Tackling the TGO Challenge
In my opinion, wilderness coffee tastes finest when consumed from a wooden vessel, so although it’s a contradiction of my ultralight backpacking philosophy, my heavy Finnish birch kuksa is almost always found clipped to my rucksack shoulder strap by a leather thong. Delighted to find a thick covering of snow while traversing the Lairig Ghru in the Cairngorms during the TGO Challenge, I fashioned a perfect snowball in my Possumdown gloves and took aim at the unsuspecting head of my companion.
As I pictured the snowball in a glorious arcing path across the clear blue sky, I stumbled mid-throw and my solid kuksa took a glorious arcing path into my teeth. I sank to my knees in the glistening snow, eyes watering, top lip quivering. My walking partner looked back, shrugged his shoulders and continued onwards through the snow.
Highland crossing
Each year in May, like a flock of migratory birds, about 300 backpackers take part in a mass coast-to-coast migration across Scotland. Created by writer and mountaineer Hamish Brown in 1980, the non-competitive TGO Challenge has grown from humble beginnings to become the world’s premier self-sufficient backpacking event, with participants drawn from locations as diverse as Oman and Kenya.
As an experienced lightweight backpacker, I’m aware of the pleasure to be gained from walking all day unencumbered by the crippling weight of a heavy rucksack. A 320-kilometre, multi-day hike across some of the most beautiful scenery in the world is something to be savoured, not endured. For this reason, I was determined to reduce the weight of my pack to a level that would permit me to complete the 2010 event safely while avoiding the discomfort experienced by traditional ‘heavyweight’ hikers.
The Scottish weather is notoriously unpredictable, often featuring four seasons in a single day. This means that equipment must be capable of withstanding the full gamut of conditions, from bright sunshine to horizontal sleet. In the remote western Highlands, self-sufficiency is essential. Gear failure would be at best inconvenient, at worst dangerous. This wasn’t the time to try out new equipment.
The ultralight-equipment community has long realised that in order to reduce the overall weight of their packs, backpackers should initially concentrate on the three heaviest items carried: the shelter, the sleeping system and the rucksack. For this trip, I used a single-skin shelter constructed from Cuben Fiber.
Cuben Fiber consists of a web of Dyneema fibres sandwiched between flexible, non-woven, plastic laminates. This creates a waterproof fabric with an immense strength-to-weight ratio. Developed as an ultra-lightweight sail fabric for offshore racing yachts, this new technology was inevitably embraced by the innovative ultralight backpacking scene in the USA.
There are now several cottage manufacturers that produce Cuben Fiber shelters. My pyramid-shaped tent is designed to shed wind from every direction, weighs less than 500 grams (including pegs, guylines and a Gossamer Gear Polycryo groundsheet) and offers enough space for two occupants or a palace for one. I teamed this tent with a water-resistant bivvy bag to defeat any spray or draughts that managed to sneak under the shelter’s edges.
Sleep easy
Contrary to popular thinking, a sleeping bag isn’t the only option for outdoor slumber. In a sleeping bag, the insulation located beneath your prostrate body is rendered largely ineffective when crushed. Hence, a substantial weight saving can be achieved by removing the bottom layer of insulation.
Inside my bivvy bag, I used a 500-gram down quilt that was comfortable to around 5°C. It compressed to the size of a small melon. It could also be worn as a kind of poncho, thanks to an ingenious, resealable head hole. This feature allows brave souls to dispense with any other form of insulated clothing by using it as a multi-use item (a key ultralight backpacking principle). But with temperatures forecast to drop close to freezing, it was necessary for me to wear a microfleece beneath the quilt at night and as a walking midlayer during the day. The fleece also looked far nicer when ‘resupplying’ in a pub in Aviemore.
I chose a torso-length self-inflating pad to insulate me from the ground. It represented a touch of luxury in comparison to a closed-cell foam mat, and I was happy to pay the 230-gram weight penalty in return for a decent night’s sleep. Providing that my hips and shoulders are located on the pad, I find that a full-length mat is unnecessary. I place my empty rucksack and any unused clothing under my legs.
With my shelter and sleeping system weighing 1.5 kilograms, it seemed foolish to use a heavy rucksack with a complex back system and a myriad of straps. The small volume of my kit meant that a 32-litre rucksack provided more than enough space.
Designed for mountain marathons, with a clever design that permitted access to several pockets on the move, my pack was ideal for moving fast and light. By removing superfluous elements, such as the dense foam back padding and ice-axe loops, I reduced the weight of the pack to a respectable 540 grams while retaining features such as hip pockets and a sternum strap with an integrated safety whistle.
