For years, the only thing I knew about Pioneer Carry was their wallets—functional, no-nonsense, and built beautifully. Then a few years ago, they unleashed the Global Pouch, a travel organizer so damn flexible it can morph into anything: a tech pouch, a Dopp kit, whatever your chaotic lifestyle demands.
The magic, once again, lies in the materials. This medium-sized beast comes in your choice of Baby Ballistic, 10XD, or 3XD. My review unit arrived in slate 3XD, and it’s fantastic. Smooth as a politician’s handshake, but with none of that lightweight, fragile nonsense. It’s tough, built for action, and in my opinion, the perfect fabric for something you’ll be dragging through airports, hotel rooms, or wherever the road spits you out.
The interior? It’s like a Swiss Army knife of organization. Four slip pockets, equally spaced, surround a gaping main compartment with a zippered flap that gives you a total of seven storage zones. That’s the beauty here—you get all this flexibility without the thing becoming an unwieldy mess of zippers and tangled cables.
Personally, I see this thing shining brightest as a tech pouch. The slip pockets are tailor-made for keeping cables from turning into a rat’s nest, while the main compartment easily swallows up charging bricks, backup batteries, and whatever other tech junk you haul around. The zippered pocket is perfect for stashing the small, easy-to-lose stuff.
But me? I’ve put mine to work as a film camera gear organizer. The slip pockets handle filters like a charm, the main section holds my rolls of film, and the zippered pocket is a home for my lens cleaning kit.
Bottom line: This thing’s pure dynamite. Pioneer nailed it again with killer materials and impeccable craftsmanship. If you’re in the market for a general-purpose pouch that won’t quit, this might just be your new best friend.
Pioneer Carry is young, but they’ve got an itch for ambition, no doubt about that. The design chops? They’re there, clear as day. But what really puts them ahead of the pack in the carry goods racket is their audacity in material selection. True to their name, they’re not afraid to break the mold, using materials no one in their right mind would associate with wallets and pouches. It’s like they’ve got a sick thrill for experimentation.
My first encounter with their mad genius was the Matter Bifold, a wallet that’s been riding shotgun with me for damn near a decade now. Mine’s made of 10XD—a textile that feels like silk but could probably survive a nuclear blast. Five years of relentless abuse, and the damn thing looks like I just pulled it out of the box yesterday. That kind of durability messes with your head, makes you wonder if it’s indestructible or if time itself just gave up on it.
So, naturally, I reached out to Pioneer. Wanted to see if I could hustle a few sample products for review. Within days, a package shows up—Pioneer, not one to disappoint, delivered. You’ll see the whole lineup soon enough, but for now, let me introduce you to the Pioneer Flyfold Wallet.
This one’s made of ballistic nylon, but not the kind you’d expect from AER or Evergoods. No, Pioneer’s cooked up something they call “Baby Ballistics.” It’s like they took standard issue nylon, shrunk it down, sent it off to charm school, and came back with a material that’s tough as nails but smooth enough to pass as sophisticated. The weave is so tight, you can barely feel it. It’s a strange kind of luxury—one minute you’re thinking James Bond, the next you’re imagining the Marlboro Man slipping it into his jeans. A true chameleon of class and grit.
Fabrication? Spot on. You can tell they didn’t half-ass this thing. As for size, well, it’s a bit bulkier than I’d prefer. I’ve still got a soft spot for the slim form factor of the Matter Bifold. But here’s the kicker—Pioneer’s got wallets in all shapes, sizes, and mind-bending materials. So, whatever your preference, they’ve got something to scratch that itch. Highly recommend these lunatics… and if you’ve got means and the needs, I recommend you give them a shot.
My doctor, in his infinite wisdom, has decided I need to wear an Apple Watch—something I absolutely detest. Sure, I love my old mechanical watches, the ones that tick away with soul and history, but fine… I’ll play ball. It’s fun to mess with tech every now and then. But here’s the problem: charging. My phone is already a hassle on the road, but throw a watch into the mix? Suddenly, I’m tangled in cables and scrambling for outlets in every godforsaken hotel room. It’s a nightmare.
Enter the Zen Travel Charger. Now, let me be clear—I couldn’t care less about charging speed. I’m not sitting there watching the battery percentage climb. No, the beauty of this thing is simple. I set it up on the hotel nightstand, toss my phone and watch onto it, and let them simmer overnight. When I wake up, everything’s fully juiced and ready to go. No fuss.
The Zen is plenty fast though… but the real magic is in its design. It folds down to this neat little package, slides into my tech pouch like it was born to be there. Best form factor I’ve found so far, and trust me, I’ve been through plenty. If you’re in the market for something that won’t make your life more complicated, I highly recommend this little gadget. It’s about as good as it gets when you’re fighting the war on wires.
