Beau Fredlund Backcountry Ski Photos, Cooke City, Mont.

Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ambassador Beau Fredlund takes spectacular photos from his home turf, the backcountry around Cooke City, Mont. Beau ski tours extensively (often using his favorite backpack, the 4400 Porter Pack). 

Photos by Beau Fredlund

Outside Cooke City, Mont. with skis and the Porter Pack. 
The mountains of Montana.

 

Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ambassadors are the team of elite athletes, guides and adventurers who help test and refine our gear.  They also send us some spectacular pics and stories from their expeditions and adventures with our gear.  And they remind us that outside it the place to be, and light and fast is the way to attack it!

 

Ultralight Gear List For Thru Hiking & Backpacking

Stripped Down Ultralight Gear List (3-season), By Mike St. Pierre

Mike St. PIerre - Grand Canyon 2016

by Mike St. Pierre

Going lightweight is not just a goal for my backcountry travel; it’s how I live my life. I believe embracing lightweight translates to going further, faster and suffering less in general. Less gear (and ultralight gear) equals more adventure. In terms of outdoor escapades, the first thing I did to lighten my load was address the “Big Three” (aka “Three Heavies”): my pack, shelter and sleeping systems. This article outlines what I take with me on the trail during the warmer months. Plus, I offer some recommendations for stoves, clothes, filters, shoes and more.

Read Mike St. Pierre’s list here.

On the Chetco River: A Packrafting Adventure

On the Chetco River.

Photos & text by Mike Curiak (republished from 2013)

About a year ago I was introduced to the wonders of multi-day whitewater packrafting. When I returned, glowing, from my trip, I spent lots of waking moments searching out other rivers for future trips. Thanks to a writeup I found, Oregon’s Chetco River rose to the tip-top of that list.

Doom (aka Steve Fassbinder) and I had planned to run it last spring, but the bottom fell out of the flows a few days before we were able to get there.

I spent the next few months watching weather patterns and the gauge, hoping that the water would come up before the season was too far advanced to enjoy it. Jeny’s need to burn a heap of vacation time before October 1st also hastened the desire to head north. When I called Bearfoot Brad to arrange our vehicle shuttle he protested that there simply wasn’t any water. Unlike Brad, I’d been methodically checking the forecasts, and within hours of our arrival in Oregon the fall rains began, taking our target from 60cfs to over 800.

On!

Highlights of the trip are many. Top of the list has to be the impossibly clear water, followed closely by the carved-through-bedrock gorges, both ensconced within the remotest feeling place I’ve yet experienced in the Lower 48. Both of us are lifelong mountain bikers and agreed that we’ve never been able to get anywhere close to this ‘out there’ by bike.

Jeny and I completed our trip in four days. That was a bit ambitious for a first time down, and given a choice I’d add an extra day next time. The hike is easy and takes half a day rain or shine–I’d want the extra time to savor and photograph the gorges and canyons once floating.

Read the rest of the article.

Packrafting New Zealand

By Wyatt Roscoe, packrafter & outdoor adventurer

Arahura -- is this scenery for real!?
Arahura — is this scenery for real!?

The fact that climate change is exaggerating extremes was easy to see as we arrived in New Zealand two months after the largest floods in 40 years, but then spent two and half weeks boating during a record breaking drought. However, we found water and took Alpacka Raft’s new White Water boat for some fun rides throughout the incredible two islands. Read the rest of the article here!

My parents went ultralight

FamilyGrandCanyon3By Amy Hatch

Large external frame backpacks protruded over their heads. Bungee cords lashed to them a frying pan, heavy foam sleeping pads and an extra daypack. A bulky backpacking shower, full books, and eggs, bacon and hash browns added to the unwieldy load.

This is how backpacking used to look for parents, Nancy and Cleve Schenck, back in the ’70s and early ’80s, before I was a twinkle in their eyes – and, for that matter, even once I became part of their outdoor adventures.

“Packs used to not have sternum straps, so we’d jerry rig the sternum straps,” my mom reminisced.

Read the rest of the article!

Neon, Thru-Hiking the Appalachian Trail – Segment 7, The Four State Challenge!

Every year Appalachian Trail (AT) thru hikers, gear heads and dreamers flock to Damascus, Virginia for the annual “Trail Days” festival.  This year, Trail Days was held from May 17-19 and attracted thousands of outdoor enthusiasts from all over the globe. Hyperlite Mountain Gear attends Trail Days every year to meet fellow enthusiasts and show off some of its innovative ultralight gear and accessories. One of the people Hyperlite Mountain Gear met at this year’s festival was a thru-hiker named Brenna (trail name “Neon”).  Unfortunately, Brenna had all of her gear stolen from her tent while she was exploring the festival.  When founder Mike St. Pierre heard what had happened to Neon, he decided to hook her up with a free Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider 2400 pack as well as a some other free Hyperlite Mountain Gear products. Mike also spread her story among other equipment vendors at the festival.  By the end of the day, Neon had an entirely brand new setup of equipment free of charge. With the ultralight and rain-proof  2400 Windrider Hyperlite Mountain Gear trimmed Neon’s pack weight significantly which should make the next 1,700 miles to Maine even more fun. As a way of saying “Thank You” to Mike and the rest of the Hyperlite Mountain Gear team, Neon has been keeping us all up to date with periodic posts and pictures from the AT. We hope that you’ll check in regularly to follow Neon along the trail!  Here’s Neon’s seventh post from the trail . . .

The Four State Challenge

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It was tough getting back on the trail after taking four days off. My body had realized it was time to relax and allow the aches and pains to come to the surface: my feet were swollen and I hobbled up and down the stairs because I couldn’t bend my knees. It was even tougher getting back on because the first day we did 44 miles.

When I first heard about the four state challenge, I thought it was something that everyone did; one of those rites of passage on the trail. I decided then, at the very beginning of the trail, when an 18 mile day was a bit of a push, that one day I would walk 43.1 miles. Once the end of Virginia came into sight, I realized the magnitude of what I had committed myself to: I had yet to even do a 30 mile day. Thanks to peer pressure and my own mental obstinacy, there was no turning back.

Buckeye, Atreyu, Promise, ET, Turbo, and I were dropped off at a road crossing 0.8 miles past the VA/WV border at about 5 AM and we doubled back in order to truly hit four states in one day.

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After walking for months on end, I was surprised to find how quickly I had forgotten how to do it in my time off. I was moving one foot in front of the other as usual, but everything felt strange. Is this how I usually hike? Is this the speed I usually go? What do I do with my arms? My steps felt wobbly and unsure- my body had literally forgotten how to walk. By the 10 mile mark I was back in the groove and by noon we had completed almost 20 miles. We took plenty of breaks and no one who saw us would have thought we were doing any sort of challenge.

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Until we hit about the 30 mile mark. My legs were stiffening and I felt completely sapped of all energy. I had also lost track of where we were and kept expecting the next shelter to be just around the corner. That’s the kiss of death on a long hike- expecting to be farther than you are. By this time anyone who saw us could see in our faces that we were no longer having a good time. A few other hikers, one of whom I knew, the others I had just met, started cheering us on as we walked. We were leap-frogging with them and every time we passed by, they tried to pump us up by whooping and hollering. It felt good and it worked each time, at least for a little while.

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We finally made it to the shelter at the 34 mile mark. 10 miles to go. It was about 6 PM by this time and we were all in pain. I think each one of us was truly considering just stopping there for the night, but no one was willing to say it out loud. We had a feast of granola bars, cereal, pop tarts, bagels, peanut butter, Twizzlers pull n peel (I might have been the only one feasting on these), Fritos Honey BBQ Twists (best trail food ever by the way- high calorie and delicious. So what if it has zero nutritional value), and everything else in our food bags. Ibuprofen made the rounds.

