The packing list we actually use

Every trip starts the same way: a bed covered in things you're sure you'll need. Most of them you won't. After a decade of guiding week-long routes, here's the list we actually pack — and the reasoning behind each piece.

Start with the shell. A waxed cotton jacket is heavier than a modern hardshell, but it shrugs off brambles, sparks from a camp stove, and the kind of sideways drizzle that soaks synthetic fabric at the seams. Re-wax it once a season and it outlives three of the alternatives.

Layers do the real work. One merino crew, one mid-weight fleece, and nothing else. Merino regulates temperature across a wider range than you'd expect and, crucially, doesn't smell after four days of use. Two base layers is a luxury; one is a plan.

Your bag matters less than how you load it. Heavy items close to your spine and between your shoulder blades; the things you'll want at lunch on top; rain gear in the outside pocket, always. A canvas weekender works for the drive in; a proper pack for the walk.

Small things earn their weight. A wool cap, because most of the heat you lose on a cold evening goes out the top. A leather card wallet instead of a full one — ID, one card, some cash. A notebook, because the best part of any trip is remembering it.

What we leave behind: the second pair of shoes, the 'just in case' jacket, most of the electronics. The best-packed bag is the one you forget you're carrying.

Next week: how to re-wax a jacket in twenty minutes, and why you should do it outside.

Every trip starts the same way: a bed covered in things you're sure you'll need. Most of them you won't. After a decade of guiding week-long routes, here's the list we actually pack — and the reasoning behind each piece.

Start with the shell. A waxed cotton jacket is heavier than a modern hardshell, but it shrugs off brambles, sparks from a camp stove, and the kind of sideways drizzle that soaks synthetic fabric at the seams. Re-wax it once a season and it outlives three of the alternatives.

Layers do the real work. One merino crew, one mid-weight fleece, and nothing else. Merino regulates temperature across a wider range than you'd expect and, crucially, doesn't smell after four days of use. Two base layers is a luxury; one is a plan.

Your bag matters less than how you load it. Heavy items close to your spine and between your shoulder blades; the things you'll want at lunch on top; rain gear in the outside pocket, always. A canvas weekender works for the drive in; a proper pack for the walk.

Small things earn their weight. A wool cap, because most of the heat you lose on a cold evening goes out the top. A leather card wallet instead of a full one — ID, one card, some cash. A notebook, because the best part of any trip is remembering it.

What we leave behind: the second pair of shoes, the 'just in case' jacket, most of the electronics. The best-packed bag is the one you forget you're carrying.

Next week: how to re-wax a jacket in twenty minutes, and why you should do it outside.