Stay Wild // Winter 2017

ADVENTURE MAGAZINE // WINTER 2017 // ISSUE 12 // $4.20

ANYWHEREALOHA

®

THERE’S A MOMENT FOR ANY VISITOR WHEN A PLACE GETS INTO THEIR BONES. Four thousand feet above the glittering Na Pali Coast is a spot that puts it all into perspective.

You breathe in and feel truly alive, unfamiliar ground that somehow begins to feel like home.

Kaua‘i, HI

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BURTON SOFTGOODS ARE BEST IN SNOW When the snow falls, there’s no other place Skylar would rather be than outside.

With smiles for miles, she finds cover and comfort in the Burton [ak] Blade Jacket as a late season storm blankets Colorado.

Featuring bluesign® approved ingredients to minimize impact on people and the planet.

© 2017 W. L. Gore & Associates, Inc. GORE-TEX®, GUARANTEED TO KEEP YOU DRY, GORE® and designs are trademarks of W. L. Gore & Associates

Winter 2017 Outerwear — Available at Burton.com, Burton Flagship locations and Premium Retailers around the globe.

IT's all about Our Contributors

Amy Morrison, Camper Morrison, Justin “Scrappers” Morrison, Megan Freshley, Ayla Gilbert, Marshall Birnbaum, Charlotte Austin, Bryan Aulick, Chantal Anderson, Ambreen Tariq, James Katsipis, Jessica Altieriis, Corina Barnick, Adam Walker, Manny Pangilinan, Brooke Jackson, Lanakila MacNaughton, Becky Goebel, Abe Ramirez, Nolan Calisch, Nina Montenegro, Kj Nakanelua, Michael Caputo, Luke Perkins, Jeff Edwards, Zachary Liptak, Maxwell Carl Scott, Kealan Shilling, Mark Dillon, Kelly Thompson, North, and the bad ass companies who work with us.

COver Photo Randy P. Martin // randypmartin.com // @randypmartin

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MADE

Y WI

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staywildmagazine.com

ST A

STAY WILD MAGAZINE

LOCAL

The rain, the soil, the seeds, the trees, the mill, the paper, the printing machines, and the people who physically made this magazine are all hiking distance from each other in and around Portland, Oregon.

n i a t S n i z u ed o M Art SNOWSHOEING WITH SIMON BECK STORY BY MARSHALL BIRNBAUM

THE JOURNEY TO COMPLETE A HALF-MILE WIDE SNOW MANDALA BEGINS WITH ONE STEP AND POCKETS STUFFED WITH BANANAS AND CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES. In the high-altitude snowfields of Powder Mountain, Utah, the world-renowned snowshoe artist Simon Beck demonstrated just how far the limits of human creativity can be taken. Equipped with nothing but snowshoes, waterproof gear, and a compass, Simon took to the fields of the mighty Wasatch mountain range and traversed well over the equivalent of a marathon to “draw” his large-scale ephemeral snow art.

calculate his angles. Occasionally, the path of the sun influences the orientation and placement of the drawing, since shadows play a vital role in the visual success of each mural. After he finishes the outlines, Simon then begins retracing his steps, in militant fashion, to “shade” the drawings.

This process requires less planning and is occasionally carried out by volunteers looking for some quality exercise or artistic inspiration.

Simon’s process begins with a drawing or printed image on a regular sheet of printer paper. Once the design is finalized, Simon carefully measures and calculates the steps necessary to enlarge the image for use in the field. Shapes like the Koch triangle or repeating hexagons, which happen to be the basic structural patterns for snowflakes, often make the most successful patterns in Beck’s eyes.

Simon has been creating these large-scale ephemeral snow murals for roughly six years, traveling around the world to share his talents with art lovers, outdoor enthusiasts, and powder hounds alike. The photos you see here mark the second time he has worked in the United States.

Invited through the Summit AIR program, he plans to return to Power Mountain to create more mind-blowingly intricate snow patterns that perfectly capture the human journey through natural terrains, only to be eventually swept away by the wind or covered with a fresh blanket of snow.

Once in the field, Simon begins by walking the perimeter of the design with the aid of a lensatic compass to accurately

@MARS_VISION // WWW.SUMMIT.GALLERY

Assholes of the Tundra B R O O K S RAN GE, AL ASKA STORY BY CHARL OTTE AUSTINÂ PHOTO S BY BRYAN AUL ICK

C

aribou are assholes. That’s the first thing I learned while bowhunting in the Brooks Range. Before I joined the hunting expedition — which required flying from my home in Seattle to meet friends in Anchorage, Alaska, loading 16 duffel bags into two pickup trucks, driving due north for more than 800 miles along a hurl-inducing highway, and camping in sub-zero temperatures on tundra for a week — I had been feeling confident. Very confident.

“They’re basically reindeer,” I boasted to my next door neighbor before the trip. “The herds are well managed.

We’ll be responsible hunters, culling the herd. Our chances of bagging an animal are great.” She nodded sagely, scooping her apricot-colored Labradoodle’s poop into a biodegradable plastic bag, and we walked together back into our LEED-certified condo building. I offered to bring back some caribou meat. We’d have a potluck, I said. Everybody was welcome! She promised to provide organic salad greens and a bottle of vino verde. Maybe some good mustard.

Later, somewhere in the Arctic Circle, I related that story to my Native Alaskan hunting partner. The herd, a small cluster of six or eight caribou, we were stalking knew goddamn well that we were there. They seemed to be meandering to-

ward the horizon at a relaxed, amiable pace as we crawled on our bellies through a semi-frozen mixture of mud and muskox poo. Dusk was falling. “I just really wanted a caribou burger,” I said, watching the last of the animals disappear over the horizon. He looked at me, his bow slung over his back, and smiled. “Most people have no idea what’s involved in hunting for your own food.”

I nodded, humbled. I’m an inexperienced hunter — greener than a tree frog, if we’re being honest — and so, trying to be conscientious, I’d done lots of soul-searching before agreeing to join the hunting party. How would it feel to kill and butcher a mammal? I’d only ever hunt an animal with the intention of eating the meat, and I was looking forward to the opportunity to be more consciously involved in sourcing my food.

Accountability, honesty, respect — those are big in my world, and I thought I’d done my mental homework. Somewhere along the way, I’d come to view bringing home a caribou as a tangible landmark in my ever-present journey to be more aware. I’d eat that smug bastard with whole-grain mustard, I’d thought, and I’d be more connected to my food sources, and therefore to the world. I’d be a thoughtful carnivore, an enlightened consumer. Namaste, bitch.

But it clearly wasn’t going to happen. I shivered grumpily, assessing how much usable light remained in the day. Caribou are assholes. Hunting is hard. We trudged back to our pickup truck, which was parked less than a hundred yards from the Alyeska Pipeline. The pipeline transports 520,000 barrels of oil per day. It’s one of the big-

gest oil transport systems in the world, and it’s the state’s only reason for maintaining the gravel road we’d taken to penetrate the Arctic wilderness. We headed back to a camp that we’d set up less than a hundred feet from the pipe itself.

We dumped our shit in the bed of the truck, then crawled into the cab. My hunting partner opened a package of gummy bears. We cranked the heat. My nose started to run. Together we watched the golden glow of the sunset over tundra, and it started to sink in.

There were no caribou in sight, but the pipeline stretched as far as we could see in either direction. I thought: I hear you, Universe. Accountability is complicated, and I’ve got a long way to go. But I see what you did here, and I’m grateful.

CHARLOTTEAUSTIN.COM // @CHARLOTTEAUSTIN BRYANAULICK.COM // @BRYANAULICK

Peaceful demonstrators marched to the banks of Cantata Creek and waded into the water with their hands raised to reach a sacred burial site. Over 50 police officers in riot gear guarded the banks of the river like a war zone, and several fired pepper spray and rubber bullets into the faces and bodies of protesters in the water—many at point-blank range.