Suddenly we were new people; walking three miles an hour, chatting, and having a great time. Suddenly we were talking about going past the 44 mile mark and making it an even 50. And just as suddenly we were back to misery. At the 40 mile mark I thought I was done. It was long past twilight and I didn’t know if I would make it to 44. I was still moving, but just barely. “This is making me hate hiking,” ET said. We slowed down to about one mile per hour and walked mostly in silence, each of us dwelling on our own pain. Chafing, cramps, tight muscles, and sore feet plagued us. The chafing was out of control. I was the only one spared the butt crack variety and to this day I am thankful for that. I silently cried the last two miles and alternately hoped that no one would see and everyone would see. I wanted to be comforted, to be held, and most of all I just wanted it to end.

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0.3 miles before the finish there was a pavilion and we decided to walk down to the state line and then come back up to stay in the pavilion, thereby avoiding setting up shelters for the night. We walked down to the railroad tracks and figured that was it, this was the line. We made it at 11:30 PM, about 18.5 hours after we had started. No state-line sign? Kind of disappointing but not so unusual.

We took a few pictures: I preferred the pictures where I could sit down and loved the pictures where I was just laying down in the tracks. I didn’t take any of my own because I no longer cared. We made our way back to the pavilion and I lay down and went to bed. “You’re not going to eat any dinner?” Buckeye asked me. No, I was not. I was extremely hungry, but even more tired.

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We slept late the next day. 10? 11? I can’t be sure. I was exhausted and walking was painful. I don’t even know why we ever left that beautiful pavilion with its beds (our sleeping bags) and its bathrooms (actual bathrooms!). Most of all, staying there would mean that we wouldn’t have to hike and that would have been glorious. For some reason we ended up leaving, hiked passed the train tracks where we had stopped and taken pictures, and then pass the sign marking the Mason-Dixon Line. Wait there was a sign? It turns out we had come up short by about 50 yards and hadn’t seen the sign because it was dark. Once again I no longer cared.

We only hiked 7.5 miles that day and then stopped at another pavilion for the night. We had gone far enough and ordered pizza; everyone except for Ramon and me eating a large on their own. Then they went to Walmart and each got a half gallon of ice cream for dessert. Atreyu got a 2 liter bottle of root beer and had the world’s largest root beer float. I took a nap.

Neon
The AT
Fall 2013

 

 

 

Forrest McCarthy on Tasmania’s Overland Track

Hyperlite Mountain Gear’s Ambassadors are the testers, critics and storytellers of our products.  They put our gear through the paces in the worlds toughest playgrounds and give us critical feedback which helps us drive product development.  They also help us spread the good word about our backpacks, tents/shelters and accessories — while regularly making us jealous of  what they’re doing in the field.  This past winter Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ambassador Forrest McCarthy traveled to Tasmania with his wife Amy McCarthy to take on the Overland Track — one of Tasmania’s premier hiking routes.  Read on for the report . . .

Tasmanian Track Amy McCarthy

The Overland Track is Tasmania’s premier walk and attracts hikers from all over the world. The track winds its way through CradleMountain – Lake St Clair National Park traversing a vast wilderness of exposed alpine plateaus, tranquil lakes, and dense forests of beech, pine and gum. The entire track is within the 1.38 million hectare Tasmanian World Wilderness Heritage Area and home to unique wildlife including: kangaroo, wombat, wallaby, possum, quoll, Platypus, Echidna, tiger snakes, and Tasmanian Devils.

In early February of 2013 Amy and I were blessed with three days of fantastic weather and followed the track from Dove Lake to Lake St Clair, a distance of 65-kilomters. Stopping for the night at Lake Windermere and the Windy Ridge Hut we enjoyed side trips to the summit of Cradle Mountain and Tasmania’s high point — Mt Ossa.

Tasmanian Track Summit of Cradle MountainSummit of Cradle Mountain

Tasmanian Track High Alpine PlateauHigh Alpine Plateau

Tasmanian Track Camping at Lake WindermereCamping at Lake Windermere

Tasmanian Track Lake Windermere and Barn BluffLake Windermere and Barn Bluff

Tasmanian Track On Route to Pine Forest MoorOn Route to Pine Forest Moor

Tasmanian Track WallabyWallaby

Tasmanian Track Pelion HutPelion Hut

Tasmanian Track Snow SkinkSnow Skink

Tasmanian Track Summit of Mt OssaSummit of Mt Ossa

Tasmanian Track Mersey River ValleyMersey River Valley

Tasmanian Track Du Cane HutDu Cane Hut

Tasmanian Track The historic trappers hut was built in 1922The historic trappers hut was built in 1922

Tasmanian Track MapOur Tasmanian Overland Track (map care of Google)

Forrest McCarthy
Winter 2013

 

 

 

 

Putting up a new route in Alaska with Ambassador Seth Timpano

Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ambassador Seth Timpano is a world class mountaineer and guide.  He has led him on climbing trips throughout the globe including: Antarctica, Chile, Argentina, Peru, Alaska, Canada, Spain, France, Italy, Thailand, Nepal and New Zealand.  We recently found out that Seth took a pretty bad fall into a crevasse, 55 feet, but luckily walked away with it with minor injuries and a mild concussion.  Seth told us the Hyperlite Mountain Gear pack he was wearing might have helped pad his fall — we’re not sure about that, but we psyched that Seth is fully recovered and planning some exciting new expeditions for this coming year.  Read on for Seth’s report on a new route he, Jared Vilhauer and Jens Holsten  put up this summer on Reality Peak, a 13,100 foot satellite peak of Alaska’s iconic Denali.  Awesome photos by Jared Vilhauer.

Seth Timpano on Reality Peak Summit.  Photo by Jared Vilhauer.
Seth Timpano on Reality Peak Summit. Photo by Jared Vilhauer.
In late May I left Seattle early in the morning and flew to Anchorage, Alaska. From there I hopped a shuttle van and was on ski-equipped plane by late afternoon. The flight into the Alaska Range was as memorable as the previous dozen, and my excitement for alpine climbing was high. Paul Roderick with Talkeetna Air Taxi flew by the impressive Mount Hunter and Mount Huntington and spiraled down into the West Fork of the Ruth Glacier, one of the three large glaciers pouring from the south aspect of Denali. There I met my friends Jared Vilhauer and Jens Holsten. They had been skiing around for a few days scoping out different lines and route conditions and that evening we all agreed to attempt an unclimbed route on the east face of Reality Peak.
Seth Timpano climbing face of Reality Peak.  Photo by Seth Timpano on Reality Peak Summit.  Photo by Jared Vilhauer.
Seth Timpano climbing face of Reality Peak. Photo by Jared Vilhauer.
The next day we skied to the base of the route and started climbing. We climbed about 2000 feet of steep snow and easy ice before entering into the heart of the route, a narrow winding passage of steep granite and ice. We found 1500 feet of perfect steep alpine ice conditions. Once through this crux section we found more moderate snow and ice to the where our line joined the previously established Reality Ridge. We setup a bivy, ate, re-hydrated and slept. Poor weather kept us tent bound for nearly 24 hours but this also gave us a chance to rest before attempting to summit Peak 13,100 (Reality Peak). The ridge to the summit was typical Alaskan climbing; bigger, harder and scarier than expected.
The face of Reality Peak.  Photo by Seth Timpano climbing face of Reality Peak.  Photo by Seth Timpano on Reality Peak Summit.  Photo by Jared Vilhauer.
The face of Reality Peak. Photo by Jared Vilhauer.
Difficult snow and ice conditions put us on the top in about 8 hours from our high bivy. The three of us were all very excited to have succeeded on this difficult climb, but we also realized we had a lot of work ahead of us. We tediously down climbed the ridge back to our camp, tired and exhausted. Nevertheless, we all knew we had to keep heading down before the intense sun hit our route, which would create a dangerous situation with rock and ice fall. We rappelled through the night, chasing the sun with each 200 feet decent. 27 double rope rappels found us at the base of our route. A few hundred feet of easy down climbing and we were safely back at our skis. We skied, tired but satisfied, back to camp, 4 days after we had left. Later that afternoon we were on a plane flying out of the Alaska Range and back to civilization.
Hyperlite Mountain Gear packs are without a doubt the best alpine climbing pack on the market. Durable, light, waterproof and made with climbing in mind, I continue to be impressed by my Porter Pack w/ Ice Feature. I look forward to using Hyperlite Mountain Gear packs on my expeditions to Patagonia and India next year.
HMG Ambassador descending Reality Peak.  Photo by The face of Reality Peak.  Photo by Seth Timpano climbing face of Reality Peak.  Photo by Seth Timpano on Reality Peak Summit.  Photo by Jared Vilhauer.
HMG Ambassador descending Reality Peak. Photo by Jared Vilhauer.

