Planning first Spring hike.

My oldest boy, who is six (and a half, he would correct me) has announced that he’s ready to get back on the trail for an overnight.   He came home from school the other day to show me a story he wrote about camping out, fully illustrated with all of his favorite parts.  Kat’s boy is five and, now that I’ve turned daddy into a hammock-hanger, he’s invested in a double-hammock.   The boys are beside themselves with excitement about the prospect of sleeping in that thing.

We’ve got our eye on the 10-day forecast, praying for a nice, sunny 60-degree weekend right before Spring Break.  They’re not old enough (or maybe they’re just too smart) to enjoy backpacking in cold, rainy weather.

Oldest boy, let’s call him by his trail name – Bear Bait – has a job between now and the hike.  I’ve tasked him with writing the food list (for both of us) and his own gear list.  For school, he graduated out of his glossy pirate backpack into a Coleman day pack.  I didn’t originally plan for him to use it as a school backpack, but it has his Hobbs State Park patch sewn into it (from his first overnight) and he was so proud that I couldn’t resist.  So what if it gets a little worn out, he’s got the coolest pack in the 1st grade.    Which means that, for the first time, he wants to carry his own pack.   I’ll stick to my rules of him carrying only his snacks and a water bottle – but I don’t have the heart to tell him he can’t shoulder a pack like the daddies.

It’ll end up strapped to the top of mine about 2 miles in, anyway.

At least he’s big enough now that I won’t be hiking the last 4 miles out with a pack and a preschooler riding my shoulders.

I’ll post his food and gear list when he finishes writing it.

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Join this community if you hike Arkansas

www.backpackingarkansas.com

Seriously, if you have discovered the amazing beauty that is Arkansas then you need to make an account on this forum.  I’ve lurked on a lot of boards that were populated by people who seemed to love arguing about ounces more than hiking, or were more in love with their knife collection and bug-out-bags than being out on the trail.   The folks here are nothing like that.   They’re just good people that love being out in the best part of our state.

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Backpacking with kids

I’ve always been an avid outdoorsman. Grew up in a family of hunters and, while they failed to make much of a great white hunter out of me – the love of being out in the quiet green places latched on tight. Fishing, camping, semi-aimless wandering through the woods . . you name it. Then college, career, marriage, and parenthood happened and I found myself not making time to get out and I discovered fly fishing. You’d be surprised at how well some of the concepts of gearing up to walk a river parallel that of planning a good hike, but that’s for another post. As my oldest son grew from infant to toddler, I started casting around for activities I could share with my boy. (Standing hip-deep in a river just didn’t work out well with a 3-yr-old.)

When I first took on a pack, I teamed up with another dad. At the time his son and mine were close in age and good friends.  Neither one of us had any experience backpacking with kids, even though he was an experienced backpacker.  Now we each have two sons.  That makes potentially four boys out on the trail with us on any given pretty weekend; ages 6, 5, 2, and <1.  While we still do “daddy hikes” that soak up distance as well as bad weather, we’re most happy when we have our boys out in the green with us.  So, in that spirit, here are some tips for backpacking with kids.

#1 – It is the kids’ hike – This is the most important one. I’ve seen too many dads on the trail trying to hustle their kids along. The man is miserable, the poor kid is just miserable with it. I want my boys to still love hiking when they’re 85. For the younger ones, we plan about a mile an hour (they usually go faster than that, but all that means is more time at the swimming holes and climbing rocks). Lots of cool things they can stop and explore if they want. Lots of time to stop and rest whenever they want.

#2 – Dad is the pack mule – The oldest kid in our crew is 10. He has his own pack, but we keep it light. My 6 yr-old has a fanny pack that spends about half of any given hike strapped to my pack. It really doesn’t take much extra equipment for the little guys. . . I always over-pack food anyway. My boy swings in an ultralight open hammock with half a fleece blanket for a liner. I can fit his extra clothing in one of my outer pockets. As with #1, I’ve seen too many overloaded kids on the trail. 

#3 – Keep ’em fed ‘n watered – The fanny pack I have for my 5 yr-old is strictly for snacks and a water bottle. They usually don’t forget to eat, but we have to be constantly on them all to drink enough. They just get excited and don’t think about it, I guess. The less hungry and thirsty they are, the happier everyone is. Pack extra trail snacks and be ready to hump the extra water.