Camp cooking
My only requirement from my backpacking stove was the ability to boil water to add to dehydrated meals and to create my morning cup of kuksa coffee, so I dispensed with niceties such as a simmering function and a metal cooking pot. By using a simple methylated-spirits burner made from a recycled drink can and a pot constructed from a large decapitated beer can, camp cooking became a relaxed affair.
I chose meths over Esbit solid-fuel tablets on this trip. In hindsight, this was an error. While meths is easier to light and has a much more pleasant aroma than fishy-smelling Esbit, I missed the portion control of solid fuel, the ability to carry exactly the right number of tablets for a trip, and the option to post them ahead to resupply locations. I eventually found myself frantically scouring small Highland towns for meths when my stove consumed more fuel than I had anticipated. Despite this problem, my entire kitchen (excluding fuel) weighed just 325 grams and provided me with many warming meals and motivating cups of coffee.
In addition to my minimalist kitchen, I carried a two-gram Cuben Fiber drawstring bag containing a few personal items, such as a 100-gram first-aid kit, a toothbrush with the handle cut down (the symbolic badge of the ultralight backpacker), a 30-gram LED headtorch, a flannel-sized wash cloth, a 21-gram Victorinox Classic SD penknife, and a dropper bottle of peppermint Dr Bronner’s soap, which is useful as body wash, shampoo and toothpaste.
A long trip will require a large number of maps, but the weight of paper can mount up. Many people use the poste restante service to send and return maps. Others trim maps to cover just the areas that they plan to visit. I prefer to use digital mapping to print my route onto standard A4 paper. This can be printed double-sided and protected in a clear waterproof map case. I then burn or recycle map pages as they’re used.
Layer system
I use a five-layer approach to my clothing. It consists of my favourite merino-wool hooded base layer, a synthetic microfleece, a windproof jacket, a thicker insulated vest and a waterproof shell. Merino wool is capable of simultaneously absorbing moisture vapour and repelling liquids. In addition, merino’s natural antibacterial properties help to prevent unpleasant body odour. This particular property made a spare top unnecessary on the ten-day trip.
I always choose hooded base layers for the extra layer of head insulation. This feature is especially important when using a hoodless quilt. I’m also a fan of thumb loops in the sleeves.
A microfleece is a superb basic mid-layer. It’s thin enough to walk in if the temperature drops, and perfect when combined with a nylon windproof top. The water resistance and high breathability of a nylon windproof shouldn’t be underestimated. This is one item that accompanies me on every walking trip.
My base layer/fleece/windproof combination is immensely flexible and forms my walking outfit on all but the warmest days. In the event of serious rain (as opposed to standard Scottish dreich), I layer a lightweight waterproof jacket over the top of everything, or use an umbrella.
A down gilet completes my clothing system. It usually serves as my pillow at night unless temperatures drop. In this scenario, I wear the gilet, and my shoes are called into service as head support. I can’t bring myself to carry an inflatable backpacking pillow as I would have to get rid of my kuksa to make room for it.
The end of the line for heavy boots?
The weight of my TGO Challenge pack – less consumables such as food, water and fuel – was a touch under 4.5 kilograms. But a lightweight pack means nothing if you plod along in a pair of heavy leather boots. I’m bemused to see the actions of heavy-booted hikers at the many river crossings that are encountered in a typical day in the Highlands; packs are removed, followed by boots and socks, a pair of sandals are donned, the river is crossed and the process repeated in reverse.
These hikers extol the virtues of stout boots for the waterproofing that they provide, and often demonstrate this in the nearest shallow puddle. A shallow puddle is chosen as these hikers are aware that a deeper puddle will result in the water entering the boot over the top, at which point its waterproof membrane will perform as designed and prevent this water from leaving the boot. A wet boot tends to stay wet for a very long time when backpacking, softening the skin and leading to rubbing, blisters and perhaps trench foot.
I prefer to wear a lightweight, unlined trail-running shoe for most of my year-round walking. The shoes’ high mesh content permits water to leave as easily as it enters. A thin wool or synthetic sock dries quickly from the muscle heat generated by walking. I don’t carry sandals as my trail shoes allow me to ford rivers and streams without breaking stride.
Ten of the best
As an ultralight backpacker, Phil works on the principle that less is more. So while taking part in the TGO Challenge, he made sure to pack kit that was lightweight, suitable for all weathers, and, wherever possible, had more than one use. Here is a selection of the gear that he used while hiking across the Highlands
Don’t forget…
…a wooden Finnish kuksa. It’ll change the way you drink in the outdoors.
