Last week, Bryan, the editor-in-chief, contacted me and said that he was interested in featuring my work with the DIY Tyvek Stuff Sacks on ITS. I had been meaning to rewrite that article, anyways, in order to demonstrate my new method for constructing the sacks. So I jumped at the opportunity to be a guest writer for ITS. You can see my article on ITS right here, and all the photos are of course available on Flickr.

If you’re coming here from ITS, welcome! You might be interested in gear stuff, or more specifically EDC stuff. Or maybe wilderness stuff. Who knows. There sure is a lot of stuff.

Reaching the summit took three exhausting, slow hours. I allowed myself only one 10 minute break each hour. For the last quarter of the hike I was just stumbling along, slowly plodding my way up higher and higher (thinking “Whose bright idea was this?”). The trail near the top was too covered with snow and ice to make it smart to attempt without some sort of traction device, so I opted for the neighboring boulder field. Scrambling up that required more leg power, balance, and mental facilities than I had left at the time, but I managed to make it.

Upon reaching the summit, I immediately dropped my pack and sat down. I could only relax for a minute before realizing that I was freezing. And so I had to exert myself further by grabbing more layers from my pack and tossing them on.

I realized that I was dizzy, shaking, and — despite having been constantly sucking on my hydration hose on the way up — not sweating as much as I felt that I should have been, so I took a packet of Emergen-C from my first aid kit, dumped it into one of the 1 liter water bottles I had been using for weights, and forced myself to drink it all down before starting my descent.

I felt better after that and, munching on some granola, wandered around the summit, enjoying the view. It had been a spring-like day, with only a few clouds and temperatures around 50F at the bottom. Gazing at the other peaks with their light dustings of snow, I decided that the hike had been worth it.

There was only one mailbox up there this time. The black one must have blown away.

I decided to head down. The boulder field was tricky going, but, afterward, it was just a slow and steady plodding down the mountain. Near the bottom I had to poo, but, upon assuming the position, discovered that I didn’t have the length strength left to squat.

Finally, I made it back to the trail head, around two and a half hours after leaving the top. That night I had energy only to shower and eat a double serving of oatmeal before crashing. Today, I am stiff, but not as sore as I thought I would be.

It was a clear day today, without a cloud in the sky. Snow started about a mile up the trail. First, just a little ice and packed slush, but it soon grew to about 5 feet deep. Plenty of people had been up the mountain this winter, leaving me a trail of compacted snow to follow and making crampons or snowshoes unnecessary for the way up.

For the most part, it was easy going, until the trail climbed a slope up onto the ridge of the mountain. It was a little steep. I had to climb with both hands, occasionally punching or kicking holds for hands and feet.

From then on, the trail followed the ridge, but occasionally meandered slightly down onto the south side of the mountain. The sun had been beating on the snow pretty hard over there, turning what was nice crusty snow on the north side to a wet, slushy mixture. It required careful footing to make my way without sliding down the whole face.

I summited and arrived at the lookout at about 1:30PM, two hours after leaving the trail head. The sky was still clear, allowing me to see to Mt. Rainier in the south, Mt. Baker in the north, Glacier Peak in the East, the Puget Sound and the Olympics to the West, along with everything in between. I opened up a few of the heavy shutters on the tower and spent some time trying to identify various peaks in the visible wilderness areas where I have traveled.

I wasn’t looking forward too much to the way down, knowing that without crampons and an ice ax it might mean a tricky brush with death. I put it off a bit longer by cooking up some ramen and jerk. But, after lunch, I had to turn around and head down.

Where the trail along the ridge deviated onto the southern face, I had no choice but to squat and slide down on my feet and butt, doing my best to control my decent with a trekking pole. Occasionally this worked. Occasionally I was able to dig my feet in to stop before going off the edge. Other times I just had to aim for trees, using them as breaks to stop me from taking the quick way off the mountain, then turn around and climb back up to the trail that I had slid past.

The near vertical slope I climbed on the way up was on the north face of the mountain. The snow there was hard and crusty, so I was able to climb my way back down using the holds I had previously made.

From then on, it was fairly easy going. I spotted one storm cloud, but the way down was otherwise uneventful.

Man is not adapted to live in a mirror-lined box, generating his own electric light and sending for selected images from outside when he happens to need them. Darkness and a bad smell are all that can come of that. We need the vast world, and it must be a world that does not need us; a world constantly capable of surprising us, a world we did not program, since only such a world is the proper object of wonder.

-Mary Midgley

The trail was deserted, making it an enjoyable jaunt. As per usual for this unusual year, no snow nor ice was encountered. There was quite a bit of blow-down and a few land slides, most likely from this year’s storms, which caused me to misplace the trail now and again, but it was otherwise uneventful.

I’ll say one thing about old Hank: he’s got some big cedars in his country. I mean, big. Some looked like they may almost match a sequoia. The going was slow, as every 10 feet or so I encountered another that required a pause, a bend of the neck, and a moment’s consideration. There was also evidence of past logging, such as Tree On a Stump. A nice little “fuck you” to humans from the forest, I thought.

From one particularly aged and gnarly specimen, I cut a branch of needles. I planned to make tea later and perhaps infuse some of that 1,000 vitality into myself.

The lake itself had no ice, but Cadet Peak above was topped with snow. It was difficult to tell where mountain ended and sky began, for all the white clouds in the afternoon sky.

Lunch was intended to be couscous with a bit of curry, but ended up being curry with a bit of couscous. Afterward, I washed it down with warm cedar tea and a few chunks of dark chocolate — a combination most pleasing to my tongue.

Then: a walk back home as the sun set.

I don’t know what the answer is. In time man gets used to almost anything, but the problem seems to be that technology is advancing faster than he can adjust to it. I think it’s time we started applying the brakes, slowing down our greed and slowing down the world.

I have found that some of the simplest things have given me the most pleasure. They didn’t cost me a lot of money either. They just worked on my senses. Did you ever pick very large blueberries after a summer rain? Walk through a grove of cottonwoods, open like a park, and see the blue sky beyond the shimmering gold of the leaves? Pull on dry woolen socks after you’ve peeled off the wet ones? Come in out of the subzero and shiver yourself warm in front of a wood fire? The world is full of such things.

- Richard Proenneke, One Man’s Wilderness

The ideal off-road journey? I’ll tell you: under water. I would like to see every four-by-four on earth, every three-wheeler, every dirt bike, trail bike and Big Foot truck driven straight into the Marianas Trench, three thousand feet below the surface of the Pacific Ocean, and parked there — left there — for the duration.

