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CRASH ON THE RUN! FASTER, WILDER, AND MORE ADVENTUROUS THAN EVER

CRASH IS KING!

UNLEASHED ON MOBILE Prepare for the Run of a Lifetime

NEW SMARTPHONE GAME HONORS HIS 25-YEAR LEGACY

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Building knowledge and support of our public lands Our public lands should be enjoyed responsibly and preserved unequivocally.

Introducing Lands Uncompromised, a cause-marketing campaign driving awareness, support, pride and passion for our public lands.

Go to MensJournal.com/LandsUncompromised to follow, support and engage.

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ADVENTURES

CAMPING IN CALI PACKRAFTING IN UTAH TREKS TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

KEEP THESE WHISKEYS SECRET! P. 16

GEAR GUIDE

LIFE AFTER THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE

THE DEADLY GAME OF DIAMOND SMUGGLING HIGH-END FASHION MADE EASY

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16 NOTEBOOK

8 Opener The best places to risk your life.

GEAR L AB

20 E-bikes Rides that will power you to the top of that mountain.

96 BLUEPRINT

86 Fitness Add mass to your upper body the old-fashioned way—with dumbbells.

12 Outdoors Where and how to rent a rad offroader for a weekend adventure.

14 Conservation Score one for the fish! This dam is getting demolished in Cali.

22 Waterproof Bags You never knew you needed one of these affordable and durable carriers, but you do.

24 Earbuds & Hi-Fi These two pages are gonna hurt your credit card—sorry!

16 Drinks Five boozes that use local ingredients for a signature taste.

Ken Burns examines the life and times of Ernest Hemingway.

NASA Chris Cassidy’s out-of-thisworld advice on how to achieve your dreams.

92 Health A new study explains how you can start to lose weight anywhere, anytime, in just a few seconds.

26 Bike-Rafting Combo Don’t attack the great outdoors without these pro toys.

17 Media

90 What Works For Me

94 Nutrition Finally, healthy snacks that don’t taste like dirt!

28 Bushcraft Essentials Must camping be uncivilized?

L AST WORD

18 We’re With Her ESPN studio host and sideline reporter Maria Taylor knows a good play when she sees one.

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30 Trail Shoes New kicks for walking miles and miles and miles! {The Who} MEN’S JOURNAL

96 William Zabka The Cobra Kai star is having the time of his life back in the dojo.

PLANT PROTEIN NUT

Pro Football Hall of Famer Tony Gonzalez

PLANT PROTEIN NUT W

Letter From the Editor hat’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done? Or, rather, what’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever attempted? For me it was taking a $400,000 Porsche Carrera GT up to 270 KPH on the Autobahn outside Munich.

Or maybe it was the time I went bungee jumping at that derelict roadside outpost in Thailand.

(Me: “Why is the pool under the crane empty?” Thai guy: “Won’t help you anyway.”) In any case, nothing on my list comes close to the gut-check insanity renowned kayaker Chris Korbulic does on a regular basis. That’s him on the next page, Peter-Panning over a 45-foot waterfall at Agnes Creek in Washington…and the guy has 100 first descents to his name.

For something slightly less dangerous and almost as thrilling, check out your bikepacking and packrafting options in Chasing Doom. Doom just happens to be the nickname of the guy who runs the tours, which is as much about survival as it is about exploring Utah’s beautiful, rugged backcountry. But before you go, flip through our Gear section and suit up! Electric off-road bikes, waterproof earbuds, camp stoves, drybags—we’re talking life essentials here.

This issue also pays tribute to men on an altogether different kind of journey, those that have far-reaching consequences and last a lifetime. In The Protectors you’ll meet eight warriors who’ve made it their mission to protect

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America’s wildlife and wilderness.

Kemp Burdette’s challenge isn’t a waterfall or a mountain, it’s DuPont and various meat processing companies polluting the Cape Fear River in North Carolina. And you’ve surely never stopped to think about the extinction of snow leopards, but thank God legendary conservationist George Schaller did back in the ’50s, because his work is why they still stalk the Himalayas. After more than six decades on sentry duty, George merely describes his job as “roaming around watching animals.”

Then there’s the job of killing zombies. That’s what Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s character Negan does with brutal efficiency on The Walking Dead, which is currently filming its 11th and final season.

Any human survivors oughta take refuge at The Old Forge bar in Scotland (p. 64)—the seafood is fresh, the beer cold and ain’t nobody ever gonna find them.

Editorial Director P.S.: Please tell us about the craziest adventure you’ve ever undertaken and we’ll post the top 10 on MensJournal .com. The best gets a top-shelf bottle of Dewar’s. Email your yarn to editors@ mensjournal.com. Photos welcome!

MEN’S JOURNAL

D I S PAT C H E S F R O M A W I L D W O R L D

The King of First Descents A world-class paddler discovers a hidden rush in the remote backwoods of Washington.

HEN THE PANDEMIC gutted last year’s global expedition plans, I looked to my Pacific Northwest backyard for inspiration. In Washington’s wild North Cascade Range I wanted to find a section of river that had never been paddled. Examining maps and satellite imagery I noticed myriad trails crisscrossing the range, opening

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access to countless rarely accessed stretches of river.

Twice I hiked with my kayak to scout a series of promising falls at a place called Agnes Creek just off the Pacific Crest Trail. But water levels were never right. On the third try everything finally came together. From the banks of an unnamed 45-foot waterfall, I spent three hours studying the drop, reviewing everything I’d learned

by CH RI S KO RBU LI C

NEXT PAGE: Wild rivers you can have (almost) all to yourself.

Korbulic was more worried about the subsequent mile of whitewater than the fall itself.

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Notebook

PADDLING

from more than 100 first descents of falls around the world. By the time I commit to a fall like this I want to feel as though I’ve already done it, because I’ve visualized every detail. My girlfriend, who was there watching that day, says I obsess over preparation. She’s right.

Making my approach I became enveloped in sunlit mist rising before a moss-covered headwall.

At the lip I felt the acceleration of gravity pulling me into a brief arc, then beautiful free fall. Because the water below was so aerated, the landing was actually pretty soft. My kayak submerged maybe 10 feet. In seconds I was upright at the base of the falls. My thoughts throughout were just about following the steps of my visualization process.

I finished paddling the milelong gorge with Ben McKenzie, who followed me down the falls.

Reveling in whitewater, bedrock drops and emerald-blue pools we resolved to keep fighting for conservation of access to pristine rivers and healthy watersheds. Having notched another world-class first descent—this one only a couple hours from home—I felt my world had both shrunk and expanded.

YOU FIRST? It may not be a first descent, but these remote rivers can make you feel like you’re making the maiden float.

OWYHEE: With more than 300 miles of boatable river, the Owyhee flows through vertical rock walls in the lightly trafficked high desert where southeast Oregon meets Idaho.

LAUNCH: Rome, Oregon. Or level up to whitewater by launching at BLM’s Three Forks Recreation Site.

OUTFITTERS: River Drifters

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ALLAGASH: From Mount Katahdin, the Allagash undulates at a mostly peaceful pace through the North Maine Woods.

In this moose-laden area you can travel for days with few signs of civilization.

LAUNCH: Greenville, Maine OUTFITTER: Allagash Canoe Trips MIDDLE FORK OF THE SALMON: Part of the largest roadless area in the Lower 48, and riddled with continuous Class III–IV whitewater and hot springs, Idaho’s Middle Fork is a favorite among seasoned wilderness river trippers.

LAUNCH: Stanley, Idaho. Launch permits are scarce. Outfitters like Middle Fork River Expeditions or Idaho River Journeys offer the simplest access.

ALL IMAGES COURTESY OF CHRIS KORBULIC

Chris Korbulic is one of the world’s most renowned expedition whitewater kayakers.

ST. CROIX: One of the original eight rivers protected under the 1968 Wild and Scenic Rivers Act, the Minnesota-Wisconsin border river is relatively accessible from the Twin Cities. It’s renowned for wildlife and great riverside campsites before its terminus at the Mississippi River.

LAUNCH: Taylors Falls, Minnesota OUTFITTER: Wild River Outfitters

RIO GRANDE: This wetland corridor cuts through desolate hunks of New Mexico and Texas. The Wild and Scenic Lower Canyons of Big Bend National Park offer high payoff with 80-plus miles of remote and infrequently run canyon.

LAUNCH: Terlingua, Texas OUTFITTER: Big Bend River Tours

Notebook

OUTDOORS

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Asheville Vehicle Outfitters Fletcher, NC Specializing in off-road vehicle modifications, AVO rents a Toyota Tacoma TRD Sport fitted with an Alu-Cab camper that includes a roof tent, fullsize mattress, shade canopy and 12-volt fridge. Solar panels supply power while parked. A 13-gallon water tank supports extended adventures and suspension upgrades deliver comfort on dirt roads, like the byways around Linville Gorge where ridgetop campsites offer views across the Blue Ridge.

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Teton Backcountry Rentals Jackson, WY Hate skipping bathtime? Two of this outfitter’s three 4x4 trucks are fitted with Four Wheel pop-up campers that include six-gallon water heaters and showers. The thermostat-controlled propane heater, 20-gallon water tank, interior sink and two-burner stove let you brew coffee without ever stepping outside. And with a queen-size mattress and bench sofa, you can linger in style at primitive campsites with panoramic views of the Tetons.

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by KE LLY BASTO N E

A protein-rich food to feed the wolf inside your dog – BLUE Wilderness is made with more of the delicious meat dogs desire. Available with or without grains, each formula contains a precise blend of protein, fat and complex carbohydrates to help your meat-loving dog thrive.

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Notebook

C O N SERVAT IO N

How to Demolish a Dam

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WHY REMOVE A DAM?

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Notebook

DRINKS

Barn to Bottle Can a bourbon taste like Wyoming? Gin like the Cali coast? Drink the answers in these ultra-local spirits.

Desert Door Texas Sotol Original Produced from an agave-ish flowering shrub, sotol may not be as familiar as its tequila and mescal cousins, but it’s just as much a part of warm climes and traditional desert drinking. Distilled from wild-harvested West Texas flora, Desert Door sotol has a minerality that suggests a meeting of gin and tequila, but a finish as unique as the Texas Hill Country where it’s made. $40

Wyoming Whiskey Small Batch Bourbon Whiskey With Bighorn Basin roots this premium bourbon uses corn, wheat and malted barley from local farms. The sine qua non is high-pH water from a nearby limestone aquifer, lending texture and taste that’s earned Wyoming Whiskey awards and comparisons to elite Kentucky brands. $45

Gray Whale Gin The lineup of botanicals in this stylish bottle sounds like a foraging tour up California Highway 1. The recipe includes Big Sur juniper, Santa Cruz mint, Mendocino kelp, Sonoma fir and limes from the Baja Peninsula.

It’s inspired by the 1,200-mile migratory journey of the gray whale. $40 16

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Santa Fe Spirits Apple Brandy From one of the top artisan distilleries in the Southwest, Santa Fe Spirits’ apple brandy is produced from heirloom apples at the distillery’s own orchard in a small farming community at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. The result fuses the essence of New Mexican air, water and earth into premium nectar. $53 MEN’S JOURNAL

TX Straight Bourbon Whiskey The mash bill of this bourbon from Fort Worth’s Firestone & Robertson includes Texas yellow dent corn, Texas soft red winter wheat, Texas water and a proprietary strain of Texas yeast derived from Texas pecans.

The result? “Flavor made exclusively out of Texan ingredients that’s undeniably Texas,” say the proud Texas makers. $50

by J O RDAN R AN E

MEDIA

Notebook

WATCHING WRITERS Three recent shows shove scribblers into the spotlight.

Rough mix: Filmmaker Burns (above) chronicles Hemingway’s hell-forleather pursuit of muses and vices.

Ken Burns Wrestles Our most celebrated documentarian takes on the demon-haunted life and times of an American literary icon.

RODUCER Ken Burns cap-

tured the public imagination with 1990’s The Civil War and never lost it.

Writer Ernest Hemingway remains revered six decades after his 1961 suicide. They come together in Hemingway, a three-part documentary premiering April 5 on PBS that delves into the artist’s “slow-motion ballet with death.”

AP/SHUTTERSTOCK (HEMINGWAY); EVAN BARLOW (BURNS)

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When did you first think, “Let’s make a film about Hemingway”?

I found a sheet of paper that was a list of possible projects from the early ’80s. It had “Baseball” and “Hemingway” on it—we were already working on The Civil War.

by S E AN CU N N I N G HAM

Is it fair to say Hemingway struggled to live up to his own invented image as the ultimate hard-drinking man’s man?

He bragged about [the drinking] but it was killing him and he knew it, too. The art gets lost and that’s a terrible thing.

You mean like his scripted “interview” after winning the Nobel Prize in 1954?

It’s so awkward, it’s almost unwatchable.

He’s saying “comma” and “period”! It’s one of the most excruciating things I have ever seen in my life.

F. Scott Fitzgerald was crucial to his career. How would he have felt about Fitzgerald climbing so high in the canon?

MEN’S JOURNAL

I think he would have been threatened.

He is somebody, like Trump, who is diminished by others’ success. That letter he writes about James Jones and From Here to Eternity. [Hemingway savagely attacked Jones’ classic debut novel about WWII.] It’s not just cringe-worthy, it’s horrific. The insecurity for this macho guy is an incredible thing to watch, to feel.

What’s on your introductory reading list?

Hemingway’s short stories are perfect.

Particularly “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” and “Hills Like White Elephants.” I’ve read them both 20 times.

Any guilty viewing pleasures for you?

One of the greatest shows on TV is Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. Here’s a guy who goes around the country and deals with every kind of people and supports what they’re doing. I know people who find Guy Fieri like fingernails on the blackboard, and I get it. But I think it’s a hugely important cultural touchstone, that show. People go, “You’re out of your mind! I can’t stand that guy with the spiky hair and tattoos!”

Boy, did you miss it. There are very few people who cross as many borders as he crosses every show.

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Notebook

Hoops? Remember to smile while you’re jumping through them.

INTERVIEW

WE’RE WITH HER

Maria Taylor

HAIR BY: CHRISTINA APRIL FASHION STYLIST: CHLOE JACKSON MAKE-UP BY: MARIA TAYLOR FLANNEL: OFF-WHITE™ BY VIRGIL ABLOH- TOP: HERON PRESTON JEANS: HERON PRESTON

The ESPN studio host and sideline reporter isn’t just the most stylish personality in sports broadcasting. She’s one of its best prepared and most determined.

