Month: March 2019

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During our annual bike test last month, our primary job in Tucson was, well, testing bikes. But we also had a broad selection of new gear along to try out while we were riding. Two weeks of riding every day is a great opportunity to put all the latest offerings—from apparel to footwear, dropper posts to forks—through their paces. Here's a roundup of some of our new favorite gear for the coming riding season.

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The piece of equipment that made the single biggest difference at this year’s test was this durable tonneau cover for our new Chevy pick-up. The ingenious design combines a bed-height, spring-loaded, roll-back metal cover with grooved rails that allow you to add a Thule rack and carry bikes over the bed. Installation was super simple on the Thule 430 feet, with push-button releases that enable the whole rack to easily pop on and off the truck. So I could easily load up the bed with a cooler, table, tools, chairs, and all the sundries we’d need for the day, then throw six bikes on top of it all. Once again, Thule's ThruRide bike racks were a godsend because they adapt to virtually every axle standard out there.

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In addition to bikes on the bed, we ran a four-pack hitch-mount Küat NV rack off the back of the truck for a total capacity of ten bikes on the Silverado. Last year, Rocky Mounts debuted their excellent swing-away design, and this year Küat has joined the game with this add-on hinge. The big advantages of the Pivot: it’s burly enough to hold four bikes instead of Rocky’s limit of two; and it works with any two-inch hitch carrier, no matter what the brand. It’s an industrial-strength piece of metal, which should stand up great to abuse, though the weight of the Pivot alone (55.6 pounds) made installation and alignment a bit challenging. That heft, plus the weight of the rack and four bikes, made for a lot of movement back there when we were off-road, and it also meant the bolt-on mount had a tendency to loosen. Still, it was a boon to be able to carry so many bikes and still move them out of the way for loading and unloading the bed.

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When I first saw Giro’s new line of knit shoes, which includes this road lace-up as well as a less expensive commute-oriented model and a mountain option, I was skeptical. But in the Tucson heat, the extra ventilation and supple feel of these quirky shoes proved perfect. Despite the mesh, the Empires have a surprising amount of structure and support, and the Easton EC70 carbon sole was stiff enough for performance but not so brutal that I couldn’t ride all day. I’m still ambivalent about the lace-up design, but I have to admit it is easy to fine-tune the fit. All said, this is a great all-around road shoe with some distinctive style.

Men's Women's

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Though I like the way hip packs get the weight and heat off your back, I don’t love how you either have to crank them down so tightly that they constrict your waist or they flop around on technical terrain. The Henty Enduro splits the difference between backpack and butt pack, with all the weight low but a lightweight mesh shoulder harness system for stability. The main compartment fits a 3-liter bladder (not included), and a range of other pockets make organization a snap. One small niggle: the buckle for the main flap is fixed, not adjustable, which limits how much you can stuff on. Still, I carried this throughout the mountain bike portion of the test with tools, spare tube, water, food, lights, and a jacket.

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Evidence of the continuing improvements in light technology, the Piko R is smaller than a rolled-up mountain bike tube but produces more light than my huge racing setup from a decade ago. This is the ultimate emergency and backcountry system because you can tuck it into a spare pocket and never fear getting caught out. And with 1,800 lumens, the Piko R knows no trail too techy to ride after dark.

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It was seriously warm in Tucson this year, with daytime highs occasionally pushing 80 degrees, so by and large we rode in shorts, short sleeves, and not much else. However, on days we were out for long stretches, I always carried along this semi-insulated piece, which has a light layer of PrimaLoft Gold in the front section, stretch panels in the arms and back for ventilation, and windproof and water-resistant fabrics throughout. The day I rode the Lemmon Drop, conditions at altitude went from sunny and glorious to 30 with sleet and snow and back again, more than once. Having this jacket basically meant I could keep riding all day long without constantly stopping to add or shed layers.

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At first, it seemed a little odd that Look’s new off-road pedals are SPD compatible. I mean, Shimano has the mountain bike pedal down to a science. However, after a couple of weeks of use, I started to really appreciate the X-Track’s wider, more stable platform compared to my go-to XTRs. And on the day we did Cañada del Oro—the north-facing, big-mountain drop—the trail was choked with snow and mud down to 5,500 feet, yet I was impressed by how well these shed the muck. I wouldn’t say that the performance is so dramatically better that I’d run out and upgrade, but if you value a no-slop fit from your pedals, these might be worth a look the next time your old pedals give out.

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Building on Bontrager’s awesome concept of a pump with a reservoir that makes tubeless setups a cinch, the Chamber is one of the sturdiest and best-built floor pumps I have ever used. The all-metal construction feels virtually indestructible, the handle with bolt-on grips is as sturdy as a pair of handlebars, the extra-long hose is convenient, and there’s a bleed valve. I also like the oversize gauge. I set up half a dozen bikes tubeless with the Chamber in advance of the test, and it sealed up everything from road bikes to fat bikes without any hesitation.

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With so many good helmets already on the market, Oakley had its work cut out to break into the cycling world, and the Aro 3, the company’s lightweight climber’s lid, is definitely a strong salvo. The most notable improvement over the competition is the use of a Boa ratchet combined with a super lightweight nylon lace for the retention system. Oakley has also built channels for sunglass temples into the inside of the helmet’s shell, so when you turn your shades upside down and store them in the lid, as is common when climbing, they don’t jam uncomfortably against your skull. Other than that, the Aro 3 was so light and well ventilated that mostly I never really noticed it was there—that is, in my opinion, the mark of the best helmets.

