CHAPTER III

PERSONAL EQUIPMENT

IN discussion of the details of equipment, I shall first of all take up

in turn each and every item you could possibly need, whether you intend

to travel by horse, by canoe, or on your own two feet. Of course you

will not carry all of these things on any one trip. What is permissible

for horse traveling would be absurd for a walking trip; and some

things--such as a waterproof duffle bag--which you would need on a foot

tramp, would be useless where you have kyacks and a tarpaulin to protect

your belongings. Therefore I shall first enumerate all articles of all

three classes of equipment; and then in a final summary segregate them

into their proper categories.

[Sidenote: Concerning Hats]

[Sidenote: Stetson Hat the Best]

Long experience by men practically concerned seems to prove that a

rather heavy felt hat is the best for all around use. Even in hot sun

it seems to be the most satisfactory, as, with proper ventilation, it

turns the sun's rays better even than light straw. Witness the Arizona

cowboy on his desert ranges. You will want a good hat, the best in

material that money can buy. A cheap article sags in the brim, tears in

the crown, and wets through like blotting paper the first time it rains.

I have found the Stetson, of the five to seven dollar grade, the most

satisfactory. If it is intended for woods travel where you are likely to

encounter much brush, get it of medium brim. In those circumstances I

find it handy to buy a size smaller than usual, and then to rip out the

sweat band. The friction of the felt directly against the forehead and

the hair will hold it on in spite of pretty sharp tugs by thorns and

wind. In the mountains or on the plains, you can indulge in a wider and

stiffer brim. Two buckskin thongs sewn on either side and to tie under

the "back hair" will hold it on, even against a head wind. A test will

show you how this can be. A leather band and buckle--or miniature cinch

and latigos--gives added security. I generally cut ample holes for

ventilation. In case of too many mosquitoes I stuff my handkerchief in

the crown.

[Sidenote: Kerchiefs]

About your neck you will want to wear a silk kerchief. This is to keep

out dust, and to prevent your neck from becoming reddened and chapped.

It, too, should be of the best quality. The poorer grades go to pieces

soon, and their colors are not fast. Get it big enough. At night you

will make a cap of it to sleep in; and if ever you happen to be caught

without extra clothes where it is very cold, you will find that the

kerchief tied around your middle, and next the skin, will help

surprisingly.

[Sidenote: Coats]

A coat is useless absolutely. A sweater is better as far as warmth goes;

a waistcoat beats it for pockets. You will not wear it during the day;

it wads up too much to be of much use at night. Even your trousers

rolled up make a better temporary pillow. Leave it home; and you will

neither regret it nor miss it.

[Sidenote: Sweaters]

For warmth, as I have said, you will have your sweater. In this case,

too, I would impress the desirability of purchasing the best you can

buy. And let it be a heavy one, of gray or a neutral brown.

[Sidenote: Buckskin Shirts]

But to my mind the best extra garment is a good ample buckskin shirt. It

is less bulky than the sweater, of less weight, and much warmer,

especially in a wind, while for getting through brush noiselessly it

cannot be improved upon. I do not know where you can buy one; but in any

case get it ample in length and breadth, and without the fringe. The

latter used to possess some significance beside ornamentation, for in

case of need the wilderness hunter could cut from it thongs and strings

as he needed them. Nowadays a man in a fringed buckskin shirt is

generally a fake built to deceive tourists. On the other hand a plain

woodsmanlike garment, worn loose and belted at the waist, looks always

at once comfortable and appropriate. Be sure that the skins of which it

is made are smoke tanned. The smoke tanned article will dry soft, while

the ordinary skin is hardening to almost the consistency of rawhide.

Good buckskins are difficult to get hold of--and it will take five to

make you a good shirt--but for this use they last practically forever.

[Sidenote: Overshirts]

Of course such a garment is distinctly an extra or outside garment. You

would find it too warm for ordinary wear. The outer shirt of your daily

habit is best made of rather a light weight of gray flannel. Most new

campers indulge in a very thick navy blue shirt, mainly, I believe,

because it contrasts picturesquely with a bandana around the neck. Such

a shirt almost always crocks, is sure to fade, shows dirt, and is

altogether too hot. A lighter weight furnishes all the protection you

need to your underclothes and turns sun quite as well. Gray is a neutral

color, and seems less often than any other to shame you to the wash

soap. A great many wear an ordinary cotton work shirt, relying for

warmth on the underclothes. There is no great objection to this, except

that flannel is better should you get rained on.

