California's $4 Billion Plan to Get People Outside

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The phrase “the great outdoors” evokes certain landscapes: towering spires, roiling cascades, undisturbed deserts. Yosemite, Moab, Acadia, and the like. These are places diverse in flora, fauna, and geology, but the outdoor spaces Americans cherish and have accordingly preserved often share one trait: For most people, they’re hard to visit.

“We’re increasingly urban as a population,” says Rue Mapp, founder of Outdoor Afro, an organization bent on getting more black people outside. “We have to imagine conservation that doesn’t look like the more traditional viewpoints.”

In June, California will have a chance to shift the state’s policy in that direction. If voters approve Proposition 68, the state will dedicate $1.3 billion to creating and maintaining parks in underserved communities, many of them low-income where residents are people of color.At a deeper level, though, voters could endorse a new vision of outdoor policy at a time when governments, nonprofits, and companies alike are concerned with diversifying outdoor recreation. If we want to get everybody outside, it’s time to bring outside to everyone.

Prop 68 is a sweeping $4 billion package that finances numerous environmental and public health projects. Bonds devoted to parks aren’t uncommon in California, but rarely do they so specifically target spending in areas where concrete overwhelms trails and trees. The bill was originally sponsored by state senator Kevin de León, and as it has come up through the legislature, it has won support from Republicans and Democrats; the op-ed boards of nearly all major California newspapers have also gotten behind it.

The proposition would sling $725 million to the creation and expansion of parks in neighborhoods that lack them and another $200 million to cities and counties to improve their degraded park spaces. The state’s natural resources department will distribute $30 million in grants to improve trails. A quarter of that can be used to create a transportation system that would shuttle kids to the trailheads. And it’s not just park spending that’s being reconsidered with Prop 68. Much of the $767 million devoted to land conservancies is earmarked for landscapes abutting Southern California’s metropolises, rather than far-flung preserves in rural areas.

The spending could yield projects like the Chollas Creek Regional Park, a proposed 32-square-mile park along a polluted San Diego waterway. “Chollas Creek, historically an important settlement for Native Americans, has been a habitat for diverse plants and wildlife,” Ruben Arizmendi, chair of the Sierra Club’s San Diego chapter, wrote in the Union-Tribune. “Today, it is commonly viewed as a neglected natural and cultural resource. Advocates hope to restore the open space to increase the quality of life for the disadvantaged communities in the area.”

By funneling money toward urban areas, Prop 68 signals a major shift, which you can see by looking at how money was spent in California’s last big parks-angled bond, passed in 2006. An analysis by University of California, Los Angeles professor Jon Christensen showed that funds from the $5.4 billion bond went mostly to areas that already had plenty of parks and access to protected landscapes. That’s partly because the money was split evenly among urban and rural areas, which sounds equitable until you consider per-capita spending: $9,860 were spent per rural resident, compared with $161 per urban resident. But Prop 68 focuses on per-capita grants so that parks with the highest user base receive the most funding.

“I’m in my local park so often that I’m aware of the changes in it, I’m aware of the maintenance in it, I’m aware of the seasonal shifts,” Mapp says. “That, to me, is the heart of this bill. It’s just about building that close-to-home way of relating that fits into the lives of busy working families.”

As organizations from the National Park Service on down consider how to diversify the outdoor crowd, the spending in Prop 68 acknowledges that a fundamental piece of that equation is removing barriers to experiencing nature. As writer Latria Graham writes in a recent Outside feature, there’s a perception that people of color don’t like the outdoors. That’s completely untrue. The problem is access and a more than unwelcoming history with the parks, some of that were touted, Graham writes, as “an escape from urban sprawl, at a time when urban was shorthand for blacks and immigrants.”

If that history is ignored and multicultural groups aren’t made to feel welcome in the outdoors, the constraints will persist. But Mapp, who supports Prop 68, says more local parks financed by the bond can erode those barriers in California. “So many low-income folks, and people of color who aren’t necessarily low income, need to have a stake in parks like never before,” she says. “This gives us a chance to address the vulnerabilities, but also the possibilities of people being able to live better lives through access to our parks and to our coasts.” And local access, Mapp theorizes, breeds interest in larger conservation measures. Kids with access to a neighborhood park are more likely to care about climate change, pollution, invasive species—issues that affect Southern California just as they do the Arctic.

Increasingly, the United States is an urban nation. Sothinking of nature not as a destination but as an everyday setting could be the best way to give everyone a chance to get outside.

Laird Hamilton on Rescuing People from Hawaii's Floods

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It’s around midnight on Saturday, April 14, and Laird Hamilton lies awake in bed. For the last six or seven hours, he’s listened to the cracks of lightning outside his house—the worst he’s heard in a lifetime spent on Hawaii. Every minute, electric bolts flash through the sky, followed by deep rumbles that seem to shake the small island of Kauai. At 4:30 a.m., Hamilton gets a call from a worried neighbors. The waters have nearly reached their house. Hamilton gets to work.

He leaves from a river access point by his home, the same he’s used to tow out on jet-skis to the the massive waves that made him a legend, and he heads toward the family’s home.

It would be the first of 75 rescues made by Hamilton over the next six days as Hawaii was flooded by historic rainfall. According to NPR, a gauge in Hanalei measured 28 inches of rain in less than one day—just an inch short of the all-time record. The downpour has probably exceeded this, as the gauge recently stopped working.

A series of mudslides followed the rains, cutting off road access and stranding families, as well as flooding most of the boat access points that could serve as launching pads for rescue—nearly all except Hamilton’s. Almost immediately, Hamilton and and a group of lifetime residents of Kauai—whom Hamilton calls his ohana, or family—turned his access point into rescue operation headquarters, where they’ve been gathering supplies and resources, and, when needed, scooping up families from atop their roofs and taking them to safety.

We caught up with Hamilton Friday to better understand the gravity of the situation and how the island is responding.

