24: Craig Meadows

… in the distant woods or fields, in unpretending sprout-lands or pastures tracked by rabbits, even in a bleak and, to most, cheerless day, like this, when a villager would be thinking of his inn, I come to myself, I once more feel myself grandly related, and that cold and solitude are friends of mine. I suppose that this value, in my case, is equivalent to what others get by churchgoing and prayer. I come home to my solitary woodland walk as the homesick go home.

–Henry David Thoreau

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The sound of a woodpecker hammering against a hollow tree reverberates through the lodgepole forest.  A damp chill creeps into my bones. The sky is gray and silent as if waiting for something.  There are no other vehicles at the trailhead.  The temperature has dropped thirty degrees over the past twenty-four hours and the forecast is for three days of rain and snow.

Standing here with my overnight pack on my back, a feeling of doubt comes over me. The forest and sky offer no answers.  I take my first step onto the trail, then another.  Soon the rhythm of my footsteps replaces uncertainty and things begin to feel right again.

Though the calendar says May, it’s not quite spring here yet.  The landscape is mostly green and gray punctuated by an occasional yellow flower or red berry.

Reaching an aspen grove, I pause for a moment to listen.  There is nothing but a muffled silence.  The rolling slopes of the hills beyond are not visible today.  Just a cold wet mist creeping silently toward me like a ghost through the silvery trunks of the aspen.

Something moves at the edge of my vision and falls to the ground. It takes a second to realize that it’s a snowflake.  Two more flakes drift out of the sky and then it is snowing. I pull down the ear flaps of my hat and flip up the hood of my windshirt and continue up the Colorado Trail.

Coming to the junction with the Payne Creek trail, I turn right and hike downhill through the forest.

Snowflakes cling to spider webs along the trail.  The webs are now visible spread across the landscape in every direction.

The snow tapers off, then stops. The thin layer of new snow sinks into the thirsty ground and disappears. I descend farther through the woods and emerge into Craig Meadows.

I hike on through the meadows under leaden skies.  A beaver pond appears on my left and I leave the trail to take a good look at it.  While staring at the reflections of evergreens in the pond, ripples suddenly appear on the surface of the water.  This time there is no mistaking what this means.  The heavens open up and within a few seconds, I’m standing by the pond in near whiteout conditions. Spotting a large pine by the side of the trail, I hurry toward it and huddle in its shelter while surveying the landscape around me.

The storm shows no signs of abating. I put on my rain jacket and pants and try to form a plan. Remembering a flat area I hiked past, I leave the shelter of the tree and make a beeline toward it.

The snow comes down harder and I can barely see more than a couple of feet in front of me. This is a heavy wet snow that clings to my rain gear and soaks my trail runners and socks.  I find a spot in the lee of another tree, pull my shelter out of my pack, stake out the two windward corners, then hop under it, dragging my pack and trekking poles behind me. Quickly, I stake the front corners of my shelter, then pop up the roof with my trekking poles, then stake the sides out.  Once I realize that I’m out of danger, laughter overtakes me.  This will be a fun place to wait out the weather.  While the storm rages outside, I roll out my ground sheet, blow up my mattress, and lay my sleeping bag on top of it. Wet rain gear gets put to the side and I crawl into my sleeping bag and listen to the sound of snow hitting the roof and of Craig Creek rushing by in the near distance. Then I pull out my harmonica and while away the time practicing my favorite Charlie McCoy licks.

The storm eases a bit, then stops. Peering out the door of my shelter, I can see that the sky is still heavily overcast and that the snow has totally transformed the landscape.  It’s a perfect time for a hike. I pack a water bottle and a couple of energy bars and my rain gear and walk up the trail past the beaver pond and the icy meadow grasses and the frosted trees into the forest beyond. After an hour or so, it starts snowing again, this time more gently. I turn around and hike back to Craig Meadows.

 I cook dinner beneath the boughs of a tall evergreen and then retreat to my shelter.  Stepping through the open door, I become acutely aware of the warmth and dryness these few square feet provide in this cold wet landscape and I’m profoundly thankful for it.

