While we were reporting a destinations article on Breaks Interstate Park for Get Out!, photographer Attila Horvath and I situated ourselves at the Towers Overlook above the Russell Fork, which is the whitewater run that snakes its way through the park.
As we sat at the overlook, the fog lifted like a stage curtain and it revealed a view complete with an oxbow in the river, which cuts the steep gorge. I asked Attila how deep he thought the valley was at that point. “Let’s see,” he replied, “Seneca (Rocks) is about 900 feet above the valley …”
I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was. First, what’s a good point of reference? For us, Seneca Rocks, WV is a good reference point for 1,000 feet – Seneca’s South Peak is about 900 feet above the river and we are intimately familiar with the rocks, since we’ve started at the bottom, topped out, and returned to the bottom so many times.
The Russell Fork Gorge was definitely less than 1,000 feet. Here’s why I asked: As I did research on the Russell Fork Gorge before we arrived, repeated reports assessed the depth of the gorge at 1,600 feet, which it was clearly not. So what’s the deal?
Upon our return home, I went back to the web where I got the 1,600 feet number. But this time I went to usgs.gov and pulled up a topo of the Russell Fork right where it flows by Towers Overlook. The elevation of Towers Overlook is 1,600 feet. So if the river were at sea level then yes, the gorge would be 1,600 feet deep. But the river’s closer to 1,000 feet in elevation there – making the gorge closer to 600 feet deep at that spot.
What’s the take-home message here? Two things. First, as a reporter I am troubled by anyone (especially if that anyone is me) taking information from a source – in this case “source” being a random webpage – and repeating the information without fact checking it.
But more important to outdoor adventure, I have to wonder how many people know the difference between 600 feet and 1,600 feet. If you regularly walk, paddle, bike, climb, rappel, swim, etc. then hopefully you’ve learned a thing or two about distance, whether vertical or horizontal.
It’s not just important for all of us to get outside. It’s important for us to pay attention while we’re there. Sometimes it’s a matter of safety (“I didn’t see the wasp nest/cliff/bear”) and sometimes it’s a matter of ground truthing.
Ground truthing is a cartography term for taking remote data – usually something like satellite data – and hitting the ground to compare that data to reality.
But think of all the applications for ground truthing. When you hear about something, see something online, read something in a magazine, you should be able to compare it to the real world and know whether the information you received is correct. But unless you get out and pay attention, you can’t do it.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Macho BS in Outdoor Sports
Last time my partner and I were climbing at the New River Gorge, we decided to try some new routes, so we cracked opened the guidebook. We wanted to hit high quality routes, so we looked for a star rating next to the route name. We chose some 5.6s and 5.7s. For those of you who don’t climb, that’s on a 5.0-5.15 scale. Routinely, the guidebook rated each moderate route – every one an aesthetic crack climb easy to protect and requiring some technical skill – “good for its grade.” Meaning: good but … But what? Good if you can’t handle the harder stuff? Good if you’re having an off day? Good enough for shitty-ass climbers like yourself? Good but I can’t admit it if I regularly climb 5.12? “Good for its grade” is never in the description for harder routes.
Well I’ve been on a multi-pitch 5.6 route at Seneca Rocks that beat every single (all right, the very few) 5.11s I’ve ever climbed. And guess what? I don’t feel like I have to make excuses for climbing a route that I thoroughly enjoy, whatever the rating.
But that’s me. I am willing to avoid, ignore, overlook and occasionally push back against the macho bullshit that surrounds so much of the outdoor adventure world. I’ve been one-upped on how cold it was that night camping, how many mosquito bites I endured, how many peaks I’ve bagged and the rating of the route I climbed that day. I even confess that I’ve gotten caught up in macho bullshit from time to time, always regretting it after the fact.
Although many outdoor adventures can be pursued individually, most of us enjoy the camaraderie of our fellow thrill-seekers. In fact, I think a good fish story is something to enjoy around the campfire. But let’s keep in mind that macho bullshit puts people off of our sports and our community. According to the Outdoor Industry Association, 43 percent of outdoor participants are female. They don’t further break down the numbers, but let’s look at the more macho sports – rock climbing, whitewater kayaking, mountain biking – and the number of women participating is clearly less. I see it (and lament it) every time I go out. Then there are the people who are intimidated because they’re overweight. Or because they can’t keep up with the blowhards. Or they don’t want to get tips on form from the gearhead whose ass they’re passing this very moment on the bike path.*
The point is this: cut the macho bullshit, or at least keep it to a minimum and keep it entertaining. You – and you know who you are, including the guy who wrote “good for its grade” in the guidebook – aren’t doing anybody any favors, including yourself.
*True story. The sprayer had to cut short his advice session as the advisee blew past.
Well I’ve been on a multi-pitch 5.6 route at Seneca Rocks that beat every single (all right, the very few) 5.11s I’ve ever climbed. And guess what? I don’t feel like I have to make excuses for climbing a route that I thoroughly enjoy, whatever the rating.
But that’s me. I am willing to avoid, ignore, overlook and occasionally push back against the macho bullshit that surrounds so much of the outdoor adventure world. I’ve been one-upped on how cold it was that night camping, how many mosquito bites I endured, how many peaks I’ve bagged and the rating of the route I climbed that day. I even confess that I’ve gotten caught up in macho bullshit from time to time, always regretting it after the fact.
