That Old Lure of the “Fletcher Way”
So, I got bit by the Colin Fletcher bug a while back. You know, read his books, saw those grainy photos of him out in the wild with his simple gear. And I thought, “Man, that’s the real deal.” Pure, no-nonsense backpacking. He made it sound so… achievable, in a rugged sort of way. I figured, “I can do that. How hard can it be?”
My grand plan was to do a weekend solo hike, really try to channel that Fletcher spirit. I wasn’t just gonna walk; I was gonna embrace the minimalism he wrote about. Forget all the fancy new stuff. I wanted to feel what it was like back then, or at least my idea of it.
Prepping Like I Thought He Would
This is where the “fun” started. I spent a good week rummaging through my old gear, and even borrowed some stuff that looked like it came out of a museum. My thinking was, “What would Fletcher pack?” So, out went my lightweight tent, swapped for an old, heavier canvas thing I found. My comfy inflatable sleeping pad? Nope. A thin foam roll, just like the tough guys used, right?
I packed what I thought was “essential.” Looking back, it was more like “essentially guaranteeing some discomfort.” I remember feeling pretty proud of my sparse kit, though. Real adventurer stuff, I told myself. Less weight, more connection with nature, or so the theory went.
Hitting the Trail, and the Trail Hitting Back
Day one started okay. Felt a bit like I was play-acting, to be honest. Then the “authentic” experience began to kick in. That old canvas pack, the one I thought was so rugged? It dug into my shoulders like nobody’s business. After a few miles, every step with that thing was a chore. My back was screaming by lunchtime.
And the nights! Oh boy. That thin foam pad on cold ground? Let’s just say I didn’t get much sleep. I remember lying there, shivering a bit, thinking about Fletcher in his books, seemingly unfazed by anything. I was definitely fazed. I was cold, sore, and frankly, a bit miserable.
I also tried to navigate “old school,” just map and compass. No GPS. I’m not terrible with a map, but when you’re tired and a bit disoriented, and the trail isn’t super clear, it’s easy to second-guess yourself. Wasted a good hour figuring out I’d taken a wrong turn. Fletcher probably would’ve sniffed the air and known where to go.
What I Actually Learned From Trying to Be Fletcher
By the end of that weekend, I wasn’t feeling like a seasoned woodsman. I mostly felt tired and a bit foolish. But it wasn’t a total loss, not by a long shot. I learned a heck of a lot.
Firstly, Colin Fletcher was tough. Seriously tough. And he had decades of experience building up that toughness and know-how. You don’t just read a book and absorb all that. He was also using the best gear of his time. Trying to replicate that with random old stuff today, just for the sake of it, is kinda missing the point.
Modern gear, a lot of it anyway, is actually pretty good. It makes being out there safer, more comfortable, and for a regular guy like me, more enjoyable. There’s no shame in that.
So, what’s my takeaway from my “Fletcher experiment”?
- Respect the heck out of pioneers like him. They paved the way.
- His writings are amazing for inspiration, for getting you to think about why you’re out there.
- But don’t get too hung up on copying every little detail. Find your own way to connect with nature. Use what works for you.
I still admire Fletcher. But now, I pack my slightly more modern, comfy gear. And you know what? I think he’d probably just nod and say, “Whatever gets you out there, walking.” That’s the real spirit of it, I reckon.
