wicked outdoorsy

The day after Earth Day

2013-04-30T10:27:00.000-04:00

TUCSON, ARIZONA -- The Desert doesn’t seem to care about Earth Day. In fact, it seems to enjoy the fact that it’s winning.

The Desert owns a quarter of the earth’s surface already, but the Desert isn’t satisfied. The Desert is pushing back forests, drying up grasslands, and changing tenants at a historic rate.

As the Desert heats up four times faster than the global average, the Desert is not-so-quietly celebrating the fact that it has clearly gained the upper hand against the cold, green world.

And why not? The Desert has us on its side, after all.

If you’re the glass half empty crowd … and I know you are ... you like to whisper that the upward creep of the Desert is loud proof that we’re all screwed. You think that rampant consumerism is too far out of the barn to be reined in, especially since shopping as a sport has spread worldwide. You think that our governments are unwilling, impotent and overrated in their ability to do anything about climate change. You think that our culture is the equivalent of a watered down Diet Coke – artificial and strange, and getting weaker by the day. And you think that our population has successfully devolved into a species that thinks food comes from Sam’s Club, and water comes from Poland Springs.

But if you’re the glass half full crowd … and I know you are … you also have a weird buzzing between your ears. If the Earth were truly painted into a corner, why would we still be talking about it? If we have all given up, why would it make our stomach turn every time we read another page of bad environmental news?

Often enough, but not often enough, you meet people in your daily adventures, and they look you in the eye. They listen. They think. They smile. There is kindness and intelligence out there, despite the headlines that say otherwise.

Ironically, you believe that the curse of more people is also the solution. More brains means more ideas. More ideas means more chances for things to work out the right way. The positive way.

And one of those ways might even come from the Desert.

Along with all the Desert's heating will come a new wetness, too. The sure increase in global rainfall will surely impact at least some of the growing Desert.

What we don't know is how wet this new Desert will get. What we do know is that rain plus desert equals vegetation, and a greening up of the desert climate would put at least one finger on the right side of the scale ... starting the process of carbon sequestration: a sucking of carbon back out of the atmosphere an inserting it into a place that can actually use it.

I’m not saying that we should stick our head in the sand, literally, and count on the Desert as the only solution.

I’m just saying that if the Desert can believe in us, maybe we can believe in ourselves too.

LINK: Global Deserts Outlook, United Nations Environmental Program

'Gear Institue' strips things down to the bare essentials

2013-03-21T08:04:00.001-04:00

Once upon a time there, was no gear. Now, there is very much gear. Scholars from the future will call it this the Gear Era, and they will scientifically pinpoint the moment in time when Gear became a Thing.

That future timeline will likely date back to 1973, when the same crazy kids who were smoking weed, getting naked and having sex to "Eat a Peach" decided that that they'd rather smoke weed, get naked, and run around with all the other future running shoe company CEOs. Streaking was the antithesis of gear, but it was also the doorway.

In the 40 years since then, Gear has become more than running shoes and skis and packs and gloves and lighters and Gore Tex dog leashes and barbecue grills. Gear has become stuff that we actually think about before we buy it. Sometimes, Gear gets bought before we even plan an adventure. And Gear can often become the dusty icon in the corner of the room that reminds us of those adventures we once had.

Seeking to "professionalize" the modern art of Gear reviewing, a team of outdoor journalists has erected a unique digital structure from their base in New Mexico. Known as the "Gear Institute," the independently published website draws part of its inspiration from the sterile testing environment of Consumer Reports ... and the rest from the seemingly insatiable demand among the general public for gear reviews.

There are no lab coats that I'm aware of at this institute, and as yet there is no PhD available in Gearology. However, if they have their way ... the lab coats may be coming.

Below is a quick conversation with Justin Nyberg, co-founder of the Gear Institute:

Why are people so obsessed with gear?

Because gear is power. I’m only half kidding. Just about anything cool you’d want to do in the outdoors requires equipment of some kind, and the stuff is pricey. I think people’s obsession with gear is just a proxy for their obsession with expanding their horizons—doing it faster, cleaner, more efficiently, more comfortably, or just in a cooler way. Plus, when you get right down to it, we’re all materialistic gluttons. New stuff is always fun.

Where did the idea for the Gear Institute hatch? I hope scotch was involved.

Actually, it was green chili. My buddy Pete Kray invited me to the breakfast spot with the hottest green chili in New Mexico—Horseman’s Haven Cafe, in Santa Fe. While the steam was pouring out of our eyes, we got to bemoaning the lack of thorough, objective, expert gear testing websites out there. It seemed like everything out there was either really superficial or just unhelpful to a consumer trying to make a smart buying decision. And we both knew many of the brightest, most thorough, and best respected outdoor gear testers in the industry who deserved to have their work highlighted. So we launched our own.

