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Emergency Heat Source

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Possibly a bit of an ironic topic, considering that Where I'm at, we're currently looking at record highs.

One thing that I would like to improve before I trip in cooler weather is my recovery gear. I'm reasonably confident that I'd survive a capsize, and make it to shore with my gear intact. What comes next? I've got:
  • Dry bag with a change of clothes
  • Emergency blanket
  • Probably my sleeping gear, unless I didn't take down camp that morning
  • Umpteen million ways to start a fire
  • HotHands packets/equivalent
  • White Gas cook stove
But what to do If I'm so cold that getting those deployed is an issue? What do you use/how would you prep for a hypothermia scenario where you can't count on finding usable fuel at a random point on the shoreline?
 
[/LIST] But what to do If I'm so cold that getting those deployed is an issue? What do you use/how would you prep for a hypothermia scenario where you can't count on finding usable fuel at a random point on the shoreline?

I assume this is about paddling in shoulder seasons when hypothermia is more of a risk. One expensive solution is adding a dry suit and wearing it when paddling. Then you don't need to worry about getting wet/cold if you capsize. I lived in mine in May at Allagash Lake, as did my paddling partner. We had rain, wind, an subfreezing temps a couple of nights. Even though we had plenty of dry wood to burn, I was sure glad I had that dry suit when we paddled across that lake.
 
I'm reasonably confident that I'd survive a capsize, and make it to shore with my gear intact. . . .

But what to do If I'm so cold that getting those deployed is an issue? What do you use/how would you prep for a hypothermia scenario where you can't count on finding usable fuel at a random point on the shoreline?

Not sure where you're paddling in this scenario. It's warm enough to have liquid water, but it's got hypothermically cold air temperature and no wood for fuel. Where in the world are you?

If you want to avoid being wet and cold, the way to prevent getting wet is, as alsg has suggested, to wear a dry suit on the water or a wetsuit with waterproof rain gear. If you're dry on land and have your gear, why would you become hypothermic? Your gear would presumably include clothes and sleeping bag sufficiently warm enough for the season, plus tarp and/or tent for weather protection.

If you don't have a dry suit or wet suit, nor warm clothes, nor sleeping bag, nor shelter, nor wood, then activate your PLB for a rescue. If you don't have a PLB or rescue device, either -- you die in this freak weather barrenland.

So, in your next life, take trips in less isolated places, in warmer seasons, with more trees, with more water protection, warmer clothes, warmer sleeping bag, and better shelter.
 
One word: Wind. I'll note that the only time that I've actually dealt with Hypothermia (As opposed to "I'm cold and would rather be warm") was on a 90+ degree midsummer day.

Granted, I really shouldn't (And wouldn't deliberately) go out into the kind of conditions that prevailed that day, but I found out a year and a half ago that the weather reports don't tell the whole story - something that seemed like an improvement over the course of the day turned out to be worse when coming around the bend...

The kind of area I'm thinking of has plenty of standing timber, but enough traffic during tourist season that most of the easy deadfall gets snarfed. If I'm in good enough shape to scrounge firewood that actually needs to be cut, I'm not in trouble in the first place.

I am indeed more concerned with shoulder seasons, particularly fall, where it's not uncommon for the water to be significantly warmer than the air even before wind factors come into play.

Basically, I'm gaming the worst-case scenario (Short of a bad gash or broken bone- though they could complicate things) where I've managed a self-recovery and gotten to shore, but am not physically able to do camp-setup type tasks. Maybe the answer in that case is to just curl up in my sleeping bag and tarp, eat a power bar, and let my metabolism take over. Assume that rescue is not reachable - I'm usually close enough for a cell phone to work, but that is one of the bits of gear that is most likely to get lost, even though I keep it in a dry box.
 
Not sure where you're paddling in this scenario. It's warm enough to have liquid water, but it's got hypothermically cold air temperature and no wood for fuel. Where in the world are you?
those are actually quite common circumstances in the near north, even in summer. Cold fronts with thunderstorms or punishing winds and windchills down to -4C along heavily travelled routes where every piece of firewood smaller than 8" around has been scavenged. I've personally seen cases in late august where air temps are 28C one day and 12C the next with a nasty windchill and high humidity, this exact scenario happened on the Moon River a few years ago, by late summer that river is picked clean of anything burnable, and it took 2 hours to collect enough wood for a medium sized fire that would last more than an hour... luckily for those paddlers we had toilet paper and naptha.
 
