It became a thing when I started backpacking. Wool is the best insulator and I am always cold. I prefer to make for myself what other people would spend money on, especially when you start shopping for technical garments. A Google search for “ultralight wool sweater” will return a lot of expensive sweaters that don’t necessarily weigh any more or less than ones I have made by hand. If you’re primarily concerned about weight, then you can spend a lot of money on a thin wool sweater that is effective, but not exactly cozy.
The first generation of my camp sweater was not intended to be worn at camp at all. It was a bright yellow alpaca pullover. An oversized thing that weighed over a pound and couldn’t be machine washed. It was never intended to be worn outdoors, it was supposed to be super cute and cropped but I didn’t swatch, so that’s what you get.
It’s a very warm sweater, but it took up about the space of a soccer ball in my backpack. Not a good ultralight option at all, but it was a great starting point. For one, I was not cold on that trip at all. I wore it all over Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, especially around camp. It rained for much of the time we were there, but I wasn’t cold or wet.
The second generation of camp sweater was supposed to improve on the shortfalls of the first one. I made it using superwash merino wool, with thumbholes in the sleeves and ribbing I’d hoped would cause it to hug my body. Alas, it didn’t work. The ribbing spread, taking the neckline with it. The sleeves grew in length, while the body grew out instead of down. So it’s just a bit too short, a bit too wide, and – somehow – a bit too long. I wear it a lot around the house because it’s still very cozy, but I do not consider it acceptable for Zoom meetings.
The third generation of camp sweater built again on the shortfalls of the previous generations. This time, I knit it in fingering weight instead of worsted and lengthened it intentionally below my butt. I added shaping to the body and my sleeves (including thumb holes) were correctly sized. I got ambitious and thought I’d add a kangaroo pocket to the front. That wound up a bit comically low. Effective, but not aesthetically pleasing. It’s a pretty good utility sweater, to be honest, but I am probably going to tear it apart and reclaim the yarn.
The fourth generation of camp sweater didn’t have a pocket. It transitioned pretty well between camp and day hikes. Its fingering-weight superwash merino, which I’ve found is the heaviest weight you should use on a camp sweater (to preserve that weight) and really sculpt it to the frame you want (your body). This time, I took the ribbed idea that didn’t work from generation two and added cabling, so it would have an incentive to hug my body.
I added the oak leaves because I’d been writing a book about using the transit system to visit nature, and was inspired by the oaks I had seen. I thought they would be a nice homage to the natural landscape where I live, which has given so much to me and is so undoubtedly beautiful. I wore this successfully on two trips to Isle Royale National Park, though I did have to add flannel to the mix if I camped too close to the lake.
The fifth-generation will build on the successes of the fourth. I picked up a few hanks of Knitpicks Static in Beekeeper, a 75/25 Merino/Nylon blend – the best I have found for the camp sweater, to balance warmth and washability. I haven’t quite decided on the design, but I will probably do another all-over cabling. That really helps it to keep snug against the body, and I like to go camping where it’s cold, so that matters. I really want to figure out hidden pockets.