The rise of automatic shifting, integrated computers, lights, power meters, and radar has made us wonder: How much is too much?

I just discovered that the latest road bike components on the market are smarter than I am. Five months ago, Allied Cycles shipped me one of the first test models of its All Road, and though I loved the frame of this carbon shapeshifter from day one, I didn’t comprehend the potential of its components until recently. 

The bike’s Dura Ace R9170 Di2 group set—Shimano’s first-ever, top-level road components with dedicated hydraulic disc brakes—get some improvements over past iterations: the shifters have been pared down to match the size and ergonomics of the mechanical group set; the new Shadow-style rear derailleur allows for a wider gear range, with an 11-30 cassette; the weight difference between them and the mechanical group has narrowed to a mere six ounces; and the aesthetics are sleeker. Nice but negligible evolution, I thought. 

Then last week, Shimano invited me to its Boulder, Colorado, offices for a deep-dive into these new components. It’s there that I learned what this group set is really capable of. 

The secret is in the digital integration: not only does 9170 operate seamlessly with Shimano’s premier power meter, the R9100P, it pairs and runs wirelessly with an array of head units and peripherals, including lights. Viewed as a whole, the system looks like a complete platform that, for the first time, approaches the holistic intelligence of a car. Though still in its early phases, this is the future of bikes, where computer, components, and lights work as one to improve the ride.

The key to the whole grandiose system is a nondescript, thumbnail-sized plastic box called the D-Fly that costs $93 and lets Di2 communicate wirelessly using both ANT+ and Bluetooth. All the Di2 parts (minus the power meter) are still wired together using Shimano’s E-tubes, but the D-Fly snaps inconspicuously into that line to enable the system to communicate to a smartphone or tablet (iOS or Android), as well as to a range of head units and lights.

For the demonstration, Shimano teamed up with Garmin to provide the company’s latest computer, the Edge 1030 ($600), which gets a bigger screen and longer battery life (20 hours) than the previous edition, a new interface, and trick new capabilities including crash detection to alert family if you go down. This computer functions as the control center for the Di2 system. Garmin also provided a pair of ANT+-enabled lights, the 800-lumen Varia UT800 Smart Headlight ($150) and the 16-lumen Rearview Radar ($200). Shimano also subbed out my crank with its new power-equipped model. 

All of these bits and pieces are impressive on their own, but it’s the networking of the group, and the way they interact with Di2, that makes them especially interesting. Turn on the Garmin, wake up the Di2 group by pressing one of the shift buttons, and the system comes to life, with lights, components, and power meter all networking to the head unit. In addition to the usual metrics and mapping, the Edge displays real-time battery power for all the onboard devices, except the power meter, as well as gearing information for Di2.

From here, you can configure shifting however you want, though I opted to retain the standard pattern: rear derailleur on the right, front on the left. I did play with the new Syncro Shift, which debuted on Shimano's XTR Di2 M9050 group and cedes various degrees of shifting control to a programmable algorithm. So, for example, in Semi Sync mode, when you shift the front derailleur, the rear derailleur shifts up or down automatically (in pre-set gear increments of your choosing) to ease the transition. In Auto Sync, you shift only the rear derailleur, and the system takes care of front derailleur duties to achieve the best gear ratios and avoid cross-chaining. Switching between the two modes and standard, where you’re in complete control, is as simple as a push of the button on the junction box, which now lives neatly inside a bar-end plug.

To help with navigation, the new slimmed-down Dual Control Levers get a new button on the crown of the shifter, beneath the rubber hood. (The button was present on 9070 shifters, but most people didn’t realize it because it had no purpose yet.) As with the shift buttons, these are programmable, meaning you can pick and choose tasks for each of six buttons to suit your preferences. I set the left top button to control the Garmin—a single short push cycles through my data screens, while a long push starts and stops my current activity. I linked the right top button to the lights, with a long hold to turn them on and off and a short one to cycle between solid mode and blinking.

Perhaps most groundbreaking is the Rearview Radar, which senses cars up to 153 yards behind you. When a car comes in range, the edges of the 1030 screen glow red, and a dot depicting the vehicle appears on the rear right-hand side of the screen and moves forward toward a dot that depicts you at the front of the display. Once the car has passed, the edges glow green, then return to neutral gray. The radar can register up to eight cars at once, and it displays a red dot for fast-moving vehicles. Meanwhile, the taillight increases intensity as cars approach. This is awesome safety technology, and it could get even better if Garmin adds the turn-signal functionality, operable from those Di2 hoods, that it already uses on its Smart Taillights.

I found that, on the bike, all that technology works seamlessly. Using data from the 1030 (speed, light sensor), the headlight automatically adjusts its power and beam. The rear light picks up vehicles and warns you of them on screen. The derailleurs automatically pick the optimal ratios as you shift. All of that data displays in real time on the head unit screen. And I was able to scroll through my pages and change turn settings on and off without my hands ever leaving the shifters. It’s reminiscent of a modern car, where you can control all the critical vehicle functions from a few buttons on the steering wheel. (Unfortunately, in my opinion, Garmin has made it possible to receive texts on the head unit screen too, raising the specter of distracted driving for cyclists.)

I’m sure many cyclists will balk at the technology. And, of course, the price for this setup runs more than many complete bikes (though there are less expensive compatible computers and lights). But having seen the possibilities and used the technology, I am convinced that this system will become a standard part of every bike I buy in the future.

