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gear, review, sole, feet, superfeet, footwear

Sole and Superfeet

Last March, I used part of my REI dividend on a pair of Sole Ed Viesturs Ultra Cushion footbeds. Prior to this, I’d been using Green Superfeet in my Lowa Renegade boots.

When I pulled the Green Superfeet out of my boots and attempted to install the new Sole footbeds to insure I had a proper fit, they were quite hard to insert – much harder than the Superfeet. I took them out and compared them with the Superfeet to see if they wanted trimming, but they appeared only a millimeter or so longer. They were, though, much thicker than the Superfeet – particular in the arch area – which was what, I deduced, made the fit a bit more tight.

So, I tried inserting them again, this time shoving them almost all the way in, then put in my feet to force the footbeds into place. I felt around a good deal to assure myself that there was no bunching at the toe, then took them out again and popped them in the oven.

Sole includes a sticker on the bottom of one of the pair that turns from silver to black when properly heated. They claim that 2 minutes in a 200F oven should do it, but that, if not, give ‘em 5 minutes, then assume the sticker is defective and stick the footbeds into your boots anyway. Well, it actually took 6 minutes in my oven at 200F. After the sticker had turned black, I stuck the footbeds into my boots, laced them up, and stood up straight, feet shoulder-width apart, toes pointed forward, for two minutes. The warmth was actually quite pleasant, particularly on a cold, wet day.

An aside on Superfeet:

I purchased my first pair of Green Superfeet last summer while working for the National Park Service. My footwear at the time was a pair of Merrell Sawtooth boots – easily the stiffest, most uncomfortable boot I’ve ever worn. Any more than 6-7 miles in those and my feet would start to develop an ache. And going over ridges: that was absolutely no fun. The boots were completely lacking in support during downhill endeavors – which, to be fair, was not entirely the boots’ fault. My arches aren’t completely collapsed, but I do have flat feet, which, as you may know, equals zero shock absorption. So when I traversed my way down a rocky slope in the Sawtooths, I felt it. Shortly after purchasing the boots, but long enough after that I felt I had broken them in as much as I could, I went out and bought the Green Superfeet. The difference was stark. Really quite amazing. They were hard and awkward for about the first week, but after that break-in period, the Superfeet turned the Merrell Sawtooths into completely acceptable boots. I could log far more miles, over any terrain, with any slope, all without ache. They were great. When I left the park, I bought a second pair of Superfeet, this time for my 5.11 HRT boots, in the hopes that I could breathe a little more life into them. Alas, it was for naught. Even with the Superfeet, I had to admit to myself that the 5.11s were at the end of their life.

While I would certainly call the Superfeet supportive, I’m not sure I’d term them comfortable. And in fact, Superfeet claims that the insoles should not be comfortable. If it felt like one was walking on a soft mattress, the insoles wouldn’t be giving the feet any support. I don’t know much about feet, but the argument makes sense to me. Personally, while moving with the Superfeet, I had no complaints, but standing still for more than a few minutes, they would start to become noticable uncomfortable. Not painful, but uncomfortable. The discomfort originated in the arch area of the footbed, which I felt was too high for me. A bit like if I had a small ping pong ball or somesuch under my arch. Again, I don’t know much about feet, but this made complete sense to me. My feet are flat, thus I have very little shock absorption. The Superfeet provide shock absorption, thus they must be pushing up my arch. So I couldn’t, and still can’t, complain.

While I’m here, I’d like to make a comment on Superfeet sizing. My boot size is a US 9.5. Superfeet classifies their insoles by letters. Their size E equates to shoe sizes US 9.5-11. I’ve used size E Superfeet in three different pairs of boots (all size 9.5), and it’s always been a perfect fit. No trimming necessary. Great for me, but if you happen to be size US 11, I’d be a little weary. Definitely buy them from a store with a decent return policy, as you may find yourself wanting to upgrade to size F.

But when I heard about Sole, who made footbeds that actually molded themselves to the wearers feet, and that wearers often termed them as not only supportive, but comfortable, I was intrigued. I thought perhaps they could reach a pleasant medium between pressing up the arch for support, but not pressing it up too much.

Back to Sole:

After the initial 2 minute molding process, I walked around them a short while. An immediate, very stark difference from the Superfeet was evident. The Soles were, in fact, comfortable. The level of comfort worried me, actually. I feared they wouldn’t give me any support what-so-ever.

I have by now logged enough mileage, over enough terrain, under enough of a load to over a verdict: thumbs up. The comfort, compared to the Superfeet, allows me to to travel slightly greater mileages in the same boots than before.

