The Red Bulletin US 08/20

BEYOND THE ORDINARY

U.S. EDITION AUG./SEPT. 2020, $5.99

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THE RED BULLETIN 08-09/2020

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B RO K E

MUSCLE

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HLOÉ D YGERT

THEY REPRESENT AMERICAN CYCLING’S BEST CHANCE FOR GOLD IN TOKYO 02

JOE PUGLIESE

As part of a January training camp, Kate Courtney (left) and ChloĂŠ Dygert climb the lower slopes of Mount Tamalpais in Marin County, California. To read their story, flip to page 22.

EDITOR’S NOTE

MORE THAN FUN AND GAMES In the world we inhabited four months ago, our attention right now was supposed to be directed at the Summer Olympics in Tokyo. But even though the Games are delayed—till next year or beyond—life for the athletes pursuing glory marches on. Our cover story, “American Muscle” (page 22), digs deep into two female cyclists, Kate Courtney and Chloé Dygert, who are fundamentally different characters in different disciplines united in this unprecedented moment by one goal: Being the very best.

CONTRIBUTORS THIS ISSUE

PETRA ERIKSSON

“I always enjoy getting the chance to portray people who haven’t been made visible enough, whether that has to do with their gender, sexual orientation or skin color,” says the Barcelona-based illustrator, who contributed portraits of four such individuals in “Gamers Like Us,” which profiles people who are making that industry more inclusive.

Eriksson’s work often appears in The New Yorker. Page 56

Photographer (and cycling fanatic) Joe Pugliese poses with an elite crew (left to right): Tim Johnson, Colin Strickland, Courtney, Kristin Armstrong and Dygert.

This issue also explores other ways games are being transformed. In “Bulletproof” (page 48) we visit with Twitch streamer Anne Munition, who is at once entertaining fans and fighting online bullies. And “Gamers Like Us” (page 56) profiles four gamers who literally reflect the changing face of that community. Together these stories show how the nature of the long game in sport is being redefined.

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The Pennsylvania-based writer contributed two stories in this issue, both featuring people who are making gaming more inclusive.

“As our social lives splintered during the pandemic, I thought a lot about how comforting it would be for gamers to connect in their community,” says Fennessy, whose work has appeared in Bicycling and Outside. “It was nice to think about places that COVID-19 couldn’t reach.” Pages 48 and 56

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JOE PUGLIESE (COVER)

CHRISTINE FENNESSY

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CONTENTS August/September

FEATURES

2 2 American Muscle

Bike racers Chloé Dygert and Kate Courtney compete in different disciplines, but they share one goal: to win gold.

3 6 Show of Force

The original gonzo reality show, Eco-Challenge, is back—and bigger than ever. This is the story of how it all came together.

4 8 Bulletproof

The popular Twitch streamer Anne Munition is speaking out against online bullies and killing them with kindness.

5 6 Gamers Like Us

To true fans, video games are about connecting people despite barriers like language or distance. Here are four gamers who are using their talents to create a more inclusive community.

6 6 Lava and Ice

On the glacial slopes of Iceland’s volcanoes, life doesn’t always transpire on solid ground—but at least it’s never boring.

48 POWER UP

Pro gamer Anne Munition takes pride in having one of the nicest communities on Twitch.

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22 TOP GUNS

World champions Chloé Dygert (left) and Kate Courtney are both favored to win medals in Tokyo.

DEPARTURE

Taking You to New Heights

9 Lacrosse legend Paul Rabil organizes play, post-COVID 12 An NPO gives the gift of games to children’s hospitals 14 Lucky break: Serendipitous

surfing in Tasmania

16 Skating adventures in an

abandoned aquapark

18 Musician Sandra Velasquez fights for social justice 20 Black Pumas share the

songs that inspired them

GUIDE

Get it. Do it. See it.

79 Travel: Four future-looking picks for your bucket list 84 Fitness tips from retired pro gamer Flamesword 86 Dates for your calendar 88 The best new outdoor gear for simple summer adventures 96 The Red Bulletin worldwide

JOE PUGLIESE, CARSTEN PETER, JOSH CAMPBELL

98 Slacklining in Estonia

66

FEEL THE BURN Adventure writer Mark Jenkins headed to Iceland looking for answers about the island’s active volcanoes.

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07

On all Red Bull 8.4oz Variants

LIFE

&

STYLE

BEYOND

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ORDINARY

SHAWN HUBBARD/RED BULL CONTENT POOL

THE

AHEAD OF THE GAME How lacrosse legend Paul Rabil is organizing a groundbreaking post-COVID tournament.

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The Professional Lacrosse League, co-founded

by Paul Rabil, will begin quarantined play on July 25.

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W

hen the World Health Organization declared the coronavirus outbreak a global pandemic on March 11, professional lacrosse player Paul Rabil had the same bewildered “Oh, shit” reaction as everyone else. He’d just boarded a plane from New York to Los Angeles with his brother, Mike. The two had worked tirelessly to build a new pro lacrosse model. Last summer, their Premier Lacrosse League had launched without a hitch and topped expectations, with thousands of fans, team betting and a culture of equity for players.

And now a virus threatened to kill what they’d created, as sports leagues like the NBA began to announce indefinite cancellations of play.

Instead of going to that extreme, the Rabils put out a press release saying they’d monitor the situation. Then they conceded that they’d have to push back the start of their season. Both were used to envisioning worst-case scenarios, because “as the leader and co-founder of an organization that a lot of people are dependent on, you have to create solutions based on a potential worst-case outcome,” says Paul. The Rabils opened their laptops and began assembling a 12-scenario plan.

The big question they asked themselves was this: “What if this shit ends up going to a place we didn’t expect and we have to cancel the 2020 season—what would our last measure be before that?” Paul says. Before their flight had landed, they had

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T H E D E PA RT U R E

“Our goal is to showcase our sport to as many people as possible,” says Rabil.

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SHAWN HUBBARD/RED BULL CONTENT POOL, GETTY IMAGES

RABIL HAS BEEN DESCRIBED AS “THE LEBRON OF LAX,” THE BEST PLAYER IN LACROSSE HISTORY. a solution—one that may put lacrosse in the public eye in a way it never has been before.

It’ll begin on July 25, when the PLL’s seven teams will gather near Salt Lake City to contest a fully quarantined, fanless tournament that’ll air on NBC in time slots originally planned for the Tokyo Olympics.

You could call it an altruistic coup for Rabil, 34, who’s been described as the best player in lacrosse history (for doing things like taking a 111-mph shot) and the “LeBron of lax” for his bigsponsor appeal and how he outearns most pro lacrosse players by hundreds of thousands of dollars. He also should be called a visionary for creating the PLL, which differs from the longestablished Major League Lacrosse in important ways.

The MLL has teams in different cities that meet for head-to-head games in stadiums of disparate capacities and quality throughout the season.

Meanwhile, last year, all PLL teams traveled together as a league during the regular season and playoff, allowing fans to support different teams, “either by their favorite player, by the coach or by the branding we create,” Rabil says.

While the MLL pays players between $10,000 and $25,000 per year (according Lax Weekly), offers no benefits and has little social media presence, the PLL offers them elevated pay, healthcare, stock options and, according to Rabil, far more fan engagement on its social media platforms.

Rabil knows from personal experience how fans value direct access to individual athletes, and that by giving it to them, the PLL “has enabled a sport like lacrosse, which is lesser known from a team standpoint, to accelerate very quickly,” he says.

PLL players agree.

“Paul has created a better opportunity for players who come after him, and he is starting to change perceptions of how this sport is viewed,” says Kyle Harrison, a player on Redwoods LC. “Paul was one of the few guys who, between partnerships, sponsors, events and the brand he’s built, also succeeded as a full-time pro. Now he and Mike are unlocking the potential of this sport to take it to the next level.”

Fans can watch during the PLL Championship Series from July 25 through August 9. With health and safety a top concern, all 200 players (plus another 100 team personnel, NBC staff and other support) will have to self-quarantine at their respective homes across

PLL player Kyle Harrison says Rabil is taking the sport to the next level.

the country before gathering at the Zions Bank Stadium in Herriman, Utah, on July 19.

They’ll all have been tested for COVID-19 before travel and will have to quarantine again for 48 hours with their respective teams upon arrival.

If they test negative, players will transition to training camp, where they will only have contact with their designated “social group” (team, coach and athletic trainer). Testing will continue throughout the series.

“At that point, we’ll feel pretty certain that no one is carrying the virus,” says head league physician Catherine Logan.

And then viewers will have the chance to see the sport played for centuries by Native Americans unfold in the same prime-time TV slots they might have watched track and field or women’s gymnastics.

Each PLL team will play four games in randomly drawn “group play” match-ups, followed by an elimination tournament. (If any player gets sick, they and their social group will go through another quarantine and everyone will get retested.)

Rabil’s greatest fear, of course, is that everyone gets sick and he has to cancel the tournament. But in lieu of that unlikely outcome, he hopes that “due to the challenges we’ve faced and the bleak outlook initially, we’ve crafted an innovative solution. Sports are in the business of entertainment, and our goal is to showcase our sport to as many people as possible. This accelerated viewership could help grow our sport faster than we anticipated.” —Tracy Ross 11

PLAYING IT SMART

Across the U.S., a nonprofit is giving video game kiosks to children’s hospitals—and rebooting the fun.

G

iving sick kids in the hospital access to video games may seem like a no-brainer strategy for introducing a little fun into an otherwise difficult experience. But it’s not as simple as it sounds.

Zach Wigal, the founder of nonprofit Gamers Outreach, learned about those exact challenges when he first met with C.S. Mott Children’s Hospital in his native

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Michigan in 2009. At the time, Wigal was a high school student who was there to discuss buying games for the facility using funds that he had raised during his second annual Gamers for Giving charity tournament.

“They were super receptive but concerned about things getting lost or stolen,” he says.

“It can be difficult to manage equipment, which struck me as a gamer and a donor.

Because if we buy them a bunch of Game Boys, it seems like only a matter of time before we’d have to replace items that have gone missing.”

While smartphones and mobile gaming weren’t omnipresent back then, Wigal also discovered that many hospitals only had a basic networking infrastructure; cell service could be spotty, and Wi-Fi in patient rooms often didn’t exist.

He got to work designing a gaming kiosk on wheels, which he named GO Kart. Made with medical-grade materials, the GO Kart is equipped with wired controllers and a heightadjustable monitor and can easily be disinfected between patients. The first prototype included an Xbox 360 and several games that could be played offline. “The staff were THE RED BULLETIN

PHOTO PROVIDED BY GAMERS OUTREACH

Gamers Outreach

LIZBETH SCORDO

T H E D E PA RT U R E

“PEOPLE ARE PLAYING GAMES BECAUSE THEY WANT TO SOCIALIZE. IT’S JUST A DIFFERENT WAY TO DO IT.” amazed by it,” says the 30-yearold. “They immediately asked us for another one.”

After Wigal began working as a consultant for video game companies, many of his clients started sponsoring GO Kart donations for hospitals, which helped spur both funding (each kiosk costs about $3,500 to build and maintain) and reach. Fastforward a decade and Wigal’s organization has grown from a yearly fundraiser to a national 501(c)(3). Today, Gamers Outreach has a network of 800 volunteers that has delivered more than 700 GO Karts to 200 hospitals around the country—from smaller medical centers to the world-renowned Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, which has 40 GO Karts serving 500,000 patients annually.

Now the organization’s partners include giants like Xbox maker Microsoft, Asus—

Made with medical-grade materials, GO Karts come with 15 to 20 video games.

which provides discounted monitors—and esports platforms such as ESL. Gamers Outreach gets most of its funding through sponsorships, esports fundraising efforts led by gamers and its evergrowing Gamers for Giving annual tournament. The weekend-long event hosts big-name gamers and raised $700,000 this year, despite canceling its LAN party component and moving the tournament entirely online in response to COVID-19.

While the kids take top priority, GO Karts can become an important resource for parents. “For a dad with a child in the hospital, it doesn’t matter if they can’t toss a football around,” Wigal says.

“They can play Ninja Turtles together. They want that interaction and they can get that through these games.”

Another unexpected benefit: freeing up staff, something that proved more meaningful than ever in the age of coronavirus. When a child with a severe arm burn had to get through the uncomfortable process of bandage-changing every few days, it initially required six nurses. Then they wheeled in his favorite game, Lego Batman. One nurse held the

Zach Wigal, 30, the founder of the nonprofit Gamers Outreach, has been helping supply video game consoles to children’s hospitals since he was a high school student.

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controller for him while the other completed the procedure. “All of a sudden, his anxiety is lower, he’s having a way better healthcare experience, and the nurses are having a way easier time doing their job,” says Wigal. “So there’s an economic argument to be made, because now those four other nurses can service other patients.”

GO Karts arrive with a console like Xbox, PlayStation or Nintendo Switch and 15 to 20 familyfriendly titles that hospitals can customize depending on patient age and access to high-speed internet. Online multiplayer options can help alleviate FOMO by connecting kids with their friends at home, something that becomes even more crucial for children navigating long stays.

Wigal remembers one kid who was confined to his hospital room for an excruciating nine months while awaiting a heart transplant. Though he would have loved to be outside on the playground with his friends, Minecraft became the next best thing. “His mom was saying at least he had access to the digital playground, where he could play games with his friends when they got out of school and he could have access to these opportunities to socialize.”

And that’s part of the point. Gamers Outreach actually disproves those antisocial, basement-dweller stereotypes about gamers, which Wigal dealt with himself as a teen passionate about gaming. “You go into these hospitals and everything you think is important becomes so trivial and you realize how important these basic human connections are,” he says.

“People are playing games because they want to socialize. It’s just a different way.” —Lizbeth Scordo 13

Shipstern Bluff, Tasmania

SWELL OF SUCCESS

STU GIBSON/RED BULL ILLUME

Award-winning surf photography isn’t all about preparation and technique—timing is key, too.

When Tasmanian-born action photographer Stu Gibson set off for his local big-wave hot spot with surfer friend Mikey Brennan, little did he know a career high was looming. “We were shooting videos with a drone that day,” says Gibson. “It was kind of gray, and all of a sudden the sun came out, so I quickly jumped in the water with my stills camera. About 30 minutes later, it went really cold and ugly again but I’d got this bomb set of Mikey!” stugibson.net

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Gran Canaria, Spain

The water may have long ago been drained from this abandoned water park in the Canary Islands, but as a persistent skater, Tom Kleinschmidt saw there was still fun to be had. “Two weeks earlier Tom had asked permission to skate here, but the guy watching the place had said no,” explains photographer and fellow German Erik Gross. “The man gave the same answer this time, but as we left he came up and told us to return at 5 p.m. when he was alone. He said he’d changed his mind because we’d been so polite. Then he told us about a famous skater who’d been a real asshole and had insulted him. So it pays to be nice!” erik-gross.net

ERIK GROSS/RED BULL ILLUME

A PERFECT DRY RUN

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“THE ONLY REASON TO BE FAMOUS IS TO USE ART OR MUSIC TO BRING ATTENTION TO CERTAIN ISSUES.” 18

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Sandra Velasquez

ACTIVE VOICE

The Pistolera frontwoman has a history of advocacy through her music. Now she’s building on that experience to become a social justice entrepreneur.

CLAUDIA ZAMORA

GARY MOSKOWITZ

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andra Velasquez has been a New York City–based musician for 20 years, but her Southern California and Mexican American roots shape all of her creative pursuits. She was raised near the border with her mother, an immigration lawyer and activist, and her father, a homicide detective and artist, who both instilled a sense of social justice in their daughter.

“Growing up, we talked about what’s happening in the law and the world. My mom was on the news a lot, talking about victims of sex trafficking, so what I do musically is not a big deal,” says Velasquez, now 43, downplaying her role as an artist. But in her youth, she says that using music for social change felt normal. “My mom’s whole life has influenced me, using your experience to help others,” she continues. “Now I see clearly that’s what she was doing, and that’s what I try to do in all of my work. Leveling the playing field is what I’m all about.”

“To me, from high school on, the only reason to be famous is to use art or music as a platform to bring attention to certain issues,” Velasquez adds. “Songs I wrote 15 years ago about immigrants are still relevant today.”

When she takes the stage as the lead singer and guitarist for the Latin band Pistolera, Velasquez delivers a lively performance with a socially conscious message. The group, which she formed back

in 2005, combines rock and accordion-driven cumbia with Spanish lyrics about immigrants’ rights, racism and feminism. Earlier this year, Pistolera played Flushing Town Hall as part of the Carnegie Hall neighborhood concert series, and in the past, they’ve opened for the likes of Los Lobos. (If you’ve watched Breaking Bad or Sons of Anarchy, you might also recognize the band’s special sound.)