 

Seth Timpano
Alaska
Fall 2013

Neon, Thru-Hiking the Appalachian Trail – (Segment 6)

Every year Appalachian Trail (AT) thru hikers, gear heads and dreamers flock to Damascus, Virginia for the annual “Trail Days” festival.  This year, Trail Days was held from May 17-19 and attracted thousands of outdoor enthusiasts from all over the globe. Hyperlite Mountain Gear attends Trail Days every year to meet fellow enthusiasts and show off some of its innovative ultralight gear and accessories. One of the people Hyperlite Mountain Gear met at this year’s festival was a thru-hiker named Brenna (trail name “Neon”).  Unfortunately, Brenna had all of her gear stolen from her tent while she was exploring the festival.  When founder Mike St. Pierre heard what had happened to Neon, he decided to hook her up with a free Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider 2400 pack as well as a some other free Hyperlite Mountain Gear products. Mike also spread her story among other equipment vendors at the festival.  By the end of the day, Neon had an entirely brand new setup of equipment free of charge. With the ultralight and rain-proof  2400 Windrider Hyperlite Mountain Gear trimmed Neon’s pack weight significantly which should make the next 1,700 miles to Maine even more fun. As a way of saying “Thank You” to Mike and the rest of the Hyperlite Mountain Gear team, Neon has been keeping us all up to date with periodic posts and pictures from the AT. We hope that you’ll check in regularly to follow Neon along the trail!  Here’s Neon’s sixth post from the trail . . .
I had been looking forward to my time after Trail Days because I figured I could relax and not worry about getting anywhere by a certain date- my only deadline was the cold weather in Maine. The first day out of Damascus we walked through the Grayson Highlands, one of the sections that I had heard so much about. As soon as we walked through the gate into the highlands, a wild pony started trying to bite Turbo’s backpack. We had heard the ponies can get aggressive and when he came after me, I put my hand on his head to hold him off and wielded my trekking pole like a weapon. Once we got farther into the highlands, we saw more and more ponies grazing in the fields. They brought these ponies in specifically for this reason- the highlands is a large open area devoid of trees and with large rock formations. They want the ponies to graze there in order to maintain the grassy areas. The rest of them were friendlier than the first and let us pet them without trying to bite us.
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Since so many people had either slowed down or sped up to make it Damascus for the festival, there was a huge bubble of people leaving at the same time. There was also a lot of rain in the week following the festival and so everyone wanted to stay in the shelters to avoid getting wet. Every night the shelters were full and there were sometimes up to 20 tents set up around them as well. The rain was starting to get frustrating- wet boots and clothing for days on end was getting old. Every time I started to complain in my head, I started to think about Jennifer Pharr Davis. I was reading her book about the endurance record and she is a badass. She got hypothermia, had shin splints for 1000 miles, and overcame a bunch of other problems to finish the trail in record time. Every time I felt down, I reminded myself that if she could deal with all that, I could deal with a little rain.
I was also starting to make up for my lack of trail magic before Damascus. In Troutdale, VA there was a hiker feed put on by a local church. They put up flyers at each road crossing telling hikers about it and about 35 people showed up. All the churchgoers brought in food and there was enough so that everyone could stuff themselves. There was some intense preaching after the meal and I’m not sure the preacher realized that the hikers were a different audience than he was used to, but it was worth it.
The next night we made it to Partnership Shelter, one of the shelters on the trail that you can order pizza from. There was a big group of people and it was this girl Smokey’s birthday so we ordered a bunch of food, ignored the no alcohol signs, and went into town to get some beer.
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Turbo and I were settling into a new kind of hiking- one that involved a lot more drinking. The next day we were walking along the trail when we came upon two hikers, Twoper and Bait, who were handing out beers on the side of the trail. We hung out with them and then walked along into Atkins, VA. Turbo and I were planning on doing a few more miles but decided to hang out in town for a bit. We were being classy as usual and decided to sit behind the gas station with a couple tall boys. The longer we sat, the less we wanted to keep hiking. Luckily, Lumber came by and said he had gotten a hotel room and had extra room if we were interested. We definitely were. Also staying in the hotel were Red Velvet, Predator, Hagrid, E.T., Promise, and Gigs. We hung out and I ate an insane amount of candy- 1 snickers ice cream bar, 1 bag of Doritos, 1 bag of cheese puffs, 1 package of Twizzlers pull n peel, 1 bag of Snyder’s honey mustard and onion pretzels, 1 sleeve of double stuff oreos, and probably more that I’m forgetting.
We got breakfast in the morning and then started hiking. Before we could get very far though, we came upon some more trail magic. The mom of someone hiking had a cooler full of soda and beer and a table full of fruit salad, hot dogs, chips, candy, taco salad, and more. I had ordered two breakfasts at the diner that morning and then ate a lot at the trail magic so I had to lounge around until noon before I could walk again. I was walking with Hagrid and we were planning on doing about 20 miles, but we got to a camp spot with a bunch of people that we knew and decided to stay there. Squirrel had packed in some whiskey to celebrate us getting 1/3 of the way and passed it around while someone else cooked up hot dogs for the group. I was excited to have gotten that far, but there was still a long way to go. I was also starting to get the “Virginia Blues”. Virginia is over 500 miles and much of it is just green tunnel; hiking in the trees with no views. It is easy to start thinking about how far you still have to go and get overwhelmed by the length of the trail.
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While the hiking might have been boring, the bubble was still together and we were having a lot of fun. There were about 30 of us who had been seeing each other consistently since Damascus. We would get split up, but then a hiker feed or stop in town would bring us back together. In Bland, VA there was another hiker feed that we all went to and then we planned a birthday party for Fresh Step at Dismal Falls in two days. Dismal Falls was supposed to be an awesome campsite and swimming hole and it was also just a few miles past a road crossing with a grocery store that sold beer. We all packed in food and beer, swam, and hung out by the fire. Before I had started the trail, I had a vision in my mind of what the trail would be like. I had underestimated the social aspect of the hike, but Dismal Falls was the kind of picturesque camp spot that I had envisioned beforehand. Simply put, the trail was even better than I had imagined it.
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Neon
The AT
Summer 2013

Spruce Green is the new White

Hyperlite Mountain Gear’s ultralight, cuben fiber shelter systems, tarps and pyramid tents are now available in Spruce Green in addition to our classic white.

HMG UltaMid pyramid  tent on the coast of Maine
UltaMid pyramid tent on the coast of Maine

For the past four years Hyperlite Mountain Gear has been making some of the best lightweight shelters, tarps and mids available anywhere.  But we were only able to offer then in white.  We love the white, but we know that a lot of our customers would like a little more choice in the color department.  Well, we’ve finally done it.  We’re now able to offer our full line of shelter systems, tarps and pyramid tents in Spruce Green.  The material used is the same as the white — ripstop, waterproof and ultralight cuben fiber.  And unlike other manufacturers who have offered colored cuben fiber, our products are absolutely color-fast — no bleeding, no staining of your other gear.

HMG Flat Tarp in the Maine Woods
Hyperlite Mountain Gear Flat Tarp in the Maine Woods

Here’s Hyperlite Mountain Gear’s current line-up of Spruce Green shelters, tarps and mids:

The Echo Shelter System — a tarp based system featuring a removable bug mesh insert/tub and “beak” (vestibule).  The system is available one and two-man sizes and can be purchased as set or as separate pieces.

