“Camping is the art of getting closer to nature while getting farther away from the nearest cold beverage, hot shower, and flush toilet.” — Anonymous
If you have ever wondered about the history of backpacking gear, the evolution of camping equipment, or why modern sleeping pads look nothing like the bedrolls and bough beds of earlier outdoor travelers, this is the surprisingly squishy corner of outdoor gear history where those stories meet.
Every camper eventually meets the same ancient question: how much misery is too much misery? A glowing sunset can make you feel profound, a crackling fire can make you feel heroic, and then one badly placed root under your hip can reduce the whole wilderness experience to a negotiation with your own spine. Humans have always had a complicated relationship with nature. Nature feeds us, inspires us, and gives us the kind of sunrise that makes a person briefly consider becoming a poet. It also gives us rocks under the hip, roots under the shoulder blade, cold ground, wet socks, and the occasional mosquito with personal ambitions. Living indoors solves many of these problems, but it also separates us from the good stuff. Camping is wonderful because it lets us choose our own level of discomfort. The camping mat is where that choice becomes very personal.
The “camping mat,” also known as the “sleeping pad,” or “worthless thing” after waking up sore, is a perfect symbol of this bargain. It is not the flashiest piece of outdoor gear. It does not gleam like a stove, slice like a knife, or make you look rugged like a catalog photo. But at 2:17 a.m., when the temperature drops and the ground begins explaining geology to your ribs, the humble mat becomes the most important object in the universe.
Campers have drawn their own lines around this bargain for centuries. Some believe a mat contaminates the purity of the outdoor experience and prefer to use whatever the forest floor provides. These are often the bushcraft types with strong opinions about what counts as “real” camping. At the other end are campers who treat the phrase “camping mattress” as an invitation to bring something roughly the size of a king-size Tempur-Pedic in an RV. Backpackers, naturally, live somewhere in the middle: forever chasing the dream of a bed that is light, warm, compact, durable, affordable, and somehow not terrible.
This essay follows the evolution of backpacking sleep mats because that is where the engineering gets especially fun—and where the compromises get especially ridiculous.
The history of the sleeping pad touches almost every era of camping gear history, from vintage camping equipment and bushcraft bedding to ultralight backpacking gear and modern insulated pads. If you carry everything on your back, every ounce and cubic inch matters, but so does the ability to stand upright the next morning. A quick warning before we unroll this thing: the history of camping mats is surprisingly poorly chronicled. As far as I can tell, this may be one of the few attempts to trace the development of camp-mat technology across roughly 160 years. That makes the story a little patchy in places, but also more interesting. Like many good camping trips, it involves improvisation, questionable decisions, and a surprising amount of foam.
From Bough Beds to Backpacking Pads
[Tent with bough bed]
In the late nineteenth century, the common camp bed was not a product so much as a small landscaping project. Campers laid down a deep layer of fresh boughs, often about a foot thick, and covered it with a canvas or wool blanket. If they could get one, a rubber-coated blanket was even better. A waxed blanket could also help. The thickness depended on the season: lighter for summer, heavier for winter. William H. H. Murray, author of one of the first recreational camping guides, expected many readers to hire a professional guide for wilderness travel, so he did not dwell much on bed construction. Presumably, the guide knew which trees could be turned into a mattress and which ones would simply poke you all night.
John M. Gould’s 1877 guide, How To Camp Out, offered much more practical detail. Gould described how to make a camp bed and, importantly, recognized that not every camper wanted the same experience. Some wanted to travel light. Others wanted to sleep like people who had not personally offended the ground. For those traveling with a wagon, Gould recommended taking a mattress.
For backpackers, however, mattresses were still too large and bulky to be practical. The modern dedicated camping pad had not yet arrived, so anyone traveling on foot needed either ingenuity, tolerance, or a very forgiving spine. George Washington Sears, the legendary woodsman better known as “Nessmuk,” also favored the bough bed. In his 1884 classic Woodcraft and Camping, he described how to build one in detail. The message was clear: if you wanted comfort, first learn to become part carpenter, part botanist, and part forest-floor interior decorator.
Soldiers and hunters of this era often carried large sacks, sometimes called a “browse bag,” or a “tick” that could be stuffed with grasses, straw, or other material. Campers sometimes chose these as well. As we can see, beds made of natural debris were the main option for anyone traveling on foot. Natural materials were not always plentiful. [1] [2]
Debris was not the only solution though. Fur was common in colder climates. As Martin Hogue notes in Making Camp, humans have for centuries worn fur skins that doubled as parka and sleeping bag/mat. [3] Others opted for a raised bed. They would build a temporary cot using a piece of fabric or skin stretched over a wood frame improvised at camp from local materials. [4] In those days many things were made from local materials at camp including many menu items. For a history of food options in camp see Trail Grub.
