This will eventually be a comprehensive review, as I didn’t find too many when I was researching. (NB: Here's a thread from Australian owners, which might be useful to others considering this tent.) I will add to the review (and add more pics) as I spend more time with/in the tent. If you have questions that I don’t cover here, feel free to leave a comment and I’ll try to answer it. What I won’t do is give my own weight measurements, as I don’t have a sensitive scale. If you’re wanting the specs, they are on the Tarptent website. In brief, the tent weighs a bit over 450g, not including stakes, extra cords, etc.

Before I get into the realities of the shelter, I thought I'd share some of the considerations and concerns I had before getting the tent. For other people thinking about it (or a similar tent), I hope this might help. Also, I thought a lot about it, and what's the point of all that agonising if I don't record it?!

Do I really need another shelter?
There’s a reason I didn't buy a 1 person tent sooner.  Between the two of us we already have:

• A 2.5 person, 2.8kg tent Wild Country Aspect (which we use for car camping)
  
• A 3 person, semi-freestanding, 1.7kg Alpkit Ordos (which we use when we are walking together, e.g. on our Snowy River trip)
  
• A Rab Siltarp 2 flat tarp and two Alpkit bivvy bags (often used in conjunction for solo or duo overnight walks in the UK)
  

I’m happy with my tarp/bivvy set up for solo overnighters in the UK. The tarp is flexible and easy enough to set up with hiking poles. But it lacks one thing: protection from little animals. When we head to Australia (fingers crossed!), I am more keen than Dan to do a bunch of overnight hiking - and while the occasional slug or grasshopper in the UK doesn’t really bother me, I don’t fancy sharing a sleeping bag with clouds of mozzies, troops of bullants, flies, spiders and snakes. A 1 person, fully enclosed shelter is ideal.

Why this tent?
I wanted something:

• Really light - lighter than my current tarp combined with a separate bug net
• Simple - not many things to go wrong, no extra struts needed, a design I could understand
• One piece - no pitching an inner then an outer or vice versa
• Pitched with hiking poles - a simple way to save weight, and I’ll always have them on me if doing a long walk

I also wanted to try something in Dyneema (aka DCF, aka Cuben Fibre). Dyneema has really taken off in the USA with hikers and in the cottage industry of ultralight gear as it is super lightweight, tough and extremely waterproof. It doesn’t sag in the rain, which is one of my pet peeves with pretty much every shelter I’ve used, and it doesn’t wet through.

For ages, I’ve been looking at all the Zpacks tents on hiking YouTube and pondering the pros and cons of designs. The Duplex is kind of a classic, and I thought I might eventually go for that. I held off because it was so expensive and because Zpacks customer service has an … uneven … reputation, which is not something I wanted to deal with if I was having issues with a tent while in another country. And then I heard whispers that Tarptent was now doing Dyneema versions of their tents. I headed over to their website and the ProTrail Li (ProTrail = the design, Li = Dyneema version) immediately caught my eye. I’d been saying to Dan that what I wanted was “basically a tarp with bugproofing”, and this seemed to be it.

Considerations
Because the ProTrail Li is a relatively new tent and lots of people have been in lockdown since it came out, there aren’t that many detailed, longer-term user reviews. I specifically sought out critical reviews to help me understand the issues I might encounter. It’s an extremely expensive tent (for me), so I wanted to be sure. Here are the things people mentioned and/or that I specifically worried about, which you might want to consider when making your decision.

• Length and height. A lot of taller people worry about this, but I did not. (I am short - approx 165cm - and this is one of the only hiking-related benefits! The rest of the time, it’s all trousers/leggings/rain pants that are 30cm too long, rushing to catch up with long-legged friends, raincoats made for Mr Tickle… Oh, but I can just about curl up on a ¾ length sleeping mat, so that’s fun, too.) Anyway, I figured that I’ve spent enough time sitting under tarps at hiking pole height that it will be fine to sit at the front of this tent.
  