If things work perfectly, what will the Gear Institute look like in 10 years?

The Taj Mahal! No, if things continue the way we’re going, we’re going to have an expert in each major product category in the outdoor industry, cranking out objective reports that help savvy consumers make sense of the flood of gear on the market. It’s going to be a really robust, consumer-friendly tool. Knives, heart rate monitors, high-power flashlights, dog PFDs—you name it. Beyond that, the expansion plan is something we keep close to our chests, but ultimately, we want people to equate the Gear Institute with the testing organizations we respect the most in other industries—groups like Consumer Reports in consumer products, and websites like CNET.com in tech. (On the print side, it publications like Outside’s Buyers Guide, Backpacker’s Gear Guide, and Mountain Magazine’s ski tests that I think set the bar in our industry.)

How do you feel about Wes Welker joining the Broncos?

That’s football, right?

Who is on the core team? And how many people are on the "roster"?

Tal-ee Roberts is our tech maestro; he built the site and all it’s features. He’s a genius. Ken Marold designed it—we wanted to have the best looking and most user friendly tool for consumers to get clear info on products, and he really delivered. Peter Kray is our publisher and deals with our ad sales, along with Chris Van Leuven, who’s on contract for us. And I coordinate all our testers. Right now, we have 42 testers, and I’m recruiting more every other week or so. Each one is an independent freelancer who knows their particular niche very well, and each one came recommended by folks we respect. It’s shaping up to be a sort of All Star team of outdoor industry testers. The idea is that you should be able to come to the Gear Institute and no matter what you’re looking for, you’re going to get straight, objective advice from someone whose opinion is well respected.

Is the Gear Institute working to be the Consumer Reports of gear?

In a lot of ways, yes. We are totally inspired by their approach. Outdoor gear buyers invest heavily in their gear, and sometimes put their lives on it, and they deserve an organization like Consumer Reports that is totally objective and only concerned with helping them make smart gear choices. There are some differences—for example, Gear Institute has to sell ads to support our site, but we take a strict, old school journalism approach to separating editorial from advertising interests. Our reports come straight from our independent testers, and our advertisers know they can’t influence those reports.

In your lifetime, how many products have you reviewed?

More than I can count. I was at Outside magazine for 6 years, doing a lot of gear stories. I spent years testing gear of all sorts, so I have a good sense of how most of the technology works. But these days, I leave the testing mostly to our crew, who can focus on one niche at a time.

What's the worst piece of gear you've ever reviewed? Did that review see the light of day?

Oh man, there’s been a bunch. Some companies make the silliest stuff. But junk isn’t really worth anyone’s time. We’ll give it a fair shake, but with so many products to choose from, we usually invest our time in stuff we can recommend for someone, rather than to just publish an alert that some product no one has heard of isn’t up to snuff. But if we take the time to review a major, production-line product, and it falls apart, we’ll definitely publish the results.

What's the difference between a "good" gear expert and a "bad" gear expert?

There’s a lot. But mainly a “good” gear expert is able to step outside of his or her own biases and help explain the product’s strengths and weaknesses objectively—so any buyer can understand its strengths and weaknesses, and make their own decision. “Bad” gear experts are usually just folks whose opinion on a product is a reflection of their own personal tastes. A good gear expert has seen enough product to know who will love the product, who will hate it, and how it compares to other products like it. They speak for everyone, not just for themselves.

Are you getting pushback from companies about being "too honest"?

No. The opposite actually. What we hear on the trade show floor is a lot of encouragement, and almost gratitude for finally filling this gap. People want something real. I think it’s a bigger shift in marketing strategies that social media is helping bringing about. It’s all about authenticity. With so many people voting with their “Like” and “Share” buttons, it’s clear that people mostly respond to what they believe in. And you don’t stand a chance if you’re not credible. So I think it’s sort of an old-school, out of touch mindset to say “give us a glowing review or we’ll never work with you again.” But the responsibility goes both ways—whether we praise a product or criticize it, the goal is always the same: be fair, be thorough, and let the evidence do the talking. We don’t expect marketers to love every one of our reviews. But we do hope our testers have earned their respect. The good thing is that most of the products in this industry are really good—they do what they’re supposed to do without a lot of sacrifices—and so it’s rare that we have to call something out.

Are you ever disappointed when you don't get pushback from companies about being "too honest"?

