes. So expedition members will face conditions ranging from possible avalanches off the ice-covered slopes of Namcha Barwa and Gyala Pelri, to mud slides and hordes of insects. The teams will begin the journey layered in Gore-Tex and down, lugging four-season tents (they’ve even brought snowshoes), and probably wind up sweating, swatting, and wearing next to nothing.


Access

Getting from Tibet’s capital city of Lhasa into the gorge requires a 250-mile drive cresting over the 16,000-foot Mount Milha pass and terminating on the rough dirt roads along the Tsangpo’s right bank. Expedition sponsor Chevrolet Avalanche has airlifted three trucks to China to transport the team and their 14 kayaks and almost 2,000 pounds of gear. Once the team has completed the descent, the Avalanches will pick them at the town of Pelung, where the Po Tsangpo tributary intersects with the Friendship Highway.

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EVERY GUIDE HAS A client-with-a- cheap-tent horror story, each one a variation on the same theme: The weary outfitter has just marshalled a squad of tenderfoots up a mountain, or maybe he’s pacing out the Griswold family compound on a gravel beach in Oregon. Now watch our hero’s face fall as one of his clients proudly unpacks a $39.95 discount dome that will leak in the lightest drizzle, collapse in the slightest breeze, tear at the merest abrasion, and come apart at the seams without any help from the elements. Guess who gets to fix it at 3 a.m.? (Hint: It ain’t the client.)

You don’t have to be a pro to know that a tent is your last refuge when everything else goes to hell. Whether it’s a blizzard on Pakistan’s Nanga Parbat or a summer thunderstorm during a car-camping jaunt to Yellowstone, you need a well-made shelter to shield you from the elements. Fortunately, it’s easier than ever to find a high-quality tent that fits any budget. Plus, many models span several needs: Three- season convertible tents with zippered screen panels adapt easily to summer sun or winter storms, while other models light enough to pack on your back are still plenty roomy for tailgate expeditions. Meanwhile, strength and durability continue to improve. More manufacturers are using naturally UV-resistant polyester for rain flies, stronger and lighter aluminum poles, and computer-aided design to create taut structures that won’t collapse, even in the stiffest gales.
To bring you up to date, we’ve assembled the newest nylon wonders, from a tiny solo hiker up to a cabin-size family shelter. Each one spells pleasant dreams for everyone in your party—including, of course, the guy who knows the way home.

MSR Superfusion, Sierra Designs Nomad 4, and Marmot Racer X

On those warm, buggy nights, turn the two-person, four-season, 42-square-foot MSR SUPERFUSION ($400) into a screened-in porch by zipping open the door panel and three floor-to-ceiling panels on the canopy to uncover gigantic swaths of netting. When the clouds darken, zip everything tight and attach the fly—gusts we clocked at 41 mph during our field test rolled right off. Inside, a tan polyester fly bathes the space in a pleasant neutral light. But be sure to pitch this ten-pound tent before the raindrops arrive: It took me eight minutes and change to assemble. (800-531-9531, )

At 13 pounds, 15 ounces, the SIERRA DESIGNS NOMAD 4 ($349) is an admitted heavyweight for a family backpacking jaunt. On the other hand, its 56 square feet will comfortably sleep two adults and two kids, deftly serving both family trekking and car-camping needs (sofa and TV not included). (And check out the five feet, six inches of headroom.) Its cunning fly rolls up to expose the canopy’s large screen panels to the breeze, and unrolls and secures in seconds under stormy conditions, where, thanks to its three large aluminum poles, you’ll feel secure in the sturdiest tent of its size we’ve ever seen. (800-635-0461, )
If the The Price Is Right put the MARMOT RACER X ($199) up for bid, every contestant would guess way over retail. You get a two-person, three-season tent; a full door with a seven-square-foot vestibule; and a generous 34.5 square feet of floor space. All this in a six-pound, eight-ounce package that takes one person three minutes and five seconds to deploy from stuffsack to fully staked (after a little practice). There’s only one significant trade-off: A lone horizontal band of screen mesh along the top allows decent ventilation when the fly is off, but not enough when it’s on. (707-544-4590, )

Expd Andromeda, The North Face Mountain Marathon, and Mountain Hardwear’s Hammerhead 2