The UltaMid — two and four-man pyramid tents.

Tarps — a line of flat tarps, catenary tarps and a hammock tarp.

All of our shelters, tarps and mids feature taped seams.  With the taped seams and 100% waterproof cuben fiber, there’s no need to seam seal or coat these products, ever.

HMG Flat Tarp in a perfect spot to make camp
Flat Tarp in a perfect spot to make camp

Like all of our gear, our shelters, tarps and mids are proudly designed and manufactured in Maine, USA.

Check ’em out and get your green on!

Hyperlite Mountain Gear
Biddeford, Maine

 

 

Fatbike Backpacking with a Tarp Shelter

Glenn Charles one of a rapidly growing group of outdoor enthusiasts using ultralight gear and fatbikes to take them to new places in the outdoors.  Read on for Glenn’s thoughts on why a ultralight tarp makes the perfect shelter for these multisport adventures.
Glenn Tarps 2Just back from another spectacular bikepacking trip on my Salsa Mukluk, I can honestly say that for 90% of my trip needs, a Tarp is the perfect shelter. For the last five years I have experimented with tents, bivies, and a number of different Tarps, so I believe that for me, I have acquired a fair bit of experience through a multitude of conditions.With the exception of some very specific situations and scenarios, the Tarp has ruled the roost.  With a bike, I can string a tarp anywhere I want, including the middle of nowhere.  Using my technigue for anchoring the bike with line and stakes, it serves as the perfect highpoint for one end of the tarp.  The other end can be anchored to some other fixed object, or with the aid of your helmet or stick, stood on end, you have enough lift to comfortably sleep without and contact between your bag and the tarp.

Read the rest of the article here

Neon, Thru-Hiking the Appalachian Trail (Segment 5)

Every year Appalachian Trail (AT) thru hikers, gear heads and dreamers flock to Damascus, Virginia for the annual “Trail Days” festival.  This year, Trail Days was held from May 17-19 and attracted thousands of outdoor enthusiasts from all over the globe. Hyperlite Mountain Gear attends Trail Days every year to meet fellow enthusiasts and show off some of its innovative ultralight gear and accessories. One of the people Hyperlite Mountain Gear met at this year’s festival was a thru-hiker named Brenna (trail name “Neon”).  Unfortunately, Brenna had all of her gear stolen from her tent while she was exploring the festival.  When founder Mike St. Pierre heard what had happened to Neon, he decided to hook her up with a free Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider 2400 pack as well as a some other free Hyperlite Mountain Gear products. Mike also spread her story among other equipment vendors at the festival.  By the end of the day, Neon had an entirely brand new setup of equipment free of charge. With the ultralight and rain-proof  2400 Windrider Hyperlite Mountain Gear trimmed Neon’s pack weight significantly which should make the next 1,700 miles to Maine even more fun. As a way of saying “Thank You” to Mike and the rest of the Hyperlite Mountain Gear team, Neon has been keeping us all up to date with periodic posts and pictures from the AT. We hope that you’ll check in regularly to follow Neon along the trail!  Here’s Neon’s fifth post from the trail . . .
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After the Smokies, I was looking to get away from Ramon and hike on my own. I enjoyed spending time with him and having a hiking buddy but I also wanted to hang out with other people. He was also very slow getting ready in the morning and I was sick of waiting up to an hour each day for him. He was planning on going about 13 miles that day with Briton, so I decided to keep moving. That day I passed over Max Patch; the first of many balds along the trail. I have never experienced winds like that in my life and I can only guess their speed. 150 mph is my guess. A more realistic person might say 60 mph; either way they were insane. I had to walk at an angle, my body leaning into the wind so that I didn’t fall over. Then a gust would come and I would get blown sideways and have to dig my trekking poles into the ground to regain my position. It was awesome.

That same day day I got to talking with a section hiker about my experience and she asked me if I was still enjoying myself. I answered with great conviction that I still got up each day and was excited to hike. The trail was continually changing and each day still brought me something new.

At the shelter that night I had my first encounter with yellow blazers (people who skip part of the trail by hitching a ride). Two of the hikers there had skipped the Smokies. It was early in the trip and most everyone was still committed to walking to Katahdin so there was an awkward moment when they said they had hitched ahead and skipped the Smokies. I didn’t know how to react, this time anyway. The farther north I got, the more people I met that had skipped at least one section. Instead of getting off the trail when people got tired of hiking, they hitch to meet their friends so they can still get some of the experience. Many people don’t have the time, money, or desire for a full thru-hike, but for me yellow-blazing did not mesh my motivation for doing the trail.

The next night I was discussing my lack of a trail name with Stealth. At this point, he was still just Matt and I was still Brenna and we were both feeling left out since most everyone else already had names. I suggested Stealth for him because he wore all black and had a habit of walking quietly and sneaking up on people on the trail. We decided, based on my bright orange Crocs and yellow rain jacket, that Neon might be good for me. I hadn’t met anyone else by that name and it was short and easy to remember. That next day I started signing Neon in the shelter logs and introducing myself as such. There was a strange transition period where I had to get used to going by a different name but after a while it started to seem alright.

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“Neon” rocking her trademark bright orange Crocs and a yellow jacket

After a couple days of cold, rain, and wind, I did a 3 mile “nero” (nearly zero miles) to Hot Springs, NC. Hot Springs is the first town through which the trail passes directly. Stealth and I somehow got lost going into town, despite the fact that the sidewalks were engraved with the AT symbol in order to show the way. In typical thru-hiker style, if there wasn’t a blaze every five feet then we were lost. We stopped at the first restaurant we came to, Smoke Mountain Diner, and got some excellent food- including the best cinnamon roll I have ever had in my life. There were a bunch of hikers there, most of whom I knew and we all hung out while we gorged ourselves.

My oldest sister, Sarah, was flying in that day to do the next 70 miles to Erwin, TN. Seven of us decided to split a room at a local hotel, the Iron Horse Station, and bummed around all day and watched TV. When Sarah got there that afternoon we got a few beers at the Spring Creek Tavern where they had live music. Sarah had talked about doing a thru-hike at some point and I wanted her to get a the full experience; crowded hotel room, trail town, and the trail.

The next day, we set off early for the trail but before we could even get started someone told us that the trail was flooded. It wad been raining like crazy for days and they said the water was waist deep and we would have to hitch around. Sarah and I decided to go see for ourselves and the trail was flooded, but not up our waists. I bushwhacked around while Sarah took off her boots and walked through the water. Eventually though, we got to a point with an overhang where the water was deeper and the current stronger. Instead of wading out and possibly getting swept away, we took a blue blaze trail up the side of the overhang and came down the other side about 50 feet beyond where we had left the trail. Where we returned to the trail we could see a tent floating in the river. It was tied down and there was a bunch of stuff strewn about. I took off my boots and stepped into the water to look into the tent just to make sure there was no body floating inside. It seemed like someone left in a hurry; there was ramen and all sorts of gear floating inside, but no body. The trail was still flooded there, but we walked just to the side of it, knowing that soon the trail would climb up and out of the valley.