John M. Gould’s 1877 guide, How To Camp Out, offered much more practical detail. Gould described how to make a camp bed and, importantly, recognized that not every camper wanted the same experience. Some wanted to travel light. Others wanted to sleep like people who had not personally offended the ground. For those traveling with a wagon, Gould recommended taking a mattress.
For backpackers, however, mattresses were still too large and bulky to be practical. The modern dedicated camping pad had not yet arrived, so anyone traveling on foot needed either ingenuity, tolerance, or a very forgiving spine. George Washington Sears, the legendary woodsman better known as “Nessmuk,” also favored the bough bed. In his 1884 classic Woodcraft and Camping, he described how to build one in detail. The message was clear: if you wanted comfort, first learn to become part carpenter, part botanist, and part forest-floor interior decorator.
Soldiers and hunters of this era often carried large sacks, sometimes called a “browse bag,” or a “tick” that could be stuffed with grasses, straw, or other material. Campers sometimes chose these as well. As we can see, beds made of natural debris were the main option for anyone traveling on foot. Natural materials were not always plentiful. [1] [2]
Debris was not the only solution though. Fur was common in colder climates. As Martin Hogue notes in Making Camp, humans have for centuries worn fur skins that doubled as parka and sleeping bag/mat. [3] Others opted for a raised bed. They would build a temporary cot using a piece of fabric or skin stretched over a wood frame improvised at camp from local materials. [4] In those days many things were made from local materials at camp including many menu items. For a history of food options in camp see Trail Grub.
For those that could afford the bulk, a portable mat could be made by hand stitching. A wool blanket would be folded in half and stitched around all the edges. Then this was stuffed with batting to the desired thickness while balancing weight and comfort. Batting was frequently made of wool, hair, kapok, or cotton. These were often referred to as kapok mattresses or horsehair mattresses. [5] The batting was generally stuffed loosely to allow the mat to be rolled or folded and strapped to the pack. These could also be purchased ready-made. They did not add significant comfort but they did add insulation between the camper and the ground.
[Kapok style mat bedroll c. 1920s]
Whatever a camper used underneath, nearly all carried the same basic gear. A water-resistant blanket that went underneath and could be folded over top, and a wool or fur blanket for insulation. These two essential items made up the bedroll. These can often be seen in period films like Civil War movies and Westerns.
Air mattresses have been around longer than most think. Attempts to make them stretch as far back as the 16th century. A Frenchman named William Dujardin created a “wind bed” using waxed canvas. They were briefly popular in fashionable circles. They did not hold air well and quickly deflated along with Dujardin’s aspirations. [6]
A few centuries later, rubber succeeded where canvas failed. Moldable vulcanized rubber was patented in 1844 thanks to the obsessive work of Charles Goodyear. One 1850 account of a family crossing the frontier for the Gold Rush to California reported a rubber air mattress among their equipment. It was carried in their wagon and could be emptied each morning and stowed away till needed again. [7] Rubber also enabled more water-proof garments and blankets to keep out rain and moister.
The Long, Leaky History of the Air Mattress
Air mattresses have been around longer than most think. Attempts to make them stretch as far back as the 16th century. A Frenchman named William Dujardin created a “wind bed” using waxed canvas. They were briefly popular in fashionable circles. They did not hold air well and quickly deflated along with Dujardin’s aspirations. [6]
A few centuries later, rubber succeeded where canvas failed. Moldable vulcanized rubber was patented in 1844 thanks to the obsessive work of Charles Goodyear. One 1850 account of a family crossing the frontier for the Gold Rush to California reported a rubber air mattress among their equipment. It was carried in their wagon and could be emptied each morning and stowed away till needed again. [7] Rubber also enabled more water-proof garments and blankets to keep out rain and moister.
