I Bought Far Too Much Coffee Gear. What’s Best for Travel & Camping?

Ask anyone who knows me in real life what my addictions healthy and sensible hobbies are, and chances are they’ll mention:

• Travel
• Long walks, and
• Coffee

They aren’t the only things I care about in life, but some days it really does feel like it. The problem with the last of those hobbies, though, is that it doesn’t always play nicely with the other two.

Finding good coffee is easy in some of the places I travel to, and completely impossible in others. Likewise, getting a decent brew each morning while camping or on a multi-week hike can be a logistical challenge that my precaffeinated brain can definitely do without.

As a result, I’ve had far more instant coffee than I care to remember over the years. Sometimes that’s been the dirt-like stuff in sachets in my hotel room, sometimes it’s been the equally-bad version that comes in jars from the supermarket.

I’ve even tried ordering supposedly high-end, specialty instant coffee, which cost more per cup than a nice bag of single-origin beans yet tasted significantly worse. Suffice to say, instant’s out of the question unless there is literally no other choice at all. And sometimes even then.

It doesn’t help that I’ve become a much bigger snob about my coffee in recent years. I blame my move to Australia, a country that cares so much about the quality of its caffeine infusion system that Starbucks lost over $100 million trying to break into the market, and left with its tail between its legs.

All of that to justify why, for the last couple of years, I’ve been finding space in my backpack for a way of making coffee wherever I happen to be: in hotel rooms and AirBnbs, staying with friends who weirdly don’t care about coffee as much as I do, at a campsite or hiking hut in the middle of nowhere.

Because most of the gear doesn’t cost a lot, I’ve been able to try a bunch of different approaches. That does mean I now have a drawer full of random pieces of coffee equipment, but it also means I’ve figured out what makes, for me at least, the best brew with the least fuss.

This list is obviously going to skew towards the type of coffee I like to drink, and the amount of effort that I’m prepared to put into making it at the time.

While I have an espresso machine at home, for instance, I don’t feel the need to deal with puck prep and extraction ratios when I’m halfway up a mountain. Likewise I don’t have a way of frothing or steaming milk that I’m happy to travel with, so the perfect flat white is off the table.

I pretty much always have some way of heating water, so I don’t need my coffee maker to do that, and carrying a set of scales to weigh everything to the nearest 0.1g is a bit much even for me. Most of the time, at least. 🙄

I go backwards and forwards about taking my hand grinder with me: it really depends on the type of trip I’m taking. There’s definitely a taste benefit to grinding beans fresh when I need them, and they’re less messy to carry around than pre-ground coffee, but it’s also quite a bit of extra weight and space in my bag.

Even with those limitations, though, it feels like there’s no shortage of ways to turn finely-chopped pieces of coffea arabica into something delicious when I’m away from home. Here’s what I’ve tried, how it went, and what I’d recommend to you.

I’ve listed the gear in the order that I bought it, because it helps illustrate the journey I’ve been on with this stuff. If you’d prefer the summary version, though, I’ve settled on the Aeropress Go for most of my trips, and the Wacaco Minipresso NS for hikes and camping where I need to carry everything in and (especially) back out again.

Coffee Teabags

The first exposure I ever had to a travel-sized coffee option was on a yacht trip with some friends a decade or so ago, where someone smarter than me had the foresight to bring along a box of coffee bags. Think of a teabag with coffee in it, and you’ve got the right idea.

The concept is great, right? Individual bags of coffee, sealed in foil to keep them fresh, that you just throw into a cup, add water and steep for a few minutes, and then drink. From a convenience and weight perspective, you can’t really ask for more.

Sadly, from a taste perspective, you definitely can. I’ve now tried half a dozen different brands and blends of these little coffee bags, and no matter who it’s from or what the type of coffee supposedly is, I’m yet to find one I like.

There just isn’t much room for coffee inside one of these bags, which means the resulting cup has always been much weaker than I’d choose to make myself. That’s true even when I let it steep for twice as long as it says on the instructions.

Things get a bit better when I use two bags per cup: the coffee gets stronger, at least, but the taste doesn’t improve. It’s always been much closer to instant than brewed for me, bitter and kind of stale, even when it’s supposedly made from decent beans.

I suspect that the small bag size and limited demand means that specialty roasters aren’t interested in this market, so you’re left with lower-grade alternatives.

That’s been my experience, at least, even as recently as earlier this year when a boutique hotel offered them as an alternative to instant or pods. The taste…had not improved.