How did you go from being a basketball and volleyball player at University of Georgia to reporting on the sidelines of a Steelers vs. Giants Monday Night Football game?

I told my athletic director I wanted to work in sports broadcasting from day one. I got my first job because he called Learf ield/IMG [sports marketing company] and said, “You have to give Maria a job because she’s in my face every day.” When I got to ESPN I went to my bosses and said, “Hey, one day I’d like to host College GameDay. What are the steps to get me there?” Closed mouths don’t get fed.

And by 2017 you were hosting GameDay. Could you always rattle off stats?

At Georgia you’re in SEC country and don’t have a social life if you don’t go to games. That’s when I fell in love with football. But when I started GameDay everyone knew football inside and out, it’s their life’s heartbeat. Luckily my game analyst Matt Millen would take me to practices and we’d watch f ilm.

That’s how I really learned the game.

How do you stay in shape when you’re on the road?

You can always do a HIIT workout.

Whether that’s doing burpees or mountain climbers, mix that in with

20 minutes of cardio.

Everything I do is interval training because I was a volleyball player, and your game is spent in 30-second spurts.

What part of the athletic mindset powers you off the court?

Fail fast.

THE BASICS Age

Height: Hometown:

There’s just an aura that comes with them. But I’ve learned to shift the intimidation away from me. I just really respect what they do and who they are.

Favorite Southern food:

So you weren’t intimidated when you met Barack Obama at the Duke vs. UNC game Power fashion: Please elaborate. where Zion Williamson In a game a lot of misblew out his Nike and takes are made, but injured his knee? it’s about how you handle it. So if That was my first time being comyou miss a layup you instantly get pletely starstruck! We had an inkling back in the layup line or on defense.

Obama might show up because Zion Expect more in the next play. The was playing and everyone had been mentality has to be: I’m going to coming to see him, like Jay-Z and improve. I give myself grace and LeBron. After I found out Obama was push myself forward. coming I decided to say, “Because of you and Michelle I can be who I Best career advice you ever got? am now.” Then he came up and said, It was from Robin Roberts—make “Hey, we love watching you on Get everyone in the room believe that Up!” I was shocked to think that he there’s no place you’d rather be from had even heard my voice. And he the time you start out making coffee, was in that black bomber jacket—it which I’ve done, to when you get to was cool Barack Obama, cool #44. host the NBA Finals. Your reputation is going to precede you. Make sure What are you most proud of it’s a good one. career-wise?

The first time I worked a National Sports are rife with alpha personalChampionship football game was ities. Who’s intimidated you? in Atlanta, my hometown, and my The Hall of Fame coaches you run alma mater was in the game (2018). into, the Nick Sabans of the world.

The whole time I thought, “This is where you belong.” And hosting the NBA Finals for the first time. My dad texted me, “What is my daughter doing on the halftime show of the NBA Finals?” I said, “Yeah, I don’t know, Dad, but we’re here though.”

“HALL OF FAME COACHES, THE NICK SABANS OF THE WORLD, THERE’S AN AURA TO THEM.”

by MAG G I E REYN O LDS I Phot og ra p h by MARI U S BUG G E

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ES SE NTIAL S FOR THE WE LL- EQUIPPE D MAN

BEST FOR: AGGRESSIVE GRAVEL

Cannondale Topstone Neo

BEST FOR: ON-ROAD SPEED

Look E-765

BEST FOR: RIGGED OFF-ROAD ADVENTURES

PWR Dually

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Motor-dope your electric bike experience with advances like removable powertrains and breakthroughs in weight, power and price.

SPRING GEAR ISSUE!

BEST FOR: MOUNTAIN-BIKE MUSCLE

Trek E-Caliber 9.8 XT

MEN’S JOURNAL

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DRYBAGS

BEST FOR: TRAVEL

BEST FOR: BACKPACKING

Freerain / Matador

Event Sil CompresGranite Gear

BEST FOR: PADDLING

Baja View / SealLine

BEST FOR: COMMUTING

BEST FOR: BIG TRIPS

BEST FOR: OVERLANDING

Big Zip / Ortlieb

Typhoon / Frontrunner

Ulvo Rolltop 23 / Fjällräven

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Visit MensJournal.com for even MORE content: Adventure Travel

& Top winter sports destinations tropical spring getaways

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meal High-intensity workouts, daily Zen on plans and advice to get your

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@MensJournal

Buds Unbound

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Apple’s AirPods aren’t the only wireless earbuds in town. Consider for every scenario and budget.

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Say “Hey, Google” to make calls, translate live with these unobtrusive buds that incorporate the seamless smarts of Google Assistant when paired

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3. EAH-AZ70W True Wireless

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High performance means punchy bass and adjustable

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MEN’S JOURNAL

by TO M SAM I L JAN I photog ra p h by CH RI S WE LLHAU S E N

HI-FI AUDIO

HEADPHONES: Beyerdynamic Amiron Sure, noise-canceling wireless headphones work for portable music on the move. But for more spacious sound, these comfy, open-back wired headphones immerse you in hi-fi audio, with innovative, vibration-minimizing magnet technology for clarity and precision. Plus, they’re optimized for high-resolution digital music, too. $600; beyerdynamic.com

Sound Investment Build a mind-blowing home system with new high-fidelity equipment that combines unprecedented simplicity and value.

STREAMER: Sonos Port Luckily, analog aficionados don’t need to acquire a separate set of equipment to wirelessly play digital media. The new Port easily connects those feeds to an amplified stereo or receiver, allowing you to run your favorite mixes and podcasts (not just that rare vinyl find) through your best sound equipment, while also tapping into multi-room speaker systems. $450; sonos.com

TURNTABLE: VPI Industries Player The vinyl revival is real. Analog encoding reveals rich details and depth, especially when channeled by a high-end turntable.

With plug-and-play simplicity and calculated sonic precision, this sleek spinner also includes a built-in headphone amp. $1,500; vpiindustries.com

SPEAKERS: EgglestonWorks Nico EVOlution Any system starts with the speakers, and these are the entry point in a lineup prized by recording engineers for highly accurate sonic reproduction across musical genres.

The smaller 19-inch cabinet is no trade-off; the handmade Nicos produce heavyweight 3D sound, whether rocking Sabbath or Stravinsky. $5,000; egglestonworks.com

by J E R E MY K . S PE N CE R

INTEGRATED AMPLIFIER: Bryston B135 Cubed Got great speakers? Then you also need a great amp, and integrated amplifiers offer maximum simplicity and convenience.

This compact, convection-cooled unit stands above pricier options in delivering refined power, nixing distortion for a cleaner sound. It’s also made to last, with exceptional build quality backed by a 20year warranty. $6,500; bryston.com MAR/APR 2021

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MISSION READY

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Turf and Surf Want to tackle a backcountry bike-rafting combo adventure like the one on page 38?

Here’s your gear checklist.

HydraPak 1. The Specialized Fatboy Comp Carbon was anything but sluggish, proving nimble on dirt roads, with a slack enough geometry to handle steep, rocky descents. The frame can handle hauling an assortment of bags, ideal for multi-days that require lots of food and water. Most important, the 3.8-inch tires floated through sand traps that snagged skinnier tires. $2,950; specialized.com 2. Fully waterproof, the Watershed McKenzie drybag kept crucial gear protected while on the water and housed 10.5 liters of storage that snapped to the handlebars while biking. $135; drybags.com 26

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3. The Ripio Frame Bag from Revelate Designs provided 8 liters of storage, perfect for extra water. Also, hard-earned beer. Stretchy Cordura panels allowed overstuffing without busting the zippers. $165; revelatedesigns.com

Seeker

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Alpacka Caribou

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5 pou ds O ce a ed, front tie-down loops helped rig necessities (like the bike) while zipper access into the raft’s tubes provided waterproof storage. From $795; alpackaraft.com 6. Under brutal sun, give thanks for a Freefly Bamboo Crossover Hoody, which has

U 50 p o ec o a d a ood that stretches over a helmet. $70; freeflyapparel.com 7. About that limited space: Eddyline Crank Yanker IPA delivered big taste and reward for day’s end, at 7 percent ABV in a 16-ounce tallboy can. Because there’s always room for beer. eddylinebrewing.com

by G R AHAM AVE RI LL

S H O U L D E R-S E A S O N C A M P I N G

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SNOWTREKKER THE APACHE MF

APPALACHIAN GEAR CO. ALL-PACA FLEECE LINER

THERM-A-REST NEOAIR XTHERM

KNI-CO TREKKER

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TITANIUM GOAT VORTEX ZEBRA BILLY POTS

MSR EVO ASCENT

BOB DUSTRUDE QUICK BUCK SAW

HULTS BRUK AKKA

BIOLITE HEAD3

LAMP 200

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TRAIL SHOES

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Whether it’s leisurely sidewalk ambling or bolder wilderness bounding, the newest trail kicks will fit your preferred level of outdoor output this spring.

BEST FOR: LONG TRAIL RUNS

BEST FOR: PEAK BAGGING

Timp 3 / Altra

Alpine DNA / Dynafit

1. Altra matches its signature roomy toe box with a strong but flexible (and highly cushioned) midsole, and then shods it with a grippy sole so long runs on sketchy terrain fly by. $140; altrarunning.com BEST FOR: TOUGH TRAILS

Escape Summit Outdry / Columbia 2. A supportive profile and foot-securing lace system power over trails, while a durable, 3D-printed, waterproof upper on a responsive midsole means encompassing protection. $150; columbia.com 30

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3. Scramble high-alpine scree and steep descents with sure-footed speed in these silly-light (8.5 oz) racers—the TPU upper adds support without extra weight, and smooth rocker profile makes for easy strides. $160; dynafit.com BEST FOR: DESERT STOMPS

Trail 2650 Campo / Danner 4. These light, breathable hikers keep you cool and protected in harsh, dry conditions.

Laser-cut perforations and mesh in the uppers increase MEN’S JOURNAL

air flow, while drain holes shed water. $140; danner.com BEST FOR: TRICKY TERRAIN

Mafate 3 / Hoka One One 5. A fat midsole doesn’t mean that you can’t tear up the technical; the Mafate’s compressed cushioning doesn’t add much weight (or suck much energy), paired with an aggressive, high-traction Vibram sole with long 5mm lugs. $170; hokaoneone.com BEST FOR: TRAIL TO TOWN

Satoru Trail LT / Vasque 6. Vasque’s lightest shoe is

styled for the street without compromising an ounce of trail cred.

The light and bouncy, yet cushy, midsole is bound by an exclusive, grippy, featherlight Vibram sole. $150; vasque.com BEST FOR: POSTING PRS

Moab Speed / Merrell 7. These lightweight trail runners mix a mesh and TPU upper (for strength and ventilation) with a grippy Vibram sole (4mm-deep lugs) plus an integrated rock plate.

Recycled laces and lining provide added eco-shine. $120; merrell.com

by ADAM B I B LE I photog ra p h by CH RI S WE LLHAU S E N

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CRASH IS KING With the launch of his new mobile game, Crash Bandicoot: On the Run, one of the biggest names in gaming history is now fully unleashed on mobile—and out to prove he’s still got the speed and skills to capture the world’s attention. Just don’t call it a comeback.

He’s been here for years.

By Matt Tuthill

M

aybe choosing Top of the Rock for Crash Bandicoot’s Men’s Journal cover shoot wasn’t the smartest choice logistically speaking.

It’s cramped up here. The photographer’s assistants are wrestling with OLJKWV DQG D UHÁ HFWLYH XPEUHOOD ORRN LQJ OLNH WKH\ PLJKW SXNH DQ\ PLQXWH nauseated by the dizzying height.

But the famed photographer insisted this New York landmark wasn’t just a JUHDW RSWLRQ LW ZDV WKH RQO\ RQH “Crash Bandicoot is larger than OLIH μ VKH VD\V PDWWHU RI IDFWO\ ´<RX don’t capture the hugeness of his SHUVRQD KLV LQÁ XHQFH RU KLV SODFH LQ gaming lore by taking his portrait in a VWXGLR )RU D TXDUWHU RI D FHQWXU\ WKH world has been at his feet. And that’s H[DFWO\ ZKDW ZH·UH KHUH WR SRUWUD\ μ +HU VXEMHFW³WKDW DŲ DEOH PDU

supial—is draped comfortably in a GLUHFWRU·V FKDLU PXQFKLQJ D :XPSD IUXLW DV D KDLU VW\OLVW Á XŲ V XS KLV VKLQ\ orange coat. ´1RW WRR PXFK GDUOLQJ μ WKH SKRWRJUDSKHU ZDUQV ´1HDW LV À QH but this bandicoot is a creature of UDZ XQWDPHG HQHUJ\ μ A smile cracks across his face. It’s typical for Crash to let his action do the talking since he burst onto the scene in 1996 in the original Crash Bandicoot for PlayStation One. A smash KLW &UDVK·V À UVW JDPH UHGHÀ QHG WKH platforming genre for the 3D realm.

7ZR VHTXHOV IROORZHG WKHQ &UDVK VKRZHG RŲ KLV YHUVDWLOLW\ EUDQFKLQJ out into racing and party games.

The pure shot of adrenaline Crash delivered to players around the world soon proved too big to be contained

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as a Sony exclusive. Once his rookie FRQWUDFW H[SLUHG LQ &UDVK ZDV HY HU\ZKHUH DSSHDULQJ RQ YLUWXDOO\ HYHU\ console and gaming device in a wide variety of genres over the next 20 years.

But the world changed. Smart phones became the gaming device of WKH QHZ PLOOHQQLXP DQG UXQQHUV³ ZKLFK VLPSOLÀ HG JDPLQJ PHFKDQLFV IRU touch screens so players didn’t need to push their character through the environment—exploded in popularity. SudGHQO\ WKH VHWWLQJV DHVWKHWLFV DQG KDOO mark chaotic speed that Crash made IDPRXV ZHUH QRZ HYHU\ZKHUH EXW VDSSHG RI WKHLU KHDUW DQG VRXO ODFNLQJ an it factor that couldn’t be replicated.

In short: They simply weren’t Crash. /XFNLO\ IDQV ZRQ·W KDYH WR VHWWOH IRU LPLWDWLRQV PXFK ORQJHU 2Q 0DUFK Crash will launch the 22nd game of his VWRULHG FDUHHU D QHZ PRELOH DGYHQWXUH Crash Bandicoot: On the Run! :KLOH WKH JDPH À WV QHDWO\ LQWR WKH UXQQHU FDWHJR U\ LW·V VR PXFK PRUH RŲ HULQJ D GHHS character-driven experience that marries the very best elements of runners and platformers.