Funny question—no. We’re not gunning for a fight. We’re just having a great time.

LINK: GEAR INSTITUTE

Tools for PR success: The Client Mood Ring

2013-01-14T09:44:00.001-05:00

A lot of people find themselves compelled to ask me the same thing. "Drew .... how do YOU find time for Parcheesi?"

Simply put, I'd be nothing if it weren't for my lucky astrology Client Mood Ring.

Employing the same arcane, chicken-sacrificing dark arts that led to the development of Crocs and Tom Brady, the Client Mood Ring changes color based on emotional mood of internal company contacts located hundreds or even thousands of miles away.

Want to get the most out of your 60 minute weekly status call? Just check the ring.

Looking for a green light on that NYC showroom event? Do a pump fake toward the K-cup machine ... then check the ring.

Thinking about a 6% increase in your rates for the coming fiscal year? Absolutely, positively check the ring before you make that call.

Reflecting a mood in a simple basic color, the Client Mood Ring reads a client's biorhythms, synapse activity, pulse rates, testosterone level, estrogen cycle, blood alcohol-and/or-caffeine content, breakfast selection, and proximity to their own boss. It incorporates external events as well, like how well that new trade show booth is coming along, the status of the workbook redesign, and the recentness of budget cut discussions targeting the marketing department.

One simple color = a world of information.

Violet Blue

The client is happy. All's good. Things look great. We can tackle that later. This 60 minute status call should take only ten minutes. Which means that they are about to head on vacation.

Blue

The client is calm, subdued and satisfied. Sure, let's look at that fam trip idea for Fiji. Which means that their boss has just left for vacation.

Green

The client is indifferent, underworked, and bored. This never happens.

Yellow / Amber

The client is excited, in a good way. They like your ideas. They want to hear more of what you're saying. They like the budget recommendation you sent over, and have given it full approval. If you could bottle this energy and sell it, you'd be almost as successful as Scratch-and-Win RedBull Jell-o Shots.

Brown/Gray

The client is nervous, anxious and getting ramped up, in a bad way. They didn't like your Christmas box of bacon. They found seven dangling participles in your last press release draft. They would like to see a decade-to-date summary of all agency activity with corresponding ROI so that they can put a value on every minute they've spent listening to you. And they would like it by tomorrow.

Black

The client is shopping around for another agency and will soon return your final invoice. When they say the decision "came from above", what they meant to say is that it came from their brain before it got to their mouth. They would still like to connect on LinkedIn, though. And would it be possible to get some new waders before things wrap up?

Does Made-in-the-USA matter?

2013-01-07T09:08:00.002-05:00

It came like a tornado. Things were grey and uncertain and a bit blustery, and then the sudden clarity pushed everything aside.

Green was good. People couldn’t get enough of Green. Gear was Green, restaurants were Green, Leonardo di Caprio announced that the Oscars were going Green, magazines rolled out special issues devoted to Green, and some folks went all in on Green.

In the land of PR, the email inbox rang off the hook for nearly two solid years with writers and editors seeking anything Green. It was a macro story, the Big one, and it tapped into the holy trinity of publishing … advertisers, editors and readers all wanted it, and they all got it.

The end of Green, of course, coincided neatly with a nasty economic plunge. Editorial calendars culled Green from their rosters, as the number one concern shifted from sustainability to survival. Outside of publishing, numerous entities (companies, countries) also dropped the Green idea for much the same reason.

Green still lingers around, but it’s not the same. As a client of mine accurately foretold years ago, eventually we’ll get as much credit for being Green as we will for taking out the recycling: which is to say, not much at all.

The Next Big Story hasn’t landed yet. It may be years or decades till things coincide like 2007 again. But if I were picking a favorite to win the horse race, I know exactly what number I would root for.

It’d be Made-in-the-USA.

Not so much the flag-waving, fourth-of-July, rah-rah, Made-in-the-USA story … but the close-to-home, increased-quality, lower-carbon-footprint story. It’s the story of companies and brands and people who still actually make things. And it’s the story of economic success.

To be accurate, that Made-in-the-USA tag should actually be Made-at-Home or maybe Made-Right-Here, as there are many more companies who make things “locally” in their own part of the world, and who should get just as much credit.

In all honesty, I’ve been surprised that Made-Right-Here hasn’t ascended to the level of the Next Big Story quite yet. The stories are already out there, already compelling, and already practically written.

