“Skins, skis, boots, backpack, stove, tent, fuel, sunglasses, helmet…oh shit, my gloves!”
My ski partner Carl and I are rolling through Packwood, Washington, the last outpost on our way to Mt. Adams, one of Washington’s five volcanoes and the site of numerous great ski descents. Three hours into the drive, and I’ve just failed my mental pat-down. Can you blame me, though? It’s July 4th weekend—my ski gear is no longer sitting perpetually half-packed by the door, and my mind has long since shifted to summer mode. My hasty load-up for this last-minute lunge toward volcano corn has left me without any form of gloves.
Luckily, the Packwood gas station has precisely what I need.
My love affair with gas station gloves started in college. It was a powder day at Alpental just outside of Seattle, and I’d forgotten my ski gloves at home. Thankfully, I was trading odd jobs and carpentry work at the resort for my pass that year, and there were always a pair or two of soiled work gloves in the trunk of my car. On this day, one of those pairs got called up to the big leagues. The dirt-brown streaks I left on the snow from my hand drags made my tracks comically distinguishable from the rest of the pack, but my digits stayed warm and dry. I was onto something.
Since then, I've experimented with just about every glove available at the hardware store or gas station, so I knew just what to look for in Packwood. The glove rack in the service station had the usual suspects, and I grabbed two pairs that day: the first, an ultralight, breathable Atlas 370 work glove with just enough protection against abrasive ice; the second, a completely waterproof Superdex Pro Plus with the breathability of a plastic bag. My total was under $25, including some chicken strips and the 24-ounce Modelo Michelada I’d somehow forgotten to pack.
These days, I live in another small mountain town a few hours north of Packwood, and between my work as a carpenter and spending winters on sleds and skis, I burn through a few pairs of ski gloves every season. It doesn’t seem to matter whether they’re graced with name brands like Outdoor Research and Black Diamond or found on a rack at the local hardware store—hard use is hard use. The upside is that I get to test a lot of gloves, and over time I’ve learned exactly what separates a pair that lasts dozens of ski days from one that falls apart halfway through the season without breaking the bank. Here’s how these stack up.
The Great Gas-Station Ski-Glove Test
Around the time of my first gardening-glove pow day, I was already privy to another work glove that was making its way onto the ski hill: the Kinco insulated leather work glove. You’ve seen Kincos on everyone in the resort, from dirtbags to dads. But despite this glove’s popularity, it doesn’t meet my needs for ski touring. Sure, it makes for a great in-bounds glove, but it’s too hot for the skintrack and too clumsy for basic tasks to be a solid backcountry tool. I still keep a pair of Kincos waxed up and in rotation, but mostly they reside in the bottom of a dry bag in my sled, pulled out on those rare occasions when my other gloves are soaked through. And, at around $30 each, they’re not the cheapest option, either.
In my search for a daily driver workhorse glove, I’ve been through many pairs that look like the ones I picked up in Packwood—breathable knit backs and just a touch of grip and protection on the palms and fingers. I’ve also found a favorite spring touring glove in a Kinco work glove with a leather palm and airy fabric back. In the colder months though, I reach for the classic gardener glove’s more insulated brethren, headlined by names like Chilly grip and Frostbreaker. These models are more impervious to both water and wind and usually feature a fleecy warm liner. A favorite model of mine is the Kinco Hydroflector, which comes in easy-to-find safety yellow, features a downy-soft poly-wool blend interior, and is completely waterproof.
With these types of gas station gloves, waterproofness and breathability are always at odds—the more you go in one direction, the less you’ll get in the other. If you’re at the last stop on your way to the pass and it's 36 degrees and nuking fat flakes, a pair of the Kinco HydroFlectors will keep you dry from the outside—but you’d better grab two, as the glove’s thick latex fortress will have you sweating through the poly-wool liners before the lifties load first chair.