Not sure where you're paddling in this scenario. It's warm enough to have liquid water, but it's got hypothermically cold air temperature and no wood for fuel. Where in the world are you?

Hypothermia can occur in windy and wet conditions, even in water and air temperatures that seem relatively warm. The following is from Michigan Medicine: "Your body temperature can drop to a low level at temperatures of 50 F (10 C) or higher in wet and windy weather, or if you are in 60 F (16 C) to 70 F (21 C) water."

Kathleen and I much prefer to trip north of tree line, out on the Tundra, AKA The Barrens. Wood is often difficult to find. Here are a couple of pictures and blurb about our Thelon River Trip in 1993.




Thelon100 resize.jpg


After lunch, we cleared the north-extending spit marking the eastern boundary of Qamanaugaq Bay. Turning east, we directly confronted our unrelenting adversaries of wind and waves. Despite our strongest possible strokes, we barely managed to clear the point.

"If we can just get down this east-trending shore line a little bit, we can reach the lee protection afforded by the higher hills forming Illurjualik Narrows."

Good idea. A few minutes later, two huge troughs swept toward us. The first wave rolled underneath, lifting the bow to an angle of 30 degrees, and sending the canoe sliding, along with my stomach, down the wave's backside into the trailing ridge of menacing, green water.

The canoe shuddered, wallowed and pitched, but stayed upright. I muttered something like "Holy moly!!" Kathleen commanded "Get to shore!"

"No need to yell at me. I'm already headed that way."


Thelon101 resize.jpg




Two-thirty in the afternoon. Four hours of paddling to advance only 8 km (5 miles). Beached for the day. In the tent at 4:00, drinking hot tea and enjoying our daily allotment of gorp. We were warm, dry, and cozy. Still, we felt disappointed to have gained so little for our efforts. We napped until 6:30 pm before getting up to prepare beef stir-fry. We felt uneasy and threatened by the 11-degree C (52 F) temperature with drizzling rain and a persistent, irritating wind. Perhaps tomorrow will be more successful.

(Note: The water temperature was only 7 C (44.5 F). Combined with the wind and rain, these are excellent conditions for developing hypothermia if one capsized. Also note the pretty much complete lack of wood. No way to warm up other than crawling into the sleeping bag in your tent.)
 
Responding to me with descriptions of tundra and barren lands isn't responding to the topic.

My response quoted Sailsman63 wherein his hypothetical posits that he "make it to shore with my gear intact" and then asks "how would you prep for a hypothermia scenario where you can't count on finding usable fuel . . . ?" Stated another way in his thread name, he's asking whether there is some "emergency heat source".

My response is that if you are properly prepared, you should know where you are going, you should know what the potential weather there is, you should know what the natural fuel situation is, and hence you should have appropriate clothing and gear for the water and weather to keep you dry and warm. That's my answer.

There is no "emergency heat source" if there's no plant life, so all you have is what you can bring. I suppose you could bring 500 pounds of firewood in a large canoe or try to burn dried moose dung, but absent that, you stay warm by keeping dry and warm with proper clothing and equipment.

I have winter camped in the mountains in places where there are no trees, high winds, rain, sleet and snow. You stay dry by wearing waterproof clothing. You stay warm by wearing warm clothing, by staying in a tent, and by warming the tent with body heat and small stoves. I don't see any different issues or solutions on a iced-out canoe trip.
 
I've got:
[*]Dry bag with a change of clothes
[*]Emergency blanket
[*]Probably my sleeping gear, unless I didn't take down camp that morning
[*]Umpteen million ways to start a fire
[*]HotHands packets/equivalent
[*]White Gas cook stove
But what to do If I'm so cold that getting those deployed is an issue? What do you use/how would you prep for a hypothermia scenario where you can't count on finding usable fuel at a random point on the shoreline?

An inability to get a fire started, at least with any ease and rapidity, can and does occur. I’m far from the world’s greatest woodsman, and despite carrying fire starter material have struggled to get a fire started, especially in places with scant or wet wood, even when I wasn’t shivering hypothermic.

Stumbling around hypothermic with axe or knife, trying to split or batton dry wood for a fire may be equally hazardous to my health. I think one important thing is missing from your list. Calories.