#4 – Do your homework – If you’re like me, you ain’t exactly Les Stroud. But considering how often they ask me questions, my boys must think me omniscient. I carry field guides with me – weight I’d never even consider when hiking without kids. But when they point and ask, if I don’t know, then we learn together. I also try to take them on trails I’ve already hiked during that season so I know the best places to linger or make camp. Even when the crew is doing a grown-up hike, we all have a tendency to eye the trail with a potential kid-hike in mind.

#5 – Gradual release of responsibility – That’s a teacher-phrase for you. It means start early giving them small pieces of responsibility in planning and leading the hike. Last year, we finished my son’s first overnight hike (8 miles, Pigeon Roost trail in Hobbs St. Park). His job was to sit down with a pen and paper the night before and make a list of what food we needed to pack. I made a chart with columns for each day and rows for each meal. I talked him through it when he asked, and took him to Walmart with his list and we bought everything he wrote down. Next hike, I’ll have him do the food list and his own gear list. Eventually those boys will all head off into the green without any of us old men. They’ll be ready.

#6 – Comfort is king – Keep their feet dry and blister free. Keep ’em warm when it is cold, cool when it’s hot, dry when it is wet, and wet when they’re dry. Fed when they’re hungry and rested when they’re tired. We’re notorious about letting the testosterone flow as we bleed and pant our way up a mountain, but see #1. My boy sleeps in a hammock and his shoes cost more than my entire trail wardrobe. I’m okay with that. If he’s happy and well at the end of it, then I am too.  If he can’t wait to get back out on the trail, then we’ve done good.

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OHT – Sec 1 Trip Report

2/18/11 – 2/20/11

Day 1 – LFS State Park to about a mile NE of Frog Bayou

Arrived at Lake Fort Smith State Park after work about 5:00 on Friday afternoon. Signed in just to check and see if anyone was ahead of us. (I appreciate all the rest of you backpackers, but I do enjoy having a whole trail just to myself.) My trail-buddy Kat & I have had a few false starts this season trying to get a winter hike going so we were eager to get something in this season. With the weather report, though, it was going to be more spring than winter. As much as we love frozen waterfalls and hiking through snow, just a week ago we were digging out of 36″ snow drifts and burning up with Spring fever.

The new state park is real pretty, even if there isn’t much happening inside the visitor’s center compared with some of the other state parks. Maybe it’ll grow with use. The overlook using stone from the original park is a real nice touch. About 5:30 Kat arrived and we loaded up and headed out.

The three miles down to Frog Bayou were nice, easy going. You can tell that a lot of work has been put in recently. Took some time admiring the chimneys and stonework on the spring house. (Do any of you guys know what that square concrete box is? Our guess is a fancified outhouse, considering how close it was to what looked like a homestead.) Dark fell about a mile from Frog Bayou and we had to strap on the headgear. Since this was the first time on this section of the OHT, we didn’t know where we wanted to camp – and we knew we’d have to get on the other side of the lake first anyway.

The trail makes a short little PUD off to the left and, in the dark, we didn’t realize that we missed it until we found the angled trail marker coming off of it. (On the way back Sunday, we climbed up and back down on the nice, new wood steps.) Just as we neared the wet crossing, a noisy group of six or so high-schoolers wearing headlamps materialized on the trail ahead of us. They had parked nearby and were clustered on the rock bar trying to decide whether they wanted to cross or camp there. While we were changing shoes to make the crossing, I heard one girl opine to the group that maybe they should wait and watch us before deciding. That cracked me up and I agreed that if we were swept away and died, they definitely should not attempt the crossing.

It was cold but not difficult, no more than knee-deep on Kat. Got a little deeper on me, but I’m a short fella. The thought of sharing a camping spot anywhere near a group of teenagers put a little skip in our step. We made it about five miles in before we decided to stop and make camp around 7:00. Had we gone about fifty yards up the trail, we would’ve found a nice spot with a fire ring and everything. Both of us are hammock-hangers, though, so as long as we can find trees we’re good. Full moon, nice breeze. Slept like the sinless and woke up to a scramble of geese coming off the lake behind us.