For the duration of what? For the duration of this techno-industrial-commercial slime-mold that is transforming our planet into one vast battleground of Cretins against Nature. With the Cretins winning.

What’s wrong with the horse? Or the burro? Or the bicycle? Or even, God help us, the human foot? Why should not Americans especially learn to walk again? There is this to be said for walking: it is the one method of human locomotion by which a man or woman proceeds erect, upright, proud and independent, not squatting on the haunches like a frog.

Little boys love machines. Grown-up men and women like to walk.

-Edward Abbey

There was very little snow. It’s going to be a dry summer.

At a little over 7 miles (round trip) and only 2,000 feet elevation gain, this was a relaxing walk; a bit of an award to myself for completing the other, more difficult climbs.

The trail was snow free till about a mile or so before the lake. After that, there was a dusting of crusty snow — no more than an inch — and quite a bit of ice.

I ate lunch at the frozen lake, watched an avalanche on Index’s north peak, and raced the sun back home.

“…a well-lived life means striving for personal, moral, and physical autonomy: self-direction, intellectual and spiritual independence, self-control, self-responsibility — in sum, self-realization through self-determination. As a dues-paying member of this unintentionally masochistic minority, I can testify that the price of personal freedom and soulful individuality today — the cost of living a self-determined life — is often social, material, physical, and even geographical marginalization all of which can act themselves out in a big city as well as a small town or a rural homestead and must be construed as culture’s punishment for being different. Or perhaps, as some will say, such are the just deserts of freaks and other sinners. Humankind, said Henry through its own inventions and lust for comfort is invariably driven to desperation. Misery loves company and the dominant culture, jealous of those who evade desperate angst, is never happy with mavericks, those of us who, even in the most liberal social realms, are barely tolerated.”

-David Peterson, On the Wild Edge: In Search of a Natural Life

The first change is in how the markings are applied to the StickPic. According to Rodney,

We now have a new machine shop producing the StickPic who cnc engraves our name and model numbers. In the past, we used a metal die stamp and stamped every StickPic by hand. This produced inconsistent results.

The difference is noticeable. In the old model, pictured on the left, you can see how the thickness of the lettering varies. The new engraving looks more professional, but this is only a cosmetic difference, and not one that I think really matters.

The next immediately noticeable difference is the nut:

A new 8 star jam nut is now used which allows the user, while wearing gloves, to easily attach the StickPic to the camera.

This is certainly a more significant change than the engraving. I find that it makes the StickPic easier to both attach and deattach even when not wearing gloves. The new nut is not only easier to grab, but it also spins more freely than the old.

The third and final change is the hole itself:

The through hole on the new model is also slightly tapered to ensure it stays on the trekking pole more securely; it wedges in a little better.

You can see in the photos that the new Stickpic slides much further down the tip of the pole than does the old one. I’m not sure how much this contributes to security: I installed both StickPics on either one of my poles and shook them around violently. Neither came off. Granted, I didn’t have the extra weight of a camera attached to either StickPic. But I’ve also never had my camera fall off the pole during normal use with the old StickPic.

The weight of the new StickPic has been slightly increased — probably due to the winged nut. My scale puts the old model at 8 grams and the new one at 10 grams. (Though my scale is only accurate down to 1 gram, so it isn’t the best for measuring such lightweight items.) Personally, I think the new nut is worth an additional 2 grams!

I think that all three changes to the StickPic are marked improvements, with the new nut being the most significant of the lot. I do not think that any of the changes are enough to warrant purchasing the new model if you are happy with the old one, but they will improve the device for new users.

Note:

In the above photos, the new StickPic is installed on a trekking pole without a basket. It is not necessary to remove the pole’s basket to use the StickPic. I simply lost the basket for that pole a while back and never replaced it. Even though it slides much further down the tip of the pole than does the old model, the new StickPic will fit on the other pole without interfering with the basket.

The simplest solution is to tape a loop of paracord to one end of the rod. I use gutted paracord. The tape can be wrapped a few extra times to make a handle however thick I like.

The other rod in the above photo has a similar lanyard attached in a different manner. The paracord is first taped to the rod with a small piece of electrical tape. Then, on top of that, I slid a small piece of heat-shrink tubing (the kind used for electrical wiring). That was blasted with a hair dryer, causing it to shrink.

A small hole could also be drilled in one end of the rod. This is something of a fire hazard: the drill and rod will be throwing a whole lot of sparks as the drill works its way through. And it requires access to power tools, which isn’t always practical.

My favorite method is the tape. The lanyard is secure and the tape provides a thick, padded handle.

I like to buy my blanks from Ben’s Backwoods. If you like misch metal blanks, Going Gear is the place to be.

The Mora knife sheaths are designed to be mounted either on a button on a pair of coveralls or through a belt. Apparently people wear very small, skinny belts in Sweden. Over here in the United States of Gun Belts, that doesn’t fly. The belt slot on the sheath can be forcefully enlarged by shoving in a piece of wood, such as a ruler, and applying heat to cause the plastic to expand, but I don’t trust that such an act will not over weaken the plastic. I’m not a big fan of carrying a Mora directly on my belt, anyway. Usually, I’ll carry the knife either on a lanyard around my neck or as a dangler off my belt. But both of these setups allow the possibility of the knife and sheath to swing freely, accentuating the problem of an insecure fit.

Both the problem of how to carry the sheath and the problem of the insecure fit can be addressed with a single piece of paracord.

With the knife in the sheath, I take a piece of paracord and run both ends around the handle and through the slot for the belt. Then, tight against the back of the sheath, I tie an overhand knot in either end of the cord. This creates a loop of paracord on the front of the sheath that can be made smaller, but cannot become any wider than the bottom third of the handle. Because the handles on Mora knifes are somewhat tapered — fatter in the middle than on either end — this loop prevents the knife from being removed from the sheath. Even if the knife is only lightly dropped into the sheath rather than securely pressed, it cannot be removed without first sliding off the loop of paracord.

After tying the two knots against the back of the sheath in either end of the paracord, I take both ends and tie them together, forming a loop on the back of the sheath. This provides my carry options.

If I want to wear the knife around my neck, I take a pre-tied loop of paracord that I carry and loop it through itself around the loop on the sheath.

To carry the knife in a dangler system, I prefer to use a Maxpedition Keyper rather than a carabiner. The Keyper is mounted on my belt and clipped into the loop of paracord on the sheath. (To reduce movement in this setup, I’ll stick the knife and sheath in my pocket.)