HAMILTON: It’s flooding at entirely new and catastrophic levels. During the first few days, I traveled with a crew of guys helping get people out of homes where they had lost all road access. We took them to shelters at higher ground and rounded up as many supplies as we could. Now that the rain has died down a little bit, our worry is infectious disease. Septic systems are busted and, in a tropic place like this, there’s tons of organic material that’s now composting, which creates a real opportunity for things like staph infection or mosquito-borne diseases to fester and breed.

I’m actually at my house right now, trying to assess the damage. I’m lucky that my place sits at a higher elevation, so I was far better off than many. That’s why I’ve been so insistent on helping those who I can. When the mudslides started, part of a nearby hill crashed through the walls of my garage and gym. It threw a ton  of debris onto the property, cutting off a substantial portion of the road. But it hit my neighbor worse. It was nearly pushed into the river. It likely would’ve gone all the way if not for a big tree that stopped it.

There are people who have lost their homes entirely and can’t afford to just buy a new one, areas that will never see vegetation grow again, and roads and other infrastructure that will take years to rebuild. But, all that said, I always tell people that Hawaii is unlike any place you’ve ever been or will ever go. The community that we have here and people’s willingness to give what they can is incredible. That’s where ohana comes from. It’s your family, your community. Sure, we have some people looting and stealing, but we have a far larger group of people who doing everything they can to give back. And that’s pretty special.

I’m definitely exhausted. I have a few ailments that I’m used to living with, but they flared up after days of 4 a.m.wake-up calls and days spent pushing 50-plus pounds of diesel and propane tanks, moving boats, climbing up on things, and the like. But, honestly, I don’t even care. When you get into these kind of physical endurance challenges, it’s almost like your body switches into a whole new gear and sets a new normal. You don’t need sleep, you don’t need food. And, when it’s all said and done, I have no reason to complain. I want to be out there helping.

At this point, we have a number of different organizations and agencies that have been hugely helpful in airlifting people out of dangerous situations, providing food and clean water, and helping to restore road access. Many of those people are still using my river access as a launching pad, since it remains one of a small number of navigable areas on island. Right now, what we need most is money. I know that it’s not the most glamorous thing to give, but many of the people who have lost the most are the ones who don’t have the means to just replace it all.

This conversation has been edited for clarity. 

Knowing When to Fold

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Sometimes the best performance upgrade is portability

Recently I was waiting for the light at a busy intersection when a young gentleman who looked like he'd just stepped out of one of those Honda Civics with the farty exhaust pipes crossed in front of me.

"That's a wack-ass bike," he uttered nonchalantly as he sauntered past.

My first impulse was to reply indignantly, like Dan Ayckroyd in Trading Places when Bo Diddley makes a lowball offer on his watch:

For I too was at that moment in possession of a singular piece of engineering: namely, a Brompton bicycle. Handmade in London, eminently portable, able to pass through subway turnstiles in a single bound… I stood aghast at his failure to appreciate the brilliant efficiency and sheer class of this precision folding instrument.

At the same time, I could kinda see where he was coming from, for while I may have stood aghast at his ignorance, I did so atop a bicycle with 16-inch wheels that made me look like a circus bear.

In any case, by the time I'd reconciled these conflicting emotions, the light had turned green and the guy who'd so casually insulted me was already ensconced in the vape store across the street, so I put foot to pedal and continued on my way.

As cyclists, many of us have a funny relationship with performance technology in that we're more than happy to accept the exaggerated proportions that often come with it, just so long as these distorted bicycles meet certain aesthetic criteria. Comically bloated fat bikes? Sure. Mountain bikes that look like motocross bikes? Of course. Deep-section wheels modeled on whale fins and carbon frame tubing the diameter of a PVC sewer drain pipe? Bring it on! Even non-cycling laypeople respond to this aggressive design language, as anyone who's had a complete stranger approach and ask appreciatively how much their bike costs or if they can lift it to see how light it is can attest.*

But build a bike that handles nimbly and capably, can be configured for many different styles of riding, and in 20 seconds breaks down small enough to fit under the desk in your cubicle, and suddenly it's a "wack-ass bike."

Hey, I get it. For years I relegated folding bikes to that same corner of my brain where I keep unicycles and recumbents. I call it the, "Hey, whatever works for you" corner. Imagine saying it while backing away politely from someone in a helmet mirror and a Hi-Viz windbreaker explaining why his 'bent is more comfortable and efficient than your "wedgie" and you've got the idea.

Eventually, however, a number of things changed. For one thing, my own personal style considerations evolved as they tend to do with age. (If you can't come to terms with comfortable shoes and baby puke stains then you've got a rough ride ahead.) For another, I traveled quite a bit. In Seattle, I met a couple who were traveling the country on Bromptons and had yet to incur a single airline fee (you can often gate-check them or stow them in the overhead). In London, the streets teemed with well-dressed commuters astride bicycles I had naively dismissed as "dorky." And while I'd always prided myself on being a well-rounded cyclist, it began to dawn on me that I was in fact highly provincial about bikes, and basically the cycling equivalent of the rube who won't try a new cuisine because it looks "icky."

In fact, I began to detect a certain…elegance.

Most importantly, my relationship with riding in my own city changed. The bicycle is in many ways the ideal vehicle for New York City in that it is immune to both traffic and transit delay. Riding here is also thrilling: not because it's especially dangerous (objectively speaking it really isn't), but because the act of wayfinding in a city of this size is exciting in itself, and moving deftly and efficiently through it is immensely satisfying.

At the same time, there are certain limitations to the bicycle in New York that can sometimes make cycling feel like an all-or-nothing proposition. In particular, there are the twin issues of theft and lack of storage space. Keep your bike outside and it's liable to get stolen; bring it inside and there's nowhere to put it. And let's just say you do want to ride the train with your bike. While it's technically legal to bring it on the subway, if you attempt to do so during rush hour, you're nuts. (Rush hour here is pretty much all the time.) As for commuter rail, that involves poring over the schedule and figuring out which trains allow bikes and when, and as someone who's been kicked off a train on the east end of Long Island for getting that wrong I can assure you it's less than convenient.