Although many outdoor adventures can be pursued individually, most of us enjoy the camaraderie of our fellow thrill-seekers. In fact, I think a good fish story is something to enjoy around the campfire. But let’s keep in mind that macho bullshit puts people off of our sports and our community. According to the Outdoor Industry Association, 43 percent of outdoor participants are female. They don’t further break down the numbers, but let’s look at the more macho sports – rock climbing, whitewater kayaking, mountain biking – and the number of women participating is clearly less. I see it (and lament it) every time I go out. Then there are the people who are intimidated because they’re overweight. Or because they can’t keep up with the blowhards. Or they don’t want to get tips on form from the gearhead whose ass they’re passing this very moment on the bike path.*
The point is this: cut the macho bullshit, or at least keep it to a minimum and keep it entertaining. You – and you know who you are, including the guy who wrote “good for its grade” in the guidebook – aren’t doing anybody any favors, including yourself.
*True story. The sprayer had to cut short his advice session as the advisee blew past.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Privacy in the Outdoors
I remember vividly the photo in the gear catalog: Someone cozily tucked in to their tent with the copy (paraphrasing), “You can’t get junk mail here.” That captures for many of us why we desire wilderness. No junk mail. No e-mail. No phone calls.
Google recently announced that it will start taking images of bike paths and hiking trails as part of its Street View option on Google Maps. But do we really want Google taking images of trails? What’s the idea behind that? To look at the trail on your iPhone instead of hiking it? To look at images of the trail while you’re hiking it? Absurd.
More importantly, what does this mean for privacy? In our regular lives, there is no privacy. A camera takes a picture of you driving or walking across the street. You can always be tracked down via your cell phone. Google knows what websites you’ve been searching, what books you’ve purchased online and who knows what else about you.
I go to the backcountry (even the frontcountry) to get away from that. To not be found. To not be accessible. To the take the road less traveled. To have privacy. If I get mauled by a bear and can’t call 911 on my cell phone, well, that’s the chance I take. And that’s the excitement of it.
The last thing I want to see when I’m setting up camp is a Google tricycle riding by with a video camera. I don’t want to see my tent via satellite image on Google Earth. I want one place in this world where technology can’t intrude on my privacy. Maybe it’s time to write clauses into our wilderness management plans excluding information gathering by government or corporations in wilderness areas.
Google recently announced that it will start taking images of bike paths and hiking trails as part of its Street View option on Google Maps. But do we really want Google taking images of trails? What’s the idea behind that? To look at the trail on your iPhone instead of hiking it? To look at images of the trail while you’re hiking it? Absurd.
More importantly, what does this mean for privacy? In our regular lives, there is no privacy. A camera takes a picture of you driving or walking across the street. You can always be tracked down via your cell phone. Google knows what websites you’ve been searching, what books you’ve purchased online and who knows what else about you.
I go to the backcountry (even the frontcountry) to get away from that. To not be found. To not be accessible. To the take the road less traveled. To have privacy. If I get mauled by a bear and can’t call 911 on my cell phone, well, that’s the chance I take. And that’s the excitement of it.
The last thing I want to see when I’m setting up camp is a Google tricycle riding by with a video camera. I don’t want to see my tent via satellite image on Google Earth. I want one place in this world where technology can’t intrude on my privacy. Maybe it’s time to write clauses into our wilderness management plans excluding information gathering by government or corporations in wilderness areas.
Friday, July 17, 2009
The Perfect Campground
Have you ever thought of opening your own campground just so you could do it right? I have. Too many campgrounds have been designed (if they’ve been designed at all) by people who don’t use them. I think the only perfect campground in the Ohio River region exists in my mind’s eye.
Let’s start with why we choose to go to a campground. There are usually two main reasons: price and convenience. A backcountry site is often free and better than a campground, so a campground is not really competing with a backcountry site. It’s competing with and beating a hotel on price – usually. Some of the worst “campgrounds” – RV ghettoes – are some of the most expensive. I once pulled into a KOA out of desperation and a “campsite” was $54! No thanks.
But really, we usually camp for the experience of being outdoors or to launch our hiking/mountain biking/rappelling/paddling/geocaching/whatever adventures. Here’s my starter list for the perfect campground:
Privacy. At the perfect campground, you should be barely aware that anyone else is camping nearby. This means you can’t see or hear other campers. When it comes to most state park campgrounds, let’s start with halving the number of campsites.
Setting. A campground should be in or next to the woods. An open meadow is also great for landscape diversity, stargazing, firefly watching and Frisbee tossing (think Seneca Shadows campground in the Mon). A nearby body of water, whether it’s a river or a lake, is a must. Campsites atop a ridge are another good option, provided they have a view. Finally, an ideal campground is one where you can park your car and never get in it again till you leave because trailhead access is so close.
Humans over cars. At Cumberland Island National Seashore, you take a boat to the island and there are a handful of garden carts waiting for you at the dock. You throw your camping gear in and walk it a quarter mile or so to the campground. You will never hear car wheels or a car stereo, nor will you be awakened by headlights in the middle of the night. Sweet.
A good place for your tent. Nobody wants to pitch their tent in a mud puddle or on a concrete slab (I’ve had to do both). Is there anyone reading this who does not have a bent-in-half tent stake? For lightly used campsites, grass is nice, and for heavily used campsites, those level pads with crushed limestone or small gravel do the trick.
