Hilleberg Jannu

The first time I heard about Hilleberg tents, I was pretty excited. They looked amazing and one of them was just what I wanted for the hike I was planning. This was the description that so caught my eye:

A midnight photography session captured a
frost-covered Jannu by moonlight.

The Jannu is that rarest of combinations – tremendously strong and exceptionally light. The Jannu is our strongest, ultra-lightweight dome tent model, and is in some respects the ultralight version of the Tarra, but with only one entrance. At the same time, it is very much its own creature. For while it is an Ultralight tent, it is nonetheless ideal for harsh, high altitude use, and both exposed and/or above tree line terrain and protected conditions in all seasons and all weathers. Its compact footprint shines in limited-space sites, such as knife-edge ridges and small ledges, and it is very stable, even in high winds. Yet it is also easily light enough for use on long distance trips where low weight is a high priority. The Jannu’s single entrance and vestibule favor lighter weight over absolute comfort, and its dome design gives it exceptional static strength for handling snow loading. As a result, it is a fine choice both for base camp situations, and for mobile adventures, where you pitch your tent every day.*

Companies are always saying wonderful things about their products though. After using it for a three-week bushwalk and on numerous shorter trips in varying conditions, this is what I think about the Jannu.

A Quick Clarification

The Jannu is a four-season tent. This term gets thrown around a lot, and I want to clarify what I take it to mean before we carry on any further. A lot of products titled as four-season gear are intended only for use in late Autumn to early Spring; they aren't suitable for Summer usage. Anything like that, I'll call Winter gear because it's less confusing and far more accurate. If a company claims four-season usability for their gear, its performance in hot weather is as important to me as its ability to withstand a storm.

Strung out to dry the day after a storm. Normally, only a
few guy ropes are required. Photo: Jessica Hancock.

Pitching the Tent

The first thing I noticed when setting up the Jannu was jut how much space it filled. The footprint is surprisingly narrow, given how roomy the tent is, but it is long. I have never been unable to find a space for it, but on several occasions I have found only a single space long enough to fit its full length. Once a suitable site is found, the rest of the setup is pretty simple; one person can pitch the Jannu in about the time it takes another to put some water on to boil. Most of the guy ropes aren't needed unless you're expecting a hurricane but the three attached to the vent's rain cover are an absolute must; the tent won't ventilate without them (but more on the vent later). The peg-out points on the vestibule have an adjustable strap on them so that you can put the peg wherever you need to, to avoid rocks and tree roots, and then just adjust the strap to suit. This is a simple, elegant design feature that was greatly appreciated, but I couldn't for the life of me fathom why it hadn't been used on all the peg-out points. The tent body attaches to the fly with loop and toggles. These toggles are much smaller than are used for attaching the vent and can come undone while pitching the tent, although they're secure once it's erected. This has only happened twice in the 30+ times I've put the tent up and it was easily spotted then fixed both times.

Summer Storm Performance

Ducking outside for a quick brew during a brief
break in the weather. Photo: Jessica Hancock.

Two nights up on an exposed plateau with high wind, driving rain, sleet and hail certainly tested this out. No water got into the main tent, only the vestibule. This came from two sources: opening the zip to go in and out of the tent and part of the vestibule sagging slightly. No matter how level the campsite nor how I adjusted the the guy ropes, this sag was always present. The water ingress was minimal but, as the only leaking part of the tent, I've spent a lot of time trying to stop it. The Jannu's wind performance was outstanding; it can be set up each night according to convenience and space, not prevailing wind direction. The advantage of the semi-geodesic design is that it doesn't matter whether the wind changes direction. During the windiest conditions I have put it through, the inner tent wall barely moved.

Winter Storm Performance

The Jannu shed enough snow to stay upright
overnight, but it was starting to sag by morning...

In a recent backcountry ski trip, the campsite was buffeted by winds measured at 80km/h, received over 40cm of snow and dropped to a pleasant -6°C overnight. The Jannu had no problems with the wind, and (unlike another tent in the campsite) didn't need digging out during the night to prevent it from collapsing beneath the snow. It definitely did need digging out later, and I would have been uncomfortable letting much more snow build up on it, but it coped well. Only in the vestibule did the weight of the snow make much difference, where the usual sag partway along the zip had been exacerbated to the point where half the vestibule was unusable.

Sunny Day Performance

Sheltered from the wind, but not the sun. The
Jannu heated fast during this rest day.