[Sidenote: Underclothes]

The true point of comfort is, however, your underwear. It should be of

wool. I know that a great deal has been printed against it, and a great

many hygienic principles are invoked to prove that linen, cotton, or

silk are better. But experience with all of them merely leads back to

the starting point. If one were certain never to sweat freely, and never

to get wet, the theories might hold. But once let linen or cotton or

silk undergarments get thoroughly moistened, the first chilly little

wind is your undoing. You will shiver and shake before the hottest fire,

and nothing short of a complete change and a rub-down will do you any

good.

Now, of course in the wilderness you expect to undergo extremes of

temperature, and occasionally to pass unprotected through a rainstorm or

a stream. Then you will discover that wool dries quickly; that even

when damp it soon warms comfortably to the body. I have waded all day in

early spring freshet water with no positive discomfort except for the

cold ring around my legs which marked the surface of the water.

[Sidenote: Wear Woolen Underclothes Always]

And if you are wise, you will wear full long-sleeved woolen undershirts

even on a summer trip. If it is a real trip, you are going to sweat

anyway, no matter how you strip down to the work. And sooner or later

the sun will dip behind a cloud or a hill; or a cool breezelet will

wander to you resting on the slope; or the inevitable chill of evening

will come out from the thickets to greet you--and you will be very glad

of your woolen underwear.

A great many people go to the opposite extreme. They seem to think that

because they are to live in the open air, they will probably freeze. As

a consequence of this delusion, they purchase underclothes an inch

thick. This is foolishness, not only because such a weight is

unnecessary and unhealthful, but also--even if it were merely a

question of warmth--because one suit of thick garments is not nearly so

warm as two suits of thin. Whenever the weather turns very cold on you,

just put on the extra undershirt over the one you are wearing, and you

will be surprised to discover how much warmth two gauze tissues--with

the minute air space between them--can give. Therefore, though you must

not fail to get full length woolen underclothes, you need not buy them

of great weight. The thinnest Jaeger is about right.

[Sidenote: The Laundry Problem]

Two undershirts and three pairs of drawers are all you ever will need on

the most elaborate trip. You perhaps cannot believe that until you have

gotten away from the idea that laundry must be done all at once. In the

woods it is much handier to do it a little at a time. Soap your

outershirt at night; rinse it in the morning; dry it on top of your pack

during the first two hours. In the meantime wear your sweater; or, if it

is warm enough, appear in your undershirt. When you change your

underclothes--which should be one garment at a time--do the same thing.

Thus always you will be possessed of a clean outfit without the

necessity of carrying a lot of extras.

[Sidenote: Trousers]

The matter of trousers is an important one; for unless you are possessed

of abundant means of transportation, those you have on will be all you

will take. I used to include an extra pair, but got over it. Even when

trout fishing I found that by the time I had finished standing around

the fire cooking, or yarning, I might have to change the underdrawers,

but the trousers themselves had dried well enough. And patches are not

too difficult a maneuver.

[Sidenote: Moleskin and Khaki]

The almost universal wear in the West is the copper-riveted blue canvas

overall. They are very good in that they wear well. Otherwise they are

stiff and noisy in the brush. Kersey is excellent where much wading is

to be done or much rainy weather encountered--in fact it is the favorite

"driving" trousers with rivermen--but like all woven woolen materials

it "picks out" in bad brush. Corduroy I would not have as a gift. It is

very noisy, and each raindrop that hits it spreads at once to the size

of a silver dollar. I verily believe an able pair of corduroys can, when

feeling good, soak up ten pounds of water. Good moleskin dries well, and

until it begins to give out is soft and tough. But it is like the

one-hoss shay: when it starts to go, it does the job up completely in a

few days. The difficulty is to guess when that moment is due to arrive.

Anything but the best quality is worthless. Khaki has lately come into

popularity. It wears remarkably well, dries quickly, and is excellent in

all but one particular: it shows every spot of dirt. A pair of khakis

three days along on the trail look as though they had been out a year.

The new green khaki is a little better. Buckskin is all right until you

get it wet, then you have--temporarily--enough material to make three

pairs and one for the boy.

