So You want to Go Hiking, Volume 5

 

Noah's Unofficial Guide to Not Dying in the Backcountry

Backcountry Fashion

Fashion icon InStyle advises, in their 50-point list of fashion-y advice: 

• show skin strategically

  

  Not likely to work as well on a trail as the red carpet
  

  
  
• throw on a scarf
• layer your necklaces
• when in doubt, wear nude pumps
• own something leopard

Bored Suburban Dad still wears cargo pants (but in an era of having to carry masks and hand sanitizer, look whose pants-fashion makes sense now, detractors!) and chooses shirts and shoes based on function, not form, so allow us to offer some wildly different fashion advice for your backcountry adventures! 

Footwear Fashion

I have been to National Parks and have seen some very sad day-trippers in busted - but surely very cute - flip flops and sandals, seemingly unaware that while taking a nice walk in the mountains, mountains can be very mountainy. My pre-teens once approached a gentleman wearing boat shoes to see if he had "real boots cuz these trails are tough." He didn't. He was sad, 3 hours later, with bloody blisters and a twisted ankle. 

When you buy shitty tires for your car, they shred, they don't perform, and they mess up your suspension. Perfect analogy for your hiking footwear.

You can get by with a good pair of running shoes. Decent tread, good arch support, light-weight. I don't really recommend it, though, because the "amazing breathability" of your running shoes also means they're not waterproof, mud puddle proof, muddy trail proof, or swamp proof, and the nice, bouncy tread isn't sharp-rock-and-stick-proof, and puncture wounds on your feet are the opposite of a good time.

Not recommended. For anything.

Hiking shoes and hiking boots are the way to go. This is largely a matter of preference. I have 2 pair: Merrell Yakota 2 hiking shoe, and the Asolo Traverse hiking boot. Why the difference? Why two? Oh my god do I need a separate walk-in shoe closet for my backcountry fashion? It's all about Load. A super-heavy pack over really rough terrain requires firm ankle support, and you only get that from boots. A day pack or moderate pack over moderate or slightly rough terrain, you can use a shoe.

Really take your time. Some people have that really sensitive ankle nob thing, and a tight boot hurts their ankles. Most reputable outdoorsy stores will let you bring a pair of boots back that just aren't hacking it. Seriously: buy a pair, try them on, go find some local trails, and walk around for a couple hours. 

Socks

Every single complaint, when I was in the Marine Corps, be it headaches to bleeding wounds to dysentery, was handled thusly: take some motrin, drink some water, change your socks. And I'll be god-damned, it worked every time. If you pack no other clothing, pack a change of socks. One pair for every day on the trail, and an extra in case you step in a river accidentally. And cotton? Cotton is for amateurs. Wool. Wool can still perform when it gets wet. Wool wicks. Wool transfers heat the way you need it to. It comes from sheep, and is nature's perfect foot-wear material. 

I am an absolute sucker for Smartwool. Cushion, compression for good circulation, comfortable. Plus, they come in fun patterns and colors so you can feel like a real fashionista!

Pants

I recommend them.

Oh, you want to know what kind. OK fine.

Jeans suck for long hikes. Don't. They're thick. They don't breathe. When they get wet, it's the end of the world. They sag and stretch out. Swamp-ass and crotch-rot are caused by jeans. If you're gonna do a couple leisurely miles with a waterbottle, they're fine. But the long distance overnight hikes we're talking about: I'm just not a fan.

I do actually prefer pants over shorts, because hiking in the backcountry brings you all sorts of leg-gashing fun and joy, from pricker bushes that have selfishly grown over a trail to ticks that will make you sick for the rest of your life. If it's a billion degrees, sure, I'll wear shorts, but I make sure the socks I've packed are at least mid-calf in length that minimize the amount of skin showing (in direct conflict with InStyle's advice, above), even though it makes you look like you're dressed for Oktoberfest. From the waist down, anyway.

Cargo pants, baby. Extra pocketses. And I have so may pair of Eddie Bauer's First Ascent series of

If Gollum woulda worn cargo pants...

pants, I feel like they owe me something. When they get wet, they dry damn near immediately. They're tough, whilst wading through evil prickers. They're stretchy so you can really move, bend, step, leap in them. The Pro pants of that series are just a great hiking pant, and the convertible pant in that series, to go from full pants to shorts, is a special kind of magic. I also have the fleece-lined pants, and let me tell you about wearing those pants in the cold...it's like getting a hug from Hawaii. Ar...around
your...legs...maybe that's a bad analogy.

