I sweat profusely while hiking. I love winter and fall, but summer kills me. In your opinion, what is the most breathable, light rain shell out there? Money is no object, and I was hoping I could use it for three-season hiking, if possible.
Three-Season Sleeping Bag Kelty Dualist 20
$150, 3 lbs. 1 oz. (regular)
Sizes: regular and long ($160) kelty.com
Outfitting yourself with good-quality backpacking gear when you’re on a budget can be a challenge, especially core gear like your pack, boots, tent, and sleeping bag. That’s why I wanted to test out Kelty’s competitively priced Dualist 20 on a weeklong rafting trip down Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon River, where I discovered this dual-insulation bag delivers a lot of value for its bargain-basement price.
Mount Rainier National Park presents a multitude of excellent backpacking options. But one that encapsulates the experience well, shows off some of the park’s highlight views, glaciers, and wildflower meadows, and can be knocked off in a weekend is the traverse from Mowich Lake to Sunrise. Hiking below Rainier’s north face makes it look so impossibly big it seems unreal, rising 8,000 to 11,000 vertical feet above hikers on trails. Few North American peaks have visible relief of two vertical miles. You naturally react as you might to a full-blown, heat stroke-induced hallucination: Compelled to believe your eyes, you nonetheless struggle with the nagging intuition that the delicate fruit that is your frontal lobe has spoiled badly in the heat.
Backpacking Boots Scarpa R-evolution GTX
$239, 2 lb. 14 oz. (men’s Euro 42/US 9)
Sizes: men’s Euro 40-47, 48, women’s 37-42 backcountry.com
Boot makers are trying harder to design footwear that bridges the divide between lightweight, nimble shoes and heavier boots that have traditionally delivered more support and protection, but have also been stiffer and less sensitive. I personally applaud that trend, and based on what I hear from readers, I suspect consumers will like it, too. Scarpa’s new R-evolution GTX represents a step in this direction. Curious about how well they achieve this lofty goal, I wore them on a four-day, 86-mile backpacking trip in northern Yosemite National Park last September, and for three days on the 37-mile Kepler Track in New Zealand’s Fiordland National Park in March.
We follow the zigzagging trail upward until it becomes lost beneath an unbroken snow cover. Then we follow the boot prints of the few trekkers who’ve ventured up here before us recently, a navigational strategy based on hope—the hope that unseen strangers knew where the path goes. A bit farther than I could hurl a stone to either side of us loom sheer walls of dark rock, rendered fuzzy by the fog, as if Vaseline coats our eyeballs. The cliffs rise hundreds of feet into the oblivion of a soupy, gray ceiling, the sky a dark bruise that looks almost close enough to touch. A drizzly rain seeps from the clouds, but the air is calm and there is no sound but our footsteps and breaths—and a faint rumbling of uncertainty in my gut.