Technology

For years, I carried a massive, battery-hungry lantern that produced a light so bright and so blue-white that it made my campsite look like a sterile operating room. I’d be sitting in the middle of a beautiful, ancient forest, but under that glow, everything felt fake, cold, and—frankly—annoying to my eyes. I thought that was

I used to be a “physical book or nothing” kind of guy. I loved the smell of paper, the feel of a dog-eared corner, and the weight of a thick paperback in my pack. But after one too many trips where I finished my only book on the second night and spent the rest of

We’ve all been there. You’re hiking with a buddy, or maybe you’re in the lead vehicle of a three-car caravan heading deep into the national forest. You look at your phone—”No Service.” You try to shout, but the wind swallows your voice. Suddenly, that feeling of isolation shifts from “peaceful” to “a little bit nervous.”

There is a very specific sound that strikes fear into the heart of any solo traveler. It’s not the howl of a coyote or the crack of a branch in the dark. It’s the click-click-click of a dead car battery when you’re fifty miles from the nearest town. It happened to me last November. I

I used to be a total skeptic when it came to solar power. I’d see those hikers with tiny, credit-card-sized solar panels dangling off their backpacks and think, “That’s adorable, but good luck charging a flip phone with that, let alone a modern smartphone.” For years, I stuck to my heavy, brick-like power banks and

I used to think those big battery stations were only for people waiting for the apocalypse. Then our neighborhood had a 12-hour blackout during a summer storm. While everyone else was worrying about their spoiled food and dead phones, I had a fan running, my laptop charged, and a cold drink in my hand. Now,

I see people throwing away perfectly good leather boots every season because they look “tired” or start to leak. That’s a waste of money and a waste of good leather. My favorite pair of hikers has been through mud, salt, and creek water across three states, and they still look incredible. The secret isn’t magic;

We carry these $1,000 glass bricks everywhere, trusting them to guide us home. But here’s the cold truth: the moment you lose cell service or the temperature drops below freezing, your “smart” phone becomes a very expensive paperweight. I’ve seen hikers get into real trouble because they relied on a 5G connection that didn’t exist