Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleeve of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast…

    — William Shakespeare, Macbeth

When I wrote about my new air mattress, I wrote from the heart. Having spent too many days suffering the aftereffects of hours of fitful slumber, I knew the importance of a good night’s sleep. And I also knew I wasn’t alone. So I wasn’t surprised by the number of letters I got around the column. But when a second column inspired by the initial wave of correspondence resulted in a similar outpouring of mail, I was surprised. I shouldn’t have been, of course. I’ll bet there isn’t a single cyclotourist, backpacker, or paddler who can’t remember at least one trip that was soured when sleep in camp didn’t come easily. The upshot? There are almost as many solutions to the problem as there are sleepless paddlers. Which is why I’m returning to the subject one more time.

And I’ve had a lot of help, which is a very good thing. Though I’ve been knocking around in the backcountry going on half a century now, and Farwell has been at it even longer, we’ve tested just a few of the entries in the camping sleepstakes. But In the Same Boat‘s readers helped me fill in the gaps in our knowledge, and the folks whose words appear below have generously allowed me to use excerpts from their letters. So without further ado, here’s the last word on backcountry bedding — for now at any rate!…Read more…

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I’ve always felt at home in the night. The wild world doesn’t lapse into suspended animation when we slip into our sleeping bags at day’s end. The hours of darkness are a busy time in the backcountry. Sit quietly at the water’s edge in the proper season and chances are good that you’ll hear — and sometimes see — frogs, ducks, and geese aplenty, not to mention beavers and muskrats, all of them going about their business, undisturbed by any clumsy, meddlesome primates with delusions of grandeur. If your hearing is good, you may even discern the subtle clicking of a bat’s sonar as he swoops over your head to snatch up mosquitos, the same mosquitos that were drawn to you by the prospect of a blood meal. It’s the ultimate gotcha moment.

Bottom line? The night is a happening place. And listening in on the comings and goings of nocturnal wildlife is one of the great pleasures of camping. When I can, I find my way around in the dark without any artificial light, hoping to disturb my wild neighbors as little as possible by my presence. But when the time comes for me to turn back toward camp for the evening rituals of toothbrushing, tidying up, and hitting the sack, I want something to light up the night…Read more…

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Whether you’re a cyclotourist, a paddler, or a backpacker, we all start from a common ground of agreement: A good night’s sleep helps you cope with whatever the new day holds in store; a bad night ushers in a day of misery. So far, so good. (Or so bad.) And getting your Z’s is doubly important on a cycling, long distance backpacking, canoeing or kayaking trip, with the manifold demands on mind and body that any such jaunt entails. But what conclusions follow from these straightforward observations? Most importantly, what’s the secret of a good night’s sleep in places where bedrooms boasting innerspring mattresses and central heating are few and far between? That’s the question, isn’t it?

Of course, the years take their toll, too. I used to be able to snatch a few restorative winks almost anywhere I chose. All I asked was a cleared space. I could even catnap in a climbing harness. Now, however, my body demands more comfortable accommodation than a couple of yards of pebble beach or a webbing seat. Roughing it is all well and good when you’re 18, but it’s less attractive when you embark on your second half‑century. Luckily, technology can smooth out some of the rough spots. A warm sleeping bag is a pearl without price, for instance, whatever your age. But it’s not enough in itself. The loftiest bag can’t do its job if it isn’t paired with a good mattress. Put simply, having the right sleeping pad can make the difference between bliss and wretchedness.

Back in January I described how my never‑ending quest for lightweight comfort led me to buy a Big Agnes Insulated Air Core mattress. And while I haven’t yet tested my Big Agnes in all weathers, I’ve found no reason to regret my purchase. The Insulated Air Core combines the comfort of a traditional air mattress with the warmth of a foam pad, while taking up no more room in my pack than a largish water bottle.

Comfortable. Warm. Light. Small. It would seem that the Air Core is a compendium of almost all the virtues. (Is it also Durable? Time will tell.) Yet the Air Core isn’t the only contender for the crown in the Comfort Stakes, and quite a few readers wrote to point this out — while others added their own voices to my earlier panegyric on the Air Core. Happily, many of these same writers also gave me permission to reprint excerpts from their e‑mails, and a representative selection of their comments follows, beginning with thoughts on getting the air in (and out)…Read more…

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