Greg Heil .com

Plan the Ultimate Adventure with Outside 365’s New Travel Resources Page

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Wed, 15 Sep 2021 11:42:00 +0000

I'm excited to announce the launch of a completely new section of the Outside 365 website: a van life travel resources page! This page will live permanently in the navigation bar under the name "Van Life" so you can always find it easily.

On this permanent resources page, I’ll briefly document all the stops on our van life adventure (in reverse chronological order), with links to guidebooks, articles, routes, and other resources that I’ve published from each destination. These links include both recent guides that I've published to FATMAP, but in some instances, I'll include links to articles that I've published in years past on other platforms. In this way, I'll be rounding up all of the top resources I've written for each adventure destination, no matter where they were published.

If you want to visit any of these destinations yourself, you can use these links as a shortcut to find the best and most exciting adventures! Hopefully, these guides will help you skip some of the wandering around aimlessly on less-than-ideal trails. And if you want even more information on a wider variety of activity types, be sure to head over to FATMAP.com.

Note that this page only documents our van life travels beginning in June of 2021, and not my extensive domestic and international travels over the previous 14+ years… unless I revisited said destination after June 2021. This was a difficult decision to make, as I love compiling exhaustive lists of trails, destinations, articles, and more. After briefly considering compiling information from my 14+ years of travel, I realized that I’ve been to hundreds of towns and ridden many thousands of mountain bike trails (somewhere between 5,000 and 6,000, depending on how you count it). Compiling such a list would be an absolutely monumental feat, so I decided to just focus on our travels beginning with the advent of van life.

Finally, if you're interested in more timely updates from our travels, be sure to follow @mtbgreg on Instagram.

Check out the travel resources here!

Total Immersion: Snowbirding in Tucson, Arizona

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Mon, 24 May 2021 10:00:00 +0000

Tucson, Arizona. Photo: Marcel Slootheer

Tucson, Arizona has long been a favorite destination of snowbirds from across North America. Traditional snowbirds were retirees who would seasonally flee from the cold and snow of the northern latitudes in exchange for the sunshine and perfect temperatures found in Arizona's desert or on Florida's beaches. But in today's mobile world, digital nomads also join the ranks of people who migrate with the seasons.

During my stay in Oregon's Rogue Valley, a switch flipped in the weather patterns, and the perfect fall temps plummeted into the 40s, accompanied by a torrent of rain. After weeks of rain with no end in sight, I found myself doubting that I could make it through an entire 6-month onslaught of such horrid weather.

After putting up with it for a couple of months, I finally pulled the plug on the dreary cold and hit the road south. It seems those old snowbirds have a few things figured out, as Tucson turned out to be the perfect spot to spend the months of January, February, March, and April.

Tucson lies just over an hour north of the Mexican border in a low elevation valley in the heart of the Sonoran Desert: a magical landscape filled with vibrant life. Here, you'll encounter almost every type of cactus imaginable, in all shapes and sizes and formations. In the spring, the cacti are covered with colorful blooms and the buds of new growth, and in between, wildflowers sprout in vast, colorful carpets from the desert floor. Birds flit from bush to tree to cactus, bees buzz amongst the flowers, roadrunners zip across the trail, and larger wildlife like javelina, coyotes, jackrabbits, deer, and more can be spotted at the right time of day.

After spending several months soaking in the rugged landscape and then subsequently heading back north to the desert zones that I'm more familiar with, I'm even more amazed at how rich with life the Sonoran Desert is. While sure, the Utah desert is a stunning place, if anything, it's an even more desolate environment when you compare the flora and fauna.

I'm in no way a city person, and living in a city of a million people did tend to drain me. Dealing with traffic and having to drive at least 20 minutes in any direction to reach a mountain bike trailhead was a tough transition from my normal ride-out-the-back-door lifestyle. And yet, for such a thriving city, the vast amount of mountain biking and hiking opportunities available right on the edge of town is astounding! I was impressed by the outdoor access on my first visit to Tucson a year ago, and now after taking a deep dive into the trails there, I'm even more blown away.

One incredible resource that I availed myself of several times per week is Tucson's fantastic network of paved bike paths that connect the city's various barrios together. With well over a hundred miles of vehicle-free bike paths, I could easily hop on my bike, pedal right out the door of my condo and onto the bike path, and go for a 20- or 30-mile ride in the evening without ever having to deal with a car. For road cyclists, these bike paths are like heaven on earth!

After pedaling hundreds of miles of mountain bike trails, spending many days hiking through the desert, and exploring hidden corners of the city on my road bike, I came away from my time in the desert with tons of fantastic memories (and photos!). Dig into this guidebook for a deep cut of the best routes that I explored during my 3-month snowbird stint in the incredible city of Tucson.

Subscribe to the Outside 365 Newsletter

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Fri, 19 Feb 2021 00:49:00 +0000

The flashing red lights and obnoxious dings of social media notifications manufacture a false sense of urgency that destroys our ability to be present and fully engaged. To cut through this distraction, why not sign up with your email to get Outside 365 sent straight to your inbox? Every weekly article will be waiting there for you to read, on your own schedule, whenever you feel like it.

Click here to subscribe to the newsletter!

Total Immersion: Going Rogue in Southern Oregon

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Wed, 03 Feb 2021 13:00:00 +0000

Few people will have "Southern Oregon" written on their bucket list of must-visit mountain destinations, but if you've ever driven through Southern Oregon's Rogue Valley while heading up or down Interstate 5, you might wonder why you've never heard of it before. Rolling mountain ridges surround the valley, with the tallest mountains soaring over a vertical mile above the valley floor. In the distance, snowcapped volcanic peaks tower over the landscape, providing omnipresent navigational landmarks. This mountainous landscape is home to hundreds of miles of trails and a lifetime of adventure... if you're willing to dig a little.

