The History of Backpacking Coffee Gear: From Cowboy Coffee to Instant Trail Brews

 

How campers and backpackers carried the ritual of coffee from open-fire pots and percolators to Moka pots, French presses, pour-over cones, military rations, and modern ultralight instant packets.






“Our culture runs on coffee and gasoline, the first often tasting like the second.” -Edward Abbey


The history of backpacking coffee gear is really a history of what hikers refuse to leave behind. Tents, packs, boots, and stoves tell the big story of how people learned to travel farther with less. Coffee tells the smaller, stranger story of how they carried comfort, routine, and caffeine into the woods anyway. If trail meals are the main course of backpacking culture, coffee is the morning sermon nobody wants to skip. (see Trail Grub: A History Of Backpacking Food)

For campers and backpackers, coffee has never been just a drink. It is a ritual with gear attached: an open-fire pot, an enamel mug, a percolator basket, a Moka pot chamber, a French press plunger, a folding pour-over cone, or a foil packet that promises civilization in soluble form. Every method reflects the same trail argument: flavor versus weight, ceremony versus speed, comfort versus the hard little math of ounces. 

I learned this on Georgia’s Pinhoti Trail during an August morning so humid my tent had become a nylon terrarium. I was cold-soaking everything then, including coffee, which is less a brewing method than a polite disagreement with civilization. The instant powder refused to dissolve into tepid water. I took one sip, spat it into the dirt, and understood at once that bad camp coffee can make a bad morning worse.

What I missed was not only caffeine. I missed the ritual: measuring, stirring, waiting, holding a mug, and pretending that a person can remain civilized while smelling faintly of wet socks and nylon. That failure sent me backward through the history of camp coffee methods, from cowboy coffee to modern ultralight packets, to ask a practical question with historical consequences: which backpacking coffee gear actually deserves pack space?

Cowboy Coffee: The Original Camp Coffee Method

For generations, Americans brewed camp coffee by boiling grounds directly in water and waiting for the heavier bits to settle. This is the family of methods usually called cowboy coffee.[1] Turkish coffee also uses unfiltered grounds, but it is a distinct preparation with its own grind, pot, and serving tradition—not simply cowboy coffee in a smaller hat. Boiled camp coffee was common in the 19th century, when recreational camping was beginning to take shape and the camping menu leaned heavily on whatever could survive fire, weather, and human judgment.[1]

 
As an ultralight backpacker, this was the obvious place to begin. Cowboy coffee requires no filter, no basket, no plunger, and no delicate apparatus that looks like it went to graduate school. Pour-over and drip devices existed in Europe during the 19th century, but they were not the default American camp method.[1] Starting with boiled grounds felt like returning to the roots of the sport, assuming the roots were gritty and slightly over-extracted.

Cowboy coffee (right) is brutally simple: pot, water, coarse grounds, heat. Bring the water to a boil, add the coffee, let it steep, and then persuade the grounds to sink by waiting, tapping the pot, or adding a splash of cold water. Some traditions added crushed eggshells to help clarify the brew.[2] The result can be full-bodied and satisfying, though it often saves one final mouthful of sediment as a reminder that nature is not required to respect your preferences. Copper pots were common in the late 19th century, but were expensive and high-maintenance requiring reapplication of their tin lining every few years.[3]

Enamelware and Aluminum: Lighter Camp Coffee Pots

Camp cookware changed as enamelware and, later, aluminum became common as they were cheaper than copper. Enamel-coated steel (left) protected the base metal, cleaned up more easily than bare metal, and gave campsites that familiar speckled look now associated with summer camps and grandparents who owned things capable of surviving a direct meteor strike.[4] Aluminum eventually appealed to backpackers for the obvious reason: it was light, and backpackers will forgive almost anything that is light.[5] The same obsession with cheap, light, surprisingly durable containers eventually leads straight into History of The Humble Disposable Bag, because backpacking history has never met a vessel it could not argue about.

I tested cowboy coffee at home first, since practicing failure indoors is one of civilization’s underrated achievements. It worked better than expected. After a few minutes, the grounds mostly sank. A splash of cold water helped a little, though not enough to make me feel like I had discovered frontier science. On my next several trips, this method made me genuinely happy each morning. Still, the last sip was gritty and bitter, the beverage equivalent of reading the terms and conditions.

Scandinavian-style egg coffee offered one historical solution. Cooks mixed a raw egg, sometimes with crushed eggshells, into coarse grounds before boiling. As the egg cooked, proteins helped trap fine particles, and a final splash of cold water encouraged the mass to sink, leaving a clearer cup.[2] It is clever, effective, and absolutely not something I wanted loose in my backpack. The backcountry already offers enough opportunities for food safety roulette.

Camping Percolators: Classic Coffee Gear for the Campfire Era

[Percolator on Coleman stove, 20th century icon]

 

The percolator’s history is older and messier than many quick summaries suggest. Early percolating devices appeared in the 19th century, and Hanson Goodrich’s 1889 U.S. patent helped establish the familiar American stovetop form with a central tube and basket.[6] In the 1920s Priscilla Ware (below) developed a design made of aluminum that is still iconic.[7] Camp percolators became a standard American image: enamel or metal pot, glass knob, campfire, and someone insisting that the coffee is “nearly ready” for twenty minutes. The Bialetti Moka Express, a separate pressure-based stovetop brewer, launched in 1933 and belongs beside the percolator in camp-coffee history, though it is not the same machine.[8]

Percolators changed outdoor brewing by separating the grounds from the main pot while repeatedly cycling hot water upward through a tube and down over a basket of coffee.[6] This made the process cleaner than loose boiled grounds, but it also introduced a new hazard: the machine will keep re-brewing the coffee until someone intervenes. Left too long, a percolator can turn a promising cup into something with the emotional range of burnt toast. Used carefully, though, it produces hot, strong, familiar coffee—the kind that tastes like a campground brochure smells.

I picked up a three-cup stainless steel percolator and gave it a try. The setup was intuitive, especially for someone raised around a Mr. Coffee machine, which is basically a percolator’s suburban cousin with buttons. Once it started boiling, I realized I had left the instructions at home and did not know how long to let it perk. Naturally, I guessed. This is how many outdoor traditions begin and several medical waivers are justified.

The coffee was decent but sharper than I expected. After returning to civilization, where the instructions lived, I learned that percolators often produce a stronger, more intense cup and can over-extract if left too long. Shortening the brew time helped. Still, a little sediment found its way into the mug, and the flavor remained more aggressive than I wanted before sunrise. I prefer my coffee to wake me gently, not file a complaint.

The Moka Pot: Backcountry Espresso Before Backpacking Got Fancy

The Moka pot is a classic stovetop brewer that brings an espresso-style experience into the wilderness. Using steam pressure generated by a boiling lower chamber, water is forced upward through a fine metal basket packed with coffee grounds and into a collection chamber.[8] The result is a highly concentrated, viscous brew complete with a velvety mouthfeel that serves as an excellent base for camp lattes. Its iconic octagonal aluminum design is not only compact and packable but also tough enough to handle camp stoves and grates.[8]

The Moka pot (left) was my next test, and I expected it to behave like a percolator with better posture. It did not. Instead of repeatedly cycling water through grounds, the Moka pot uses steam pressure to push water upward through coffee into an upper chamber, producing a concentrated, espresso-like brew without the café machine, the counter space, or the barista silently judging your order.[8] It made the best campground coffee I had tasted so far: rich, consistent, and not especially bitter. I immediately understood why some people accept the extra weight. My only complaint was capacity. I drink two or three cups in the morning, and the Moka pot prefers to distribute joy in smaller, more Italian portions. For a solo slow morning, wonderful. For breaking camp early with a friend, impractical.

French Press Backpacking Coffee: Comfort, Flavor, and Extra Ounces

French press systems brought immersion brewing into outdoor coffee with a little more elegance and a little less frontier dental work. Grounds steep fully in hot water for several minutes, then a plunger fitted with a fine mesh screen traps most of the spent solids at the bottom. Because the mesh allows oils and some fine particles into the cup, a French press produces a fuller, denser brew than paper-filtered methods.[9] It is not the lightest option, but it offers something backpackers pretend not to care about until morning arrives: comfort.