Good infrastructure. The perfect campsite has an attractive, clean wooden outdoor solar shower and a high-tech composting toilet (that is, one that doesn’t stink – they do exist). Nobody’s site is between the other sites and the shower/bath house. I like the idea of having a fire ring at each campsite and a communal fire ring for campers who want to hang out with other people. (Think of the communal fire ring at Miguel’s in the Red River Gorge. In stark contrast to the rest of the campground. What a shithole. But the pizza’s good!) A shared shelter is good for bad weather days. A well-sited sink and spigot will allow you to wash your dishes and clean the mud off of your shoes without creating a whole new cesspool in its wake.
A good pet policy. For many pet owners, there’s nothing more fun than camping with their best friend. For many pet and non-pet owners, there’s nothing less fun than listening to another camper’s dog bark morning, noon and night. The perfect campground has a clearly defined pet policy – whether it caters to pets or restricts them.
Programming. As long as we’re talking perfect, how ’bout a campground that has some programming – nature hikes and stargazing for starters. Maybe they can get fancy with backcountry cooking courses or campfire songs (not cheesy ones!).
What constitutes your perfect campground?
Let’s start with why we choose to go to a campground. There are usually two main reasons: price and convenience. A backcountry site is often free and better than a campground, so a campground is not really competing with a backcountry site. It’s competing with and beating a hotel on price – usually. Some of the worst “campgrounds” – RV ghettoes – are some of the most expensive. I once pulled into a KOA out of desperation and a “campsite” was $54! No thanks.
But really, we usually camp for the experience of being outdoors or to launch our hiking/mountain biking/rappelling/paddling/geocaching/whatever adventures. Here’s my starter list for the perfect campground:
Privacy. At the perfect campground, you should be barely aware that anyone else is camping nearby. This means you can’t see or hear other campers. When it comes to most state park campgrounds, let’s start with halving the number of campsites.
Setting. A campground should be in or next to the woods. An open meadow is also great for landscape diversity, stargazing, firefly watching and Frisbee tossing (think Seneca Shadows campground in the Mon). A nearby body of water, whether it’s a river or a lake, is a must. Campsites atop a ridge are another good option, provided they have a view. Finally, an ideal campground is one where you can park your car and never get in it again till you leave because trailhead access is so close.
Humans over cars. At Cumberland Island National Seashore, you take a boat to the island and there are a handful of garden carts waiting for you at the dock. You throw your camping gear in and walk it a quarter mile or so to the campground. You will never hear car wheels or a car stereo, nor will you be awakened by headlights in the middle of the night. Sweet.
A good place for your tent. Nobody wants to pitch their tent in a mud puddle or on a concrete slab (I’ve had to do both). Is there anyone reading this who does not have a bent-in-half tent stake? For lightly used campsites, grass is nice, and for heavily used campsites, those level pads with crushed limestone or small gravel do the trick.
Good infrastructure. The perfect campsite has an attractive, clean wooden outdoor solar shower and a high-tech composting toilet (that is, one that doesn’t stink – they do exist). Nobody’s site is between the other sites and the shower/bath house. I like the idea of having a fire ring at each campsite and a communal fire ring for campers who want to hang out with other people. (Think of the communal fire ring at Miguel’s in the Red River Gorge. In stark contrast to the rest of the campground. What a shithole. But the pizza’s good!) A shared shelter is good for bad weather days. A well-sited sink and spigot will allow you to wash your dishes and clean the mud off of your shoes without creating a whole new cesspool in its wake.
A good pet policy. For many pet owners, there’s nothing more fun than camping with their best friend. For many pet and non-pet owners, there’s nothing less fun than listening to another camper’s dog bark morning, noon and night. The perfect campground has a clearly defined pet policy – whether it caters to pets or restricts them.
Programming. As long as we’re talking perfect, how ’bout a campground that has some programming – nature hikes and stargazing for starters. Maybe they can get fancy with backcountry cooking courses or campfire songs (not cheesy ones!).
What constitutes your perfect campground?
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
What's Up With Girl Scouts?
I had the pleasure of taking a 9-year-old girl on her first rock climbing outing last weekend at the Hocking State Forest Rock Climbing and Rappelling Area. Then I had the – well, I wouldn’t say pleasure – of seeing her Junior Girl Scout Badge Book.
Flipping through the guide, I truly couldn’t believe some of what I saw. Did you know that young Girl Scouts can earn a badge for Looking Your Best? I am not making this up. The actual sew-on badge features a hairbrush, a comb and a mirror. Then here’s the badge big oil somehow managed to get into the Girl Scout curriculum: Oil Up. The badge is an oil derrick and it only goes downhill from there. (In fairness, the guide has a photo of a bear with spilled crude oil on her fur. She is definitely not looking her best.)
It’s not all bad, of course. There are plenty of standard badges – Swimming, Adventure Sports, Finding Your Way (compass skills) and Being My Best. There are even some progressive elements in the Girl Scout Badge Book – the Car Care badge is pretty cool and the photos feature racially diverse groups of Girl Scouts. My favorite badge? Stress Less – it’s got an image of a hammock on it!
Local Girl Scout councils have as much variation as the badge book. I’ve met Girl Scouts in the field while they were on camping, caving and rock climbing trips. On the other end, my local Girl Scout council one year had a – prepare yourself – mall lock-in. Instead of camping, they had the girls spend the night in the mall. (Those mothers must still have post traumatic stress disorder from the experience.)
