RANGE Magazine by RANGE

Issue Four

Winter 2016

CONTENT

1 6 . ACHE 41 y ea r s

0 3 . Forward na tu r a l bonds

RANGE ISSUE WINTER

( a nd

r iv a l r y )

2 2 . Going it Alone

0 4 . Poler Outdoor Stuff the “ befor e ” a nd the “ a fter ”

of br other l y l ov e

finding s ol a c e in s ol ita r y hiking

2016

THISISRANGE.COM @THISISRANGE #RANGEMAG

0 6 . Cordura® c r ea ting du r a ble bonds for

2 4 . Band of Brother, Okemo Mountain y ea r s

0 8 . Woolrich x Westerlind a c ol l ec tion for the moder n ou tdoor s w oma n

3 2 . The Delicate Art of Pushing the gr it a nd gr a c e it ta kes to a dv entu r e w ith y ou r s . o .

1 0 . Convalescence jon s edor ’ s a s c ent

3 3 . Urban Micro Adventures

1 1 . Leave No Trace

3 4 . On the Road with Molly Steele

the a r t of da v id bu c kl ey bor den

1 2 . Under the Volcano

3 6 . Camp Hospitality

ou r s ev en day s in ic el a nd

fiv e tip s for enter ta ining on the r oa d

1 4 . Snow Peak

3 7 . Hike, Camp, Explore

finding ha r mony thr ou gh s pa c e

SEA

THE

COVER

ICE,

CLAYTON

ALASKA

1 5 . Rad Retailers mov er s & s ha ker s

the l a nd of ma ny u s es

of c ommu nity s pa c es

3 8 . The Modern Outdoors and Digital Publishing

COTTERELL

contr i b utors

s pecial s hout-out to

Hilary Oliver, Molly Gavin,

Cooper Gill, Nina Stotler

Charles Post, Jordana Longo,

Arya Roerig,

Corrina Peipon, Alyssa Larson,

Catie Collins, Scott McGuire,

Rachel Mae Furman,

Ron Croudy, Jeff Thrope,

Regina Baker, Sarah Knapp,

Natalie Blacker, Cindy McNaull,

publisher

Range e ditor ial di r ector

Jeanine Pesce jeanine@thisisrange.com

art di r ector

Jonathan Cammisa

Sydney Halle, William Rauscher,

jon@thisisrange.com

Jessica Clayton, Becky Day,

Graham Heimstra, Alex Gomes,

designer

Molly Gavin

Benji Wagner, Russell Borne,

Lisa Dougherty, Clayton Cotterell

Jon Sedor, Jaclyn Johnson,

photog raph e rs

manag i ng e ditor

Alex Gomes

Jessica Browne, Niles Armstrong,

Molly Steele, Lauren Roberts,

alex@thisisrange.com

Jill Bradshaw, Chaucee Stillman,

Bobby Whigham, Zack Allia,

copy e ditor

JulieAnna Giannini,

Charles Post, Kristen Cleary

Luke Woods

Gehron Burkholder,

William Rauscher social media

Jennifer Holcomb

press i l l u s t r ato r s

Sydney Halle sydney@thisisrange.com

artists

Marcus James, Emily Hoy, David Buckley Borden, Andrew Groves

h ug e than ks to ou r s pon sors

CORDURA®

POLER,

STRUKTUR

EVENT,

TOAD

Illustration by Marcus James

Natural B onds “Like music and art, love of nature is a common language that can transcend political or social boundaries.” – Jimmy Carter

FORWARD

hings are pretty rough right now. Ea ch day, we wake up with a new, alarming se t of hea dlines. Whether the subject is women’s right s, religious extremism, homegrown terrorism, global warming or the international refugee crisis, the amount of negative energ y we are exposed to on a daily ba sis is exponential and downright exhausting. Our personal rights, our public lands, our communities, our bodies and our be liefs are challenged on a daily ba sis. S ome people reve l in this unrest, ge tting fired up on social media by posting clips and links that sprea d intolerance, while others tr y to cope by re treating deep into nature, away from all the mixed messages to a pla ce where things seem more simple and straightfor ward. You can’ t keep t abs on the man-ma de havoc when you are deep in the woods and right now, especially right now, this disconnect can make or break a rational human being.

benefit s of nature, both online and in real life. When we share our pa ssion for being outdoors with the people that matter most , those bonds are inherently strengthened and we can focus on the positive event s unfolding right in front of us. Within these pages, you will find stories and images touching on accessibility, solitude, brotherhood, inclusion, love and loss. We will explore familial bonds that have spanned 40 years of outdoor a dventures, the highs and lows of relationships in the ba ckcountr y, a conser vationist ’s mission to t ake ba ck the land, and narratives from creatives who decided to go it alone. T he roa ds steering us away from the bright light s of the city often lea d us to discover fa ce t s of our personalities we didn’ t even know existed. When we come fa ce to face with these interpersonal re lationships in a spa ce that allows us to think and ref lect without judgement , we can discover our true selves. Mother nature is all forgiving and for that we are eternally grateful.

This issue wa s crafted with that sentiment in mind, and ref lect s upon the meaningful connections we build with our friends, family and par tners while enjoying the healing

-Jeanine Pesce, Founder

POLER OUTDOOR STUFF

here are a lot of variable s in thi s crazy wo r ld we live in, but one s et of standards will unfailingly reign true: there will always a “before” and an “after.” The “before” and the “after” can either be glorious or tragic, depending on what kind of situation the experience lends itself to. For example, “I finally met my soulmate and my life will never be the same” OR “I dropped my iPhone in the blender and my life is ruined.” Two very different outcomes to two very different scenarios, yet they both have a “before” and an “after” in common. A few years ago, the outdo or industry lived through one of these “before” and “after” events firsthand. When Poler Outdo or Stuff launched in 2011, there was nothing quite like it. Bridging the gap between the lifestyle and outdoor markets, their p ro d u c t s ,

POLER

IS REALLY

SUPPOSED TO . B E . M O R E

alt hou gh pret t y ru d im e ntary at t he t im e , would foreve r change t he gam e in t e rm s of accessibility. What made Poler different than any brand that came before them was their approach to marketing and storytelling. They showed us that it was okay to skateboard AND hike, and that you didn’t have to be super core, you could just be super chill. Poler was disruptive, not so much in the tech start-up kind of way, but in the “holy shit, these dudes are making something so invariably co ol that it can’t really be authentically recreated” kind of way. With a Tumblr that wouldn’t quit and a sleeping bag that you could wear like a poncho, Poler introduced #campvibes into the vernacular of every novice outdo or enthusiast from Portland to Melbourne, cementing their position in the evolving, millennial-obsessed outdo or fo od chain. We sat down with Benji Wagner, Poler’s Creative Dire c to r a n d Co - Fo u n d e r , in w h a t w ill eventually become the backro om of their new Laguna Beach store to discuss the “before” and the “after,” and what comes next.

~Q&A~ Why do you think Poler has had so much success connecting with a youthful demographic? Well, the primary reason we started the company is not because the industry didn’t make good product. It was because we didn’t feel the brands were connecting with young people and inspiring them. Poler is really supposed to be more like pop music. It’s meant to be fun and accessible so a lot of people can enjoy it. It’s not supposed to be this super cool band that never really

L IK E . P O P . MU SIC . IT’S

MEANT

FUN AND ACCESSIBLE SO A

LOT OF PEOPLE CAN ENJOY IT. 4

leaves their hometown. Are you trying to make a pop song that millions of people will hear or an indie rock album that your friends listen to in their garage? Are you trying to make everyday gear or the most technically advanced stuff on the market? Obviously, those are different goals. Both are totally relevant, but for us, from the beginning, we have tried to make something that is approachable and affordable, and really connects with a wide range of young people. Would you define Poler as an outdo or or lifestyle brand? Yeah, I don’t know why, but the word lifestyle has always turned me off. I guess that is fair. On some level as a small brand, Poler can confuse people. Even if they really like it, they want to define it. It’s just human nature to look at something and put it in a box. If something is ambiguous, then people can still be really intrigued by it, but it’s a little harder to figure out where it belongs. In the short term, that has some challenges for us, but in the long term, it’s a great problem to have. Poler has really always been for the everyday person that goes out on the weekend, and we are trying to marry functional tech with casual styling. On one end of the spectrum, fashion is about looking cool and on the other end of the spectrum, outdoor has traditionally been about innovative gear. Poler is just meant to touch on all these really different things from streetwear to outdoor to surf in legitimate ways, but we are not really rooted in only one. The brand is meant to be disruptive and change people’s perception about what the word “outdoor” even means and what a brand in that industry is and can be like. We definitely aren’t trying to compete with what is already there. It is supposed to be its own animal that fills a hole in the market rather than takes a chunk out of something else. Storytelling has always played a huge role in the organic growth of the brand. Why do you t hink i t i s s o e a s y fo r p e o p l e to e nv i s i o n themselves as part of the Poler story?

Images by Clayton Cotterell

I think my background as a photographer and filmmaker, working with other brands, led me to think a lot about storytelling. I just feel that the brands in our industry weren’t telling stories in a way that got me excited as a consumer. In the adventures section of our website, we have some trips that are very big like rafting in the Grand Canyon or surfing in Russia, which are amazing stories, but then we also have a ton that are about going to the local swimming hole or going camping on the beach at your local state park. A lot of people that see someone in an ad campaign doing something crazy like hanging off the side of a mountain in a way they can’t relate to often ends the conversation before it begins. It feels like they may as well be looking at a yacht they’re never going to own. There is a place in the world for those kinds of aspirational things, but there is also a place in the world for things that are attainable or just feel more true to life. When you go on a trip, do you wanna talk about the gear you have or do you wanna talk about the experience you had on that trip? What do you really end up telling your loved ones or your friends if you come back from a road trip? Do you talk a lot about the shoes you were wearing or the outfit you had on, or is it more about what you saw and what you did? There are people that will get more out of just standing still, looking at the beach, and watching the sunset than somebody else will get out of climbing Mount Everest. If you come from a place where there is no snow, and you see snow, make one snowball, and throw it, then the reality of that experience is going to be very impactful and you might talk about it forever. It’s all about context and perspective, and I think industries can lose sight of that and feel like they are only speaking to people who have a certain level of achievement or “seriousness” about their adventures. You started out making graphic tees and bags. What direction is Poler heading in terms of product?

