Gear Review: First Ascent Alchemist 30L

One thing I've never understood about gear reviews: most of them are done by people who just received the product and haven't put it through any paces. They cut the tags off, try it on, zip and unzip a few zippers and suddenly they're experts. I get it, the company probably sent you their hot new item for free and expects a timely write-up in exchange. That also means the review is almost certainly going to be positive. It only makes sense to keep that pipeline of free gear open, right?

I'm not going to review any item I haven't personally used for at least a month. In fact, to start off, I'm going to break down a backpack I've owned for nearly two years: the First Ascent Alchemist 30 (Retail: $129).

Alchemist 30 on Blanca Peak in winter

I'm what many would call a pack whore. I own and consistently use six, ranging from 9L to 60L. Each has a niche, but none matches the versatility of the Alchemist 30, by far the backpack I find myself reaching for the most.

I worked at Eddie Bauer for about a year in 2012-13. Obviously, I had the opportunity to inspect the company's packs in detail. To be honest, with exceptions, many of them felt like the designers were trying too hard. There were too many features, too many gimmicks, too much weight and too bright of a color scheme. The reviewed pack's big brother, the Alchemist 40, is a chief offender.

While the Alchemist 30 might be guilty of color options that could cause seizures in children (...that limeade...), it remains blissfully unmarred by the other aforementioned flaws. It's like Eddie Bauer made the Alchemist 40, cut away all the junk, and the more more effective 30-liter version was what remained.

Here are the roles the Alchemist 30 fills for me:

• Spring Couloirs
• Short Winter Dayhikes
• Long Summer Dayhikes
• Ice Cragging

That's impressive considering that each of my other five packs only has a niche or two. If I was starting over and could only afford one, the Alchemist 30 is what I'd buy.

My favorite feature is the quick-release tool carry. Flipping an ice ax in and out of a traditional loop can be a pain, especially on steep slopes. This system eliminates that hassle and keeps the sharp picks of ice tools hidden under a layer of fabric.

The interior organizer pockets are among the best I've seen. The Alchemist 30 swallows avy gear and bulky winter/spring layers with ease, and it's not hard to keep track of where everything's stashed. How many other packs can carry an avalanche shovel so well you almost forget it's there?

Other technical bonuses are gear loops on the hip belt (double as ice ax holsters if you briefly need your hands) and exterior side pockets perfectly suited to carrying pickets or wands. Several online reviews decry the exterior side pockets for not being large enough to carry a Nalgene, but that's not the point. This is a climbing pack.

Speaking of hydration, the bladder sleeve, tube exit hole and shoulder straps are designed pretty standard to support a Camelbak-type system. The tube exit hole can be a bit difficult to locate, but that's a non-issue after the first time. Eddie Bauer says the side pockets can also carry skis. I can't speak to that. There are several ways to strap on snowshoes, though.

I haven't used the Alchemist 30 in a rain storm (I live in Colorado, after all), but otherwise the ripstop material has impressed. It sheds snow well, and the pack still looks new-ish despite two years of being dragged abrasively across rock and ice.

It only comes in one size, so your mileage may vary in this regard, but the Alchemist 30 is the most comfortable pack I own. Pain between the shoulder-blades is a rarity, and it has never chafed my hips like several of my other backpacks. It somehow manages to make 25-pound loads feel like 10-pound loads.

Alchemist 30 performing well on a late fall dayhike

Not everything about this pack is positive. The four plastic external "hidden" gear clips are too hidden to be of any use. I tried rigging a system to carry crampons there, but cut it away after it almost resulted in a lost crampon.

The Alchemist 30, like many FA packs, is on the heavy side. At 4lbs 3oz, it's a full pound heavier than the comparable and larger Osprey Variant 37. It's almost double the weight of the average (admittedly less fully featured) 30-liter pack. The plus side is it carries that weight so well it's hardly noticeable.

Finally, part of me wishes the Alchemist 30 had a top-lid to make carrying a rope easier, but that would add even more weight and the wide-mouth entry system is pretty handy. I think I'd be happy either way.

So, what would I rate the Alchemist 30? Rather than assign an arbitrary number from zero to 10 or 100, I'll end all my gear views with the following simple question:

Would I recommend the First Ascent Alchemist 30 to a loved one? Yes.