What’s the take-home message from all of this? It’s simple: get involved. If you’re an outdoor adventurer, share your skills with young people, especially girls who sometimes don’t have the same access to these skills as boys. You can become a troop leader but you don’t even have to go that far. You can just take a girl out in the woods and teach her – and her friends, her sisters, her brothers – the skills that make outdoor adventure safe and fun.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
What is Adventure?
The tagline for Get Out! magazine is “outdoor adventure in the Ohio River region.” As an outdoor adventurer, I only occasionally ask myself what adventure is. Sometimes it’s like porn: you can’t define it, but you know it when you see it.
According to Merriam-Webster.com, adventure is defined as:
1 a: an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks b: the encountering of risks2: an exciting or remarkable experience 3: an enterprise involving financial risk
It’s interesting that the dictionary definition of adventure largely invokes the word risk. If adventure were strictly defined by risk, then driving a car to the trailhead would be the most adventurous part of your trip (see What Will Really Kill You Outdoors). But there is some truth to that – backpacking in bear country is definitely adventurous and largely because it’s so risky, or at least it feels risky. Ditto whitewater rafting, skydiving, rock climbing, BASE jumping, biking in rush hour traffic and so on.
I’d like to add another word to help define adventure: unknown. Sure, hiking, backpacking and mountain biking are adventurous. Now what about when you go off trail? Isn’t that where the real adventure begins? Rock climbing is adventurous, particularly a first ascent. There are still plenty out there – you need to be prepared with an escape route, but isn’t that exactly why it’s adventurous? (And it doesn’t have to be particularly risky).
I’ve rafted the New River, hiked the Laurel Highlands Trail, camped in bear country and had innumerable other adventures, real adventures. But I’ve also attempted a first ascent or two (first ascents to me and my partners – others have possibly climbed these remote rocks, but it was still unknown territory to us). I’ve found a red eft newt inside a black cup mushroom while hiking off trail on a morel mushroom hunt. I’ve discovered a long-abandoned coal mine while dropping the bike at the paved path and exploring the surrounding countryside.
I met a couple of people in Bloomington, IN who arrived at Indiana University from the East and West coasts. They decided to explore their new home by creating an adventure game for themselves that they call “brownsigning.” They pack a lunch, get in the car and pick a direction on the map and go. Whenever they see a brown sign, they follow it to the historic site/trailhead/oddity/whatever. What’s great about this is that the day begins with pretty much no idea of how it will go or where their route will take them.
Now that’s adventure.
We want to hear about your next adventure. Go to the Get Out! trip report section on our front page and share your story and photo with us.
According to Merriam-Webster.com, adventure is defined as:
1 a: an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks b: the encountering of risks
It’s interesting that the dictionary definition of adventure largely invokes the word risk. If adventure were strictly defined by risk, then driving a car to the trailhead would be the most adventurous part of your trip (see What Will Really Kill You Outdoors). But there is some truth to that – backpacking in bear country is definitely adventurous and largely because it’s so risky, or at least it feels risky. Ditto whitewater rafting, skydiving, rock climbing, BASE jumping, biking in rush hour traffic and so on.
I’d like to add another word to help define adventure: unknown. Sure, hiking, backpacking and mountain biking are adventurous. Now what about when you go off trail? Isn’t that where the real adventure begins? Rock climbing is adventurous, particularly a first ascent. There are still plenty out there – you need to be prepared with an escape route, but isn’t that exactly why it’s adventurous? (And it doesn’t have to be particularly risky).
I’ve rafted the New River, hiked the Laurel Highlands Trail, camped in bear country and had innumerable other adventures, real adventures. But I’ve also attempted a first ascent or two (first ascents to me and my partners – others have possibly climbed these remote rocks, but it was still unknown territory to us). I’ve found a red eft newt inside a black cup mushroom while hiking off trail on a morel mushroom hunt. I’ve discovered a long-abandoned coal mine while dropping the bike at the paved path and exploring the surrounding countryside.
I met a couple of people in Bloomington, IN who arrived at Indiana University from the East and West coasts. They decided to explore their new home by creating an adventure game for themselves that they call “brownsigning.” They pack a lunch, get in the car and pick a direction on the map and go. Whenever they see a brown sign, they follow it to the historic site/trailhead/oddity/whatever. What’s great about this is that the day begins with pretty much no idea of how it will go or where their route will take them.
Now that’s adventure.
We want to hear about your next adventure. Go to the Get Out! trip report section on our front page and share your story and photo with us.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Spark Birds - and Other Sparks
I was trolling through some of the regional outdoor blogs I post on getoutzine.com and came upon this one, from Bird Watcher's Digest: Spark Bird. It's a great concept: what bird sparked your interest in your lifelong pursuit of bird watching?
I knew my answer immediately. When I lived in Colorado, I spent many an afternoon cycling on the roads where the high plains meet the Rocky Mountains. I wasn't a birder at all. Nor was I much interested in the world around me except to play in it. But there was this beautiful - beautiful! - bird song that demanded I listen. Now I am demanding, or at least requesting, that you listen.