It’s been an interesting process to learn from our customers about what they are looking for from Poler. We definitely don’t want to get stuck in just one category and take our product development very seriously in all categories. We are introducing a much more complete line of cut and sew in 2016. We will have a complete line for the first time, including everything from small accessories to parkas. Our bags have improved dramatically while staying affordable. We are also going to make a small collection of some really technical products, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be all we talk about. When you need a three-layer jacket, we will have a great three-layer jacket for you, but our ad campaign or what we talk about is going to be more about what you do with that jacket than just showing the specs and features. That is the way we approach everything. Poler is opening a concept store and event space in Laguna Beach. Why the OC? We’ve wanted to have a home in Southern California for a long time. A lot of Poler’s DNA is rooted in action sports and a lot of what we set out to do was bring together the outdoor and action sports industry in a way that had never been done before. We really wanted to redefine how people look at something like surf. Surf doesn’t exist at the outdoor trade show because it has its own trade show, and yet just on a very basic fundamental level, surfing is one of the most beautiful outdoor activities ever created by man. Everyone can appreciate it even if they don’t surf. It’s just so inherently cool to ride a wave and yet for some reason, it’s not “outdoor.” It’s just surf. I n you n g p eop l e’ s mi n d s, ev eryt h i n g i s merg i n g because of the Internet, and they don’t see those kinds o f 5

dividing lines between activities that were created by the industry. When we were growing up, if you were a surfer, you probably didn’t necessarily identify with a skateboarder, snowboarder or rock climber. Young people really just don’t subscribe to those kind of boundaries. They just see it all as interesting, fun stuff to do. As far as the space goes, we will have a retail store and a cafe with some other great Portland brands like Stumptown and Salt & Straw. We’ll also have a large area where we can have events, parties and workshops. It’s really a unique place with a lot of character right on PCH in a former nursery that was here for about 50 years. We’re also going to be opening an office down here to work in tandem with our Portland office, and are just trying to plant a flag down in Southern California. Our Portland office and store are staying put. This way we have the best of both worlds. jeanine pesce

CORDURA

DUR AB LE

B O NDS

FOR

Y EARS

Images by Andy George

C R E AT I N G

CO R DUR A ®

DAN A

G LEASO N

he durable bonds that are built betwe en a supplier and manufacturer run de ep, and in the case of CORDURA® and Dana Gleason, Founder of Kletterwerks, Dana Design and Mystery Ranch, we’re talking almost 40 years de ep. It is easy to forget that there was once a time when quality trumped quantity and brands built their products with premium materials because that was how things were done. Some manufacturers are still following that recipe, working closely with suppliers and mills to co ok up groundbreaking designs that go against the grain of fast fashion and conspicuous consumption. Dana Gleason’s experiences are ro oted in these values. With a passion for climbing and skiing, he started his care er at a chain of regional outdo or stores in the Midwest selling gear, then learned to repair bags, and eventually in 1975, he started to build a line of packs out of his home in Bozeman, Montana. In those days, pack cloth was the fabric of choice for multi-use bags. However, it wasn’t until Dana discovered CORDURA® brand fabric that his vision for these packs would really start to take shape. Throwing caution to the wind, he to ok a chance on this new material, which had be en used to reinforce tires in its early development, and purchased a roll of rust-colored 1,000 denier CORDURA® nylon. Little did he know that this long-lasting fabric would help him set the standard for modern bags, and in turn usher in the innovations that would drive pack design within the outdo or, hunting and military markets for years to come.

MYSTERY

R AN CH

~Q & A~ How long have you been working with CORDURA® brand fabrics? I’ve been using CORDURA® fabrics to build backpacks since the ’70s, but before that, I fixed packs for people who were using them harder than most manufacturers thought they would be used. Through that experience, I saw all the different ways packs would fail in the field. Fixing things gives you what could be regarded as an unhealthy manufacturing and design attitude because you are going to build things stronger than what most people need. That has been a continuing factor in everything we have done from Kletterworks to Dana Design to Mystery Ranch.

We b u i l d t h i s s t u f f f o r yo u r life, not for some set of uses, not till it’s no longer fashionable. We ’ re b u i l d i n g t o o l s h e re , n o t building toys or fashion.

How did you come across CORDURA® at that time?

What makes the rust color of the pack so significant?

What kind of “durable bonds” have you been able to build with CORDURA®?

In 1975 when we first started building our packs called the Kletterworks, which were for climbing and ultralight backpacking, we came across 1,000 denier CORDURA® nylon. I’ve always had a fixation on materials and liked figuring out where they came from. At the time, this material in particular was being used to line the inside of tires. The distributors didn’t really know what they had. They just knew it looked like canvas instead of nylon, and it was tough, but they didn’t know how tough.

The Flip was done in a color that we call rust. Rust was not considered a fashionable or useful color back in 1975, but our shop and all the shops that we were likely to be selling to were paneled with old barn wood because back then, that’s what we hippies thought was cool. And we needed something that would actually show up in the rather poor lighting they used in the stores. The real problem was that we had to buy 1,500 yards to get this color and no one was silly enough to split it with us, so we had to commit to it. It turns out it was a great color.

We have continuously used CORDURA®, mostly classic CORDURA® fabric, to build the toughest military packs we’ve ever been able to produce. We use also CORDURA® throughout the majority of our whole outdoor and hunting product line because this gives us the best mix of durability, waterproofness and just plain toughness. CORDURA® has been the backbone of everything we’ve built in the last 40 years. We came to it from the standpoint of the user, climber, skier, backpacker or hunter who had to have gear that wasn’t going to fail in the field, even if the product had a guarantee. A guarantee means nothing when you’re three days out.

We didn’t know enough to be scared of a new material. We enthusiastically adopted it because it

We didn’t know enough to be scared of a new material. We enthusiastically adopted a new material because it worked well. C O R D U R A® has been the backbone of eve r y t h i ng we ’ ve b u i l t i n the last 40 ye a rs . worked well. Other companies were more worried about if it was marketed well or if people were familiar with it. For us, being able to start something new was a challenge, but a fun one. It let us build packs that would stand up to being hauled on the walls of Yosemite and some of the great north faces in Europe back in the ’70s when we were all “young.” It was an excellent choice.

What was one of the first packs you designed with CORDURA® fabric? One of the best-selling baseline designs was a pack called the Flip because it involved flipping the top of the whole pack open and being able to get everything out. The Flip was designed to be very narrow and close to the back so you could move over rock without disturbing your balance. We made it with 1,000 denier CORDURA® to help deal with the abrasion of the rock and climbing gear rubbing on the inside of the pack. This is also one of the first packs to use what we commonly call “compression straps.” It was very minimalistic, had nothing that you wouldn’t need for a full day of climbing, and had everything that you would need. Basically this was one of the earliest modern rock climbing packs.

The Mystery Ranch factory is one of the few places in America that can go from concept to design to proto to production. Can you tell us a little bit about that? Something that seems to have gone out of style for many businesses is actually building it yourself. It has always been in our DNA to build some of the stuff ourselves here. In order to build packs, especially if you have a method that you work with, you have to have a presence and exercise editorial control. If you don’t, someone else is doing all of that construction to their imperatives. We have a plant with over 100 p eop l e a n d d o a n aw fu l l ot of ou r ow n production right here, although this is probably only our fourth biggest production site. This gives us enough people so we are not just training people to sew, but as they gain experience, they can also become supervisors, represent us at our contractors offshore or here in the United States, and get it done our way. That’s extremely important to a company that is totally based in the reliability of their products. 7

After all these years, do you consider yourself a designer? I would never really call myself a designer. My experience in the outdoor industry happened because I started working in retail stores to get a deal and save money on gear I was going to buy anyway, and learned to sell gear while I was using it. In terms of founding Kletterworks and Dana Design, it is hugely important to note that I was able to learn the business side of things as well. While there are many designers out there who are better than me, I was simply able to interact with people using my gear and figured out what was important to them as opposed to what I was trying to put into the gear as a designer. The auteur theory as applied to the design of outdoor gear can produce some really interesting things, but it rarely produces classic gear that will be used for years. You have to listen to your users, so while I design, I am not purely a designer. jeanine pesce

WOOLRICH X WESTERLIND Capsule A Collection for the Modern Outdoors Woman “We got to spend time together in nature, feeling really empowered and inspired by each other, and at the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about.”

uring a casual drive from Salt Lake City, Utah to Powder Mountain last winter, a group of bold women decided it was time to start a movement. Tired of se eing apparel brands catering specifically to the men’s market in terms of collaborations and new product, Karuna Scheinfeld and Andrea Westerlind agre ed to join forces for the first-ever Wo olrich x Westerlind collection.

To gain additional insight for the collection’s designs, Wo olrich and Westerlind enlisted two other modern outdo ors women, RANGE Founder Jeanine Pesce, and Lizzie Garrett Metler, Founder of Tomboy Style and The Re ed. The entire team set out to the salt flats in Utah’s Antelope Island to sho ot a lo okbo ok, resulting in photos that captured not only the beauty of the landscape, but also the spirit of the classic collaboration.

Scheinfeld, Vice President of Design at Wo olrich, and Westerlind, Founder of Westerlind Outdo or, created a Fall/Winter 2015 capsule, consisting of a wo ol poncho, leather handled wo ol tote and Westerlind signature felt hat. “A collaboration involving a classic outdo or brand like Wo olrich and a contemporary retailer and visionary brand like Westerlind was something we hadn’t se en at all in the women’s market,” says Scheinfeld. “The woman we wanted to se e represented was perfectly embodied by the combination of the two brands, and it gave us all a chance to create the imagery we wanted to se e out there.”

“We’ve all be en working together on various projects over the last few years with the common goal of getting more women outdo ors,” said Pesce. “This was the perfect opportunity for us to come together, share ideas about where we se e women’s apparel heading, and get creative with it. Plus, we got to spend time together in nature, fe eling really empowered and inspired by each other, and at the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about.”

“T he woman that we wanted to see represented was perfectly embodied by the combination of the two brands, and it gave us all a chance to create the imager y we wanted to see out there.”

If this Wo olrich x Westerlind capsule left you wanting more, you’re in luck. “We are planning to make this into an annual collection,” said Westerlind. “Each season featuring a new adventure from alex gomes and for the modern outdo ors woman.”

