|
| Home | Guest - Not logged in | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
» Register
» Login
Gear Reviews
Documents
Tools
» Contact
|
Reviews > Shelters > Tents > Black Diamond Lighthouse Tent > Andy Mytys > Long Term ReportBlack Diamond Lighthouse Tent and VestibuleLong Term Report
Product Information:
Specifications as Measured by Tester:
The information in this Long Term Report of the Black Diamond Lighthouse Tent and Vestibule is to be taken in addition to my Initial Report (contains lots of pictures, for those interested) and Field reports. Product Description:
The BD Lighthouse tent and vestibule came packaged in three SilNylon stuff sacks - one containing the tent and a length of cord, a second holding tent poles, stakes, pitching instructions, and a seam sealing kit, and a third stuff sack containing the vestibule, vestibule pole, stakes, vestibule pitching instructions, and a second seam sealing kit (recall that the vestibule is purchased separately). Sewn to the side of the tent stuff sack are two loops of elastic material, which are used to hold the sack containing the tent poles. Hang tags attached to the main tent stuff sack included an Owner's Manual to Black Diamond Superlight tents and a card explaining proper use of the Dongah Aluminum Corporation (DAC) Featherlite poles. The seam sealing kits are comprised of a tube of SilNet silicon seam sealer and an irrigation syringe for use in applying the sealing compound.
Style of Tenting and Conditions Met Throughout the Test Period: During the course of this test, I used the Black Diamond Lighthouse Tent as a shelter while practicing various styles of backpacking. I took the lighthouse on long, 20+ mile (35+ km) hikes that had me on the trail before dawn and in camp well after sunset. I also used the Lighthouse on shorter journeys, where daily mileage fell below 12 miles (20 km). On these days, the Lighthouse was often set up by mid-afternoon, and was used as a group social hall when conditions outside the tent proved to be less than favorable for relaxation. I also used the Lighthouse for base-camping, leaving it unattended in camp while I spent my day exploring the surrounding area. The summertime conditions that I experienced were historically mild and, unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to spend any nights in the tent where nighttime lows remained warm (mid 80's F/~30 C) along with high humidity levels of 85% or better. Therefore, I cannot comment on how much of a cooling effect the Lighthouse's mesh panels have in hot and humid conditions. However, I was able to test the Lighthouse in extended periods of rain, in high winds, and in sub-freezing temperatures, in addition to conditions where the dew-point temperature was realized.
Condensation and Single-Walled Tents - Dispelling the Myth: Traditionally, choosing a single-walled tent as a backcountry shelter has meant a tradeoff - less weight in the pack at the expense of having to battle condensation build-up within the shelter itself. In humid climates such as those found in my home state of Michigan, nature often deals a crushing blow to those inhabiting tents, with wet walls, damp sleeping bags, and, at times, even a slight fog in the tent. Due to limited occurrences of outside airflow, trying to promote ventilation by opening doors and windows may not provide any relief. In the past, I've used three season tents composed of an inner tent made with breathable mesh walls, a "bathtub" floor, and a nylon fly covering the entire structure. These tents, at the very least, have had condensation along the side walls of the bathtub floor. In situations with low levels of airflow and high levels of humidity or precipitation, condensation has actually built up on the underside of the fly, which in turn found itself getting through the tent's mesh ceiling. The performance of tarps and tarp-tents has also been mixed for me, as the non-breathable material, given the right conditions, became an area where high levels of moisture would form and drip down onto my sleeping bag. Given this history, it is understandable why I was skeptical that the Lighthouse would remain condensation free. After six-months of exhaustive field-testing, I can honestly say that the Lighthouse is the only tent or tarp type design that I've ever been able to use and realize an experience that was, on most occasions, 99% free of condensation. No wet side walls, no wet walls near the foot of my sleeping bag, nothing dripping from the ceiling. The secret to the Lighthouse being able to keep out condensation lies in its fabric - Epic by Nextec. While Black Diamond advertises it as being "extremely breathable," I really wasn't prepared for the results - a product that meets and even exceeds the hype of marketing. Initially, I was doubtful that the Lighthouse would remain condensation free, at least not without using its HUGE no-see-um mesh door/wall (measured at 75 x 40.5 inches, or 191 x 103 cm). So, I set up the tent and left the entire mesh door and rear