I remember standing on a scree slope in the Cairngorms, the wind cutting through my shell, watching a golden eagle bank low over a ledge. …
Unexpected Encounters and the Right Reaction


I remember standing on a scree slope in the Cairngorms, the wind cutting through my shell, watching a golden eagle bank low over a ledge. …

I once spent six hours on a ridge in the Cairngorms, watching a group of otherwise capable hikers slowly descend into a state of shivering …

I remember a descent on the Scafell Pike ridge three years ago—mid-November, about 4:30 PM—when the light didn’t just fade, it vanished. One minute I …

I was standing on a granite ridge in the Lake District three years ago, watching a group of hikers try to “embrace the autumn colors” …

I remember sitting in the dust of a dry riverbed in Amboseli, watching a group of bulls drift away from the main line, and it …

Most “complete guide to bikepacking” articles I see online look like a catalog for a high-end outdoor boutique, filled with shiny carbon fiber components and …

I remember sitting in a damp bivvy bag in the Cairngorms, listening to the wind tear at the flysheet and realizing that my “lightweight” setup …

I once watched a group of hikers attempt a ridge traverse in the high heat of the Pyrenees, all of them clad in “high-tech” compression …

I once spent three hours in a damp valley near the Cairngorms, listening to the rhythmic, heavy tearing of nylon, only to realize a badger …

I’ve spent enough time on the hills to know that most “complete guide to lightweight backpacking” articles are just glorified shopping lists designed to make …