Packing a Comfortable Bivvy Bag Setup for One Night

Why a bivvy bag makes sense in the British hills

There is a particular pleasure in spending a night on the fell with nothing between you and the weather but a thin layer of fabric. A bivvy bag setup is the lightest way to turn a long day walk into a proper overnight, and because it weighs so little you can carry it on the off-chance. Walk until the light goes, find a flat patch, sleep, and be moving again before the midges and the crowds arrive.

A word on the law, because it matters. In Scotland, the Land Reform (Scotland) Act 2003 gives you the right to camp responsibly in small numbers on most unenclosed land. In England and Wales there is no general right to wild camp on open country — Dartmoor and a handful of other spots aside — so ask the landowner, use a bothy, or book onto a small campsite and treat the bivvy as practice for the real thing. Where you do camp, pitch late, leave early, take everything out with you, and leave the ground looking untouched.

The mat matters more than the bag

If you take one thing from this piece, take this: spend your money on the sleeping mat, not the sleeping bag. A sleeping bag only traps the warmth you produce. The moment you lie down, the cold ground starts pulling heat out of you by conduction, and a thin foam mat will not stop it. A £300 down bag on a £15 mat is a cold night. A £100 bag on a decent mat is a comfortable one.

Look for the mat's R-value, which measures how well it resists heat loss. Rough guide for three-season UK use:

• R 1.0–2.0: closed-cell foam. Cheap, indestructible, fine for warm summer nights and a good base layer under an inflatable.
• R 3.0–4.5: the sweet spot for spring to autumn in the hills. Most decent inflatable mats sit here, and they pack down to the size of a bottle.
• R 5.0 and above: winter and snow. You can also layer two mats — a foam one underneath an inflatable — to push the combined rating up for very little money.

Full-length mats are warmer and comfier. Three-quarter-length mats are lighter and fine if you put your empty rucksack and spare layers under your feet. Whichever you choose, test it on a cold floor at home before you trust it on a hillside.

Bag, bivvy and tarp: getting the trio right

A synthetic-fill sleeping bag is the sensible British choice. It shrugs off the damp that seeps into everything on a wet night, and it still keeps you warm if it gets soggy. Down is lighter and packs smaller, but it hates moisture and costs a lot more. For one night out in changeable weather, synthetic wins on peace of mind.

Your bivvy bag does two jobs: it keeps the rain off and it blocks the wind. Breathable waterproof fabrics are worth the extra cost, because condensation is the real enemy. You will wake up damp if you seal yourself in like a birthday card. Look for a generous cut, a decent hood with a drawcord, and a long side zip so you can get in and out without gymnastics. A hooped bivvy gives you headroom and keeps the fabric off your face, which is a genuine luxury when it is raining sideways.

If rain is forecast, take a small tarp as well. A 3 by 2.5 metre silnylon sheet, pitched a metre above you with the high edge facing the wind, transforms a grim night into a snug one. It also gives you somewhere dry to sit, cook and pack up in the morning.

What actually goes in the bag

Keep it lean but not optimistic. This list covers a comfortable three-season night:

• Sleeping bag in a waterproof stuff sack, plus a dry bag liner for belt-and-braces protection
• Sleeping mat, with a repair patch if it is inflatable
• Bivvy bag and, if rain is likely, a tarp with six pegs and a couple of guys
• Spare dry layers — a warm midlayer and dry socks — kept strictly for sleeping
• A hat and thin gloves; your head loses a surprising amount of heat
• Headtorch with fresh batteries, and a small sit mat
• Water, a simple stove, and a hot drink before bed

Eat a proper meal before you sleep. A full stomach helps you stay warm, and a flask of hot squash at your side is worth its weight if you wake at three in the morning.

Picking a pitch and staying dry

Choose ground that is flat, dry and out of the wind. Avoid hollows and valley bottoms, because cold air sinks and pools there — a frost hollow can be several degrees colder than the slope just above it. Tucking behind a dry stone wall, a rock outcrop or a stand of low trees makes a real difference. Stay clear of dead branches and anything that looks like it might drop on you.

Pitch at least fifty metres from water and well away from paths, so you are not visible or in anyone's way. Angle yourself so your head is slightly uphill, and dig a shallow channel if rain is coming. Face the foot of the bivvy downwind so the wind does not drive straight into the opening. In Scotland, midges are the price of summer camping — a head net weighs nothing and will save your sanity.

Test it in the garden first

Before you drive three hours to the Lakes, sleep out at home. Pitch the whole setup on the lawn, on a cool evening, and actually spend the night in it. You will learn more in one night than in a dozen forum posts. You will find out whether your mat is thick enough, whether your bag is warm enough, where the draught comes in, and how much faff it takes to get in and out in the dark.

Then do it again when rain is forecast. The garden is the cheapest place to discover that your tarp pitches badly, that your bivvy hood drips on your face, or that you forgot the spoon. Fix those things at home, in the dry, with a kettle ten metres away. By the time you are on the fell, the setup will feel like second nature, and you will actually enjoy the night.