Percolators and Moka pots both earned places in 20th-century camp life, but the late-20th-century specialty coffee boom changed expectations. Backpackers who once accepted brown bitterness as a patriotic duty began wanting better flavor outdoors. French presses answered that desire because they were simple, forgiving, and capable of producing a fuller-bodied cup.[9] Outdoor brands adapted the format with tougher materials—plastic, stainless steel, and integrated cook-pot designs—so hikers no longer had to carry glass into the woods like people auditioning for a tragedy. One early example was the GSI Lexan JavaPress (left) made with shatterproof Lexan plastic instead of glass.[10]

I chose a compact stainless steel French press/cook pot for testing. This time I experimented at home first, because apparently growth is possible, though let us not become sentimental. On day one, I boiled the grounds in the pot and was pleased with the result. Then I read the directions and discovered that I had accidentally invented “not using a French press.” Properly done, the water is boiled and removed from heat, the grounds are added and stirred, the coffee steeps for about four minutes, and then the plunger traps the grounds at the bottom. Pour it off promptly and there it is: a smooth, medium-bodied cup without grit, bitterness, or moral compromise. This became my favorite method.

Pour-Over Camping Coffee: Clean Flavor for Modern Trail Brewing

Pour-over systems approach camp coffee from the opposite direction. Instead of immersion, they depend on gravity, filters, and the brewer’s ability to pour water slowly without being distracted by mosquitoes, weather, or existential dread. Hot water passes through grounds in a cone or packet, leaving most sediment behind and producing a cleaner, brighter cup.[11] This method began as café ritual and migrated outdoors as folding cones, disposable filters, and ultralight drippers made it increasingly portable.[12]

In the 21st century, pour-over coffee became increasingly trail-friendly. Snow Peak introduced a lightweight folding metal pour-over funnel in 2002 (left) and gave the world a new way to think about backcountry coffee prep.[12] Since the , disposable single-serve filters, folding cones, and ultralight drippers let hikers make a clean cup with very little equipment. The appeal is obvious: pour-over offers clarity, easy cleanup, and just enough ceremony to make a dehydrated breakfast feel less like a hostage negotiation. Options like prefilled disposable filters are especially convenient because the grounds, filter, and cleanup plan all arrive in one tidy package.

I tried a disposable trail pour-over called the Kuju Pocket and found it almost impossible to ruin, which is exactly the kind of technical innovation I support. Clip it to the mug, pour hot water slowly, wait, and drink. The biggest danger is failing to secure the filter properly, at which point breakfast becomes a small brown landslide. The coffee was clean and pleasant, though the method requires patience and a steady pour—two qualities not always present in a cold camper wearing one sock and looking for a lighter.

Instant Coffee for Backpacking: The Ultralight Revolution

Instant coffee is older than its reputation suggests. Soluble coffee appeared in the late 19th century, first patent in 1890; Satori Kato later developed a stable soluble coffee powder in Chicago and patented it in the early 1900s.[13] Traditional instant coffee is made by drying brewed coffee into soluble powder or granules, usually through spray-drying or freeze-drying.[14] It is light, fast, shelf-stable, and requires no cleanup, which explains why backpackers keep forgiving it for tasting, at times, like regret with notes of cardboard.

     [1920s Instant Coffee Ad]

Modern instant coffee has improved dramatically, especially as specialty brands have treated the category as something other than a punishment. I have tried many inexpensive versions over the years, and most left a bitter aftertaste or a flavor profile best described as “office carpet.” Better modern packets can be surprisingly good, especially when weight, speed, and cleanup matter. This is where I found a new favorite: not perfect, but good enough that I no longer felt I was betraying the sacred bean. Alpine Start (left), founded in 2015, is a high-quality brand that I often reach for now.[15]

During my testing phase, instant coffee also taught me that convenience is not the same thing as safety. One morning around five, half-awake and trying to leave the house, I poured just-boiled water into a Hydro Flask, dumped in a packet of instant coffee, let the lid flop closed, and gave the bottle a casual swirl. The bottle answered by detonating in my hands. When I opened my eyes and confirmed that I was somehow still alive and unharmed—the scalding water having miraculously missed me—I looked across the room and saw the walls and ceiling dripping with coffee. Thankfully, this only happened once, even though I finished the rest of that brand’s packets with the tense loyalty of someone handling unexploded ordnance.

Instant coffee remains one of the most practical trail options because it weighs almost nothing and asks almost nothing of the user. But the modern backpacker now has choices: cowboy coffee, percolator, Moka pot, French press, pour-over, steep bags, and instant packets that do not automatically taste like a warehouse fire. I still prefer the French press. But after that Pinhoti morning, I will take decent instant coffee over no coffee every time. Civilization is fragile. Sometimes it comes in a foil packet.

Military Coffee Rations and the Portable Caffeine Mindset

Military coffee rations occupy a strange and honorable corner of outdoor coffee history. They are not primarily designed for romance, nuance, or phrases like “bright citrus finish.” Military rations, like the MRE (left), are designed to survive transport, neglect, temperature swings, and the kind of morning where morale has to be issued in packets. In that sense, they share a family resemblance with backpacking instant coffee: light, compact, durable, and far more concerned with function than poetry.[16]

One popular myth is that military coffee ration packets are packed with heroic levels of caffeine, as if one envelope could carry a platoon through history and paperwork. In reality, individual instant coffee packets in field rations are often modest, and caffeine may also appear in other ration components such as gum or snacks.[16] In my experience, the hikers most likely to bring military coffee are veterans or ration enthusiasts who have developed a specialized relationship with austerity. It is not bad exactly. It is just coffee that has been briefed, packed, and told not to expect applause.

Ultralight Coffee Culture: Why Backpackers Still Carry Ritual

Ultralight coffee culture proves that backpackers can turn even a morning drink into a philosophical dispute with spreadsheets. Some hikers carry single-serve instant packets and call it wisdom. Others bring titanium presses, collapsible drippers, tiny hand grinders, or carefully weighed beans because joy, too, has a base weight. What makes camp coffee interesting is not that one method wins. It is that every era of outdoor brewing reflects the same negotiation: comfort versus weight, ritual versus efficiency, flavor versus whatever happened in that dollar-store packet. This is also the same tortured logic behind Camper's Love-Hate Relationship with Electronics: we go outside to simplify life, then pack a small museum of conveniences just in case simplicity gets annoying.

That is why the history of outdoor gear should make room for the humble camp cup. Tents, packs, boots, and stoves tell the big story of how people learned to travel farther with less. Coffee tells the smaller, stranger story of what they refused to leave behind. However light the gear becomes, hikers keep carrying some version of ceremony: a pot over coals, a percolator on a stove, a Moka pot hissing in the morning, a French press waiting four dignified minutes, a paper filter clipped to a mug, or a foil packet torn open with the gravity of a sacrament. We go outside to strip life down to essentials, then immediately argue over whether those essentials include a 3.2-ounce brewer.

After that miserable Pinhoti morning, I no longer think of camp coffee as an accessory. It is part tool, part comfort object, and part daily vote for not becoming feral before breakfast. The best method depends on the trip: instant for speed, pour-over for cleanup, French press for pleasure, cowboy coffee for tradition, Moka pot for indulgence, and percolator for anyone who enjoys both nostalgia and supervision. Choose the method that fits the miles, the mood, and the level of grit you are willing to accept in your final sip. The point is not to recreate the kitchen in the woods. The point is to carry just enough civilization to meet the morning on friendly terms—hot, dark, and preferably not dissolving into tepid water like a personal failure.

 

By David F. Garner

 

 

 

FAQ: Backpacking Coffee Gear History

What is the oldest camp coffee method?

Cowboy coffee is one of the oldest and simplest American camp coffee methods: coarse grounds boiled or steeped directly in water, then poured carefully after the grounds settle. It requires almost no dedicated gear, which explains why it remained useful wherever people had a pot, heat, water, and coffee.


What is the best coffee method for backpacking?

The best backpacking coffee method depends on the trip. Instant coffee is best for speed and weight. Pour-over packets are good for clean flavor and tidy cleanup. A French press offers the most satisfying ritual and body, but usually costs more pack space. Cowboy coffee wins for simplicity and historical charm, while a Moka pot is best when strong coffee matters more than ounces.


When did instant coffee become important for hikers?

Instant coffee has roots in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, but its backpacking appeal comes from the same qualities that made it useful in military and travel contexts: low weight, long shelf life, fast preparation, and no grounds to clean up. Modern specialty instant coffee improved the flavor enough that many hikers now treat it as a practical choice rather than a last resort.


Is a French press worth carrying on a backpacking trip?