Â

LEARN MORE AT STANDWITHSTANDINGROCK.NET // #STANDWITHSTANDINGROCK

We All Live Downstream PHOTO & WORDS BY CHANTAL ANDERSON

CHANTALANDERSON.COM // @CHANTALAANDERSON

We Will Plant One Tree For Every Board We Sell

Landyachtz.com #OneboardOnetree Photo - Liam McKenzie

Our

Outdoors

PUSHING FOR DIVERSITY AND GROWING OUR COMMUNITY OF OUTDOORS LOVERS

I

BY AMBREEN TARIQ

n my city life, I see my reflection in train windows, computer monitors, glass doors, and bathroom mirrors. I am always visually evaluating my body image and social appearance. In the wilderness, I see my reflection through my abilities, my primal limitations, my fear of darkness, and the involuntary alertness my body feels when a twig snaps in the distance. I see my reflection in my most essential failures and accomplishments. For me, being outdoors is not an escape from city life. It is a recalibration of how I see myself and my natural values.

As an immigrant kid I viewed myself as an outsider in America, so it was acceptable to me to be the only family of color around on the campground or on the trail. But now, having grown up in this great country, I refuse to accept that feeling of isolation and I refuse to accept that status of “minority” in our public lands. I know now what it means to be American: I feel entitled to progress, and I feel we should all be empowered to push for it. I feel diversity enriches our lives and the American experience and I feel empowered to push for it.

I am not the only one, but I am the only me. I don’t speak for all immigrants, or Indians, or South Asians, or Muslims, or women, or people of color,

or city folk. I speak only for me. But I do identify with all those groups, as they are all a part of how I define myself. So I’ll rep them as I tell my stories and make sure those experiences are a part of our “outdoors” conversation. And then I’ll turn to you to hear your stories;— to hear where you’ve been and where you’re going;— and I’ll be a little bit richer for knowing you. And the outdoors will be a little bit richer for us knowing each other and connecting as a community.

Robert Moore put it brilliantly: “... every step a hiker takes is a vote for the continued existence of a trail.” If folks stopped hiking the Appalachian Trail, Pacific Crest Trail, or the numerous other historic trails all cross our country, they would be swallowed up by the environment around them and disappear from our landscapes. Trails are forged first by trailblazers, but more importantly they are reforged and maintained by the rest of us. Our steps are assertions about the importance of our access to and relationship with wilderness. So let’s try harder to introduce new and diverse feet to the trails. Let’s be ambassadors and recruiters for the outdoors. As our country grows more diverse, we face an imperative to include people of color in the narrative of blazing and keeping ablaze our trails. If the faces of our hikers and campers don’t reflect the faces of our increasingly diversifying American population, our public lands, parks, and trails will surely suffer.

These places exist by the power and stewardship of their users. So let’s grow our community of “users” and let’s diversify our outdoors.

@BROWNPEOPLECAMPING

Stranger

Thangs

WAI T I N G F OR WAV E S IN MO N TA U K , N E W Y O R K W ORDS BY JUSTIN “ SCRAPPERS” MORRISON PHOTOS BY JA MES KATSIPIS // J ESSICA ALTIERIIS C O R IN A BARNICK // ADAM WAL KER

PHOTO BY ADAM WALKER

A

family of deer walk the cliff edge overlooking the rocky shore. I follow their hoof prints in the mud. I want to ask them about this place. I want to know the deeper truths that only animals understand, but they just run away.

They don’t talk to strangers.

P H O T O OF S C R A P P ER S B Y J E SS I C A A LT IE RI I S

PH OT O B Y C O R IN A B A R N IC K

P H O T O O F C O R I B Y A D A M WA LK E R

Lucky I’m surfing with a local who doesn’t mind talking to strangers. James Katsipis has lived here his whole life. He’s got the word “MONTAUK” tattooed across his back shoulders in Old English. He seems like a thug, but he’s a big teddy bear with sailor’s tattoos and he’s our guide to the saltiest town in New York.

Montauk is at the end of the world. It’s the tip of Long Island and home to New York’s first lighthouse. The lighthouse with the big black stripe was commissioned by George Washington to keep boats from hitting the shores, but these days it attracts surfers and millionaires looking to escape the city. In the summer when hotels like the Surf Lodge are open, celebrities come out to rage for the cameras. Kanye West was recently turned away at the door of the Surf Lodge. He then went to a local dive bar and bought everyone personal pizzas. “Pizza is ok, but he’s still an asshole,” explains James. Since Montauk has become popular with the rich and famous, it’s changed. Reality TV shows are filmed on the streets, traffic is insane, and locals do their best to avoid the mess.

Property value has gone through the roof, too.

Crappy old shacks sell for $800K just to be torn down for the property. James says if his parents’ house — the one he grew up in — ever gets torn down for money, he’ll “cry his eyes out.” Nobody should ever have to cry their eyes out.

We’re here in the off-season. The Surf Lodge is closed. The crowds have gone. The cold and wind have returned. The locals have their town back.

We’re here to surf with James. The day we arrive he has us meet at a potholed dirt lot on the outskirts of the popular spot called Ditch Planes.

It’s rocky, windy, and nothing like the spots we’re used to surfing. We paddle out into a world that’s new to us.

We are strangers here. I am from Portland, Oregon. Adam Walker is from Huntington Beach.

Manny Pangilinan is a recent transplant to New Jersey from Honolulu. Corina Barnick is from Costa Mesa. Jessica Altieriis is from Babylon (different part of Long Island, but a world away). Jess swims out in her wetsuit to take photos, but comes in early since the water and waves are freezing.

Cori seems to surf in slow motion. Her moves are so graceful I forget what I’m doing in the water and just bob around like a lost buoy. Then Manny rides by on his back with his arms and legs squirming in the air. He’s doing the dead cockroach on one of the classic Matador surfboards he brought from Jersey. It’s cold, but it’s fun!

We’ve come together to do this story about surfing Montauk, and although we caught some good tiny waves and got some good photos at that dirt lot on the first day, the Atlantic Ocean calms to a lake for the rest of the week. The waves stop and our adventure begins.

P H O TO O F C AM P HERO BY ADAM WALK E R

PHOTO OF SCRAPPERS BY ADAM WALKER

P H O T O O F C O R I TA K I N G A P H O T O B Y JA M E S K AT S IP IS

PHOTO OF JESS AND THE UNDERGROUND BUNKER BY ADAM WALKER

PHOTO OF MANNY BEING A “MODEL” ON THE RADAR TOWER BY SCRAPPERS

PHOTO OF MANNY’S ART BY ADAM WALKER

PHOTO OF SCRAPPERS CLIMBING THE RADAR TOWER BY ADAM WALKER

This place was home to government experiments in telekinesis, time travel, teleportation, and stranger things.

PHOTO OF SCRAPPERS IN THE RADAR TOWER BY MANNY PANGILINAN

We’ve taken time off work, we’ve spent money, we’ve traveled a long way to surf, but there are no waves. The surf report actually says “FLAT” for the rest of the week.

We could have gone back to the cabin and watched movies by the fire. We could have played on our phones like babies complaining about being bored. We could have wallowed in our sorrow, but instead we follow James to an abandoned building on the bay. It is crumbling as nature takes it back. It is returning to the wild. I find some cool clam shells and an empty bird’s nest while peeing behind a wall. Cori takes film photos of pretty plants. Manny tags his name on one of the unbroken windows. Jess wanders down the fragile dock over the muddy marsh, careful not to fall through cracked planks. Adam falls through a plank and almost loses his shoe. I climb up a radio tower to feel it jiggle in the wind. It is strangely peaceful. We love it and want more, so James takes us to the craziest abandoned building in Montauk.