Players will get a chance to guide &UDVK RQ WUHDFKHURXVO\ FRPSOH[ UXQV VPDVKLQJ FUDWHV GHVWUR\LQJ HQHPLHV ZLWK 717 DQG FKRPSLQJ GRZQ :XPSD fruit in unique environments—from tropical jungles to snowcapped mountains to dangerous laboratories. Along WKH ZD\ WKH\·OO HQJDJH LQ HSLF ERVV battles against the creations of Crash’s ORQJWLPH QHPHVLV 'U 1HR &RUWH[ ´/RRN LPLWDWLRQ LV WKH VLQFHUHVW IRUP RI Á DWWHU\ DQG , DVVXUH \RX WKDW·V how Crash sees any game that apes his VW\OH μ VD\V &RFR &UDVK·V \RXQJHU VLV ter who will also be a playable character in the new game. “All of those games owe a creative debt to my big brother.

Crash never felt a need to step forward DQG VD\ ¶+H\ , FDQ GR WKDW WRR · ,W·V always been self-evident. He made this game because he had something brand QHZ WR RŲ HU IDQV DQG WUXVW PH LW·V JR LQJ WR EORZ WKHP DZD\ μ ,QGHHG Crash Bandicoot: On the Run! appears set to revolutionize the runQHU FDWHJRU\ MXVW DV WKH RULJLQDO Crash Bandicoot changed platforming forever in 1996. The game is at once visualO\ JRUJHRXV HDV\ WR OHDUQ GLű FXOW WR PDVWHU DQG EHÀ WWLQJ WKH WLPHV VR cial—players can cooperate and comSHWH ZLWK RQH DQRWKHU 0RUHRYHU QR two Crash Bandicoot: On the Run! experiences will ever be the same; Crash Points earned in-game make it endless-

O\ FXVWRPL]DEOH SXWWLQJ P\ULDG VQDS py character mods in the hands of the player.

0HDQZKLOH WKH FRYHU VKRRW VWLOO hasn’t begun thanks to the tight quarters; a large pile of wooden crates in the corner will have to move before the photographer has enough space to frame her subject. Crash notices the assistants struggling to lift them and FOHDUV KLV WKURDW WR JHW WKHLU DWWHQWLRQ WKHQ PDNHV DQ ´2XWWD P\ ZD\μ PRWLRQ with his hand. ,Q WKH EOLQN RI DQ H\H &UDVK UXQV DQG MXPSV WRZDUG WKH WRS FUDWH VSLQ QLQJ DV KH GHVFHQGV DQQLKLODWLQJ WKH entire stack. Then he saunters over to KLV PDUN QHDU WKH HGJH RI WKH URRI WKH glorious New York City skyline behind him. He folds his arms and strikes a SRVH DQG VKH EHJLQV VQDSSLQJ SKRWRV LQ UDSLG À UH ´6HH" :KDW GLG , WHOO \RX" μ WKH photographer shouts to the crew. “A FUHDWXUH RI SXUH HQHUJ\ +H ZDVWHV QR WLPH +H ZDVWHV QR ZRUGV $OO DFWLRQ , ORYH LW μ Cover shoots typically last hours as photographers goad their subjects into GR]HQV RI SRVHV DQG RXWÀ WV EXW DIWHU À YH PLQXWHV VKH UHYLHZV WKH LPDJHV RQ WKH PRQLWRU DQG DQQRXQFHV ´:KHQ

P\ URXWLQH"μ &UDVK FKLPHV LQ ´6RPH celebs think 20 seconds of bear crawls LV KDUG +D WU\ %DQGLFRRW VSLQV IRU À YH μ As for food?

“Plant-based diets are all the rage ULJKW QRZ EXW ,·YH EHHQ DKHDG RI WKH FXUYH IRU \HDUV³:XPSD IUXLW LV DOO D %DQGLFRRW ERG\ QHHGV $Q\ZD\ VPHOO \D ODWHU μ ,Q D Á DVK KH·V JRQH “He could run those 100 hours VWUDLJKW WKURXJK μ &RFR VD\V ZDWFKLQJ her brother disappear down the street. ´7KH UXQQLQJ LVQ·W WKH LVVXH $JDLQ this isn’t your typical mobile game. It KDV OD\HUV SOD\HUV DUHQ·W H[SHFWLQJ EXW will love all the same. The challenge OLHV LQ WKH ERVV EDWWOHV PDQHXYHULQJ WKURXJK WLJKW DQG GDQJHURXV SODFHV GLVFRYHULQJ HYHU\ VHFUHW DQG À QGLQJ KLGGHQ SDWKZD\V μ $QG ZLWK WKDW FRPPHQW &RFR touches on something much deeper: &RQVXPHUV DUH GURZQLQJ LQ FKRLFH and they don’t like it very much. By WKH ODWHVW FRXQW IURP 6WDWLVWD WKHUH DUH JDPHV RQ WKH $SS 6WRUH ,Q VXFK DQ RYHUVDWXUDWHG PDUNHWSODFH even casual gamers become jaded. Everyone thinks they’ve seen it all and no one wants more choices—they just

“SOME CELEBS THINK 20 SECONDS OF BEAR CRAWLS IS HARD. HA, TRY BANDICOOT SPINS FOR FIVE.” \RX NQRZ \RX NQRZ ,·YH JRW P\ FRYHU /HW·V JHW RXW RI KHUH μ Next stop: Chelsea Piers sports complex on the Hudson River. Everyone piles into the photographer’s 1960 Volkswagen Bus—all except for Crash ZKR ZLOO QDWXUDOO\ UXQ TXDGV ´7KH ZLQG LQ \RXU IXU WKH EXJV LQ \RXU H\HV μ Keeping in peak physical condition has been essential as Crash gears up for the release of Crash Bandicoot: On the Run! ZKLFK IRU FRPSOHWLRQLVWV SURP ises over 100 hours of gameplay. Crash lost track of how many miles he logged LQ SUHSDUDWLRQ &RFR VD\V ´2K LV WKLV WKH SDUW ZKHUH , GHWDLO

want one choice that makes them feel great about never giving the other million a chance.

Gamers don’t just want fun. They want sustenance. And all signs point to the fact that Crash Bandicoot: On the Run! is going to be just the game to provide it. This might not be the answer to KXPDQNLQG·V VHDUFK IRU PHDQLQJ EXW it will be the answer to the search for meaningful in-game progression.

“Progression is a very big part of WKH QHZ JDPH μ &RFR FRQÀ UPV ´'U Neo Cortex—the mad scientist who’s responsible for mutating me and my EURWKHU DQG JLIWLQJ XV ZLWK VSHHFK³ ZHOO KH·V RXW WR GHVWUR\ XV DQG KH·V

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using power crystals to activate multiverse gateways and unleash a brandnew slew of enemies in our direction.

Players are going to have to commit to continual improvement…but we’ve made it so fun and progressive, I think WKH\·OO GR MXVW À QH μ Coco pauses, gazing out the window. ´,W·V &UDVK , ZRUU\ DERXW μ VKH continues. “He’s so fearless, and it

ful, half in awe of the otherworldly feat they’ve just witnessed.

When the hullabaloo dies down, the photographer asserts control. “Ready ZKHQ \RX DUH GDUOLQJ μ VKH VD\V ´-XVW GR \RXU WKLQJ μ Crash hits the turf running at top VSHHG VSLQV WKHQ YDXOWV RŲ WKH ZDOO until he’s hanging from the rafters, VRPH IHHW RŲ WKH JURXQG 6KH VQDSV

“PLANT-BASED DIETS ARE ALL THE RAGE RIGHT NOW, BUT I’VE BEEN AHEAD OF THE CURVE FOR YEARS—WUMPA FRUIT IS ALL A BANDICOOT BODY NEEDS. ANYWAY, SMELL YA LATER!” costs him sometimes.

I’ve seen him get smooshed, shot, electrocuted, and blown up by so many precariously placed TNT crates over the years.

He’s always bounced back, but WKLV QHZ JDPH«LW·V MXVW VR ELJ μ Coco’s uncharacteristic apprehension is cut short as we arrive at the pier. We hop out and the assistants begin unloading. Inside, Crash is already waiting, having easily beaten us on foot. In the end, the photographer decides to leave most of her gear behind, reasoning, “Oh to hell with the lights. Let’s capture this animal in his HOHPHQW μ But as she says this, it suddenly seems like it might not be possible.

Someone either intentionally leaked our location or simply got too careless.

As a result, a throng of fans is now pressed up against the front door and clamoring for Crash’s attention. ´:H ORYH \RX &UDVK μ VFUHDPV RQH fan who’s holding a sign that reads, ´&5$6+ ,6 .,1* μ &UDVK JUHHWV WKH FURZG VKRZLQJ RŲ his signature spin move as he signs DXWRJUDSKV DQG SRVHV IRU VHOÀ HV ZLWK blinding speed. Somehow, everyone in attendance gets a piece of the action.

They explode in applause—half thank-

DZD\ DV KH HŲ RUWOHVVO\ SDUNRXUV WR the far side of the room. He drops to the ground, then runs straight back at us, somersaulting over the other athletes in his way, his WRQJXH FDUHOHVVO\ Á DSSLQJ LQ WKH breeze. ´0DUYHORXV μ VKH VKRXWV ´$EVR OXWHO\ PDUYHORXV μ This goes on for another 20 minutes, and it’s breathtaking how easy he makes it all look. ´,·P QRW VKRZLQJ RŲ μ &UDVK VD\V “Well, I’m not just VKRZLQJ RŲ 7KH more moves you’ve got in my new game, the more resources you’ll collect, then you can build an absolutely sick KRPH EDVH μ This catches the attention of several folks who’ve stopped to admire the scene. Their eyes go wide in surprise. ´2K \HDK μ &UDVK FRQWLQXHV ´7KH base is where you’ll mount each run from—and store your weapon arsenal.

I can’t say much more than that for QRZ μ The photographer reviews her monLWRU ´3HUIHFW -XVW SHUIHFW :H·UH GRQH KHUH μ Crash says thanks to the crew by way of a wink and a knowing smile, then runs for the door. Outside, he VKRZV RŲ IRU WKH FURZG RQH PRUH WLPH EHIRUH Á \LQJ GRZQ WKH VWUHHW

´,·P VRUU\ μ &RFR VD\V ´<RX GLGQ·W even get a chance to ask a question, GLG \RX"μ She’s right, but it doesn’t matter. He told quite a story without saying much, just as he’s done in every game for the past 25 years.

Besides, murmurs from the crowd À OO LQ DQ\ JDSV 7KH QHUYRXV DQWLFLSD tion for Crash Bandicoot: On the Run! KDV HOHFWULÀ HG WKLV FLW\³DQG WKH ZRUOG 2QH WHHQDJH IDQ -DFN LV ZHDULQJ a T-shirt with Crash’s portrait that reads “UNLEASHED on MOBILE, 0DUFK μ He scolds his friend Thomas. “What do you mean you didn’t download it \HW"μ -DFN JUDEV KLV IULHQG·V SKRQH DQG after a few quick taps, hands it back.

“Done…seriously, though, what’s ZURQJ ZLWK \RX"μ Thomas looks thoroughly embarrassed as he mutters, “I don’t know…I guess I just forgot. Thanks for making me come down here today. Crash is one of the biggest gamLQJ LFRQV RI WKH V μ -DFN VWRSV GHDG LQ KLV WUDFNV ´1LQHWLHV"μ KH VFRŲ V ´1R QR no dude. One of the biggest gaming LFRQV HYHU μ And in just a matter of days—as Crash invades every phone on the planet—there won’t be any Thomases left to doubt it.

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As The Walking Dead heads into its final season, Jeffrey Dean Morgan is getting back to what he loves most—family, fast cars, candy and chickens.

MAR/APR 2021

MEN’S JOURNAL

BY PHOTOGR APHY BY AND

DENIM JACKET AND SHIRT, BUCK MASON; JEANS, RALPH LAUREN; BOOTS, JOHNSTON & MURPHY

MAR/APR 2021

MEN’S JOURNAL

A

SCORCHED, zombie-ravaged dystopia ain’t no place to raise your kids, but desperate times require desperate measures.

So when the long-running AMC series The Walking Dead returned to shoot under serious COVID protocols a few months back in Senoia, GA, actor Jeffrey Dean Morgan, who plays Negan, a brutal, leather-clad anti-hero, brought the entire clan to live on set: “I had my whole family living in Alexandria, this apocalyptic, walled-off town charred and burned down from the season before.

It was crazy.”

Morgan’s Air-b-and-zom-b, as it were, happened to be the Rick Grimes house, the site of several on-screen brawls from prior seasons. Shotgun spray still pockmarked the walls where his 10-year-old son Gus slept; downstairs at breakfast, they’d pore over the damage wrought

by Lucille, Negan’s weapon of choice, a barbed wire–wrapped baseball bat.

It was a strange place from which to administer online school, but, well, what’s normal these days?

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MAR/APR 2021

“They fucking loved it!” says Morgan.

“And having this 30-foot wall around the town was great, too, because I could let the kids and the dogs out. I knew they couldn’t go anywhere.”

This morning, Morgan is a few miles from that set, calling from his Ford F-150 Raptor—a pickup suitable for a zombie apocalypse—after driving it to get his daily COVID test. Shooting is underway for TWD’s 11th and final season, a monster 24-episode run that will conclude in 2022. “Let’s face it—this year has been hard for everybody,” says Morgan. “But getting back to some kind of regular work schedule has been a big relief.”

Though Morgan has starred in bluechip TV series Grey’s Anatomy and The Good Wife and played roles in films like Watchmen, Rampage and The Losers, his

portrayal of the nihilistic Negan stands as the actor’s defining role thus far— jump-started by a cruel, skull-smashing debut (with Lucille) that shocked and polarized TWD fans far and wide when it aired in 2016.

“The first couple years I was on this show, I was worried that Negan was very two-dimensional. I felt like every scene was an iteration of him coming out of that Winnebago,” Morgan says, before pointing out that the character has ridden a kind of redemption arc of late. This spring we’ll glimpse Negan’s backstory, as Morgan’s real wife, actress Hilarie Burton Morgan, portrays the character’s now-deceased wife (named Lucille). With the series’ end in sight, it’s clear that Morgan takes his character’s fate personally.