Image by Zach Allia

images by Tana Pierro(1.& 5.) Will Strathmann(3.) Jon Sedor(2.& 4.)

by Al yssa Larson

Jon Sedor’s Ascent

CON VA L ESC ENCE

2. 2. 2.

The Short Version

The Art

“I don’t feel any different. I’m a climber and an artist just like anyone else.”

“I’m interested in what is beneath the surface of a person. With ever yone, there is a masking. I like to break that down to the pure essence of that person in my artwork.”

I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio. My early teens were spent skateboarding and riding road BMX. As a sophomore, my friend suggested I get into climbing, and we went to a local rock gym. I was instantly drawn to the community. Then I had the accident a week before I graduated high school.

The Accident “T his is going to be really different.” I was once left-handed. What I thought was an M80 in my hand turned out to be a quarter stick of dynamite. It exploded on me mid-throw, destroying my left hand five days before my 19th birthday. After three surgeries, I still managed to graduate high school on time and went off to art school as a right-handed person.

Relearning

Community “I was able to overcome an unfortunate situation with the love of people in the outdoor and art community.”

When I let go of worry, I can draw with my right hand freely. My illustrations tend to have some natural climbing theme to them. The colors in my work are inspired by nature. I use a lot of deep blues or earth tones in a limited palette.

Both the artistic and climbing community, which to me are very similar, helped me find myself and heal after a life-changing event. The type of people the communities attract are non-judgmental. When I’m out climbing, I don’t feel any different from my partners.

The Climbing

The Future

“W hen I let go of my wor ries, it just flows.” I’m mainly a boulder or sport climber, and I still sequence routes like I have both hands. I have to think outside the box and use more footwork now. I’m so focused on my residual limb not popping off the hold it’s resting on, it’s a challenge to focus on the next move. When I’m relaxed, I can flow through things more than I ever thought I would be able to. It’s constant problem solving.

“I find the outdoors healing. A rock is not going to judge you. You can be free.” Personally and athletically, my goals are long-term and ongoing. I aim to be the first arm amputee to boulder V10. I’m a climber and artist for life, and I don’t limit my goals to a set amount of time.

“I’m still lear ning how my body works now.” In my recovery and art, I started exploring different options. I gravitated towards graphic design, illustrations and custom lettering, and dabbled in graffiti, which ultimately catapulted me into art. I attended the Art Institute of Chicago, and transferred to fine art and large-scale paintings at the School of Visual Arts in Chicago. image by Will Strathmann

At Skidmore College, I did some climbing, but I really didn’t know what was possible. In Chicago, I reached out to Ronnie Dickson, another amputee, who said, “Yes, you can still climb as an amputee.” I started climbing again in New York City, three years ago now. I’m still not where I was in my ability to climb the same grades. Climbing became the same as art. I powered through my limitations and constantly compare myself to what I once was. 10

Leave No Trace The Art of David Buckley Borden

f you’re riding down a bike path in Teton County, you may come across one of David Buckley Borden’s site-specific installations, and if you’re interested in taking it with you, he’s totally cool with that. These ephemeral works are part of the artist’s larger Greater Yellowstone exhibit in Jackson, Wyoming, which explores the iconic national park’s ecosystem and the people who interact with, value and protect it.

views with various stakeholders of the national park. “ The project totally developed in a way that I didn’t anticipate. It was originally supposed to be a mapping project, but what I found more powerful is that all these folks coexist, and while they have vastly different interests, they’re all rooting for the environment and working toward a common goal.”

Borden’s artwork often touches on environmental issues to help viewers gain access to information. “All my work aspires to communicate an ecological issue or some environmental crisis,” says Borden. “ What I’m really trying to do is build an awareness of a lot of different issues, and I do it through accessible art and design, so it’s a counter to the doom and gloom approach that conservation groups use with ‘ the world is ending ’ type of messaging, because who really wants to engage with that?” While Borden seeks to educate the public about their environmental impact, he wasn’t always well-versed in these issues, and didn’t really become exposed to environmental issues until he went back to grad school, where his interest in the outdoors was reinvigorated. To help others responsively interact with the natural environment, he strives to educate them through his work. “I have this theory that most folks

aren’t inherently bad stewards of the land or environment. In many respects, they just don’t know any better, and I was a textbook example six years ago before I went back to school.” For his Greater Yellowstone project, Borden created 24 “Unsolicited Proposals,” which were inspired by 36 informational inter-

His “Unsolicited Proposals” emerged from these conversations, leading to Borden creating a series of related site-specific installations around Teton County. “I did these light touch interventions, kind of like street art, but they’re in the woods or on a bike path and don’t damage the property. For the most part, I noticed even while there for just a couple of weeks, people were taking them, and I don’t know if they did because they were cleaning up or because they wanted them, but I love the idea that you can stumble upon a piece of art and take it home with you. I’m not interested in leaving a mark. That’s counter to what I believe in. If people want to take it home, go for it.” However, if you ask Borden where to find his installations, he won’t be able to provide you with directions. “I didn’t make a map. I don’t actually know where they are. I just went on a four-mile bike ride, took some with me, and put them up along the path.” alex gomes

Coast by Coast

Working from the Road

by Jordana Longo

ike most entrepreneurs, my business partner Kristen and I dream of great success. Only for us, success comes without the corner office on 59th Street overlooking Central Park. That’s why we launched Coast by Coast, a pop-up boutique based inside of a 1972 VW bus. This mobile shop, curated through a swim, surf and outdoor lens, doubles as our rolling office, which means road trips and plenty of time outdoors.

“When you’re coming up for air, something shifts and you feel lighter. It’s a release, an out-of-mind experience.” Morning meditation is a practice that grounds us, our daily soft launch into the business world. Midday we try to take some time away from the computer to disconnect and declutter the mind. Simple things like a walk around the neighborhood or people watching on a beach remind us to slow down again and leaves us refreshed.

Working on the road comes with a sense of freedom. Undoubtedly there’s the scheduled itinerary of events, yet every now and then it’s two against one when Siri tells us to turn left. We veer right, following the signs to hot springs, farmer’s markets and hiking trails. Sharing these experiences creates a strong foundation for not only our friendship, but also our business.

Naturally, stress levels sometimes rise like the tides. Our favorite remedy, although not always practical, is jumping in the ocean. When you’re coming up for air, something shifts and you feel lighter. It’s a release, an out-of-mind experience. You’re so focused on the physical sensation, you don’t have time to think about anything else. The mind becomes still. It’s simple, yet powerful.

Granted, this adventurous lifestyle is not all skinny dips, ripe peaches and mountaintop views. On the road, everything is constantly changing. Working with unpredictable Wi-Fi connections, driving through thunderstorms, and schlepping inventory to and fro is challenging. With so many moving parts and a lack of routine, it’s our practice to create consistency wherever we can.

When you spend time with someone in those long patches of wilderness that separate big cities, you learn to rely on them. A bond forms and it builds trust. In the great outdoors, without sharing a word, the two of us perform the ritual of making a small patch of Earth home. The stakes go in, the tent goes up, and as the last ember of sunlight dims, the mind surrenders and we can just be.

image by Kristen Cleary

“T he stakes go in, the tent goes up, and as the last ember of sunlight dims, the mind surrenders and we can just be.”

Under the O u r S ev e n D a y s in I ce l a n d

On the flight to Reykjavik, we hatched an idea that guided our entire trip. Together we would make a kind of creative travel diary. Every day, we would take a work break when Lauren, an MFA poetry student, would write, I would compose music, and we’d both take photos. In

n August 20, 2014, the international scientific community issued a warning that Iceland’s Bárðarbunga volcano was most certainly going to erupt. I read the news while sitting at my kitchen table in B ro o kl y n , su r fin g t h e we b a s I finis h e d breakfast and prepared to pack for an overnight flight to Reykjavik. The news of an impending eruption was so distressing that I panicked. I immediately ran into my bedro om, stripped down to my underwear, and lay on the flo or, trying to breath normally. Eyjafjallajökull, the last volcano to have erupted in Iceland in 2010, had filled the skies w i t h fo re b o d in g a s h , a s i f s i g n a lin g t h e apocalypse. European flights were grounded for we eks. What would happen to Lauren and me on our trip? Would our plan to spend one we ek driving all the way around Iceland’s Ring Road be thwarted? Would we be stranded beneath an ash cloud that would block out the sun and choke us? Would we be forced to remain in Iceland for we eks until the skies cleared? I sto od up. I got dressed. Then I called every Icelander I knew. This meant my friend Holmar, and a woman on the help line at Iceland Air. Each to ok great pains to reassure me. Holmar said that if Lauren and I became stranded, we

I took strength from the sense of everyday courage that emerges when someone you love says, “Damn the volcano. Full speed ahead.” could stay w i t h hi s d ad , w ho would t e ach u s to fi sh t he old Ice land i c way . The airline representative said calmly that there was no ne ed to worry, as it was “only Mother Nature reminding us that she is there.” Together, Lauren and I made a game-time decision to press onward. “This is our chance to go,” Lauren told me, “and we should embrace it.” To be completely honest, I wouldn’t have thought any less of Lauren’s character had she insisted we abandon our plans, and at the same time, I to ok strength from the sense of everyday courage that emerges when someone you love says, “Damn the volcano. Full spe ed ahead.” A n d a l t h o u g h I l e a r n e d t h a t s o m et im e s w h a t a p p e a rs a s a f r i g ht e nin g d i s a s t e r f ro m a fa r i s n o t hin g m o re fo r t h e l o ca l s t h a n t h e equivalent of a stalled subway train, the threat of Bárðarbunga still lingered throughout our trip. At every stop we had to regroup, check the latest volcano updates, and decide as a team to continue onward.