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We did 11 miles that day and Sarah seemed to be hurting a bit. I had told everyone that she was going to come and visit and they all told me she wouldn’t be able to handle the miles. Eight to ten, they all said. I thought she would be fine doing more and we had to average 14 per day in order to make it to Erwin on time. Watching her that first day made it seem like it wouldn’t end up being as easy I thought, but I knew she would suck it up and do the miles either way.
The next few miles were uneventful as far as hiking goes, but it was really nice to spend some time with Sarah. The first few days I hiked ahead, but I realized I was wasting our time together. For the past four years I had been at school in Missouri and since she is seven years older than me, we hadn’t lived together in about 12 years. While we saw each other reasonably often, it was usually in the presence of other family members and so it was unusual to have time together just the two of us.It turned out that Sarah had no problem turning on the miles and did a couple 15 miles days and a 16.5 to finish off her trip. We got into Erwin on time and went to Uncle Johnny’s Hostel which is is right on the trail. It is overpriced and dirty, but known to be a good time. The group renting the nice cabin with the kitchen invited us over for a feast with steak, garlic bread, ice cream, salad, beer, mashed potatoes and a fritatta. A bunch of people were also having a bonfire outside and everyone seemed to be making the most of their night in town. Ramon and Briton had gotten in earlier that day and had tried to hitch into town for a resupply. The guy who picked them up asked if they wanted to go rafting on the very swollen Nolichucky River and so they went down the river all afternoon. Ramon got his trail name that day, Turbo, because the guy kept yelling at them that they were his turbo on the river. While I had previously been looking to get away from him, now I was looking forward to hiking with Turbo again. We planned to leave the next morning with another friend, Quinoa, and begin the race to Damascus for Trail Days.

Neon on the AT
August 2013

To Hell and Back — Across North America’s Deepest Canyon with Steve Graepel

Two hours from Boise, but a world away from the daily grind, the Snake River cuts through the narrows bordering Oregon, Idaho and Washington. It’s here where over 60,000 Cubic Feet per Second of water has carved the deepest gorge in North America. Yes, Hells Canyon cuts deeper than the Grand, plunging 8,000 feet inside the 10-mile gap. Yet as best the record showed, this plumb-line remained un-run as an out and back inside a single push. Mike James and Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ambassador Steve Graepel ventured out on a whim to set the first known Rim-Rim-Rim.  Read on for Steve’s report.

The Snake serves as the lifeline for southern Idaho, bridling fertile ground and power where there would otherwise be neither. The canyon is no different, only here its always taken more than it provided. Dry and inhospitable, traces of man’s eagerness to eek out a living has been preserved in an arid time capsule scattered along the route to the canyon floor. At 8,000′, the Seven Devils reference back to Nez Perce Indian lore, where the “devils” traveled West yearly to feast on the tribes newborn. At 6,000′, the McGaffee summer cow camp decayed under the conifer canopy. A trophy elk was entangled in the remnants of wire fencing at 4,000′. Fruit orchards grew ferial and tangled at 2,000′. A prehistoric rock shelter and ancient pictographs etched the canyon walls at its low point at 1,400′.

©2013 AllTrails ©2013 National Geographic
©2013 AllTrails ©2013 National Geographic
While cleaning debris out of our shoes on the McGaffee winter cabin’s porch, a cackle of voices broke the din of wind and water. The most common way to see the canyon is by water; rafters float downstream from the dam while jet boats hurdle upstream over the rapids from Pittsburg Landing. We strapped our shoes and stumbled out of the hackberry thickets and out onto the pebble beach to see a flotilla of rafts pulling out for lunch. A Wilderness with no bridge for miles, we eagerly thumbed a ride into Oregon with their scout boat. Our captain asked about our itinerary; we shared our plans, pointing fingers and arching necks to describe our progress and intent. “You boys have a good time”, he shook as we eddied into Oregon.
On the West side of the Snake parallels the manicured and historical Nee-Me-Poo trail—the same route Chief Joseph led his people into Montana while fleeing General Howard in 1877. We followed it south until we saw the sun-weathered Hat Point trail sign, marking our route to the Oregon rim. We stocked up on water and began to negotiate the heat of the day with the pain of the climb. The trail quickly turned to game trail quickly turned to runnels between bunchgrass and brought us up a stringer canyon, rotten with volcanic choss. The canyon took back half of every step we made. The angle eased and we picked up the pace as we ducked under Ponderosa pine for the final climb.
6 miles, 5 hours and 5 liters of water later, we eventually broke the rim’s crest and climbed out onto the fire tower’s observation deck to review our day’s progress. With thunderheads on the horizon, we anxiously retreated towards the river with a shuffle, slipping down a series of grassy fells and into darkness.
We cautiously navigated the route mostly by braille. The angle of the slopes, the shadow of adjacent slopes, the crossing of a stream indicated by the map. We were actually making reasonable progress until I heard the friction of rubber skid over gravel. Mike slide maybe 5 feet, righted himself and gingerly walked down to my perch. He flashed his headlamp, revealing probably 200+ cactus spines studded down his right side. We spent the next 45 minutes extracting the barbed quills … some buried deep past fascia and into muscle.
Photo by Steve Graepel
Photo by Steve Graepel
After pulling most the of the damage, I pulled my sleeves over my calves, draped the map over my torso and drifted into sleep as the glow of the Sheep Fire illuminated the sky behind the Idaho ridge.
I awoke to find Mike still pulling barbs from his ass. He stuffed a glove between his shorts and leg and snorted, “you ready to go?” Mike James—toughest man in America.
We strolled lazily down to the river, knowing that we would likely not get the same luck as the day before. We carefully chose a placid stretch of water, well above the next rapid set, stripped down to our shorts and shoved everything into our packs and dove into the current. Taller and stronger, Mike held a line into Idaho. I found myself washing out downstream a few hundred feet below. I pulled myself out over the river rock, collected myself and resumed the climb out of Hell.
With a day behind us and the steepest portion ahead, there was no racing out of the canyon. We each slowly picked a line and wrestled our own devils to the Idaho rim. Once on the plateau at Dry Diggens, we still had 8 miles and 3 hours to the trailhead—plenty of time to temper any celebration of success in snagging one of the North America’s greatest trail running challenges.
For more from Steve Grapel, check out his contributions to the National Geographic Adventure Blog.
Steve Graepel
Idaho 2012

Hike Fast. Paddle Hard. Dance All Night.

The First Annual AK Packrafting Festival

This past July Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ambassador Luc Mehl and friends participated in the first annual McCarthy Creek Packraft Race and Whitewater Festival in Wrangell Mountains of Alaska.  We’re hoping this event, organized by Kennicott Wilderness Guides and McCarthy River Tours and Outfitters, will become an annual happening.  Hyperlite Mountain Gear is psyched to support the rapidly growing packrafting community by making some of the best packrafting packs available. 

Read on for the report on the inaugural 2013, festival.

McCarthy Packrafting Festival Poster

The McCarthy Creek runs through the Wrangell Mountains outside the quirky/charming outpost town of McCarthy, Alaska at the edge of Wrangell St. Elias National Park.  The creek runs fast and strong with rapids up to rated by American Whitewater as a class III+(V+). 
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Nick Truax Puts Our Gear to the Test

Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ambassadors are the testers, critics and storytellers of our products.  They put our gear through the paces and provide critical feedback.  The Ambassadors help us build our products with confidence that they will perform in the world’s toughest playgrounds … because that’s where they start. 

Like our other Ambassadors, Nick Truax has been putting Hyperlite Mountain Gear’s packs and shelters to the test.  He recently shared a report on his last 12 months as an Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ambassador.  Check it out on Nick’s blog “Nick on the Mountain” — great photos Nick!

Nick Truax in France with his HMG Stuff Pack.
Nick Truax in France with his Hyperlite Mountain Gear Stuff Pack.

For the full story on Nick’s Hyperlite Mountain Gear year, see: http://www.nicktruax.com/?p=1083

Nick Truax
September 2013

Quinn Brett: Canada Alpine Climbing Tour

Quinn Brett joined our team of Ambassadors, Spring 2013.  Since then she’s been putting our backpacks and shelters through their paces in some of the world’s great outdoor playgrounds.  In July, Hyperlite Mountain Gear sponsored Quinn (along with Lizzy Scully, Prairie Kearney and John Dickey) as “Team Glitterbomb” on an expedition to climb unclaimed big walls in Greenland. Team Glitterbomb did three new routes in Greenland. “Plenty for Everyone” (5.10+/11-, 1800ft) on The Barnes Wall; “Morning Luxury” (5.11a/b, 1400ft) on The Breakfast Spire; and “Four Quickies” (5.9, 500ft ) on The Submarine Wall.  