The last thing that I do to this part of the sheath is add a small wrap of electrical tape around the very top, covering the upper bit of the belt loop and the button hole. This prevents the paracord from sliding to the top of the sheath and forces the securing loop to be about .75″ from the very end of the handle. I’ve found that if this is not done, the securing loop is like to slip off the handle.

That’s all that is needed to make the sheath usable, but a few other additions can be made to increase its utility.

Around the top of the sheath, I wrap tape. In the sheaths pictured here, one has 2″ olive drab duct tape, the other has 1″ black Gorilla Tape (which is like duct tape, but thicker and stickier). One can never carry enough tape. I imagine, also, that the tape likely increases the structural integrity of the sheath.

On the back of both sheaths, I have a #17 sailmaking needle, pre-threaded with black kevlar thread, taped down with some electrical tape. As I mentioned in my review of the RAT Izula, this is an idea I first picked up from one Dave Canterbury’s videos. The extra needle and thread adds no noticeable weight and could be a welcome addition to the sheath if you ever find yourself separated from your pack, with the knife and sheath as your only piece of gear.

The next modification on the body of the sheath was also inspired by Dave Cantebury. In another of his videos, he showed how he had layered different width pieces of inner-tube on a machete sheath to create pockets that could store small items, such as a sharpening stone and magnesium fire starter. With that in mind, I add a wide piece of inner-tube onto the middle of the Mora sheath (which also serves to cover and further secure the taped down needle). Then, on top of that, I put a skinnier piece of inner-tube. Slid between both pieces is a backup ferro rod. Because the rod has rubber below it and rubber atop, there is an incredible amount of friction. The ferro rod becomes difficult to remove. I have carried blank rods in these “pockets” and they have never fallen out. Still, I prefer to carry rods with a lanyard of some sort on them. I loop the rod through its lanyard around the paracord loop on the top of the sheath, guaranteeing that the rod is secured.

The sheath for my KJ #1 knife has only a ferro rod. That knife is carbon steel and can generate sparks off the spine. On the sheath for the larger SL-2, however, I have added a small striker slid between the two pieces of inner-tube on the back. The SL-2 is made of laminated steel, which is too soft to reliably produce sparks.

These modifications made to the Mora sheath help to secure the knife, allow for different carry options, guarantee a source of fire, and provide a needle, thread and tape for repairs. They turn what is otherwise a near useless sheath into a functional item worthy of being matched with the Mora blade.

(I also own a high-quality leather sheath made by JRE Industries for the KJ #1 knife. I tie a loop of paracord through the top loop of leather on the sheath so that the knife may be carried around the neck or on a dangler, similar to the modified plastic sheath. The leather sheath does not require a loop of paracord on the front to secure the handle. Nor does it need pieces of inner-tube to create a pocket for a ferro rod. The only thing that it lacks is a repair needle, but I have found that most tape does not adhere very well to leather, so I cannot stick one on the back.)

I burned both stoves with the same amount of fuel. One of the downsides of the Triad XE stove is that because the main fuel source is enclosed within the inner container, it cannot be directly lit. Instead, some fuel must be placed within the outer section of the stove. This is then lit to prime the main fuel source. On an alcohol stove where the main fuel is directly accessible, such as the 12-10, the outer priming ring is not always required. It will usually be used when operating in colder temperatures. To be fair for these tests, I primed both stoves with the same amount of alcohol.

The Triad XE stove had to be tested in two different modes: with support legs extended and with support legs collapsed. With the legs collapsed, the stove sits a little lower than the 12-10. With legs extended, it’s a bit higher. The tests were done on a hard, solid surface so that when the legs were extended they were not pushed into the ground (as they might be when using the stove on dirt). The Triad XE took longer to bring the 2 cups of water to a boil with the legs collapsed, which is to be expected, since the flames are further from the pot.

Interestingly, when the Triad XE’s legs were extended, it took a significantly shorter period of time than the 12-10 stove to bring the same amount of water to a boil. One would think that the 12-10 stove, being designed by Trail Designs specifically to work within the Ti-Tri cone, would be superior to a general-purpose stove like the Triad XE burning inside the same cone. The Triad XE also had a longer burn time than the 12-10, suggesting that it makes more efficient use of the same amount of fuel (although, in practice, it may require more fuel than the 12-10 since the Triad XE must always be primed and the 12-10 must not).

All in all, it seems that leaving the 12-10 at home and bringing the Triad XE with the rest of the Ti-Tri system would be a smart move. But then, there are the weights. The Triad XE weighs three times as much as the 12-10 — certainly a significant amount. Though it must be remembered that the Triad XE is not just an alcohol stove: it is designed to burn solid fuel tabs (Esbit) as well. So, to be fair, if I switched out the 12-10 with the Triad XE, I would also leave Trail Design’s GramCracker burner at home. But the GramCracker tips my scale at 0.1 oz, so it does not really factor in to the decision much. (I also think that the GramCracker most likely burns fuel tabs slightly more efficiently than the Triad XE, but I haven’t done this comparison yet.)

The other factor in comparing the two stoves is durability. The Triad XE, being made out of titanium is a tough little guy, not phased by the occasional drop or riding around loose in my pack. In contrast, the 12-10 stove is made out of two thin aluminum cans, making it very delicate. Even though it lives within the protective plastic caddy of the Ti-Tri, it has numerous scratches and dents to show for its year in use.

I’m not sure what conclusion to draw. If the Triad XE weighed closer to 1.0 oz, it would be without doubt superior.

Vargo Triad XE (1.6 oz)

Main Fuel:

25 cc

Primer Pan Fuel:

5 cc

Water:

2 cups

Total Burn:

10:30

Boil (legs extended)

6:30

Boil (legs collapsed)

7:12

Trail Designs 12-10 (0.5 oz)

Main Fuel:

25 cc

Primer Pan Fuel:

5 cc

Water:

2 cups

Total Burn:

10:14

Boil

7:15

The match cases are available in either brass or aluminum and come in two different sizes. The standard length cases are 3 7/8″, designed to fit 2 3/8″ strike-anywhere matches. The long length cases, measuring in at 4 1/4″, are designed for REI Storm Proof Matches. Aluminum cases are available in black, silver, green, or red.

Last winter, I bought a standard length, black aluminum case. It has been part of my wilderness EDC for close to a year.