William Rauscher is an electronic musician and the editor of Material.fm. His project with Lauren Roberts about Iceland can be se en at rrrr.material.fm.

the end, we’d assemble everything we’d made as the collaborative account of two explorers. After a night in quaint, yet cosmopolitan Reykjavik, we drove south in case Bárðarbunga blew. Like so many visitors to Iceland, we’d heard fantastic things about the region and didn’t want to risk missing out. We to ok our first work break in Reykjadalur, a steam valley. You trek over the hills, past windswept swathes of rolling earth reminiscent of Pink Floyd album covers, until you reach the valley where hot steam is misting up out of the ground and wafting gently away into the sky. It’s gently surreal, as if you have discovered a secret cove where clouds are made. Lauren found a rock and to ok out her notebo ok. I bo oted up my iPad and tapped out notes with nothing on my mind other than this strange and elemental scene. Nearby there was a flowing

Volcano by William R auscher

bro ok that was about 70 degre es Fahrenheit. After our session, we stripped down and went bathing. Towards the end of our second day on the Ring Road, we arrived at Jökulsárlón, the famed glacial lago on in the southeast. I say famed, although there’s absolutely nothing on site that would speak to its reputation. No gift shop, $5 valet or tour guides. Only a sign and a parking lot offset the awesome silence of the lago on. I felt de eply that this place was deserving of its own piece of music, if not a suite. As the glacier breaks off into the lago on and floats out to the Atlantic, you fe el like one of the gods, or in our case, like two of them, standing on the shore and contemplating the unfolding of nature, a cosmic process, the purest form of drama. It’s no wonder that Iceland has become a magnet for adventurers, especially our sort: busy New Yorkers with a we ek off and a lust for remote places. Right betwe en North America and Europe, there’s this pocket of primordial earth, where in a real way you encounter water. And fire. And ice. Melting, fre ezing, erupting. A dizzying array of geological formations that result from something very hot meeting something very cold extremely quickly. It can make you fe el like a primal ancestor of man, even if you’re driving a Volvo around the country and uploading selfies via a portable hotspot. Lauren and I never shared our work during the trip. This wasn’t editing time. It was creating time, during which each of us gave the other space to pursue our imagination. We wanted to se e what new combinations would appear afterwards back in Bro oklyn and not interfere with the moment.

Bárðarbunga continued to threaten, increasing its alert level every day, yet we kept agreeing to press onward. We stayed a night in the eastern fjords, where the water has carved into the gre enish rocky earth, and everything is misty and nautical. I found a cultish sculpture made of a dozen antlered skulls piled in a hole. At a refurbished sea house, we dined on reinde er meatballs and fermented shark. Heading west, it se emed like we suddenly left the planet. We crossed into the highlands, a barren and uninhabitable zone that constitutes the bulk of Iceland’s interior. I kept a lot of Floyd and Eno on the car stereo. The ground and the mountains turned red, drained of all color or signs of life. I wrote a piece, “Highland Raga,” to imagine melodies that would drift unimpeded across that vast terrain.

In the Myvatn region, the eggy, devilish odor of sulfur is everywhere, even in the water, and it reminds you that the ground beneath you is co oking, as if you are standing on the surface of a cosmic oven. If the lid is to o tight and the pressure is too high, the whole thing can blow—melt a glacier, spew ash, or ruin your entire summer vacation. The e erie fe eling of visiting Mars on holiday continued on our hike from nearby Dimmuborgir. The hike solidified for me how the experiences of being in love and of being a pione er can

Iceland seems to encourage creativity because it’s where the Earth itself is at its most violently creative.

As a creative person, I’m seduced by possibility. I love exploring what could be rather than what is. Sometimes this makes composing hard. There’s a fork in the road and both choices are great. When I composed music in Iceland, I was limited to the place I was in and the iPad I had brought. Iceland encourages creativity because it’s where the Earth itself is most violently creative, the island’s surface expanding with the lava that co ols after every eruption. We arrived at Krafla, the volcanic fields just east of lake Myvatn, and its neighbor Hverir. We saw cauldrons in the ground where the Earth was still bubbling into being. Afterwards, Lauren wrote, “This is the part of the Earth they forgot to finish.” It made us think of Mars. During a work session in Hverir, we watched fellow sightseers pick their way among steaming hot mud po ols while the smell of sulfur hung heavy in the air.

Back in Bed-Stuy, in the apartment where Lauren and I would so on live together, we spread all our pieces across the living ro om flo or: the poems, the music, the photos. We edited. We debated. We revisited each moment of the trip and threaded our way through shared memory, finding correspondences, creating new associations. There was the Iceland we had se en together, a new cartography that we had begun to trace.

Image by William Rauscher

The hike solidified for me how the experiences of being in love and being a pioneer can tightly intertwine.

tightly intertwine. What do we know of love, anyway, if we can’t test it on unfamiliar ground? That day, we climbed a ste ep volcanic crater. On the ridge, we were almost blown off by a pounding wind. Lauren grew scared, and as we locked arms, I shouted instructions on how to brace against the gale. We made it down the slope, and then turned to se e a much older couple behind us in sturdy outdo or wear, holding hands and strolling on the ridge as if in Central Park.

FINDING HARMONY THROUGH Images Courtesy of Snow Peak

S P A C E Snow Peak Opens its Doors in NYC

camp mug. It sounds like a remarkably simple piece of gear, but outdoor lifestyle brand Snow Peak creates their titanium drinking mugs with distinct aesthetics and details that go far beyond a basic need. They consider how the mug ’s smooth metal feels against your palm, as well as the strength needed to withstand generations of use. This level of integrated design extends into Snow Peak’s other outdoor equipment, furniture and apparel, as well as their newest retail space in New York City’s SoHo neighborhood. The 59 Crosby Street location is an ideal platform for Snow Peak to share its rich history of harmonizing world-class design with outdoor culture, so we spoke with Brand and E-commerce Manager Russell Borne to explore how Snow Peak plans to cultivate a sense of nature-inspired community among urbanites in NYC.

So, why Ne w York City?

We know you’re often the creative force behind merchandising buildouts and experiential shopping str uctures in the Portland, Ore gon flagship. Could you tell us about the SoHo store’s design?

For us, it’s the perfect next location. Purely from a demand standpoint, many of our customers and advocates live in the New York area. Just hinting at the idea was met with a huge amount of positive feedback, and our team is really excited to engage with our NYC community through a physical retail space.

For the SoHo store, we worked closely with the wonderful design and build team of Andrea Westerlind and Grant Blakeslee, who most recently created the Powder Mountain Westerlind store in Utah, which GQ named, “America’s Most Stylish Outdoor Clothing Store.” We all worked together to create a space with elevated and artistic displays, such as ash wood fixtures, islands of rock and live plants, and locally crafted displays that support a constantly evolving retail shop. We found inspiration for our store concept’s aesthetics in the pursuit of harmony with nature found in the countryside of Japan. It’s a really fresh take on an outdoor store, giving customers the opportunity to experience of the tranquility of nature in a bustling city.

W hat does this specific SoHo location contribute to the Snow Peak USA brand? We’ve been hunting for the right location for some time, and when this particular street in SoHo had an open space, we knew it was just perfect. Being located near other great brands like Saturday’s, Aether and Totokaelo helps us tremendously, too. The traditional outdoor industry has never really understood where to place Snow Peak. Are we a manufacturer of lightweight camping equipment, or are we a luxury brand for apparel and accessories? All of our wonderful retail partners usually have to choose what sort of Snow Peak products they carry based on their customers’ demographics. What our SoHo store offers is a platform for us to highlight and balance both sides of Snow Peak.

Will Snow Peak NYC host community events and gatherings like the PDX flagship location? This is something I’m really excited about! We are working on a speaker series to bring in designers and tastemakers to host talks and presentations. There’s also some discussion on outdoor demos and survival training events. More details to come!

How is the NYC shop curated? It is a true Snow Peak store with all of the beautifully designed gear our customers expect to see, as well as seasonal releases of apparel. For space reasons, we are light on tents and furniture, and heavier on apparel, but that does not limit our ability to ship tents and furniture to any walk-in visitor. For the most part, both our Portland and NYC stores will have the same third party brands represented, such as Topo Designs, Helle Knives and Gr ä nsfors Bruks. We’ve taken great care in curating a selection of interesting and relevant products to compliment our Snow Peak gear and apparel.

Do you hav e any N YC- based c o l l abo rat i o ns i n t he w o rk s t o c elebrate the opening ? There are actually a few collabs in motion, each with an NYC focus. I can’t say much more than that on the topic, but stay tuned. sydney halle

Image by Rob Cusick

TO P O Des i gn s B o ul d er, C O Expanding its retail presence in Colorado, Topo Designs opened a Boulder storefront this summer to continue to share its mountain-inspired products to a town of active individuals, who are well-known for enjoying the outdoors. The new space offers a wide selection of Colorado-handcrafted bags and Made in the USA apparel. Adding even more to the mix, Topo’s Boulder shop provides various outdoor accessories and equipment from other brands, including lightweight stoves from Snow Peak and colorful hammocks by Kammok.

Image courtesy of TOPO Designs

Worn Path Portland, OR Greatly inspired by the outdoors of the Pacific Northwest, the counterculture of the ’60s and ’70s, and DIY vibes, Worn Path was opened by Niles Armstrong in May 2012. From backpacks and camp knives to outdoor books and skateboards, the shop offers a special selection of rooted-in-nature products that provide great aesthetics and solid functionality at a modest price point. One of Niles’s primary goals in creating Worn Path was to maintain an inclusive, communal feeling within the store, while also encouraging its visitors to pursue their favorite outdoor activities. sydney halle

Image by Niels Armstrong

S PA C ES

G l i d e S ur f C o As b ur y Par k, N J Alternative surf shop Glide originally opened in May 2011 in a little town called Normandy Beach, but when Hurricane Sandy forced them to relocate in 2012, owners Phil and Jessica found themselves in Asbury Park, a small city on the beach, which is in the midst of a beautiful resurgence as young entrepreneurs, artists and restaurateurs have come to call it home. Glide’s new space is clean and modern, but don’t expect to find your typical cookie-cutter surf shop big-brand labels. Instead, Glide offers some of the best hand-shaped boards in the world, all glassed nearby at their surfboard and glass workshop Heavens, core surf accessories and unique clothing. To better carve out their distinct role in East Coast surf culture, Glide has also collaborated on original products with some well-known brands such as Apolis Market Bags, Ebbets Vintage and Hackwith Design House.

