For Ultralighters, Cold-Soaking Isn't All Its Chocked Up To Be

The West is known for its wildfires, which was just one of many reasons I decided to hike the 500-mile Colorado Trail without a stove. It seemed that leaving flames behind was the most prudent way to traverse the drought-laden land, even though I was technically allowed to carry a standard camp stove through the parched territory. Ditching my cook setup dropped my pack weight by about a pound, and I was confident I could travel comfortably without it.

 

At first, I felt assured by my choice to swap a stove for a cold-soaking setup. The days were warm and the mountains were dry. But by mid-September, I’d made it to the San Juan Mountains, where the trail often climbed above 10,000 feet and dipped near freezing at night. Eventually, the cold began to ache. I craved coffee in the morning and pine needle tea at night for the comfort of their external warmth. Without a heat source, my body spent all of its time trying to keep itself warm, which is when I realized that a stove wasn’t just a convenience––it was also a tool against the cold. I began to wish that my rehydrated ramen noodles resembled food instead of a mushy, congealed mess of nutrients. 

 

By the time I reached the southern terminus of the Colorado Trail, I learned that drastically cutting my pack weight by ditching items like a stove could teeter on the brink of recklessness. While I was fortunate to avoid any close calls with hypothermia, the risk of leaving the warmth of a stove at home was not worth it to me.