Category: The Great Outdoors

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Lifestyle Hidden Gems

The Oldest City in the US Is Full of History and Beauty

The former Hotel Alcazar now serves as the Lightner Museum and St. Augustine’s City Hall. (FloridasHistoricCoast.com)

Legend has it that Juan Ponce de León discovered Florida while searching for the Fountain of Youth. While that tale is probably untrue, the lovely southern state certainly feels effervescent with its ocean-scented air and its flourishing, year-round greenery. At least, it feels that way to a Wisconsinite visiting the state after a long winter, which I did this spring, hungry for the promise of warmth and life.

Whether or not he was motivated by the tantalizing tale of water that bestowed unending life, Ponce de León, governor of Puerto Rico and former companion of Columbus, waded ashore on the peninsula around 1513, somewhere near the present-day city of St. Augustine, Florida, the oldest continuously occupied settlement of European origin in the United States. He claimed the land for his king and faith, naming it “La Florida” because he came to it during the Easter season, known in Spain as “pascua florida”—“feast of flowers.”

I, too, arrived in Florida with my wife and daughter during the Easter season. This was our second visit to St. Augustine, after our first a few years ago, when the town’s antiquity, beauty, and vibrancy first won our admiration. The historic district of the city resembles a colonial period settlement, and when you walk the winding, Spanish moss-adorned streets—some of which are brick, and all of which reveal their age by their narrowness, built for foot traffic and horses and carts, not cars—the mind naturally roves back over the centuries to those first settlers.

The Spanish Mission-style Cathedral Basilica is the oldest Catholic parish in the country. (GianfrancoVivi/GettyImages)

Centuries of History in St. Augustine

Ponce de León’s explorations helped identify Florida as a desirable place for settlement and missionary activity, which gave rise, in time, to the establishment of St. Augustine. That task fell, 50 years after Ponce de León’s activities, to Admiral Don Pedro Menéndez de Avilés, who was sent to secure Spanish holdings in the region and expel French settlers. On September 8, 1565, Menéndez and his water-weary companions landed in a small natural harbor and founded a fort and settlement, named for the saint on whose feast day they had first sighted land. One member of the expedition, Father Francisco López de Mendoza Grajales, recorded the triumphant moment in his diary:

On Saturday the eighth the General landed with many banners spread, to the sounds of trumpets and the salutes of artillery. As I had gone ashore the evening before, I took a cross and went to meet him, singing the hymn Te Deum Laudamus. The General, followed by all who accompanied him, marched up to the cross, knelt and kissed it. A large number of Indians watched these proceedings and imitated all that they saw done.

Then, under an open, wild sky, with ocean winds blowing through the encampment, the same winds that had borne the explorers so many miles from home, Father López celebrated the first parish Mass in what is now the United States. Today, this location is called the Shrine of Our Lady of La Leche, a peaceful patch of parklike greenery under gently rocking palms. Old, sun-blanched gravestones rest among the ferns, bearing names all but worn away by time and nearly lost to memory. In the middle of this place, nicknamed “the sacred acre,” nestles a small chapel, so covered in ivy that it has become a part of the landscape. Inside is a statue of Mary nursing Jesus. The visitor center at the shrine contains an informative and well-run little museum with authentic artifacts that tell of the desperate, early days of settlers and missionaries laboring under the blinding sun and weathering ocean-flung hurricanes, pirates, and British soldiers.

The historic district of the city retains much of the colonial period’s look and feel. (Yijun Wang)
In fact, conflict with the nearby British intensified to a degree that the Spanish determined to build a permanent stone fortress. They began construction in 1672 and completed it toward the end of the century. The Castillo de San Marcos stood ready none too soon—a British force from the Carolinas attacked the city in 1702. The Brits could not take the fort, and they eventually retreated after razing the town. Years later, the town and fort came under British control due to the Treaty of Paris at the end of the French and Indian War, but a second treaty after the American Revolution returned the city to the Spanish.

The fort still stands at the edge of town, defying the ocean, looking much as it has these many centuries, impenetrable and unyielding. An art exhibit at the Governor’s House Cultural Center and Museum in downtown St. Augustine revealed many paintings of the fort over the years—a testament to the castillo’s ability to capture the imagination of generations of resident artists. In each picture, even as the town itself grows more modern with time, the fort remains the same.

The intricate stylings of Spanish Renaissance architecture inside Flagler College. (Carlos Smith)
The exterior of Flagler College. (Joe Shlabotnik)

The fort is well worth a visit. It was built in a star shape, the “bastion system,” to help counter the (then) new technology of gunpowder. The shape could better withstand or deflect incoming cannon balls. Another advantage against cannon fire is that the biological history of the region is embedded in the fort’s walls in the form of “coquina”—a rare type of limestone made up of the shell pieces of ancient mollusks, trilobites, and other invertebrates. The rock’s porous nature better absorbed the shock of a projectile than a more solid material would have. The temporary docking of a full-size, seaworthy replica of one of explorer Ferdinand Magellan’s ships enhanced our experience of the waterfront. The view of the 17th-century fort and 16th-century vessel beside it easily transported us back through three centuries of history until we felt almost as though we had just come to port in a strange new land after treacherous weeks at sea.

Boats on the Matanzas River, with the landmark Bridge of Lions in the background. (Vasilis Karkalas/Unsplash)

Old-World Charm

Today, St. Augustine offers a great deal of amenities that our forebears didn’t get to enjoy. Along the waterfront and in the historic district, you’ll find many restaurants, often situated inside old, restored buildings and with ocean views. Old-fashioned wooden signs protrude above the narrow streets, announcing gift shops, galleries, and coffee houses. Half-hidden from passersby, walled-off gardens overflow with lush vegetation while majestic fountains spray water like liquid diamonds into the air of courtyards and plazas beside ornate, 19th-century hotels. The city has the most European feel of any American town I’ve visited.

The Castillo de San Marcos is the oldest masonry fortification in the country. (CharlesLeRette/ GettyImages)
Built in the late 17th century to protect the Spanish territory from invaders, the fort looks out at Matanzas Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. (FloridasHistoricCoast.com)

A walk through the Colonial Quarter will take you past the intricate, Spanish Renaissance architecture of Flagler College, the magnificent facade of the Spanish Mission-style Cathedral Basilica, and the twin, red-roofed towers of the Lightner Museum, formerly a Gilded Age resort. Unsurprisingly for the oldest city in the continental United States, there are at least a dozen museums, including the St. Augustine Lighthouse & Maritime Museum, which offers visitors a view of the town and the surrounding beaches at the end of a 219-step climb.

