Phil Andrews recalls his most memorable pieces of kit from a lifetime of tramping and camping.

Browsing the flash and modern gear shown in each issue of Wilderness has prompted me, an 87-year-old former teacher and historian, to look back on the less sophisticated equipment I’ve used over seven decades. It’s functional and quite different to what many readers might be used to.

Kapok and CoolWow

My first sleeping bag was kapok-filled and lumpy, and purchased secondhand in 1956. It was years before I could afford a decent one, and then I scored not one but two almost new Great Outdoors bags – a summer one with a full-length zip and a short-zip model for winter. I’ve used them for about 30 years.

In the early days I slept on the ground, until I bought an insulation sheet, then a sleeping mat. Eventually I could afford a self-inflating mattress. I now have five, the latest of which is very comfortable and 4cm thick with the odd brand name of CoolWow.

A mule of a pack

My first pack was a green canvas Mountain Mule. So was my second, this time with pockets. Both were hard-wearing and longlasting, though decades later the canvas finally rotted. Next came a secondhand Korean-made Explorer from an op shop, where the assistant was disappointed I didn’t haggle over the already cheap price. I later had zipped pockets added – expensive but well worth it.

Stove mishaps and joy

The only time I ever used a Primus, I set the thing alight. Neither my mate nor I knew how to use it. I filled it with paraffin, added methylated spirits and pumped, then lit the meths. I pumped some more, sending a fountain of paraffin from the jet. The Primus was soon enveloped in flames. I whipped on our saucepan of tinned stew before the fire went out. We ate it lukewarm. 

When I first saw a Thermette in use on a Rotorua Tramping Club trip, I was captivated by its simplicity and efficiency. I was lucky to find one at a garage sale, made of tin with a thin metal handle. It wasn’t a patch on the next one I bought, a copper model with a wooden handle, a bargain for $50. Although large and heavy, it’s been an invaluable companion for many years. `

Tents galore

I’ve used all sorts of tents. My first, when I was nine, was a simple unfloored pup tent. Later I had a Rhino, but used to envy my mate his one-person Macpac Eclipse. I found one on TradeMe but it has an inner door with a mesh window that lets in the cold. The other drawback is its discoloured pale violet appearance, probably the result of damp storage. Once in the Waimana Valley I was woken by the thunder of hooves as wild horses galloped by. I felt terribly vulnerable. Had it not been dark I’d have assumed their avoidance was because of my tent’s unsightly look. But I am still happily using it.

Dressing for the occasion

Nowadays my trips are short fine-weather ones, so my clothing is simple: Kathmandu Vibram-soled boots, shorts, a light long-sleeved shirt, Swanndri shirt or jacket and thermals. My oilskin raincoat is long gone, and so too my expensive Gore-Tex, carelessly lost somewhere. Now I rely on my Stoney Creek raincoat, though I question its spelling. Once for fun I wore a tie to dinner, but that never caught on with my mates.

Kit I can’t do without

Gone are the days when a tramper had no communication with the outside world. I now have a basic mobile and a ResQLink PLB. My whistle is essential, to advise hunters of my presence – and far more reliable than my voice if I need to call for help. I still use my aluminium billies and my sturdy mānuka walking pole. In old age, with legs incapable of squatting, I now carry a plastic toilet seat that clips to a small seat-less folding stool (no pun intended). I can thus sit comfortably when nature calls.

Of course it’s not about the gear: after seven decades of tramping and camping, I have never lost the pleasure of being outdoors in the company of good mates.