Organically, our small agency has wound up representing numerous clients that are either wholly or increasingly committed to the Made-Right-Here concept … Woolrich blankets, Dale of Norway sweaters, Westcomb outerwear, Simmsfishing waders, Kokatat paddle gear, Sea Bags totes, Farm to Feet socks.

As much as I’d like to take credit for how we sought out and developed a client base brimming with the Next Big Story, it’s simply not true. The truth is that this is a legitimate trend, that companies are thriving because of their Made-Right-Here programs, and that the idea is growing.

But it hasn't reached "that level" quite yet.

Part of this is the fault of the Last Big Story. During the eco-frenzy of five years ago, being labeled a “Greenwasher” … aka someone overstating the claims of environmental goodness … was a peril to be avoided at all costs. Brands are leery of being seen as wrapping themselves in the flag, and many media companies seem to be tiptoeing around the edge … wondering if things are actually as they seem, or some sort of jedi mind trick from the PR cabal.

It also could be that the big blocker to being the Next Big Story is that Made-Right-Here is dominated by smaller enterprises. Less than 100 employees, less than 50 and in many cases even less than 25.

A few months ago I called into an NPR talk show devoted to the topic, and mentioned the strength of domestically made goods in the outdoor industry. It didn’t really take … he was more interested in companies with thousands of employees worldwide, than of a sector within an industry supporting a leisure time category.

However, for media covering that exact sector, the response has been even more lukewarm, if that’s possible. A story here and there, and that’s about it.

Putting myself in their shoes, I can hear the editorial arm wrestling from the budget meetings fairly clearly. The story is too complicated, the story is too boring, quality product is what really matters, our advertisers aren’t supporting it. And I can respect that.

I also respect that the story is happening right now, all around us. People are making huge decisions about where to do things and why. Quality is world-class. And people care.

When friends die on Facebook

2013-01-01T20:34:00.002-05:00

Peter Devin was an Outdoor Retailer Show Director, a Fly Fishing Retailer Show Director, a former client of mine, an outdoor industry colleague, and a friend.

Not a Christmas Card friend, nor a Wednesday night beer drinking friend, nor even a golfing foursome friend, but a Facebook friend. He lived a couple thousand miles away in Newport Beach, California, and outside of "industry" events that we were both attending, the only social interaction we had with each other was through social media.

Peter died yesterday of Amyotropic Lateral Sclerosis, commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease. When he first told me about it his diagnosis a few years ago about at the Outdoor Retailer Winter Market show, I knew it was horrible news. But it wasn't until that night in my hotel room, when I read the full Wikipedia post on the disease and its brutal effects, that I cried.

The degenerative nature of ALS takes years to take its full toll. And thanks to Facebook, we watched it all.

When Peter and I talked about the ALS that first time (3 years ago?), his voice was already significantly altered as difficulty speaking and swallowing is part of the drill with ALS. But on Facebook, his voice was gentle, real and continual. He wrote about awesome bucket list things like caddying for pros at the Masters, traveling with his family to Italy and fly fishing all sorts of killer waters. He frequently posted incredible smiling photos of himself with family and friends. While he certainly had the license to do some gratuitous over-posting, Peter was actually pretty restrained about the frequency of his updates.

Over time, those status update smiles got thinner and more angular as his neck muscles faded and his head started to tilt. A wheelchair began to be a constant companion in those photos, and then eventually it changed to a hospital bed.

I'm not sure exactly when the authorship switched on his Facebook page, but at some point it obviously did. It's pretty easy to figure out when the posts change to updates about hospital stays, near misses, and eventually a notice of his death and memorial service.

I didn't like anything about Peter's battle with ALS, but I was fond of seeing his posts. Even the "trivial" ones about things like college football had a certain poignancy to them. Not because they were meticulously crafted or framed with a colored filter, but because they were real thoughts from a real person who was steadily approaching the end of the line.

Facebook can be dumb, vapid, and wildly self-indulgent. At times in the last 12 months, I've become increasingly concerned that the overcrafted, over-safe, and over-shallow nature of personal posts are the first hints of a social media death spiral.

But when things actually do matter, Facebook is a brilliant tool for the job. I'm thankful for that, and I'm thankful to have had at least a small glimpse into Peter's world for the last three years.

Rest in peace, Peter.

Monday morning shred ... From Finland with love

2012-11-26T08:41:00.000-05:00

Prospecting Idaho, redux

2012-11-07T17:12:00.002-05:00

PROSPECTING IDAHO Episode 3.6 from smith optics on Vimeo.

Free your heel ... and use the cash to buy medical marijuana in Massachusetts

2012-11-07T10:17:00.000-05:00

"Let's Go!" - Official Telemark Skier Movie Trailer from Telemark Skier on Vimeo.

