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My hammock research was flawed!
Monday, 26 September 2011 06:33 pmRemember when I ditched my bed in favor of a hammock?
I was so happy. I slept comfortably, even during the freakishly hot days this summer, and woke up refreshed, without the stiff back and aching joints that mattresses always left me with.
And when it gets cold, mokie?
"Pshaw. No problem, mokie! Half the hammock videos on Youtube are guys in hammocks in snow, after all. Come October, I'll swap out for a solid cloth hammock and bring out the covers. Ooh, in fact, I have a few yards of heavy material and some velour..."
Sigh.
No.
I have a few yards of heavy material but not the know-how to stitch it together without creating weak points that will drop me on my head at 3am. I also have a sewing machine that I barely know how to use, made for light material and hobby projects. And even if I figure that out, I still have a block of cold air beneath me, requiring covers both over and under me. Hammocks don't really do covers under very well, because covers migrate as you move, and where a bed gives them nowhere to hide, hammocks make a veritable blanket luge. It turns out this is part of the reason why there are so many videos on Youtube of guys in hammocks in snow--because Youtube's hammockateers saw a problem and, being remarkably resourceful and helpful, set out to show others how to solve it--if those others are also using camping hammocks outside in snow.
You see...
A Mayan hammock is a glorified netting sling. You lay in it at an angle, so your body is flat, not lengthwise and banana-shaped. They're made to keep you cool and comfy.
A camping hammock is a glorified nylon tarp. Some lay in it at an angle, some lay in it banana-wise, because some hang it very taut and some hang it very sloopy, and it doesn't matter either way because most are only sleeping in it for a few days, and banana-wise won't murder your back in that short a time. They're made to be lightweight for lugging, and immune to damp, apathetic insects and very short bears.
Come winter, camping hammockateers add an expensive quilted underpad to their rigging to block out air beneath it. And an expensive sleeping pad inside beneath them to keep in heat. And long johns. And a pair of hunting overalls. And thick gloves and socks. Oh, and a hat. And then they climb into their sleeping bag, which forces them to lay banana-wise in their glorified nylon tarp and to lay still, which helps keep things in place. When they wake up in the morning, they grab the camera for Youtube and try not to fog the lens with their breath as they run down the list: their winter hammock camping set-up (key word: set-up, defined as all that additional padding) is nice and cozy so they didn't freeze to death in the night; their otherwise ridiculously thin camping hammock kept out the damp nicely; and they have not been eaten by insects or very small bears. All in all, their winter camping set-up, which they only set up when they're outside, camping, in winter, worked fabulously!
Come winter, Mayan hammockateers say, "What the fuck do you mean, 'what do I do in winter'? You pack the hammock away and come inside, you idiot."
And there's the rub: there appears to be no such thing as a 'winter hammock.'
Sure, there are cloth hammocks. Brazilian hammocks are solid cloth and have hanging side fringe that sleepers can pull up as a built-in cover, if you're in Brazil and your idea of a chill is the temperature dropping to 85F. But proper warm-looking hammocks?
The only thing that turns up is Chacabraka, maker of faux fur and satin in an assortment of trippy colors.
And that's where I'm stuck right now, Constant Reader: do I bite the bullet and throw my savings into what looks like a warm, well-made and slightly trippy hammock, or do I bite the bullet and throw my savings into a pile of gear to mokie-rig my Mayan into somewhat less chilly, waiting-to-be-snagged and terribly awkward hammock for winter? Either way, I'm dropping a chunk of cash I'd rather be saving toward my dream hobbit-hole.
But the Jellyfish, it speaks to me...
I was so happy. I slept comfortably, even during the freakishly hot days this summer, and woke up refreshed, without the stiff back and aching joints that mattresses always left me with.
And when it gets cold, mokie?
"Pshaw. No problem, mokie! Half the hammock videos on Youtube are guys in hammocks in snow, after all. Come October, I'll swap out for a solid cloth hammock and bring out the covers. Ooh, in fact, I have a few yards of heavy material and some velour..."
Sigh.
No.
I have a few yards of heavy material but not the know-how to stitch it together without creating weak points that will drop me on my head at 3am. I also have a sewing machine that I barely know how to use, made for light material and hobby projects. And even if I figure that out, I still have a block of cold air beneath me, requiring covers both over and under me. Hammocks don't really do covers under very well, because covers migrate as you move, and where a bed gives them nowhere to hide, hammocks make a veritable blanket luge. It turns out this is part of the reason why there are so many videos on Youtube of guys in hammocks in snow--because Youtube's hammockateers saw a problem and, being remarkably resourceful and helpful, set out to show others how to solve it--if those others are also using camping hammocks outside in snow.
You see...
A Mayan hammock is a glorified netting sling. You lay in it at an angle, so your body is flat, not lengthwise and banana-shaped. They're made to keep you cool and comfy.
A camping hammock is a glorified nylon tarp. Some lay in it at an angle, some lay in it banana-wise, because some hang it very taut and some hang it very sloopy, and it doesn't matter either way because most are only sleeping in it for a few days, and banana-wise won't murder your back in that short a time. They're made to be lightweight for lugging, and immune to damp, apathetic insects and very short bears.
Come winter, camping hammockateers add an expensive quilted underpad to their rigging to block out air beneath it. And an expensive sleeping pad inside beneath them to keep in heat. And long johns. And a pair of hunting overalls. And thick gloves and socks. Oh, and a hat. And then they climb into their sleeping bag, which forces them to lay banana-wise in their glorified nylon tarp and to lay still, which helps keep things in place. When they wake up in the morning, they grab the camera for Youtube and try not to fog the lens with their breath as they run down the list: their winter hammock camping set-up (key word: set-up, defined as all that additional padding) is nice and cozy so they didn't freeze to death in the night; their otherwise ridiculously thin camping hammock kept out the damp nicely; and they have not been eaten by insects or very small bears. All in all, their winter camping set-up, which they only set up when they're outside, camping, in winter, worked fabulously!
Come winter, Mayan hammockateers say, "What the fuck do you mean, 'what do I do in winter'? You pack the hammock away and come inside, you idiot."
And there's the rub: there appears to be no such thing as a 'winter hammock.'
Sure, there are cloth hammocks. Brazilian hammocks are solid cloth and have hanging side fringe that sleepers can pull up as a built-in cover, if you're in Brazil and your idea of a chill is the temperature dropping to 85F. But proper warm-looking hammocks?
The only thing that turns up is Chacabraka, maker of faux fur and satin in an assortment of trippy colors.
And that's where I'm stuck right now, Constant Reader: do I bite the bullet and throw my savings into what looks like a warm, well-made and slightly trippy hammock, or do I bite the bullet and throw my savings into a pile of gear to mokie-rig my Mayan into somewhat less chilly, waiting-to-be-snagged and terribly awkward hammock for winter? Either way, I'm dropping a chunk of cash I'd rather be saving toward my dream hobbit-hole.
But the Jellyfish, it speaks to me...