How to Reduce Your Backpack Faff

Backcountry Beta With British mountain guide Martin Chester

Ever wondered why your guide has all the group kit yet carries a smaller pack? Got a mate who is always losing stuff? The answer to reducing kit faff is sorting your personal admin. So here’s how to pack like a pro.

Suss Out Your Layers

My first rule is to always pack in layers. I keep the stuff I need regularly towards the top; then the stuff I need rarely, if ever, goes towards the bottom.

The only exception to this rule is my avi-rescue kit. I hope never to need it but, if I do, every second counts. Mine tends to go down the back sleeve, with the shovel handle and probe against those long seams of the pack. I am yet to find a pack where the designated tool sleeves work perfectly, as using the remaining space around them can be tricky. Even better if you get a flattish shovel blade that sits in the pack nicely.

Then I need to prevent my pack from gaining more momentum than I can handle and overtaking me. So I pack the heavy stuff as close to my spine and as central as possible. Layer by layer, my pack goes like this:

1. The bottom layer is all my spares and emergency (hope-never-to-use) stuff. My first aid kit always goes on the left, my group shelter on the right. That way I can slide my hand in and find them without looking—any time. In the middle, my shell trousers, spare duvet, and over-mitts squeeze in to fill every nook and cranny of the pack. This is now a solid base.
2. The next two layers might be interchangeable, depending on the itinerary and the weather. The first might be my techy layer. The metal spiky bits can be a nightmare to pack. But if you can fit the crampons inside the harscheisen, they make a neat, dense unit. This can go close to your back (and central) without risk of puncturing anything now. The softer items of harness, slings, rope, etc., will easily fit around that to fill the gaps.
3. Then comes my weather layer. My goggles fit the rounded shape of the pack on the left. My glasses (in a hard case) do the same on the right. My (tightly rolled) hard shell jacket and my stuff sack of hats, gloves, and nick-nacks fill the space in the middle. Pack all this well, and pack it down tightly, and it will leave plenty of room in the upper half of your pack for the bits and bobs that come in and out all day, like skins, gloves, water, and insulating layers.
4. Finally, I make strategic use of pockets. Sun cream and lip salve in my left hip pocket. Glide wax, a scraper, and a multi-tool in my right. If your pack has a lid pocket, then your navigation tools, head torch, glasses, and documents can live in there. If not, consider a light stuff sack to keep all these together in the main body and take into a hut.

The Culprits

Whatever you do, have a system and stick to it… know where everything lives. I wrote this looking at a screen, not a packing list, because I just know where everything lives now. That way I can find anything first time, every time. There is nothing more frustrating than waiting for someone who can’t find one of the same few things, again and again.

In fact, while we’re on the topic, let’s introduce you to a few of the regular culprits:

• The Goldfish: Every day is a mystery packed full of random surprises, however often they may have happened before. To the Goldfish, every quest to find something in their pack, like their shades, is a brand-new adventure. To the frustrated onlooker, it is a baffling display of chaos and disorder. You only have a very few select items with you on a ski tour. How can you possibly lose something, repeatedly?!
• The Gelato: Like an Italian Cornetto, this one has all the good stuff kind of dolloped on the top. It’s as if the bottom of the cone—or the inside of the pack—is impossible to fill. Now, at last, I have finally learned who those zip-open-back-panel ‘access all areas’ packs are really good for.
• The Haggis: Just like the veritable ‘Chieftain o’ the pudding race,’ this one is full up and fit to burst. I have a regular client who always baffles me by bringing the tiniest pack I have ever seen. It is a miracle of tessellation, and I bet he is an ace at Tetris. But this bag is more tightly stuffed than Mr. Creosote. Just don’t go anywhere near it with anything sharp, or it will explode and spill its guts.
• The Freeloader: Like a freerider, but carrying way less. This one might look like The Haggis, but beware the deliberate deception. Often accompanied by, “Oh, I can’t possibly fit any of the group kit in here.” All you need to do is pick up and feel the weight of the offending featherweight article to know you have a slacker in your midst. But I’ve got your number. I’m re-coiling my rope to go on the outside of your pack as I type…
• The Krappilypacksack: This is the result of packing with more gaps and empty spaces than a half-played round of Jenga. Some of my clients have been skiing with me for decades but still watch on in amazement as I re-pack their sack and get their kit to take up half the volume.

Lash and Cinch

Finally, now your pack is beautifully packed, it is a dense bundle that needs to be securely lashed to your back—and it needs to stay put. So make sure you follow the instructions and fit it properly.

• Loosen off all the straps and put the pack on.
• Tighten the waist belt to ensure the weight all sits on your hips.
• Do the shoulder straps up—but don’t over-tighten. You don’t want to lift the weight back off your hips.
• Cinch up all the tensioning straps. These will often pull the top of the pack to the shoulder straps, or the hip belt to the sides of the pack. Taking the slack out of these will stop your beautifully crafted bundle from waggling about like a beach ball.

Final Words

Et voila! May your kit stay where you put it, and forever be found where you expect it. Happy packing!