The Perilous Pursuit of Ultralight: When Weight Savings Become a Weighty Mistake

Reducing pack weight is smart—but these cuts probably go too far for all but the most dedicated ultralighters. The quest for a lighter backpack is a siren song for many hikers, promising easier miles and greater freedom on the trail. For Maggie Slepian, a seasoned backpacker, this pursuit began innocuously enough. Her initial thru-hike saw her pack weighing a substantial 35 pounds. Through a combination of experience and intentional gear choices, she managed to halve that weight by the end of her journey. This achievement, however, only fueled a deeper fascination with the concept of “ounce-counting,” a common phenomenon within the backpacking community.

"Like many other hikers, I wasn’t immune to the allure of seeing how far I could take ounce-counting," Slepian admits. Her journey into the extreme end of weight reduction led her to a base weight of a mere 10 pounds. While this might sound like a pinnacle of efficiency, Slepian’s experience was starkly different. "By the time I slashed my gear down to 10 pounds, I was absolutely miserable at camp every night." This anecdote, though five years in the past, serves as a potent cautionary tale. While acknowledging that gear technology has advanced, making it easier to maintain comfort while shedding weight, the core message remains: there’s a point where extreme weight reduction compromises the very enjoyment and functionality of backpacking.

The correlation between pack weight and trail ease is undeniable. Slepian states, "It’s true that trail miles are easier with a lighter load: I’m a lot happier carrying 20 pounds instead of 40 pounds." However, she elaborates on the often-overlooked trade-off: "But much of the time, you’re paying for those easier miles when you get to camp." This highlights a fundamental conflict in ultralight philosophy. While the goal is to make the journey more comfortable, the destination—camp—can become significantly less so. Slepian articulates this personal boundary: "Major props to the people who can sleep on two squares of foam under an open-sided tarp staked down with rocks, but that will never be me." Her personal philosophy emphasizes a crucial balance: "My weight savings need to balance on-trail comfort with camp necessities, and unless you’re aiming for an FKT [Fastest Known Time] or are truly in the ultralight weeds, yours probably do too." This perspective is invaluable for the average backpacker, suggesting that the extreme end of ultralight may not be the optimal solution for most.

With this understanding, Slepian offers five "semi-ridiculous ultralight gear choices" that she strongly advises hikers to avoid in 2026, emphasizing practicality over radical weight savings.

1. Cutting a Closed-Cell Foam Pad in Half, or Thirds

The debate between closed-cell foam pads and inflatable sleeping pads is a long-standing one in the backpacking world. While Slepian personally favors the ease of inflating a modern inflatable pad over the perceived discomfort of foam, she acknowledges the appeal of foam for some. However, the extreme application of this preference—cutting a foam pad into smaller sections—is where her skepticism lies. "What I don’t understand the appeal of is carrying a half-sized foam pad as your sleeping pad, or, like I saw a dedicated UL friend doing, carrying two small sections of the pad on the CDT. This wasn’t an extra section for a ground cushion—this was the entirety of his sleeping pad."

The Therm-a-Rest Z-Lite Sol, a popular closed-cell foam pad, exemplifies this discussion. It folds into 14 sections and weighs a mere 14 ounces. Slepian questions the logic of sacrificing significant comfort for a minimal weight saving. "Wouldn’t you rather lose 5 to 7 ounces elsewhere and keep your entire body at least a half-inch off the dirt?" she asks, highlighting the essential role of a sleeping pad in providing insulation and cushioning. Without adequate coverage, hikers are exposed to the cold, hard ground, leading to restless nights and diminished recovery. The sacrifice of a few ounces for a full night’s sleep and enhanced comfort is a trade-off that, for most, is clearly not worth it. This practice exemplifies how ultralight dogma can sometimes lead to decisions that prioritize weight reduction above all else, including basic comfort and a good night’s sleep.

2. Ultralight Tent Stakes

Tent stakes, often overlooked in gear weight calculations, can become a surprisingly significant point of failure when opting for the absolute lightest options. Slepian argues that while dedicated ultralighters might meticulously weigh the pros and cons of flimsy, ultralight tent stakes, the average hiker gains little from this compromise. The frustration and potential for disaster are considerable. "It’s not worth whacking one with a rock, bending it at a 30-degree angle, using the rock to whack it straight again, and repeating until it finally snaps mid-pitch." This vivid description paints a picture of a common scenario in windy or rocky conditions, where ultralight stakes are prone to bending, breaking, or simply failing to hold.

Instead, Slepian recommends a more balanced approach. "There are plenty of stakes out there that are lightweight but will still survive the length of a trip in rocky terrain." Her personal recommendation, the MSR Groundhog stakes, are a good example of this middle ground. At 7.5 inches long and weighing 14 grams each, they offer a robust and reliable solution without adding excessive weight. The key takeaway here is that investing in slightly heavier, but significantly more durable, stakes can prevent a host of campsite headaches and ensure the structural integrity of your shelter, a crucial element for a comfortable and safe backpacking experience. The risk of a stake failure can range from a minor inconvenience to a serious safety issue if your shelter collapses during a storm.

