Survival Monday: 5 outdoor gear items for every day use

In a comment on a previous post, a fellow blogger shared this short article about loving your stuff. Materialism is only bad, the writer argues, when we constantly dispose of old items and seek better ones. Stuff isn't bad when you really use it, you really love it, and you really make it last the test of time.

This is true for most of the outdoor gear that I own. I love that gear, and I use it well. Here are 5 gear items that I use on a daily basis, just because they're that good.

1. Kleen Kanteen 12 oz Insulated Mug - I love this mug so much that I've already dedicated an entire blog post to it. Almost one year later, the love affair is still going strong. 

2. Light My Fire Spork - Light My Fire is a Swedish company that sells an eclectic mix of camping gear, best recognized for its bright colors. Of the entire product line, this spork is the lay woman's winner. I use my spork for lunches at work and snacks on the go. The curved shape is comfy in the hand, and both the spoon and fork sides function beautifully.

3. Turtle Fur Neck Warmer - I have always had a weakness for scarves, but now I've done one better: fleece neck warmers. This Turtle Fur neck warmer not only keeps me warm while skiing and hiking,  but also proves to be a toasty accessory for around-the-town use. Plus, this particular fuzzy is made with Polartec Repreve fleece, a textile made from recycled materials. How cool is that?

4. Merino wool socks - I know what you're thinking: "Wool socks? Ugh. How boring." What could be better than toasty toes on a frigid day? Many merino wool yarns are now heavenly soft, and warm socks can be found for almost any sporting adventure. Best of all, it takes days of wear to make these merino wool stink, and these socks can really take a beating before holes appear. My favorites are Chrome no-show socks for warm weather walking and cycling, Darn Tough for hiking, and Fits for every day coziness.

5. KEEN Targhee Mid II hiking boots - Andy and I are both on our second pair of Keen boots, but not because they're made poorly. On the contrary, we both loved and used our Keen Targhees so much that we wore our first pairs right into the ground. Sure, these boots are waterproof and sturdy, but the real attraction lies in how wonderfully easy it is to break them in. No blisters, no stiffness—KEENs are ready for rain, snow, and shine; trail, park, and sidewalk.

What gear gets you through the daily grind? What things do you absolutely love?

Survival Monday: Snow days of the northeast blizzard

On Friday, the day of my mom's burial, a blizzard hit the northeast. We went to bed on Friday night, dazed and shell-shocked, but without too much worry about snow. We woke up on Saturday morning, however, to 30 inches of snow and even higher drifts.

Good morning!

Luckily, we still had power, food, and (some) booze. Even better, we had four pairs of hands and one powerful snowblower to clear the cars and the driveway.

Snow-blowing up a storm

Unfortunately, the condition of our street, like many others, left a little to be desired.

Our road

The snowstorm gave me more time to spend with my father and brother. We drank coffee in sunny windows, mixed cocktails by the fire, and released pent up tension by shoveling snow.

It also gave me more time to spend with myself. I practiced some yoga, cooked comforting meals, and compiled a few blog posts. I also learned that it's too easy to distract myself from grief with a book or the Internet.

Cabin fever footpaths through the street

As of Sunday afternoon, the snowplows still hadn't come to our street. Although forced relaxation can be a wonderful thing, Andy (who flew out for the wake and funeral) and I are anxious to get back to our own apartment in Utah. Andy and I have a rare opportunity to buy a good car from a family member, and we were originally planning on driving back to Utah from New Jersey. Our biggest obstacle was getting off of the unplowed street, and our days allotted for driving across country were quickly diminishing.

So, we decided to take matters into our own hands.

My parents' house is just half a block away from a plowed "snow emergency road." Sunday morning, we considered trudging through the snow to the corner, to have a car service pick us up. Instead, Andy's father went above and beyond, and he picked us up from said corner and brought us back to New Jersey so we can begin our road trip.

