When I first got my hands on a Saddleback Leather briefcase about five years ago, my initial reaction was that it was so over-the-top “manly” that I could never actually use it in my day-to-day life. I just couldn’t imagine toting a laptop and some papers in this outrageously styled mish-mash of straps, buckles, and steel loops.
No, this was a bag made to carry around a black powder pistol, a Bowie knife, and maybe the still-dripping head of a wild boar. Its quality is top-notch, no question, but the bag’s overall look is a bit much for anyone who doesn’t regularly hunt and kill their own food[1] .
Saddleback Leather’s Waterbag has no such issues. When the Waterbag arrived at my house, I thought I was going to have to fight my wife for it. While the bag has the same rugged, over-engineered quality as the aforementioned briefcase — double-stitched seams, hidden nylon reinforcements, triple brass rivets at the joins, and sturdy steel buckles and latches — the styling is vastly more laid-back. The straps and loops are minimized, and most of what you see when you look at the bag is a large swath of beautiful, supple leather.
The Waterbag’s main attraction, from which it ultimately derives both its look and name, is that it’s made from a single piece of leather. Because the number of seams is minimized (there are only two), the bag is waterproof when folded the right way. I can actually testify to the waterproof claim, as I took my Waterbag on a two-week camping trip in Canada’s Yukon territory. It saw plenty of rain, boat spray from the lake, and mud. I didn’t dunk it in the water, but I didn’t baby it either. My gear stayed dry, and the bag still looked fantastic after all the abuse.
I own so many leather bags it’s embarrassing, including a few others from Saddleback Leather. But if I were packing for the apocalypse, the nigh-indestructible Waterbag would be my top pick. Even in my more regular non-apocalypse packing scenarios, I typically reach for this bag. It served me just as well on a recent business trip to NYC as it did in the Canadian wilderness, and I always get a few envious looks when I’m cramming it into the overhead bin.
The Waterbag does have two downsides, though. The first is weight. At about 10 pounds empty, you’d better be ready to do some lifting. It does convert into a backpack, so if it gets to be too much on one shoulder you can always distribute the load. Still, 10 pounds empty is kind of nuts, especially in the age of ballistic nylon.
The second, less serious, downside is the price. At $710, the Waterbag is a serious commitment. You can, of course, easily pay a lot more for a leather bag and get a lot less from some popular name brands. In fact, the more you use the Waterbag, the more it seems like a steal. I’d even consider paying more for a bag of this quality.
WIRED Lack of seams makes for large swaths of pure, beautiful leather. It’s durable enough to survive a bear attack. Converts into a backpack for longer hauls. For this much leather, the price is actually quite low.
TIRED Your grandkids may fight over it when you’re dead, but let’s hope they don’t fight each other with it. (Seriously, it’s that heavy.) Too many unwieldy inserts.
0 comments:
Post a Comment