When I started hiking and backpacking long ago, wool was seen as fuddy-duddy. What was in style then were the newer fabrics, all created in labs by scientists. And it best had “tec” in its trademarked name back then. And overall, this hasn’t changed in the past 20 to 30 years. Maybe the biggest change was when companies started embracing outdoor tech fabrics made of recycled plastic bottles a few years back. It was still man-made fabric, just with a presumed greener pedigree.
And I did fall for it at first. I bought gear and clothing I couldn’t afford so people would see I was a real hiker. Not a weekend waltzer out for a stroll. It’s sad/funny to realize just how much Backpacker Magazine and a regional publication, WA Trails, could influence me in the days before the internet was a real thing. They only talked about the newest gear, which was marketing, but it wasn’t apparent then like it became after social media came around. I was young and gullible and didn’t know then that they reviewed the gear to have something to write about. (We all do this, of course, and I am fully open to the fact that I love new gear as much as anyone else does – and I love writing about it.)
But as the years went by, I wanted less tech wear and more old-school. It just felt better on my skin. I first backpacked with wool at a lake in the Olympic Mountains. I knew a fleece jacket would be too warm, but I needed a layer for night and early morning. I had a wool sweater I had bought from LLBean and thought, why not? And packed it.
It worked perfectly. And I wasn’t sweating to death in it. It wasn’t cold in the high subalpine basin, but one needed an extra layer before the sun rose above the peaks.
While I wore hiking pants, shorts, and leggings, and yes, I did wear outdoor tech fabric shirts in the cold seasons/rain/snow, I migrated back to wool for sweaters, jackets, socks, and even underwear.
A Merino wool hoodie, form-fitting. The socks were Injini wool. Hiking on the Wonderland Trail at Mt. Rainier in late spring.
I was sitting in my one-woman tent on the PCT, waking up to snow on Labor Day. I was wearing the same sweater I had worn seven years before. I just needed a warm layer to keep the chill away before breaking camp.
After thousands of miles hiked and backpacked in all 12 months of the year, nothing beats the simple, lowly wool sweater as a layer. It’s warm and cozy, it breathes, and it insulates even when wet.
Yes, it can smell of wool if wet, but you don’t smell it once dry. One of the biggest plus factors is that it rarely smells of sweat. Tech fabrics get the sweat smell in them, and it’s nearly impossible to remove it. It’ll smell good at first, but within a few minutes, body heat brings the pit stink back (same with foot stink in poly/nylon socks).
What to buy?
When looking at wool, the softer and more refined it is, the higher the price will be. Outdoor clothing companies have gone after this market in the last decade. A merino wool form-fitting sweater costs much more than a “streetwear” sweater. Still, expect prices to start at $100 for streetwear and far more for outdoor companies.
The cheapest is, of course, to go look in your closet or ask people you know what they have and don’t wear anymore. Or poke around thrift shops.
It doesn’t have to be fashionable. I’d avoid anything fussy and go for weight—choose the lightest option. Some wool can be very heavy and densely knitted. I usually choose a plain knit without cabling. You want a tight-knit to keep the wind out. Also, make sure that what you choose fits into your backpack and isn’t a space hog. The teal blue sweater and the hoodie above—both fit in well and packed small. You want a 3-season sweater.
Accept that you will probably eventually destroy the sweater, catching it on branches, rocks, etc. I still get years of use out of each sweater I buy. My first hiking sweater lasted over eight years, and I only retired it because I had lost weight.
Care:
If you want to wash your sweaters, always follow the directions on the tag. If it doesn’t have a care tag, only wash it in cold water, in a bathtub or large sink, with a handwashing soap (such as Woollite, and only use a tiny bit), and gently push the water out. Lay it on a thick towel, let that absorb the water, then air dry it on a drying rack – flat. Always shape the sweater as it is drying. I pick a nice day, and let it dry outside, in the shade. Don’t hang wet wool; it will stretch it out, and never in a good way.
You probably don’t want to go all 1995 wool sweater, though. I had a closet full of those. The brambles still in the wool were extra special. And a big sweater like this is a winter sweater and doesn’t pack down.
~Sarah