I don't just camp in storms, and have used the Jannu on several warm days. Provided there was a breeze and I had set up the vent, the tent ventilated effectively and there was no condensation beading its surface come morning. In particularly sheltered campsites, it still ventilated and never became uncomfortably warm, but the difference in temperature was certainly noticeable and condensation started to bead the inner tent wall. Only once have I forgotten to peg out and open the vent (rest assured, I won't forget again!), and it meant waking up to a tent dripping with condensation. When confident that there wouldn't be any rain on a particularly still, warm night, I left the vent's rain cover off and enjoyed a pleasant night with no overheating issues or water droplets on my gear come morning. So the vent works provided there is either wind or no chance of rain.

Not really relevant to the tent quality,
but it made for a nice morning view.

Comfort

The Jannu is a roomy tent, easily big enough to fit three people (particularly if you consider how small many "two-man" tents actually are) or two people and the full contents of their packs. While spending a day sheltering from the rain, the Jannu was used as a communal space. Four adults could sit up quite comfortably inside it, playing cards while the back of the tent was devoted to preparing lunch. Regardless of the weather outside the tent, it remained a warm, quiet environment inside.

Build Quality

There is no doubt that the Hillebergs are well-made tents. The fabric is second to none, somehow being lighter, stronger and more waterproof than that used for other modern tents. After a 22 night hike, the Jannu looked as fresh and shiny as it had on day one. The lightweight poles are slightly thicker at the joints, the most common failure point on many tent poles. Tent pegs were easily driven into even the hardest packed rocky soil, while also being easily removed come morning thanks to the simple but wonderful addition of a loop of cord to the end of each.

Jannu Overview

The Jannu's semi-geodesic design makes for a very stable, reliable tent. It can be set up according to comfort and convenience rather than having to predict what the prevailing wind direction will be. It is (just) light enough to be used by a single person, but the spacious inner can easily fit two people and all their gear; however, the vestibule space is of limited use during rain due to sagging.

*Product description on the Hilleberg site.

Dunlop Volleys - The End of an Outdoor Era

When I started getting into white water rafting I tried a few different sets of river shoes, trying to find the perfect ones. There were pros and cons to each, but I ultimately settled on the same footwear as everyone else. Now, years later, it seems I may have to change styles again.

#1 Booties

The first was a pair of wetsuit boots—or "booties" as they're affectionately known—I already owned for snorkelling around oyster studded rocks. New to white water sports, I foolishly thought their impressive tread meant my booties would provide all the grip I needed both on and off river. While they remain the warmest river shoes I've ever worn, those boots taught me that impressive tread doesn't equate to good grip on wet rocks. In fact, the stiff soles glided easily across the smooth, wet river rocks.

#2 Fingers

So I upgraded soles, adopting a fancier pair of neoprene shoes. I took to wearing a pair of Flows, an early model of Five Fingers. They were comfortable, reasonably warm (apart from the unfortunate gap between the top of the shoes and the bottom of my wetsuit) and their gecko soles gripped surprisingly well on wet rocks. They suffered from only three problems:

• The low tops meant they filled with sand easily when walking along the riverbank, extremely uncomfortable in a skin-tight shoe;
• The stitching tended to tear through the thin neoprene, severely limiting their service life;
• They cost around $200 a pair.

The first was bearable, but the combination of the latter two (and Vibram's refusal to acknowledge the rapidly deteriorating neoprene as a manufacturing defect) made them an impractical option for a student rafter.

#3 Sandals
I'm a long-standing user of hiking sandals, from various Tevas while I was growing up to my eventual introduction to Chacos. The first pair of Chacos I owned predated the heavy tread that followed in later years, when the lines of river and land shoes had almost identical soles. While I wasn't using a pair of their river shoes, mine gripped well on dry and wet rocks alike and dried quickly afterwards. With the addition of a pair of thick woollen socks (aww yeah, socks and sandals! Trendy, I know) so my feet didn't freeze, they made for decent rafting shoes. I could usually find them for around $100 a pair (although I once absurdly found a shop trying to clear some shelf space in a hurry who sold me several pairs at 20c each. Why, I have no idea!) and last me around three years of near-daily use before the soles start losing grip. They can be resoled, but generally only once since the straps eventually start to wear through.

Chaco soles from left to right: original multi-purpose colorado,
dry-land unaweep and wet-rock pro.
Photos courtesy of Chaco US and Wilderness Exchange Unlimited.

