CAMPER'S COMPANION EXHIBIT

FOOD

Food Weights and Planning

What to Bring?

Shopping

Weighing, Packing, Transporting, and Caching Food

Food Weights and Planning

Our friend Lowell used to be an ace backcountry hiker. Then he became a letter carrier on the hills of San Francisco. He soon grew weary of his busman's holidays and retired from backpacking because he hiked so much in his work. But on the trail he was good, and often did things his own way. Where others wore the latest hiking boots, he'd lead the way down rock falls in a pair of battered basketball hightops. When others pressed grimly toward the destination in the afternoon's hottest sunshine, he'd find the deepest shade available, unroll his Ensolite pad and sleep out the heat, often arriving at the campsite by flashlight. And where the rest of us were satisfied with dried foods and soup packets, he insisted on packing in fresh onions, potatoes, carrots, turnips and other weighty produce for his cherished stews.

Then there's Rob, who lives on rice and oatmeal cooked in a coffee can, raisins, seeds and other bird food so he can carry along his camera and telephoto lenses. The message? If you really want to bring something badly enough, you'll bring it and enjoy it, even though it seems to defy all the logic of backpacking. This logic insists that food is heavy. Especially food with a high water content. If you filled your pack with onions, you'd need a forklift to get it up on your back. Food is also bulky and packs have just so much space.

Car campers and canoeists need not attend class today. Unless planning a multi-day hiking trip from the campground, take your granny's entire larder for all we care. Cyclists, like backpackers, however, need to be minimalists or plan to shop on a daily basis.

Unless you pump iron for a living or are related to a pack mule, weight and space will dictate how much and what kind of food you can take on a camping trip. So will distance and taste. When all the variables are considered and combined, the figures work out something like this. An average pack loaded with everything except food will weigh in the neighborhood of 27 pounds. To this will be added about 1.5 pounds of food per person per day, the accepted median limit of food weight in most backpacking circles. Jewish mothers, a stable of sumo wrestlers, and Lowell with his stews may insist on two pounds per day, but any more than that and you'd better start pumping iron for a living or take a burro with you.

Actually, we begin with the goal of a pound a day and grudgingly go up the extra half pound when we can't part with the Kahlua or matzoh meal. If you go exclusively with freeze-dried foods, of course, your cooking utensils will be cut to one pot, plus stove and fuel, which permits greater food weight. Anything much below a pound a day verges on nuts and berries--the school of caloric deprivation.

For the sake of argument and a contented after-dinner glow, let's take 1.5 pounds and see how it adds up. A five-day trip will mean a 37.5-pound pack; an eight-day trip, a 42-pound pack and two weeks, a 51-pound pack. That's a lot to haul up a hill. Beyond that, plan to cache some food or get resupplied. If you don't believe us, put 50 pounds of rocks (or onions, we're not fussy) in a backpack and walk up two flights of stairs. Welcome to the reality of weight watching.

Those 1.5 pounds a day include everything you'll ingest--staples, ready-to-eat foods, spices, cooking oil--as well as the packaging containers. Thus, another law of backpacking logic is: the lighter the container, the more food you can carry. Check out the net weights on food packets when you shop. That gives you the amount of actual food in a package, as distinct from total shelf weight, which includes wrapping, cardboard, plastic and puffed-up space. With few exceptions, everything will need to be repacked in the lightest wrapping anyway, so the net weight becomes the operative figure in calculating those 1.5 pounds.

Before going to the market or camping store, figure out how many meals you'll be having and where you'll be having them; on the trail (simple and quick) or in camp (complex and leisurely). You needn't know precisely what you'll be eating for every meal, just what will be available for as many hot meals as you'll need. Of course, if you like to plan menus, do so; lots of suggested meal plans appear in the literature. Since we're never sure if we'll want minestrone on Tuesday or lunch (at all) on Wednesday, we fudge on the menus and prepare with an eye toward improvising. That, however, does not mean we're completely spur-of-the-moment.

To illustrate the food-planning process, we show you how we planned two six-day trips, each with four people. For both trips, the total on trail food weight was about 30 pounds (i.e. 1.5 pounds per person per day, not including car meals). But that does not mean that each group carried the same food.

A couple of years ago, we went on one of those literally breathtaking trips in the high Sierra--five days at about 11,000 feet, above the tree line where no fires are permitted. The four of us were (and still are) what can only be called "competition eaters." We intended to eat well and nutritiously with a one-burner MSR X-GK stove and a 22-ounce fuel bottle--enough gas to cook two hot meals a day for five days for a small bar mitzvah party of 30, though light enough to justify the extravagance. We didn't even contemplate taking freeze-dried foods. We brought fishing rods for day hikes at lower altitudes, but didn't like our prospects and, anyway, knew better than to count our fishes before they're caught. So, our 1.5 pounds-per-day specs didn't include the trout flambée des Alpes Maritimes.