• Width. I didn’t see this mentioned as often. I’m a side sleeper who moves around a lot, and I was concerned that I would end up hitting the walls with my knees and feet and getting my sleeping bag wet with condensation. One reviewer said they sleep on their side with their arm outstretched and they had plenty of room for their arm at the wide/door end. This was helpful, but I was more concerned about the narrow/foot end. In fact, this was probably my biggest concern when buying the tent (having not seen it in real life).
• Livable room. Really a combination of the above, but also consider things like: if I’m stuck in the tent for a whole day and it’s absolutely pissing down, would I be comfortable? How will I get dressed/undressed? Is there enough room for everything I want to bring inside/under the vestibule? Can I cook while remaining sheltered from the rain? Where will I hang my socks to dry? Is there a pocket for my phone/book/glasses? The appeal of the ProTrail design is its simplicity and weight, but in comparison to something like the Duplex, you are getting less liveable space and fewer storage/hanging options.
• One piece set up. As noted, I wanted a tent that did not require separate erection of an inner and a fly - it’s easier, quicker, and less likely to get wet when put up in the rain. However, this means less flexibility in the pitch and no bug-net-only pitches for watching the stars!
• Condensation and ventilation. People say that condensation is more of an issue with single wall tents. I think it’s only more of an issue because it’s easier to hit the wet inside walls of the tent without another layer (of net or fabric) in the way. All the double wall tents I’ve slept in have had mesh overhead and ended up with just as much condensation on the inside of the fly/outer wall… only it’s harder to reach to wipe down. The ProTrail has a small-end storm window, which should help with ventilation, as well as having the net sides between the bathtub and wall. I’ll probably also keep the vestibule open when possible as I like to be able to see outside.
• Front/end entrance. Some folks have a very strong preference for a side entrance, a door that runs alongside your sleeping position, rather than an opening at the end. This is not a dealbreaker for me, especially if I’m solo and not having to negotiate entry/exit with another person, but if you're less flexible you might find it awkward.
• Packability. While Dyneema is super light, it doesn’t actually pack down as small as the same quantity of, for example, Silnylon. This can be an issue when you are carrying a smaller pack. TarpTent suggests that by folding and rolling the tent carefully, it will fit horizontally in most packs. We'll see!
• Transparency. The weight and type of fabric used means that the tent is translucent. From the photos and videos, you could definitely see the general outline of what was inside the tent. You would probably be able to tell if someone was clothed or not. I am not necessarily planning to use this tent in a busy campsite, but that’s something to consider.
• Other fabric issues. I've heard that Dyneema is noisy in the wind or when you move in it. Some people say it’s not actually that resistant to piercing damage (e.g. rocks underneath, twigs falling on the walls). Anecdotally, it deteriorates when left up in bright sunlight for too long. If you're getting any kind of lightweight or ultralight gear, you need to pay a bit more attention to treating it well and understand that it might not be as durable as equipment made from other materials.
• Hiking pole setup, not free-standing. If you don’t use hiking poles, you need to buy alternative poles for the tent setup. I use hiking poles (or don’t mind carrying them anyway). There is also a good argument for using a free-standing (or semi-free-standing) tent that will go up and stay up without being staked out. This is especially true if you’re going to be in places with very hard or very soft ground, for example. Unfortunately, the price to pay with all such tents is weight and size: you must carry poles for the tent. It’s a risk I’m willing to take… let’s see how that pans out!
• Pitch difficulty. A few comments suggested that the ProTrail Li is a bit more fiddly to get right than the non-Dyneema version. “Easy to pitch, hard to pitch perfectly,” seemed to be the vibe. This is something I worried about, because I get very irritated when my shelter is not quite right. However, I’ve also spent enough nights under dodgily pitched tarps to understand the difference between a pitch that is ugly-but-functional and one that’s flawed enough to collapse. I can cope (I tell myself).
• Wind and guy out points. Related to the above, some commenters had issues with this design in a cross-wind. The long side walls can cave inwards, pushing against whatever’s in the tent (and potentially blowing the outer wall over the side of the bathtub floor, emptying the rain straight into your living space - though I’m not sure if this has ever happened to anyone). Common mitigation suggestions are to find the right site, to angle the foot of the tent into the wind and to pitch everything nice and taut. Well, that’s easy enough to say, but sometimes you don’t have much of a choice where you set up and sometimes the wind changes direction. The tent has tabs where extra guylines can be attached on the long side walls, but these are located close to the head and foot of the tent, rather than in the middle (presumably because these are the points/seams that can take the stress, whereas the mid-point has no structural support). The guylines and stakes are not provided for this, but I have plenty of cord and stakes if needed.
• Cost. It’s an expensive tent. Shipping is expensive. Customs/import tax is expensive. But I couldn’t find a Dyneema tent closer to home or for less money. (Though if you’re in the UK some people have had luck - and a long wait - with TrekkerTent.) When I went to plce my order, there was a “Blem” version available - that is, a tent made with cosmetic blemishes in the Dyneema. These are taped to ensure durability, and it saves US$50.