Adoption of these advances will take time, and they won’t become pervasive until prices drop. But just like disc brakes on mountain bikes (and increasingly road) or power steering and windows on cars, technological advances that improve the experience will inevitably win out. As good as technology for bikes is getting, the day when lights and GPS and integrated electronic shifting—and who knows what else—are built into every bicycle is coming sooner than we can imagine.

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I never imagined I’d finish my first marathon by plodding laps back and forth across an empty parking lot, with only my boyfriend, Brendan, to see it. No cheering fans. Nobody handing me a banana or a finisher’s medal. Then again, when I laced my shoes that morning, I had no intention of running a marathon.

Brendan had been traveling a lot and had recently been bitten by the ultrarunning bug, so I thought I’d join him for his weekend training run and share some quality time. His training schedule said 25 miles that day, so I figured I’d try to keep up for as much as I could. Over the miles, it came out that I’d never run a marathon before. “Well, if you’re shooting to run 25 today, why not just do 26.2?” he said, glancing first at his GPS watch and then sidelong to gauge my salt-encrusted expression. “It’s just another 15 minutes.”

And that—plus a healthy dose of cajoling, a few miles of walking, and several bathroom breaks—is how I found myself dragging my feet across the trailhead parking spots with Brendan, his eyes glued to his watch, waiting for it to register the magic number 26.2. As I finally disintegrated into my car seat after a sopping hug and high-five, I wondered: Is this what dating an ultrarunner looks like?

Brendan hasn’t always been an ultrarunner. In fact, I’m used to wearing the running shorts in the relationship. I’m one of those messed-up people who thinks I actually enjoy the activity. High school cross-country and track were both sweet solace for me through awkward phases; in college, I found a similar refuge in trail running. In my twenties, I entered half marathons once in a while, but I’ve almost never run with a watch, and I rarely think about time or specific distances. I relish running as more of a spontaneous, natural expression of joy that happens to be good for me. Brendan? He’s different. He’s quick to say he doesn’t like running—he likes having run. So, when he registered for his first 50K after we’d been together for three years, I was a little surprised but supportive. When he finished his second 50-miler and started looking for 100-mile races, I began to anticipate some major lifestyle adjustments. Like getting schooled at the dinner table.

“Twenty miles is automatic pizza,” Brendan declared one evening, holding the door for me at our favorite deep-dish joint in Denver. Problem was, that day I didn’t run the 25 miles with him—I only ran five. “You got this,” he said as my eatingpace slowed, leaving several slices untouched. He and his running partner hadn’t stopped mowing into the pizza since it landed in front of them—and they invited me to go out for pie afterward. I always thought I was a good eater, but there was no way I could hang with these guys anymore. An hour later, I dropped my spoon into the berry-pie tin in defeat, tempted to unbutton my jean shorts. At home, it was barely an hour before Brendan was rummaging in the fridge for another snack.

Just as I’ve grown accustomed to hearing the phrase “I’m hungry” 200 times a day, I’ve also started to get used to a regular symphony of groans, gasps, and what Brendan calls “old-man noises” when he sits. And when he stands. And when he lies down. And especially when he dunks his feet into his weekly ice bath. I now refrain from panicking when I hear moans coming from behind the bathroom door.

Brendan and I are the kind of couple who generally leave the bathroom door closed, giving each other privacy. But applying Body Glide before a run awkwardly straddles the line between public and private—it just somehow seems more intimate than applying sunscreen. Just envision all those private places that might chafe when you’re running five or more hours at a time. Not a very sexy thought. Casually strolling through the open bedroom door to talk about post-run plans, I found Brendan like a deer in headlights staring uncomfortably back at me, Body Glide in one hand, the waistband of his shorts bunched up in the other. His look warned, “You’re not going to be able to unsee what I’m about to do; you should probably turn around.”

Even my idea of what a run looks like has changed. Brendan and I don’t always run together, but when we do, it’s rarely a simple out-and-back anymore. Usually not a clean loop or lollipop trail, either. One day, hunched over Strava before we headed out, he turned the laptop around to show me how he managed to squeeze a few hundred more feet of elevation from our neighborhood streets on his last run. The map showed a row of teeth, the route’s red line zigzagging up and down each block for almost two miles.

I blame most of this on the new GPS watch that Brendan uses to log his miles and elevation. Counting miles so carefully is new to me, and I’m beginning to learn that a trail run is rarely over just because we’re back at the car. Odds are the watch still shows we need another half-mile. Or a third of a mile. Or a tenth of a mile. So I’m learning to swallow my laughter and my pride as we trot back and forth across a parking lot or jog in circles to reach the magic number on the training calendar.

In the end, all those parking-lot circles appear to be paying off. At the finish of the Run Rabbit Run 100 in Steamboat Springs last September, I stood with Brendan’s parents and friends as the sun set and the red digital numbers on the race clock morphed from one into the next. It grew close to a half-hour until the cutoff, and we started to worry. But as Brendan and his buddy Jayson shuffled around the corner and across the finish line, I couldn’t have been more proud. They might not have been the fastest, but they put in the work and accomplished what they set out to do.

And it wasn’t long after Brendan’s old-man noises from that race started to subside that we sat across the kitchen table from each other, staring into our laptops, and I quietly clicked “submit” to enter my own first 50K. Twenty miles equals automatic pizza, after all.

Wouldn’t you like to get away? To a place where you can be pampered and just relax? Of course you wouldn’t.

This is the 21st century. We’re already soft enough from sitting 13 hours a day. You want something different. Something more adventurous. Something more masochistic. Here are a few ideas to put the “wow, this is really miserable” in your “vacation.” 

