Rucksack Covers: Solving Wet Gear by Carrying More Stuff

The fundamental premise of the rucksack cover is beyond reproach. Rain makes things wet. Waterproof fabric stops rain. Therefore, wrapping your rucksack in waterproof fabric stops your things getting wet. It's the sort of flawless logic that makes you wonder why anyone would do anything else.

The reality, as anyone who's attempted to deploy one on a windswept ridge will tell you, is rather different. What should be a simple protective measure becomes an undignified wrestling match with what amounts to a very large shower cap. The wind catches it. It inflates like a balloon. Your rucksack becomes a sail, and you become acutely aware that you're now carrying something whose primary function appears to be increasing your surface area in a gale.

The Theory Bit

Rucksack covers do exactly what they claim to do. They're essentially a shaped piece of waterproof fabric with an elasticated edge that hooks under the bottom of your pack. When properly fitted, they keep the rain off your rucksack. This matters because most rucksacks, even the expensive ones with fancy water-resistant coatings, will eventually let water through in prolonged rain. The zip compartments are particularly vulnerable, as are the areas where straps attach and anywhere the fabric has been compressed against your back for several hours.

The cover creates a barrier between the weather and your pack, and when it works, it works well. You arrive at your destination, whip off the cover, and everything inside is dry. Your tent hasn't absorbed an extra kilogram of water. Your spare clothes remain spare and not repurposed as emergency towels. The sandwiches in your top pocket haven't transformed into a sort of damp pulp. These are legitimate advantages.

The Practice Bit

Of course, you need to actually get the thing onto your rucksack first, which is where the complications begin. In your living room, with no wind and unlimited time, fitting a rucksack cover is straightforward. On a hillside in the Lake District when the weather's coming in sideways and you're already wet because you left it slightly too long before stopping, it's a different proposition entirely.

The cover needs to go over the top of the pack and pull down over the sides and bottom. Simple enough, except rucksacks are three-dimensional objects covered in straps, compression points, and attachments, while the cover is essentially a formless bag that wants to be anywhere except where you're trying to put it. Add wind to this equation and the cover develops what can only be described as opinions. It fills with air. It attempts to escape. You're now engaged in what looks like a fight with an unusually determined jellyfish.

Then there's the timing question. Put it on too early and you're carrying it unnecessarily when the weather's fine. Leave it too late and you're putting a waterproof cover over a rucksack that's already wet, which rather defeats the point. You need to judge the weather like some sort of amateur meteorologist, except you're making this judgment while walking and probably haven't checked a forecast since breakfast.

The Alternative Camp

A vocal contingent of the outdoor community thinks rucksack covers are a solution to a problem that doesn't need solving this way. These people use pack liners instead — essentially a large dry bag that goes inside your rucksack. Everything you actually care about keeping dry goes in the liner. The outside of your pack can get as wet as it likes because it's just fabric and will dry eventually.

This approach has merit. Pack liners don't try to achieve independent flight in strong winds. They don't snag on branches. They can't come off without you noticing. And they arguably do a better job because they're protecting your gear directly rather than relying on the assumption that your rucksack's zips and seams are perfectly sealed under the cover.

The downside is that everything you might want quick access to — snacks, map, waterproofs you're not currently wearing — needs to either go in the liner (requiring you to open and close it repeatedly, compromising the seal) or stay outside it (where it will get wet). There's also something psychologically deflating about watching rain soak into your expensive rucksack while you reassure yourself that it's fine because the stuff inside is protected. It feels wrong, even when it's right.

The Pragmatic Middle Ground

Some people, displaying the sort of logical thinking that probably serves them well in other areas of life, use both. Crucial items go in a liner or in individual dry bags inside the pack. The rucksack cover goes over the outside to minimize how wet the pack itself gets. This is undoubtedly the most sensible approach, which means it involves carrying more stuff and spending more money, and also means both camps can tell you you're overthinking it.

There's also the matter of what you're actually carrying. A day pack with a change of clothes and some lunch doesn't desperately need either solution unless you're particularly precious about damp sandwiches. A multi-day pack full of sleeping bags and spare clothes is a different matter. The consequences of wet gear increase proportionally with how long you're out, because damp things in a rucksack don't really dry — they just gradually make everything else damp through a sort of humid contagion.

