A while back I posted a photo on Instagram with the caption “we need not be pagans,” and it drew a surprising number of questions—among them a request from Alaska woodworker Zach LaPerrière to share how I sleep when I’m out. So here’s the setup and the thinking behind it.
Everything starts with conditions. My ideal is to sleep outside under the stars and actually sleep well. Most of my nights are in the arid Southwest—the Mojave, desert canyons, slickrock country—so rain and bugs are rarely the main problem. Temperature comes first, wind second. Shelter and padding choices follow from those two constraints.
For car-camping comfort I usually reach for a cot. My go-to is a Helinox Cot One Convertible with leg extensions that raise the bed about 8.5 inches. It breaks down small, weighs about five pounds, and lives in my truck most of the time. I’ve owned REI’s Wonderland Comfort Cot, which is the plushest cot I’ve tried—adjustable, well padded, and so comfortable you can lounge in it all day. The downside was its bulk and weight; it felt like traveling with Chewbacca, so I sold it. The Helinox trades a little luxury for packability, and that’s a worthwhile trade for most trips.
Can you sleep on the Helinox without any extra padding? Yes, I have. It’s fine for a night, but I sleep best with a pad. For car camping I like a thick pad: historically the four-inch Exped MegaMat (inflatable, high R-value) and, lately, a foam option—the Hest Foamy—have been my favorites. The Foamy has a waterproof bottom and won’t puncture, so it’s a great choice when I want to skip the cot and lay something directly on slickrock.
Insulation depends on temperature. Warm nights call for a cotton blanket; cool nights get a wool blanket or a sleeping bag. I don’t have a single favorite bag brand—I swap between NEMO, Marmot, and Exped depending on what’s clean and which model fits the night’s temps.
A pillow matters to me. For years I used an old house pillow; recently I’ve been using a compact camp pillow that fits well inside a sleeping-bag hood. I’d like it a touch softer, but it’s growing on me.
Part of the appeal of car camping, for me, is the chance to be comfortable. At the same time I’m fascinated by the idea of sleeping well with as little as possible—just my clothes or a poncho. I remember a mule packer in Durango, Mexico, back in the 1990s who slept like a rock on the ground with only a wool blanket. I suspect back sleepers have an easier time of that than side sleepers; when I’ve tried sleeping directly on hard ground without padding I’ve usually decided I prefer not to. Maybe I just need to tire myself out more.
For backpacking and bikepacking the calculus shifts toward weight and reliability. I’m still a fan of inflatable pads like the Therm-a-Rest NeoAir series for their light weight. On a recent canyon overnight I used an Exped Flex 1.5R closed-cell foam pad; on sand it worked fine, but on rock or hard ground it felt a bit thin. Exped recently released a thicker Flex R3—better cushion but heavier (around 18 ounces), which illustrates the tradeoff: foam pads are heavier but nearly indestructible; inflatables are featherlight but must be inflated and can leak.
There’s no single perfect mattress system. Is a foam pad worth the extra bulk? Is a bivy better than a tent for your style? Quilt or sleeping bag? Waterproof stuff-sack sleep system vs. traditional bag and pad? I enjoy testing answers to those questions on different trips.
Bottom line: adapt to the place and the night. Different biomes, bodies, and goals demand different choices. I’ve had miserable nights and sublime ones, but the pursuit of good sleep in the wild is part of the fun. I’m aiming for 100 nights of camping this year to trial more combos—if there’s a pad, bag, or rig you want me to try and write about, tell me. And if you have a reliable way to sleep soft while sleeping rough, I’d love to hear it.
— Stephen Casimiro