Instead of: Getting a hot stone massage
Try: An unplanned open bivy! Why have a luxurious experience that will have you wishing it could never end, instead of freezing your ass off on a cliff edge, huddling with your climbing partner, and counting the minutes until dawn, just hoping you live through it?

Instead of: A detoxifying spa seaweed wrap
Try: Getting ripped out of a whitewater raft by hundreds of gallons of river water! You’ll love the sudden, slightly terrifying feeling of being churned through nature’s spin cycle as you flail and try to stay afloat until someone from a boat throws you a line.

Instead of: A posh ski vacation in Aspen
Try: Ice climbing! The combination of searing cold, rock-hard chunks of ice falling and hitting your face and/or knees, and your extremities going numb and excruciatingly warming up again will make you wonder why more people aren’t lining up to do it!

Instead of: A long walk on a sunlit beach
Try: Mountaineering! While getting out of bed for the day at 1 a.m., or even better, 11 p.m. the night before, and then tromping through snow up thousands of feet of elevation might have you wondering how it could get any better, wait until you have to crap in a plastic bag while roped to someone else—and then have to carry it with you the rest of the way up and down the mountain!

Instead of: Sitting on the beach and sipping mojitos
Try: Bikepacking in the desert! Enjoy both pedaling your fully-loaded bike and getting off and pushing it through deep sand and up steep inclines. Bonus: Sand in your toothbrush!

Instead of: Spreading out in a king-size memory foam bed
Try: Cramming yourself into the back of a truck, van, or station wagon filled with outdoor gear—or better yet, sleeping on a slowly leaking camping pad that will subtly remind your shoulders and hips of the unforgiving rigidity of the ground at 3 a.m.

Instead of: A Jacuzzi suite overlooking the pool
Try: Pooping in a hole in the ground! Nothing complicated here, just like it sounds—and when you’re done you get to wipe your ass with a stick and/or a rock!

Instead of: An all-inclusive luxury resort
Try: A vacation where nothing is included! Bring all your own equipment, food, and water for several days out to the middle of nowhere, find a spot where you can’t see another human being, and hang out for a few cold nights. Oh, and be careful with your stuff, or bears might eat your food, or your face!

Read more from Brendan Leonard at Semi-Rad.com

An in-depth look at the GOP’s full-scale assault on our 640 million acres of public land

When the Republicans took over all three branches of government earlier this year, we braced ourselves for a renewed onslaught against our public lands. That wasn’t partisan paranoia: The GOP’s official platform calls for handing over federally managed land—including national parks, monuments, and forests and lands managed by the BLM—to the states. Adopted in July 2016, it reads, in part:

Congress shall immediately pass universal legislation providing for a timely and orderly mechanism requiring the federal government to convey certain federally controlled public lands to states.

Here, “transfer” is a euphemism for “privatize.” Federal management isn’t perfect, but it’s not intended to be. It’s meant as a compromise to balance the interests of various users, including recreationists and loggers, environmentalists and miners. States, on the other hand, have no such multiple-use mandate—they’re free to focus exclusively on profit, if they wish. Historically, when states take over public land, the public loses. (If you’re still not convinced, read contributing editor Wes Siler’s take.)

Outside would not exist were it not for our public lands and the $887 billion outdoor recreation industry they help support. So, over the past year, we’ve doubled down on our political reporting to tell the stories of the people—both Republicans and Democrats—fighting to protect these wild places. We’ve made a brand-wide effort to aggressively cover the controversies through a mix of features, breaking news, and reader engagement. We’ve put two writers on contract to follow public lands news, which is a substantial investment for a company of our size. We’ve assigned web-only and magazine features about the biggest players affecting our access to public lands.

We’ve also created this regularly updated page as a resource for everyone who cares about this topic—and if you enjoy nature, wildlife, clean air, water, or recreation, you should. We also encourage you to join our Public Lands Facebook group, a place we created to foster discussion and questions about what’s going on—and how you can help.

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The Land War Has Begun

In February, a massive outcry killed a bill that would have sold off 3 million acres of public land in Utah. But that was just a first salvo in the fight between the Republican Congress and the outdoor industry.

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The Assault: A Timeline of Events

When we write that public lands are under attack, we’re not being hyperbolic: From the national monuments review to the prospect of drilling in the pristine Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to the betrayal of the Paris climate change accord, officials under the Trump administration have tried to roll back all sorts of protections on public lands.

Here are the major battles we’ve been watching.

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#1. Zinke Acts on the National Monuments Review

In April, President Donald Trump signed an executive order to review all the national monuments larger than 100,000 acres designated by the Antiquities Act since 1996. A month later, Ryan Zinke, Trump’s secretary of the interior, recommended shrinking one of the most contentious monuments: the 1.5 million–acre Bears Ears, in Utah.

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#2. The Monuments Depend on You

In May, the Department of the Interior called for the public to comment on the national monuments review.

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#3. …And You Deliver

Three months later, a new study analyzed those comments and found that over 99 percent of respondents—out of 2.8 million comments—wanted Trump to keep his hands off the national monuments.

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#4. The DOI Tries to #FakeNews the Review

We fact-checked the GOP’s claims about the national monuments review and debunked these four often-quoted misinterpretations.

(Twice.)

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#5. Zinke Asks Trump to Shrink at Least Three Monuments

In a secret memo leaked in August, Zinke recommended downsizing at least three monuments. So much for listening to public input.

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#6. The DOI Releases Its Five-Year Strategy Plan

A leaked five-year strategic plan made zero mention of “climate change” or “diversity,” marking a major pivot away from its predecessor.

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#7. What Do Taxes Have to Do with the Arctic? 

