Gear Schmear
Valderi, Valder-ra ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, my knapsack on my back
By cam Burns |
Like other gear, packs shouldn’t be considered in isolation — think of them (loaded) as you would a pair of shreddies: size, shape, comfort, flexibility and colors that match your bruises and highlight your scabs are key. Whether you’re ferrying a bunch of energy bars to mountain athletes (“snackpacking”), schlepping a tube of ground beef for a distant barbecue (“meatpacking”) or conducting a block of fudge up to some alpine lake for a Weightwatchers’ meeting (“fudgepacking”), the following selection of luggage adequately meet the expectations of both the fast-and-light crowd and the demands of “kitchen-sinkers” like me — folks who wanna mash it all in and stomp it all down.
One sweet mother-packer: Osprey Atmos 50 ($199)
The folks at Osprey have taken the “three-thousand inches vs. three pounds” challenge to new levels in the new Atmos 50. The most impressive aspect of this top-loader is the fit. There is none better in this selection of packs. A huge volume of space between the mesh backing and the inventive, taut frame-structure (a bit like an un-sprung trap) give the Atmos series maximum “back-to-pack” breathability. This frame-structure and mesh back, combined with Atmos’ “ErgoPull” waistbelt and the breathable, waffle-print harness system make it one of the most comfortable packs you’ll ever try — this monkey really gets on my back.
The bag’s other features make sense and the few bells and whistles (including, in fact, a whistle on the chest strap; no real bells, though, sorry) are smart, and finally, something other than flat straps for ice tools! There is a bit of repetitivity in the pockets designed as options for holding hydration devices: There are three. Still, you can wedge other stuff in there, and at 2 pounds, 13 ounces, there are few contenders in terms of weight. A great several-nighter or adventure-race pack that meets the 3,000-inch challenge admirably; also, check out the very clever built-in waistbelt pockets. (Is that a waistbelt with a pocket or are you just happy to see me?) See www.ospreypacks.com.
Nice pack-age!: Lowe Sirocco 60 Hyperlite ($179)
If you know the history of this firm, you know it had several fabled mountaineers as founders and designers. Some of the gear was top-shelf; some seemed a chemically-induced experiment. In the realm of packs, however, Lowe has long reigned supreme, and it’s no coincidence that today Lowe probably sells more packs than any of its other products. First thing you notice when you try a Lowe Sirocco 60 Hyperlite is that the back padding seems to have gone missing. It’s not — with the pronounced lumbar pad (a hallmark of Lowe packs) and curvaceous angle of the “frame” (really, some tough nylon woven around several horizontal stays and two main vertical stays), your back hardly touches anything, except at the base of the spine — and she’s comfy.
This stripped-down harness is the key to the Sirocco’s small weight — just 4 pounds for a 3700-cubic-inch pack. Flip off its lid, it’s 3.6 pounds. The internal capacity is 60 liters (hence this baby’s name), while there are another 600 cubic inches available via the extendable spindrift collar. The full cloth side pockets mean wands don’t go jimminying about, and the waistbelt is a total fondler (which is good). My wife Frusilla bought her first Sirocco about 16 years ago (Shikes, are we that old?!!!), and while the main compartment can still be divided into two halves as back then, the external rear-entry flap accessing the lower half of the pack has been enlarged — a much needed improvement over some of those older Sirocco designs. A great all-around mid-sizer — can hold nine human heads or 2,700 squeeze-packets of ketchup. See www.lowealpine.com.
Weight a moment: JanSport Bivouac 52 ($150)
In terms of cargo space, this roomy, single-compartment pack takes a middle-ground approach: You can load it through the top as you would a traditional pack, or you can do it from behind via an oversized V-shaped zippered opening (called “doggie-packing”). Having both options is, of course, quite handy. While the “back-to-pack” breathability didn’t quite match the Atmos 50 and the Sirocco, the Bivouac 52 still had great circulation because the back padding has a top-to-bottom “chimney,” allowing sweaty air (and, presumably, sweaty liquid) to circulate up and down the spine.
