Shelter / Pack / Sleep system / Clothing / Shoes

Nordkalottleden was a bit off the typical 3 season conditions of a temperate climate and I had to make a few adjustments to my gear list to reflect that. There was also quite a bit of uncertainty as I was not so sure about what to expect so it was a bit of a challenge to gather a gear list I could trust and was still reasonably lightweight.

As usual, gear and technique are one in this discussion. It’s not possible to understand one without the other so this will not be a fancy presentation of cool looking equipment but a hands-on essay on how my gear and me got together in the arctic fells.

Shelter

Stephensons Warmlite 2C. It was hard to justify the expense of buying yet another tent (and this one is an expensive one) and it was hard to part with the tarp/tarptent idea for the summer season but this one was one of the concessions I made for my safety and peace of mind. I guess it was mainly for the peace of mind.

The premises went like this:

The potential for bugs was still there so I wanted a bug-proof shelter: a bivy under a tarp is technically bug-proof but not too comfortable.

The terrain is very exposed along Nordkalottleden and wind seemed common so I wanted a very wind worthy shelter.

Camping out was an important part of the experience and something to explore in one of the few places in Europe where you can do it freely. I didn’t want my shelter to be the weak link that would send me to the huts too often.

I still tried to go the tarptent way but tests failed in the wind-worthiness side: not enough. So I recalled the outstanding figures for those misterious tents in the most unusual gear webshop and decided I had reason enough to get one. Furthermore, the Stephenson family had just added a new, shortened model to their line up that made particularly true their claim: “the lightest real tent you can find”. It was difficult to resist getting one for years. Not anymore.

The 2C would take part of the fun out of camping: no more creative tarp setups, bivy nights under the stars or the wonderful modularity of a multi-piece shelter system. It’d leave just one choice: tent or tent. For the same reason, it’d take some uncertainty out of the journey, which was a welcome relief in a trip too full of too many uncertainties.

The Lapland arctic feels intimidating. Maybe not when the sun is shining and there’s no wind but during my 3.5 week trip the sun was hardly ever shining and it was often windy, unstable, dark, damp and cold. I guess I could have done it with a tarptent or even a tarp but I was so happy to have a real tent with a real frame. Not only that, the Warmlite 2C was a extremely solid tent that I felt I could trust in the worst conditions reasonably expected and that made me feel confident in a situation where I needed it.

The 2C is incredibly light and at the same time it feels bombproof. I have yet to put it through the hurricane force winds it’s supposed to be able to stand but other than that it’s lived up to most manufacturer claims: it’s very easy and quick to set up and down, even in bad conditions. It’s very strong in the wind. Despite the shortened version, it’s still big for one plus gear (though it may be a bit tight lenghwise for tall people). Properly sealed, it was waterproof.

Warmlite 2C

The Stephenson tents are a weird design: the 2C is a pretty common, asymmetrical tunnel with two frame loops: a big one at the front and a smaller one at the rear, but stands out for a few, important details: it’s a kind of hybrid between single and double wall. I could describe it as a single wall tent with a hanging interior second wall. This inner wall is found only in the body section in between the two frame loops and it’s absent in the sloping ends. The inner wall is sewn to the roof center seam and hangs from there. The floor is sewn to the inner wall in the area where there is one, to the outer wall where that is the only one. Both inner and outer wall are waterproof and non-breathable (outer and floor are 1.3 silnylon; inner is something similar if not the same thing) and the inner wall is there to provide aditional insulation. The air gap in between the two walls is supposed to act as an insulator.

Another key feature that sets this tents apart is the frame poles: the sections the poles are made of are not straight. They’re already bent so when you join them they form an arc naturally, no need for any tension. This is supposed to make them much stronger than standard, straight section poles. It’s a known fact the bend in straight poles weakens them. How important is this effect, I don’t know but the Stephensons clearly think it is. Why most manufacturers use straight section poles, I don’t know either but it’s easy to imagine how these poles have it easier to stand the wind force:

The loops stand alone

The poles are made of extremely thin aluminum which makes them so light. The last oddity is the front pole has an unsually wide section. I guess this makes for the loss of strengh from the thin walls. So thin wall, wide section. They look flimsy when you handle them but stand as a rock when assembled inside their sleves.

