Issue #06: Nature is the new nightclub

With a $1.2 Trillion Dollar Cover

🎥 White Lotus: Everyone’s favorite drama is finally back and to say I’m excited is an understatement. The first episode just dropped on Sunday (another to come this week!), and I’m already deeply intrigued by the character’s storylines and the ways with which privilege will be explored as the season progresses. If you watch I’d love to discuss!

📖 The Great Believers: This critically acclaimed novel follows two intertwining stories through the love and loss of the AIDS epidemic while examining what it looks like to honor the past while carrying on. It’s impossible not to love each of the characters, flaws and all. This is one of those rare books that grabs you and refuses to let you go.

✨ Laughing through the pain: Cross Country Ski Fails & other glimmers from the week of February 10th

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“Spikes needed”, “Trekking Poles suggested”

Review after review warned us of our lack of preparedness as my boyfriend and I searched AllTrails for our next Sunday afternoon adventure.

“Should we just not go?” We wondered aloud. Neither of us owned Spikes or Trekking Poles coming from the Midwest (which isn’t exactly known for its elevation), and with just two weeks left in Colorado and very limited storage, it didn’t feel like the most practical purchase. After a few moments of deliberation, we decided to give it a go with what we had - worst case we’d realize we couldn’t make it up the mountain and would turn around.

Layering up to brave the crisp winter air, we packed our bags and hit the road; winding down a mountain road past farms and family cabins tucked away in the foothills. We arrived at the trailhead late afternoon and set off on the chilly, partially shaded path while trying our best to navigate without strong cell service.

Looking down to keep my face warm, I pointed out the spiked tracks of other hikers in the snow while quietly thanking the Universe for what I assumed would be an unsuccessful trek (it was cold, okay?!). Even still, we climbed on, putting one snowy step in front of the other until before we knew it, we were soaking in the stunning views of the frozen dam below. No extra gear necessary.

Before my boyfriend and I started dating, I spent years talking about how badly I wanted to go on a camping trip with Violet. I had fallen in love with our local hikes, was captivated by the outdoorsy aesthetic of my Pinterest Feed, and because I grew up in the rural Pennsylvania, it felt like a way to reconnect a younger version of myself.

Even with all of my passion and excitement, as a beginner with only a sleeping bag to her name, the thought of executing this dream was intimidating. Searches for “Camping Essentials” left me overwhelmed by my lack of preparedness and although I’d regularly load my shopping card with the laundry list of expertly curated essentials, I wasn’t able to justify spending thousands of dollars on a hobby that I wasn’t even sure I was going to like in the first place. The barrier to entry was simply too high.

Fast forward to a few months into our relationship, when he invited me to tag along on a camping trip with his older brother, (now) wife, and their college friends. I was nervous about embarking on my first camping trip with a new boyfriend, his family and group of strangers, but there was no way that I could pass up the chance to live out this long-time dream.

Despite my concerns for not being prepared, he reassured me that I didn’t need to load up on supplies. My clothes and toiletries were stuffed in an old backpack I found laying around my apartment, he brought his tent, I packed my sleeping bag — I hiked to our campsite in crocs — and just like that, we were camping. We spent the weekend hiking through the woods, lounging by the shores of Lake Superior, laughing around the campfire and even caught a glimpse of the Northern Lights. The trip was not only unforgettable, but it also opened my eyes to just how much I had been misled by the outdoor industry and how much time I had wasted in my years of research. At the end of the day, getting outside is just not all that complicated. So why, for years, did I feel as if it was too difficult and expensive to venture out on my own?

When confronted with the uncertainty and discomfort of trying something new —such as embarking on a winter hike or trying cross-country skiing — it’s hard to resist the siren song of capitalism promising to ease your doubts and concerns if only you buy the right product. A quick online search offers a roadmap for success, along with a list of items that, once purchased, promise to ensure your preparedness. Anything is achievable, it seems, if you just have the right supplies.

The outdoor recreation industry is up 37% from 2012, reaching $1.2 trillion in economic output this past year alone. Is it any wonder then, that what was once a fun and free past time is now clouded by this commercial haze?

That’s not to say that I’m not excited about the growth — A booming industry creates new career opportunities, encourages communities to invest in greenspaces, and is great for our mental and physical wellbeing. However, it would be remiss to overlook the fact that such rapid expansion often hinges on the belief that this access comes with a price. If you want to gain entry to a life of adventure, you must pay to play.

Take skiing for instance. This once accessible past time has now evolved into a $5.5B luxury industry that is only expected to grow in the coming years. But it wasn’t always this way. Some of my fondest childhood memories were of afternoons and weekends gliding down the slopes with my dad at one of the ski resorts in our area. A resort that now, is a part of the Epic Pass where the 2024/25 season pass for adults now costs over $1,000. That’s more than double the price of what season passes cost when I was younger, and a price that, as much as I would love to give my future children the same kinds memories, is hard to stomach.

Our first few weeks on the road have only heightened this awareness as I’m forced to weigh my desire and compulsive consumption against some very real spatial limitations. Every item that we pack must be assessed to determine what is truly essential versus what’s merely a nice to have. While we might have been able to get by on our recent hike without Spikes or Trekking Poles, a winter jacket and pair of waterproof boots were non-negotiable. We've both found joy in learning cross-country skiing, and while I’d love to buy myself a pair of skis, renting remains the practical choice until we gain the space, experience and knowledge to determine what we’ll need—and want—in the future.

Access to the outdoors is already a huge privilege, which is why it kills me that we’re trying to further complicate things. Buying good gear can certainly enhance your experience, but it’s not always a requirement to get started. Don’t have hiking boots? Try hitting the trail in sneakers to get a feel for it first. No tent, but want to try camping? Consider turning your car into a cozy outdoor escape before taking the plunge and spending hundreds of dollars at REI.

It’s tempting — and even enjoyable — to rush to the store every time we’re faced with the uncertainty of trying something new. Who doesn’t want to feel prepared and look the part? But if our confidence and ability to try new things relies on acquiring a list of material things, we’ll never feel truly ready. It’s only when we stop seeking the false comfort of consumption and let our experiences guide us, that we can find opportunities to build self-assurance on and off the trail.

Would spikes have made our hike this past weekend easier? Absolutely. Did we reach the top more slowly without them? Without a doubt. But maybe that’s the point. In a world where we’re constantly racing to collect more things and more experiences, it’s easy to overlook the magic that’s already in front of us. While our journey may have taken longer, embracing uncertainty and trusting in our own abilities in a way became the destination itself, and made the view all the the sweeter.

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• What adventures have you put off for fear of them being too complicated, expensive, etc.? How did you break past the barrier?

• In what ways do you feel like the outdoor recreation space has changed over the past few years? Do you think the growth has made outdoor enjoyment more or less accessible to beginners?

• What’s on your “must have” gear list?

• Do you also find that you rely on buying to diffuse anxiety or uncertainty? In what ways does it help vs hurt?

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Thanks for reading Sincerely, Soph. If you’d like to follow along on our adventure, please subscribe to support my work. Like what you read? Feel free to share with a friend or tag them in the comments.

Anything you want covered? Questions? Reply to this email or leave a comment to let me know :)