The 1-millimeter framesheet and single channeled aluminum stay offer a smooth ride. Like Lowe, Jansport markets the very light (2-pound, 13-ounce(!)) Bivouac 52 as having a “mainpack capacity” of 3,200 cubic inches and an “extended capacity” of 3,500 cubic inches with the storm-collar. One thing both the Sirocco and the Bivouac 52 share is simplicity of accessories — neither pack carries excessive gadgetry. JanSport’s biggest point of pride, though, is the fabric: It uses 200-D si-fused fabric (whatever that means) that “has four times the tear strength and ten times the abrasion resistance of the fabrics used by competing ultralight packs,” as the website states. Certainly, it beats most middleweights for price. A delightful bag you can, as the saying goes, haul some serious ass with — if you like carrying animals, that is. See www.jansport.com.
Pack to the future: Granite Gear Nimbus Latitude ($230)
One of the reasons I wanted to get the Nimbus Latitude into this review is the simple fact that the guys at Granite Gear are rethinking what a backpack is, how it performs, and how you load one. The firm’s Ultralight Packer series is one selection of packs that’ll prompt you to mull over what’s on your nether-regions. This pack has no compartment in the traditional sense; rather, it features a series of fabric wings that fold in from the sides, then compress, to hold gear in place (picture rolling a monster burrito or one of those new-fangled CSI body-bags). Indeed, the Nimbus Latitude packs more like a combination duffel bag/rope bag — you can spool all your gear up into one really tight wad. That’s not to say your contents are exposed to the elements — a top-to-bottom zippered stretch panel has you covered while making it as easy to get to things in the bottom of the pack as in the top. One thing that’s clear is that this kind of packing system works better if you compartmentalize with stuff-sacks (as Granite Gear advocates). Still, with a 3,800-cubic inch capacity and weighing just 3 pounds, 8 ounces, this is a terrific, innovative sack — a must-touch bag for amateur smugglers looking to go pro. See www.granitegear.com.
Carrying on: Mystery Ranch Deep Trance ($219)
I’ve been a Dana Gleason (founder of Dana Design) fan for years, and a while back, Dana sold Design and set up shop in Bozeman, Mont., operating under the name of Mystery Ranch. While the Deep Trance (at 4,000 cubic inches, and weighing 4 pounds, 5 ounces) was as high in quality as any pack in this listing, it wasn’t entirely the genius-level stuff I’ve come to expect from Mr. Gleason. (C’mon Dana, where’s the pack with mechanical legs?) His major contribution these days is via his “Outamatic” back-panel sizing system, which, to the uninitiated seems to act like a sort of telescoping sheet (make sure you read everything before sizing yourself — better yet, size a friend wholooks roughly like you). It makes the pack fit to any body length, although the plastic sizing-panel supplied with the pack takes a bit of getting used to. Back-size aside, one thing Dana’s always been good at is thrashable fabric, and whether you’re trawling this sucker behind a Bolivian bus or launching an ugly load down a steep descent, you’ll be in a deep trance at this sack’s solid-ness. It boasts a Cordura bottom laminated with Kevlar, burly stuff for scrape-age on the trail. Just as tout-able are the Trance’s three really cool “Spandura” (did I read that right?) outer pockets, the kind into which you can shove several water bottles or loads of last minute items — you can even hump a deer leg or two. Remember, Dana makes packs for “Navy SEAL teams and others who operate with high Speedos,” as it says on the website — so he ain’t messing around. A solid workhorse in a world of pansies; great for shoplifting. See www.mysteryranch.com.
My, that’s a voluminous load: Gregory Z Pack ($179)
I still think someone still needs to invent a pack that goes on your chest, and I propose Gregory Mountain Products be given the job so they can name it the “Gregory Peck” or the “Gregory Peck Pack,” or perhaps “the Pecker” (wait, no — that’d ride elsewhere). I digress, but once again ’ol Wayne has come out with both a clever name, and a really great pack. The Z Pack is a solid 3,550 cubic inches and weighs 3 pounds, 8 ounces (for the large; with a removable stay and framesheet that lets you shave 9 ounces off the gross weight). Like several other packs in this review, it possesses a chimney-style ventilation design, and the usual Gregory attention to detail. The waistbelt fit is, as expected, excellent — in this case one of Gregory’s Gullwing-Plus jobbies. The expansive rear “bucket pocket” (like the Deep Trance and Atmos 50) lets you handily make off with all Grandma’s silver and still have room for lots of expensive Pfizer products. See www.gregorypacks.com.
MG’s gear columnist Cam Burns is a kitchen-sinker when it comes to backcountry travel. He uses professional models in all his photography and goes by the nickname (given him by a Dr. Seuss fan): Packsalot. He can be reached at jonathanhemlock@hotmail.com