A French press can be worth carrying on slower trips, short overnights, or cold-weather mornings when comfort matters. It is less ideal for long ultralight routes because the press mechanism adds bulk and cleanup. For hikers who value full-bodied coffee and a familiar morning ritual, those extra ounces may be justified.

Other Articles You May Enjoy:

A Titillating Tale of Trail Hydration: History of Trail Beverages

Trail Grub: A History Of Backpacking Food

Hydration Contraptions: A History of Water Containers On The Trail

History of Backpacking Water Filters and Treatment

History of The Humble Disposable Bag

A History of Camper's Love-Hate Relationship with Electronics 

5-Star Toilet Rating System

Sources

[1] EatingMeals, “Cowboys and Coffee: Unraveling the Story of How Cowboys Got Coffee Beans.” URL: https://eatingmeals.com/how-did-cowboys-get-coffee-beans/
[2] DreamingCoffee, “How did Cowboys Make Coffee – A Historical Perspective.” URL: https://dreamingcoffee.com/how-did-cowboys-make-coffee-a-historical-perspective/
[3] Old and Interesting, “Enamelware, vintage porcelain or enamel kitchenware, graniteware, agateware, speckleware, timeline.” URL: http://www.oldandinteresting.com/enamelware-history.aspx
[4] Barebones, “The History and Benefits of Enamelware.” URL: https://barebonesliving.com/blogs/products-notes/the-history-and-benefits-of-enamelware
[5] Commercial Toolry, “Explained: Vintage Camp Cookware Standards, Composition, and Industrial Use.” URL: https://commercialtoolry.com/home/vintage-camp-cookware
[6] Google Patents, “US408707A – Coffee-pot,” Hanson Goodrich, patented August 13, 1889. URL: https://patents.google.com/patent/US408707A/en
[7] eBay archived listing, “1920/1930s Priscilla Ware Aluminum Stovetop Percolator Fire-King Glass Lid.”
[8] Bialetti, “Our history.” URL: https://www.bialetti.com/us_en/our-history; INeedCoffee, “The Story of the Bialetti Moka Express.” URL: https://ineedcoffee.com/the-story-of-the-bialetti-moka-express/
[9] GSI Outdoors, “30 fl. oz. JavaPress, Camp French Press Coffee Maker.” URL: https://gsioutdoors.com/products/30-fl-oz-javapress
[10] Trailspace, “GSI Outdoors Lexan Javapress Reviews.” URL: https://www.trailspace.com/gear/gsi-outdoors/lexan-javapress/
[11] Snow Peak, “Collapsible Pour Over Coffee Brewer.” URL: https://www.snowpeak.com/products/collapsible_pour_over-cs-113
[12] Sprudge, “Japan’s Snow Peak Wants You To Drink Coffee Outside.” URL: https://sprudge.com/japans-snow-peak-wants-you-to-drink-coffee-outside-81825.html
[13] Lemelson Center for the Study of Invention and Innovation, “Coffee in an Instant.” URL: https://invention.si.edu/invention-stories/coffee-instant
[14] History of Coffee, “History of Instant Coffee – The First Instant Coffee,” Accessed September 3, 2026 from https://www.historyofcoffee.net/coffee-history/instant-coffee-history/.
[15] Alpine Start Foods. “Alpine Start Foods.” LinkedIn company profile. Accessed September 4, 2026. https://www.linkedin.com/company/alpine-start-foods/.
[16] Carpenter,Murray, “Inside the Crazy Lab Where the Army Spikes Its Rations With Caffeine,” Wired, MAR 14, 2014, https://www.wired.com/2014/03/military-obsession-with-caffeine/.

Why Do People Go Camping? The Three Books That Changed the Outdoors

How Adventures in the Wilderness, The Dharma Bums, and Wild inspired generations of campers and backpackers.

Why do people go camping? Or, more broadly, why do people deliberately leave the comforts of home to spend time in wild places? Historians of outdoor recreation have debated this question for decades. For more than 150 years, millions of people have voluntarily traded soft beds for sleeping bags, hot showers for cold streams, and convenience for hardship. They have endured rain, insects, sore muscles, and uncertainty in pursuit of an experience that can be surprisingly difficult to explain. The answer has changed from generation to generation. Camping and backpacking have not always meant the same thing, and for much of their history the two were inseparable. Yet the modern philosophy that draws people into the outdoors can be traced through a handful of remarkably influential books. Some promised healing. Others promised freedom, enlightenment, or self-discovery. More than merely describing wilderness travel, these books convinced ordinary people that the wilderness contained something worth seeking.

Recreational camping and backpacking has now been popular in three different centuries. It builds on a much older tradition of pilgrimage travel, but it is separated by a different ideology. What inspired this ideology? There are three primary books historians identify that have most influenced the idea of recreational backpack travel. One was written in each century. These books built on wider cultural ideas and philosophies to be sure. But these three books stand as the great pillars of the noble sport.  Together, they helped shape the modern camping and backpacking movement.

Historians compare these books because each produced what might be called a "trail rush." Murray's readers flooded the Adirondacks in the 1870s. Kerouac inspired a generation of spiritual wanderers and backpackers in the postwar years. Strayed's memoir helped drive unprecedented interest in long-distance hiking on the Pacific Crest Trail. While separated by more than a century, all three books convinced ordinary people that the wilderness belonged to them.

In the early and mid-19th century, Romantic and Transcendentalist writers flipped the traditional view of nature on its head. Western culture predominantly viewed nature as dangerous and a place where evil could reside. It was a threat to civilization. Romantics and Transcendentalists painted nature as a paradise uncorrupted by man's evil influence. It was a place of healing and a temple where man could find closeness to the divine. 

William Murray and The Invention of Camping

William HH Murray built on these themes in his book Adventures in the Wilderness. The moment Murray published his book in the spring of 1869, it became a massive bestseller. That exact summer, thousands of middle-class city tourists grabbed makeshift gear and swarmed the Adirondack mountains in upstate New York. This book is credited with inventing recreational camping. Many historians consider Adventures in the Wilderness one of the most influential camping books ever written.

Early readers who wandered into the Adirondack wilderness were called "Murray's Fools" because few understood what drew them away from the comforts of the city into the harsh wilderness. The term "Murray's Fools" was intended as an insult, yet it perfectly captured the novelty of the moment. For perhaps the first time in American history, large numbers of ordinary people were willingly entering the wilderness not for work, survival, or necessity, but simply because they wanted to be there.

He infused nature with a "Wilderness as a Church" philosophy. Murray directly adapted the ideas of the Transcendentalists but translated them for the masses. At a time when American cities were becoming choked with the smoke of the Industrial Revolution, Murray argued that the city was a spiritual desert, while the forest was God's true temple.

He wrote with dramatic, poetic flair about the spiritual transformation of the woods:

"The wilderness is a sanctuary... In the silence of the woods, the soul finds its way back to its Maker. The rustle of the leaves is a truer hymn than any sung in our grandest stone cathedrals."

By framing the wilderness as a place of spiritual purification, he gave middle-class Americans permission to view a vacation not as a lazy luxury, but as a moral and religious duty.

If Adventures in the Wilderness had just been a dry list of train schedules and gear, it would have been forgotten in a season. William H.H. Murray was, first and foremost, a charismatic preacher, and he brought his pulpit right into the woods. He didn't just tell people how to camp; he used deeply emotional, flowery, romantic language to convince them that the freedom of camping would save their souls and heal their bodies.

It was precisely the blend of high philosophy and practical utility that made the book a historic juggernaut. Historians point to several specific ways Murray’s philosophy and soaring rhetoric laid the groundwork for the modern wilderness movement.

Murray dedicated large portions of his book to a deeply romantic philosophy of health. He claimed that the crisp air of the Adirondacks, the smell of pine, and the physical act of rowing a boat could cure everything from physical ailments like tuberculosis to mental exhaustion and "brain weariness."

“No health-seeker ever slept on a bed of balsam boughs and woke up with a heavy head... The wilderness breathes life back into the dying.”

This specific rhetoric triggered a slow but massive shift in how Americans viewed health, essentially inventing the concept of nature as a therapeutic sanctuary. Murray was one of the first writers to romanticize the aesthetic experience of camping. He wrote lush, paragraph-long descriptions of watching the embers of a campfire die down, listening to the call of the loon across a misty lake, and the profound peace of sleeping under the stars. He made the discomforts of the woods sound incredibly beautiful, seductive, and deeply fashionable.

