This is a place I know well. In previous chapters of my life I was employed there.

Trip after trip is made to Thornal’s, which is where one goes if one wants (a) someone who actually remembers you and offers a cheery hello, (b) a professional opinion informed by long experience and sincere interest, and (c) merchandise that rivals any on the planet, possibly because it’s carefully selected from all over the planet.

The disarmingly low-key Allen is my main guide through the thicket of high-grade camping equipment, steering me to the North Face backpack and sleeping bag, Eureka tent, Thermarest mattress and literally dozens of other useful if increasingly weighty items. I already own boots, which Lester fitted for a national parks tour I took last year out west with my father. Of course, Dad was younger when we hiked trails in the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon and Zion, having barely turned 95.

Back home, I unpack the stuff, which covers the entire floor of a spare bedroom and looks like the detritus of an extravagant family Christmas. This is one of those welcome occasions when one can blatantly indulge raw selfishness, without feeling more than passing guilt, on the grounds that each component is an essential article of physical survival in an unforgiving wilderness. I find this to be a good working delusion.

Once assembled, my new equipment is proudly displayed to friends. Nearly every last one of them, having duly admired the lavish assortment of pack and tent, containment vessels, flashlight, cooking gear, grub, etc., lifts the fully-fitted pack and says something to the effect of, "Do you seriously imagine you’re going to carry this thing more than a block uphill without dissolving into a herniated puddle of pain?"

A couple days before leaving, I climb the stairs at home for the first time with the loaded pack and suddenly it dawns on me they are right – I should have been schlepping this thing up and down steps for the past two months, like Gary Schemmer, a veteran of these hikes who has been using the hospital staircase as his virtual mountain. An ophthalmologist who regularly roots around in people’s eyeballs (and for all I know, their brains) it’s comforting to realize he takes the same perfectionist approach to preparations large and small.

Here’s a fact, though: Denial works! It’s one of two mottos on our family crest. Even if it didn’t, it would be too late to do anything about it now.

Outfitter's Advice: Choosing a Sleeping Bag


There are two primary issues when choosing a back packing sleeping bag: comfort rating and fill material. The comfort rating is a guide to compare the insulation of sleeping bags. 

On your trip-determine the lowest temperature that you are likely to encounter, and get a bag that is slightly warmer. Don’t forget that higher altitudes are generally cooler. Most spring, summer, and fall hikers enjoy using a rating between 20 degrees and 40 degrees. Winter Hikers may need bags rated well below zero degrees. During the warm summer, it is simple to open the double zipper around the legs for venting, or just leave the whole side unzipped. Sleeping pads greatl;y increase the effectiveness and comfort of a bag by raising a hiker off the cold ground. Mummy bags are always warmer (and lighter) than a bag with the same rating of a rectangular configuration. The fill material is a matter of trade offs and advantages. Down Insulation is warmer, easily compressed, lighter weight, and very durable. Quality down has a fill rating of 500 or higher. The synthetics are less expensive, warm when wet, dry very quickly. Good synthetic insulators are are variations of Polarguard (HV, 3D, v II), Quallofill, and Thermoloft. Most sleeping bags come in two lengths: regular for 5’ to 6’, and long for 6’ to 6’6". Some bags even have a choice of left or right side zippers.

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