FAQ
Q: So how light are Mayfly Ultralight Equipment camp shoes?
A: Super-duper-hyper-nano-ultralight! Where all other camp shoes (typically sandals, sometimes “water shoes” or flip-flops) weigh at least 7 ounces per pair, these weigh 1.8 ounces, which, among other things, is less than a Snicker's bar.
Q: Are they durable?
A: Yep, because they're made with materials widely recognized for their toughness. In fact, I carried a pair on the Colorado Trail, and wore ‘em 24 nights in a row — even to the grocery store and post office in Creede — and they held up brilliantly. If that’s not convincing, my guarantee and a boatload of great reviews ought to be.
Q: What exactly are Mayfly Ultralight Equip. camp shoes made of?
A: The soles are made of fluted polypropelene, which goes by the trade name Coroplast and is most recognizable in gajillions of political yard signs and over one million USPS mail totes. As I mentioned, it’s a material widely recognized as light and tough. The straps are made of a combination of two nylon cords. The buckles — the lightest cam buckles anywhere, and the only buckles adjustable along both X and Y axes — are made of a thermoplastic. There's also some waterproof grip tape and silicon tubing involved.
Q: Why should I drop forty bucks on some strange camp shoes?
A: Every year, a smart guy named Mac asks hundreds of PCT thru-hikers what they would have done differently, and the number one response in 2021 (more than 25% of respondents) was GET LIGHTER GEAR. Furthermore, the average amount that PCT thru-hikers dropped between their starting and finishing baseweight was 2.3 pounds (37 ounces), which ain’t nuthin’. If your backpack-lightening quest has some history to it, you know how costly it generally is — between goose-down and DCF — to achieve such significant weight savings.
So on a cost-per-ounce-saved basis, Mayfly Ultralight Equip. camp shoes are a stellar deal! If you're upgrading from Crocs, you're shedding 9 ounces... if you're upgrading from Tevas, you're eliminating 12 ounces, and if you're upgrading from Chacos, you're cutting out more than a pound and a half! That’s what you get with the only camp shoes designed by a backpacker for backpackers.
From another perspective, when you consider that foot overuse injuries are the #1 category of hike-ending injuries on the PCT, forty bucks is peanuts — not least of all because it’s less than the average cost of one day of thru-hiking. And, no matter how far you’re backpacking, the cost of a pair of Mayfly Ultralight Equip. camp shoes pales compared to a personal foot-massaging backpacking companion. (Good luck hiring one of them, by the way.)
Q: I’m sold! When can I stop torturing my feet?
A: Right now. Well, as soon as you get some of these UL camp shoes.
Q: I’m not quite sold. Are you a legit long-distance thru-hiking weight weenie (LLDTHWW)?
A: Indeed, as of September 12, 2021, when I strolled into Durango and ate three gallons of ice cream in one sitting, I’m officially a LLDTHWW, having completed the Colorado Trail in 24 days (+ 5 rest days.) I’m extra proud to report that in 486 miles I didn’t get a single blister, which I attribute to the combo of Altra sneakers, Injinji toe socks, and Mayfly Ultralight Equipment camp shoes — which I wore almost every night, and sometimes during midday breaks. (Here’s what I carried.)
Also key was my foot file, with which I cumulatively scraped off enough dead skin to fill a Nalgene. Tasty! Otherwise, my claims to fame are shorter journeys, including the Lost Coast Trail, the Teton Crest Trail, mid-Atlantic sections of the A.T., as well as the Grand Canyon’s rim-to-rim-to-rim (in a day), New Hampshire's Pemi loop (in a day), and Colorado's Four Passes loop (in a day.) I spend a lot of time outside, pummeling my feet: I have also been up all of the four-thousand footers in the White Mountains, all of the Oregon Cascades, all of the Teton peaks, and all but a couple of the fourteeners in Colorado.
Q: Are Mayfly Ultralight Equipment camp shoes slippery?
A: Thanks to pieces of strategically-placed, laser-cut grip tape (on top and bottom), they’re plenty grippy on terra firma, even if — dad-style — you’re wearing socks. They also work great when crossing creeks, and in skanky hostel showers. On snow and ice, they slide easily — but who wears sandals in snow and ice?
Q: Are they easy to adjust?
A: Very! They tighten with the pull of just one cord, and loosen by lifting just one buckle. The front cross-strap on the Imagos adjusts by sliding the double-fisherman’s knot (beside the pinky toe) forward or backward. But don’t take my word for it — see how Juan adjusts his…
Q: What size should I get?
A: Get your regular shoe size. If you wear a half size, I recommend going up to the next whole size -- i.e. if you wear a 9.5, order a 10.
Q: Do they have arch support?
A: Nope. Arch support smarch schmupport!
Q: How long will they last?