The best trousers I know of is a combination of the latter two

materials. I bought a pair of the ordinary khaki army riding breeches,

and had a tailor cover them completely--fore, aft, and sideways--with

some good smoke-tanned buckskin I happened to have. It took a skin and a

half. These I have worn now for three seasons, in all kinds of country,

in all kinds of weather, and they are to-day as good as when I

constructed them. In still hunting they are noiseless; horseback they do

not chafe; in cold weather they are warm, and the hot sun they turn. The

khaki holds the stretch of buckskin when wet--as they have been for a

week at a time. Up to date the smoke tan has dried them soft. Altogether

they are the most satisfactory garment of this kind I have experimented

with.

There remains the equally important subject of footwear.

[Sidenote: Socks]

Get heavy woolen lumberman's socks, and wear them in and out of season.

They are not one whit hotter on the feet than the thinnest you can buy,

for the impervious leather of the shoe is really what keeps in the

animal heat--the sock has little to do with it. You will find the soft

thick wool an excellent cushion for a long tramp; and with proper care

to avoid wrinkles, you will never become tender-footed nor chafed. At

first it seems ridiculous to draw on such thick and apparently hot socks

when the sun peeping over the rim of the desert promises you a scorching

day. Nothing but actual experience will convince you; but I am sure that

if you will give the matter a fair test, you will come inevitably to my

conclusion.

[Sidenote: The Ideal Footwear]

If a man were limited to a choice between moccasins and shoes, it would

be very difficult to decide wisely which he should take. Each has its

manifest advantages over the other, and neither can entirely take the

place of the other.

The ideal footwear should give security, be easy on the feet, wear well,

and give absolute protection. These qualities I have named approximately

in the order of their importance.

[Sidenote: Security of footing]

Security of footing depends on the nature of the ground over which you

are traveling. Hobnails only will hold you on a slope covered with pine

needles, for instance; both leather and buckskin there become as

slippery as glass. In case of smooth rocks, however, your hobnails are

positively dangerous, as they slide from under you with all the vicious

force and suddenness of unaccustomed skates. Clean leather is much

better, and buckskin is the best of all. Often in hunting deer along the

ledges of the deep box canyons I, with my moccasins, have walked

confidently up slants of smooth rock on which my hobnailed companion was

actually forced to his hands and knees. Undoubtedly also a man carrying

a pack through mixed forest is surer of his footing and less liable to

turned ankles in moccasins than in boots. My experience has been that

with the single exception mentioned, I have felt securer in the

buckskin.

[Illustration:

"Mountain on mountain towering high,

And a valley in between"]

[Sidenote: Ease]

As for ease to the feet, that is of course a matter of opinion.

Undoubtedly at first the moccasin novice is literally a tenderfoot. But

after astonishingly few days of practice a man no longer notices the

lack of a sole. I have always worn moccasins more or less in the woods,

and now can walk over pebbles or knife-edge stones without the slightest

discomfort. In fact the absence of rolling and slipping in that sort of

shifting footing turns the scale quite the other way.

[Sidenote: Wear]

The matter of wear is not so important. It would seem at first glance

that the one thin layer of buckskin would wear out before the several

thick layers of a shoe's sole. Such is not always the case. A good deal

depends on the sort of ground you cover. If you wet moccasins, and then

walk down hill with them over granite shale, you can get holes to order.

Boots wear rapidly in the same circumstances. On the other hand I have

on at this moment a pair of mooseskin moccasins purchased three years

ago at a Hudson's Bay Company's post, which have seen two summers' off

and on service in the Sierras. Barring extraordinary conditions, I

should say that each in its proper use, a pair of boots and a pair of

moccasins would last about the same length of time. The moccasin,

however, has this advantage: it can be readily patched, and even a half

dozen extra pairs take up little room in the pack.

[Sidenote: Waterproofing]

Absolute protection must remain a tentative term. No footwear I have

succeeded in discovering gives absolute protection. Where there is much

work to be done in the water, I think boots are the warmest and most

comfortable, though no leather is perfectly waterproof. Moccasins then

become slimpsy, stretched, and loathsome. So likewise moccasins are not

much good in damp snow, though in dry snow they are unexcelled.

In my own practice I wear boots on a horseback trip, and carry moccasins

in my pack for general walking. In the woods I pack four pair of

moccasins. In a canoe, moccasins of course.