3. Flaccid Frameless Packs

The evolution of backpack design has seen a significant shift towards lighter materials and minimalist construction. Frameless packs, particularly vest-style designs, have gained popularity among ultralight enthusiasts due to their ability to contour to the body and distribute weight effectively when carrying minimal loads. Slepian notes their continued presence on the trail but observes a decline in their ubiquity. "I’m seeing fewer of these packs on the trail these days. They haven’t totally disappeared—dedicated ultralighters with low base weights still find a lot to like in modern, vest-style frameless packs—but internal-frame pack systems have now gotten light enough that there are fewer reasons for most people to go fully frameless."

The advantage of an internal frame, even a lightweight one, is significant. "Most lightweight internal frames weigh between 3 and 4.5 ounces, which seems like a small weight penalty for the added support." This minimal weight increase offers a substantial improvement in load-bearing capacity and comfort, especially when carrying more than just the bare essentials. Slepian stresses the importance of this support system for situations where a heavier load is unavoidable. "Plus, there will likely come a time when you need the pack’s frame and hip belt. It might be a desert trip with a huge water carry, or a resupply for a long stretch of trail, but adding six liters of water into a frameless floppy 30-liter sack with no hip belt is going to wrench your shoulders clear off your torso." The ability of a frame and hip belt to transfer weight from the shoulders to the hips is critical for comfort and injury prevention, particularly on longer treks or when encountering challenging terrain that necessitates carrying more supplies.

4. Floorless Tarps

Shelter is often one of the heaviest components of a backpack, making it a prime target for weight reduction. Slepian acknowledges the significant weight savings achievable by opting for a trekking-pole shelter. "Your shelter might be the category where you can save the most weight with a single piece of gear: Many two-person tents weigh upwards of four pounds, while you can slim down to an 18-ounce trekking-pole shelter without losing much interior space." This transition from a traditional tent to a minimalist shelter is a well-established ultralight strategy.

However, the next step—embracing floorless tarps—is where Slepian draws the line for most hikers. "The next level down, though, is where we start sacrificing basic protection needs, such as bug netting." While acknowledging that there are specific scenarios where a floorless tarp might suffice, such as "cowboy camping in the desert, open-sided tarp on a bug-free trail," she emphasizes that for the majority of situations, this level of minimalism is ill-advised. The lack of a floor leaves hikers vulnerable to crawling insects, snakes, and other ground-dwelling creatures. Furthermore, a floorless design offers limited protection against wind-driven rain and splashing water, potentially leading to a damp and uncomfortable sleeping environment. "For the most part, you’re going to want the added assurance of full-length mesh to keep creepy-crawlies out and a bathtub floor to defend against splashing rain." The peace of mind and protection offered by a fully enclosed shelter, even a lightweight one, often outweigh the marginal weight savings of a floorless design for the average backpacker.

5. Carbon Fiber Trekking Poles

Trekking poles have become an indispensable piece of gear for many hikers, offering stability, reducing strain on joints, and aiding in ascents and descents. Carbon fiber poles, renowned for their exceptionally low weight and excellent shock absorption, are a favorite among ultralight enthusiasts. Slepian herself admits a fondness for her own lightweight carbon fiber set, but her experience has led to a nuanced perspective. "I feel conflicted about this one, because I still love my featherweight eight-ounce set of poles. But I also have a lot of carbon-fiber poles in my gear graveyard: I snapped three poles in one summer before realizing I am too clumsy and do too much off-trail hiking to rely on them on any sort of rough trail."

The primary drawback of carbon fiber, despite its lightness, is its lack of lateral strength compared to aluminum. This means that while they excel at vertical load-bearing, they are more susceptible to snapping under sideways pressure. "Carbon fiber trekking poles are indeed lightweight with excellent shock absorption, but they also lack the lateral strength of aluminum poles, meaning you cannot load these things sideways." For hikers who frequently navigate rocky terrain, scramble over boulders, or engage in off-trail excursions, the risk of damaging carbon fiber poles is significantly higher. Slepian’s solution is pragmatic: "Now, when I know my route has boulder piles or rock-hopping, I bring my trusty aluminum set instead." This demonstrates a mature approach to gear selection, prioritizing durability and reliability for specific trail conditions over absolute weight reduction. For those who can be exceptionally careful or whose trails are consistently smooth, carbon fiber might remain a viable option. However, for the majority of hikers who encounter varied and challenging terrain, the added robustness of aluminum poles often proves to be a more sensible and ultimately less costly choice in the long run. The cost of replacing snapped carbon fiber poles can quickly negate any initial weight savings.