Day 2 – ~10 miles – exploring Jack Creek drainage & down to Hurricane Creek

Original sketched-out plan was to see if we could make White Rock Mt. and back by Sunday afternoon. We were following the Ernst map and he had to go and make a coy reference to 50′ waterfalls upstream a ways. After climbing around on the big-ol’ boulder sitting in the middle of the creek, we decided that we’ve climbed White Rock enough times that we’d rather chase waterfalls than see it again. Ditched the packs behind a boulder, grabbed the camera and took off exploring.

Had a considerable amount of fun scrambling up and down some massive boulders and outcroppings. Found one waterfall that was, maybe 20′ and decided to keep going. Man, oh man, we were glad we did. Found a couple of just amazingly beautiful waterfalls. I think we killed three hours that morning around mile 9 or 10. (Hard to tell, there weren’t many mile markers and the ones we found didn’t seem very accurate.) We monkeyed up to an unhealthy perch and were pleased to see a boot print in the mud. Always good to know you’re not the last idiot in the world.

It was about 11 a.m. when we made it back to the trail and had lunch. I brought a half-pound of smoked mozzarella, a pepperoni sausage, and some garlic crostini. (Kat, if I remember correctly, brought mixed nuts and a Cliff bar. I may be guilty of bringing too much food, but guess who gets to eat half of it?) Sat on a nice flat rock and planned out the rest of the hike. Decided not to hit White Rock this time around and, instead, camp on Hurricane Creek (at mile 11) and explore around there. I was packing a pair of 8 oz filets stuffed into some fleece pants at the bottom of my pack and needed an established fire ring to fully realize my master culinary plan. We made quick work of climbing up to Dockery Gap and down to Hurricane Creek. By 1:30 we had already slung hammocks and were sitting by the creek watching the water go by and debating whether or not we had anything to prove by running up to White Rock and back.

We didn’t.

Kat did peer pressure me into taking a dive into the creek, though. “It ain’t swimmin’ if you don’t go all the way under!” Even if it gets up to 70 degrees outside, February water is still cold.

Started gathering wood for a fire. Ate like sultans around four, then stared at the fire and didn’t have much at all to say until dark. Fell asleep swinging in the breeze, listening to the creek sing, and watching the full moon rise like a spotlight. Ended up pulling my wool cap down over my eyes just so I could sleep.

Day 3 – Hurricane Creek to Lake Fort Smith State Park

Last day of the hike, we’ve got the cheeseburger march happening. Ran into a pair of geared-up and camoed guys on four-wheelers with scoped rifles near Jack Creek. They seemed a little surprised at having us appear. They stopped talking and stared at us. We looked at them. One of them said, simply, “Squirrels.” I pointed out the general direction of some campers we passed, hoping they wouldn’t stick around and shoot up the area. About a half-mile away, we heard them driving past on the other side of the creek. Wasn’t until about an hour later that we heard gunfire. From the sound of it, a whole army of squirrels had ambushed them and they were fighting for their lives. I hope they made it out okay. Once we walked far enough away from Squirreled War II, it was nice seeing the green daffodils starting to rise from the old homestead sites. Just enough color to make you believe that spring is around the corner.

Looking around in daylight revealed some crazy multi-level stick-and-shoestring contraption just off the trail near Frog Bayou. Had to go check it out and the best we can figure, was from someone playing Survivorman. Survival, it seems, involved mustard-sauce sardines, Pepsi, and trying to burn a plastic rain coat. I did see something, though just down-trail from the visitor’s center, that just grabbed my heart. Was a mom and dad with four kids. Three of ’em were young teenagers, looked like, and one was in a small type of wheel-chair stroller. Out on the trail. Offered to help the dad get it over a small stream, but he just shook his head and said, “I got it. Thanks.” Let me tell you, I quit grumbling about my sore knees or grousing about having to share the trail. I didn’t get that guy’s name, but any father that’ll go to that kind of effort for their kid is top grade in my book. Forget having the trail to myself, the whole thing is his.

Came off the trail around 1:00. Tore into Springdale just in time to sweet-talk the server at Susan’s Restaurant to let us order (they closed at 2:00). Had a Belgian waffle with a side of cheeseburger. (Full disclosure – I backpack only to justify my gluttony.)