Today, I am grateful for pleasant snow days, healthy bodies, good food, loving family, and a supportive partner—and his amazing family.

Survival Monday: In love with long johns

Life took a tough turn for my family this weekend. I've been trying to write about it, but it's still too soon for the words to come. The words will come eventually. In the meantime, simple routines provide a semblance of comfort.

The posts appearing on my blog this week, including the little blurb below, were written and placed in my blog's "publish" queue days ago. I'll let them continue to be published as originally scheduled, because they reflect some of my favorite small pleasures that help keep life bright.

Old school long johns

I could not have survived my first January in Salt Lake City without long johns. OK, well, technically thermals. I own two sets of Terramar Helix tops and bottoms, and if I could, I would wear them every hour of every winter day.

The first set is about three years old, and it's still in great shape: not too saggy or baggy and no pilling or thinning. Silky soft, wonderfully warm, and incredibly fast drying, I use them for hiking, cycling, and skiing. On particularly cold weekday mornings, I snuggle into them and add extra layers on top for my commute to work. Once at work, I change into my professional clothes -- happily dry and warm.

Whether waiting for a bus, riding on a ski lift, or crawling out of a sleeping bag, I am so happy to rely on this soft, warm layer. And sometimes, there's nothing better than lounging on the couch with just long johns, wool socks, and beer.

Survival Monday: For Your Health

After spending eight years in cities that had great walking and public transit infrastructures, I have a hard time picturing myself in a residential suburb. I prefer being able to walk or bike or bus for work, errands, and fun.

Where we live in Salt Lake City, I can get away with doing most of my commuting and small errands on the bus. Even still, there are some nights when I find myself spitting and cursing because the bus only runs at 8 and 9 p.m. before stopping completely. 

The limited accessibility to public transportation is particularly frustrating on days like—well, any day last week. With the exception of a few weekend snow storms, Salt Lake City had been trapped under a layer of thick polluted haze since the beginning of January. 

The pollution stays in our bowl-shaped valley during a weather phenomenon called an inversion, as illustrated by the graphic below. 

Inversion Smog Episodes by Salt Lake Tribune

For two locations just 45 minutes from each other, you end up with a weather forecast that looks something like this:

(And really, the mountains were closer to 40 degrees by midday.) 

A significant portion of this pollution comes from vehicle emissions, from the things you and I do every day. 

The Utah Division of Air Quality offers a great list of "things you can do" to help, and I plan on adding a few to my own routine. However, many of the transportation suggestions are either truly unrealistic or psychologically daunting for the majority of the population. 

Kennecott Copper Mine recently donated 2,500 free transit passes to the public. That's an amazing start, but it just scratches the surface. Local businesses and local governments both need to focus on active infrastructure change and sustainable consumer incentives. Public transportation needs to be more convenient than driving. Industry needs to invest in longterm upgrades and cleaner technology. Most importantly, the public needs to demand change. 

The Utah Physicians for Healthy Environment highlight key issues. Are you on board?

Update 29 Jan. 2013: Governor Herbert and transportation officials met today to discuss the air quality issue. Read more. 

Survival by bicycle

Remember when A. moved to Salt Lake City and we weren't sure whether it would be long-term? Well, almost one year later, it's long-term.

The past year has been, for both of us, one of those periods in life that test you far beyond your comfort zone.

A. had moved across country in the hopes that an exciting but risky internship would jumpstart his non-existant career. I was balancing a full-time position with an intense search for a new job. My mother—who has forever been my rock and confidant—continued her two-year battle with non-Hodgkins lymphoma. Months of hard work, sleepless nights, and emotional strain dragged on. 

Then, in one surreal week, my mom landed in the ICU in a Connecticut hospital and I received an amazing job offer in Utah. My life seemed to be screeching to a halt and just beginning at the same exact time. The months that followed faded into a blur.

I remember riding a lot. 

I remember taking the train to Connecticut a lot. My bike, of course, came with me.

