DITCHING the stove

WHEN TRAMPING, the promise of a hot meal at the end of the day is the dangled carrot I often need to put one foot in front of the other.

There’s nothing so satisfying as sitting down on sore haunches, looking over a view, and indulging in the ceremony of setting up a camp cooker.

As the sizzles, bubbles, singes and spits emit from a hot pot, the anticipation grows – as any tramper knows, food never tastes as good as it does in the backcountry.

But – hard as it is to believe – some trampers don’t care much for a hot meal when they’re on the trail, and some leave their