While the Rogue Valley wasn't originally high on my hit list, I had been vaguely familiar with the town of Ashland for some time. Mt. Ashland has long been a paradise for enduro riders looking to rip endless shuttle runs. In fact, mountain bikers have been skidding down the flanks of Mt. Ashland since before the word "enduro" was associated with the sport. These days, Ashland is a popular stop for the California Enduro Series, as it sits just across the California border. When the opportunity arose to immerse myself in the landscape of Southern Oregon, I jumped at the chance!

A four-month stay gave me plenty of time to work with. I not only pedaled and hiked as many trails as I could find in the Rogue Valley, but I ventured further afield to explore the Mount McLoughlin area, Klamath Falls, Grants Pass. Mount Shasta and Redding in Northern California. I also ventured to Oregon's Coast Range on a long weekend and spent a week exploring Oakridge, but you can find out more about those two stops in separate guidebooks.

Thanks to my extended stay in true vagabonding style, this guidebook is chock full of adventures, both large and small. But if you're looking for a greatest hits list of the best mountain bike trails in Southern Oregon, be sure to read this dedicated guidebook.

While naturally I focused on shredding singletrack, my stint in the Rogue Valley spanned the changing of the seasons from late summer to mid-winter. After soaking in as much of the beautiful fall colors as possible, I had to embrace the cold and the rain, powering through less-than-optimal trail and weather conditions. But finally, finally, it began to snow! While I didn't get to spend a full season snowboarding at Mt. Ashland, I was fortunate enough to thoroughly explore the small ski area before departing the region in January. In uncharacteristic style, you'll find both summer and winter adventures in this guidebook.

Even after four months spent exploring the region, there are still stones that I didn't get the chance to turn over, still trails that I didn't get to ride or hike. But the ones I did explore thoroughly impressed me! Most notably, the shuttle runs on Mount Ashland can rank among the best shuttles in the Western USA. The backcountry rides near McLoughlin are wild and immersive. And the purpose-built trails on the Mountain of the Rogue are the stuff mountain bike dreams are made of.

The next time you're heading up or down the West Coast, consider a lengthy stop in Southern Oregon!

Click here for the full guidebook.

Top 20 Trails of 2020: The Best New Mountain Bike Trails I Explored in 2020

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Mon, 04 Jan 2021 14:00:00 +0000

Photo: Marcel Slootheer

I can't even begin to explain how incredibly "unprecedented" the year 2020 was. (And if I never have to hear that word again, I'll die a happy man.) But we all lived through it—we all have our own experiences to share from 2020 and the COVID 19 pandemic. We all had our plans for the year completely derailed.

So when you're faced with an utter shit storm of a year, what do you do? Focus on the few things that are within your control, and then make the most of them.

While international travel was off the table for 2020, thousands of miles of the world's best mountain bike trails are found right here in the good ole US of A. Instead of hopping on a plane I slid behind the wheel of my car, and the once-mighty interstate system of my dysfunctional country took me from Colorado to Arizona, Pennsylvania, Utah, Northeastern Oregon, California, Arizona again, more Colorado, a bigger dose of Utah, and a large helping of Southern Oregon to wrap things up.

Over the course of this chaotic year, I rode dozens of the nation's top trails and logged thousands of miles of pedaling. While I did re-ride a few perennial favorites, I spent most of the year exploring tons of new-to-me trails and destinations. Below, you'll find 20 of the very best trails that I rode for the first time in 2020.

Whittling the list down to 20 was a real challenge. Even just naming my favorites left me with a list of about 40, and I had to cut it in half. But the 20 that remain are all creme de la creme singletrack trails. All of these selections qualify as world-class mountain bike experiences, even if nobody has heard a few of these names

While this list is just an overview, I've penned dozens of guidebooks for FATMAP about these various destinations. So if anything here piques your interest, you can definitely dive deeper into each region and get more info.

Topping the list of my favorite trails of the year were a handful of routes in the Cascades. I don't know why this region doesn't get more ink, but flying down the loamy singletrack of the Cascade mountains is downright euphoric! O'Leary Mountain, Lawler, Eula Ridge, Heckletooth, and Rye Spur collectively convinced me of the supremacy of the dark black dirt in the Cascades.

Somehow I've reached the end of the year and I'm still only in mediocre shape—blame the shuttle runs. Apparently, 2020 was the year of the point-to-point shuttle for me. The Big Boulder IMBA Epic, Time Warp, WOW Trail, O'Leary Mountain, Lawler, Eula Ridge, Heckletooth, Classic Mt. Ashland Shuttle, Pauley Creek, Mills Peak, Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, Mrazek Trail, and 9k Trail all thoroughly impressed me... and that's only the highlights reel of the shuttles I rode this year.

By far the best overall mountain bike destination I explored for the first time in 2020 was Downieville. While I had briefly passed through Downieville in 2012, this was my first deep dive into the region, and I'll definitely be back! Mt. Elwell along with the Big Boulder IMBA Epic, Pauley Creek, and Mills Peak especially impressed me.

Early in the year, I spent a month living and riding in Northeastern Oregon, and two of my favorite rides from my time there were this loop at MERA and the Umatilla Rim Loop. For more on Northeastern Oregon, be sure to dig into this guidebook.

Finally, there are a few outliers that don't fit any of the above categories. While I've ridden almost every trail in Colorado's Arkansas Valley, this spring I had an absolute ball pedaling the brand-new Camp Elevation and Unchained trails. While Spence Mountain is technically in the Cascades, the dry dirt there is much more reminiscent of Bend, since it's on the eastern side of the mountains. The descent on North Ridge is also arguably one of the most technical trails in Oregon. Finally, while I spent a couple of weeks riding in the Sonoran desert this spring, only one of the rides there managed to earn a spot on this top 20 list: Golder Ranch.

Whether you live in the United States, Canada, Europe, or someplace further afield, each of our home regions offers many lifetimes worth of adventures to enjoy. While international travel is a life-changing experience that everyone should take full advantage of, don't let limiting factors outside of your control rob you of the joy of exploration. Sometimes, the best adventures are hiding right under our noses.