When the GOP tried (and later succeeded) to sneak a plan into their tax package that would open the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to drilling, Outside did the math on oil exploration in America's last great wilderness and the numbers didn't add up. 

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#8. Honey, I Shrunk the Monuments!

Documents obtained by Outside in late November suggested that President Trump’s forthcoming announcement would involve downsizing the Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-Escalante national monuments by nearly a million acres each.

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#9. It's Going to Get Ugly

After Trump flew to Salt Lake City and drastically shrunk two Utah monuments, Patagonia responded with its own message. That prompted Utah Representative Rob Bishop and his House Committee on Natural Resources to egg on the fight, and from there things got nasty. 

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#10. Anger, Sadness, and Frustration

Some of the people who lost the most with the decision to shrink Utah's monuments were the Native Americans who had spent years working to gain protection for their sacred lands, like Regina Lopez-Whiteskunk, the former co-chairwoman of the Bears Ears Inter-Tribal Coalition.

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#11. Who's Steering this Thing? 

Sure, Zinke can ride a horse. But he's having a much more difficult time taking control of the Department of Interior. Several former employees spoke to Outside about how confusion and low morale are rampant under Zinke. 

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#12. The Private Company Auctioning Your Lands

What's an EnergyNet? We dug up the dirt on a for-profit company in Texas getting rich by auctioning public lands to the energy industry. 

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The Key Players

Utah Representative Rob Bishop

Environmentalists’ public lands enemy number one wants to transfer federal land to the states, gut the Endangered Species Act, and eliminate the Antiquities Act—and D.C. is starting to listen.

Secretary of the Interior Ryan Zinke

Early in his political career, the interior secretary irked fellow Republicans with his willingness to stand up for conservation. Things have changed, and whether you love or hate his ideas, know this: Zinke is one of the few Trump-era cabinet secretaries with the juice to make things happen, and he’s got the boss’ back.

Patagonia

The iconic brand has long been the conscience of the outdoor industry, forsaking hefty profits to do the right thing. Now the company is going to war against the Trump administration over protections for public land in a bid to become a serious political player—which happens to be very good for sales.

Environmental Advocates

Sierra Club Executive Director Michael Brune explains why the land is worth more than just the resources that are on it.

Hunters

The GOP’s war on public lands threatens to alienate a key part of its voting base: sport hunters.

The Courts

Four lawyers on the monuments most likely on Zinke’s chopping block.

Whistleblowers

A longtime DOI employee says he was forced out because he spoke up about the risk climate change poses to Alaskans. We caught up with him to talk about the state of the Interior, how his colleagues are faring, and what he’d say to Interior Secretary Ryan Zinke if given the chance.

President Donald Trump

And his bent toward energy extraction.

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How You Can Make a Difference

Become an Activist

Six steps to make a difference in a darkening world.

Join Our Public Lands Forum

Our Facebook group is a safe place to dig deep into politics.

Donate Money to Politicians Who Support Public Lands

Conservationists have just a small voice in the Trump administration. The new Democratic Conservation Alliance public lands PAC wants to buy a bigger one.

Also, Watch This Video

This animated short illustrates what national forests are and how you can help protect them.

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Meet Our Main Contributors

Jake Bullinger

Jake Bullinger is a freelance journalist who writes about the West. He grew up in Wyoming, studied in Utah, and now lives in Washington, where he hikes, kayaks, and skis.

Wes Siler

Wes Siler runs Indefinitely Wild, Outside’s lifestyle column telling the story of adventure travel in the outdoors, the vehicles and gear that get us there, and the people we meet along the way. You may recognize Wes from such websites as Jalopnik, Gizmodo, and Hell for Leather.

Christopher Solomon

Christopher Solomon (@chrisasolomon) is an Outside contributing editor.

Leah Sottile

Leah Sottile is an award-winning freelance journalist whose work has appeared in the Washington Post, Playboy, Outside, California Sunday Magazine, Longreads, Vice, and High Country News, among others. She lives in Portland, Oregon.

Abe Streep

Abe Streep is a contributing editor at Outside and a contributing writer at California Sunday Magazine. His journalism has also appeared in Wired, Harper’s, the Atavist, the New York Times Magazine, Men’s Journal, Bloomberg Businessweek, Popular Science, NewYorker.com, the Southern Review, and elsewhere.

Elliott Woods

Based in Bozeman, Montana, Elliott Woods covers adventure, conflict, and environmental issues.

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The Vikings had a law that every man was required to own a weapon and to carry it with them at all times. For the wealthiest Vikings, that meant carrying a sword, axe, and helmet, but for your average farmer, it meant a large knife. Norwegians hung onto this custom long after Vikings stopped sailing the seas and many still carry a sturdy everyday carry knife in a leather sheath on their hip. In 1932, two brothers, Steiner and Sigmund Helle, set out to make a better knife for farmers—something that would look good, that would last, and that could be used for a variety of tasks.

"Farmers were poor and they could only afford one knife," says Torodd Helle, the son of Sigmund Helle. "So that knife had to be really functional but it also had to look good."

80 years later, the idea of making a functional knife that’s also a showpiece is still the guiding principle of Helle Knives. In that time, the company has become an icon in Norway and known around the world for its traditional take on knife craftsmanship. About 20 people work in Helle’s Norwegian factory, which is built over a Viking boat burial site, crafting the company’s knives by hand. Helle developed their own triple-laminated steel that sandwiches a sharp but brittle layer between two softer, more pliable layers of steel. The handles are made from a species of curly birch that's native to Norway. Even the leather sheaths are made in-house.

