Saturday, September 21, 2013
Things Hikers Sometimes Do, Chapter One: Seam Sealing A Tent
If you’ve never bought a tent, or you’re the sort of person smart enough to only buy tents that are factory seam sealed, you may be unaware of how the process works. The following describes my experience, with an added bonus product review. Enjoy!
Anyway, what this means is that if you don’t want your large cheap tent to be like Gene Hackman’s house in Unforgiven, you’re going to have to seam seal it. So off I went to the store, and rather than buy Seam Grip (which I know works), I picked up Gear Aid’s Seam Sure Water Based Seam Sealer. Why? Well, it was a dollar cheaper, and I also liked that because it was water based I
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| Retrieved from the trash for this photo. |
I realized that I am car camping and going to festivals often enough that having a large heavy tent that I don’t really care about makes sense. If you’ve ever bought a large cheap tent, you’ve probably discovered that they usually aren’t seam sealed. Which means that regardless of how waterproof the fabric is, sheltering inside one in a storm is much like expecting to stay dry from the rain while inside an enormous spaghetti colander. And no, that doesn’t make any sense. Selling a tent that won’t keep the rain out seems willfully obtuse, like selling a car that doesn’t have tires. I mean, I only expect two things of a tent: keep me dry, and don’t spontaneously combust while I’m sleeping inside it. That the manufacturers seemingly don’t care about the first thing kind of makes me question whether they care about the second.
Anyway, what this means is that if you don’t want your large cheap tent to be like Gene Hackman’s house in Unforgiven, you’re going to have to seam seal it. So off I went to the store, and rather than buy Seam Grip (which I know works), I picked up Gear Aid’s Seam Sure Water Based Seam Sealer. Why? Well, it was a dollar cheaper, and I also liked that because it was water based I
- wouldn’t smell like I’d been building model airplanes all day and
- wouldn’t once again set myself on fire while having a smoke immediately after seam sealing.
Now, the thing about seam sealing is that I don’t like doing it, but it’s a relatively minor and short annoyance, much like Lil’ Kim or a prostate exam. Still, if I can find a product that makes the task easier, I’ll take it.
Gear Aid’s Seam Sure Water Based Seam Sealer is not that product.
Gear Aid’s Seam Sure Water Based Seam Sealer is not that product.
In fact, I can say without reservation that this product is the worst hiking or camping product I have ever bought. Ever. It is far too watery and has a bottle applicator that absolutely doesn’t work if what you’re trying to do is get the product on the seams and not anywhere else. After attempting to coat part of one seam there was sealer everywhere. The floor. The mesh. The back of my neck.
If you want to know what using this product is like, call a friend and have them come over. Then mail me $6.99. Then fill a glass with Coke and have your friend stand above that glass with head pointed downward and mouth open. Now try to throw Coke upwards into his mouth. Here’s what will happen: very little of the liquid will end up where you want it, everyone will be sticky and disappointed, and someone who doesn’t deserve it will have $6.99 of your money. Same with Gear Aid’s Seam Sure Water Based Seam Sealer.
The design of this product runs so counter to its stated purpose that I initially thought that something extraordinary with my particular bottle was to blame. Perhaps some factory worker pranked me by filling it with deer ejaculate? Dunno. But on the whole I think it’s just more likely that the product is crap.
If you want to know what using this product is like, call a friend and have them come over. Then mail me $6.99. Then fill a glass with Coke and have your friend stand above that glass with head pointed downward and mouth open. Now try to throw Coke upwards into his mouth. Here’s what will happen: very little of the liquid will end up where you want it, everyone will be sticky and disappointed, and someone who doesn’t deserve it will have $6.99 of your money. Same with Gear Aid’s Seam Sure Water Based Seam Sealer.
The design of this product runs so counter to its stated purpose that I initially thought that something extraordinary with my particular bottle was to blame. Perhaps some factory worker pranked me by filling it with deer ejaculate? Dunno. But on the whole I think it’s just more likely that the product is crap.
If you’re wondering if Gear Aid’s Seam Sure Water Based Seam Sealer actually works, I don’t know. Maybe it’s incredibly waterproof and you’re drier than Churchill’s martinis. Maybe it doesn’t work at all, and your tent doubles as a wading pool. Or maybe it’s somewhere in the middle, like coating the seams with peanut butter. You probably stay relatively dry, but there are mice absolutely everywhere. I’ll never know, because I was so annoyed with it that rather than take it back for a refund I threw it in the trash, and then, worried that it might infect other things in my house that actually work, took that trash out to the curb.
Then off to the store to buy some Seam Grip, which unlike Seam Sure comes not just with the bottle applicator but includes a small brush. Also: it’s the right gel-like consistency. Also: the mere thought of it doesn’t make me angry.
Seam sealing is tedious. And time consuming. You’re essentially painting the seams while getting high on seam sealer fumes. And because you’re high on seam sealer fumes, you will miss the one seam that actually needs to be sealed. Which will invariably end up being directly above your head when you’re sleeping. Which you’ll discover a month from now when it’s pouring rain.
Seam sealing is tedious. And time consuming. You’re essentially painting the seams while getting high on seam sealer fumes. And because you’re high on seam sealer fumes, you will miss the one seam that actually needs to be sealed. Which will invariably end up being directly above your head when you’re sleeping. Which you’ll discover a month from now when it’s pouring rain.