Check out the full guidebook here!

Total Immersion: Trails, Rivers, and Lakes of Northeast Oregon

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Mon, 28 Dec 2020 14:00:00 +0000

There’s no one right way to travel: travel can and should look incredibly different from person to person, and from one season of life to the next. The COVID-19 pandemic is undoubtedly a season of life that has dramatically impacted how and where we travel.

After my three-month Total Immersion tour through three different European countries, which you may have read about here on FATMAP, I temporarily re-integrated back into life in Colorado. And even with a global pandemic raging, I realized that I wasn’t ready to sit in one place for too long. I wanted to continue traveling, but slowly… and health-consciously.

A delightful series of unplanned events led me to spend a month and a half living, working, and exploring in northeast Oregon. Since Oregon is filled with epic mountain towns such as Bend, Hood River, Oakridge, and more, I had spent a respectable amount of time in Oregon before… but never in the northeastern corner.

But Northeast Oregon is entirely different from the better-known destinations further to the west. This region is a wild and sparsely-populated area of the nation, with mountains ranging from rolling hills to jagged, rocky peaks. The area is dominated by the Blue Mountains and the Wallowa Mountains, but unfortunately for mountain bikers, most of the Wallowas are protected by the expansive Eagle Cap Wilderness—the largest wilderness area in Oregon. While mountain bikes may be banned, the Wilderness Area does make for great hiking and peak climbing! And aside from some small swathes of wilderness, the Blue Mountains are largely open to mountain biking.

Northeast Oregon is possibly best-known for its impressive web of wild and scenic rivers—most notably, the Grande Ronde. This region is also home to some beautiful lakes, including the idyllic Wallowa Lake framed by the soaring peaks of the Wallowa Mountains.

During my time in the area, I did my best to explore as much as I possibly could… but this wild and untamed landscape is home to a lifetime of adventures. In this guidebook, I’ve shared an array of my favorite adventures from my Total Immersion into the landscape of Northeast Oregon. Read on and learn about the best mountain bike rides in MERA, to exploring the Umatilla Rim Trail, to hiking deep into the Eagle Cap Wilderness, pedaling endless gravel roads in the expansive national forests, and exploring both lakes and rivers on my standup paddleboard. This guidebook can easily help you plan an epic multi-sport itinerary to rival the most popular mountain destinations in North America... with a fraction of the crowds!

Dive into the full guidebook, here.

Mr. Toad's Wild Ride: One Classic Trail that Still Packs a Punch

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Mon, 21 Dec 2020 14:00:00 +0000

Mountain bike trails seem to be immortal entities. Similar to roads, you might think that once a trail is built, it will stay like that forever—never moving, never changing, permanent and immutable.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Mountain bike trails are *constantly* changing over time. Even the best, most sustainably-built trails evolve as the years roll on. The trail tread wears down and wears in, with fast lines appearing in the trail corridor. Some trails get rougher, while others get smoother. New features may be built to make the trail more entertaining, and others may be removed to make it easier. Most notably, erosion plays a huge role, sometimes turning buff, easy trails into challenging messes of ruts and rocks.

Mountain bike trails even change their paths over time. Trails are often rerouted onto more sustainable alignments, and sometimes they're closed down to make way for other, newer alternatives. Nothing is permanent, except for change itself.

Sometimes this change is slow, and classic trails serve humanity for decades, over even hundreds of years. A long list of historic trails have helped shape and define the sport of mountain biking, emerging as classic rides that every mountain biker worth their salt has to ride at least once.

The problem is, many of the so-called "classics" have indeed changed over time, and the trail's present reality doesn't always hold up to the fond memories that we have from years past. Yet other trails retain their character over the years, drawing riders back repeatedly while delighting new riders who have never before tasted their sweet fruit.

Mr. Toad's Wild Ride is one of the latter. Established in 1982, this steep trail drops off of the venerable Tahoe Rim Trail (TRT) and descends quickly down the mountainside into the valley below. While it can be ridden as a loop, many riders choose to shuttle part way up the highway and then climb the TRT to the top of Mr. Toad's.

I chose the shuttle option and got dropped off at an upper TRT trailhead. Despite the shuttle bump, it's still about 1,400 feet of climbing up the TRT to reach the top of Mr. Toad's. But with sublime singletrack to pedal and occasional views through the trees, the feet ticked by quickly, and before I knew it, it was time to pull the knee pads up and drop in.

Mr. Toad's has long held a reputation as a gnarly, demanding descent, but sometimes it's tough to know how much credence to give these reports. Was Mr. Toad's just challenging on the fully rigid mountain bikes with tiny wheels and steep geometry of yesteryear, or does it still serve up a big dose of challenge today?

Shortly after dropping in, I found the answer to my question: Mr. Toad's *definitely* still packs a punch! The trail drops through a veritable boulder field, and especially for a first-timer exploring solo, spotting the best line through the sea of rock can be a challenge. In a few sections, I stopped to scope the line, determining exactly how I would approach the piles of boulders. In others, I would blast down an obvious line, then look off to the side and spot an alt line that launches off a massive 5-foot boulder, gapping to a smooth landing further down the mountainside. While simply making it down Mr. Toad's without a crash is a worthy accomplishment, this trail provides a smorgasbord of challenge for expert mountain bikers.

Despite stopping for photos, the 2,700-foot descent flew by in a blur, and before I knew it, I had left the rocks behind and was rolling through smooth singletrack on my way to the lower trailhead. Whoever first routed this line down a vast mountainside of cliffs and boulders was a true visionary, and I hope that wherever that person is today, they know what a classic trail they created in Mr. Toad's Wild Ride!

Total Immersion: Exploring Finale Ligure’s Endless Singletrack

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Mon, 14 Dec 2020 14:00:00 +0000

Many tourists will "visit" a city or a country for a day (or even less) and then consider that city checked off their list. Ridden up the Eiffel Tower in an elevator? OK, I guess you've seen all Paris has to offer…

As you can tell from this Total Immersion series, I don't view travel in nearly the same way. Despite spending three months straight in Europe and maxing out my tourist visa, I didn't visit a single new country on this trip. In fact, of the three cities where I spent a significant amount of time, I had already previously visited two of them.

