Field Note 012 — Stop Upgrading Your Camping Gear
You probably don’t need to upgrade that.
There. I said it.
Your knife still cuts. Your tent still keeps the weather mostly on the outside. Your backpack is ugly, dirty, has a couple of tears, and probably smells vaguely like campfire smoke and poor decisions.
But it works. And if it works, you may have already solved that problem.
That is the part we seem to forget.
We are constantly being shown something newer, cleaner, lighter, brighter, smarter, stronger, more tactical, more premium, more optimized, more whatever-the-hell-the-word-of-the-week-is.
And some of that stuff is great. I sell gear. I like gear. I enjoy looking at gear probably more than is healthy.
This is not an argument against buying things.
It is an argument for asking one question first:
Do I actually need to replace or upgrade this?
If It Works, It Stays
I have a backpack I have owned for about a decade. It has rips. It has tears. It is dirty. It has been dragged around enough places that it has earned every ugly mark on it.
And I have no particular desire to replace it.
Why would I? It still carries my stuff. The problem is solved.
Same thing with knives. If the knife cuts, sharpen it. You do not need the next nice knife just because it is nicer.
There are plenty of beautiful knives out there. Expensive knives. Cheap knives. Fancy knives. Knives made from steels with names that sound like classified military projects.
Cool.
Does yours still cut?
Then go cut something with it.
The A-frame tent from the last Field Note is another good example. It was cheap when I bought it. I own other tents now. Some of them are nicer. Some of them serve completely different philosophies of use.
But I did not replace that tent because something prettier came along.
It still has a job. That matters more.
Your Gear Probably Didn’t Become Inadequate Overnight
A lot of unnecessary upgrades start because we get bored. Marketing helps. Social media helps even more.
You see someone else’s setup. Their camp looks cleaner. Their gear matches. Their storage system is immaculate. Every light is mounted perfectly. Their truck looks like it was assembled specifically for a catalog shoot.
Suddenly your perfectly functional setup starts looking a little tired.
That does not mean it stopped working.
It means your attention moved.
You do not need to keep up with the Joneses. You are the Joneses.
There is always going to be another gadget, another light, another tent, another stove, another cooler, another knife. Buying something new gives you that little hit. You researched it. You ordered it. You watched the tracking number. The box showed up. You opened it.
Dopamine achieved.
Then it goes in the garage next to the other gear.
I would rather get that hit somewhere else.
Get the dopamine hit in the field. Not in the checkout.
Let the Field Tell You What You Need
When I worked in the trades, I had a pretty simple rule with tools: if I had to borrow it, I bought it as soon as it was viable.
Not because I wanted a bigger tool collection. The work had already proven I needed it.
Camping gear should work the same way.
Do not sit at home trying to imagine every possible piece of equipment you might someday need. Go somewhere. Use what you already have. Let the gaps expose themselves.
Maybe you get halfway through a trip and realize you need more light. Maybe your current shelter works fine for two people but does not work for the new kind of trip you are planning. Maybe you keep borrowing somebody else’s saw, stove, water container, recovery strap, whatever.
Perfect.
Now you have a real problem.
Make a note. Do some research. Find the right fit.
That is a very different purchase from sitting on the couch and inventing a problem because an ad told you your current setup is obsolete.
Could the Upgrade Money Pay for the Trip Instead?
This one is worth asking every time.
Before you spend money replacing something that still works, ask what else that money could do. Could it pay for gas? A campsite? Food for the weekend? Could it get you to a trail you have never walked?
Could it put you somewhere new with the gear you already own?
Instead of doom-scrolling new equipment, maybe spend some of that time looking for new places. New trails. New campgrounds. New forest roads. New lakes. New campsites.
Your gear probably does not need a replacement.
It might just need somewhere new to go.
Use It Until You Learn Its Limits
There is something useful about wearing your gear out.
You learn what matters and what does not. You find the weak points. You find the annoying little things that only show up after the twentieth use. You figure out what you would change if you ever had to replace it.
You get your money’s worth.
A lot of the best gear is the gear you stop thinking about. It does its job, fits your system, and stops asking for attention.
Break your stuff using it.
Not intentionally, obviously. I am not telling you to beat a perfectly good stove against a rock because Weekend Route told you to.
I mean use it enough that it eventually reaches the end of its useful life honestly.
I have an old folding grill that has been around forever. It is not exciting. It is not new. Nobody is going to stop me at camp and ask for the model number.
It cooks food.
That is its job.
And as long as it keeps doing that job without becoming a pain in the ass, it can keep showing up.
That is when the shiny new thing starts making sense: after the old thing has actually done the work.
Old Faithful Is Allowed to Retire
There is a flip side to all of this.
Stubborn pragmatism can have diminishing returns. Pride cometh before the fall.
Take anything with an edge. If it stops holding an edge under normal use, and you are spending more time maintaining it than actually using it, it may be time to send it to Davey Jones’ locker.
Maybe that headlamp you love is getting dimmer. The battery drains faster. The elastic strap has stretched so much that you have tied knots in it three different times just to keep it on your head.
It has been a good run. Its shift is over.
Let it sleep.
Maybe some piece of camp equipment technically still works, but setup takes extra steps every single time because it is rusty, stretched, bent, sticky, cracked, or just worn out.
At some point, the effort required to keep Old Faithful alive starts taking time away from the reason you are outside in the first place.
That is when replacement stops being consumerism and starts being practical.
I recently had to retire one of my favorite hats. It still looked fine. I had been wearing it for years. But it was a Flexfit, and eventually it stopped fitting.
I was constantly adjusting it. The wind kept knocking it off.
I still liked the hat.
Did not matter.
Sorry, bud. We had a good run.
Sometimes You Actually Outgrow Something
Gear does not have to be broken to become the wrong fit.
Sometimes the POU changes.
Philosophy of use.
That is the test.
I have camping boxes that worked perfectly for years. Then more genuinely useful gear gets added. Now the lid is fighting you every time you close it.
Nothing is wrong with the box.
You outgrew it.
That is a real reason to change something.
Same reason I have bought new shelters over the years. I did not buy the yurt because my other tents suddenly became bad.
I bought it because it served a new philosophy of use.
New POU. New need. New gear makes sense.
New Gear Is Fine
Buy the telescoping camp light.
Seriously.
If you saw some ridiculous little light that extends six feet into the air, charges your phone, cooks breakfast, and somehow knows your blood type—and you know you are actually going to use the thing?
Cool.
Buy it.
Nothing is wrong with nice gear. Nothing is wrong with cheap gear. Nothing is wrong with expensive gear. Nothing is wrong with wanting something new.
Just think twice before adding another tchotchke to the gear pile.
Ask yourself whether it solves a real problem. Ask whether it has a job. Ask whether you are actually going to use it.
Because both things can be true:
You can buy new gear.
And you can stop upgrading gear you already solved.
The Point Is Getting Out
Build a system. Learn it. Use it. Wear it out. Find the kinks.
That is the whole point of owning a system, not a collection.
Make changes when the field gives you a reason.
And while the internet is trying to convince you that your perfectly good setup needs an overhaul, maybe go find somewhere new to use it instead.
The goal is to get out. And stay out.
Not to get gear. And stay in.
— Dane Justus
Founder, Weekend Route