It would be some time before the air mattress was light enough to carry in a backpack. They became popular for campers who traveled by wagon or boat. Mountaineers are the ones who first began carrying small inflatable mattresses in their packs. Clinton T. Dent describes his method in his 1892 book Mountaineering. He places the mattress inside the sleeping bag rather than outside. This implies the mattress was not insulated. [8]
[Ad for 1918 air mattress recommended by the U.S. Forest Service]
By the early twentieth century, camping gear makers were also trying to solve the sleep problem by combining several pieces of equipment into one clever contraption. The sleeping bag, the mattress, and sometimes even the shelter were folded into integrated systems. Some were ingenious. Some were probably better admired in a catalog than carried into the woods. Either way, the period shows how unsettled outdoor sleep design still was. Campers wanted warmth, dryness, comfort, convenience, and a lighter load, but nobody had quite figured out how to give them all of it at once.
Early air mattresses were still bulky enough that they made the most sense for canoeists, horse travelers, car campers, and anyone else who was not counting every ounce. The line between sleeping bag and mattress also stayed blurry. Horace Kephart, one of the great early outdoor writers, described combined sleeping-bag-and-air-mattress systems with obvious appreciation but also with a practical camper’s skepticism.
“There are sleeping bags combined with air mattresses, full-length or only “body size,” that are good for canoe cruising, horseback journeys, or other trips when camp is changed every day or so and good sites are not always to be found. They save much work, and sometimes a good deal of anxiety. There is then no night wood to cut, no browse to gather, no tent to trench, and little bother about smoothing the ground. Wherever one may be, in damp forest or on sandy dune, on rocky ground or mucky ground, down goes the bundle, it is unrolled, and one inflates his “blow bed” with the bellows that nature gave him. In ten minutes he is assured of a dry, warm, elastic bed for the night, in spite of Jupiter Pluvius, or Boreas, or both of them allied. If water runs in on the floor, let it run. If the tent blows down, let it alone until you feel like getting up. Come morning there is no bed making to do, if you are too hurried to air things, except to deflate the mattress and roll the bag up. It straps into a waterproof pack that stows conveniently anywhere. But such a bed is quite expensive. For ordinary service, blankets and a bed tick will do just as well. In any case, study your health and your ease at night. There is a veteran’s wisdom in what Chauncey Thomas says: “I go camping to have a good time, and a third of that time is spent in bed.” [9]
[L.L. Bean sold a model that was the epitome of these strategies c. 1929]
As materials improved, the air mattress became a more serious piece of camp gear. One of the most recognizable mid-century names was Li-Lo. The company began selling compact inflatable mats in the 1930s and remained a familiar presence for decades, especially in the United Kingdom. Li-Lo also made pool floats, and the name eventually became one of those brand names people use as if it were the thing itself.
For campers, Li-Lo’s appeal was not just novelty. Its sleeping mats developed a reputation for durability, and some models used two separate air compartments so a single puncture would not necessarily ruin the night. A small round bellows could be carried for inflation, which spared campers from ending a long day by turning themselves lightheaded at bedtime.
Of course, not every camper bought a purpose-made air mattress. Outdoor people have always been good at improvising gear from whatever is lying around the garage, and some used bicycle inner tubes tucked between blankets as a homemade air bed. Boy Scouts were especially known for this sort of practical tinkering. It was not elegant, but elegance has never been a requirement for sleeping slightly better outdoors. To learn how campers have seen after dark to get ready for sleep read From Lanterns to Headlamps.
The problem was that air by itself did not solve everything. An air mattress could lift a camper off roots and stones, but it did little to stop heat from draining into the ground. Campers often still needed a wool blanket, pad, or other insulating layer underneath them. Comfort and insulation were related, but they were not the same problem. [10]
The 1950s brought lighter and tougher inflatable mats. Earlier air mattresses were often made of rubberized canvas, but Goodyear began producing camp air mattresses with rubberized nylon from DuPont. That change mattered: nylon helped reduce weight while keeping the mattress strong enough for actual outdoor use. [11]
Even so, the inflatable mattress still had a cold-ground problem. The next major leap came not from a backpacking company but from foam chemistry. Ensolite, developed by the U.S. Rubber Company, was a closed-cell foam that trapped air inside tiny sealed pockets. It was light, resilient, and unusually useful anywhere insulation, cushioning, flotation, or impact absorption mattered. [12]
Ensolite appears to have entered outdoor use through military and cold-weather applications. The U.S. Air Force tested it in boots in 1951, and the material performed well enough that Ensolite-insulated boots were issued soon after. Civilian boots followed by 1953. [13] [14] From there, using the material under a sleeping bag was not a wild leap. Mountaineers, always willing to experiment if it meant surviving a colder night, seem to have recognized its value early. A 1954 Mount Rainier rescue report describes rescuers using an Ensolite pad with a sleeping bag to keep an injured climber warm; the pad even doubled as a sled across the snow. [15]
Once Ensolite proved useful, U.S. Rubber found applications everywhere. It appeared in winter clothing, gloves, flotation devices, and protective equipment. The same qualities that made it good under a sleeping bag—closed cells, trapped air, resilience, and low weight—also made it useful in life jackets, football helmets, knee pads, and gymnastics mats. A humble foam sleeping pad was part of a much broader mid-century material revolution.