Lying in my sleeping bag, I listen to the hypnotic sound of snow flakes hitting the steep walls of my shelter and sliding to the ground. Soon the gray day becomes black and I drift off into a deep sleep.

Sometime during the night, I dream of shadow puppets performing a play against a giant screen. Opening my eyes, I see shadows of pine branches dancing up and down against the golden walls of my shelter.  It takes a minute to realize the moon is the source of light creating the shadows and that the clouds have moved on.  The night turns colder and I burrow deeply into my sleeping bag.

A lone bird perched in the tree above wakes me up before dawn. Grabbing my camera, I walk out into the new day.

The sun comes up while I’m having a breakfast of muesli and walnuts and craisins by the banks of Craig Creek.  Fog lifts from the ground and hangs in the deep green mountains at the other side of the meadow. 

It’s tempting to just linger here but I’m due back in town. So I pack my wet gear, shoulder my pack, and hike back up to the Colorado Trail.  Passing through the aspen grove again, I look out past the trees toward the rolling slopes of the Platte River mountains bathed in early morning light

Then I walk on toward the trailhead and my home in the city.  But it’s good know that I have another home here, a place where I know I’ll be taken in.

Lightweight Backpacking Tripod Drops Some Weight

On my latest backpacking trip, I had plenty of opportunity to put the Giottos RT-8150 through the paces.  For the most part, I found it a real pleasure to use.  It was easy to deploy and strong enough to support my 25 oz (709 g) DSLR. One thing I noticed, though, is that the head sometimes required a bit of fiddling in order to get the composition I wanted in the viewfinder.  Being more accustomed to traditional ball heads, I soon found that this slowed me down in the field and got in the way of the creative process. In short, it was annoying.  Upon arriving back home, I decided to take care of this problem. There was only one solution:  Off with her head.

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Tools Needed:  Hacksaw.  1/4″ round file.

Parts needed: Giottos MH 1004 Min Ball Head.

Hardware needed: 1/4″-20×1″ bolt, 14s flat washer, 1/4″ lock washer.

Step 1: Saw the head off your Giottos RT-8150.  Cut as close to the metal triangular cap that covers the hinge assembly as you can get. Don’t worry about scuffing it. You’ll probably decide not to use it, but if you do, you can always touch it up with black paint.

Step 2: Pull off the metal cap and set it aside.

Step 3: This is an optional step, but it will save you 0.3 oz (8 g).  Unscrew each leg from the hinge assembly and pull off the silver caps.

 Step 4: With the round file, take off the little bits of metal in the hole of the hinge assembly that are blocking you from inserting the 1/4″ screw. Alternately, you can use an electric drill and 1/4″ bit.

Step 5:  Insert the 1/4″ screw and 14s flat washer into the bottom of the hinge assembly. Larger diameter washers will prevent the legs of the tripod from closing completely.

Step 6:  Put the 1/4″ lock washer onto the bolt.  Screw the Giottos MH 1040 ball head onto the bolt until is finger tight.  Make sure the thumbscrew on the ballhead is locked down before you do this.

Step 7: Screw the legs back onto the hinge assembly.

Step 8: Let’s weigh it. 12.3 oz. (349 g) total. Not bad. We saved 6 oz. (170 g) or almost a third of the original weight. Just as important, we gained function.

Let’s take it outside.

Like the original head, the Giottos MH 1004 will hold my camera still without slipping, even in portrait orientation. Unlike with the original head, I can quickly and easily point the camera in any direction I want.

Taking off the metal hinge assembly cap allows each leg to be opened at any angle you choose. This is really an advantage when setting up your tripod on uneven ground.  Combined  with the eight section legs this gives you infinite height adjustment, from the ground up to it’s full height. What you’re giving up is the ability to lock the leg angle.  From experimentation with the modified tripod, I’ve found that in outdoors situations, you really don’t need to lock the legs. The ground provides enough friction to hold the leg angles steady as long as you use a little common sense when setting up the tripod  But if you’re worried about the tripod legs slipping out and destroying your expensive camera, you can just put the metal cap back on. This will add an additional 0.6 oz. (17 g).