window open. I also attached the vestibule to the tent, so that the exposed door would be protected from the elements. I was sure to keep the vestibule door open, in order to allow as much air as possible to enter the tent. When I woke up in the morning, the interior of the tent was bone dry. With initial tests showing condensation to be of little concern, I began experimenting by limiting the amount of airflow inside the Lighthouse. I zipped closed the door and window of the tent using the Epic screen rather than the no-see-um mesh. During the first few nights, I was concerned that my down bag would be covered in moisture by the morning. This caused me to sleep restlessly, waking a few time each hour to inspect conditions. I found that, as long as temperatures stayed above freezing, the Epic material of the Lighthouse provided all the breathability needed to effectively pump out any moisture from inside the tent. After a few nights of astonishment, I could once again sleep comfortably. As long as there was no outside precipitation, the Lighthouse all but guaranteed me a condensation free night across a wide range of nighttime lows (32 - 70 F/0 - 20 C). The Epic fabric breathed well enough on its own, allowing me to keep all of the tent's doors and windows shut, maximizing heat retention without suffering any condensation. I also played with packing the Lighthouse with additional occupants. I slept in the Lighthouse with my wife, with my dog (an 80 pound (36 kg) flat-coated retriever), and with the two of them, together with myself, inside a sealed Lighthouse - again, no signs of condensation. Condensation Testing - Moving on to Winter Conditions: I was also able to test the Lighthouse in temperatures down to 19 F (-7 C). The low points of my temperature testing also happened to be the upper ranges of the day's humidity levels, and a few degrees below the dew-point temperature. Such conditions ensured that the walls of the Lighthouse were covered in frost for most of the day. In fact, even before anyone entered the shelter, moisture in the air collected on the walls of the tent and froze before it was able to pass through the Epic material. With headlamps on inside the tent, these ice crystals certainly put on a visual show - but, would they cause conditions to become wet inside the Lighthouse as temperatures increased and the crystals started to melt? The temperature variance between the inside and outside of the Lighthouse was a mere 6.5 degrees (3.6 C), enough to keep conditions below freezing inside the shelter. As I slept, some of the moisture in the air I exhaled froze to the tips of my eyelashes, with the rest adding to the layer of frost on the walls of the tent. The thickest layer of frost was found along the tent's ceiling, with the frost slowly thinning along the side walls as it neared the ground. As the sun came up and temperatures began to increase, I was concerned that the frost would soon melt, raining drops of moisture inside the Lighthouse. Thankfully, this was not the case. Most of the melting that I observed occurred along the ceiling of the Lighthouse, with the resulting moisture collecting on and around the interior poles. Occasionally, a few of the drops would come together and form a droplet large enough that it would fall to the ground before collecting at the poles. This was a sign that some quick maintenance was in order - I simply ran my Cascade Designs PackTowl along the poles and mopped up the droplets before any more could fall, making sure to also clean the area around the poles in the process. As far as the side walls were concerned, I did not observe the frost to be melting at a rate that would cause water to collect along the floor of the tent. I feel that the reason for this is that the frost on the side walls was relatively thin, and it not only melted quickly but had its moisture pushed out of the tent before it had a chance to pool.
The Vestibule - A Wise Investment, or Unnecessary Baggage?: In my Field report, I spoke of weighing the vestibule's utility against the 18-ounces (510 g) that it would add to my pack weight, including the vestibule, pole, and two stakes. My conclusion was that, when traveling solo, I would be best off leaving the vestibule at home and simply organizing my gear inside the spacious Lighthouse in "dry" and "wet" areas. When traveling with a partner in areas where long periods of rain were likely, I'd bring the vestibule for added space and convenience. When traveling in pairs in areas where rain was unlikely, I'd simply pack an extra garbage trash bag that I could use as a sheltered area, outside the tent, to store wet, muddy boots. In practice, I found that the vestibule had no impact on the Lighthouse's ability to fight condensation. Even with one wall (the door) blocked by the SilNylon vestibule, the tent still breathed exceptionally well. In terms of the Lighthouse's performance in rain without the vestibule, I immediately noticed there were disadvantages. I haven't decided, though, whether these