Mountain Hardwear Navigation Pant
June 27, 2008
As a professional hobbyist gear reviewer, it’s sometimes quite entertaining to read other reviews, particularly when it comes to the utter body-image defensiveness brought on by the inevitably varying fits of pants. I read one review that consisted of, almost verbatim: “I bought these pants in an 8 when I was pregnant. Then I gave birth and bought another pair in a six! A few months later I’d lost most of the weight and bought these pants again in a 4. And now I’m back to a 2! I love these pants!” Somehow I suspect that was less of a gear review and more of a “hey everyone, I wear a size 2 after having a child!” announcement.
My second favorite was the one berating women for not fitting into Mountain Hardwear pants, but in a passive-aggressive way, as in “Finally! Pants made for women with an actual athletic build!” as if should one not fit these pants, they don’t have an athletic build. I’m relatively sure I’ve been guilty of those little digs before, but now they’ve bitten me in the proverbial ass with the Navigation Pants. I won’t hold that against them, though, for I recognize that different body types exist. So, the Navigation Pants don’t fit me that well. The small size is too small (I don’t need pants that tight in the backcountry. Seriously.) and the medium would be okay but the waist is too big. So I could snap the outer snap to the inside snap and the mediums would work, but the snaps are different so that’s no good. They don’t have ordinary belt loops so a decent belt doesn’t work, and the belt that comes with the pants is too narrow and weird for actually holding the pants up. I’m just kind of out of luck with it, which is sad, because I really like the pants.
They have this cool seam-thing that, combined with the articulated knees, makes them functional AND rad-looking (I am bringing back “rad”). They have zip-off, integrated scree gaiters, well-placed pockets (including my favorite thigh pockets), and they shed rain, mud, and slush. They are fairly breathable even for being shell pants, and I’ve worn them comfortably in temperatures up to 60 degrees.
Fair warning, though, these are not brush-cutting pants. They don’t hold the thorns at bay – but they hold the weather at bay, so for alpine and other non-bushwhacking activities, you’re assured of a day of comfort in the Navigation Pants.
Superfeet Blue Insoles
June 27, 2008
All right, so I’ve been harsh on Superfeet before, but I must atone, at least when it comes to the original, classic Superfeet Blue.
I struggled with all the fancy ‘new’ versions of Superfeet, tried other insoles, and was generally unsatisfied and disgruntled with the whole thing, until I realized – my most comfortable pair of shoes were always those sporting my manky, 10 year-old (seriously! TEN years) Superfeet blue insoles. And let me tell you, after 10 years, it’s amazing anyone stayed friends with me with those insoles anywhere near. So I bravely purchased another pair, and they’re exactly the same. My old friends, Superfeet blue. I don’t know what’s different, but it works. And I am NOT throwing out those 10-year-old ones. They’re still good, they’re still good!
Mountain Hardwear Stimulus Jacket
June 27, 2008
Updated post! I always swear I’ll come back and update these posts over the years but I rarely do. However, this event was so noteworthy that I just had to revisit this post. As you can tell from the review below and from the fact that I wear this thing on just about every trip, I really love this jacket. For those of you curious as to how long this wispy piece is meant to last, I finally know: From 6/27/2008 to 2/01/2010. For on that latter date I was severely bummed to discover that my precious Stimulus hadn’t survived the last washing. Whatever totally bizarre material holds together around the mosquito-mesh-style base had finally disintegrated. Last time I wore it in the rain I had noticed I hadn’t stayed exactly dry underneath but I chalked it up to a charming combination of sweat and rain let in by my protruding base layer cuffs. But alas, it was because the Stimulus was no longer comprised of magic waterproofing – along the shoulders it is basically just mosquito mesh. The rest of the fabric is just kind of gone. So, the Stimulus life span is a year and a half, basically. Which really isn’t too bad considering that I don’t exactly treat my gear kindly, and I really did wear this a lot. RIP Stimulus, you served me well. Good thing I bought another one of you.
Whoa. Does this thing perform. It weighs almost nothing, it is freakishly warm, completely waterproof, and perfectly cut. I don’t know who’s at the helm of Mountain Hardwear design this summer, but I’d like to buy you a drink, my friend. Everything upper-body fits me perfectly this year. Lower body – well, you owe ME a drink. More on that in other posts, I’m sure. But still – credit needs to be given where due for the flattering slim yet forgiving cut, roomy-but-somehow-trim sleeves, and absolutely heavenly tops-of-hipbones length. Don’t change a thing, this cut deserves an Oscar! A Nobel Prize! Something really good, anyway.