I still keep the Green Superfeet in my running shoes, but I, personally, find the Sole footbeds superior. I would caution that feet are extremely variable, and the merits of both Superfeet and Sole are strong, but, it would seem, complimentary to different foot types. Experiment!

There is absolutely no reason not to purchase a pair of non-standard insoles for your footwear – even with good boots. The thin, non-supportive, flimsy things that manufacturers include standard cannot match a custom pair. I expect the majority of those reading this site probably recognize their feet as extremely valuable assets, and are not unaccustomed to spending uncommonly large sums of money on a good pair of boots and socks. So do yourself a favor, take the next step, and buy decent insoles. There is little less valuable in this world than mobility, and, whatever brand they may be, custom insoles will allow you to go harder, better, faster, longer.

review, hat, gear

Duluth Trading Co. Oil Cloth Packer Hat

A good hat keeps the sun out of your face, the rain off your head, and guarantees the wearer always be presented with a sort of respectability and cunning. With a hat on your head, the world seems a more acceptable place.

You see, a man should always wear a hat. I've noticed, of course, that you people up here never wear one. But you should, so that you can tip it whenever the occasion demands. - Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain

In years past I was a boonie hat man. Mine would be with me where-ever I went. But I was quick to discover that it did no good in the rain. The cotton would simply suck up the water and chill my head. In the rain, I’d be better off hat-less. For a year thereafter I experimented with synthetic offerings from the likes of Outdoor Research and REI. They have hats for sun and hats for rain, but none that suited me well enough.

Then, a year and a half ago, I tried out Duluth Trading Co.’s Oil Cloth Packer Hat. It has rarely left my head since.

Oil Cloth Packer Hat

It is crushable, packable, breathable, water-resistant, and stylish.

The paracord chin strap is my own addition. It’s needed whenever there’s any wind, and provides a useful attachment point for hooking to my pack. When not in use, it’s stowed as shown in the pictures.

The original color is a deal darker than represented in my pictures, for it’s seen much sun and has been washed a few times throughout the years. Usually I wash it by hand with a bit of Bronner’s Magic Soap in the sink, then let it hang dry in the sun. At the end of last summer, the leather band surrounding the hat was entirely covered in salt crystallized from my sweat, so I tossed it into the washing machine with the rest of my load. It survived, faded but not damaged. Throughout all this wear and washing, the oil finish has thinned and is gone in some places, so the water resiliency is lessened.

I will probably have to replace it before the year is out. Though I have no complaints for Duluth, I think I’ll try a Filson packer hat next. They’re a local brand and have a reputation for quality. Tilley Endurables‘s reputation is unsurpassed by other hatters for quality and durability, but they’re a bit pricey and none of their models have the classic style of the packer hat.

One word of warning for any considering the style: random people tell me at least every other week that I look like Indiana Jones (or, if they’re more intoxicated, “hey, you look that guy with the whip!”) – this despite the fact that Indiana Jones’ hat is clearly a fedora, and my hat clearly is not. With the new film coming out, I imagine these occurrences will only increase.

Tramps like to lie down on their sides a lot. They like to be in the shade and the only way to lie in the shade is on your side. You're a lucky tramp if you have a hat, that's good shade, but if you don't have a hat you're gonna have a sunburn and not just your face and your arms but your eyeballs, your eyeballs will get beet-red because lots of times there just ain't anywhere to go to get out of the sun. A tramp ain't gonna have a cigarette or a drink when he wants one and he don't think about getting old, he just thinks about getting by, and if a drink of bourbon replaces a drink of water and he's in the desert, well then he needed that bourbon more than the water, but he'll take the water with him, case the bourbon dries up. So do yourself a favor and get a good hat. - Eddy Joe Cotton, Hobo

Oil Cloth Packer Hat

review, footwear, gear, lowa

Lowa Renegade Mid Hiking Boots

2011 Update: Although I still wear the Renegade boots, and claim that they're the best hiking boots on the market, my reasons for doing so differ from those I expressed three and a half years ago. (And I don't like Superfeet anymore!) The following is left for posterity.

Early last Fall, it became clear that my old pair of boots – 5.11 HRTs – were at the end of their life. New insoles bought me a little while longer, but the fact had to be faced.

I knew exactly what boots I wanted to replace them. Trouble was, I couldn’t afford them. (Still can’t, in fact.) So I had to search for something else to hold me over for a while. I’d heard much positive review of Lowa and Vasque, and thought this an excellent opportunity to try them out. After much research, I settled on the Lowa Renegade GTX hiking boot.