Onwards and upwards, I guess.

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Wacaco Minipresso NS

About four years ago, a friend of mine loaned me his Wacaco Minipresso to try out, a brand and product I’d never heard of until then. It’s basically a self-contained system with hot water on one end, coffee in the middle, and a hand pump to push one through the other.

My friend had the GR model which uses ground coffee, but when I decided to get one myself, I went for the NS version that takes Nespresso capsules instead.

You’ll get a better end result from the GR, but for the way I use it, the NS is much more convenient before, during, and after the brewing process. I mostly take this on multi-day hikes, where it’s far easier to carry capsules than ground coffee.

Often having nowhere to dispose of grounds afterwards, it’s also a lot simpler to just drop the used capsule in a Ziploc bag and rinse out the machine than trying to deal with damp, messy coffee grounds in a campsite or hut.

It took a couple of attempts to get the process right: it needs slow, steady movement of the piston rather than pumping away frantically. Once I did, though, coffee flowed cleanly, if briefly, into the waiting cup, which doubles as a cover for the machine when not in use.

I say ‘briefly’ because the water chamber has a 70ml (2.4oz) capacity, which is only enough for a couple of mouthfuls of strong-ish coffee. You can buy a larger 120ml (4.2oz) tank for it, but I haven’t bothered: it’s extra cost and bulk for not a lot of benefit.

Instead, I just use a bigger cup and pump hot water through the capsule a second time to get a larger drink. It doesn’t make the taste or strength noticeably worse, although do it a third time and it definitely does.

I don’t love the taste of most Nespresso-based coffee, so I don’t use the Minipresso NS for most trips. There’s a lot to be said for its simplicity, though, and it’s often still my first choice when hiking into campsites and huts that don’t have rubbish facilities.

It’s a hell of a lot better than almost all instant coffee, as the number of questions I get about it from other hikers seems to attest!

One tip: if you’re not planning to use official Nespresso-branded capsules, I’d recommend testing them out in the machine in advance.

The company says that third-party capsules may not work as well, and I’ve definitely experienced that with some (not all) brands that I’ve picked up from the supermarket. By “not working as well”, I mean “no coffee comes out the bottom”. Not ideal.

That’s a pain, since not only are the official capsules more expensive, but they’re much harder to find outside large cities. I now just make sure that before leaving home, I’ve got more than enough capsules from a brand that I know is compatible.

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Espro P1 Travel Coffee Press

Next up was something marketed specifically for use outside the house: a French press-style tumbler that promised to not only brew my coffee, but keep it hot for a few hours afterward as well.

I’m not usually someone who carries around a half-full flask of coffee all morning, but I could see the benefit on long walks. Being able to make a large coffee before leaving my accommodation or campsite, and then sip away at it until lunchtime, did hold some appeal.

It certainly achieved the second part of its promise: starting with water just off the boil, the coffee stayed hot enough to remain enjoyable for at least four hours. Unlike some other brands, the lid seals perfectly: it never leaked in my bag, even after hours of hiking over uneven ground.

The P1 does a pretty good job of brewing as well. I experimented with a few different grind types and weights, eventually settling on two heaped tablespoons (about 15g) of fairly coarse coffee.

As long as I started with decent, fresh coffee, I was more than happy to drink the end result. Like any French press, especially one that gets shaken around as much as this one does, there’s more body (or sludge, if you prefer) in the end result than with a paper filter. That’s not my personal preference, but it may be yours.

It’s a simple enough process: dump in the coffee, add water to the fill line, give it a stir, and put the plunger in the top. Wait 4-5 minutes, and then press the handle all the way down to stop the extraction. Easy.

So given that it works pretty much exactly as advertised, why is it that the P1 has sat unloved in my cupboard for the last couple of years? In the end, combined with the need to carry ground coffee as well, it was just a bit too big and heavy for the way I was using it.

I also found it kind of annoying to clean away from home: there are just a few too many nooks and crannies in the filter for coffee grounds to hide, especially if you don’t have running water and a small brush to hand.

I discovered, too, that I wasn’t really drinking the coffee while on the move, whether I was hiking or traveling. Turns out I’m fine with just making a brew at the start and/or end of the day, so I wasn’t getting much benefit from one of its main features.

If you’re planning on using the P1 mostly while going from home to work, rather than around the world or on multi-day hikes, you could do a lot worse than this. It just wasn’t the best option for me.