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Quinn and her Windrider pack negotiating the slippery stuff.

“When you type in your Google search bar “genuine, good-spirited, ego-less hard mutherF#^&ing crankers,” I am positive the search will mention or show photos of a Canadian rock climber.  For years I have fallen for their niceness. This trip sealed the deal. I basically had the raddest three week tour in the Bugaboos, Lake Louis and Canmore.

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For a trip into the Bugaboos, a large and waterproof pack is needed.  The hike isn’t too long, but the 4000 feet in elevation gain is a butt buster.  You can do it a few ways: carry a giant load first go saving yourself multiple trips, even the loads and hike it twice, or take the bare essentials to get you through the first few days then hike down for more food later.  I chose option 1–but I was lucky that my climbing partner had much of the gear already up at base camp. 

The 3400 Windrider from Hyperlite Mountain Gear proved to be the perfect pack for this destination.  Its roomy, comfortable, waterproof, durable and I enjoy how it can be a HUGE pack or fold down into a medium sized pack. 

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Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider at our spectacular basecamp.

I left the pack up at base camp for five days as I toured other locations in Canada, stuffed with my climbing shoes and other gear.  Upon return I found my gear dry as a bone, despite huge rainstorms–and thankfully critters were not drawn to nibble the straps!!

After our first day’s first ascent, local hard man Chris Brazeau proceeded to shuffle me around the best new free lines in the Bugaboos.  Many of these climbs were old aid lines that Chris and his buddies, Jon Walsh, Jon Simms, Simon Meis, Cody Lank and others opened up with much effort over the last six or seven years.

Sendero Norte was the tour opener.  This 13-pitch route is stacked with pitch after pitch of 5.11 and 5.12 climbing.  For topos and a photo of the route line check out  Jon Walsh’s blog.

Both Chris and I fell on the lower thin seam crux pitch and both had a fall or two on the upper roof crux pitch.  The rest of the route we both climbed clean.  Rappelling down I kept saying, “this was my favorite pitch, no wait THIS was…” 

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Sendero is one of the highest quality routes I have climbed! 
 
I was lucky to spend almost three weeks in Canada.  I can’t believe I haven’t visited this amazing climbing locations before–next summer I hope to spend a bit more time!”

Quinn Brett, September 2013

Neon, Thru-Hiking the Appalachian Trail – (Segment 3)

Every year Appalachian Trail (AT) thru hikers, gear heads and dreamers flock to Damascus, Virginia for the annual “Trail Days” festival.  This year, Trail Days was held from May 17-19 and attracted thousands of outdoor enthusiasts from all over the globe. Hyperlite Mountain Gear attends Trail Days every year to meet fellow enthusiasts and show off some of its innovative ultralight gear and accessories. One of the people Hyperlite Mountain Gear met at this year’s festival was a thru-hiker named Brenna (trail name “Neon”).  Unfortunately, Brenna had all of her gear stolen from her tent while she was exploring the festival.  When founder Mike St. Pierre heard what had happened to Neon, he decided to hook her up with a free Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider 2400 pack as well as a some other free Hyperlite Mountain Gear products. Mike also spread her story among other equipment vendors at the festival.  By the end of the day, Neon had an entirely brand new setup of equipment free of charge. With the ultralight and rain-proof  2400 Windrider Hyperlite Mountain Gear trimmed Neon’s pack weight significantly which should make the next 1,700 miles to Maine even more fun. As a way of saying “Thank You” to Mike and the rest of the Hyperlite Mountain Gear team, Neon has been keeping us all up to date with periodic posts and pictures from the AT. We hope that you’ll check in regularly to follow Neon along the trail!  Here’s Neon’s third post from the trail . . .

 

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After our stay at Blueberry Patch, Ramon and I felt we were ready to start doing some bigger miles. Everything I had read online before the trip said to take it easy starting out. People said that pushing yourself in the beginning would lead to an injury, but the past six days we had been averaging about 12 miles and it was boring me. We would get to our destination at 2 pm and sit around until dark. In some ways it was nice to relax, but I also wanted to see what I was capable of.

The day we left Hiawassee, Ramon and I set out to do 18 miles to Standing Indian Mountain. The miles felt surprisingly doable. My feet were sore by the end and I was so hungry that I didn’t even wait for my broccoli and cheddar pasta to finish cooking before scarfing it down, but I was satisfied. We were the only people camped at the top of the mountain and so had the best view on the trail thus far and an awesome sunset all to ourselves. We kept up that pace, crossed into North Carolina, and three days later walked down to the Nantahala Outdoor Center (NOC). After being in the woods for a few days, it was a welcome relief. From miles away I could smell fried food and catch glimpses of brightly colored objects. I couldn’t wait to eat good food, drink beer, take a shower, and sleep in a bed. It turned out that that weekend was the US Freestyke Kayaking Team Trials and there were a bunch of kayakers milling about and practicing in the water. Upon arrival, Ramon and I rented a couple bunks and took showers. I was learning that as a small form of trail magic, someone always left behind shampoo in the showers. I checked myself out in the mirror for the first time on the trail and realized I had lost close to 10 pounds. Eating becomes part of the trail experience for thru hikers. On the trail everyone eats processed, high calorie foods because they are light. People eat trail mix, honey buns and snickers bars as snacks and usually Ramen, Knorr pasta sides, or some other easy meal for dinner. Then in town it is time to pack in the calories. All you can eat buffets, ice cream, and often a large pizza. I couldn’t wait to eat like a hiker and started off by buying a bag of chips and an ice cream.

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Neon stumbles upon an “all you can eat buffet” on the AT

I sat in the laundry room in just my rain gear (no other options) and shared a six pack with Ramon. Later we hung out with a couple other hikers (Hangnail and Law Dog), ate some barbecue, drank some more beer, and called it a night around 9:30 (way past my bedtime these days). The climb out of the Nantahala Outdoor Center is known for being tough. It is 7.5 miles long, 3000 vertical feet, and the first good climb of the trail. Climbing out when hungover made it feel like 15 miles and 6000 vertical feet, but eventually we made it. The next day we walked to Fontana Dam, NC; the town before the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. It was raining all day long and the trail was filled with water up to my ankles. I was starting to notice a pattern with the weather- it rained all the time. We got a shuttle into town for resupply and the driver said they were already 9 inches over the average precipitation for the year. I wasn’t surprised. We got all the food we needed and hiked to the Fontana Hilton; a shelter right on the lake which fits about 20 people and has showers and a real bathroom. There were a number of people already there and I lounged around with Titty Bar Naked Yoga (TBNY for short), Tank Tank, Briton, Ramon, Runaway, and Candyman while the rain pounded the tin roof.

After walking in the rain all day, the idea of getting up the next day and doing it again seemed horrible. So we took our first zero day. Most other people had already taken their first and so I didn’t feel too guilty. We bummed around town, went to the gas station bar, and watched the rain outside. That night at about 11:30 pm, Candyman got up, started grumbling about something and left the shelter in the rain. We found out later that the mice had been crawling all over him and  chewing at his sleeping bag. It was no surprise to the rest of us since he had been keeping candy in his pockets to munch on throughout the night. It is generally expected that there will be mice in the shelters and you can hear (and sometimes feel) them scampering around most nights. For this reason, people hang their food bags on strings in the shelters (or from trees/bear cables like you should do). He had previously been known as ‘Sharkbait’, but Candyman seemed much more fitting after that.

Neon, Somewhere on the AT, August 2013

Climbing in Greenland – Nameless Creek

Earlier this summer Hyperlite Mountain Gear sponsored an expedition by Team Glitterbomb (that’s Lizzy Scully, Quinn Brett, Prairie Kearney and John Dickey) to climb unclaimed big walls in Greenland.   Hyperlite Mountain Gear is amazed at what the team accomplished and proud that our ultralight backpacks and shelters helped them along the way.