But wherever Velasquez appears, her sense of activism comes with her. Her other group, Moona Luna, is a bilingual band that makes Latin music for young people in preschool through 4th grade. Every Moona Luna album has a sustainability theme; their latest is titled Energia. In April, as COVID-19 swept across New York, Lincoln Center asked Moona Luna to do some remote online concerts. Velasquez and her bandmates filmed themselves playing songs at home and synced the video together for the center’s online broadcast.

With her solo project, SLV, Velasquez presents modern music that combines elements of pop, R&B, hip-hop and rock.

One of her songs, “Bars of Gold,” is about owning your self-worth. “There was part of me that felt pigeonholed,” Velasquez says about her other projects. “People always expected a certain Latin-music thing, and bars would say,

‘Keep us dancing,’ but I wanted to create a more musical space for myself with other types of tempos.”

Velasquez’s latest endeavor doesn’t involve music, but it uses all the management and promotional skills she learned as a bandleader and the activism she picked up from her mother: She’s become a social justice entrepreneur, keen to create and bolster sustainable, Latino-owned products and get them on shelves next to mainstream grocery store products. She’s recently become a brand consultant for health-food grocery stores and teaches an online class for entrepreneurs about how to talk to chain stores and distributors. She earned a diploma in organic skin-care formulation and learned how to make artisan soap using the Nopal cactus, commonly known as prickly pear, which is frequently found in Mexico. She hopes to launch her new company, Nopalera,

by July.

“So many people in the grocery business are Latino, so why aren’t the products Latino, too?” Velasquez asks. “I want to see as many Latino-owned products on the shelf—not legacy brands like Goya, but new people with new ideas who want to disrupt companies like Nabisco. I realized my activism doesn’t always have to be music—the format can change. Things like soap can be just as impactful as music.”

—Gary Moskowitz 19

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Playlist

TRUE SOUL

For a band nominated for Best New Artist at the 2020 Grammys, the Austin-based Black Pumas have some pretty vintage inspirations.

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NEIL YOUNG “SOUTHERN MAN” (1970) “I started playing acoustic guitar when I was 22 or 23, and I had Neil Young in the CD player in my car. I love ‘Old Man’ and ‘Heart of Gold’ but on ‘Southern Man’ he’s singing to the rebel.

I love it when he says ‘Southern man, better keep your head, don’t forget what your good book said!” Burton says.

TERRY CALLIER “WHAT COLOR IS LOVE” (1972) “Callier was a soul singer, but more folk leaning. Before we met, I put out feelers for a singer, but everyone was too retro soul. Eric had a folk style without trying to be super retro. We built everything around the way Eric sings and plays guitar and it all came full circle,” Quesada says.

THE TEMPTATIONS “PSYCHEDELIC SHACK” (1970) “The Temptations have hits that span many generations, but there was that era when they were pretty psychedelic, and [songwriter/producer Norman] Whitfield was the common element.

‘Psychedelic Shack’ is a great one,” Quesada says.

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LYZA RENEE

AL GREEN “LOVE & HAPPINESS” (1972) “When I think about Al Green, it’s like going home. He was spiritual without being corny or preachy, and he embraced love. He’s a human being first, but he found a way to merge his worlds seamlessly. ‘Love & Happiness’ is my favorite song of his. It just makes you happy,” Burton says.

GARY MOSKOWITZ

efore forming the Black Pumas in 2017 with singer Eric Burton, guitarist Adrian Quesada had been a member of Latin funk outfit Brownout and the Grammy-winning Grupo Fantasma; he’d also performed as a sideman to artists like Prince, GZA and Los Lobos. But he was keen to work on a soul project, and when a friend introduced him to singer Eric Burton in Austin, Texas, the two hit it off immediately. The duo notched their first show in February 2018, with humble goals in the beginning. “We said, Let’s do it until it’s not fun, and here we are, still having fun,” Quesada says. “We had pure intentions to simply make songs that we wanted to listen to.” Here are four tunes that created a road map for their sound.

NEW STYLES AVAILABLE AT

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Dygert (left) and Courtney share dreams of Olympic glory. The two were photographed near San Rafael, California, on January 2.

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AMERICAN MUSCLE

Kate Courtney and Chloé Dygert might not seem like ideal training partners, but the two radically different personalities, who pursue different cycling disciplines, are united by a common goal: to win gold in Tokyo.

Words NEAL ROGERS Photography JOE PUGLIESE

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et’s start with the similarities. Kate Courtney and Chloé Dygert are both professional bike racers, both world champions in their disciplines. They’re both Gen Z, born after Kurt Cobain died.

Their coaches worked closely with each other for 15 years. And together, they represent the best chance American cycling has for gold at the Tokyo Games— whenever they ultimately happen.

That’s where the similarities end.

In reality, they are fundamentally different, which is what makes their time together in January at Courtney’s “Camp of Champs” so fascinating. An annual

post-holidays training block, the Camp of Champs is hosted by Courtney’s parents, Tom and Maggie, at their Mediterraneanstyle villa in California’s leafy Marin County. Also present are two Red Bullsponsored cyclists—retired cyclocross champion Tim Johnson and Dirty Kanza 200 winner Colin Strickland—to make sure the rides are as difficult as possible.

On an unseasonably warm January day, an entourage of coaches, managers and stylists are shadowing Courtney and Dygert alongside a camera crew, video team and magazine staff. A chef prepares meals for before and after training rides,

which will begin as soon as the shoot ends. No one present has heard of coronavirus—this is a simpler time.

As wardrobe is discussed, there’s a debate about hot pink: Do they want to look like badasses, or badass princesses?

Though hot pink is Dygert’s favorite color, she insists she’s not girlie; one of many angles to her worldview that might seem hard to square until she explains it.

She’s got a cross tattoo on the back of her neck and a pierced nose. She’s a staunch conservative. She doesn’t drink and she hates social media. She married—and divorced—young. She’s grappled with

many injuries en route to 10 world championships. She views setbacks as fuel for the fire. She doesn’t believe in feminism and collects Barbie dolls.

While Dygert has an unmistakable edge, Courtney is smooth and polished.

Equal parts cerebral and gregarious, she emits undeniable star power. She graduated from Stanford with a degree in human biology. She’s camera friendly and has 400,000 Instagram followers.

She’s into yoga, meditation and the power of mantras. She views setbacks as learning experiences. She cites sparkles, waffles and tacos among her favorite

Jim Miller, who has coached both Dygert and Courtney, calls the cyclists “super fierce warriors.”

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things. Her racing, like her training, is calculated. She’s a smiling assassin.

And while they’re contemporaries, their trajectories to the top have followed different paths. Dygert burst onto the scene at the 2015 World Championships in Richmond, Virginia, where she doubled up with wins in the junior road race and time-trial championships. Ten months later, she left Rio with Olympic silver in the team pursuit on the track.

Dygert went on to collect rainbow jerseys on the track, but injuries curtailed her success on the road. That ended at the time trial at the 2019 World Championships in Yorkshire, England, where she won by a staggering 93 seconds on a 19-mile course, averaging nearly 27 mph. She took some heat over her nonplussed post-race interview; the truth is, she expected to win.

By contrast, Courtney’s rise has been metronomic. From a young age, she was the best in the U.S. and among the best in the world. In 2012 she became the first American woman to win a World Cup event in the junior category; she ended the year as the junior World Cup series champ. In 2013 she enrolled at Stanford and signed her first pro contract.

In 2017, Courtney won four U23 World Cup races and the series title, plus her first elite national championship.

The upward arc continued in 2018, culminating in a perfect ride at the world championship in Switzerland. Courtney was the first American in 17 years to earn a rainbow jersey. And though she’d long dreamed of winning worlds, she certainly hadn’t expected to win—this was the first time she’d stood on the podium of an elite World Cup race.

She validated that surprise with multiple wins in 2019, ultimately clinching the elite World Cup series title. There are three holy grails in pro mountain biking—the world championship, the World Cup series title and Olympic gold. Courtney had ticked off two of them before her 24th birthday.

Courtney and Dygert are both hot favorites for Olympic gold. How they’ve reached this point in their careers reveals how different they are as athletes and 26

Courtney, 24, confirmed her elite credentials with an unexpected win at the 2018 UCI Mountain Bike World Championship.

EQUAL PARTS GREGARIOUS AND CALCULATING, COURTNEY IS LIKE A SMILING ASSASSIN. individuals. Just ask Jim Miller, head of athletics at USA Cycling, who coached Kristin Armstrong to gold medals at the past three Olympic Games. He’s coached Courtney since 2016; Armstrong has guided Dygert for the same period of time. Miller has also worked with Dygert through his role at the federation.

“I’ve known Chloé since she was 16, and worked with her a ton on the track and on the road,” he says. “She’s a warrior. Once she decides she’s going to do something, it’s only an act of God that she doesn’t. She loves to win that much.

That’s Chloé. Kate is also a super fierce warrior. I love the warrior in an athlete.”

Then Miller explains how the athletes are so different. “Kate had a great chance from the get-go,” he says. “She’s well educated, comes from a super supportive family. Chloé is from the other side of the tracks. She had to fight for everything she has. She didn’t really like school, though she was a great student athlete.

It has not been an easy road for her.”

How each responded to COVID-19 illustrates their contrasting personalities.

Courtney emailed a thoughtful, crafted statement, while Dygert texted that she was trying to think of something that wouldn’t “piss anyone off.” On social media, Courtney posted instructional videos of herself doing strength and balancing workouts. Dygert, an introvert who lives alone and often trains alone, posted that she was ahead of the curve on social distancing because she’d been “practicing my whole life for this.”

E

ight weeks after the Camp of Champs, Dygert will go on to win her ninth and tenth world titles at the track world championships in Berlin—in the team and individual pursuit. In the IP, Dygert will smash her own world record twice in one day, winning in 3:16, more than 5 seconds faster than any other woman has ever ridden 3,000 meters.

A world championship and two world records in one day would be enough to satisfy most athletes. But Dygert will tell reporters she was “a little bummed” she hadn’t gone faster.

Dygert didn’t spend her childhood dreaming to become a pro cyclist. She grew up playing basketball, a religion in the Hoosier state. Playing hoops took its toll on her teenage body, however, resulting in a broken nose, torn labrum, stress fractures—and a torn ACL that required surgery and left her sidelined during her senior year. She took to cycling for recovery.

In a 2015 interview, Dygert told the Indianapolis Star, “I love the contact in basketball. I have a very competitive, want-to-hurt-somebody kind of mentality.” That attitude carried over to other sports; she was kicked off a club soccer team for being too aggressive and was asked to play on a boys’ team.

“I’ve had to quit every sport I’ve ever done because of injuries,” she explains, itemizing the carnage from her high school track and field career. “It was just a train wreck of injuries.”

Enter cycling, which has long been in the Dygert family. Chloé’s father, David, is a lifelong cyclist who built a dirt-bike track at their home near Indianapolis.

Her older brother, Gunner, was a serious amateur and collegiate cyclist; her younger brother, Daniel, races cars. Her mother, Gretchen, is Chloé’s “biggest cheerleader”—her barbershop is decked out in pictures of Chloé, her jerseys and U.S. flags. Gretchen says she saved up for years to buy a ticket to Tokyo.

Dygert didn’t start bike racing until age 16. Her first race was in May 2013; a few months later, at the junior national championships in Madison, Wisconsin, she earned medals in every discipline.

It was there that she met Logan Owen, a cyclocross star who now races for the EF Pro Cycling WorldTour squad, who was racing in the same field as Gunner.

“He had no idea who I was,” Dygert says. “I saw him that year at cyclocross nationals. I found him on Instagram, then searched for him on Snapchat.

I accidentally sent him a Snapchat, then we started talking.” They got engaged in 2015, when Dygert was 18 and Owen was 20, and married a year later.

At the 2015 junior nationals in Truckee, California, Dygert took gold in 27

At the Camp of Champs in January, Dygert and Courtney invited male elites like Colin Strickland to help them go as deep as possible.

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“SHE’S ALL ABOUT BREAKING RECORDS. CHLOE WANTS TO MAKE HISTORY.“ the time trial and road race and silver in the criterium. Two months later she was a double world champion in Virginia.

She was quickly recruited by USA Cycling to try out for the team-pursuit squad; though she had no experience on a fixed-gear track bike, her physiological data dumbfounded national team coaches. When offered the opportunity to be an Olympian, Dygert walked away from college after one semester.

Things moved quickly. Five months after the 2016 track world championships, where she helped drive the team-pursuit squad to a gold medal, she powered a team that finished second in Rio. Truth be told, Dygert was unsatisfied with silver. Following Rio she declared intentions to compete in the next six Olympics, gunning for gold across track, road and time-trial events.

In the fall of 2016, Dygert started working with Kristin Armstrong, the 2008 and 2012 time-trial gold medalist who came out of retirement to take a third gold in Rio. At that point, Dygert had been working with one coach for the road and another for the track, and the overlapping programs weren’t meshing well. She was no longer enjoying riding.

“I was a bit nervous because she was burnt out, and she was so young,” Armstrong says. “She was getting married that fall, and she got through her wedding, and I said, ‘How are you feeling? You just took a month off. Are you ready to get back at it?’ And she was like, ‘Not really, no.’ And I was like, ‘All right. Let’s just take more time off.’ ” She came back in style. In April 2017, just two years since she’d taken up competitive cycling, Dygert became world champion in the IP, with a time only a half-second off the world record.

She set a new world record a year later.

“She’s all about breaking records,” says Armstrong. “Chloé wants to make history, to accomplish what no other female has accomplished. Those are the kinds of things that drive her. As long as she has a plan and can see next steps, she’s fully committed. When she can’t see the next steps, she drifts a little bit.”

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Just as Dygert’s career was starting to blossom, the 2017 and 2018 seasons presented setbacks. A torn labrum in her hip and a bulging disk in her back caused her to miss the entire summer of 2017.

She had six weeks to train for the world time-trial championship in Norway, where she finished fourth. A crash at the Amgen Tour of California in May 2018 left her with a concussion that derailed her for most of the year. When she did get back on the bike, a knee injury hindered her progress; she’d ultimately have a surgery in December 2018.

Then, in March 2019, Dygert’s friend and teammate, Kelly Catlin, died by suicide. Catlin’s father pointed to several factors, including depression caused by a training-crash concussion. It was a personal loss and a wake-up call for Dygert, who admits her personality has changed after her own concussion. “I really do have to work on being nice,” she says. “I have low patience. I like to blame my concussion. It changed my personality.

I’m different now. I feel like I come across as rude when I don’t mean to.”

The traumatic brain injury also caused vision problems and an inability to focus. It became a source of anxiety while trying to maintain position within the cutthroat, handlebar-bumping pro peloton. And it affected Dygert’s ability to dig deep, both in training and racing, which had always been her greatest gift.

“When Chloé races, she has almost no pain filter,” Armstrong says. “She can turn herself inside out. I can’t train her off of her race numbers. It’s impossible. I can’t even explain it. It’s like a pain filter that I don’t understand as a coach.”

When Dygert got back on the bike after her concussion, the pain filter did not work properly. She could match her training numbers in racing, but she couldn’t exceed them. And she struggled with sustained efforts; anything over five minutes was too long to hold her focus. “We had quite a year trying to get through this,” Armstrong says.

It wasn’t until the Pan American Championships, in August 2019, that Dygert returned to top form. She left Peru with gold medals in the time trial

Just seven years after taking up competitive cycling, Dygert, 23, has 10 world titles on the track and the road.

and team pursuit, and a few weeks later she won all four stages at the Colorado Classic stage race. Each time, she soloed to victory as an entire field of riders tried and failed to bring her back.

“I didn’t think my strength was going to come back after the concussion and the knee,” Dygert says. “I knew Kristin could get me to the top level again; it just came down to what my body would let me do. It was a stressful year for us both.

I think Pan Am was the realization. I did the time trial, and I remember looking down at my power and thinking, ‘Oh, crap. I’m going way too hard.’ But then, halfway through the race I was at 340 watts and I’m like, ‘I’m nose-breathing.

Oops. I should’ve gone harder.’ I got a call from Kristin after the time trial finished, and it wasn’t ‘Oh, good job. Oh, yay for you.’ It was ‘Chloé, you’re back!’

I will never forget that moment.”

A month later she won her first elite world time-trial championship at age 22, the youngest man or woman to ever take that title. She also won by the largest margin in the event’s history, catching and passing seven riders who started ahead of her. She collapsed in a heap at the finish, yet in her post-race interview she came across as nonchalant, perhaps even indifferent about the triumph.

“I don’t want to downplay how special it is to win rainbow stripes, because I know it is a big deal,” she says. “I hate sounding cocky, but my goal at each race I show up to is to win—to win by a lot.”