None of this is an issue with the Brompton. I was looking for a loophole in the all-or-nothing contract, and it turns out that loophole is the folding bike. I can pretty much take it inside with me whenever and wherever. I store it next to my coat rack. And while one of the benefits of riding a bike may be avoiding the transit system, the folding bike removes the moat between it and your bike on those occasions when you don't want to avoid it. (Large meals, heavy imbibing, and snowstorms are all solid reasons for skipping that ride home.) This freedom is by no means limited to big cities like New York (or to Bromptons for that matter, it's just the one I happen to prefer), because no matter where you live you can probably relate to the convenience of a bike that you can throw in the trunk with the groceries or fly with for free.

Of course, I don't ride the Brompton all the time, but when I do I think about how silly I was about folding bikes. What I once thought of as dorky is more like a switchblade. (Albeit a switchblade that inspires no fear in others whatsoever because you ride it like a circus bear, but still.) In many ways, it's the ideal urban bike, and certainly more worthy of that mantle than the track bikes and various other machines that once aspired to the throne.

Wack-ass bike indeed.  

 

*The correct answers to these questions are of course "Well, if you have to ask…" and "No you may not!" respectively. 

The Yeti and NRA Feud? It's Complicated.

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Former NRA president Marion Hammer set off a maelstrom of fury Friday when she wrote a letter stating that Yeti coolers had announced it would stop doing business with the NRA “suddenly, without prior notice.” Yeti, whose coolers are famous for their ability to keep contents—even whole game—cold for multiple days, has long been popular with hunters and anglers. In fact, the company’s founders are sportsmen themselves.

According to Hammer’s letter, Yeti coolers had long been a mainstay at NRA Foundation fundraising events, until the company abruptly announced it would no longer sell to the foundation. “They no longer wish to be an NRA vendor, and refused to say why,” Hammer says.

The letter goes on to accuse Yeti of pulling support for an initiative that gets young people outside. “That certainly isn't sportsmanlike,” the letter reads. “In fact, YETI should be ashamed. They have declined to continue helping America's young people enjoy outdoor recreational activities.”

NRA supporters met the news with outrage, with hordes of Twitter users adopting the hashtag #BoycottYeti.

https://twitter.com/stewdude59/status/987924598162276353

https://twitter.com/ohRockyRock/status/987922391081897985

According to a statement Yeti released Monday afternoon, Hammer’s accusations are largely unfounded. Yeti says that it didn’t single out the NRA or refuse to continue business with its foundation. It simply decided to eliminate “a group of outdated discounting programs” that it formerly extended to a number of organizations, including the NRA Foundation. Yeti offered the NRA Foundation and other organizations “an alternative customization program broadly available to consumers and organizations” in exchange for the discount program that it’s dropping.

Twitter user Deplorable Gigi, via Nic Payne, a member of the Macoupin County Conservatives Facebook group, posted that Yeti customer service representatives say that the cancellation of the discounting program was part of a larger move to stop offering large discounts to big organizations and corporations. However, according to Payne, the rep also said that Yeti is still offering discounts to the NRA. (The tweet has since been taken down).

Yeti declined requests for additional information about the number and names of the other organizations that benefited from the defunct discount program. The company also declined to specify whether the NRA will still benefit from discounts on Yeti products.  

The brand is being clear about its continued support of the second amendment (“YETI is unwavering in our belief in and commitment to the Constitution of the United States and its Second Amendment,” its statement reads). It refutes Hammer's claims that it's no longer invested in helping young people enjoy the outdoors. “We will continue to directly support causes tied to our passion for the outdoors, including by working with many organizations that promote conservation and management of wildlife resources and habitat restoration,” the statement reads.

Outside will share updates as they become available. In the meantime, if you were considering ditching your Yeti—or buying a new one—because of Hammer’s letter, don’t jump the gun.  

The Six Products You Need to Start Road Biking

We put together a full no-compromise setup for under $2,000

Road riding is appealing because it’s so accessible—most people have pavement right out their front door. Also, road bikes aren’t usually as complicated as their dirt brethren. On the dirt side, you’ll notice a big difference in ride quality when you spend more money. With road, the differences between a high-end road bike and an entry-level model are much more negligible. That’s good news because it means you can get a high-quality but affordable starter setup that will last for years.

Here are my suggestions for what to buy if you want to get out pedaling. 

Essentials

Bike

(Courtesy Cannondale)

There’s no shortage of affordable road bikes, including the excellent Specialized Allez Elite or Pure Cycles Drop Bar Roadie. And buying used will knock down the price. You can likely find a good used roadie on Craigslist or eBay for half of what you’d pay new.

But with all the changes afoot in road technology, including disc brakes and road tubeless, I’d argue in favor of buying the Cannondale Synapse Disc 105 SE ($1,600). With a slacker front end, lower bottom bracket, and more upright position than a race bike, this aluminum endurance machine is built for comfort as much as speed, which is important when you’re starting out.

Some of the road riding old guard may tell you not to bother with disc brakes. Don’t listen to them. Disc brakes are superior to rim brakes—we resolved that debate a decade ago in mountain bikes—and anyone who thinks that every road bike won’t come with discs in five years has their head in the sand. As such, I believe that every new rider should buy a disc-equipped bike. 

The Shimano 105 parts this bike comes with are the best performance bang for the money. And thanks to clearance for 30c tires, plus the supple WTB Exposure tires that come spec, the Synapse will be at ease on dirt roads as well as pavement. Cannondale has even included a Fabric Scoop saddle, one of the comfiest out there.

Of course $1,600 is still not cheap, so Cannondale makes two more affordable versions of this bike: the non-SE with 105 for $1,500, and one with Tiagra for $1,300, both of which are also great options. But a heads up: these less expensive bikes lose the additional tire clearance and plush saddle, and come with rims that aren’t tubeless ready, which means you’ll likely be tempted to upgrade your parts down the road.