The ventilation system has three ports: lower rear, lower front and upper front, all use netting. The first two have a beak that completely covers them even though the rear one can still be closed (from inside; but one should go outside to open it again). I see very unlikely the need to close it anyway. The upper front port is more unusual: the beak is inside the tent and below the gap, not outside and above. It’s possible to close and open it from inside. The rain will hit and go through the netting but it’ll be stopped by the beak wall. It’ll then run down and through the seam joining beak and wall: it’s key that this seam is sealed on the inside. A bit weird but it works well.

This tent is extremely spartan which is good for the weight but sometimes I missed somewhere to hung something from (on the outside; like to hung something to dry or leave the socks overnight. Well, it was raining most nights anyway…).

The Stephenson tents have no vestibule. This is no omission: I guess they’ve been asked a million times to provide one but apparently the lack of a vestibule is key to the design. I definitely missed it but could live without it.

The only major drawback I saw to this tent was something commonly reported by other users that I’ll still say in a low voice: it’s got a condensation problem.

The Stephensons are very fond of their claim about the function of their ventilation system. They believe in it so much they also claim that condensation must be due to user error. They also go in length on how to avoid it. I’ve read it all several times, as well as other long discussions on the subject. I must say I’m not doing everything the manufacturer recommends to avoid condensation (basically, I’m not using a vapor barrier) so I won’t say they’re not right. Yet, my opinion is the ventilation system is not enough. Yes, I can trap the moisture from my perspiration but I still have to breathe… and I don’t think the ventilation system could cope with even that. I say this based on the amount of condensation I’ve experienced in the given conditions. Of course, I may be wrong.

Condensation was annoying but never a serious problem. I’d wipe it off with a towel (that I carry anyway) and it’d never drip on me. It’s interesting to observe it happened mainly in the strictly single wall sections of the tent and in the inner face of the outer wall in the double wall section. That means the inner wall does work as extra insulation as there was hardly ever any condensation inside it.

I went through heavy winds once. The wind was gusty and occasionally very strong. The tent suffered, moved and felt like it’d be destroyed anytime but.. it didn’t. It stood beautifully. It wasn’t even properly oriented as there was no wind when I set up camp and my best guess worked only partially: the wind gusts were coming from the rear/side. The location was very exposed. The rear pole would flex and come partially flat against me from the side the wind was pushing but it’d come back to shape when the gust eased. It felt really scary but I relaxed a bit when I saw the tent was not gonna be pushed down.

The 2C should come with what the manufacturer calls the “wind stabilizers”, a way of joining the poles inside the tent that’s supposed to make them much stronger in the wind. Unfortunately, my tent came without them so I cannot report on their performance (I’ve already talked to the manufacturer about adding them).

I was very happy with the 2C. I think it’s a great tent. It made me feel safe in the inhospitable conditions I had to go through and kept me safe and comfortable. I’d take it again and I doubt I could find a better tent.

ProsCons
Lightweight
Roomy
Stable
Simple setup
Condensation
No vestibule

Stephenson’s Warmlite 2C in the arctic fells

Pack

Granite Gear Virga. My GG Virga was growing old. I got a new pack, a Gossamer Gear Mariposa Plus, already a classic in the lightweight league with a new, more durable fabric. I tested this one and overall liked it but in the end I decided to take the Virga with me again. I sewed permanent patches in those long rips and the pack looked like new again. I also sewed a velcro patch so the hip belt I added the previous year would stay in place better.

I love this pack. No siren calls from manufacturers of fancy, beautiful packs have made me swap it for anything else (and I tried). I like it so much that as much as the gear junkie in me would like to try something new, I’m almost certain I’ll get another Virga when this one wears out.