Though I don’t always use them, I always carry matches into the wilderness, in addition to at least one BIC lighter and a multitude of ferro rods. Ferro rods are my primary means of starting fire — usually with some synthetic tinder, such as Vaseline soaked cotton balls. It’s also my primary way of starting my alcohol stoves. If I’m not having luck with the rod, or all my tinder is wet, I can move to a lighter or a match to get the fire going. I’ve also found that when it gets to about 20 degrees Fahrenheit or below, denatured alcohol does not like to take a spark — instead requiring a match or lighter to start my stove.

A lighter is of course the easiest way of starting a fire, but because I carry a BIC lighter, it is not always dependable. If it was submerged, it will need some time to dry out before working. If there are high winds, the flame will no doubt get blown out. I have previously carried waterproof, windproof butane lighters, but those seem to eat through the fuel way too fast to be practical wilderness devices. It is difficult to justify the huge price increase in one compared to a BIC lighter. The other problem with BIC lighters is that it can be hard to determine how much fuel you have left. You can judge the weight, shake it around next to your ear and listen, but it’s a rough estimate at best. That’s what I like about matches: you can count how many you have. For this simple reason, I am sometimes likely to go to my matches rather than my lighter when I need ready-made flame.

Carrying the aforementioned REI Storm Proof Matches also addresses some of the other concerns of the BIC lighter: they will light when wet (if lit and then submerged, they will quickly relight themselves after you remove them from the water) and are nigh impossible to blow out. This makes them a great emergency fire source, but, like the fancy butane lighters, are relatively expensive compared to standard strike-anywhere matches. Because of this, I carry both: normal strike-anywhere matches for general use and REI Storm Proof Matches for when the elements are against me. The REI Storm Proof Matches, being pretty darn waterproof, aren’t in much need of a waterproof case (I imagine that they will get soggy and useless if they’re kept underwater for a long period of time, but if you accidentally take a bath during a river crossing and crawl out within a couple minutes, the matches should be fine). Strike-anywhere matches, on the other hand, do need extra protection. Hence why I decided to start with the standard size K & M case.

All K & M match cases feature a unique closure system. The lid itself has two o-rings on it to prevent any water leakage (guaranteed to 2000 psi of water pressure). It’s not a screw on lid, but simply pressed onto the case. After the lid is on, you then twist the cap, which in turn twists and tightens the thin nylon lanyard around the body of the case, ensuring that the fit remains tight. Ingenious, simple, and effective.

The body of the case itself is about 3″ (not including the cap). The bottom half is smooth, while the top bit is etched with a pattern that ensures a good grip can be had on the case, even when you and it are soaked.

The top of the lid sports a small Suunto compass for general direction finding, greatly increasing the utility of the item. This isn’t some cheap, $1 knock-off button compass, either. Suunto compasses can be depended upon.

The outer rim of the lid has been etched in the same manner as the top half of the body for grip, but the case also comes with a small protective piece of plastic that slides snugly over the lid, protecting the face of the compass. With this installed, you loose the extra grip on the lid. This may be a problem in some conditions.

The lanyard, after it does its thing tightening the lid, extends down past the body of the case for about 12″, terminating in a loop, which allows the case to be securely fastened to your person.

The inside of the lid is roughened, which is supposed to provide a surface for striking the matches. Perhaps I don’t know how to strike a match, but it’s never worked for me. In fact, as a general rule, I find strike-anywhere matches to actually be strike-anywhere-there-is-a-commercial-match-striking-surface matches. I never have luck attempting to strike matches on any old rough surface. But that’s not a problem: all REI Storm Proof Matches come with extra striking surfaces inside the box. They’re pretty heavy duty, work with all types of matches, and come sealed in plastic. I tend to collect them and stash them everywhere. For the K & M match case, I cut off a small piece that would fit on the bottom of the lid and super-glued it on. This guarantees me a working surface to strike my matches.

The rest of the striker I put back in it’s plastic cover and store in the body of the case, for use as a backup. The plastic prevents it from striking and lighting any of the matches.

Because of the striking surface on the lid, I store all the matches tip down, so that they won’t accidentally light and turn the case into a bomb. With the the extra striker stored, I can jam in about 25 matches, give or take a few. You could fit in more if you removed the striker. The match case is also a nice place to carry a pre-threaded needle or two for emergency repairs.

Around the outside of the case, I keep a length of that same 700×35 bicycle inner-tube that I have around my BIC and a couple of my Moras. The inner-tube, along with matches that are guaranteed to be dry, gives me a sure-fire method of fire starting.

Both the brass and aluminum cases sell for $19 each. That may seem like a lot of money for a simple match case, particularly when you can pick up a cheap-o plastic one for $1.75, but I think it is well worth the money. The brass case looks a lot nicer and is more durable, but is a good deal heavier than the aluminum.

Some day I would like to acquire one of the long aluminum cases for my REI Storm Proof Matches, even though it is not strictly necessary.

I also own a TAD Gear Life Capsule O.K., which makes a good match case. The TAD Capsule is equally waterproof and also includes a compass in one end (albeit a cheaper one), but because of the significantly increased weight of the TAD capsule over the K & M case, I think the K & M is a superior product.

Another review of the case, along with some discussion of matches, can be found at British Blades. I thought I remembered Schwert doing a review of the case on the now defunct Outdoors Magazine, but I cannot find it in the archives.

Still, I’ve often thought that I would like to EDC a fixed blade. After all, despite it’s toughness, the Mini-Commander is a folder and that gives it some limitations. I’ve also found that the grind and shape of the blade is not ideal for some wood-working and wilderness survival tasks. Making feather sticks with it isn’t easy.

I have carried a small Nemesis Hellion around my neck most every day for the past couple years. It’s a fixed blade, but quite small. As I’ve stated elsewhere, I think of the Hellion as a novelty item and a fun toy more than a tool. It’s extremely concealable due to its size, but could by no means replace the Mini-Commander.

Folding knives are fairly common and tend not to frighten many people. Fixed blades, on the other hand, are not so common out of the wilderness and rural areas. Now, I’ll admit that I have no idea concerning the legality of carrying a fixed blade in urban environments. I tried reading up on knife laws a number of years ago and quickly gave up — they are so convoluted and contradictory as to be meaningless. And so, for me, they are. I ignore them. So far that seems to work out pretty well. I don’t seem to recall granting any government the right to regulate a tool such as a knife, anyways. Still, I do concern myself with other people’s feelings and, as odd as it is, some people feel nervous around folks with fixed blade knives strapped to their hips. Even something like a nice 4-5″ bushcraft blade on the belt doesn’t seem to fly in a city. I needed something more concealable, but still of a size large enough to be of some use.