With all that in mind, I spent another week or two agonising over whether I should press the ‘order’ button...

Obviously, I bought the tent. And then I sat back to wait. I used the cheaper shipping option, expecting it to take a couple of months to get to me. But in the end, it took less than 2 weeks! I immediately set it up on the lawn. The next day, having mulled over some of the issues I encountered, I tried again.

All in all, this was a successful start. I was pleased with my research, which had let me know what kinds of issues to expect (e.g. the wind, needing to practice/fiddle to get a really good pitch), and had given me a good idea of any limitations of the shelter. As I said, one of my main concerns had been about width/space, especially at the narrow end, but that seemed fine. I enjoyed being in the tent, and it felt like just what I wanted - a tarp with a bit of extra protection. I look forward to seeing how it goes when I’m using it for real!

I walked (most of!) the Heysen Trail in August and September 2022. I was out there for over 50 days, and spent 14 nights in my tent. (Other nights were spent in huts, shelters, cabins, pubs, a hostel, a B&B and an Airbnb.)

What went well:

• I love how light this tent is, and I was often extremely glad that I wasn’t carrying (at least) twice as much weight for my shelter.
  
• I like how quick it is to pack up. Compared to most others I met on the trail, I tend to be an early starter and a slower walker. This tent helped me get out of camp before everyone else most days.
• No leaks. The tent kept the rain out during a couple of storms. Of course, it didn’t work so well when camped in a cloud/fog, and general condensation was still an issue.
  
• Rubbish bag groundsheet. My emergency blanket groundsheet ripped in half within the first week or so. Luckily, my lateral thinking and a hostel owner’s generosity nabbed me a couple of thick plastic rubbish bags to use instead. These lasted for the rest of the trip. I might try to get some Tyvek, though.
• Guy lines. I was glad that I put longer tie outs on all the extra tabs, because I needed them in the wind.
  

What didn’t go so well:

• Pitching on hard (and soft) surfaces. This only happened a few times, and I managed to find alternative spots to set up, but I envied my walking companions and their freestanding tents. I occasionally needed to pitch with rocks on one or more pegs to keep enough tension due to soft, sandy soils. I didn’t end up having to pitch on a platform, but they would also have been a real pain for me to deal with.
  
• Worry. I worried a lot about getting my sleeping bag wet due to brushing against the walls, pushing the floor out under the wall and getting rain inside, splashback, and so on. I worried about not being able to pitch at any given campsite due to surface, slope, etc. I worried about the wind changing direction and blowing the pegs out or damaging the tent (which happened to someone with the same tent who I met walking in the opposite direction).
  

I initially bought the ProTrail Li with this trip in mind. So, was it worth the expense?

I carried the tent for the whole walk and only used it for a quarter of the nights. On the one hand, it was definitely worth it, because I would have resented lugging a much heavier tent around and only using it one night in four. On the other hand, maybe I would have camped more if I’d had a tent that was roomier, more comfortable, easier to pitch/freestanding, sturdier and/or double walled. We endured some pretty shitty weather for a lot of the walk, and I had a lot of anxiety about shelter. I altered my course a few times and spent a lot more money on accommodation than I expected due to this. Perhaps if I’d had a different tent, this wouldn’t have been such a concern. But ultimately, the tent worked and I didn’t have any disasters. I loved seeing it set up as I cooked dinner on the few peaceful evenings I enjoyed. Home!

Another way of asking the question: when I do the Heysen Trail again, will I take a different tent?

Haha. When? Again? Don’t make me laugh! Honestly, having some familiarity with the trail, and with the activity of walking for 6 weeks, would make it such a different experience. (It’s comparable to doing a PhD, in that only doing a PhD could truly prepare you for what’s in store.) Having an idea of what to expect, and now knowing that the ProTrail Li can hold up to quite a bit of weather, I’d probably feel a lot more comfortable overall. But I wouldn’t mind trying out other tents… I guess I’ll have to plan more long walks so I can justify the cost!

