This page doubles as a packing list. Tap a card to check it off as it goes into the truck. Tap again to put it back. Your checks are saved on this device, so the list keeps your place next time you're loading up.
Backpack
Forty litres covers a weekend. Load it once and carry it, and you learn quickly what you did not need.
Hiking boots
Broken in long before the trailhead. Blisters come from new leather and wet socks, in that order.
Tent + sleep system
A tent that pitches fast in wind, a bag rated colder than the forecast, and a pad thick enough to forget the ground.
Clothes
Layers, not outfits. Wool close to the skin, a warm jacket for dusk, one dry set that never leaves the bag.
Water bottles
Big insulated bottles, filled once in the morning. Cold water all day without thinking about it.
Food
One-pot dinners, tortillas, good cheese. A cooler for the first days, dry goods for the rest.
Jetboil stove + fuel
Two minutes to a rolling boil. Coffee before the sun clears the ridge, dinner after it drops.
Coffee kit
Hand grinder, filters, a wide mug. The ritual matters more off grid, not less.
Anker power station
The quiet battery at the center of camp. Laptops, lights, and the fridge, night after night.
Anker solar panel
Folds flat, chases the sun. Tops up the power station by mid-afternoon on a clear day.
Starlink Mini
A signal anywhere with open sky. Enough bandwidth to work a full day from a wood deck.
Garmin inReach Mini
Two-way messages and an SOS where there is no cell signal. The one thing in the bag you hope stays unused.
Headlamp
Hands free after dark. One on every head, and a spare in the glovebox.
First aid kit
Hope it stays zipped. Blister care gets used the most; everything else earns its place by weight.
Toiletries
The small bag that keeps you human: sunscreen, toothbrush, biodegradable soap, a quick-dry towel.
Bear canister + waste bags
Food locked away from animals that would learn to want it, and everything else carried back out. The orange peel too.
Why the list stays short
A short list is the point, not a constraint. Everything here earns its place or it stays home, and what you leave behind is what makes room for the rest: the walk to water at first light, the hour when the wind drops, the quiet that turns up once there is nothing left to arrange.
The same restraint applies on the way out. Camp on ground that is already hard, keep food locked away from animals that would learn to want it, and carry out everything you carried in. Leave the site so the next person cannot tell you were there.
None of this is about owning the right things. It is about taking little enough that the place can reach you. Belonging out here is mostly a matter of not bringing the indoors along.