Camp Hero is near the light house outside of town. It’s a nice nature area for picnicking near a giant government radar tower and a top-secret underground bunker. The radar tower is huge and haunting, but it’s tiny compared to the even bigger underground bunker. James tells us how he used to sneak into the underground bunker as a kid to find weird shit like chairs in cages. I’m not surprised since this place was home to government experiments in telekinesis, time travel, teleportation, and stranger things. In fact,

Stranger Things, the Netflix show with a cult-like following, is based on stories about this place. If you like aliens and stories that rip holes in time big enough to let monsters through, then you should read all about what happened in a series of books called The Montauk Project: Experiments in Time. According to Wikipedia and conspiracy theorists, “To mask the nature of the project the site was closed in 1969 and donated as a wildlife refuge/park, with the provision that everything underground would remain the property of the Air Force.” Hmmm … what’s underground? And why is it government property?

James thinks chemicals like Agent Orange left over from the Vietnam War were dumped into the bunkers. Knocking my fist on the super thick cement wall sealing up the hole James climbed through as a kid, it’s clearly locking something in, not just locking kids out. James thinks the underground war waste chambers have leaked into the ground water. Which could explain the high number of local cancer victims. But of course, this is all just speculation, so we hop the chainlink fence and go deep into Camp Hero.

What if there was a portal to another world, another time, or dimension? Would you be open to the possibilities? Would you go? We did. The portal we find is a small hole busted through the cement in the radar tower with a sledge hammer. The hole is so small some of us have to strip clothes off to fit through. It is totally dark inside. The wind howls outside. It smells like trouble. I am ready to find a body, but all I find is a dusty Blink 182 T-shirt, graffiti about your mom, and a vintage can of Hamm’s beer.

Standing in the dark, James shares what he knows about the Beast of Montauk. In the show Stranger Things, a monster comes from another world called the “Upside Down” and causes all sorts of trouble. The monster in the show is based on the Beast of Montauk. With a phone flashlight under his chin, James tells us how when the monster came through the dimensional rip caused by the Montauk Project: “All the animals in town were acting funny. All the deer came running straight through town down Main street and were fleeing ‘cause animals know first. They have that extra instinct.

It was like a Sasquatch-looking kind of beast.

The one they depict on the show is a little bit more terrifying.”

Guided by flashlights, we find some stairs and go up. The stairs begin to disappear and by the time we get to the top, the last two flights of stairs are gone. They had rusted and fallen into the darkness below. Manny and I make it to the top by climbing the wall and the rusty railing. When we get to the roof, the radar is so big we can’t even get a photo of it. We crawl to the edge to enjoy the view, but see a golf cart below. Is it security? Some kind of scout calling for reinforcements? Am I going to jail again? I turn to Manny in a panic, looking for answers, but his answer is “Be a model!” We just laugh and I take his picture posing with the gigantic radar before we get the fawk out of there. We run like wild donkeys in slow motion and hop to the legal side of the fence. Our smiling eyes agree we got away with something stupid.

The surf report still says “FLAT,” so we make our own waves.

PHOTOS BY ADAM WALKER

Back at the house we make art by the warm fire place, snack on popcorn, flip through books, and soak in an Original Nomad portable hot tub. The fridge is stocked with cans of an awesome local beer. Itching to explore more, we take a trip to the brewery to suckle from the frothy keg’s teet itself.

Montauk Brewing Co. is the smallest brewery I’ve ever seen. They craft small batches, and if their taproom drinkers respond well, they make more. Vaughan Cutillo, one of the founders, calls it their “test kitchen.” Vaughan tells us how they started out brewing a mile away from the brewery in his basement. Their nautical flag-inspired packaging is a hat tip to the saltier side of their town, and their arrowhead logo pays respect to the Montaukett tribe that inhabited this land before them. Brews like their Driftwood Ale might be poured in the city, but the beer is also rooted in Montauk’s small town history.

Up the road from the brewery, the wooden surf craft studio Grain helps people make surfboards of all shapes and styles.

We swing by their shop and meet Brian Schopfer. Brian is helping a student glue strips of wood over a hollow hull before coating it in bio-resin made with 40-something-percent tree sap. Wooden surfboards are harder to make than foam boards, but they’re way better for the environment and beautiful. Brian lets us borrow a nine-foot longboard and a four-foot bellyboard, just in case some waves pop up.

PHOTO OF JESS & MANNY WAITING FOR WAVES BY ADAM WALKER

The surf report still says “FLAT,” so we make our own waves at the Walking Dunes. Eighty-foot tall sand dunes “walk” 3.5 feet each year, pushed along by wind. I grab the wooden bellyboard and do some pushing of my own. The board takes to the sand surprisingly well since it was never intended to ride this way.

Manny and Jess even get in on the action until we crack the board right down the center. Now I’m the proud owner of a used and abused Grain board.

Why does breaking things have to be so damn fun?

We go down to the docks for sunset and I jump in a couple times with an inflatable raft until it pops. I keep diving into the dark anyway. On the walk back to shore, we see a big ass fish zig and zag under the dock. It jumps out of the water a couple of times as if it was being chased by a bigger fish. “Oh, yeah. This is a breeding ground for sharks.” Thanks for not telling me earlier, James. I fear sharks more than death. Turns out his wifey, Bella Ornaf, is a local shark wrangler. Bella has a jewelry brand called Fin and she makes jewelry out of shark teeth found 200 feet below the surface of the Atlantic. Bella lets me hold a megalodon tooth that is 30 million years old. It is the scariest tooth I’ve ever held in my hand.

PHOTO OF THE ORIGINAL NOMAD PORTABLE HOT TUBBERS TUBBING BY JA ME S K ATS IPIS

The seal was kind enough to share this place with us, but it wants its home back now.

P H O T O OF JA M ES B Y C OR I N A B A R N I CK

P H O T O O F JA M E S B Y C O R IN A B A R N I C K PHOTO OF FIRST LIGHT BY ADAM WALK E R

PHOTO OF AQUATIC MUPPETS BY C O R IN A B A R N IC K

PHOTO OF ADAM BY JA M E S K AT S IP IS

On our last day in Montauk, we get up before the sun. The surf report has changed for the better!

deaths from attempting to ride giants, but they don’t die, they slay. They shred! They laugh like Santa Claus. They are pure positivity. They make you better for just being around them. Plus, they surf with mucho aloha and the happiness of hairy muppets. I think they shit rainbows and stardust, that’s how much I love these guys!

The story about surfing in Montauk isn’t about visitors trying to have fun in a new place. The story is all about this photo of James on a perfect wave, at long last. This story is about respecting local vibes. We are here seeking adventure, but sometimes the adventure finds you and gives you a tour of its hometown.

James hands his camera to Cori to shoot while he paddles out. James is a professional cold water surf photographer. He’s traveled to the coldest waves in the world with famous surfers. Although he surfs Montauk year round and knows every break, he’s never the guy on the board in the photos.

A beast of a seal head pops out of the silver water. It swims up to our friends. It raises a flipper to them. It’s not saying “Hi,” it’s saying “Get the fawk outta here!” It’s time to go. The guys share one last wave in and get out of the water. The seal was kind enough to share this place with us, but it wants its home back now.

Cori snaps the perfect photo of James and I finally see the story we came looking for.

I see a family of deer on the cliff staring at us.

We are the strangest things here.

The waves are bigger and buffer than we’re ready for. Manny and Adam oddly have to shit at the same time as they squeeze into their thick rubber wetsuits. Maybe they are scared? I’m not. I surf with cold-blooded killer sharks in Oregon. This was going to be easy for me, but it’s not. A shore breaker almost slams me into an old WWll rusty cement war relic. I get my ass kicked and wash up on the rocks. I try again and again, but get my ass kicked harder. Unable to paddle past the white water, I just sink into the sand like a puddle of failure. Cori doesn’t even bother putting on her wetsuit. She knows better.

Manny and Adam are a rare breed. With each set that rolls in, I think about their heroic

@LETSTAUKGRAMS // @CORINA_ROSE // @MANNYALOHA // @SCRAPPERS // @ADMWLKR // @THELIFEOFJESSICAA

THIS ADVENTURE WAS MADE WITH HELP FROM OUR FRIENDS AT SANUK @SANUK // SANUK.COM

The

Canadian

Yosemite STORY AND PHOTO BY BROOKE JACKSON

T

he naturalist and outdoor badass John Muir first climbed Yosemite’s technical Cathedral Peak without a rope in 1869.