[Sidenote: About Boots]

Do not make the common mistake of getting tremendously heavy boots.

They are clumsy to place, burdensome to carry, and stiff and unpliable

to the chafing point. The average amateur woodsman seems to think a pair

of elephantine brogans is the proper thing--a sort of badge of

identification in the craft. If he adds big hobnails to make tracks

with, he is sure of himself. A medium weight boot, of medium height,

with medium heavy soles armed only with the small Hungarian hobnail is

about the proper thing. Get them eight inches high; supplied with very

large eyelets part way, then the heaviest hooks, finishing with two more

eyelets at the top. The latter will prevent the belt-lacing you will use

as shoestrings from coming unhooked.

You will see many advertisements of waterproof leather boots. No such

thing is made. Some with good care will exclude water for a while, if

you stay in it but a few minutes at a time, but sooner or later as the

fibers become loosened the water will penetrate. In the case of the show

window exhibit of the shoe standing in a pan of water, pressure of the

foot and ground against the leather is lacking, which of course makes

all the difference. This porosity is really desirable. A shoe wholly

waterproof would retain and condense the perspiration to such an extent

that the feet would be as wet at the end of the day. Such is the case

with rubber boots. All you want is a leather that will permit you to

splash through a marsh, a pool, or a little stream, and will not seek to

emulate blotting paper in its haste to become saturated.

[Sidenote: The Most Durable Boots]

Of the boots I have tried, and that means a good many, I think the

Putman boot and the river driver's boot, made by A. A. Cutter of Eau

Claire, Wis., are made of the most durable material. The Putman boot is

the more expensive; and in the case of the three pairs I know of

personally, the sewing has been defective. The material, however, wears

remarkably well, and remains waterproof somewhat longer than any of the

others. On the other hand the Cutter shoe is built primarily for

rivermen and timber cruisers of the northern forests, and is at once

cheap and durable. It has a brace of sole leather about the heel which

keeps the latter upright and prevents it running over. It is an easier

shoe on the foot than any of the others, but does not remain waterproof

quite so long as the Putman. Although, undoubtedly, many other makes are

as good, you will not go astray in purchasing one of these two.

[Sidenote: Rubber]

No shoe is waterproof for even a short time in wet snow. Rubber is then

the only solution, usually in the shape of a shoe rubber with canvas

tops. Truth to tell, melting snow is generally so very cold that you

will be little troubled with interior condensation. Likewise many years'

experience in grouse hunting through the thickets and swamps of Michigan

drove me finally to light hip rubber boots. The time was always the

autumn; the place was always more or less muddy and wet--in spots of

course--and there was always the greater or lesser possibility of snow.

My native town was a great grouse shooting center, and all hunters, old

and young, came to the same conclusion.

But wet snow, such hunting, and of course the duck marsh, seem to me the

only excuses for rubber. Trout fishing is more comfortable in woolen

than in waders. The latter are clumsy and hot. I have known of two

instances of drowning because the victims were weighted down by them.

And I should much prefer getting wet from without than from within.

You will have your choice of three kinds of moccasin--the oil-tanned

shoe pac, the deerhide, and the moosehide.

[Sidenote: Shoe Pacs]

The shoe pac is about as waterproof as the average waterproof shoe, and

would be the best for all purposes were it not for the fact that its

very imperviosity renders it too hot. In addition continuous wear

affects the oil in the tanning process to produce rather an evil odor.

The shoe pacs are very useful, however, and where I carry but two pairs

of moccasins, one is of the oil tan. Shoe pacs can be purchased of any

sporting goods dealer.

[Sidenote: Moccasins]

The deerhide moccasin, in spite of its thinner texture, wears about as

well as the moosehide, is less bulky to carry, but stretches more when

wet and is not as easy on the feet. I use either sort as I happen to get

hold of them. Genuine buckskin or moose is rather scarce. Commercial

moccasins with the porcupine quills and "Souvenir of Mackinaw" on them

are made by machinery out of sheepskin. They are absolutely useless, and

last about long enough to get out of sight of the shop. A great majority

of the moccasins sold as sportsman's supplies are likewise very bogus.

My own wear I have always purchased of Hudson's Bay posts. Undoubtedly

many reliable firms carry them; but I happen to know by personal

experience that the Putman Boot Company of Minneapolis have the real

thing.