disadvantages are enough to merit carrying the vestibule. It seems that when it's not raining, I have the attitude that the vestibule is excess baggage and when it is raining, I find myself wishing I had packed it along. The first hurdle to spending excessive time in the Lighthouse during foul weather is its front door. The entire side wall - measured at 75 x 40.5 inches, or 191 x 103 cm - is the tent's door, half of which, at the very least, must be opened in order to move in and out of the shelter. Even when opened halfway, it's a risky venture to exit the tent as the fabric of the door is still affixed to the main structure. One slip could cause damage to the door's zipper, or tear the tent's material itself. Less agile occupants should plan on opening the entire door when moving into and out of the Lighthouse. Without the vestibule, the door of the Lighthouse is completely exposed to the elements. When it's raining, the outside of the door is naturally wet. When opening the tent in the rain, the weight of this precipitation tends to make the door fall inwards. Should this occur, the water on the outside of the door panel quickly runs into the tent. If the door is opened with care, such that the inside of the material is facing outwards, then the dry section of material is exposed to the rain, and this moisture is brought into the tent when the door is once again closed. Add to this the amount of moisture that is brought into the tent on items such as raingear and it quickly becomes apparent that the vestibule is a real bonus to have around when it's raining. Without the vestibule, careful planning is needed in order to minimize the amount of water I have to deal with. The situation, at the very least, demands quick action on the part of whoever's moving in and out of the tent and a little cleanup afterwards. In order to minimize my exposure to rain, I can resort to eating no-cook meals and using a "pee bottle" inside the Lighthouse. Or, I can just make my life a bit simpler by carrying the vestibule. While I find the vestibule to be an extremely versatile and welcome piece of equipment to have when it rains, it does adds a pound (1/2 kg) of weight to my pack. In order to speed teardown in the morning, I don't bother pitching the vestibule unless conditions call for it - so when there's no rain in the forecast, this translates into more than a pound (1/2 kg) of gear that I carried all day and didn't even use. That said, the vestibule is nice and spacious. The doorway, when opened, is large enough for me to quickly crawl through without any contortion, although I do catch my butt on the door if I try to stand up before I'm completely clear of it. Available space to either side of the vestibule's door is such that there's still plenty of protective room for boots and packs without anything impeding the route into and out of the tent. The vestibule's door can be held open and out of the way using an integrated loop and buckle design. And, for backpackers who can fit all their gear in less than 4,000 cu/in (60 l), the vestibule adds enough room to the Lighthouse to fully accommodate three adults. During mosquito season, I feel the vestibule should be pitched only when rain is actually falling, or if there is a high probability of it falling overnight. The issue here is that the vestibule provides an area sheltered from strong breezes, which translates into a refuge for mosquitoes that are lured into the area by the presence of exhaled carbon dioxide. Leaving the tent for just a moment, with the door opened halfway only for a few seconds, resulted in over fifty mosquitoes entering the Lighthouse (it wasn't even prime mosquito season yet). Fortunately, the yellow color of the walls made them easy to track down and kill. Some were already so fat that killing them caused blood to squirt onto the walls of the tent - the yellow walls made cleanup a breeze, and the blood wiped away easily using a wet bandana. The mosquito issue is yet another example of when packing along a "pee bottle" may be a better solution than dealing with the vestibule.
Pitching the Lighthouse in the Rain: Pitching the Lighthouse in the rain is a pain, mostly due to its internal poles and high-sloping walls. First, the tent must be staked down, as even slight breezes can pull the Lighthouse off of the ground. The tent itself should then be pitched from the inside, as any amount of wind can make pitching the tent difficult, and even lead to damaging the tent itself. Pitching from inside the Lighthouse allows one to hold the poles in position and quickly secure the Velcro loops around them, which is important as winds can blow them out of position, bending them permanently in extreme cases. Of course, pitching the Lighthouse from the inside results in segments of poles in excess of six feet (2 m) in length blindly protruding out of the tent and into the air. Fellow hikers in the area should be warned in advance, as unsuspecting passers-by could find themselves poked in the eye by a renegade tent pole.