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Metal Pourover Mesh Filter

To say that I had low expectations for this mesh filter would be quite an understatement. It got recommended to me while I was buying something else, and given the price, I added it to my cart without really thinking about it. How bad could it be?

Turns out, the answer is: really not that bad at all.

As well as being cheap, it’s also the smallest and lightest piece of travel coffee gear I’ve tried. To use it, you just fold out the two plastic arms and balance the filter on a suitable cup. Throw in a couple of tablespoons of coffee, pour hot water over top, and wait for a while. Easy.

It needs a pretty coarse grind of coffee , about the same as a French press. Given they both use metal filters, that’s not a big surprise. You’ll get away with a somewhat finer grind, but it’ll take an age for the liquid to drip through into the cup. Too fine, and it just clogs up and doesn’t work.

The filter doesn’t hold a lot of water: I ended up filling it twice to get the (admittedly large) mug in the photo to about half full. You’ll want a tall mug, though, because the filter sits a long way down inside it.

With smaller mugs, the bottom of the filter ends up submerged by the end, and needs to be held above the cup so the rest of the water can drain through. Once all’s said and done, though, I end up with a surprisingly drinkable cup of coffee.

There’s the extra body you’d expect from a metal filter, but no obvious sludge or particles in the coffee, even in the final mouthful. As long I start with decent beans, the end result is much better than it has any right to be for something costing this little.

Don’t get me wrong, this is not a sophisticated piece of coffee technology, nor is it an especially well-made one. The little fold-out arms feel like they’re going to snap every time I move them (they’ve already popped out once), and the filter had small dents in it after just a few days of use.

It would definitely benefit from a travel case of some sort, and I’d have happily paid a bit extra to have one included. Instead, I wrap it up in a sock, stuff it back in the cardboard box it came in, and hope it’s still in one piece the next time I take it out of my bag.

The lack of durability means this isn’t something I expect to last: I’m happy to (carefully) pack it for a quick camping trip or a weekend away, but if I know I’m going to need to rely on a piece of coffee gear for weeks or months on the road, this isn’t the one I take.

Still, as I say, it’s exceptionally hard to complain about it for the price. If you only occasionally need something to make coffee outside the house, this is a very cheap and easy way to do it.

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Pourover Coffee Bags

To be honest I didn’t even know that pourover-style coffee bags were a thing until we stayed at a fancy hotel in Seoul that had them in the room. They’re basically a bigger version of the coffee teabags I mentioned earlier, but much better in several ways.

They’re quite a neat design, with little cardboard handles that clip over most cups and mugs. You just tear off the top, fill up the bag with hot water and let it slowly drain through to the vessel below. Repeat that once or twice, and you’ve got a smooth, tasty brew.

There’s a lot more coffee in one of these bags than in those little teabag-style ones, which means a stronger, more satisfying drink at the end. I really enjoyed the experience, so much so that I ordered packs from a few different companies when I got back home.

Like most things coffee-related, it was a mixed bag. Pun intended. Some of the coffees were very good, almost on par with a freshly-ground pourover, while others tasted quite flat and stale, even when they were well within their supposed expiry date.

Because each bag is reasonably large, these aren’t really the kind of thing you’re going to rely on during a long trip: any more than about half a dozen and I start to notice just how much space they’re taking up in my bag.

Fortunately (I guess), the relatively high price also stops me from throwing 20 or 30 of them in my suitcase: at $2+ US a bag from a good roaster, the cost mounts up pretty quickly.

For shorter trips, though, there’s a lot to be said for this approach as long as there’s somewhere to dispose of the used bag afterward. If you can find a brand you like and you’re only away for a few days, it’s an easy way to have good coffee while you do it.

I took a few bags on a two-night camping trip with my brother recently: there was something very enjoyable about crawling out of my tent in the morning, boiling a kettle on the gas burner, and having a steaming cup in my hand three minutes later.

They also serve as a good “emergency coffee” option, which is mostly how I used them on my last long trip. Knowing I wouldn’t always be able to find a specialty roaster everywhere I went, having a few pourover bags saved the day whenever I ran out of ground coffee.

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Hario V60 (plastic)

Having been turned onto the world of pourover by those fancy coffee bags, I bought myself a plastic Hario V60 brewer to use at home. After a few weeks of experimentation (read: bad coffee), I got the hang of using it, and it became my go-to option each morning.

