After 13,000 miles of drinking the ultralight Kool-Aid, here’s what I’ve added to my pack.

The allure of ultralight backpacking is undeniable for many long-distance hikers. The promise of shedding precious ounces, of moving with an almost ethereal lightness across rugged terrain, is a powerful motivator. Yet, as seasoned thru-hiker Ayesha “Heaps” Cording shares, the journey towards extreme minimalism on the trail often leads to an unexpected realization: the true path to sustained comfort and enjoyment lies not in stripping away every last gram, but in strategically reintroducing a select few items that offer disproportionate benefits for their weight. Cording, a three-time Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) finisher and veteran of other demanding routes like the Continental Divide Trail, has spent over a decade honing her gear philosophy, culminating in a revised pack list that embraces the "ultralight rebound."

Her firsthand experiences, etched into the fabric of thousands of miles, paint a vivid picture of the ultralight paradox. Cording recounts a pivotal moment on her first PCT thru-hike in 2016. Caught in a storm, she found herself exposed, her arms tucked uselessly inside a flimsy, sleeveless gas station poncho. Her conventional rain jacket had been sacrificed at the altar of ultralight dogma, with the intention of replacing it with a lighter model in the next town. The consequence was a miserable night spent shivering, wrestling with a poorly pitched poncho-tarp that offered little protection from the elements. The choice between freezing with exposed limbs or risking a face-plant due to compromised visibility highlighted a critical flaw in her ultralight strategy. By 2025, a mere 13.85 ounces had been added back to her pack, a seemingly small increase that represented a monumental shift in her approach to trail comfort and sanity.

This pattern of shedding weight only to gradually reintroduce it is a common narrative among those who embrace ultralight principles. The initial purge might eliminate items like a plush pillow, a warmer sleeping pad, a dedicated bug net, or even dedicated sleep socks. However, as the miles accumulate and the realities of long-term trail living set in, the question evolves. It shifts from "Can I live without this?" to a more pragmatic "What am I truly sacrificing by saving this weight?" This is the essence of the ultralight rebound, a testament to the fact that sometimes, a modest weight penalty can unlock significant gains in comfort, safety, and overall trail performance. After a decade and multiple thru-hikes, Cording remains a dedicated “gram nerd,” but her pack’s contents reflect a more nuanced understanding of what truly enhances the backpacking experience.

One of the most significant additions to Cording’s pack is a full-length sleeping pad. For many ultralight enthusiasts, the ability to sleep soundly on a minimalist foam pad is a coveted skill. However, Cording admits she lacks this particular ultralight superpower. Her attempts to create a torso-length pad by modifying a perfectly functional air pad proved disastrous. Using a cheap hotel iron to seal the cut proved ineffective, leading to a pad that lost air consistently for 400 miles, leaving her waking up deflated on the cold, hard ground. The three-ounce weight penalty of a full-length pad, compared to her compromised half-pad, is negligible in terms of pack weight but has a profound impact on her sleep quality. The ability to stretch out her legs on a warm, supportive surface, rather than resting them on a lumpy pack or the frigid earth, allows for genuine rest and recovery. This seemingly minor addition significantly boosts her energy levels and overall well-being on the trail.

Another critical reintroduction for Cording is a cook system. The stove was arguably the "luxury" item she resisted the longest. For years, she embraced cold-soaking, eating meals directly from Ziploc bags to avoid the added weight of a dedicated container for soaking. This commitment to extreme weight savings even raised eyebrows among her fellow ultralight adherents. However, a harsh reality check arrived in September on the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) in Colorado. Overnight, ice had formed a thick layer both inside and outside her tarp, rendering any attempt at cold-soaking or preparing food impossible without heat. In that moment, a stove transformed from a luxury to a necessity for basic comfort and sustenance. The ability to prepare hot meals before bed, and the simple act of cradling a Nalgene bottle filled with boiling water tucked deep within her sleeping quilt, provided much-needed warmth and psychological comfort. Even Ray Jardine, widely considered the progenitor of ultralight backpacking, eventually conceded the value of a stove. Reflecting on his 1993 Appalachian Trail hike, he admitted that his decision to forgo a stove was "too bold" and that the weight savings "wasn’t worth it." If the pioneer of ultralight principles could acknowledge the error of his ways, Cording felt justified in carrying the modest weight of a compact stove like the Soto Amicus to ensure her warmth and well-being.

The concept of "freeing the hips" led Cording to a regrettable decision early in her ultralight journey: she hacked the hipbelt off her Hyperlite Windrider pack. This was driven by a misguided belief that enduring more discomfort equated to a more authentic or "cooler" backpacking experience. After three subsequent ultralight packs, her shoulders began to protest vehemently. She experienced nerve issues, a clear indication that the weight was being borne by the wrong parts of her body. The solution was to reintroduce a padded hipbelt, which she now uses with her current pack, the Meadowphysics Crane. This addition has not only alleviated her shoulder pain and allowed her shoulder to heal but also redistributed the pack’s load more effectively. The dread associated with longer food and water carries has significantly diminished, making these essential resupply periods less daunting. The 2.1-ounce hit to her ego is a small price to pay for preserving her physical well-being, ensuring she can continue to enjoy the trails for years to come. This decision underscores a growing understanding in the backpacking community that a pack’s load-bearing system is crucial for comfort and injury prevention on extended trips.

Finally, Cording has come to rely on a seemingly simple item that has become a non-negotiable: wind pants. These lightweight garments, weighing in at just 3.2 ounces, offer a surprising array of benefits. They provide crucial warmth during chilly nights, act as a protective barrier to keep dirt from soiling her sleeping quilt, and, perhaps most importantly, shield her ankles from the relentless assault of mosquitoes. Beyond their physical utility, Cording finds them to be a significant mental buffer. After enduring months of exposure to the elements and the myriad challenges the trail presents, even a small degree of protection feels like a welcome relief. While she acknowledges that wind pants, like many functional items, can be perceived as "dorky" and produce an audible "nylon swish" with every step, she finds the minor weight penalty to be a worthwhile trade-off for the increased comfort and ease they provide after a long day on the trail. This embrace of practical, albeit unglamorous, gear highlights a mature evolution in her backpacking priorities.

Cording’s journey exemplifies a broader trend in the ultralight community. Her years spent on the trail have taught her a valuable lesson: the lightest possible gear list is not inherently the best one. While she still adheres to many ultralight principles, such as breaking toothbrush handles and meticulously compressing gear, she has learned that the pursuit of absolute minimal weight can sometimes compromise essential comfort and safety. There are, she concludes, worse things to carry than a few extra ounces. More importantly, there is something far more valuable than bragging rights about pack weight: the profound and sweet relief of having two dry arms on a rainy day, a full night’s sleep on a supportive pad, a warm meal in challenging conditions, and the ability to carry a load without debilitating pain. This is the wisdom gained from thousands of miles, a testament to the fact that true ultralight success lies in finding the optimal balance between weight savings and trail-tested comfort.