Next hike, we decided, will tackle White Rock. Night hike to the campsite about 5 miles in, take Saturday to Hurricane Creek and stash the packs just on the other side. Take cameras, water, and lunch up to the top of White Rock. Trot back down to camp beside Hurricane Creek for night 2. Wake up and head out by noon on Sunday. Seemed to be a pretty easy trail overall. Even the climb up and over Dockery Gap wasn’t too bad. The trail was much cleaner than either of us expected. I guess we’ve grown accustomed recently to hauling out our weight in other people’s trash whenever we hike the Butterfield. Either this trail doesn’t get much use or the volunteers do a good job of maintaining it.

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Bacon pesto alfredo w/ angel hair pasta

Feeds 2 or so (depends on how hungry you are and how many noodles you use)
Time:  ~5 minutes + however long it takes to get your water to a boil

Ingredients:
angel hair pasta
1 pkt. McCormick creamy garlic alfredo sauce mix
1 pkt. dried milk
1 tube Amore pesto paste
4 mozzarella cheese sticks
grated parmesan cheese
crushed red pepper
Hormel real bacon bits
Alessi garlic breadsticks
spice mix (see original post)

Gear:
titanium cooking pot
MSR pocket rocket stove
Light My Fire utensil

Step 1:   Packing it in
Break the pasta in half and stick it in a zip-lock bag.  I usually keep a quart-packet of dried milk for my morning oatmeal, so that’s already in the kit.  Cheese sticks, sauce mix, and pesto tube are individually packaged.  Use a snack-sized zip-lock baggie for your parmesan cheese, crushed red pepper, and bacon bits.  The Alessi breadsticks are hard and will likely crumble during the hike.  Take them out of the box and put ’em in a zip-lock baggie.

Step 2:  Cooking
Dump the sauce mix, bacon bits, parmesan cheese, red pepper, and about three heaping spoons of powdered milk into about 2 or so cups of water.   Squirt roughly two tablespoons of the pesto paste.  Stir it up (don’t worry much about clumps, it’ll level out) and set it to boil.   Stir constantly.
Once you have a good rolling bubble going, add the pasta.  Reduce heat to a simmer and stir for 5 minutes.   Take care not to let it stick to the pot.   The starch in the pasta has a tendency here to make the sauce gummy.   If it gets too thick, add some water and stir it in.   The sauce will definitely thicken up later.  Kill the heat after 5 minutes.
Quickly slice the  4 cheese sticks into half-inch chunks and stir it into the pasta.  They’ll melt into gooey lumps of goodness while the dish cools enough to eat.

Season it to taste with red pepper and/or the spice mix, shake the breadstick crumbs onto the top.  Dig in.

Step 3:  Cleaning
When you’re finished, offer the pot to your buddy who is sitting across from you – glaring while trying to choke down his Insta-crap side dish as he is watching you savor this meal, eyes half-closed in gastronomic ecstasy.  Maybe he’ll lick the pot clean for you if he doesn’t impale you with a titanium spork before you can offer.   You could bring a few extra tortillas and use them to wipe out/sop up the sauce.  Otherwise, just pour a little hot water into it and wipe it out.  Or, maybe, you could offer to share with your buddy under the agreement that he who cooks does not have to clean.

Variations
The sauce mix only calls for 1 cup of milk – and since you’re using 2 cups of liquid for this recipe, I guess you could add two packets of mix if you really wanted it to be creamy.  I’ve never tried it that way, though, so it might end up thick as a brick.
Be careful about adding too much pasta – it can have a tendency to clump together and not cook all through.   You could cook the pasta separately and add it to the sauce later.  In that case – only let the sauce boil for about 2 minutes before you take it off the heat.  Still boil the noodles for 5 minutes.  I prefer one-dish meals, though.

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Never go against a Sicilian when food is on the line.

I love food, but not just any food.  I love really good food.   I mean really good food.  And the best way to eat the best food is to learn how to cook it yourself.  My weakness?   Italian food.   I love the hearty red sauces, the artery-clogging white sauces, rich green pesto.  Oh and pasta. . . all kinds of pasta.

With our crew, if we’re drop-camping or backpacking through the mountains, I’m the camp chef.  You just can’t eat good Italian food without whipping up something dense with astonishing caloric counts – so as far as I’m concerned, there’s no better trail food.  Here are a few staples to add to your food bag:

1.  Amore brand pastes. They come in 2.8 oz tubes.  My favorites are sun-dried tomato and pesto.  I’m also experimenting with the black olive and Italian herb blend pastes.  They’re about $6 a tube at Walmart – but a little goes a long way for flavoring purposes.  They all seem to be around 300 calories per tube and most use olive oil in the paste.  They aren’t the meal, they just make it much, much better.