Two products immediately jump out as a perfect solution (well, three, but I can’t afford another Chris Reeve knife): the RAT Izula and the Becker Necker. Both knives are small and flat, which lends them to a number of different carry options, but large enough to function as utilitarian tools. The Izula is 6.25″ over all, with a 2.88″ blade and 3.37″ handle. The Becker Necker comes in with a larger 3.25″ blade and 3.5″ handle for an overall length of 6.75″. For the slight difference in overall length, one would think that jumping on the Becker Necker for the larger blade would be the way to go. After all, that extra .37″ of blade could equate to more utility. But in searching around the internet and reading a number of comparisons, it became evident that the RAT Izula was the favored knife. It seems to be the consensus that, comparatively, the Becker Necker has too little handle for its length of blade. I don’t consider my hands to be large, but they certainly aren’t small, and I know that having too small a handle could completely ruin a knife for me, regardless of the quality of the blade. So, I chose the Izula.

Izula Options

The Izula can be purchased in two different packages: either the standard knife and sheath, which RAT asks around $80 for (way overpriced) but can easily be got for closer to $50 (a reasonable price) or as part of a “survival kit”. The “survival kit” starts with the same knife and sheath, but also includes a MOLLE lock, paracord, cord lock, snap, split ring, ferro rod, and whistle. RAT asks $100 for this complete kit (crazy) though $60-$70 seems the going rate for most merchants. The “survival kit” did not appeal to me. I already have paracord, ferro rods, cord locks, and split rings. The only useful item in the kit seemed to be the MOLLE lock. I decided to save the money and get only the basic knife and sheath.

The Izula also comes in four different colors, which is a bit fun: black, desert tan, olive drab, and, best of all, pink. I was quite tempted to get the pink, especially given my concern over other people’s feelings of fixed blades. Who could be afraid of a man with a pink knife? But it turns out that I was able to find the desert tan knife for less money on eBay than I could get the pink knife for, so I went with tan.

Edge

The flat ground 1095 steel takes an edge very easily on my Japanese water stones. With the stones and a leather strop, I can get Izula as sharp as my high-carbon, scandi-grind, bushcraft blades. Scary sharp. In fact, the knife is very, very impressive in what it can do. Its only limitation is its short blade and, for longer sessions of use, the bare, skeletonized handle.

Handle

When I first got the knife, I took some olive drab paracord and wrapped it in the way instructed on the back of the Izula instruction sheet. The current paracord wrap that I have on the handle is a 180 degree katana wrap. I first did this with normal paracord, but found that it made the handle a little too thick, so I went back and did it again with gutted paracord. That worked out better, but, being gutted, the paracord does not add a whole lot of extra padding. At the end of the day, the katana wrap is more for looks. The wrap that RAT recommends is a more practical way to pad the handle and carry spare paracord, but it doesn’t look anywhere near as cool!

At the end of the handle, I finished the wrap with a simple overhand knot. I had a unused skull bead laying around, so I decided to leave the two tail ends of paracord a bit long and thread the skull bead through them. By sliding the skull bead to the end, I create a loop for my wrist. Rather than tying the ends of the cord together, I tied an overhand knot in each one separately, which prevents me from accidentally pulling the bead off, but also means that I can slide the bead to the top and just have two loose ends of cord, rather than a loop that will no doubt get caught on things. Honestly, I’m not a big fan of wrist lanyards on knives. I rarely ever use them. But I am a fan of skull beads. Like the rest of the wrap, this lanyard bit is on there just because it looks cool.

Sheath

The sheath itself was the surprise in this whole package. It is some sort of “injection molded thermoplastic” that is supposed to be more cold tolerant than Kydex. I’ve never had a problem with Kydex in the winter, but apparently extreme cold makes the Kydex brittle and prone to crack. The fit of the sheath was what most impressed me. It is, without doubt, the best fitting sheath I have ever had for a knife. The knife pops right in there and is completely locked — no wiggling or movement what-so-ever.

Mods

I’ve taken a size 14 sail-making needle pre-threaded with a length of black Kevlar thread and taped this to the back of the sheath with a piece of electrical tape. Dave Cantebury did this in a video on a Mora knife sheath a few months back. I thought it was a great idea.

It doesn’t add any noticeable weight. Even though I carry a sewing kit in my possibles pouch, I’ve since taped a prethreaded needle to the back of all my plastic knife sheaths. (Tape doesn’t stick too well to leather, so I haven’t figured out how to carry a needle on my leather sheaths). Around the bottom of the sheath, I wrapped a bit more electrical tape (I was out of 1″ duct tape at the time). There probably isn’t more than 2 or 3 feet. It never hurts to carry extra tape!

Carry Options

Some people have complained about the sheath because it doesn’t come with a belt clip of any sort. This worried me as well. I wasn’t sure that I would want to carry it around the neck all the time and, since I didn’t go for the expensive kit that included the MOLLE clip, I did not know what other mounting options I would be able to come up with. It turns out that with only a cord lock (self supplied out of my repair box, since I didn’t get the “survival kit”) and a little over two feet of paracord, the sheath becomes remarkably configurable.

Neck Carry

To carry it around the neck, I simply slide the cord lock over both ends of the paracord, put the cord through the top hole in the sheath, and loop it through itself. The cord lock allows me to adjust how high or low it sits on my chest. As with the wrist lanyard, I put an overhand knot in each end of the paracord to prevent me from accidentally pulling the cord lock off, but refrain from tying the two ends of cord together. I don’t want to create a secondary, smaller loop on the back of my neck for things to get caught on when I adjust the cord lock up.

As I mentioned above, I initially thought that I might not want to carry the Izula around my neck. It’s a good deal bigger, heavier, and bulkier than the Nemesis Hellion neck knife that I’m used to. But I was pleasantly surprised. The profile of the knife is slim enough so that it can almost completely disappear under only a t-shirt. Unlike the Hellion, you are probably not going to forget that it’s there because of the weight, but it is by no means uncomfortable.

A lot of folks who carry a neck knife go on about the danger of using knotted paracord as a lanyard. Paracord is very strong. Someone sneaking up from behind could grab the cord and strangle the wearer rather easily. If this concerns you, you could use some weaker cord (or chain), tie a slip knot, or invest in some sort of break away device. Personally, I’m more concerned with the security of the knife around my neck (which sort of rules out slip knots) and I like the simplicity of this system. In the years that I have been carrying the Nemesis Hellion around my neck on gutted paracord, I have yet to be strangled. But it is something to be aware of — especially if you find yourself getting in a tussle fairly frequently. Do remember, though, that the paracord around you neck is attached to a knife, and knives cut things.