More recently, Chacos have diverged into two distinctly different styles: one with the solid, heavy soles of hiking boots; and one with limited tread and soft rubber soles that stuck easily to wet rocks but wore out faster on dry land. I mainly use mine on land as a warm weather shoe that actually has some support, and have stuck with the heavy tread. Alas, that means they're restricted to hiking and I needed to find a new source of river shoes.

#4 Dunlop Volleys

It took me a while to get there, but eventually I bought myself a pair of Dunlop Volleys, cheap canvas shoes whose design had remained largely unchanged for 70 years. They're a popular choice, and the Tasmanian University White Water Rafting Club has long recommended them as the footwear of choice for all new rafters. I forked out the standard $20 for a pair, grabbed some thick socks and tried them out. The grip was astonishing. It took me a while to fully trust them, but it felt like my feet were glued to the rocks. The only time they lost grip on river was when encountering green slime of death* unexpectedly. Since nothing else can find grip on green slime of death, I'm willing to forgive them that one. Like the Vibrams, the low tops meant they filled with sand easily, but it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable. An earlier model of Volley had a higher top that kept the sand out, but the end of that product line predated my use of Volleys by over twenty years.
By far the cheapest river shoes I'd owned, the Volleys also outlasted my Vibrams (which, if you're keeping track, were the most expensive). The canvas tends to wear through beside the little toe and the grip wears out, but neither happens instantly. I could get two seasons of rafting and occasional sessions of parkour out of a pair before they failed.

#5 Cheap'n'shitty Volleys

These sneaky shoes look like Dunlop Volleys, are sold in the same shops, have the same branding on their soles and are sold for a similar price. The only obvious difference is that the name on the shoes' tongues has changed from "DUNLOP" to "VOLLEY." However, one must never mistake Cheap'n'shitty Volleys for the shoes they're imitating...

Somewhere within the bowels of Volley Australia, a decision was made to bring back the old style of high-topped Volleys, rebranded as High Leaps. Excited at the prospect of not shaking gravel out of my shoes at day's end, I bought a pair and tried them out. I'd worn halfway through the grip under the ball of my foot after a 1 1/2 hour parkour training session on their first day of use. A few days of rafting later and holes were forming through the rubber. Despondent that they weren't as well made as other Volleys, I returned to using my old pair.

Then I went on a ten day rafting trip and bought a new pair of Volleys rather than relying on an old pair for so long. By the end of day three, the soles of both brand new shoes had partially detached from the canvas. I doused them liberally in glue and hoped they would last the remaining week. While I was still wearing my new shoes when we rolled up the rafts at trip's end, they were then deposited in the first bin I found. The additional glue had held them together admirably (one thing you can say for rafters is that they've always got powerful glues on hand) but I'd ultimately added duct tape around the toes to reinforce them. The tape would have diminished their grip, except that the grip had already worn away completely.

I started canyoning this year and was fortunate enough to still have my last pair of Dunlops, since the classic shoe has also been a popular choice for canyoners for some years. Although they're holding up well, old age is starting to catch up with them and I doubt they've more than a couple of days' canyoning left in them. With Volleys now a non-contender, I will soon have to delve back into the world of river shoes in search of a replacement.

* Green slime of death is a colloquial term for a type of algae found in some Tasmanian rivers. It's mostly found on rocks that are only intermittently submerged by higher water levels. When dry, it forms a dark green-hued coating on the rocks to which most shoes grip well. When it gets wet (for example, because someone has walked across it with wet shoes), it becomes a slick slime to which no shoes will grip. The result of this is that the first rafter walking across rocks coated with it has no problems, but anyone who carelessly follows their wet footprints a few seconds later is almost certain to slip over.

† A Wikipedia edit recently suggested these changes to the Volley design had been undone and they were reverting to the earlier construction, though didn't cite any evidence. Soon after, another edit was made to the page:

However, an October 2013 inspection of the various models sold in a department store found that all models on sale still had the much softer sole condemned as failing within 3 days in the references above, and there is no documentation at www.volley.com.au indicating that the soles of the online models are any different from those sold in stores.

It's a surprisingly strongly worded edit for something from a user calling himself BenevolentUncle, but a quick browse of the bushwalking forums and blogs of some big names in the Australian outdoor community make clear the widespread displeasure about the new Volley design. It remains to be seen whether Volley Australia will actually do as hoped and return to us our most beloved river shoes.