During my first FATMAP team trip in 2018, I had the opportunity to ride Roller Coaster, the most famous trail in Finale Ligure, Italy. After just a brief taste of Finale, I was absolutely floored by the quality of the riding and the vibrant mountain bike culture. Was it a fluke? Or was Finale *really* that good? I decided that I'd have to go back and drink more deeply of this delectable Italian singletrack so that I could find out for myself. And so, Finale Ligure ended up being my finale—the third and final stop on my Total Immersion Tour.

I took the opportunity to spend two and a half weeks riding the trails with knowledgeable locals, visiting the bike shops, eating the delicious Italian food, and generally getting a feeling for the vibe of Finale Ligure. I found that even in the offseason, Finale Ligure boasts a better-developed mountain bike trail system, mountain bike tourism infrastructure, and mountain bike culture than any of the resort towns I've personally visited in the Alps. And yes, that *is* a serious claim! I still have a ton of destinations I want to check off in the Alps, but there's a reason that Finale Ligure has been christened with the title, "Whistler by the Sea."

The verdict is in: it wasn't a fluke. Finale Ligure really is *that* good!

Dive into my loop guidebook here, and my shuttle guidebook here.

Total Immersion: Life as a Mountain Biker in Barcelona

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Mon, 07 Dec 2020 14:00:00 +0000

As the chill hand of winter slowly tightened its grasp on the Chamonix Valley, I knew I had to head south to keep riding my mountain bike through November and into December. The next two stops on my Total Immersion European Tour would find me on the coast of the Mediterranean searching for warm rays of sunshine and gnarly singletrack to shred.

Stop number two on my tour wasn’t going to be a typical mountain destination. Instead, I hopped a plane to the bustling metropolis of Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain.

The main impetus for traveling to Barcelona wasn’t actually mountain biking. Rather, my primary objective was to spend a month living and working with a group of digital nomads known as the WiFi Tribe. But… any potential destination had to at least offer *some* decent mountain biking. I had flown into Barcelona on a previous trip and had ridden with a few locals in the Pyrenees, so I sent a few messages, did some digging online, and it looked like yeah, Barcelona had access to some rad riding!

As I explored Barcelona, the mass of humanity was a shock to the system after living in Chamonix during the tourist town’s off season. As the weeks rolled on, I couldn’t believe how dense and concentrated the city felt. I looked it up, and Barcelona has an average population density of 16,000 people per square kilometer, spiking as high as 36,000 in the Eixample neighborhood. To put that in perspective, the population of Tokyo, the densest city in Japan, is just 6,158 people per square kilometer, and Denver, Colorado's is 1,706 people per square kilometer.

You might think that living in such a dense city would make mountain biking impractical if not impossible, but in Barcelona’s case, you’d be wrong! Barcelona is sandwiched between the Mediterranean Sea on its southeastern side and a low mountain range on its northwestern side known as Collserola, most of which has been designated as a national park. Despite being surrounded by cities on all sides, this massive park covers over 8,295 hectares of protected land, and it’s filled with miles upon miles of rugged singletrack trails!

Accessing Collserola is an absolute cinch from anywhere in the metropolitan area. Generally, you can pedal right up into the mountains and start shredding, but if you want to save your legs, you can hop on the metro, ride it to the Vallvidrera Funiculuar, and take the funicular to the top of El Tibidabo and the boundary of the national park.

For a deep dive on the best trails in Collserola, be sure to check out the guidebook I compiled during my 5 weeks in Barcelona!

Total Immersion: Riding and Living in the Chamonix Valley

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Mon, 30 Nov 2020 14:00:00 +0000

My love affair with European travel began with a work assignment in Sweden in 2015. As an American who hadn’t traveled internationally (save for Canada and Mexico), the history, culture, lifestyle, and beauty of Sweden instantly captivated me, prompting me to return to Europe again and again. Since then, I’ve traveled to Europe at least once per year (if not more).

After numerous 1-2 week trips to Europe along with a month-long tour through the Pyrenees and the Alps, I had the tourist approach pretty well dialed in. But bouncing from place-to-place every couple of days can be very stressful and draining. Such a quick mode of travel gives you just a taste of each town that you visit, leaving you hungry for more. I wanted a deeper immersion into European life, with at least a month planted in a single town in Europe (and preferably longer).

During the fall of 2019, I finally carved out the time to make such a trip happen. I decided to stop in not one but three different destinations, spending a month in each spot.

First up? Chamonix, France!

FATMAP was born in the rich mountain culture of the Alps, with Chamonix specifically serving as FATMAP’s defacto mountain headquarters. After spending so much time staring at the Mont Blanc in FATMAP and reading through the various adventure descriptions published by writers over the years, I knew that I had to see this place for myself. I knew that my first priority during my 2019 trip had to be a deep dive into the epic destination of Chamonix.

Travel will always throw you unexpected curveballs, and in Chamonix, due to other time constraints, my first curveball was arriving right as all of the bike-friendly lifts closed down for the season. Undeterred by this obstacle, I set out to still explore as many mountain bike trails as possible… even though I had to ride every single trail the hard way!

Despite that challenge, over the course of a month, I was still able to hit the majority of the highest-acclaimed mountain bike trails in the region… and even a few under-the-radar sleeper hits. For an in-depth survey of the best singletrack mountain biking in this world-renowned destination, be sure to read through my guidebook!

New Project Is Now LIVE! Outside365.blog

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Tue, 17 Nov 2020 21:12:00 +0000

I'm ridiculously excited to announce an all-new writing project today! This new website—"blog," for lack of a better term—is a deeper exploration of my Outside 365 project, and a closer look at how nature and exercise connect to our daily lives. You can find it at Outside365.blog

After being active outside every day for 845 days straight, I've only become more and more convinced of the importance of this idea. Over the past two and a half years, I've realized that going outside is actually kind of a revolutionary idea—and only more so in 2020. I've even had friends join the challenge, and they've shared with me how dramatically it has impacted their lives. So I'm going all-in with a full website to explore these ideas in depth.