The experience taught Dygert a lesson about how supporters can be fickle. “I had success at a young age, and then I had all my injuries, and some people thought, ‘She was good when she was young, but she’s not going to be good again,’ ” Dygert says. “That was the mentality most people had. I’m not saying I didn’t have support, but it was frustrating. I understand, it was because I’d been injured, I had no results, but seeing that lack of belief was hard to deal with. It was amazing how many new friends I had after winning the world championship. I’m not upset about it, but I learned who my real supporters are— the people who I will keep in my corner.”

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While Dygert was struggling through her season of darkness, her marriage was falling apart. Dygert acknowledges that she had married too young, and that, ultimately, her career “just mattered more.” This past January, the divorce was finalized. By that time, Dygert had relocated from Washington to Idaho to be close to Armstrong.

“I don’t regret marrying Logan,” she says. “It wasn’t the right decision.

Training with him helped form me into the rider that I am. I appreciate Logan and his support. I will always love him as a friend, and he is someone I will always stay in touch with. But I think he and I both knew that it was for the wrong reasons. I appreciate all that he has done in my life. I wouldn’t take it back.”

And that’s Chloé Dygert—not wasting time regretting mistakes or setbacks.

She’s too busy chasing the next victory.

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hough she hasn’t lived with her parents for seven years, Kate Courtney’s childhood room remains untouched. Ski racing medals, pictures of horses and a Macklemore poster hang on the walls. Scattered on the ground are boxes of bike-racing gear. Her mother, Maggie, refers to her daughter’s bedroom as “shipping and receiving.”

Courtney grew up at the base of Mount Tamalpais, the birthplace of mountain biking. She found cycling as a youngster, riding on tandem with her father, a former hedge-fund analyst, to get pancakes on Sundays. She still rides with him often, while Maggie, a retired employment attorney, is her agent, helping negotiate sponsorship deals.

Courtney grew up ski racing and running cross-country. She began bike racing as a freshman at the Branson School, a prep school. In 2012, at a junior World Cup event in the Czech Republic—her first international competition—she finished 10th. Six weeks later, in Windham, New York, she became the first American junior woman to win a World Cup event. She was 16.

FUNDAMENTALLY DIFFERENT: DYGERT HAS AN OBVIOUS EDGE WHILE COURTNEY IS ALL POLISH. 32

The next year, racing as a junior, she won a national title and finished sixth at the world championship. Heading into 2014, as she moved into the under-23 category, she signed with Specialized Racing. It made sense; she’d ridden Specialized bikes her entire life. The most promising American mountain biker, adorned in stars and stripes, would be bonded with the storied bike brand.

The only drama in Courtney’s career thus far was her surprise split from Specialized late in 2018. Publicly, she was a rising influencer with an infectious smile, posting with the upbeat hashtag #sparklewatts. Yet privately, she had grown unhappy with treatment by team management, which favored established Europeans such as 2016 world champion Annika Langvad of Denmark.

In the week before the 2018 world championship, Courtney and her mother THE RED BULLETIN

At the Camp of Champs, Courtney and Dygert banged out the miles on the legendary roads of Marin County.

worked out a deal with Scott-SRAM, managed by Swiss mountain-bike legend Thomas Frischknecht and led by Swiss world champion Nino Schurter. Days later she shocked fans with a world title of her own, catching and passing Langvad with superior technical skills on the final lap.

Her new contract came together before her world title but was not made public until early January; the global cycling audience couldn’t have known the vindication Courtney felt on that podium in Switzerland. Specialized founder Mike Sinyard, who covets rainbow stripes and was not involved in the team’s management, was said to be furious. It’s not a topic Courtney cares to discuss; her public comments on the matter have been gracious, thanking Specialized for years of support. She’s currently signed with Scott-SRAM through 2021.

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Behind Courtney’s success is a team that includes Frischknecht, Miller, a nutritionist, strength coach, sports psychologist, physical therapist, mechanic and her traveling partner, Brad Copeland.

Frischknecht offers technical and tactical advice; Miller manages the minutia of workout data and long-range physiological development.

When Miller first met Courtney in 2015, he wasn’t ready to take on new athletes heading into an Olympic season, but they stayed in touch. In 2016 he officially became her coach. Together they built a four-year plan for 2020.

“From early on she intrigued me,” he says. “I thought the results she was getting on the training she was doing were exceptional. She’s anaerobically inclined; she has really good 30-second, one-minute and five-minute power. At that time, she hadn’t really developed

a threshold, so she was getting results almost all anaerobically. Which, as a bike racer, that’s a finite amount of effort you can put in before you start to fail. So for her to get the results she was getting through her anaerobic energy system, I was super impressed.”

At that meeting Miller asked Courtney what she wanted to accomplish. Without hesitation, she said she wanted to win gold in 2020. “I was like, ‘OK, cool,’ ” he says. “But this is what it takes. This is what the best riders look like in terms of power-to-weight, absolute power, anaerobic power, aerobic power. This is what it takes. And she said, ‘Well, can I get there?’ At that point it was like, ‘If you progress on average 3 percent yearover-year, then yes.’ And she said, ‘OK. That’s what I want to do.’ ” Without question, the 2019 season was Courtney’s best to date. At the season opener in Germany she won both the short-track and cross-country races. She won again the next weekend in the Czech Republic, and again in France in July.

She finished fifth in a hard-fought world championship race, but her consistency netted her the World Cup title.

She closed out the season with a trip to Tokyo in October, where a test event was held on the extremely technical Olympic course. Courtney crashed in a rock garden during course reconnaissance, requiring stitches and forcing her out of the race. The following day, she watched the women’s race closely with Miller.

“It was a valuable experience for me,” she says. “I’ve never sat out and watched an elite mountain-bike race. I was able to watch with Jim, so that was a huge advantage. I know how everyone rode.

I know how fast they went in different sections, what the key sections were— information that if I had been having a mediocre, end-of-the-year race, I would not have really gathered.”

The Izu mountain-bike course is adjacent to the Olympic velodrome, meaning Courtney and Dygert could earn their respective Olympic medals within a few hundred meters of each other. When exactly that might happen, however, is still unconfirmed.

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WHENEVER THE TOKYO GAMES TAKE PLACE, BOTH COURTNEY AND DYGERT ARE AIMING FOR GOLD.

B .

ack at the Camp of Champs, it’s a cool morning in Marin, and Courtney and Dygert are kitting up for another round of photos. This time, they’re wearing matching U.S. national team jerseys and they’re sharing the lens with a 1969 Pontiac GTO Judge. It’s a formidable symbol of American muscle that Courtney envisioned for the shoot.

Are they badasses, or badass princesses?

The truth is, they’re each a bit of both.

Dygert has been under the weather but is tolerating an operation involving photographers, videographers, a lead car, a follow car, an entourage. Courtney is posing for Copeland, who films a video of her braiding her hair.

Once things get moving, the riders get positioned behind the GTO for some casual motor pacing. Though she’s not feeling well, Dygert slips into warrior mode, sitting inches off the car’s bumper; Courtney is at least a bike wheel’s length back—not surprising since mountain bikers have less practice drafting at close range. It’s yet another example of how these unlikely training partners are drawn together less by discipline or personality than by shared sponsors and nationality, age, talent and potential.

“It’s unique to be strong American women competing in different disciplines, so it isn’t a head-to-head competition,” Courtney says. “I think that’s a positive thing when it comes to training days, where we can push each other and be comfortable being a bit more vulnerable. It’s not a race. It’s an opportunity to push beyond our own limits and then go back to our disciplines to perform at the top of our capabilities.

There’s definitely lots of mutual respect.”

Dygert agrees, adding that what they extract from each other is directly related to how dissimilar they are. “I think every top athlete needs to win all the time, but our mentality is so different,” she says.

“Kate will go out and train 30 hours a week; I’m not sure I’ve ever gone over 20 hours in my life. She is very detail 34

oriented. Kate has a lot of support and a great team behind her, while I have just a few people. We are so very different in how we prepare, how we look at things, how she feels before a race, how she feels about the Games. Everyone at the elite level has their own way of coping. We’re very different, but we’re both able to perform at the top of our discipline.”

I

n February in Berlin, Dygert broke her own world record en route to a world championship in the IP. A few days earlier she’d led the team-pursuit squad to victory; she and her teammates dedicated the victory to the late Kelly Catlin.

The IP is not an Olympic event, meaning her hopes for gold rest on the team pursuit and individual time trial; she’ll be starting the road race as well, though her role there is not certain.

“Obviously, I want to win all three events,” she says. “The time trial is going to be the main focus, and then my fitness from that will obviously correlate with the team pursuit. And then, with the road race, it’s a bonus, you know?”

Courtney is diplomatic when asked to define Olympic success. She won’t have three tries like Dygert; it all comes down to one race. “Arriving to the start line 100 percent prepared to give my best performance ever would be a success,” she says. “Whatever happens after that is in some ways out of my control. Of course I hope to win a medal.”

In March, the IOC announced that the Games would be held in 2021. With that recalibration in mind, Courtney and Dygert shared some additional thoughts.

“The coronavirus pandemic has created a lot of uncertainty and mandated unprecedented decisions to protect our global community,” Courtney wrote in an email. “As someone who studied global health in college and reads the news, I recognize that the impact of this crisis is life-threatening for many and poses challenges far more critical than canceled sporting events.

But as a competitor who has been working toward this season for years, it is also very challenging to have the events of an Olympic year be uncertain.

That said, I am fully committed to my training toward Tokyo and am approaching this time at home as an unprecedented opportunity to focus and train with one key goal in mind.”

She was more succinct on Instagram, writing, “Our time will come. These dreams are not canceled, they are just on hold for a moment. Hope and heartbreak can live side by side.”

Dygert’s response was quintessential Chloé—blunt and to the point. “I feel like a broken record saying this, as it’s what everybody says, but you have to control your controllables. For me this has no change on my life except that I can’t race.

Which to me, is fine. I’m not stressed, because I know I don’t need to race to be fit. I train alone most of the time, I live alone, and I like to be alone, so this really hasn’t impacted my training or added any stress to my life. Obviously it’s a bummer that the Games have been postponed, but I guess it means I have another year to get even fitter.”

After Tokyo, Dygert will probably turn to hallowed European one-day classics such as Strade Bianche and the Tour of Flanders. It’s only a matter of time until she takes on the UCI Hour Record, which she will likely decimate. At some point she’d also like to try to win the women’s Giro d’Italia, though she’s hardly a climber for the high mountains. (Why, then? The leader’s jersey is pink. Duh.) Courtney has said that following the Olympics she might make a bid for the 2022 Cyclocross World Championship, held in Fayetteville, Arkansas. “I have no aspirations of being the greatest cyclocross racer,” Courtney says. “But I think there’s a lot of skills that could help me, and long-term it’s something I’m interested in trying now that I don’t have school during the fall.”

But now, it’s January at the Camp of Champs. A simpler time, with a clearer focus. The muscle-car shoot is over, and Chloé and Kate (with Tim, Colin and Coach Kristin) pedal into the distance.

In the coming months, the certainty of the Olympics will prove malleable.

Adjustments will be made and remade.

Whenever the Games wind up being held, both women will represent the U.S. and aim for gold. Because regardless of the path each took to get there, winning bike races is what they do.

THE RED BULLETIN

Musing about Olympic uncertainty, Courtney wrote, “Our time will come.

Hope and heartbreak can live side by side.�

After a 16-year hiatus, the original gonzo reality show, Eco-Challenge, is back.

This is the story of the crazy adventure behind the crazy adventure race.

Words DAVID HOWARD

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KRYSTLE WRIGHT/AMAZON

SHOW OF FORCE

Racers in the new Eco-Challenge, which debuts on Amazon on August 14, navigate a course that took months to prepare.

Adventure legend (and first-time Eco-Challenge host) Bear Grylls showboats the day before competition begins.

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t was at the top of a daylong climb up a massive waterfall in Fiji that Kevin Hodder felt the first twinges of doubt about what they were getting themselves into. It was March 2019 and Hodder was already more than a month into a backcountry scouting expedition, trying to piece together a course for Eco-Challenge, the freshly rebooted reality TV show built around a supersized adventure race.

That afternoon, race director Hodder, race technical director Scott Flavelle and two others had fixed ropes and scaled more than 650 feet up the side of Vuwa Falls in searing tropical sunshine.

Here was precisely the kind of audacious-looking, stupidly scenic moment that makes for obsessivecompulsive streaming habits back home. Or at least in theory, anyway. Somewhere near the top, they had literally climbed inside a cloud, all mist and wind and slashing rain. This is typical in Fiji, where warm tropical air collides with the mountains, but in this

case the climatic whiplash set off an odd chain of events: One team member, lead race coordinator Ryan Vrooman, succumbed to heat exhaustion just as Hodder, who feels the cold keenly, started shivering, experiencing the early stages of hypothermia.

It was a dilemma. “It’s hard for me to warm up unless I get moving,” Hodder says, “and it was obvious that Ryan wasn’t going to be moving.” The depleted team strung up a tarp for the night and Hodder recovered in a sleeping bag. The group woke the next morning, their fourth day in the bush, to more dreary, cold rain. They pulled on clothes still drenched from the falls and pushed forward.

For the next proposed section, Hodder and Flavelle, who had designed many adventure races together, had selected a 6-mile-long river canyon that included climbs over two more falls, gaining a combined 1,500 feet of elevation. From maps and Google Earth, they could see that the current pooled THE RED BULLETIN

Designing a televised adventure race is like writing an epic story. You need crucibles of danger. dislocated shoulders—would be significant. And with the low cloud cover, flying in a rescue chopper would be dicey.

Even if there were no injuries, that 6 miles would likely destroy any number of teams that had already been racing almost around the clock for somewhere between five and eight days by this point. It would be great TV. But there’s a line, and they were right on it. As Hodder puts it, “The question in our minds was, Is it too much?”

D

esigning a televised adventure race is like writing an epic story. To create a great one you need crucibles of indecision and danger (or at least the appearance of them); moments of rollicking fun and meditative ones; and challenges that deliver racers to both Herculean mountaintop triumphs and morale-killing slogs.

To pull off such a race, someone has to assemble all of those narrative parts. Which is why, when producers Mark Burnett and Lisa Hennessy decided in the summer of 2018 to revive Eco-Challenge after a 16-year hiatus, they called Hodder and Flavelle.

COREY RICH/AMAZON

in places along the route like pearls on a necklace. But the traverse didn’t look egregiously hard. They were reminded that day of an old truism about creating adventure races: Don’t believe what you see on a map.

The pools were actually ponds of what Hodder, 51, characterizes as “really, really cold” water, deep enough to require stretches of swimming. The shallower sections served up jumbles of slick, algaecoated rocks hidden just under the surface of the dark water, making every footfall a gamble. “It was a matter of finding a speed where you’re not bashing your shins or falling off rocks,” says Flavelle, 61.

There was no getting around the water, either: The jungle along the banks was denser than the beats on a K-Def record. In the end it took nine hours to stumble, slip, curse, wallow and churn their way through the canyon—and all four are strong athletes from the mountains of British Columbia.

“When you’re tired and wobbly,” Flavelle says, “you’re just fighting for every step.”

On the other side they looked at each other in the dimming light, aware that they faced a reckoning. If they eliminated the difficult leg from the race, they’d just beaten themselves up for nothing—and would still have to identify and execute a Plan B the next day, to connect the east and west sides of the island. “We would be cutting out the heart of the course,” Hodder says.

But if they kept it? They would need warming tents to treat hypothermic racers. With 66 teams of four participants each navigating that terrain, the potential for unscripted carnage—broken ankles,

The race's start is pure bedlam as 66 teams scramble into outrigger canoes and fight rush-hour traffic as they head toward the sea.

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In a blur, a Spanish team mountainbikes past a Fijian village on the third day of the grueling multisport competition.

Xibalba caption here

Burnett is the godhead who essentially invented outdoors-based reality television with Eco-Challenge and Survivor. The former ran from 1995 to 2002 and is largely responsible for the global adventurerace craze that endures today.

Burnett had selected British Columbia for the show’s second season, which aired in 1996, and he chose Flavelle to help design the course. Though he was only 38 then, Flavelle already had a vast résumé of mountain expertise; his work in expedition-film documentaries had taken him all over the world. He, in turn, hired Hodder, and the two have since built a cottage industry around staging immense outdoor experiences. Hodder was the operations manager at Whistler Olympic Park during the 2010 Winter Games and has produced challenges and contests for many competition-

Burnett wanted the toughest edition ever.

Grylls signed on as host, adding to the hype.

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reality shows, including Survivor, Big Brother and Get Out Alive with Bear Grylls.

Once they fielded the call that Eco-Challenge was back, the two old compatriots met at a coffee shop at Whistler and spitballed possible destinations.