Thanks in part to its Quonset-hut shape, the EXPED ANDROMEDA ($469) yields a garage of a vestibule that houses up to two bicycles. Surprisingly for its size, the tent went up—after rehearsing—in four minutes flat. Stake out the rear, insert the three poles into their sleeves, peg down the front, and you’re left with a low-profile design that shrugs off howling crosswinds. Inside, two people share 38 square feet of play room with bright yellow walls. But air moves only via the screen door and two peak vents in the fly, so save this eight-pound, 15-ounce tent for wherever wind and rain protection come first. (888-609-7187, )

Want to travel swift and solo? Carry THE NORTH FACE MAOUNTAIN MARATHON ($199). .It provides all-mountain weather protection and just enough headroom to thwart claustrophobia The Lilliputian shelter (24 square feet; three pounds, ten ounces) comes with a screen canopy and a polyester fly complete with a tiny vestibule. The low profile sheds wind so effectively that, were it not for the screen canopy, this baby would qualify for winter duty. Minimalists, listen up: Haul just the tent for simple protection from pests, pack only the fly for a two-pound rain shelter. (800-719-6678, )

For a two-person backpacking tent, the MOUNTAIN HARDWEAR HAMMERHEAD 2 ($255) is darn near perfect. Size: 36 square feet. Weight: seven pounds, ten ounces. Fly: factory-sealed seams, polyester, with a skylight to boot. Ventilation: a roll-back ceiling panel that lets you feel the breeze (though with the fly staked down, that airflow stops). Pitch time: less than five minutes. When staked, the Hammerhead sheds wind like a stalwart, high-elevation assault tent. We rate it a three-season-plus: brilliant for those sketchy late-fall trips when rain turns to snow. (800-499-8696, )

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If the current downward spiral in weight and compressibility continues, we won’t need sleeping-bag compartments in our packs anymore; we’ll just drop mini stuffsacks into the main well with the rest of the gear.

Two things are fueling this technological Oprah diet: First, thanks to the opening of new markets in Eastern Europe over the last five years, the availability of ultra-high-quality goose down has increased. The new supply is often superior to Asian down: European birds, it seems, are allowed to mature longer because old birds make for tastier pâté de foie gras and loftier feathers. An ounce of the best Polish or Hungarian stuff lofts to fill 750 or 800 cubic inches, as opposed to 600 or 650 c.i. for top-notch down of a decade past.
Second, mad fabric scientists striving to hatch the perfect artificial goose have refined insulations like Polarguard HV, which is 25 percent lighter than the original, and, in the case of Polarguard 3D, made from a finer, more compressible polyester filament. (A piece of Polarguard 3D pulled from a bag, incidentally, floats around the room like a feather.) Down is still tops for packability and longevity, of course, but synthetic bags are a lot less expensive and they work better in damp conditions.


We’ve collected six of the best bags for backpacking, where warmth and light weight are paramount; for mountaineering, where warmth can save your life; and for sea kayaking, where you need bags that won’t fail in high humidity. All of the bags we tested were chosen because they incorporate the latest materials and designs. As for the manufacturers’ temperature ratings, view them with skepticism, adding or subtracting ten or 15 degrees depending on what you know about your metabolism. We have, however, included some numbers that are almost as important to a night’s restÑshoulder and foot room in inches. Buy a bag too tight and you’ll wake up with your long johns in a twist. Whatever you do, don’t delay. Any one of the bags on these pages is better than that ripe mouse-nest roll you’ve been hauling.

Backpacking

The North Face Flight (synthetic)
At a scant two pounds, one ounce, the Flight ($150) won’t unbalance a weekend backpack load, and at this price it won’t unbalance your budget either. Fifteen ounces of Polarguard Delta insulation—the lightest Polarguard to date, and exclusive to TNF until this spring—gives the Flight a 35-degree rating, sufficient for most warm-weather trips if you don’t mind wearing a hat and a heavy fleece on colder nights. The feel of the Delta insulation is more, well, downlike than any synthetic we’ve tried before: It’s soft and drapes loosely around the body, without the squirmy, clumpy feel of earlier polyesters. With 62 inches of shoulder room and 40 inches at the foot, it’s big enough for restless sleepers, who’ll also appreciate the pillow pocket in the hood.
800-447-2333;