Get the Japan jones

2012-10-30T16:47:00.004-04:00

Groundswell

2012-10-25T08:05:00.001-04:00

Baker

2012-10-23T08:48:00.001-04:00

'BAKER' from Dubsatch Collective on Vimeo.

'... There's no such thing as bad snow, only bad skiers ...'

2012-09-05T05:03:00.002-04:00

The "Choose Your Adventure" teaser from PowderWhore....www.powderwhore.com

Bring out the plank!

2012-09-04T08:54:00.000-04:00

AWOL TEASER from NuuLife Cinema on Vimeo.

Finally, something I can get behind

2012-08-30T09:48:00.000-04:00

That yellow band: does it stay or does it go?

2012-08-24T10:26:00.002-04:00

It started about two years ago, during the aftermath of a sales meeting far far far away. I was wearing a yellow rubber band, as I have for the most part of the last 6 years, and I got called on it. "Livestrong, man ... Live STRONG."

It wasn't said in an encouraging way. Not like it used to be. Instead, it was accusative. It was the way Newman talks to Jerry. Or Archie to Meathead. An extremely pointed comment, wet with sarcasm, implication and collusion.

As I live and work on the periphery of the cycling world, it's probably natural to assume that the yellow bracelet on my wrist is a rah-rah-Lance thing. There are certainly plenty of folks who sport the Livestrong band for that reason, and I've had numerous conversations over the years with people who see mine and immediately jump into a bicycling conversation ("... so, you're a cyclist?"..."looking forward to the Tour?").

But the band for me ... and for many, many others ... is a cancer thing. It's a subtle, almost invisible reminder of the things you've been through, or the things other people have been through. It's an everyday reminder to not sweat the small stuff. A quiet encouragement to squeeze in that run after all. A tiny cheerleader that says "go for it."

As quantifiable as Lance's impact has been on cycling (increased ratings, increased sponsorship dollars in cycling, road bike sales, etc), it's nearly impossible to measure his true impact in the cancer world. Yes, the Livestrong Foundation has made -- and given away -- a lot of money. But in the chemotherapy wards and the oncology waiting rooms, there are a lot of people -- like myself -- who encounter a stack of his books on nearly every table and end up reading it with a different kind of filter. A filter that honestly won't ever bother to watch him on Vs., or give a rat's ass whether he ever won one, two or twenty Tour titles. A filter that sees the world as truly not being about the bike. A filter that helps to make peace with the cancer process.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a Lance groupie. The fact that he's being stripped of Tour titles and banned from cycling doesn't mean squat to me. And while the allegations against the Livestrong organization have certainly gotten my attention, that part of things really seems like a witch hunt.

Selfishly, at this point, it's about me. It's not about the bike, and it never has been. But this somewhat private, just-noticeable-enough token has become much more conspicuous today.

At times I've tried other mental reminders ... things around my neck, different types of wristlets ... but they get lost, or they don't seem to work quite as well on my aging brain as a flash of yellow under that suit sleeve, or they just feel too heavy, too obvious, too wrong. And the cycling conversations aren't horrible, it's just that any guy with shaved legs and a half a Michelob Ultra in his bloodstream seems really eager to cross a major freeway to lecture me about doping.

As of this morning, the yellow band is still on. It feels more right than wrong, more personal than public, more me than him.

But the day after tomorrow? It'd be cheating to say for sure.

E = PV(A-B)

2012-08-17T07:22:00.001-04:00

As egg sandwiches go, so goeth the community.

A surge in construction or a an increase in tourism traffic? Unbridled optimism or quantitatively eased pessimism? Check that egg croissant.

While the current egg sandwich volume in Vermont's Mad River Valley is not currently available, we can effort to extrapolate the health of the egg sandwich marketplace (and the related health of the community) through evaluation of median egg sandwich quality as well as independent scoring of pinnacle performers.

To determine valley-wide economic health ("E"), by this metric, consider:

E = PV(A-B), in that

E = Community economic health

P = Best egg sandwich score

V = Number of pre-made sandwiches available at 7 am on Friday at VG+IGS

A = Average breakfast sandwich score

B = Benchhmark score (50 , see below.)

To evaluate and determine the optimal egg sandwich in the Mad River Valley, we will conduct an unbiased ongoing rating effort, spread throughout the fall. Several variables have been set, including:

Geography: For the sake of this discussion, we are including Waitsfield, Warren, Fayston and Moretown. Ski areas definitely count (otherwise Fayston would be a punchline here. Again).