What draws us to St. Augustine? I suppose it is the history, and our old-world sympathies, the serene natural beauty, and the distant crash and stir of the ocean in the background, the waves kissing the shore again and again, running over the sand like the years passing over the city, that draw us to St. Augustine. To me, the city is a link to a deeper past and an older story than most locations in this country reveal. At only 250 years, we’re a young nation, but St. Augustine reminds us of our roots and the inheritance that we carry with us from more than one European nation.

Flagler College was founded by Henry Morrison Flagler, a 19th-century oil and railroad tycoon. He helped to develop much of Florida’s Atlantic coast. (Brent Moore)

While I stood under the great cross that has been erected where Menéndez first landed and kissed the symbol of his faith, I thought of the early adventurers, wayfarers, villains, and heroes who make up the early history of our country. They couldn’t find the magical Fountain of Youth, but something of their culture and their spirit lives on. Without their story and their struggle, a struggle written into the walls and bricks of St. Augustine, America would not be possible.

From July Issue, Volume IV

Categories
Lifestyle Hidden Gems

A Stretch of Beach All to Yourself in Florida? Visit This Hidden Gem

The tranquil shores of Navarre Beach, Fla. in spring. (Courtesy of Santa Rosa County Tourist Development Office)

It’s known as “Florida’s most relaxing place”—where the Gulf of Mexico touches the sugar-white sands and turquoise waters of the Sunshine State’s gulf coast. It’s almost a trip back in time to the days when a vacation wasn’t filled with the stress of travel and dealing with crowds.

Navarre Beach, part of Santa Rosa County, Florida, isn’t a tourist trap and doesn’t intend to become one. If your dream vacation includes a long stretch of beach all to yourself, this is the place. Located between Pensacola and Destin on Florida’s Emerald Coast (named because of the water color), it’s a unique destination, offering a beach community without the usual overcrowding that often accompanies vacation destinations. Mom-and-pop restaurants offer unique dining and a break from the chains. And during the offseason, it’s about as quiet a beach as you can find in the state. It’s a family destination, with no rowdy bars that attract wild spring breakers.

(GotAnotherPhoto/Shutterstock)

Natural Wonders in Santa Rosa County

One of the absolute jewels in this county is the Gulf Islands National Seashore, 7 miles of federally protected beachfront property connecting Navarre Beach to Pensacola Beach on the Florida panhandle. Parking lots are scattered alongside the road, so pull over and take a walk. During the winter, you might find yourself the only person on this pristine beach. It’s also a bird sanctuary, and during nesting season, the speed limit decreases to 25 mph to keep our flying friends safe. But you’ll want to drive slowly anyway to enjoy the spectacular, unspoiled scenery and crystal clear waters, taking in the Gulf breeze as it blows between the sea oats.

Fishing from shore takes on a whole new meaning, as the Navarre Beach Fishing Pier stretches nearly a third of a mile into the Gulf of Mexico and is the longest fishing pier in the Gulf. Even if you’re not an angler, it’s a relaxing walk, an opportunity to breathe in the salt air. You can also fish from the beach, and don’t be surprised if a heron flies up to you, waiting for the too-small catch you intended to throw back.

(Carlos Carreno/Moment/Getty Images)

Take a short walk from the pier and get a unique look at nature at the Navarre Beach Sea Turtle Conservation Center. It features interactive exhibits and displays to educate visitors about sea turtles, their life cycle, and the challenges they face in the wild. Even more nature is just up the road about a half hour, as the Gulf Breeze Zoo offers a variety of animals on its 30-acre African preserve.

(This is a short preview of a story from the March Issue, Volume 4.)

 

Categories
Features The Great Outdoors

Highway of Dreams: Adventures Along the Pacific Coast Highway

The open-arched Bixby Bridge, completed in 1932, is famous for its aesthetic design and magnificent setting. (Maria Coulson)

In the big cities and small towns across America, young and old alike daydream of cruising the curvaceous coast of California on charismatic Highway 1. There are breathtaking stretches etched between sheer cliffs and surging sea wind, from crystalline coves to redwood groves and from Los Angeles city lights to San Francisco heights.

Along the highway, you can refuel and revel in the dozens of coastal towns, iconic and historic edifices, parks, and beaches, all while gaining insights into the exciting driving experience.

The longest state route in California, Highway 1 extends 650 miles from San Juan Capistrano in Orange County to Leggett in Mendocino County. It’s time to pull down your visor; you’re facing the sun’s glare, with a steep drop just beyond your passenger’s right elbow. Known also as the Pacific Coast Highway, it doesn’t constantly cradle the shoreline, and segments range from rural road to urban thoroughfare.

In 1937, the highway was completed with the blasting of rock faces and erecting of aerial bridges spanning cavernous chasms. A tenuous, narrow strip along the coastline was created, with stretches of cliff-clinging, hairpin-turning roads. Whether you are cruising the tight track in a humdrum Hyundai or a snazzy Mustang convertible with the wind in your hair and the sounds of the Beach Boys’ “California Saga” in your ears, this drive uncorks clutch-the-edge-of-your-seat excitement.

You never know what’s over the next rise or around the next bend. It might be mountains that plunge nearly perpendicularly into the ocean, surf and wind that pound the rocky shore and contort the cypress trees into otherworldly shapes, or a sheltered cove harboring a tranquil sea painted in shades of turquoise and sapphire.

Hundreds of tourists rent Mustang convertibles for the scenic Highway 1 drive each year. (Maria Coulson)

Beach Towns 

Heading northwest, the dry inland heat gives way to the cool sea air, as the tangle of metroplex traffic loosens, and you enter the embrace of the Pacific Ocean. The longest and most accessible sandy beaches along Highway 1 are found on the 95-mile expanse from Los Angeles to Santa Barbara.

Malibu has achieved mythical status among California beach towns for its sun-kissed Hollywood stars, who are drawn by the celestial-high real estate, and its perfect curl waves that attract walk-on-water surfers. Even for Malibu surfing mortals, there’s a rush of adrenaline when a breaker curls over your head, and you can see the light of day as you pass through the crest of a wave.

The Santa Ynez Mountains are a statuesque backdrop to the Santa Barbara coast, referred to as the American Riviera. The exquisite Mission Santa Barbara, known as “Queen of the Missions,” inspired the colonial style of the city. Few structures define the Spanish heritage of our nation like the 21 California missions established during the 18th and early 19th centuries, according to the National Park Service.

After its longest inland foray, Highway 1 cuts back to the coast close to Morro Bay. The seaside town sits along a natural estuary inhabited by blue herons. The bay is notable for a solitary, 576-foot-high volcanic rock that was once a prominent landmark for mariners. On the embarcadero, sleek seals and shaggy dogs raise a ruckus barking at each other. Fishermen unload and weigh their catch; gulls squawk and flock to tossed salmon scraps.