Take a look at the Food Planning Table that follows. Let your eye run down the first column. There is enough variety to provide for quick but filling meals (an important consideration at that altitude) and a few improvisational licks. (See Chapters 9 and 10 for recipes for all the dishes described here.) We ate strawberry pancakes, having dried plenty of strawberries at home and let them soak in cold water overnight to rehydrate; also fruit crepes, the mixed home-dried fruits reconstituting quickly in water boiled at high heat for a few minutes. Nobody could face the instant oatmeal plain, so we concocted a pan-fried "polenta," mixing the oatmeal with cornmeal, margarine, sugar and eggs.

Suppers were super. Pasta with homemade spaghetti sauce, dried and reconstituted, topped with parmesan cheese, which is one of the best hiking cheeses because it's hard and doesn't spoil. Homemade minestrone, also dried and reconstituted in a few minutes; Indian fried rice with raisins, nuts, coconut, sprouts and chicken, spiced with garam masala. And three providential trout caught on the last day sautéed with almonds, and served with stir-fried veggies. Karen insisted as a finale that we have her famous chocolate mousse á la Red Peak Pass, and she used up enough of the remaining fuel to lighten the packs for the hike out. On day six, we ate a quick oatmeal breakfast and hot chocolate, snacks for lunch and reached the car with just enough left over for an emergency that never happened.

The second trip couldn't have been more different: Rick, Hal and two ravenous adolescents, intent on several days of hiking, fishing, cooking and general relaxation. We camped at three successive lakes, all well stocked with small brown trout. Firewood was plentiful. Most afternoons, while the girls were swimming or reading--or noshing on the snack food--we invented new ways to bake breads, cake, pizza and the thousand and one other recipes you'll find in Chapter 10. A couple of things went wrong. Stanya decided after catching her second fish that she was a vegetarian, and Annika stunned us with the announcement that she loathed cheese. Rick, ever resourceful, said, "Let them eat cake." They did. And loved it. We ate the fish and cheese, and loved it.

The interesting thing about these two radically different trips is the similarity in their food lists. Most of the items are exactly the same. They diverge--in quantities--where considerations of fuel use and food-preparation time are paramount. Neither of these factors appears on the food lists, but they cannot be ignored when planning a trip.

One last piece of advice: many wilderness hikers recommend having extra quantities of emergency high-protein food, like milk powder, soup or bouillon cubes. Should you get caught in an early snowstorm for two unexpected days, that could be vital to pull you through.

The more you know about your appetites, abilities and the conditions at your destination, the better you can plan a food inventory. You're already familiar with the first two: you know what and how much you like to eat, and can gauge your physical ability to carry weight. Conditions, however, are likely to change. Someone may get sick and may not be able to eat what's available. The fishing may be lousy. The salami may be left in the fridge at home by mistake. The bears may get to dinner #3 before you do. By assessing the knowables, and expecting the variables, you're better prepared to improvise.

Food Planning: What You Need to Know

Back to top

What to Bring

It's finally time to shop. You've discussed likes and dislikes, determined how much or how little cooking you'll do, how much money you can spend, what kind of hot meals you want, what munchies are absolutely indispensable. You've made a preliminary shopping list, then checked off what items you already have at home. Your first target is the supermarket. It's cheaper than specialty stores and carries all kinds of heat-and-serve foods. If there's a bulk-food store in town, you'll probably shop there for grains, flours, dried fruits, nuts and the like. If there's a camping store, you may head there for the latest in freeze-dried foods. If you do, bring along a shopping bag full of money. You won't be Ace Market's favorite customer if you ask for "one pound and 11.5 ounces of cookies, please, and throw in 7 1/2 ounces of flour, will you?" Weigh out the amounts at home after you've done the shopping (see Weighing Food in this section). If you buy too much, save it; it won't spoil.
Cooking and Eating Utensils: What We Bring
Spartan backpackers hell-bent for distance can make do with a pot and a spoon. Add a pocket knife to skin a bear or fell a tree and they are content and at peace with the world. Cooking in the wilderness, after all, is no exercise in elegance. However, if you prefer Athens to Sparta, you may want to add just a couple more pots and maybe even a fry pan. The goal is to keep things few and light, but as you'll see from our recipes (Chapter 10), it's possible to satisfy most hedonistic impulses with a minimum of hardware. Here's what we take for two to eight people on our longer trips.

The total weight (not including the stove equipment) is 5 pounds, 14 ounces. The MSR stove and its accessories add 2 pounds, for a grand total of 7 pounds, 14 ounces. Clearly there are expendable items here. Consider how much time you want to spend, and what kind of cooking you plan to do. Then adjust the utensils accordingly.