Buy Now

Helmet

(Courtesy Bell)

When I wrote about entry-level gear for mountain biking, one reader said it was a waste of money to spend a lot on a helmet as he got his for a few dollars at a thrift store. That’s great if you don’t value your brain: there’s no telling what a second-hand helmet has been through and whether it will protect you. Save money elsewhere and buy a Bell Formula ($65), which has the most current safety technologies, including a MIPS fitment that protects against rotational impacts. It’s pretty inexpensive (especially measured against the cost of treatment for a brain injury), weighs little more (255 grams) than the costliest helmets out there, vents well, and comes in a rainbow of sweet colors.

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Lights

(Courtesy Lezyne)

If you’re riding on the road, a good light setup, like the Lezyne Strip Drive Front/Rear Pair ($68), is non-negotiable. That’s because studies have shown that daytime running lights, both front and back, can help ensure motorists see and avoid you. With up to 300 lumens in daytime flashing mode, these strip lights (white for front, red for rear) are visible from over a mile away in full daylight. They are USB-rechargeable via built-in ports beneath the weather-sealed caps, and the trim profile and rubber strap attachment mean they’ll fit well on any post and bars, even aero models, and transfer quickly between bikes.

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Shoes and Pedals

(Courtesy Shimano)

You might get away with flat pedals and street shoes for a little while, but for any appreciable saddle time, you’re going to want clipless pedals and shoes. The good news is you don’t have to spend a fortune. The Shimano PD-R540 pedal ($60) uses the same tried-and-true clipping mechanism of the company’s $280 model, and adjustable tension makes it possible to lighten up the pressure while you learn. With only two Velcro closures, the Shimano RP1 ($80) cleat is a fairly basic design, but the glass fiber-reinforced nylon sole interfaces perfectly with the pedals and provides enough stiffness for efficient pedaling without the torture-board feel of a full racing model.

Buy Now Buy Now

 

Hydration

(Courtesy Specialized)

The Specialized Rib Cage with Tool ($50) is a little pricey but it makes up for the cost by pulling double duty. In addition to carrying your water, it houses a built-in multi-tool (included) so you’re never broken down and stranded. Fill the cage with a CamelBak Podium Chill water bottle ($13), which keeps your beverage cold for hours.

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Fix-It Kit

(Courtesy Backcountry Research)

Rather than a bulky, swinging, tacky-looking bag for tools, I prefer the Backcountry Research Camrat Strap Road Saddle Mount ($14). The tacked-in elastic loops hold one or two tubes, inflator and CO2 cartridge such as the Genuine Innovations Air Chuck ($16), and tire levers from Pedro’s ($5), and the whole thing straps onto your saddle or seat post with the burly, rubberized, Velcro-slathered webbing strap. I’ve run these on all of my bikes, including mountain models, and they’ve never failed or lost my gear.

Buy Now Buy Now Buy Now

Upgrades

Here are some additional pieces of gear to consider once you’ve spent some time on your new bike and want to start riding longer distances.

Shorts

(Courtesy Gore)

Unlike mountain biking, where you move around in the saddle a lot, road riding can feel static and repetitive, so a quality pair of padded shorts like the Gore Bikewear Element bibs ($90) will make things more comfortable. The flat seams on these shorts prevent hot spots and chafing, and the pad liner is both supportive and cushy. I personally prefer bibs on the road bike to relieve any pressure on my waist, but Gore also makes these in a strapless design if you prefer.

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Gloves

(Courtesy Lizard Skins)

Half the time I ride barehanded, but on rough terrain or on hot days when sweaty palms might hinder grip, a pair of gloves like the Lizard Skins Aramus Classic ($40) is invaluable. The sheep skin leather is buttery soft on the hands, there are gel inserts in the palms to dampen road chatter, and the pull loops between the fingers help you peel them off post ride.

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Computer

(Courtesy Garmin)

Smartphones can record metrics and trace a route via GPS, but they look awful strapped to your bars and become a huge liability if you crash. I prefer a trim, dedicated computer unit like the Garmin Edge 20 ($130), which captures all the pertinent metrics (time, speed, distance, etc.) and provides bread-crumb tracking so you can load routes onto the device and then follow them in the field. It’s also compatible with cadence and heart rate monitors (sold separately) should you someday decide to begin training on the bike.

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Wheels

(Courtesy Bontrager)

No single upgrade will improve a bike’s feel and handling more than a high-quality set of wheels, and the Bontrager Aeolus Pro 3 TLRs ($1,200) are as good as carbon wheels get for the money. At 1,746 grams for the set (including tubeless strips and valve stems), these are reasonably light and admirably stiff, and I’ve yet to find a tire that doesn’t set up tubeless in a snap. The fairly wide inner rim dimension (19.5mm) spreads tires for a broader contact patch and better traction, and the 35mm depth is a great balance between lightweight and aerodynamics.

I realize that it might seem ludicrous to spend nearly as much on a set of wheels as an entire bike, so this is not an upgrade you’re likely to make right away. However, down the line, if you want a nicer bike but don’t care to spend what it takes, these hoops will make the Synapse feel as light and explosive as bikes four times as expensive.

Buy Now

 

The Best New Books About Epic Expeditions

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North America was not the land of milk and honey that early explorers sought. It was a rocky, cold, foreboding obstacle blocking the way to the riches of Asia. The Vikings, Hernán Cortés, Juan de Fuca, Martin Frobisher, Sir Francis Drake, and virtually every captain dispatched across the pond by a European king between 1500 and 1800 hunted for the Northwest Passage to Cathay. The English got close in Hudson Bay, before its namesake was left to die in a dinghy by his mutinous crew. Frenchman Samuel de Champlain and his truchement made a valiant effort, plunging into America’s interior with paddles, snowshoes, and bibles, tasting all five Great Lakes along the way for signs of salt.