They quickly settled on Fiji, an aspirational, scenic destination loaded with knee-buckling hall-of-fame terrain, including mountains, jungles, whitewater rivers and even its own inland sea. They’d both designed a couple of adventure races there before— in fact, Fiji was featured in the final, 2002 edition of the original Eco-Challenge.

But that didn’t mean it would be easy. This incarnation of the show needed to be next-level great. For the reboot Burnett had partnered with Amazon Prime, which meant greater resources and loftier expectations than the Discovery Channel had brought. Burnett wanted the toughest edition ever of the world’s toughest race. Bear Grylls would sign on as the host, conferring an even greater level of hype.

But the team still had to manage the risks. “You have to balance it,” Flavelle says. “To put yourself into stupid danger is definitely not part of the criteria.”

The harder miles would need to be interspersed with easier ones, to give teams an opportunity to recover after they suffered. The rules specify that if THE RED BULLETIN

one team member drops out, the remainder of the team is disqualified.

Then there are the idiosyncrasies of the EcoChallenge franchise. The race draws some of the world’s top athletes—beasts with massive engines who can endure days of hardship and suffering—so the course must rise to meet them with seriously stiff challenges. But because it’s a reality TV show, the race can’t be so hard that it quickly spits out the “lifestyle” teams: the ones with made-for-television stories about overcoming personal hardships or father-and-daughter teams racing together. The former group will be competing to win; the latter will consider it an enormous triumph just to make it to Camp 3.

“We’ve got the LeBron James of the sport competing against high school players, on the same course,” Hodder says. “The NBA doesn’t have that challenge.”

And of course it all had to look really, really good: Camera technology had made a quantum leap since 2002, so the course would be its own character—one that would be presented in far greater detail than any of the previous installments.

Ultimately, there would be 200 cameras filming the action, including 23 Varicams and a small army of GoPros and drones.

No pressure, right? Hodder and Flavelle spent a few weeks sorting through options, a process that involved studying maps and Google Earth and talking to people in Fiji. “First and foremost, it had to be the right adventure,” Hodder says. “It’s all about the course.”

A U.S. team called Checkpoint Zero tries to shine while racing after dark.

Leading the race to create the new Eco-Challenge were race director Kevin Hodder (top) and course designer Scott Flavelle (bottom).

Once they’d done their advance scouting, the real work began: They would spend the entire months of February and March 2019 on the ground in Fiji, and at the end of that time, for the show to come off on schedule, they needed to have a course ready to present to Burnett.

It would become the adventure behind the adventure race. Because if you want to create a great course, you have to do the whole thing yourself. And then some.

I WYNN RUJI/AMAZON(3), KRYSTLE WRIGHT/AMAZON

n theory, the mission is utterly straightforward.

“Once you know the 10 places you want to include,” Hodder says, “then you try to piece it together like a puzzle.”

One immutable fact when designing a race of this magnitude: Just like with a puzzle, there will be trial and there will be error. Pieces that look right won’t actually fit. Early on, Hodder and Flavelle tested a route-finding challenge. It would be interesting, they thought, to offer teams the chance to cut out a hike around a huge oxbow in a river. Instead of the long, predictable way along the riverbank, contestants could try their luck with a shortcut through the bush.

“It happens every time we design one of these courses,” Hodder says. “You get into one section that, you look at it on the map and you look at it on Google Earth and it’s like, ‘Oh, how hard can it be?’ ”

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Six days into the competition, an American squad tries to navigate a whitewater section.

In this case, they almost immediately ran into a mass of vines and thorns that drooped to waist level, so they were either constantly crawling under the bush or hacking away at it with cane knives and machetes. And although the landscape looked flat on the map, it was actually an endless series of slippery, mud-covered ravines. “Whenever there was a section of jungle that we assumed we could get through easily, it sort of turned out we couldn’t,” Flavelle says.

They realized that because it was so close to the start of the race, most teams, still operating at full strength, would likely take their chances with the shortcut. But in addition to the harsh terrain, navigating with a map and compass at night would be impossible. (Teams aren’t allowed to use GPS.) They imagined a mass of racers bunched up, thrashing around the jungle, lost. “There was a risk that it could just be a complete flop on day two,” Flavelle says. So they scrapped the shortcut.

Another time, they considered linking two sections with a hike across a tall-grass pasture that had looked promising from Google Earth, and even a pass in the helicopter. “And then you get there,” Hodder says, “and underneath is like this matrix of heavy vines that are giving you a bruise on your shins every step of the way.”

They were reminded repeatedly that in Fiji, the waterways are the real trails. And such lessons came with a cost. In many cases, they knew early in their day that a section was unusable but were committed to exploring it—their ride would be waiting at the

Like the teams who would come later, the course designers were also racing the clock.

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other end, and there was often no cell service. “You know you’re never going to use this piece of terrain, but you’ve got four more hours of this to do,” Hodder says. “It’s so frustrating and demoralizing.

And the next day you’re going back to Point A and have to figure out another route to Point B.” Like the teams who would come later, they were also racing the clock, in a sense. Hodder was expected to present the course to Burnett in early April. And because it was a scouting mission, the team could move only in daylight—in order to assess hazards, note where ropes would need to be rigged and figure how many bolts would be needed, among THE RED BULLETIN

Eco-Challenge is at once a stout adventure race and a televised melodrama, and Grylls is the embodiment of both.

With competitors anxiously listening, Grylls offers a preview of the course and the challenges they’ll face.

KRYSTLE WRIGHT/AMAZON, ANDY MANN/AMAZON(2), COREY RICH/AMAZON

A Canadian squad tentatively floats downstream on tipsy rafts on the fourth day of the adventure race.

many other considerations. They might pedal a mountain-biking section several times to pin down the best possible route, or to find a way to avoid private land. Sometimes they slept in the bush, other times in villages.

Complicating things further, they couldn’t rush through Fijian villages without stopping for introductions and a conversation about their plans.

“You have to stop and have kava”—a ceremonial, peppery drink made from a root—“and ask for permission to pass through,” Flavelle says.

Still, just like the racers who would follow their path, they had their triumphant moments. The day THE RED BULLETIN

after the debacle in the tall-grass pasture, they located a beautiful grassy ridge that led to a village that’s inaccessible by road and sees few foreigners.

What they sought above all else was variety, Hodder says. Eco-Challenge teams will hike and climb, of course, but they will also maneuver pack rafts, stand-up paddleboards, mountain bikes and a type of Fijian boat called a Camakau outrigger canoe, which can be sailed or paddled but is perilously tippy either way.

Hodder ultimately completed every inch of the race course, using the same mode of transport the racers would use, carrying the same gear. Usually Flavelle came along, but sometimes he traveled with experts hired for individual disciplines—for example, he pedaled the mountain-bike legs with Brian Finestone, former manager of the legendary 43

Fiji can dish out more than tropical scenery, as this South African squad discovered on a mountain-biking leg.

BLIGH GILLIES/AMAZON(2), ANDY MANN/AMAZON

In the dense tropical jungle, often the only clear path is right down the middle of a muddy, fast-flowing stream.

Whistler Bike Park. They capsized the outrigger canoes, sometimes on purpose—to see how hard it was to right the boats, and guess at the possible number of open-water rescues—and sometimes not.

And then, finally, after eight weeks, the course came together. Many so-called survival-based reality shows exist in the space where raw athleticism meets made-for-television stunts, and campy suffering meets true grit. At times it can be hard to tease apart the difference.

But Hodder and Flavelle’s course proposed to leave no doubt about the onscreen hardships. The route spanned 417 miles that the racers would have to cover in no more than 11 and a half days, hitting cutoff times along the way. The total elevation gain was 29,730 feet, or about 700 feet higher than the distance from sea level to the top of Mount Everest.

Four climbing sections would require 30,000 feet of fixed rope. These sections would include 2,000 feet of cliffs, waterfalls and overhanging rappels.

A team of Swedish racers digs deep on an outrigger section they’d hoped to sail, but the Fijian weather does not cooperate.

Only at the end, when they could evaluate the race in its entirety, could they make the call on individual parts—like the cold-water canyon hike.

Hodder and Flavelle ultimately decided to keep it in because of its position near the end of the race.

Contestants who made it through that would likely finish—which, of course, doesn’t make it any easier in real time. “That was the proverbial fence that they had to climb over,” Hodder says. “When you see the TV show, you’ll see that everybody’s suffering. There is no free pass.”

At the end of March, Hodder flew out to California to show Burnett the proposed course.

The course spanned 417 miles and had 29,730 feet of elevation gain.

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Eight weeks on the ground and they’d barely finished in time. “I needed every hour in Fiji,” he says. “Like, we just got it done, went to the airport for the flight and drove straight to the office in Santa Monica.”

Five months later, teams would arrive in Fiji to start racing.

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he mood at the Pullman Nadi Bay Resort is twitchy and tense in the days leading up to the start. Eco-Challenge teams are required to report a few days in advance, to attend orientation sessions on the outrigger canoes and ropes sections and pose for cameras. Those who traveled from the other side of the world need to acclimate to the time change. But the sense of anticipation, and the mostly idle days, clearly chafes.

The teams of elite racers from places like New Zealand and Switzerland and Brazil normally don’t do much sitting around. Then there are teams that don’t necessarily have world-class athletes but have 45

Grylls and Burnett pose with all of the Eco-Challenge racers just moments before the chaos begins.

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stories. Team Unbroken features three American veterans working their way through combat trauma, including Gretchen Evans, who is deaf, plus a physician—none of whom have ever competed in an adventure race before. There is a team of videogame makers and a team from a town in California devastated by wildfire. There’s a father who had raced in the previous Eco-Challenge in Fiji and is now back to compete with two daughters. One team features 23-year-old twin sisters from India who’d summited Everest. Another has two teenagers, and yet another has contestants with an average age of 66. There are CrossFit geeks and a circus acrobat and beach volleyball player. It’s an impressive crosssection of humanity, and how they will fare against the assembled challenges here is anyone’s guess.

Milling around among the racers are Burnett and Grylls. Both men seem eager to ratchet up the adrenalized scene with the kind of hyperbolic sound bites that television people specialize in. Burnett calls the race “an expedition with a stopwatch.”

Grylls recounts how, over the past 15 years, Burnett would occasionally tell him about his plans to bring Eco-Challenge back: “He’d say ‘I’m going to give it to you to make it your own, and you’re going to make it bigger and badder and tougher than ever.”

With the course, Grylls says they’ve succeeded.

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COREY RICH/AMAZON(2), IDRIS SOLOMON/AMAZON

A team of racers from Costa Rica navigates a tropical river on the sixth day of Eco-Challenge.

“This is officially the toughest, most extreme adventure race in human history.” adventure race in human history.” He adds that, although he believes the teams are qualified, “I do believe there is the potential that no one will finish this course. We really have set it that high.”

Somewhere inside the hive of humanity, Hodder paces and talks into his radio, ticking through countless final tasks. Square-jawed and preternaturally calm, with a deliberate, precise affect, he admits to feeling roiled up for days beforehand. What began with him and Flavelle in a coffee shop has mushroomed into a production that costs tens of millions of dollars.

No pressure, right? “We want a significant number of teams to finish,” Flavelle says. “And we’re a bit paranoid that nobody will finish.

Imagine on day one: ‘Oh no, I think we made the course too hard.’ ” At the start, finally, 66 teams load into 66 outrigger boats on a 10-foot-high riverbank. They will paddle several miles toward Fiji’s inland sea, where they will raise their sails. As teams go through their preparations, Hodder moves up and down the riverbank with a megaphone, calling out

instructions, a thin line of order against a mass of chaos. When word finally goes out to start, months of preparations and workouts and nerves and barely harnessed energy boils over in a crush of boats heading together toward a bottleneck in the river.

Half a dozen canoes flip in the frenzy.

A few things, inevitably, go sideways on the first day: One team collides with part of a bridge, damaging their boat and prompting Hodder’s helicopter to land nearby so he can troubleshoot.

Fiji’s omnipresent winds are somehow a no-show, causing the contestants to paddle what is expected to be a sailing section. A member of the first team to finish that sea crossing passes out in the jungle heat on a subsequent hike. Then the gusts finally reappear, and the last teams to recross the water have to be bailed out when they capsize and run up against squalls and a brick wall of a headwind.

But that afternoon on the second day, as teams roll into a checkpoint on the island of Leleuvia, Hodder feels a wave of relief. “Proof of concept,” he says, grinning.

Within two days, a few teams had already dropped out or been eliminated—a surprising happenstance. Others will soon reach the cold-water canyon, where they will “push themselves to the absolute brink,” Hodder says, “to the point where I thought, This team is done—they’re not going to be able to move from this checkpoint.”

Will they or won’t they? What happens next?

These are the questions Mark Burnett and Amazon hope you’ll ask yourself this summer.

Midway through the epic race, Grylls surveys the vast Fijian wilderness.

BULLETPROOF The popular Twitch streamer Anne Munition—a vocal advocate against online bullying—is shutting down the haters and killing them with kindness.

Words CHRISTINE FENNESSY Photography JOSH CAMPBELL

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Anne Munition, 30, has more than 600,000 followers on Twitch and takes pride in having one of its nicest communities.

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As a kid, Anne Munition was a “tiny little wannabe rock star,” the vocal, independent, youngest of three kids who was playing open mics at coffee houses by age 13, always looking for attention.

She has it now. Today, Anne Munition (not her real name), 30, is a professional streamer and a legitimate star to legions of fans. Back in 2014, while working as a UI/UX designer and feeling uninspired by the job, she found Twitch, the livestreaming platform for gamers that allows viewers to subscribe to players’ streams and chat with them. She started her own stream in June 2014, partnered with Twitch a month later, then quit her design gig and went full-time as a streamer in 2015. Today she has more than 600,000 followers on Twitch and over 90,000 followers on YouTube and has a partnership with Red Bull Gaming.

And beyond that, she has a platform to talk about how we can all be a little kinder online. Here are highlights from a conversation about her life and career.

the red bulletin: You have a tattoo of the moon, sun and a star that represents you and your siblings— which one are you? anne munition: I’m the star. That kind of plays into the rock-star motif of my life.

Was being the star your idea?

No, my mom came up with that. She used to draw a sun, moon or star on our Christmas presents instead of our names.

She would say we were her universe.

Your mom gave you a Super Nintendo when you were 7. What got you hooked on gaming?

I like solving puzzles. I think that’s what really drew me in, especially as a kid, was that video games were about solving a problem.

You were 11 when you first encountered harassment playing games. How did that not deter you?

Anytime you’re playing online, you’re going to deal with people who are not very nice. I was just bullheaded. Even as a kid, I liked to prove people wrong. When people would say things to push me away from playing, it was more of a challenge to me. I was like, OK, you don’t want me to do it? I’m going to do it even more.

“Streamers are trying to build a relationship with people on our channels,” Anne says.

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When you first discovered Twitch, what did you find so enticing about watching other people play?

Imagine there’s a person online who is really good at a hobby you enjoy. You can practice that hobby with them, you can ask them questions about it, and they’ll respond in real time. I was working a full-time job, so I didn’t have time to play myself, but I loved the games. So I would watch people play and kind of live through them vicariously.

What was it about you that made you think I can do this. I can be a streamer.

I don’t think you get into it thinking,I’m going to succeed at this. But you get into it thinking This is interesting and I want to try it. It turned out that people thought I was funny. And that’s something that I pride myself on. I think I can be pretty entertaining, and other people agreed.

Besides being entertaining, you’ve built an environment known for being kind.

I’ve been streaming for almost six years, and I’ve been pretty stringent about creating a community that people enjoy hanging out in. Imagine going to work every day and you hate all your coworkers, or they’re all mean to you. I didn’t want to deal with that. People say I have one of the nicest communities on Twitch, and that’s one thing I’m very proud of.

You’ve said people underestimate how bad it can be online for women or people recognized as “other.” How bad can it be?

People will search for anything that makes you different and pick it apart. I’m sure athletes or celebrities go through the same thing, but they don’t usually have a direct conversation with their fans on a day-to-day basis. Streamers are trying to build a relationship with people on our channels and in our chat, so I think it cuts deeper. The effect it’s had on my mental health is pretty bad. It makes it hard to see the positive side of your job when you’re constantly exposed to this negative force. A lot of people see it like, “Well, you just play video games for a living. That’s easy, right?” They don’t see the hate mail you’re exposed to.

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Anne Munition took inspiration for her moniker from roller derby. “That sport has really kickass names,� she says.

“Anytime you’re playing online, you’re going to deal with people who are not very nice. I was just bullheaded. Even as a kid, I liked to prove people wrong.”

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How has it affected your mental health?

I’ve become extremely paranoid about my privacy. It’s also one of those things where you feel like you can tie your worth directly to a set of numbers.