The Point Arena Lighthouse rocky spit is the closest spot to the Hawaiian islands in the continental United States. (Maria Coulson)

A Hilltop Castle and Big Sur

The central coast’s diminutive San Simeon soon comes into sight with Hearst Castle standing sentry. Newspaper baron William Randolph Hearst’s fabled hilltop castle began construction in 1919 and was never completed. A magnet for Hollywood celebrities during the 1920s and 1930s, today the site attracts about 700,000 annual visitors, who are drawn to the opulent extravagance of the extraordinary estate. They marvel at the ornately decorated and furnished 124-room mansion and the three guesthouses reigning over a crown jewel coastline.

Nearly in the shadow of the castle lies the under-the-radar Piedras Blancas rookery. More than 25,000 elephant seals pile up seasonally like bloated bratwursts on a narrow crescent of rocky beach. The behemoth bulls inflate their trunk-like snouts to make a roaring bellow. The portly pinnipeds ponderously waddle in and out of the water, crowd together to sunbathe, throw sand over themselves, and erupt into brawls.

The 90 miles from San Simeon to Carmel bring you to the Big Sur region, with a wild and rugged coast and rough-and-tumble mountains. Encompassing five state parks, a national forest, and a wilderness area, Big Sur is a milieu of meadows and hillsides awash with brilliantly turned-out wildflowers and canyons crowned with magnificent redwood cathedrals. California condors, with a wingspan of more than 9 feet, soar in bright cloudless sky or amid fingers of fog.

Delightful Scenes

Carmel is an enchanting and whimsical seaside enclave of fairy-tale cottages, posh art galleries, and chic boutiques that captivate the creative set. An eminent departure is the most faithfully restored of the California missions, the Carmel Mission Basilica Museum. Dating to 1770, it houses an impressive collection of original paintings and relics, most notably “Our Lady Of Bethlehem,” a statue that migrated with the missions’ founder Father Junípero Serra to Carmel.

20th-century writer John Steinbeck immortalized neighboring Monterey in his novel “Cannery Row.” The gentrified waterfront would be unrecognizable to the writer who eight decades ago described its historical pedigree as “a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream.” The cannery was once filled with the sounds of men whistling and hollering, rivers of silvery fish pouring out of boats, and the clangor from titanic turbine pumps. Then, the sardines disappeared from the bay in the early 1950s. Over time, all fell silent. The last operating cannery was converted into the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

A breaching humpback whale observed during Chris’ Whale Watching boat tour on Monterey Bay. (Maria Coulson)

It’s a short shoreline stroll to the Fisherman’s Wharf, which once served as a fish market and now is a tourist hub. Affable, 80-year-old Captain Chris Arcoleo owns and operates Chris’ Whale Watching. There’s no better than Captain Nick Lemon, who has worked for him for 62 years, when it comes to spotting whales. “This is the Serengeti [national park in Africa] out of all the oceans that I have sailed throughout the world,” seaman Keith Stenler told boat passengers gawking at a congregation of two-dozen humongous humpback whales.

On the northern edge of Monterey Bay, about an hour’s drive, is Santa Cruz, celebrated for its surfing culture and laid-back lifestyle. Surfers can be seen pedaling their bicycles through town carrying their boards. The nostalgic boardwalk contains the West Coast’s last seaside amusement park. The fun-for-all atmosphere is punctuated by squeals from nervous Nellies riding the Giant Dipper, a century-old wooden roller coaster. For the faint of heart, the 1911 Looff Carousel still spins a magical spell with 73 hand-carved horses, an original band organ, and rings to toss into the clown’s mouth as you whirl by.

The highway crosses San Francisco’s graceful suspension bridge—the engineering marvel fancifully described as a “giant harp hung in the Western sky” by the late USC librarian Kevin Starr in his book “Golden Gate: The Life and Times of America’s Greatest Bridge.” The bridge lives in the national imagination as a symbol of American enterprise and as the gateway to the Pacific. Upon its completion in 1937, chief engineer Joseph Strauss heralded the triumph with his poem “The Mighty Task is Done.” A partial stanza reads:

The Bridge looms mountain high;

Its titan piers grip ocean floor,

Its great steel arms link shore to shore,

Its towers pierce the sky.

The highway intermittently winds through coastal redwood forests. (Maria Coulson)

Fewer Souls

Once beyond the Bay Area, the road becomes less crowded, as many tourists opt for the convenient start and end points of Los Angeles and San Francisco.

This northern portion of Highway 1 is synonymous with splendor and serenity. From San Francisco, it’s about two hours to the harbor-hugging hamlet of Bodega Bay. Nearby Chanslor Stables offers guided trail rides in a peaceful and picturesque pastoral setting. The 40 quarter horses on the 400-acre ranch are lovingly trained rescues, which saddle-savvy riders can scamper down the ocean strand with. “The most amazing experience I’ve had riding,” said 29-year-old senior wrangler Taylor Piercy, “was racing down the beach with a deer. When you’re on a horse, you’re just extra fun to a deer.”

Highway 1 treads the periphery for the next 137 miles overlooking offshore sea stacks and rock arches: sandy beaches separated by surf-swept headlands. The residents are romantics: lovers of solitude and the wild. They carve out a living in precariously perched, cliffside settlements with fewer souls than seals.

Here, you can make your way down to the serrated shore and scramble out onto a ragged reef. Once you peer into the tide pools at the underwater wonders, you’ll see vibrantly colored sea anemones with flowing tentacles that emulate petals of tranquil flowers, clustered among rocks covered with white barnacles that resemble miniature volcanoes. An ochre starfish may stretch its purple arms. When you reach into the brine, you may find a two-toned spiral shell shaped like a turban; it stands up on crab legs and skitters away.

An adolescent elephant seal approaches a crowd of seagulls. (Maria Coulson)

The Russians Aren’t Coming

By the time the morning fog lifts from the hillsides at Fort Ross State Historic Park, the two-century-old wood-burning oven is loaded with hearty loaves of bread. Little boys clamber onto the cannons. Dancers hold hands as they circle the parade ground, singing Russian folk songs. The women and girls wear long, brightly patterned dresses, with strands of amber beads around their necks, their hair swept under colorful scarves—festive attire for a weekend gathering. The men and boys are dressed in simple white tunics, belted at the waist.

Set high on a natural escarpment commanding a stunning view of the sweeping seascape, Fort Ross was established in 1812 as Russia’s only colony in the contiguous United States. The only original building that remains is the one-story family dwelling belonging to the enterprise’s last manager. The outpost was abandoned due to lack of commercial success in 1841.

