Wilderness Winter Backpacking with Coleman's Military Surplus

Seasonal affective disorder is a real thing... Winters here in my home state of Pennsylvania can be pretty rough. The leaves fall off the trees, the flowers disappear, grass turns a dull yellow, and the birds quit singing. The sun seems to hide behind the clouds for weeks on end. It can be windy and rainy and downright unpleasant to be outside. Everything just takes on a kind of gray pall, unless we're lucky enough to get a decent snowstorm. After months and months of being cooped up inside, it starts to affect people, some more than others.

I've been backpacking for 10 years now, and every year, after the holidays have come and gone, I've put away my gear for the long three month winter nap. As an active, adventurous person, if I go for a few months without some sort of trip or event, I start getting very restless. Traditionally, I've just gritted my teeth and waited it out. But this year I decided to do something different. I decided, to get through the January-February-March slump, I needed a trip to look forward to, something to plan for and set my sights on. I knew it wouldn't be an easy trip, being that it's during the most cold time of the year, but I was prepared to face the challenge.

Last year, I started my own guiding service called Backcountry Therapy, where I take people with little to no experience out on their first backpacking trip. It's been a very rewarding endeavor, seeing the delight and looks of accomplishment on people's faces when they complete their first backcountry adventure, braving the elements, hiking for miles with a heavy pack, and sleeping outside in the darkness and the vastness of nature. I’ve found it to be truly therapeutic. But the teacher never stops learning. And so, in the middle of February, I found myself driving two and a half hours north through a snowstorm to the great Allegheny Plateau, the most heavily-wooded, mountainous, remote part of the state.

My old trusty, rusty Ford Focus carried me northward through the storm, snow blowing so hard I could barely see at times. Fortunately it wasn't laying on the roads too thickly. After a long, arduous, nerve wracking drive, I finally made it to the parking area at the trailhead where I would begin my journey. There were three to four inches of snow blanketing the stony lot. It had not been plowed, like the roads, so I decided to drive around in circles to pack down the fresh snow before I parked my car. I figured this would help me drive out when I returned the next day. A little preparedness never hurts. After parking, I put on my boots, hoisted my heavy pack, and set out on the trail. I had a route picked out, a sort of half loop. I would walk about 7 or 8 miles to a predesignated camp site, stay the night, and then walk about 5 miles out the next morning.

Right away I was struck with how absolutely beautiful my surroundings were. I had to stop a few times just to admire it. Snow had covered and stuck to everything in the forest, every rock, root, and tree. As I walked, the sun peeked from behind the trees and created a glistening effect on the new fallen snow. The only footprints were the animals' and my own. I had the woods totally to myself. I felt like a pioneer.

For this trip, knowing that there would be snow, I decided to take my insulated leather boots, but not before treating them with multiple layers of beeswax compound. That kept any snow out and kept the leather supple. It was the perfect boot choice. I was also lucky enough to partner with Coleman's Military Surplus for this trip. They gave me a few items of gear that really came in handy, one being the Darn Tough socks. I don't think I've ever worn a sock more comfortable. They kept my feet warm and dry, even in the heavy insulated boots. And, as I walked, I did not get a single blister. I've worn lots of different brands of socks and Darn Tough has never let me down. They are the definition of bang for your buck. Your feet are like the wheels of a car when it comes to backpacking. If you have inferior tires, low air pressure, if the wheel itself is imbalanced, the entire vehicle will suffer. You must take care of them or you're in for a rough ride

I'd forgotten how exhausting it was to walk through snow. The temperature was below freezing, so fortunately it remained powdery. But it still created resistance with every step. It was windy with snow squalls throughout the day. Eventually I had to break out a warm hat and face cover. Fortunately Coleman’s also hooked me up with a 100% wool cap as well as a neck gaiter to keep the warmth from escaping my core and to shield my face and neck. Both items were key to enduring the whipping wind and flakes of snow being flung at my face throughout the day. It's a humbling yet enlivening experience enduring this kind of discomfort. It at once makes you realize how fragile you are but also how powerful and resilient one can be, albeit not without the proper technology and gear. I am reminded again and again how lucky I am to be an outdoorsman in this particular day and age, to have the kind of technology that allows me to navigate these wild and inhospitable places with relative ease. For example, the GPS technology that I utilize to avoid getting lost is a major boon. I don't know where I'd be without it, quite literally. There was a time when people only had compasses and maps. We take many things for granted. That being said, I've never been much of a "gear guy." I don’t obsess too heavily on the top-of-the-line, best stuff. I've often bought low-mid grade, off-brand, used gear. My philosophy is: I'd rather buy what I can afford so that I can get out there sooner and more often, rather than wait until I can afford something super nice or fancy and possibly never embark. I drive an old beat up car, I wear ripped up, stained pants, I find cheap deals on facebook marketplace, but I still get out there and do these kinds of amazing trips regularly.