"Because every knife is made by hand, and because of the leather work and the individualized patterns in the curly birch, no two knives are exactly alike," Torodd says, explaining that the men and women who build these knives get attached to their handy work. "These knives are like babies for these people making them."

Tradition guides Helle’s production and ethos, but the company has incorporated a few new models in recent years, working with Les Stroud on design ideas and even making a series of folding knives. Torodd enjoys developing new designs but says he’ll never abandon the traditional Nordic knife or the company’s focus on handcrafted blades. Torodd says it’s that connection, between the maker and tool, that distinguishes a Helle knife from the rest.

"I'm speaking about the soul of the knife," he says. “There’s something undefinable about these knives. It's not flawless because it’s made by hand, but it is artistic. And you can’t appreciate that until you see it first-hand."

Here are a few of our favorite Helle knives.

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This is the classic Norwegian knife, built for hunting and good for any task you’ll encounter in the field. The 100-millimeter blade is made from Helle’s own triple laminated steel, curly birch handle, and a leather sheath.

Buy Now

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First introduced in 1975, The Nying is unique 1975 because of it’s short, stubby design, but it has become Helle’s best selling model. Think of it as Norway’s answer to the pocket knife—a small blade for small jobs, but with a big handle that’s easy to use even in cold weather.

Buy Now

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Several years ago, Helle started designing modern folding knives with their traditional materials and techniques. The Bleja, which sandwiches Helle’s signature curly birch handle and triple laminate steel blade into a more compact package, is the latest. It’s built to wear in a leather sheath on your hip but it's less intimidating than a fixed blade.

Buy Now

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Helle began collaborating with Survivorman Les Stroud in 2005, blending his ideas of a modern, function blade with their traditional handcrafted process. The Mandra is the second knife they've created together. It’s light, small, and designed to be worn around your neck. 

Buy Now

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Another traditional Nordic knife, the Odel is a utility blade that’s as good for skinning game as it is whittling a stick. In addition to curly birch, the handle incorporates antler and a bit of leather. Again, it’s just as beautiful as it is useful.

Buy Now

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Coverage of gear for women isn’t very good. Sure, there are some exceptions to this rule, but all too often, men are writing about women’s products—or the stuff is being ignored completely. Outside is guilty of this, too, though we’re making a concerted effort to become more inclusive and to balance our coverage so it more fairly represents all our readers. That’s why we’re launching Dawn Patrol: to bring fair, honest women’s gear coverage to your inbox every week.

We need your help to make this coverage a possibility. At Outside, we’re fortunate to have incredible partnerships with key brands in our industry—but advertising can be fickle. We know readers will need to play a bigger role in our business in the future. Direct reader relationships will help us tell better and smarter stories—free from outside influence. That’s why we’re asking you to pay $5 a month to subscribe to Dawn Patrol. Every dollar spent will go back into publishing more in-depth reviews on women’s gear, both behind this paywall and on Outside.

At the start, we’ll be doing a weekly update every Tuesday with exclusive reviews and gear news. As a subscriber, you’ll be able to access it by email and through Substack’s website. You’ll also be able to send the team questions about the products we’re reviewing and receive personalized answers from our editors. Our goal is to increase our publishing frequency. But we’re open to ideas! Think we need a members-only Facebook group? Want us to host an in-person event? Let us know! Email us anytime at [email protected].

Because you’ll get a special members-only discount. In your welcome email, we’ll be sending a coupon code for use on Moosejaw.com (thanks, Moosejaw!). It’s good for 10 percent off full-priced items, plus free shipping on all orders over $35. Fair warning: the offer is valid through March 13. So sign up ASAP.

Yakima, Western Mountaineering, Merrell, Patagonia, Scarpa, The North Face, Arc'teryx, Hilleberg, Canada Goose, GoPro, Prana, Garmin, Thule, Yeti, Brooks, Burton, and Big Agnes.)

Dawn Patrol is a group effort. On a daily basis, it’ll be run by executive editor Axie Navas and online managing editor Abigail Wise. Digital general manager Scott Rosenfield is leading the Substack partnership and is heading up our new digital subscriber and member initiatives. Axie has been at Outside for four years and is the former editor of the Buyer’s Guides. She’s now the lead editor of the website—and a damn good cyclist and skier. Abigail Wise is the founder of Sticks & Stones, a newsletter about the outdoors, women’s issues, and badass women doing outdoorsy things. Abby co-founded Adventures in Wikipedia, a series of editathons aimed at getting more women from the outdoor industry into Wikipedia. She’s also a rock climber and runner. Scott’s been an editor at Outside for five years, most recently running the website, and is a slow but enthusiastic cyclist. Special thanks also goes to social media manager Jenny Earnest, who is leading our promotional efforts, and email marketing director Jessica Cepek, the brains behind all of Outside’s many incredible newsletters (which you should absolutely subscribe to).

Where can I subscribe?

Head over to the Dawn Patrol membership page on Substack. You can also test out the newsletter for free. 

How can I read a subscriber update?

You can read a subscribers-only update in email or on Substack. If you click through from your email, you will be automatically logged in. If you come to Substack separately, you can log in through the membership page.

Can I forward the emails?

When it comes to the free posts, spread them as far and as wide as you like, on whatever platform you currently prefer. Occasionally forwarding a subscribers-only email is OK.

Can I get this content for free?

For the first month, Dawn Patrol will be free for everyone (though we’d still love for you to subscribe). Once we’ve heard from readers and used the feedback to tailor our approach, we’ll begin publishing Dawn Patrol behind the paywall. At that point, you’ll need to subscribe to read the stories.