After navigating the curves and crannies of the coastline beyond the fort for an hour, a 2-mile spur road threads the needle of land, leading to the Point Arena Lighthouse, anchored on the cusp of a crag 50 feet above thunderous breakers. Visitors can climb the spiral staircase of the state’s tallest lighthouse. It was built two years after the 1906 Great Earthquake destroyed the initial structure that had guided mariners away from perilous waters since 1870. Station keepers and their families have endured battering winds, slashing rain, and the low rumbles of the foghorn for more than a century.

This Russian Orthodox chapel at Fort Ross was built in the mid-1820s. (Maria Coulson)

Fragrances

Thirty-five miles farther, Highway 1 appears to lose its bearing. The quaint maritime village of Mendocino is more reminiscent of Cape Cod than California. Prim saltbox cottages are framed by red roses and white picket fences. An artisan assortment of wind chimes tinkles in the sea-scented breeze. Cozy B&Bs welcome you to curl up by the fire; fine restaurants serve freshly caught seafood and local organic wines.

Meanwhile, the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens, terraced on lofty bluffs, first greet visitors with waltzing wildflowers and storm-twisted conifers. Here, you can explore the tableau of manicured formal gardens, dense pine forest, and fern-covered canyons; and delight in the floral displays of rhododendrons as big as wedding bouquets, dahlias in Popsicle colors, and magnolias with the fragrance of orange blossoms.

Almost within arm’s reach are the brawny shoulders of the biggest and most vigorous town on Highway 1 north of San Francisco: Fort Bragg. With a population of 7,000, the town operates a commercial fishing harbor tucked into forested hills at the mouth of the Noyo River. A block off Main Street stands the depot for the vintage excursion Skunk Train, dating back to 1885, when it first transported loggers and freight. Foul exhaust fumes evoked the odious nickname the company has since shrewdly embraced. “Disneyland has Mickey Mouse, we have Mr. Skunk,” general manager Stathi Pappas said jovially about their mascot.

Driving in a Ladybug-Like Pattern 

The oft-fog-blanketed and brooding northernmost 70 miles of the highway are little traveled: motorists typically cut over at Fort Bragg to U.S. 101. The road bends inland at the halfway point just above the squall-scoured palisades of rustic Rockport.

The dizzying drive delivers the most posted 10-miles-per-hour twists. It’s mechanical poetry interweaving the countless curves in a syncopation of acceleration and braking. You coil around ridge after ridge. The road curls in on itself and rises, only to drop again. You make your way up, mimicking a ladybug trying to cross a rose in bloom.

Your last descent is near the route’s end at the erstwhile logging camp Leggett, known for the drive-through “Chandelier Tree.” The towering redwoods in this area create a spreading canopy of arching branches over the storied highway. Five-fingered ferns and delicately flowering sorrel form a lush understory along rippling creeks, with dense thickets growing over fallen, Goliath-like logs. “They are not like any trees we know,” Steinbeck reflected in “Travels with Charley,” his travelogue documenting a road trip he made in 1960. “They are ambassadors from another time.”

For 650 miles, the thin ribbon of highway stretches ahead to the horizon, capturing your attention and unleashing your imagination. It reveals the natural splendor and a timeless spirit representing land and sea’s dramatic embrace. The route can inspire a dreamer’s poetic musing and an adventurer’s intrepid quest. The Highway 1 road trip is a rite of passage, and it reminds us that it’s as much about the journey as about the destination.

From April Issue, Volume 3

Categories
Features National Parks Poetry The Great Outdoors

The Allure of Big Sur: Why This Slice of California’s Coastal Wilderness Has Captured Artists’ Imaginations for Generations

The rugged coastline of Rocky Point at Big Sur. (Maria Coulson)

Big Sur is not so much a destination as a state of mind. The landscape and wildlife speak to the naturalist in every soul who visits there.

For decades, people have journeyed to Big Sur seeking inspiration and communion in this magnificent natural cathedral. Time spent exploring along the coast or trekking through the mountains or roaming among the redwoods or simply laying back in harmony with the surroundings is a sojourn for body, mind, and spirit.

Central California’s Big Sur region of wild and rugged coast and rough and tumble mountains stretches for 90 miles from Carmel to San Simeon, intersected only by iconic Highway 1. Big Sur is about the mountains and the ocean and the interface between the two. Early-20th-century resident poet Robinson Jeffers called it the “greatest meeting of land and sea in the world.”

An artist paints amid wildflowers at Garrapata State Park. (Maria Coulson)

Grandeur and Remoteness

Big Sur’s grandeur and remoteness have long made it a haven for literary luminaries. Author Henry Miller developed a strong relationship with the area, embracing it as his spiritual home for 18 years.

“Big Sur has a climate all its own and a character all its own,” he wrote in his mid-century memoir “Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch.” “Skies of pure azure and walls of fog moving in and out of the canyons with invisible feet, hills in winter of emerald green and in summer mountain upon mountain of pure gold. There was ever the unfathomable silence of the forest, the blazing immensity of the Pacific, days drenched with sun and nights spangled with stars.”

From his house set on a slope above Partington Canyon, Miller had imposing views of the ocean. But he chose to work in a small, wooden shed facing a wall, not to be distracted. “Big Sur is the California that men dreamed of years ago,” he wrote. “This is the Pacific that Balboa looked at from the Peak of Darien, this is the face of the earth as the Creator intended it to look.”

A clear pool ensconced between the massive boulders of Big Sur River Gorge. (Maria Coulson)

Miller fretted that the unspoiled complexion of Big Sur would be lost to the “air-conditioned nightmare” of modern life. He needn’t have worried. It is much the same now as then. Admittedly, a procession of RVs does form in the summer. But only about 1,750 residents live there.

Other than the Native American Esselen tribe, followed by a few loggers, mountain men, and pioneer families in the late 19th century, Big Sur remained a fortress for solitude. Then, in 1937, came the completion of Highway 1, with the blasting of cliff faces and the erecting of bridges spanning cavernous canyons to create a tenuous, narrow strip along the coastline.

Drama and Adventure

“This was home, this rugged, lonely coast,” novelist Nora Roberts wrote in “Daring to Dream.” “He had tooled along the spectacular Amalfi Drive in Italy, sped through the fjords of Norway, but not even their heart-stopping beauty could match the sheer drama of Big Sur.”

Its breathtaking stretch of cliff-hugging, hairpin-turned highway is considered the quintessential scenic coastal route in North America. Even if you cruise the tight track in a humdrum Hyundai instead of a snazzy Mustang convertible with the wind in your hair and the sounds of the Beach Boys’ “California Saga” celebrating Big Sur in your ears, this drive uncorks clutch-the-edge-of-your-seat excitement.