I remember bursting into tears while biking to work one morning, and being unable to stop crying until I ordered and ate a side of bacon.

I remember packing boxes and moving furniture at all hours of the hot, humid night. I remember the friends and family who helped me.

Now, I live in Salt Lake City with A. I love my new job, and A's internship has turned into a full-time position. I still ride my bike to work, and we hike together on the weekends. I miss my family, and while my mom's struggle has continued along a roller coaster track, her doctors are working hard to move her out of the hospital and into a physical therapy rehab facility. 

Things aren't perfect. The journey is far from over. There are many times when I wonder, à la Monday Morning Mantra, "What the f**k have I done?" But this past year has taught me that determination can reap amazing rewards; that a loving and supportive family is an invaluable gift; and that a bicycle is one amazing piece of survival equipment. 

Saddle discomfort in women's cycling

I am not someone who puts form before function.

In New York City, surrounded by women who can expertly walk for miles in high-heeled shoes, I pound the sidewalk with every part of my feet planted firmly on the ground. (With arch support, please.)

In New York City, surrounded by female cyclists who ride in dresses without breaking a sweat, I don sports clothes and pack a change of outfit. (I really like riding fast.)

And in New York City, where vintage road bikes and Brooks saddles are all the rage, I recently put my coolest-looking bike under the knife. (It isn't pretty.)

Meet Quickbeam, so named for his "woodgrain" paint job and my nerdy love for Tolkien:

Quickbeam is my cheap city bike: single speed, steel frame, few valuable parts to steal. Still, he's a handsome gent.

 To match the woodgrain pattern, Quickbeam came with a beautiful saddle.

Although the saddle isn't actually made from wood, it's pretty darn uncomfortable on lady parts. And unless you're experiencing muscle burn from a tough workout or the initial saddle sores of a long trip, there is absolutely no reason to feel pain while riding a bicycle.

No reason.

After two years of putting up with saddle discomfort (an unusually long period of time for me), I finally decided that the beautiful seat just had to go.

This thin road bike saddle—meant for an aggressive, forward-leaning posture—boasts a cutout for the female anatomy. Quickbeam may look a little awkward now, but the new saddle is so much kinder. I'm already dreaming of long, comfortable rides that won't do damage to my womanhood.

That's how it should be, ladies.

Not all female cycling problems are the same. For an in-depth discussion of women and saddle discomfort, and how to find the right solution for your ride, check out this post by Lovely Bicycle.

Survival Mondays: Learning to love the rain

Sure, I've ridden my bicycle in the rain. Once.

Two summers ago, I signed up for the Discover Hudson Valley Ride sponsored by Bike New York.* After what seemed like an entire summer of brilliantly sunny weekends, it poured all day long during the 2010 Hudson Valley ride. We had paid good money to register for that tour, so we rode despite the rain. In fact, once we resigned ourselves to the reality of being absolutely soaked to the bone, we stopped caring. It was fun to speed through puddles and feel the rain on our faces. (Although, that was a day when I sincerely wished I owned contact lenses. Or windshield wipers for my glasses.)

Just a little damp.

When it comes to my commute to work, however, I haven't sucked up the courage to bike in the rain. My cat-like reaction to a few raindrops stems from a combination of many small annoyances: wet clothes, wet hair, no contacts. The biggest deterrent? I carry a laptop and cell phone when I commute.

Now that I've signed up for the National Bike Challenge—a free program that aims to get 50,000 people to bike a total of 10 million miles by August 31—I feel a little more pressure to take my cycling commute seriously. I rode my bike to work this morning under sunny skies, and I took my bike home on the subway under the threat of evening showers. All the way home, I found myself dreaming about waterproof commuting gear.

For small items, like a wallet or cellphone, a Ziplock bag should keep things dry. Cheap and easy rain protection!

