Product review: the hennessey hammock
Q: How does one use the product?
A: I have no friggin' idea. Tree #1 was too big to get the "webbing straps" around. Trees #2 and #3 were too close together. Tree #4 was leaning, and didn't seem to have a tree #5 nearby. The webbing did fit around tree #6...precisely 1.5 times, which meant there was about six inches of webbing hanging loosely off the trunk, which, theoretically, could have been made taut, if the two of us had had a fifth arm to spare between us, and one of us (I'm not saying which) had had considerably more upper-body strength.
Q: How does the product repel water?
A: Poorly. Chincoteague was nice enough to oblige us with the materials for this test about halfway through our attempt to complete the hammock set-up task. This led us to the fortuitous discovery that Herbert Simon's theory of satisficing could be applied to trees. ("That one will do -- tie it off, tie it off!")
Q: If lightning were to strike one or both trees supporting the product, but the occupant were to remain fully enclosed and off the ground, what would happen, exactly?
A: I'm not sure, but I had plenty of time to ponder it, as the only way to stay dry in a hennessey hammock in a driving thunderstorm is to lie very, very still. Evidence in support of a favorable outcome: my rudimentary understanding of electricity's behavior and preferences. Evidence against: remember those hot dog cookers that worked by putting a metal contact in each end of the frankfurter, and running current between them?
Q: How comfortable is the product?
A: Honestly, not bad. Granted, due to the circumstances surrounding the set-up task and the water-repelling test, our half-hitches were more like quarter-hitches, and my feet ended up, over the course of the night, being about eighteen inches higher than my head, and I was afraid that if I made any sudden movements to switch positions I'd end up sitting down abruptly in the mud, but, still, I slept. Which is more than I can often say about overnighting in a traditional tent.
Q: How well does the product keep out mosquitoes?
A: Mixed bivvy bag, here. The mesh screen enclosing the top of the hammock really does work. And because the only entrance and egress to the hammock is a small velcroed cloaca (as it were), it isn't difficult to keep bugs out, especially if one uses spray on the hammock underside. However, if one then carelessly flings one's arm against one of the thin nylon sides while one sleeps, the little b*stards will just bite a person right through it. Say, about two or three dozen times.
Q: Any other positives about the product?
A: I got to say "cloaca" a lot, at least until K asked me to please, please, please, for the love of god, stop.
Q: Any other negatives?
A: You know how I keep saying "enclosed in the hammock"? You can pretty much substitute "entombed." Also, four pairs of black guy lines plus a dark campsite? Whose bright idea was that? And the single slight concession to claustrophobia -- the fact that the rain fly doesn't completely seal the mesh top of the hammock -- means that when the sun gets up, you get up. Which probably would have happened anyway, as we were in a wildlife refuge, and the sunrise-chattering birds took to the hammock's overhead horizontal ridgeline rope pretty much the way they would to a telephone pole cable.
Q: How would the product look to a bear?
A: Like a big damn Tootsie Roll.
A: I have no friggin' idea. Tree #1 was too big to get the "webbing straps" around. Trees #2 and #3 were too close together. Tree #4 was leaning, and didn't seem to have a tree #5 nearby. The webbing did fit around tree #6...precisely 1.5 times, which meant there was about six inches of webbing hanging loosely off the trunk, which, theoretically, could have been made taut, if the two of us had had a fifth arm to spare between us, and one of us (I'm not saying which) had had considerably more upper-body strength.
Q: How does the product repel water?
A: Poorly. Chincoteague was nice enough to oblige us with the materials for this test about halfway through our attempt to complete the hammock set-up task. This led us to the fortuitous discovery that Herbert Simon's theory of satisficing could be applied to trees. ("That one will do -- tie it off, tie it off!")
Q: If lightning were to strike one or both trees supporting the product, but the occupant were to remain fully enclosed and off the ground, what would happen, exactly?
A: I'm not sure, but I had plenty of time to ponder it, as the only way to stay dry in a hennessey hammock in a driving thunderstorm is to lie very, very still. Evidence in support of a favorable outcome: my rudimentary understanding of electricity's behavior and preferences. Evidence against: remember those hot dog cookers that worked by putting a metal contact in each end of the frankfurter, and running current between them?
Q: How comfortable is the product?
A: Honestly, not bad. Granted, due to the circumstances surrounding the set-up task and the water-repelling test, our half-hitches were more like quarter-hitches, and my feet ended up, over the course of the night, being about eighteen inches higher than my head, and I was afraid that if I made any sudden movements to switch positions I'd end up sitting down abruptly in the mud, but, still, I slept. Which is more than I can often say about overnighting in a traditional tent.
Q: How well does the product keep out mosquitoes?
A: Mixed bivvy bag, here. The mesh screen enclosing the top of the hammock really does work. And because the only entrance and egress to the hammock is a small velcroed cloaca (as it were), it isn't difficult to keep bugs out, especially if one uses spray on the hammock underside. However, if one then carelessly flings one's arm against one of the thin nylon sides while one sleeps, the little b*stards will just bite a person right through it. Say, about two or three dozen times.
Q: Any other positives about the product?
A: I got to say "cloaca" a lot, at least until K asked me to please, please, please, for the love of god, stop.
Q: Any other negatives?
A: You know how I keep saying "enclosed in the hammock"? You can pretty much substitute "entombed." Also, four pairs of black guy lines plus a dark campsite? Whose bright idea was that? And the single slight concession to claustrophobia -- the fact that the rain fly doesn't completely seal the mesh top of the hammock -- means that when the sun gets up, you get up. Which probably would have happened anyway, as we were in a wildlife refuge, and the sunrise-chattering birds took to the hammock's overhead horizontal ridgeline rope pretty much the way they would to a telephone pole cable.
Q: How would the product look to a bear?
A: Like a big damn Tootsie Roll.
2 Comments:
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Anonymous said...
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- 2:22 AM
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Anonymous said...
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- 7:24 PM
Post a CommentWhat is it about the word "cloaca"? I love it, too, but it just doesn't seem to come up in casual conversation that much. I'll have to try it on the Italian to see whether the reaction is similar to K's.
All those backyard chickens, and I never knew the region as anything other than the vent. Ah well, thanks for inspiring my PC's new wallpaper.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:American_Coots_mating.jpg
-kh
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