My husband, Steve, is obsessed with gear. To give you an idea of the depths of this obsession, in our apartment right now (which is a mere 500 square feet) we have (mostly crammed behind the couch and in the closets):
- - A pair of backcountry skis
- - Two Denali-rated sleeping bags (there are technical terms for how cool these bags are, I just don't know them)
- - Six headlamps of all sizes and brands.
- - a large assortment of climbing cams, caribiners, ropes, etc.
- - Two backpacking stoves
- - Two day packs
- - Four backpacking backpacks
- - Two regular sleeping bags
- - Various other things that number too many to mention: snowshoes, snow shovels, gloves, hats, poles, jackets (hard and soft shell, etc.) And of course, this does not count our tiny storage unit in our basement and our other ridiculously full storage unit down the street. Those are also both packed with gear.
If you can believe it, the situation was actually worse when we lived in a bigger, two-bedroom apartment in Fort Collins, Colorado.
Having that extra room meant that all the gear was stored there, which meant sleepover guests were snoozing with ice axes poking in their sides and their feet resting on therma-rests. (Oh, sorry, I forgot that we also have three therma-rests in this apartment.)
Part of this is because Steve is climbing Denali this May, which I've recently realized is just an excuse to buy more gear. Don't get me wrong - I'm not entirely unhappy with this gear love affair because, to absolve himself of guilt, (and mostly because he occasionally runs out of ideas of things to buy for himself), I now get gear as well.
My favorites over the last six months? An ultra-lite backpack, a lighter, warmer sleeping bag, an Arcteryx hard-shell jacket (note: Arcteryx is the Vera Wang of outdoor gear - more about that later), and snowshoes, twice. (The first pair wasn't good enough for Steve.)
So, the moral of this story is this: if you're married to a gear head, don't live in a 500-square-foot apartment.
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