For campers, Li-Lo’s appeal was not just novelty. Its sleeping mats developed a reputation for durability, and some models used two separate air compartments so a single puncture would not necessarily ruin the night. A small round bellows could be carried for inflation, which spared campers from ending a long day by turning themselves lightheaded at bedtime.
Of course, not every camper bought a purpose-made air mattress. Outdoor people have always been good at improvising gear from whatever is lying around the garage, and some used bicycle inner tubes tucked between blankets as a homemade air bed. Boy Scouts were especially known for this sort of practical tinkering. It was not elegant, but elegance has never been a requirement for sleeping slightly better outdoors. To learn how campers have seen after dark to get ready for sleep read From Lanterns to Headlamps.
The problem was that air by itself did not solve everything. An air mattress could lift a camper off roots and stones, but it did little to stop heat from draining into the ground. Campers often still needed a wool blanket, pad, or other insulating layer underneath them. Comfort and insulation were related, but they were not the same problem. [10]
The 1950s brought lighter and tougher inflatable mats. Earlier air mattresses were often made of rubberized canvas, but Goodyear began producing camp air mattresses with rubberized nylon from DuPont. That change mattered: nylon helped reduce weight while keeping the mattress strong enough for actual outdoor use. [11]
Closed-Cell Foam and the Birth of the Modern Sleeping Pad
Even so, the inflatable mattress still had a cold-ground problem. The next major leap came not from a backpacking company but from foam chemistry. Ensolite, developed by the U.S. Rubber Company, was a closed-cell foam that trapped air inside tiny sealed pockets. It was light, resilient, and unusually useful anywhere insulation, cushioning, flotation, or impact absorption mattered. [12]
Ensolite appears to have entered outdoor use through military and cold-weather applications. The U.S. Air Force tested it in boots in 1951, and the material performed well enough that Ensolite-insulated boots were issued soon after. Civilian boots followed by 1953. [13] [14] From there, using the material under a sleeping bag was not a wild leap. Mountaineers, always willing to experiment if it meant surviving a colder night, seem to have recognized its value early. A 1954 Mount Rainier rescue report describes rescuers using an Ensolite pad with a sleeping bag to keep an injured climber warm; the pad even doubled as a sled across the snow. [15]
Once Ensolite proved useful, U.S. Rubber found applications everywhere. It appeared in winter clothing, gloves, flotation devices, and protective equipment. The same qualities that made it good under a sleeping bag—closed cells, trapped air, resilience, and low weight—also made it useful in life jackets, football helmets, knee pads, and gymnastics mats. A humble foam sleeping pad was part of a much broader mid-century material revolution.
[Ensolite pad atop a backpack c. 1980s]
For backpackers, the important point was simple: closed-cell foam could insulate without needing to be inflated. It could not pop, it could be cut to size, and it kept working when dirty, wet, dented, or abused. It was not luxurious. Nobody mistook a thin foam pad for a featherbed. But it changed the basic expectations for sleeping outside.
By the end of the 1950s, Ensolite was becoming recognizable as a camp sleeping pad. One of the earliest general camping-guide mentions appears in All About Camping from 1962, where Merrill discusses it in connection with snow camping. His advice closely echoes the U.S. Naval Medical School’s 1961 Polar Manual, which recommended placing an Ensolite pad on top of an air mattress such as a Li-Lo. [16] Colin Fletcher later gave Ensolite another boost by mentioning it in his influential 1968 book The Complete Walker. [17]
By the end of the 1950s, Ensolite was becoming recognizable as a camp sleeping pad. One of the earliest general camping-guide mentions appears in All About Camping from 1962, where Merrill discusses it in connection with snow camping. His advice closely echoes the U.S. Naval Medical School’s 1961 Polar Manual, which recommended placing an Ensolite pad on top of an air mattress such as a Li-Lo. [16] Colin Fletcher later gave Ensolite another boost by mentioning it in his influential 1968 book The Complete Walker. [17]
By the late 1960s and early 1970s, foam pads were moving from improvised or specialist use into ordinary camping retail. Stores sold them in several thicknesses and precut lengths. Backpackers learned to save weight by carrying three-quarter-length or even two-thirds-length pads, discovering that not every inch of a body required equal luxury. U.S. Rubber, renamed Uniroyal, also began selling pads directly to outdoor consumers, with advertisements appearing in newspapers and magazines during the 1970s. [18] (If you would like to learn about how camping permits have change since the midcentury, visit Papering The Wilderness)
Foam pads then multiplied. New brands and new formulations appeared, and Ensolite’s name became almost generic for a foam camp mat. The original material still compares respectably with some later products: a common one-quarter inch Ensolite pad had an R-value around 1.05. That is not a palace floor, but it is enough to make a cold night more survivable.