Glitterbomb PostcardRead on for a post from Lizzy Scully on the expedition and Nameless Creek, the rushing waterway that featured prominently in their time in Greenland.

Every morning this July (2013), I wake up to the sound of a nameless, raging glacier-fed creek just 20 yards down the hill from my tent. Looking out my “window”, I see it splash against big, white-spotted gray boulders and churn in small, clear holes. I call her Nameless Creek. I love how she tumbles and froths.

Nameless Creek alternately calms and scares me. She is difficult to cross, except in a few choice, semi-trecherous spots where we jump from wet, mossy boulders to steep, angular ones that we slide down despite our sticky rubber-covered shoes. Sometimes a foot or whole leg ends up submerged in frigid water, and sometimes it’s best to just take the approach shoes off and cross in the shallower, flatter gravelly bars with quickly frozen, bare feet.

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On the days we hike below the bases of the many unclimbed, sometimes strangely-named rocky peaks we aspire to summit, we walk alongside Nameless Creek. We hop the boulders that line her shores, and we wander into the florescent green vegetation through which she runs. Our feet sometimes sink fully into her marshy surroundings. We have taken two trips up and down Nameless so far to climb three first ascents, the two biggest of which I have happily been a part of. The first week, our team of four ascended a stunning 8-pitch 5.11- ridge line that we called “Morning Luxury,” on a spire that some Brits identified as Breakfast Spire (though they never summited); the three ladies also climbed a manky wet, but interesting 10-pitch 5.10+/11-, which we called “Plenty for Everyone” on the Barnes Wall (we named it that in honor of a friend who died a few days later); and finally, John, Prairie, and Quinn climbed another 4-pitch route to the ridge of the Submarine Wall on a sunny, warm afternoon that I spent meditating, resting, and slapping mosquitoes; they called it “Four Quickies” (5.9).

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We are fairly certain our two summits have not been reached by other humans, especially the summit of Breakfast Spire, a very narrow, slanted square platform, blanketed with black, potato chip-crunchy, rose-like blooms of lichen. We are the sole proprietors of the Wedgies and biners that were left, without which it would be impossible to descend. Of course, we aren’t 100% positive. A handful of climbers in the past assembled a haphazard array of trip reports and topos, one of which shows an unfinished line up our Spire. But there’s nothing definitive about this area. Hopefully there never will be.

Nameless Creek originates just where we established our advanced base camp, amidst glaciers and a gnarly boulder field the size of 10 football fields, all nestled within a giant cirque of granite walls. It is also nameless–The Cirque–at least as far as I know. Melting streams of snow and ice from other, smaller valleys also feed Nameless, but most of her raging frothiness comes from the sky blue-tinted glacier that stretches across the basin of The Cirque.

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The glacier. It’s lovely, with its swaths of pinkish sections, collapsed sink holes, and deep aqua green mini-lakes that sparkle with the shiny, silicate mineral called mica. We hear dozens of streams of varying sizes flowing underneath areas of the glacier as well, which we carefully avoid, and also beneath the boulder field.

While we climb and rappel on our longest, 18-hour day, up our favorite route “Morning Luxury”, I realize also that water from hundreds of snowy patches in the shadowy chimneys and corners of 1600-foot Breakfast Spire also feed Nameless Creek. Evidence is everywhere. It drip, drip, drips off incipient seams and plops into small pools of cold, clear water in various granite nooks. It saturates every patch of sponge-like green and orange moss on the Spire’s ledges and clusters of boulder. And it flows down dirt and grass-filled cracks until it fans out, painting the Spire’s lower slabs with big grey vertical streaks.

And at times the wetness gets very personal. I feel it as I ease my way up the smooth, slime-covered walls of a 200-foot chimney. I hope my damp hands don’t suddenly slip; there is no protection. We find the worst, unprotected, crumbling, waterlogged rock any of us has ever touched in places, and we feel the ooze of mud through our fingers while digging into cracks with nut tools in an attempt to find elusive gear placements for rappel anchors.

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Each day in Greenland, we touch and feel the water that eventually turns into Nameless Creek. Right now as I speak this story, rain that feeds her patters on the thin walls of my tent. Droplets form, a rivulet of water weaves its way down the waterproof fabric, into the grass and shrubs, through the earth, and then into Nameless. Less than 20 yards away, she drops off suddenly, falling from the flat meadow that is our base camp onto a steep talus slope. There, she falls faster and faster until she finally becomes a roaring waterfall crashing into the Torsukatak Fjord, thousands of feet below. HMG21

It is July, 2013, and every night I fall asleep to the sound of water crashing down the hillside 20 yards from my tent. I call the flow of her Nameless Creek. I love how she rumbles and churns.

Lizzy Scully, Summer 2013, Greenland.

 

Pack Lite: Oregon Coast Fatbiking

Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ambassador Steve Graepel is about to leave on a fatbiking expedition on Oregon Coast.  In this post, he gives us his approach to gear selection and going light when planning a multisport expedition like this one.

Thanks to the 1967 Oregon Beach Bill, the public has unrestricted easement to the Oregon Coast, where uninterrupted miles of beach are periodically punctuated by the western slope drainage and rocky capes. In a few days, a buddy and I are heading west with fatbikes to pedal and paddle a rough cut of the coast between Port Orford and Florence. During the trip, we’ll be employing some familiar and some orthodox strategies.

Steve Graepel's multsport expedition gear spread.
Steve Graepel’s multisport expedition gear spread.

Awkwardly enough, to save weight, we needed to put on a little “fat”. While lugging a 30 pound bike with monster truck wheels the size of Montana seems far from light, sometimes the terrain dictates the gear. And in sand, size matters. With 3.7” of volume, I’m actually on the terminal edge of the fat movement (new tires are breaking into the 5” barrier). While I’d probably appreciate the extra float, the loss of over an inch trims a weight in rims and tires while still providing sufficient float.

I’ve cut additional bike weight with a few aftermarket upgrades. The stock crankset was replaced with a 36/22 crankset and a single 18 cog in the back. For the layman, this means I have two rings in front but one ring in the rear, enabling smooth pedaling in soft sand and an efficient gear for the hard pack. I swapped in a titanium handlebar and seatpost; it is corrosion resistant and “softens” the ride in the cockpit – which the prostate will appreciate after miles on the John Deere tires. Lastly, we’ve stripped the front brakes. Salt and sand is hard on brakes and cable gets in the way of handlebar bags. Removing the brakes also simplifies the constant removal and mounting of the front wheel and it lessens the chance of a fatal snag during the inevitable bushwhack. In the end, all these trimmings cut about 7 pounds off the market bike.

When cycling, weight on the body fatigues the body. And carrying an additional 30 pounds of supplies wreaks havoc on the ischial tuberosity (read as saddle sores). So most supplies will be loaded on the bike, not in the pack. A bevy of Revelate Designs frame bags bought us some real estate on the handlebars, the seatpost and inside the frame triangle. We’ll strategically pack gear to keep the bike’s center stable and squirreliness minimized: lighter, bulkier gear will go on the handlebars; heavy and incompressible (food) will pack in the frame bag; bulky electronics will stow in the seatpost drybag.

The route isn’t all sand. As I alluded to, we’ll fjord the inlets and rivers that cross our route. Traditionally, bikes are precariously strapped to packrafts to navigate water crossings. We’ll be doing the same. But the packraft market has seen some radical enlightenment. Last year Klymit (mostly known for inflatable pads and jackets), threw its design in the pool with its LWD, or Light Weight Dingy. The material is a 210D ripstop nylon–something you would find in an inflatable pad–has 6 lash points, an ingenious unidirectional valve, and comes with an inflation bag/dry bag. As you would assume by the name, it’s light and is best suited for flat to mildly wavy water with minimal rock or exposure to pokey things; entirely within the scope of our route. Finally, the LWD weighs 35oz – nearly 4 pounds lighter than my skirted Alpackaraft Yukon. A few test rides look like it’s a winner and can support a fully loaded bike and paddler. It will be wet, but it’s Oregon after all.