Shirts

Just say No to standard cotton. Cotton gets wet and stretches out and never dries and gets stiff and chafes. What you're after here is "wicking" material that takes all your nasty sweat and blows it into the air (sometimes, that's a cotton blend).

At a certain point every day, you're gonna dump your pack. Maybe when you eat. Maybe just to take a break. Maybe you found that idyllic watering hole and you want to leap in...and I don't recommend you jump in with your pack on, for drowning reasons. You're gonna dump that pack, and you're gonna notice that your shirt, along your back and shoulders and maybe your waistline, is drenched. Swampy. Wet-and-sticky. You'll want a shirt that's nearly dry in 10 or 15 minutes; short enough that when you take that break and eat that snack or lunch or take that skinny-dip, it'll be dry.

Well, they're dressed in layers, I guess...
but 0% on the footwear

Think: fitness gear. All that Reebok and Under Armor and Nike workout meathead gear is actually perfect. I do not, for hiking, recommend the tight compression gear stuff. It's looks cool and shows off your big muscles, but you'll actually get hot and sweaty fast. In another post, about camping in the dead of winter, I do indeed recommend it. But for hiking, what you want for hiking is the slim-fit and loose-fit stuff. An example is the Reebok Speedwick line. These UA loose-fit long-sleeve Ts. It's what my boys and I wear.

Rain and Jackets and Hoodies

Weather will eventually suck, despite your favorite weather app's insistence. You all know the Michigan
weather axiom. And sometimes you want that nice warm hoodie for chilly late-Spring or Fall mornings or evenings, putzing around your campsite. 

This gets into: dress in layers. Dress in such a way that you can strip layers as your body heat makes you sweaty on the hike, and that will be dry when you put it back on when you're sitting still. Advice 101.

Anyway: you want a rain jacket that both, you know, sheds rain, but is also breathable. Solid rubber or plastic raincoats you wore as a kid just aren't going to cut it on the trail. My boys and I wear North Face rain gear; it works, and it's only around $100 or less. The best of the best is probably Patagonia. They make great stuff, and it's still in the realm of affordable. If you want to impress no one, but you have gobs of money to spend, Arc'teryx is your brand.

NO ONE is this happy when it rains on the trail

As for hoodies: up to you. It's weight and space in your pack, but it's comfort when there's a chill. I have nice UnderArmor Storm Gear I use. Warm, lightweight, water resistant, wicks.

How much to pack? It's cool to get a little funky on a hiking trip. On a 3-4 day trip, I'll pack socks and a new shirt for every day. Pants? Pff. One pair. Maybe an extra in case one gets ripped or swamped. Underwear? It's your ass, dude. Up to you.

And there you have it: not camping naked.

Again, we've focused on overnight hikes from May-ish through September. Mild weather, trends warm. We'll start a series on misery cam...er...late-Fall and Winter camping, which is a whole different animal. We're starting out on getting novices out on the trails with decent gear for a good first experience right now.

Look for Volume 6: survival gear trail essentials to delay death!

Bored Suburban Dad Cooks: Gen-X Lasagna!

cheeeeeeeese

I don't want people to think that Bored Suburban Dad is all about abandoning Less-Bored Suburban Mom to take the Bored Suburban Kids on camping and hiking trips or playing board games.

Bored Suburban Dad cooks too!

We're gonna do this the opposite way that most cooking blogs do: recipe first.

Bored Suburban Dad's Extra-Goopy Lasagna

Give yourself 2 hours, because this is a labor of love. 

Ingredients first:

• 1 big fucking onion. White. Not that purple shit.

• 1 green pepper

• How ever many cloves of garlic you like, but like 3 or 4 big-ass thumb-sized is good

• Olive oil, because this is Italian. Ish.

• 28 oz can of diced tomatoes, pretentious or not

• 28 oz can tomato sauce, free-range or not

• 6 oz can of tomato paste

• A fat tablespoon of sugar

• Salt and pepper

• 2 pounds of ground Italian sausage (not links, but bulk ground). Mild, hot, sweet, whatever tickles you today

• Ricotta cheese. Big 32 oz thing of it.

• More garlic, like another 2 or 3 huge cloves

• Giant 1.5 pound bag of shredded mozzarella

• A whole 16 oz shaker container of crumbled parmesan cheese. Not shredded. That crumbly one. Yeah, that.

• Italian spices. There’s a thing in the spice aisle called “Italian Spices.” That. I mean, you can make your own tiny pile of oregano, basil, parsley, and thyme if you want, or just cheat and buy the one that says “Italian spices.” How much? Like...cup your palm. Fill the little divot that cupping your palm makes.

