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In outdoor circles, "gear" is undoubtedly the number one topic of discussion. While it may not technically be the foundation of survival, it sits firmly at the very top of the survival pyramid. Why are we so fascinated by the tools we carry into the wilderness?
Our story with gear began in prehistory. The moment our "hairy ancestors" started using their brains to craft the first stone axes, the evolution of survival began. The discovery of fire and the creation of the first garments weren't just "fashion trends"—they were life-saving inventions that meant the difference between life and death in brutal conditions.
Today, we live in the peak of that evolution, but also in an era of a new kind of dependency. We have drifted so far from Mother Nature that a simple, harmless trip into the wild without adequate equipment can quickly spiral into a nightmare.
Throughout my years of experience as a survival instructor, I have seen all forms of gear addiction. For some, it borders on madness. Out of a fear born from ignorance, people are prepared to carry dozens of kilograms of unnecessary weight—their massive rucksacks contain, quite literally, "civilization in miniature."
And you know what? There’s nothing wrong with that. Aside from the back pain, it is a natural part of an individual’s growth as they first step into the world of the outdoors.
I’ll admit something to you: sometimes, I even break the first rule of survival—the rule of self-sufficiency. Knowing that there is always someone in the group carrying "everything but the kitchen sink," I allow myself the luxury of minimalism. I become dependent on someone else's dependency, relying on what my friends are carrying. However, that is a privilege that only comes with years of field experience.
The fact is clear: modern man has never been so detached from the natural environment. Our world is defined by sprawling cities, asphalt, and highways—barriers that prevent us from understanding the laws of nature. This estrangement is so profound that for the modern individual, every step into "the unknown" is a potential survival situation.
How do we bridge this gap? The answer is almost always sought in gear.
To have total control over a wilderness environment, one needs years of study and experience. Aware of their own shortcomings, modern people often try to use equipment to compensate for what they lack in their heads and hands.
But therein lies the trap. Being self-sufficient through gear does not mean buying the most expensive gadget from an advertisement; it means matching your equipment to your actual skills:
Useless Tools: There is no point in carrying an axe if you have never learned how to handle it safely.
Dangerous Delusions: A classic example is antivenom (anti-viperin). Carrying it without medical knowledge is absurd—incorrect application can be more dangerous than the snakebite itself, and improper storage renders it completely useless.
The Golden Rule: Gear must be a tool for applying your knowledge, not a replacement for it.
Beyond skill, gear must also be adapted to the terrain. While this sounds logical, in practice, we often see extremes. Carrying heavy alpine gear while trekking through desert sands is not just exhausting—it’s absurd. Every gram in your rucksack must have a purpose within the specific context of the environment you are entering.
When you find yourself alone in the mountains and realize you’ve taken a wrong turn, having quality, adequate gear that you actually know how to use is what separates "simply being lost" from a "fight for survival."
In those moments, your self-sufficiency rests on your rucksack. If you understand the basics of your equipment and how to maximize its utility, the need for improvisation and deep wilderness lore is minimized. That is precisely why, before you head out, you must learn the basics—because in the wild, your best tool isn’t the one that cost the most, but the one you know how to work with.
Most of us own, or plan to acquire, that small folding tool known as a multi-tool. Its global success doesn't lie in it being the best knife or the best pair of pliers in the world; it lies in one word: versatility. The idea of carrying an entire toolbox in a single pocket is irresistible.
This is exactly the principle you should strive for when organizing your entire outdoor kit: one item with many uses.
If you organize your rucksack according to this principle, you will end up with barely a dozen items—but items that cover hundreds of different situations. Such a skillfully packed rucksack will easily outcompete the massive, overweight burden carried by an inexperienced friend.
Take the stove as an example. Most people carry standard gas stoves—they are practical, but they serve only one purpose: cooking. If a valve fails, you are carrying a useless piece of metal and gas that serves no other function.
On the other hand, the Swedish spirit stove (alcohol stove) is a masterpiece of multi-utility:
It is unbreakable: There are no valves, no mechanisms. You can even DIY one from an aluminum can and a nail if necessary.
The fuel is an ally: Unlike gas, the ethyl alcohol used to fuel the stove can be used for:
Starting a fire in difficult conditions.
Disinfecting wounds.
Removing ticks and parasites.
Processing and molding leather/skin.
There are countless examples, and experienced outdoorsmen could write books about them:
A shallow pan with a sturdy handle: A cooking tool that instantly becomes a shovel for digging drainage trenches around a tent.
A poncho: Your rain protection that easily converts into a roof (tarp) or a hanging bed (hammock).
Trash bags: The true "Swiss Army Knife" of gear—use them for insulation, a makeshift dry suit, or a water container.
Want to check how useful your gear really is? Apply the method used by members of the elite SAS. After returning from the field, empty your rucksack on the floor and divide your things into three piles:
Pile A: Things you used constantly.
Pile B: Things you used occasionally.
Pile C: Things you didn't touch at all.
Next time, carry only Pile A! Then, think about how those items from the first pile can satisfy even more of your needs.
Remember the golden rule: The more you know, the less you carry. Reducing your gear is not just a relief for your back; it is proof of your growth as a survivalist.
I often hear phrases like: “Look at this pack, I only paid a few euros for it,” “I’m short on cash right now, so I’ll just get this Chinese knock-off,” or “I found this used military surplus gear; it’s a bit old, but it’s the real deal...”
Let’s be honest: if you are planning a stroll along a well-marked trail just a mile from your car, feel free to wear cardboard boots. But we aren’t talking about a walk in the park here. We are discussing the requirements of real-world survival, extreme outdoors, and survival training—situations where your gear must perform when everything else fails.
In a situation where your life depends on what you are carrying on your back—saving money is gambling.
I have seen too many situations where gear, pushed to its absolute limit, simply fails. Even big-name backpacks with bursting seams, boots with soles peeling off in the middle of nowhere, jackets with broken zippers, or flashlights that short-circuit at the first sign of moisture. It would be funny if it weren't so tragic.
Imagine the scene: you are frozen, exhausted, and on the verge of hypothermia in the middle of a blizzard. You try to zip up your jacket, and the zipper snaps off in your hand. Or that "super cheap" rucksack is swaying on your back like a swing, turning every step into excruciating knee pain. In that moment, you will curse the day you decided to be "thrifty."
My advice is simple: prioritize professional-grade equipment.
Extreme Sports: Gear designed for alpinism and expeditions where there is zero margin for error.
Military Circles: Specifically, gear reserved for Special Forces. This is the only equipment that has been rigorously field-tested in the most extreme situations on Earth.
If you cannot afford top-tier equipment, you must subject whatever you have to brutal testing before you head into the wilderness.
My favorite waterproof test? Put on your complete gear and stand under the shower for 10 minutes. It is much better to find out your jacket leaks in your bathroom than at -10°C on a mountain.
Get to know your gear. Build experience with it while you are still safe. In an extreme situation, there will be no time for a learning curve. Your success, and even your life, may depend solely on that pack, those boots, and that knife. Make sure they are worthy of your trust.
Always pack your rucksack in the same way: essential gear within reach, less important at the bottom, but respecting the rule of weight distribution so that heavier items are always placed close to the shoulders and back.
If we pack the rucksack in the same way every time, we will create a proper behavioral protocol; even in the deepest darkness, we will pull out exactly what we need from the rucksack on the first attempt. It is good to train at home in the dark for the quick retrieval of individual elements from the rucksack.
In the gear I use in the field, there is no item that has not been tested under various conditions, and then modified, corrected, improved, and thus adapted to my own needs. All gear can and must be modified and reworked, but without compromising its safety and functionality.