I've been working on this site and prepping fresh articles for a couple of months, and I'm pumped to start releasing these pieces. If you click on over, you'll see that the site is populated with a number of articles I've written off and on over the past few years, but at the top there are a couple fresh ones to dive into. If you want an overview of the Outside 365 project, be sure to read the Manifesto linked in the navigation, and stay tuned for a little more back story in a couple of weeks.

This new blog is a passion project, and right now the site and the marketing strategy (or lack thereof) is in V1. Please bear with me as I professionalize a few things over time...

For now, I would love it if you were to check out the new site and read the first piece, "Strangely, Going Outside Is a Revolutionary Idea." Any thoughts or comments? Hit me up on the 'Gram!

The Problem with the Research into Wellness and the Outdoors

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Tue, 03 Sep 2019 21:15:00 +0000

Photo: Marcel Slootheer

Early on in my Outside 365 challenge, I read The Nature Fix by Florence Williams. Her book essentially recaps all of the current research examing how the outdoors impacts our wellness and wholeness as human beings. If you’re at all interested in how the outdoors affects our well being—and hopefully you are if you’re reading this right now—I highly recommend giving this book a read.

The one problem that I have with most of the scientific research being conducted in this realm is that it all seems to operate along the same basic lines. All of the research essentially asks, “what is the minimum dose of nature that we can give people that will positively impact their well being?” The key differences between the various forms of research, as far as I can tell, are along the lines of what types of doses of nature to give people, and how the positive impact on their well being is measure.

Some of the doses are merely exposure to green space and plants, whereas others are true immersive wilderness experiences. Some of the positive impacts are in mental and emotional health, whereas others relate to cognitive performance in work and school. And of course, the physical benefits are already largely taken for granted.

But as I read about all of this research, I couldn’t help but think to myself: “They’re asking the wrong question!”

The question shouldn’t be, “What’s the minimum amount of time that I need to pull myself away from my video game console in order to remain a well-rounded, mostly-functional human?” The question should be, “How do I inject the absolute maximum amount of time in the outdoors into my daily life?!”

Because the answers that the research is finding just… isn’t much exposure to nature in the grand scheme of things. The recommended dose varies depending on the type of exposure, but a few hours per week in a green space outdoors coupled with one weekend getaway to a natural area per month should do it for most people. At least, according to the research...

Perhaps “most people” is the important qualifier. You and I may not be most people. Shit, I can get that much nature in my life without even thinking about it. If I only spend 4-5 hours outside in a given week, I am NOT in a good place mentally or emotionally! Sometimes I feel like I need at least that amount of nature immersion on a daily basis in order to not go insane.

I’m happy that the scientists are gathering concrete data to show just how important living life outdoors is to our human flourishing, but it’s a conclusion that naturalist writers have known for centuries. So great, the science ways supports what we already knew to be true.

Huzzah.

But we need to move beyond the science. We need to move beyond the empirically verified conclusions. Just checking a box and saying, “Hey, I hit my number of outdoor hours for the week,” misses the point entirely.

We need to forge a new connection to nature. A new connection to the natural world. And it doesn’t happen by just meeting our minimum nature dosage.

(Note to head off angry messages: Of course this is how the scientific research is being run, because that's the only true way to measure these sorts of things empirically. Even as an English major, I understand that (sort of). But the point is that we need to take the scientific findings, say "thank you," and then proceed to move beyond the data.)

PS To keep up with my latest professional writing, check out my latest guidebooks published on FATMAP:

Back to Being Contrary?

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Sun, 18 Aug 2019 00:54:00 +0000

I took a break from being a contrarian. After I left Singletracks and wound down my Over a Beer column, for the past year and a half I washed my hands of controversial writing, save for a few passion pieces here and there.

I think the main reason I left persuasive writing behind is that I ran out of things that I gave enough fucks about to invest my blood, sweat, and tears as I committed that passion to a string of written words. See, writing about trails, for instance—or even gear, destinations, what have you—is relatively vanilla. You don’t need to care that much. You just need to care enough to do an excellent job, show up, and portray the experience in the most engaging way possible.

When it comes to persuasive writing, or opinion writing, or editorializing—however you choose to label it—I think that the writer just has to care. If they don’t care, that comes across as well, in a piece of vanilla shit that nobody wants to finish reading.

I think I may have stumbled on the next thing that I’m passionate about, the next thing that I think’s worth giving a fuck about enough to write about it: getting outside.

The irony comes on quick, as preaching about the beauty of the outdoors, the thirst for the wild places of the world that’s ingrained deep in our souls, seems like preaching to the choir. My clique already agrees with me heart and soul about our inherent need to escape the confines of civilization and experience the wild beauty of the wilderness.

And yet, this belief isn’t widespread in our civilization. On the contrary, if we look at how most of humanity lives, it’s chained to a desk in a cubicle in a high rise building in Tokyo, or New York, or London. It isn’t walking beneath the trees, soaking in the view from the mountain top, it’s chasing the dollars and cents in the checking account.

While my clique may already be in sync with me, the perception in the wider world needs to change if we’re to remain human. If we’re to remain healthy and whole.

Actually, I don’t think I’m seeking to be a contrarian simply for the sake of arguing. Rather, the best label for what I seek to portray is passion, and expressing passion naturally irritates the people that believe the opposite. And for once, I’m ok with that.

So I’m going to spend some time beating this drum. Hopefully it doesn’t get too annoying or obnoxious, and instead, it serves to send a signal that we need this. We need to breathe deep of the fresh air, to embrace the risk of adventure and feel the fear of the unknown. So let’s go, and let’s do.

