The wrong reasons

The outdoor community attracted me because it was full of pirates, poets, beats, outlaws, scoundrels, artists, and impresarios. Today, it has significantly shifted into something else. For better or worse, it is noticeable how much mental health has entangled itself as part of the outdoor community.

People self-identify as climbers or backcountry skiers so much that if they are not skiing steep and deep or climbing some big line, they feel like they are somehow disappointing themselves or the people around them. Another thing I have seen (that I find pretty disgusting) is the spraying of how many people someone knows who have died. It’s almost like a body count. Knowing someone who died is a status symbol now.

No one is forcing people to do these types of Type II activities. And over and over again, I see people doing these things for the wrong reasons, like being in a toxic relationship with someone and justifying it because the sex is too good. For someone who has been in the field for many years, I advise taking a step back. Do these things for the love of doing it. Not because it will make you popular. Not because it will boost a dating profile. Do it because we love it.

Sometimes, we work so hard to create an identity that we forget that these things can’t grow by checking a box. A runner becomes a runner simply by tying their shoes and going on a run. The outdoors are a space for anyone–a space to work through the struggles and challenges we face “down there.” It’s difficult to pinpoint it, but the culture surrounding the outdoor community is experiencing an identity crisis. We lose something when we must document everything we do to snag another moment for the gram. We put ourselves in more dangerous/compromising positions when we continue to do these activities when, deep down, we are not at peace with ourselves.

Two quotes from Jack Kerouac in The Dharma Bums bring some perspective:

“The whole purpose of mountain-climbing to me isn’t just to show off you can get to the top, it’s getting out to this wild country.”

And

“Dammit, that yodel of triumph of yours was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I wish I had a tape recorder to take it down. Those things aren’t made to be heard by the people down below.”