2.  Parmigiano. Your basic Parmesan cheese.  Travels well, reasonably priced.  If you’re a fast-food condiment hoarder, or just eat a lot of pizza, you can get it in little single-use packets from your favorite pizza place.  To reduce packaging waste, just dump some in a zipper-top snack-size bag.  You want to really eat well, spring for parmigiano-reggiano and grate it yourself.  Some things are just worth the price – especially on the trail.

3.  Mozzarella cheese. You can buy ’em cheaply by the stick and lots of folks carry them around just to snack on.  You could spring a bit more and buy a ball of it (smoked!) in other places, but it doesn’t take much to kick up a pasta dish.  Peel the cheese stick into feathery strips before adding it to your pasta so that it’ll melt quicker and give you that nice texture we all expect from melted mozzarella.  Or, better yet, buy it wrapped in prosciutto and basil.

4.  Dried red pepper flakes. Key ingredient in my shrimp fra diavolo, and goes real well with any kind of creamy cheesy pasta dish.  Unless you really love it hot, you’ll probably only need a few single-use packets of the stuff.  Get ’em from your favorite pizza guy whenever you order extra parmesan.   I buy it by the jar, though, so just tend to shake a little into my spice mix.

5.  Herbs ‘n Spices. Buy a jar, one of the little small ones, of generic Italian seasoning and that’ll do you all you need.  Or, you can save one of those little jars and fill it with a mixture of granulated garlic, dried basil, dried oregano, dried parsley, dried red pepper flakes, and a little salt ‘n pepper.  That will do you better.  You won’t notice the weight in your pack.  You will notice the taste.  Grow your own herbs and stuff a baggie with them fresh from the garden.  A few sprigs of rosemary alone will do wonders to the smell of your pack.

6.  Pasta. Comes dried and in more shapes and names than you can remember.  Angel hair pasta cooks in about two minutes.  I’m fond of spinach fettuccine, but it takes a little longer to cook.  Don’t overcook the pasta.


Making a passable cream sauce out of a backpack in the middle of an Arkansas summer was the biggest hurdle.
Once you work around how to make that happen, it really gets good.

At its most basic level, you need only three things to make the cream sauce happen:  cream (heavy or half’n’half), butter, parmesan cheese.  Using powdered milk, because it is skim, kills your fat content. . . and I’m not about to pack a stick of butter in July.  The olive-oil packed paste concentrates really seem to fit the need for fat.  What that doesn’t fix, is fooled by the texture of melted mozzarella.

Other things you can add to a basic cream sauce on the trail:

* chicken – but please don’t just dump it straight from the can or pouch.  You do that and your chicken will taste like the container and not like your sauce.   Squirt a bit of the pesto paste into the bottom of your pot prior to mixing up the sauce and dust the chicken with the spice mix.   Let it sear, stirring frequently for just a minute or two, as it soaks up the flavors of the oil and spices and gets a little texture.   Set it aside to add at the end.

* crab – yeah, you read it right.   You can buy lump crab meat in a can just like you do tuna.  It is fully cooked and ready to go.   If you really want the seafood flavor kick, drain the can into your pasta water.   Stir in the crab right at the end, so that it has about a minute to warm up into the sauce before you stop cooking.   If you have a favorite brand of cajun seasoning – it compliments this sauce real well.

* tomato paste – either in a tube or from one of those tiny cans.  This takes your cream sauce into a creamy tomato sauce.  Particularly good when you use the real bacon bits and chunks of mozzarella.  I like mine real heavy on the basil and garlic.

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Hiking on your stomach

I love food.  I love to cook food.  I love to eat food.