We’ll use a Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider Pack and a Hyperlite Mountain Gear Porter Pack to stow what we can’t fit on the bike, which won’t be much. Water, supplies for the day, paddles and the boat. The theory is to keep it light, but have enough volume to carry all our supplies during hike-a-bike section. Hell biking can be, well, a slice out of purgatory when you have to push unwieldy loaded bikes. By comparison, hauling supplies on the back lets big tires virtually float over the terrain.

Bike and boat aside, the real savings starts to accrue in the traditional ways. Just like when backpacking, we’re going light where we can afford to and cutting what we don’t need: shared camp equipment, one set of pedal clothes, one set of camp clothes and lightweight rain gear to cover over it all. The weather will still warm – 55 degrees at night – so we can cut a significant amount in insulation weight. I’m using a warm weather quilt by Katabatic gear and a lightweight parka. We’re using Hyperlite Mountain Gear’s new 2-man UltaMid pyramid tent, and our ½ length 6 oz. ‘skeletal’ Klymit pad will double as our PFD.

Stripping a kit down its raw bones integrates gear into the fabric of the pursuit. And you’d be hard pressed to find a pursuit that exemplifies this more so than multisport. It requires creativity, a savvy approach, and a measure of moxi. The challenges are proportional but the rewards are exponential. The Oregon Coast should be a great proving ground for our bikepacking strategy.

-Steve Graepel, September 2013

 

Peter on the CDT – Grants to Cuba (Segment 6)

For 2013 Hyperlite Mountain Gear is sponsoring one thru-hiker on each of the Appalachian Trail (AT), Continental Divide Trail (CDT) and Pacific Coastal Trail (PCT).  Here’s the sixth update from the trail by Peter, Hyperlite Mountain Gear’s sponsored CDT hiker.  Peter (trail name, “CzechXpress”) will keep all of us up do date with periodic posts and pictures from his journey.  We hope you’ll check in regularly to follow Peter along the trail!

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Peter all smiles on his way from Grants to Cuba via the CDT

The zero day that I had in Grants, which involved moving as little as possible because of my aching foot that was tender to each step I took was rather uneventful.  The rest of the group had left that morning, but I knew that an extra day would give my foot the rest it needed to make it to Cuba, which was the next destination for my next segment.

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A well needed ‘zero day’ to recover before continuing on to Cuba

Grants is small town that once was a booming Uranium mining town, and was once home to the biggest and most productive Uranium mines in the country.  As I learned during the local shuttle drive, high school kids were dropping out of school to go work the mines for an average starting salary of $80,000 per year, creating a huge void in the school system.  Once the government stopped buying the Uranium, the mine laid off 4,000 people overnight, starting a mass exodus out of the town.  Grants has since recovered, but you can still see the boarded up shops downtown. Regardless, you can still feel the local pride in its banners and its people.

After resting in the hotel room, doing some shopping at Wal-Mart, and getting a resupply box ready to be shipped to Ghost Ranch, it was time to leave.  My foot was feeling a little better and I was ready to keep moving.  I’ve learned the longer I stay in town, the more comfortable I get and the more my head starts spinning with ideas. I was tired of always taking my pack off to drink water so wanted to try this new hydration system.  I caught the local shuttle to the post office and then to the Mumms who are local trail angels and were holding a new bladder system that I had ordered from REI.  The Mumms are great people who leave water caches out at the start of the Malapais, entering the final canyon towards Grants and a final one on the last stretch up Mt. Taylor for hikers to use.

I was very happy to meet them and did not hesitate to give them a much-needed donation.  I got to the trail head for the next segment and began the long hike to the base of Mt. Taylor, hiking about 10 miles that day to the water cache left by the Mumms.  I like staying next to caches as you can drink all you want and then ‘camel up’ in the morning for the next day.  This was my first section alone since the border and I was actually happy to be hiking alone for this part.  I was able to hike at my own pace, on my own schedule and have some time to think about the journey so far. I hiked up the 11,301 ft summit of Mt. Taylor, a leftover ridge from a volcano that had exploded many millions of years ago, currently making it the highest point of the CDT in New Mexico.  I summited Mt. Taylor in the morning with the sun rising over the huge horizon that lay before me.

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Nothing but clear skies and Hyperlite Mountain Gears’ sponsored CDT thru-hiker Peter atop Mt. Taylor

To the south were the mountains I had walked through to reach Grants and to the West were the open plains of the desert landscape that hid Arizona not far away.  To the East and North you could see the next ridges and plateaus that would be my home for the next couple of days as I hiked on top of expanding mesas.  I spent a little bit of time on top before making the descent down the mountain, following forest roads to my next water source; American Spring.  This was one of the nicest springs I had seen so far and was happy to get the water out of the pipe. The spring was surrounded by great meadow full of grass and glorious shade.  What a change from the low-lying desert areas that had been my home for so long before.  I ate a nice leisurely lunch there before continuing my trip down the mountain.  That day I hiked 27 miles, making camp in a patch of trees after getting a burst of energy from Skrillz on my newly downloaded Spotify app.  Yes, some say technology is wrong in the woods but music is a great companion after a long day…  Especially Bob Marley.

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The “road walk that seemed to never end”

The next day brought a boring road walk that seemed to never end.  It finally did at my next water source, Los Indios Spring.  This is the point where I made one of my most stupid mistakes of the hike so far. It taught me to read and then re-read my map notes 10 times before making my next move.  The sign read Los Indios spring .5 miles, so I thought that it was that far past and down the 200ft canyon as noted on the maps.  I walked the .5 miles past the gate but, still no turn off or canyon.  I still saw foot prints, so I kept walking, thinking the sign makers had made a mistake and I decided to keep on going. Stupidly, I ended up  walking about three miles before deciding to reread my maps. Taking the point of view of the southbound hiker, at the gate you would go .5 miles down the canyon to the spring.  So this meant I had to walk the 3 miles back, then go the .5 miles down the 200 ft canyon to get the water.  I don’t think I’ve ever hiked so pissed off before in my life!  I walked back, got to the spring and threw down my pack in anger.  I knew I had made a mistake and being out of water for the last hour made me even more mad.  Why did I make this mistake?  What was I thinking? All of these questions ran through my head. I wanted to learn from the mistake I had just made and avoid having to deal with a similar situation again.

After coming down off the high plateau and the breathtaking view it provided, it was back down to the desert floor where the fear of rattlesnakes, heat and water shortages resurfaced.  It was miserable.  That section of trail was miserable for me.  It was hot, the landscape was Mars-like, and it had no appeal for me.  It was only about 20 miles long, but it put me in such a bad mood that I found myself walking faster and harder then ever before.  After finally being in the trees and seeing beautiful green grass, it was hard to switch back to the desert hiking I had been enduring for weeks.

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A beautiful Mars-like landscape in the desert

The last 20 miles before Cuba were a gorgeous change from the previous miles in the ugly desert. I spent so much time high on the plateaus that surround the area with wonderful rock formations, beautiful expanding views and a cairned trail that was easy to follow.  It reminded me of hiking Utah which is one of my most sacred places to hike in the world.  I happily followed the cairned route up and down the mesa skirting the edge and then back to the middle again, my shoes filled with sand.  My shoes were dying. I couldn’t wait to get my nice new pair once I got to Cuba, and say good bye to these after 530 miles of hard walking.

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Almost to Cuba!

I walked into Cuba at 9pm that night on Memorial Day. I road walked the last four miles in the dimming light of the day as people drove home from parties and celebrations.  I was happy to get to town and plop down on the bed knowing that another section was done and a good rest was coming my way.  I lay in the tub with the water hitting my tired and bruised body knowing that this section was now done and that I was nearing the eventual end of New Mexico.

 

 

 

 

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