Rain, Rain, Go Away: The Lighthouse is made primarily of Epic fabric, a material constructed of fibers that are individually encapsulated in silicone and sandwiched together. Epic is "water resistant," not waterproof. Although it may sound counter-intuitive, the Lighthouse actually fairs much better in storms than it does long periods of slow and steady rain. The advantage of storms is that they're usually accompanied by winds, and they tend to be short-lived. In the presence of a slight breeze, a pause in the storm lasting but a few minutes will allow the outside of the shelter to completely dry out and be ready for the next round of storms to move through. Conditions on the inside of the Lighthouse during storms remain relatively condensation free. I found it best not to allow the foot of my sleeping bag to touch the walls of the tent though, as doing so resulted in the bag's shell becoming damp around its footbox. The interior poles of the Lighthouse also tended to develop beads of moisture on them during storms. Outside of these two issues though, there really weren't any moisture-related problems on the inside of the Lighthouse. As in previous testing, I found there to be little if any difference in internal conditions whether the no-see-um mesh was used or not - the Epic material breathed fine on its own, and the air inside the Lighthouse felt fresh. I've found that the Lighthouse can withstand about six hours of constant rain. Any longer and conditions on the inside begin to deteriorate. The first sign of trouble presents itself as beads of water collecting along the edges of the interior poles. Eventually, the Epic fabric of the Lighthouse becomes saturated with water, and any additional precipitation falling on the outside of the tent causes small beads of moisture to form on the opposing side of the fabric, inside of the tent. This wasn't a major concern along the tent's side walls, as the beads would simply run down the steep walls and onto the floor. When these beads appeared along the tent's ceiling and along the more moderately sloped areas of the two narrow walls, however, driving rain on the outside of the tent would cause the droplets to fall, creating a slight "spray" on the inside of the Lighthouse. Trying to wipe dry these areas of internal moisture proved fruitless, as new droplets would quickly take the place of what was wiped away. In fact, I could actually watch the water droplets appear on the inside of the tent as rain struck the area on the outside of the tent. Conversely, walls that were not being hit head-on with rain did now show any internal moisture developing whatsoever. Fortunately, most modern, high-tech sleeping bags shells, such as MicroFiber, EPIC, and Pertex Microlight, are more than equipped to handle such light levels of moisture - while the outside of my bag felt pretty wet by the morning, wiping it down with my PackTowl had it dry to the touch in no time, with no "clumping" of loft present. On one occasion where I encountered "spray" on the inside of the Lighthouse, Mother Nature took care of the issue in a rather unexpected way - temperatures dropped and the rain changed into wet snow. As the precipitation was now in a more solid form, it was staying atop the tent's material rather than moving through it, and soon the "spray" was no longer present. In terms of sleeping in the rain, the Lighthouse is about the noisiest tent I've ever been it. Because of its tight pitch and thin material, rain hitting its surface makes a high-pitched sound, much like that of a snare drum. Once out of the rain, even a saturated Lighthouse dries in a matter of minutes. In fact, I find that by the time I finish pitching the tent, including securing in the interior poles, the tent has often totally dried.
Heed Thy Maker's Warning:
Well, it doesn't just fly around camp - it flies away from camp! On a recent trip I found myself in southeast Utah. As often is the case in this part of the world, the ground was extremely hard and I couldn't pound the stakes into the ground to save my life. Instead, I tied guy-lines to each corner tie-out, in addition to the two anchor points located at the center of the front and rear walls. Each of these lines were tied to rocks, and these rocks were covered by more rocks - I had at least five pounds (2.25 kg) of weight amassed at each of the six points. I then left the tent unattended, and went off exploring for the afternoon. During this time period, winds picked up to an average of 20 MPH (32 KPH) with frequent gusts over 40 MPH (65 KPH). When I returned to camp, all that was left was my ground cloth. In fact, my ground cloth hadn't moved. Nor had the small, fist-sized rocks I had placed at each corner. There wasn't a trace of the Lighthouse, however... not even a few threads of guy-line were left.
Well, we got very lucky. Hiking down an established trail, my wife and I ran into a couple of hikers that asked if we knew anyone who had lost a tent. They said it was about a ten-minute walk further down the trail, wedged securely in the base of one of the fissures. We found our tent about a 1/2 mile (0.8 km) away from camp. It was in remarkably good shape, given the circumstances, but at the same time I could understand why the hikers left it behind. The Lighthouse had its fair share of battle scars, and was covered in sharp cactus needles. In some places, these needles were tightly woven in and out of the fabric, in other places they were simply sticking straight out. The tent's small awning pole had been pushed out of one of its grommets, into the inside of the tent, and tore through the tent's wall at one point. Both of the main poles were completely free from their Velcro fasteners, and had positioned themselves at similar angles inside the tent. The tent's material was tattered along the ridges where the poles were located, as seen in the photo, above. What a sight it would have been to see the fierce wind attack the tent, force it from the grip of the rocks used to hold it down, then kick it across the plateau, over the hill, and into the fissure. Peering into the tent I could see that my sleeping mats had weathered the journey unscathed, and my tent stuff sack and tent stakes where still present. The guy-line I had used to tie the tent down was still in place as well, and none of it had been torn in the least. Carrying the Lighthouse back to camp was no picnic. The winds were still blowing, and as soon as the tent was exposed to them it started flopping around like a kite. As I struggled to hold it down, I was pierced by several of the cactus needles that were lodged in the tent's fabric. I removed all the poles, carefully folded the tent, and carried it back to camp, where I pitched the tent once more, this time using a tree as one of my anchor points! My wife and I spent two hours picking cactus needles out of the tent's fabric and, as it was dark, we were hardly confident that we had gotten all of them out. Rather than risk our Therm-A-Rest mattresses getting damaged, we elected to sleep on a RidgeRest and a canvass army duffle bag. Lessons Learned:
