Ply

Washington is where camping turned into a calling for me. The stars, the fire, cooking outside, and most of all the rhythm of setting up and breaking down.

It's also where I learned what it costs to forget things. A pillow, once: annoying. A stove, on a particularly rainy trip: burgers in the car. Backpacks, stuff sacks and plastic bins all hid the gear without organizing it, and finding anything meant dumping everything out.

Ply was shaped by interviews with 7 outdoor enthusiasts and by field testing. It's a rail and a deck. The rail is the handle, and it keeps the deck up out of the dirt and the puddles. The first version held bags with aluminum clips that slid into slots cut through the deck. They weren't strong enough, and they held better in some directions than others. Now the deck is a grid of magnets, and every sewn bag and strap has magnets of its own. Put it where you want it, pull it off when you don't.

It hangs on a bracket in the garage, slides into the trunk, and turns into a table at camp. Packing up, everything has a spot, so you can see what's missing before you leave. For heavy trips there's Barrow: a cooler on big wheels that Ply snaps onto, with a handle that turns into a stand. For the trip you decide to bring the Dutch oven.