I’ve got a wild, borderline abusive relationship with Leica. On the one hand, I worship them for their genius in design and their relentless pursuit of optical perfection. But on the other, I can’t stand their corporate nonsense—their obsession with cashing in on the brand’s “fashion” status. Limited editions, gaudy collaborations… it all sends me spiraling into madness. None of that bullshit does a damn thing for photography.
And yet, like clockwork, they drop something so beautiful, so tempting, that it’s impossible not to want it—despite the fact I can’t afford the damn thing. This year’s torture device? The Leica M11-D. A digital camera stripped down to the bare essentials, like a classic M-camera that just happens to shoot digital. No nonsense, no distractions—just pure, unadulterated simplicity.
Oh, how I’d love to run wild with this thing. Maybe in a few years, when the used prices dip below “sell your soul” levels.
The Rollei 35—a pint-sized 35mm film camera with ergonomics that could drive a man to drink but a lens so sharp it could cut glass. No bells, no whistles—just raw, fully manual control and zone focusing that left no room for error. But if you were looking for something that could slip into your pocket and still hold its own against a Nikon F3, this was the only game in town.
Naturally, the awkward little bastard built a cult following over the years—diehards who swear by its charm and simplicity. That devotion runs so deep that Mint Camera just dropped a modern twist on it: the Rollei 35AF. Same quirky handling that’ll tie your fingers in knots, but now with lidar-based autofocus and a built-in meter to sweeten the deal.
It’s a thing of beauty, and make no mistake—it’ll fly off the shelves faster than you can blink.
After getting my hands on both the Alpha 31 and Bravo 18, I felt compelled—no, driven—to complete the trilogy and dive into the Charlie 25. Now, if the Bravo is the scrappy younger sibling, then the Charlie is the middle child with a chip on its shoulder, desperate to prove its worth through sheer complexity. The thing looks deceptively small on your back, but then it opens up like a Pandora’s box of capacity, surprising you with what it can haul.
But let’s talk about those complexities. First, the strap system. The Bravo, in its no-nonsense way, opts for simple, padless webbing, while the Charlie opts for well-engineered foam straps—easily among the most comfortable I’ve ever had the pleasure of slinging over my shoulders. You need that extra support, too, because the Charlie can carry more than you’d expect. And where the Bravo is essentially an empty bucket, the Charlie is a goddamn labyrinth of velcro and zippered pockets, giving you more ways to stash your gear than you can imagine. And then there’s the “brain.”
Both the Bravo and Charlie feature cinch tops, but the Charlie ups the ante with this “brain” cover—Remote Equipment’s answer to keeping your gear dry and adding two slick quick-access pockets. The brain, of course, is removable because why the hell not? You can cinch down the top, throw on the brain cover for some extra weather protection, or strip it all down and keep it light. The versatility is almost maddening.
And it doesn’t stop there. The Charlie was designed to integrate with Remote Equipment’s “Org Kits”—beautifully engineered pouches that can be strapped to the outside via the compression straps or tucked away inside the bag’s perfectly sized pockets. They claim it’s a 25L bag, but on your back, it feels like a tight, compact 15L. It’s only when you start adding the Org Kits, expanding its capacity to 30L, that it begins to resemble a traditional pack in size.
But this versatility comes with a price. The Charlie is a strappy beast—load lifter straps, compression straps, straps for the brain, straps on top of straps… I’ve managed to keep them under control, and they don’t bother me, but if you’re one of those folks who can’t stand a dangling strap, it’s something to think about. Still, I wouldn’t let it be a dealbreaker. Give it a shot before you shoot it down.
Now, where does the Charlie stand next to the Alpha and Bravo? It’s clear the Charlie is an evolution of the Bravo—more capacity, more comfort, more flexibility. The Bravo is your “kick-around” bag, perfect for when you need to carry a casual load but don’t need a formal platform to do so. The Charlie, on the other hand, means business. It’s serious, adaptable, and more focused.
But when you stack the Charlie against the Alpha, things get murky. Both bags serve a similar purpose and are among the most versatile on the market. I’d say the Charlie leans more towards outdoor adventures, while the Alpha is better suited for travel. Both excel at everyday carry—so, pick your poison.
As for me, I’m not much of a hiker, and I’ve fallen hard for the Alpha 31. It does everything I need it to and more. But still, I can’t quite bring myself to part with the Charlie. It’s just so damned comfortable, so smartly designed, that I enjoy having it around. Maybe once the honeymoon phase is over, I’ll do the responsible thing and sell it off. But for now, it stays.
My Overall Remote Equipment Impressions
I’ve spent the last decade with GORUCK bags, know them inside and out, and I am entirely at home with the platform. So, shifting over to Remote Equipment has been an enlightening experience. GORUCK bags are built like tanks, meant to last forever, but there’s a sense that they’ve crossed into fashion territory. Limited editions, collaborations with exotic textiles, and prices that could make your wallet cry—the GORUCK market is becoming as hype-driven as the sneakerhead scene, and frankly, it’s wearing thin.