Benchmark: The standard upon which other sandwiches shall be measured is a home-made fried-egg served with a piece of bacon on a buttered Thomas english muffin. In addition to flavor and content, the size of this sandwich is a relevant benchmark as well: egg sandwiches considered in this evaluation should be as manageable/portable as the benchmark, otherwise deductions will occur. The benchmark sandwich shall be considered to have a standard score of 50 (out of 100).

Fresh-made vs. Grab-and-go: To ensure the fairest and most accurate rankings, we are dividing sandwiches into two primary categories. "Fresh-made" refers to sandwiches that are assembled upon order. "Grab-and-go" refers to sandwiches that have been pre-assembled, and may be grabbed and eaten immediately.

Required elements: One egg. Two pieces of bread.

Additional elements: All will be considered, but only as part of a standard menu offering. For example, a non-traditional substitution -- while tasty -- makes the entry invalid.

Cost: Entries will not be limited based on price. However the price-value relationship of the egg sandwich will certainly be factored into the final score.

More Shane, more Sarah ... Superheroes of Stoke

2012-08-17T07:08:00.004-04:00

Superheroes of Stoke Trailer from MSP Films on Vimeo.

And now is the time when we start thinking about skiing again

2012-08-16T07:34:00.001-04:00

On independence

2012-06-29T07:13:00.002-04:00

They say you’re not really trying unless you’re falling down. So I must be trying really hard.

I’ve fallen out of canoes, over handlebars, off chairlifts. I’ve crashed into lift poles, sailing masts and housefronts.

I’ve tumbled a few feet, going ass over knobby tire into cactus-filled creek beds. I’ve swam a few dozen yards in a thundering swirl of slabby snow. And on one notable occasion, I’ve tomahawked several hundred meters down an icy northern face that sure looked a lot kinder and gentler before I dropped in. Just ask around. This is the short list.

I’m not proud of my outdoor mistakes. But I’m not embarrassed either. They’ve all been educational … or maybe “correctional” is a better word … leaving marks both mild and occasionally quite deep.

It can be a sober thought to admit you’re on your own, that your actions are what got you here, and that whatever comes next is exactly what you deserve.

But that’s independence.

Some people figure it out early. Some, like me, are definite latecomers. And some, unfortunately, don’t even know that the party is going on at all.

With a home full of kids these days, the idea of teaching independence is a thought that’s come up quite a bit lately. There’s zero doubt in my mind that my kids want it, crave it, and need it. But is it teachable at all? Isn’t cultivating independence the same as growing a weed in a flower garden, or raising a coyote with milk?

Increasingly, I’m convinced that the only real path to independence is on that actual trail into the woods outside the back door. Take a few steps together, enjoy a few successes, endure a few challenges, and then let them take the first fork by themselves. The rest is up to them.

Personally, I wasn’t raised in a household of transceivers and backcountry first-aid kits. The teaching mistakes I made as a kid were addressed with time outs and two-stroke penalties. As much as I appreciate my upbringing and still enjoy those games today, I’ve never wondered how I’m going to make it home alive from the 18^th green.

As a dad, I definitely don’t want my kids to make the same mistakes I’ve made.

I want them to make their own.

Hat tip: Videos here were found on in Adventure Journal's "Moments of Regret"

Twenty years after MacGyver was cancelled ... his tradition lives on

2012-05-16T10:35:00.001-04:00

Apparently, Kristin Hostetter has a fan club.

I've never been invited to a meeting, but I have heard from her co-workers that the club definitely exists. One part uber-devoted Backpacker subscriber and one part gear dork, the Hostetter Fan Clubbers are also 100% into whatever Kristin happens to be talking about at the moment.

And for the last 15 years, Kristin has talked a shit-ton about gear. Since the Clinton era, she's been the gear editor for Backpacker magazine, putting thousands of camping and hiking products through their paces. She's written about gear, done YouTube videos about gear, gone on NBC Today, CBS’s The Early Show, and even shared a set with Martha Stewart.

This month, Kristin added her latest trick ... a book. "The Complete Guide to Outdoor Gear Maintenance and Repair: Step-by-Step Techniques to Maximize Performance and Save Money."

And as much as the Hostetter Fan Club likes gear (and Kristin), I bet they like saving money, too.

To help spread the word about the new project, Wicked Outdoorsy sent Kristin some actual questions. And she actually answered.

