Other Essentials
A checklist of backpacking gear inevitably contains a host of other small but essential items. For example, Cora and I both carry a Swiss Army knife. The model we like has two knife blades, a can opener, scissors, tweezers and a corkscrew. Carrying a knife lets you spread your peanut butter on a bagel, open a can of tuna, trim frayed fabric that keeps jamming in a zipper, pull a splinter and pop the cork on a bottle of wine, should your party contain a strong-backed soul willing to carry it. Some knives even contain nail files, presumably so survivalists can sharpen their fingernails into claws.

To light your stove, you'll need either a cigarette lighter or matches. Cora and I carry both because lighters, although convenient, have a disconcerting habit of failing if the lighter gets wet or the operator's hands are damp. Matches provide an excellent backup if they're carefully secured inside a plastic bag without holes. For even greater security, you can find waterproof, strike-anywhere matches in backpacking stores. It's a good idea to throw an extra cigarette lighter into the repair kit or some other secure place, just in case.

People whose boots are heavy or uncomfortable sometimes bring a pair of lightweight slippers or sandals to change into once they reach camp. People whose feet are chronically cold in their sleeping bags at night may enjoy a pair of down booties. On snowy trips, it's convenient to have some means of walking around in the snow without having to put your stiff, heavy ski boots or mountaineering boots back on. One solution on really cold trips is to bring insulated nylon overboots. During the day, you wear the overboots over your regular boots. Overboots cover up the lugged boot sole, so you'll also need to use skis, crampons or snowshoes to provide traction as you travel. At night, you can slip on the overboots alone when you just need to step outside the tent to perform some chore. Another solution at night is to put a heavy-duty stuff sack over either your inner boots (if you normally wear double boots) or over your socks. If you use a big stuff sack, such as the one containing your sleeping bag, the stuff sack will reach to your knees. You can keep the stuff sack from falling down around your ankles by tightening the cord lock on the stuff sack's drawstring. On Alaskan expeditions, I sometimes brought two extra stuff sacks for just this purpose. Just be sure you stay off any hard-packed snow slopes while wearing your stuff sacks. I still remember stepping out of my tent at 17,200 feet on McKinley's West Buttress and immediately slipping, falling and sliding 20 feet down the wind-packed snow. I stood up, unhurt, took one step back toward the tent and immediately fell down again. Returning to the tent was impossible until I hit on the idea of just removing the stuff sacks. My textured wool socks gripped the polished snow securely and I walked back to the tent with ease.

Summer backpackers in wooded regions rarely need sunglasses. However, if you're hiking above timberline across early summer's lingering snowfields, sunglasses can prevent a lot of uncomfortable squinting or worse. Snowblindness – essentially, sunburn of the cornea of the eye – can cause severe pain for several days. Don't count on pain to warn you of the danger, however; the pain begins several hours after the damage is done. If you find yourself squinting heavily, you should put on your sunglasses. Time is the only cure for snowblindness, although victims normally get some relief by remaining in a darkened room or otherwise shielding their eyes from light. Desert hikers frequently find sunglasses a pleasure, and winter backpackers in snow country should routinely carry both sunglasses and goggles. In an emergency, almost any way of reducing the amount of light hitting your eyes will help. I once cut a slit in my wilderness permit to make an impromptu pair of sunglasses. On another occasion, after my first and only bout of snowblindness, I taped up my goggles so that only a slit remained. The system relieved some of the pain, but made skiing interesting, since I could only see one narrow strip of snow at a time. People who have eyesight so poor they would have trouble hiking out if their glasses were broken should bring a spare pair.

A large plastic garbage bag slipped over your pack with the mouth pointing down will keep your pack dry during a nighttime shower. You can use a bit of duct tape from your repair kit to patch minor rips and extend the bag's useful life.

After Cora had $4,000 worth of dental work done several years ago, we became remarkably conscientious about bringing toothbrushes, toothpaste and floss on all our backpacking trips, even short ones. Our personal hygiene kit also contains (at Cora's insistence) a package of pre-moistened towelettes and a hair brush. Even I insist on bringing toilet paper, unlike some hard-cores I know. A trowel is valuable for burying wastes (more on this subject later).

Embarrassed as I may be to admit my addiction to a quintessentially citified piece of gear, I find a watch to be an important item of wilderness equipment. Primarily I use it to keep track of our pace and timing. Will we make the campsite by dark? Will we make the top of the pass in time to shoot the sunrise? A watch also lets you time the cooking of your pasta and rice.

A simple repair kit can save you a lot of grief even on a short trip. A basic kit might include:

spare parts for the stove
a little duct tape or ripstop repair tape to patch a hole in a tent, rain jacket, insulated parka or sleeping bag
extra clevis pins and split rings (if you're carrying an external frame pack which uses those devices to attach the pack bag to the frame)
bit of extra string to use as spare shoelaces and for lashing this to that
A more elaborate repair kit for a trip lasting a week or longer might also contain:
wire for lashing together broken whatevers
needle-nose pliers with wire-cutters to force the aforementioned wire into place
heavy-duty sewing awl (Speedy Stitcher is my favorite brand), stout thread and scrap of heavy fabric
five-inch length of copper pipe with an inside diameter just larger than the diameter of your tent poles, to patch a broken pole
spare two-inch quick-release buckle to replace the buckle on your pack’s hip belt.

If you've been clutching your wallet ever more tightly as you read chapter after chapter on what to buy, it's time to relax. With the exception of first-aid kits and water-purification devices, we're done with discussing what you need to own. Now, with the buying spree behind us, we can move on to everyone's favorite topic: what's for dinner.

Next Page: Buying an Ice Ax

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