SH A KERS

COM MUNIT Y

Image by Jill Bradshaw

Retailers

O F

Fri ends & Nei gh b o r s Austin, TX Designed to make you feel right at home and a part of the Austin community, Friends & Neighbors is a concept store that feels comfortable and cozy, offering all of your favorite items under one roof. The layout of the store actually mimics a typical house with each room looking like and selling what’s associated with that space–beauty products can be found in the bathroom, lingerie in the bedroom and housewares in the kitchen, which also has a super cute cafe. To top it all off, Friends & Neighbors has a stellar outdoor area where visitors can play a board game, sip a glass of wine under the pecan trees, gather for a local meetup or poetry reading, and grab a bite to eat from Cool Beans, the backyard vegan taco truck.

Image courtesy of AITA

R A D

MOV ERS

Ar t I n The Ag e P hi l adel ph i a, PA Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, a multi-faceted lifestyle brand established in the American tradition of careful craftsmanship, opened the doors to its Philly flagship store in 2008. While the interior design of the shop is reminiscent of industrial times, featuring both antique and vintage decor finds, modern fixtures also serve to highlight the brand’s organic and creative liqueurs, as well as artisan-made home goods, small-run apparel, apothecary must-haves and cocktail crafting essentials. In addition to the maker-focused retail side of the space, about 20 square feet are devoted to create a monthly rotating gallery space that showcases artists of various mediums and themes.

Ache (ak) 1. To suffer a dull, sustained pain. 2. To fe el sympathy or compassion. 3. To yearn or long.

by Molly Gavin

In 1976,

my dad Tom joined ACHE, a D.I.Y. athletic tournament with events from bocce to basketball. Tom was a goofy, curly-haired hippy and the father of a 5-month-old baby girl. “I hadn’t started running yet and only had done sports as a kid.” Tom nervously propped up my infant sister in her baby backpack while he ran the 440-meter dash. He returned 90 seconds later to find the backpack tipped and my sister, Karrie, face down in the grass. ACHE, which stands for Athletic Competition of the Highest Echelon, was started by group of friends who met while studying to become Catholic Priests at a Seminary in Philadelphia. They all eventually dropped out. To blow off steam after their first year at seminary, the group biked 78 miles from Philadelphia to Sea Isle City, New Jersey. My dad was invited to join ACHE by one of its founding members, his older brother Joe. Tom says, “ The motivation was just to have a fun weekend together. I don’t think anyone thought it would evolve into something that would last this long. After five years or so, most of the guys started to think, ‘Why not do this forever, or as long as we can?’” In t h e 1 970 s, P hila d e lp hia wa s a rough t ow n w it h s ome of t he wo r s t p r o fe s s i o nal s p o r t s t eams i n A merican his tor y. “ P h i l a d e l p h i a ” c o m e s f r o m a G r e e k w o r d m e a n i n g “ b r o t h e r l y l o v e ,” b u t t h e c i t y ’s c r u d e a n d unsportsmanlike reputation persists even today. Philly’s public image problem is perhaps best epitomized by an infamous ‘68 incident in which angry Eagles fans booed a Santa Claus and pelted him with snowballs during a halftime show. In the ‘90s, a courtroom and jail were installed beneath the football stadium. By the time the ex-seminarians established ACHE in 1974, they had embraced the anti-war, anti-establishment counter culture. Tom describes the main founder, Jerry McKendry, as a “ high school athlete, a jock, great guy,” but the rest of them were products of the ‘60s, “peace and love” guys who thought being overly competitive was “not cool.” ACHE was a way to bring out the best in each other through competition, but at the same time, not look down on the “non-athletic guys.”

* Photograph: Tom Jennings beating Tom Gavin in the 1 mile race. Philadelphia 1980 16

TH ER E IS A LOT O F STR ATE GY IN VO LV ED IN CH O O SIN G TH E E V ENTS , B UT M A N Y TI M ES TH E D E CIDIN G FACTO R CA M E D O W N TO TH AT VO L LE Y B A L L GA M E , A W IL D CA R D . Events over the years have included football punt and throw, wall ball, bocce, softball, rowing in the Schuylkill River, a swimming relay race, soccer, ping pong, bowling, track, basketball and tennis. Each participant chooses 10 events, and scoring is weighted depending on the type of sport. The two lowest scores are dropped and the rest are added up before the final event: volleyball. The four competitors with the highest scores are split onto different teams. There is a lot of strategy involved in choosing the events, but many times the deciding factor comes down to that volleyball game. Events take place throughout the city, some locations authorized, some not. One of my favorite events was the obstacle course at a bleak, bare-bones playground in North Philly. “ The B and Olney playground was the epicenter of many of the guys’ athletic youths, so for years, we went back there for basketball and the obstacle course, which was a race through playground equipment. Up and down sliding boards, swing around climbing equipment, and underneath and around monkey bars.” Often there were kids playing. The ‘80s and ‘90s ACHE-ers, clad in unthinkably short shorts and sweatbands, were usually able to coax the kids off the “course,” by inviting them to watch the absurdist competition. One year, a random dog chased a participant in the middle of his time trial. He ended up with the winning time. During the ‘80s and ‘90s, a growing army of kids, many of them delivered by ACHE-er and midwife, Dick Jennings, helped keep score and carry equipment. To their children, these hairy, sunburned guys were Olympians. My dad was more of a joker than a varsity

A F TER F I V E Y E A RS O R SO , M O ST O F TH E G U YS STA R TED TO THIN K , “ W H Y N OT D O THIS F O R E V ER , O R A S LO N G A S W E CA N ? ” athlete, but training for ACHE had sparked a running addiction that eventually led him to run 10 marathons. Being one of the less athletic guys, he took advantage of aerobic sports that could be mastered through training like the mile run and the bike race. In group sports like basketball, he was often picked last. In ‘95, my dad found himself staring down the chance to win as he finally made it to the top four for the first time. He “came out of nowhere,” winning the mile run and the bike race, and lucked out being paired with ping pong ace Al Bergen. The underdog of the bunch, his team rallied behind him. My two younger siblings and I sat center court and flipped numbers on the scorecard. Watching the game, I willed him to win with the same focused magical thinking that I used to will the Phillies to the win the league championship in ‘93. A painfully shy 8th grader, I was filled with pride as his self-deprecating victory speech got big laughs. The next year, to “prove it wasn’t a fluke,” he won again.

“ F O OT B A L L P U N T A N D T H R O W , WA L L B A L L , B O CC E , SO FTB AL L , R OW IN G IN THE SCHU YLK IL L R IV ER , A S W I M M I N G R E L AY R A C E , S O CC E R , P I N G P O N G , B OW L IN G , TR ACK , B A S K ETB AL L AND TENNIS . ” Ove r f o u r d e c a d e s later, the 25 re m a i n i n g m e m b er s of ACHE ar e s till c om p e t i n g w i t h ea c h other. Many o f th e m s t i ll p a r tic ip ate in the annu al bike t r i p t o t he Jer se y Shor e, now j o ined by a p a c k of 1 50 other s that includes wives, children and grandchildren. They keep in close touch, sharing personal news, inspirational quotes and inside jokes. More than ever they root for each other, always pulling for the underdog. L ast year’s winner, Joe Fitzpatrick, a.k.a. “Mr. ACHE,” finally had his first chance at a win and many of his closest competitors were rooting for him. They’ve seen each other through marriage and divorce, children and grandchildren, and illness and death. When my dad lost his brother Joe to melanoma in 2010, it gave me some comfort knowing his memory would live on with the entire group. Joe had an easygoing, wise way about him and my dad always looked up to him. Joe loved the bike trip most of all, and his four sons ride alongside my dad most years. In characteristic unsentimental fashion, my dad kept very few pictures from his 40 years at ACHE. The photographs were mostly taken by his friend Forrest Lang, an ACHE member who once ran a marathon with a “Nikon strapped to his chest like Rambo.” The photos make me laugh, but they also make me think about the alternate meanings of

the tongue-in-cheek acronym, of the dull, sustained pain of loss, of sympathy and compassion, of longing to win and longing to relive the carefree joy of youth. Exercise is the best defense we have against the physical and mental effects of aging, but I have a hard time finding inspiration in the often solitary pursuit

THE NEXT YEAR, TO “PROVE IT WASN’T A FLUKE”, HE WON AGAIN.

of staying in shape. Maybe competition is the missing component. Maybe it’s a combination of brotherly love, the will to win, and an underdog ment ality that causes some Phila delphians to care so deeply about the outcome of seemingly arbitrary sporting events. My dad and his friends in their 30s look so young, healthy and happy. My friends and I often complain about growing older, about aches and pains and missed opportunities. We’re too busy and we grow more distant. This summer during the 31st Olympics games, I propose we start our own athletic competitions. If we start now, we might be able to keep it up the next 40 years.

Group photo of the ACHE members and their kids in 87, including my sisters and I (bottom front row and 3 across) 18

A l l A .C .H .E. p h ot os b y or c ou rt e s y o f F orrest L a n g . F eat u ri n g (t h a t w h o m c an b e i d en t i fi ed ) T om Jen n i n g s, T om G av i n , C h ri s Ryan , Joh n Mc K ee, F orrest L a n g , Joe G a v i n , Joe C a rl , Mi k e Rod g ers , M i k e Don a h u e Joh n Osmon d , F ra n Dol a n F o r r e s t L a n g e Jerry Du g an , T om Jen n i n g s C h r i s Rya n Joe P a san a t i A l l p h ot os t ak e n i n P h i l a d el p h i a b et w een 1 9 7 2 a n d 1 9 9 5 .