Not only are the plastic brewers cheaper than the glass and ceramic versions, but they’re lighter and tougher as well, a fact that didn’t escape me when it was time to take my next trip. Heading away for a couple of weeks, I made a last-minute decision to drop in the V60 and a fistful of filters before heading to the airport.

The thing is, though, that at home I had a small set of scales to precisely weigh the coffee and how much water was going in during each of the three pours. I didn’t take them on that trip, which saved a bit of space and weight, but didn’t do great things for the end result.

My kettle at home isn’t a fancy gooseneck, but it still has quite a narrow spout, so I can be quite precise with how much and where I’m pouring. It matters more with pourover than other methods I’ve used, and I noticed the difference when having to use whatever random kettle, pan, or other vessel I’d boiled my water in that day instead.

Despite being so lightweight, the Hario brewer also wasn’t designed to be travel-friendly. It’s a single, wide piece of moulded plastic that takes up quite a bit of space, and the filters are surprisingly large when you’ve got a few of them in your luggage. Throw in a bag of coffee, and it’s not the most compact setup in the world.

If you’re happy to travel with a little set of scales, the Hario V60 brewer might still work well for you. It’s a lot of stuff to carry, though, and it’s all extra weight, space, cost, and hassle, for probably a worse coffee than you’ll make at home.

In the end, the trade-off just didn’t quite work for me.

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MiiR Pourigami

When I came across MiiR’s Pourigami collapsible brewer, I was so intrigued by the concept that I just had to pick one up before my next trip into the great outdoors.

It’s such a simple idea that I’m surprised others haven’t come up with it: three interlocking metal panels that form a triangle when they’re assembled, and fit into a slim pouch when they’re not.

It took a couple of attempts to connect them all together the first time, but was very obvious after that. After that, it worked the same as other pourover brewers: drop a filter in the top, add coffee, slowly pour in hot water, and drink the result.

The brewing area is smaller than that on my Hario, which isn’t an issue; it just means an extra pour or two to get enough liquid through the coffee and into my mug. Use a mug with a decent amount of height to stop the bottom of the filter sitting in the coffee by the end.

While MiiR makes its own proprietary filters for the Pourigami, other types also work, including the Hario ones I already had. I was able to cram about ten into the pouch: they ended up with a crease where the pouch folds over, but were still perfectly usable.

One thing I would say about MiiR’s filters is that they’re smaller than the Hario 02 ones: they cost a bit more, but if you’re planning to drink a lot of coffee while traveling, the space saving probably makes them worth the extra money.

I was a bit surprised by how heavy the Pourigami was: it’s incredibly compact, but stainless steel isn’t the most lightweight of materials. Even so, it’s not like it’s hard to justify the space in my bag.

While the marketing material leans towards using the Pourigami on camping trips, I think it’s actually better for other types of travel.

Part of the reason for that is common to all pourovers: they benefit from scales and a quality kettle, and I don’t have either in the middle of nowhere. The taste of the coffee, as usual, suffers from that lack of precision.

The other reason is more specific to the Pourigami: I found the smooth metal frame would easily slide off the mug if it wasn’t sitting on a near-perfectly flat surface, which tend to be in short supply at most of the hike-in campsites I go to.

If I was committed to making pourover while traveling, I’d still choose to pack the Pourigami over the Hario because of how small it is. In reality, though, I’m not that committed: the last two brewers on this list are the reason why.

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Aeropress Original

About three years ago, I found myself in an Airbnb for a month that suffered from the double indignity of both not having any way of making coffee, and not being within walking distance of anywhere that sold it. Oh the horror.

Some people would have used that as an excuse to cut down on their caffeine intake, but apparently I wasn’t one of them. Instead, I headed to a coffee supplies store across the city, and walked out with an AeroPress.

As I’ve since learned, this unassuming plastic brewer has a cult following among a large subset of (other) coffee nerds, but I didn’t know much about it at the time. A few blog posts, books, YouTube videos, and bad cups of coffee later, I figured out how to use it properly, and promptly joined the cult.

Invented about 20 years ago (by the same guy that invented the Aerobie flying disc, hence the name), the AeroPress consists of three basic parts: the chamber, the plunger, and a section that screws onto the bottom and holds the paper filter.

Despite its simplicity, there are more ways to make coffee with this thing than I ever imagined when I bought it. That probably explains why there’s a literal world championship for it that’s held every year.

I use it as an immersion brewer similar to (but better than) a French press, but as the dozens of different recipes in the Aeromatic app suggests, that’s far from the only way to do it. And yes of course there’s an app for it, why do you ask?

