Having the Right Gear - or - Money Worries

“There’s no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.” – Alfred Wainwright, A Coast to Coast Walk

         For a long time, I thought this quote was just a pretentious, obnoxious way of shaming people who didn’t go into the wilderness (or even just the outdoors) because it was raining or snowing or too hot or something. I even found myself saying it with an air of superiority as I would venture out into sleet and wind for a four-mile hike. I was not going to be held back in fear of getting cold or wet or muddy or something else. I have to admit that I have not read A Coast to Coast Walk, so I don’t know Wainwright’s tone when he offered such wisdom. I don’t know if Wainwright was being a pretentious, British snob, or offering loving, kind support to encourage others to get into the wilderness. Let’s assume the later.

            There is truth to such a statement, especially in the second half. There is such a thing as unsuitable clothing. Many of the rescues that happen in the White Mountains and the Adirondacks are because people have gone into the wilderness, looking to climb mountains, with unsuitable gear and clothing. And there have been times what this has led to tragic results. The statement becomes more than just being one of judgement and can be life-saving advice.

            When I help people prepare for trips I give them packing lists for gear and clothes, and I emphasize that the clothing is important. In the hiking community we hear the line, “cotton kills” and there is truth to such a statement. Cotton holds moisture in, when it gets wet it makes you colder, and can speed the onset of hypothermia. When hiking in the rain, the yellow slicker that will not let in any moisture in at all will also not let any out, and it is possible to get dehydrated when hiking in a downpour because you are so warm and sweaty in your efforts to not get wet. The right clothing is important.

            I have seen and experienced tents leak in a rain storm, making for a miserable night. I have seen sleeping bags that are not warm enough, causing considerable shivering through the evening. I have seen socks wear through, or not cover enough of the ankle and lower leg, leading to debilitating blisters. I have seen hands get white because cotton gloves become useless once they get a little damp, and I have seen water bottles drip and leak because they are not made to hold water when tossed and jostled on someone’s back.

            Thus, if I could amend Mr. Wainwright’s statement a bit – There’s no such thing as a bad weather, only unsuitable gear.

            Yet, we can overdo it. We can overprepare. Hiking tee shirts can cost from $20 to $50 dollars. That feels like a lot. Hiking pants can be even more, and boots and socks are not cheap. The amount that one can spend on gear can feel prohibitive to someone looking to just get into hiking. And yet we hear stories of people getting lost or hurt or dying and we want to make sure that we have the right kind of gear so that first venture into the wilderness does not end up being our last (or we do not end up the butt of jokes on a social-media group). Can we get away with a cheap, $8 exercise shirt, or will that lead to our downfall? Can we trust a backpack that we bought at Walmart or will that make us uncomfortable? What is suitable? What kind of gear would be right?

            This desire for the right gear, for the right equipment is something that goes beyond just the hiking and backpacking world. When I was more involved in the music world I knew that the rule was the more expensive the instrument the better it would sound. Don’t buy the $500 bassoon, it will sound like it looks – ridiculous!

            The more expensive computer will be better for gaming. The better saw and hammer will make carpentry go more smoothly. And that high-end abacus will make your accounting go so much faster.

The moral seems to be that the more money you have to spend on the experience then the better it will be. The suitable gear will be the one that costs the most. The best tool will be the one that costs the most. And if you want to be able to compete and/or survive then you need what costs the most.

Maybe I should amend the statement to say: there is no such thing as a challenging situation, only a lack of money.

I struggle and wrestle with this financial drive especially in this wilderness of transition that I am in. I see people back out of trips because they are afraid of not having enough or not being prepared or able to endure the struggle and I relate. There are many mornings when I worry that I do not have enough and many evenings when I look at my bank account and believe that I will not have enough.

            It is not that I am lacking in gear (I have plenty of gear). Or that I am lacking in ability (I think I am ok). It is money. I worry about having enough and often believe that I don’t.

            To be clear, I am talking about the wilderness of transition. In this wilderness I have left a job where I had a steady income. I no longer have that income. I am very blessed to have a partner/spouse who is gainfully employed, but I still worry. I worry that we will not be able to make ends meet. I worry that we will not be able to put food on the table, that we will not be able to give our children experiences that will be meaningful and life-giving. I worry that I will not be able to retire. We very well may be one car repair, one furnace braking away from spiraling into economic destress. I look at other people my age, professionals, who seem to be very comfortable financially and wonder what it would be like to have enough to not have to worry. I know that so much of it is a façade, a front, and that everyone struggles. Yet the reptilian part of my brain takes over the rational aspect and wants what they have – economic stability. I don’t know what kind of storms our family may face, I don’t know what kind of struggles we may encounter, but I don’t feel prepared or ready or able to storm them because of a lack of one item – money. I constantly fear that bad weather will come and I will have unsuitable protection.

            I share this in part because in a lot of the reading that I have been doing about transitions I have not seen much about financial stress. I have not seen people talking about what it means to take such a risk. Maybe for some it is not a big deal. Maybe, for some it is easy to not think about money. Or, maybe it is too embarrassing. It is easier to talk about the bad clothing or shoddy gear. It is easier to talk about the failures of marketing campaigns or product launches. It is easier to talk about going back to school in the middle of one’s life then to talk about the anxiety of not being to pay bills.

Or maybe many do not write about the financial challenges of transition because it could be seen as the whining of a privileged individual. I had a job. I was doing ok, and I chose to leave it. For those who live with struggle of finances all their lives, this complaining may seem like just a privileged rant that is detached from the reality of those who truly live on the edge of poverty. They would be right. I recognize that I come from a place of privilege. I recognize that I have options and it feels wrong to even say that I worry about money and finances. Yet the worry and the anxiety are still there.

            There is a shame factor that I notice in the hiking and backpacking community. If you see someone hiking in less than the best or most high-tech gear or clothing, there is a level of shame that others project. “How dare you come into the wilderness without the best?!” It is a muttered, not-quite unspoken classist rant that occurs, especially after people need to be rescued. You must have the right kind of gear or you have no reason to be out here. This is a dangerous, shaming, exclusive attitude that I admit I have participated in as well.

            Don’t we do the same with money? You must have a certain amount otherwise you are not successful. You must be making a certain amount or you are irresponsible. If you are not going on vacations, if you are not driving a modern enough car, if you do not have certain square footage or electronics, then you have failed as an adult. We mutter it. We project it. This classist attitude that is intertwined with money. This attitude that feeds my anxieties and that keeps me up at night and wakes me early in the morning.

            Yet there is such a thing as not enough. In dangerous and difficult weather, having the wrong gear and clothing can be dangerous. In dangerous and difficult situations of life, poverty is a reality and has a real effect on one’s level of living. How do we find that balance that is right for us? How do we find that place of living comfortably, not in danger, but not in a place where we are ruled with having more than we need? I recognize that my struggle with money is not new with this transition. I have been a pastor for more than 20 years and that means I have always struggled with having enough. This transition has made my anxiety about finances more obvious for me. And I recognize that this is not unique to me but something shared by us all.

            There was a moment on a recent trip when I felt good. It was 17 degrees outside and I was heating up water for my breakfast. I was wearing thermal pants, a fleece vest, multiple layers, and a down jacket. I know I did not have the best of the best gear, but I had what was needed. I know that others might look at what I was wearing and would judge me. But in that moment, I felt good. I was not cold. I was not hurting. I was enjoying the moment, not having to think about my gear at all. It was good.

            How do I get to that place with the rest of my life?