Black Diamond, to the Rescue: When I got back home from my trip, I immediately contacted Black Diamond's (BD) Customer Service Department. While the damage I experienced wasn't covered under warranty, I wanted to know what options were available to me, as if I were someone who had purchased the tent at my local outfitter. BD said that they could either repair the tent, patching the material and replacing pole segments where necessary, or, if there was extensive damage, they could sell me a replacement tent at wholesale cost. As my tent had torn fabric along areas of high pressure (the ridge that each pole presses against), in addition to bent poles, a fist sized hole, and fabric that, at one time, had almost a thousand cactus thorns through it, I thought it prudent to get a replacement. Now, my tent wasn't bought retail, but supplied free of charge by Black Diamond as part of the BackpackGearTest program. However, I would NOT be getting a second tent for free. Black Diamond generously offered me the same opportunity as if I were a paying customer. My purchasing a replacement was certainly not required of me as a BackpackGearTest tester, and I could have simply concluded my test. However, my wife and I really like this tent as a two-person shelter... it's more like a "home" to us. So, we decided to go ahead and get another Lighthouse.
In my Field report, I mentioned how the seam sealer that I applied to the Lighthouse had started falling off in places. In my Initial Report I wrote about how I had used the supplied irrigation syringe to "run a small bead of SilNet directly down the center of ALL exterior seams," per BD instructions. This process resulted in the sealer taking on the appearance of a bathroom-calking job and, after a few trips, it had split and flaked off in places. With a new tent at my disposal, I could try another approach. I used the syringe supplied by Black Diamond to apply the sealer onto the seams, but then quickly went up and down over it, "painting" the sealer into the seams with a quarter inch wide (6 mm) angled sponge. This technique resulted in a flat application of seam sealer, which, once dry, looked more like tape than caulk. While the result didn't look as pretty as the original "caulking," it has already lasted longer than the initial technique I used.
Burning Down the House: Due to consumer protection regulations (tents must be self-extinguishing), tents made from Epic material can't legally be sold in, or shipped to, certain states (California, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, New Jersey, and New York). Epic-based tents are also not available for sale in Canada. With a trashed tent at my disposal, and my curiosity piqued, I took a lit match to the hole torn into my original Lighthouse by the awning pole. The material caught fire pretty quick, and the flames expanded without pause. The effect was not unlike burning a leaf. All this boils down to a few precautions that should be taken with any tent - don't pitch tents next to raging, ember spewing, campfires, and don't cook inside of a tent. In fact, the Lighthouse has a tag inside it with a disclaimer that reads, in part, that it "will burn if it comes in contact with any flame source." That said, I do cook under the vestibule of the Lighthouse, using an alcohol stove that, by its nature, cannot "flare up." At the same time, I pour water on the ground before putting my alcohol stove on it and watch the pot until the flame has completely extinguished. I also have a source of water on hand to extinguish any duff around the stove that might catch fire.
Did I Mention Stakes?: The Lighthouse tent comes with six stakes. This allows the user to stake it down, under favorable conditions, along six anchor points, located at the base of each corner and at the center of the front and rear walls, where the bathtub floor seam meets the tent's Epic canopy. There are also four supplemental tie-out points, found along each corner seam, that exert force at about the halfway point of the tent's peak height. After receiving my replacement tent, I was able to, once again, experience a few nights where winds exceeded 40 MPH (65 KPH). This time, the tent was not left unattended - instead, I was in the tent trying to get some sleep. I started out lying in the tent next to my wife, without any of stakes in place. As soon as the winds hit the walls of the Lighthouse, the corners of the tent started lifting, the poles deflected inwards, and the tips of the poles jumped in and out of the corner "snaps." I quickly staked out the tent along its six floor-level anchor points. While staking the tent down prevented the poles from jumping in and out of their corner "snaps," and in general kept the footprint of the floor from contracting, the poles continued to deflect inward. I found that I needed to also stake the tent out using it's four supplemental tie-out points and, as a result of this experience, I feel that the Lighthouse user should, at the very least, plan on carrying a complement of eight stakes - four for the corner points, and four to be used during periods of high winds to guy out the supplemental tie-out points. When setting up in high-winds, users should consider using the same techniques as described for pitching the Lighthouse in the rain, above.