I have been noticeably hypothermic , shivering and barely coherent at the end of a long October hike in Montana, backpacked in to fish a high alpine lake. I wasn’t wet and while it was windy it wasn’t actually that cold. But, in a rush to get there and get packed in, I had eaten nothing that morning, or during a strenuous semi-sweaty hike in. I was simply running on empty, and by the time I had my tent up I was essentially stumblebum useless.

I got into the tent, into the sleeping bag and, despite my aversion to bringing food into the tent in bear country, had something to eat. Within 30 minutes I felt well enough to go fishing.

We encountered a group of paddlers on the Green one trip in May. It had poured buckets the night before and they, and their gear, had gotten wet. It was still rainy/drizzly, and they were blue lipped and shivering; we got them under a tarp, fired up a stove and poured hot chocolate down their gullets as we got them into dry clothes. They soon revived.

I would add to that preparation list something high in calories and quickly digestible, easy to “prepare”, including both stuff to heat on the stove and stuff you can chow down while firing up the stove.
 
Glenn MacGrady you can do all that and still run into trouble, sh** does happen to the best of us.

Okay, granted, but you haven't stated what the "emergency heat source" would be. I say there is none other than packable heaters such as small stoves/burners, candle lanterns and hot hands.

If sailsman83 has none of these things and inadequate equipment, or is too injured to use any of them, he dies 40 years ago but lives today if he has a PLB-type rescue device.

Frankly, I never thought sailsman83 was hypothesizing about paddling in denuded tundra or desert or polar regions, and he confirms that in his second post by clearly stating: "The kind of area I'm thinking of has plenty of standing timber, but enough traffic during tourist season that most of the easy deadfall gets snarfed."

So, maybe he can still be saved if his gear is insufficient and he has no PLB. If there's "plenty of standing timber", there's likely to be standing dead trees or at least live trees with dead branches. So he should make sure he has bladed tools sufficient to cut firewood from standing trees.

Second, there may still be enough tourist "traffic" around, so he should have old time visual and aural signalling devices such as mirror, lights, whistle and an emergency horn to get the attention of any nearby paddlers, motor boaters, hikers, or forest rangers.

Third, there may be roads around such a place, so he should have both maps and a mapping GPS to find the roads and perhaps flag down a driver.

Finally, he could take a preparatory course in wilderness and cold weather survival from a survivalist school. Here's a start: Winter Survival: Tips for Staying Warm in the Wilderness -- one tip of which is to carry tea candles and hand warmers for heat, which have already been mentioned above.

All in all, I think sailsman83 is probably plenty prepared, except maybe for the dry suit, which will definitely stave off hypothermia for long periods of time when in the water and out by keeping one dry. Being wet and cold is much more dangerous than being dry and cold. I've used dry suits since 1984 when paddling whitewater snow melt in winter and spring and and northern oceans, and would certainly invest in one for cold season or arctic flat water paddling if that were my thing.
 
The best item would be a reliable tripping partner, but lets say you are solo. Next most important is the ability to make good decisions and not second guess them. This keeps you out of a lot of the ugly situations in the first place.
Assuming you did all this and crap got real anyways, I would say a space blanket, down sleeping bag, and dry long johns in a dry bag...towel too to help with getting dry. A bivvy bag to keep your sleeping bag dry is a pretty good idea too. Regardless, yoiu get ashore, dry off quickly..dry long johns and into the sleeping bag in a place that is reasonably shelthered. Hope for the best.
 
Last autumn my wife and I decided to go for an unscheduled swim. Nothing special, just a quick full immersion dip in some cool northern waters. No lions no tigers but Oh My!! it was nippply, er I mean nippy. It was a stormy week full of racing thunderheads and whipping water followed by peace and calm and sun. A real mixture of conditions every day, but always a real possibility of hypothermia if we weren't careful. We dragged our sorry selves ashore and went into procedure mode. I kept an eye on her and she watched for me, all the while we stripped off the wet and climbed into some dry. Exercise is good for generating body warmth so we went about our separate chores getting a camp set up. Rain came and went all afternoon. Every 10 minutes or so we met up to talk; it's a good way to observe any signs of hypothermia. We were fine. A little pissed off but otherwise fine. At one point she was being weirdly fussy wanting our 2 camp chairs set up in lee of a tall pine on a granite face in the fickle sunshine. Wondering if she were cold hypo or just wifely hyper I strolled down to check on her. Holding her face in my hands I asked her how she felt. "Wonderfu!! But seriously Brad you have to do something about these chairs. YOU were gonna fix the feet before we left." Ah I thought, she's fine. Later I was told she worried about me too. Apparently I was making strange sounds while tap splitting firewood with my axe, shavings with my knife, and all the time those rumbling mumbling sounds. I remember her asking me how I was doing but was flabbergasted and disappointed she hadn't recognised my excellent rendition of "The Early Morning Rain. I was sure I'd nailed it, Gord would've been proud. In any case I guess I was okay. I prepped for a fire but didn't light one right away. A storm threatened for the umpteenth time that day so we ducked into the now setup tent and into our bags. We'd prepped for anything and were all good. By evening we lit the fire for external warmth and to cook our meal. By then we needed it.
We got ashore, we got warm, we got dry, we got sheltered, we got nourished.
As per the OP our lone source of external warmth (besides each other) is the ability to have a fire.
 