PS To keep up with my latest professional writing, check out my series of articles from my trip to Indonesia with Patrol Bikes:

Outside Day 365

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Fri, 26 Jul 2019 20:00:00 +0000

I can’t believe it’s here! For years I had a goal stuck in the back of my mind, that for the life of me I couldn’t seem to actualize. That goal was to go outside and be active every day, for 365 days straight. I called it #Outside365.

I first wrote about this idea back in 2016. After having my 365-day streak derailed by two different surgeries and several other injuries, somehow I’ve made it. Today marks 365 continuous days of being active outside!

I’m sure I’ll have some better-formed thoughts for you soon, but in many ways reaching this milestone feels a bit anticlimactic. Yes, there were highs and lows, and plenty of crazy activities like purposely forcing myself to walk a mile at 3am to get to a train station in Stapleton before spending the next day and a half on airplanes on my way to Indonesia.

But completing the goal feels anti-climactic because, after a few months of exercising every single day, the decisions required go from a challenge ("when will I fit in my adventure today?") to a habit ("time for my evening mountain bike ride”) to a lifestyle where you no longer think about going outside… it’s just what you do whenever you have a free moment.

In fact, I’ve let the outside permeate my soul so deeply that after weeks of living in a camper, sleeping in a house or hotel feels strange and unnatural. Even sitting in a couch to relax seems like a weird choice, and I’d much prefer a hammock strung between two trees.

#outside365 has become a way of life, and I don’t plan to stop any time soon!

Digging Deep, Even when you Really Don't Want To

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Wed, 16 Jan 2019 12:49:00 +0000

Undertaking a challenge to do something—anything—every day for 365 days straight means that you get to enjoy amazing opportunities that you may never have embraced before, but that at other times, you’ll need to buckle down and grunt out some truly difficult efforts. This maxim is no less true with the Outside 365 Challenge.

Some days, my daily time moving outside is spent walking along a beach in perfect weather—the waves crashing on the shore warm against my feet, the breeze cool against my face. And other times, I have to ask myself, “why am I doing this again?”

One of the latter took place on the morning of a travel day in which I was headed to warmer climes, but as I slapped my alarm into quietness at 5am, well before the sun arose, I looked out the window and realized that not only was it well before dawn, pitch black and cold, but Central Colorado had been consumed by a snowstorm.

I added extra layers and a thick pair of boots to my planned attire, strapped on my headlamp, and headed out into the depths of the early morning hours.

With the snow whipping into my face, the light of my headlamp bounced back into my eyes, blinding me with light instead of darkness. The only thing I could see was the blank snow in front of me. As I walked a route that I’ve walked dozens of times during this challenge, I navigated the few curves in the road almost by feel, turning around at a place that I’d predetermined as one of my minimum destinations.

Thankfully on the return I had my tracks to follow, but I initially had planned to spend my walk sipping coffee and waking up for the day. Now, having one hand (sans glove) out of my pocket holding my coffee mug turned out to be the complete opposite of relaxing. Almost no part of this experience was redeemable.

And yet.

And yet I was out walking in a snowstorm at 5am, and the absolute peace and quiet and utter solitude, even in my own neighborhood, was magnificent. Choosing to get out and move turned out to be well-worth it after all.

It always is.

Outside Day 173

When Is Enough, Enough?

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Sun, 06 Jan 2019 16:14:00 +0000

Today was my first day of skiing in two years!! In addition to two surgeries, I’ve spent months and months in physical therapy and thousands of dollars on medical bills as I’ve prepared for today.

Is it OK to be honest when our outdoor experiences aren’t actually amazing? Hope so, because here goes nuthin'.

While it was an absolutely gorgeous day to be out in the mountains and the views from the Continental Divide were to die for, I can’t help but be terrified of adding a fourth or fifth year onto this absolute mess of ACL surgeries and subsequent recoveries. Despite wearing a brand new knee brace, I could still feel the weakness in my knee during every single turn I made.

Was it just pain from my patellar tendon that’s still ornery a full year after the most recent surgery? Was it my ACL groaning under the strain? Ultimately, does it even matter what the root cause is?

It’s no exaggeration to say that downhill skiing has been one of the most important and defining aspects of my life, but when is enough enough? Do I keep working on strengthening, struggling slowly forward? Or do I raise the white flag?

If yesterday clarified one thing to me, it’s that I can easily head up into the high alpine and enjoy the beauty of the snowy mountains from the seat of my bike. We have so many different types of adventure available to us here in Colorado, that I don’t feel like I have to sacrifice what modicum of health I do have on the altar of powder skiing.

I don’t have any answers yet about what the future holds. But maybe it’s time to finally buy a snowboard.

Outside Day 163.

In Praise of Lowering Expectations

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Sun, 16 Dec 2018 11:25:00 +0000

Fat biking in Fourmile. Photo: Scott Anderson

I have this problem where I unwittingly try to make everything I do more difficult for myself. This is evident even in my original Outside 365 Manifesto. In that manifesto, I created a well-defined rule for what it meant to get outside and be active.

The more years that roll on, the more I become convinced that living life doesn’t have to consist of yearning for what you do not have and struggling to achieve it. Rather, living life well is more closely tied to doing the best that you can with the resources you have at your disposal.

Instead of setting my Outside 365 bar at one mile of walking, 30 minutes of biking, etc., I removed the bar entirely and simply said, “if I intentionally get outside and move, that is enough.”

Early on in my challenge, many of my outside days didn’t even consist of taking the dog for a one-mile walk. It may have been eight tenths, a half a mile, or even on one or two days 0.4 miles—paltry in comparison to many other days where I’d spend hours in the saddle, covering dozens of miles of singletrack.

Along the way, here’s something I realized: even if I only walk a half a mile, that half a mile is infinitely better than nothing. There’s a common saying that “no matter how slow you’re going, you’re beating everyone on the couch.” Actually, I’d upgrade that statement to say you’re moving infinitely faster and infinitely further than the person on the couch. The rate of increase, of a half a mile compared to 0 miles, isn’t 50% of 1 mile or 100% of 0, no—it is infinitely better.