Living in the Lighthouse:
My Own Additions: I've been able to run a line through the four "gear attic" loops along the ceiling of the tent and successfully use it as a convenient clothesline. I've also cut a 72 x 80 inch (183 x 203 cm) section of Tyvek HouseWrap for use as a ground cloth. The Tyvek is large enough to protect the floor of the tent, with enough left over to provide a small ground tarp beneath the vestibule. When I leave the vestibule at home, I just fold the extra Tyvek back on itself and tuck it under the tent. This ground cloth weighs 8.7 oz (247 g) and protects the SilNylon floor from abrasion, as well as from substances such as tree sap and mud.
Durability: My new Lighthouse tent is holding up fine. It still pitches tight as a drum, and I haven't noticed any leakage. I was forced to set up in a rather muddy area one night, and as a result some mud got on the yellow Epic fabric. The cleaning instructions for the Lighthouse specifically state to "never use detergents or liquid soaps of any kind," so I've cleaned it the best I could, using the suggested damp sponge with warm water technique. For the most part the mud washed off, but I know where it was and, if I look carefully, I can still see a residual stain on the material. I've also noticed that packing a wet tent can result in moisture getting through the supplied stuff sack, and I've since gone back and sealed the seams of the stuff sack.
Closing Thoughts: I really like the Black Diamond Lighthouse. It's a palace for one, a comfortable, lightweight shelter for two, and a spacious and versatile ultralight shelter for three. If offers lots of headroom, spaciousness, a bright and cheerful interior, and unbelievable amounts of breathability. For two hikers, the interior space, particularly the overall amount of headroom, is a huge bonus. If I could have a tent made to order, the Black Diamond would be close to perfection. After six months of living in the Lighthouse, across a myriad of field conditions, I have a few thoughts with respect to usage and design. Cautions:
Changes I'd like to see in the product:
My stance on the issues:
Personal Biographical Information:
Backpacking Background: I live in Michigan and have been hiking seriously for 15 years, although I've camped since I was 6 years old. I consider myself a lightweight hiker. I carry the lightest gear I can get my hands on which will provide a comfortable wilderness experience and adequately support the goals of my trip. Unless my goals are time/distance oriented, my pace is always slow. I rarely exceed 1.5 miles (2.4 km)/hour. I rest frequently, hike long days, and enjoy whatever nature throws my way. Read more reviews of Black Diamond gear Read more gear reviews by Andrew Mytys Reviews > Shelters > Tents > Black Diamond Lighthouse Tent > Andy Mytys > Long Term Report | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
The Black Diamond Lighthouse is a single-walled, free-standing dome tent made primarily of a breathable, water resistant, fabric (Epic by Nextec). It has a bathtub style floor made of waterproof silicone-impregnated 30d Ripstop nylon (SilNylon). A SilNylon vestibule, which is an optional accessory specifically designed for the Lighthouse tent, has also been provided for the purposes of this test.
The Lighthouse is a freestanding tent, yet Black Diamond insists that users install stakes, as the tent can be dragged by even "modest winds." In my
Being in the desert southwest, there wasn't much to block the wind. The terrain facing windward was flat and unobstructed, and the terrain on the leeward side was similar, with hills jutting up fifty feet (15 m) into the air off in the distance. Beyond these hills, the terrain turned into a series of deep crevasses, as if the hill was really the base of a large mesa, the plateau of which had been eroded over the eons into countless vertical cracks. There was no sign of my Lighthouse between camp and the base of the hill - its bright yellow color would have stood out for sure. If the wind had indeed blown the tent in the direction I had thought, it was almost unbelievable that the tent would have been blown up the hill, given the steep angle of the rise. If the tent had made it to the top of the hill, it could just as easily have kept blowing with the wind, unhindered, and, as one hiker put it, "been halfway to Colorado by now." On the other hand, it could have fallen into any number of cracks... but which one? Without a birds-eye view, I would have to resort to dumb luck. Making matters worse, there were few established trails heading off into the likely direction that the Lighthouse flew in, and going off-trail was not a viable option as the land was covered in biological soil crusts, organic matter that can take over 100 years to re-grow a mere eighth of an inch (< 5 mm) of damage.