So you asked your readers to send it their broken gear, and then you fixed it all and documented the process. How many submissions did you get ... and how many made it into the book?
Yeah, I’ve been writing about gear repair for so many years, but for this book I wanted to get my hands dirty and gut check all my advice. What better way to do it than go through the process of fixing real busted gear? It was massively time consuming, but well worth the effort. Close to 100 people responded to my call for submissions. I got everything from tears in fabrics to broken zippers to fireball stoves and mildewy tents. Lots of mildewy tents. I ended up using about 20 of them, and all of these people are featured in the book. They were very stoked to participate and get their gear fixed for free.

Was any of the busted gear totally hopeless?
Before I gave up on anything, I sought outside advice. I was constantly on the horn with warranty departments to learn about their techniques, and it proved invaluable. But some things were pretty hopeless. I’m all for fixing everything you can, but there comes a point where you have to decide whether it’s worth the effort and time. I had one guy send me a huge, decades-old, 4-person JanSport tent. The inner surface of the rainfly looked like a parched desert floor ((I have a photo of it I’ll send you)): the coating was peeling and flaking in a million tiny pieces. The first step was to remove the flaky coating (which entailed a few trips to the laundrymat—the only time you should put your tent in the wash—and then some laborious scrubbing with a stiff brush and steel wool). It took me a couple hours to do one small section. It was doable, but ultimately just not worth the effort. I completed that section for him (cleaning the fabric thoroughly and applying a new coating). Then I returned it to him with instructions and a couple of bottles of Aquaseal Poly Coat, so he could finish the job himself.

Is any gear truly unfixable?
Yeah, particularly fabrics that have been neglected (left wet and crammed inside a stuffsack), contaminated with chemicals like DEET, or degraded by serious UV rays. They’re pretty much shot and you’ll never be able to restore them to their former glory. The lesson is simple: take care of your gear and it will last. The book, by the way, is not just a repair manual. It’s filled with care and maintenance tips, too.

How important has the influence of MacGyver been in your life?
God, I love that guy. Such a stud, and not because of his feathered, golden-highlighted locks. Everybody loves a man—or a woman-- who can fix things. One thing MacGyver taught me is to never be without caught without a multitool (remember his Swiss Army knife?) One of my favorite MacGyver moments was when he, clad in an awesome red head-to-toe outfit, got buried in an avalanche, probed out a tunnel using his Scott ski pole, and shot a little red bandana parachute out to signal his rescuers. As a young skier, the lessons learned from that episode were priceless: Don’t try to race an avalanche and always make use of the tools you have at hand to get out of bind. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yG3Iapth75I&feature=related

What was the first piece of gear you ever repaired?
I don’t recall my first repair, but I do recall a key one from about 12 years ago. I was on a 5-dayer in Isle Royal National Park with a bunch of other journalists. Our MSR stove went kaput and since I was 7 months pregnant at the time, continuing my intake of hot food was paramount. I remember sitting at a makeshift table with my buddy Michael Hodgson and completely dissecting, cleaning, and reassembling the stove. We fixed it, and instead of eating cold, crappy, freeze-dried meals for the next few days, we ate hot, crappy ones.

Did you take shop in high school? What grade did you get?
No, I didn’t take shop, but I dated a cute guy who did.

Is gear repair an art that is slipping away?
I hope not. The thing is, gear these days is so well made. If you’re buying top-quality stuff to begin with, it should last you a good long time. And from an environmental perspective, it’s so much more responsible (and gratifying) to keep your old stuff in use rather than run out and replace it because of a little glitch. Don’t get me wrong, I love shiny new gear and my job ensures that I have a steady flow of it. Sometimes there’s an advance in technology that makes old stuff obsolete. But still, good gear repair skills are key, because problems typically happen when you’re out in the field, far from REI. A gash in your rain jacket can really suck if you’re on a 5-day hike on the Olympic Coast and it’s pouring.

How do you feel Bobby Valentine is doing with the Red Sox? Can he be fixed?
Well, he’s not off to a very good start. His big problem—a lackluster, and seemingly nonchalant group of starting pitchers (yeah, I’m talking to you Beckett)—is not something you can fix with Seam Grip.

LINK: Backpacker magazine's Complete Guide to Outdoor Gear Maintenance and Repair: Step-by-Step Techniques to Maximize Performance and Save Money

You had me at 'foolhardy'

2012-05-11T06:16:00.001-04:00

Ten thousand dollars isn't a lot of money for the 1%.

But it's definitely a lot of cash for a ski bum with the a crappy summer job.

Or a kayaker living on the floor of his "girlfriend's" rental. Or a climber with a 1992 Subaru Legacy (blue book value: $1850).