Murray paved the way for recreational camping and backpacking. His book encouraged railroads to build new tracks to the wilderness, spurred entrepreneurs to build wilderness hotels, and normalized the commercial sale of tents, boats, and sporting apparel to everyday consumers. Murray’s book single-handedly birthed the outdoor hospitality industry and helped cement the vacation as an American tradition.

By the mid-20th century, camping had lost much of its earlier freedom. Programs like the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts, summer camps, and resort culture had domesticated much of the wilderness experience. Decades of military influence had turned camping into a functional sport with rigid rules and proper form. Many outdoor spaces had become heavily managed as departments like the National Parks Service formalized campgrounds and controlled access. The wilderness had lost much of its earlier freedom. The sport was ripe for a revolution.

Wilderness travel had become respectable, organized, and highly structured. Camping was often presented as a wholesome family activity or educational program. For many young people, however, something had been lost. The wilderness was becoming another institution at a time when a generation was growing suspicious of institutions themselves.

Jack Kerouac and the Wilderness Revolution

Where Murray preached that nature could heal the body and soul, Jack Kerouac argued that it could liberate the mind. Published in 1958, The Dharma Bums arrived at a moment when postwar America was becoming increasingly suburban, institutionalized, and conformity-driven. The nation was wealthier than ever before, yet many young people felt spiritually restless. Kerouac's answer was not found in churches, schools, or offices. It was found on mountain trails.

Through characters inspired by himself and the mountaineer-poet Gary Snyder, Kerouac portrayed wilderness travel as a path toward enlightenment. Mountains became places of meditation and self-discovery. Hiking was no longer merely recreation. It became an act of rebellion against materialism and modern society. Unlike Murray's carefully managed Adirondack vacations, Kerouac celebrated spontaneity, simplicity, and wandering. A backpack, sleeping bag, and willingness to embrace uncertainty were often all a traveler needed.

His influence extended far beyond literature. Many historians regard The Dharma Bums as one of the foundational texts of the modern backpacking movement. Few books have had a greater influence on backpacking culture. It popularized the image of the lightweight wanderer carrying everything needed on his back while pursuing experiences rather than possessions. In doing so, Kerouac helped create the cultural conditions that would later support the rise of long-distance hiking and backpacking, especially in untamed wilderness. If Murray taught Americans that wilderness could heal the body and soul, Kerouac taught a generation that wilderness could liberate the mind.

Cheryl Strayed and The Wilderness as Self-Discovery

More than fifty years later, Strayed would present a different promise: wilderness as a place of healing and recovery from life's deepest wounds. By the early twenty-first century, camping, and especially backpacking, had once again become highly specialized. Backpacking had matured into its own as a unique sport with dedicated instruction books. The sport increasingly emphasized expensive equipment, detailed planning, physical performance, and technical expertise. Outdoor magazines devoted countless pages to gear reviews and packing lists. Long-distance hiking was often portrayed as the domain of seasoned outdoorsmen, endurance athletes, and wilderness experts. For newcomers looking in from the outside, the trail could seem less like an invitation and more like an exclusive club. Once again, backpacking was ripe for a democratizing revolution.

When Cheryl Strayed published Wild in 2012, Americans were no longer looking to escape industrial smoke or suburban conformity. Many were instead wrestling with grief, loss, anxiety, and personal uncertainty. Strayed's memoir presented the trail as a place where damaged people could rebuild themselves.

Her story intentionally violated many backpacking conventions. She began her Pacific Crest Trail journey inexperienced, underprepared, and burdened by an absurdly heavy backpack. Her backpack was so oversized she vividly named it “monster.” Experienced hikers recognized her mistakes immediately. Many readers saw themselves.

The brilliance of Wild was that it repositioned wilderness travel from a specialized athletic activity into something emotionally and physically accessible. The long-distance trail was no longer reserved for experts. It was presented as a place where ordinary people could confront extraordinary personal struggles.In doing so, Strayed helped change who readers imagined when they thought of a backpacker. Women, beginners, and people experiencing hardship suddenly appeared at the center of the story rather than the margins. Wild's influence extended far beyond book sales. Many women cited Strayed's memoir as their introduction to long-distance hiking, while outdoor retailers reported increased interest from first-time backpackers.

The physical impact of the book (and its subsequent 2014 movie adaptation) was unprecedented: According to the Pacific Crest Trail Association, the number of people completing the entire trail or large sections of it skyrocketed by over 300% in the few years following the book's release.

Before Wild, popular depictions of long-distance hiking often centered on highly experienced outdoorsmen committed to endurance, gear mastery, and wilderness expertise. Strayed shattered that stereotype. Her success demonstrated that backpacking could be an act of personal transformation rather than merely a display of outdoor competence. Women, beginners, and people experiencing hardship suddenly appeared at the center of the story rather than the margins. Just as Murray convinced city dwellers they belonged in the Adirondacks, Strayed convinced an entirely new generation that they belonged on the trail.

Thoreau and Muir taught Americans how to revere wilderness. Murray taught them to vacation there. Kerouac taught them to seek enlightenment there. Strayed taught them to heal there. Each inherited an older vision of nature and translated it for a new generation. More than simply describing wilderness travel, these authors expanded the circle of people who believed the wilderness was meant for them. For that reason, Adventures in the Wilderness, The Dharma Bums, and Wild remain three of the most influential books in the history of camping, backpacking, and outdoor recreation.

By David F. Garner  

Other Articles You May Enjoy:

An Etymology of GORP

Trail Grub: A History Of Backpacking Food

Hydration Contraptions: A History of Water Containers On The Trail

History of Backpacking Water Filters and Treatment

History of The Humble Disposable Bag

A History of Camper's Love-Hate Relationship with Electronics 

The Hidden Landscape of Backpacking: Why Your Backpacking Trip Begins at a Gas Station

“A rule of the blue road: Be careful going in search of adventure—it’s ridiculously easy to find.” ― William Least Heat-Moon, Blue Highways: A Journey into America




As I sat alone in my tent's doorway looking across the snow-covered moonlit mountains of Colorado, I contemplated my dire situation. I had about half a liter of water left, only dehydrated food, and no way of lighting my stove. What was I going to do? My misadventure began months before when I moved to Colorado to be close to the mountains.


I grew up in Tennessee where it snowed mostly flurries. After weeks of research and preparation, I drove out to my carefully selected trailhead. On the way, I stopped to fill up with gas and purchased a tin of small Altoids mints to keep in my car.


I snowshoed ten miles into the backcountry to camp at 11,000 ft. I brought all the correct winter gear including a white gas stove. Now, it was just a lead weight. The Bic lighter I carried failed to light. Nothing I tried seemed to work. If I had known that keeping the lighter fluid warm helps significantly, I might have known my predicament was easily remedied. Instead, I sat fearing the worst. I could not make food, nor even melt more water. Potential newspaper headlines ran through my mind. "Missing hiker found frozen stiff after a 5-day search effort failed to locate him in time."


After two hours of dread and ravenous hunger, I reached into my thigh pocket for one of my hand warmers and froze. I felt that small tin of Altoids mints. In that moment, I knew a gas station visit had averted catastrophe. I had never been happier about forgetting to leave something in my car. I rationed my water and savored Altoids through the night and hiked out the next morning, parched but alive!


We think of survival as a battle fought entirely in the woods when the battle really begins before we even leave our hometown. When discussing backpack destinations, we focus our attention on the trail and points along it. We often ignore the peripheral landscape of backpacking when we do not need it. Many of the most important parts of a backpacking trip aren't on the trail.


Backpacking depends on a broad landscape of roads, services, institutions, and rituals. These liminal spaces serve as transitions into and out of the wilderness experience. Backpacking is not just a trek through the wilderness. It is a journey through the hidden geography that surrounds the trail.


Every pilgrimage requires liminal spaces. Medieval pilgrims had inns, shrines, ferries, and market towns. Backpackers have outfitters, trail towns, trailheads, and shuttle drivers. Different journey, same pattern. No one hikes the Appalachian Trail alone. Even the most self-sufficient backpacker depends on a vast support system built by thousands of strangers. We remember mountain summits and alpine lakes. We forget permit counters, parking lots, shuttle stops, and gas stations. Yet these are the places where adventure begins and ends.