Lowa Renegade Mid Hiking Boots

REI happened to carry them and, rather conveniently, I had a pair of boots that I’d been given a while ago but never been very fond of (Montrail Torre GTX – I wore them in Thailand). So I took (perhaps unfair) advantage of REI’s lenient return policy, and ended up with a pair of Lowa Renegades for only $30.

The craftsmanship is excellent. I can spot no failures of any kind along the boots. Most any other boot I’ve worn for this amount of time has shown some small failure: a broken stitch, or a bit coming unglued somewhere. Not so with the Renegades. The Germans, I think, know a thing a two about making boots. (Actually, they’re made in Slovakia, but I’m Am’r’can, damnit, so that’s close enough for me.)

The soles are Vibram, like most other boots, and provide excellent traction on varied terrain: concrete, dirt, rocks, etc. Snow is a little iffy, but that’s been the case with any boot I’ve had.

The Gore-Tex liner is great. Verifiably waterproof and breathable (though I’ve not had the opportunity to wear the boots in hot weather).

The break-in period was non-existent. They were comfortable and supportive as soon as I put them on.

My feet registered no complaints concerning the standard Lowa insoles, but they were small and flimsy, like those provided by any other boot manufacturer, and I’ve been in a love affair with Green Superfeet since the Summer (more on that later), so after a couple weeks I swapped them out, and have been happier for it.

Some people report Lowa runs slightly large, but I found this to be untrue. I ordered my normal boot size, and they fit perfectly.

The absolutely only complaint I can offer for the Renegades is the lacing system. Lowa is quite fond of their D-rings. I am not. They allow for slightly faster unlacing, but slower lacing. And if you lace too fast, without paying attention, the lace may not make it’s way entirely inside one of the rings, and pop out eventually. This happens every now and then to me. It’s not enough to turn me off from the boots, or dissuade me from recommending them, but it is a minor annoyance. (And I had to find something to complain about.)

Lowa Renegade Mid Hiking Boots

I’ve been wearing them daily for close to 5 months now. Though this Fall and Winter, regrettably, have seen me mostly in urban areas, not logging any serious mileage over mountainous terrain with heavy loads, I am very pleased with the Renegades and whole-heartedly recommend them to anyone looking for a mid-to-light hiking boot, or footwear for every day urban wear. (Plus, they look quite snazzy with TAD Legionnaires, no?)

3-3-08 Update:

I wore these boots yesterday on a 23 mile hike, with about 1300 ft elevation gain, under a 75lb pack. My feet aren’t too happy about it, though they’ve ended up worse after shorter humps with lighter loads in lesser boots. Last week I did 12 miles under the same load with no problem. They’re definitely light hiking boots.

review, books

The Baroque Cycle

After re-reading Neal Stephenson’s The Diamond Age last November, I had an inkling to do the same with The Baroque Cycle, Stephenson’s tome on Alchemy, Economics, Technology, and an agreeable amount of Swashbuckling in the late 17th and early 18th centuries. It is an account of the birth of our modern world-system.

Quicksilver and The Confusion I first read when they were published, but at the time The System of the World was released, I was distracted by other ruminations. By the time I was free, I felt too much time had passed since my experience with the first two books, so I never read the third. Now, I intend to read them back-to-back.

Baroque Cycle

Quicksilver I finished in a week and half. The Confusion I’ve been reading for near the same amount of time and am roughly halfway through, though I fear it will take longer to complete. Allowing for (un)necessary distractions, I should like to finish the cycle by the end of February.

steampunk, review, magazine, books, apocalypse, survival

SteamPunk

Steampunk

Steampunk: a history that wasn’t quite. At once both Victorian and Dystopic. A world filled by brass gears, pin-stripe suits, and a steam powered Deus ex Machina.

I’ve been familiar with steampunk as both a literary spin-off of cyberpunk and as a modding community, but only recently – through SteamPunk Magazine – come into it’s aberration as a subculture.

This third issue of SteamPunk Magazine is my first. I found it to be a most delightful mixture of short-fiction, interviews, tutorials, and rants. My preferred rant was My Machine, My Comrade by a one Prof. Calamity, in which he sees steampunk as “seeking[ing] to liberate the machine from simply existing as an instrument of work, while at the same time not elevating mechanical forms above all else… Steampunk seeks to find a relationship with the world of gears, steel, and steam that allows machines to not only co-inhabit our world but to be partners in our journey.” My favorite fiction was Margaret P. Killjoy’s Yena of Angeline in “Sandstorms by Gaslight” which (very much like mine own fiction) seems to go nowhere. It has no direction, and does not leave its reader with a sense of anything being accomplished, which makes it a disappointing first read. But, again and again, I find my mind wandering back to the world that Killjoy crafted and the characters that inhabit them. Ant that, I think, is some element of praise.