A catalyst for climbing, this moment was followed by first ascents and the evolution of modern techniques on some of the world’s most classic granite. From Half Dome to El Capitan and Harding to Robbins, the Yosemite Valley birthed many legends. However, what was once a wild valley without cars and roads has now become a tourist destination hotspot. Annually, the park can host anywhere between 3.6 – 4.1 million tourists and consists of lodges, hotels, pizza joints, bars, and even a courthouse. The valley has transformed into its own independent commercialization center conveniently named Yosemite Village.

Closely parallel to Yosemite, both historically and geographically, is another range that remains timeless. Roads that lead to these towering peaks are dirt. Once in the depths of the mammoths, there are no buildings or developed trails. Established campgrounds do not exist and the only structures are decade-old climber cabins. This area is called the Bugaboos, the Canadian Yosemite.

Discovered by miners during the gold rush in 189596, the geological features seemed promising of rich rewards. The only mineral produced was pyrite or “fool’s gold” and many miners left empty-handed. These deceiving granite towers were declared a “dead end” or a “Bugaboo” and the name forever remained. Although there was no gold of monetary value to be found, climbers would argue that they struck El Dorado.

Famous names from around the world endured the hardships to tackle first ascents. Conrad Kein, Fred

Beckey, and Yvon Chouinard are some of the major contributors to the route development in the area and also the construction of the Kein Climbing Hut, which hosts 40 people as a base camp for many of the classic routes. Visitors can drink directly from the alpine lakes and streams. The range is truly a land lost in time.

How is it that a mountain range with equally majestic beauty and granite spires can still be wild, while Yosemite is on the brink of being a Disneyland? After reviewing the Management Conservation Plan for the Bugaboo Range which the Canadian government approved in 1991, it outlines: “About 94% of the park will be zoned Natural Environment to protect scenic values and provide for backcountry recreation opportunities in a largely undisturbed natural environment” Under the above description, Bugaboo Provincial Park is designated as a primarily backcountry park.

Even with modern advancements in other areas of the world and country, the park is difficult to access and dangerous once within. Hiking in the Bugaboos requires route navigation, map and compass proficiency, no trace camping practices, the risk of encountering wildlife such as grizzly bears and wolves, and occasional glacial traversing.

For these reasons and many more, the Bugaboos will forever remain wild. A true experienced backpacker and climber paradise, the range is an image out of a fairytale. As an American, I can only cry with relief that the range has been protected and preserved so adamantly by the Canadian government and sigh with remorse that Yosemite didn’t receive the same preservation and respect.

@WANDERING_TRAILS

The

Wild Ones FOUR BABES. FOUR MOTORCYCLES. SIX COUNTRIES. ONE MONTH. STORY BY BECKY GOEBEL PHOTOS BY LANAKILA MACNAUGHTON

Adri: “I think we’re in Switzerland now.”

Liz: “Yeah, I think I saw a sign.”

Lana: “Okay, so we won’t have to stop for gas until Germany then.”

Becky: “Cool.”

Today we are riding 600 km, which is about 400 miles. Our 2016 Husqvarna Supermotos have over 3,000 km on them from the past two weeks of riding through the European Alps; we’re halfway through the trip.

We just hit a major storm riding through northern Italy. I noticed the storm from a long ways away but hoped the road would lead us in between some other mountain passes and away from the black clouds. But nope, we rode straight into it. The air got really warm and we rode into the storm like it was a wall. Lightning was striking the flagpoles on the tops of the castles off the road. A strike hit the semi truck we passed just an arm’s length away from me. I was instantly soaked through and totally scared, but realized that it was one of the most beautifully amazing and dangerously perfect moments of my life. The downpour, the warm air, the bright green-covered hills, and the castles being struck by lightning over and over was like nothing I will ever experience again in my life.

We pull over at a gas station and I hit my saddlebag on the side of the gas pump, which drops my tall-ass Supermoto into a puddle.

Within seconds I have three ladies helping me to pick it up and push it under some shelter. No one is fazed by anything. We look at each other, but don’t need to say anything.

Time for some espresso.

Within 24 hours I am alone, standing in the middle of a cathedral in the middle of Germany being stared at by 40,000 human skulls. I realize I have never seen a human skull before and that a lot of the things I’ve been doing recently I have never done before. I have never rode over 9,000 feet up and than 9,000 feet down in one day, never travelled this long with four women who I care about and respect so much, never been looked at so much like I was a total alien, and I have never eaten tortellini everyday for two weeks in a row. I have never ridden a Supermoto and I have never been to Europe.

The list goes on, but with the companionship of Lanakila MacNaughton, Adri Law, and Liz Horton, it felt like I could do anything.

We met up with women motorcyclists from all over on our route. Sandra with the ‘38 Harley Davidson Flathead that she rebuilt and restored herself taught us that the coolest women are the most humble. Sandy taught us that you don’t need a big bike to ride 700 km @ACTUALLYITSAXEL // @FEVVVVAA

in a day: You actually can do it on a 250cc.

And Lisa Looser taught us how to ride our motorcycles onto a train to save time and experience the Matterhorn Mountain in a simpler way. We rode with Austria’s first woman Skeleton World Cup holder, Berlin’s largest women’s-only motorcycle group, and met up with old friends at Germany’s first women’s-only motorcycle camp out.

We only took one day off from riding over 100 km every day. On that day we rented an eight horse power boat at Lake Lungano. We crossed the border between Switzerland and Italy on water going about two kilometers an hour, and I think Lana probably even swam through it. We smoked cigarettes and putzed beside cathedrals and old Italian brick apartments hanging over the lake. The water was room temperature and the air was warm. A boat full of Italian dudes followed us around until we let them come onto our boat and gave us beers. The locals have such positive and helpful vibes about them in Europe. It feels very safe everywhere you go and almost like you’re not so far away from home.

Through Italy, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Czech Republic, and (accidently) Slovakia, we rode in the same formation on the same bikes and got to know each other’s riding like the backs of our gloved hands.

Cordovan Grand Prix Jet. 1968.

General OK Tractor.

1975.

TC’s Rainmaster.

1960.

Eagle RS-A. 2008.

Grand Am. 1992.

Peerless Traction.

1987.

7

Tires at

Miller Creek

BY NOLAN CALISCH AND NINA MONTENEGRO Miller Creek is a two-mile stream near our home in Portland, Oregon. It originates in an ecologically intact area of Forest Park and empties into the Willamette River within close proximity to several industrial Superfund sites. After walking Miller Creek and encountering these seven tires, we returned to pull them from the creek bed. Working with a mechanic, we were able to date the tires and discover that their ages span sixty years. Our continued investigation into the history and future of these tires is based on our own interest in thinking about the psychology of waste and land use.

Riverside Truck.

1977.

NINAMONTENEGRO.COM // @NIMONTE NOLANCALISCH.COM // @NOLCAL

Bolivian Salt

BACKPACKING ACROSS SALT FLATS

BY ABE RAMIREZ We were cycling across Bolivia on a bicycle heading straight to the Atacama Desert in Chile.

After our summit up Huayna Potosí, we set off to ride through the Bolivian Salt flats: about 10,000 square kilometers of flat and dense salt near the driest region in the world. Passing through the large mining town of Oruro, Christian Wuflestad, a close friend from home who decided to sell his car and join me for a few months, and I both knew this would be our final contact with civilization for the next few days. We were heading toward isolation and the thought of being far away from any cars, roads, or people excited us.

looked at those kids. They looked back at me in awe. To them I might as well have been a spaceman heading to the moon with my steel frame, 29-inch tire rocket ship. The kids progressively made their way toward us and before we knew it that small group of kids turned into about 25 crowding us, touching our bicycles, panniers, and asking us questions about our route, where we came from, and where we were going. We exchanged smiles and laughter and eventually continued down the dirt road to the Salt Flats.

