If tandem touring canoes are the F‑150s of paddlecraft, kayaks are the MGBs. And as anyone who’s ever driven an MGB Mark II roadster will know, they’re not pickup trucks. This can make trouble for folks who are new to kayak touring. Deciding what to take isn’t the problem. Equipment lists and general advice on what to pack can be found in many places nowadays — at Paddling.net, in books, on outfitters’ websites, and in numberless blogs. I’ve even seen packing lists carved into the walls of Adirondack lean‑tos. Nor is serviceable gear hard to come by. The days when paddlers had to order tents and stoves from European speciality outlets or climbers’ co‑ops like REI are a dim and distant memory. If you’ve got the cash, you can get all the stuff you’ll need in a day or two. A lot of it can probably be found on the shelves of your local HyperMart, just a couple of aisles down from the wading pools and string trimmers. The upshot? Assembling the gear for a trip isn’t difficult. The aggro starts when you have to find a place in your ‘yak to put it.

This is the moment when you come up against a fundamental difference between canoes and kayaks: Most canoes go topless, but few kayaks do. A canoe always has room for one more bag. (No, this is not an argument for overloading a boat!) In a kayak, however, all of your gear — well, most of it, at any rate — has to be stored below decks. If it can’t be made to fit, it doesn’t go.

Every paddler approaches this problem in her (or his) own way, though the learning process can be a sweaty and frustrating business, in which bags that are too big to squeeze into odd‑shaped spaces are hastily unpacked and last‑minute decisions made about which “essentials” to leave behind. (Worse things follow when the newly purged bags still don’t fit, or when you discover, many miles downriver, that you left the cooking pots at the put‑in.) Experienced paddlers will already have figured out what works for them, of course. Or they’ll have bought canoes. But beginners — and many one‑trip‑a‑year kayakers — are often left to work things out on their own.

A little help would be appreciated, I’m sure. And over the years, we’ve done our bit (see, for example, “Starting Out in Kayaking” and “Moving On“), but we’ve never directly addressed the problems that crop up when loading a kayak. I was reminded of this a few months ago, when a reader named Jason wrote to me with questions about packing a rucksack, questions that an earlier article on the subject hadn’t answered. So I wrote another article — the first in the “Picture This” series — to illustrate how I organize my getaway pack. Sometimes a picture really is worth a thousand words.

But Jason also had some questions about stowing gear in a kayak:

I just returned from a four-day, 75-mile paddling trip on the Current River in Missouri and it was great, but one problem I had ... was that much of my gear was too big to fit. I also had trouble remembering which bag held what items. I would be interested to see a "picture" article on how you would pack your kayak for a multi-day campout.

That’s when it struck me that the two subjects weren’t entirely unrelated. Both getaway packs and kayaks impose frustrating space constraints. And Jason was right: Another article was called for, with the subject this time being how to pack a ‘yak… Read more…

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Camera tripods range from tiny things small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to mammoth professional jobs that look as if they’d be able to support a house-sized camera obscura, and while my tripod certainly isn’t the largest one going, it’s too big to cram into a pack. So it usually ends up being strapped to the outside. That’s not a problem in itself. In fact, this makes it easy for me to get at it in a hurry whenever the need arises. But I do worry about losing the tripod’s quick-release post:

A lever locks the post in place on the tripod head, but an overhanging branch could snag the lever and unlock the quick-release as I walked along, allowing it to part company with the head. I’d probably never even hear it fall. What to do? Well, I could get a big stuff sack for my tripod, but the sack would be one more thing to look after, and it would certainly increase set-up time. Or I could carry the post in my pocket. But pockets develop holes. And it is convenient to have the post already mounted on the tripod. Still, there’s always the possibility that brush will snag the locking lever sooner or later…

The solution to this nagging problem came to me while I was searching among my collection of patched and blown bicycle inner tubes for the one new tube I was sure was hidden there. Why not cut a section from an old tube to make a heavy-duty rubber band, then slip it over the tripod head so as to secure the quick-release post? It ought to work, I thought. And it does:

Photo 1 illustrates how the post fits into the tripod head, while Photo 2 demonstrates the operation of the locking lever, and Photo 3 shows the post retracted as far as it will go, with my inner-tube security band in place. (Photo 4 gives a top view.) I could have used a wider piece of inner tube, I suppose, but this one does the job, and it’s easier to slide into position over the rubberized tripod head than a wider band.

Would a regular rubber band work as well? Sure. At first. But rubber bands go to pieces quickly in the open, while inner-tube material hangs tough. It will rot eventually, of course. Am I losing sleep over this possibility? No way! There are several lifetimes’ worth of replacement security bands on a shelf in my workroom. Those old tubes might just as well be used for something. Waste not, want not, right?

More Uses for Old Inner Tubes

• • “Recycling Blown Inner Tubes”
• • “Make Your Own Presta Valve Guard: Another New Use for Old Inner Tubes”
• • “A DIY Light Mount for a Front Rack”

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The Surly Long Haul Trucker can be bought already built up and ready to roll. That’s how I got mine. But in the first few months I owned it I made a few changes, fitting a new saddle, stem, and bars, in addition to adding fenders and racks. Jack Flash did much the same thing. He got a built-up LHT, too, but he wanted wider bars, so he fitted Nitto Noodles. And that was just the beginning:

I love the bike, as the fit is great. The trunk is an Avenier bag, very handy and the top expands for ½ gallon containers. The rack is a Surly Nice. I have one for the front but I'd rather ride without it on all the time as it makes the front wheel flop over when parked. The lime green box is an external speaker for my MP3 player. Sometimes I like some music while riding. The mirror [clamped to the left handlebar drops– Editor] is an Evo Sport, which was overpriced, but after buying four other mirrors and not being happy I went for it, and it suits me.

The result? Well, see for yourself (right-click on the photos to embiggen them):

That’s one beautiful bike! Thanks, Jack, for giving us all a chance to admire your handiwork.

We love our bikes, right? And we never tire of looking at them. At least I don’t, and if I’m to judge from what others tell me, I’m not alone. So each Monday I’ll publish a bike-related picture. Most of the time it will be a photo, but don’t be surprised if a few drawings and paintings get added to the mix from time to time. I might even include a sculpture or two. (OK. A photo of a sculpture.) Anything, in short, that evokes the world on two wheels. And don’t be shy. If you have a picture you’d like to share, just email it to me. I’ll do the rest.

Questions? Comments? Just click here!