I live at 7,000ft in the high desert. I have kidney stones. I sweat a lot. I take creatine, vitamin C, branch chain amino acids, beet powder, and more. I like water. I need water. Most often, I need a lot of water, and there has yet to be a container made that I’m not interested in. I have bottle envy. I see yours, I want it. I tell myself I need it. This is why one of my kitchen cabinets is filled with nothing but stray water bottles. I’m too old for plastic. Can’t do it anymore. Hot and sweaty need cold and refreshing. I consider this point to be evidence of my sophistication and refinement reaching new heights, as my overall health and well-being begin a long, slow, gradual decline toward certain death.
I found my primary water bottle in the middle of the road.
In a neighborhood south of San Francisco. My wife and I were heading north. We rounded a corner, and there it was spinning on the road in front of us. “Hey, look,” I said. “A water bottle.” I didn’t even have to ask. She was out of the van and pouncing on the unsuspecting bottle before I had a chance to react. Took it home, gave it a quick rinse, and have been using it ever since. Maybe five years now. It’s blue and shaped like all other water bottles. Insulated with a brand name on the side. I’ve gone through several tops as they eventually wear out and break. I’ve dropped it, forgotten it in a variety of places, and have filled it more times than I can count.
I’ve filled my new water bottle thirty-one times. Yes, I counted. I like data, and I like to keep track of things. I track my mileage on the Brompton, the Salsa, and I count my miles trodden upon this great world of ours. I don’t do much with the data, just look at it and wonder what it means. I figured after thirty-one times, I could tell you whether or not this new bottle works and whether or not I find it a good expenditure. The short answer is yes.
My primary bottle was not designed to be carried on a bicycle. It is one long cylinder with no grooves or indentations, and it is far too tall to work in a bottle cage. So, I needed something new. In stepped the Camelback Podium Steel Bottle. Camelback is a brand obsessed with water. We all know them. We’ve all seen them. Water bladders mostly. Stuffed into backpacks for extended forays into the parchness of the inner Earth. I’m not a bladder guy. I’ve tried. Not for me. I like bottles.
The Podium Bottle is an insulated stainless steel beast that fits in a bottle cage and holds eighteen ounces of your favorite fluid. I bought mine at REI. It was roughly $40. Seems crazy for a bottle, but please reread paragraph one. The bottle comes with a fancy, high-tech straw-like system that allows for “high flow.” I’ve learned that whether it’s urine or water, high flow is a good thing. Whatever it is, however it works, I’m a fan. Hold and suck and there is no restriction. Tip and suck, equally useful. (This is the first time I’ve ever written “tip and suck.”)
I will fill this bottle many, many more times. The spinning lock mechanism on top works well even when the bottle is being shaken on singletrack or while bunny hopping an unsuspecting small child in an inner city park. In a world of useless, unnecessary expenditures, this one feels okay. Since purchase, I have not been without this bottle. My wife, famous for being entirely unprepared for outdoor adventures, always asks when leaving the house, “You have water for me, right?” Rationing is a word she is unfamiliar with, so mid hike when I hand over the Podium Bottle she sucks it dry saying, “Oh, nice and cold.” “Thanks, Danno, oh hey, look at that rock!”
They also make a titanium version of this bottle, which, of course, I want. You know my love of all things titanium. Bikes, hips, missiles, and all the other good things in the world. Titanium is better than you. We live in a world flush with good bottle options. Is this the only option? No. Will it make you faster? No. Will people want to know you because you have this bottle? No. Will it help you stay hydrated? Only if you remember to fill it. Nothing in life is easy.
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“I’ve learned that whether it’s urine or water, high flow is a good thing…” is the second-best thing I’ve read this week. The first is by Salman Rushdie, and I don’t think he’s going to be unseated for my weekly “Favorite Lines Read This Week” in my weekend newsletter. You came close, though, Dan.
Author
I’m here to help. And I’m right, high flow all the way. I met Rushdie on the street once. Super nice guy.
This is the first time I’ve ever written “tip and suck.”…
Sometimes you have such important things to say, worth pondering, worth sharing with others. Other times you just crack me up.
Today you cracked me up when I sorely needed it.
Thank you!
In the process of overhauling my website. Still undecided on whether to upgrade my site subscription to include some kind of blogging. I don’t have much to say. Might save the upgrade cost and add a single page “newsletter” with a brief description of what I’ve done, what I’m doing. I know you’ll have an opinion about that and if so would love to hear it!
Author
Upgrade. Write. Most of the time the insight is more interesting than our photography.
