“You know what the best thing about gear is? Using it.”
– Me, Steamboat Springs, Jan 2007
I’m not sure when, or even how, I got hooked on gear. I do know I’m not a full blown gear addict, and yes, I am aware that sounds like denial coming from a guy who owns 4 bikes, 2 snowboards, 2 sets of cross country skis, a set of snowshoes, crampons, 3 tents, 3 camp stoves, at least half a dozen backpacks of varying capacities and so on. But I do appreciate well designed products that make my life easier, safer and a bit more comfortable and from time to time, one piece or another really stands out.
One such piece came to mind last Saturday night as I was unpacking after snowboarding on the rime coated trails at Shawnee Peak. We started riding in a light rain and quickly found that the untracked snow remained so for a very good reason: it’s crust offered only two options, uncontrollable skidding or random collapses, either which of lead to inelegant tumbles. The groomers, however, were great for carving and cruisng and we lapped the mountain until our legs were spent and sitting at a bar stool sounded better than sitting on a chair lift.
But, while beerily unpacking my wet gear, it wasn’t the layers of Gore-Tex, the padded gloves, knee pads, helmet, boots or board that struck me as noteworthy. It was the large brown canvas and leather LL Bean duffel bag from which I was removing all of that well-used gear.
The duffel bag, along with a smaller version of it, was a gift from my aunt and uncle when I was a senior in high school in 1985. Upon opening the gift, my reaction was more akin to that of a five year old receiving a gift of socks or underwear instead of toys for his birthday. The only difference was that instead of looking like a disappointed child, I probably made a snide remark that only the temporarily omniscience of a 17 year old could have come up with. Even when my aunt suggested one can always use a good duffel bag or two, all I could think was, “Why would I possibly need these?” Indeed.
After four years of college, during which each September and May I crammed almost all of what I owned into those two bags, I still frowned upon them. I took them on my first cross country trip and by the end of that journey, if asked, I would have reluctantly acknowledged their utility. After, they were relegated to camping trips and weekend getaways, and otherwise remained stuffed under the bed or buried in the closet, unappreciated and nearly discarded a few times in favor of suitcases, backpacks and nylon gym bags with a multitude of zippers, pockets and straps.
Then I hit my 30s and developed an addiction to snowboarding. My 20s left me somewhat challenged in terms of short-term memory and I found I needed a gear bag. Backpacks couldn’t fit all of the layers of clothing, helmet and boots I planned on lugging to the lodge. My gym bag was slowly disintegrating from hauling muddy biking gear and it had so many compartments I kept forgetting where things were. So, out came the large duffel. Everything fit and with only one compartment, I could find things easily enough. Now, after 8 years of wet boots, gritty lodge floors and slushy parking lots, the bag is no worse for the wear.
So, 22 years later, here’s a belated thank you, Aunt Karen and Uncle Harry. Those bags are some damn fine gear indeed.