Let’s talk about the factors I considered before buying the tent as well as the things I noticed in my first few pitches, and give a short update on them with the perspective of longer-term use.

• Weight. It’s so light. I still love this.
• Length and height. Length was never a problem, and I could fit my pack inside with me. I wouldn’t mind a bit more headroom so I could more easily avoid brushing against the condensation-rich walls when getting dressed in the morning.
• Width. A little concerning. I occasionally push things out the side or hit the walls with my feet/knees when turning in my sleep.
• Livable room. Doesn’t really bother me, but as noted, maybe I’d have camped more on the Heysen Trail (especially on rest days) if there was more space in the tent.
• One piece set up. I enjoy this. On short trips it might be handy to set up the inner when the outer is already pitched to avoid rain, but if you’re setting up more than a few nights in a row your tent will get wet regardless.
• Condensation and ventilation. Ventilation is good, especially when there’s a slight breeze. Condensation is bad, but I’ve never met a tent where it isn’t - the main issue is how close the walls are to the sleeping bag.
• Wetting out/drying off. As advertised, the material doesn’t wet out. It still carries water in the creases when packed wet, but it dries out very quickly given a bit of sun and breeze.
• Front/end entrance. It’s a slight irritation once in a while, trying to get in and out around the hiking pole, but I don’t mind it.
• Packability. I usually pack the tent horizontally in my pack, sometimes vertically, occasionally in the back pocket when it is very wet. The packed size isn’t really an issue.
• Transparency. The most annoyed I get with this is when it’s a full moon and a clear night, or when I’m camped at town sites with bright lights.
  
• Other fabric issues. Isn’t too noisy, hasn’t been damaged.

This will likely be the last update I post for this review until/unless I decide to get another tent, as I don’t think I’ll have much more to say on the matter. I hope that this in-depth review has been helpful if you’re thinking about a new tent and are considering the Tarptent ProTrail Li.

I’m hardly going to turn down the offer to review a book, am I? So: straight off the bat, The Swiss Army Knife Book: 63 Outdoor Projects by Felix Immler was sent to me for free in exchange for an honest review.

Content note: there is a gif near the end of this post.

Initially, I was meant to get the book before our summer holidays, but it disappeared into the Royal Mail ether. Aimee from The Quarto Group very kindly sent me another copy, which, because we moved house in the meantime, ended up languishing at the post office for a while before we were notified. But finally, finally, I had it in my hot little hands.
​
My first thought was that this is the kind of book I might give as a gift - perhaps to friends with kids who enjoy spending time outside and might want to get their teeth into a few projects when camping or on a day out in the woods. It’s a hardback, with a tactile, cardboardy cover and a nice bit of utilitarian graphic design on the front.

My second thought was, "Uh, I don’t think my Swiss Army Knife is the right one."

Fortunately, Dan had one of those super duper practical Swiss Army knives kicking around. You know the ones - they’re too heavy and bulky to carry with you, so they end up in a drawer with some bits of stationery, a few badges and old buttons, a tape measure from a Christmas cracker and the jar of elastic bands you keep saving but never use. (Not this one, unfortunately - read the reviews!)

I leafed through the book, hoping my eye would alight on something I really wanted to try. As well as the 63 projects, there was info about using a knife and about the kinds of natural construction materials available in the woods. The book is packed with lots of colour photos to illustrate each project in its various stages, which should be helpful for anyone planning a bit of bushcraft.

​I noticed, though, that it was Felix Immler himself doing most of the work - and the work looked quite complicated to my inexperienced eye. After a couple of casual rounds of page flipping without success, I wondered if I’d made a mistake offering to review this book. I didn’t feel like I could review it properly without trying at least one project, but a lot of of the projects looked a bit too big or time consuming or complicated - and the ones that didn’t seemed a bit . . . stick-y?

“It’s just a stick!” I exclaimed over the first project - a wooden mallet. Then I turned to the second project - a digging stick. “This is . . . just a stick!” I repeated. Shovel, pickaxe, wood splitter - sticks. Clothes hook? Stick. Table fork and barbecue fork? Sticks. Rolling pin? Definitely a stick.