We met two American bicycle travelers who decided to drop their route and join us through a rugged backcountry road toward the Salt Flats. We rode 50-80 km at a time, on average, and about four to five hours without seeing a single person. But when we did cross through small towns and villages, we were reminded of the kindness people had in these lesser-traveled places.

We entered to what seemed to be the largest town we would pass through, San Martin.

About five square blocks of mud brick houses, a town square, an old beaten up church, and one small tienda to bring the whole place together. Christian and I paused beside what seemed to be a mud brick daycare with a few kids no older than 10 sitting on the curb eating candy. I stripped my hat and shades off my face as I wiped the sweat off my brow and

The pavement ended and the dirt roads were often blocked with dunes. The headwind made us feel like we were stuck in quicksand and the windy nights pierced right through every bit of clothing we wore. We had finally made it to the Salt Flats after a week of riding and we were excited to learn that the salt was so dense it felt like pavement again. We were an hour in when all of the sudden the clouds above us turned to grey and it began to hail.

And to make things worse, Christian’s back rack snapped off his bicycle. The hail continued to worsen and I thought of the only possible solution to get us out of this mess: duct tape and zip ties. We proceeded to stick his rack together to avoid it hitting his cassette as I bungeed both his back panniers to the back of my bicycle. Already holding about 70 kilos of weight, I added another 30 and we ABERAMIREZ.COM // @ABE_RAMIREZ_

set off to our shelter for the night, a cactus island in the middle of the Flats.

Upon waking the following morning, we opened our tents to find two alpacas and a guanaco headed straight toward us. A guanaco is a type of camel native to South America. It stands between one meter at the shoulder and weighs 90 to 140 kg. We assumed that they would not walk any closer, but these animals were not afraid of us.

They continued to get closer and I snapped a quick photo hoping the guanaco was not a llama and would not spit on my face. The animals hung around our campsite for a few minutes, bold and unafraid. We packed our things together and headed 130 km toward the closest town with a bicycle shop to repair Christian’s bike.

I have been on this bicycle adventure from Nicaragua heading straight to the continental end of South America for the last year. We have tested the elements and pushed our bodys’ limits to make it to where we are today. If there is one thing I have learned, it is that most things in life aren’t worth their value unless you put in the work to get it. I enjoy the moments I get to share adventure with old and new friends alike. I am here with an open mind and heart to learn and experience something new.

Sheep Shit STORY BY LUKE PERKINS

I don’t know how many sheep are on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Fifty-thousand? A million?

It doesn’t actually matter. They’re everywhere eating and shitting.

The sheep are not great runners. Someone told me that the golden eagles chase them, so they fall off cliffs.

Then they eat them. The golden eagle is pretty smart.

Enough about the sheep. More about the wild Isle of Skye. The vikings were here. There are not a lot of rules.

There is a lot of scotch in warm pubs. You can camp wherever you would like, as long as it’s 200 yards from a farm house. It seems to rain everyday, but no one cares.

Everywhere you look, it’s beautiful.

LUKEPERKINS.COM // @BIGPERM

Collective Efforts REFORESTING HAWAI’I STORY BY AMY MORRISON

Acacia Koa

is a species of flowering tree in the pea family, Fabaceae.

It is native to the Hawaiian Islands.

The Hawaiian word “koa” means brave, bold, fearless, or warrior.

Getting dirt under your nails while on vacation is always a good sign that you’ve climbed a mountain, built a sandcastle, or scurried over a fallen log. During my family’s last trip to the big island of Hawai’i, we got dirty nails by planting koa trees in a large native forest restoration project. Little did I know, that bit of dirt would have a bigger story to tell.

Our story started in a rental car. That familiar moment when you realize how much you rely on your cell phone, when there’s no coverage and no directions. The road just keeps going and you’re not so certain you should follow it. But we do. Straight past the no trespassing sign, through a grove of eucalyptus trees, and into a small gated community with colorful pheasants running under old cattle fencing. We spot the house with the small sign we’ve been looking for: Hawaiian Legacy Forest.

After a warm welcome, we pick out our three koa tree saplings and venture into the forest with our guide on a bumpy quad ride.

This isn’t the Hawai’i forest you might be imagining. There is no tropical jungle. We’re up-country, at a higher elevation with windblown grassy fields and cows that have a million-dollar ocean view. The open landscape breaks on occasion with groves of young bushy koa trees, a mixed understory of ‘iliahi (sandalwood), and ‘õhi‘a trees. The contrast between grazed land and reforested land is easy for any visitor to see.

PHOTOS BY SCRAPPERS

We stop on a bluff under a towering old-growth koa tree, the first we’ve ever seen. Its long, oak-like limbs have grown so big they fall back down to the ground before sprouting up again. In this grassy landscape, the koa tree is majestic and inspires my interest in the story behind this tree and this place.

On our ride, we have a chance to learn about Hawaiian Legacy Forest and its efforts to restore and preserve the valuable koa tree forest. The forest is valuable on a number of levels. Monetarily, it’s a sought-after hardwood for high-end furniture, crafts, and musical instruments. Ecologically, its habitat is scarce, impacted by logging and cattle grazing.

FILM PHOTOS OF KJ NAKANELUA BOMBING THE HILL DOWN FROM THE REFORESTATION PROJECT

BY MICHAEL CAPUTO // @ALOHA_BIGMIKE // ALOHABIGMIKE.COM

Koa trees only grow on the Hawaiian Islands and support a network of other native Hawaiian plants and animals. Culturally, the trunk of mature koa trees have been used by Hawaiians in carving outrigger canoes, and smaller style surfboards. Koa is essential to the culture’s longstanding connection to the environment.

As visiting volunteers, we got our chance to be a part of the conservation effort. We cleared three small circles in the grass with shovels, then dug a small slot in the ground just the right size for this new tree’s tangle of roots. With our hands, we gently covered the roots with dirt and pushed down, making sure the ground was firm and supportive. Our guide brought a gourd full of water, and we took a moment to pour the tree’s first water in its new home over our hands and into the dirt, offering our good intentions to this good deed.

“Trees are my life’s work: studying them, working with them on a daily basis, and of course riding them downhill.”

Kj Nakanelua

Yet this good deed is clearly reliant on a much larger collective effort. Through partnerships with organizations and businesses, Hawaiian Legacy has been able to plant and restore acres of koa forest. One business that contributes to this effort is Arbor Collective, a well-established snow, skateboard, and clothing company based in California.

Arbor’s story starts with their mission to source sustainable materials for their products and their sense of gratitude for Hawaiian culture. Longtime masters of the use of koa wood, Hawaiians took koa boards to the water, and inspired the world of boardsports that so many of us now know and love.

Thankful for this cultural genius, and intent to preserve its source, Arbor and its customers have been actively restoring Hawaiian Island hardwood forests for over 20 years. Not all of them have been getting dirt under their nails, but with every purchase of an Arbor board, a portion of that sale goes to planting and protecting this one-of-a-kind forest ecosystem.

Wanting to know more, I had a chance to speak with one of Arbor’s founders, Bob Carlson, who stressed the importance of not just planting trees and then feeling good about it. It’s also the quality of care that it takes to protect these trees and turn them into a healthy forest ecosystem. Having supported a variety of forest conservation efforts in Hawai’i, Arbor is proud to be part of the long-term vision and restoration success of Hawaiian Legacy Forest—and leaving a lasting legacy on this uniquely Hawaiian landscape.

For another perspective, I reached out to Arbor’s sponsored skateboarder, Kj Nakanelua. Kj is based in Hawai’i and has bombed the hill down from the reforestation project.

“I’m an aspiring arborist, a novice woodworker, and just flat-out passionate about trees. So it’s easy to see why I’m behind this movement. Trees are my life’s work: studying them, working with them on a daily basis, and of course riding them downhill, in skateparks, and wherever I can.”