The Virga is lightweight but durable: it’s been with me for years of heavy use (and some heavy loads) and the only rips it got happened in civilization. Only after Nordkalottleden it’s showing some damage in one of the seams between shoulder strap and pack body, and it’s not the seam that’s failing but the strap fabric itself so it may be tricky to repair (but I’ll try). It uses two different fabrics: a rugged, pretty thick one on the back panel and bottom; and a thin, lightweight one for the rest. It’s frameless and its cylindrical shape and size perfectly fits a closed cell pad: I unroll the pad against the walls and this helps create a very stiff block. The compression system is excelent: adjustable straps on both sides and at the front, six total, all sewn to catenary cut panels that are supposed to spread the load (I guess they do). The shoulder straps have a thick, very good foam padding and I particularly like the way they’re sewn to the pack body: they’re not directly sewn to the flat back panel; rather, the back panel has got two pieces sewn together and one of them has a flap that sticks off the back panel all along its width. The shoulder straps are sewn to this flap so when you’re wearing the pack the shoulder straps pull upwards from this flap they’re sewn to. This avoids the outward pull that happens at these seams when the shoulder straps are directly sewn to the pack body. The problem in this kind of seam is the pull is trying to separate both surfaces and you can see these seams stretch no matter how reinforced they are. When sewn like in the Virga, the pull is linear to the seams so it’s spread all along those seams and there’s no stretching. A very good feature extrangely absent in most packs I’ve seen, lightweight or not.

Some people don’t like the long extension collar; I think it’s almost perfect lenght: it allows a good, roll down closure when the pack is not choked full and offers extra capacity for long sections.

Another feature some don’t like are the stretchy side pockets: they’re hardly accessible with the pack on but I still use them. The stretch quality makes them flat agaisnt the pack body when empty so they don’t catch on vegeation and they still admit considerable size items and hold them securely. I carry a 2 liter Platypus in one of them, it’s a perfect fit.

The one thing I didn’t like about the Virga has been successfully addressed: I added a proper hip belt (actually, a discarded ULA one I found in a trash can, that is, an excellent hip belt) so now I really can transfer weight to the hips, turning the Virga into a bit of a load monster. I’ve carried up to 43 lbs. before in relative comfort. On Nordkalottleden, my biggest load was around 16 kg. or 35.5 lbs. (if the scale I used was accurate). My shoulders would feel some pain after a while but I guess the shoulder strap padding is not anymore what it used to be. It’s been a long time already and so many miles.

Sleep system

The sleep system got conditioned by the shelter choice: as I was carrying a framed, enclosed tent, there was no need for a bivy bag/bag cover or a ground sheet. I kept the same bag as usual, also the same pad; I just added some clothing that could double as sleep gear.

For a bag I keep on using this great piece of gear that’s the Arc Special quilt by Nunatak. I’ve gone in lenght before about how much I like it and why. It’s a bit of a fringe item because it’s relatively thin but I like the design a lot. The open bottom with adjustable straps makes it so versatile: that’s the variable girth feature that lets you wear insulating clothing inside to match the conditions while multiusing those items. I also like the lack of a hood so I can have a hood independent of the rest of the bag and, again, re-use some items I’m already carrying.

The one problem with my Arc Special is that the compartments are slightly underfilled in my opinion. I have to take care of shaking the down towards the center of each compartment so I have good insulation over my body but even then sometimes the down falls towards the sides during the night leaving cold spots. I’m seriously considering getting a bit of extra down, an ounce or two will probably be worth it.

As for a pad, I still sleep comfortably in closed cell foam so that’s a no brainer: no inflatables for me. The pad goes inside the pack during the day (still working for my comfort by helping pack rigidity) so packing it is not a problem. Good quality foam is a must.

Clothing

Together with the shelter, this is the department where I made some adjustments for the expected, harder than 3 season conditions. Top to bottom:

Head

Nothing new here, just the usual: wide brim hat for sun protection; fleece cap and neck buff for the cold.
I hardly used the wide brim hat as there was hardly any sun to protect from but I think I’d take it again. Wishful thinking for clear blue skies, so much appreciated in the arctic outdoors. I still managed to get a slightly burnt face skin one of the few days with some sunny hours (I didn’t bother with the hat).

Fleece cap and neck buff are a very versatile team, both during the day and at night. They can create a continuous covered space around head and neck, a very welcome synergy. Head and neck are key for thermoregulation, the first place to cover or uncover as we need to warm up or cool down.

Torso

I added a layer, going from 4 to 5 and changed the hard, outer shell. I’m particularly fond of how well this clothing system worked.