“Negan has become such an important

“AFTER 20 YEARS IN L.A., MY LIFE TOOK A DIFFERENT DIRECTION AND WE BOUGHT A FUCKING FARM.” MEN’S JOURNAL

JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN

In His Wheelhouse T H E R E ’S N O S H O RTAG E O F P E T RO L P OW E R I N J D M ’S GA R AG E

Ford Raptor I’ve always been a Ford guy.

I love the Raptor so much I had two at one point.

2021 Dodge Challenger Hellcat Custom My daughter calls it the race car. She loves it.

1966 Ford Mustang It’s nearly 700 horsepower, rebuilt. It’s so loud you can’t hear your passenger.

Harley-Davidsons I’m a Harley guy. Have a bunch of ’em: a Road King, Road Glide and a V-Rod.

part of my life. It’d be hard to make a clean cut and walk away. Unless they just want to kill me. Just a knife in the back. And maybe that’s what needs to be done for me to walk away from this guy.”

When TWD finally wraps, Morgan and family will pack up and head not for the hills of Hollywood, but Rhinebeck, NY, in the Hudson River Valley. There, on a 70-acre spread of woods, pasture and bluegrass, Morgan will go back to maintaining a couple old farmhouses and 40 animals, give or take, including alpacas, llamas, chickens, ducks, dogs, cows and Paxton Dean Morgan, a donkey that thinks he’s a dog. The Morgans call the property “Mischief Farm,” but it could just as easily be named, Morgan says, “Shitshow. In the very best way.”

“After 20-some years in L.A., my life took a different direction, and suddenly, we bought a fucking farm. It’s been the coolest thing that I’ve ever been a part of. Most of the animals we have are all rescues, and they all have funky personalities. Any one of them can be a pain in the ass on any given day.”

Pastoral life is a departure for Morgan, who grew up outside of Seattle. It’s also a return of sorts. “Since I was 6 or 7, my grandmother had a farm where I would spend weeks every summer, living in this dilapidated Airstream out with the cows. It was a Huck Finn type of thing.”

In a typical day at Mischief, Morgan might shovel some donkey crap, walk the 3-mile fence line, mending it if necessary, followed by a firewood chopping session. “I’m a little bit obsessed with it. I love an ax, but I recently got a log MEN’S JOURNAL

MAR/APR 2021

35

Train of thought: Morgan says it will be hard to walk away from his character when The Walking Dead wraps.

COMICS, DONKEYS, CANDY—AT AGE 54, MORGAN IS LIVING EVERY 9-YEAR-OLD BOY’S DREAM LIFE. splitter, which has changed my life as I near 55,” he says with a laugh. Then Morgan might head down to Hackett Farm Supply, see what’s going on. Or he could check the stock at Samuel’s Sweet Shop, a candy store the Morgans co-own with Rhinebeck neighbor Paul Rudd and his wife, and another partner.

“It’s got everything you could possibly ask for. But I still prefer the old-school stuff, Hershey with almonds.”

So, yeah—not only does Morgan get paid to pretend to be a comic book villain, then goes home to ride tractors and feed donkeys—he also owns a damn candy store. At age 54, Jeffrey Dean Morgan is living every 9-year-old boy’s dream life.

And until lately, it’s been a pretty private one. Although Morgan is no stranger to the press circuit—he’s done everything from Comic-Cons to The Walking Dead cruises—he doesn’t leave a long a trail of gossip or confessional profiles. That’s by choice. “I’ve always been a private guy. I could give an entertaining press interview and lie 36

MAR/APR 2021

about some funny story, but wouldn’t go deeper. Because it’s my life, you know?

At least, that was my theory. Then she wrote the book.”

Morgan is referring to The Rural Diaries, Hilarie’s chronicle of meeting up with Morgan, adapting to life on the farm and becoming a parent. The book came out in spring 2020, and became a New York Times best-seller. Not all of the book’s passages are as sweet as those covering the pair’s rescue of Rhinebeck’s candy shop, a kind of civic good. She also writes of miscarriages, misunderstandings and taciturn stretches between the two. Morgan says he didn’t read it until it was heading to the printer.

“The kids went to bed, and she handed me the galley and I sat in front of the fireplace and read the whole book in five hours. She really took a deep dive on our personal life and let the world know some stuff that I don’t know I would have. I was in tears. I woke her up and said like, ‘Wow, I mean, I don’t know what to say. I’m so proud of you.’”

MEN’S JOURNAL

“I realized, I guess there’s not a lot there to hide anymore. And I gotta tell you, there’s a lot of freeing kind of emotion that goes with that. Like a weight off my shoulders.”

So when COVID hit, Morgan had an idea: Why not lift the veil even more and bring the fans to the farm? He and Hilarie called in a bunch of camera gear from AMC, and within two weeks the pair were shooting Friday Night In With the Morgans, on which they’d give updates on farm life, check in with health experts and friends like the Rudds, TWD costar Norman Reedus or the local comic book store owner—“see how they’re doing and how they’re kind of getting through this situation,” says Morgan.

The show was short-lived, as so many of our group Zoom calls of spring 2020 turned out to be, but Morgan says that producing the show was a way to stay sane “in a time of shit.”

So he found other diversions, the fondest of them being afternoon-long country road cruises with his now 3-yearold daughter, George, in his custom Dodge Challenger Hellcat, the snarl of its supercharged, 717-horsepower V8 engine drowned out by…father and daughter singing along to the soundtrack to Frozen. Because when you’re faced with the unexpected, sometimes it’s best to let it go. Q

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CHASING

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39

“I BET SHE GOES,” Doom says, peering down the dusty trail we’re currently riding, a trail which, technically, doesn’t exist. It’s not on the National Geographic map, and registers only as a faint line on his GPS, like a ghost, disappearing abruptly in the middle of a canyon.

This situation is nothing new; Doom uses plenty of trails that were originally scratched into the desert by motorcycles or cowboys but have never been made official. But this trail is supposed to be our exit strategy after four days of hard biking, and if it doesn’t go, we’re going to have to make some painful adjustments.

“I don’t know. I hope she goes,” Doom says with an uneasy laugh as we cross an active creek and push our bikes up the sandy bank. We hop over a downed tree and…the trail vanishes in a wall of thick sage.

She doesn’t go.

We’re in Bears Ears National Monument, in southeastern Utah, trying to climb out of a dusty gorge choked with head-high brush. The mystery trail was great for 6 miles or so, a wide path that dropped elevation fast and narrowed as it crossed the creek a half-dozen times before it unceremoniously died.

It’s a good news/bad news deal. The 40

MAR/APR 2021

good news is that the creek is the most reliable water source we’ve seen in days, so we won’t die of thirst.

The bad news? We’re cooked. Four days of big miles has turned our legs into noodles and our asses raw. The idea of backtracking when we’re so close, just a few miles from Doom’s truck, is disheartening. There’s cold beer in that truck. If we turn back now, who knows how dark it will be before we crack those beers?

Here’s the weird thing, though: This is exactly what we signed up for. We’re on a bikepacking and packrafting trip with a man named Doom (real name: Steven Fassbinder), who is known for creating multi-day routes all over the world that require mountain bikes, packrafts and the occasional llama. His exploits are legendary and borderline nuts: a fat-bike journey across towering glaciers in Northern Pakistan, a 1,000-mile bike and rafting trek across Tajikistan. Sierra Nevada featured him MEN’S JOURNAL

in a beer commercial. The guy has fans.

Doom and his partner, Lizzy Scully, started a new guide service last spring, Four Corners Guides, to introduce those fans to his unique style of adventure inside the dusty, canyon-rich backdrop of southwestern Colorado and southeastern Utah. The signature tour is “The Full Doom,” where clients spend several hard days riding and paddling in the desert. It’s a serious affair, and prospective clients are subject to a shakedown in which Doom and Lizzy assess their physical prowess and mental fortitude. I was told I could join an outing only if I guaranteed I wouldn’t “be late, shitty or not up for the trip in any way.”

Not that you have to be a total jock to enjoy a Doom adventure. Doom himself is notorious for his less-than-hardcore training regimen. “I love it when people just go for it,” he says. “What’s the worst thing that could happen? You get tired.

Or hungry.”

I’m tagging along with Dave Martinez and Chad Eagle, two longtime friends from Southern California. They signed up for a customized Full Doom that combines a big, four-day bikepacking ride through Bears Ears with a two-day riding and packrafting adventure through a corner of Glen Canyon National Recreation Area.

It’s an ambitious itinerary that combines 200 miles of pedaling with 10 miles of flatwater paddling, and has us strapping all of our gear, food and water to our bikes and back. My tent and inflatable

CHASING DOOM with hard corners and techy rock drops.

But every grunt of a climb is rewarded with big scenery, the views into the heart of Bears Ears sweeping the eponymous rock formations and the Navajo Nation.

Bears Ears has gotten a lot of attention ever since Obama granted it national monument status in 2016, and then Trump promptly reduced the protected area by 85 percent. Rock climbers love Bears Ears, but tend to stick to the wellknown cliffs around the paved State Route 211. The backcountry is empty of Sprinter vans but full of little-explored canyons and ancient Native American ruins. Cattle roam the valleys between cliffs freely. Once we drop out of the alpine zone, the landscape is classic desert chic: tan, sandy roads, scratchy sage, juniper trees and massive, red sandstone cliffs.

As we encounter networks of forgotten moto trails, Doom pencils them onto his personal map.

The riding is hard, maybe harder than Clockwise from left: Rigged and rolling in Bears Ears National Monument; Doom himself; Paddling loaded packrafts on Lake Powell.

boat are attached to my handlebars and everything else is distributed through frame bags and my backpack. It’s a heavy kit, but it’s oddly satisfying to know that everything I need for the foreseeable future is contained on my carbon-fiber, stormtrooper-white-painted fat bike.

Doom tucks his GPS away and contemplates the wall of sage in front of us. He understands that backtracking would kill morale. “I bet the creek goes,” he says and takes off down the center of the stream, his pedals churning the water with each downstroke. We chase after him, hoping that the scrub-brush walls rising on both banks will give way to a clear route to cold beer.

T

HE TRIP began four days earlier at a high-alpine pass on a gravel backroad surrounded by tall aspens.

Someone had carved a cartoon cock and balls into one of the trees at the top of the pass, the artwork turning black with age against the white bark.

Doom laughs. “That’s how you know you’re on a Doom trip. Those are my blazes.”

He’s thin in a way that most would describe as scrappy, with a deep tan,

a scruffy beard and a giant tattoo of a caboose across his back, which he finds funny because it’s the last car of a train, not the first. Initially, he made a name for himself in the 24-hour mountain bike race scene, winning three solo world championships during his heyday. But this new style of adventure, multi-day romps into unforgiving landscapes, seems to suit his nature better than racing.

The first day is full of big descents and big climbs as we yo-yo between 6,000 and 10,000 feet, ticking off miles on dusty OHV trails with loose, chunky rocks. The climbing is steep and long.

The downhills are fast and dangerous, MEN’S JOURNAL

Dave and Chad expected, but they’re gamers. These are the kind of guys who wake at 3:45 a.m. to work out before putting in a 12-hour workday. They both clock in for a power company in Southern California, where they spent years earning overtime as pole climbers. Chasing Doom around the desert might seem like an odd way to spend leisure time, but Chad wouldn’t have it any other way.

“This is about seeing what I can do,” he says, adding that the trip is marked on his family calendar as Dave and Chad’s Death March. “Can I ride 40 miles a day in the desert over and over? I don’t know.”

Doom gets it. “The unknown is a big MAR/APR 2021

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Bike adjustments give the author a rare moment to catch his breath.

part of it,” he says. “Getting out here where nobody else goes and seeing what there is to see, and how you can handle it—that’s the draw.”

The first night, we set up camp off a dusty road, spreading our bedrolls in a bowl surrounded by pink and black cliffs.

“Hey Doom, where’s the Chardonnay?” cracks Dave, lighting his stove to boil water for dinner. Nope, this isn’t your standard Western Spirits tour where a guide sets up a nice cheese plate and chilled wine for you at the end of the day.

Instead, we have freeze-dried ramen and chili, and some beef jerky if we’re lucky.

It’s primitive, but that’s part of the appeal. We’re a small group exploring remote terrain, and for that to work,

everyone has to be self-sufficient. Doom isn’t cooking our food or holding our hands in any way. There are no support vans or post-ride massages. But there are beers. Doom insisted that each of us stash a few cans in our frame bags.

So now we crack warm pale ales and drink them slowly, to make them last as the sunset turns surrounding cliffs into fire-like shades of red.

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HERE ARE not a lot of mindless miles in our itinerary, but over the next few days, I occasionally find myself daydreamily looking for animal faces in the rock features, like a kid searching the clouds for dragons. Dramatic cliffs dominate the horizon with layered red and tan sandstone reminiscent of Tatooine,

from a Star Wars galaxy far, far away.

The best way to pass the time is to get Doom telling stories. Like the one about how he got his nickname, which involves him winning a 24-hour solo race on his way to Burning Man and accepting the large check in full costume as Marvel supervillain Doctor Doom.

Riding oscillates between mellow dirtroad climbs littered with sand traps, and steep descents on chunky, abandoned OHV trails. There are also fleeting moments of pure bliss when you hit a long patch of sand on a fast downhill. Doom teaches us to hover our butts over the rear wheel and keep a light touch on the handlebars, lifting the front tire slightly as we hit the sand. Do it properly and the bike floats like you’ve temporarily escaped the rules of gravity.

We follow a slickrock wash into the bottom of Lavender Canyon, a dynamic ditch full of smooth, tan rock that drops in rounded layers to the canyon floor. It’s a fun descent, but the only way out is a mandatory hike-a-bike up the other side of the canyon.

“We’ve got 30 minutes of suck ahead of us,” Doom says, pausing to reassess the daunting slope before correcting himself. “Make that 45.”

It’s full-on bushwhacking as we lug our bikes over boulders and push through scrub. It’s a steep, full-body effort, and we pause often to catch our ragged breath.

Gravity is back. And it’s angry. During our breaks, conversation turns to food.

We’re all obsessed with the first meal upon returning to civilization. Dave is determined to drive hours out of his

BADASS BESPOKE TRIPS

Four more outfitted adventures that will test your endurance limits.

in Alaska’s Brooks Range.

