When I was in college, we went on a weekend camping trip and a friend actually packed in a dutch oven. We were camping far from any roads and had seen him struggling with a huge and heavy pack, but we didn't think too much on it as it was not on our backs. ::
Once we were at our planned campsite, we unpacked and he brought out this huge chink of iron. We all snickered but nobody said anything partly because we figured that he might have some great recipe in mind.
A couple came along shortly and lingered at our site -- apparently they had hoped to use the same location, but there was another good one nearby. When they saw that dutch oven they laughed openly (No stomache incentive to be polite, ya know!) and commenced to calling him iron pot for the rest of the weekend. This handle stuck with this poor fella for many years until he escaped to Alaska. Come to think of it, he had lots of names for a fella with such a supposedly high IQ.
On the other hand, he cooked a pretty fair cobbler in the huge chunk of metal and it did okay for breakfast, although my little fry pan would have done well for that. (But then I didn't have to do it.)
Nope, I think that I will leave the cast iron in the base camp. I have enough handles for now thank you.
CS