California brown pelicans are often found on rocky or vegetated offshore islands. (Maria Coulson)

You never know what’s over the next rise or around the next bend. It might be mountains that plunge into the ocean, surf and wind that pound the rocky shore and contort the cypress trees into otherworldly shapes, or a sheltered cove that harbors a tranquil sea painted in shades of turquoise and sapphire.

A Haven

Big Sur is a hiker and naturalist’s delight with five state parks. The Ventana Wilderness of Los Padres National Forest encompasses a wide range of terrain and trails from casual to challenging and sea level to thousands of feet in elevation. Some of the shortest and easiest jaunts are among the most picturesque. Meadows and hillsides are awash with brilliant wildflowers such as lupines, goldfields, and paintbrush and Calla lilies. Old pirates’ haunt Partington Cove is where otters and seals frolic in the sea swells. McWay Falls plummets 80 feet onto a secluded beach.

In an enchanting forest canyon stroll among a mantle of lush mosses, five-fingered ferns, and delicately flowering sorrel, the only sound is a rippling creek. You will be walking in the footsteps of John Steinbeck; let him be your guide. “Soon the canyon sides became steep and the first giant sentinel redwoods guarded the trail, great round trunks bearing foliage as green and lacy as ferns. A perfumed and purple light lay in the pale green of the underbrush … and overhead the branches of the redwoods met and cut off the sky.”

At higher altitude, the redwoods give way to choked scrub and pungent sagebrush characteristic of an ascent to 3,709-foot Pico Blanco, “a steep sea wave of marble” in Jeffers’s words. Once atop, taking in the panorama, look for California condors with a wingspan of more than nine feet, soaring in bright, cloudless sky or amid fingers of fog.

Storm clouds gather over the 80-foot-tall McWay Falls. (Maria Coulson)

Many Big Sur beaches can only be admired from afar because of high cliffs. But there are accessible strands where you can wiggle your toes in white sand. Garrapata Beach’s long shore and thunderous waves are attractive to beachcombers and lollygaggers alike. The small cove at Garrapata Creek on one end and Dowd Creek spilling over the bluff onto the beach at the other serve as bookends.

Pfeiffer Beach is renowned for its lavender-tinted sand, and offshore Keyhole Arch is popular at sunset. It’s a prime location to sight migrating gray, humpback, and blue whales. Local winged residents living along the sweeping seascape include gulls, cormorants, pelicans, and snowy plovers.

Wildlife and Wilderness

Beyond Big Sur’s scenic splendor is its ecological diversity and importance as habitat for terrestrial and marine wildlife. Nowhere else will you find fog-nurtured redwoods thriving on one slope of a canyon and sun-worshiping yuccas on the other. Similarly, sea otters and cormorants live near dry-climate canyon wrens and whiptail lizards.

Richard Brautigan wrote in his novel “A Confederate General from Big Sur”: “This morning I saw a coyote walking through the sagebrush right at the very edge of the ocean―next stop China. The coyote was acting like he was in New Mexico or Wyoming, except that there were whales passing below. That’s what this country does for you. Come down to Big Sur and let your soul have some room to get outside its marrow.”

A 1960 Austin- Healey parked along California’s Highway 1, overlooking Bixby Bridge in the distance. (Maria Coulson)

The mountainous reaches of the Ventana Wilderness that extend inland for 30 miles are a tight jigsaw of ragged ridges impenetrable other than by mule or foot. Only the most intrepid venture to the headwaters of the Big Sur and Little Sur rivers tucked away high in the Santa Lucia range. The rushing, tumbling torrents cascade down through narrow, rock-walled canyons, spilling into crystalline pools canopied by stands of old-growth redwoods.

The cool marine layer does not extend past the coastal crest, leaving much of the Ventana Wilderness hot and dry during the summer and early fall. The rare, spire-like Santa Lucia fir is found only here on the windswept slopes and rocky outcrops.

Jeffers captured this desolate and hard-bitten terrain in early stanzas of “The Beaks of Eagles”:

“An eagle’s nest on the head of an old redwood on one of the precipice-footed ridges

Above Ventana Creek, that jagged country which nothing but a falling meteor will ever plow; no horseman

Will ever ride there, no hunter cross this ridge but the winged ones, no one will steal the eggs from this fortress.

The she-eagle is old, her mate was shot long ago, she is now mated
with a son of hers.

When lightning blasted her nest she built it again on the same tree, in the splinters of the thunderbolt.”

The poem embodies the timeless spirit of Big Sur. A pilgrimage there catches time in a bottle that lasts a lifetime.

This article was originally published in American Essence magazine. 

Categories
The Great Outdoors Lifestyle National Parks Recipes

Hiking, Star-Gazing, Canoeing: Visit Buffalo National River in Arkansas for an Action-Packed Outdoor Adventure

Visitors can explore the Bee Bluff via a canoe on Steel Creek. (Tim Ernst)

Winding down the mountain and through the rugged landscape of dense forest scattered with enormous rock formations, the road flattens out at the tiny, outdoor town of Ponca, Arkansas. With a population of fewer than 120 people, a post office, and a couple of wilderness outfitting stores, Ponca is the middle of nature-nowhere for the Midwest. With stunningly beautiful rustic surroundings and a full array of outdoor adventure opportunities, this northern Arkansas area is perhaps one of America’s best-kept secrets.

Ponca rests on the Buffalo River, the first river in America to be designated a National River. Commencing deep in the highest elevations of the Boston Mountains, the river’s over 150 miles of winding water carve a path eastward through the wilds and wonders of northern Arkansas. Its uppermost section boasts such steep terrain, sharp ridges, crags, and crevices that roughly the first 16 miles are further designated as wild, and the upstream gem is officially known as the Buffalo National Wild and Scenic River.

Show up at the Ponca Low-Water Bridge on any spring weekend morning, and you’re likely to see groups of people wearing orange life vests, paddles in hand, shoving off from shore in canoes bearing outfitters’ logos. Across the bridge lies a short trail to a historic cabin built in 1882, as well as a trailhead leading to a scenic, full-day, 12-mile hike upstream to Boxley—a small community in times past but now a river put-in and trailhead itself. Beneath this hiking stretch, the valley extending up to the ridgetops is a favorite location for Arkansas’s only herd of wild elk. Catching sight of them grazing before a backdrop of sloping terrain near the river’s emerald green waters resembles a scene from somewhere out West.

History

The Buffalo National River was established in 1972; its founding was the result of a long, contentious battle that began in 1960 when the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers proposed the construction of two hydroelectric dams that would have destroyed the river and buried its beauties. Under the leadership of Dr. Neil Compton, area residents and outdoor enthusiasts united to fight the proposal, forming a coalition known as the Ozark Society. Their decade of unwavering commitment to the river’s preservation ultimately saved the Buffalo and the treasured wilderness surrounding it.