What makes Ensolite especially interesting is that its camping use seems to have grown organically. It was not born as a sleek backpacking lifestyle product. It was a useful industrial material that cold-weather travelers, soldiers, mountaineers, and eventually backpackers adopted because it solved a problem. That may be why it became so influential: it was not glamorous, but it worked.
While foam was gaining ground, inflatable mattresses were still evolving. Stebco, a major American air-mattress maker, supplied mattresses used on expeditions in the 1960s, showing that serious outdoor travelers had not abandoned air comfort just because foam had arrived. [19]
[Stebco air mattress c. 1960s]
Stebco is one of those names that deserves more attention in outdoor gear history. Before it became associated with portable air mattresses, the company had manufactured goods for the World War II war effort under the name Frank Mashek Company. By the postwar period, it was well positioned to turn industrial know-how into consumer outdoor gear.
In the 1950s, Stebco began selling portable air mattresses that appealed to mountaineers, campers, and eventually backpackers. [20] As backpacking surged in the 1960s and 1970s, Stebco marketed to people who wanted real sleep comfort but were still willing to carry some extra weight to get it. [21] For a while, Stebco produced some of the leading lightweight air mattresses on the market. But outdoor gear history is full of perfectly respectable products that were overtaken by one better idea. In Stebco’s case, that idea was the self-inflating, insulated sleeping pad. [22]
Therm-a-Rest and the Self-Inflating Backpacking Pad
That brings us to Therm-a-Rest, the brand that changed the category so completely that many campers now treat the self-inflating pad as if it had always existed. The idea began in 1971, when three avid climbers set out to make an air mattress that was also insulated. Production of the first model, the Standard 3/4, began in 1973. Two of the founders were former Boeing engineers, which feels exactly right: only backpackers would celebrate aerospace competence by sleeping on the ground. [23]
Therm-a-Rest arrived at the perfect moment. Recreational backpacking was growing fast, and a new generation of hikers wanted gear that was lighter, more compact, and more comfortable. Even so, the company did not become dominant overnight. Colin Fletcher did not mention Therm-a-Rest in The New Complete Walker in 1976. By The Complete Walker III in 1984, however, he was discussing the company as a major force that had surpassed much of the competition.
[Therm-a-Rest Standard 3/4 c. 1975]
The brilliance of the Therm-a-Rest design was that it joined cushioning and insulation in one package. Open-cell foam inside the mattress expanded when the valve opened, drawing in air; the foam also helped reduce heat loss. Fletcher praised the result, noting that Therm-a-Rest was at least as comfortable as an air mattress and insulated better than most foam pads. For backpackers, that combination was revolutionary.
Therm-a-Rest did not stop with self-inflating pads. In 1986 it introduced the RidgeRest, a roll-up closed-cell foam pad with ridges molded into the surface. The ridges trapped warmth, added some cushioning, and gave backpackers yet another object to strap awkwardly to the outside of a pack. Later, the company developed the folding accordion-style Z Lite, with its now-familiar egg-carton texture. The folding design solved one of the great foam-pad annoyances: the mat’s deep desire to curl itself back into a tube the moment you looked away. [24] [25]
The Z Lite became iconic because it was simple, durable, and nearly impossible to use incorrectly—although campers still managed to debate which side should face up. That is part of the charm of outdoor gear culture: give people a rectangle of foam and they will form schools of philosophy around it. Therm-a-Rest, under Cascade Designs, popularized this accordion-style folding pad and helped make it a standard sight on long-distance trails, often carried proudly on top of a pack like a yellow-and-silver badge of mild discomfort. [26] [27]
Therm-a-Rest remains one of the giants of the category, but it certainly did not get the last word. As backpacking split into traditional, lightweight, and ultralight camps, sleeping pads followed. Some hikers wanted plush inflatable comfort. Others wanted the lightest foam sheet that could technically be described as “not the ground.” Both groups, naturally, believed they were the reasonable ones.
