The Day Hike That Ran Long

Last October my friend Ray and I planned what we both called an easy one, a three mile loop out past the Ouachita district we'd done before, the kind of trail you can walk with a phone and a water bottle and call it a morning. We figured two hours, maybe two and a half with stops for pictures. Ray's real backpacking pack, the one with the hip belt and the frame, stayed in his garage. Mine did too. Neither of us saw a reason to lug a full pack for three miles on a trail we already knew.

I almost left without anything at all, but the forecast had a stray chance of rain in it, so on my way out the door I grabbed the little G4Free pack that lives folded up in my truck's door pocket. I'd bought it two years earlier for a flight, something small enough to stuff a jacket and a water bottle into without checking a bag, and it had ridden around unused since then, folded down smaller than a rolled up t-shirt. I threw a rain shell, a liter of water, and a granola bar in it and figured that was overkill for a three mile loop.

The trail started exactly like we remembered it. About forty minutes in, though, the blaze markers we'd followed before were gone, torn off a fallen tree from a storm that had come through that spring, and the reroute wasn't marked yet. We picked what looked like the obvious continuation and kept walking, talking, not thinking much of it until the trail started climbing in a direction that didn't match either of our memories.

By the time we admitted we were on the wrong path, we'd already covered close to four miles of it. Turning around meant retracing all of that, so we made the call to keep going and follow the reroute signage we eventually found taped to a post a mile further on. What was supposed to be a two hour loop turned into just under eight hours on our feet, most of it unplanned, with the temperature dropping steadily as the afternoon clouds rolled in and a light rain started around hour five.

I hadn't packed that little bag for anything more than a water bottle and a granola bar. By hour six, it was carrying the only dry layer either of us had left.

That rain shell in my G4Free pack was the only jacket between the two of us, and I ended up handing it to Ray for the last stretch since he was shivering worse than I was. The water held out because I'd overpacked out of habit, not planning, and the granola bar got split three ways by the time we found a second hiker on the reroute who'd gotten turned around the same way we had. None of that was dramatic. It was just a small bag doing exactly what a small bag needs to do when the day doesn't go the way you planned it.

I won't pretend it's a technical pack. The straps are thin and by hour seven my shoulders knew it was carrying more than it was built for, and I wouldn't take it on anything with real overnight weight. If you want the deeper breakdown of what this pack can and can't handle, you can read the full review, since I go into more detail there than makes sense for a story like this one.

What sold me on it wasn't that hike specifically. It's that the G4Free pack folds down small enough to live in a door pocket or a glove box without me noticing it's there, which means it's actually with me on the days I don't plan for, not sitting in a closet at home like my good pack was that morning. That's why it's stayed in my truck ever since, folded down small, waiting for the next loop that doesn't go the way I mapped it out.

What I'd Tell You If We Were Sitting at My Kitchen Table

If you asked me whether a G4Free pack is better than the good pack sitting in your closet, I'd tell you that's not really the question. The good pack is better in every way that matters, right up until it's forty minutes away and you're already at the trailhead. What I'd tell you is to keep something small folded up in the truck, not because it replaces real gear, but because the day you actually need it probably won't be the day you planned for. Mine's been in the door pocket two years now, and it's only earned its keep on the trips I never saw coming.