Western Mountaineering Apache Super DL (down) Western Mountaineering offers you a choice of three lengths, several shell-material options, and extra stuffing where you need it (cold feet? no problem), and then sews it all together in California with a fussy English tailor’s attention to detail. With its 750-fill down fully fluffed, the Apache ($420) seems ready to levitate off your sleeping pad. It weighs just two pounds, six ounces, yet boasts a 15-degree rating—warm enough to shrug off an unexpected cold snap. The company doesn’t scrimp on features to attain that impressive lightweight but warm mark: The bag has a full-length zipper, a (somewhat tight) hood, and decent, if not commodious, shoulder and foot room (59 and 38 inches). The shell is Gore Dryloft, a laminated fabric that keeps condensation away from those precious feathers. Skip the Dryloft and you’ll save $135.
408-287-8944;

The Pads

Backpacking: Cascade Designs Therm-a-Rest Ultralight 3/4 Length ($54): The Ultralight weighs just one pound (one and a half for the full-length version), 20 percent less than the original Ultralight. With open-cell foam and self-inflating air cushioning, it’s more comfortable than its 3/4-inch thickness suggests. Tall folks, however, may bang their knees on the ground all night.
800-527-1527;

Mountaineering: Mountain Hardwear Highmountain 72 Pad ($60): Mountain Hardwear uses a combination of closed- and open-cell foam in its Highmountain pad to give it an impressive insulative R value of 6.75 (compared with 2.6 for most lightweight pads). Extremely comfortable thanks to almost two inches of foam, the Highmountain is tapered at the foot to save weight. Be advised: It’s still a hefty two-pound, six-ounce package.
Sea kayaking: Big Agnes REM two-inch pad ($75): When the boat’s toting the weight, why not indulge? Big Agnes’s REM self-inflating pads are 20 by 72 inches and come in one-, 1.5-, and two-inch thicknesses. They all mate with the Cross Mountain sleeping bag, but the two-inch version feels like the finest featherbed on a gravel riverbank. At two pounds, 12 ounces, however, it’s not something you’d want to schlepp in a backpack—Big Agnes makes a thinner, mummy-shaped pad for that.

Mountaineering

Marmot Aiguille (down) “Cold spot” is not a term Marmot’s designers tolerate. Which is why the minus-5-degree Aiguille ($520) is constructed with such complex baffling—11 in the foot, nine in the chest, six in the hood—keeping its 30 ounces of plump 800-fill down where it belongs. You might expect that all this stitching would translate to a straitjacket feel, but that’s not the case. There’s a generous 64 inches of shoulder room and 44 inches at the foot (which is lined with heavier fabric for sleeping with boots or liners on). Since wet down—even 800-fill—has the insulative value of sheet metal, the Aiguille’s shell is a Dryloft laminate to fend off dew and frost. And the weight penalty for all this performance? Just three pounds, two ounces.
888-627-6680;

Mountain Hardwear King Tut EX SL (down) The old hot-rodder’s axiom “There’s no substitute for cubic inches” holds with sleeping bags too. In the case of the King Tut ($525), 37 ounces of 775-fill down—roughly 27,000 cubic inches’ worth—keeps you steamy to a numbing minus 20 degrees. When conditions are mild (or, conversely, when they’re so nasty you’d rather get dressed inside the bag) the Tut sports a trick expandable pleat: Undo a second side zipper and the bag grows widthwise by eight inches, augmenting its already excellent 64 inches of shoulder room and 40 inches at the foot, and letting more heat escape in the process. The shell fabric is backed by a waterproof-breathable laminate. All that down and extra material adds up, of course, but four pounds, three ounces isn’t bad if it means you’ll sleep through the night.
800-330-6800;

Sea Kayaking

Big Agnes Cross Mountain (synthetic) If you’ve ever slid off a slick mattress pad onto the cold ground, you’ll appreciate the 40-degree Big Agnes Cross Mountain ($120). This semirectangular two-pound, three-ounce bag is insulated only on top (with 19 ounces of Polarguard 3D). The bottom of the bag is a simple envelope into which you insert any 20-inch-wide pad. Toss, turn, thrash—no matter, you stay aligned above the pad. And because there’s no insulation beneath you, the bag is less likely to soak up water. At 70 inches across the shoulder, the Cross Mountain is big enough to slip the Encampment, another Big Agnes bag, inside, giving you a multilayer all-Polarguard system good to minus 10 degrees. Complaints? The zipper only extends two-thirds the length of the bag, annoying in a summer-weight design.
877-554-8975;
Sierra Designs Metamorph (synthetic) All you need is a heavy drumbeat to accompany the striptease act of the Metamorph ($220). Zip off the top layer and the bag converts from a buxom three-pound, 11-ounce, 15-degree model to a lithe two-pound, eight-ounce, 30-degree waif. The top is no simple augmentation, though; It’s cut to wrap around the bag on three sides, integrating with the bottom layer rather than squashing it. Both shells are treated to repel moisture, so you don’t lose weather protection in either mode. No matter which configuration you’re in, you’ll notice the room inside: 63 inches at the shoulder and 43 inches at the foot. The hood (part of the bottom bag) is large and comfortable. Underneath, two straps help secure your sleeping pad against slippage.
800-635-0461;