Front Pocket (TAD style)

My favorite way to carry the Izula is in one of the two front pockets that Triple Aught Design places on their pants. In my Legionnaires, I carry the knife in the left front pocket. It sits in the pocket rather securely, with only the top half of the handle exposed, leaning to the right. This allows for a very fast, right-handed cross draw. I have the paracord and cord lock setup and attached to the sheath the same as in the above neck carry option, but in this setup I’ll put the cord through the plastic D-ring above the front pocket and loop it through itself so that the sheath and knife are securely attached me. Normally, when I draw from this setup, I’ll grab the handle and push against the sheath with my thumb, popping the knife free. But because the cord is attached to the D-ring, I can also just grab the handle and yank it to my right, extending the cord till it reaches its full length and pops the knife free. Personally, I feel that this is too obtuse a movement, so I prefer popping the knife free of the sheath with my thumb. If you prefer the latter option of yanking the knife, you could move the cord lock a few inches up the cord, thus shortening the distance you have to pull before fully extending the cord and popping the knife free. I will usually leave the cord lock all the way against the knots at the end of the cord and stuff the excess amount of cordage in the bottom of the same front pocket.

Side Pocket

As much as I prefer the above option, not all of us wear TAD pants every single day. When wearing another pair of pants, I will carry the Izula in the right side pocket, tip down. I found that most pockets are sized so that the tip of the sheath reaches the bottom of the pocket with only about the top 1/4″ of the handle sticking out. Again, I keep the paracord and cord lock attached as before, with the cord lock slid all the way against the knots at the end, creating a big loop. This loop I run through my belt, guaranteeing the the sheath and knife are securely attached to me. To draw, I reach my hand in the pocket, grab the handle, and push against the sheath with my thumb, popping free the knife. I’m required to get my whole hand into the pocket to grasp the handle, which makes the knife slightly slower to draw than a folding pocket knife clipped into the same pocket (especially compared to an Emerson with the wave feature, such as the Mini-Commander).

Because the cord is attached to my belt I could just grab the handle and pull out or up, extending the cord till the knife pops free, but this is even more obtuse a movement than when drawing in the same manner from a front pocket. I’m not a fan.

Belt

The paracord and cord lock really become useful when you decide you want to carry the Izula on your belt. The first step is to unloop the cord from the sheath. Then remove the knot in either end of the cord so that the cord lock can be removed. Next, thread either end of the cord through the two holes in the side of the sheath and the reinstall the cord lock, retying the same knot in either end of the cord to prevent the cord lock from being removed.

Move the cord lock about halfway up the cord, grab a bit of the cord and pull it through the large slit opposite the two holes on the sheath. What you now have on the front of the sheath is a line of paracord crossing the top horizontally and, on the bottom, the cord coming together horizontally to the cord lock. On the back of the sheath you have two vertical loops that you can thread your belt through.

With the sheath attached to your belt, you can then move the cord lock tight against the sheath, pulling as much paracord through the lock as you can. The Izula will then be mounted on your belt.

When I first saw this carry option pictured in the manual that RAT provides with the Izula, I was skeptical of using the paracord this way. I didn’t think that you could could get the paracord tight enough to eliminate any wiggling or movement. I’ve now carried the knife a good deal like this and I am perfectly happy with it. The sheath is just as secure as a sheath with a belt clip or malice clip (albeit easier to cut off). If you keep it attached to your belt consistently for a few days, the cord lock will eventually slide down a bit, loosening up the cord and causing the sheath to move a little when the knife is drawn. This can be addressed by checking the tightness of the lock once a day every time you put on your pants, which I don’t think is too much to ask.

The downside to this method is that, because we’re using the same piece of paracord as we use when wearing the knife around our neck, the paracord is necessarily long. You will have 6″ or so or cord dangling below the lowest point of the sheath. This would be a problem if the two ends of the cord had been tied together, forming a loop, but because they have not been tied thusly, the two ends are loose and will not get caught on anything. They don’t bother me.

Spine

The spine itself is .156″ thick, with about 1/2″ of a grooved thumb ramp at the start of the blade. I’ve never found these thumb ramps to be necessary on any knife, but they don’t get in the way, either.

Initially, I found that I could not generate any sparks by sparking the spine of the Izula against a ferro rod. I know 1095 is high-carbon, so I figured it must either be the tan-colored paint that was preventing me from getting any sparks, or the corner of the spine was slightly rounded. To address both potential problems I set the spine flat on top of a coarse silicon-carbide stone and slowly ground down the first 2″ from the tip. This removes the paint and squares off the edge, giving a 90 degree angle that should be ideal for striking sparks. With that change made, the Izula will throw a decent shower of sparks.

Overall

I’ve been EDCing the RAT Izula for just over two months now. So far, I have been extremely impressed with the knife. Unless I am for some reason forced to carry a folder instead of a fixed blade, I doubt that I will go back to carrying the Emerson Mini-Commander. Direct comparison between a fixed blade and a folder is not exactly fair since they have both been designed with different intentions and are markedly different tools, but I find the Izula to be a superior knife. If I woke up in the zombie apocalypse, I’d much rather find the Izula in my pocket than the Mini-Commander.

If you think you can get away with EDCing a fixed blade, I’d strongly urge you to consider the Izula. As I mentioned in the beginning, the $80 that RAT asks for the knife is overpriced, but it’s not hard to pick up an Izula for closer to $50, which I think is a very good value. (It’s certainly cheaper than a quality folder like an Emerson!)

Does the road wind uphill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow, dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you waiting at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.

Christina Georgina Rossetti, Uphill

One of the pesky traits of the wooden handled Mora knives is their lack of grip when wet. One could acquire a Mora with a rubber handle, but, let’s face it: those are ugly. Instead, I cut a piece of 700×35 bicycle inner-tube about an inch wide and slide this just less than halfway on to the handle. The grip is immediately improved. If you were so inclined, you cut a piece the length of the handle and cover the whole thing, but so far it seems that this small piece is enough.

As with the rubberized BIC, this also provides another way to carry tinder that will work even when wet (though it will require a lighter or candle to start).

I thought that was a great idea. It gives you a nice, rubberized grip for the BIC and provides a simple way of always carrying waterproof tinder.