I saw one other soul out there in the woods, another hiker, going the opposite direction. We passed each other by with a smile and a "happy trails!" Otherwise it was just me with the new fallen virgin snow. Oftentimes, even the most remote areas are shared by multiple people. You rarely get a wilderness area completely to yourself, unless you're willing to endure that extra bit of discomfort that comes from venturing out in inclement weather, but if you value that solitude and introspection, or if you just want a little bit of that nature for yourself, you need to be willing to go out when nobody else wants to. You need to be that person willing to endure the most suffering, in the end reaping the greatest reward that only comes from embracing the obstacles that most people run from. One thing you realize when traversing a landscape with newfallen snow is how many animals with which you are sharing that wilderness. Many tracks intersected my path, going to and fro. Deer, coyotes, rabbits, squirrels. Everywhere I went, there was evidence of life around me, however hidden they were from sight. I came upon an elk track at one point, walking on the same trail that I was taking. I ended up following those hoofprints for about a quarter mile before they veered off the trail. I wondered why it turned, what thought entered this creature's mind, this ghost of an animal, no evidence of it ever having been there except for the depression left behind in the snow.

I only put around 8 miles in on the first day, but it felt like a lot more with the trail conditions. My hands were dry, cracked, and bleeding by the end of the trip. I was walking with a sort of limp from a strained leg muscle. But I finally made it to my camp, just a piece of flat ground with a little fire ring next to a creek. It was home for the night. I took a short rest and then set up my little tent. Immediately after that I set to work gathering and processing firewood for the night. I was provided with a new item to test called Squatch Ropewhich was a game changer in the firemaking process. One little two inch section of hemp fiber lit up quickly and burned very hot. All of the wood was sourced from the snow covered ground, but lit up with no problem with the assistance of the Squatch Rope. I ended up sitting by my fire long into the night as the moon peeked behind the clouds, lighting up the snow-covered forest floor. The stars shone above me, the creek whispered, and I sat staring, soaking up the warmth, and feeling so thankful for that simple fire.

Eventually, I ran out of wood and was beginning to doze off by the dying fire, so I decided to turn in for the night. Fortunately, Coleman's had me field test their USMC Cold Weather Sleeping Bag. This particular bag packed down tight enough to fit into a fairly small stuff sack. It was both lightweight and small enough to easily be strapped to a pack and carried miles into the wilderness. And as it turned out, it was plenty warm enough to get me through a sub-freezing night in the wilderness. There's a whole industry devoted to giving people the best night's sleep. We have temperature controlled mattresses, heated comforters and blankets, square shaped memory foam pillows, which are apparently better somehow... But sometimes you just need something comfortable enough to get you through the night, that's not so overly large and cumbersome so as to limit your ability to carry it where you need to go. With the addition of a small fleece blanket, this sleeping bag was plenty warm enough to allow me to pass the night and get some sleep, in weather that otherwise would have killed me from exposure.

I woke up the next morning to a frozen water bottle and a completely dead fire. It had been a cold night, in the 20's. But tucked into my sleeping bag, breathing through a hole cinched down to the size of a baseball, I had made it. Many people go through their lives moving from 70 degree environment to 70 degree environment, never having to endure the punishment and shock of the cold for any extended period of time, never having to solve the simplest of problems: how do I feed myself, how do I source water, how do I sleep through the night without suffering hypothermia, how do I make a fire to stay warm? These are skills that don't seem necessary in our hyper-advanced civilized society. However, it becomes abundantly apparent how vital they are once you venture outside of that civilization. Mother nature is stunningly beautiful but also can be surprisingly cold and unforgiving. It's good to realize that we have the technology to immerse ourselves deep in that beautiful, hostile environment, carrying our world on our back, and still make it through alive by the end, and better for the experience.

My first ever backpacking trip was one very similar to this. 10 years ago I embarked on a nearly year-long escapade to the great state of Alaska. While there, I met a young, adventurous soul named Paul who took me on my very first backcountry adventure. We trekked miles through the Alaska wilderness on some old logging roads, trudging through snow with heavy packs, finally camping next to a creek, and then hiking back out the next morning. Nearly a decade passed between that formative trip and this most recent one. Many things changed in my life. I went through several job changes, I got married, had some kids, lost some friends, gained some friends, had many adventures, and started my own business leading people on their first backpacking trips, much like Paul did for me. Now there I was back where I started. I chewed on that thought for a little while as I hiked my way back northbound to my parked car, with a feeling somewhat between gratitude, wonder, and wistfulness. It's funny how life works sometimes. You get hooked on some hobbies, others fall by the wayside, and some things become a part of you. I hope I can do these kinds of trips for as long as I live.