I have trudged through camping without a lot of things: clean socks, dry shoes, a headlamp. But in temperatures when you can see your breath in the morning, skipping hot coffee is a hair too far. So when my Jetboil Flash stove sputtered out of gas on a car-camping trip years ago, it was worth the hour-long drive into the nearest town for more.
Or would have been, if I had found any. While every gas station and general store I stopped in carried the cheap, ubiquitous green bottles of propane, the Jetboil’s fussy isobutane canisters were nowhere to be found.