I’ve now cut off pieces from a 700×35 bicycle inner-tube and made this modification to all my lighters.

My preference is with Howard Citrus-Shield Premium Natural Paste Wax. I first stumbled upon this stuff in a hardware store while I was looking for linseed oil. The store didn’t seem to stock the oil, but the “Citrus Shield” can caught my eye. I remembered reading that Ragnar sometimes used some sort of orange-scented wax on certain wooden knife handles, so I brought the can home to try it out.

It turns out that the stuff works really well. All it consists of is a mixture of natural wax and oil. Initially, there is a very strong citrus scent, but this quickly wears off after application. I use it on all my wooden handled blades now, including the specially processed bamboo handle on the BCNW-O1 (which is supposed to be water resistant, but I found that it would swell some when damp before I treated it with the wax).

The application is very simple. The instructions on the can say to apply a thin coat with a clean rag, but I just use my fingers. After rubbing it into handle, I let it sit for 5 minutes before wiping it off with a clean rag. If this is the first time I’m treating the wood, I’ll apply and wipe off the wax about 3 times. After the final wipe down, I rub the handle with fine 0000 steel wool. I don’t put a whole lot of time or effort into this buffing, though. I’m not seeking a shiny finish, just practical protection.

The way to the basin begins on the old, fenced-off road into the ghost town of Monte Cristo. This bit of trail is littered with signs warning of extreme danger, proceed at your own risk, hazardous materials such as aresenic in the soil, balrogs, and other such frivolities. I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about: the trail was wide, level, and well-maintained.

About 1.5 miles down the road, there used to be a bridge crossing over the Sauk River, but, some time ago, the river apparently found itself unable to suffer such indignities and washed the bridge away. At this point, my path branched off and began to climb its way to the basin along trail and old mining paths. The total elevation gain along this section is about 3,000 feet spread out over a good 4 miles or so, making it a steady, but leisurely climb — just enough to warm one’s self up on a crisp Autumn day.

There are a number of small waterfalls that deposit their loads on the west side of the trail, allowing to the water to trickle across the path and make its way down to join the river. Earlier in the year I imagine that these crossings could be tricky, but the headwaters had frozen up by now, leaving these mostly dry. I’ve heard that one of these such falls has been wittingly dubbed “King Kong’s Showerbath,” though I saw nothing worthy of the name.

Some of the crossings higher up had not dried completely, but instead froze while crossing the trail, leaving ice covered rocks in my way. These rocks required some scrambling up, over and around, which was made interesting by the slippery ice. (I reminded myself that last Saturday’s body recovery had occurred only 20 miles east of here.)

Near the top, I stopped to munch on some granola, raisins, and dried banana slices. I did not don any further clothing upon stopping, however, and my break was thus cut short by the chill and the desire to warm up again. After resuming my walk, I pushed on over bare rock and soon thereafter found myself at a small tarn that marked the entrance to Gothic Basin.

The basin is one of the more spectacular places that I have yet found myself in. In character it bears a striking resemblance to a Gothic cathedral, but larger and grander in scope, being carved out of the mountains over centuries by the minute movements of glaciers. A temple of rock.

My awe was quickly overtaken by another sensation: cold. The wind was strong up here, cutting through my clothing with ease. With windchill, the temperature hovered around 20 degrees Fahrenheit — a stark contrast even to the trailhead only 3,000 feet below, which had felt more like 45-50F. I took off my pack and put on two more light layers of wool. It was still cold. The lowlands have maintained themselves around 60F thus far which has not yet given me the opportunity to acclimatize to these lower temperatures. I also found that I had neglected to bring any gloves. No matter. The small tarn was partially frozen over and I wanted to make my way another half mile further across the rock to Foggy Lake to see how it was faring.

Foggy Lake proved to be moving, though I can’t imagine that it will resist the ice much longer.

Standing by the cold water made me think of the packet of kukicha that I had in my pack. I had packed it, along with my old Vargo Triad XE stove, Trail Designs windscreen, and Snow Peak 700 mug. The package is not as efficient or versatile a stove as my Trail Designs Ti-Tri stove, but packs down much smaller. I often bring it on day hikes.

It was too cold for the denatured alcohol to light with a spark, so I used one of the matches from my EDC. Even with the screen around it, the wind blew the stove out once. I relit it and used my pack as a windbreak. As the tea brewed, I jumped around in place, trying to keep warm.

Soon I noticed blood on one of my finger tips: the skin had cracked from the dryness and was oozing a little bit. I tried to apply a bandage but it refused to stick. Must have something to do with the cold, I figured, and sliced off a piece of duct tape from the bit I have rolled around my Klean Kanteen. That held the bandage in place just fine.

After the tea had steeped, I was cold enough to decide to pack up the stove and start making my way back down, drinking the tea as I went. With mug in one hand and a trekking pole in the other, I made my way back to the tarn, facing the icy south wind. Having downed the warm tea in a remarkably quick fashion, I decided to stop so that I could put the mug away and thus have one free hand to stick in my pocket to warm. I set down the pack and mug, digging around inside the pack for the small garbage bag that I carry, so that I could pack out the teabag. It was a bit tricky, not being able to feel anything due to numb fingers. In a minute, I found the garbage bag and opened it, then reached for the tea bag that was still sitting inside the mug. It had already begun to freeze to the titanium. I broke it free, tossed it in the garbage bag, and put bag and mug in the pack. I decided that things were starting to get a bit serious when I found that I had a lot of trouble closing the zippers on my pack. After donning the pack, I could stick one hand in my pocket to warm, but the other had to stay exposed to hold the trekking pole (which I needed even more on the descent than the ascent). Using the spare Buff I had in one of my pockets, I fashioned a mitten-like covering for the exposed hand which suited to block the wind. It really wasn’t that cold out: as soon as the fingers on both hands were out of the wind, they began to rewarm.

With that addressed, I continued the descent, making my way over scoured rock and through whispering trees back to the trailhead. (I slipped once on one of those ice covered rocks near the top, coming a little too close to the side of the mountain, but arrested myself and recovered.) The ascent took 3 hours and the descent 2.5.

Gothic Basin certainly warrants further explorations. Visually, it is one of the most stunning areas of the Cascades. I could easily spending a week just within the small area.

I have often thought about what I would do out here if I were stricken with a
serious illness, if I broke a leg, cut myself badly or had an attack of
appendicitis. Almost as quickly as the thought came, I dismissed it. Why worry about
something that isn’t? Worrying about something that might happen is not a healthy
pastime. A man’s a fool to live his life under a shadow like that. Maybe that’s how
an ulcer begins.