Every time I jerked my helmeted head around to see where this song was coming from, a bird with a yellow breast with a big black V was sitting there on the fence. Could spotting it get any easier than that? I borrowed a friend's Peterson's Guide to Western birds and there it was - the Western meadowlark. Now I am only a backyard birder, but the many hours I spend at my desk are happily interrupted by looking at the birds poking around outside. I don't have a life list, but I do have a house list. A serious backyard birder, you could say.
I can also remember the first time I went rock climbing (Pepsi Rocks, Athens, OH), the first time I went whitewater rafting (The Yough, Ohiopyle, PA) and the first time I went backpacking (Dolly Sods, WV). These were all sparks that began a lifetime pursuit of serious outdoor adventure.
Don't underestimate the power of the spark. When you have the opportunity, introduce your favorite outdoor adventure sport to friends and family. Think ahead: if you take them to a beautiful place with nice conditions (spring wildflowers, fall colors), the experience just might spark them to become avid outdoor adventurers. In reverse, a not-so-nice place (proximity isn't everything) during not-so-nice conditions (freezing cold, oppressive heat, mosquitoes) may just turn them off for a lifetime. Choose wisely.
What was your spark? Share it at the Get Out! trip report.
I knew my answer immediately. When I lived in Colorado, I spent many an afternoon cycling on the roads where the high plains meet the Rocky Mountains. I wasn't a birder at all. Nor was I much interested in the world around me except to play in it. But there was this beautiful - beautiful! - bird song that demanded I listen. Now I am demanding, or at least requesting, that you listen.
Every time I jerked my helmeted head around to see where this song was coming from, a bird with a yellow breast with a big black V was sitting there on the fence. Could spotting it get any easier than that? I borrowed a friend's Peterson's Guide to Western birds and there it was - the Western meadowlark. Now I am only a backyard birder, but the many hours I spend at my desk are happily interrupted by looking at the birds poking around outside. I don't have a life list, but I do have a house list. A serious backyard birder, you could say.
I can also remember the first time I went rock climbing (Pepsi Rocks, Athens, OH), the first time I went whitewater rafting (The Yough, Ohiopyle, PA) and the first time I went backpacking (Dolly Sods, WV). These were all sparks that began a lifetime pursuit of serious outdoor adventure.
Don't underestimate the power of the spark. When you have the opportunity, introduce your favorite outdoor adventure sport to friends and family. Think ahead: if you take them to a beautiful place with nice conditions (spring wildflowers, fall colors), the experience just might spark them to become avid outdoor adventurers. In reverse, a not-so-nice place (proximity isn't everything) during not-so-nice conditions (freezing cold, oppressive heat, mosquitoes) may just turn them off for a lifetime. Choose wisely.
What was your spark? Share it at the Get Out! trip report.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Everyone's a Critic
Actually, everyone isn’t a critic, but it can sometimes feel that way. For example, I was once at a party and met a guy who was training to swim around the island of Manhattan. Wow. I was really impressed, excited for him, peppered him with questions about his training regimen, congratulated him in advance for even dipping one toe into the frigid and polluted water.
Then I mentioned the woman (Alison Streeter) who has swum across the English Channel something like 43 times – you know, the chubbiest elite athlete you’ve ever seen. She rocks! His tone turned on a dime and he began to badmouth her for some kind of insanely insignificant point. I think she puts Vaseline between her thighs to prevent chafing or something like that. To him, this all but disqualifies her feats. My mental reaction to his criticism was, what an asshole. My verbal response wasn’t too much nicer, something like, “Yeah, she sucks. Swim the English Channel? Hey, a fish could do that.”
But this isn’t the way I want to talk with a fellow adventure athlete, or anyone for that matter.
Fortunately, I have had the pleasure of interacting with many people who have taught me a thing or two about putting something positive out there. Let me share some of those examples.
A few years ago, I wrote the book Hiking Ohio, part of the FalconGuide series. At the time, just about everyone I knew congratulated me on getting the contract, on writing the book; most of my friends and a lot of strangers came to my book signings. Even more amazing is that, to this day, people will tell me they went on an enjoyable hike recently that they discovered through my book.
Just yesterday, someone took a minute to send an e-mail telling me how much she liked a story she read on Get Out! and that she was adding the site to her favorites.
I’ll be the first to tell you that nothing from Hiking Ohio or Get Out! will become a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, and I’m sure readers recognize this too. But nobody seems to really care about that – most people seem to be happy for someone else who just puts their work or talent out there, which takes time, effort and risk. They aren’t so interested in tearing down the work or effort that others have put forth.
Another thing I’ve noticed is this general sense of encouragement seems to get eroded the further we get from others – especially to the point where they become “other.” When it’s someone we’ve never met, someone we don’t think we have anything in common with, when it’s someone who we have other strange feelings toward – jealousy? fear? – we can go from encouraging to over-the-top critical. I wonder what would happen if that swimmer from the party were to meet the woman who swam the English Channel. Somehow I picture him telling her what a big fan he is. Maybe I’m wrong. But can’t you picture that?
So here’s a new adventure to try: keep it sincere (this is important) and share more encouragement and compliments in the near future. Your encouragement helps others try or stick with a creative project, a hard-to-attain athletic goal, whatever. When they put something out there, they give others tacit permission to do the same.