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MEN’S JOURNAL

Run Rainier The Wonderland Trail wraps around Mount Rainier in 100 miles of scenic, rugged singletrack. Run it with Adventure Running Company, which will handle the logistics and shuttle gear. Just be prepared for backto-back marathon days to knock out the loop. $1,195; adven turerunningco.com

Ski Teton Gold Only experienced backcountry skiers need apply for this mountaineering camp, where you’ll spend three days in Grand Teton National Park learning some of the area’s most coveted lines. Come ready to climb 6,000 feet of vert each day. From $950; themountain guides.com

Bushwhack Alaska Andrew Skurka is an ultralight thru-hiking pioneer who offers outings across wild terrain to vetted clients. His Alaska trips are particularly brutal, with seven days off-trail through the Brooks Range. Expect caribou, plus the occasional bush plane and packraft. $2,745; andrewskurka.com

ANDREW SKURKA

Trekking over passes, deep

Kayak the Amazon Exploratory kayaker Rocky Contos, who has notched first descents on rivers across Latin America, leads clients into remote gorges. Check out the Upper Amazon trip, a 10-day, Class IV-V paddle through the Andes, full of hot springs and beach camps. From $2,600; sierrarios.org

CHASING DOOM

THE POINT IS TO EXIT OUR COMFORT ZONE AND ENTER A WORLD WHERE SURVIVAL HINGES ON A BIKE AND A BOAT. way for a heaping plate of Cracker Barrel biscuits and sawmill gravy.

Doom is a different story. He wants nothing and seems to exist on gummy bears and tallboy cans of Eddyline Brewery’s Crank Yanker IPA. Atop the punishing climb, we find a pocket of shade where Doom smiles before swallowing another handful of gummy bears. “That’s the customary entry fee for a Doom trip,” he says. “It’s gotta have some suck.”

If this Doom has a superpower, it’s his ability to withstand suffering. Whether it’s out-grinding the competitor field in a race, or humping his bike across faraway glaciers, Doom seems to revel in situations that make the rest of us miserable. And when nothing—even the next freshwater spring—is guaranteed, uncertainty is what separates the Doom way from most guided trips. All you know is that it will be hard, and that you’ll see some cool shit. Everything else is fuzzy.

Some of that cool shit we see includes Newspaper Rock, a touristy-but-impressive slab of petroglyphs that date back 2,000 years; numerous 1,000-year-old ruins built with thin, stacked stone into cliffs and caves; biological soil crust resembling black mold that constitutes one of the oldest-known life-forms on the planet; and a legit oasis with a running creek winding through tall green grass and two small waterfalls.

But there’s a catch. That oasis sits at the bottom of a steep canyon, so we have to scramble down the wall of said canyon, downclimbing short cliffs and shimmying across narrow ledges. It’s sketchy, but doable, and when we reach the stream, we submerge four beers to let them chill while we filter water and refill our bags. It’s been 48 hours since I’ve seen another person outside of our group, which is both anxiety-inducing and peaceful at the same time.

Doom wants these trips to be transformative. Almost like therapy. The perpetual motion, the alien-like landscapes, the lack of communication with the outside world…it all turns adventure into a reset button. All we have to do each day is pedal our bikes and find water.

That liberation feels as if we’re not just riding bikes, but traveling through time, exploring a world before cellphones and

out-of-office alerts and weekends spent traveling for an 8-year-old’s club soccer tournament. And that’s the whole point: to exit our comfort zone and enter another world where survival hinges on a bike and a rubber boat, and bare necessities become the priority.

Our last day in Bears Ears ends with the speculative pedal down the center of the creek as we desperately search

Newspaper Rock has all the hunting news from two millennia ago.

for our truck. After a half-mile more of water-logged pedaling, we’re miraculously back on the map and heading toward reward beer. We make it before dark, spend the night in a cave and, mildly refreshed the next morning, launch the second leg of our trip into Lake Powell and Glenwood Canyon Recreation Area.

The boats are glorified inner tubes loaded with heavy gear—bags stashed in the hull, bike strapped to the nose. The paddling is peaceful, as the boats can’t move faster than a peaceful pace. You can increase paddle exertion, but you won’t move much faster than cruising speed. It’s best to adopt Zen-like patience.

Paddle steady and slow, spend the time absorbing the red cliff walls rising from the MEN’S JOURNAL

silt-laden water, thick as chocolate milk.

Blue herons eye us from high perches, like tiny pterodactyls trying to figure how to fit us into their beaks.

Six miles in, we hit our destination campsite on a rocky bluff 20 feet above the water. Doom uses the site often and has Crank Yanker tallboys stashed in various crevices, which he offers to me, Dave and Chad—his version of the Chardonnay and cheese plate.

As we savor the last sips, shooting stars fling across the dark, empty sky. There will be more paddling tomorrow, the adventure’s final day, including a hard 20-mile bike ride out of Glen Canyon.

There will be times when I’ll just want the pain in my legs to stop. But right now, staring at the Milky Way and drinking a warm IPA, I wish the miles would stretch out endlessly. I don’t want to leave this world where I don’t know what’s around the next bend. Where there are no assurances. Where there’s a chance of severe dehydration but also moments of zero gravity. The crappy freeze-dried dinners, the gummy bears, the alien petroglyphs—I want more. And if this trip can’t last forever, then I’m ready to start planning the next.

Doom understands that pull. “It’s important to do something hard every once in a while, so you know what you have in you,” he says, lying back against a rock and gazing up at the sky. “That’s the thing about these trips. They leave a mark.” Q MAR/APR 2021

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LAST FLIGHT OF THE

DIAMOND

Riding shotgun with an anti-smuggling, anti-pigeon militia on South Africa’s Diamond Coast.

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MEN’S JOURNAL

SMUGGLERS

BY MAT THEW GAVIN FRANK

IL LUS TR ATION BY THE SPORTING PRESS

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T

HE OPEN-TOPPED white Land Rover pulls up beachside on the outskirts of Port Nolloth, an isolated village on the Diamond Coast of South Africa. The vehicle is filled with four blond men with identical crew cuts, barrel chests and fat faces, all in their mid-30s. They are friends of the former head of security for the local diamond mine, the frighteningly serious man I interviewed earlier today.

He organized this ride for me. I climb in back and these men, perhaps because they refuse to be named, quickly lose their individual features, personalities.

I will not remember their faces.

The men are dressed in yellow overalls, their hands on steering wheels or brandy bottles or the butts of shotguns. I sit on the flatbed’s metal bench between two of the men. It’s still afternoon, and they’re drunk, driving fast on these forbidden roads owned by the near-omnipotent De Beers mining conglomerate, stirring up the dust. We are mere specks in the middle of the Namaqualand region, 444,000 square kilometers of arid desert that encompasses the western coasts of Namibia and South Africa.

From 1925 to 2007, the heyday of diamond mining here, resident workers were kept distracted with trucked-in luxuries and social programs. De Beers furnished houses, set up schools for the children and supplied various entertainments—all for the goal of isolating the mining communities it wholly owned. There even existed a shadowy agreement with the operators of orbiting satellites to redact the images of this so-called Forbidden Zone from their recorded files. It was, officially, an erasure from the earth.

Then, in 2007, De Beers deemed much of the region “over-mined” and began to downscale, forcing some residents to seek jobs in other parts of South Africa.

Only a bare-bones workforce now remains amid a crumbling infrastructure.

This hasn’t stopped mine laborers from taking huge risks to smuggle out diamonds. Most ingeniously, they bring trained carrier pigeons into the mines concealed in lunchboxes, pack diamonds into specially sewn bags attached to the birds’ feet, and set the pigeons into the air, where they fly back to their

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homes and the laborers’ family members.

When over-eager smugglers began affixing too many diamonds to the birds, though, the exhausted pigeons sometimes faltered and landed along scruffy local beaches.

De Beers caught wind of this, and having infiltrated local governments, declared it illegal to raise pigeons in the region. In fact, in 1998, a local lawmaker made it illegal to not shoot a pigeon on sight, should one have the means to do so. Still, many raise pigeons in secret.

Those who are caught suffer various consequences—official and unofficial.

Sometimes they simply disappear. The disposal of outlawed pigeons, however, is less clandestine.

Excerpted from Flight of the Diamond Smugglers: A Tale of Pigeons, Obsession, and Greed Along Coastal South Africa by Matthew Gavin Frank. Used with permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation, a division of W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.

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The men drink from the bottle and pass it to me, and I sip, and their saliva on the bottleneck tastes vile and bubblegummy.

They are playing with their guns, filling chambers. They shout to each other—in English, for my benefit— but I struggle to understand what they’re saying over the truck’s engine and the wind.

One of them says something about a pair of terns that landed on the outskirts of Port Nolloth two years back. The bands around their legs were marked Museum of Zoology: Helsinki, Finland. They had flown off course and were trying to find their way back to their flock. A local bird enthusiast planned to send the bands’ reference numbers to the museum, so it could further record the details of the migration, but the birds were dead by nightfall. Rumor has it that De Beers officials, believing the terns to be potential accomplices to smugglers, put a bounty on their heads.

From the back of the Land Rover, I watch a tall man walk into the desert, carrying a wriggling white puppy by its foreleg. The driver shouts something to him that sounds mean, taunting. The tall man doesn’t turn, keeps walking toward the old Angler’s Club, its roof

LAST FLIGHT OF THE DIAMOND SMUGGLERS

of the all the poor would-be smugglers, waking up to find their pigeons missing.

T

Miners toil in perilous conditions for low pay in South Africa’s dwindling Diamond Coast operations. No wonder some train pigeons to help smuggle rough gems.

caved in, now a shelter for those who have nowhere else to sleep. The wind is too loud to tell whether the puppy is making a sound. One of the men points to a helicopter in the distance, talks about how rich poachers rent them to flush herds of gemsbok from Namibia over the border into South Africa, so they can shoot them here, where it’s easier to bribe the authorities.

Soon, in the middle of the dunes, the driver parks the truck, and the men leap out with their guns. Single file, we walk to the beach, the sun reflecting from the ocean turning everything into a silhouette.

Lone strands of beachgrass angle away from the ocean.

Though not officially sanctioned by De Beers, these small anti-pigeon militias thrive here, kidnapping people’s pets from their coops on nighttime stealth runs, and bringing them here, to this spot on the beach hidden among the labyrinth of dunes. These stolen birds are kept in stacked cages. These men are bored. What with nearly every recreational outlet in the small towns along the Diamond Coast having been shuttered, this is what they do for fun. In one cage, I spot eggs. I think

wo days ago was the last time I saw Msizi, the 13-year-old diamond miner with whom I’ve been speaking for the past month, who admitted to me that he has been smuggling diamonds with the help of his favorite pigeon, Bartholomew. Though workers pass through an X-ray machine upon entering and leaving the mine, South Africa has made it illegal to over-radiate a person, so the machines light up and whir whether or not they’re conducting an actual X-ray.

The worker never knows whether he’s being scanned or given a placebo. I hope that Msizi and his lunchbox received only the dummy scan today.

I can picture him at the local mine: From under his tongue, Msizi picks out the rough diamonds he earlier dug up from the sludge. He packs them into the four little bags he’s fashioned, and binds one to each of Bartholomew’s feet, and one beneath each wing. He looks around.

The other miners keep their heads down, their backs bent. If they’ve seen what he’s done, they’re pretending not to notice.

It’s never good to call attention to oneself here, to fall under the scrutiny of the guards, some of whom have smuggling agendas themselves. Msizi opens his hands and the pigeon lifts off. He bends to the earth again, resumes his digging.

From the sky, the mine looks like a terrible network, cogs and gears made of boys and men. Below, the sifting crew sifts, and some of them have their own pigeons hiding in their lunchboxes and clothes. Another team takes this sifted rubble and passes it through smaller drumhead-size sieves, separating the pebbles and diamonds from the sludge. I imagine Bartholomew flying over columns of hand-dug gravel that line the edges of the immense open pit, and earth-bridges that connect bank to bank. I hope the bird makes it. I hope he isn’t caught by this militia and brought here.

When one of the men opens the cages,

the birds look confused, but not frantic. They bob their heads, but do not fly away. I know that it is in vain that I root for their safe escape. The men put on their shooting hats. Light cigarettes.

Call birds as if corner pockets. One of the guys brags about having once shot a rare Eastern bronze-naped pigeon— member of a protected species, sporting a golden hindcollar, amethyst nape and dusky breast—that was clearly the pet of a fancier and not a smuggler. One of the guys passes me a bottle of Castle beer.

The shooting begins, and it’s softer than I anticipated, dampened by the dunes.

Some birds are shot right in their cages.

Others, startled, descend to the beach and are shot where they land. They are too slow to lift off, too slow to escape. Over the pops, the men posture and cheer. They keep saying something-something-American, something-something-American, performing for what they believe is my benefit. I don’t know. Maybe it is.

Most of the birds are dead, and some are twitching, their beaks wrestling with the air, but no sound is coming out. I wait impatiently for the men to plant their gun butts and bottles in the sand, walk over to them, and wring their necks.

They do, and rinse the blood from their hands in the seafoam.

From the back of the truck, they take jars of beetroot salad, and we eat our snack with our fingers, the tips purpling. One of the men talks about keeping a CB on his nightstand, by which pigeon spotters communicate their reports. Two pigeons slump against a dune, and I swear to God, they turn to each other and make eye contact, before dying.

The men make a beach fire with brush.

They bring a pot of seawater to steam and plunge the bird carcasses into it, scalding them to loosen the attachment of feather to skin. I drink more brandy, and they invite me to help with the plucking. As we skewer pigeons onto bamboo spears and roast them like marshmallows, the mist thickens, and every so often, I see a yellow arm reach through it, the hand filthy with pigeon blood and beach grit,

FROM UNDER HIS TONGUE, MSIZI PICKS OUT THE ROUGH DIAMONDS HE DUG FROM THE SLUDGE. MEN’S JOURNAL

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LAST FLIGHT OF THE DIAMOND SMUGGLERS

Open mines have blighted the South African landscape ever since the Kimberley diamond strike of 1868.

offering me another swig. I feel drunk and hungover at the same time.

We flavor the meat with shakes of barbecue spice. We eat without plates and burn our fingers. I spit out not diamonds, but pieces of spent shot. In eating these pigeons, and in thinking that they are delicious, I can’t help but feel a little blasphemous. Maybe I’m eating a retired smuggler. Maybe, as I teethe on the sail-thin meat that once connected rib to rib, my tongue buzzing with paprika, someone’s still waiting for it to come home.