Preparation Spaces

The journey begins in preparation spaces like gear shops and grocery stores. These are shops that serve as hubs for knowledge of the craft or local beta. You may meet locals with info that cannot be found in guidebooks or online and community bulletin boards sharing local resources. It is in these trail-support spaces where one can find the latest equipment and guidebooks. These are places where you may discover new cuisine options or a new method that eases your workload in camp or even saves your life. Every generation of hikers inherits thousands of miles of accumulated wisdom through casual conversations in gear shops, hostels, parking lots, and trail towns.


These are more than retail venues. They are cultural forums where the interaction of ideas shapes the sport and supporting practices and gear. Where would we be if giants like Dick Kelty, Yvon Chouinard, and Ray Jardine had not wandered into outfitters and been frustrated by the limitations of the gear they found there? Entering a gear shop is the exact moment a person begins mentally shedding their "city self" and adopting their "hiker self." It is a psychological boundary. Shopping for gear and supplies is a time-tested ritual. It allows us to bypass reinventing the wheel or the need for firsthand experience of our trail destination. For $9.99, you can buy a book that contains the accumulated knowledge of generations. Still, much of backpacking knowledge has never been written down.


A visit to the grocery store is similar. Such trips are not lowly supply runs. They are a time-honored ritual in which we reenact the rite of gathering sustenance. Unlike our ancestors who ate whatever they could forage or hunt, modern grocery stores offer a pilgrimage through a temple of abundance. At every meal, one can choose from a menu that spans the globe. The food can be made from scratch, just add boiling water, or prepackaged ready-to-eat. You are the master chef. These too are spaces where one may learn from a stranger. I once met a chef in the grocery aisle whose tips revolutionized my backcountry fried fish recipe. Now whenever I make it, others will at least tolerate it.

Approach Spaces

Roads

Roads are often viewed as the opposite of wilderness, yet they make backpacking possible. Historians have argued that the automobile democratized outdoor recreation by giving ordinary people access to distant forests, mountains, and deserts that had previously been the domain of the wealthy. Without roads, many of today's most popular backpacking destinations would remain inaccessible to all but the most determined travelers.


Roads occupy a peculiar place in the backpacking experience. They are neither home nor wilderness. They are transition spaces. The highway slowly peels away the routines of daily life as suburbs give way to farmland, then forest, then mountains. Anticipation builds with every mile. Few backpackers remember every stretch of road they traveled, yet many vividly remember the last winding mountain highway, gravel forest road, or rough two-track that led them to a trailhead. Few transitions are as memorable as watching civilization slowly recede in the rearview mirror while the wilderness grows larger through the windshield.


Roads also embody one of the great contradictions of wilderness recreation. They provide access to wild places while simultaneously threatening the very qualities that make those places special. The rise of the automobile helped fuel both outdoor recreation and the wilderness preservation movement.1 Yet for most backpackers, the road remains an inseparable part of the experience, serving as the long avenue between ordinary life and adventure.


Roads are augmented by other transportation systems. Airports, train stations, and bus stops serve a similar function on a larger scale. These transportation hubs compress vast distances and make remote wilderness areas accessible to ordinary travelers. Like trailheads, they are charged with anticipation. Though less romantic than the open road, these transportation hubs perform the same function: they gather travelers, mark transition, and set the pilgrimage in motion.


[Brief Detour: There has been a resurgence in picnic table usage over the past few years. Whether motivated by nostalgia, lower travel costs, or a desire to slow down, many travelers appear to be rediscovering the simple pleasure of eating a meal beside the road rather than rushing to their destination.]

Rest Areas and Welcome Centers

Rest areas and welcome centers are the unsung heroes of highway travel. These no-frills stops are streamlined to provide just enough amenities and get you back on the road quickly. They double as a safe spot to picnic and to catch some zzzs if needed.


[Brief Detour: When Michigan road engineer Allan Williams saw a family using a roadside stump as a picnic table in the 1920s, he realized motorists needed simple places to stop and rest. He installed a picnic table along Route 16 near Saranac, Michigan. That humble table became the blueprint for a nation’s infrastructure and the ancestor of roadside parks, rest areas, and travel plazas across America.2,3]


Many travelers prefer public rest areas for their quiet atmosphere, absence of commercial pressure, and generous green space for stretching their legs or walking a pet. The humble picnic table remains one of their defining features, offering travelers a simple place to rest, eat, and reconnect with the journey itself.


Welcome centers and rest areas may also be staffed by knowledgeable local ambassadors. These dedicated professionals are often experts on the regions they serve and can provide recommendations on accommodations, scenic routes, and local history. Many spend considerable time exploring the places they recommend, giving them familiarity with hidden gems that guidebooks and websites miss. Some can even help travelers obtain discounts unavailable elsewhere. In the age of apps and algorithms, they preserve a more personal touch. Sometimes the best advice comes from someone who has walked the road before us.

Gas Stations

Gas stations (also called convenience stores, truck stops and service stations) along with commercial travel plazas are another key component of backpacking infrastructure. Obviously, they provide a place to refill your tank, and increasingly, your EV battery. Convenience stores provide many other services besides refueling. They serve as a gathering point for caravanning or carpooling to the trailhead. They offer an information exchange where people can trade trail or road conditions. They serve as a general store for last-minute purchases on a wide variety of essentials. Today this often includes bottled water and hydration products, though hikers once relied on a wide variety of canteens and other containers to carry water into the backcountry. (See: History of Backpacking Water Containers.)


In many cases, they are the last available stop before leaving civilization. They mark the transition between ordinary travel and the approach to the wilderness. They are the last outpost on the edge of the frontier, a place-type that has existed for centuries. Lit like glowing neon lighthouses in the lonely dark of the highway, gas stations stand as humble sanctuaries of the open road, offering travelers a warm pulse of life, hot coffee or a cold drink, and safe harbor.

Waiting Spaces

Some of the most memorable travel experiences occur while waiting. Transit stops, parking lots, gear shops, rest areas, and trail towns are often treated as spaces to move through as quickly as possible. Yet these pauses create opportunities for spontaneous conversations and shared experiences. Sociologists call these connections "weak ties." Though fleeting, they help build a sense of belonging and often provide the first threads from which larger travel communities are woven. Many friendships, trail partnerships, and future adventures begin not on the trail itself, but while waiting to get there.

Threshold Spaces

Trailheads

In the backpacker's imagination, the world is often divided into three zones, front country, side country, and backcountry. The trailhead is a threshold space that stands guard over the backcountry, protecting it from utter destruction and from the corrupting influence of front country. It says, "civilization may proceed no farther." Beyond this point, self-reliance increasingly replaces convenience. Side country are the rural spaces that provide a buffer zone, yet are often slowly turning into front country.


Trailheads serve as the official entrance point to the backcountry, the threshold where travelers trade the concrete grid for the wild unknown. They are often marked by parking lots or pull offs. They may contain toilet facilities, trash cans, or information kiosks. They may be entirely self-service with maps, logbooks, and fee stations all operating on the honor system. Alternatively, they may contain a ranger station. These threshold spaces are civilization's final foothold. Beyond them, roads fade into trails, services disappear, and responsibility shifts increasingly onto the traveler. They are a gate that guards the wilderness from civilization and civilization from wilderness.

Administration Offices

Permit offices and ranger stations are where wilderness becomes official. Maps, rules, stories, and expectations are exchanged across the counter. Rangers act as both guides and guardians, helping people safely experience wild places while protecting those places from overuse. Their work sits at the intersection of two competing goals: making wilderness accessible while keeping it wild.


Ranger stations are functionally offices, information centers, and operational bases. Symbolically, they are shrines to stewardship and monuments to generations of rangers, wardens, lookouts, and conservation officers who have safeguarded public lands. Every ranger station embodies a simple promise: somebody is watching over this place.


[Brief Detour: The first Forest Service ranger station was built along Montana's Bitterroot River in 1899.4 From that modest beginning grew a continent-wide network of ranger stations, each serving as both a practical headquarters and a symbol of stewardship.]

Permits and Reservations

Backcountry permits in the United States emerged in the late 1960s and early 1970s.4 Federal agencies like the National Park Service created these systems to manage surging crowds, prevent environmental damage, and maintain wilderness solitude following the passage of the 1964 Wilderness Act.  Before the late 1960s, most backcountry travel required little or no formal registration. As recreation exploded after World War II and wilderness protections expanded, agencies began implementing permit systems to protect fragile landscapes and preserve opportunities for solitude.