Phil Turner enjoys exploring areas neglected by the summit-obsessed masses. He can often be found tracing ancient droving roads and stretches of deserted coastline, and writes regularly about his adventures and equipment tests at www.lightweightoutdoors.com
For details of the TGO Challenge, go to www.tgochallenge.co.uk
May 11
As I pictured the snowball in a glorious arcing path across the clear blue sky, I stumbled mid-throw and my solid kuksa took a glorious arcing path into my teeth. I sank to my knees in the glistening snow, eyes watering, top lip quivering. My walking partner looked back, shrugged his shoulders and continued onwards through the snow.
Highland crossing
Each year in May, like a flock of migratory birds, about 300 backpackers take part in a mass coast-to-coast migration across Scotland. Created by writer and mountaineer Hamish Brown in 1980, the non-competitive TGO Challenge has grown from humble beginnings to become the world’s premier self-sufficient backpacking event, with participants drawn from locations as diverse as Oman and Kenya.
As an experienced lightweight backpacker, I’m aware of the pleasure to be gained from walking all day unencumbered by the crippling weight of a heavy rucksack. A 320-kilometre, multi-day hike across some of the most beautiful scenery in the world is something to be savoured, not endured. For this reason, I was determined to reduce the weight of my pack to a level that would permit me to complete the 2010 event safely while avoiding the discomfort experienced by traditional ‘heavyweight’ hikers.
The Scottish weather is notoriously unpredictable, often featuring four seasons in a single day. This means that equipment must be capable of withstanding the full gamut of conditions, from bright sunshine to horizontal sleet. In the remote western Highlands, self-sufficiency is essential. Gear failure would be at best inconvenient, at worst dangerous. This wasn’t the time to try out new equipment.
The ultralight-equipment community has long realised that in order to reduce the overall weight of their packs, backpackers should initially concentrate on the three heaviest items carried: the shelter, the sleeping system and the rucksack. For this trip, I used a single-skin shelter constructed from Cuben Fiber.
Cuben Fiber consists of a web of Dyneema fibres sandwiched between flexible, non-woven, plastic laminates. This creates a waterproof fabric with an immense strength-to-weight ratio. Developed as an ultra-lightweight sail fabric for offshore racing yachts, this new technology was inevitably embraced by the innovative ultralight backpacking scene in the USA.
There are now several cottage manufacturers that produce Cuben Fiber shelters. My pyramid-shaped tent is designed to shed wind from every direction, weighs less than 500 grams (including pegs, guylines and a Gossamer Gear Polycryo groundsheet) and offers enough space for two occupants or a palace for one. I teamed this tent with a water-resistant bivvy bag to defeat any spray or draughts that managed to sneak under the shelter’s edges.
Sleep easy
Contrary to popular thinking, a sleeping bag isn’t the only option for outdoor slumber. In a sleeping bag, the insulation located beneath your prostrate body is rendered largely ineffective when crushed. Hence, a substantial weight saving can be achieved by removing the bottom layer of insulation.
Inside my bivvy bag, I used a 500-gram down quilt that was comfortable to around 5°C. It compressed to the size of a small melon. It could also be worn as a kind of poncho, thanks to an ingenious, resealable head hole. This feature allows brave souls to dispense with any other form of insulated clothing by using it as a multi-use item (a key ultralight backpacking principle). But with temperatures forecast to drop close to freezing, it was necessary for me to wear a microfleece beneath the quilt at night and as a walking midlayer during the day. The fleece also looked far nicer when ‘resupplying’ in a pub in Aviemore.
I chose a torso-length self-inflating pad to insulate me from the ground. It represented a touch of luxury in comparison to a closed-cell foam mat, and I was happy to pay the 230-gram weight penalty in return for a decent night’s sleep. Providing that my hips and shoulders are located on the pad, I find that a full-length mat is unnecessary. I place my empty rucksack and any unused clothing under my legs.
With my shelter and sleeping system weighing 1.5 kilograms, it seemed foolish to use a heavy rucksack with a complex back system and a myriad of straps. The small volume of my kit meant that a 32-litre rucksack provided more than enough space.
Designed for mountain marathons, with a clever design that permitted access to several pockets on the move, my pack was ideal for moving fast and light. By removing superfluous elements, such as the dense foam back padding and ice-axe loops, I reduced the weight of the pack to a respectable 540 grams while retaining features such as hip pockets and a sternum strap with an integrated safety whistle.
Camp cooking
My only requirement from my backpacking stove was the ability to boil water to add to dehydrated meals and to create my morning cup of kuksa coffee, so I dispensed with niceties such as a simmering function and a metal cooking pot. By using a simple methylated-spirits burner made from a recycled drink can and a pot constructed from a large decapitated beer can, camp cooking became a relaxed affair.