That said, at 9 bucks a pop, doubling down doesn’t hurt too bad, and the impenetrability is welcome for low-exertion slogs and general winter wear. I brought a pair on a recent trip on Glacier Peak where we pushed through four days of drizzle, downpour, and whiteout to ski powder off the north face in a miraculous three-hour window of sun. There, I was glad for the no-holds-barred waterproofing when external humidity was at 110%.
Another top contender entered my rotation with the introduction of the Showa Temres 282-02, the mountaineer’s reappropriation of a classic deep-sea fishing glove. (Kudos to Showa for hearing the clamor from the landlubber community and adding a gauntlet to this glove.) With 100% waterproofing and light insulation in an ultralight construction, these gloves are a workhorse—while they last. Unfortunately, the Temres is immune to neither the waterproof-breathability paradox nor the rigors of the ski-bum life. On top of all that, a pair runs around $30 and is not as widely available as others—you’ll likely have to buy them online.
I’ve essentially settled into a rhythm of constant renewal and decay with a series of the gloves I’ve just mentioned, replacing my daily drivers as needed and using the patched-up walking wounded as backups. However, there’s one model that is the crème de la gas station crème, which has become this carpenter and backcountry traveler’s all-time favorite.
Gas Station GOAT: The Milwaukee Red Level 3
At my day job as a builder, I generally dislike wearing gloves due to the loss of dexterity. Fishing for a nail in my tool belt in an ill-fitting pair can have me throwing them off the scaffolding in a huff. I’ve found one option now, though, that I can tolerate wearing through even the most tedious and fiddly of tasks—and which transitions seamlessly to backcountry skiing: the Milwaukee Red Nitrile Level 3 Cut Resistant Dipped Glove. As soon as the Milwaukee Red came into my work life, it also became my new go-to for touring. It’s not $9 like the HydroFlector, but, at $10.88 at Home Depot, it doesn’t exactly break the bank.
On paper, the Milwaukee is not entirely waterproof like the Showa Temres, but in the field, that doesn’t seem to matter. The latex covering most of the glove is supple and extremely grippy, and its dual-layered body is so elastic that it allows a gapless, tight fit when you put it on. That draft-free fit to your hand provides sealed-in warmth, like a wetsuit, and the interior is impressively cozy.
Even when entirely soaked on day four of our Glacier Peak traverse, this glove kept my fingers warm and toasty while continually wicking moisture away from my hands in an otherwise fully saturated environment—that’s the main benefit of not being fully waterproof. In those conditions, most ski gloves would deteriorate as you peeled them off sticky, sodden digits. The nature of the Milwaukee’s build made for easy on and off, even when my fingers were so pruned that it felt like my skin itself might come off alongside the glove.
Beyond this ultra-soggy test, this Clifford-red glove has withstood all sorts of deep winter use, from snowmobiling to skinning. It’s not the warmest option, particularly when windchill is a factor (this is true of all rubber-skinned gloves—the latex simply conducts cold straight to your hand), but at 20 degrees and above in dry-ish conditions, it’s more than sufficient for downhill skiing and sledding.
Likewise, the Milwaukee is not a fully waterproof glove, but it sure plays one on TV. When new, it performs about as well as the many pairs of “waterproof” leather gloves I’ve owned that advertised themselves as such. It’s not complicated, but it is the most comfortable, wearable, breathable, and un-bothersome glove I’ve worn in this category. I’d go so far as to say that it has a better dexterity-to-warmth-and-waterproofness ratio than any finely-tooled leather glove labeled “Guide,” “Pro,” “Patrol,” or any other such expense-affirming title. All for less than $11.
So, as winter settles into the hills and your go-bag by the door changes form, fear not the forgotten glove in the mad dash for first turns—the local Shell station has you covered. Last year, on day one, I forgot my boots; they don't sell those at the gas station. With any hope, you’re a better planner than I am and won’t be finding new favorites by necessity. At any rate, I’m happy to share the wisdom and pass along the Milwaukee Reds. And if you choose to take my endorsement and dive in headfirst, they come in a six-pack for $50. A pair in every glove box could keep you from an extra stop in Packwood.
powder to the people
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