• Lasagna noodles

Now, there’s lots to do, and we’re gonna do it the way my brain thinks about it:

1. Dry the ricotta. You heard me. Ricotta actually has a ton of water, and if you don’t dry it out, your lasagna won’t be goopy. It’ll be wet. Spread a good 3/4 of that big container out on a plate, and gently pat down a paper towel over it. Leave it alone for a half hour or more. Put a new one on top of the old one at some point.

2. While the cheese dries, make the sauce:

1. Dice the green pepper. Chuck it in olive oil in a dutch oven

2. While the green pepper sautés, dice the giant onion. Then chuck that in there too. 

3. While those two sauté, dice the garlic. Then chuck that in there too.

4. Then dice up the “more garlic” from above, but really super teeny-tiny fine. Set it aside.

5. When it looks and smells like the veggies are done, add the 3 cans of tomato stuff. All of each.

6. Throw a fat tablespoon or so of sugar in there to cut the acidity

7. Salt and pepper to taste

8. Simmer for a while

3. While the sauce simmers, brown the sausage and mix it into the sauce. Keep simmering.

4. Oh, shit, right, the noodles. Boil water.

5. Oh crap, the oven. 375.

6. Back to the noodles: cook until al dente (7 or 8 minutes)

7. Yeah, the ricotta looks dry, or should I say, the paper towel looks wet. So throw out the towels and:

1. That garlic you cut up really fine? Fold that into the ricotta. 

2. Those Italian Spices I told you about? Do that cup-your-hand thing and fold that much into the ricotta too. If it looks like it’s not enough, sprinkle more. Whatever. Now you have a wad of garlicy spicy ricotta

8. Well that was intense.

Now the fun part. Get a 9x13 baking dish; greasing or Pam-ing the sides is up to you. Build:

1. Little bit of sauce to cover the bottom

2. Layer of noodles; cover those in sauce, cover that in mozzarella. Don’t skimp. Then sprinkle some of that crumbled parmesan over that. Like, half the shaker.

3. Another layer of noodles, then cover those with the ricotta mixture, and cover that with more mozzarella

4. Another layer of noodles, and cover that layer with sauce

5. DON’T put cheese on that layer yet! Be. Patient. 

6. Instead, cover it in foil, poke some vents in the foil, stick it in the oven for 30 minutes

7. Putz around, think about a side dish, have a beer

8. When the time is up, take the foil off and admire your handiwork.

9. Cover it in mozzarella and the rest of the parmesan in the shaker

10. Throw it back in the oven, uncovered, for 20-30 minutes

1. Like, check it in 20. If it’s not all brown and bubbly yet, give it a couple more minutes

11. Make a big fucking deal about bringing it to the table, and make people tell you like 5 or 6 times during the meal how much they just can’t get enough of this lasagna

12. Make someone else clean up. You worked hard and you’re tired, and besides, you’re like the best chef now and chefs make other people clean up

It's time-consuming, but it's worth it.

Your family tearfully gazes upon your work with awe

Now for the self-absorbed blogger stuff that everyone else puts at the top, making you slog your way through their self-indulgent bullshit before you get to the part that got you there:

I love cooking. I am a Gen X-er, and thus was blessed with being a latchkey kid because my parents worked and generally trusted us at outrageously young ages to just like let yourself in a house and do your chores and homework and be totally responsible for your younger sibling and start family dinners on a hot stove with no adults around. It's a point of pride for Gen-X: being bored and left the hell alone. We are a very small generation, fully capable of just...sitting. Thinking thoughts. Wrapped in boredom. We invented stuff and got in trouble and cleaned everything up and painted-on a Disaffected Face all before our parents got home from work. All's well, why are you bothering me. Our defining song lyric from our defining band (neither of which we wanted or asked for, thank you) is "oh well. Whatever. Never mind."

But all that boredom and completely unearned trust from our Boomer parents gave us all skills. We can build. We can fix. We can cook, especially, because like I said above, family dinners were in part kind of on us. We're a self-reliant generation because we had to be.**

Add to that: my mom comes from an Italian family. We literally have family recipes, and they're better than anyone else's family recipes, and if I didn't learn how to cook them, there would be family trouble. Maybe someday I'll share with you all the outline of my family recipe for spaghetti sauce. I can't be specific, because you're not blood. But I can speak in generalities.

So all of this is the perfect storm: bored, self-reliant Gen X-er likes to cook long, time-consuming dishes because they can be left alone.

My family loves this recipe. I hope you like it too.

**don't get defensive about this statement if you're not Gen-X. It's not to say your generation isn't all of these characteristics and more. It's just characteristic of us.