One important name in the ultralight world is Gossamer Gear, founded in 1998 with a focus on extremely light backpacking equipment. Its Thinlight pad pushes minimalism almost to the point of satire: a one-eighth-inch closed-cell foam sheet measuring 59 by 19 inches and weighing only 2.7 ounces. It is less a mattress than a polite suggestion to the ground. But for gram-counters, it offers just enough cushioning, just enough insulation, and a surprising amount of versatility as a sit pad, frame sheet, or emergency layer.
One important name in the ultralight world is Gossamer Gear, founded in 1998 with a focus on extremely light backpacking equipment. Its Thinlight pad pushes minimalism almost to the point of satire: a one-eighth-inch closed-cell foam sheet measuring 59 by 19 inches and weighing only 2.7 ounces. It is less a mattress than a polite suggestion to the ground. But for gram-counters, it offers just enough cushioning, just enough insulation, and a surprising amount of versatility as a sit pad, frame sheet, or emergency layer.
[Gossamer Gear Thinlight c. 2020]
That ultralight impulse brings the story back to where it began. The earliest campers slept on boughs, grass, skins, and whatever they could gather. Modern ultralight hikers may carry space-age foam instead, but the underlying idea is surprisingly similar: use as little as possible, accept a little hardship, and call it freedom.
Space Blankets, R-Values, and Modern Camping Sleep Systems
There is just enough room in this story to squeeze in one last strange but important entry: the space blanket, also known as the Mylar blanket. At first glance it seems less like a sleeping pad and more like something handed to marathon finishers, rescue victims, and people who have made poor decisions despite the meteorologist's warnings. But it belongs here because it tackles the same old enemy from another angle: heat loss. A space blanket is a thin plastic sheet with a metallic coating that reflects radiant heat and blocks moisture at very low weight. Fully wrapping yourself in one can add meaningful warmth, though it also makes you look as if you are being prepared for leftovers.
[Mylar type emergency Blanket]
Like so many outdoor materials, reflective film moved through science, industry, and emergency use before becoming normal camping gear. Metal-coated plastic films were developed in the mid-twentieth century, and NASA helped popularize related reflective materials through the space program. There is something wonderfully circular about that: humans developed materials to escape Earth, then used them to sleep more comfortably on it. From there, they spread into the packs of campers trying to squeeze a few more degrees out of a cold night. [28] [29]
Reflective layers eventually found their way onto sleeping pads too. They do not turn a thin foam mat into a heated mattress, despite what a desperate camper might hope at 3 a.m., but they can help. The original Therm-a-Rest Z Lite had an R-value around 1.7, while the later reflective Z Lite Sol rose to about 2.0. A gain of 0.3 sounds laughably small until you are lying on frozen ground wondering how much dignity you would trade for one more degree of warmth. In the backcountry, tiny improvements can feel large.
Reflective layers eventually found their way onto sleeping pads too. They do not turn a thin foam mat into a heated mattress, despite what a desperate camper might hope at 3 a.m., but they can help. The original Therm-a-Rest Z Lite had an R-value around 1.7, while the later reflective Z Lite Sol rose to about 2.0. A gain of 0.3 sounds laughably small until you are lying on frozen ground wondering how much dignity you would trade for one more degree of warmth. In the backcountry, tiny improvements can feel large.
[Therm-a-Rest Z-Lite Sol c. 2025]
The history of the camping mat is really the history of campers trying to make an unreasonable activity slightly more reasonable. It is also a small but revealing chapter in the larger evolution of outdoor gear. We want wild places, but we also want circulation in our hips. We want to travel light, but we do not want to feel every root personally. Over the last century and a half, that desire has produced bough beds, ticks, fur robes, horsehair pads, rubber air mattresses, closed-cell foam, self-inflating pads, accordion mats, ultralight foam sheets, and reflective films borrowed from the space age.
And still, the perfect backpacking bed remains just out of reach. Every generation seems to believe it is one material breakthrough away from solving outdoor sleep forever. Maybe someday we will have a pad that is weightless, warm, silent, indestructible, inexpensive, and as comfortable as home. Until then, the search continues—and so does the ancient camping ritual of rolling over at midnight, adjusting the pad, and pretending that this time, finally, you have found the soft spot.
