Field Note 005 — Comfort Isn't Cheating
If there’s one golden rule I’ve learned camping, it’s this: bring a fucking pillow.
A compression bag full of today’s dirty clothes, a pillow stolen from home, an inflatable pillow—I don’t care. Bring something. Make yourself comfortable.
There seems to be this idea that the more uncomfortable you are outdoors, the more legitimate the experience somehow becomes. That if you packed a chair, brought an extra blanket, or figured out how to take a shower after a few days in the dirt, you’re doing it wrong.
I’ve never really understood that.
I don’t glamp. I’m not trying to drag my living room into the woods. But traveling light doesn’t mean traveling uncomfortable. My philosophy has always been to travel as light and as comfortably as possible. Those two things don’t have to work against each other.
Whether I’m camping out of the truck, staying at a “real” campsite, or backpacking, I almost always have a hammock with me. It packs small, weighs almost nothing, and gives me another comfortable place to exist once camp is set up. I carry plenty of paracord too. Sometimes it becomes a clothesline. Sometimes it holds up some shade. Sometimes it hangs wet gear. Sometimes it solves a problem I didn’t know I was going to have until I got there.
Same goes for chairs. I have different versions for different trips. What makes sense next to the truck doesn’t necessarily make sense ten miles down a trail. The answer changes with the trip. The point doesn’t.
I want somewhere comfortable to sit.
That’s really what a lot of this comes down to. Comfort doesn’t necessarily require bringing more stuff. It requires figuring out which little things make a disproportionate difference.
Trash bags are a hidden gem. They weigh nothing, take up no room and become useful for damn near everything.
All of my packs have compressed washcloths somewhere in them. Extra blankets come along when I have the room, and not just for sleeping. I carry different kinds of lighting—spotlights, floodlights, little mood lights—because sometimes I need to see something 100 yards away and sometimes I just want enough light around camp to see my beer.
Hats. Gloves. Balaclavas.
The sun is the devil, and the cold is his friend.
None of this is particularly glamorous gear. Most of it isn't even interesting enough to have a conversation about. But when you’re cold, dirty, sitting on the ground in the dark and trying to figure out what the hell you’re going to do with a bag full of garbage, suddenly the boring stuff starts earning its place.
And then there’s food.
You can survive on some pretty miserable meals in the woods. That doesn't mean you should.
Whether the cooking setup is big or small, being able to cook and eat relatively easily makes camp more comfortable. Bring something to cook with. Bring something to eat on. Figure out a system that works for the kind of trip you’re taking.
Coffee counts.
Especially coffee.
On rare occasions, I get to take out my hot tent and wood-burning stove. I suppose having a freaking stove inside your tent is about as close to glamping as I get.
And I don't care.
There is something awesome about waking up on a snowy morning inside a warm—sometimes borderline boiling—tent. Even better is being able to get the stove going, make coffee and cook breakfast for your significant other without them ever having to leave the tent.
Could we have survived without it?
Of course.
That isn't the point.
The gear made that morning better.
That matters.
Comfort Isn't Always for You
This is probably the part I learned more slowly.
A lot of the people I’ve taken camping over the years didn't camp as much as I did. They didn't necessarily know what they would need, what they would forget, or what would start bothering them after a day or two.
Making sure they had a good time was more than half the battle.
So somewhere in my gear there are usually a few hidden goodies for the people who aren't quite as savvy about packing. Something extra to keep somebody warm. Something they forgot. Something to clean up with. Something to make camp a little easier.
Even some form of music.
I’ve lost track of how many times someone has needed something and I've been able to dig around and come up with some version of it.
That always felt good.
More importantly, it made them feel good.
They didn't need to know exactly where everything was. They didn't need to think about the system behind it. They just knew that when they needed something, there was a pretty good chance we had an answer.
Cleanliness is a big one, especially on longer trips.
A compressed washcloth might be enough. Sometimes it's a solar shower. Sometimes it's a pop-up privacy tent and an actual way to wash yourself properly.
And people's needs aren't all the same. Men and women aren't necessarily going to have identical requirements for staying clean and comfortable for several days outdoors. If you're bringing other people along, thinking beyond what you personally need can make an enormous difference in whether everyone is still having fun a few days later.
That's part of being prepared too.
Light Doesn't Mean Miserable
There’s obviously a limit to all of this.
Every extra thing you carry costs you something. It takes up space. It adds weight. It has to be packed, unpacked, cleaned and eventually packed again.
That’s why the answer isn’t bring everything.
It's bring the things that earn their place.
If I’m backpacking, my definition of comfort changes because everything is going on my back. If I’m in the truck, I have considerably more room to work with. A full-size camp chair that would be ridiculous on a backpacking trip suddenly makes perfect sense when all I have to do is pull it out of the back of the vehicle.
Different trip. Different system.
Same objective.
Travel as light and as comfortably as possible.
There are places where shaving weight makes sense. There are places where carrying a few extra ounces makes the entire trip better. There are also plenty of things that look unnecessary right up until the moment you need them.
That's something you have to figure out for yourself.
I don't think there's much value in being uncomfortable simply to prove that you can be.
Make People Want to Come Back
Over the years, one of the things I heard repeatedly from people I took camping was how comfortable camp was for such a small package.
I always liked hearing that.
We weren't hauling half the house with us. We weren't setting up some elaborate outdoor resort. There was just enough of the right stuff packed in the right places that camp worked.
When somebody needed something, I could usually dig up some version of it.
When they were hungry, we could cook.
When it got cold, we had options.
When it got dark, we had light.
When they were dirty, there was some way to clean up.
And when it was finally time to stop moving for the day, there was somewhere comfortable to sit.
That made the experience better for me, but more importantly, it made the experience better for the people around me.
They enjoyed themselves.
They wanted to come back.
They wanted to go camping with me again.
And ultimately, that's the whole point of the gear in the first place.
Not to own the lightest setup.
Not to own the most expensive setup.
Not to prove how uncomfortable you can be.
It's there to help you get out, stay out, and enjoy the time you have once you're there.
So bring the hammock.
Bring the washcloth.
Bring the extra blanket.
Bring the chair if the trip allows it.
And for the love of God—
bring a fucking pillow.
Buy less. Go more.
— Dane Justus
Founder, Weekend Route