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What do you do to ensure your stream is a kinder place?

I think a lot of streamers are afraid of being too harsh with their audience.

They’re too scared of timing people out or banning people from their channel.

I’m pretty ruthless about it because I won’t tolerate people treating me or other people with disrespect. Even if they’re longtime viewers, if someone starts saying mean things, they’re gone.

What are some of the physical and mental stresses of streaming full-time?

When I first went full-time, I streamed for eight to 10 hours straight. I can’t do that anymore. Now I do four-hour chunks with a two-hour break in the middle because it’s not healthy to be sitting for that long. I take my dog outside, that kind of thing. But mentally, it’s hard because when you turn off your stream, the viewers go away. Even if you take a bathroom break, you lose people.

It’s like when you’re at a concert and you get to the front, and you’re like, Well I really have to go to the bathroom, but you can’t because you’ll lose your spot.

So you stay there the whole time.

“I like solving puzzles.

I think that’s what really drew me in, especially as a kid, was that video games were about solving a problem,” she says.

determines where you’re ranked on the website. Those numbers go up and down, and sometimes you see that as your own worth diving. There’s always that fear the numbers will just keep going down, and I’ll have to find a different job. There’s also the paranoia about other streamers. Sometimes THE RED BULLETIN

people seek you out because they know you have a good audience. People have gone through people I actually am close friends with to get to me. Then I’m not sure who to trust. Like, who actually wants to be friends with me? Do these people care about me, or do they just care about my channel?

What do you do in terms of exercise and nutrition to be a better streamer?

I used to have a personal trainer, and that was maybe the best shape I’ve ever been in. I did buy a rowing machine. I use it, but not as often as I should. Diet is hard for streamers because when you’re streaming for 10 hours, the easiest thing is to order food, and it’s often not very healthy. I’m working on getting better at what I’m eating. I want to try meal prepping, making a meal in advance and then throwing it in the microwave. So like fast food without it being fast food.

When did you decide to withhold your real name?

I came up with my username before I even knew what streaming was. It was just a gamer tag that I used on Xbox.

What was the inspiration for Anne Munition?

Roller derby. That sport has really kickass names. I was trying to think of a name that would be similar in style, and I really liked first-person shooters [the genre of video games focused on weapon-based combat], so it tied in. It also works as a first and last name. People will come up to me at events, and they’re like, “Is your 53

Although Anne Munition makes public appearances, she fiercely protects her true identity.

last name really Munition?” I’m like, “Yep, totally. It totally is.” I have a pretty unique [real] name, and so it’s dangerous because it makes it easy to find more information.

If you give people three pieces of a puzzle, they’ll find out everything else.

Why is it important to you to protect your identity?

I think people who have an online personality, and even just private users of the internet, should read more about info security and social engineering, and how easy it is for someone to go from knowing one thing about you to knowing everything about you. They can find your home address, your phone number, your family’s addresses, your relatives.

There was a story of a YouTuber couple who hid in the closet after one of their fans broke into their house. The guy had a gun and was going to kill the boyfriend because he was jealous. That kind of thing can and has happened. You never know when you’re going to meet someone who seems normal but isn’t.

You can see the signs when you’re in person, especially as a young woman.

You learn the signals and what to avoid.

But online you don’t have that. It’s hard to have intuition about who’s got good intentions. Sometimes I feel bad because people who are just generally curious will ask, “Oh, where did you grow up?”

I’m like, “Why? Why do you want to know?” That goes back to my paranoia.

You’ve shared your relationship status with your followers. How do you make the calculation between what’s OK to share and what’s not?

It depends on who is asking, and if I feel like they can use that information for something else. My brain kind of has a red flag where I’m like, “That information isn’t going to help you find my channel more interesting. It’s just not relevant.”

Do you ever have a hard time toggling between your two identities?

Yes. Sometimes I forget what my real name is. I almost responded to an email that I was sending to my mom with

When she’s not social distancing, Anne says in-person interactions at conventions are a huge boost to her confidence. “People are genuinely excited to meet you,” she says.

[Anne Munition] because I’m so used to putting that in my emails.

You’ve written about the importance of having a backup plan—why is that important to you?

There are a lot of people who dropped out of high school or college and got into streaming full-time. I think that’s pretty dangerous. I discovered streaming after I got my degree, and I’m still practicing graphic design and video editing. So if I don’t want to stream anymore I could work in video editing or for a company.

People have said, “Oh you’ve just been streaming, you’re screwed if your channel dies.” That’s not true because I’ve been developing relationships with Corsair and Intel and Red Bull, and now I have all these personal connections. It’s obviously not a guaranteed job, but it gives you a leg up.

Has your passion for gaming changed over the years?

It comes and goes. It’s like anything you do every single day. Even if you love it, it’s going to become tedious over time.

And I’ve been doing this for six years.

When people are like, “Oh, it’s easy. You

“A lot of streamers are afraid of being too harsh with their audience. I won’t tolerate people treating anyone with disrespect.”

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just play video games,” I’ll say, “Yeah, I love pizza, but I don’t want to eat pizza every single day for six years.” Going to conventions helps me feel revitalized.

Because here’s the thing—when you’re online you have positive and negative experiences. When you’re in person, you almost always have positive experiences because people who go out of their way to go to a convention want to meet you.

Those are the people who are really kind. So when you go home you’re like, Oh, this is great, everyone loves me, everybody’s super nice, and I want to play video games.

Given this time of social distancing, how are you doing?

Because the conventions I typically attend throughout the year are (rightfully) being canceled, coupled with the stay-at-home restrictions, I do feel like my mental health has taken a huge hit. Part of what makes streaming so difficult mentally is dealing with the vocal minority of toxic people who are empowered by the anonymity of the internet. Attending conventions is the polar opposite—you’re mostly meeting people who are genuinely excited to meet you and it’s a huge boost to my confidence, which takes little hits each day. From my perspective, things haven’t changed too much, but I have had a lot of people thanking me for streaming consistently during the quarantine to provide some respite from the constant barrage of negative news online.

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GAMERS LIKE US To true fans, video games are about community—about connecting people despite barriers like language and distance. But like all communities, there’s work to be done. Consider that 46 percent of gamers are women, yet they compose just 22 percent of the industry’s workforce. The overwhelming perception is that gaming is primarily straight, white and male. But increasingly, those from other backgrounds are combining their love of gaming with their talents and drive to create a far more inclusive community. Here are four of them.

Words CHRISTINE FENNESSY Illustrations PETRA ERIKSSON

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GENEVA HEYWARD, 20 NEW YORK CITY Student

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hile playing video games as a kid, Geneva Heyward (who prefers the pronouns “they” and “them”) felt bad for Mario when he fell into the lava. Heyward was fascinated by how their choices could change the fortunes of characters in visual novels. And they got super attached to a robot in a cyberpunk adventure game.

They just wanted that robot and its friends to be happy.

It was this sense of connection and constant interaction with storylines and characters that made Heyward—a tech-savvy kid who loved storytelling—pivot from an initial dream of being an animator to being a video game designer. And the games they create today make use of that interaction to tell stories that foster awareness.

While in high school, Heyward attended two game design programs—one at New York University and one at the School for Interactive Arts— and won two national student competitions for their game, Green Hero. “It’s a game about a hero without powers trying to fight climate change,” says Heyward. “I was just worried about the world. A lot of crazy stuff was happening, and I was thinking, OK, I could just make people more aware about it. But I wanted to do something more, and be like, ‘Hey, you can do

something as simple as turning off electronics to help the Earth.’ ” Heyward has since won numerous additional awards and recognition for their games, including for one called Skate and Date, a roller derby game about high-school-aged lesbians, in which players are helping a girl named Maggie dodge other skaters while impressing a competitor she has a crush on.

“I made sure there’s a diverse cast of characters, and I wanted it to be an E for Everyone type of game,” says Heyward. “When I was in high school and finally found games that reflected me, I was like, ‘Wow, this is great.

Where has this been all my life?’ ” Heyward now teaches at the School for Interactive Arts while studying video game design as a sophomore at New York University and has received consecutive Computer and Video Game Arts scholarships from the Entertainment Software Association Foundation. The scholarship program supports the next generation of video game developers by providing tuition, mentorship and access to industry events for networking opportunities. It’s a program that Heyward says gives them hope for what they call a “very messy” industry, in part because of its lack of diversity and inclusivity.

An industry they say could

benefit from more diversity in playtesting games, consistent recognition of preferred pronouns and gender-neutral restrooms at events.

“I want the games industry to change for the better,” says Heyward. “A game came out last year that had a characternaming screen that was worded, ‘What’s the name that your parents gave you?’ And that’s not OK at all. The industry needs to acknowledge that different types of people exist.”

Heyward intends to make that happen. They plan to work for a small studio, making fun games with knights and dragons and stuff, but games that are inclusive and “not super cis white male straight and whatever.”

Games that raise awareness about the many ways people live this life; that can help all of us understand ourselves—and each other—a little better.

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“When I was in high school and finally found games that reflected me, I was like, ‘Wow, this is great. Where has this been all my life?’ ”

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“If we want change, we have to create a network where we’re nurturing talent, bringing women into the industry and retaining them.”

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ANASTASIA STATEN, 40 WASHINGTON, D.C.

Executive Director, ESA Foundation

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want to champion people with passions,” says Anastasia Staten.

Staten serves as the executive director of the ESA Foundation, the charitable arm of the Entertainment Software Association. The foundation leverages video games to create educational opportunities for kids and provides funding for schools and nonprofits across the country. It has also partnered with Red Bull to create We Are, an initiative to connect, educate and inspire women from diverse backgrounds in the gaming community.

“I sometimes cheekily refer to it as cradle to career,” says Staten, meaning her empowerment of dreams starts with the very young. Staten will go into middle school classrooms, ask who loves video games and watch nearly all the hands go up, then watch half those hands go back down—often along gender lines—when she asks who wants to make games.

They don’t like science, they say; they’re not good at math. “I’m not good at math either!” she tells them. But do they also love art?

Fashion? History? Do they want to be a makeup artist, run a production crew or be a lawyer?

All these jobs—and more—exist within the gaming industry, she tells them. “We try to get them to think outside the box and show them role models,” says Staten.

“Many of these schools have a lot of underrepresented students, so if you see it, you can believe it.

You can be it.”

High school kids who become ESA scholars receive money for tuition or other college expenses, and for attending industry events where, among other things, they’ll get mentorship from professionals, which can end up launching their careers. These are the students, Staten says, who embody what she never quite had growing up—a singular, life-defining passion.

“To play a part in removing the economic barrier to a quality education and giving them access into the industry so they’re in the best position to get a job,” she says, “is the most fulfilling part of my work.”

But she admits that money alone will not fix the problem of underrepresentation. “If we want change, we have to create a network where we’re nurturing talent, bringing women into the industry and retaining them,” she says. The We Are initiative targets college students and those who are early in their careers and hosts events that connect them with each other and with professionals in gaming and esports to promote networking and mentorship.

“One of the primary challenges is that people do not

feel like their voice is valid because they’re women, and part of why certain cultures develop [while others do not] is the lack of diversity,” says Staten. By sharing their experience and expertise, the female industry veterans of We Are are inspiring the next generation, who will further diversify those cultures for the better.

Facilitating this kind of cradleto-career-to-change trajectory is Staten’s passion—a passion she’s turned into her life’s work.

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AMANDA STEVENS, 32 TROY, NEW YORK

Esports journalist, host, analyst

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he calls herself the Esports Unicorn.

For Amanda Stevens, the moniker had something to do with her previous gamer tag, SageGnosis—gnosis is Greek for “knowledge”—being too hard to remember and even harder (for some) to spell. While contemplating a new one, she decided that since unicorns were her jam, and since people had gotten used to seeing the colorful Tokidoki Unicornos with the oversized heads pinned on her backpacks and clothing, the tagline made sense. But the name captures much more than her love of mythical creatures.

“I’m a marginalized person twice,” says Stevens. “I’m African American and I’m also queer and trans. There are not a lot of queer, trans, black people in esports, especially in the content creation sector.”

Stevens has coupled her work as a multimedia journalist, host and analyst with her background in diversity training (she was a student coordinator for the University at Albany Safe Space Program) to make a niche for herself in the gaming industry. As a former judge for the card game Magic: The Gathering, she didn’t always feel safe or comfortable at the game’s bigger events. She began holding seminars at judge conferences in both the U.S. and

Canada on how to make game stores and tournaments more inclusive. The seminars attracted the attention of the Organized Play Foundation, a global organization that regularly brings gamers together, and Stevens helped influence the group’s policy changes on behaviors that warrant a game loss in Magic tournaments.

“Being misgendered five, six years ago wasn’t culturally considered threatening language, and [offenders] only got a warning,” Stevens explains.

“Imagine you’re a queer person and someone is being completely homophobic to you. Well, that wasn’t considered threatening language [either], and the most the person got for it was a warning. How does that make you feel at a Magic tournament?

I became very staunch and very loud about [how] this policy does not work, not just for queer people but across the board.”

In esports, Stevens is just as vocal. She uses her platform to talk about systemic racism in the industry like the use of transphobic language, and how the inherent expenses in online games—a dedicated computer and fast internet—contribute to a lack of diversity in esports. At conventions she works booths for organizations promoting diversity and inclusion and sits

on panels to discuss the many ways women are increasingly contributing to the gaming world, not just as team managers or streamers but as business devs and CEOs. Right now, she says, her project is challenging organizations to make their LGBTQ and POC event activations more honest and meaningful, beyond just token uses of pride colors in June.

“There are trans people, bisexual people, asexual people, and people in those communities don’t think the rainbow is this great signifier that unites us. Or maybe it’s Black History Month and you’d like to see someone who is mixed represented. If we’re pushing to make esports more mainstream, it needs to represent the community. The industry has a diverse fan base, and you’ll get so much more out of them if you meet them where they are.”

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“If we’re pushing to make esports more mainstream, it needs to represent the community. The industry has a diverse fan base, and you’ll get so much more out of them if you meet them where they are.”

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“Hairstyle is my main content because it’s been one of the most important things to me in real life. I wanted this content for a long time, so I’m happy to share it.”

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DANIELLE UDOGARANYA, AKA EBONIXSIMS, 28 LONDON, ENGLAND Content Creator

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ell, since it’s not there, I’m going to make it myself.

And with that thought, Danielle Udogaranya, aka EbonixSims, decided it was time to start making content for The Sims 4, a life-simulation video game. Content that would allow her to make characters that look like her, represent her culture and embody her experience as a half-Nigerian, half-Bajan (her mother is from Barbados) woman living in London. The first thing she made was a dashiki—a colorful, loose-fitting shirt commonly worn in West Africa—and it was not easy.

“The first time I opened Blender [an open-source 3D creation suite], I closed it down straight away,” says Udogaranya.

“I was like, ‘No, not today.’ ” She laughs. “But I always tell new creators don’t be scared to try new things. You just have to have patience.”

That was five years ago. Today Udogaranya is a Twitch partner, a recipient of a 1000 Dreams Fund Twitch BroadcastHER grant and a full-time content creator also known as EbonixSims, who is beloved by her community for the hairstyles she creates—braids, locks, curls, Afros—which she has long made available for free download.

“Hairstyle is my main content because it’s been one of the most

important things to me in real life,” she says. “Hair is something in black culture that is just amplified. Like when you have a really nice hairstyle, it’s always commented on first. I wanted this content for the longest time, and so I’m happy to share it.”

Describing the response to her work can leave Udogaranya briefly speechless. She is overwhelmed with gratitude. She likes especially to talk about the woman who messaged her about her niece, describing how much the girl loved The Sims but never created one that looked like her because she herself didn’t like how she looked. The woman asked if Udogaranya could create a certain hairstyle for the child, and when she did, the woman wrote to say her niece had fallen in love with her Sim self and wanted her own hair done the same way.

Udogaranya could relate to that girl. She remembered playing The Sims 2 as a 13-yearold and being unable to make characters that reflected her. “It made me feel bad about myself, like, well, I don’t have hair that people care about making. So I was able to change how a little girl perceives herself, and that will sit with me always. Always, always.”

She thinks the industry may be listening, noting that The Sims

now includes more representative hairstyles. “For me, it’s the element of having to pay for that content that makes it feel a little like a microaggression,” she says.

“It’s like, ‘OK, we’ve made it, but now you have to pay extra for it, just to make a character that looks like you.”

But she is hopeful. And she’s thinking about the future, about her own role in ensuring that everyone can see themselves in games. Something along the lines of a chief diversity officer but not just for a single entity. For the whole industry.

“All companies could tap me for advice on being inclusive when it comes to content creation,” she says. “And I could say, ‘Hey, it’s not quite right.