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Comparison with Zipshot:

The closest competitor in this weight class to my modified Giottos RT-8150 is the Tamrac Zipshot.  Let’s compare them head to head.

Weight:  The modified Giottos weighs 12.3 oz.(349 g) while the Zipshot weighs 11.1 oz.(315 g). Slight advantage to the Zipshot.

Height: From the floor to the top of the modified Giottos is 40.25″ (102cm).  For the Zipshot, it’s 41.25 ” (105 cm).  Again a slight advantage to the Zipshot.

Compactness: When collapsed, the modified Giottos is 11.75″ (30cm) long with a circumference of 4.25″ (11cm).  The Zipshot is 15.75″ (40cm) long with a 5″ (13 cm) circumference.  Advantage goes to the Giottos.

Speed of Deployment:  Both are much quicker than a traditional tripod. With the Zipshot, you undo two pieces of shock cord and shake the tripod until the legs snap into position. In practice, sometimes you have to assemble some of the leg sections by hand, but it’s still a very quick process. With the Giottos, you pull each of the telescoping legs out, then twist the second from the top leg sections to lock them.  Both processes are very quick and easy and neither tripod has an advantage here.

Leg stability: Both are somewhat noodly and no match for the stability of heavier tripods.  Both are fine in still conditions or in a light breeze as long as you turn on your image stabilization. Hanging your backpack from either one will help when the wind is stronger. I’ll call this one a draw.

Leg adjustability: The modified Giottos has infinite height adjustability due to the fact the it has eight sections and each leg can be set at a slightly different angle.  The Zipshot basically has one setting that is easy to use and three others that can be set by folding up the legs and holding them in place with rubber bands. Advantage to the modified Giottos.

Ballhead: This is what I see as the big disadvantage to the Zipshot. The way the head attaches to the legs makes it wobble as you’re trying to set up your shot.  In contrast, the head of the modified Giottos stays put where you set it.

Quality: This is admittedly a subjective evaluation, but I feel that the Giottos is superior to the Zipshot in quality. I didn’t think about this much before I started pulling the Giottos apart.  My impression upon inspecting the individual parts of the Giottos is that it is well made and nicely put together.

Price: The Zipshot sells for $50. The Giottos RT-8150 costs $34 and the Giottos 1004 Mini Ball Head, $12.99. Add a few dollars for the hardware and you have a wash.

I’ll be testing the modified Giottos on my upcoming backpacking trips and reporting on what works, what doesn’t, and how things can be made better.

Temple Canyon

A green metal gate blocks the way forward. The chain holding the gate closed has a padlock affixed to it. I’m not sure what this means. Standing there for a minute or two, I consider the possibilities. A spirit of adventure takes over. Leaning my Pacerpoles against the fence, I clamber over, my overnight pack clinging to my back like a monkey.

The landscape here is strangely beautiful.  Cactus glow in the morning light as if lit from within. Soon I am relearning some of the lessons of the desert.  Never sit down without checking what you’ll be sitting on.  Watch where you put your hands and feet.  Take your eye out of the viewfinder and check around when advancing on your photographic subject.

All plant life here seems able to defend itself. I pull cactus spines out my hands, feet and legs, then walk on.

The day heats up as the sun rises higher in the sky and reflects off the rock walls of the canyon. Finding a shaded alcove by the side of Grape Creek, I pause for a while to drink in the coolness.

Scanning the creek for a crossing, I choose a line and plunge in, using my trekking poles for balance. The current pulls against my legs as I carefully navigate around the boulders, holes, and green slime on the creek bed.

Once on the other side, I detect a path that leads steeply up a canyon wall.  Despite the heat, the exertion feels good. It’s been too long since I’ve had an overnight pack on my back.

High above the creek, something feels off.  A look across  the canyon reveals a straight line that looks like an old narrow-gauge railroad grade. A map check confirms that that’s where the trail is. I hike back down to the bottom of the canyon and begin again.

Temple Canyon winds like a serpent between steep rock walls. The old railroad grade climbs and clings to the right side of the canyon. Lizards dart from rock to rock in the stillness and heat of the noonday sun.  Standing still, the only thing I can hear is the sound of water cascading over rocks in the creek far below.