Then I mentioned the woman (Alison Streeter) who has swum across the English Channel something like 43 times – you know, the chubbiest elite athlete you’ve ever seen. She rocks! His tone turned on a dime and he began to badmouth her for some kind of insanely insignificant point. I think she puts Vaseline between her thighs to prevent chafing or something like that. To him, this all but disqualifies her feats. My mental reaction to his criticism was, what an asshole. My verbal response wasn’t too much nicer, something like, “Yeah, she sucks. Swim the English Channel? Hey, a fish could do that.”
But this isn’t the way I want to talk with a fellow adventure athlete, or anyone for that matter.
Fortunately, I have had the pleasure of interacting with many people who have taught me a thing or two about putting something positive out there. Let me share some of those examples.
A few years ago, I wrote the book Hiking Ohio, part of the FalconGuide series. At the time, just about everyone I knew congratulated me on getting the contract, on writing the book; most of my friends and a lot of strangers came to my book signings. Even more amazing is that, to this day, people will tell me they went on an enjoyable hike recently that they discovered through my book.
Just yesterday, someone took a minute to send an e-mail telling me how much she liked a story she read on Get Out! and that she was adding the site to her favorites.
I’ll be the first to tell you that nothing from Hiking Ohio or Get Out! will become a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, and I’m sure readers recognize this too. But nobody seems to really care about that – most people seem to be happy for someone else who just puts their work or talent out there, which takes time, effort and risk. They aren’t so interested in tearing down the work or effort that others have put forth.
Another thing I’ve noticed is this general sense of encouragement seems to get eroded the further we get from others – especially to the point where they become “other.” When it’s someone we’ve never met, someone we don’t think we have anything in common with, when it’s someone who we have other strange feelings toward – jealousy? fear? – we can go from encouraging to over-the-top critical. I wonder what would happen if that swimmer from the party were to meet the woman who swam the English Channel. Somehow I picture him telling her what a big fan he is. Maybe I’m wrong. But can’t you picture that?
So here’s a new adventure to try: keep it sincere (this is important) and share more encouragement and compliments in the near future. Your encouragement helps others try or stick with a creative project, a hard-to-attain athletic goal, whatever. When they put something out there, they give others tacit permission to do the same.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
What I've Learned About New Year's Resolutions
New Year’s resolutions are a great way to take some time to think about goals for the next year, but there’s reason to be cynical about them. As John Katsares, personal trainer coordinator for Ohio State University’s Recreation and Physical Activity Center says in our article, Make Your New Year’s Weight Loss Resolution Stick, the New Year’s resolution attendance ‘bump’ at fitness centers usually is over by Valentine’s Day.
I have a goal that I’d like to achieve in 2009: climbing in Yosemite. But I face stiff challenges, including fitness (I’ve had some injuries in 2008), time (I launched a magazine in 2008) and money (I launched a magazine in 2008).
But over the course of the last year, I’ve either been reminded of or learned about a few tricks to help me reach my goal. For one, the ultimate motivators are buddies and goals. My 2009 goal is stated and I have two people who want to reach this goal, too. Hopefully, we’ll keep each other on track. We also have mini climbing goals to prepare us for the big one.
I also learned about fitday.com, an online diet and exercise journal. And through an interview I conducted for an upcoming article on nutrition labels, I learned about mypyramid.gov, a comprehensive online form that allows you to track everything you ate today and see how it compares to the food pyramid – that is, how it compares to what you should be eating (according to federal guidelines, anyway, but that’s another story).
I started using mypyramid.gov and learned that my eating habits in the winter are far worse than in the summer – because there’s a lack of fresh food from my garden and diminished fresh food at the farmers market plus a desire to eat carbs and sleep all the time (thanks, seasonal affective disorder). I found it to be both a bit depressing yet the kick in the ass I needed to realize that I can still eat a healthy diet, but I have to try harder this time of year.
I hope these resources will help you reach your goals in 2009, whatever they are.
I have a goal that I’d like to achieve in 2009: climbing in Yosemite. But I face stiff challenges, including fitness (I’ve had some injuries in 2008), time (I launched a magazine in 2008) and money (I launched a magazine in 2008).
But over the course of the last year, I’ve either been reminded of or learned about a few tricks to help me reach my goal. For one, the ultimate motivators are buddies and goals. My 2009 goal is stated and I have two people who want to reach this goal, too. Hopefully, we’ll keep each other on track. We also have mini climbing goals to prepare us for the big one.
I also learned about fitday.com, an online diet and exercise journal. And through an interview I conducted for an upcoming article on nutrition labels, I learned about mypyramid.gov, a comprehensive online form that allows you to track everything you ate today and see how it compares to the food pyramid – that is, how it compares to what you should be eating (according to federal guidelines, anyway, but that’s another story).
I started using mypyramid.gov and learned that my eating habits in the winter are far worse than in the summer – because there’s a lack of fresh food from my garden and diminished fresh food at the farmers market plus a desire to eat carbs and sleep all the time (thanks, seasonal affective disorder). I found it to be both a bit depressing yet the kick in the ass I needed to realize that I can still eat a healthy diet, but I have to try harder this time of year.
I hope these resources will help you reach your goals in 2009, whatever they are.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Use gift giving to get kids outside
I’ve been thinking of what to give my niece and nephews (all under 10) for the holidays. The holiday would be Christmas in their household, but the question applies to all holidays and gift-giving celebrations.