On the other hand, some projects seemed enormous, like a huge sloping-roof open shelter (first, construct a ladder and a leaf rake…) and a stone oven (“To carry the heavy rocks from the streambed to the camp, I made a hauling mechanism out of two small logs and a sturdy crossbeam”). I wondered, is a pocket knife - even one like Dan’s - really the ideal tool for this kind of thing? If I wanted to make the kind of bench that would require sawing through multiple small saplings or large branches, maybe I'd get a hand saw instead of using a knife.

I treated Dan to a rant. (Lucky Dan!) "Consider the leaf rake," I offered. "Do you really need a leaf rake in the woods?" I’ve never owned a leaf rake, let alone thought about procuring one when camping or picnicking. This is what the author actually says about needing a leaf rake:

Leaves are crucial for all sorts of bushcraft and survival projects, especially for making insulation, padding or sealing in the roofs of shelters. In all of these cases, large quantities of leaves are required. It is therefore worth having a tool that allows you to rake up large quantities of leaves effectively.

OK. "But I can buy a leaf rake for £10," I said, "or borrow one from a neighbour for free, so why spend hours of frustration trying to make one out of twigs and branches and twine?" That odd survivalist undertone of bushcraft doesn’t make much sense with regards to leaf rakes, either. We’ve evolved our tools and tastes for thousands of years until we’ve ended up with what we have now, i.e. a specific rake for leaves. Fine. But if the apocalypse happened tomorrow, I don’t think the majority of people would be specifically concerned about the leaf rake factory ceasing production. If we wanted some leaves off our patch of post-apocalyptic forest floor, or if we wanted to collect them to insulate our dystopic dens, we’d probably go back to simpler solutions, like, I don’t know, using a branch? Or we’d pop into town to loot the abandoned hardware store.

​(Just watch me, now I’ve said this in public, I’ll probably become obsessed with leaf rakes. Look out for my next long distance walk, where I’ll be trying to find a good, lightweight leaf rake to strap to my pack.)

But the main problem I had with the larger projects was this: I don’t have anywhere to try them out. I mean, nicking a couple of sticks from the woods to make a fork is one thing, but building a large stone fireplace (with a wattle-and-daub-style light and heat reflector behind it) is really upping the ante.

To undertake some of these projects you need to find a place with the right materials nearby, a place where you’re allowed to use those materials and where you can spend a decent amount of time. Most of the timber used in these projects is soft, European, forest wood - this is not a book that’s particularly relatable to, say, an Australian environment. Some of the projects use a lot of wood and other natural resources, and I think most people in the UK would be hard-pressed to find a campsite or woodland that would allow them to gather and process that much material. A one night camp is probably not enough time to build a stone oven or a stationary bench - and it’s certainly not enough time to truly appreciate your achievement.

Perhaps I wasn't giving this book a fair chance. I went back one last time to find a project for myself.

Despite everything I’ve just said, I can definitely see the appeal of crafting something from scratch - just for fun, or with a practical purpose in mind. I can also see how doing a bit of bushcraft could really change your view of the world around you. Suddenly, all kinds of things can be purposed and repurposed into tools, the woods become a hardware store, the river becomes your electricity supply.

There are some projects in the book that look like they’d make a fun and productive day of work for my hypothetical outdoorsy-family-with-a-couple-of-kids. Imagine making a three legged stool, sitting on it as you construct a bark ladle or whittle a spoon, building a pot holder to cook your soup over your wood fire, then serving the soup using your ladle or eating it with your spoon. Pretty cool! There are a few projects that would be great to do with kids as a way of learning about early humans, too. (I mean, yes, making a stone or wood knife using . . . a knife you already have . . . seems a bit redundant, but it’d still be quite the learning experience.) Plus, some of these projects look like a lot of fun to attempt, even if the likelihood of success is relatively slim - one that springs to mind is creating a water powered rotary spit for your campfire!

So, what did I end up choosing? I liked the idea of basket weaving (in the end, this fell into the "too time consuming" and "too hard to get the materials" categories), a resin candle (too finicky) and wood gas stove from tin cans (I’m totally planning to try this as an alternative to the drinks can stove, but I wanted to keep in the spirit of the woods rather than using mainly bought materials). In the end I went for the bark spoon or ladle.