Whether your story starts with planting trees on a family vacation, buying a new skateboard, or running a conscious company, together our collective efforts can preserve the ecosystems that our lifestyles depend on.

LEARN MORE ABOUT HAWAIIAN LEGACY REFORESTATION INITIATIVE LEGACYTREES.ORG

The safety guy was screaming his head off and was literally on the verge of an aneurysm.

I’ve never seen someone so angry at kids having a good time.

His life must be hell.

Vermont

Swimmin Club

WEST COAST & EAST COAST CLIFF JUMPING TOGETHER STORY BY JEFF EDWARDS // @LA_SWIM PHOTOS BY ZACHARY LIPTAK // @ZAPLIPZACH

The water was the perfect shade of turquoise, an invite we couldn’t refuse. There was a rumor that this quarry called Little Bahamas had leeches. We don’t get to see many leeches in California, so I didn’t even know what to look for. As I was getting out I saw one, then another. They were monstrous, something out of a horror movie.

That’s when we decided to move on.

We rolled up to the second spot on our list.

Everyone calls this place The Grotto. The last quarry was pretty small compared to this one.

In fact, this place was so huge we would spend the next two days exploring all of its crevices.

As we arrived, a few people were already jumping the huge cliff everyone calls The Slab. It is a large slab of dark granite that slopes outward at a very slight angle, 67 feet before it reaches the water. This means you need a running start if you want to clear out far enough to hit the

water. After about 15 minutes of jumping, the cops showed up and told us we had to leave.

Apparently we were loud as fuck and one of the people that lives near the quarry called the cops and complained. I’m sorry that this lady was bothered by our presence, but that’s like living next to Disneyland and complaining that there are crowds walking by your house all hours of the day. If you don’t want to be bothered, then I suggest you don’t live right next to a famous cliff jumping quarry.

SKATEBOARDER’S PARADISE COME SKATE THE LAKE 6 S K AT E PA R K S F O R A L L S K I L L L E V E L S

S K A T E C A M P. O R G

SKATEBOARDER’S PARADISE 6 S K AT E PA R K S F O R A L L S K I L L L E V E L S

S K A T E C A M P. O R G

EL EMENTBRAND.COM

PH OTO BY : SWAINSTON MARK APPLEYARD - L AKE L AUNCH

The only issue with quarries is the still water.

You need to throw rocks down to break the surface tension.

In California, there are always some rocks below that we have to jump clear of, the take-off spots are rarely bigger than a foot wide, and we always have to jump in a tiny sweet spot maybe 10 feet in diameter.

East coast quarries are all very deep, with sheer cliff faces and huge run-ups. The only issue with quarries is the still water.

You need to throw rocks down to break the surface tension just to see where to land and so it doesn’t hurt as much when you hit the still water.

After jumping the slab most of the day we headed over to the other side of the quarry the locals call The Rat Shack, named after the dilapidated building atop the black and white marbled cliffs in the area. The cliff measures 83 feet. About 30 yards away, another massive cliff measuring 110 feet looms over the water. Not many people have jumped this cliff, which is probably a good thing. After sending a few people to swim over and lifeguard the area, Jon Faye launched a massive double half. Shortly after, the safety coordinator for the quarry came up and yelled at us to get out. After 30 minutes of hesitation, Aaron Fleenor knew he had to do it now cuz we were all getting kicked out. Aaron peeked over the edge one last time, walked a few steps back and ran as fast as he could to rip a monster gainer. The safety guy was screaming his head off and was literally on the verge of an aneurysm.

I’ve never seen someone so angry at kids having a good time. His life must be hell.

After getting the boot, we drove to Bingham Falls to jump for a bit while we still had some light out. We planned on camping here, so everyone set up their tents and we jumped till it got dark.

Then a couple stragglers from the group came in and warned us that the police showed up to the parking lot and threatened to tow out all 20+ of our vehicles if we were still here in an hour. Half the group was ready to call his bluff—we had all our tents and hammocks set up and had started drinking, and no one was in the mood to tear down and set up somewhere else. Also, we had nowhere else to go. Peter Henry called his family up and asked if it was okay if our fat crew could come crash in his yard for the night, and they gave us the thumbs up. We showed up around 9pm, set up all our tents and hammocks, and began raging as violently as possible. Peter’s dad must be friends with the local law enforcement, cuz I’m sure every neighbor on the block had called the police on us.

the only reason the party died down was cuz a giant storm blew in around 5am. It dumped hard and lightning was striking a few hundred yards away from us. Some people had passed out drunk on the grass and woke up to the rain, then went back in their tents to find out they were flooded inside cuz they forgot to put on the rain fly. A few lucky people got to crash inside the house and didn’t have to deal with any of the noise or weather.

At some point during the night someone set up a giant trampoline, and instead of everyone taking turns, the whole party smashed on it all at once. Springs were flying everywhere, people were getting hurt left and right. Then the Royal Rumble idea came up: 30+ people wrestling on the trampoline with only one man standing wins. It was a disaster of epic proportions. The campfire kept burning and

After drying off, we hopped in the cars and drove to a secret quarry about 15 minutes away from the Henry House. We snuck in like ninjas and spent the entire day here. The jumps ranged from 20–90 feet. No one had actually jumped the 90-footer. That changed quickly. I would love to admit that we got kicked out of every spot on this trip, but this was the one spot we didn’t.

LOSANGELESSWIMMIN.COM

The next day, one by one, everyone zombied out of their tents and wondered what the hell happened that night. Peter’s mom bought ten thousand bagels and 50 gallons of coffee for everyone, which helped immensely. While a couple people warmed up on the trampoline, the Henry family busted out buckets full of water balloons and the craziest war erupted. As much as we enjoy swimming in water all day, something about getting smacked in the chest with a water balloon is enraging.

Megastorm

STORY BY MAXWELL CARL SCOTT // @SPRINGBREAKSNOWBOARDING PHOTOS BY KEALAN SHILLING // KEALANSHILLING.COM // @KEALANSHILLING

We decided to cruise down to Tahoe from Portland, where a beautiful spring storm was brewing. The news dubbed it the “Megastorm.” We figured we couldn’t pass up such an outstanding chance to test out some of the new experimental shapes we had spent the better half of our free time constructing.

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If the Megastorm couldn’t provide a shitstorm of good times, the crew would. Corey Smith, Brendan Gerard, Ben Rice, Kealan Shilling, Robbie Sell, Stephen Duke, Mark Dangler, Charlie Deptula, Alex “the Ozman” Scott, and I brought our own Megastorm.

We battled some extreme whiteout conditions for the first few days, but we made the most of it and snowshoed all over the Lake Tahoe backcountry. We checked out a few classic backcountry zones, including the infamous Terry Kidwell hip at Donner Pass. Brendan’s brother Red Gerard attempted and landed the first ever double backflip in the face of gale force winds and total whiteout visibility.

We checked out a few new spots as well, and tested out some of our latest handmade prototype shapes while taking some keen mental notes on their overall shredability.

I got to test my own very special shape, the eight foot long “Powder Dildo,” modeled after some of the old surfing longboard shapes and of course...a penis.

SPRINGBREAKSHOP.COM

In Loving

Memory

WORDS BY JAMIE SWICK PHOTO BY RANDY P. MARTIN

Y

ou’re standing at the crest of a vista. You peer left and every shade of blue is churning before you—cerulean, slate, abyssal blue— alive, intimidating, demanding your attention with a graceful roar that tempts you to take a few steps, just a few, closer to the edge. From your right comes a muggy sweet smell, a twisted patch of juniper trees perfuming your skin that’s standing up from an offshore breeze. And in front of you is a hunched, fragile old woman. With tired eyes she is peering out to sea, just like you, watching patiently. While weathered, she is stoic, as if she has been there for a million years waiting for someone to return.