For my laptop, and maybe even clothes, I have some research to do. Some potential options for waterproofing gear:

• SealLine computer sleeve looks professional and reliable, but perhaps too bulky (and expensive!) for my needs.
• ExPed or Sea to Summit dry bags work well for my camping gear. Why not for cycling, too?
• This website suggests getting creative and making your own weatherproof case out of a Tyvek envelope.

Do you bike in the rain? What do you do to protect your gear from getting wet? Leave a comment!

*Tip: If the 5 Boro Bike Tour isn't your thing, try the Hudson Valley Ride. It's beautiful, fun, and a lot less crowded than its New York City counterpart.

You Camp Like a Girl

This is an old post that I wrote last summer but never published—until now!

While reading the July 2011 issue of Self magazine, a small sidebar caught my eye: "Happy Camper." The sidebar features six items—ranging from clothes and makeup bags to a crank radio and water purifier—that Self recommends for camping excursions. The introduction to the sidebar reads:

"When you think of tents, do you picture Fashion Week instead of Yosemite? Never fear, roughing it is so yesterday. These easy-to-tote items let you go wild with style. Ready, set, s'mores!" 

The online version of the side bar (a simple slideshow of the recommended products) simply says, "Rough it in style with easy-to-pack essentials."

So, what's the message here? Are we ladies roughing it, or was that so yesterday? And why are women still afraid of a little dirt?

Let's get muddy.

Women often gape at me in disbelief when I tell them I'm going backpacking for a few days.

"Will there be showers?" they ask in concern. "Where do you go to the bathroom? How can you stand it?"

I usually laugh, explaining that it's not really so bad. The truth, however, is that forgoing the hot shower for a night under the stars used to be gross to me, too. The first time I went camping with Andy was a 1-night trip that involved 2 days of hiking. We were not camping out of the backs of our cars. In order to sleep that night, we needed to hike until we found a suitable place for our tents in the dense woods -- impending thunderstorm and all.

It was a nice introduction to the idea of going without soap and toilet paper. After all, I was able to run straight to the shower when we got home on Day 2. Not much different from lounging around at home, unshowered, on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Right?

Fast forward to our first 2-night camping trip. We hiked 30 miles in 3 days. It was hot, humid, and buggy. By the third morning, I reeked of bug spray and sweat, and I was greasy from a three-day layer of sunscreen. I had brought some camping soap along with me, sheepishly washing my face and hair in a nearby pond. I knew that the soap wasn't the best thing for the critters in the water, even if it was biodegradable; I knew that the scent could attract larger animals to the spot later; and I knew that even a little rinsed-off bug spray and sun screen could contaminate the water. (After all, what if everyone bathed in the pond?) Yet, I still did it. I couldn't fully embrace the "gross" idea of truly roughing it.

Much to my surprise, my habits changed gradually over time. It wasn't an epiphany about being one with the wilderness. It wasn't guilt that forced me to leave the soap at home. As I went on more and longer trips, I just became a better camper. I learned to pack light by leaving extra comforts behind, and I learned to be comfortable in my own skin.

Being afraid of a little dirt closes the door on so many adventures. I've seen gorgeous wildflowers, beautiful animals, bright constellations, and unbelievable sunrises. I've felt closer to my partner and my friends as we spend time together without the distractions of daily life. I've challenged my body and I've learned new skills.

Don't believe for a second that "roughing it is so yesterday." Leave the insulated makeup case at home, and let yourself get stinky! Your body and your brain may actually thank you for it.

Back to Reality: How to cope when you return from a trip

Sometimes, surprising things happen in life. No, I don't mean the type of surprising things that involve getting a bee down your shirt on a difficult 10-mile day hike, or spilling DEET bug spray all over your plastic water bottles immediately afterward.

DEET eats through plastic like I eat through boxes of ice cream.

I mean the good kind of surprises. Thanks to a dear friend who is teaching English at a bilingual school in Central America, I had the opportunity to head to Guatemala for some difficult hiking, Spanish practice, and semana santa celebrations.

The colors were just as brilliant in real life.