Well I’ve got my own little agenda with this one. They live in a household where they don’t go outside often and they watch a lot of TV. I, of course, want to turn them into environmentalist outdoor lovers and future backpacking, biking, climbing and paddling partners. Plus, I want to lead by example and try to move toward a zero-waste holiday event. Tall order, huh? Here are my best ideas:
1. Vintage outdoor gear. Think about it: what would be more meaningful to you, a new Swiss army knife or the knife your great grandfather used while in the Swiss army? A no brainer. My version is this: I am going to take a retired climbing rope and cut it into jump rope-sized sections. They can jump rope with their sections, but I will also use the ropes as a chance to teach them some basic knots. It’s something for us to do together and it will be a skill they can employ when we are outdoors together later on. Another variation on this theme: what kid wouldn’t love a slack line made from retired rope or webbing? The other present I will give them each is a (used) compass. Again, this is fun, it builds skills and allows us to spend time together. In the past I’ve given them magnifying glasses and binoculars with a basic birding guide.
2. Consumables. I like to give high quality wine, beer and chocolates to other adults for gifts. This year, I’m going to give endangered species brand chocolate bars to my niece and nephews and explain that when you consume, sometimes you can help at the same time. Kids love animals so this is a good choice. It’s also fun to buy local when you can and make that a teachable moment.
3. Donations. I don’t think most kids would go solely for something donated in their name, but I do think it’s a good additional gift. Going on the theme that kids love animals, Heifer International allows you to purchase live breeding animals that will provide a long-term source of food for people – including kids – in the developing world.
4. Packaging. Again, I plan to lead by example with this one. Going with the outdoors theme, I keep old maps so I can use them later for wrapping paper – looks cool and kids love it. Plus this year I’ll make it topo maps so they can get out their compasses right away. I just saw this idea recently and plan to steal it: instead of a bow, top the package with a pine cone.
Whatever you celebrate, enjoy.
Well I’ve got my own little agenda with this one. They live in a household where they don’t go outside often and they watch a lot of TV. I, of course, want to turn them into environmentalist outdoor lovers and future backpacking, biking, climbing and paddling partners. Plus, I want to lead by example and try to move toward a zero-waste holiday event. Tall order, huh? Here are my best ideas:
1. Vintage outdoor gear. Think about it: what would be more meaningful to you, a new Swiss army knife or the knife your great grandfather used while in the Swiss army? A no brainer. My version is this: I am going to take a retired climbing rope and cut it into jump rope-sized sections. They can jump rope with their sections, but I will also use the ropes as a chance to teach them some basic knots. It’s something for us to do together and it will be a skill they can employ when we are outdoors together later on. Another variation on this theme: what kid wouldn’t love a slack line made from retired rope or webbing? The other present I will give them each is a (used) compass. Again, this is fun, it builds skills and allows us to spend time together. In the past I’ve given them magnifying glasses and binoculars with a basic birding guide.
2. Consumables. I like to give high quality wine, beer and chocolates to other adults for gifts. This year, I’m going to give endangered species brand chocolate bars to my niece and nephews and explain that when you consume, sometimes you can help at the same time. Kids love animals so this is a good choice. It’s also fun to buy local when you can and make that a teachable moment.
3. Donations. I don’t think most kids would go solely for something donated in their name, but I do think it’s a good additional gift. Going on the theme that kids love animals, Heifer International allows you to purchase live breeding animals that will provide a long-term source of food for people – including kids – in the developing world.
4. Packaging. Again, I plan to lead by example with this one. Going with the outdoors theme, I keep old maps so I can use them later for wrapping paper – looks cool and kids love it. Plus this year I’ll make it topo maps so they can get out their compasses right away. I just saw this idea recently and plan to steal it: instead of a bow, top the package with a pine cone.
Whatever you celebrate, enjoy.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
What We Can Learn from Cavers
In the course of my job as editor of Get Out! magazine, I talk to a lot of outdoor adventurers. When I talk to cavers, it’s usually a different experience than when I talk to others. I get a lot of suspicion – who are you, what’s your agenda and so on. When I ask them about their favorite caves, I often receive no reply.
While this behavior can be off putting, there is a very good reason for it: cavers guard their favorite caves like nobody’s business. If you join a grotto – a local caving club – they are likely to first take you to a so-called sacrifice cave. That is, they’ll take you to a place that isn’t that great or pristine in order to check you out. Only when you prove your conservationist cred – and only after they’ve had a chance to teach you a thing or two about cave conservation – will they introduce you to an underground world you never knew existed.
My favorite cave is right here in the Ohio River region. A couple of friends and I pieced together word-of-mouth information with vague online references to eventually find this hidden treasure (you won’t see it on a map). When we finally arrived at the pullout near the cave entrance … it was full of cavers! They know all about this place but have successfully kept it a secret from everyone else. And true to the code, I will not reveal anything about this cave on the pages of getoutzine.com. Both entrances are on private property and if some stupid yahoos read about it online and decide to go get drunk, break beer bottles and carve their initials in the cave, you can bet that those private property owners will shut down access in a heartbeat.
I think other outdoor sports – rock climbing and mountain biking are just two that come to mind – have a lot to learn from cavers. Wouldn’t it be great if we had sacrifice crags or sacrifice trails where we take climbers and bikers to check them out? We can make teach newcomers to be vigilant about litter, to be careful and considerate pet owners, to learn that you actually shouldn’t ride your mountain bike on a wet trail because that causes too much erosion … the list (as usual!) goes on.
