- Written by Mat Young. Outdoor Professional, Tasmania Guide, and an Ambassador for K2 Base Camp. -
Tested in Tassy - Prana Stretch Zion Top-Out Pants Review
I didn’t retire my old Ferosi pants because I wanted to.
They were still hanging on in the way that good gear does; faded, ripped & worn out, but fitted perfectly for how I move. The kind of kit you learn to count on. Ultimately, a big tear and a failed patch job made the decision for me. They were done.
So when K2 sent me a pair of Prana Stretch Zion Top-Out Pants at the start of summer, I was dubious. Not because they looked bad, but because replacing something that’s been quietly reliable for years can be hard to do. How could these live up to that? I’d find out soon enough. Dolerite and scoparia don’t really care what something is designed for, they’ll destroy anything not made to last.
This summer I’ve been climbing a lot, mostly around Ben Lomond, Mt Blackwood summit, and the Gorge, with a few days out at Freycinet and the Pipes. Nothing particularly noteworthy, just consistent days out on rock that tends to be rough, awkward, and generally unforgiving.
Mobility and comfort matter in these places. Product descriptions aside, you need to use a product in its intended environment to know if it’s actually going to work. To know whether you notice it halfway through a long pitch, when you’re slightly pumped, stemming wide, and trying to commit to a move that’s just burly enough to make you hesitate.
I had a day out on Rock-a-day-Johnny at Ben Lomond in mid-March that summed it up pretty well. Six pitches up a spur of dolerite columns, alpine in character and adventurous, with varied climbing such that you end up stemming, chimneying and generally using whatever movement works to get up it. It’s the sort of climbing that exposes weak points in gear - and technique - pretty quickly.
Somewhere around the fourth pitch, I realised I hadn’t adjusted the waistband once. No hitching them up under the harness, no restriction high-stepping, no catching on anything. They’d just… disappeared. Something that speaks volumes for the functionality of any gear.
By the end of the season, you’d expect to see some signs of wear, scuffs, maybe a thread starting to go from scraping past rough edges and grovelling up wide cracks. I’m not a particularly graceful climber, so they’ve had their share of contact with rock. But they’ve handled it well.
That’s probably been the most noticeable thing over the last few months. Not that they’re exceptionally comfortable (they are), or particularly technical, but that they don’t become a factor.
Whether it’s granite slabs at Freycinet, steep sport at the paradiso, or the more abrasive dolerite up in the mountains, they’ve just kept doing what they’re supposed to do without drawing attention to themselves.
If there’s a downside, it’s that like most durable fabrics, they can run a little warm on still days. It hasn’t been a dealbreaker, but it’s noticeable if you’re baking in the sun between pitches. That said, they dry quickly and haven’t held onto moisture in any meaningful way, which counts for more over the course of a full day out.
Good gear isn’t really about how it feels at the start of the day. It’s about what you’re not thinking about many hours in. When your focus narrows to movement, to the next placement, to the line above you, and everything else fades into the background you don’t want to be faffing around with dysfunctional gear.
I didn’t expect to replace my old Ferosi’s this easily. But after a full Tasmanian summer of climbing, these have taken their place without much fuss.
And that’s probably the best thing I can say about them.