Image by Clayton Cotterell

Collage by Emily Hoy

Going it Alone F I N D I N G S O L A C E I N S O L I TA R Y H I K I N G

by Cor r ina Pe ipon

didn’t intend to become a solo hiker. It happened as a matter of circumstance. I was single, and most of my friends were married with babies and small children. Their lives didn’t much allow for day hikes, let alone a weekend trip in the backcountry. I’m shy and not much of a joiner, so hiking clubs didn’t appeal to me. I started setting out on my own long day hikes, but soon got a little bored. Seeking a new challenge a little farther afield, I planned a camping trip with a friend who also wanted to hike to the top of Mount San Jacinto, one of southern California’s highest peaks. I arrived in Idyllwild where we planned to meet and checked my phone. My friend was sick and wouldn’t be able to join me. Thanks to an encouraging park ranger, I went to the top of the mountain alone and had one of the most rewarding walks of my life. Not only did I feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment, but an aspect of myself that had previously been closed off to others was suddenly open and alive. On my way down the mountain, I stopped to chat with people along the way and spent a while in the parking lot speaking with rock climbers who were hanging out there. Over beers and burgers with a couple of them in town, I thought how much fun it was to meet these people whom I never would have met if my friend had been with me. It was unlike me to join up with strangers, and I welcomed the unexpected transformation. My walk on Mount San Jacinto wa s a turning point for me. I understood after that weekend that my long walks on mountains were changing me for the better. The freedom and happiness I found in the mountains was beginning to follow me into my frontcountry life, and the chronic dissatisfaction I had with my work as a museum curator evolved into motivation 22

N OT O N LY D I D I F E E L A T R E M E N D O U S S E N S E O F A CCO M P L I S H M E N T , B U T A N A S P E C T O F MY S E L F T H AT H A D P R E V I O U S LY B E E N C LO S E D O F F TO OT H E R S WA S S U D D E N LY O P E N A N D A L I V E . toward a radical life change. I no longer felt trapped in a hopeless situation, and I used my free time—and a considerable amount of time at work, I don’t mind admitting —to plan my weekend adventures, which would alter the course of my life toward new levels of creativity and independence. Not only had my life goals become clearer, but I was also more relaxed and less reactive. I had become friendlier and more open to connecting with other people, both strangers and those close to me. The key to all of this was not walking up mountains per se, but what I found in myself along the way. I could have chosen anything as a palliative remedy to my restlessness, but my natural evolution from casual rambler to committed long distance hiker was more a calling than a choice. I began to have intense cravings for the sense of internal transformation that accompanied my walks. I read guidebooks like they were novels, searching for challenging terrain and beautiful scenery. I daydreamed about the places I could go on my own two feet. I decided to become a backpacker. Fo r my i nau g u ra l outin g, I wa s accompanied by my friends Jennifer and Peter, a married couple who are both lifelong backpackers. We quickly fell into a rhythm, each of us walking at our own paces, meeting up now and then to take a rest. I liked the social dimension of walking with others. Walking in a group necessitates discussion and consensus, which I found fulfilling. The company of others provides a degree of comfort, an outlet for voicing one’s thoughts in the moment, and the opportunity to commiserate. On the other side, it’s difficult to access the remote internal summits with other folks around. I was glad to strengthen my friendships with Jennifer and Peter, but I also missed the solitude I had grown accustomed to finding on my walks alone.

and did a Rim to Rim in a day hike from the south to north sides of the canyon and back the next day, a total of about 50 trail miles and combined 20,000 feet of elevation gain and loss in around 36 hours. I did all of these things by myself, but the John Muir Trail tested the boundaries of my tolerance for solitude. Traveling alone, I have the chance to meditate for extended periods of time, but I am also more inclined to engage with strangers. The encounters I have with other hikers show me a dimension of human character that I don’t often get to experience at home in Los Angeles. There i s a n a l mo s t immediate connection with other hikers. We are

and swapped ideas about ultralight gear and cooking methods. While she walked the JMT, her husband explored mountain lakes, fishing his way down the Eastern Sierra in a camper with their dog. After parting ways one morning, I thought I’d never see her again, but we crossed paths on our final day on the dramatic two-mile traverse out to the summit of Mount Whitney. It was like running into a cherished friend I hadn’t seen in years. Concerned about a dangerous river crossing I had to make on the Timberline Trail in Oregon, I was happy when I came across another hiker coming in the opposite direction. While he was giving me valuable information about the best place to cross, I r e m e m b e r e d t h a t i t w a s m y birthday. He looked at me in disbelief and told me that his birthday had been the day before. We had both come to this mountain to spend our birthdays alone and became instant friends. This year, we wished each other a happy birthday via email before each o f u s h e a d e d ou t f or ou r ye a r l y birthday adventure.

I . R E A D . G U I D E BOOKS LIKE THEY W ER E N O V ELS , SEARCHING FOR C H A L L E N G I N G T E R R A I N A N D B E A U T I F U L S C E N E R Y , . A N D I . D AY D R E A M E D AB O UT THE P LACES I CO U L D G O O N MY OWN TWO FEET.

Once I learned the how of backpacking, I became a seeker. I looked for challenges that would give me the opportunity to test my physical and mental endurance, my strength and wherewithal. I decided to thru-hike the John Muir Trail, a 221-mile footpath running through the Sierra Nevada from Little Yosemite Valley to Mount Whitney. I wanted to do it alone. As such a beginner, I knew the undertaking would require masses of training and logistics, and the JMT became my primary focus for six months. I made an end-to-end traverse of the 13-mile Verdugo range, took overnights to Cucamonga Peak and Mount San Gorgonio, and completed countless day hike summits of Mount Baldy. I went to the Grand Canyon

all experiencing the joys and hardships of carrying our homes on our backs into an expansive wilderness. We are all vulnerable to the elements and conditions, so we all depend on one another for information, help and encouragement. On my first trip to the Grand Canyon, I met a trio of Canadians who shared a secret swimming hole with me and loaned me a much-needed tent peg. Complete strangers to each other, we shared our stories and dreams at the edge of the Colorado River. We toasted the sunrise on the South Rim with tequila and have been friends ever since. By chance, I wound up camping three nights in a row with another solo hiker on the John Muir Trail. Tracey and I ate supper together 23

Now that I am a more experienced backpacker, I anticipate my encounters with other hikers almost as much as I look forward to my solo meditations. In my experience, the subculture of hikers is a model for an ideal society. The wilderness is filled with compassion, generosity and kindness. In addition to treating each other well, hikers generally follow a code of conduct that brings out the best in people. The concept of Leave No Trace (LNT) was developed as a set of practical guidelines to help preserve wilderness areas. The seven principles are to plan ahead and prepare, travel and camp on durable surfaces, dispose of waste properly, leave what you find, minimize campfire impacts, respect wildlife, and be considerate of other visitors. It’s that last one that makes all the difference when it comes to relating to others. I believe that everyone can benefit from spending time in wild places, and the more people seek out wilderness experiences, the more important it will be for everyone to follow LNT. I also believe that by connecting with others in these settings, we are able to connect more with ourselves. I often wonder how radically we could change our world for the better if we all adapted and adopted LNT practices in our daily lives, no matter where we are. If all of our decisions —from what we eat to where and how we live—were guided by these ideas, imagine how we could transform our lives, our communities and our world.

Band O f Brothers

Billy Reid turtleneck

Okemo Mountain

Photo Essay by:

Sty lin g:

Models:

B o b by Whi g h a m

Shibo n Kenned y

Carver Provan ce Addison Provan ce Jace Provan ce

S P O N S O R E D

Left: Nadaam Jacket // Ecoale vest // Orley scarf + sweater + trousers // Billy Reid turtleneck // Danner boots Middle: Alpha Industries parka // Chapter shirt // Without Walls pants Re ebok Lighthouse Neoprene Scuba // Tights,overalls Re ebok//One Series Tight // // Sneakers, Re ebok Z Pump Fusion // Nadaam thermal // Danner boots Jacket, Right: Simon Miller shirt // Nadaam sweater // Carhartt Chapter shirtWP // Thermal Danner boots Alex Mill gloves

R E E B O K

Im ag e s : N i ck J o s e p h // St y li s t : J a rd in e H a mm o n d H a ir + M a ke up : Alli e B e n g t s s o n Mod e l: Gilli an @ Fre e d o m // M o d e l : G a b r i e l @ Ph o to g e ni c s

Alex Mill beanie // Orley sweater // Billy Reid sweatshirt // Orley trousers // Beltology belt // Danner boots

Simon Miller Shirt // Nadaam sweater // Carhartt overalls // Chapter shirt // Danner boots // Alex Mill gloves

Billy Reid sweater + crew // Casely-Hayford fleece // Nadaam pants

Left: Vans jacket // Billy Reid shirt + sweater // Without Walls pants // Danner boots // Supreme beanie - Right: Billy Reid sweatshirt // Topo Designs beanie // Nadaam sweater + shorts + thermals // Danner boots

Vans jacket // Billy Reid shirt + sweater // Without Walls pants // Danner boots // Supreme beanie

Left: Rosin Headwear cap // EFM by Donrad Duncan parka // Ecoale hoodie // Nine One Seven hoodie // Without Walls pants // Danner boots - Middle: Topo button-up // Columbia hoodie // Topo Designs fleece // Orley trousers // Danner boots // Topo Designs cap - Right: Woolrich parka + pants // Topo Designs beanie // Danner boots

Image by Hilary Oliver

The Grit and Grace it Takes to Adventure With Your S.O. “T

by H il a r y O li v e r HIS IS IT,”

I told myself, traversing a granite ledge, scrambling up a grassy corner and onto the next ledge, nearing the top of the pass. “We’ll pop out at the top of a beautiful alpine lake, pitch the tent, and be done for the day.” I couldn’t remember feeling this way before, the hollow, almost fluttery feeling across my chest as I pushed the pace through the day’s 11th hour. Sure, I’d brought myself to what I thought was the limit before, running the 800 meters in high school, 5Ks in college, half marathons in my 20s. But this was completely different, and I didn’t know how much farther I could go. Brendan waited at the top, beckoning from where he sat, sheltered from the wind behind a boulder. I relied heavily on my trekking poles to pick up slack under the weight of my 40-pound pack, stepping quickly across the top of the talus field. His facial expression was my first warning. Instead of the relieved, end-of-day victory smile, his eyes were cautiously encouraging, quickly scanning my expression, reading for my response. There was no lake. Not here. Or anywhere else, as far as I could see. Just talus. More talus spreading downward and downward.

SOMEHOW I’D MANAGED TO IGNORE THOSE TOPO LINES WHEN I’D LOOKED OVER THE MAP EARLIER, PERHAPS OUT OF DENIAL. We had seven days’ worth of food and were behind schedule about halfway through a high-altitude traverse of Wyoming’s Wind River Range. After a

casual couple of days, we realized we’d need to pick up our pace if we wanted to finish before our food ran out. The off-trail scrambling and bushwhacking was kicking our asses. Up and over boulders, millions of them it seemed. Through willow thicket after willow thicket, around this lake and that lake, over unending mountain passes.