Typically, when I return from a trip—whether traveling for work or pleasure—I put pressure on myself to dive back into my long list of responsibilities. Flying back from Guatemala was no exception. After getting food poisoning en route to New York, arriving at my apartment at midnight, working a full day at the office, and pitching two stories to a publication (all within 48 hours), I was feeling pretty delirious.

This is not a smart way to return from a trip. Though I may not always follow my own rules, I know there are three important things I should always do to ease myself back into a routine:

1. Unpack the bag. Whether you got caught in a rainstorm on a camping trip or you showered at your hostel before your red-eye flight, there's bound to be something damp in that bag. Unpack everything as soon as you can. Air out your tent, sleeping bag, and other storable items for a few hours to prevent nasty mildew and mold.
2. Take time to rest. As a coworker said to me last week, everyone underestimates how exhausted she'll be after a trip. Plan to carve out a few extra hours of sleep for yourself. Be realistic about the tasks you put on your to-do list. It's OK to go to bed early those first few nights when you get back! You'll perform much better in work, school, and life once you're well-rested.
3. Drink plenty of hydrating fluids. This is especially true for those of us who have just stepped off a plane, but it's also good advice for outdoor adventurers who tend to feast on salty foods. Dehydration can contribute to feelings of fatigue after a trip, and it may even worsen those back-to-reality blues.
4. Plan the next adventure — even if it's just a bike ride, a day hike, or a stroll through the park. Give yourself something to look forward to!

Bottom line? Take care of your brain, your body, and your gear.

Survival Monday: How to protect yourself against ticks

"Dan, there's a spider on your hat."

Dan threw his baseball cap to the ground, and Katie bent down to pick it up. There, on the underside of the brim, was a small black-and-red bug. It wasn't a spider. It was a deer tick.

For all my outdoor adventuring on the east coast, I never encountered a tick until I spent a week in Shenandoah National Park last summer. In one day, we brushed a lone-star tick off my hiking pants and pulled a deer tick off of ARA's shin. 

Now, on this St. Patrick's Day hike near Garrison, N.Y., my friends and I suddenly realized that we should be checking for ticks. In fact, we should do this after spending time in any wooded or grassy area, as ticks have been reported in many Manhattan and outer borough parks. 

Only deer ticks (picture) are known to carry the bacteria that causes Lyme Disease, but lone-star (picture) and dog ticks (picture) can pose other health risks.

To protect yourself against ticks, the New York Department of Health recommends the following:

• Wear light-colored clothing with a tight weave to spot ticks easily.
• Wear enclosed shoes, long pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Tuck pant legs into socks or boots and shirt into pants.
• Check clothes and any exposed skin frequently for ticks while outdoors and check again once indoors.
• Consider using insect repellent. Follow label directions.
• Stay on cleared, well-traveled trails. Avoid contacting vegetation.
• Avoid sitting directly on the ground or on stone walls.
• Keep long hair tied back, especially when gardening.
• Bathe or shower as soon as possible after going indoors (preferably within two hours) to wash off and more easily find ticks that may be on you.
• Do a final, full-body tick check at the end of the day (of yourself, children, and pets), and remove ticks promptly.

If you find a tick, don't panic. Do familiarize yourself with the tips in the graphic at the top of this post.

How to Choose the Right Backpack (via REI)

I love infographics. Well-made infographics are beautifully designed, easy to read, and quite useful! Today, REI released a new infographic on choosing and using a backpack.

(Click here to see the full chart.)

This chart includes everything from choosing your pack size and finding the right fit, to packing it correctly and deciding what to leave at home.

It's a pretty handy tool, but I would add one key piece of advice:

Unless you're a veteran backpacker who knows what she wants, always try on your pack in a store, with the help of an expert, before buying. Packs—and bodies—come in all shapes and sizes, and a too-loose belt or too-long torso can lead to a lot of pain on the trail.

Use this chart as a guide, but use your local outdoor store to make the final purchase.