“For every businessman who sought to strip the New World of resources, another just wanted to get on to the real market in China,” writes Brian Castner in his new book, Disappointment River: Finding and Losing the Northwest Passage (Doubleday, $29). Such was the case with Alexander MacKenzie, the central character in Castner’s book. MacKenzie was just 25 years old in 1789 when he set out across Canada’s icebound Northwest Territories to find a route to the Pacific. Canada was not the pastoral, Tim Hortons–laced wilderness-nation then that it is today. The northwest corner of the continent represented one of the last unexplored and unmapped regions on the planet—along with interior Africa, Australia, and both poles. Russian America stretched from Kodiak Island, off the coast of Alaska, to Fort Ross, near San Francisco. The Spanish owned a third of what would one day become the continental United States. Napoleon was planning an invasion of the American West, and it was a toss-up whether the British or Americans would ultimately control the 250,000-square-mile plot of land between the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific Ocean.

Castner does a masterful job in the first half of the book chronicling MacKenzie’s adventures in barbarous 18th-century North America: his arrival on an East River pier in Manhattan; navigating New York City’s press gangs, breastworks, and patriot and Tory allegiances in the opening days of the Revolutionary War; escaping over the “endless mountains of the Appalachians” to Montreal; and securing a post as a clerk counting pelts in the booming fur trade.

The voyageurs, manageurs du lard, and bourgeois that MacKenzie worked with had already discovered and mapped much of the continent by then. (French Canadian canoe men paddled 55 strokes per minute for 18 hours a day and hauled an average of 180 pounds of cargo over miles of portages on thousand-mile journeys.) The last blank spot on the map lay deep in the pays d’en haut—the “upper country,” where MacKenzie’s bosses tasked him with finding a river by which they could ship thick, northern furs directly to Chinese tailors in Kiahtka and Canton.

MacKenzie undertook two expeditions. The first ended in failure. The second landed him near the shores of Vancouver Island, where he became the first white man to cross North America. Castner follows the first journey, both on foot and on paper, using MacKenzie’s journals, a few modern guidebooks, and seasoned locals to find the way. MacKenzie’s mission was plagued by ice, snow, lack of food, incompetent guides, horrendous weather, and the kind of malaise one associates with northland expeditions (read: Father Hennepin, Jean Nicolet, Lewis and Clark, Roald Amundsen). Castner and three alternating paddling partners do an excellent job tracking the route, and also achieving high malaise, on their 1,124-mile reenactment.

They begin in an 18-foot canoe on the Hay River, 850 miles due north of Missoula, Montana, and paddle the length of the MacKenzie River. (Locals call it the Deh Cho.) On the way, Castner and Co. are tormented by gumball-sized flesh-eating flies, deadly lightning storms, oceanic waves, ceaseless rain, prowling bears, thieving locals, Hyundai-sized rapids, and countless near-disasters. Castner’s gloves rot through. The food spoils. His gear gets soaked at least once a day. The weather gods seem dead set on drowning him. At several points, our hero sits with his head between his knees, wishing he could go home. “Brought low by a powerful god, and paired up in a boat with a Jew,” he writes, “it is no surprise that Jeremy and I started counting the plagues of the Deh Cho.”

Chapters in the second half of the book alternate between Castner’s journey and that of his forerunner. The mirroring shines at times: “For the first and only time, MacKenzie and I were sleeping on exactly the same rock on exactly the same day, united by both calendar and geography, precisely 227 years apart.” Other times, the reader is left without the landmarks or narrative mile markers needed to connect the two journeys, diminishing the innuendo that walking-in-the-footsteps adventures often pack.

Another miss is the book’s hook—ostensibly one reason Castner followed MacKenzie’s first expedition and not his second. Contrary to most history books, MacKenzie did find the Northwest Passage on his first go, but a global cooling event known as the Little Ice Age had frozen it solid. Finding a sea of ice at the mouth of the Deh Cho, the young explorer declared the route impassable and the mission a failure. Castner waits until the final pages to explain that global warming, in part caused by massive carbon extraction on the continent MacKenzie crossed, has since melted that ice and opened the Northwest Passage for seasonal business. Castner more than makes up for those shortfalls with excellent research and descriptions and surprising endurance as an explorer himself. Disappointment River not only carries the reader along; it also gives us a 21st-century view into the harrowing nature of exploration on the continent we now crisscross in climate-controlled sport wagons.

Like the Fountain of Youth and the golden cities of El Dorado and Norumbega, seeking the Northwest Passage has been an obsessive pursuit for explorers—and authors—since the New World was discovered. The English were particularly susceptible, believing that a direct path to China would loosen Spain’s grip on the Asian spice trade. Obsession begets obfuscation, and there were miscalculations along the way. One theory that lured many explorers to their demise was that seawater could not freeze, so if a captain could push through the pack ice surrounding the North Pole, an open and passable Arctic Sea awaited. Another suggested that Asia practically touched the northern shores of North America, leading English explorer Martin Frobisher in 1576 to kidnap and display an Inuit kayaker back in London as a “strange man of Cathay.”

In his book Ice Ghosts: The Epic Hunt for the Lost Franklin Expedition (W.W. Norton, 2017), Paul Watson cites a statistic that for three centuries after Columbus’s discovery, at least one captain, “drawn forth by the fierce need to discover that which defines our species,” searched for the Northwest Passage every 15 years. Watson’s subjects are Sir John Franklin, who sailed with two ships in 1845 to solve the riddle of the passage, and dozens of ensuing missions dispatched to solve the riddle of what happened to Franklin. As with most Arctic disasters, ice got them in the end, and all 129 officers and crew died.

Watson rode on the Canadian Coast Guard icebreaker that discovered the first of Franklin’s ships, Erebus, in 2014. (The second, Terror, would be found two years later.) The Pulitzer Prize–winning author recounts the original mission with gripping detail in the opening chapters of the book, then delves into the marine science and Inuit oral history that ultimately led searchers to the historic find. Watson weaves together past and present throughout the search and dives deep into the issue of climate change and the impact of melting sea ice on international trade, the Arctic environment, and politics—including the importance of the ship’s discovery to the Canadian government, which financed the 2014 expedition and now uses the find as evidence of the country’s sovereignty over what has become the fastest sea route from the Atlantic to Asia.