Anyway, the Stimulus is my go-to jacket for summertime. I don’t think it’s even made it back to the hanger – once I got over how delicate it is! This is not a tough item. I know, I know, “superlight” does not equal abuse-proof. But man, was I bummed when I tore the Stimulus the very first time I wore it. Lame! Okay, so I was climbing a tree, so when you’re innocently minding your own business and are suddenly set upon by a charging bear and have to climb a tree to escape, do not expect your Stimulus to survive the experience. That’s not why I was climbing the tree, but that’s neither here nor there.
With a little of that Alaskan staple, duct tape, and a little seam sealer, my Stimulus is back to being waterproof. But at $150+, I wouldn’t want to risk going anywhere near bushes, trees, shrubs, sticks, rocks, car doors, or corners, so it’s your call. Not to downplay the excellent performance of this piece, but this is one expensive windbreaker, people. For above-treeline pursuits, you won’t need anything else for midsummer day hikes – I know, you won’t believe that, but it’s true. Honestly, I don’t even bother bringing another jacket anymore unless it’s under 50 degrees outside. If you conduct all of your below-treeline workouts on 30 foot-wide trails (you laugh, but you haven’t seen the ski “trails” around here), the Stimulus is for you.
Speaking of duct tape, though, I think the color of the Stimulus is noteworthy. It is blessedly not neon green, turquoise, dandelion, electric blue, or orangey-red. It is almost exactly duct tape colored. Really handy when making repairs, for certain, but also a welcome relief from the fashion-driven color schemes this year. It’s not that handy when you want to make yourself visible, but honestly I love the understated grey. Whatever happened to normal colors like grey and brown and black? Or even, you know, “red” or “blue”? Am I the only one who doesn’t want to dress like a Hyperdry t-shirt (remember those)? It seems like all the manufacturers get together every year to decide on the three colors they all going to offer. None of them can break this lockstep or something bad will happen (kind of like if the Lost castaways stop typing in those numbers! Yes, I’m a few seasons behind). If you buy shoes and a jacket in the same year they’ll probably end up being the same color. I feel like an idiot riding along in a supercoordinated set of clothing that ends up looking like an “outfit” even when I didn’t intend to dress so matchy-matchy. Anyway, big thumbs up to the grey color. It matches most stuff but not in a “matchy” way. I will warn you, though, I will get mighty suspicious if everyone shows grey-colored clothing next year….
Scarpa Diva A/T Boot
June 27, 2008
It’s summer! What better time for a ski boot review? Okay, so I’m a little behind on my gear review pile. But Scarpa said they won’t be making changes to the boot so this review still applies to next year’s Diva. So in a way, I got to test a prototype!
This boot was tested by two, count ‘em, TWO Geargals. One of whom (me) does the writing, and the other provides thoughtful, technical appraisals such as “I love them! They’re white, and they’re called Divas!” Hmm. Guess I’m on my own on this one.
They are pretty and have a cute name, but there are other reasons to love this boot. They’re light. They’re Dynafit compatible. They have Intuition moldable liners (heaven!). They’re nicely stiff, and even if they’re not stiff enough, they come with an extra super mega-stiff tongue that can be swapped out with the hinged, flexible touring tongue. Scarpa told me “it’s like getting two boots in one!” which I’ll just have to take their word for because not only am I a touring skier, I’m a lazy touring skier who doesn’t like to carry extra things and therefore never lugged the extra tongues up any mountains to test them out. I also didn’t want to sit in the snow trying to swap out ski boot tongues, so I never even tried to see how easy or difficult it was to do. Bad tester! I’m, er, sure they’re really nice tongues though.
So, I only skied the Divas with the flexible touring tongue, but even so, the boot was plenty stiff for me, a welcome relief after trying other mushy touring boots. The micro-adjustable four buckles made for a snug, custom fit, though with the genius instep strap, the fourth buckle almost seems superfluous. That instep strap is probably the best idea ever (except for all of the other “best ideas ever” I’ve mentioned in this blog) because it completely eliminates heel lift and lateral slop. It’s awesome! Not in the classic sense of awesome as in “inspiring awe” but awesome as in “totally rad!” Look I said I was behind on the reviews. You’re stuck with “awesome.” And awesome is how these boots ski – in all conditions they were solid and dependable. I was surprised at how well the boots performed on ice and in various other lousy ski conditions – usually a light boot means a performance trade-off, but not this time. For serious alpine touring divas, the Diva really is the holy grail. Do all rave reviews fall back on that hackneyed metaphor? Gads, I’m slipping.