Father Dyer Peak (13,615') and Crystal Peak (13,852') - Attempt

Seeing others out there enjoying couloir season was excruciating. It's my favorite time year, the two months when ice axes and crampons are actually useful in Colorado. I put it off as long as I could, but I finally couldn't take it anymore. My shoulder is healing quickly and the time had come to at least try a nice, mellow 30ish-degree climb.

I rounded up some partners at the 14ers.com happy hour and we were on our way to Breckenridge at 4:30 a.m. Sunday, May 4. The Dyer Straits route on Father Dyer Peak and Crystal Peak is rated a *Classic* in Gerry Roach's 13ers guidebook, with a few hundred feet of moderate snow-climbing in a gorgeous hanging amphitheater. It's been on my list for years.

Bill and Tony have joined me on countless adventures, and Shara, who's new to the state, would be attempting her first climb at altitude. It was a great crew for a leisurely day on a fun route.

We set off from the Spruce Gulch TH at 6:30 a.m. Bill and I started with snowshoes, but they were more hindrance than help on the extremely hard-packed snow. We felt comfortable ditching them after a quarter-mile. The forecast was for very warm temperatures and moderate wind, which seemed to hold true early in the day. We stripped down to T-shirts the minute the sun hit us and the wind was hardly noticeable below treeline.

T-shiiiiiiirt Tiiiiiiiime

The breeze picked up a bit as we emerged from treeline near Francie's Cabin, a luxurious backcountry abode maintained by Summit Huts. We were thankful for the wind at the time. It would keep the snow from heating up and dry the sweat-bullets that dripped from our brows. Occasional strong gusts were annoying, but if that's all we would have to deal with, it was destined to be a fantastic day.

We followed a solid ski track to keep from sinking into the snow and made steady progress to the lefthand turnoff just south of Lower Crystal Lake. Into the hanging basin we climbed, connecting patches of dry ground and ankle-deep snow. The Dyer Straits finally came into view as we rounded a corner, which should have been an exciting moment. Instead, our hopes were sapped.

Father Dyer (center) and Crystal (right)

Heading into the hanging basin

Dyer Straits

Spindrift -- swirling tornadoes of loose snow -- danced along our entire route. The gusts were moving several inches of powder onto our line, stacking it on top of the firm spring layer and increasing the avalanche danger. To add insult to misery, the wind chose this moment to really start kicking. It slammed us in bursts up to 40 miles per hour, occasionally knocking us off balance. Still, if we could claw (literally) our way up to the ridge, there was a chance we'd reach a windblock and calmer conditions.

Tony and I set off in front, hugging the extreme lefthand slope of the Dyer Straits, which appeared shallower and safer. By connecting rock islands and staying on firm snow we managed to avoid significant avalanche danger. Still, we didn't spend much time dallying, making as quick a sprint as we could for the safety of the ridgeline. Our hopes were dashed again when we reached it. The wind had built to a sustained 25-30 miles per hour, with gusts to 45 or 50. Worse, it wasn't coming from any one direction. The swirling wind meant a windblock would be unlikely, and we'd be exposed to it for another couple hours as we traversed ridgelines to Father Dyer and Crystal. After a short discussion, Tony and I decided to head down.

Conditions continued to deteriorate. We were hit several times by spindrift so intense that they were basically miniature 10-second whiteouts. All we could do was slam our axes into the snow and hunker over them, waiting for the bastard to pass.

Looking down from near the top of the Straits

Retreating from the wind

Back on safer ground, the wind continued to prevent much of a break. We opted to high-tail it down to try and find a more pleasant resting place. That didn't come until we came upon the ruins of an old mining cabin at Lower Crystal Lake. Even hunkered behind this supposed shelter, it was an unpleasant stop. The one good thing the wind did for us was keep the surface layer of the snow firm. We were able to make a hasty retreat to treeline without any postholing. That's a rare treat on a spring afternoon, especially sans snowshoes.

The attempt was technically a failure, but none of us saw it that way. Shara shattered her old altitude record, reaching about 13,200' for the first time in her life. Tony and I did in fact climb the Dyer Straits route to the top, we just didn't go to the summit. Not to mention my shoulder felt great on moderate snow with almost no pain or discomfort. Finally, Bill and I got the workouts we both desperately needed as we whip ourselves back into shape after winter injuries. Summit or no, I'd call that a successful day.