A SteamPunk’s Guide to the Apocalypse is a survival manual of sorts, covering basic aspects of shelter, water, and food. It should provide nothing new to the established crazy and serves as no replacement to In the Wake (or any of the works listed in the Guide’s Appendix B), though features thoughts on reclaiming urban resources that are lacking in other guides. But, like In the Wake, it is available as a free download, thus nullifying any excuse to not peruse the contents and keep it as a handy reference. I purchased it partly to support SteamPunk Magazine, but mostly for Colin Foran’s artwork, which provides a wonderful backdrop to the gritty subject of post-Civilization apocalyptic survival. Beyond comparisons to other manuals for outliving Civilization, my main criticism is that of the style of writing. Writers in the Victorian era were much more liberal than us in their use of capitalization, but there was a system. When I read those works, I feel the capitalization adds a certain emotion to the writing. Being a SteamPunk’s Guide, the author of this work (by happenstance, the same Margaret Killjoy whom I praised above) attempted to duplicate this capitalization, but failed. Whether there was or was not a system, it feels arbitrary, and detracts from the overall work. The Guide does present an attempt to emulate that era’s vocabulary, and I think does a good job of that – combining a sense of Victorian grace with modern punk and a bit of wit, for an agreeable solution of steampunk.

review, gear

Camera Obscura

The weekend before last my digital camera failed miserably during an attempted balancing trick on my handlebars: it fell and busted both the lens and the mechanism that opens and closes it. Luckily, it was only a point-and-click Canon PowerShot SD450 – I’ve never been able to afford or justify a dSLR with my infantile skill. (Somebody want to buy me a Nikon D80? I’ll love you long time.) So, I replaced it with a Canon PowerShot SD1000 – basically the upgrade to my old SD450 – which arrived today.

And what image should I snap to test out the new device? Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my short time on Flickr, it’s that all the cool kids take pictures of their Moleskine journals. I thought I’d succumb to the meme and join the crowd.

Blank Pages

Journal

review, triple aught design, gear, pants

TAD Gear Force 10 Legionnaire Classic Cargo Pants

You’d think that after however many thousands of years, pants would have stopped evolving. How much can you do with a pair of pants? Apparently, if you’re Triple Aught Design, just a little bit more.

TAD Gear’s Force 10 Legionnaire Classic Cargo Pants are an amazing pair of pants. I mean it. Really. There’s pants, and then there’s TAD pants. With a really big gap in between the two. And the TAD pants are on the upper end. Way up.

TAD Gear Legionnaire Cargos

The Legionnaires are made from 7.5 oz cotton “gabardine” – which is just a fancy way of saying twill (I had to look that up). (They’re also available in ripstop.) They have two front pockets, two rear pockets, two cargo pockets, and two thigh pockets.

The cargo pockets aren’t just normal cargo pockets – they’re 9” deep behemoths (that’s a Hebrew word for beast, by the way). They’re great. You could probably loose something in their abyss, but they’re somehow non-intrusive.

The two front pockets aren’t just normal pockets, either. They both sport clip reinforcements. That’s right: both sides. And they aren’t just little reinforcements on the seams, like on 5.11 pants. They’re diamonds that reinforce the whole shebang and provide a more secure hold for your pocket knife, thanks to the thicker fabric. The right front pocket also has an interior coin pocket. (Note: I’ve found that these pockets do not work with Emerson Knives’ wave opener.) I should also mention that the pockets are made of the same tough material as the rest of the pants – a welcome feature, to be sure. The first failures I always experience on pants are holes in the cheap material used to make pockets.

The back pockets are just normal back pockets. (You thought I was going to say they weren’t, didn’t you? Well, they do have the very stylish button-and-ribbon closures that are also found on the cargo pockets.)

The front of the pants have two D-rings, one on each side. Again, beating 5.11 pants by one. I really don’t know why more folks don’t put these on their pants.

Every single stress point on these pants are bartacked. All of them. There’s not a single point where reinforcements are missing. The butt is reinforced, the knees are reinforced and slightly articulated, every seam is reinforced.

The absolute best thing about these pants are the two front thigh pockets. It’s honestly hard for me to put on a pair of pants without these now. They’re a perfect fit for seemingly everything I want to put in them – cell phone, gps, camera, energy bar, notepad.