This is what you need to do.’ ”

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L AVA AND ICE On an alpine quest for knowledge and adventure on the glacial slopes of the unpredictable volcanoes of Iceland, one potentially explosive truth becomes clear: Life doesn’t always transpire on solid ground.

Words MARK JENKINS Photography CARSTEN PETER and TYLER STABLEFORD

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Left: Iceland’s Bárdarbunga volcano erupts.

Above: The author climbs out of an ice cave on Langjökull, one of Iceland’s largest ice caps.

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e are lost in a whiteout on the side of the most famous volcano of the 21st century, Iceland’s Eyjafjallajökull. A blinding snowstorm rushed over us in a matter of minutes and we had to turn around to avoid driving right off into the crater. Now we are heading steeply downhill into a white void.

Suddenly our superjeep —a jacked-up 4-wheel-drive with big balloon tires—has lost traction and we’re sliding sideways down the glacier.

The windshield and side windows are a smear of disorienting snow and fog, and I feel certain we are about to plunge into the maw of a crevasse.

“Do you know where the crevasses are?” I ask my Icelandic guide, Karl Ingolfsson.

Ingolfsson, sanguine as the Viking he is, grins. “Most of them.” As a naturalist, historian, raconteur and professional glacier driver, Ingolfsson has spent more time on glaciers and in blizzards than anyone I know.

“Glaciers thrive on whiteouts and bad weather,” he says. “They wouldn’t exist without them.”

Perhaps Ingolfsson wouldn’t exist without them either. As an accomplished skier, ice climber and mountain guide, glaciers are his natural habitat. Built like

MARK JENKINS

a polar bear, with a bald, basketball-size head and mischievous blue eyes, he isn’t even looking out the windshield; he’s hunched over the steering wheel staring at the little screen on the GPS. We are somewhere on the eastern flanks of Eyjafjallajökull, the volcano that erupted 10 years ago and resulted in the largest air traffic shutdown in northern Europe since World War II. Spewing 500 tons of ash into the air every second, the Eyjafjallajökull eruption closed airspace across Europe for a week. Our original goal had been to drive up the heavily glaciated volcano and circle around the crater

rim, examining whatever changes have occurred since the 2010 eruption. Zerovisibility conditions, which we would experience many times in the next few weeks, turned us back.

“We should be crossing our uphill tracks,” says Ingolfsson, talking directly at the GPS. “Open your door and see if you can spot them.”

I swing open the passenger-side door and the storm envelops me.

I lean my face down close to the moving glacier and attempt to identify old tire prints.

“Nothing,” I shout.

“Can’t see a thing.”

“No problem,” Ingolfsson replies as I slam the door shut.

For over an hour we travel blind, Ingolfsson navigating exclusively by GPS, confidently guiding the superjeep through a swirling, opaque whiteness.

We don’t drop out of the storm clouds until we are off the glacier and back on black volcanic rock.

He spins the jeep around so we can see the storm cap over the volcano.

“We’ll try again when the weather improves,” he growls, clearly disappointed that he has been thwarted by the extreme conditions he so relishes.

Superjeeps— jacked-up 4-wheeldrive vehicles with big balloon tires— are designed to traverse glaciers with minimal impact.

The author and his team enter a glacial cave formed by volcanic activity deep inside the Vatnajökull glacier. A hot-springs river runs through the cave.

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celand, a stark Arctic country the size of Virginia with only 360,000 inhabitants, sits directly on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. This is a 10,000-mile-long crevice where the North American plate and the Eurasian plate are separating and magma from deep within the earth is bubbling up. The island itself is entirely composed of lava.

By Icelandic standards, the Eyjafjallajökull eruption was quite small, and yet it caused enormous economic havoc.

Between April 15 and April 20, 2010, more than 100,000 flights were canceled and the airline industry lost $1.7 billion. The postmortem revealed two reasons why this particular eruption was so disruptive.

“The magma exploded when it came into contact with the glacier ice,” explains Páll Einarsson, “fragmenting into very fine particles that would remain aloft for several weeks.” Einarsson is a leading Iceland volcanologist who has published 150-plus papers on the subject. We meet in his office at the University of Iceland in Reykjavik.

“However, the most influential factor was the weather: The ash plume was blown directly south,” says Einarsson with a wry smile.

“It was almost a joke how efficient it was at getting into an area where it could do maximum damage.”

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In comparison, an eruption 100 times more powerful occurred just a year later, from the Grimsvotn volcano, 70 miles northeast of Eyjafjallajökull. The plume reached 12 miles into the stratosphere, but the wind blew all the ash north over the Arctic Ocean.

“Hardly anyone outside Iceland knew or cared about the 2011 Grimsvotn eruption,” Einarsson adds.

Grimsvotn has a grim history here in Iceland. It has erupted at least a dozen times in the past 500 years. In 1783, a fissure on the southwest side of the volcano, called Laki, exploded, spraying clouds of poisonous hydrofluoric acid and sulfur dioxide across the country. Over half of the livestock of Iceland was wiped out, which led to a famine that killed about 25 percent of the island’s population. The sulfur dioxide subsequently cycled through the Northern Hemisphere, causing crop failures across Europe and killing 6 million more people.

Benjamin Franklin wrote about a “constant fog over all Europe, and a great part of North America.” Some climate historians even connect the food shortages started by the Laki eruption to the French Revolution of 1789.

“And Grimsvotn is just one volcano,” says Einarsson.

“We have 33 active volcano systems in Iceland, with an

eruption occurring about every other year. Eruptions are our most popular form of entertainment,” he jokes, obviously pleased. “With the Bárdarbunga eruptions in 2014 and 2015, everybody wanted to go have a look, and civil defense had to close the region due to the high levels of sulfur dioxide in the air.”

Bárdarbunga, another volcano beneath the Vatnajökull ice cap only 20 miles north of Grimsvotn, is the location of the most recent eruption in Iceland. Scientists had known Bárdarbunga was about to blow for months.

GPS measurements had revealed the volcano was inflating with magma, like a balloon, and seismographic recordings had revealed an increasing frequency of small earthquakes. By the summer of 2014, “swarms” of little earthquakes, sometimes over a thousand in one day, were rippling through the volcano.

On August 29, rather than blasting out the old caldera, pressure from the rising magma created a dyke that flowed horizontally

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The author explores an ice cave. The dark striations in the ice are layers of vocanic ash deposited over the millennia.

Inside the lower Kverkfjöll glacier cave, a river warmed up by the volcano creates a lot of water vapor.

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underground for 30 miles before breaching the surface.

Although there was no ash explosion, lava flowed from the fissure for the next six months and 11 million tons of sulfur dioxide was spewed into the air, more than is produced by all the factories in Europe in one year. On February 28 the eruption officially ended, the fissure having acted as an effective release valve.

“The source of the uplift for Bárdarbunga is 10 kilometers underground,” explains Einarsson. “So it took a long time for the magma to reach the surface and we could track it quite well. But each volcano behaves uniquely; each is different, and you can’t necessarily apply experience from one to another.”

Einarsson says he tends to see volcanoes much like people, with their specific temperaments and behaviors.

“Grimsvotn, Bárdarbunga, Krafla—they’re all restless,” he explains. “But Hekla, Hekla is ready to blow!”

Hekla is a small, independent volcano that has erupted more than 20 times in the past millennium.

“Hekla is more dangerous than Bárdarbunga or Eyjafjallajökull,” says Einarsson, “because it has such a short fuse. Most volcanoes give considerable warning before they erupt, but on Hekla, the time from the first earthquake swarms to the actual eruption can be just 20 minutes. Anyone on Hekla, a popular volcano for hikers, would not have time to escape.”

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his dire prognostication inspires Ingolfsson to take me for a drive up Hekla, a volcano we hadn’t explored on my last visit to Iceland. Awake before dawn for a proper Viking breakfast— two slugs of cod liver oil washed down with a big bowl of skyr, a sour yogurt— Ingolfsson checks the weather on his computer.

“Fog, then a bit of righteous sun, then cold wind, maybe some real snow,” he says cheerfully, rolling his Rs, his accent sounding a little Scottish. “Iceland has four seasons: morning, day, evening and night.”

As we drive east from Reykjavik, the world’s northernmost capital, home to more than 200,000 people, two-thirds of all Icelanders, Ingolfsson says that his country has only two endemic species, the field mouse and the Arctic fox. “The landscape is too severe to support large ungulates like elk or deer,” he says. “We have just three geographic zones: inhabitable lowlands where humans live, uninhabitable highlands where almost nothing grows and glaciers, where nothing lives.”

Vatnajökull, the largest glacier in Europe, covering 3,100 square miles with an average thickness of 1,600 feet, fills much of southeastern Iceland.

Vatnajökull is actually an ice cap composed of dozens of glaciers and paves over two large volcano systems, Grimsvotn and Bárdarbunga.

Iceland is also home to the most powerful waterfall in Europe, Dettifoss, which, engorged with glacial meltwater, can pour at 21,000 cubic feet per second, about a quarter that of Niagara Falls.

We stop at a roadside diner for a classic Viking lunch: mutton soup—large chunks of lamb with potatoes and carrots—and a hunk of dense bread. The wind is cuttingly cold, but Ingolfsson

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is inured. I’m in mountain boots and a wind parka. He is wearing a holey wool sweater and sandals. “Sandals and ski boots are all you need in Iceland,” he insists.

Fortified, we set out in our superjeep, winding through high, barren, rust-colored hills up into the snow.

Ingolfsson drops the double transmission into “crawler gear” and we begin to ascend.

Superjeeps are unique to Iceland, although a few have now been exported to Antarctica. Outwardly they appear similar to a customized, big-wheeled off-road vehicle, but in this environmentally sensitive country, ORV travel is prohibited. Superjeeps are designed exclusively for travel over snow and selfhealing glaciers, not redneck mud-hogging. For flotation, the tires are exceedingly wide and soft.

Halfway up the vast white cone of Hekla, we start to bog down in deep snow. “Drop the tire pressure to 7 psi,” says Ingolfsson, adjusting his wraparound glacier glasses on his shaved head.

At my left knee, in the passenger seat, is a vertical metal rack with six switches on the front and pressure hoses extending out the back.

The hoses weave through the vehicle, plugging into each tire and the air pump. There is a deflation switch, an inflation switch and a switch for each individual tire. I flip the deflation switch and open the gauges for all four tires.

As the tires deflate, they begin to grip the snow and the superjeep lurches uphill.

As we traverse an eyesearingly white side slope, the superjeep, keeled over like a sailboat in a strong wind, begins to lose traction on the uphill side. Ingolfsson orders me to drop the rightside tire pressure to 3 psi.

I hang out the window and watch as the huge tires go basically flat, the rubber

The Bรกrdarbunga eruption began in August 2014 and lasted six months.

wrinkling, and begin grabbing the snow like claws.

Ingolfsson has been glacier driving since he was a boy and can feel the consistency of the snow through the chassis of the jeep. We swing back to the northeast ridge of Hekla and the tires start to spin out. The angle is so severe it feels like the superjeep is about to flip over backward.

“I don’t think we can make it,” I say.

He winks. “Drop the pressure to 2 psi for all tires.”

I do so, but the tires continue to spin out.

Ingolfsson opens his driver’sside door, stands up and gets his substantial body weight forward of the cab, steering with one leg.

“You need to get out on the front bumper,” he yells.

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I jump out, climb my way up the snow and pull myself onto a square aluminum platform that juts out from the front bumper. He had this perch specifically designed for redistributing weight and balance. My body weight gives the front tires just enough traction and we slowly begin to bounce our way up the icy snow.

Improbably, we drive right to the summit of a mountain that is a steep tramp for hikers in the summer. We park, get out and walk around.

Heat from the belly of Hekla has melted the snow off the top of the volcano.

The black rocks are rimed with icicles and steam rises from holes between the rocks.

It does feel as if this volcano could blow at any moment.

One key objective of researchers who study Icelandic volcanoes is to determine in advance when they’ll erupt.

Icelanders, who mark history by volcanic events, know that explosive change is a constant.

“When Hekla blew in 1104, the Celtic monks of Iceland began spreading the word that Hekla was the passageway to hell,” Ingolfsson remarks. “Sailors steered clear for centuries.

“The eruption in 1693 killed off many trout, salmon and ptarmigan,” he continues, as if it happened just last week. “The eruption in 1947 lasted 13 months and spread lava over 15 square miles.”

Driving down off the summit of Hekla, we start to slide and I’m tempted to just get out and walk. I think we might roll, but we don’t. We just keep slipping over the ice, which doesn’t bother Ingolfsson in the least.

“It’s just like being on skis,” he says. Ingolfsson has been imperturbable in every situation I’ve ever been in with him. He has ice in his veins.

Back on a sandy black road, he checks the forecast.

“Everything has changed, of course,” he says. “We’ve got a window of decent weather.

I think we should try Eyjafjallajökull again.”

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celand was founded by Norwegian Vikings and their Celtic slaves in 874 AD. Although there was periodic trade with Europe over the centuries, separated by an enormous, icebergfilled ocean, Icelanders developed a distinct culture.

They still speak 9th century Norse, a language that modern Norwegians can no longer understand, and have a written record that goes back to the beginning.

The literacy rate is 99 percent and literature is revered. All students still read medieval Icelandic literature—the Saga of Eirik the Red, the Saga of Ref the Sly, the Saga of Gunnlaug Serpent-Tongue.

Chess is a national sport, hákarl—putrefied shark— a national dish, and the otherworldly weather a national conversation. There is virtually no crime and no poverty and the police do not carry weapons. Almost half of all Icelanders are atheists.

Homes are warmed with cheap geothermal hot water and soaking in natural hot pools is a national pastime.

Icelanders have lower infant mortality and greater longevity than Americans.

Taxes are high but health care is free. According to a United Nations report, Iceland is ranked as the 4th happiest nation in the world.

All this even though Iceland is covered with glaciers and volcanoes.

Icelanders live in a world where geologic time and historical time are contemporaneous. They mark their history by volcanic eruptions.

Iceland has the oldest functioning legislative assembly in the world, the Althing, established in AD 930, and in AD 1000, floods caused by the eruption of the Katla volcano washed across the country. Hekla erupted in 1104, 1158, 1206 and so on.

The Katla eruption of 1625

destroyed 25 farms. Three people died in the 1727 eruption of Öraefajökull.

Grimsvotn erupted in 1903, the same year the first Icelandic fisherman bought an outboard motor. At that time there were no hospitals, no highways, no public schools, no police. A century later, despite continuing eruptions and the economic devastation of 2008 (after Lehman Brothers went under, the major Icelandic banks exploded and the value of the krona collapsed), Iceland is still one of the world’s most prosperous countries.

“Never underestimate climate or geography,” Ingolfsson told me a decade ago, after we’d gone ice climbing inside a glacier cave on Langjökull; the cave collapsed several years later.

“Climate and geography are destiny.”

Most of us imagine that the ground beneath us is relatively unchanging. We have metaphors about building a life on solid ground.

Icelanders know better. The geography of their country is always changing. Icelanders expect change, even explosive change, and expect to figure out how to deal with it.

“Change, not stasis, is our status quo,” Ingolfsson told me.

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am probing along the crater rim for crevasses.

After Eyjafjallajökull erupted in 2010, the caldera collapsed, snow fell and the glaciers began to grow again.

Ingolfsson has sent me out ahead of the superjeep with an avalanche probe to make certain we don’t drive into an unseen crevasse.

“Don’t get too close to the crater’s edge,” he warns. “You never know where heat from the volcano has hollowed it out underneath.” Peering over the lip into the snow-filled caldera, I see steam rising from small black holes.

On mountains around the world, I have probed for 75

A drone photograph captures the peculiar surface formations around the entrance of the Kverkfjöll cave.

crevasses, but I have never needed a snowbridge that could support the weight of anything more than a mountaineer. Now Ingolfsson, in our hefty superjeep, is crawling along behind me as we circumnavigate the rim of Eyjafjallajökull one pole punch at a time.

There are fantastic photographs of the Eyjafjallajökull eruption, a plume of black ash billowing into the sky above a white cone, some of which are in the Volcano Museum in Stykkishólmur, founded by glaciologist Haraldur Sigurdsson. “In hindsight, the Eyjafjallajökull eruption need not have been so disruptive to air travel,” says Sigurdsson, editor-in-chief of the gigantic 2015 Encyclopedia of Volcanoes. “The European aviation agencies simply panicked. Decisions were made without data.”

Several months after the eruption, Rolls-Royce released a study that revealed its jet engines could withstand 2,000 micrograms of ash per cubic meter of air.

“The Eyjafjallajökull eruption only created 40 to 70 micrograms of ash,” Sigurdsson says, “onefortieth what the aircraft engine could tolerate.”