I’M SURE THESE KINDS OF MOMENTS HAPPEN TO NON-OUTDOORSY COUPLES, TOO. Brendan set the pace and I power-walked in his footsteps, trying to keep from losing him over a ridge or among a field of boulders. Today had been huge. We’d been moving hard since the August sun had peeked over the horizon, up and over mountains and through terrain that required my full body to get over or around. I’d felt my limbs tremble with adrenaline as a boulder slid out from under me on one descent. I barely caught myself before taking a flying spill down a talus field, carried forward by the momentum of my pack. Already, I had dug deeply several times to find the courage and motivation to keep moving. As the sun started sagging low, my mantra had been “Just to the top of this pass.” But, no. I collapsed, very nearly in tears, behind a boulder near Brendan. “It’s just at the bottom of this,” he said, softly. “We’ve just got to keep moving.” Somehow I’d managed to ignore those topo lines when I’d looked over the map earlier, perhaps out of denial. He watched my face as I gasped huge breaths, deeply grateful that he had the emotional intelligence to give me a minute. It’s a moment preserved in my brain, a faded, overexposed snapshot. His questioning expression, checking to 32

see how I felt, was hardened by the knowledge that we couldn’t stay there. We had to keep moving. I was scraping the very bottom of my heart to come up with the energy to move forward, knowing full well that it was only Brendan’s gentle quiet that stood between collecting myself and bursting into tears of exhaustion. I’m sure these kinds of moments happen to non-outdoorsy couples, too, maybe in dealing with unruly children, frustrating finances or stressful career choices. But if you spend enough time adventuring in the outdoors with your significant other, it’s sure to happen out there on the side of a mountain, in the middle of a rushing rapid or halfway down a trail. Nature has a way of stripping away our excuses, the airs we put on. There really is no way to fake it out there. The nice and the nasty both come brutally into focus under the mountain sun. Every ounce of ego is amplified, and without humility and patience, good luck to you and your loved one. I’ve been on both sides of this. I’ve been the one leaning over my bike at the bottom of a series of switchbacks, cocking my head to peer around the corner for Brendan, hoping he hadn’t eaten shit and that he didn’t hate me with the fury of the significant other thrown helpless into the deep end. And I’ve cursed loudly on toprope halfway up a desert mountain, grunting my way up my first off-width to find Brendan’s shocked face at the top, afraid I’d immediately state, “I’m never climbing again.” And I’m sure—actually, I hope—that those moments aren’t over. I’m sure the Wind River trip won’t be the most demanding trial Brendan and I will face together. Life is long and sometimes tragic. But I’d like to think that those moments in the mountains, learning to be patient, gently pushing each other to be our best selves, might somehow echo back when the real darkness of life threatens, reminding us we’re made of grittier stuff than we thought.

U R B A N

M I C R O

A DV E N T U R E S

Image by Keith Morrison

A Walk in the Woods is a Short Train Ride Away by Regina Baker

idweek madness. A quick check of the account balance shows a small allowance for the weekend, maybe brunch and a movie or something of that sort, although that sure sounds a lot like last weekend, and all you want is a getaway, even if just for the weekend. Just some time separated from the screens, the sirens, the people. Just a breath of fresh air, a walk in the woods. Getting back to basics, back to Earth. It’s not as daunting as you may think. You gave up the convenience of a vehicle and the ease of travel to a nearby trail when you became a resident of New York City, but little did you know that you actually have access to some of the best hiking in New York even

without the wheels. So, do you want to rethink that $30 you were about to spend on brunch? It’s time for a day trip to Upstate New York. ................................................................ Let’s start with the packing list. A Camelbak will suffice as a storage unit for the necessities such as your map, snacks, cash, ID, keys and water. It’s no longer summer, so be sure to wear layers that can easily be stripped and tied around your waist or latched to your pack when you get warm on the trail, and be sure to dust off those old hiking boots. Next, check the train times for your

destination, which are all under two hours from Midtown Manhattan. To the east of the Hudson River, you have the Appalachian Trail, Breakneck Ridge, Mount Beacon and Bull Hill, which are all accessible by Metro North. Take New Jersey Transit for trails west of the Hudson, such as Schunemunk Mountain, South Mountain Reservation and Harriman State Park. Grab a map, hit the trail, catch your breath at a local dive bar, and return to the city by dark. It doesn’t take much, and it’s well worth it to stray from the beaten path to take in the natural sights right outside this wild city.

Hiking to Eagle Rock Los Angeles, CA

ski, depending on conditions. In the winter, part of the road is blocked off for cross-country skiing and groomed weekly. About four and a half miles from the edge of the trail, the Utah Nordic Alliance maintains a yurt in Mill Creek, so even though home is just a quick journey down the road, you can still sleep out in the peace of the wild.

Images by Sarah Knapp and Laura Stade

D iscovering T he O utdoors Within City Limits by Sarah L. Knapp

t can seem tough to balance your adventurous spirit with city living, but these micro adventures all exist within the city limits to bring you easy access to climbing, hiking, snowshoeing and cross country skiing. .................................................................

Rock Climbing in Cragmont Berkeley, CA

Views of Los Angeles on one side and the expanse of the Pacific on the other greet you when you reach the top of Eagle Rock in L.A.’s Topanga State Park. Just 25 minutes from Santa Monica, you can start your trip at Trippet Ranch and follow a six and a half-mile loop up to the summit and back. The trail winds in and out of the mountains, providing views of the surrounding Topanga Canyon, and a fairly mellow trail is accessible for both hikers and trail runners. All you need is a good pair of shoes, water and a sense of adventure for this quick jaunt in nature. Pro tip: there’s a backcountry campsite if you have extra time to explore.

It may feel strange to walk through a residential neighborhood to get to the Crag, but in the Bay Area, this is how you find local climbing. Cragmont Park and nearby Remilliard Park are quietly tucked into the suburban sections of Berkeley with dozens of climbing and bouldering routes to explore. Most of the climbing can be set up as top rope, meaning minimal gear is needed, and even less is required CrossCountry Skiing in Mill Creek Canyon Salt Lake City, UT for bouldering. From San Francisco, a mix of BART and bus will bring you to either park in about an On the edge of Salt Lake City, Mill Creek Canyon hour, while driving across the Bay is only a half brings city dwellers unbelievably easy access to hour. And of course, in true San Francisco style, the mountains. Starting in downtown Salt Lake, you can always Uber there for less than $45. drive just 15 minutes to the base of the canyon where you can hike, snowshoe or cross-country 33

Snowshoeing Rock Creek Park Washington, D.C. Just 30 minutes by bus from downtown D.C. lays one of the nation’s oldest and largest urban parks, Rock Creek. This swath of almost 2,000 acres has been protected since the 19th century and during the summer, it is consistently filled with hikers, cyclists and horseback riders. Yet, when the snow falls, the crowds dissipate, making it a perfect time to go explore in relative solitude. Grab your layers and take the S4 bus to I Street NW at the eastern edge of the park to pick up the Valley Trail. Do an out and back on the Valley Trail for a quicker trip, or connect to the Western Ridge Trail for a full 10-mile loop of the park.

On the Road with Molly Steele by Lisa Dougherty

nown for hopping trains and taking solo road trips in the middle of the night, RANGE contributor Molly Steele has quickly become an acclaimed photographer. Playing by her own rules and bringing her camera along the way, Molly invites viewers to join in on her experiences into the “wild” unknown. A s t ro n g p e rs o n a l re l a t i o n s hip w i t h n a t u re h a s p l a ye d a bi g ro l e in M o ll y ’ s photography, but it’s in her recent work that she’s embarked on more collaborative adventures. This year, she’s hiked through the Mojave Desert with Juniper Ridge, explored the Australian Outback with the Adventure Handbo ok, and built tre e forts in Angels Crest with photographer Kevin Russ. It’s in these shared experiences that Molly has begun to enjoy interpersonal connections in nature. “My life changed when I opened up to traveling with other people. Suddenly not only my work, but also my lifestyle became collaborative. There was a bending or shaping there. I’m not sure of the effect really. Artistically, I think it made me more flexible and interested, and on many occasions, I have felt more supported. Most of all, I am happier and fe el more understo od.” Through all of her connections, both personal and interpersonal, Molly has undoubtedly found her voice, capturing nature and people in a way that’s both energizing and unapologetic. The untamed nature of her photographs is what draws us to her work and feeds our passion for the outdo ors. It’s what makes her work so captivating. It’s what makes Molly, well, Molly.

E T I PS FO R

EN RT AIN

FIV

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eing in the woods is no excuse to leave little luxuries back at home. In fact, I’d wager that it’s the best backdrop to flaunt your entertaining prowess. I live for the idea that you can maximize every moment with just a little extra effort. Call me a “glamper” if you must, but attention to detail makes an experience unforgettable. Hospitality isn’t just for fancy hotels, and camping isn’t just for roughing it! Here’s how to combine the two for a next-level camping experience:

4. Go Analogue: It physically pains me when I’m soaking in the nature vibes and someone whips out their phone to remind me of the connected world I’m trying to escape for the night. The campground is no place for phones. Keep mobile technology out of sight, out of mind. I know, I know, we all want photos of our amazing campground dinner party to revel in later on Instagram. I’m guilty of this, too! Rediscover your camera or bring a Polaroid to capture the memories

1. Set the Table: A tablecloth and some good dishes go a long way to turn a weathered picnic table into dining al fresco. I use a throw blanket that can double as a wrap by the fire later, and I always keep a lookout for vintage cafeteria trays or tin plate sets that travel well and conjure up summer-camp nostalgia.

5. Tent Hotel: The worst hour of camping is when you first get to your campground full of excitement and anticipation, only to delay that cold beer and camp chair while you set up a dusty tent and get organized. It’s really fun to blow your guests’ minds by setting up a full tent hotel room that’s ready when they arrive. Think of it as an outdoor guest house. My camp guest shows up to a tent with an air mattress fully made with comfy sheets and a nice Pendleton blanket, as well as a crate nightstand set with some magazines and a filled water bottle. And I can’t help myself from leaving a little chocolate on their pillow. Just because. ...........................................................................

2. Lighting is Everything: Battery-operated lanterns are great for function, but I’d rather set the mood. Nothing kills the vibe quicker than a blinding glare surrounded by light-drunk bugs. Mason jars make the perfect lantern for candles and keep the wind from blowing them out. 3.