The base layer was the same as usual: a polyester, long sleeve shirt with high neck and chest zipper.

The wind shirt was also the one I’ve been using for years: a Montane Featherlite Smock, a simple shirt in pullover style with chest zipper, elastic cuffs, in Pertex Microlight fabric. It worked as well as always but given the sustained cold temps I missed a hood. I actually considered taking the hooded version of this same item (that I also own) but eventually decided against it as that model (named the Lightspeed) is considerably heavier: not only for the hood but also because it’s a full zip jacket and has some other features I don’t really need. No hood is usually ok when it’s not too cold (and there’s always the fleece cap and neck buff around) but when it is a hood becomes invaluable. I’d probably take the Lightspeed or some other hooded shirt if I was to do it again.

The fleece top (a Haglofs Solo Top in Polartec 100) was the additional layer. Fleece had been long displaced from my 3 season list in favour of high loft synthetic insulation but it’s still got its place in winter. That’s because when it’s cold you may need to wear some insulation during the activity and the high loft synthetics are not good for that: they get compressed under the pack weight which kind of destroys them but, even worse, they don’t manage perspiration well so often cause sweat build-up which is a very bad thing to happen. For us and for the insulation itself. Fleece is bulky and has a worse weight/insulation ratio but it deals with perspiration much better so it’s the ideal insulation to wear while on the move. In Lapland, I expected to need something more than the base layer and the wind shirt quite often and… you bet I did.

The fleece top, being thin and simple in construction, wasn’t any heavy and it layered beautifully over the base layer and under anything else I could need to add. It added great value in my system.

The synthetic insulation pullover was a new item but identical in concept to the one it came to replace. My old one had lost too much loft so I took the chance to get a Bozeman Mountain Works Cocoon pullover. I got the hooded version. The Cocoon is incredibly light for the loft if provides and it’s perfect for camp use and to supplement the sleeping bag at night.

The hard shell is another item I changed. I took my old-ish Montane Superfly (a typical 2 layer lightweight nylon + PU membrane jacket) from the back of my closet, where it had been hiding for a few seasons, to take the place of the O2 Rainshield I had been using lately. The O2 Rainshield is one of these paper-like, cheap design, Propore fabric jackets so popular in lightweight backpacking. It’s super light and it really breathes, so much better than any membrane I’ve used and, of course, it’s waterproof. The downside is the rough design (it’s rather a no-design), ultra-cheap materials (zipper, etc.) and fragility: this thing works but it’s not too good for heavy use It’s no joke it feels paper-like. It’s still perfect for those summer trips when rain is always a possibility but not a probability and it’s not expected to last for several days anyway. In Lapland, I expected to wear my hard shell more often so it felt better to take a sturdier one. I never imagined how righ I was. I eventually wore the jacket more than ever before in any trip.

The Superfly is a very lightweight, full featured and well designed jacket with the only drawback of the limited breathability inherent to PU membranes. It was kind of revealing to see how well it worked in the conditions: it was so cold and often windy that condensation inside the jacket was minimal and I could wear it in comfort far beyond usual. The use of an umbrella helped significantly with that.

In general, I had a most versatile torso clothing system. I took good care of using it well: baselayer alone would be a rare happening. baselayer + windshirt would be the standard and I’d add the fleece top if it was cold and switch the windshirt for the hard shell when it rained. Both operations would mean taking the windshirt off (the fleece top would layer inside), which was kind of tedious because the weather would change constantly but having the right combination on made me a happy hiker. As soon as I understood this, the constant changes were not anymore seen as a burden.

Montane Superfly

Legs

A few changes here too. A total of 4 layers may seem excesive (it does, even to me) so I’ll try to explain and see if it makes sense:

The core of the leg wear was the usual convertible pants. I like convertibles for the versatility. I love shorts and I need some shorts with me so if my trousers weren’t convertible I’d have to take extra shorts. The Lowe Alpine Mettle were lying in my closet while I was convinced it had been a wrong buy: they’re black (not too good in warm weather), I never liked the pockets and they lack elastic at ankle height. On the other hand, they’re rugged, windproof nylon and the micro-fleece lining makes them very comfortable against the skin, even when damp. I wouldn’t expect high temps in Lapland so I thought the black colour could be even an advantage so I put some velcro on the pocket openings to make them secure and also put the elastic at the ankle cuffs (which I find so useful to turn long trousers into below-the-knee shorts in a few seconds). With these modifications, the Mettle turned to be the perfect trouser for the task: they’re windproof, bugproof and rugged, still (kind of) confortable when wet and they would dry amazingly fast. I’d like to stress how quick they’d get dry, which is such an important thing when using your trousers as a do-it-all item.