But back in the here and now your seam sealing technique will change dramatically from the beginning of the process to the end. At the beginning, you’re being pretty painstaking. Carefully painting the seam, not using too much, wiping up that bit that spilled on the tent floor. But the further into the seam sealing you get, it becomes progressively more important to be finished than neat. Or even dry. You’re slapping gobs of that stuff all over the place. You’re the Jackson Pollock of waterproofing. The paper towels you were using to clean up earlier when you cared are now stuck to your lower back and shoulder. Which means two things: you are most likely going to run out of seam sealer before you finish the job, and you are almost certainly going to get the tube of seam sealer stuck to your hand.
So it’s off to the store for another tube of Seam Grip, driving carefully so as not to get the "tube stuck to it" hand attached permanently to the steering wheel. Then back to the yard and inside the tent, where, although it’s counterintuitive, you really should have started with the seams around the door. Because now you are so ready for the whole thing to be over that you are pretty much done with the small brush, which in any case is currently stuck to the back of your leg. You’re mainlining it now, going directly from tube to seam. And if you’re not careful (and trust me, you’re not careful) there is an excellent chance that you are going to seam seal the door zipper shut, and possibly be forced to live inside the tent forever.
Which is not to say that you’re too stupid to figure out how to escape from the tent. But at the very least we definitely know you’re not smart enough to buy a tent that is factory sealed.
Freedom regained with only minor damage to tent and ego, it’s into the house to wash up and pry off all of the stuff that has been stuck to your body for the past couple of hours. The seam sealer will resist all attempts to “please for the love of god just get off of my hands,” and shortly thereafter, while typing up a piece about seam sealing, your left ring finger will get stuck to one of the keyssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Hiker Vows To "Make the CDT My Bitch"
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| Shane O'Donnell, Future CDT Speed Record Holder |
For Immediate Release 10/26/11
Ignorance and a delusional sense of self-confidence.
That is what Shane O'Donnell will be relying on when he embarks on his bold and quite possibly life-threatening attempt to "not just shatter, but mug at knifepoint and beat senseless" the Continental Divide Trail speed record.
The 41-year-old Roslyn resident plans to depart from the trail's southernmost point in New Mexico early in May - probably on May 1st - in an attempt to complete the trail, which snakes through 5 states from New Mexico to Montana, in record time.
"I'm going to hike the entire CDT in 28 days," says O'Donnell, "I don't just want to break the record. I want to smash the record into small pieces, sauté those pieces, eat them, and then poop them into a 6-8" deep cathole. It's kind of a statement for me."
There is some doubt about the possibility of breaking the record, insofar as it doesn't actually exist. Jackie McDonnell, CDT Guide Book author, explains: “There really isn’t a definitive speed record for the CDT because the trail itself doesn’t have one official route. There are multiple termini, cutoffs, alternates and foul-weather routes. Everyone’s CDT hike is unique in the sense that everyone hikes a slightly different (or sometimes greatly different) trail. Setting a speed record would be meaningless, because it’s incredibly unlikely that any two people would hike the exact same trail. Seems like poor planning. Is Shane O’Donnell even aware of this?”
Shane is aware of this, but insists that poor planning is part of his strategy.
“There are a lot of naysayers and haters out there who know an awful lot about the CDT. But they don’t know anything about me, about my inner drive, my refusal to quit even when what I’m attempting makes no sense whatsoever,” Shane explains, “it’s pretty clear that being completely aware of what I’m facing might crush my unrealistic expectations.”
Even if one assumes that the CDT is, in length, the minimum that has been estimated (approximately 2800 miles), Shane would have to clock 28 straight 100 mile days, including stretches in high altitude mountains that may be impassable due to snow. Is he up to it?
“People tell me that I’m off the wall. But that’s where everyone else is. They’re ‘off the wall’ because they’re ‘on the floor.’ I’m ON the wall, and only I know what that means. But experience? Yeah, I’ve got tons. I was a Boy Scout for a summer when I was, I think, 13. And when I worked in Boston, the other valets and I once built a huge snow cave that we hung out in instead of working, so I’m comfortable with winter extremes. Plus I’ve walked more than 30 miles in a day. I don’t see how 100 miles is much different. Or 28 of them in a row.”
Such a pace suggests that Shane will need to run, most likely for up to 22 hours per day, but he insists that he will hike unsupported. Says Shane, “I guarantee that I will not wear underwear for the entire hike. Wait. What was the question?”
Though he’ll be unsupported, he expects to be followed, in a sense.
“Yeah, I’ll be tweeting, posting to Instagram, and updating on Facebook. Then of course there’ll be my website, and my blog, and interviews I’ll do along the way, plus probably some updates on some charity sites I’ll link to in an attempt to get sponsorship and lessen awareness of my overly apparent narcissism. I expect that everyone will be interested in paying attention to me. Why wouldn’t they?”
While the answer to that may be painfully obvious to some, Shane insists that he will be inspired by all of the doubters, if not by the natural beauty that surrounds him.
“I’ll be thinking about the doubters the whole way as I beat the CDT so bad it’s own mom doesn’t recognize it,” he says, “I mean, they told Napoleon he couldn’t successfully invade Russia, but he didn’t listen, right? I know that complete ignorance and self-delusion only gets you so far, but the fact that I won’t back down tells me this is a lock. When I get done crushing the CDT, the Houston Astros will be making fun of it.”
When contacted for an opinion, Garret “The Onion” Christensen asked, “What does that last sentence even mean?”
Sunday, April 10, 2011
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