For anyone interested in vintage backpacking gear, camping equipment history, or the strange little innovations that make nights outdoors more bearable, the sleeping pad is a reminder that even the least glamorous gear can carry a long story.
And still, the perfect backpacking bed remains just out of reach. Every generation seems to believe it is one material breakthrough away from solving outdoor sleep forever. Maybe someday we will have a pad that is weightless, warm, silent, indestructible, inexpensive, and as comfortable as home. Until then, the search continues—and so does the ancient camping ritual of rolling over at midnight, adjusting the pad, and pretending that this time, finally, you have found the soft spot.
For anyone interested in vintage backpacking gear, camping equipment history, or the strange little innovations that make nights outdoors more bearable, the sleeping pad is a reminder that even the least glamorous gear can carry a long story.
By David F. Garner
[1] Ruadhán Scrivener-Anderson, “WW1 Officer's Valise and Contents,” Jun 17, 2022, Dr Ruadhán Scrivener-Anderson, 5:08, https://youtu.be/41oPH3dQgac?si=DVefiwPWdHkyD9QP.
[2] Cpt. Whitehall, “Civil War Sleeping Bag,” May 5, 2019, Company D 2nd USSS, 8:26, https://youtu.be/yQD1udrTlWA?si=oSwPghtyidvoRAqV.
[3] Martin Hogue, Making Camp: A Visual History of Camping's Most Essential Items and Activities, chapter 7, “Sleeping Bag,” Kindle edition, p. 248.
[4] George O. Shields, Camping and Camp Outfits, (Rand, McNally & Company Publishers, 1890), 33-34, URL.
[5] E. Kreps, Camp and Trail Methods, Chapter V, Cooking Utensils, Beds and Bedding, A. R. Harding Pub, 1910, pg 46-54.
[6] Wohleber, Curt. “The Mattress.” Invention & Technology Magazine 21, no. 4 (Spring 2006). https://www.inventionandtech.com/content/mattress-0?page=2.
[7] Kenneth L. Holmes, ed., Best of Covered Wagon Women (University of Oklahoma Press, 2008), 45.
[8] Clinton T. Dent, Mountaineering (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1892), 64, URL.
[9] Horace Kephart, The Book of Camping and Woodcraft: A Guidebook for Those Who Travel in the Wilderness (New York: Outing Publishing Co., 1906), 135.
[10] Fordyce, C. P. “Autocamping Beds.” Outdoor Life 55, no. 6 (June 1925): 478–79. Digitized by Internet Archive. https://archive.org/details/sim_outdoor-life_1925-06_55_6.
[11] “DuPont Nylon Air Mattress,” Outdoor Life 115, no. 2 (February 1955): 26, digitized by Internet Archive, https://archive.org/details/sim_outdoor-life_1955-02_115_2.
[12] Daly, Lawrence E., and Robert W. Pooley. Process of making cellular material. US Patent 2,570,182, filed July 23, 1948, and issued October 9, 1951. https://patents.google.com/patent/US2570182A/en.
[13] Office of Technical Services. “Apparel.” Bibliography of Technical Reports 17, no. 4 (April 11, 1952): 125. Digitized by Internet Archive. https://archive.org/details/sim_government-reports-announcements-index_1952-04-11_17_4_0.
[14] “Warm Feet,” New York Times, October 28, 1953, N1, digitized by Internet Archive, https://archive.org/details/sim_new-york-times_1953-10-28_103_34976.
[15] American Alpine Club Safety Committee, Accidents in American Mountaineering (New York: American Alpine Club, 1954), 29, URL.
[16] U.S. Naval Medical School, Department of Cold Weather Medicine, Polar Manual (Bethesda, MD: National Naval Medical Center, 1961), 35, URL.
[17] Colin Fletcher, The Complete Walker: The Joys and Techniques of Hiking and Backpacking (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1968), 174–75, URL.
[18] "How to Buy a Trail Bed," Backpacker, June 1977, 66.
[19] Andrew Harvard and Todd Thompson, Mountain of Storms: The American Expeditions to Dhaulagiri, 1969 & 1973 (New York: Chelsea House, 1974), 205, https://archive.org/details/mountainofstorms0000harv.
[20] Summit, vol. 12–13 (1966), 32, URL.
[21] James J. Beveridge, "The Best in Sleeping Bags and Tents for the Backpacker," Field & Stream, April 1972, 92, URL.