Most accounts of explorers freezing to death while trying to connect the Pacific and Atlantic oceans start in the East. Stephen R. Bown takes the opposite tack in Island of the Blue Foxes: Disaster and Triumph on the World’s Greatest Scientific Expedition (Da Capo Press, 2017). Bown opens the book in St. Petersburg and follows the secretive and massive 1733 Great Northern Expedition from Russia to the west coast of North America and the Northeast Passage. Czar Peter the Great, who built Russia’s first navy and was fascinated with the North Pacific, hired Danish explorer Vitus Bering to expand Russian influence across the sea to North America’s west coast. (Hence Russian America.) The mission included more than 3,000 scientists, sailors, soldiers, and artists, whose fate was kept under wraps for decades after the mission ended.

Documents from the journey are still hard to come by, and until now most accounts existed only in academic circles. Drawing on old and recently discovered sources, Bown follows the mission across a roadless Siberia to the Kamchatka Peninsula, where Bering and his crew constructed two boats. The true malaise begins shortly thereafter, on the North Pacific, where the ships lose touch and never reconnect. Mined largely from the journals of the second in command, Lieutenant Sven Waxell, and the expedition’s naturalist, George Wilhelm Steller, the epic tale of their eventual arrival in Alaska is a testament to the will, strength, savvy, blind faith, and luck required by boreal explorers of centuries past.

Porter Fox is the author of Northland: A 4,000-Mile Journey Along America’s Forgotten Border. 

9 Upscale Adventure Hostels to Stay in Now

There’s a new breed of low-cost lodging that’s custom-made for getting into the wild

If the word “hostel” reminds you of backpacking through Central America as a twentysomething, think again. A new breed of affordable shelter for travelers has arrived in North American adventure towns, with great rates, comfortable beds, and hotel-like amenities. You won’t have to bring your own sheets or sift through a sink full of dirty dishes to cook your ramen noodles, and there are some great deals to be had—provided you don’t mind sharing a bathroom or cooking your breakfast in the company of others. What’s more, many of these nine spots also offer private rooms.

The Bivvi

Breckenridge, Colorado

The Bivvi was born when two adventure-loving college friends decided to buy a run-down B&B and transform it into a modern hostel. Stay in a bunk, a private suite with an in-room hot tub, or a four-person apartment, and you’ll get a ski and bike storage room (equipped with boot driers), and a hot home-cooked breakfast of pancakes or eggs served each morning. A free bus to Breckenridge’s gondola picks you up out front, and wine and craft beer are served at the in-house bar. Bunks start at $29; private rooms at $129.

Redlight Hostel

Truckee, California

A block off Truckee’s main drag, the Redlight Hostel offers easy access to skiing at Northstar, Squaw Valley, and Sugar Bowl. Located in a historic building first constructed in the 1880s, the Redlight derives its name from its previous life as a brothel. Bunks are available with privacy curtains, earplugs, and white-noise machines. There are also private rooms with shared bathrooms. A sauna and communal kitchen are on-site, along with ski and bike storage, plus a bar that attracts locals who pop in for a drink. Bunks start at $50; private rooms at $110.

Pangea Pod

Whistler, British Columbia

The private sleeping quarters at Pangea Pod aren’t spacious, but you’ll get all the comforts of a nice hotel room, including fluffy towels, ski- and bike-savvy concierge services, and a lobby espresso bar. Guests share bathrooms, the gear storage room, and a more-than-spacious lounge that’s stocked with board games. The place opens in April 2018; bunk rates are not yet available.

Homestyle Hostel

Ludlow, Vermont

Opened by a world-traveling couple in 2014, the Homestyle Hostel feels like a charming New England bed and breakfast—only way more affordable. Homemade granola and Vermont-roasted coffee is served each morning, and dinner in the on-site restaurant is served Thursday through Sunday. A bar serves espresso by day and cocktails at night. In winter, a shuttle to Okemo Mountain Resort departs from across the street. A bunk in a six-person room starts at $40; private rooms start at $75.

Hostel Fish

Denver, Colorado

At Hostel Fish, rooms are decorated with wall-sized maps, chandeliers, murals, and vintage clocks. There’s daily housekeeping, iPads available to borrow, free coffee, and a bar and kitchen. The front desk staff is happy to recommend adventures for you, offering tips on everything from nearby mountain bike rides to happy hour at the Museum of Contemporary Art. Bunks start at $43; private rooms from $160.

House of Trestles

San Clemente, California

Surfers make up the majority of guests at House of Trestles, a few miles from San Onofre State Beach, home to San Clemente’s most popular surf breaks. You can rent a surfboard for $20 a day and add a cruiser bike with a surf rack for $15 a day. New to surfing? Sign up for a lesson with resident pro surfer Anthony Osment, starting at $60 for 90 minutes. While drinking kombucha in the lounge, you’ll feel like you’re in the pages of a surf magazine, since each room is sponsored by a different surf brand. You’re relegated to a bunk bed here, but they come with curtains for a touch of privacy. Bunks from $36.

Mulberry Gap

Ellijay, Georgia

Mountain bikers love Mulberry Gap, a collection of cabins, plus a camp kitchen and dining hall, set on a 15-acre forested property deep in the southern Appalachian Mountains. The place is surrounded by a network of mountain bike trails that have been designated with IMBA Epic status. Home-cooked breakfasts and dinners come included in your stay. Rent a cabin, a bunk cabin, or a campsite, and enjoy access to outdoor hot tubs, fire pits, and communal bathhouses. The staff will tune your bike or shuttle you to a trailhead for an extra fee. Cabins start at $92 per person, or $17 per person for camping.

Whitefish Hostel

Whitefish, Montana

The Whitefish Hostel grants you superb access to skiing at Whitefish Mountain Resort, lake outings on Whitefish Lake, and hiking in Glacier National Park. In winter, you can book the whole house for up to ten friends for $225 a night. During summer months, reserve one of ten bunks starting at $35. The attached Super Sisters Café serves up tasty vegetarian lunches and smoothies.