A: Polypropelene and nylon are tough (see above, and my guarantee), and for non-thru-hikers, should easily survive seasons of use at camp. For thru-hikers, a pair ought to surive at least as long as a pair of sneakers. After a month of daily use on the Colorado Trail, mine looked like this:
Keep in mind: they're for kicking around campsites (cooking, chillin’, doing laps around your tent, peeing in the middle of the night), not for logging trail miles.
Q: If I'm trying to go ultralight, isn't adding luxury items to my setup a slippery slope?
A: First of all, it's not like there's some set-in-stone threshold above which the U.S. Department of Ultralight Backpacking (USDUB) won’t grant you an official Certificate of Ultralight Awesomeness… and as for the slope, you might as well admit that by living in the 21st century you're already way down it, because if you’re like me, you already devote many ounces (cumulatively, many pounds) to all kinds of comforts, including an inflatable mattress and/or pillow, padded shoulder straps, carbon-fiber poles, a cook stove, a tent, a smartphone, a Kindle, etc., etc. Which is to say, you've already chosen (wisely) not to travel like a Neanderthal. Understandably, you've already decided that you'd rather not shiver, get wet, go hungry, lose sleep, be incommunicado, be bored, or endure sore shoulders and knees. In such light, thinking of camp shoes as a luxury is as arbitrarily subjective as categorizing all of your other "wants" as "needs." In my humble opinion, dedicating 2 ounces toward the wellbeing of your feet -- your very hardworking and critical feet -- is a no-brainer, certain to increase the quality of your journey. I’m pretty sure strapping a La-Z-Boy to your pack, on the other hand, would have the opposite effect.
Q: Say again?
A: Carrying camp shoes is not some kind of backpacking sin, but a joy. Nobody wants a sufferfest. See what I mean with this graph:
Q: I'm 200 miles into the AT/CDT/PCT/CT, and my feet are killing me. Can you ship a pair of camp shoes to me on the trail?
A: Happily! In addition to any business or residential or P.O. Box address, I can ship to a United States post office via general delivery. I'll even include some gummy bears.
Q: Do you ship internationally?
A: Yep! For $15, I ship to Canada and most of Europe. I also ship to Australia and a few other places. If your position on Earth doesn’t pop up in the shipping field, email me!
Q: I’m 200 miles into the AT/CDT/PCT/CT, and my mom keeps nagging me. What can I do?
A: Follow her advice, and get some of my UL camp shoes!
Q: Which model should I get?
A: It all boils down to your feelings about a toe-thong, otherwise known as the strap between your big toe and second toe. If, like me, you prefer to let your toesie-woesies wiggle freely under a front cross-strap, the Imago is the model for you. If you don’t mind a toe-thong all up in your toe webbing, or just like huarache-style flip flops, or can’t resist the opportunity to eliminate an extra quarter ounce, the Nymph is the model for you. Rest assured, both models are preposterously ultralight.
Q: Can I pick my favorite color?
A: Yep! You can pick from 12 reflective colors, and 6 sparkly colors, and mix and match.
Q: My feet are enormous / tiny / weirdly-shaped… do you make custom sizes?
A: Of course! I’ve made itty-bitty pairs and a size 18 pair. Contact me and I’ll see what I can do.
Q: How do I de-stinkify my camp shoes?
A: Destinkifyng your camp shoes is easier than destinkifying your nasty hiker feet. The beds are polypropylene, and don't absorb moisture, so just dunk ‘em in a creek or lake or puddle or sink. If you insist, a little soap won’t hurt.
Q: Do you work as a foot model?
A: Obviously, I do not.
Q: Are you a writer?
A: Yep! I’ve written two nonfiction books and a bunch of other stuff.
Q: Why the name Mayfly?
A: Appalachian Trail thru-hikers who start heading north from Springer Mountain in May, rather than March, are known as Mayflies, because -- unencumbered by cold-weather gear like pants, wool socks, gloves, etc. -- they veritably fly up the trail. Who needs the head start of a tortoise when you can zip along like a hare? That’s what a Mayfly is: a backpacker who travels faster, and more comfortably, because he/she travels lighter.
Q: Why so much enthusiasm for ultralight gear?
A: Not that many years ago, at a Colorado trailhead, I strapped on a Dana Designs Arcflex Terraplane, a behemoth of a backpack that weighed 8 pounds before you put a single thing in it, and I put a lot of things in it. That backpack did everything it was supposed to do, except that it turned a perfectly marvelous four-day backpacking trip into a painful slog. A lot of outdoor gear is similarly overbuilt, more suitable for the military or a bunch of Boy Scouts than an agile explorer. Luckily, over the last generation the approach of many self-propelled adventurers has shifted, thanks to a more holistic mindset and some creative engineering. Metaphorically speaking: why take a tank when you could take a bike? Less weight = more comfort = more exploring = more fun. That’s the simple but profound idea at the heart of ultralight adventure, and it’s the notion that propelled me to design these camp shoes in the first place. The way I see it, it’s time to quit sloggin’.