When we retired, Kathleen and I moved to a one-acre property right on the ocean, on South Pender Island, between Vancouver and Victoria. We kept our canoe on the beach, 66 vertical feet below our home, and did a lot of ocean canoeing in our Royalex Mad River Explorer. I thought people here might be interested in this story that I submitted to Beaver Tales, the monthly newsletter of our Beaver Canoe Club in Vancouver (well, actually Burnaby, but who knows where that is?). It's fairly long, but I hope you enjoy it!


You Never Know




September 10, 2004, Pender Island, British Columbia


Kathleen and I stood on the beach enjoying the early morning quiet. The summer crowds were gone, and the Labour Day power boaters had vanished toward the east. Even the packs of powerful zodiacs stuffed with hopeful whale watchers seemed to be taking the day off. Browning and Bedwell Harbours were now ours alone to enjoy.

“Say, Michael. Why don’t we just hop into the canoe and paddle over to Carol’s for a cup of coffee and some poppy seed lemon cake?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll climb up the stairs and get our paddles. You know, though, I wonder if we really need to take all our gear. It’s only 2 km. The water’s completely calm. There’s no hint of wind – not even a gentle breeze. There’s no big boats that’ll run over us. It’s all flat water – no rapids between here and Carol’s coffee shop -- and we never capsize. Do we really need to lug our bucket of spare clothing, extra paddle, bailer and throw bag up and down these stairs? There’s not even anyone else out there to rescue. I think we’ve seen only one other canoeist all summer.”

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Momentary and Embarrassed Pause

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“We always take all our gear. It’s a Beaver Canoe Club Rule (not to mention the Canadian Coast Guard)! That’s the way it’s done. It’s always been done that way. It always will be done that way. It’s all about safe canoeing.”

Thirty minutes later, Kathleen, I, and all our gear approached Shark Cove, where we saw a man scrambling along the low cliffs on the north side of the cove -- a place that is not particularly a good place to scramble -- a place where we had never seen anyone scramble before. We naturally decided to paddle over to have a chat. When we neared to about one hundred metres , he began to wave, somewhat frantically. It was then that we noticed a blue canoe, about 25 m off shore, half submerged, with its bow pointing straight up out of the water.

The man on shore, bleeding from multiple abrasions on his arms and legs, spoke quickly.

“I capsized about half-an-hour ago, and haven’t seen anyone since. I’ve been trying to get off this cliff, but don’t seem to be able to do it.”

The man, a tourist from Utah, had rented a very nice guest cottage just a few minutes around the corner in Shark Cove. He had been setting a crab trap from the guest canoe, equipped with an electric motor rigged up on the side of the boat, near the stern. When setting the trap, he leaned over, on the motor side, to help guide the trap downward. The combined weight of motor and man then dipped the gunwhale beneath the water, and over he went.

The canoe became entangled in the crab trap line, and the motor acted like an anchor, which explained why the canoe sat vertically in the water.

The man slumped down, still speaking quickly.

“God, I’m tired. I tried to pull the canoe free, but I couldn’t. I got exhausted so fast. The water is cold. I finally decided I had to get to shore. I barely made it. I think I would have drowned if I hadn’t been wearing a life jacket.”

Kathleen and I paddled over to his canoe and tried to work it free. It wouldn’t budge from its vertical position. We then tied one end of our ever present throw rope to a thwart and paddled back to shore. The line played out just as we reached the cliff. Although the man tried to help us tug his canoe free, he needed to rest every few seconds. He was apparently entering the initial stages of hypothermia, even though it was a sunny and somewhat warm day.