Some groups, such a climbers coalitions that work to protect climbing access to public lands, are getting pretty good at this. Here’s what you can do yourself: next time you take a newcomer under your wing and introduce them to your favorite sport, consider yourself a Leave No Trace spokesperson as well. If you see another experienced person behaving badly, speak up. It doesn’t have to be a negative interaction; just consider it a teachable moment. Try being friendly for a few minutes and then say something like this: “Hey, I don’t mean to be a litter Nazi but if you leave your trash around that threatens access for all of us. I know we both don’t want that to happen.”
Yes, caves have the advantage of more limited access to begin with, but other lands – especially private lands – can be better protected by vigilant user groups. And the fact is, caver to caver, biker to biker and climber to climber communications will always be more successful than messages from someone who is outside of the user group. The more we police ourselves, the fewer problems we will have with access and the longer we will be able to enjoy our natural playgrounds and introduce them to the next generation of users.
While this behavior can be off putting, there is a very good reason for it: cavers guard their favorite caves like nobody’s business. If you join a grotto – a local caving club – they are likely to first take you to a so-called sacrifice cave. That is, they’ll take you to a place that isn’t that great or pristine in order to check you out. Only when you prove your conservationist cred – and only after they’ve had a chance to teach you a thing or two about cave conservation – will they introduce you to an underground world you never knew existed.
My favorite cave is right here in the Ohio River region. A couple of friends and I pieced together word-of-mouth information with vague online references to eventually find this hidden treasure (you won’t see it on a map). When we finally arrived at the pullout near the cave entrance … it was full of cavers! They know all about this place but have successfully kept it a secret from everyone else. And true to the code, I will not reveal anything about this cave on the pages of getoutzine.com. Both entrances are on private property and if some stupid yahoos read about it online and decide to go get drunk, break beer bottles and carve their initials in the cave, you can bet that those private property owners will shut down access in a heartbeat.
I think other outdoor sports – rock climbing and mountain biking are just two that come to mind – have a lot to learn from cavers. Wouldn’t it be great if we had sacrifice crags or sacrifice trails where we take climbers and bikers to check them out? We can make teach newcomers to be vigilant about litter, to be careful and considerate pet owners, to learn that you actually shouldn’t ride your mountain bike on a wet trail because that causes too much erosion … the list (as usual!) goes on.
Some groups, such a climbers coalitions that work to protect climbing access to public lands, are getting pretty good at this. Here’s what you can do yourself: next time you take a newcomer under your wing and introduce them to your favorite sport, consider yourself a Leave No Trace spokesperson as well. If you see another experienced person behaving badly, speak up. It doesn’t have to be a negative interaction; just consider it a teachable moment. Try being friendly for a few minutes and then say something like this: “Hey, I don’t mean to be a litter Nazi but if you leave your trash around that threatens access for all of us. I know we both don’t want that to happen.”
Yes, caves have the advantage of more limited access to begin with, but other lands – especially private lands – can be better protected by vigilant user groups. And the fact is, caver to caver, biker to biker and climber to climber communications will always be more successful than messages from someone who is outside of the user group. The more we police ourselves, the fewer problems we will have with access and the longer we will be able to enjoy our natural playgrounds and introduce them to the next generation of users.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Trail Angels
While thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail, my friend Greg willed an amazing thing. He wanted to get to the nearest town and he said, “At the next road crossing, a blond in a convertible is going to pick me up and take me town.” Guess what. You got it – Greg stuck out his thumb and a blond in a convertible picked up him and took him to town. That, my friends, is trail magic.
People who hike the legendary AT know a thing or two about trail magic. It occurs thanks to trail angels – those random people who help hikers by offering them rides, food, drink, sometimes even a place to stay.
I think back on a lot of people who have helped me through the years. There was the woman who yelled words encouragement from her car when I was completing a triathlon (something to the effect of You Go, Girl!); the many other rock climbers who have shared ropes with my team on a rappel; the people who have picked me/us up when trying to return to our car after a backpacking trip; and, of course, the people who have hosted me, like the woman I met on a Mexican bus. My hosts are often a friend of a friend or even a stranger, thanks to Hospitality Club. Hospitality Club, Warm Showers, CouchSurfing and the like (see this month’s feature at www.getoutzine.com/node/450) are web-based communities where people connect to host and be hosted by others, all for free.
I also think back to fun encounters where I was the host – no, make that angel: providing a bed, shower and meal to a cross-country cyclist; picking up an evangelical Christian hitchhiker (that’s another blog altogether); hosting a couple and their dog who were thru-hiking the American Discovery Trail.
When I tell people about Hospitality Club and Warm Showers, I tend to get one of two responses: 1) Great! Sign me up; or 2) Isn’t that dangerous?
Life’s dangerous, but not as dangerous as our fear-mongering society would have it. We all have different comfort levels, so I wouldn’t push anyone to go too far beyond theirs. But I do encourage you to help your fellow adventurer. In my opinion (and experience), you’ve got to just stack the odds in your favor and go for it. I like how Roy Willman, a Hospitality Club member featured in the story, describes himself: “Open and unafraid, tempered with caution.” He scopes out potential guests by “looking at it with both your heart and your head.”
Words to live by.
Sign up here: www.warmshowers.org, www.hospitalityclub.org, www.couchsurfing.com
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