Backpacking and good eats just don’t seem to go together.  Head into any suburban outfitter or the campin/huntin/fishin section of your local supermarket and you can drop lots of money on all sorts of insta-meals.   I won’t claim to have done a comprehensive study of each brand, variety, and flavor but the ones I’ve eaten either taste like crap or they taste fine but have the texture of shredded cardboard.  I’ve even read in guidebooks and similar texts about how wonderful it is to find many “pack-friendly” offerings in the grocery sections.  Everything from instant noodles to “just add water” sauce sides or vac-sealed packets of meats.   Again, I guess they get points for being light-weight and convenient.  They definitely supply calories and, well, when I’m done eating them I’m not hungry any more.   For my first couple of years on the trail, I faithfully ate what appear to be backpacker staples:   instant oatmeal, energy bars, jerky, cheesy-sauce-and-noodle sides, GORP, and candy bars.

Keep in mind that most of my hikes are 2 or 3-night weekend trips between 20 and 30 miles long.  We’ll stretch out a shorter trail by yo-yo-ing it or wrap around a loop trail a few times, but none of what we do involves carrying weeks of food on our back.  Even water is easy to find on most of the trails around here.  With that in mind, I asked my buddy to let me try out a few culinary challenges.  Welcome to Mattdaddy’s Wilderness Bistro.

Since I referenced it in the trip report, I’ll start with the latest one.   One one of our recent Autumn hikes (I think we were on the Butterfield Trail), when it was nice and cold overnight, we started bouncing ideas about bringing some steaks out on the trail.  Since BHT is a loop, one idea was to leave the meat in an ice chest in the trucks up on Hwy 74 and pick it up on the way down to Rock Hole for dinner.   That seemed a little too much like drop camping, though, and you gotta have standards.   (Now that I think about it, our conversation started while we were hanging out at the Devil’s Den State Park picnic area and watching a trio of guys gearing up to pack the trail.  One was carrying an ice chest strapped to his pack and the other was carrying a grill.  Seriously.) I spent most of the trail thinking about how I could make it work using only my cook kit and carrying no more weight than usual.

So, when time came for our winter hike this year there was no question that the culinary challenge would be steak.

Here is what I pulled together for dinner the second (and last) night on the trail:

2 8 oz. filets
smoked cheddar & rosemary mashed potatoes
sauce chasseur (mostly for the taters, but served one other important role)
asparagus in goose fat

Pre-hike prep:
Two nights before I left, I shredded about 6 oz of smoked cheddar cheese and made the sauce chasseur (which is a red-wine and veal stock, heavy on the tarragon. I make mine with lots of mushrooms and about twice the shallots). Froze the butter, cheese, a cube of goose fat, and sauce. Kept the filets in the butcher paper and just put them in the fridge. Wrapped the asparagus in foil and put that in the fridge. I had a freezer-pack like you’d use in insulated lunch boxes, so I froze that solid.

Packing it in:
Meat, asparagus, fresh rosemary, and freezer-pack in one ziplock freezer bag.
Frozen butter, fat, cheese, and sauce (all in separate bags) in another freezer bag.
*wrapped both freezer bags in my fleece pants/shirt and stuck them in the bottom of the pack.

By Saturday evening, the butter was still hard and the meat was cool, so it worked.

Cooking it:

I have 2 titanium nesting pots and a little 4×4 no-stick skillet I picked up at Walmart. We were at a site with a fire pit, so we got that going. Sliced up the goose fat and smeared it on the asparagus. Dusted them with salt/pepper/garlic and wrapped them back tight in the foil. Placed beside the coals to cook.

Boiled the rosemary in 2c. of water. Shredded it off the stems, added powdered mashed potato flakes & shredded cheese.

Reheated sauce chasseur in the other pot. Brought it to a simmer, then lowered the heat.

Put about a tbs. of butter and a squirt of olive oil into the skillet and set it atop the hot coals to get sizzling hot. Dusted the filets liberally with salt/pepper/garlic pwdr mixture. Seared them about 10 seconds on each side and the edges, then set them both in the pot with the sauce. Kicked up the heat to a boil and let them sit just long enough to be alllllmost but not quite mid-rare. (We like ’em bloody ’round here.)

Poured the remainder of the sauce onto the potatoes, ate the steaks with our fingers and the potatoes straight out of the pot.

To make up for the pack weight, since this was a trail full of creeks, I kept my 2 qt. pack-bladder empty and carried no more than a quart at a time of water.

How I’ll improve it next time:

* I need to add a spatula to my cook kit.  Flipping steaks with my fingers was not fun.

* Need a better container for olive oil than a double-nested ziplock bag.  It leaked.

* Didn’t need so much butter & oil. (even though, we just added it to the taters)

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