Patience and perseverance can reveal gear gold left by a would-be tramper or disillusioned tourist. By Justin Sprecher

Lusting over ultralight, ultra-expensive gear is a ‘fun’ activity for the gear obsessed. Think of the places that could be reached with an unlimited budget. Effortlessly scaling peaks and walking for days with an Instagram-able miniature pack on our backs.

Like me, I suspect many trampers are brought down to earth by economic reality and a deep seeded psychological need to be frugal. Carrying an extra 100g is worth saving $100, right? 

But there is another way. If you have time, patience, and determination you can be rewarded by hunting op shops for used gear. A Smartwool base layer found over 10 years ago in a dimly lit Dunedin Salvation Army store is still my go-to base layer. While clothing items are the easiest to come across, my ultimate score was an ultralight 36l pack in near-new condition.

At the time I was living in the USA. Right in the middle of the country, far from mountains and far from a community with a robust hiking culture. While aimlessly sifting through broken roller skates and 40-year-old polyester shirts, a 550g Gossamer Gear Pilgrim pack materialised from the ether staring back at me.

My first reaction was that my mind was playing tricks: this is simply a cheap grey school bag. That would explain why it’s marked at a fraction of the retail price of the pack I mistook it for. Still best to play safe, I think, as I clutch the pack to my chest and Google more info. It is the pack I thought it was!

Six years later the pack is still going strong, and it’s been used. For two and half months it held up to the daily grit and grime while tramping the Pacific Northwest Trail. It took the brunt of abuse while sliding down scree in the Canadian Rockies. And survived a brush or three with cacti in Arizona. Lately, it’s been saturated by rains and whipped by winds in New Zealand.

While walking these miles, the pack has also provided countless hours of entertainment. I’ve often wondered why this little pack was abandoned to the depths of that op shop. Was it because one of the cinch clips is sewn a little askew? And who was the, now mythologised, former owner who cast the pack away? Trampers in middle America are a rare breed.

New Zealand can be a fantastic place to plumb the depths of op shops for used gear. I find the larger stores, with a wider range of items, increase the chance of success. But New Zealand has another ace in the hole for cheap gear: tourists who come with aspirations (and new gear) to hike a Great Walk, tackle Te Araroa, or get kitted out for a photo on Roy’s Peak. Before flying out, maybe they discover tramping isn’t as idyllic as they’d hoped or the weight of souvenirs stacks up. However it plays out, once coveted gear can be ditched. That’s when you swoop in.

It pays to be tactical. Where and when would a tourist decide to donate those items? In Queenstown or Wānaka after a soggy week-long adventure that swears them off tramping forever? In Auckland when they discover they are over the baggage limit?

Whatever the case, with borders open and summer fast approaching, who knows what could be around the corner in your local op shop.