The instep strap buckle itself, while an excellent design, is kind of nonintuitive and a little strange to adjust – at first look, it appears to be kind of a ratchet type of system, which I guess it is, but it doesn’t really ratchet. You just shove it through the buckle and then strap it down. It would be nicer if you could ratchet it tight when it’s already buckled, so that you don’t just have to just guess how much to shove through. My other tester reported problems with ice buildup in the buckle when she’d undo it while skinning up. I didn’t have that problem, mostly because I skin with my boots buckled, but I can see how it could happen.
The Divas shine in the uptrack, as well, in large part thanks to that very nice flexible touring tongue. I think that the hallmark of a good touring boot is that you really don’t notice it much while skinning, and the Diva fits that bill perfectly. While trudging up the mountain (otherwise known as “touring”, but come on – it’s just trudging up the mountain. No amount of sugar coating will change that), you don’t have to think about, be distracted by, or otherwise notice the Divas. If you’re coming from a heavier boot, you might notice how light the Divas are, but that is an acceptable distraction for certain.
Julbo Trail Sunglasses
June 19, 2008
I thought it reasonable to follow a mountain bike review with a mountain biking accessory review. Technically the Trail sunglasses are an accessory, but they’ve become one of my favorite things about biking this season. Truly a breakthough in sunglass technology (like I’m a world class evaluator of sunglass technology, I’m so sure), these frames are light and they STAY PUT. This might have something to do with the complicated arrangement of bandannas, ponytails, helmet straps, and sunglass positioning that I have down to a science, but even when I wear the Trails for other pursuits such as running, they grip like geckos and don’t slide, shift, or create pressure points. I used geckos for that simile because geckos are light and small, but also a little edgy (because, after all, they are reptiles), just like the Trail sunglasses. The Trails don’t leave the dreaded nose marks that other types of frames leave. I’ve gotten sweat burns -lovely, eh? – from other sunglasses because of the way they dig into the bridge of my nose, but the Trails have yet to mar my countenance with such unsightly marks.
So the frames themselves are great because of comfort and fit, but the extra genius of the Trails is their photochromatic lenses that darken and lighten according to the type of light you’re in. Remember that kid in your sixth grade glass who had photochromatic lenses that were sunglasses while he was outside but supposed to be regular glasses inside, but they never quite got all the way clear in the classroom so he always looked like he wore slightly tinted sunglasses? Well, photochromatic technology has come a long way these days (again, me = expert). The Trails start with kind of a yellow tint, but darken to amber in the direct sunlight. The lenses adjust so well that I never notice the change – all I notice is that there is no glare and that I feel like I’m not even wearing sunglasses. And that’s no exaggeration – the first few times I wore the Trails, I forgot I had them on and tried to take my helmet off at the end of the ride, only to get it hopelessly tangled in the aforementioned complicated bandanna-sunglass-helmet strap arrangement. Nothing looks cooler than struggling to get your helmet off because your sunglasses are holding it in place, let me tell you.
What’s even better is that at their darkest, the Trails still allow the wearer to see true colors. Everything looks normal, just with zero glare. I have the most sensitive eyes in the world (the WORLD!), complete with swelling and burning if I get too much sun, and so far the Trails have never let me down.
One caveat – these are not exactly high fashion frames for anything but biking. They are designed to fit when one is wearing a helmet, so they don’t look exactly right if you don’t have a helmet on. I wear them for hiking and running, too, but wearing them with a baseball cap seems a little off, because they push the baseball cap up too high on my forehead. Baseball caps come down lower on the forehead than helmets, so it makes sense, but it’s sad because I’d love to have these lenses in frames that fit with my favorite baseball cap as well as they fit with my helmet.
The lenses are also “soft” and flexible – just how flexible, I’m not sure, because it felt so unnatural to bend my sunglass lenses that I stopped messing with them in case they might break. I’m pretty sure they can still break, but they seem pretty tough. I think the flexibility of the lenses is also to reduce the carnage in a crash, however I think that firm plastic can still cut you pretty effectively in a high-velocity impact, so don’t expect the Trails to perform miracles on that count. Pretty much everything else about them is a miracle, so if you’re a biker and you don’t have these, what are you waiting for?
$134.90 at backcountry.com! Click here!
Titus Racer X Mountain Bike
June 17, 2008
I was never a great mountain biker, no matter how much I liked biking. I would watch with envy at my bike-savvy friends as they bunny-hopped over rocks, powered up steep inclines, and zipped over roots with ease. Usually I’d be watching from the ground, where I’d been unceremoniously flung for the umpteenth time that day, my bike dumping me like a Shetland pony ditching its rider to gallop away for its grain fix back at the barn. The good thing about Shetland ponies is that they don’t have clipless pedals, so you’re not likely to end up in a tangle on the ground with your pony like I was so often with my bike. The bad thing about Shetland ponies is that, unlike bikes, they gallop on back to the barn without you when you fall off. Anyway, no matter how much I biked, I just could not master the technical aspects of the sport. I kept on riding, sticking to the easier trails and just trying to accept that I’d never be a great biker. Still, toying with the idea of upgrading my Mesolithic-era hardtail, I innocently agreed to demo a Racer X. Little did I know that that one simple act would change my biking, my life, and my finances.