I have thought briefly about getting caught in rock slides or falling from a rock
face. If that happened, I would probably perish on the mountain in much the same way
many of the big animals do. I would be long gone before anyone found me. My only
wish would be that folks wouldn’t spend a lot of time searching. When the time comes
for man to look his Maker in the eye, where better could the meeting be held than in
the wilderness?

- Richard Proenneke, One Man’s Wilderness

How does one hate a country, or love one? …I lack the trick of it. I know people, I know towns, farms, hills and rivers and rocks, I know how the sun at sunset in autumn falls on the side of a certain plowland in the hills, but what is the sense of giving a boundary to all that, of giving it a name and ceasing to love where the name ceases to apply? What is love of one’s country; is it hate of one’s uncountry? Then it’s not a good thing. Is it simply self-love? That’s a good thing, but one mustn’t make a virtue of it, or a profession… Insofar as I love life, I love the hills of the Domain of Estre but that sort of love does not have a boundary-line of hate. And beyond that, I am ignorant, I hope.

Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness

Wimpy hikers, turn the page. This trail offers nothing for you but pain and heartbreak. If you think you’ve got the goods to scramble up more than 1000 feet per mile, read on. Mailbox Peak brings a serious burn to the thighs of even the best-conditioned athletes, but the rewards make it all worthwhile.

The sign at the trail head warns:

Mailbox Peak Trail is a very steep, wet, unmaintained, difficult, challenging trail.

It is 2.5 miles one way to the top and gains 4,00 feet in elevation.

Search and rescue teams are frequently called to this trail to assist distressed hikers.

Please respect your own ability.

I figured it was all just a bunch of hype. It didn’t look that bad, standing at the bottom.

The trail starts out on an agreeably shallow grade for the first 100 meters or so. Then it gets steep. Then steeper. Then a bit steeper yet. Still, it’s not the challenge it’s made out to be. It may separate the obese, McDonald’s eating, TV watching, weekend warrior (1 in 4 people in the state, last I heard) from anyone who’s ever climbed a mountain before, but it certainly isn’t going to “bring a serious burn to the thighs of even the best-conditioned athletes”.

The view from the top, in contrast to the hike up, was not over-hyped. Today was a crisp, clear Autumn day and one could see for miles in all directions. Mount Si, Glacier Peak, and Mt. Rainier were all visible. And at the top, there is not one but two mailboxes. (I vote we change the name to Mailboxes Peak.) One contained something called a TerraCache, which is some sort of alternative to geocaching. The other held the log book and a number of odds-and-ends that people had left behind. At the base of one of the mailboxes was a firefighting helmet. The state’s Fire Training Academy sits just at the base of the peak and they often use the trail as part of their physical training. (I’m told that they once hauled a fire hydrant up the peak. That is quite a feat.)

I’d like to return to the trail with a fully loaded rucksack on my back. That would be some thigh burning!

Today, I had the idea of keeping the actual separation of twitter and the blog, but simply creating a new RSS feed using some sort of RSS-mash-up-aggregator thingy. I thought Feedburner could do something like that, but apparently not. After searching around for other options and not finding anything that really excited me, I decided to just use Yahoo Pipes. After all, this is pretty much what it was made for.

Combining feeds in Pipes is pretty simple, but after mashing them together, I discovered that twitter’s RSS feed is kinda ugly. Luckily, editing feeds using regular expressions in Pipes is pretty simple, too. After polishing up the twitter feed a bit, I thought Why not toss my Flickr feed into this puppy? But occasionally I’ll upload a large group of photos to Flickr at a single time, and I didn’t want to totally bomb my new RSS feed. Plus, most of the time when I put photos on Flickr, I create an accompanying blog post, so I wasn’t sure that adding the Flickr feed to the mash-up was even necessary. I figured that I’d toss in the Flickr feed for now, but compromise by having Pipes truncate it to the 6 most recent items.

Now I have a pretty new feed.

Then came the problem of what to do with it. I didn’t want to just toss up a link somewhere. I preferred the idea of replacing my normal blog feed with this new super-feed. But I also didn’t want to just edit the Wordpress template header. I new Feedburner had a plugin to integrate with Wordpress, so I thought about burning the new feed and then using the Feedburner plugin to pull it in, but that seemed a little excessive, particular since I don’t care about any of the click-tracking or monetizing features of Feedburner. Then I found the Feed Locations plugin, which does exactly what I wanted: allow me to specify the location of my feed in the Wordpress admin panel.

Now, if you ask Wordpress for this site’s RSS feed, you get the new feed. If you’re opposed to all this new fanciness and just want the plain old blog feed, it’s still up at the same location, just not linked to from anywhere.

Let me know what you think about having the Flickr photos in the feed. If it’s redundant, I’ll take them out.

A couple days ago, I read an article which mentions that some people use Obenauf’s leather preservative as a skin care product. I was a bit shocked at first, but it makes perfect sense. All the LP consists of are “three different natural oils… suspended in Beeswax and Propolis.” And what makes a standard skin care balm? Beeswax, olive oil, and your minced up dried herbs and/or essential oils of choice. LP is pretty much a balm without the herbs. That may make it inferior to products that include the healing power of herbs, but LP is designed to protect skin — dead skin that you wear on your feet, but skin none-the-less.

(Arguably, this lack of herbal material in the LP could be a benefit: it means that the product has no strongly identifiable scent (a useful trait in the woods). If one did not care about the scent and wanted to add something extra to the LP, it would be a simple matter to melt it and put a few drops of essential oil in. Though that’s fine for skin care, I’m not sure I want my boots smelling like tea tree or lavender oil.)

I decided to experiment. This morning I cleaned out a small tin from a commercial balm and filled it with LP (by heating the LP until it liquefied, then pouring it into the smaller container). Now I have a convenient way of carrying the LP around with me, which should encourage me to try it on a regular basis.

I always carry some sort of skin balm with me, both in my urban EDC and in my wilderness gear. Usually, I opt for Badger Healing Balm or Burt’s Bees Res-Q Ointment. I’ve made my own herbal balms in the past, but, as with home-made soap, I have never felt that what I made was in any way superior to store-bought products nor that there was a significant financial savings by making my own stuff. If I decide that I like the LP product, I’ll probably end up carrying it in my larger rucksack in lieu of a normal balm. That would give me the ability to treat not only my own skin, but also take care of my boots in the wilderness. More functionality than what I have now, and it seems a good plan.