Back to top

Shopping

Light and Quick Foods

In the above trip plans, freeze-dried foods are conspicuous by their absence. After many years of sampling, we found we didn't really need them. First and foremost, our budget never allowed it. Freeze-dried foods aren't cheap. Second, we prefer to dry our own. Third, we don't need their convenience. With a fire, our rice, beans and dried veggies do just fine. Where a stove is required, home-dried meals, soups and noodles work as well and are a lot cheaper.

Nevertheless, freeze-dried foods are remarkably convenient. Light in both bulk and weight, they're quick and easy to prepare. Supermarkets carry some, but the largest selections are found in camping or specialty stores. And many people find them quite palatable.

Bulk Foods
Bulk foods include rice, beans, pasta, lentils and peas, nuts, raisins, and dried fruits. They're cheaper than packaged varieties, are bought in just the weights you want, rather than what the processor wants to sell you, and exist in enough varieties to satisfy just about everyone. Brown sugar, brown rice, rye or soy flour, 57 varieties of noodles--most bulk food stores have what you need.

Alternative Foods
A world of other possibilities exists out there in the marketplace. One friend, after spending nearly 10 years as a reporter in Tokyo, relies almost exclusively on Japanese food products. He takes Japanese buckwheat noodles (soba); he also carries seaweed (nori), which he wraps together in a flexible bamboo square used in rolling rice for Japanese sushi (raw fish and rice delicacy). He also relies on soybean soup bases (miso), dried fish, and, unaccountably, popcorn. Others carry falafel mix, a practical and delicious Middle Eastern grain and chick pea combination. And for the sentimental mid-Americanist, there are always instant mashed potatoes and Rice-a-Roni.

Don't forget about your local import/gourmet store, the place where you usually go for wall-hangings and affordable ceramics. It also carries a wide variety of cheap, dried imported foods. One recent trip to ours netted the following improbable haul:

The great thing about import stores as sources for camping food is that they buy in huge quantities from countries where food—and alas labor—is cheap. Furthermore, they're basically wholesalers to the general public, rather than specialty camping retailers. The result is a large variety of cheap, wholesome and interesting camping food.

Extravangances
If backpacking were a science, there'd be no room for frills. We'd have to leave fresh eggs at home, along with mustard powder and sesame oil. But backpacking's an art, subject to (some) whim and a (little) fancy, and that allows for incorporation of particular idiosyncrasies into the overall weight limit. If you absolutely cannot do without some Granny Smith apples or a watermelon, pare down the weight elsewhere. Your extravagance becomes a working part of your inventory. You have turned a frill into a necessity.

Dog Food
Dry dog food is too bulky to take on a mountain trip. Canned dog food is full of water and prohibitively expensive. That leaves moist dog food, which is not as bulky as the dry, nor quite as expensive or heavy as the canned. And, according to the makers' claims, it's more nutritional per unit of weight. It's also conveniently packaged. We always allow our pooches a little more than the minimum requirements, but never so much that they can't carry most of it. For our (medium-sized) dogs, eight packets are sufficient for a four-day trip, 12 packets for a seven-day trip. The only other thing to remember is that dogs, like humans, can carry only so much weight. Make appropriate allowances for your dog's size.

Back to top

Weighing, Packing, Transporting, and Caching Food

Weighing Food

Virgil, a fanatical solo backpacker who goes out for six weeks at a time without resupplying, refuses to weigh his food. He just eyeballs the amount, tests the "feel" of his pack, and goes off. He hasn't starved or expired of muscle fatigue yet. The rest of us mortals need reassurance that we have the right amount of food for the finite number of days we'll be on the trail. It need not be exact. If you've gone rigid with anxiety over our fine-tuned weighing in those food lists above, relax. You needn't be a charter member of the U.S. Bureau of Standards to camp, hike or backpack. The important number is the total weight--that's what you'll carry. To determine this, a bathroom scale will work fine.

When you get the food home from the market, eliminate all extraneous packaging. The aim is to get as close to the net weight as possible without sacrificing freshness or protection against breakage and spillage. You may want to keep the Ry Krisp in its cardboard box to prevent crumbling, the soup powder in its packet to save cooking instructions, or the baking chocolate in its box for shelter against the sun. But as a rule, repack almost everything in plastic bags. Then fetch the bathroom scale. Weigh yourself. Now weigh yourself holding all the food in a cardboard box or brown paper bag. Don't forget the eggs, cheese, salami and other things stashed in the fridge. You won't be able to read the scale because the food box will be in the way. Ask a friend to read it for you. That's what friends are for. You now have an idea of the total net weight. If it much exceeds your expectations (1.5 to 2 pounds per person per day), start cutting and paring. Some of the flour can go. Put some of the maple syrup back in the cupboard. On second thought, who needs that many almonds? Now get back on the scale. If you're a couple pounds over or under, it's close enough. When you reach the trailhead, you can cut or add again.