The permit office transforms recreation into an authorized activity. It is where maps, rules, expectations, and responsibilities are exchanged. The wilderness journey often becomes real only when the permit is finally in hand. Permits remain controversial. Supporters see them as necessary tools for protecting ecosystems, while critics view them as barriers to access. Whatever one's position, permits have become an increasingly important threshold that hikers must cross before entering many wilderness areas.


A century ago, a trailhead often marked the beginning of wilderness travel. Today, the wilderness journey frequently begins long before the trailhead, at a permit office or online reservation system. A permit or ranger station may seem mundane, yet few places carry such excitement. Here, a distant dream suddenly becomes real. These places are more than administrative checkpoints. They are gateways where rules, maps, stories, and expectations are exchanged, and where the wilderness ceases to be an idea and becomes a destination.

Support Spaces

Lodging

Lodging spaces occupy a unique position between wilderness and home. The lodging facility functions as a vibrant crossroads where local culture meets global transit. In lobbies, hallways, and bathrooms we cross paths with fellow travelers between destinations, each carrying their own stories of the road.


Hotels, motels, hostels, and campgrounds serve as waystations where travelers prepare for adventure or recover from it. Before a trip, they build anticipation as the journey gathers momentum; afterward they provide a space to rest, reflect, and gradually re-enter ordinary life. For thru-hikers, they offer a brief sanctuary from the hardships of the trail.


There is a deeper aspect to these spaces. More than places to sleep, they are temporary communities where stories, advice, and plans are exchanged. Even among strangers, there is often a quiet camaraderie born of a shared desire for adventure.

Trail Towns

Entire communities have grown around backpackers. Examples include Damascus, VA on the Appalachian Trail or Kennedy Meadows, CA on the Pacific Crest Trail. Trail towns are unique microcosms of hiking culture as the local identity is often shaped by recreation. They are places where strangers will not look at you funny as you limp into town looking more akin to a homeless person than a magazine ad. Everyone in such towns have felt the siren song of the trail.


Trail towns are resupply oases. Hikers once relied solely on what they could carry. Now they often have access to a variety of specialized products. This evolution can be seen in trail beverages, which have progressed from homemade switchel to modern electrolyte drink mixes and sports drinks. (See: A Titillating Tale of Trail Hydration.) Specialized trail-support businesses cater to hikers in ways ordinary towns rarely do. Whether you need stove fuel, replacement gear, maps, freeze-dried meals, or obscure items like Esbit tablets, chances are someone in town has exactly what you're looking for.

Trail towns temporarily invert social expectations. Behaviors that appear strange elsewhere become ordinary. Enormous backpacks, trail names, and conversations about mileage are all understood without explanation. In a trail town you will find instant hospitality, vibrant outdoor culture, and a helping hand when you need it. Hitchhiking is viewed with suspicion in most places. Not so in a trail town. Hikers arrive as modern pilgrims. The townsfolk who feed them, shuttle them, and offer a place to sleep become the benefactors and stewards of the journey: the trail angels. Trail towns are more than a side quest; they are a part of the journey.

The Vortex

For the long-distance hiker, trail towns are a vital lifeline to the modern world. They depend heavily on these islands of civilization that dot their path. Long gone are the days of foraging. Today’s distance hikers live by the resupply network provided by towns.


In the early days of long-distance hiking, thru-hikers relied heavily on the Post Office. General Delivery mail was their lifeline to food, equipment, and the outside world.5 The Post Office remains an important tool for modern hikers, and many develop a deep appreciation for the old idea that, “rain or shine, the mail must go through.”


For the long-distance hiker, a resupply stop is a brief return to civilization. After days in the backcountry, even ordinary comforts feel extraordinary. A hot meal, a soft bed, clean clothes, and a shower become luxuries. Simple errands that most people hardly notice take on new significance. The grocery store transforms into a warehouse of possibility; the laundromat becomes a place of renewal. Yet, a resupply stop is rarely as restful as it seems. The thru-hiker must replenish food, charge electronics, do laundry, retrieve mail, and prepare for the next section of trail. What appears to be a vacation from hiking is often an exercise in logistics.


Trail towns are notorious "vortexes" because they can be difficult to leave. Comfortable beds, hot food, air conditioning, and the company of fellow travelers exert a powerful pull. Eventually, however, the trail calls once more. Walking out of town with a newly loaded backpack often brings mixed emotions. Civilization offers comfort, but many hikers gradually discover that the simple rhythm of walking has become more like home than the town they are leaving behind.

Re-entry Spaces

Restaurants

Almost every backpacker has a memorable post-hike meal. The first meal often tastes far better than it objectively should. It is typically marked by ingesting “real food,” but the experience is less about the food and more about eating delicious food one did not cook or carry.


This ritual celebrates the journey's end, and the traveler's re-entry to civilization. It resembles the celebratory feast medieval pilgrims held to mark the end of their spiritual quest. For centuries, pilgrims celebrated the completion of difficult journeys with communal meals. Backpackers participate in a surprisingly similar ritual, though today the feast may involve burgers, pizza, and milkshakes rather than roast lamb and ale.


Some restaurants attain near-mythical status within hiking communities. Certain diners, burger joints, and cafés become institutions, spoken of with almost as much reverence as the trails themselves. Their reputation spreads through guidebooks, trail forums, and campfire conversations. For many hikers, revisiting these establishments becomes part of the tradition. An especially beloved location can turn one into a restaurant's self-appointed evangelist.


The meal marks the point at which the wilderness begins to loosen its grip. Around a restaurant table, the hardships of the trail quickly transform into stories, and the adventure begins its journey from experience into memory.

Cleaning Spaces

One final task remains. A soldier's duty does not end when the battle is won. Armor must be cleaned, swords sharpened, and equipment prepared for the next campaign. Likewise, the backpacker must wash clothes, repair gear, and restock supplies. This often sends her to the laundromat or gear shop, where civilization quietly resumes its work of supporting adventure.


Then comes perhaps the most anticipated ritual of all: the first shower. Few comforts compare to standing beneath hot water after days on the trail. As steam rises and scented soap fills the air, the mundane becomes magical. The cascading water works like a gentle exorcism, washing away dust, sweat, and a week's worth of accumulated hardship. The body returns to comfort while the mind still lingers among distant peaks and forest paths. For a brief moment, the backpacker occupies a strange gateway between two worlds. The wilderness has not yet fully released its hold, and civilization has not yet fully reclaimed its traveler. Only when the water stops and the towel is in hand does the long process of returning home finally feel complete.


Looking back, I realize my Colorado adventure did not begin in the mountains. It began at a gas station dozens of miles away with a forgotten tin of Altoids. The wilderness experience is the crescendo of a much larger journey that unfolds across the liminal geography surrounding the trail. We rarely remember these in-between places, yet they shape every adventure. The hidden landscape is not separate from the journey. It is part of the journey itself.



By David F. Garner

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Other Articles You May Enjoy:

An Etymology of GORP

Trail Grub: A History Of Backpacking Food

Hydration Contraptions: A History of Water Containers On The Trail

History of Backpacking Water Filters and Treatment

History of The Humble Disposable Bag

A History of Camper's Love-Hate Relationship with Electronics 

5-Star Toilet Rating System

Sources

1. Sutter, Paul. Driven Wild: How the Fight against Automobiles Launched the Modern Wilderness Movement. 2005.


2. Historical Marker Database. The Roadside Table. https://www.hmdb.org/m.asp?m=55249


3. Michigan Department of Transportation. "Allan M. Williams, Transportation Hall of Honor." https://www.michigan.gov/mdot/about/history/transportation-hall-of-honor/allan-williams


4. U.S. Forest Service. "Historic Alta Ranger Station." https://www.fs.usda.gov/r01/bitterroot/recreation/discover-history/historic-alta-ranger-station


5. Outdoor Herbivore. "How to Use the Post Office for General Delivery Mail." https://blog.outdoorherbivore.com/life/how-to-use-usps-general-delivery-mail-tips-for-hikers-travelers/amp/

A Titillating Tale of Trail Hydration

The History of Trail Drinks from Switchel to Liquid IV

A refreshing drink is something most people take for granted until they are hot, tired, and thirsty. What types of drinks have hikers and backpackers relied on throughout history? The history of trail drinks and backpacking hydration has shifted over the decades. A bottle of cool water has and will always reign supreme, but backpackers love to add other ingredients too. Of course, every trail drink depends on one thing first: carrying water itself. The containers hikers have used to transport that water have changed dramatically over time. (See: History of Backpacking Water Containers.)