It’s a reasonable size and weight for travel, and the filters are much smaller than the Hario ones above. Since it’s made from plastic and silicone, it’s plenty durable as well: mine has been knocked around in a backpack for several months at this point, and it’s still going strong.

Other than being practical to travel with and easy to clean, the thing that ultimately made the original Aeropress such a good option for me was just how forgiving it is. While there are endless variables you can tweak if you care enough, you don’t have to.

Away from home, I can’t weigh the coffee, or the water, and so I eyeball both. I’ve usually got better things to do than measure the steeping time, so that’s a guess as well, and almost any grind size will work: medium-fine is best, but there’s lots of leeway in both directions.

If I can find a decent coffee roaster in the place I’m in, I’ll buy a bag of beans from them and ask them to grind it for Aeropress. If not, even dubious pre-ground supermarket coffee doesn’t taste terrible, which definitely isn’t the case for pourover or espresso.

It’s just an easy, predictable way of getting good to great coffee pretty much anywhere I happen to be. If it wasn’t for the existence of the AeroPress Go, I’d never take a trip without it.

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AeroPress Go

Having fallen for the original AeroPress and used it all over the world for about 18 months, I thought I was done with buying coffee equipment, at least as far as travel and camping goes. I mean, what could possibly be better in terms of size, flexibility, or general practicality?

Enter: the AeroPress Go

This thing actually did exist when I bought my original version, but the shop I went to didn’t have it in stock, and it was more expensive anyway. It seemed like an interesting option, but given how well the first one worked for me, I was in no hurry to upgrade.

Until they ran a sale earlier this year and caught me in a moment of weakness, that is.

This travel-specific version is a bit smaller and lighter than the original, sure, but it’s the accessories that make it. The main one is the shatterproof cup, into which everything else neatly fits for easy transport. There’s even a silicon lid that keeps it in all place when you’re on the move.

There’s a pack of 100 filters in the box, and a little, flat holder that fits anywhere up to about 20 of those filters if you really force it shut. There’s also a measuring scoop that thankfully doesn’t have the same elongated handle as the original, and a fold-up stirrer that takes up basically no room.

I’ve now used it on multi-day walks, while camping, and pretty much every day during the three-month trip I took earlier this year. Because I was travelling with just a carry-on bag, I didn’t take the cup: it saved enough weight to justify leaving behind.

The rest of the time, though, I appreciate that cup. The brewer sits perfectly on top and it’s very sturdy, but still feels surprisingly nice to drink from despite looking so ugly practical. I use it for other drinks as well: when I’m taking it on a multi-day hike, for instance, I’ll often dissolve a Berocca in it at lunchtime.

The experience of using it is pretty much the same as my other AeroPress, except that the brewing chamber is a bit smaller (8oz/236ml vs 10oz/296ml). That’s usually still enough for the size of coffee I want to make, but it’s easy to make a stronger version and then dilute with a bit of hot water if not.

I wrote up a full review of the AeroPress Go if you’re looking for (even) more detail, but suffice it to say, this is now the travel coffee maker that accompanies me on almost every trip I take.

I’ll still sometimes prefer the MiniPresso NS and Nespresso capsules while camping due to that whole “no fuss, no mess” thing, but most of the time, the taste benefit is worth the extra effort. For at least 90% of the trips I take now, it’s the AeroPress Go for me.

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The Final Word

Thanks for coming along on this coffee journey with me; as you can probably tell, it’s been quite a ride. I’ve learned a lot about the type of coffee I’m happy to drink and prepared to make while away from home, and the type of gear that enables that with a minimum of hassle, weight, and cost.

For some people, of course, all of this will seem faintly ridiculous. If you’re happy with instant coffee at home, you’ll be just as happy with it anywhere else, and you can safely ignore the last 5000 words.

Likewise, if a multinational like Starbucks or Costa delivers a perfectly acceptable cup as far as you’re concerned, chances are you’ll be able to find it in most towns and cities you visit these days, and there’s no need to carry any specialised equipment at all.

If you want a decent brew while hiking or camping, however, or you’re as fussy about your coffee as me and want to know for sure that you’re going to get something good no matter where in the world your travels take you, well, I guess this post was for you.

I hope you’ve found it useful, but if you have any questions or comments, please do drop them below. Likewise, if there’s a piece of coffee gear that I haven’t covered but you really think I should, let me know what I’m missing out on!

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