The canyon narrows, and the railroad grade ends. I pick my way down toward Grape Creek. Steep rock walls on either side of the creek seem to block further passage. This must be the part of the canyon that is referred to as The Tights.  There is something eerily enchanting about this place. Perhaps something forbidding as well. While I’m resting in the shade of a damp canyon wall, a cloud passes over the sun. A shiver runs through my body.

There is no way forward but through the creek, so I wade in.  Picking up a hint of a trail, I follow it through brush and squeeze between some boulders. Another cold creek crossing. Making my way forward, I come to a cliff and have to cross Grape Creek yet again.

Standing there thinking that this is as far as I can go, I notice a bit of trail leading up away from the creek. I follow it.

A barbed wire fence blocks my way. At the end of it, abutting a canyon wall is another green metal gate. This one, I realize, is meant to block cattle from becoming lost and hurt in the canyon. I step through the gate and wrap the chain back around the post.

The landscape changes dramatically. Here Grape Creek runs through a wide, gentle valley. This is cattle country. Desiccated cow pies are scattered into the distance. A skeleton lies there bleaching in the midday sun. A little farther up the creek is a dead cow. How she died is a mystery to me. There is something odd in the shape of her jaw. Scavengers seem to have just left her alone.

Crossing the creek again, I hike on. Clouds arise here and there and a bit of a breeze, providing relief from the heat.  Sagebrush and cactus dot the sandy terrain. I poke into a side canyon, then return to the creek.

After a while, I stop and look back. Something is drawing me back toward The Tights  I turn around and start walking back across the desert.

A couple of creek crossings later, I’m passing the dead cow and the skeleton, the cattle gate, and the rock gates of The Tights. This part of the canyon is fascinating to me, and I spend the rest of the afternoon exploring it.

Evening approaches.  I go back through the cattle gate, cross Grape Creek and set up my shelter near a dry wash a ways up from the creek. After eating dinner and hanging my food bag from a tall juniper, I sit outside the shelter and scan the open landscape as the last bit of light drains from the day.

It’s a clear, still night that turns colder as morning approaches  Exiting the open door of my shelter, I breathe in the dust and juniper and watch the constellations glimmer in the naked black sky.

The stars fade. The silhouette of a canyon rim starts to take shape in the murky light. Wearing all my clothes, I head back to The Tights.

The first stream crossing is icy cold, and the others are no better.  With no sun to warm them between crossings, my feet remain numb.  Still, there is an undeniable magic in this place in the predawn light.  Scampering up and down, I try to take it all in.

A water ouzel flies low up Grape Creek, perches on a boulder, bobs up and down and then flies under a waterfall. A minute later, she emerges, bobs a few more times on a wet rock, then disappears upstream.

Hunger drives me back to camp, and I reach my shelter just as the sun emerges over the eastern canyon wall.  Sitting just inside my shelter, I peel off cold, wet socks and trail runners and let the sweet warmth of the new sun bring life back to my frozen feet.

After a leisurely breakfast, I pack up camp, cross the creek, and pass through The Tights one last time.

This last day of March is unseasonably warm, and soon I’m hiking back down the canyon dressed in just a thin nylon shirt and pants.

Rounding a bend in the trail, I come face to face with a large mule deer. She stares at me wild-eyed, then bounds up the steep, rocky slope behind her. Her smaller companions flee in a panic down the trail before me.

Shadows retreat. Rocks walls shimmer in the heat of the sun. Cactus spines glow. Lizards skitter across boulders. Grape Creek flows on.

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 During the Temple Canyon trip, I had plenty of time to experiment with my backpacking tripod (the Giottos 8000) and discover the pros and cons. Since then, I’ve made modifications that both increase function and drop weight. Find out how in the next Dondo Outdoors post.

Another Tripod Option for Lightweight Backpackers

Despite image stabilization and improved image quality at higher ISOs, there are times when only a tripod will do.  Want that silky stream or waterfall photo? How about capturing the subtle light on the landscape at dawn or dusk? Both situations require longer shutter speeds and thus a tripod for a sharp image.

