Tents and more highlight the evolution of camping gear
Some of the best — and some of the worst —
nights of my life have been spent in tents. There was the night when,
camped on a small island in the middle of the New River up in Ashe County,
I lay with my head in the open door of my backpacking tent and watched
the full moon rise from behind the mountains. The glow crept across
the island, making the small purple flowers that carpeted the grassy
meadow glow with a surreal iridescence while, in the background, the
river gurgled contentedly.
There was another evening, on Ocracoke Island at the other end of the
state, which was quite different. My wife and I were cooking supper
in the screen vestibule of a large, old canvas cabin tent when a storm
roared in off the ocean. The wind started building and within minutes
was threatening to take our tent to parts unknown, and us with it. Suddenly,
one side started ripping and the whole thing exploded. We found ourselves
standing in a pile of crumpled canvas, with rain pouring down on us
and all our gear, while lightning crackled over the beach. It was a
memorable, if not very enjoyable, experience.
Like a lot of other camping equipment, tents have evolved over the
past three decades. In the not-so-good old days, all tents were canvas
and tent poles were erected on the inside. Then, the A-frame came along.
The new design, along with lighter fabrics, allowed the frame to be
put on the outside.
A-frames were a significant innovation but still had certain inherent
flaws. One is that the large, unsupported areas of fabric can catch
the wind and flap like a crow in a hurricane in the slightest breeze.
Another is that usable space in an A-frame is limited. The sharply sloping
walls make sitting up difficult except right in the middle, a minor
inconvenience unless inclement weather forces the tent’s occupants
to spend a lot of time indoors. A third disadvantage of A-frame tents
is that they require multiple guy lines and stakes, which are at least
an aggravation and can be a real hazard, especially to someone stumbling
around in the dark.
The greatest advance in tent design may have been the development of
the dome tent. Shaped like a half sphere, a dome offers the greatest
interior space of any tent shape except cabin tents, which are heavy
and suitable only in places where they can be hauled in on a pack horse
or vehicle. In addition, cabin-style tents have the large, loose wall
problem common with A-frames.
In a dome tent, the walls are almost as vertical as those of a cabin
tent. Unlike that design or an A-frame, however, the dome leaves only
small areas of fabric unsupported by poles. As a result, dome tents
shed the wind and remain rigid in even the stiffest gusts.
Another major advantage of dome tents is that they are free-standing,
which means they can be erected and then moved to a favorable site.
This can be a major consideration, especially in spots where tree roots
or other factors make picking a sleeping spot difficult. Once situated,
dome tents should be staked securely, though. A friend of mine didn’t
do this and returned from a short hike to find his new tent, with a
cooler that had originally been full of ice and water inside, at the
bottom of a large hill.
There are all kinds of variations of dome tents available today. Tunnel
or hoop tents are shaped like a half cylinder. Hub tents take every
shape imaginable and have the advantage that the poles remain attached
to the tent fabric. Regardless of the specific tent that is selected,
though, there are two good rules by which to abide. One is to purchase
a good quality tent and, if possible, see it pitched before you buy
it. Another is to pick the size tent you think is suitable for most
of your outings, and then buy one that is twice as large. You’ll
be glad you did later.
The only exception to the latter is if you are purchasing a tent that
will be used primarily for backpacking trips. In that case, weight is
a major factor. A well-built, well-designed, two-man backpacking tent
can be found that weighs as little as 4.5 lbs. Every ounce — or
lack of ounces — will be appreciated on a extended trek.
Besides a good tent and sleeping bag, the most critical piece of equipment
for a camper has to be a stove. In many instances, the bygone days when
a campfire could be used for cooking as well as warmth are just that
— gone by. A campfire is still a tremendous comfort on the trail,
especially in cool weather. There are some places and situations, though,
where a fire is not practical or safe. If everyone who camped on the
Appalachian Trail built a campfire, the ground in many places would
be one giant fire ring. The practical alternative is a gas-fueled stove.
Campers today have two main choices in cook stoves: those fueled by
white gas and the ones designed to operate on bottled butane. The white
gas models, such as those sold by the Coleman company, have long been
the standard. More bacon has been fried on a two-burner Coleman stove
than on all other brands combined, and for good reason. Stoves of that
design are reliable, efficient and safe — if they’re used
carefully.
The safety factor has turned many campers to the other choice. They
like the fact that, with bottled butane, all the camper has to do is
screw a small tank onto the stove, open a valve and strike a match.
They also like the fact that they don’t have to mess with filling
a stove with liquid fuel.
The latter factor is one reason that I prefer liquid fuel camp stoves.
I like the idea that I can look in a fuel bottle and tell exactly how
much gas I have left. I also appreciate the fact that white gas stoves
are affected very little by really cold weather, unlike bottled gas
models which can get cantankerous when the thermometer dips. (Butane
liquefies at 31 degrees F.) In fairness to bottled gas stoves, some
new models use cartridges that contain a mixture of butane and propane.
Because propane has a much lower condensation level, the temperature
problem is at least partly alleviated.
One of my best friends is an old, banged-up Svea backpacking stove
I purchased twenty-five years ago. I can pour a little fuel in its tank,
strike a match and, in about five minutes, have water boiling for coffee.
It has taken care of my needs in the mountainous reaches of Nantahala
National Forest, the wind-swept beaches of Hatteras Island, and a lot
of places in between. Perhaps equally important, the little stove’s
hissing makes me feel warm almost instantly and evokes memories of past
evenings under the stars, evenings that are worth remembering. A campfire
is hard to beat but, when an open fire isn’t practical, my little
stove is an excellent alternative.
The revolution in camping gear has taken other meanders as well. Sleeping
pads, rain gear, back packs, freeze-dried food — they’re
all a world away from what your dad would recognize; especially if Dad
hasn’t been camping much in the last few years. The chances are,
with the new materials and designs, he would enjoy it more today than
ever before.