“Why don’t you just rest. Kathleen and I will pull your canoe back to shore.”

The canoe broke free sluggishly from where it had become ensnared beneath the water. Moments later we held his canoe up against the side of the cliff. Obviously, however, we couldn’t pull a canoe full of water straight up a 45-degree cliff. Also, we couldn’t empty the canoe by turning it over because we didn’t want to lose the electric motor’s battery, which fortunately hadn’t yet fallen out.

With our ever present bailer Kathleen easily emptied the canoe in mere minutes, and all three of us yanked boat, motor, battery, and crab trap (with 1 crab!) up onto the cliff. The man sat down to rest.


“Gosh I’m tired. Thanks a lot. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. You have saved my day.”

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Momentary and Embarrassed Pause

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Aw shucks. It’s nothing any good rule-minding Beaver Canoe Club member wouldn’t have done.


With everything in order, and seemingly under control, we put the man back in his canoe --an Old Town Pathfinder -- 14 feet, 10 inches long. The bow rose majestically a full metre out of the water, with the man, electric motor, and very heavy battery all in the narrow stern, which rode precariously only a few cm above the water. A certain capsize just waiting for the right time and place. Kathleen climbed into the Pathfinder’s bow to create better trim, and we headed back to the guest cottage, en route to Carol's for that cup of coffee and some poppy seed lemon cake.

When we returned 90 minutes later we again saw the man on the beach below his guest cottage, cleaning out the canoe with his wife’s help. He said he was still cold and tired from his brief encounter.

“I’m surprised,” he said. “I’m in good shape. I work out and jog on a regular basis. I’ve eaten a huge plate of hot spaghetti. I’ve got this wool sweater on. But I’m still feeling completely worn out.”

“Well, you probably know that body heat is lost something like 15 times faster in water than in air. I think you ought to just take it easy and go back inside and stay warm. You made two very good decisions today, you know. The first was to wear your PFD, even though you were going only a few minutes away from your cottage. It’s surprising how often recreational paddlers don't do that. The second good decision was to abandon your boat and gear to save yourself. Otherwise, a beautiful holiday morning and a 5-minute canoe trip could have ended very differently.”

“Thanks again, guys. I really do appreciate your help. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come along.”

You never know.
 
I fell into Lake Mary (7000' altitude) in February (snowmelt). Middle of the lake, no PFD. One moment I was canoeing, the next moment I was fighting for my life.
Probably the closest I've ever come to killing myself.
That icy water saps your strength and ability to think. I was 25 at the time that happened. Today it would be a different outcome.
 
After many years of this kind of fire starter, cotton, wax, whatever, I finally decided on a road flare. Yup, gets wet wood going at around 2000 degrees or something like that, takes up almost no space, light in weight and heck, they work! I carry them for when the weather turns. Outside of that it's the usual way of starting a fire.
 
Okay, granted, but you haven't stated what the "emergency heat source" would be. I say there is none other than packable heaters such as small stoves/burners, candle lanterns and hot hands.
no it's not because I'm not addressing addressing Sailsman's comments, I'm addressing YOURS!
not everyone is perfectly prepared, or has trips that go perfectly... Your admonishing everyone doesn't help with that because unlike you, others DO make mistakes!!!
 
After many years of this kind of fire starter, cotton, wax, whatever, I finally decided on a road flare.

Or, like our woodsman friend Ed on group glamper trips, bring a propane torch and fire that puppy up to get wet wood started. Doug’s road flare is faster, but lends a peculiar taste to Ed’s venison backstrap.

you haven't stated what the "emergency heat source" would be. I say there is none other than packable heaters such as small stoves/burners, candle lanterns and hot hands.

Well, going one step beyond a “candle lantern” I use my Fire-in-a-can as an instantly lit (and instantly extinguished) warming fire on off-season trips. If I come back to camp from a damp, chilly hike or day paddle, and just want 15 minutes of warmth and cheer while I change my socks, the FIAC is aflame with the flick of a Bic.

And, equally important in that momentary use guise, the FIAC is out-dead-out, no coals or embers to keep an eye on once the lid is put back on. Starting a mid-day fire and having to stick around to safely attend dying embers, or worse, douse my evening’s fire pit, puddle wet for later, is a PITA.