Warm Water Survival Kit

What do you get when you head to the Yucatán with a haul bag full of the latest snorkeling and scuba gear, on a mission to cull the best of the best? These six superlative choices.

A.B. Biller Travel Spear ($94; 630-529-2729; ) Never forget the lesson of the first season of Survivor: He who spears fish, thrives. A.B. Biller’s four-piece travel spear turns any desert island into a sushi buffet, yet it breaks down small enough to fit into a backpack. Multiple tips are available, but you’ll most likely want the Paralyzer, a dagger well suited to a variety of species—provided you’ve checked local customs and regulations beforehand.

Tusa Platina Hyperdry Mask ($83; 800-482-2282; ) With its latest Platina Hyperdry, Tusa fixed a major drawback of purge-valve masks by moving the exhaust valve from the nose and tucking it in the silicone skirt below the left lens. The result: a comfortable, low-volume mask that clears easily with a gentle exhale, even when completely flooded. And because of the valve location, bubbles pass to the side, not directly in front of your field of vision.

Ocean Master Dry Snorkel ($55; 626-582-8000; ) Dry snorkels—which eliminate the need to clear water from flooded mouthpieces—have come a long way since the old ping-pong-ball-in-a-cage models. Ocean Master’s patented design means no unexpected wave or dunking can spill brine into the barrel from the top, period. For any water that sneaks in around your lips, a mouthpiece purge valve provides a quick exit. There’s one negative to the design, however: The air-filled tube pulls annoyingly at your mouth and mask strap when you dive.

Fab Force Fin SK2 ($125; 800-346-7946; ) Everywhere snorkelers congregate you see them—suckers who rented cheap fins and are paying the price in the form of blisters. Sure, SK2s are pricey, but they’re the gold standard in comfort and durability. An open-toed adjustable foot pocket makes ’em feel like slippers, not fins, and the snappy polyurethane blades have a light and zippy flipper action.
Henderson Polyolefin suit ($80; 856-825-4771; ) Even paradise has its dark side. For snorkelers in tropical waters, it manifests as tiny stinging jellyfish, nasty coral scrapes, or the searing pain of a sunburned back. Luckily, Henderson’s tropical-weight dive suit keeps those hazards at bay. Made from a 17-ounce poly/Lycra blend, it has neoprene knee-pads to protect the stretch fabric from tears, so you won’t look like a wreck even though you’re a certified beach bum.

Suunto Advanced Computer Watch ($775; 800-543-9124; ) For those infogeeks (myself included) for whom warm-water memories aren’t enough, the Suunto Computer Watch is data-rich salvation. The handsome, stainless-steel-cased watch is a fully functional dive computer, depth gauge, and bottom timer. That means it’ll chart and store every freedive you make below four feet, information which, when you get back to the office, you can download to the company PC and view with Suunto’s accompanying Dive Manager software.

Books

Wild Ideas

The Future of Life, by Edward O. Wilson (Knopf, $22). In volume after volume (Biophilia, The Diversity of Life, Consilience), the unrepentant father of sociobiology and Harvard’s septuagenarian ant man—”old enough,” he says, “to have had tea with Darwin’s last surviving granddaughter”—has been riding among us, the biosphere’s Paul Revere, crying out that disaster is coming. In his first book to focus exclusively on a blueprint for global conservation, E. O. Wilson defines in less than 200 pages the incalculable value and fragility of “the totality of life…a membrane of organisms…so thin it cannot be seen edgewise from a space shuttle, yet so internally complex that most species composing it remain undiscovered.” He introduces us to Emi, a Sumatran rhino at the Cincinnati Zoo, one of only a few hundred left of her kind, to remind us that our species is “the planetary killer,” consuming our way down the food chain. “First to go among animal species are the big, the slow, and the tasty,” he writes, and, of course, anything with tusks or horns. But solutions, he argues—stopping old-growth logging, saving ecological hot spots, raising Third World living standards through ecotourism and bioprospecting—are within our grasp. Oddly enough, it has fallen to an entomologist, and one of the finest science writers this country has ever produced, to insist that we make an ethical decision to preserve what’s left. Otherwise, he says, our descendants will want to know “why, by needlessly extinguishing the lives of other species, did we permanently impoverish our own?”