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e’re eating rarefied food, pigeon meat being reserved, for centuries in Old England, for the plates of the aristocracy. For hundreds of years, even pigeon feces, all of it within English borders, by legal decree was claimed as property of the crown—a portion devoted to increase the agricultural output; a portion used to fabricate saltpeter, an ingredient essential to the production of gunpowder, the sort of which was responsible for England’s swift colonizing of much of the world. Without the shit of the birds we’re eating, history would be different, South Africa would be different, as would the mining industry and the number of shipwrecks under the surf rolling into this beach. Would the British have been such atrociously effective imperialists, I want to ask these men, without it?

Instead, I say nothing, and the men piss the heat out of the embers. The sun sets and the first stars reveal themselves.

Full and a little nauseous, we pile into

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legendary female ghosts said to hitchhike here, causing fatal accidents. Even they avoid us tonight. To restore the sense of festivity that attended the pigeon shoot, the passenger passes around a wallet-size picture of his two Pomeranians. When the picture is returned to him, he kisses it.

We come to a shack of sheet metal and burlap. The place is lit with purloined electricity, a jumble of spliced wires beneath the sand. A single bulb flickers inside. A man in blue overalls sits in the dust out front, antagonizing an anthill with a wooden staff that looks like the sort of rod that once urged water from rock. We stop, and this man stands, waves to the passenger. The passenger swings the yarn, landing the talisman between the man’s gumboots. He seizes up, and his hands, as if electrified, pop open, his

I CAN’T HELP BUT FEEL BLASPHEMOUS. MAYBE I’M EATING A RETIRED SMUGGLER. the truck and rove along the beach. A couple of the men are taking bags of dead pigeons back to their families for supper.

Inexplicably, someone has strung a new barbed wire fence across the beach. It blocks our path. The man in the passenger seat hops out to inspect it. Running along the top of the fence is a string of pink yarn—hundreds of feet long. Someone deliberately twisted it around the barbs.

The passenger, curious, begins to unwind it, and pull it toward him. I’m eager to see what’s at the end of the line.

After 10 minutes of pulling, the passenger comes up with his catch, a crooked crucifix of plastic translucent pipe and hose, cinched with a rubber glove, about the size of a plate and decorated with waxed and curled feathers. Surely, we’ve disturbed some sacred site down the beach. Desecrated some omen or idol.

The silence of the men is unnerving.

Then they argue about whether or not to take this weird sculpture with us. I ask if I could photograph the thing, and they look at each other. The driver says, “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that.”

The passenger claims to have a “colored friend” who may know what this thing is. Reluctantly, we bring it onboard.

Nobody says a word as we drive into the mist, looking for the path that will get us out of here.

The driver keeps his eyes peeled for the MEN’S JOURNAL

fingers splayed. His staff falls to the sand.

He stares at the thing, and the passenger asks him something in Afrikaans, but the man does not answer.

I see the shadow of a bird as it passes overhead, and I wonder if it’s Bartholomew. I wonder if Msizi and his pigeon have smuggled diamonds today, and so will be able to afford enough cornmeal to feed himself, his mother and his siblings for weeks. I wonder how long Msizi will be able to get away with this before he is caught.

The man is still fixated on the idol between his feet. The men shift uncomfortably in the Land Rover, whisper the name Tokoloshe, the evil dwarf-like water sprite of Zulu mythology, a harbinger of bad luck and death in the night.

The passenger impotently holds the pink yarn. The driver puffs from an asthma inhaler. As if defibrillated, the man in the blue overalls turns and sprints away into the desert. The passenger cuts the line with a utility knife. The man runs until we can’t see him anymore, his path traced by a cloud of dust. I wonder if he’ll ever return home. The men force their laughter, try to convince me that this is no big deal. There are bits of feather and blood pasted to the toes of our shoes. Through the doorway of the shack, something is cooking on a hot plate. Whatever it is, it is boiling over. Q

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THE PROTEC

It’s easy to say that our country’s natural wonders deserve protection. Meet the men on the

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SHAWN BANNON

Burdette and Jamie Berger from Cape Fear River Watch make miles to maintain North Carolina’s largest watershed.

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TORS T front line, actually doing the hard work.

he American pact with its wide-open spaces seems simple enough: This land is your land, this land is my land. Such a noble ideal, in reality, is anything but simple to manage. However you weigh the value of public and private interests, recreation and industry, preservation and progress, we all can recognize that once wild lands are lost, they are not likely to return.

These eight men have chosen paths that put them squarely in the fight, and often squarely in the path of real danger. As defenders who battle wildfires or track wild horses, expose polluters or face down injustice, that loss of nature is not an option.

THE RIVERKEEPER Kemp Burdette THE KEY to catching alligators is patience and solid core strength. At least, that’s how Kemp Burdette tells it. “They’re pissed when you hook them, rolling and running, but they don’t have a lot of stamina,” he says, describing how he brought in an 11-foot gator with a deep-sea fishing rig on the edge of North Carolina’s Cape Fear River—wearing it out, and then slowly dragging it in.

As Cape Fear River Watch’s full-time Riverkeeper, Burdette and a team of NC State scientists were on the clock, holding down the primordial beast so that they could test it for traces of chemicals discharged upstream. Such risks aren’t new to the former Navy rescue swimmer and Peace Corps volunteer who returned to his home state to try to clean up “the Fear.”

The 9,000-square-mile river system provides drinking water to 1 in 5 North Carolinians and hosts wildlife that also includes pelicans and manatees, but is plagued by a massive chemical facility, coal-fired power plants and the largest pig slaughterhouse in the world.

Most days, Burdette kayaks the Fear or its tributaries, taking water samples. Other days, he’s navigating waves of coal ash as they flood into the river, or he’s in a small airplane, flying above farms to look for improper waste disposal.

In the last decade, Burdette has helped remove coal ash ponds, forced DuPont to stop dumping chemicals, and worked tirelessly to reduce the impact of the swine and poultry industry that operates largely unchecked on the river’s banks—a job with no finish line in sight. “I love it here,” says Burdette, “but this river needs help.”

by G R AHAM AVE RI LL

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“These huge features we think of as permanent are not,” says Gadd, seen here climbing in Greenland in 2018. “They’re melting like the ice in your drink.”

THE ICE MAN Will Gadd

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“As an athlete, a lot of what we do isn’t useful,” says 53-year-old Gadd. “I feel like I can be genuinely useful to these scientists in these harsh environments, helping them move around and conduct research.”

Gadd understands that climate change often can be an abstract. For ice climbers, it’s a harsh reality wreaking havoc on renowned destinations. Take Mount Kilimanjaro: Since 1912, roughly 90 percent of the glacier atop Africa’s highest peak has melted. In 2014, Gadd climbed Kilimanjaro’s ice fins, vertical slabs of isolated ice jutting from the sand. He returned in 2020 to reclimb those same fins, rebuild a weather station with a climate scientist and bag the last ascent of the Messner Route (the mountain’s MEN’S JOURNAL

famed ice route). But the fins were all but gone already.

Gadd sees the issue back home, too, with North American glaciers retreating at an accelerating rate. Montana’s Glacier National Park, the largest collection of permanent ice in the Lower 48, has only 25 remaining glaciers, down from 150 in 1850. The glaciers that crown Rocky Mountain National Park and Glacier Bay National Park are in the same sinking boat.

Sure, that loss of ice is a problem for climbers, Gadd says, “but the bigger issue is for cities that rely on seasonal ice- and snowmelt for their water.”

by G R AHAM AVE RI LL

CHRISTIAN PONDELLA/RED BULL CONTENT POOL

ILL GADD has scored plenty of personal bests in myriad adventure pursuits—first descents as a pro kayaker, two world records as a pro paraglider, three X Games golds and the first ascent of a frozen Niagara Falls as an ice climber.

Recently, though, Gadd has applied his prodigious skills to the greater good, working with scientists studying the impact of climate change. He has helped researchers explore caves beneath Canada’s Athabasca Glacier, an endeavor that discovered a new life-form (a biofilm on the cave walls). And he has climbed below the Greenland Ice Sheet with scientists to learn how ice melt might impact sea levels.

THE COWBOY CONSERVATIONIST Greg Hendricks

GREG HENDRICKS has been

hunkered down, silent, amid Nevada desert scrub for hours. Now, finally, the latter-day cowboy’s quarry is near. He stealthily shoulders his rifle, adjusts its sights and shoots a wild mustang mare. And the people who love these horses love him for doing it.

That’s because he’s firing darts filled with the birth control substance PZP. See, the Southwest is home to some 95,000 feral horses and burros descended from those brought to the Americas by the Spanish 500 years ago.

And as much as there’s no better symbol of unbridled freedom than wild horses, they also graze for 16 hours

a day and reproduce prolifically, straining scant desert resources and riling cattle ranchers on both private and public lands.

For five decades, the U.S. Bureau of Land Management has used low-flying helicopters to round up mustangs into pens, which regularly causes stampedes and grisly deaths. Even so, wild herd numbers often increase after a roundup.

“It’s a sad, gruesome thing to see,” says Hendricks, director of field operations for the American Wild Horse Campaign.

PZP is a cheap, safe and humane way to keep herd sizes sustainable. The tough part is getting close enough to a feral horse

Range finder: Keeping an icon of American wildlife sustainably wild.

to dart it, requiring frigid mornings in rugged terrain, plenty of lukewarm coffee and damn good aim. The greatest hazard can be crossing paths with ranchers who harbor a sizable distrust of interlopers, be they animal or human.

Hendricks remains steadfast, building a team that’s darted 1,300 mares

with permission on private lands. The next step is to broaden the program onto public lands overseen by the Bureau, which still relies on mass herding.

“These horses are a part of our history,” he says. “They’ve survived for hundreds of years out here, and they’re still surviving.

They’ve earned it.”

TOP: MICHAEL ALFUSO

THE TOUGH PART IS GETTING CLOSE ENOUGH TO A FERAL HORSE TO DART IT.

by ADAM PO PE SCU

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When not fighting the wildfire problem, Denholm is an avid big-wave surfer, despite losing an arm in a commercial fishing accident.

THE NATIVE VOICE Hank Stevens

Jeff Denholm

A

S WILDFIRES ravaged California last August, the CZU Lightning Complex fire began to burn through Bonny Doon, turning the wooded surfers’ haven northwest of Santa Cruz into a particular shade of nightmare (pictured below).

Cal Fire crews were occupied with other blazes, unable to reach the town of 3,000 for several days. “It was a bad scene, man,” says Jeff Denholm, a Bonny Doon local who leases a fleet of fire engines to the U.S. Forest Service. Fortuitously, Denholm is also the founder and CEO of Atira Systems,

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maker of the next-gen, non-toxic fire suppressant Strong Water.

The gel-like substance, which clings to trees and smothers flames, is intended to be delivered via a helicopter-mounted cannon—an item in short supply as hell approached. But Denholm did have a truck rigged to spray the suppressant.

Ignoring evacuation orders, he and his neighbors managed to save many homes, including his own.

The battle brought new urgency to Denholm’s work developing tactics to fight a frightening trend. “Wildfire propensity is forecast to increase tenfold in the next three decades,” says Denholm. “That’s six months of smoke a year. We can’t live that way.

We need this technology.”

Denholm contends that his innovation counters these hotter, fasterburning mega-blazes better than the typical method of planes dropping red Phos-Chek retardant powder ahead of a fire’s advance. Departments as close as San Bernardino County, CA, and as far away as Australia, agree and have added Strong Water to their wildfire-fighting arsenals.

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Stevens’ aim: Keep Bears Ears as a shrine for all “to envision the Creator’s artistry without a flaw made by mankind.”

by CH RI S VAN LE UVE N / by CAS S I DY R AN DALL

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP: FRED POMPERMAYER; ANGELO BACA (DINÉ/HOPI); GUNNER CASEY

THE HELL FIGHTER

HANK STEVENS has already witnessed the toxic contamination caused by a 20th-century boom in uranium mining on his cultural homeland—sacred sites and hunting grounds in southeastern Utah. As president of the Navajo Mountain Chapter of the Navajo Nation, he has been working for years to save the nearby Bears Ears National Monument from the same fate.

Stevens also co-chairs the Bears Ears Inter-Tribal Coalition, made up of Hopi, Zuni, Navajo and Ute tribes. As its Navajo representative, he’s organized decision-makers and traveled to spread the urgent message of what’s at stake. Bears Ears is a sacred site not just for the tribes, but anyone wishing to experience the glories of its natural state.

The coalition successfully petitioned the Obama administration for federal protections for Bears Ears, the first designated monument proposed

by Native American leaders. And after the Trump administration’s drastic reduction of Bears Ears’ protected acreage, the group steadfastly defended the region from an aggressive oil, gas and mining agenda.

The result? President Biden’s executive order to review again the monument’s boundaries.

“The next opportunity is now,” says Stevens.

THE SUPER ARBORIST Drew Peterson

ANDY BOWER

W

HEN WILDFIRE whips through a forest, tens of thousands of giant pine and fir trees, often still burning, must be felled in order for ground crews to gain access, and locals to safely escape.

“These are the jobs you don’t tell your mom about,” says Drew Peterson, Oregon-based tree climber and self-proclaimed Swiss Army knife for the U.S. Forest Service. “You are working to get trees down that are nearly burned through.

The risk can be pretty staggering.”

Though Peterson’s specialty is taking out such hazardous trees, the USFS also has tapped the elite rock climber for another vital conservation task—saving endangered tree species that are

by NAN CY BO UCHAR D

threatened by fire, drought or disease.

Often his goal is to return to terra firma with critical genetic material that gets distributed to seed-bank vaults around the world.

“I can’t really call myself an environmental activist,” admits Peterson. “My personality is more keeping my head down and hands dirty.”

For one mission, he packed his climbing gear and shipped out to California’s Channel Islands National Park to collect

cones from the Torrey pine—one of the most endangered tree species in North America. Despite high winds and long pack-outs, he returned with bags full of the pineapple-size cones: “It was basically the arborist equivalent of a Patagonian climbing adventure,” says Peterson.

“THESE ARE THE JOBS YOU DON’T TELL YOUR MOM ABOUT.” MEN’S JOURNAL

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SCHALLER’S 1950S FIELDWORK IN ALASKA LED TO THE CREATION OF THE ARCTIC NATIONAL WILDLIFE REFUGE.

THE WILDERNESS SHEPHERD George Schaller

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wild teeth and claws, Schaller believes that focusing on charismatic megafauna can extend protection to all important species, even down to scant arachnid species like the newly discovered Liocheles schalleri, given his surname.