Refreshing drinks are no new phenomenon. The ancient Romans used a cocktail known as posca that was made by mixing wine, vinegar, and water or sometimes just vinegar with water. It was sometimes flavored with honey, herbs like coriander, or salt, and was known for its health benefits, including disinfecting water and preventing scurvy. It was the drink of soldiers and laborers, not the upper classes. So, it mirrors modern sports drinks as a primarily functional beverage.

By the time recreational backpacking and hiking emerged in the 19th century, the beverage options had greatly multiplied. Coffee and tea were probably the most common trail beverages in the latter 19th century as they were easy to carry and offered a caffeine boost.

Early campers sometimes carried apple cider vinegar, and a sweetener to mix into a refreshing electrolyte drink. It was often known as switchel. "Swanky," "switchy," and "haymaker’s punch" were other names because it was also popular among farmers and field workers. New Englanders often sweetened their switchel with molasses, while frontier settlers relied on honey, and Southern settlers used sorghum. Some would mix in a citrus juice like lemon or orange when available, however it could be prohibitively expensive. Another ingredient sometimes added was ginger to add an extra bite of flavor. In many ways, switchel was the sports drink of its era and represents one of the earliest examples of backpacking hydration beyond plain water.

While historic farmers didn't understand the science of carbohydrates or electrolytes, their recipe was an accidental masterpiece of hydration science. The trace potassium from the apple cider vinegar, combined with the mineral-dense blackstrap molasses or maple syrup (high in potassium, magnesium, and calcium), paired with the sodium in water and anti-inflammatory ginger, created a natural carbohydrate-electrolyte drink perfectly designed to replenish what was lost in sweat. 

Laura Ingalls Wilder, known for her tales of pioneer life, called it “ginger-water”.  A historic recipe calls for one-quart cool water, 3/4 cup sugar, 1/3 cup apple cider vinegar, one tsp ground ginger. Switchel was most popular among those who could easily access the liquid ingredients, but many early camping guides recommend carrying one or more of the core ingredients including vinegar and ground ginger. These were believed to offer medicinal benefits too. 

George Washington Sears, "Nessmuk", mentions these ingredients in Woodcraft and Camping (1884). While he prioritized coffee as a primary beverage, he often wrote about the medicinal value of ginger and sugar in water to settle the stomach and provide a quick energy boost during arduous treks.

Horace Kephart's Camping and Woodcraft (1906) often discussed the importance of acidic or spicy drinks to mask the taste of poor trail water. He also lists lemons as an essential for hot weather. He advises citric acid crystals as a substitute, but it should be noted that this would only add flavor not electrolytes. Alternatively, he recommends combining water, ginger, and molasses into a "ginger tea." 

He adds another piece of advice in Camp Cookery to manage thirst in hot weather, "a much better thirst-quencher is a bit of raw onion carried in the mouth. One can go a long time without drinking if he has an onion with him; this also prevents one's lips from cracking in alkali dust."1 

I'm not sure I could find Kephart's spartan advice of sucking on raw onion palatable. I have experimented with a few switchel recipes found online and they are quite nice, especially after a hike on a hot day. One can easily titrate the ingredients to adjust the tang to their unique taste sensibilities. 

The 1911 Official Handbook for Boys recommended ginger and vinegar as essential medicinal and survival supplies. For generations, hikers relied on homemade mixtures. The twentieth century would gradually replace those kitchen remedies with factory-made powders.

In 1927, Edwin Perkins invented powdered Kool-Ade, a sugary fruit drink that required only the addition of water. For the first time, hikers could carry the flavor of fruit juice without carrying the fruit. Its low cost and shelf-stability meant it arrived just in time for the Great Depression which aided its flow into every American kitchen. Tang arrived in 1957 to compete against Kool-Ade but initially struggled to gain market traction until NASA used it on John Glenn's Mercury flight in 1962. Its association with astronauts made it a household staple throughout the 1960s and 70s. 

These and other sugary fruit drink powders became widely available in the mid-20th century and were known affectionately as "bug juice" among scouts and summer campers. These products could be mixed with cold water and thus made for an easy trail-side energy boost. Tang and similar drink's real appeal wasn't nutrition. It was morale. It can turn even the foulest creek water into a refreshing drink. The lemon flavor of Wyler's was especially popular among hikers and is still remembered fondly today by those who grew up drinking it on the trail.

Dehydrated fruit juice became available slowly as freeze-dried techniques improved throughout the 1970s and 80s. Freeze-dried orange juice and lemonade products were available for a premium price from survival food companies like Perma-Pak. However, these early products did not see widespread success, due to their lackluster taste. Modern products such as True Citrus are more successful, with many hikers using them to add a burst of citrus flavor to trail meals and drinks.

The idea of electrolyte replacement is relatively recent. The history of electrolyte replacement in the field began in earnest during WWII when the U.S. and British militaries began systematically distributing salt packets to soldiers in hot regions. One of the earliest commercial electrolyte replacement drinks was developed by Dr. Martin J. Broussard in 1958. He was working as the head athletic trainer at Louisiana State University and developed Bengal Punch after noticing athletes losing salt on their uniforms. Bengal Punch became a commercial product but was discontinued in the 2010s.3 

The first well-known electrolyte-focused sports drinks traces back to Gatorade, which was originally made for the Florida Gators sports teams to provide both rehydration and vital electrolytes. It quickly became a commercial product and has remained popular since. By the late-1960s a powdered form was available and could be used by backpackers and hikers out on the trail.5 However, electrolyte drinks did not become a menu staple for many years. 

In his classic, The Complete Walker (1968), author Colin Fletcher discusses the benefits of salt tablets for use while backpacking in hot weather.4 Fletcher's book provides a clue into how limited electrolyte replacement science was understood at the time. 

 
One man is widely recognized for groundbreaking research on this topic. Dr. Dilip Mahalanabis, a pediatrician from India, used oral rehydration salts (a medical grade electrolyte mix) to dramatically reduce death rates during a 1971 cholera outbreak in refugee camps. He used a mix of salt, potassium, glucose, and water to reverse dehydration caused by the disease. He successfully convinced global health organizations that ORS worked at scale as a substitute for IV electrolyte delivery. His success helped change first aid medicine around the world.2

In the early 1990's, Gatorade marketed heavily to the general public to increase sales using their "Be Like Mike" campaign starring Michael Jordan. Prior to the 1990s, electrolyte drinks were primarily found on refreshment tables at professional sports venues. The rising popularity of Gatorade and spread of oral rehydration salts packets in first aid kits helped make backpackers more aware of the benefits of electrolyte consumption.

In the 2010s electrolyte drinks became a wellness fad. Several new brands came to market with products formulated for endurance activities. Several of these new brands, like Nuun and Liquid IV founded in 2004 and 2012 respectively, both sell powder packets. Backpackers quickly latched on to these as they were better formulated for endurance activity than previous products. Liquid IV has a variety of electrolyte mixes and is among the dominate brands in the market today.

The electrolyte drink market is now larger than the entire backpacking industry, a remarkable outcome for a category that barely existed half a century ago. Modern electrolyte drinks offer incredible benefits, but as someone who has tried both modern electrolytes and homemade switchel, I'm not entirely convinced we've improved the flavor.

Combining electrolytes and caffeine in the same drink was the next logical step. The first successful dehydrated "energy" electrolyte drink mix was Kona Cola sold by Nuun released around 2008 to very limited success.6 It was discontinued but it started a revolution. Since then, an entire submarket of caffeinated electrolyte drink mixes and tablets has flooded the market. I've tried several of these products and can certainly understand the appeal after a long day on the trail.

This tale would be incomplete without mentioning that deliciously sweet fire-side drink--hot chocolate. Hot chocolate was often paired with other classic camp foods and trail snacks that evolved alongside it. (See: History of Backpacking Food). This beverage is much older than most realize. It originated in Mesoamerica hundreds of years ago and was considered a food of the gods. Europeans changed the original recipe by adding sugar and mixing the concoction in milk rather than water and thus, hot chocolate was born. 