The polypropylene tights are also a classic. They’re my pijama to help me keep my bag clean and emergency wear for whatever needs. I’ve never used them other than to sleep and in camp. They’re extremely light, just 87 gr.

The wind pants are an item I had yet to take on a long trip. They’re of questionable use when the main pants are already windproof but it felt kind of unsafe to take just those and nothing else. And I still object to take rain pants, which I don’t like. It was also clear to me the rain skirt was out of the question this time so I decided for that kind of middle ground that are the wind pants. I took them more for rainy than windy conditions while being fully aware they’re not at all waterproof but assuming my legs would get wet and hoping they’d keep warm while hiking and the pants would get dry quick. But then, ¿isn’t all that what’s already expected from the convertibles? Short answer: yes. So ¿weren’t the wind pants kind of redundant gear? In a way, they were but it still felt safer to take them. My reasoning was they’d provide some extra warmth, if only for the extra layer, if it was needed and if things got really ugly, I could still wear them on their own and safe the convertibles dry.

I hardly used them. I think I only wore them while doing laundry in town (whatever “town” means in Nordkalottleden) yet I think I’d take them again. They provide that extra margin of security and peace of mind for so little weight (107 gr.). This is UL treason, I know.

The insulating pants were a new addition. I got them for winter use but decided to take them with me on Nordkalottleden at the last minute. I was concerned about the net loss of loft in my sleeping bag commented above as much as about the potential for sustained cold and wet conditions that could further compromise the down insulation. It was a fringe bag when new, more so now that the baffles seem so dangerously short of down so it felt like an easy target for down collapse and failure in constant, high humidity like it could be expected in Lapland. The experience from the Arctic1000 guys also helped to make up my mind about this: I already had the pants, they were light and they’d be yet another safety item in a trip with too many uncertainties. They made the list.

This pants are the Cocoon UL 60 from Bozeman Mountain Works, a single layer of Polarguard synthetic insulation sandwiched between two layers of Pertex Quantum. Just 203 gr. Even in a worst case scenario of sleeping bag failure, I’d still had a full suit of synthetics (pullover and pants of matching colours) to sleep in.

Cocoon UL 60 pants

My bag never failed and I’m not even aware it got significantly damp. I didn’t perceive the ambient humidity to be very high either (but I may be wrong). Night time temperatures were not too low. Bottom line, I think I could have done without the Cocoon pants but again it was soothing to have them. I used them several nights as a preventive measure and hardly ever had to take them off but I think I’d had been allright without them. I also used them in camp sometimes but camp time (outside the tent/sleeping bag) was quite limited on this trip anyway. I didn’t feel too comfortable about sitting or kneeling with this delicate piece on but I guess it’s a matter of getting used to it; Quantum is tougher than it seems.

Feet

I took the usual three pair of socks. I know I can do with just two but this is another safety margin I’m happy to carry, particularly for the long trips.

The hiking shocks were the Smartwool Light Hiker model. The one thing I don’t like about these socks is the limited durability but I already had a new pair at home. From previous experiences, I estimated they’d last for the trip and they did. They were just starting to develop holes by trip end. Wool is excellent for socks, very comfortable and warm but wears out quick. I’ll try to go for some wool-nylon blend in the future.

The sleeping socks were the usual Bridgedale Trail Runner model. I only use them for sleeping so they’re the only ones that make it through trip after trip. Light and warm.

The spare socks were a wool-nylon blend, the Bridgedale Endurance Trail Light model. They were hardly used but I felt better having them with me. They’ll probably be my next hiking socks.

