Like an old friend

“How long have you had that backpack, Jen?” I had to stop and think when a friend asked me this question a few weeks ago on a backpacking trip through the Highbanks Rollaway on the Manistee River in northwest lower Michigan. I bought my Gregory 44L in preparation for a section hike on the Appalachian Trail back in 2017. I was on a budget, and the nearest REI store was several hours’ drive from our home, so I just ordered it online from REI, after watching a zillion videos about how to measure your torso, and how to adjust it once it arrived. 

I took part in a few group backpacking trips during the spring of 2017 to get ready for an AT section hike with a girlfriend. I was new to backpacking, and felt that I needed to practice my skills, and learn as much as I could before our 100 mile hike. At first, just figuring out where to put everything so I could find it again was my biggest challenge. That, and getting everything to fit. I had bought a 2-man tent, because I am kind of claustrophobic, and had a synthetic sleeping bag that took up a fair amount of space. I had no idea about ultralight anything, and had things strapped on all over the exterior of my back, so that it stood a little higher than head when I had it on. My sleeping pad, strapped to the bottom of my pack, made me wider than I normally am.

In the picture below, you can barely see the pack, there’s so much stuff strapped to it.

My third shakedown hike was through Pictured Rocks in May. The forecast was for three days of rain, so not only was I carrying food for a longer trip, I thought it would be a good idea to bring some extra layers against the cold, and a tarp for more protection against the rain. I had no idea that lightweight tarps were a thing, so I bought a small blue one at Walmart. My hiking companion commented that my pack looked bigger than I did.

Over the years, I’ve figured out my gear, balancing comfort in camp with comfort in pack weight. I no longer have anything hanging off of my pack, except Yaktrax in winter. But it’s still the same comfortable pack–comfortable to me, anyway. I know exactly where everything goes, and when I put it on, everything just kind of falls into place. It suddenly occurs to me that pretty much everyone I backpack with regularly has upgraded their pack since I met them (with one exception–you know who you are!)

In Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130, “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun,” he describes his mistress as having wiry hair, dun-colored breasts and reeking breath, ending with a line about how he loves her beyond compare anyway. While my pack has none of those characteristics, I feel a little bit of what Shakespeare must have felt every time I consider upgrading, and ultimately decide to stick with what I’ve got. 

My backpack is not UL. It has an internal frame, sturdy fabric, straps all over its exterior, and gigantic hip belt pockets. Its multiple zippers I’m sure add to its overall weight. However, I would not trade this convenience. When I look at UL packs that are one giant roll-top cavern, I wonder how anyone finds their headlamp, bear-bag string, compass, snacks, or any number of other items that are strategically packed in my Gregory’s many pockets, each in the same place on every trip. I have a system. It works. 

My backpack is scuffed. It has rolled down muddy hills, gotten dunked in rivers and a beaver pond, been called home by a slug or two, and is no longer in possession of any shiny newness it had when I bought it. Every now and then I give it bath, which is an absolutely disgusting experience–I should probably do it more often. 

Since I began backpacking, I have upgraded almost every item of gear that I own, but the Gregory has remained a constant. It has evolved with me as I figured out how not to carry 45 pounds. While I might save a pound or so if I switched it out, I have learned to save many pounds by being more mindful of what I put into it. It does its job so well that to replace it for the sake of a pound seems… well… like cheating on it.