Possessed of less aversion to self-promotion, George Schaller could be a household name. His 1950s graduate fieldwork in Alaska led to the creation of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. He steered Jane Goodall and Dian Fossey to their breakthrough work with great apes. And after leading his friend Peter Matthiessen through the Himalayas, he became the semi-anonymous protagonist “GS” in Matthiessen’s 1978 classic, The Snow Leopard. Schaller himself would write 22 books and publish hundreds of articles that further buttressed his devotion to saving wildlife and wilderness.

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Now in his 80s, walking near his New Hampshire home in characteristic, watchful strides, he mentions a Colombian colleague who wants him to visit wildlife there. Then China, Brazil, Ecuador, maybe Guyana. “I choose where I can do something useful,” he concludes. And asked when he’ll stop and relax, he waves his hand impatiently. “When I die,” he says, “I retire.”

by J O N WATE RMAN

FROM TOP: © GEORGE SCHALLER/WILDLIFE CONSERVATION SOCIETY; JON WATERMAN

E

XPLORE the wilds with George Schaller—the world’s greatest living field biologist—and you’ll quickly pick up on his indefatigable sense of mission.

While trekking the Arctic in 2006, the then-septuagenarian moved with the same enthusiasm and limber grace as the grad students in his wake, pausing only to pull apart grizzly scats, measure tree trunks and note all in his pocket-size journal.

For more than six decades, he’s endured countless storms, hellacious insects and civil wars in a storied career that he calls “roaming around watching animals.” His gentle yet tenacious advocacy fostered the creation of more than 20 refuges around the globe that protect large creatures besieged by habitat loss, over-hunting and climate change. Armed only with notebook and camera, working in close quarters amid

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THE BORDER GUARDIAN

TOP: RENAN OZTURK/GATHER FILM

Gabe Vasquez

GABE VASQUEZ first learned a love for the outdoors from his grandfather— hunting in Mexico’s Sierra Madre and fishing on the Rio Grande. After immigrating to the United States at age 10, Vasquez watched the magnificent Grande, the lifeblood of so many border communities, diverted and divided as the river became a front in battles over immigration policy.

Now a city councilor in Las Cruces, NM, Vasquez founded the Nuestra Tierra Conservation Project in 2017 to ensure that those same communities maintain access to public lands, and play a central role in their conservation, rather than remaining excluded.

He guides decision-makers to experience this marginalized region that encompasses some of North America’s most biodiverse landscape of grasslands, deserts and forests—home not to drug runners and migrants but to mountain lions and mule deer.

He’s also fostering the next policy influencers, expanding opportunities that “make you love a place” by taking local Hispanic youths rafting and hunting, or hiking Organ Mountain Desert Peaks National Monument, which he played a key role in establishing in 2014. “It’s incumbent upon us to make sure that more of our young people can have those experiences.”

YOUNG GUNS TANNER SAUL

SAMMY GENSAW

FRED CAMPBELL

Putting boardroom convictions into action, the city councilor-guide creates outdoor advocates for threatened frontera lands.

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by CAS S I DY R AN DALL / by NAN CY BO UCHAR D

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TRAVEL YOUR WAY!

How far would you go for a stiff drink in a friendly watering hole? Raise a glass to these globe-spanning, bucket-list bars where nobody knows your name.

BY CRAIG STEVENS

Subsix’s undulating ceiling is decorated with thousands of windowpane oyster shells.

MAR/APR 2021

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MALDIVES

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T R AV E L

JAMAICA NO, THE GANJA HAZE drift-

ing over Jamaica isn’t making you see things.

There, a mile off the island’s west coast and reachable only by boat, a ramshackle bar really does rise on rickety log stilts above sandbar shallows. Originally banged together by enterprising local Floyd Forbes in 2001, the no-frills, no-bathrooms establishment (just pee in the ocean like everybody else) now attracts thirsty fishermen and tipsy tourists alike. And if a hurricane blows it apart, Forbes and his pals collect driftwood and palm fronds and patch it up again. You’re drinking: Ice is replenished daily, so cold Red Stripe, of course, with a chaser of SPF 50.

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ICELAND ICELANDERS SOMETIMES

find adorable, colorful Reykjavík too hectic for their nature-jonesing constitutions. So they seek stunning getaways such as ION Adventure Hotel, amid mountainous lava fields an hour away. Thingvellir National Park (a UNESCO World Heritage Site) and other nearby options offer all the glaciers and hot springs on your Viking checklist, but return to ION’s sleek, glass

cocoon of a bar after dark for “new Nordic cuisine” (halibut and rutabagas!) and unapparelled views of the aurora borealis’ crazy kaleidoscopic light show.

(Winter months are best.)

You’re drinking: Don’t offend any new drinking buddies by not tossing back a shot of chilled brennivín, the ubiquitous caraway-and-dill-flavored aquavit also known as “black death.”

BOTTOM LEFT PHOTO: KARL STANTON

Vikings believed the aurora borealis to be reflections off the armor of Valkyries escorting slain warriors to Valhalla.

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SCOTLAND

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NAMCHE BAZAAR, NEPAL WHY CLIMB a barstool in a village hidden high

in the Himalayas? Because it’s there! Despite an absence of roads, the Nepalese proprietor, knowing that Irish bars are on-brand for boozy fun, hired porters to lug shamrock kitsch up to the village’s 11,000-foot altitude. All so you can munch a yak burger while watching sherpas shoot pool and international climbers en route to Everest gulp what could be their last shots of Jameson. You’re drinking: Though the “Donkey Piss” cocktail is tempting, an Irish bar must pour a perfect pint of Guinness, even if it has to be imported via Kathmandu.

It’s common for climbers who return from summiting Everest to buy rounds for the entire bar. Sláinte!

AMID THE SHAMROCK KITSCH, YOU CAN MUNCH A YAK BURGER AND WATCH SHERPAS SHOOT POOL. MAR/APR 2021

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THE

OYSTER WORLD I S YOU R

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D

INING on the patio at Rappahannock Oyster Bar in Washington, DC with owner Travis Croxton is like having a private seafood sherpa, expertly navigating the icy ridges and valleys of the just-shucked oysters on the platter between you.

These bivalve beauties are all of the species Crassostrea virginica, native to the eastern coast of the Americas, but represent three flavor profiles matching exactly where on the Chesapeake Bay they were harvested by Travis’ other enterprise, Rappahannock Oyster Company.

“First, try this one,” he prompts, oyster knife nudging a chilled half shell.

Slurp! The immediate sensation is a burst of freshness usually found only in seafood within a toe’s dangle of a water-

SHIPPING OYSTERS IS EASIER THAN EVER BEFORE. front dock, then discernible sweetness balanced by understated saltiness. The next oyster also is clean and bright, with a heightened salinity that swaps places with the sweetness. Classic oyster taste, hard to beat—until the final style is tipped, that is. Harvested closest to open sea, it packs an unabashed brininess that begs to be enjoyed with a hoppy IPA. Hell, even if the next shuck were to reveal a perfect pearl, an oyster lover might flick it aside just to get at the real treasure.

The return of gourmet Chesapeake oysters is a sports analogy-worthy comeback story, right up until the pandemic threw seafood producers on every coast for an existential loop. Not only did they lose most restaurant clients overnight, but those that did remain open understandably focused on more takeout-friendly fare.

The silver lining is that many producers have made it easier than ever to ship super-fresh oysters direct to your door.

That makes right now an opportune time to order a sack or two and invite your gang over for a full-on backyard oyster fest.

“We’re really proud of how people respond to our oysters,” says Travis. “And when they see where they come from, they love them even more.”

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YES, YOU CAN EAT ’EM ALL YEAR!

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PEARLS OF WISDOM

BOAT PHOTO: ARTISINAL APERTURE

O

NE DAY earlier and 140 miles south, in the rural coastal community of Topping, VA, a four-man crew readies for work.

The breaking dawn reveals sailboats moored across the rippled surface of Locklies Creek, but these young guys are unfazed by a backdrop so picturesque it makes a landlubber swoon. In the “oyster shed,” a weathered, garage-size wood shack perched on pilings over the water, they gulp coffee and pull on uniforms of neon-orange or camo-patterned hip waders, boots and gloves.

The crew chief consults today’s orders— the rare clipboard on which a random home cook shares space with world-renowned chef José Andrés. Two of the crew crank up the Evinrude outboard on a flat-bottom fiberglass boat and churn away from the dock. Soon the craft is out on the wide Rappahannock, where the early spring waters are choppy, green and ass-numbing cold. Under the chop are the storied oysters of the Chesapeake Bay. Ancient heaps of shells show that Native Americans enjoyed the wild bounty here for thousands of years before Europeans came ashore. Those settlers also were drawn to the resource, and by the 1850s,

Shuck Me Silly Oysters are rich in zinc and amino acids that boost sex hormones, but science doubts they’re a true aphrodisiac. They sure set the mood, though.

millions of bushels of oysters were harvested annually by dredge boats, with boxcars of the prized delicacy rolling north to New York City and Boston.

Rappahannock Oyster Company traces its lineage back to 1899, when farmer James Arthur Croxton purchased 5 acres of river bottom. Unfortunately, that was just about the heyday of Crassostrea virginica—by 1950, overharvesting, disease and habitat loss had taken their toll, slashing production by 99 percent.

The Croxton oyster beds were long dormant, but in 2002, a new generation, Travis and his cousin Ryan Croxton, hatched a brash plan—a return to producing high-quality oysters by embracing innovative aquaculture practices.

Experts told them it wouldn’t work, that Chesapeake Bay oysters were an inferior product. They were right, at least at first.

“We killed a lot of oysters,” admits Travis, “but we learned quickly.”

By 2004, they had oysters of which they MEN’S JOURNAL

OYSTER FEST ESSENTIALS OYSTER KNIVES Raw bar shuckers wield cheap ones, so they’re good enough for you—but yes, get the tool designed for the job, not a butter knife. And get several so you’re not stuck shucking by yourself.

PLATTERS Display your half-shell beauties for that raw bar vibe. Any rimmed platter that holds ice works; vintage beer trays make a statement, cooler lids will do in a pinch.

ICE Non-negotiable for keeping oysters chilled and creating an authentic presentation. Crushed ice—lots. Grab double what you think you need, then a bit more.

CONDIMENTS Lemon wedges, cocktail sauce, and because you’re a class act, mix champagne vinegar with minced shallots and black pepper for a zingy mignonette.

CRACKERS Yes, eating an oyster atop a saltine is a rookie move. But be nice to newbies, too, especially if they brought good beer.

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VEN WITH those numbers taking a huge pandemic hit, somebody still has to harvest the oysters. Back out on the blustery Rappahannock, the boat drops anchor near a knot of bobbing buoys. Hundreds of oyster cages are hidden by the murky water below, resting 6 inches off the bottom on metal legs. Crew members wield long-handled hooks to fish out a thick rope and wrap it around the boat’s cleats. Cages are fixed at intervals along the rope, and the boat’s pole winch swings them aboard, slick and dripping.

Inside are mild, sweet, inner-bay oysters. Follow the current a few miles downstream and you find another site farming the more salty-sweet version.

And exiting the bay to the open Atlantic near Chincoteague gets you to those super-briny ones.

Oysters don’t deserve the same suspicion as some other farmed seafood. Travis says that many people are surprised that farmed oysters aren’t fed an artificial diet.

“The cages sit in the current right off the bottom, and the oysters eat the algae that washes over them and filter the water,” he explains, “just like wild oysters.”

Furthermore, cage farming is kinder to the ecosystem than bottom dredging.

Compare an aerial photo of the Croxtons’

Perk of the job: A Rappahannock Oyster Company crew member shucks his own snack.

could be proud. So they loaded a cooler and headed for Manhattan. “We literally opened the Zagat guide to find the top restaurant,” says Travis. They wound up at the delivery entrance of Le Bernardin, the seafood shrine of celebrity chef Eric Ripert. “I think they felt sorry for us, but the sous chef loved the sample. So they put our oysters on the menu.”

That kind of credential kicks open doors, and word spread that the Chesapeake Bay was once again producing oysters fit for upscale raw bars. Soon a dozen other producers, often family operations, were farming up and down the Bay. In 2004, the Croxtons harvested 3,000 oysters. In 2006 it was 300,000. And in 2019, they hit an astounding 10 million.

PEARLS OF WISDOM Jurassic Mollusk Zoologists believe that oysters first appeared more than 200 million years ago. And that the first caveman to eat one did so on a double-dog dare.

HOW TO SHUCK AN OYSTER

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2. Without forcing, carefully wedge tip of oyster knife blade into rear hinge where top and bottom shells join.

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3. With blade now solidly in place, twist and pry until you feel a pop as hinge separates.

4. Run blade along inside of top shell to sever muscle, and discard top shell. Then run blade under meat to sever bottom muscle.

ILLUSTRATION: JOE MCKENDRY

1. Fold towel around oyster and hold in place belly side down on a flat surface.

harvest area when they first began farming to one taken now, and you see brown, lifeless river bottom replaced by green native widgeon grass, a key element in curbing erosion.

After the boat is filled with cages and enough icy, brackish water to slosh around the ankles, it motors back to the shed.

Vegetation and muck obscure the wire grid of the cages, so it isn’t until a top is pried off that the 1,500 oysters inside can be seen clearly.

Cages are emptied into a rotating metal cylinder fitted with holes, sorting oysters onto a rolling belt where the crew performs further grading. Every few minutes someone pauses, whips out an oyster knife and indulges in a little quality control. “Oh yeah, good oyster,” declares one before getting back to the routine. Gloved hands move in rhythm while talk veers from weather to cars to girlfriends. The oysters and the language tend toward salty this morning.

It requires about 18 months to raise oysters to this moment. But as soon as they fill mesh sacks or insulated boxes, they start going out via a succession of delivery vans. “Once you harvest an oyster, you have to get it moving to its destination fast,” says Travis.

That means that an oyster that’s in the water today can grace one of those tiered seafood towers at a fancy bistro tomorrow. Or, if you’re so inclined, the picnic table in your backyard. Q

GRILLED OYSTERS WITH NDUJA BUTTER Backyard oyster feast? Save some to toss on the grill and earn points with this gourmet-but-simple treatment.

8 oz. unsalted butter, softened 2 oz. nduja* Sea salt to taste 1 Tbsp. olive oil 1½ oz. panko breadcrumbs 16 oysters, shucked on the half shell 2 chives, thinly sliced *Nduja is a spicy, spreadable Italian salumi (and this recipe’s secret weapon),

available at many gourmet shops.