Dan and I went for a walk one crisp, frosty morning (I tweeted about it and my tweet ended up in an article on The Guardian’s website!) with the aim of collecting materials. We found a decent ladle-handle stick without too much trouble. We also spotted some bamboo growing beside a pond in a wood, and I took a bit of that on the off chance that it would make a good string substitute. The bark for the scoop, however, was impossible to source. In the book it looks like Immler uses something like silver birch bark from a fallen or previously cut down tree. The only likely tree we saw was standing happily in someone’s front garden - not a prime target for bark harvesting! In the end, I decided I’d try making the ladle with some greaseproof paper. For form, if not for function.

A week later, I set up in the living room, prepared to make a mess inside to avoid the freezing temperatures outdoors. I split one end of the stick (using saw and knife attachments), peeled strips of bamboo from the stalk (fingers), cut and folded my greaseproof paper (scissors attachment) and assembled a ladle. It took me around a quarter of an hour, and I was pretty pleased - especially with the bamboo ‘string’, which worked quite well. I felt quite a sense of satisfaction!

The book says this spoon is good for getting water out of mountain streams (if your cup, hand and water bottle are all out of order, I suppose). The photos show people happily ladling stew from a pot. I didn’t have a mountain stream or stew to hand, so I attempted to ladle some dish water.

As you can see, my implement failed absolutely as a ladle - I should have used something other than paper! - but that’s not the fault of the book. Nor is it really the point of the book. The point is to try something new, to create something with your own hands, a pocket knife and a few bits and pieces. And, of course, to spend a bit more time outside. Now, that? I can relate to.

All in all, I stand by my initial impressions. The Swiss Army Knife Book is a good looking, nice feeling book that would make a fine gift for an outdoorsy person or family that might like to try out a few new things. I'm gifting my copy to Dan's school library in the hopes that some intrepid teenager will make something wonderful from it!

I hope you found this review useful. As noted elsewhere on this site, when given products to review, I review honestly and retain authorial control; I am not interested in publishing promoted content.

How much is there to say about a tube of fabric? Turns out, quite a bit.

Buff is “the original multifunctional headwear” - a (usually) seamless tube of fabric that is most often worn as a scarf, beanie or combination in colder climes, or for sun protection and as a bandana where it’s hotter. The word is derived from the Spanish “bufanda”, meaning “scarf”. Most of my outdoorsy friends will have heard of Buff, though it’s a brand that teeters on the edge of its own success - in my view, it’s verging on becoming a small-b generic trademark, if it hasn’t already become one (like Hoover in the UK or Texta in Australia). I’m not surprised, because if the true generic alternative to “Buff” is “neck gaiter”, I know which I prefer.

I was approached by KitShack, who asked if I’d like a Buff to review. You betcha. To make this review a bit more meaningful, I’m comparing the Buff provided by KitShack with a Peter Storm Chute I got cheap from Millets.

I was offered a choice of Buff products from the huge range at KitShack (seriously, who knew there were so many Buffs?) and I ended up going with a Merino Wool Buff in grey with a wintery knit-style design. I can confirm that the wool is grey, but the pattern is not woven through (i.e. when you look at the inside, it’s all grey). This Buff has a flat hem at either end, which I think you kind of have to have with wool, but the original Buff and many of the other designs do not. Being wool, this is obviously not a vegan product, though Buff notes it is "mulesing free". The Buff is made in Spain, which is where the company originates. (Incidentally, the Merino sheep also originates in Spain, though they were first farmed in earnest in Australia. Now I’m remembering visiting the Big Merino in Goulburn. What an attraction.)

There was a much smaller collection of Peter Storm Chutes at Millets, which is partly because I was visiting a physical shop rather than an online retailer and partly because there are just not so many designs available. I bought a dark blue one with a water-drop outline design in light blue. The Chute is made of polyester and the colour is printed rather than woven (i.e. the inside of the Chute is white). It is completely seam- and hem-free.

I’d been considering getting one of these for a while, to replace a scarf when I go on long walks. I figured it would be more compact, less likely to blow around in the wind and catch on things and - importantly - it could be used as a beanie or bandana, too. Having tried the Buff and the Chute I think I’ll probably never take a scarf on a multi day walk again. I love scarves (as in, I have at least half a dozen winter scarves and I end up buying all these delightful floaty floral scarves at op-shops, even though I almost never wear them!) but this style is clearly the way forward, especially if you’re interested in reducing your pack weight.