[22] Encyclopedia of American Biography, “Stein, Leo,” (New York: American Historical Company, 1963), 477, URL.
[23] Cascade Designs. “Thermarest - Our History.” Therm-a-Rest. Accessed September 2, 2026. https://cascadedesigns.com/pages/thermarest-our-history.
[24] Ibid.
[25] Halfway Anywhere, Therm-a-Rest Z Lite Sol review
[26] Erps, Keith. “Which Side Is ‘Up’ on a Z Lite & Other Burning Questions.” Therm-a-Rest Blog. Cascade Designs, July 31, 2024. https://cascadedesigns.com/blogs/thermarest-gear/which-side-is-up-on-a-zlite.
[27] Therm-a-Rest Team. “50 Years of Better Sleep.” Therm-a-Rest Blog. Cascade Designs, January 4, 2022. https://cascadedesigns.com/blogs/thermarest-stories/50-years-of-better-sleep.
[28] National Aeronautics and Space Administration. “Reflecting on Space Benefits: A Shining Example.” NASA Spinoff. NASA, 2006. https://spinoff.nasa.gov/Spinoff2006/ch_9.html.
[29] Wikipedia, s.v. “Mylar.” Last modified July 27, 2026, 19:41. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BoPET.
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[2] Cpt. Whitehall, “Civil War Sleeping Bag,” May 5, 2019, Company D 2nd USSS, 8:26, https://youtu.be/yQD1udrTlWA?si=oSwPghtyidvoRAqV.
[3] Martin Hogue, Making Camp: A Visual History of Camping's Most Essential Items and Activities, chapter 7, “Sleeping Bag,” Kindle edition, p. 248.
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[5] E. Kreps, Camp and Trail Methods, Chapter V, Cooking Utensils, Beds and Bedding, A. R. Harding Pub, 1910, pg 46-54.
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[8] Clinton T. Dent, Mountaineering (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1892), 64, URL.
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[10] Fordyce, C. P. “Autocamping Beds.” Outdoor Life 55, no. 6 (June 1925): 478–79. Digitized by Internet Archive. https://archive.org/details/sim_outdoor-life_1925-06_55_6.
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[13] Office of Technical Services. “Apparel.” Bibliography of Technical Reports 17, no. 4 (April 11, 1952): 125. Digitized by Internet Archive. https://archive.org/details/sim_government-reports-announcements-index_1952-04-11_17_4_0.
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[15] American Alpine Club Safety Committee, Accidents in American Mountaineering (New York: American Alpine Club, 1954), 29, URL.
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[17] Colin Fletcher, The Complete Walker: The Joys and Techniques of Hiking and Backpacking (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1968), 174–75, URL.
[18] "How to Buy a Trail Bed," Backpacker, June 1977, 66.
[19] Andrew Harvard and Todd Thompson, Mountain of Storms: The American Expeditions to Dhaulagiri, 1969 & 1973 (New York: Chelsea House, 1974), 205, https://archive.org/details/mountainofstorms0000harv.
[20] Summit, vol. 12–13 (1966), 32, URL.
[21] James J. Beveridge, "The Best in Sleeping Bags and Tents for the Backpacker," Field & Stream, April 1972, 92, URL.
[22] Encyclopedia of American Biography, “Stein, Leo,” (New York: American Historical Company, 1963), 477, URL.
[23] Cascade Designs. “Thermarest - Our History.” Therm-a-Rest. Accessed September 2, 2026. https://cascadedesigns.com/pages/thermarest-our-history.
[24] Ibid.
[25] Halfway Anywhere, Therm-a-Rest Z Lite Sol review
[26] Erps, Keith. “Which Side Is ‘Up’ on a Z Lite & Other Burning Questions.” Therm-a-Rest Blog. Cascade Designs, July 31, 2024. https://cascadedesigns.com/blogs/thermarest-gear/which-side-is-up-on-a-zlite.
[27] Therm-a-Rest Team. “50 Years of Better Sleep.” Therm-a-Rest Blog. Cascade Designs, January 4, 2022. https://cascadedesigns.com/blogs/thermarest-stories/50-years-of-better-sleep.
[28] National Aeronautics and Space Administration. “Reflecting on Space Benefits: A Shining Example.” NASA Spinoff. NASA, 2006. https://spinoff.nasa.gov/Spinoff2006/ch_9.html.
[29] Wikipedia, s.v. “Mylar.” Last modified July 27, 2026, 19:41. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BoPET.