Maggie Slepian

I have lost track of how many carbon-fiber trekking poles Jeff and I broke this past season. The name-brand poles were fantastic, albeit pricey. With a retail value of $200 per set, they weighed a scant four ounces each and had comfortable, squishy foam handles that absorbed my gross palm sweat. The carbide tips gripped well enough to be confident in each pole plant, and the telescoping sections adjusted quickly and securely. They were so light and springy I barely felt them. But wow. They just don’t last.

At the start of last summer, Jeff had two whole poles and spare sections from broken poles—enough to make two full sets. I broke one within the first 20 miles of the Gallatin Crest Trail. I didn’t notice that one pole was six inches shorter (I have excellent spatial awareness) until Jeff asked if the bottom chunk of my pole was missing. Yes, it was. I’d be hiking for miles on the stubby end, which was now frayed and clogged with dirt. The trail had been either buffed dirt or patchy grass, so I wasn’t sure where it had broken. We replaced it with the end of another pole Jeff had recently broken. 

Then Jeff broke a pole in Montana, then I broke another. I was sent a replacement section but no twist-lock, so I got the section jammed during a trip to the Grand Canyon, rendering the pole useless. At this point, we were down to two complete poles, but I really liked these poles and was determined to keep using them. 

Jeff took off on a training trip to Utah, bringing the last two remaining carbon fiber poles with him. I had a complete set ordered, but they didn’t arrive in time for him to transport for when I joined him the next week.

A few days later, Jeff got a spot of service and sent me a text: Broke a pole. He sent a familiar image of yet another one of our favorite poles, unceremoniously sheared off right in the middle.

It’s not like we’re overly hard on gear. While Jeff puts his gear through more miles than most people and I’ve been known to sit on a pair of tweezers on my NeoAir, we are usually conscientious gear users and both have items that have lasted thousands of miles. But these trekking poles have defeated me. 

When I joined Jeff that next week, he pulled a pair of aluminum Ozark Trail poles from the back of his car, purchased for $20 from a nearby Wal-Mart. He’d bought them to help pitch his shelter after breaking the carbon pole, and was also planning to use them on an ambitious desert crossing the week after I left.

I’m always game to try Ozark Trail goodies, so we pulled the tags off, adjusted the length, and tightened the flick-locks. We hiked a 30-mile loop over the next two days through desert washes, off-trail sidehills, steep, rocky descents, and tangles of underbrush. The WalMart poles were great: they had a cork grip with foam extensions, padded, adjustable straps, and secure flick-locks. They’re heavier than my fancy carbon poles, but they’re just as comfortable and never collapsed. I have my doubts about whether the locking mechanisms would hold up over the course of a thru-hike, but I can almost guarantee the pole shafts themselves would easily outlast my troubled history with the fragile carbon set. 

Carbon poles have a lot going for them: they are lightweight, can withstand repeated vertical impact, and help absorb the pounding of miles without jarring your wrists. Despite all of these benefits, resilience against lateral force is a major detractor. Where aluminum poles might bend or crease with impact: carbon poles can shatter, or just snap. And as we realized over the past season, it doesn’t take that much lateral force to kill them.

I’m sure there are more durable carbon models out there, but I have text receipts (as the kids say) from both my father and a hiking friend this past summer. Both managed to break their fancy carbon fiber trekking poles within a week of one another. 

My friend was leaning on hers in the parking lot and it snapped. My dad put pressure on his pole on a downhill section of trail, and it broke clean in half. My friend went back to aluminum poles, but my dad replaced his with another carbon set. Two hikes later, another one snapped and sent him tumbling down a rock face. 

These were three different brands and three types of terrain (including a parking lot!), all resulting in carbon fiber trekking pole casualties. 

Besides the obvious frustration of breaking a new pole in seemingly mild conditions, your pole snapping under pressure can be hazardous, especially on a downhill. On steep downhill sections, I’m relying on my poles to catch my weight as I descend. If one pole goes out, that stability is gone and you’re falling. 

I’m not advocating against carbon fiber poles, or against ultralight gear in general. Treated with care, many UL backpacking items will power you for thousands of miles. But in this case, I’m going to hop on the internet, peruse customer reviews (advice from an outdoor writer: avoid Top 10 Roundups), and find a solid pair of aluminum trekking poles for future hikes. If you have any suggestions, send them my way.