Seeking a "smart, creative, and (perhaps) slightly foolhardy project" that's worth putting in the pages of the magazine, Outside is looking for submissions to their first annual Adventure Grant.

Their examples include sailing a homemade raft down the Hudson River, walking a perfectly straight line across Canada's Prince Edward Island, and paddling a canoe from Portland, Oregon, to Portland, Maine.

Our examples include:

* Skiing all the 14ers in leather chaps and lingerie.

* Take Mark Cuban on an expedition to the South Pole. Leave him there.

* Circumnavigate Boulder County on a unicycle without passing a dispensary, a white guy with dreadlocks, or any former members of the Subdudes or Samples.

* Steal a lock of Laird Hamilton's chest hair, and use it to stop the war in Afghanistan.

* Singlehandedly bring back Rollerblading.

LINK: Outside Magazine Seeks Submissions for 'slightly foolhardy' $10k adventure grant

Not over yet .... Sugarbush on March 18, 2012

2012-03-22T08:05:00.002-04:00

Luck (and rocks) of the Irish: St. Pats Day 2012, Mad River Glen

2012-03-22T07:59:00.000-04:00

We're all East Coast skiers now

2012-03-05T11:39:00.003-05:00

Other than the poles and the clothing and the pickup trucks, the thing on skis in the West and the thing on skis in the East really shouldn't be called the same thing.

Example: going "skiing" to somebody at the foot of Little Cottonwood Canyon can frequently mean a totally, entirely different thing than the same word uttered by a weekend passholder living in Waterville, Maine.

If we could just hold a meeting and pass a motion or two, a tidy little name change would help us all avoid any misunderstandings as well as the inevitable comparison between the two, which on certain days can be as fruitless as debating bicycles vs tuna fish, or as pointless as comparing breasts (...I mean, you could, but why bother?).

I was raised in Colorado, but I grew up in Wyoming. Deep Rocky Mountain snow is a very good friend of mine, and my couch is always open for an extended stay if he wants to crash the place.

The Eastern experience, on the other hand, has an allure that's simultaneously ridiculous and incredibly potent. The season starts the moment the first flake hits the ground and ends when the final patch of white is gone. All conditions are skiable conditions, from harder-than-God's-forehead boilerplate, to wet sandpaper granular, to short-radius extreme variable -- in which every turn contains every conceivable condition (powder, windslab, ice) and emotion (Ecstacy, fear, sadness, grief, elation, pride. Repeat).

An Eastern powder day is any day when snow has fallen overnight. Rain is actually pretty fun. And if it gets a little green and brown out there, just remember to turn on the grass, and point it over rocks.

The crucible of Eastern conditions doesn't just build a different skiing skill set, it also builds a different set of brain chemicals. Living through the emotional rollercoaster of a New England winter can be exhausting. The Eastern Snow Gods are some seriously moody bastards. But those who've lived under their yoke for more than a few cycles have a different type of appreciation for skiing. I'm not saying that they're better or more passionate or more appreciative than any Western-bred skier ... just that their stoke is unarguably, irrefutably, undeniably encased and protected in bulletproof, blue ice.

And unfortunately, that's what it's going to take to be a skier in the next few decades. Midwinter rain events are increasingly common west of the Mississippi and above treeline. Late season starts and early spring arrivals are just another thing that skiers will need to deal on.

Skiing the slush, skiing the rain, skiing the dirt. It's all just skiing after all.

Time to cue the country music.

Country roads, not covered with snow

2012-02-03T16:18:00.008-05:00

We're not quite to a suicide watch in ski country, but we have begun to listen to an awful lot of country music.

Just ask around. Seriously.

From Squaw Valley to Sugarloaf, Pandoras are set on Toby Keith and ITunes libraries are spewing out Jerry Jeff.

My insurance guy, my graphic designer, my co-workers, the breakfast deli this morning ... Everybody is on the country-western train.

The more I think about it, the more it makes perfect sense. For 90% of the lower 48, winter storms are playing hard to get. Frisky little cold fronts brush up against our legs, then run for the door. The man on the radio keeps telling us that big snows are just around the corner, and then he moves the corner.

It's a winter of 'just missed' opportunities, barstool therapy and shared melancholy. And even though it isn't necessarily cured by a big dose of twang and pedal steel, it definitely feels like the right soundtrack.

I've even started poking around regional ski blogs, reading them out loud with a Toby Keith twist, just to see if I can find a little more proof of this year's country western close encounter.

If you’ve been hanging on
and hoping that the season turns around
and we end up having an average
snowfall year, it may be time to start letting go…

If you find a better one, definitely let me know.