If you own a small postal scale, the kind that weighs packages up to about four pounds, you can fine-tune by weighing individual items. If you're a classic anal compulsive, you can even get a letter scale that is calibrated to half-ounces. That way you can be content in the knowledge that exactly 3.5 ounces of cinnamon and sugar are nestled against the 1.5 ounces of nutmeg and cloves. Authors of camping books somehow always feel obliged to know such things; no one else we've ever met on the trail has known or cared.

Packing and Transporting Food
Don't knock plastic. The Ziploc bag just may be the most important advance in hiking since the invention of the foot. We sympathize with those who hate Ziplocs; we often can't get them closed either. If you're a Zipophobe, pack your food in sturdy plastic bags and secure them with wire ties. If you can deal with Ziploc technology, buy several boxes and use them liberally. So liberally, in fact, that you'll double-bag many items. Always carry out the used bags with you. Burning plastic is a foul(ing) deed.

In the off-season, collect plastic bottles. Small ones are perfect for vinegar, sesame oil and hot sauce; large ones for cooking oil, maple syrup and brandy. Compartmentalized pill boxes, obtainable in drug stores, are great for carrying spices. On the trail, carry extra plastic bags. They'll come in handy to replace torn ones, or to store caught fish, map cases and garbage bags.

Individual foods should be packed separately. Cookies, nuts, dried fruit, etc. get their own bags. Liquids such as syrups and oils should be kept in well-sealed containers and carried upright. Don't put them vertically in a backpack which you then lay on its side for a five-hour drive to the trailhead; you may find a syrup-soaked pack when you arrive. Keep liquids upright in a box in the car and transfer them to the pack before you start to hike.

Eggs should be placed in plastic containers you can buy at camping stores. They come in half-dozen and dozen sizes and keep the eggs from breaking even if the pack gets dropped or slammed around. Some people prefer to keep breakfast, lunch and dinner foods separately, each in their own section of the pack. Others, like ourselves, prefer to organize the staples apart from the ready-to-eat (trail) foods. Whichever system you use, what's important is that it works for you.

Once everything is swathed in plastic or secured in containers and bags, you need to get it into the packs. It's common to pack at home and transport the filled packs in your car to the trailhead. But loaded backpacks take up lots of space in a car. Especially if you drive a compact, you could leave the final packing for the trailhead and transport the dry food in boxes and the perishables in a cooler. Then tie the empty backpacks on the roofrack, or under the canoe.

Be sure you know where in the pack your food is. If you dive in searching for gorp and cheese for lunch and can only come out with cornmeal, you might be nettled. So do a little planning. Someone might carry the lunch foods; someone else the staples, liquids and dinners. If you're a large party, two people can carry the ready-to-eats and two the staples. Within any pack, try to be consistent, so nuts and raisins are in the same place every day and are not crushed by, say, that watermelon you couldn't leave behind. And while in camp, where most cooking, baking and eating are going on, system becomes crucial. We try to arrange the packs in camp so all the baking gear is in one place, all the condiments and spices in another, the jerky, salami, cheese and crackers in the left upper pocket, the chocolate in the fridge, the cookies in the cupboard, and so on. If two packs will accommodate all the food in camp, it becomes more efficient. Only those two packs have to be moved periodically to keep up with the shade.

Caching Food
We'd never made a food cache until we met an old-timer some years ago who convinced us that it was easy and efficient. The simplicity was at first unbelievable. He took the food he wanted to stash, stored it in plastic containers stuffed in a green plastic garbage bag and thrown on the floor of the forest. Nothing more. He insisted that bears and other cognoscenti rarely disturbed the sack. Were we being taken? We'll probably never know, because we take a few more precautions with our own cache.

Old coffee cans and plastic half-gallon ice cream containers with tight lids make up our inner defenses, in which we pack and tightly seal 10 pounds of extra food. We then stuff them in a garbage bag, and bury the stash under a canopy of rocks under a low-spreading tree high in a mountain meadow. We've never retrieved a cache in less than perfect condition.

A couple of hints: Store relatively dispensable food, such as extra flour, dog food and supplementary sweets. Make sure the cache is out of the sun. Make even surer you can find it again. That particular tree might not look so particular from a mile away. Or the meadow may be shin-deep in water when you get back and look very different from your last view. Sight your cache from different angles. You don't need a compass, just a sense of proportion and a good memory.

Allow space in your pack for the cache food and its large containers when you leave the trailhead. You may have to hang the empty containers from your pack until you get to the cache site, or stow them in the pack already filled, if there's space.

Finally, grin and bear it if the bears or squirrels get what you've squirreled away. Besides, you may catch enough extra fish to compensate for your losses. Anyway, it's not that awful to hike out a day or two early.

Back to Top

Close Window