Remote Equipment, on the other hand, is the lone wolf. No collaborations, no limited editions—they barely even market themselves. Instead, they just keep their heads down and churn out innovative, incredibly usable gear at prices that are high but stable. And that? That I can respect.
Editor’s Note: I don’t know a single person at Remote Equipment. In fact, I’ve never had a single communication with the company. This post isn’t sponsored.
Last week, I tossed you a quick review of the Alpha 31—arguably the most versatile bag of the last decade. Today, I’m back with another offering from Remote Equipment: the Bravo 18.
Now, on paper, the Bravo 18 shouldn’t appeal to me at all. It’s one of those jack-of-all-trades bags, master of none. It can be rigged as an awkward tote, a massive sling, an uncomfortable backpack, or some kind of bizarre briefcase. And frankly, I don’t have a burning need for any of those things.
But for the sake of education—and maybe a little masochism—I ordered one anyway. The moment I unboxed the damn thing, I was smitten. Not because of the form factor, mind you, but because of the material. It’s made from a proprietary textile, TPU-coated 500D Cordura. I’ve never felt anything quite like it. Imagine 500D Cordura—only thinner, a bit stiffer, and smooth as hell.
I loved the feel so much that I forced myself to use it, and in doing so, I stumbled upon a new favorite. While the Bravo 18 isn’t exceptional at any one thing, it’s brilliant at being good enough for just about anything. My main use? A beach bag. Its 18-liter capacity is perfect for a towel, sunscreen, my phone, headphones, and all the other little things I want to bring to the beach but don’t want getting wet or sandy.
And thanks to the adjustable tote straps and endlessly customizable back straps (ditch one for a sling, keep both for a backpack), I can carry it however suits the day’s load. It’s not a masterful beach bag, but in a way… it’s a perfect one. And that’s something you only realize after giving it a chance.
Think of the Bravo 18 as a stripped-down Alpha 31—flexible as hell without all the Alpha’s complexities. Or maybe it’s more like a simpler version of another Remote Equipment bag—the Charlie 25.
What’s the Charlie 25, you ask? Well, stay tuned…
In any case, more details on the Bravo 18 can be found here.
Editor’s Note: Remote Equipment is NOT a sponsor of this site. I am not being paid to review any of their shit… I just happen to like the philosophy of their business and the bags that result.
Apparently, I’m on a tear, reviewing bags like a man possessed. A few weeks ago, I put out the call, and now UPS is practically a fixture at the studio, delivering a steady stream of contenders. In the past few weeks, I’ve taken in shipments from GORUCK, Evergoods, Peak Design, and a few other usual suspects. And I’ve been testing them, putting them through the wringer—and I’ve been genuinely, shockingly surprised.
Let’s rewind for a second. Here’s how my typical setup looked:
Camera Bag: GORUCK Kaidan Bullet. Perfect in every way for what I do, and you couldn’t pay me to switch it up.
Sub-25L Travel Bag: GORUCK Dual Compartment 18L Bullet. Just the right size for a weekend jaunt—enough room to carry the essentials without bogging me down.
Over-25L Travel Pack: GORUCK Kaidan GR2. My go-to for one-bag travel. Beautiful, rugged, and tough as nails.
The logic behind sticking with GORUCK was simple: their bags share a cohesive design language. Whether I’m lugging the compact 18L Bullet or the behemoth 34L GR2, I know exactly where to find my gear in each one. Predictability and reliability—two things you can’t put a price on.
But then, a few months back, during some hellish trip with my Kaidan GR2, things went south. I overpacked the damned thing—rookie mistake—and the experience was a slog. It got me thinking: maybe it was time to downsize. I started shopping for a smaller GR1 to cut down on my tendency to overpack. But when I waded into the market, I found myself in a labyrinth of limited editions, hype, and enough chaos to drive a man to madness. I wasn’t about to chase some unicorn of a bag, so I did the unthinkable—I jumped ship.
I took delivery of an Alpha 31 and decided to give it a real shot. I’ve always been drawn to the look of these things, but they were as elusive as Bigfoot the last time I checked. This time, I got lucky, and it arrived a couple of weeks ago.
One trip was all it took to hit me like a sledgehammer—I’d been missing the point of a good backpack all these years. I was so fixated on having a bombproof bag that I never stopped to consider one that actually fit what I was carrying and stayed comfortable, no matter the load. I didn’t need two “rucking” packs—I needed one versatile bag that could flex with my needs. And that’s exactly what the Alpha 31 is. It handles both heavy and light loads with grace, staying comfortable no matter what I throw at it.
So now, my entire packing philosophy is turned on its head. I sold off my GR2 and my 18L Bullet because the Alpha covers both bases. But I’m hanging on to the Bullet as a camera bag—that’s irreplaceable. I’ve still got some pouch configurations to work out, but otherwise, I’m off to the races.
And here I am, eating my own words just weeks after swearing that my GORUCK setup was the only way to go… Figures.