Light Hiker. Endurance Trail Light. Trail Runner

Shoes

During the High Sierra section of my Pacific Crest Trail 2006 thru-hike, I had experienced the joys of permanently wet feet. Not for hours but days and even weeks. Wet feet is not a nice thing but it’s not as bad as most people seem to think or I myself used to think. Wet feet became an option. I was ready to take this option again in my Lapland trip.

Salomon Solaris 2

I’ve talked extensively about hiking in lightweight, low-cut shoes in basically any kind of terrain before but I’ll go with the basics again here: these shoes require less effort to walk and allow easier progression while being so much more gentle on your feet than classic mountain boots. The more rigid the boot, the more your feet have to adapt to it and the more terrain careless your tread becomes. With lightweight shoes, it’s the shoe that adapts to the foot and you adapt your tread to the terrain. I think both are neat concepts.

Lack of ankle support is one of the most commont arguments against low-cut shoes but the question is, do we really need it? and how do we know if we do or not? Short answer is try and see for yourself. Bottom line is don’t just believe the cliché. Ankle support is provided by our own ankles and that is more than enough for many of us. It may not be for some but we’ll never know if we don’t try.

Difficult trail tread is another common reason for justifying boots but I can’t see why: a good sole can be mounted on a low-cut shoe as well as on any boot. Shoes for mountain hiking have indeed a good, grippy sole.

Then there’s humidity. This is a very important factor in a permanently wet place like Lapland. The problem with water is that unlike air, it’s a poor insulator. It conducts heat much better than air so it drains heat from that heat source that’s our body, hence the cold feeling of a wet surface so the problem is actually one of temperature.

It’s possible to have a waterproof low-cut shoe and use gaiters to get a good seal against the wet but neither that nor the heaviest, highest cut boots are an ideal solution for very wet conditions. No matter how waterproof, it seems water always finds a way through eventually and then the problem reverses: the more waterproof the shoe, the more difficult to get it dry. Hence the reversed approach to face the wetness: instead of fighting it, we can try to get on with it. In practice, this means we accept we’ll get wet feet. We’ll just keep hiking and hope they’ll get drier or even dry if given the chance. We’ll be wet but not hopeless.

The theory goes like this: low-cut, highly breathable shoes made of synthetic fabrics that won’t absorb water, insulating socks that’ll keep our feet reasonably comfortable even when soaked. Rain is not a problem by itself, it’ll hardly soak our shoes but the wet vegetation will. No problem, we just keep hiking. We can go straight through puddles, streams or rivers with the added benefit of fording them with good treading shoes on. We just keep hiking. The shoes will drain excess water as we walk and it’s a matter of a few minutes to go from soaked to just wet. The socks I use are thick enough to keep my feet reasonably comfortable but not so thick that they take too long to dry.

This is all a nice and tested practice in dry, warm conditions but would it work in a permanently wet and potentially cold place like Lapland? Again the Arctic1000 friends provide the evidence: it may work. It did for them. That and my own previous experience made it clear to me that I’d hike in Lapland with low-cut, highly breathable shoes and see what’d happen.

It worked beautifully and I was happy with the choice. Unlike in other trips, it hardly ever felt refreshing or somehow nice to dip my feet in water but as usual it wasn’t that bad anyway. Wet feet became the norm and I would count the hours they were dry. The odd thing is I’d come to highly value dry feet so I’d came to a point where I’d be somehow betraying the whole principle (i.e., it doesn’t matter getting wet because it’ll eventually happen anyway) and try to rock hop over streams or go around marshes to preserve my precious dryness… but it was a lost battle and I’d only waste time and energy. I only managed to keep dry feet for any significant length of time when Nordkalottleden shared tread with one of the other, more popular trails in the area, Kungsleden or Padjelantaleden, where I’d find bridges over streams and rivers and wooden platforms over every marsh.

Feet swallowed by the marsh

I used Salomon Solaris II trail running shoes. Ideally, I’d have been using my most tried and tested Vasque Velocity model but I had a pair of the Salomons almost unused, bought on the trail where I couldn’t find the Vasques. Anyway, both models are so similar in concept. If anything, I’d say the Salomons may be a bit less durable and the soles not so grippy over wet rock but in general I was just as happy as with the Vasques.