Of course, that revelation isn’t groundbreaking or even original, but here’s the upshot: removing unnecessary rules, lowering my standards, and simply choosing to go outside and move my body has resulted in me actually succeeding in getting outside. While perhaps some days are still only 0.8 miles, others are 30 miles of mountain biking, two hours of paddleboarding, and so much more.

Sometimes if you lower your expectations, you end up accomplishing so much more than you’d ever have dreamed!

Outside day 143.

The Importance of Momentum

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Sun, 18 Nov 2018 15:37:00 +0000

CDT on the way to Tank Seven. Rider: Greg Heil. Photo: Marcel Slootheer

Early on in the year it occurred to me that I was unlikely to meet my Outside 365 goal in 2018. Here’s one reason why: so often when we set goals like this one, goals where we seek to change our lives on an ongoing basis, we begin from ground zero. From a standing start, we intend to launch full-speed into our life change projects.

In reality, that never works out quite the way I wish it would. Exploding off the starting blocks is a tactic for a sprint race, not for a marathon.

If there’s one skill you must learn to become a better-than-average mountain biker, it’s this: how to conserve momentum. Momentum is the key to riding a bike well. Carrying your momentum will take you up and over obstacles without requiring you to put in a lot—or any—work. Instead of looking at the steep upslope off in the distance as requiring a bunch of pedaling to climb up, if you can instead conserve your momentum from the previous downhill, you’ll sail straight up the next climb.

So before I started logging my Outside 365 days again—instead of sprinting off the starting blocks for a marathon race—I waited until I had a little momentum built up. At some point, I realized that I had inadvertently been active almost every day for a full month without even trying and in that moment, I realized I finally had the momentum required to launch back into this project.

100 Days

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Sun, 11 Nov 2018 17:42:00 +0000

Some years ago, I set a goal for myself to go outside and be active every day, for 365 days straight. I embarked on the mission (again) in late 2017, and at the beginning of 2018 I wrote a manifesto about this idea.

The beginning of the Outside 365 project in late 2017 wasn’t the first time I’ve begun this project. And it wasn’t to be the last. As I wrote in mid-January, if I fail, I have a very simply plan: start again.

And as it turned out… I did fail, or at least, I had to stop and take a break. I’m not quite sure how many false starts the Outside 365 project has been through over the years… but it’s been several.

Despite those numerous false starts, my commitment hasn’t wavered, and the goal has stayed (mostly) the same. Then sometime last week, I checked my logs and realized that I had been active for over 100 days in a row. In fact, today is Day 108.

Achievement—It Feels GOOD

I still have a long ways to go to reach 365 days of activity in a row, but reaching the 100-day mark feels monumental because, through perhaps half a dozen false starts, not once have I passed 100 days in a row.

75+? Yes. 100? No… at least, not until last week.

Also within the past week, I have ticked over another milestone: moving from 29 years old to 30. By most standards, turning 30 (or any decade birthday) is a pretty big deal, and if my Instagram feed is any indication, it tends to be the cause for much celebration and pseudo-insightful musings.

As I reflected on both of these milestones, I realized something interesting: I’m much prouder of and I feel much more accomplished by reaching 100 days in my Outside 365 journey than I do reaching 30 years of age.

Here’s the thing: in order to reach 30 years of age, all I have to do is not die and I’ll have succeeded. Sadly, numerous people still don’t reach this milestone—but billions others do.

But in order to reach 100 days of outside activity, I had to actually put in some effort. I had to try and apply myself in order to achieve that goal. I had to pull on my clothes and head outside to move my body, even if that meant walking in the pouring rain down a dark, unknown road after sunset in Norway after 30+ hours straight of traveling.

So this week, if I’m going to truly celebrate any achievement, it won’t be turning 30 (despite the excellent party last night—thanks friends!). It will be reaching 100 days in my Outside 365 journey.

Over the next couple of days, I’ll share a few insights and changes that I made to my approach that have allowed me to reach this milestone for the first time.

Carefully Choosing our Own Metrics of Success

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Thu, 08 Nov 2018 22:59:00 +0000

Hogback Trail, Canon City, CO. Photo: Philip Sterling

Possibly the most important Over a Beer column that I wrote for Singletracks was titled, “How do you define success?” In it, I was earnestly seeking to understand how Singletracks readers define success in their own lives, but the piece fell pretty flat with the audience.

It has struck me more than once that earnestness doesn’t necessarily go over well with most mountain bikers, and this particular column only drove that point home. Ok, there were a handful of great responses—some from friends that I respect and admire—and for those, I am immensely grateful.

This idea of success has been stuck in my craw ever since then (almost a year now), because it strikes me as an interesting and critically important question. It is a question that each and every one of us must answer for ourselves. We must choose how we define success.

Of course, you could choose to abdicate your decision and let someone else define success for you. Perhaps you listen to a news pundit that defines success along their political or ideological lines, and you buy in wholeheartedly. Perhaps you listen to a politician and buy their definition of success. Or perhaps you’re convinced by a rich businessman or famous author. Or maybe you read a religious text that espouses a definition of success and because everyone in your circle of influence subscribes to it, you buy into that definition instead.

If we adopt someone else’s definition of success, I’m afraid that it will never hold the same kind of core foundational power, motivation, or become the driving force in our lives that it could be if we instead chose to do the work to define success for ourselves. In order to form some sort of core belief on this topic, I personally believe that we should all sit down and think about success and say, “Ok, all of these people define success in these various ways. What do I believe, and most importantly, why?”

At the end of the day, whether or not we become “successful,” whether or not we are happy with our lives and the progress we’re making—these evaluations come down to the metrics that we’re using, the goalposts and mile markers that we’re measuring against. If we’ve chosen the wrong goalposts, the wrong definition of success, we’ll never be successful.

Or perhaps worse: we’ll be “successful” at completely wrong and ultimately, utterly meaningless things.