The ash cloud never went higher than about 25,000 feet, and most transcontinental flights cruise above 30,000 feet. In truth, there was no real threat to the safety of airline passengers. European agencies were simply being extra cautious. In the decade since then, regulatory agencies and airlines have changed their disaster response models to include recent scientific data.

“The real trick is to be able to predict eruptions— to know basically what will happen before it actually happens,” says Sigurdsson.

“This requires ground deformation studies.”

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sing radar and GPS data, the rate of inflation or deflation of a potentially threatening volcano can be accurately determined. Indeed, by closely monitoring GPS data from Bárdarbunga, Sigurdsson predicted in October 2014 that, according to a formula his grandson Gabriel Solvi had developed, the eruption would end after 173 days, on March 4, 2015. He was almost dead on; the eruption ended on February 28.

This confirmed what Einarsson had told me when I first arrived in Iceland.

“When we have the data, we can forecast eruptions quite well, actually. I know the popular sentiment is that eruptions are random, unpredictable events, but in the past 40 years, we’ve successfully predicted most of them,” he said. “What we can’t predict is the human reaction.”

Then he told me the story of the time he was on a talkradio program during the Eyjafjallajökull event. An Irish woman dialed in and was aghast at Einarsson’s insistence that volcanic eruptions were largely predictable. “Look at all these poor people stranded in the airports,” she said. “If you can predict an eruption, why don’t you just stop it.”

Ingolfsson and I manage to completely traverse Eyjafjallajökull by superjeep, and then without stopping continue on up Mýrdalsjökull glacier to the top of Katla, another notorious Iceland volcano.

On the summit he steps out onto the glacier in his sandals, dropping into the snow. We are surrounded by brilliant whiteness that curves off to the horizon in all directions.

“When this one goes again, it’s predicted to be 10 to a hundred times bigger than Eyjafjallajökull,” says Ingolfsson, almost joyful at the uncontrollable geological exuberance of his country.

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guide

JAN KASL/RED BULL CONTENT POOL

Get it. Do it. See it.

DREAM TRIPS Though it’s not the best time to travel, it’s an ideal time to plan a life-list adventure. Here are four very big ideas for your bucket list. Words EVELYN SPENCE

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Picture yourself on a freeform epic on New Zealand’s South Island, where primo beaches and Instaready peaks beckon.

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G U I D E

Do it WILDERNESS SUP ON THE YUKON RIVER

If—since the COVID-19 era began—the thought of being around crowds of people makes you break out in anxious hives, consider Canada’s Yukon Territory.

It has an area larger than California with onethousandth the population.

(Twice as many moose as humans, they say.) And consider, then, how to get away from the Yukon standards. The answer? A multiday SUP trip on the Yukon River, which rushes up to 8 mph past wolves and moose and mink, Klondike-era cabins and creepy remains of sternwheelers the length of Boeing 737s. You and your inflatable paddleboards and bear-proof barrels of grub can all be dropped by floatplane at the headwaters, where the first section of water, Thirty Mile, pours out of moody Lake Laberge—and is considered one of the finest stretches of paddling on the continent.

From there, it’s the Wild West: You don’t have cell service, you don’t have to wrangle a permit, there’s no road access

There is getting away from it all, and then there is an SUP adventure on the Yukon River.

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for miles, and you can camp wherever the hell you want as long as Leave No Trace is your religion. It’s no whitewater gauntlet, either; even relative newbies can handle the Yukon’s cruise control. If you want guidance—and portable, propane-powered hot tubs that simmer under the Northern Lights—reserve a four-day, 120-mile trip from Laberge to Carmacks with Stand Up Paddle Yukon, the only outfitter who runs the river. The laid-back owner, Stuart Knaack, can tell river yarns all day (and will feed you really good fire-grilled steak). “Understanding the Yukon, for me, is like trying to understand the sun setting over the ocean,” says Knaack.

“It’s one of those things you just have to see for yourself.”

Stay The stylish, just-opened Raven Inn—cabin chic, with a hot tub looking over the Yukon River—is the first new hotel in Whitehorse since the 1970s. The floor-to-ceiling windows of the “glass chalets” at Northern Lights Resort and Spa, about 20 minutes from town, are perfect for viewing the aurora.

Sleep can wait if you stay in the glass chalets at the Northern Lights Resort.

Eat Opened last year, Wayfarer’s Oyster House has its shellfish flown in from both coasts and feels more L.A. than lumberjack. Pre-mission, fill your belly with an ABC (avocado, bacon, cumin gouda) from Montreal-style Bullet Hole Bagels or some carrot-lox toast from brandnew, vegan Kind Café.

Drink The beer on tap at Woodcutter’s Blanket, a refurbished 1930s-era log cabin, changes constantly at the whim of quirky brewer Scott Shailer—and cocktails are mixed with foraged, boreal bitters from Free Pour Jenny’s. For good cocktails and fancy bar food, hit Dirty Northern Public House. Divey, historic 98 Hotel is one of the Yukon’s two remaining “breakfast clubs” (it opens at 10 a.m.).

Guide Stand Up Paddle Yukon checks off all the highlights, including the floatplane ride from Schwatka Lake to the headwaters of the Yukon.

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Dream Trips The snorkeling options around Nosy Be are almost endless.

Admit it, you’ve always wanted to see a white-fronted brown lemur.

The Malagasy people have strong traditions of theater and dance.

WOLFGANG BUBLITZ/NORTHERN LIGHTS RESORT, JORDAN CURET, LOUISE JASPER(3)

TOUR A DIFFERENT WORLD IN MADAGASCAR “Madagascar is a place like no other,” says Chien Lee, a wildlife photographer who spends half his year on the Texas-size island leading trips—and staking out his subjects. “The biodiversity here is astounding.” There’s a reason it’s sometimes called the Eighth Continent: 90 percent of its plants and animals exist nowhere else on earth. But its geography is just as varied—dripping tropical rainforest like Masoala in the east, dry forests in the west, desert canyons in Isalo National Park to the south, 3,000 miles of coastline and 250 smaller islands. You can snorkel the extensive reef system around Nosy Be, especially the highly protected Nosy Tanikely, and encounter enormous, docile whale sharks. Take a week and float the Mangoky River, says Gary Lemmer, owner of Remote River Expeditions. “It’s so peaceful, passes through one of the largest baobab forests on the planet and has white-

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sand beaches you can land a 767 on,” he says. In Tsingy de Bemaraha, you can crawl through caves and cross suspension bridges to check out extraterrestrial limestone formations; in steamy Ranomafana National Park, you can spot several species of endangered lemur (Madagascar has 101 kinds).

Remember, travel here is no cakewalk. “Roads are mostly terrible,” says Lee. “Deep, axle-grinding potholes for nine-plus hours.” And unless you’re fluent in French or Malagasy, the language barrier is real. But it’s worth the challenge, says Lemmer.

“The Malagasy are the most sensitive and welcoming people in the world.”

Stay Gary Lemmer’s welcoming hotel in Morondava, Chez Maggie, is more than just a place to crash—it has a decent restaurant, pool, gardens and spectacular sunsets. Accessible only by sea or foot, the six stilted bungalows of Masaola Forest Lodge are surrounded by pristine rainforest and reefs.

Eat “One place really sticks out for absolutely fantastic food,” says Lee. And that’s Mad Zebu in dusty Belo Tsiribihina—Michelin-caliber, French-leaning, white tablecloths. In Antananarivo (usually called Tana), Le Saka—in the charming Sakamanga Hotel—is beloved for its French/Malagasy fusion.

Drink Three Horses Beer (THB, or “Tay-Ash-Bay”) is cheaper than water and you’ll see it everywhere; rhum arrangé (spiced rum) comes

in seemingly countless flavors.

You’ll be passing through Tana at some point, so while you’re there, stop into Kudéta Urban Club for swank and Madagascar Underground for live music by locals.

Guide For hiring vehicles, booking domestic flights and making lodge reservations, Boogie Pilgrim—in country for 30 years—will nail the logistics. Prefer a high-end trip? MT Sobek (glamping, sundowners) has been running trips here since the 1990s.

The Masoala Peninsula has vast protected rainforests.

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Do it MULTISPORT MADNESS IN THE DOLOMITES

Call us sentimental, but after everything northern Italy has been through this year, it makes sense to throw a little love thataway—not that it’s ever hard to rave about a place like the Dolomiti. Spires and towers, so blocky they’re almost architectural, jut like molars out of gentle emerald foothills and Insta-ready towns, all dotted with highalpine huts and connected by strings of ski lifts. “I’m a mountain lover, and I’ve visited many mountain ranges in the world, but I’ve never seen anything that compares to my Dolomites,” says Enrico Maioni, an IFMGA guide and Cortina d’Ampezzo native who’s worked the rock for 36 years. There are hundreds of limestone walls and craggy pinnacles to climb here, most of which start at your front door: 5.10 Tofana di Rozes is long and demanding, “a local classic,” says Maioni. Piz Pordoi has 20-plus pitches of amenable, 5.7 cruising.

Cortina, especially, is known Whether you want to hike, bike or run, the local trails dish out crazy-good scenery.

for the suspension bridges and ladders of via ferrata. To cover more ground, take a mountain bike on the Sellaronda, a 40mile or so circumnavigation— up chairlifts, down singletrack, through mountain villages— of the stunning Sella Group.

(You can bike the roads, too.)

Hikes range from idyllic meadow strolls to nearvertical scrambles: the10-plusmile loop from Selva Val Gardena to Rifugio Puez has all of it. Don’t miss the crowsnest of Rifugio Nuvolau, says Maioni; it’s the oldest hut in the Dolomites, with 360-degree views, and exemplifies the civilized adventure you find here. It’s the kind that starts with cappuccino, ends in Nosiola and exudes a living nostalgia we’ve come to crave.

Stay For Maioni, a night at Rifugio Lagazuoi can’t be beat: a Finnish sauna built from local larch, hearty dinners and 9,000-foot views. Each room at the Ambra Cortina is unique—from cow prints to elaborate boiserie—and it sits square in the middle of town.

Après adventure is on a higher level at La Stua.

Resplendent in the middle of Alpe di Siusi, the largest mountain plateau in Europe, Adler Lodge Alpe has none of the Tyrolean twee of many hotels in the Dolomites.

Eat In Cortina, Ristorante 5 Torri has more than 50 kinds of pizza—all likely better than anything you can get in North America. St. Hubertus, in Alta Badia, has racked up three Michelin stars for super-local wild game and mountain herbs. The Dolomites region is known for a unique Ladin culture and language, and

family-owned Maso Runch Farm is the spot to try its cuisine: filled savory pastries, barley soup and furtaies (a spiral-shaped, fried dessert).

Drink On the edge of Selva, La Stua has a big sunny terrace and large platters of speck (get a small balcony if you want an exclusive sommelier). Enoteca Cortina serves Soave, prosecco and local cheese under vaulted ceilings. For good beer, Bar Sport in Cortina is usually packed. Wherever you are, try a bombardino— brandy, warm egg liqueur and whipped cream.

Guide For climbing and via ferrata, Maioni knows the Cortina area front and back; he was part of the Gruppo Scoiattoli (the “squirrel group”), the most famous group of climbers of Italy.

Bike Hotel Linder, in Selva, has knowledgeable guides and all-inclusive packages.

Rethink roughing it at the Adler Lodge Alpe.

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Dream Trips

You won’t be stuck at home forever, so start dreaming— and planning—now.

LASTUA, JAN KASL/RED BULL CONTENT POOL(2), THADDAEUS SALCHER, JASON KELLY, OGB

CRUISE NEW ZEALAND’S SOUTH ISLAND

We’ve all fantasized about it, but few of us have done it: flown to the other side of the world, rented a campervan, disdained the word “itinerary” and taken to the road on a meandering search for adventure. And the South Island of New Zealand tops the nomad’s canon thanks to its freedom-camping ethos— and the mind-blowing number of nooks, crannies, glaciers, fjords, rapids and summits stacked across a landmass a bit smaller than Georgia.

Some greatest hits: The new, 34-mile Paparoa Track is the only purpose-built route for both mountain bikers and hikers, with overnight huts along the way. For a mix of gravel and roads, the 75-mile West Coast Wilderness Trail is gorgeous (and soggy), not far from the area’s biggest draw, the Fox and Franz Josef Glaciers. Kayak or SUP the Class III wave trains on the Buller River, one of the country’s longest—or paddle past dolphins and fur seals in Doubtful Sound, bigger and

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less known than nearby Milford. For views, the Sealy Tarns Track stairsteps 2,000 feet to the payoff: 12,218-foot Mount Cook and the Hooker Valley. (You can climb Cook, but Mount Aspiring is a less dangerous, equally technical test piece.) If you’re proficient at sight-casting dry flies, the crystal-clear waters of the Moteuka and the Rai hold brown-trout torpedoes. And the golden-sand beaches, native forests and limestone cliffs of Abel Tasman National Park have some of everything, so swap your camper for hiking boots, kayaks, water taxis or a catamaran. Of course, this is just a start, and one that’s starting to sound a bit too much like a plan. Just throw this out and begin your own search.

Stay Download Campermate, an app that’ll show you campgrounds, dump stations, petrol, public showers and more. If you need a break from vanlife, the chalets (and massage studio) at top-ranked Abel Tasman Lodge are a fiveminute walk from the national park. At SkyScape, near

Queenstown, each room has the best kind of glass ceiling.

Eat Some people say Fergburger, in Queenstown, has the best burgers in the world, but they’re likely the most inventive: wild Fiordland deer with Thai plum chutney, New Zealand lamb with mint jelly. Acclaimed Kika, in Wanaka, tweaks tapas with chili gel, avocado mousse and cotton-like pork floss. The togo staple in NZ is fish and chips—both Akaroa Fish and Chips, and Happy Chippie (near Abel Tasman) are perfectly greasy and newsprint wrapped.

Drink The Marlborough region is justly famous for wine— Framingham and giant Cloudy Bay are good bets out of the 140-plus around here.

Smiths Craft Beer House, in Queenstown, has a dozen New Zealand brews on offer. For a speakeasy vibe, OGB, housed in the historic Old Government Building in Christchurch, kills it with their mixers. And hopping the beer bars in Nelson—hops central—can easily take up a few days.

Guide All you.

Kika turns out reinterpreted tapas.

OGB in Christchurch is a swank cocktail bar with an elegant speakeasy vibe.

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G U I D E

Do it GET FIT LIKE A PRO

“YOU HAVE TO BE ON YOUR A-GAME”

Longtime Halo pro Michael “Flamesword” Chaves shares how he trains for esports success.

A self-described health and fitness junkie, Michael “Flamesword” Chaves won multiple championships as an esports athlete before retiring from professional play in 2016. His specialty is first-person-shooter games, especially Halo and Call of Duty, where quick reflexes and mental focus are essential for success. Just like any other sport, gaming requires many hours of practice, and Chaves still spends up to 10 hours in front of his screen. The hours of stress add up, and a health scare in his early 20s led Chaves to rethink his approach. “I should just train like an actual athlete,” he recalls thinking. “If there is something that’s optimal for basketball players, there has to be something that’s optimal for gamers.” Esports tournaments alternate hours of downtime waiting for matches with high-energy sessions at the controller. He says his physical fitness helps him recover from the intensity of gaming and feel refreshed when he sits back down to do it all again.

“After I began working out, I immediately saw success in my placings,” says Chaves, who was a top Halo pro from 2008 to 2016 and coaches now.

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Fitness

M E NTAL FOC U S

“Yoga brings mental fortitude.”

“On Tuesdays, I do a yoga form called Yin, which is a faster stretching-release yoga style.

Thursdays, I do Kundalini, which is more relaxed—more of a closing your eyes and meditation type of yoga.

Then Saturdays or Sundays, I do Bikram or a body-flow class. I think yoga helps you remain in control of your breathing and to be one with yourself there in the moment.

I think that’s huge for gamers. No matter who we are, no matter what speed we’re at, nerves are a part of everything we do. And you have to be on your A-game at all times.”

FITN ES S

IAN COBLE/RED BULL CONTENT POOL

JEN SEE

“Gamers need to strengthen their posture.”

“My four yoga days are also run days. For the most part, I aim to run a mile each of those days. Depending on what my fitness goal are, I’m working out three or four days each week with weights. The goblet squat, with a dumbbell or a kettlebell, is an incredible technique for gamers, who sit all day, or for anyone with a desk job. It’s a squat that helps you correct your posture. Having the weight in front of you, as opposed to on your back, helps bring your chest up and corrects your whole body.”

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R EC OV E RY

“A foam roller is like having a personal massage therapist.”

“Your fitness involves a whole system. It’s the working out, the nutrition; it’s recovery—part of which comes from sleep. I think a foam roller or even a tennis ball is great to have. After a long gaming session, you can roll out your body and hit your glutes, hamstrings and the rest of your legs. It releases all that tension. Most likely, your shoulders are in an upper crossed position from leaning forward. You can utilize that foam roller for all those things. I would prefer to have a personal massage therapist, but we have to deal with what we got.”

