Only by going alone in silence, without baggage, can one truly get into the heart of the wilderness. All other travel is mere dust and hotels and baggage and chatter. – John Muir

On the advice of my brothers, I start taking to the Santa Monica mountains, walking five miles a weekend with fifty pounds of books in my backpack.

I enjoy packing challenges. I've always believed that if you pack perfectly, your travels will be more comfortable and things will go smoother. A well-packed bag means everything – style and adventure and comfort all packed into one.

For the John Muir Wilderness in California's Sierra mountains, which would require the five of us to bring our own food and shelter on our backs, I fiddled for months with my backpack to get its weight down to a comfortable level. I cut off unnecessary straps. I sawed my toothbruth into a short stub. I saved an almost finished tube of deodorant.

Andre had warned that you have to watch the weight of everything. He also said that in preparation for an extended trip into the backcountry, you have to prepare and pack months in advance – shave the ounces and you lose the pounds.

My brothers’ had told Vance to start packing earlier in the year; shaving weight and preparing the pack. I knew he wouldn’t consider this until departure time. After last minute packing, he emerged from his house; his backpack like something off a Mad Max set. His sleeping bag was tied awkwardly to the frame with twine. But was that thing really a backpack? Instead of a sturdy water bottle, he had an old plastic soda bottle. The spokes of his tent stuck out one side of his pack. You could tell he hadn't the appropriate clothes for the trip, and I'm thinking, Vance you shit! But I don't say anything, because Vance has a way of making his way through the world on his own terms.

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