The Roark Bluff at dawn, one of the most stunning sites at Buffalo National River. (Tim Ernst)

The year 2022 marks the 50th anniversary of the Buffalo as a nationally protected area.

One of the few remaining free-flowing rivers left in the lower half of the country, the Buffalo River itself is a sculpted work of art, with water carving around rock and winding through untouched stretches of Arkansas wilderness. Its towering, seemingly painted bluffs are striking, and the clear emerald water that runs beneath them, vibrant and pristine. The waterway is a mecca for canoeists, kayakers, fly-fishers, and riverside campers. Perhaps an even greater set of wilderness wonders, however, exists within the surrounding crags, cliffs, and creeks beyond its banks—discoveries found after setting out with a pair of hiking boots, a map, and a backpack.

Area hiking expert Tim Ernst has spent almost a lifetime unveiling some of those discoveries, carving out trails, and documenting many of the Buffalo Wilderness Area’s wonders. His journaled publications are vital to hikers and backpackers alike, as they record miles of hiking trails ranging from the frequently traveled to the obscure, the relaxing stroll to the arduous climb, and the tiny trail to the week-long expedition.

Buffalo Wilderness Area

The nearly 95,000 acres encompassing the Buffalo National River hold a network of trails and treasures that extends even farther as it connects with the surrounding 1.2 million acres of rugged Ozark National Forest. With levels of exploration ranging from novice to hard-core hiking, and opportunities for mountain biking and equestrianism as well, the undeveloped remote areas are full of treasures waiting to be discovered by outdoor enthusiasts of all levels and ages.

Hiking the Buffalo Wilderness Area is also year-round. “You can’t hike in the Rockies, the Appalachians, or the Pacific Crest in the middle of winter,” said Ernst, “but you can hike in northern Arkansas—and the Buffalo’s emerald-colored water contrasted with scenic views of grays and browns is striking.”

Just this past January, Ernst completed an end-to-end winter bushwhacking journey starting at the river’s Cave Mountain headwaters and traveling 151 miles down to the mouth at the White River. A spinal issue prevents him from carrying a pack, so he completed the two-week excursion tentless and stoveless, sleeping under bluff overhangs and traveling ultra-light. “It was one of the most fun and spectacular trips I’ve ever taken,” he said.

Day Hiking Discoveries

You don’t need to sleep under a rock in winter to see some of the best of what the Buffalo River’s wilderness areas have to offer. Although there are plenty of single-track trails for backpackers and serious trekkers, easier trails with amazing sights and abundant waterfalls are not far from the pavement (or gravel, in this case).

The Milky Way is visible over the historic Villines Homestead in Boxley Valley within the Buffalo National River area. (Tim Ernst)

Lost Valley is one of those signature trails, with everything from vertical walls of rock reaching upward from the valley floor, to Cob Cave—named after the many cobs of corn discovered there in 1931 when it was found to be rich in preserved native artifacts. Following Clark Creek, Lost Valley’s beauty is on display throughout the entire hike, winding through a lush forest full of waterfalls, cascades, and amazing rock formations. Packed with outdoor works of art and springtime wildflowers, the short, two-mile round trip is a scenic journey from start to finish and a small taste of the entire Buffalo River area.

Another offering among the renowned trails and signature sights is Hemmed-in Hollow, a towering waterfall and impressive rock formation that spills out varied amounts of water or displays icicles, depending on the season. A more arduous trail with a 1,400-foot elevation change, it isn’t for the faint of heart. Those up for the challenge will not be disappointed, though, as the famed, 209-foot vertical rock face is the tallest waterfall between the Rockies and the Appalachians, and hiking to its base is like discovering a secret hideaway at the end of a canyon.

Nearby lies another geological wonder that, when first encountered, might feel like a sacred discovery as well. Big Bluff, accessible via the appropriately named Goat Trail, is an impressive, oversized rock face, leaning out over the river with breathtaking views. Wrapping around the mountain and morphing into a mammoth wall of sandstone, the somewhat precarious trail narrows to curve around the bluff, revealing a 550-foot drop and an expansive view of the river and backcountry below.

Backcountry and Dark Skies

Lost Valley, Hemmed-in Hollow, and Big Bluff are just a few of the amazing trails and seemingly endless sights for day hikers to explore. On the other hand, hikers preferring to gear up with backpacks and tents for a weekend or two, venturing off the beaten path in the woods, can find what they’re after on the Buffalo River Trail. Winding back and forth across the river, as well as up and down in elevation, the “BRT,” as it’s known, totals almost 80 miles in length and can take you downstream via foot rather than canoe. Eventually connecting with the almost 200-mile network of the rugged and remote Ozark Highlands Trail, the Buffalo backcountry feels endless—ideal for trekking each day and sleeping under the stars each night.

Speaking of stars, the Buffalo National River was recognized in 2019 as an International Dark Sky Park. With the darkest nighttime skies in all of Arkansas, the park is a great place to go to escape suburbia and do some stargazing, learn the constellations, or see the Milky Way. With park regulations aimed at eliminating light pollution, the natural twinkling lights of nighttime skies are now as protected as the wilderness they blanket.

Sunrise over Boxley Valley within the Buffalo National River area. (Tim Ernst)

Preservation Through Growth

Many historical cabins and preserved homesteads are scattered throughout the Buffalo area as well. Granny Henderson’s cabin, the Parker-Hickman Farmstead in nearby Erbie, and the Villines family cabins in Ponca all commemorate a past era when pioneers worked tirelessly to survive in the wilds of a rugged landscape while carving out hard livings.

Although times have greatly changed since those days, the raw, rustic, and simplistic form of much of the area is still preserved. In the past 50 years in particular, since the national park and national river were established, the town of Ponca and the Boxley River Valley have remained virtually unchanged. Nestled in the valley between mountainside and river, the old-school mountain town atmosphere is difficult to miss.

The Buffalo Outdoor Center outfitters and Lost Valley Canoe and Lodging rentals still reside as the only two businesses of tiny Ponca, and most of the cabins viewed from the road are rentals. There are no motels. Although certainly adding to the area’s charm, the simplicity also poses some issues during crowded times, especially as the area grows in popularity.

“Elk, waterfalls, and hiking trails have increased traffic to the Buffalo River immensely,” said Ernst. “Particularly when the big bulls are out there bugling.”