I chose meths over Esbit solid-fuel tablets on this trip. In hindsight, this was an error. While meths is easier to light and has a much more pleasant aroma than fishy-smelling Esbit, I missed the portion control of solid fuel, the ability to carry exactly the right number of tablets for a trip, and the option to post them ahead to resupply locations. I eventually found myself frantically scouring small Highland towns for meths when my stove consumed more fuel than I had anticipated. Despite this problem, my entire kitchen (excluding fuel) weighed just 325 grams and provided me with many warming meals and motivating cups of coffee.
In addition to my minimalist kitchen, I carried a two-gram Cuben Fiber drawstring bag containing a few personal items, such as a 100-gram first-aid kit, a toothbrush with the handle cut down (the symbolic badge of the ultralight backpacker), a 30-gram LED headtorch, a flannel-sized wash cloth, a 21-gram Victorinox Classic SD penknife, and a dropper bottle of peppermint Dr Bronner’s soap, which is useful as body wash, shampoo and toothpaste.
A long trip will require a large number of maps, but the weight of paper can mount up. Many people use the poste restante service to send and return maps. Others trim maps to cover just the areas that they plan to visit. I prefer to use digital mapping to print my route onto standard A4 paper. This can be printed double-sided and protected in a clear waterproof map case. I then burn or recycle map pages as they’re used.
Layer system
I use a five-layer approach to my clothing. It consists of my favourite merino-wool hooded base layer, a synthetic microfleece, a windproof jacket, a thicker insulated vest and a waterproof shell. Merino wool is capable of simultaneously absorbing moisture vapour and repelling liquids. In addition, merino’s natural antibacterial properties help to prevent unpleasant body odour. This particular property made a spare top unnecessary on the ten-day trip.
I always choose hooded base layers for the extra layer of head insulation. This feature is especially important when using a hoodless quilt. I’m also a fan of thumb loops in the sleeves.
A microfleece is a superb basic mid-layer. It’s thin enough to walk in if the temperature drops, and perfect when combined with a nylon windproof top. The water resistance and high breathability of a nylon windproof shouldn’t be underestimated. This is one item that accompanies me on every walking trip.
My base layer/fleece/windproof combination is immensely flexible and forms my walking outfit on all but the warmest days. In the event of serious rain (as opposed to standard Scottish dreich), I layer a lightweight waterproof jacket over the top of everything, or use an umbrella.
A down gilet completes my clothing system. It usually serves as my pillow at night unless temperatures drop. In this scenario, I wear the gilet, and my shoes are called into service as head support. I can’t bring myself to carry an inflatable backpacking pillow as I would have to get rid of my kuksa to make room for it.
The end of the line for heavy boots?
The weight of my TGO Challenge pack – less consumables such as food, water and fuel – was a touch under 4.5 kilograms. But a lightweight pack means nothing if you plod along in a pair of heavy leather boots. I’m bemused to see the actions of heavy-booted hikers at the many river crossings that are encountered in a typical day in the Highlands; packs are removed, followed by boots and socks, a pair of sandals are donned, the river is crossed and the process repeated in reverse.
These hikers extol the virtues of stout boots for the waterproofing that they provide, and often demonstrate this in the nearest shallow puddle. A shallow puddle is chosen as these hikers are aware that a deeper puddle will result in the water entering the boot over the top, at which point its waterproof membrane will perform as designed and prevent this water from leaving the boot. A wet boot tends to stay wet for a very long time when backpacking, softening the skin and leading to rubbing, blisters and perhaps trench foot.
I prefer to wear a lightweight, unlined trail-running shoe for most of my year-round walking. The shoes’ high mesh content permits water to leave as easily as it enters. A thin wool or synthetic sock dries quickly from the muscle heat generated by walking. I don’t carry sandals as my trail shoes allow me to ford rivers and streams without breaking stride.
Ten of the best
As an ultralight backpacker, Phil works on the principle that less is more. So while taking part in the TGO Challenge, he made sure to pack kit that was lightweight, suitable for all weathers, and, wherever possible, had more than one use. Here is a selection of the gear that he used while hiking across the Highlands
Start the slideshow (10 pictures)
Don’t forget…
…a wooden Finnish kuksa. It’ll change the way you drink in the outdoors.
Phil Turner enjoys exploring areas neglected by the summit-obsessed masses. He can often be found tracing ancient droving roads and stretches of deserted coastline, and writes regularly about his adventures and equipment tests at www.lightweightoutdoors.com
For details of the TGO Challenge, go to www.tgochallenge.co.uk
May 11
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