Her million years are actually 18 million years. That’s a long time to stand tall against nature’s throes. Last year a group of people pushed this frail old woman over, killing her immediately, a shattered lump left in her wake. They destroyed eons of nature’s miraculous work in a dangerous-to-reach yet marvelous icon that many of us have found solace in for decades.

In her absence, let us remember the wonder of our time spent in nature, the radiating humility of this delicate earth, and all the joy it nourishes our spirits with. Let’s share love for this old woman through stories. Tell them to strangers and loved ones alike. Tell them to the stars and sea and birds above. We are all in this together.

@JAMIESWICK // @RANDYPMARTIN

“IT FELT LIKE SUMMER CAMP.” -HATIE PARMETER, ATTENDEE

STAY WILD MEANS TO NOT LOSE TOUCH WITH THE SPIRIT OF ADVENTURE AND WONDER. WHEN YOU STAY WILD, YOU DON’T SEE BOUNDARIES OR LIMITATIONS—ONLY ENDLESS HORIZONS.” -TOBIAS HAYDUK, JUNIPER RIDGE, EXHIBITOR AND WORKSHOP LEADER

PHOTOS BY MARK DILLON // @MARKD86

Stay Wild

EXPO

THE WORLD’S FIRST ADVENTURE FESTIVAL IT WAS AN EXPERIMENT. NOBODY HAD EVER CROSSBRED ADVENTURE WITH FESTIVAL. WE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT WOULD HAPPEN. We offered field trips and workshops of all kinds to see what people would be most excited about. Some required liability waivers, so if attendees got hurt it wouldn’t be our fault. Cliff jumping with LA Swim was the first field trip to fill up, followed by the motorcycle ride to the coast with the Dream Roll ladies, plus urban flyfishing by bicycle with Swift Industries, Path Less Pedaled and Tenkara Rod co. Workshops that got hands dirty were super popular too! Camp cooking with Snow Peak gear, camp chair making with Hand-Eye Supply, hammock dying with the Escape Collective, surfboard shaping with Shaper Studios, nature printmaking with 3 Fish Studio and Pine Fort Press all hit the spot for people, as well. We offered some professional workshops, too, like adventure writing with Charlotte Austin and photography with John Hook and Magdalena Wosinska. Yoga with Lululemon happened for free daily in the woods. Ural motorcycles gave free rides in their sidecar out front. We also had free knife throwing, but it got out of control with no age limit. It’s a miracle nobody took a James brand knife in the leg while we were throwing them around in the Edgevale booth.

We reimagined the current trade show model. Exhibitors had reusable leather wristbands that got them free food and drinks, but there were no badges, lanyards, or plastic

wristbands people had to wear since the whole event was free and open to the public. We avoided the typical convention center annoyingness and tried a new kind of venue. The grand wooden lodge-style buildings and forested outside exhibit areas of Portland, Oregon’s beautiful World Forestry Center campus casually welcomed attendees into booths. Brands were able to connect with retail shops and random customers on a very honest, personal level. The booths did not have walls separating exhibitors. Instead, they shared shelf space, defusing any fear of competition. The brands that were brave enough to join us in this experiment are helping us elevate the outdoor industry to new standards. We were sincerely honored and humbled by the exhibitors that joined us.

The party ended up happening organically throughout the day as people from completely different backgrounds sat in the grass sharing stories. New Belgium beer, Underwood wine, Thomas and Son’s cocktails, Brew Dr. kombucha, Freight coffee, and Treehouse drinking chocolate were served in the grass under a cedar tree at the North bar. Portland’s legendary working class restaurant Tilt ran the food and it was rich! Bands such as The Matson 2, Little Wings, Cat Hoch, Bitch’n, Ozarks, and Denver played at night to an intimate crowd. The party was chill since most folks had a day full of adventure.

It was an experiment and the results were different for everyone. Over 2,000 people came each day, and they all left with different opinions. The main thing we heard was “That was fun! Let’s do it again.”

“It was great to see such a diverse group of entrepreneurs eager to share their story and craft. It was inspiring to see groups as diverse as badass motorcycle riding women, bicycle camping flyfishers, and SoCal surf bros all talking and getting excited by each other’s work.

Some of the best conversations occurred towards the end of each day, when we all gathered on the lawn to enjoy a beer or kombucha and some delicious food. It was from the unscheduled moments that the best connections with fans and other brands developed.”

-TOBIAS HAYDUK, JUNIPER RIDGE, EXHIBITOR AND WORKSHOP LEADER

MAKING THE MAKERS MARKET // MARK DILLON

SKETCH // BWANA SPOONS

“Heck yes! I drank canned wine while looking through a telescope at the rings of Saturn. I baked cobbler over a camping stove while listening to people talk about art. I met new people, ate too much chocolate, and generally had a blast. I came away with several concrete connections: makers, thinkers, artists, etc., all of whom are driven and successful in their respective fields. Badass. And, for the record, I made more connections at the Stay Wild EXPO than at the Outdoor Retailers show, which says something.”

-CHARLOTTE AUSTIN, ADVENTURE WRITING WORKSHOP LEADER

“LA Swim’s Jeff Edwards, Mokuyobi and Mowgli Surf’s Alex & Julie, and the guys at Hi-tec network were awesome people! They really offered a different sort of feeling—a true connection—that really added to the experience of this awesome festival.”

-HARUKA ITO, ATTENDEE

CLIFF DIVING FIELD TRIP // ZACHARY LIPTAK

“I want to see this event blow up and become a force to be reckoned with.”

-TONY VONTZ, EDGEVALE EXHIBITOR

NEW BELGIUM’S PHOTO BOOTH // HELLOTHEREYOU.COM

“I took advantage of some of the workshops and learned how to bike, fly fish, and make my own camp chair. After bike fishing, I met up with a friend of mine I’d told about the EXPO and who ended up taking one of the printmaking workshops. We sat on the lawn in the sun, ate food and drank beer after our classes, and shared what we had done. Life was good.”

-JENN LEVO, ATTENDEE

SURFBOARD SHAPING SCHOOL // COCKTAILS BY THOMAS AND SON’S // KEG DELIVERY BY URAL MOTORCYCLES

“Crazy, crazy, crazy daze…I was running around the whole time trying to party with everyone. I literally had to put a small fire out one day. When the whole fest was over I woke up and cried. It was a happy cry though. My best souvenir is a fresh scar on my hand from building the Maker’s Market booths.”

-SCRAPPERS, STAY WILD ’S MAIN HELPER

“The volunteer night was a great start to the weekend, mixing and mingling with other folks I then saw throughout the festival. Heck, I’ve gotten beers with a few since the expo! New friends are always awesome!”

-MICHELLE WEEK, VOLUNTEER/ATTENDEE

THE CHILL ZONE IN THE GRASS WITH THE NORTH BAR

“I went on the cliff jumping adventure and I loved it. It was a lot of fun and a great group. I bought the ticket to go cliff jumping before I bought my ticket to go to Portland! Everyone was interesting. I wish I had been able to stay longer to meet more people.”

-COURTNEY OWEN, ATTENDEE

“We loved the variety of vendors and interesting people who worked on or started those brands, as well as the diverse crowd that came through the event. As a vendor it was also fun to be amongst friends I’ve already made. Like Seth from Red Clouds, Emily and Tori from THE DREAM ROLL TO THE COAST // TOBY GRUBB

SeeSee, and also Magda! It was a great mix of people I know and love and new people I was super happy to meet.”

-JENNY CZINDER, STRANGE VACATION, EXHIBITOR

“I had a blast! I took the bike fishing workshop, which was excellent (bring it back!). I loved the trade show. But I heard a few complaints about the 4 p.m. closure — some would have liked it open later. Not sure how the vendors felt — I’m really glad they got to get out and not be stuck in their booth in the evening.”

-MICHAEL MANN, ATTENDEE

“Kook Out [the surf party field trip] was amazing!”