The once-unknown, tiny area’s increased popularity hints at the need for new infrastructure to handle it—apparently, grants are in place to do just that. In the meantime, though, this area is still “in its infancy,” as Ernst said, citing that there aren’t too many places left in the United States where you can still chart new territory as a hiker or backpack a 47-mile section of backcountry without any established campsites.

Labeled the “Natural State” for a reason, Arkansas has plenty of raw, rare, hidden beauty, and although it’s rapidly growing, the Buffalo River remains a somewhat unrecognized outdoor mecca. “I doubt that the personal experience of discovery will ever be completed here,” Ernst challenged. So next time you’re in search of adventure, find Arkansas Highway 43 on a map, head south, and wind down into Newton County, stopping off in Ponca. A bit like venturing off the grid, the disconnection from your everyday world may end up connecting you with exactly what you’ve been looking for.

This article was originally published in American Essence magazine.

Categories
The Great Outdoors History

Raising a Forest by Hand

Charles Bessey was a pioneering botanist. (Courtesy of the Charles E. Bessey, Botany Papers, Archives & Special Collections, University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries)

“The hills bear all manner of fantastic shapes,” Charles Bessey observed, noting that they sometimes featured open pockets of bare sand in blowouts and were “provokingly steep and high.” Bessey was describing the Sandhills, the area of post-glacial dunes wrought by mighty winds in north-central and northwestern Nebraska. Aided by his botany students from the University of Nebraska (today’s University of Nebraska–Lincoln), he cataloged a treasure of plant species in 1892. Yet besides spurges and gooseberries, herbaceous plants such as smooth beardtongue, and grasses such as Eatonia obtusata, he found the potential for forestation.

“He was convinced that the moist soil of the Sandhills would support forest growth,” the historian Thomas R. Walsh wrote. Nebraska had gained statehood in 1867 but still had enough untouched areas to be “a virgin natural laboratory,” as Walsh described it. And there were so few trees for wood, shelter, or shade. Bessey had been pushing the state legislature to reserve Sandhills tracts for tree planting. In 1891, urged by the top forestry official in Washington, D.C., he started a test plot at the eastern edge of the Sandhills, which encompassed an area about the size of New Jersey. Ponderosa pines were a big component of the experiment’s 13,500 conifers. With the initial indication that they would do fine, he started a campaign to convince people that forestation was practical. After all, as Walsh noted, “the area was once covered by a pine forest that was destroyed by prairie fires.”

The pre-dawn fog rises above the Niobara River, located in Valentine, Nebraska. (Pocket Macro/Shutterstock)

Bessey had come to the University of Nebraska in 1884, lured from Iowa Agricultural College (today, Iowa State University) by an offer of $2,500 per year. He was already the author of “Botany for High Schools and Colleges,” the nation’s first textbook on the subject. His motto of “Science with Practice” indicated a teaching philosophy that mixed laboratory and field work with classroom instruction. He was one of a small group of professors at the prairie university, attended by just 373 students in the year he arrived, but he had an outsized and enduring influence through his popular botany seminar. A top student in the 1892 cataloging project was Roscoe Pound, who claimed the university’s first Ph.D. in botany, then distinguished himself as a legal scholar and served two decades as dean of Harvard University’s law school.

Throughout the latter years of the Gilded Age, Bessey kept hammering away at the idea of national forests. To Gifford Pinchot, head of the national Division of Forestry, he wrote, “In the Sandhills, we have a region which has been shown to be adapted to the growth of coniferous forest trees, and here we can now secure large tracts which are not yet owned by private parties.” Pinchot had the ear of President Theodore Roosevelt, who in 1902 set aside 206,028 acres in two reserves in the Sandhills. “This was the first and only instance in which the federal government removed non-forested public domain from settlement to create a man-made forest reserve,” Walsh explained.

The two reserves are 75 miles apart. The northern Samuel R. McKelvie National Forest is on the Niobrara River near the city of Valentine. The southern one, first called Dismal River Forest Reserve, is now the Nebraska National Forest at Halsey and is managed by the Bessey Ranger District. (Nebraskans refer to it as “Halsey Forest.”) Within it are the Bessey Recreation Area and the crucially important Charles E. Bessey Tree Nursery, which yearly produces 1.5 million bare-root seedlings and up to 850,000 container seedlings for distribution in the Great Plains and Rocky Mountain states. Additionally, the nursery acts as the seed bank for Rocky Mountain Region 2, storing about 14,000 pounds of conifer seeds in case of wildfire or insect infestation.

Carson Vaughan, author of “Zoo Nebraska: The Dismantling of an American Dream,” grew up in Broken Bow, about 50 miles from Halsey Forest. It was only after he started writing articles about Bessey and the forest that he comprehended the magnitude of the original undertaking: creating the largest man-made forest in the United States. “Nothing like this has ever happened anywhere else on the planet,” he said. “And it all started because this pioneering botanist, Charles Bessey, had this wild idea and the patience, the dogged persistence, to stick with it over a couple decades and see it come to fruition.”

Vaughan remembered climbing Scott Lookout Tower, near Halsey, and feeling the impact upon viewing a forest amid treeless grasslands. “You get the rolling, billowing Sandhills right next to this very clear, dark, dense forest,” he said. The experience reinforced the concept that “it took human beings planting all of these trees to make this national forest grow out of this sandy, arid region.”

The sun rises over the Dismal River, which runs through the Nebraska Sandhills. (marekuliasz/Shutterstock)

After succeeding in the Sandhills, Bessey turned to other important challenges. In 1903, he was contacted about the effort to save the giant sequoias in certain groves in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California. He tried to interest President Roosevelt in the cause, then introduced the matter into proceedings of scientific societies, sending their resolutions on the matter to congressional representatives. Although he helped to set the conservation process in motion, Bessey would pass away in 1915 without seeing his efforts bear fruit. 16 years later, the state of California acquired the Mammoth Tree Grove, which is a principal element of the eventual Calaveras Big Trees State Park.

On the other side of the country, Bessey became involved in the effort to create a national forest reserve in the southern Appalachians. “The cutting away and total destruction of the forests is a crime against the community as a whole,” he wrote. In 1908, a bill to authorize the reserves came before the House of Representatives, but soon died. It particularly galled Bessey that one of his former students, Representative Ernest M. Pollard, was on the agricultural committee, which had deferred action. “It does seem as though we had the most stupid and blinded lot of men in charge of our affairs that has ever cursed any country,” Bessey wrote to House Speaker Joseph G. Cannon. Bessey and others kept working, and ultimately, the Weeks Act of 1911 was passed, providing for acquisition and preservation of forested lands nationwide.

