Sierra Designs Light Year 1

My first solo tent was the Sierra Designs Light Year 1. At the moment of purchase, I was sincerely convinced that I had chosen the perfect tent and supremely confident that I would never--never--buy another one (barring loss or destruction). That may be the dumbest most shortsighted naive thought, among a large pool of strong contenders, that has gone through my head in the past decade. Having used the tent on six separate outings, most recently on a trip to Jangbong-Do in early July 2010, I had already concluded about three outings ago that it was not the perfect tent, at least not for me, and had purchased another backpacking tent anyway (i.e., MSR Hubba Hubba HP), and was/is eyeing yet another (i.e., TarpTent Double Rainbow), but I decided to give it one last chance, maybe to see if it would be worth hanging on to for emergencies or maybe just for sentimental value. For the many reasons described below, I am bidding farewell to the Light Year 1.

Incidentally, I've also said my goodbyes to my first expedition backpack, an Osprey Atmos 65 (see photo left, pictured with Light Year) (also see gear review, "Osprey Atmos 65"). Although I bought it on the same trip to New York as I did the tent (though not at the same store), I can't recall if I had those same lame and lofty BFF aspirations for the pack. In any event, it's a bit sad to dump both members of the inaugural class just one year later.

First, the quasi-bivy design allows barely enough room to sit up (and not even straight up). I hadn't anticipated that movement within a tent would be necessary--after all, I figured I'd just be sleeping in it--but an action as simple as changing my shirt (forget about pants) became a rather awkward maneuver. And the tapering at the foot of the tent further enhanced the sensation of lying in a coffin. This minimal silhouette may be appealing to some, like stealth campers or vampires.

Second, the size is inadequate, both in length and width. As person who weighs 85 kg and stands 183 cm (yes, a bit overweight), and sleeps on his stomach, and rolls around a lot in his sleep, every point of my body (toes, knees, gut, elbows, hands, head) simultaneously touched some part of the tent when I lay out to sleep. If I were a thinner shorter supine immobile sleeper, this probably would've been less of a problem.

Third, the forward-entry door forced me to scrabble in (and out) on my hands and knees. Made me feel like a mangy cur crawling into (and out of) its doghouse, particularly on those mornings after ten too many.

Fourth, the non-freestanding frame requires pegs, as well as guy lines, a minimum of two for the main body and two for the rain fly. This wasn't a deal-breaker per se, since a properly pitched tent involves at least a few pegs anyway, for stability if not esthetics. However, I offer four situations that call for a freestanding tent that doesn't require pegs: (i) extreme physical exhaustion or some other incapacity (laziness counts) that makes you want to just pitch the damn thing without bothering to measure distances, drive pegs, and secure everything with lines; (ii) relocation, for whatever reason (e.g., after completing setup and settling down for the night, you discover that you've pitched the tent next to a big pile of animal shit), which forces you to do everything all over again; (iii) sand--pegs won't stay in; (iv) ice--pegs won't go in; and (v) decks (see photo below), which require

calculation of angles and sufficient line to reach the ground (although some decks feature hooks or other fixtures for lines). With respect to decks, I realize that this is supposed to be about "backcountry" camping, but the reality is that some trips involve setting up camp at a commercial site or national park, many of which nowadays offer the convenience and comfort of wooden decks made for tents. And I also realize that no one is forcing me to pitch my tent on the deck, but c'mon, did I mention convenience and comfort?

Fifth, the mesh fabric and lightweight rain fly, which I'd correctly foreseen would be ideal for summer, provided jack's worth of warmth when the weather had even the slightest nip. Even worse, during the colder months, anything outside of July, the lack of proper ventilation resulted in condensation buildup that would freeze and transform the tent into a crisp refrigerated coffin.

And finally, with a 1.51-kg trail weight (not including pegs and guy lines), the tent may not exactly be an anvil, but, all things considered, it's not as ultralight as I'd once believed. By comparison, the MSR Hubba Hubba HP is a two-person dome-style four-season freestanding tent with dual lateral doors and weighs in at a maximum of 1.93 kg. The TarpTent Double Rainbow, which has a three-season-plus mesh body and is not freestanding, weighs an embarrassing 1.13 kg.

Sorry, Light Year, but you've been replaced.