B.Y.O.Bar: Nothing is more amateur than showing up with a bottle of booze and not knowing what to do with it. Sipping whiskey from the bottle is great for showing you haven’t lost your youthful spontaneity, but you can do better. The key is pre-batching cocktails at home and then funneling them into mini bottles or mason jars that easily fit in a bag or cooler. Bring some

There’s a time and a place for roughing it, and I enjoy a good backpacking adventure when the situation calls, but there’s no reason you can’t also create a five-star camp experience and bring your hostess game to the woods.

N U J G X M E

LIMITED EDITION RELEASE

R A N G E M AV E N

2 0 1 6 36

RAN

BY R A C H E L M A E F U R M A N

proper glassware. Again, mason jars are a good durable option for cocktail glasses that fit perfectly in a beer koozie for transport.

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Illustrations by Andrew Groves

IN THE WOODS

@ T H I S I S R A N G E

Hike, Camp, Explore

Images by Charles Post

HOW THE OUTDOORS ARE BEING REDEFINED AS A “LAND OF MANY USES”

by Charles Post

s they marched across chin deep prairie, they whispered to themselves, “We’ll tame this land.” With those words, a seed was planted, one that grew into a labyrinth of railroads and wagon trails, stumps and log cabins. By 1849, the eastern seaboard of America had been tamed. Passenger pigeons n o l o n g e r flooded fall skies by the millions, and the herds of bison that stretched 20 miles in all directions had been systematically slaughtered. Pioneers did what they deemed reasonable given the wild circumstances of early America. Fast forward 166 years beyond John Muir and Theodore Roosevelt standing on the brow of Yosemite’s Glacier Point, and here we are, at a great confluence of ideals. We love our forests and oceans, our clear skies and vast blue rivers, yet we clear-cut, pollute, and dam them. At t h e intersection of this dichotomy lies a choice that can bring us deep into the backcountry, where trails are peppered with the hoof prints of elk and bighorn sheep, campfires warm cold hands, and nights are spent with friends, eyes cast skyward. Our escapes and jaunts into the wild corners of Earth inspire us. The adventures help us grow. They remind us there’s a big blue world out there that needs stewards hell-bent on protecting what wilderness we have left. The United States National Forest Service puts it bluntly: these lands are and should be managed as a “land of many uses.” The notion of a “land of many uses” speaks to our respective values of nature. We are left to make our own interpretations of what nature means to us, and to what degree we would like to use and experience it. There are millions of people experiencing the outdoors in ways that didn’t exist 20 years ago. This has been made possible by the genesis of InstaMeets, as well as brands like HipCamp. Today, everyone can share their story with the push of a button. The playing field is level, and our collective interest is free to roam where it may. As an ecologist with experience teaching field biology and environmental history, I find this technologically-driven interest in

T he United States National Forest Ser vice puts it bluntly: these lands are and should be managed as a “land of many uses.” T he notion of a “land of many uses” speaks to our respective values of nature. We are left to make our own interpretations of what nature means to us, and to what degree we would like to use and experience it. the natural world another iteration of our timeless fascination with the outdoors. Environmental luminaries like Henry David Thoreau and John Muir celebrated the sublime nature of our nation’s wilderness. Both men are a testament to society’s long consideration its relationship to the natural world. The American mindset is shifting, evolving from an urge to tame the natural world into a celebration of the great outdoors. Yes, forests are still clear-cut, rivers dammed, oceans polluted. But we are in the midst of a social revaluing, one that has allowed a stream of perspectives to reach a global community that is rooted in a reverence for the outdoors. As members of this community, it’s up to us to share our perspectives and incite a dialogue that speaks to our love of the outdoors, our love of starry skies, wild rivers and great waterfalls. Forests don’t have to be clear-cut, rivers dammed, oceans filled with plastic. We have our voices and innumerable platforms to inspire, educate and build awareness. A land of many uses is for us to interpret. Its fate lies in our hands.

THE MODERN OUTDOORS AND DIGITAL PUBLISHING

How We Interact with Nature is Changing, Both Online and IRL

by Graham Hiemstra

i there. By the time you’re reading this, The Field will be live. What is The Field ? It’s a new digital publication for men an d w o m e n i n s p i r e d b y d e s i g n a n d t h e modern outdoor movement. Check it out at thefieldmag.com. It’s the best, and exactly what you want in a website about attractive outdoor stuff. We have beautiful pictures of beautiful places, articles about adventure, interviews with smart people, gear reviews, product news and other great stuff contributed by professional athletes, award-winning photographers and journalists, and other talented, non-kooky outdoors people like myself.

As a youngster in the Pacific Northwest, the forest was literally my backyard. I slept outside nearly every summer night and learned to fly fish before I was 10. I rode bicycles and skateboarded daily, and spent winters and summers alike snowboarding, thanks to Mt. Hood’s year-round snowfield. Yet at no point in my 20-something years in the Northwest did I ever climb a mountain, or own dedicated hiking boots or even a tent. I was outdoorsy as could be without actually relating to the outdoor industry’s most well-known core brands. Even now, as an adult living and working in New York City with the means to take on more ambitious adventures, my interest in the outdoors remains focused on the immediately relevant and aesthetically inclined. And I don’t think this experience is singular.

M OS T YO U N G PEOPLE SEEK A MORE ACC E S S I B L E , MORE CASUAL R E L AT I O N S H I P W I T H N AT U R E For decades, the outdoor industry has championed the extreme and intimidating, which in turn has undoubtedly kept many timid city dwellers from discovering a love for nature. All too easy does the mind’s eye conjure up images of mountaineering and backcountry exploration when asked to imagine the outdoors. Most major outdoor brands have built their legacy on supplying gear for such expert-only environments. Similarly, most longstanding outdoor publications focus heavily on this ultra niche audience as well. Though save for a select few, most young people are not interacting with the outdoors in such an aggressive way. They seek a more accessible, more casual relationship with nature. Now more than ever, people are preferring to identify not with a single activity—skiing, hiking, camping, cycling, rock climbing—but rather as a general lover of the outdoors and a liver of an active lifestyle. In return, the relatively recent rise of the generalist outdoor brand has been prolific, as has the response of many enduring brands in introducing more urban-minded lines. This “new” sweet spot— where design and function are held in equal accord,

Image by Ian Durkin

Okay, now that my sweet self promo bit is out of the way, let’s indirectly dive into what ideas shaped The Field and how the landscape of the outdoor industry is evolving.

MOUNTAINEERING IS AWESOME, BUT SO IS SHARING A FEW COLD ONES AROUND A C A M P F I R E W I T H C L OS E F R I E N DS . and equipment and apparel function well in all different environments—is a natural evolution of the industry, reflecting a consumer that’s more interested in a lifestyle that’s attainable rather than purely aspirational. This shift may also be impacting what people want to get from the magazines, social media accounts and brands they follow. Audiences are increasingly interested in content that is relatable and accessible. Mountaineering is awesome, but so is sharing a few cold ones around a campfire with close friends, and riding a bike around town simply for the fun of it. Sure, I’m a sucker for dreamy images of far-flung destinations and rare Japanese gear as much as the next guy—the unobtainable will always hold a certain allure—but one can only find so much inspiration in articles exalting luxury sports cars and extravagant watches. A happy medium must be reached, where press release-generated product posts are balanced with insightful hands-on reviews, informative articles and of course, beautiful nature photography. After all, isn’t the end goal to inspire readers to get outside and explore the wild world for themselves? Along these same lines, it seems there’s a growing distaste for the amount and quality of content that many media outlets are pumping out. The algorithmic listicles, clickbait headlines and other publishing techniques that assume the consumer is as mindless as the content is polarizing earn publishers millions on ad revenue alone, yet drives intelligent audiences to seek a better experience elsewhere. Many smaller, independent publishers are itching for change, too. Take, for example, digital natives Highsnobiety and Hypebeast , two sites that have long relied on content aggregation as their bread and butter. Both have begun putting considerable resources into video and long-form articles. And metrics show it’s working, as page views and engagement time is up and brand loyalty no doubt alongside it. 38

As the landscape continues to shift, for many, collaboration maybe become central to their content strategy. Individuals have become brands—a statement you’ve read too many times already I’m sure—and heavyweight personalities now bring with them an audience of their own. As we continue to see, some the most sought-after c o n t e n t c r e a t o r s a r e as l i k e l y t o b e s i n g l e individuals with an iPhone as they are established creative studios and media conglomerates. And with audiences becoming more open to consuming different types of content across different platforms and publications—and advertisers opening up to experimental campaigns and association-based programs—the opportunity for mutually beneficial collaboration is ripe. So, as a content creator, why not maximize the number of eyes that see your work? Does the word “exclusive” hold any weight anymore? In a world where embargos are broken without consequence and content is stolen the moment it’s published, it’d be tough to argue for it. Should you choose to collaborate, it’s key to select partners carefully, as to not saturate a single audience, but rather reach multiple that may not otherwise overlap. One such publisher that relies heavily on this syndication model is Hearst Digital Media, which routinely shares content unedited across titles as varied as Cosmopolitan , Good Housekeeping and Esquire , to name a few. Is William Randolph Hearst rolling over in his grave? Who knows. Is HDM making a killing and growing their audiences significantly day by day? Yes. The proof is in the pudding. So really, the takeaway here is that things have been and will continue to change, and it’s super exciting. And if you feel like you have content fatigue, stop reading bullshit websites and go outside and run around a bit. Being elastic and having an open mind is the key to surviving and thriving in the near future. And beyond that? Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.

SPEAKERS + + + + +

Nasahan Sheppard // VP of Design, REI Zoë Keating // Cellist, composer & performer Mike Monteiro // Mule Design Aaron Draplin // DDC Fjallraven….and more!

WORKSHOPS + + + + + + +

Sew-Free & Bonding // Bemis Wo ol for Performance // Wo olmark The Future of Cotton // Cotton Incorporated Performance Fabrics 101 // Concept lll Visual Storytelling for Designers // Adam Geremia Building Impactful Color Palettes // Promostyl CAD for design // Autodesk

EVENING EVENTS + Opening Reception - The Sentinel Hotel + Thursday Happy Hour - Snow Peak Flagship Store + Closing Party - Nau PDX Store

PARTNERS & PRESENTERS FROM + + + + + + + 39

Nau RANGE Western Rise Carryology Stanley University of Oregon CORDURA® + And many more!