Another amazing feature – and one that makes me love TAD even more – is that the only logo on the pants (excluding the “TAD Gear green label” on the inside of the fly) is velcroed on to the right cargo pocket. Velcroed. TAD is actually giving the wearer the option of advertising for them. What other company does that? Everyone else plasters their logos all over their products and forces me to go to the trouble of cutting them off or covering them up. (TAD, Kifaru, and Arc’Teryx are usually the only companies I billboard for.)

Last June I used the uniform grant I had been given to buy a pair of TAD’s Force 10 Combat Pants (seen here on patrol) and I actually like the Legionnaires better. The Force 10’s triple reinforced knees added a good deal of heat in the sun and I didn’t find them necessary for my needs. I liked the top slot of the cargo pockets, but I found that the internal dividers would sometimes annoy me as I’d blindly reach into the pockets, groping for something, and put my hand into one of the smaller pockets instead of the main bellow. The ribbons on the cargo pocket buttons weren’t sewn down (as they are on these newer Legionnaires) and often got in the way. The one feature I really wish they’d carry over to the Legionnaires is the diamond gusseted crotch.

In case you haven’t caught on, the Legionnares are amazing pants. They’re expensive, but worth the money. Go hungry for a few days if you have to. I’ve worn these pants every day since I bought them last month, and if I had the money I’d purchase a second pair.

(MilitaryMorons, of course, has a better review, though his are a slightly older style. These new ones have a zipper fly instead of buttons and all pocket ribbons are now sewn down.)

Some people have been curious about my rolls. I started rolling my pants last year at MutantFest. I got too lazy to blouse them every day, but wanted to keep them out of the water and mud. After that, it stuck. I started riding a bike, and the rolling kept the right pant leg from getting messed up the chain. It isn’t dependent on wearing combat boots – I can do it with shorter hikers. I’ve since discovered that rock climbers roll their pants. I like to think that copying them makes other folk less excited than bloused pants with combat boots. But most of all, I keep doing it because I can refer to my rolled pants as “combat knickers”, which is a source of great amusement.

review, gear, shirt

5.11 Tactical Long Sleeve Shirt

5.11 Shirt

The 5.11 Tactical Long Sleeve shirt is your average button up uniform shirt, overclocked for the more demanding user. There’s nothing to scream “shoot me first”, but one can rest assured that some measure of toughness was put into its construction, and some thought into its design.

There are two breast pockets, roughly 5.5” x 5”, which close with two velcro squares. Behind the breast pocket on either side are one of the shirt’s best features: hidden document pockets. These open vertically in the “Napoleon style” with two velcro rectangles and measure in at about 6.5” x 10”. They’re great for carrying tickets, notebooks, passports (yes, plural; you know you have more than one, you double agent you), or, if you’re one of the 5.11 models, a small firearm.

The shirt also features a vented back (one of the few areas where the observant onlooker may notice something odd about the shirt) with mesh lining, rolled-up-sleeve-holder-thingies, and two small underarm vents (read: holes) for warmer weather.

The left sleeve sports two pen slots near the top, one of which I can just squeeze a kubotan into, though it’s a little awkward.

The shirt’s elbows are reinforced and, best of all, almost every seam is triple stitched. I don’t know why practices like that aren’t more common on clothing.

Additionally, 5.11 includes two epaulets and a badge holder to be optionally sewn on the shirt.

Two logos are placed on the shirt, in addition to the neck tag: one on the bottom and one on the left cuff, both of which can be easily cut off for sanitation.

I’ve only had this black cotton shirt now for a few weeks, but have no complaints so far. It’s a well made piece of clothing that blends right in at most locations (or would blend in, had I not sewn the jolly roger on the right sleeve), but I’m not afraid to roll around in the dirt in. A perfect example of a dual use garment.

The ripstop nylon version of the shirt I’ve had since last March and have been extremely pleased. It’s slid down more than a couple cliffs and has stayed together and presentable through situations where other synthetic shirts from REI, Mountain Hardwear, and Cabelas have not. I’ve worn it comfortably up to 100F (or at least as comfortable as I was in that temperature with just a t-shirt) and often will wear it in colder temperatures over a fleece or merino mid-layer to protect those undergarments from ripping.

LAPoliceGear was kind enough to send me this shirt for review. They maintain a large stock of 5.11 products for fast shipping, all at some of the best prices on the net. (Actually, I don’t think I own a 5.11 product that I haven’t purchased from LAPoliceGear– shirts, pants, or boots.)

3-11-08 Update:

I lost a button off the cuff today.