Michael Lanza

Gear Review: Asolo Magix Hiking-Approach Shoes

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Asolo Magix
Asolo Magix

Hiking/Approach Shoes
Asolo Magix
$210, 2 lbs. (men’s Euro 42/US 9)
Sizes: men’s Euro 41-47/US 8-12, 13, 14, women’s Euro 36-41/US 6-10.5
moosejaw.com

In their early days, approach-style shoes were basically rock-climbing shoes for easy routes that you could walk short distances in with marginal comfort. They have since evolved greatly into something designed more for hiking comfort and performance than for climbing. Much as I like climbing, that’s a smart evolution, in my opinion, because that turns them into all-mountain shoes ideal for hiking and scrambling long days in difficult, off-trail terrain—a task for which lightweight, low-cut hiking shoes can get trashed, and burlier boots are often too heavy and hot. (For skilled climbers, some approach models are also sticky and nimble enough for easy fifth-class routes.) But there’s still a tension between conflicting objectives with approach shoes: balancing walking comfort against design elements that protect your feet better, but can also make shoes heavier and hotter. With the low-cut Magix, Asolo seemed to take a shot at achieving that delicate balance, so I took them on several hikes, including a 12-hour, roughly 14-mile and 5,000-foot, mostly off-trail dayhike in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, to test whether they could deliver.

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Monolith Valley, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

Hiking to the Stunning Monolith Valley in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains

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By Michael Lanza

Our day’s primary goal—reaching the 10,470-foot summit of Horstman Peak, which had eluded us on a previous attempt—was already behind us when my friend Chip Roser and I descended south off Horstman to hike across a valley that lies just a few miles as the crow flies from the busiest spot in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, and yet probably sees no more than a handful of hikers a year. We’d gotten distant views of the Monolith Valley before, but those glimpses hardly did justice to the spectacle of this stunning paradise of water and granite.

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Gear Review: Leki Micro Vario Carbon Trekking Poles

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Leki Micro Vario Carbon trekking poles
Leki Micro Vario Carbon trekking poles.

Trekking Poles
Leki Micro Vario Carbon Trekking Poles
$200, 1 lb./pair (without storage sack)
moosejaw.com

From a four-day trip backpacking the Rockwall Trail in Canada’s Kootenay National Park, and a seven-mile, 2,300-foot dayhike on the Iceline Trail in Yoho National Park, to a rocky and often steep, 17-mile, 6,800-vertical-foot dayhike over the four summits of the Northern Presidential Range in New Hampshire, and an approximately 27-mile dayhike on Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon River Trail (and other dayhikes of up to 10 miles during a six-day rafting trip on the Middle Fork), the Leki Micro Vario Carbon Trekking Poles repeatedly demonstrated their usefulness and versatility.

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Gear Review: Princeton Tec Sync Headlamp

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Princeton Tec Sync
Princeton Tec Sync

Ultralight Headlamp
Princeton Tec Sync
$30, 2.9 oz. (including three AAA batteries)
moosejaw.com

Hiking down the steep, rocky, frequently slippery trails of Mount Washington in the dark for the final 90 minutes of a 17-mile, 6,000-vertical-foot dayhike over the four summits of New Hampshire’s Northern Presidential Range, the last thing I needed was a headlamp that wasn’t bright enough or lost power. With the Sync, those issues weren’t a problem. In fact, its brightest setting threw a broad beam that illuminated the lower Tuckerman Ravine Trail well enough that two teenagers in our party who had forgotten their headlamps could see. Considering also that the Sync is one of the lightest, cheapest, and simplest headlamps on the market today, and it’s hard to find fault with it.

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Rick Baron, Grand Teton

My Friend Who Never Grew Old

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How a Climbing Tragedy Shaped My View of Risk, the Outdoors, Parenting, and Life

By Michael Lanza

The finger-numbing morning shadow of Maine’s highest peak, Katahdin, hung over us as we organized ropes and gear to rock climb the Pamola Cliffs, a slab of heavily fractured granite rising several hundred feet above us. Somewhere up there, Katahdin’s famous Knife Edge ridge—where we intended to finish the climb—scraped at the heavens. Below us, Chimney Pond caught the light of the clear sky like an unblinking eye in the dark green conifer forest.

I felt a powerful and untarnished sense of joy and excitement that always washed over me on the brink of a great, new adventure. I was back in one of my favorite spots in New England, Baxter State Park. I’d organized the trip months earlier, planning to climb that first day, hike a loop over Katahdin the next day, and backpack north of Katahdin for three days after that, with an assortment of friends, some of whom were arriving that night. None of that ever took place; we never even reached the top of the Pamola Cliffs. Within a few hours, a good friend was dead and the way I viewed the outdoors would be changed forever.

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