Adventure Lodge

Boulder, Colorado

The Adventure Lodge opened on the west side of Boulder in 2015. You can rent a private cabin or suite, grab a bunk bed, or pitch a tent on wooden platforms on the banks of Fourmile Creek. Midwinter, the hotel offers free weekend shuttles to Eldora Mountain Resort, 30 minutes away. A newly built community room serves beer and wine near a wood-burning fireplace. Bunks start at $49; private rooms at $129.

Earth-Friendly Gear You Can Feel Good About Buying

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When you buy something using the retail links in our stories, we earn an affiliate commission that helps pay for our work. Read more about Outside’s affiliate policy.

Sustainability is becoming less of a buzz word and more of the norm—a greater number of companies than ever before are using organic cotton and responsible down and wool, removing harmful PFCs from their DWR finishes, and building accessories out of fabric scraps that would otherwise go to waste. All of this means there are more products for the eco-conscious customer to choose from. And with Earth Day coming up, there’s no reason not to go green.

For Earth Day, Jaybird is releasing a limited special edition of its wireless Bluetooth Run earphones. Ten percent of proceeds from the lime-green buds will go to the Conservation Alliance, a nonprofit dedicated to protecting wild areas. (Plus, Jaybird will donate 10 percent of all of its Earth Day sales to the organization.) These earphones are ideal for long days on the go—living up to the advertised four-hour battery life—and the compact case functions as a battery pack, holding an extra eight hours of charge.

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One brand’s trash is a dog’s treasure. The Astropad is made from fabric and foam scraps left over from Astral’s PFDs and water shoes. The top—a hemp-poly canvas used on shoes—is designed to be odor- and rot-resistant, while the bottom is a supertough 1050-denier nylon used in life vests, all of which makes for a dog bed that will hold up to even the most destructive pups.

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This Vermont company makes reusable food wrap out of organic cotton cloth coated in beeswax. The wraps lasts upwards of a year, eliminating the need for a throwaway Ziploc. They’re also compostable, so you don’t have to worry about waste when it’s time to chuck them.

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By popular demand, BioLite has made its Home Stove available to U.S. customers for a limited time. (It typically only sells the big wood-fired cooker in India and Africa.) The brand’s smoke-reducing woodstove fits a full-size kitchen pot, helps mitigate carbon emissions from open-fire cooking, and double as a giant battery, using the fire to generate electricity that gets stored onboard and accessed via a USB outlet. Plus: BioLite reinvests a portion of all purchases to provide sustainable energy systems to people living off-grid in third-world countries. The Home Stove is available through April 18, and ships in August.

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For its Swimmer suit, this New York City men’s swimwear company uses Econyl, a reconstituted nylon fabric made largely from used carpet and fishing nets. Everest Isles then goes one step further to reducing its environmental footprint by manufacturing its products in New York City, thus avoiding the environmental cost of shipping products from another country.

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Most toilet paper is made from virgin tree pulp, containing no recycled materials. A group of friends in Australia launched this appropriately named company in an effort to change that. Their brand, Who Gives a Crap, makes its toilet paper out of bamboo, which is faster growing and more sustainable than toilet paper made of tree pulp. (Who Gives a Crap also makes TP out of recycled paper.) The company uses 50 percent of its proceeds to bring toilets to the more than 2.3 billion people worldwide who don’t have access to sanitary bathrooms.

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Out of all the frames in Timberland’s new eyeware line, roughly 70 percent will be crafted from bio-based plastic that’s made with plants instead of crude oil. The eco-friendly shades are available exclusively in Timberland’s brick-and-mortar locations. 


All Good’s SPF comes from zinc oxide instead of oxybenzone, which has been shown to damage coral reefs. The company is also a 1% For the Planet member, and donates thousands annually to environmental organizations. 

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How to Mix a Delicious Cocktail in the Backcountry

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Just because you’re miles away from the nearest bar doesn't mean you have to settle for a crappy cocktail. “It makes me want to scream when I hear people are mixing powdered Gatorade and Fireball whiskey,” says Crystal Sagan, owner of Cocktail Caravan, a mobile bar operating in Denver and Boulder. “I understand people do it because it’s convenient and easy when you’re in the backcountry, but there are so many better options out there.”

Sagan is an avid backcountry skier and hiker, and she refuses to sacrifice cocktail quality just because she’s deep in the woods. “All you have to do is plan ahead and get creative with how you pack and carry the ingredients and you can have a good cocktail by your tent,” Sagan says. Her advice for budding backcountry bartenders is to focus on quality over quantity, and remember that the plastic baggie is your best friend.

“Companies are making gear for mixing cocktails outside (see below), but most of that is heavy and better suited for car camping,” Sagan says. “Instead, portion the ingredients into separate plastic baggies, then put those baggies into a Nalgene bottle so they don’t bust.”

So, if you’re craving a Manhattan, put an ounce of vermouth, two ounces of bourbon, and a few dashes of bitters in separate bags, and you’ll have everything you need for a Manhattan in the backcountry.

Making a cold cocktail can be a bit trickier. Sagan says to use clean snow if it’s available to make a slushy-style cocktail, or rest the plastic baggies in a creek to reduce the ingredients’ temperature (anchor the baggies with rocks to keep them from floating away). And don’t shy away from the cans of wine that are all over shelves these days. Here is Sagan’s recipe for an Aperol Spritz, which is refreshing after a long backpack into the backcountry.

  • 3 ounces sparkling wine (Scarpetta makes a good canned sparkling wine that’s backcountry-friendly.)
  • 1 ounce Aperol (in a plastic baggie)
  • Splash of soda water (Bring the whole can.)

Stir the first two ingredients in a cup and top with soda water.

If you’re looking to make cocktails in a car-camping situation, the sky’s the limit. You can even have real ice. Here’s some of the best car-camping cocktail gear on the market.

This shaker is loaded with the essential tools for making the majority of your cocktails on the go. You get a collapsible jigger, telescoping bar spoon, dropper, peeler/zester, and a mini funnel—plus the insulated shaker everything packs into.

