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.
If you know anything about Dan Matsuda, you know the man doesn’t just make products; he conjures them—raw, unfiltered art disguised as everyday objects. Every piece he births into this world is a testament to craftsmanship, forged from materials so unique and resilient they might as well be relics from another dimension.
Naturally, this means getting your hands on one of his creations is like hunting the mythical white whale. Matsuda drops his goods on a Friday, and by the time you blink, they’re gone—swallowed up by the ravenous masses within minutes.
But behold, a miracle—a Matsuda duffle bag in the wild, actually in stock and ready to ship. I’ve never witnessed such a thing in all my years.
And let me tell you, I own one of these duffles in black. It’s everything you’d dream of and more—a masterpiece that laughs in the face of mediocrity.
To be honest, cam straps don’t usually make the cut in my chaotic dance of ratchet straps and bungee cords. They sit somewhere in the murky middle ground, neither here nor there, and that’s a limbo I rarely find myself stumbling into.
But these new high-end cam straps from Austere? They’ve got the swagger and the substance—more secure, more convenient than the run-of-the-mill crap you find at the big box stores. And damn, they’ve got the looks to boot.
After last week’s exposé on sub-25L backpacks, a few brave souls dared to inquire about the pack I strap to my own spine. And while the AER packs (and their ilk) might dance seductively in the dreams of urban nomads, they’re not my muse.
Years ago, in a feverish moment of clarity, I embraced the GORUCK GR3, a travel pack so rugged and capacious it could double as a lifeboat. It turned me into a zealot. But the time came to part with that behemoth, and now, I’ve found solace in a symphony of packs that cater to my every whim. My camera bag? A GORUCK Bullet. My travel companion? The GORUCK GR2. And my sub-25L paramour? The dual-chambered GORUCK Bullet.
So why, you ask, didn’t I champion the Bullet in my 25L feature last week? Simple. It’s not for the faint of heart or the uninitiated. If you aren’t committing to the full GORUCK gospel, there are far shinier baubles to catch your eye.
The logic behind this system is twofold:
Firstly, I eschew bags bloated with organization. Instead, I wield modular pouches to corral my essentials. This way, I can effortlessly transfer these pouches from one bag to another, adapting to the mission du jour. GORUCK bags, blessedly spartan in their internal configuration, suit my packing ethos to a tee.
Secondly, I crave familiarity like a junkie craves his next fix. Every GORUCK bag exudes a sense of deja vu. Master one, and you’ve got the rest licked. Take my double-compartment Bullet: it’s essentially a pint-sized doppelgänger of the GORUCK GR2. Thus, I navigate these bags with the ease of a seasoned grifter working a familiar con. The layout remains a constant; the capacities, a mere variable.
This system works for me, a deranged connoisseur of chaos and order. But I harbor no delusions that the masses would flock to this creed with the same fervor.
Still curious? Unravel the mysteries of the 18L Double Compartment Bullet here.