The first thing I did with the Racer X was almost crash it into a tree. You see, there was a turn coming up, and in preparing for the turn (heck, just by thinking about the turn), I somehow telegraphed to the Racer X that it was to execute a sharp left turn and it sure did. Immediately. And I mean immediately. Almost right into the tree – but because it was a Racer X, I didn’t hit the tree – I was able to recover and pedal on, awestruck at the handling of this ride. That was my first clue that this bike was something special.
I became bolder and more confident about the lines I chose by the end of that first ride. As the week wore on, I was clearing trails that I never would have even tried on my hardtail. The Racer X goes exactly where you tell it to go. It is snappy, energetic, and so responsive that there’s almost not a word for it. Balanced to perfection, it handles obstacles, long climbs, rough descents, and twisty singletrack with ease. It got me out of trouble so many times I stopped being scared of falling, because falling just seemed like an impossibility on the Racer X. By the end of my “one day” (read: a week and a half) demo, I was probably 50 times the rider I used to be, and that is no joke. Lulled into a complacent cockiness, I (sadly) returned the demo and convinced myself that I didn’t really need such a high end bike.
The next day I hopped on my beater hardtail, convinced that although those technical singletracks would be rougher without the Racer X between me and them, I was a better rider than I used to be and I would be able to handle it. Oh, how wrong I was. A few hours, several saucer-sized bruises (one especially deep to my ego), and endless embarrassments later, I was forced to admit that I was not a better rider. The Racer X was just a better bike and it makes an immense difference. So now I put a Racer X between me and the trail. I know still the same rider I was on my Shetland pony hardtail, and I’m really not the badass technical rider I now pretend to be on my Racer X. It’s really the Racer X making me look good, but you know what? No one can tell the difference.
So, my advice? Don’t even think about demoing this bike unless you’re ready to buy it. You won’t be able to go back, so don’t even try. For those of you who are concerned about fit, Titus makes fully custom bikes and also makes the Racer X in a women’s version, with several sizes available. I went with the regular (unisex – bleah! But this one time, it’s OK.) frame, knowing that since I prefer a more stretched-out feeling on a bike, I wouldn’t like the shorter top tube of a women’s-specific frame, and I’m perfectly happy with the fit of the bike.
A few wee complaints: the cables are held to the bottom of the top tube with two pieces of panduit. Civilians call these “zip ties” but I find that it’s much cooler to call them “panduit” because it sounds techy. Anyway, the panduit is trimmed to fit the top tube, but sticks out just enough to stab you in the thigh if you’re standing over your bike (say, looking at a trail map, thinking “wow, when they say ’swamp area’ they really mean it”), and have done some damage to my favorite non-cheap bike shorts. This irks me not because of the fact that my shorts got ripped, but because it would have been so easily avoidable had Titus just trimed the panduit so that the sharp ends are down instead of to the side. I know my bike shop can take care of it, but it’s annoying just the same.
My other complaint about the bike, which, if you’ll note, has nothing to do with performance, is that on rough descents the chain rattles on the rear triangle so noisily that it drives me to distraction. Again, an easy fix would be to install a thin neoprene sleeve or other pad that muffles the chain noise. That’s exactly what I’m going to do, but it would have been even nicer had Titus already done it for me. This was a problem with the demo bike and with my personal bike, so it seems that it’s a Titus hallmark. Just put a little neoprene pad on there, Titus, and all will be well. Okay?
One other piece of advice: if you’re going to make this kind of investment in your health and riding ability, also make an investment in a quality bike shop that knows you and how you ride. You can put all the Benjamins you want into a bike, but if your bike shop doesn’t fit you right, you won’t be all the rider you can be. Unless you are an expert and can dial in the fit yourself, get a professional fitting at a shop that knows what it’s doing, and be loyal. A good bike shop is as good as a trustworthy mechanic, and they should be willing to work with you to fit your bike to you properly. The bike shop is also usually your contact to the bike manufacturer, and if you’re a good customer you won’t have any problems with warranty and/or repair issues.
Not that you’re likely to have those with the Racer X; this is one solid machine, with quality welds and engineering that makes me actually thankful that there are engineers in the world (most of the time this is not the case – see Dilbert for examples). Believe the hype about this bike, and get ready to upgrade your skills beyond what you ever thought you were capable of.