In 1828, Dutch inventor Coenraad van Houten created the first modern cocoa powder. His hydraulic press removed cocoa butter, leaving a dry powder that could be mixed into liquid. Early backpackers in the late 19th century carried dried cakes of powdered cocoa and sugar to mix into a beverage. Some elected to carry milk powder to mix with it. Horace Kephart mentions powdered milk as a useful ingredient in Camping and Woodcraft which helped to popularize it.7

Ovaltine, a chocolate-flavored malt extract, found its way to U.S. stores by 1915. It offered a more convenient alternative to traditional hot chocolate.8 It contains B vitamins and minerals so after a cold day of hiking in 1925, a mug of Ovaltine probably felt every bit as restorative as a modern recovery drink. 

Nestlé Quik, now Nesquik, launched in 1948. Its main selling point was that it dissolved easily in liquids, even cold milk.9 However, it still required milk to make a traditional chocolate drink. Powdered milk had been widely available for over 50 years, so bringing milk powder was no real trial for backpackers. However, as Colin Fletcher noted in The Complete Walker, powdered milk in that era did not mix into water well, often remaining lumpy.4 

 
Swiss Miss hot chocolate hit store shelves in 1961 and offered a revolution for hot chocolate in camp. It included powdered milk and became the first true instant hot chocolate mix. Just add hot water. Swiss Miss has remained popular thanks to how smoothly it mixes into water.

Energy drinks are a fairly popular beverage on the trail today but trace their roots to soda culture. Coca-Cola is the oldest and most popular. Early on its ability to provide "energy" and "vitality" was a central selling point. Dr. Enuf, first sold in the 1950s, is a regional soda sometimes touted as the original energy drink because it was the first to combine B vitamins and caffeine in a drink. Mt. Dew, another soda, was rebranded in the 1970s as an "outdoorsy energy drink" to appeal to young, active consumers. 

Interestingly, all three of these drinks were invented in the Southern Appalachian mountain region where hiking is steep and hot. Some backpackers do choose to carry one or two bottles on short trips and chill the drink in a cool creek. Evidence of their presence in the backcountry can be found along remote trails sometimes. However, soda has never been highly popular among backpackers.

Perhaps the most successful energy drink seen on the trail is Red Bull. It began in 1987 and slowly rose to global dominance in the energy drink market. Red Bull is the clear winner when one desires energy as it contains about double the caffeine of Mt. Dew and Dr. Enuf and about three times that of Coca-Cola. Red Bull also has B vitamins, and another energy compound called taurine. Yet, it is still nowhere near the popularity of coffee, which wins on two counts: caffeine and portability. At this point in the article, I'm starting to think I missed my calling as an encyclopedia author.

No history of trail drinks would be complete without discussing coffee and tea. Caffeine is key to everyone's favorite morning beverages, coffee, or for the more refined, tea. These beverages are universally loved for their high caffeine content and ability to pair well with sugar. They have been a staple of outdoor pursuits for generations. The coffee percolator was invented in 1889 and quickly becoming the standard method for preparing coffee while camping. Priscilla Ware made an iconic aluminum design that is still influential today. A related and classic method is the Bialetti Moka pot which has been a staple around the world for nearly a century. It is small enough to still be considered lightweight today, but it has waned in popularity and is only carried by the strictest coffee aficionados.

Prior to the percolator, generations of Americans boiled coffee grounds, or in a pinch, whole beans, directly in water. After boiling, the grounds settle at the bottom, allowing campers to sip the coffee from the top. This method is known by various names, including cowboy coffee and Turkish coffee. In Turkish coffee preparation, a small amount of cold water is sometimes added after brewing to help the grounds settle at the bottom. 

Turkish and cowboy brewing methods were common throughout the 19th century, while percolation was the norm during the 20th century. In the 21st century, numerous brewing methods have become trail-ready to cater to diverse tastes. For example, Stanley offers a compact metal French press, and there are many options for pour-over. One of the most popular pour-over options is the Kuju Pocket Pourover which is a disposable filter that sits on the rim of the cup requiring no equipment. The grounds come prepacked in the filter for mess-free coffee prep. Alternatively, there are various folding V60-style filter cones available. 

Instant coffee has been around since the 1890s but often received criticism for its bitter taste. Modern methods for processing instant coffee have improved the flavor. One popular choice among campers is Alpine Start, which began in 2016 and is widely renowned for its quality. Instant coffee remains one of the most popular and lightweight options for the trail today. However, the variety of trail-ready coffee prep options available means that everyone is able to make coffee almost exactly as they do at home. While I will always prefer my French press, I will suffer the taste of instant coffee any day over an onion. (see A History of Backpacking Coffee Gear for more detail)

Tea, coffee's little sibling, is also popular on the trail. Lightweight copper teapots have been used in mountaineering and on the trail for centuries. Aluminum teapots became available in the late 1800s when the price of aluminum became competitive. Since the late 20th century, compact aluminum or steel teapots have been available that nest neatly with other cookware to save room in a pack. The disposable teabag rose to popularity in the early 20th century, simplifying backcountry tea brewing even further and remains a staple today.

Finally, the drink everyone has been wondering about--alcohol. This adult-only beverage is less popular on the trail than other categories on this list, but it is still widespread. In past decades it was more than just a luxury, it was considered medicinal. Today, it is primarily carried for its recreational properties. 

Alcohol causes the blood vessels in the body to expand and release body heat. This makes one feel warmer in the moment, but can lower core body temperature, increasing one's risk for hypothermia. Alcohol hastens heat escaping from the body and should be consumed responsibly in cold weather. 

Historically, spirits like whiskey, bourbon, rum, and vodka were popular among backpackers because they provided a high alcohol content without requiring refrigeration. Colin Fletcher himself was fond of bourbon and Scotch. In recent decades, ultralight backpackers have pushed that logic even further, often favoring high-proof spirits such as Everclear.

Other common alcohol brands include Budweiser, especially Bud Light, and Coors Light. These are popular thanks to their cheapness and mild flavor. There are many durable flasks to transport one's prized "trail magic" into the backcountry. They range from durable metal like the Yeti flask to the ultralight Vapur Incognito flask weighing just over one ounce. 

If you're into cocktails, here is a great pack-ready recipe for a refreshing drink after a long hike from Backpacker Magazine. Mix Tang into cold stream water. Combine that in a ratio of two parts Tang to one part vodka. Add 8 ounces of premixed lemonade. Garnish with a sprig of wild berries.10

The history of trail drinks stretches from frontier switchel to modern electrolyte powders, energy drinks, coffee, and sports drinks. Whether it was switchel carried on the frontier, Tang inspired by astronauts, or modern electrolyte mixes, hikers have always pursued the same thing: a drink that makes the next mile easier. While I acknowledge that Horace Kephart probably knew what he was talking about when he advised readers to suck on onions, I won't be trying that anytime soon, or ever. Instead, I believe Ron Swanson said it best, "Camping without beer is just sitting in the woods."

By David F. Garner

Other Articles You May Enjoy:

The History Of Backpacking Coffee Gear

Trail Grub: A History Of Backpacking Food

Hydration Contraptions: A History of Water Containers On The Trail

History of Backpacking Water Filters and Treatment

History of The Humble Disposable Bag

A History of Camper's Love-Hate Relationship with Electronics 

5-Star Toilet Rating System

Sources:

1. Kephart, Horace. Camp Cookery. New York: (Outing Publishing Company, 1910), 182.

2. "Gatorade," Wikipedia, last modified August 5, 2026, 09:40, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gatorade.

3. Jane Steger, "Hydrating Athletes Then and Now," Cramer Sports Medicine, October 1, 2018, https://www.cramersportsmed.com/first-aider/hydrating-athletes-then-and-now.html.

4 Colin Fletcher, The Complete Walker: The Joys and Techniques of Hiking and Backpacking (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1968), 77.

5. "Dilip Mahalanabis," Wikipedia, last modified July 7, 2026, 15:53, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dilip_Mahalanabis.

6. Nuun Hydration, "The Strange and True History of Kona Cola," Nuun Hydration (blog), accessed August 5, 2026, https://nuunlife.com/blogs/news/the-strange-and-true-history-of-kona-cola.

7. Cornell University Library, "Coenraad Van Houten," CHOCOLATE: Food of the Gods, accessed August 5, 2026, https://exhibits.library.cornell.edu/chocolate-food-of-the-gods/feature/coenraad-van-houten.

8. "Ovaltine," Wikipedia, last modified June 30, 2026, 16:28, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ovaltine.

9. "Nesquik," Wikipedia, last modified July 29, 2026, 13:04, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nesquik.

10. Jimmy the Bartender, "Mix the Perfect Wilderness Cocktail," Backpacker 31, no. 8 (October 2003): 16.