Podcast Interview with Mountain Bike Radio - The Philosophy of Mountain Bike Media

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Fri, 07 Sep 2018 19:08:00 +0000

Trail: Tank Seven. Rider: Yours Truly. Photo: Marcel Slootheer

I had the opportunity recently to sit down and chat with Ben Welnak of Mountain Bike Radio. We spoke a bit about my history, but ended up doing a bit of a deep dive into what could--for lack of a better term--be called the philosophy of mountain bike media. I may have gotten a touch overly philosophical, but hey--that's par for the course. If you're interested, check out the recording here:

Delayed Gratification Meets Real Life

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Sun, 19 Aug 2018 14:20:00 +0000

Sunshine Trail, Telluride, CO. Rider: Greg Heil. Photo: Marcel Slootheer

When I think about planning for the future, the math makes sense.

Work hard now, save and invest, and then in the future you’ll have more money and more time. Take a few days off of riding now to prevent overtraining, so you can ride longer and harder next weekend. Get surgery now so you don’t need a full knee replacement in 15 years.

The math and the logic always make sense. Put in the time now, get the reward later. We’re even taught that the ability to delay gratification is a form of maturity, and the desire for instant gratification is a childish longing that we ought to grow out of with age.

The irony is that while the math of delayed gratification adds up on paper, in real life it rarely seems to work that way. Yes, we can skip a few bike rides in order to let our legs recover… only to get to the planned weekend ride and have the skies open up and pour rain, or what was a set of sniffles transform into a full-blown knock-you-onto-the-couch head cold.

We try to delay gratification for the hope of an even better life in the future, and while I want to think that the spreadsheet knows best, the spreadsheet can never account for all of the actual happenings and random chance events in the real world.

Those random chance events? Collectively we refer to them as “life."

Rediscovering a Meaning Once Lost

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Sun, 12 Aug 2018 12:36:00 +0000

This year, more than any other year, has forced me to redefine what it means for me to be outside in nature, living fully immersed in the moment, connected to the rawness of my own existence. Or perhaps, this year hasn't forced me to redefine this type of visceral experience, but rather rediscover something that perhaps I had lost.

For years when I faced injury, I would focus on recovering. Returning to what I had been doing before. All of my energy would be channeled into not only rehabilitation, but longing for something I had lost—if but temporarily.

While I think I personally need that drive in order to return to the things I am most passionate about, this year I have found myself dissatisfied with the idea of simply waiting around to get better. Part of this, granted, was likely forced upon me by an unexpectedly protracted recovery period… from my perspective.

The point here is that I am no longer willing to simply wait around for my situation to improve. I’m not even willing to be satisfied with just working slowly toward improvement in my own situation. Instead, I have been asking myself, “what can I do with the amount of wellness that I have, right here and right now, in order to go outside and live?”

While planning for the future and working toward what will hopefully be an even better future is a part of life, at the same time, the only moment we are guaranteed is the moment that we are presently in. How can we make the most of it?

Savoring the Mountaintop Experiences

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Sun, 29 Jul 2018 14:30:00 +0000

On my most recent Monarch Crest ride, I noticed an interesting phenomenon. While many riders on this busy Saturday morning stopped to take in the view, some riders, on the other hand, powered straight by, offering up sarcastic remarks—bordering on condescending—for those who were stopping to enjoy the surreal beauty afforded by the mountaintop views.

While I’m not one to sling comments at other riders unnecessarily as I ride by, I do think that for years I was one of those riders, in the sense that I would charge as hard as possible, all the time.

But one thing I’ve realized recently?

Even as a Salida local, if I get 6-8 Monarch Crest rides in per year, every single one of those rides is a rare moment to be treasured, even though I'll log many, many more hours on the Crest than the average tourist.

Personally, if I could get above treeline and hang out on the mountaintops every single day, I would. But that’s not the present reality of my life or my physical health. So when I DO get to journey to the mountaintop—those are moments to be savored, not blasted through with my heart rate through the roof.

Sure, we all ride for different reasons, and maybe those people were way more hardcore than me and were heading out on an epic. (But then why did they ride up in the shuttle?)

Regardless of their unique motivations, I have personally resolved to take it a little bit slower every time I head up above the trees. Especially when riding the Crest and I know I can get down and out of danger quickly if storms build, I've now resolved to take more time to savor the experience of the crisp alpine air, the expansive views in all directions, the changing perspective of the mountains as the sun moves and the clouds float over, and the crunch of gravel beneath my tires.

Sure, my Strava times may suffer. But I’d rather hang out on top of a 12,000-foot mountain than in a parking lot gas station in Poncha Springs any day.

Salida, Colorado — Ground Zero for Adventure

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Heil) — Fri, 27 Jul 2018 20:52:00 +0000

Descending off of the Monarch Crest on the Starvation Creek Trail. Rider: Nick Heil.

The small mountain town of Salida, Colorado lies on the banks of the rushing Arkansas River and in the shadows of towering 14,000-foot mountain peaks. Accessible directly from downtown, professionally-built singletrack trails run up into the mountains on both sides, providing easy access to stellar mountain biking and hiking routes.

In fact, the Arkansas Valley that envelopes Salida may just be one of the most diverse climate zones in the world. On the west side of the valley, the high mountain peaks soar thousands of feet above treeline into a high elevation alpine tundra. During the winter, the local ski resort — Monarch Mountain — receives over 350 inches of snow.

As the elevations drop, the forest transitions through many different zones, eventually culminating in a high desert environment filled with cacti and scrubby pinion pines.

This incredibly diverse climate means mountain bikers, trail runners, and hikers can hit the trails 12 months per year on the east side of the valley, while still skiing deep powder in the nearby mountains mid-winter. Add in whitewater kayaking and rafting, rock climbing, and many other mountain sports, and it’s clear that Salida is ground zero for adventuring in the mountains.

Here are three popular Salida-area trails guaranteed to whet your appetite for adventure:

Read the full article here.

Destination Embed

Monarch Crest Embed