“]”filter”: { “nextExceptions”: “img, blockquote, div”, “nextContainsExceptions”: “img, blockquote, a.btn, ao-button”} }”>
Going outside? Read this article about the new Outside+ app, now available for members on iOS devices. Download the app.
To love the outdoors is to love your gear and to criticize it mercilessly: “Who put a strap that's too long here?” “I don't need that pocket.” “How much does it cost?” “Oh, what about that color.” Armed with trail-gained insight and ignorant of market forces, it's easy to start thinking you could do something better. But can you?
This is not unprecedented. Osprey founder Mike Pfotenhauer sewed his first homemade backpack when he was 16 years old. He and other garage designer-turned-industry-giants legends like Dick Kelty and Wayne Gregory gave me hope. So I decided to create the Tedware Hot Pack 3000, a super lightweight, handcrafted backpack handcrafted by me in Seattle. I would start with one custom pack and maybe more if Osprey contacted me. Despite being the kind of kid who would eat a macaroni necklace before it was even finished, I did it. I had never sewed a stitch in my life.
Step 1: Copy a design from the internet. Ultralight king Ray Jardine has been selling his $70 Ray-Way pack kit for years, but that felt like cheating. Plus, I wanted something custom that would turn heads at ultralight conventions (bonus: stripped-down packs are easier to build). So I waded through a sea of ​​blueprints and settled on a streamlined model with a 3,000 cubic inch (50 liter) body compartment for up to a week's worth of gear, two stretchy hip pockets, two mesh exterior pockets, some gear loops, and no hip belt (Tedware design ethic: less is more). For the body, I chose class 2 Silnylon rather than the recommended mithril-like cuben fiber. If the HotPax 3000 prototype was going to be a pile of slender threads strewn across the floor, why make it an unnecessarily expensive pile? Total cost of ingredients: $56.
Step 2: Learn to sew. I reached out to my friends at the well-known Rainy Pass Repair to show me how. “You'll see soon enough. The reason I make my own gear is because I love making my own gear,” she said. For an aspiring gear designer, this was a little less encouraging than my first attempt at sewing, which temporarily destroyed my sewing machine. “Maybe I'll get started,” she said, handing me some chalk and scissors to cut the pieces I needed to sew later. Looking at the outline of my backpack straps, I could tell my straight lines hadn't improved much since kindergarten.
She led the sewing, I did the prep and assembly, and then I tried my hand at sewing on the machine again. I was nervous. Her stitches were sure and strong, while mine looked like I'd had an overdose of caffeine. Six hours later, I had a flat square of silnylon fabric with pack straps and a pocket. It was a decent start, but my sewing teacher had limitations and I had to complete the pack on my own. Most terrifying of all was the idea of ​​somehow folding the flat fabric into the shape of a pack.
With borrowed machinery, I struggled to bridge the gap between my desire and ability. Threads and eyes crossed, and all manner of curses uttered. But over the hours, little miracles added up. I connected backpack straps and threaded elastic pull loops. When instructions became vague, I imitated store-bought backpack movements around the house. I watched witch crafts disguised as Midwestern housewives on YouTube to solve a particularly tricky mystery at the bottom of a rectangular backpack. For another six hours, I gazed upon a hybrid beauty. It was the first in the Tedware HotPax 3000, a lightweight 7.5 ounces. And, of course, there's next year's trend colors: Kelly green and black.
But when I loaded up the HotPax 3000 with 20 pounds in the foothills of the Cascades, I truly became a proud pack dad. The lack of a hip belt or frame sheet worried me, but once I packed my tent, layers, sleeping bag and mat, food, and water, it fit like a turtle shell around my back. On a rare sunny spring day in the Northwest, I had to push through crowds on the way up and avoid kids and dogs on the way down. All the while, my homemade pack fit snugly against my back. It was sturdy, stable, and effective. It may not be as sturdy as the ultralight commercial packs I've used, but it's certainly light and cheap. I felt a surge of pride and confidence in the work I'd done with my clumsy hands. I resisted the urge to show it to strangers, but I took it on and off with a flourish, hoping someone would ask.
Is it perfect? ​​Well, not really. The straps are a bit too wide for my shoulders, the silnylon is slippery and needs to be tightened to stay in place. It collects sweat on your back. Haters might call it a luxury stuff sack. I have concerns about its long-term durability (not to mention the holes I poked with scissors during assembly). It has very few features, and I'd like to add a chest strap and an interior pocket. But all of these issues are something I hope to address with next season's Tedware HotPax 3001.
Osprey, call me.
Verdict: Pass
With a little (okay, a lot) of help from a friend, I ended up with a functional pack, but I'm confident that with practice, good planning, some sewing experience, and a passion for DIY projects, anyone can make a super lightweight pack they're proud of. Even if you have little to no sewing experience, as long as you have a ton of passion, you'll be fine.
1. Technical fabrics are available from specialist suppliers. Try cheaper materials before buying the more expensive ones. Buy 25 percent more length than you think you will need, or you will make a mistake.
2. A good blueprint goes a long way. Unless you're a good draftsman, it's very difficult to design one from scratch. But the web is full of great custom designs. Combine features to create a custom pack.
(We used a modified version of this).
3. Ask for help. If you know someone with sewing experience, a few beers and dinner can save you hours of frustration.
Four. If you think you're making a mistake, stop working immediately and correct it — sewing machines have no undo ability, so even small imperfections can compromise the structural integrity of your pack.
Five. Use a ruler. Measure everything carefully and use chalk to mark cuts and stitches on your fabric. Leave plenty of seam allowance. Overlapping the fabric gives you extra room and strength. Cutting under the fabric will mean you'll have to start over. Tip: Measure twice, cut once.
6. Keep seams to a minimum. More seams mean more holes and more weak spots in the fabric. Cut and sew 2-square-inch reinforcement patches into stress points where shoulder straps, webbing, hip belts, and load-bearing loops will attach.
7. Practice on some extra material to see how the fabric will perform on your particular sewing machine.