I have a magazine subscription. Why can’t I get this for free?

We love the magazine. And we plan to have it cover even more women’s gear. But this is a separate product, and we need your support. Please consider helping us make Dawn Patrol a reality.

How can I contribute or make a suggestion?

We need your feedback to make this work! Shoot any and all ideas to [email protected]

Does Outside have other newsletters

Yes, we do! You can find them all on our signup page.

Bring your skis and a good book, and prepare to settle in

A lot of ski-town hotels call themselves ski-in, ski-out—meaning you can put on your ski boots in the lobby and walk out the door to the lifts. But there’s a class of snowbound homes, hotels, and chalets that bring the practice to a whole new level: stationed deep in the mountains, often in remote locales that require ski touring or riding a snowcat, helicopter, or gondola to reach. The best part? You’ll have vast snow-covered peaks right out your door.

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The Hideout Lodge

Kirkwood, California

Now open through winter for the first time, the Hideout Lodge is a 5,000-square-foot log cabin deep in the snow-drenched Sierra, with access to 40 acres of unspoiled wilderness and only 12 miles south of the Kirkwood ski resort. To get there, you can either ski in two miles, hop a snowcat, or, starting this winter, book a private heli charter to pick you up in San Francisco, Reno, or Sacramento. (They’ll drop you right at the lodge.) After a day of backcountry touring, you’ll have access to an outdoor sauna, cedar hot tub, yoga classes, on-site saloon, and meals prepared by a house chef. Book one room or the whole lodge. Starting at $2,798 per person for an all-inclusive, four-night stay.

Sekka Onsen House

Niseko, Japan

Set in the mountains above Niseko, Japan, the four-story Sekka Onsen House has its own onsen, or Japanese-style hot spring. Fitted with a gear-drying room, heated floors, Wi-Fi, and four spacious bedrooms, the house can sleep up to nine people and rents in its entirety. It’ll take you 30 minutes to drive down winding mountain roads to reach the main Niseko resorts, but there’s backcountry skiing out your door and an all-wheel-drive rental car is included with your stay. From $1,100 a night for the whole house. No single rooms available.

Whare Kea Chalet

New Zealand

A 20-minute helicopter ride whisks you up Dragonfly Peak to the mountaintop Whare Kea Chalet, located at 5,700 feet on the edge of Mount Aspiring National Park on New Zealand’s South Island. Harris Mountain Heli-Skiing leaves from the front steps and delivers you to snow-slathered slopes throughout the surrounding Southern Alps. The solar-powered chalet sleeps six guests, and a small staff prepares your meals. Huge windows offer views of Mount Cook and Mount Aspiring from the living room. From $1,400 per person.

The Hotel at Sugar Bowl

Donner Pass, California

Sugar Bowl’s snowbound village and its charming base-lodge hotel are both accessed via a quaint gondola ride from the parking lot. Stay the night and have first dibs on the Disney Chair the next morning. At dusk, enjoy après drinks and burgers at the Belt Room Bar. The hotel also features an on-site sauna, yoga studio, and massage services. From $259 per night.

Mica Lodge

British Columbia, Canada

You’ll come to Mica Lodge for the heli-skiing, but you’ll stay for the middle-of-nowhere solitude and luxurious accommodations. The lodge, located 93 miles north of Revelstoke and accessed via helicopter, accommodates 20 guests in the main building and private chalet, with rooftop hot tubs, a ski shop and fitness center, massage room, and boot-drying station all within your grasp. By day, you’ll have access to more than 500 square miles of skiable terrain via helicopter. Call for pricing.

Hotel Kristberg

Lech, Austria

You can leave the Hotel Kristberg’s cozy lobby fireplace and be in the charming mountain village of Lech in just a few minutes, but the hotel’s snowy hilltop locale makes you feel like you’re far from the hustle. Best of all, you can ski out the door to the Arlberg’s 88 trams and lifts and nearly 200 miles of trails. The venue is owned and operated by Egon Zimmermann, an Olympic downhill gold medalist who trained as a chef in Paris. Your night’s stay includes a seven-course dinner and a breakfast spread hearty enough to feed the Austrian ski team. From $177.

Smith Cabin

Aspen, Colorado

Smith Cabin, on the backside of Aspen Mountain, is accessible in midwinter only via snowmobile, but you can be at Aspen Mountain’s Sundeck restaurant in 15 minutes from the seat of your sled. Rent the whole three-bedroom house and spend your days backcountry skiing right from the porch. Or hook up with Aspen Powder Tours for guided catskiing. At day’s end, retreat to the cabin for a wood-burning stove, chef’s kitchen, Wi-Fi, and views of the Maroon Bells Snowmass Wilderness Area. From $2,500 a night.

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Ann Krcik, a titan in the outdoor industry, passed away on February 26 after a prolonged struggle with cancer.

Ann and I first crossed paths when she was the athlete manager at the North Face in the mid 1980s. As a wide-eyed, 23-year-old climber with a small grant from the American Alpine Club for an expedition to Alaska’s Kichatna Range, I asked for a sleeping bag, tent, and a rain jacket. She might have rolled her eyes, yet another hungry climber looking for a handout. Yet somewhere in there she had a bit of faith. She encouraged me and provided the gear I sought. This trait, empowering and believing in people, is what defined Ann and made her special to many.