N UTR ITI O N

“I look at food as gasoline to run around all day.”

“The things we put in our body, it’s like putting fuel in our car.

I like to eat fruit at the start of the day. I have an omelet, with mushrooms, spinach or kale. For protein, it’s anything grass fed, and I like plant-based protein powders. Many of the carbs I take in are starchy carbs, like sweet potato, that last longer in the body. And for sure, I drink lots of water every day. If you stay hydrated, you avoid body cramps and headaches. Everything in your body is running the way it should be.”

“I MAKE A SMOOTHIE EVERY DAY.” “My go-to favorite right now is almond milk with a half cup of ice, half cup of cut-up frozen avocado, half of a banana, plant-based protein powder and chocolate with some peanut butter or almond butter.”

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CALENDAR August/September 2020

10

September NFL KICKOFF LIVE Questions abound when it comes to what spectator sports will look like this fall, but even if stadiums are empty, you can still watch the Super Bowl champs Kansas City Chiefs take on the Houston Texans on NBC. nfl.com

14 August BILL & TED FACE THE MUSIC It’s been nearly 30 years since these most excellent time travelers graced the big screen, which begs the question: Will anyone care that they’re back? But the love for this cult franchise still feels strong, and with few new releases this summer, perhaps the timing couldn’t be better to head to your closest drive-in theater for some popcorn therapy. Even acclaimed director Steven Soderbergh, who saw an early cut, gives his stamp of approval. Party on, dudes! orionpictures.com

20 September EMMY AWARDS

The show must go on, and not even a pandemic can keep celebrities from getting their awards.

As of press time, nothing had been said about whether the statuettes would be handed off in person or simply announced.

Or will acceptance speeches be delivered in sweatpants over Zoom? But in any case, Jimmy Kimmel has signed on to host, whatever that entails. emmys.com LIVE

Available now NORTH OF NIGHTFALL Many exploits come to mind when talking about the Arctic Circle; mountain biking isn’t one of them. But when four freeride legends headed to uninhabited Axel Heiberg Island in the Arctic Ocean, they were intent on riding the ultimate rampage line in a hostile landscape of volcanic cliffs, glacial plateaus and endless daylight.

The risks were high—there’s only one month when temperatures sit above zero, and the nearest hospital is a 12hour plane ride away. A thrilling, spectacular doc. redbull.com 86

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CALENDAR August/September 2020

Available now THE HISTORY OF THE PIT STOP

EBK.TV, BLAKE JORGENSON/RED BULL CONTENT POOL, WARNER BROS, GETTY IMAGES(2)

NORA O’DONNELL

With F1 back in action, we once again get to marvel at that greatest of engineering art forms—the live, supersonic pit stop.

As a perfect side order, this film follows the mavericks who took what was once a painfully slow pause during a race and transformed it into a choreographed exercise in precision that, last year, saw the Red Bull Racing pit maestros service Max Verstappen’s F1 car in a world-record 1.82 seconds at the Brazilian GP. Naturally, he won it. redbull.com

22 July K2: THE IMPOSSIBLE DESCENT In 2018, Polish ski mountaineer Andrzej Bargiel embarked on a feat never before achieved: to scale K2, the world’s secondhighest peak, then ski back down. It’s an epic tale, documented here with the highest drone footage ever filmed. redbull.com THE RED BULLETIN

22

August DC FANDOME It’s been a tough summer for moviegoers, with blockbusters like Daniel Craig’s final Bond outing and Top Gun 2 delayed till later this year and beyond. But DC’s superheroes are coming to the rescue. This 24hour virtual event will feature new footage and live panels with the cast and creators of films like Wonder Woman 1984 (now set for release on October 2), the Robert Pattinsonstarring The Batman and the muchanticipated “Zack Snyder cut” of Justice League, which Warner Bros. announced after fans voiced dismay at the original version delivered by Avengers director Joss Whedon.

Think of it as a virtual Comic-Con. dccomics.com/dcfandome

31

August U.S. OPEN Pending government approval, which was still needed as of press time, players were planning to gather at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center in Queens for this two-week tournament.

But it’s already been announced that spectators won’t be present, and it’s ultimately up to athletes to decide if they want to compete, which puts global players who have to travel to the U.S. in a particularly difficult situation. Silver lining?

At least tennis isn’t a contact sport. usopen.org LIVE

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SIMPLE GETAWAYS These days, the best adventures don’t require complicated planning or travel.

Words JOE LINDSEY

Danner’s Trail 2650 is grippy, lightweight and cushioned for your next dayhiking adventure.

G U I D E

L O C A L

DANNER TRAIL 2650

These don’t look much like old-school hiking boots, which is a good thing. The running-shoelike men’s and women’s Trail 2650s are perfect for dayhikes, with a lightweight EVA foam midsole for cushion paired with a TPU shank to protect your feet from sharp rocks and provide structural stability. The grippy outsole is at home on all natural surfaces, and optional Gore-Tex versions add all-weather protection. $150-180; danner.com

BLACK DIAMOND TRAIL ZIP 14

This pack is the definition of minimalist, with a spartan profile that has everything you need and nothing you don’t: 854 cubic inches of cargo capacity, with smartly designed stash pockets for things like valuables and a headlamp, plus sleeves for trekking poles. The lightweight ripstop nylon body is rugged but keeps total pack weight below half a pound. It’s perfect for peak bagging and other fast/light dayhikes and adventures. $50; blackdiamondequipment.com

H I K E S

A N D

R U N S

ADIDAS TERREX TWO ULTRA PARLEY

FJALLRAVEN HIGH COAST LITE TROUSERS

ALLTRAILS APP

BOSE FRAMES ALTO

Adidas pairs its bouncy, durable Boost TPU midsole with an upper made from recycled ocean plastic to create a high-performance trail runner for natural surfaces, available for men and women. The aggressive Continental Grip tread pattern bites on hard and soft terrain and sheds mud easily. The Primeknit upper’s Jacquardstyle construction adapts to your foot shape and volume for comfort. $180; adidasoutdoor.com

It’s hard to find a more full-featured outdoor app.

With a global database of more than 100,000 trail maps for hiking, cycling and running, you can search for difficulty, dog-friendliness or ADA accessibility; read reviews; and check out amenities. The Pro version adds offline maps, weather and the ability to share your real-time location with loved ones. Extra relevant right now: Heatmaps let you avoid overcrowded spots.

Free ($30/year for Pro version); alltrails.com

Don’t look for oddly placed cargo pockets or dorky zip-off legs on these pants. Instead take in the stretchy, quick-drying fabric that moves with you; subtle ankle drawcords for bug protection; and men’s and women’s specific trim, modern fits suited for a hike, travel or casual work. The mesh-lined pockets ventilate to keep you cool, and a zippered thigh pocket offers a secure spot for a phone or keys. $125; fjallraven.com

Bring the tunes and enjoy the outdoors with these cool audio shades. Tiny speakers in the temples direct the beats at your ears and let in outside sound, while remaining virtually silent to anyone else. The one-button operation combines with gestural control so you can adjust volume, take calls, even summon virtual assistants.

Scratch-resistant polycarbonate lenses block 99 percent of all UV light. Want a softer, rounded look? Try the Rondo instead. $200; bose.com

The heatmaps option on Alltrails allows you to find trails that are uncrowded in real time.

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G U I D E

S U N D AY

D R I V E S

A N D

P I C N I C S

YETI HOPPER FLIP 18

FILSON CHELAN SNACK TABLE

ZIPPO RUGGED LANTERN 350A

HOUDINI POWER AIR HOODIE

THERM-A-REST UNO CHAIR

FRONTRUNNER EASY-OUT 2M AWNING

Why lug a heavy hardside cooler if you don’t need to? This soft cooler is spacious enough for a picnic for four, or up to 20 cans of your favorite beverage, and its thick, closed-cell foam-rubber insulation keeps things cold for hours. The convenient shoulder-carry strap and lighter weight (just 5.1 lbs empty) make it easy to haul on foot—perfect for when you need to scramble over a few dunes or up a grassy hillside to that secluded lunch spot. $300; yeti.com

This light, cozy full-zip hoodie has the credentials to become one of your trusted, versatile pieces of wardrobe. It’s at home on a chilly morning at the trailhead, or for post-hike beers on a brewery patio. It doesn’t just look and feel good: The Power Air microfiber fleece is Bluesign certified, made from 54 percent recycled materials and is designed to shed far less microplastic pollution than other fleeces. Available in men’s and women’s styles. $250; houdinisportswear.com

Picnics are supposed to be easy and casual, but have you ever struggled to cut blocks of cheese on a plate set on a blanket, or set down a drink on uneven ground, only for it to fall over? Enter the Chelan snack table. Its 11-inch height is perfect for stable, ground-level eating and drinking at the beach or a local park. Sturdy construction and locking pins prevent wobbles or unexpected collapse, and the oil-rubbed ash wood is beautiful and durable. $165; filson.com

You won’t find a more ingenious, space-efficient folding chair design than the Uno, which unpacks from a 2-inch-thick, foot-wide disc for easy setup as a comfy camp chair. The storage disc doubles as the base, offering stable footing on all surfaces. With a minimalist design, the chair can also convert into a small side table. The durable aluminum frame and reinforced pole pockets ensure you’ll get years of use. $90; thermarest.com

Stay out late with this compact camping lantern.

The 350-lumen output casts enough light to read, eat or socialize by, and the lens and reflector soften it for a warm, even glow. The rubberized housing is shock-resistant and waterproof, so it’ll easily survive a tumble off a table or a sudden downpour. It features four power levels, including a blinking SOS mode, and runs between 6.5 to 65 hours (depending on setting) on four AA batteries. $50; zippo.com

This awning unfolds from a roof-rack mount to provide a spacious patch of protection from sun or rain. Aluminum poles provide sturdy support and adjustable height and angle, while gut ropes offer stability in windy conditions. At only 28 lbs, it’s easy to install or remove with the universal rack mounts, but the rugged, PVC-coated cover provides all-weather protection if you leave it on your vehicle. $275; frontrunneroutfitters.com

The Power Air hoodie is made from Bluesigncertified fleece, made using minimal chemicals.

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The Frontrunner Easy-Out 2M Awning will give you 34 square feet of protection from sun or rain.

Why not buy boardshorts that can perform in heavy water and look good when doing light work?

G U I D E

B E AC H

T I M E

O’NEILL HYPERFREAK HYDRO WANDERER BOARDSHORTS

NATIVE EYEWEAR ASHDOWN

CARVER SMALL BLOCK RACK

SKINNIES CONQUER SUNGEL

HYDRO FLASK 15L SOFT COOLER PACK

PATAGONIA TROPIC COMFORT HOODIE

Whether paddling out to the lineup or pedaling down to the café, these comfy boardshorts are versatile and stylish, with an at-the-knee fit that’s both casual and classic. The fast-drying fabric is made from recycled polyester with 11 percent elastane, so it moves with you when working out.

The no-tie closure eliminates annoying chafing, and a zipper pocket provides secure storage for your keys or phone. $59.50; oneill.com

Half a Benjamin is a lot to pay for sunscreen but hear us out: This sport sungel uses physical and chemical sunscreens to offer SPF50+ protection with four hours of water resistance—double that of most waterproof sunscreens. And since there’s no water in the formula, you need just a pea-size blob to cover your face. What’s more, it’s reef-safe to Hawaiian sunscreen standards and includes no parabens or other harmful chemicals. $50 (3.4 oz tube); gotskinnies.com

Cut annoying sun glare off water with Native’s ophthalmic-grade polycarbonate lenses, which feature a durable polarization film that boosts contrast and clarity in harsh sun. You also get 100 percent UV protection and a scratch- and oilresistant coating, in an eco-friendly bioplastic frame. The moderate sweep protects your eyes from wind and debris but isn’t too sporty to work as casual wear. Choose from seven frame color/ lens combos. $59-$79; nativeeyewear.com

If you want to hit the beach, but bring all your food and drinks from home, this backpack cooler fits the essentials in its roomy interior. The foodgrade, BPA-free liner encases closed-cell insulation that keeps contents cool all day. The clamshell lid offers easy access, and a watertight YKK zipper to contain spills. It has several accessory pockets and a mesh exterior pocket that holds a water bottle. $175; hydroflask.com

Don’t fight for car parking at the break. Carver’s durable surfboard racks mount easily to bikes and mopeds. The U.S.-made tubular steel arms and machined aluminum clamps attach quickly and provide sturdy support for most sizes and styles of surfboard and won’t interfere with pedaling. A $20 SUP arm option fits thicker stand-up paddleboards. Coated arm cradles protect board surfaces from abrasion and other damage. $149; carverracks.com

Grab this sheer pullover for any outing and you’ll have a stylish layer for protection from sun, wind or chill. The recycled polyester dries fast and provides UPF50+ protection. It’s treated with HeiQ Fresh odor control to keep funk at bay, and the generously cut hood fits over a cap. At 8.3 oz, it’s easy to throw in a bag or pocket if you’re cruising to the boardwalk or halfway around the world. $59-$69; patagonia.com

A pea-size blob of Skinnies covers your whole face and gives four hours of water resistance.

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G U I D E

B A C K YA R D

F U N

A N D

G A M E S

LARGE BIG GREEN EGG KIT

YARD GAMES KUBB PREMIUM SET

OUTDOOR TECH TURTLE SHELL 3.0

SOLO STOVE BONFIRE

CELESTRON STARSENSE EXPLORER DX 130AZ

EPSON EF-100 MINI-LASER STREAMING PROJECTOR

Ask an Egg fan and they’ll tell you these distinctive, squat cookers are far more versatile than conventional gas or charcoal grills. The large size will roast a whole turkey, bake a pizza or smoke low and slow for great BBQ flavor. The kamado-style ceramic shell heats quickly and efficiently, while the adjustable airflow allows precise temperature control for perfect grilling.

Kit includes grill, stand, lump charcoal and several accessories. $1,299; biggreenegg.com

Campfires right now are not such a hot idea. But you can bring the experience home with this fire pit. The ventilated design burns hot and clean, so you don’t smell all smoky afterward. The 20-pound unit is portable enough for overnights you might make when parks and campgrounds reopen, but the durable, all-weather stainless construction also fits inside fire pits, so it’s perfect for backyard s’mores and cool summer nights on the patio. $350; solostove.com

Bored with cornhole? Check out Kubb (say koob), an ancient Swedish lawn game also known as Viking chess. Throw the dowels to knock down your opponent’s knights, then topple the king for the win. The durable hardwood pieces stand up to knocks and nicks, and their heft provides stability on grass, sand and even snow that lesser plastic sets won’t.

The included carrying case is ideal for meeting friends in the park. $50; yardgames.com

When night falls, turn your eyes skyward with this powerful telescope designed for novice stargazers. Celestron’s smartphone app automatically lists viewable objects in your night sky; just put your phone in the mount and follow onscreen arrows to aim the scope until the bull’s-eye turns green. The 130 mm lens serves up clear, sharp images even in brighter urban settings. $400; celestron.com

Get the party started with this waterproof wireless workhorse of a speaker. The domed design cranks out 360-degree sound with chunky bass that is far meatier than its compact size suggests. The 3,600mAh battery provides up to 20 hours of beats on a single charge, and wireless daisy-chain pairing means you can link multiple Shells together, up to 15 feet apart and 45 feet from the source. Available in seven colors. $110-$131; outdoortechnology.com

Make your own outdoor movie night with this compact projector. Microlaser diode tech produces a vivid, 1,280HD-sharp widescreen picture on screens up to 150 inches wide. The 2,000-lumen output results in a bright picture even before the sun has set. Built-in Android TV app streaming and Bluetooth wireless speaker support is perfect for backyard shows or an indoor home theater. $1,000; epson.com

With Epson’s new streaming projector, you can watch movies on a huge screen—before sunset.

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Compact, waterproof and ready to rock, the Turtle Shell 3.0 will amp up your next backyard party.

GLOBAL TEAM

THE RED BULLETIN WORLDWIDE

The Red Bulletin is published in six countries. The cover of this month’s German edition features Austrian cyclist Fabio Wibmer, who’s known for his daredevil stunts on two wheels.

For more stories beyond the ordinary, go to redbulletin.com.

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Action highlight

For this dramatic stunt, Estonian slackliner Jaan Roose chose an atmospheric setting—Seli Raba (or the rather less attractive Seli Bog when translated into English) in the northern part of his country. Needless to say, the three-time world champion and sometime Hollywood stuntman landed the trick perfectly.

The next issue of THE RED BULLETIN is out on September 22.

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