1. Preheat grill to 450°F. Blend butter with nduja until well combined and season with sea salt.

2. Heat olive oil in skillet on medium heat and toast breadcrumbs until golden brown.

Remove from heat.

3. Scoop 2 tsp. butter

mixture on top of each oyster. Arrange in a single layer on grill, cover and cook until hot and bubbly, about 5 minutes.

4. Remove from grill.

Garnish with breadcrumbs and chives and serve warm.

Recipe provided by chef Dylan Allwood of Tavola Restaurant in Charlottesville, VA.

RAW DEAL

RECIPE PHOTO: STEVE RUSSELL

These chef-approved producers ship live oysters directly to your shindig.

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Building knowledge and support of our public lands Our public lands should be enjoyed responsibly and preserved unequivocally.

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STYLE Dior Coat, Shirt, Bandana and Pants ($3,300, $1,550, $450, $1,200; dior.com).

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Salvatore Ferragamo Black Tuscan Landscape Print Cotton Canvas Coat & Cashmere Blend Cable Knit Sweater ($2,800, $830; ferragamo.com);

Viktor Li Pants ($395; shopviktorli.com).

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STYLE

LOCATED IN THE HEART of Downtown’s most dynamic and historical neighborhood at 123 Nassau Street, The Beekman hotel is a perfect combination of old-world glamour and modern luxury. Restored to its former glory, the historic landmark building exudes elegance and charm both inside and out. Designed by Martin Brudnizki with his singular aesthetic vision, it stands as a pinnacle of design and refinement with all the touches that make it the place to stay in NYC.

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A TRUE TRAIL BLAZER

NBA Player CJ McCollum, shooting guard in Portland Oregon, dishes on how he recovers and his charitable exploits off-court.

HOOP DREAMS Everyone in my family loved sports, and I picked up basketball from a very early age.

I was fortunate to grow up with an older brother [Errick McCollum plays overseas in the VTB United League] who had to take me age, I was working on my game with him.

We’ve pushed each other to get better since we were younger, and that’s still true today.

FUELING HIS FITNESS I always want to make sure I’m doing everything I can to do my job well and help teammates and with my team’s health and performance staff to make sure my off-court training and nutrition is maximized to be as effective as possible. In my free time, I put in extra hours at the gym, getting shots up and continuously working on my game. I also invest time in recovery—yoga, massages, steam room, and using both hot and cold tubs.

FOCUS ON RECOVERY I believe in hard work, but I also believe in balance, and for me, that comes in the form of sure that I am prepared to do my job at the highest level. On top of cryotherapy and other recovery techniques, I was introduced to Cherrish tart cherry juice last season and was properties. One of the major benefits that I’ve

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WORKOUT OF THE MONTH

Avenger Strength An upper-body burnout to forge superhero size.

straps on a bionic arm to play the Winter Soldier (aka Bucky) in Marvel blockbusters, but he’s still a weapon without the tech. His next hero stint is the new Disney+ series The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (March 19).

Here’s Stan’s preshoot strength routine, which was complemented by plenty of pullups, situps and pushups.

SEBASTIAN STAN

DIRECTIONS

1. Half-Kneeling One-Arm Kettlebell Press

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of the press, making sure not to arch your lower back. Inhale as you slowly lower the weight, performing all reps on one side, then switch. (Always work opposite arm and leg.) Complete 5 x 8 reps each side with 1 min. rest between sets.

by CHARLE S TH O RP | photog ra p hs by MARI U S BU G G E

CHUCK ZLOTNICK | DISNEY

Kneel down, holding a kettlebell bottomup (bell toward ceiling) in the hand opposite your front knee, palm facing in.

Exhale as you press the weight straight up, rotating your hand so palm is facing forward, torso perfectly aligned at the top

FITNESS

2A. Dumbbell Side Raise

2B. Dumbbell Reverse Flye

Stand with feet shoulder-width apart, holding dumbbells at your sides, palms facing in. Raise weights out 90 degrees without bending elbows or swinging arms for momentum. Pause briefly once arms are parallel to floor, then return to start. Complete 10 reps. Move instantly to dumbbell reverse flye.

From the same side raise stance, hinge forward at hips until torso is nearly parallel to floor. Let dumbbells hang straight down, elbows slightly bent. Keep a flat back as you raise arms laterally, maintaining soft bend in elbows. Pause briefly at the top, then return to start. Complete 10 reps. Move instantly to kettlebell halo.

2C. Kettlebell Halo

3. One-Arm Suitcase Carry

Hold a kettlebell bottom-up at chest level. In one fluid motion, rotate the bell around your head in a clockwise direction, keeping it close to your body, pausing briefly at the start position. On the next rep, move counterclockwise. Complete 10 reps with 1 min. rest between trisets for 4 total rounds.

Hold a heavy kettlebell in one hand, arms down by sides, palms facing in. Engage your core, maintain a straight spine and keep shoulders square as you walk 25 yards down and back. Switch sides and continue alternating on every rep. Complete 4 x 50 yards each side with 30–60 sec. rest between sets.

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WORK OUT LIKE WADE THE PERFECT MEDICINE Looking to carve your core? We’ve got the perfect workout buddy: a medicine ball. This simple piece of equipment makes basic moves more advanced, which helps if you need to increase the difficulty of your exercises. The ball is perfect for doing basic crunches, reverse crunches and Russian twists.

WEIGHT IT OUT No disrespect to cardio, but incorporating weights into your workout regimen is key to weight loss and muscle gains. Dumbbells, which are perfect for at-home workouts, are the most accessible free weights, so most people try these first.

HIT THE GREENS Wade recently picked up golf in his post-NBA life. Golf is known for being a super-competitive mental game, but one that’s also accessible for all fitness levels. Not sure if it’s for you? You can easily rent clubs, hit the driving range and give it a swing!

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WHAT WORKS FOR ME

Not Your Average Space Cadet NASA astronaut and former Navy SEAL CHRIS CASSIDY never shies from a challenge. Here’s how he stays tenacious.

Build Mass

During my time with the Navy SEALs, my team was deployed to investigate caves in a mountainous region between Afghanistan and Pakistan. What was going to be a 5-mile patrol downhill turned into a 10-mile trek with 55-pound packs because the helicopter couldn’t land. Then headquarters decided they were going to have us stay another nine days. Experiences like that taught me there’s only so much you can control, and you won’t accomplish anything without help from fellow soldiers. It’s important to be prepared for the unknown.

We work with NASA’s Astronaut Strength, Conditioning and Rehabilitation group coaches for six months leading up to our launch dates, and they also design workout protocols for our time in orbit. [Cassidy’s 2020 stay aboard the International Space Station lasted 196 days.] If we didn’t work out, we’d return with severe bone-density decay. For that reason, the majority of our training is based around legs and core, and we train for two hours every day. There’s a stationary bike, treadmill and weight machine right by the cupola

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Blast Junk Food Because we’re in such a uniquely controlled situation on the ISS, we often partake in research, like how diet affects the human body. In the last one, I was on an enhanced diet with more fruits and vegetables. We can snack on nutritional bars should we need to get our calories up. I felt great, and I’m trying to eat more like that on Earth. I eat healthier on the station than I do at home, because there’s no freezer in orbit, and thus, no ice cream, which is my downfall.

Shoot for the Stars When I returned from my last mission, I signed up to do an Ironman. I respond well to having a goal—a reason to train and work out with purpose. Now it’s about finding that next mission. I’ve done three flights to space and could have seen my last, but I’m prepared to go again.

PHOTO: COURTESY NASA

Prepare for Anything

window that looks down on Earth 250 miles below. I have a Peloton bike at home, but nothing competes with that view.

a s t old t o CHARLE S TH O RP

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INTEL

Health News

CLEANUP TIME!

HOT Stuff

PREPARING for an important job interview?

A weekend hike? A hot Bumble date? Skip the overpowering man scrubs and instead try one of Zest’s new body washes, which come in femaleapproved scents like Orange & Maqui, Grapefruit & Guarana and Lime & Ananas.

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MEN’S JOURNAL (ISSN 1063-4651), is published 6 times a year in Jan/Feb, Mar/Apr, May/Jun, Jul/Aug, Sep/Oct, Nov/Dec by a360 Media, LLC., 4 New York Plaza, 2nd Floor, New York, NY 10004. Periodical Rates Postage Paid at the New York, NY Post Office and at additional Mailing offices. Copyright © a360 Media, LLC 2021 All rights reserved. Canada Post International Publications Mail Sale Agreement No. 40028566. Canadian B.N. 887465102RT0001. any and all purposes and cannot be used without permission in writing from a360 Media, LLC. Men’s Journal is not responsible for returning unsolicited manuscripts, photographs, letters or other materials. a360 Media, LLC, publisher of Men’s Journal, does not promote or endorse any of the products or services advertised by third-party advertisers in this publication, nor does a360 Media, LLC, verify the accuracy of any claims made in conjunction with such advertisements. Subscription rate is $24.00 for 1yr (6 issues). in U.S.A. In Canada 1yr (6 issue). $34.00. Outside of U.S.A. and Canada 1yr (6 issue). $45.00. U.S. Orders outside of U.S.A. must be prepaid in U.S. funds. For Customer Service and Back issues call toll-free (800) 677-6367 or write to: Men’s Journal, P.O. Box 37207, Boone, IA, 50037-0207. SUBSCRIBERS: If the postal service alerts us that your magazine is undeliverable, we have no further obligation unless we receive a corrected address within one year. U.S. POSTMASTER: Send all UAA to CFS (See DMM 507.1.5.2); NON-POSTAL and MILITARY FACILITIES send U.S. Address changes to: Men’s Journal Magazine, P.O. Box 37207, Boone, IA 50037-0207. CANADA POSTMASTER: Send address changes to a360 Media, LLC, PO Box 907 STN Main, Markham, ON L3P 0A7, Canada. From time to time we make our subscriber list available to companies who sell goods and services by mail that we believe would interest our readers. If you would rather not receive such mailings, please send your current mailing label to: Men’s Journal, P.O. Box 37207, Boone, IA, 50037. Manuscripts, art or other submissions must be accompanied by a self-addressed, stamped envelope. Printed in the U.S.A.

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NUTRITION

The New Snack Down Say goodbye to whipped coffee and banana bread, and hello to the latest food and drink trends of 2021. They’re good for you and the environment.

Earth-Friendly Upcycling

Legumes Reimagined

Punchy Spice Blends

The World Food Program estimates that one-third of the planet’s food is lost or wasted every year. (The average American trashes 20 pounds each month.)

Registered dietitian Ryan Andrews says that a new wave of forward-thinking snack brands are upcycling undesirable and leftover food byproducts into irresistible munchies.

For example, crunchy ReGrained Supergrain+ Puffs are made from the spent grain of brewed beer. $20, 5-pack; regrained.com

First kimchi was all the rage, now good ol’ reliable beans are joining the alternative snacks party. “Legumes are sustainable, health-promoting and tasty,” says Andrews. Plus they’re part of another major movement: plantbased eating. Fiber and protein keep you full longer, while powerful nutrients ward off disease. Brami’s pickled lupini beans have 50 percent more protein than chickpeas and 80 percent fewer calories than almonds. $17, 4-pack; bramisnacks.com

Herbs and spices will take you to Flavortown without torching your taste buds like some hot sauces can.

Bonus: Most of these blends are packed with disease-fighting antioxidants, says Robin Foroutan, RDN. A big trend for 2021 is artisanal fusions.

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by MALLO RY CREVE LI N G I Phot og ra p h by CH RI S WE LLHAU S E N

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The Last Word

William Zabka He swept the Karate Kid’s leg to great infamy in the ’80s movie classic. Now he’s the heart of the hit Netflix reboot series Cobra Kai.

Why does Cobra Kai make us laugh more than The Karate Kid did?

The show was pitched as a dramedy, but the writers come from Hot Tub Time Machine and Harold & Kumar, so while it has action, heart and nostalgia, they stretch the boundaries with humor. Originally, I was told the show could stand on its own without a Karate Kid character and we’d call it Bad Sensei.

Back in 1984, did you have any clue how iconic your bully character Johnny Lawrence would become?

I was just turning 18—I didn’t know what “iconic” meant. Even if nobody had ever seen the movie, it was already one of the most special experiences in my life because it was my first film and I was working with the director who made Rocky, John Avildsen. But The Karate Kid was like catching lightning in a bottle. It’s never gone away.

What’s the over/under on how many times you’ve had “Sweep the leg” quoted at you?

“Sweep the leg.” “No mercy.” “Get him a body bag.” All those quotes have followed me for three decades. It’s part of the culture, and it’s all good. My alarm clock says “Sweep the leg” when I wake up. No, no, that’s not true.

Do you get challenged to bar fights?

I think the end of the movie, where Johnny hands Daniel the trophy and has a moment of redemption, saved me from a lot of that.

But after the film I trained in martial arts, and the real black belts would show off a bit by getting in a good shot on Johnny.

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RE AL QUICK

Do you and Ralph Macchio ever draw blood in your fight scenes?

We shoot fast and hard on Cobra Kai, so don’t have time to practice perfectly.

Luckily, nobody has been kicked in the face so far, but stuff does happen, so we compare bruises. We’re definitely taking Epsom salt baths at night.

Belt?

Martial arts discipline?

Best parental advice?

Favorite headbangers?

Is Johnny a hero?

Care to admit your ’80s guilty pleasures?

I’m all ’80s guilty pleasures.

There’s something special about the music and art from the ’80s. About five years ago I got to go backstage at a Van Halen concert at the Hollywood Bowl and ended up playing my version of “Ain’t Talkin’ ’Bout MEN’S JOURNAL

Love” on Eddie’s guitar. It was incredible.

The series has referenced some cheesy old photos from when you were super ripped.

If you were a teen star in the ’80s, you’d have those teen magazines coming at you, and next thing you know you’re standing next to a rock on the beach with your shirt off.

How do you keep fit now?

I buckle down with cardio and a high-protein diet with lots of vegetables. I’m standing next to Ralph, who weighs a buck fifty-five, so I have to keep slim.

But Johnny gets to binge on Coors and junk food.

Yeah, that guy must have a superhero metabolism. I mean, he eats Manwiches.

PHOTO: BJOERN KOMMERELL

The Internet theorizes that Daniel was a bully and Johnny the good guy.

I produced those videos, and my plan worked!

No, but my POV always was that Johnny was operating with the tools given to him by life and his sensei. He overdid it, but he

didn’t instigate any of those fights. Like, here was this new guy who came to town and stole his girl!

— I n t e r v iew by STEVE RU S S E LL