-HANNAH VERNASCO, ALL GOOD, EXHIBITOR

“I met so many interesting people who were either stoked on ESC and wanted to learn more, or had really interesting helpful info to share about hammocks and domes.”

BECKY GOEBEL LEADING THE DREAM ROLL TO THE COAST // TOBY GRUBB

-KARA CALDWELL, ESCAPE COLLECTIVE, EXHIBITOR, WORKSHOP LEADER

“I really enjoyed the energy. It was nice being welcomed since we were visiting from Arizona! I took the printmaking workshop, and had a great time. I would love to see multiple print making workshop sessions next year, and even an adventure hike drawing session would be fun as well for a field trip. The trade show had a good flow. Maybe move the knife throwing to an outside location? My first day at the expo, I went around and met all the vendors. By day two and three I was making purchases to bring back to my friends and family. There were some great bands this year. I would say the Matson 2 were one of my favorites. I would love to see Calvin Johnson next year. I liked how it was laid out, and even when it was busy you could still find a quiet patch when you needed it.”

OUR AWESOME VOLUNTEERS MOSTLY WORKED THE BOOZE GARDEN

-MATT CONNELLY, ATTENDEE

“I vote to rename it the Stay Wild Adventure Festival. EXPO sounds pretty trade showy with rod and drape and a big boring square room.”

-JASON GOODMAN, SWIFT INDUSTRIES, EXHIBITOR, WORKSHOP LEADER

ALL CLIFF JUMPING SKILL LEVELS ARE WELCOMED // ZACHARY LIPTAK

WE LEARNED A LOT FROM THE EXPERIMENT

For example, we won’t do all ages knife throwing in a crowded space again!

Next year will be different. See you there!

AUG 18-20, 2017 PORTLND, OREGON

THANK YOU 2016 SPONSORS

DEeK

NeXT ADVEnTURe OWnEr

DOWNHILL IS A DIRECTION WE’RE OKAY WITH GRAND AVE STORE 426 SE Grand Ave. Portland, OR 97214 503-233-0706 PORTLAND PADDLE SPORTS CENTER 624 SE 7th Ave. Portland, OR 97214 503-233-0706 SCAPPOOSE BAY PADDLING CENTER 57420 Old Portland Rd. Warren, OR 97053 503-397-2161

GOOD PRODUCTS MADE BY GOOD PEOPLE WORDS BY JUSTIN “SCRAPPERS” MORRISON LINEWORK BY KELLY THOMPSON // KTOM.US

SLIGHTLY CHOPPY // SLIGHTLYCHOPPY.COM There are not enough flags to fly for the places we love. Countries, states, and cities have flags. Now surf breaks do too! $80

UPPERCUT DELUXE // UPPERCUTDELUXE.COM Guys are filthy and disgusting wild animals, but they clean up pretty good when they have a good reason.

The reason is usually sex. Who am I kidding. The reason is always sex! If it wasn’t for sex we’d have no reason to clean our hairy wild animal bodies.

Combo Kit // $45

THE ATHLETIC // THEATHLETICCOMMUNITY.COM See these socks? See them! They see you. They have seventeen eyes on each sock. These socks have thirty four eyes together.

These eyes are from the Stay Wild logo because this sock was a collaboration that came out during the last Stay Wild EXPO. Designed in Portland. Made in the USA. $15

A RBOR / / A R BORCOLL ECT IVE.COM I saw a cactus wearing sunglasses riding this big mountain gun. The arrowhead tip of the board drove right through a silver rainbow causing it to shatter into a million mirrored diamonds dancing in the parking lot under a flickering street light. The music was all slashy, surf-styled synth and heavy metal drums with a full symphony of disco high notes.

Shreddy Krueger // $499.95

FORE ST & WAVE S / / F O R E S TA N D WAV E S .C O M I totally wear this blanket on the beach and around the campfire. It’s on my bed right now waiting for me. I’m probably too old to have this sort of relationship with a blanket.

You won’t tell anyone, right? Designed in Canada. Made in the USA. $80

PROOF / / IWA N T P R O O F. C O M

S A NU K / / S ANUK.COM

These shades are made of recycled aluminum and sustainably sourced wood. They are also made of Top Gun VHS tapes, sunlight dancing on the bottom of a trout-filled river, trout dreams, ice cream frost, and the feeling you get when you stand at the edge of a really high cliff.

Sundance Aluminum // $130

Feet are ugly. Feet are the deformed and neglected underworld of the human body. Feet are tortured artists.

Feet have weird taste that our beautiful brains will never understand. Fuzzy slippers are pure poetry for the feet.

Shor-Knitty // $65

ROLLING DEATH MAUI // ROLLINGDEATHMAUI.COM This gang of tattoo artists and motorcycle monkeys are having too much fun for us to ignore. They’re coming up with all new ways to hang loose.

Like the Shaka-Okole enamel pin. $8.99

S W IFT IN DUSTIES // B U I LTBY S W IFT.COM The Seeker is your new adventure buddy. It can hold art stuff, travel stuff, party stuff, and stuff stuff. We made it with Seattle-based bike bag builders Swift Collective, so you better believe it’s ready to rumble. $35 // Available at: staywildmagazine.com/shop

M OW GL I SURF & M OKUYOBI / / MO WG L IS U R F.C O M / / MO K U Y O B I.C O M

This CAMP shirt and patch set came out at the Stay Wild EXPO. They want to go camping with you. They want you to go camping with them. So why aren’t you camping now? $35 Shirt // $6 Patch (each)

GR ANT E D / / GRAN T E D C L O T H IN G .C O M Traditionally hand-knit Canadian wool sweaters are like campfire-warm spun gold to cold water surfers standing on the shore after a pounding swell on a stormy day. $410 (Canadian) $317.13 (US)

L ANDYACHT Z / / L A N D YA C H T Z .C O M

This skateboard is made from Pacific Yew in Canada. Historically the Yew was used by First Nations people to make bows and arrows because the wood was super flexy and strong. This is just one of the radical woods used in the Revival Series. $199

GR AIN // GRAINSU R F B O A R D S .C O M Making a wooden surfboard takes time, patience, and bio-resin.

A surfboard is one of the most beautiful things you can make, but if you suck at making things you should just buy one from Grain.

Either way, they want to help.

Price depends on what you want to do.

BURTON // BURTON.COM Snow bunnies rejoice!

Burton and Playboy have teamed up again.

Beanie // $29.95

AL L GOOD / / A L L G X X D .CO M ELEMENT // EL EMENT.COM It’s only natural that today’s nature lover would bring a skateboard backpacking to a secret campsite deep in the woods it build a halfpipe.

Black Sky Explorer Elite // $84

The world needs a puffy vest to stuff its hands into right now. The wind is blowing harder, the cold is a motherfucker, and the politics are total bullshit. We just need to hold tight in our puffy vest and wait for the right moment to move. The time will come when we trade our vest in for battle armor, but for right now let it be your bunker in the storm.

Tourist // $88

THE ORIGINAL NOMAD // THEORIGINALNOMAD.COM Where would you take a portable hot tub?

Really, just think about that. What a nice thing to think about. $700

SEE SEE NINJA SUIT // MYAIRBLASTER.COM D ANNER & TOP O DE SI GNS / / DANNER.COM // T O P O D E S IG N S .C O M This is a Danner collaboration boot with Topo Designs. I’d like to see this boot on Smokey the Bear as he stomps out a cannabis joint carelessly dropped by the cartoon beatnik bear Yogi. Smokey would be mad, but he’d give Yogi a hug and say, “If not you, who?” $380

I don’t wear underwear.

I also don’t get a bag when I get my burrito to go. I tell them to just put that warm little baby into the palm of my hand because I don’t have time to dick around. I need to keep moving. Pretty sure this See See motorcycle ninja suit feels the same way about burritos. $109.99

The Folsom

Forward to the next crazy venture.

JACK KEROUAC, ON THE ROAD , 1957

$4.20 USA $5.63 CANADA £3.38 UK ¥443.82 JAPAN