I carry petroleum jelly soaked cotton balls in a film canister as a ditch-kit last resort, but cheater-wise, on easy trips, bring a small 1” x 6” DuraFlame fire starter brick, sometimes two. As long as I can touch flame to the wrapper I know that puppy will catch, even when surrounded by a teepee of rain wet-now-flame-drying twigs.

None of those solutions, other than perhaps some mini cotton ball, drier lint or birch bark fire starter kit, may be weight suitable for long distance, long portage trippers as an emergency fire starter source.

Of those lightweight, packed small, emergency fire starter aids what do folks favor, if any?
 
I appreciate all of the feedback so far - some very good points here.

Calories should definitely go on my list -I've got a fast metabolism and not a lot of natural insulation- something that packs down and can be kept on my person, but is separate from the graze-as-I-go snacks. Also plenty of things to go in hot water, once I've got myself together enough to get the stove started.

I'm a little hesitant about a dry-suit, mostly because I'm not sure that I'd wear it. I'm mostly looking at weather where a dry-suit would probably be too hot for at least part of the day. Maybe a light shortie wet-suit, which would help with core temperature, but still be wearable. Odyssey 's mini-adventure sounds more like the kind of situations that I'm trying to prep for - Too changeable to just "Dress for it"

I keep forgetting that road flares are a thing - definitely worth considering!

My sleeping bag is wrapped up tightly with my ground cloth. I wouldn't warrant it for days submerged, but I'd expect it to handle a dunking and spray just fine. My clothes live in a dry bag.

I'm wondering if a can of Sterno would be worth adding to my on-person kit. Anyone actually played around with those? Too heavy?

EDIT: I'm also looking at Mike McCrea 's Pot-O-Fire things. They look handy!
 
After considering the possibility of a similar situation in the context of a day trip my thought has been to carry an Esbit stove with 2 or 3 fuel cubes, a metal cup, and a couple of packets of hot chocolate or hot cider mix. I'm envisioning huddling over the Esbit stove with a cup of water heating and a poncho or space blanket to trap the heat around me. A cup of hot chocolate or hot cider (which is basically flavored sugar) would give a little internal warmth and quick fuel. I haven't had occasion to test this so don't know how useful it would actually be.
 
My sleeping bag is wrapped up tightly with my ground cloth. I wouldn't warrant it for days submerged, but I'd expect it to handle a dunking and spray just fine. My clothes live in a dry bag.

I’m not sure how to interpret that. Do you mean that your sleeping bag is not in a dry bag?

If there is one item I want to be absolutely, positively (almost) guaranteed to stay dry it is my sleeping bag, especially on off-season trips. A wet sleeping bag, synthetic or down, might be clammy uncomfortable on a summer trip, it would be far worse on a fall or winter trip.

I go to some extra lengths to provide a waterproof solution. The sleeping bag, even lightweight summer ones, goes in a coated compression stuff sack, often with a garbage bag liner, before it goes in the dry bag. I know triple-resistant it that will stay dry in a capsize & recovery, maybe even in a briefly submerged pin (few roll-top dry bags are 100% waterproof for long in that scenario).

If I am base camped, after the bag has a chance to air out overnight moisture in the morning, it goes into a giant thin-nylon stuff bag (think cheap “laundry bag”) that doesn’t require as much forceful stuffing compression, plus I’m lazy, and “stuffing” loosely into the giant bag is quicker and easier.

Stuffed there mostly so it is contained somewhat compact, not splayed out across the floor where it might get wet if a tent corner leaked in a sudden downpour. If it promises to be a rainy day spent under the tarp that giant nylon bag gets lined with the garbage bag.

heck, it is easier getting in and out of the tent with the sleeping bag restrained, and I’m less likely to track dirt or duff on it from my hands or knees when crawling in at night. Get in, disrobe, sleeping bag extracted, clothes I took off into that large stuff bag/garbage bag, where I know they will be easy to find still all together the next morning, no “Dammit, where’s my other sock?”, and dry even if I kick them into a wet corner of the tent. Yeah, seriously anal about dry.

I'm reasonably confident that I'd survive a capsize, and make it to shore with my gear intact.

In that scenario an assuredly dry sleeping bag would be high on my list, between dry clothes and some way to start a fire.

Even in a compression stuff sack my massive 0F synthetic bag takes up the bottom half of a 115L drybag. If it didn’t fit there I would DIY a custom size dry bag using heat sealable material, and still do the coated compression sack and garbage bag liner.
 
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