The reason many lightweight backpackers are so reluctant to carry a tripod is the weight and the bulk. Over the years, I’ve tried several store-bought and home made options with varying degrees of success, including my sub-four ounce carbon-fiber tripod and my trekking pole tripod. This season, I decided to try something different. First, I drew up a list of my requirements:

• Very compact. Sometimes I leave a tripod behind, especially on day trips, because strapping a tripod to my pack just isn’t very convenient. I was looking for something compact enough that I wouldn’t hesitate to throw it into my daypack or tuck it into the side pocket of my overnight pack.
• Very light.  The best tripod is the one that you happen to have with you.  On occasion, I’ve left my two-pound tripod at home because I didn’t want to carry the extra weight up and down hills.  My target weight this season was approximately one pound.
• At least waist height. My ideal is a full-sized tripod but I realized that compromises would have to be made to reach my weight and size goals. Waist height would at least get me up over the weeds.
• Adjustable height. In the past, I’ve used the 11 oz. Tamrac Zipshot. Though it can be adjusted to four different heights by folding up the lower legs and holding them in place with rubber bands, the process is rather cumbersome.  I was looking for something a little more elegant with more height options.
• Head able to hold my small DSLR with kit lens vertically without slippage. Landscape orientation is pretty easy for most heads because the camera is balanced right over the pivot point.  Portrait orientation is more tricky.
• Inexpensive.  Some say that all roads to lightweight tripod bliss lead inexorably toward the Gitzo Mountaineer 0531 combined with the Really Right Stuff BH-25 head. That may be true, but since I didn’t have $500 burning a hole in my pocket, I decided to settle for less than bliss with a more modest price point, say a tenth of that: $50. Since I tend to be hard on tripods, I would not cry so hard if I broke it or dropped it off a cliff.

A scan of the online B&H catalog quickly turned up two prospects; the Cullman Alpha 1000 and the Giottos RT 8000. Both weigh slightly more than my one pound limit. After dithering back and forth for a few days, I ordered the Giottos. Because it attains it’s full height without the use of a center column, I figured it would be more stable.

I’ve had a chance to play with the Giottos about a week now, both at home and in the field.  Here’s an evaluation of how it meets the criteria listed above.

• Very compact. Scores well here. 11″ (28 cm) long when collapsed. Fits easily into it’s case and tucks away into the side pocket of my Vapor Trail.
• Very Light. Didn’t quite make my goal of one pound, but at 18.3 oz.(519 g), I can’t imagine that I’ll ever leave the Giottos behind because of weight considerations.
• At least waist height. Good. The platform of the head is just over 40″ (102 cm) from the ground. Less than full height is my major compromise to get to this weight. Though I prefer composing with the optical viewfinder of my camera, and can reach it by bending, I can see how the live-view function will come in handy.
• Adjustable height.  Only fair, but far better than the Zip-Shot. Each leg is made up of eight telescoping sections of copper tubing held in place by spring-loaded pins. So you get eight different heights, from 40″ (102 cm) down to 11.5″ (28 cm). It deploys more quickly than a traditional tripod, because all sections except the top one lock automatically. To get down to the next level, you have to tap each leg on the ground and lower it section by section. It’s not too bad, but not as easy as traditional flip or twist locks.  Maybe I just have to get used to it.

• Head able to hold my camera vertically without slipping. This was my big question mark with this one as it is with any very light head. I’m happy to report that it works with my light DSLR, which weighs 25.3 oz. (717 g)  including kit lens and polarizing filter. Giottos rate the RT 8000 as being able to hold 1.8 lbs.(.8 kg) and that seems reasonable to me. My camera is approaching the weight limit but seems stable enough. Most p&s and mirrorless cameras would get enough support.
• Inexpensive. $34 at B&H, including free shipping. That didn’t hurt too much. We’ll see if inexpensive equals cheap as the hiking season goes on.  My initial impression, though, it that the Giottos RT 8000 is a solid little tripod for the money. And I promise to treat it gently and not drop it off any cliffs.