Ann grew up in Northern California with three brothers and a pair of adventurous parents. Like many families in the 1960s and '70s, they would pile into the station wagon and visit the parks and monuments that make the western United States special. It was on these first journeys that Ann formed a connection with nature. Her love of the outdoors led her to working at Western Mountaineering, a specialty retailer in Santa Cruz, California. Ann’s other passion was music. The Northern California music scene fascinated her, and she got a job with Bill Graham Productions, helping bands like the Grateful Dead and Big Brother and the Holding Company.

The ability to pull together an event was valuable when Ann cross-pollinated music and sport climbing to host the first ever Sport Climbing World Cup in 1990 with alpinist Jeff Lowe. The stories of those days were always a reminder that regardless of how chaotic things might be, with a cool hand you can always make things look good. 

Ann then created Extreme Connection in 1992. It was the first agency that focused on getting outdoor athletes speaking and endorsement deals. Brands were looking to build adventure into their message, and Ann was the conduit. At the time, making a living as an outdoor athlete meant living the lifestyle—van life, couch surfing, and chasing the seasons—and it sure wasn’t lucrative. Ann helped turn it into a viable career—and did it as a woman in a male-dominated industry.

Ann continued to work as an event planner and contractor with the North Face. Her institutional knowledge of the brand and history of partnerships helped set the stage for the Explore Fund, an annual $500,000 grant she spearheaded as a way to support groups and organizations that care for wild places. In 2011, she returned to the North Face full-time.

Throughout all of this, Ann was an unwavering advocate for women in the outdoors. Her mentoring of the next generation of female leaders was amazing. Be it an ongoing relationship or a smile and word of encouragement, Ann was always willing to take what she had learned and share it—selflessly—with those around her. She co-founded the Outdoor Industry Women’s Coalition, now known as Camber, so that women in the industry could meet and support each other. 

Sally McCoy, Ann’s friend of 30 years in the outdoor space said, “Ann’s recent passion was creating opportunities for the next generation of outdoor enthusiasts and land stewards—because she honored the past but never lived in it.” 

This spirit is what made Ann special. She had a way of connecting individuals with communities and bringing people to groups, causes, and organizations. The ability to keep a calm and level outlook when juggling sponsors, athletes, and events is an attribute that we all benefited from. It’s like she was a well-seasoned alpinist on a serious route—she understood that any energy expended toward worry was counterproductive. 

She was the balance we sought in life. I am fortunate, along with many others, to have had Ann’s energy be part of my life and career. For those of us who were close to Ann, her death came too soon. There was still much to do. If anything, we can take solace in the fact that her legacy will live on in the outdoor community. 

“My sister Ann departed on to her next adventure today,” Ann’s brother, Andrew, wrote in a note to friends. “She was ever the pioneer in our family and leads the way for us all. Yesterday she said, ‘I feel so happy and free.’ And today she is on her way. We wish her safe travels.”

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As Lindsey Vonn stood in the start gate in Pyeongchang yesterday, waiting to race her final Olympic downhill, NBC declined to show the racer then on the course, Germany’s Kira Weidle, instead keeping the camera locked on Vonn. She took a series of quick, short breaths, and stamped her feet. Bode Miller, commentating for NBC after retiring from racing last fall, grimly noted her isolation. “There’s no one who can help you. You’re alone, at that point,” he said. (Weidle, omitted entirely from the primetime broadcast, finished 11th.) Vonn gave a tight smile, pumped her right hand, and, a minute later, pushed out of the start gate.

Vonn’s run wasn’t flawless. Needing to ski aggressively through the course’s choppy upper section, she played it safe, and lost a tenth of a second to Sofia Goggia, the 25-year-old Italian who sat in the lead. “She’s not taking risks with the line,” Miller said. Vonn thrashed through the next three gates, trying to straighten out, but the momentum was lost and she skied into second place, four tenths behind Goggia. Twenty minutes later, Norway’s Ragnhilde Mowinckel would bump Vonn down to third, where she remained. Behind Vonn, Americans Alice McKennis and Breezy Johnson finish fifth and seventh, in surprising and strong races. Vonn’s bronze medal goes with her 2010 gold, and the distinction—at age 33—of becoming the oldest woman to medal in alpine skiing.

After the race, in an interview with USA Today, Vonn’s formerly estranged father Larry Kildow confirmed Miller’s assessment. “She needed to go for it a little bit more,’’ Kildow said. “She needed to risk more.’’

Well, perhaps. Except that Vonn’s career has been defined to an extreme degree by going for it, and Vonn knows better than anyone what going for it does to a body. On Tuesday, the New York Times published a graphic detailing Vonn’s injuries, which include concussions, torn and broken knees, and fractures to her ankle, wrist, left pinky, and right arm. Several of the downhill’s top contenders in Pyeongchang, including Switzerland’s Lara Gut and Italy’s Federica Brignone, missed gates or crashed out before reaching the finish line, and Vonn may have judged the risk appropriately. Third is better than another knee surgery. In the aftermath of an Olympic build up that has featured inevitable media hype and also the death of her grandfather and a vicious right-wing troll campaign, Vonn could be excused for wanting to make it off the mountain without calling for a medevac. (Again, not an idle concern.)

Vonn missed the Sochi Olympics due to injury, and has kept her career alive to train for Pyeongchang and chase the overall World Cup wins record. At 81 victories, she's six short of the record, and plans to ski one more season to capture it before retiring. Speaking to NBC after the race, that finality seemed to set in. “I worked so hard, and I tried my butt off,” she said, in tears. “It’s sad. This is my last downhill. I wish I could keep going, you know? I have so much fun. I love what I do. My body just can’t, probably can’t take another four years. But I’m proud.”