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You can get all kinds of ice molds these days, but we like to keep it simple with sphere ice, which melts slower than square, so you can use the same ice for multiple drinks. This tray makes four at a time.

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Space is an issue even when you’re car camping. Snow Peak’s folding cutting board also works as a case for the stainless-steel chef’s knife. The combo pulls double duty for cocktail garnishes (remember to pack the citrus) and food prep without taking up too much room in your camp kitchen bin.

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Insulated tumblers are so hot right now, but we like Klean Kanteen’s version because it gives you double-wall, vacuum-insulated stainless-steel construction without feeling overbuilt. And it holds eight ounces—enough to make a G&T or an Old-Fashioned.

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These stackable shot glasses come in handy when you want to share your flask of bourbon but don’t want to share your campmates’ cooties. The case they’re stacked in is pretty slick too.

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If you’re venturing out on a day hike, please remember safety first: Bring your VSSL Camp Flask, which holds ten ounces of booze and contains two shot glasses, a bottle opener, compass, and flashlight.

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Our Treadmill Skeptic Tests Apple GymKit

The tech giant’s latest foray into the fitness market: make exercise machines smarter

I have a secret to confess: I’ve never been a treadmill person. Actually, that’s not a secret at all; I wrote about my aversion earlier this year. When I read the Facebook comments in response to that article, I was surprised at how many readers spoke up in defense of the “human hamster wheel.” Was I was missing something? Maybe it was time to get over my snobbery and give treadmill running another whirl.

An opportunity arose this week when I was invited to try out Apple’s new GymKit system. Launching this week, GymKit will enable Apple Watch wearers to instantly pair their device with exercise machines including, for starters, treadmills, ellipticals, and stationary bikes. Imagine stepping on a treadmill that knows things like your age, weight, and general fitness level. If that sort of creeps you out, I’m sorry to report that it seems to be where the fitness industry is headed. In 2018, the Life Time and Equinox chains will be outfitting their new clubs with GymKit-enabled equipment. (Older machines will be updated when it makes financial sense, i.e. when they are not so old that they would soon be replaced anyway.) According to Apple, 80 percent of the world’s cardio equipment manufacturers are on board with GymKit. In other words, even though it will only be available at select locations over the course of next year, Apple’s long-term plan is to make GymKit ubiquitous. Welcome to the future.

Eager to experience this brave new world for myself, I stopped by Life Time Athletic at Sky in Manhattan—the first (and so far only) gym in the country with GymKit-compatible treadmills—for a trial workout earlier this week. I’ve always been a Garmin loyalist, but earlier this year, Apple sent me an Apple Watch to test, which I’ve been using on my runs over the last couple weeks. Here were my three main takeaways:

It’s Easy to Use

Pairing your watch with the treadmill is a refreshingly idiot-proof process, even for those of us who are not especially tech-savvy. (Take my word for it. You know all that cool stuff you can do on your phone these days? Well, I don’t.) You just hold the watch up against the treadmill screen for a few seconds until it asks your permission to connect. You confirm and, voila, suddenly all your stats including your heart rate and “active calories,” will appear on the treadmill screen. At this point, you don’t need to look at your watch again for the duration of the workout, although I did this several times—partially out of habit, partially to see if I could catch GymKit off guard. No dice on the latter; the data on my watch always matched what was on the screen, regardless of how many times I paused the workout.

It Protects Your Information

Luckily, the creators of GymKit had the foresight to include an element of discretion. Prior to my Life Time visit, Apple gave a media briefing where I volunteered to be the guinea pig for a quick demonstration. Walking on a treadmill, flanked by editors from other publications, I felt mildly self-conscious that my (prominently displayed) heart rate was already exceeding 85 BPM despite the leisurely pace. Suddenly, I thought of another potential downside of having the info from my Apple Watch mirrored on the larger, public, treadmill screen: what if I got a lurid text from one of my disturbed friends? When I raised this concern, the Apple people assured me that only run-specific data would be relayed from small screen to big screen. Also, once you complete your workout, that data is only stored on your phone and deleted from the stationary device, which is why you have to pair your phone anew at the start of every workout.

It’s a Better Way to Record and Store Your Data

At Life Time Athletic, I was fortunate enough to have the treadmill area all to myself. I ran easy for an hour while listening to Bruce Springsteen, trying to find a watchable TV station, and fiddling with the incline on the Technogym as it whirred beneath my feet. (After restlessly flipping between cable channels, I finally settled on one of those virtual outdoor run simulations of the California coast—the footage was impressive, but still a poor substitute for the real thing. Obviously.) After ending one run, I moved over to an adjacent machine and quick-started into a trot, intentionally waiting for about five minutes before linking to the machine with my watch. Within seconds, my run info was magically in-sync. A nifty aspect of GymKit is that you don’t necessarily need to pair your watch at the start of an activity—as long as you do it at some point during the workout, your data will be retroactively recorded.

Speaking of recording data, from what I can tell that’s going to be GymKit’s biggest benefit for those who regularly run indoors. While the information on the treadmill screen—distance, pace, elevation gain—has always been accurate, transferring that information is usually a cumbersome process. On the rare occasions when I’ve been forced to use a treadmill, I’ve taken pictures of the workout summary with my phone. Other runners I know use a pedometer for treadmill sessions, with mixed results.

GymKit eliminates the problem of manually transferring run data or questioning the accuracy of your fitness tracker. I know it sounds like lame marketing lingo, but Apple’s new system does offer a remarkably “seamless” experience for those people who do a lot of indoor running and want accurate workout data instantly stored in one place.

The Verdict

The above benefits aside, all the snazzy gadgetry in the world won’t dispel my personal disdain for the treadmill experience. The time just passes soooo slowly when you’re churning away on the belt. For me, running inside still feels too much like a chore.

GymKit certainly can’t make the tedium go away, but if you’re gonna bore yourself half to death, you might as well get some accurate fitness stats out of it.