Whenever my wife takes her Range Rover into the dealership for service, I tag along to score one of their complimentary water bottles. They’re thin, some kind of metal, with a screw cap. I fill them with water and keep them in the fridge. I don’t know why but I love them and take them everywhere.
Author
A Rover bottle. I like the sound of that.
As a biker on all kind of types of bicycle I drink a lot and I need plastic bottles because the squeezing on top of the pouring is the icing on the cake. Try that on a steel or alu bottle… neh… just give me(recycled now) plastic bottles. 750ml each, mounted double into the frame triangle. No dangling on a seat or handlebar or pouch. Neh… stuffed in between my legs is best for me. I got the Elite green 950ml plastic ones for the misses as she can’t have a double on her frame. All enjoy the thirsty sip. Regards!
Author
I don’t need to squeeze with this thing. The water flows like crazy. I have plenty of plastic bottles for my Salsa, but when it’s 90 degrees the water gets like soup.
A slightly embarrassing story: I wanted a 1 litre stainless steel water bottle. Having failed an intuitive attempt at converting imperial to metric, I ordered the 64 oz. version ….which is actually 1.8 litres …but that turned out to be okay, though a bit of a heavy lug.
Author
More = better.
Even though in theory I like SS water bottles, in practice I use the plastic ones from CamelBak every time, for one reason… you don’t need to tip/suck to drink, and no straw doohickey to deal with either. Just squeeze and out the water flows. OK, maybe two reasons: they’re light and don’t dent. I think I may have 5 or 6…. a couple in the car, one for the camera bag/backpack. A couple queued up for rinsing. CamelBak’s are best because the valve and closure just plain work. It’s amazing how many don’t.
I’ve had all manner of insulated water bottles and haven’t found the insulation does much unless I start with pretty much frozen water to begin with. If it was thick enough to work the bottle would be half that capacity.
On hot days I put a packet of electrolyte powder in… though 1/4 tsp of salt does the same thing….but I want a little flavor.
Author
The water flows out of this thing easier than a squeeze. I’m not sure the math behind it but it works like a charm. And this thing keeps water ice cold for at least four or five hours, longer than I’m on the bike most of the time. My normal bottle does too. Plastic is lighter, for sure, but I’ll take the cold over weight. Plastic insulated bottles don’t work. SS, does, but to each his/her/their own.
I, too, have switched from plastic to metal when riding/hiking. They just seem more refined, the bottles last much longer, and fewer bottles stop my wife from getting angry at me for having too many in the cupboard. In fact, the one I use daily has been with me since 2018.
Author
I like stuff that lasts. I’m wearing a ten year old shirt as I write this. My plastic bottles have been around that long too, but man, if I hear another story about how much plastic is in our bodies already….
Danno…I’ll see your seeing Rushman on the NYC…and raise you seeing him in NYC…at dinner in Tribeca with Norman Mailer and George Hamilton at the table, while I was having dinner with Joe McNally (this was 2001, I think.) I didn’t talk to any of them at that table, though. 😀
Author
Oh wait, I’ll see your dinner and raise you that I not only spoke to Rushdie, he held my hands as we spoke.
Are you talking about the Rushdie that says everywhere he met me in the streets of New York? I never even talked to the guy… 🤣🤪
Author
Same guy. We are checking sources.
I’m all to familiar with kidney stones for decades and disappeared when on keto diet. I also always keep a pair of Stanley’s one with water and one with coffee. Plus I regard titanium as my spirit metal.
Author
Titanium is evidence of God. It’s that simple. Coffee is rumored to be bad for stones. Soda, coffee, beets, etc. I don’t do soda but coffee, tea, beets, etc. So….lots and lots of agua.
Cranberry juice. Make your own — skip the mostly sugar ocean spray stuff. Mike it in smoothies to make the tartness tolerable.
Author
I haven’t bought juice in decades. To your point, mostly sugar.
I tried this bottle. It’s like magic.
Author
Good!
“Will people want to know you because you have this bottle? No.”
I’m not so sure. The circles I have been hanging in lately care about optimized bottles…and things like creotine, BCAs, and targeted supplements. The bottle just might be a calling card for the right kind of people to want to get to know me. It’s working for you, I read your piece after all!
Author
Ah ha! The bottle sucked you in. I’m using it as I write this. No joke.
Me and my Camelbak. My daughter thinks I’m nuts because I get such a kick out of drinking water from a bottle that I don’t have to hold onto at all. Just hold that nozzle with my teeth and suck. But I’ve always had plastic. Now I have to upgrade to steel. Huh.
Author
I’ve found that kids are entirely occupied with how others will think, while people like you and me learned not to care. Freedom.