The immediately obvious difference between the Buff and the Chute is size. The Chute is quite snug, which doesn’t make much of a difference when wearing it around the neck. Once I pull it up over my chin and mouth, however it starts getting tight. If I try to pull the tube up so that only my face peeps out (this is how I might wear it on a cold day under a raincoat), I can barely open my mouth. (NB: We met with a friend of ours last week who happened to have an original Buff. It seems to be only slightly bigger than the Chute - see below.)

The Buff is longer, wider and stretchier making for a looser, scrunchier fit around the neck. It’s easier to wear this as a hat or as a full head/neck tube - in head/neck tube configuration, there’s a bit of extra fabric around the face, but if you tuck the sides away nun/hijabi style it sits nicely under a raincoat. At first I was concerned that the Buff wouldn’t stay up when I pulled it up over my lower face, but it seems to sit there OK without falling down - the slightly rougher wool texture probably helps with this.

That is the other thing to note is the feel of the two items. The woollen Buff is rougher than the polyester Chute against the skin. It was a tiny bit itchy on me to start with, but not enough to put me off. It softened up after a week or so, but anyone who’s more sensitive to wool might want to choose a different style. (For reference, I sometimes wear merino wool thermals, which are silkier than this Buff.)

(Well, more things considered.)

I’ve been wearing these both for a few weeks, now. I wore the Chute on a 14km/8.5mi walk from Battle down to the sea (mostly following the Bexhill link of the 1066 Country Walk) on a cold day. It worked well. Once we got to the sea, the wind picked up, and I was glad to have my beanie to cover my ears as well as the Chute to use as a scarf.

I wore the Buff on a 21km/13mi walk around Bewl Water and on a snowy day trip to Hastings. It was nice and versatile - I wore it as both a scarf and beanie at Bewl water and it worked well. Once again, when the wind started to blow, I went back to my fleece-lined beanie to protect my ears. After that, the Buff was my go-to for most outdoorsy exploits, come rain or snow! I’ve also worn the Buff to work in the morning a few times and a couple of people have commented on it (favourably, natch) - it kind of matches my suit!

My first impressions are still pretty accurate. In this winter weather, my tendency is to go for the Buff rather than the Chute - it’s warmer and there’s more of it to go around. The additional length makes the Buff easier to fashion into a beanie-replacement, but neither item is a substitute for a proper, fleece-lined beanie when it’s both cold and windy - the wind cuts right through, even when the fabric is doubled over my ears. Again, for winter, the Buff feels a little snugglier, which is one thing I still prefer about a big scarf - the other being the ability to stuff the ends of the scarf down my top to help keep my chest warm. Having said that, I can still fully do up the zip of my raincoat with the Buff underneath, which isn't possible with a big scarf. I've worn the Buff more than the Chute, and I do wonder if it will get too loose to stay up around my ears - though it might spring back after washing.

The question that's been on my mind is which one to take to Australia. It’s unlikely to get very cold - 15-30 degrees (celsius) during the day, dropping to 5-15 degrees at night - but temperatures fluctuate more widely and frequently than in the UK and it might get stormy at times. The Chute is lighter, more compact and easier to wash (the Buff care instructions specify a warm hand wash). The Buff is warmer, more comforting and more versatile. Something for me to mull over for the next couple of weeks. Probably in the end we’ll take both and Dan will wear whichever one I don’t. We'll see.

In the meantime, the crux of any review: would I recommend these products? To anyone sitting on the fence about trying a Buff (or similar style item), I’d say go for it. They really are convenient. If you’re after just a little extra warmth around the neck and want to do it on the cheap, the Chute is fine. However, if you want something warmer and more cosy, with a wider range of styles and designs to choose from, check out the Buff collection - the range available at Kitshack runs from the original Buff style to reflective, windproof and polar versions, as well as neckwarmers, hoodies and, uh, the Dog Buff. Knock yourself out!

I lost this merino Buff while on one of our final jaunts around the UK this month. Nooo! I loved it. I have bought a replacement, though it doesn't have quite the same feel and they currently only come in extremely boring plain colours. I hope it serves me as well as this one did!

I hope you found this review useful. The Buff was sent to me free for a review by KitShack. As noted elsewhere on this site, when given gear for review, I review honestly and retain authorial control; I am not interested in publishing promoted content.