What Actually Happens

In practice, most people who own rucksack covers use them sporadically. The cover lives in the bottom pocket of the rucksack or in a stuff sack somewhere, occasionally appearing when the weather forecast looks particularly aggressive or when you remember it exists. Sometimes it stays on for an entire trip. More often it gets deployed with good intentions, then removed when the rain stops, then the rain starts again but you can't be bothered to stop and put it back on, and eventually it goes back in the bottom pocket slightly wetter than when it came out.

The people who really swear by them tend to be those who've had a properly miserable experience with wet gear. Once you've tried to sleep in a tent with a damp sleeping bag while wearing tomorrow's clothes because today's are still wringing wet, you become considerably more motivated to prevent a repeat performance. A rucksack cover starts looking less like unnecessary faff and more like essential insurance.

The Weight Question

Rucksack covers typically weigh between 100 and 300 grams depending on the size of your pack. This is either "basically nothing" or "more than a quarter of a kilo of deadweight" depending on your philosophical approach to pack weight. The ultralight community has Opinions about carrying things that only maybe get used, and those opinions are delivered with the fervor of people who cut the handle off their toothbrush.

For everyone else, a couple of hundred grams is probably fine. It's less than a can of beans. If you're already carrying a camping stove, tent, sleeping bag, and enough supplies for multiple days, the additional weight of a rucksack cover isn't going to be the thing that breaks you. If you are counting every gram, you've probably already had this debate with yourself several times and have reached some sort of conclusion involving a bin liner and careful packing.

Durability and Other Considerations

One advantage rucksack covers have over bin liners and improvised solutions is that they're actually designed for the job. They're made from ripstop fabric, have reinforced attachment points, and generally won't split the first time they encounter a thorn bush. A good one will last years. A cheap one will last until you really need it, at which point it will discover a previously unknown hole.

They also come in bright colors, which serves the dual purpose of making you more visible in poor weather and making it immediately obvious when you've forgotten to put it back on your pack. There's nothing quite like the sinking feeling of reaching for your cover in the rain and realizing it's still draped over that fence post where you left it drying three miles back.

The Verdict (Such As It Is)

Rucksack covers work. They keep your pack dry in wet weather, which is what they're meant to do. Whether you actually need one depends on where you walk, how long you're out for, how waterproof your rucksack is, how much you care about weight, and how you feel about fighting with nylon in the wind.

They're not essential in the way that, say, waterproof clothing is essential. Plenty of people manage perfectly well without them. But they're useful in the way that lots of non-essential gear is useful — most of the time you don't think about them, but occasionally they prevent a situation from being significantly worse than it needed to be.

If you do a lot of multi-day trips in reliably wet places, or if you've already experienced the specific misery of soaked gear, you'll probably find them worthwhile. If you mostly do day walks in reasonable weather, you can probably spend the money on something else. Either way, at least one person will tell you you're doing it wrong.

Still Pondering Your Pack?

We rather hope you've found this useful, or at least mildly entertaining. We've got quite a collection of these "do you actually need that?" guides, examining the gear that sits in the uncertain territory between essential and excessive. Here are a few to get you started.

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And we don't just write about equipment decisions and gear anxiety. There's a whole world of outdoor content here covering routes, skills, destinations, and the sort of practical advice that's actually practical. Have a browse — you might find something useful, or at least something to read while you're putting off actually going outside.

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Frequently Asked Questions

Are pack liners better than rucksack covers?

It depends on what matters most to you. Pack liners don't blow off in wind and protect gear directly, but you lose quick access to things like snacks and maps. Rucksack covers keep the whole pack dry but can be a pain to wrestle on in bad weather.

How much does a rucksack cover weigh?

Between 100 and 300 grams depending on the size of your pack. That's less than a can of beans, so it's not a huge burden unless you're really into ultralight hiking and counting every gram.

Why is it so hard to put a rucksack cover on in the wind?

Because it's essentially a large, formless piece of fabric that catches air and inflates like a balloon when you're trying to stretch it over a three-dimensional pack covered in straps. In strong wind, it genuinely tries to escape.