Pam LeBlanc test drives a Kammok field blanket that doubles as a poncho. Chris LeBlanc photo

I thought Kammok just made hammocks, but it recently added something called a field blanket to its product lineup.

The company sent one over for me to check out. I’d rather lay in a pool of cool water than cover myself with a blanket right now, but I did take the Kammok field blanket out of its carrying pouch and throw it down on the lawn for a nap.

Things to notice: One side of the blanket is soft microfleece, perfect for snuggling on cold days. (What are those?) The other is slick ripstop polyester. For what it’s worth, the microfleece side grabbed all the little oak tassles on my lawn, the ripstop side didn’t.

Instead of a solid color blanket, Kammok sent me one in rust, olive green, cream, mustard, and pink – the colors of Big Bend. It sells for $109.95.

The Kammok field blanket versus the Rumpl version

I’ve seen similar – but slightly different – blankets by competitor Rumpl on shelves of camping stores everywhere lately. Like Kammok’s version, Rumpl’s blankets are weatherproof and cozy – but they don’t have a microfleece side, and they’re more like a puffy jacket in blanket form. Rumpl has way more designs than Kammok, too, including some cool ones that are themed to our national parks.

Both versions come with little loops in each corner. (Kammok calls them stake out points.) They might come in handy if you need to tether your blanket to the ground on a windy day. Those little loops also allow you to attach it to your hammock, so it stays in position while you sleep.

The Kammok field blanket in a pattern called Palette of Big Bend. Pam LeBlanc photo

The Kammok field blanket I tried measures 86.5 inches by 57 inches and weighed 2 pounds, 4.4 ounces. It featured a hidden pocket (to stash keys?) and a slit in the middle so you can put the blanket over your head and wear it like a poncho. (So fashionable!) In fact, according to the tag attached to the blanket, the Kammok blanket works not only as a ground blanket, top quilt, or poncho, it also works as a sleeping bag by snapping it to another Kammok field blanket.

Don’t ditch your Big Agnes back country bag just yet. This might work for casual napping purposes, but probably not for an overnight on the trail.  If it gets cold or you roll around a lot like I do, you’ll feel like a soft taco with its filling spilling out.

Deb Richardson looks back down a cut near Alligator Lake while scouting the log jams she’ll have to navigate during the Texas Water Safari. . Pam LeBlanc photo

Time for a Texas Water Safari reality check.

We’re a month out, and honestly, I’m freaking out.

After racing the 35-mile Texas River Marathon on Saturday (finished middle of the pack), teammate Debbie Richardson and I explored the cuts and sloughs around Alligator Lake on Sunday, trying to plot a course for the big 260-mile race from San Marcos to Seadrift. (Thanks to Spencer Fuller, who filled a seat in our three-human boat, and to Joel Truitt, who helped us scout.)

For those who’ve never wallowed in channels of waist-deep, coffee-colored water, the cuts are hard to describe. You can get lost in a sea of spiders, mud, and low-hanging branches back there. And there are snakes and alligators.

Plus, it was hot. We sweated. It was windy. It will be hotter and sweatier and windier in a month, during the actual Safari.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

We tramped through weeds, brushed against poison ivy, and startled monster alligator gar, which swirled just below the brown surface of the river. Once, Richardson batted me gently with her paddle to dislodge the gangly-legged spiders hitching a ride on my head. I brushed caterpillars off Fuller’s back. The mud nearly slurped the shoes off my feet. And at one point, we had to hoist our boat over a slippery log blocking the channel.

If water levels drop between now and the race – and they likely will – we may have to bypass the cuts and drag our boat 2 miles down a Jeep trail. That will suck, possibly even worse than feeding it through miles of slough choked by logs, snakes, and the occasional alligator.

Pam LeBlanc relaxes at the finish of the 2019 Texas Water Safari. Chris LeBlanc photo

And I’ve got more to look forward to: Trench foot caused by marinating my tootsies in tepid water for two days straight. Trying to pee into a female urinal in a moving boat. Eating smushed energy bars, soggy potato chips and cold mashed potatoes. A painful rash on my ass. Poison ivy. A weird sun tan. A choppy bay that might eat our boat alive.

I did the race as part of a three-woman team in 2019. Someone remind me why I signed up again…