—Caroline Fraser


Servants of the Map, by Andrea Barrett (W.W. Norton, $25). Such passion, such longing, such hot-blooded lust—if Andrea Barrett were writing about sex she’d rival Jackie Collins. But Barrett’s new story collection is about 19th-century science, which inspires emotions in her characters usually reserved for more animate objects of desire. In the title story, a toiler on England’s Grand Trigonometrical Survey of India, the project that mapped the Himalayas in the 1860s, leaves his wife for the tarty pleasures of botany. “Two Rivers” follows a pioneering paleontologist into the Dakota Badlands in 1853, and “Theories of Rain” describes a young woman’s longing to study Descartes and Urbano d’Aviso. Barrett’s previous fiction—Ship Fever and The Voyage of the Narwhal—established her brilliance at capturing the interaction of human and landscape, and it is on fine display here. In one scene, a crevasse swallows a Survey worker as a snake swallows its prey: “The ice inside the crevasse, warmed by the heat it stole from Bancroft’s body, would have melted and pulled him inch by inch farther down, chilling him and slowing his blood, stealing his breath as fluid pooled in his feet and legs and his heart struggled to push it back up. By nightfall, with the cold pouring down from the stars, the cold wind pouring down from the peaks, the slit which had parted and shaped itself to Bancroft’s body would have frozen solid around him.” (Shiver.) Barrett could well be describing her own prose: meticulous, inexorable, and deep. —Bruce Barcott


The Shell Collector, by Anthony Doerr (Scribner, $23). With this debut collection, 28-year-old Anthony Doerr invades the fictional territory of Rick Bass and brightens the place up with touches of Borgesian fable. Like Bass, he centers his stories on taciturn hunters and fishers with deep reservoirs of emotion—inept conversationalists and husbands whose senses only come alive in the woods. They know where the local bear hibernates and how trout overwinter, and can feel the minute changes in stream flow: “The tea-colored river purls around his waders, thick and clingy, the way river water gets when it is cold.” Doerr’s wilderness contains a touch of the magical, too: A blind shell collector on the coast of Kenya discovers a miracle cure in a snail’s toxic sting. Tourists land a carp so huge it can’t be photographed. A woman finds she can divine the dreams of animals by feeling them. “Want to know what he dreams?” she asks her husband after touching a grizzly’s fur. “Blackberries. Trout. Dredging his flanks across river pebbles.” These are tales that capture both the wonder and the icy indifference of nature, and Doerr tells them exceedingly well. —B.B.
The Dressing Station: A Surgeon’s Chronicle of War and Medicine, by Jonathan Kaplan (Grove Press, $25). “Surgeons,” writes this South African field doctor, “are permitted to be sometimes wrong but never in doubt.” If so, Kaplan is an extraordinary exception, for in this memoir of his peripatetic career as a war-zone trauma surgeon, he admits to being “part butcher, part priest” and wonders despairingly if “there were more effective ways to stop people dying than by being a surgeon.” That kind of insight, and a gift for grisly description, elevates Kaplan’s narrative beyond adventure and medical soap opera—this is the real thing. Working in Kurdistan after the Gulf War, when Kurds were being slaughtered by Iraqi Republican Guards, he performs “a lot of little amputations: the removal of small, black, frostbitten toes from the feet of children who had come over the mountains of Iraq in pathetic patent-leather loafers, bought in quieter times by proud town-dwelling Kurdish parents.” Later, operating on Kurdish fighters inside Iraq, he must dispose of amputated flesh by throwing it over a barbed-wire fence, to be devoured by feral dogs. “I was just a doctor,” Kaplan writes, “with uncertain clinical detachment, the vice of restlessness and some tarnished shreds of idealism,” but his book illuminates the consequences of war and the ambiguities of relief work at a time when these issues couldn’t matter more. —C.F.

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