[Sidenote: Waistcoats]

Proceeding to more outer garments, a waistcoat is a handy affair. In

warm weather you leave it open and hardly know you have it on; in cold

weather you button it up, and it affords excellent protection. Likewise

it possesses the advantage of numerous pockets. These you will have your

women folk extend and deepen for you, until your compass, notebook,

pipe, matches, and so forth fit nicely in them. As it is to be used as

an outside garment, have the back lined. If you have shot enough deer to

get around to waistcoats, nothing could be better by way of material

than the ever-useful buckskin.

[Sidenote: Waterproofs]

I am no believer in waterproof garments. Once I owned a pantasote outer

coat which I used to assume whenever it rained. Ordinarily when it is

warm enough to rain, it is warm enough to cause you to perspire under

the exertion of walking in a pantasote coat. This I discovered. Shortly

I would get wet, and would be quite unable to decide whether the rain

had soaked through from the outside or I had soaked through from the

inside. After that I gave the coat away to a man who had not tried it,

and was happy. If I must walk in the rain I prefer to put on a

sweater--the rough wool of which will turn water for some time and the

texture of which allows ventilation. Then the chances are that even if I

soak through I do not get a reactionary chill from becoming overheated.

[Sidenote: Ponchos]

In camp you will know enough to go in when it rains. When you have to

sally forth you will thrust your head through the hole in the middle of

your rubber blanket. When thus equipped the rubber blanket is known as a

poncho, and is most useful because it can be used for two purposes.

[Sidenote: Slickers]

Horseback in a rainy country is, however, a different matter. There

transportation is not on your back, but another's; and sitting a horse

is not violent exercise. Some people like a poncho. I have always found

its lower edge cold, clumsy, and wet, much inclined to blow about, and

apt to soak your knees and the seat of your saddle. The cowboy slicker

cannot be improved upon. It is different in build from the ordinary

oilskin. Call for a "pommel slicker," and be sure it is apparently

about two sizes too large for you. Thus you will cover your legs. Should

you be forced to walk, a belt around your waist will always enable you

to tuck it up like a comic opera king. It is sure ludicrous to view, but

that does not matter.

[Sidenote: Chaparejos]

Apropos of protecting your legs, there remains still the question of

chaparejos or chaps. Unless you are likely to be called on to ride at

some speed through thorny brush, or unless you expect to ride very wet

indeed, they are a useless affectation. The cowboy needs them because he

does a great deal of riding of the two kinds just mentioned. Probably

you will not. I have had perhaps a dozen occasions to put them on. If

you must have them, get either oil-tanned or hair chaps. Either of these

sheds water like a tin roof. The hair chaps will not last long in a

thorny country.

[Sidenote: Gloves]

You will need furthermore a pair of gloves of some sort, not for

constant wear, nor merely for warmth, but to protect you in the

handling of pack ropes, lead ropes, and cooking utensils. A good

buckskin gauntlet is serviceable, as the cuffs keep the cold breezes

from playing along your forearm to your shoulder, and exclude the dust.

When you can get hold of the army gauntlet, as you sometimes can in the

military stores, buy them. Lacking genuine buckskin, the lighter grades

of "asbestos" yellow tan are the best. They cost about two dollars. To

my notion a better rig is an ordinary pair of short gloves, supplemented

by the close-fitting leather cuffs of a cowboy's outfit. The latter hold

the wrist snugly, exclude absolutely chill and dirt, and in addition

save wear and soiling of the shirt cuff. They do not pick up twigs,

leaves, and rubbish funnel wise, as a gauntlet cuff is apt to do.

That, I think, completes your wearing apparel. Let us now take up the

contents of your pockets, and your other personal belongings.

_SUMMARY_

_Minimum for comfort_

Felt hat

Silk kerchief

Waistcoat

Buckskin shirt or sweater

Gray flannel shirt

2 undershirts and drawers

Trousers--buckskin over khaki

3 pairs heavy socks

{3 pairs moccasins

{ or

{1 pair boots

{1 pair moccasins

Gloves and leather cuffs

_Maximum_

Felt hat

Silk kerchief

Waistcoat

Buckskin shirt and sweater

Gray flannel shirt

2 undershirts, 3 drawers (includes one suit you wear)

Trousers

4 pairs socks

1 pair boots

Moccasins

Slicker

Gloves and leather cuffs

Camp and Trail · 第 3 / 12 章