Today, visitors to the University of Nebraska–Lincoln can see an image of Bessey in bas-relief on a bronze tablet at—where else?—Bessey Hall. There’s also a Bessey Hall at Iowa State. And at Michigan State University, Ernst Bessey Hall is named for Charles’s son, who became a professor of botany and dean at MSU’s graduate school from 1930 to 1944. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

Categories
Features National Parks The Great Outdoors

Scaling the Olympic Peaks

Nate Brown on a snowy ridgeline in the Olympic mountains. (Courtesy of Nate Brown)

Nate Brown’s deep appreciation for the Pacific Northwest stems from a four-day road trip across the Olympic Peninsula in 2013, during which he surveyed snow-capped mountains and lush forests nestled between the coastlines. An Army mission had brought Brown there, and he was captivated by the landscape that stood before him. After retiring from the Army in 2018, he made it his mission to fully explore the Olympic Mountains by climbing 30 summits within a period of just three years. In September 2021, after hiking over 500 miles and climbing an astonishing 160,000 feet, he achieved just that.

A high alpine lake, aptly named Lake Beauty, in the Olympic mountains. (Courtesy of Nate Brown)

While serving in the Army, Brown had set foot in almost every corner of the United States but had not traversed the Pacific Northwest. So after a break from active duty, he decided to re-enlist under the condition that he be placed in Washington. Stationed at Joint Base Lewis-McChord, southwest of Tacoma, Washington, Brown was blown away by the natural beauty of the mountainous terrain. When his mission ended in March 2018, he was ordered to leave his base and serve at a different location—but he politely declined. After 13 years of service, Brown deemed it time to spend the rest of his life in the picturesque Pacific Northwest. Since then, Brown has adopted Washington as his chosen home with no plans to ever leave.

A Passion for Mountaineering

Veterans from Veterans Expeditions climbing to the summit of Mount Hood, the tallest peak in Oregon. (Courtesy of Nate Brown)

While in the Army in 2015, Brown was trained in technical alpine climbing by The Mountaineers—a nonprofit community on a mission to share knowledge and encourage others to partake in outdoor activities such as alpine climbing, mountaineering, wilderness navigation, sea kayaking, and snowshoeing. Brown’s class lasted for about six months and took place in the evenings at the community center. Students learned technical alpine climbing theory before going down to Mount Rainier for a few weekends a month to put their knowledge to the test.

The most important thing Brown learned was that in order to improve in technical alpine climbing, he needed to find a core group of climbing partners whom he trusted. An individual’s fitness level is important to take into consideration. According to Brown, finding someone with approximately the same fitness level is best, so nobody struggles to keep up during a climb. Another key factor is having good judgment: many people encounter “summit fever” and become adamant about reaching the top regardless of conditions. That mentality presents many hazards, not just for the individual but for the entire group. Lastly, remaining humble is key. As Brown explained, “no matter how much you know and how good you are when you are in a contest between you and the mountains, the mountains will always win.”

A group of veterans from Veterans Expeditions on the summit of Mount Saint Helens in a winter storm. (Courtesy of Nate Brown)

While still on active duty, he discovered Veterans Expeditions, a Colorado-based organization that encourages veterans to explore the outdoors. “They [the group] would come to the Pacific Northwest every now and then and climb mountains, like Mount Rainier and Mount Hood,” he said. One day, Brown reached out and offered to accompany them as a photographer on their trips, taking pictures of veterans that they could keep or give to sponsors. So Brown connected with the group and started climbing peaks with them—as “the guy in the background with the camera,” he laughed.

After a year or two, Brown was asked whether he would be interested in leading some trips of his own, as he was more experienced in mountain climbing. So in 2020, Brown led a three-part volcano climb series involving beginner-friendly treks to Mount St. Helens, Mount Adams, and Mount Hood. He and two other experienced mountaineers assumed leadership of groups of eight veterans each. The entire expedition lasted a few months, and the leaders taught veterans important skills like how to use ice axes and wear crampons (metal traction devices that attach to shoes, improving snow mobility).

The Olympic Mountain Project

A sunlight forest valley in the backcountry of the Olympic mountains. (Courtesy of Nate Brown)

In May 2019, Brown decided to embark on a new endeavor. A friend asked him what his favorite place in Washington was, and Brown instantly replied the Olympic Mountains. But as they sat down and peered at a giant folding map of Washington, Brown observed that though he claimed it as his favorite place, he hadn’t ever fully explored the Olympic Peninsula. “I realized I had really only been on the outside edges—because the Olympic Mountains are a circular cluster,” he explained. “I should climb enough mountains spread out throughout the entire Olympic complex to say without a shadow of a doubt, I have seen the Olympics.” He immediately started planning his project. He set out to explore 30 mountains, not only from the outer edges but also from the hard-to-reach interior areas.

Through the expedition, Brown, who has a full-time job working for a federal government agency, also hoped to raise awareness of the issues facing the Olympics, including underfunding and climate change, by partnering with Washington’s National Park Fund (the official philanthropic partner of the three major Washington National Parks including Olympic National Park) and donating 25 percent of the profits from selling his photo prints to the organization. He wanted to use those funds to support the organization in keeping the parks open for all to enjoy.

A deer in the Olympic forest. (Courtesy of Nate Brown)

Planning such an extensive project was no easy feat; Brown admitted that he spent more time researching than actually climbing the mountains—as the inner mountain peaks were relatively uncharted. Of the 30 peaks he would climb, only four of them had trails leading to the top. Brown had to research the rest and plan for unexpected obstacles as much as possible, hoping to ensure safe paths through the wilderness. After many hours and days poring over various maps of the Olympics, he finally mastered the layout of the mountains. “I don’t even have to reference a map anymore. I have it memorized,” said Brown.

Cruising Through Rocky Paths

In 2020, Brown was hit with an unforeseen predicament: the pandemic. National parks faced extended closures from April to July, due to measures set forth by the Washington governor. According to Brown, those months are considered prime climbing season; as some of the snow has melted, travel is easier and the risk of avalanches is low. During that time, he also had difficulty convincing climbing partners to join him on his trips, which sometimes required hiking 60 miles just to climb one peak. As a result, he went on several trips by himself. Brown’s drive to achieve his goal of exploring the Olympics was the fundamental factor that led him to continue his great expedition. “This is my favorite place in the entire world, and I’m going to see the whole thing. I just needed to see it through,” he said.

Mountain climbers often travel in groups for safety. On his trek up Mount Olympus, Brown was accompanied by six of his friends, and together they formed glacier rope teams. A six-person team is the standard for safe glacier travel, Brown explained. “If you had two ropes, each rope would have three people on it—then you can get yourself out of any tough situation,” said Brown.

A black bear in the Olympic forest. (Courtesy of Nate Brown)

His mountaineering project lasted for nearly three years, during which time Brown encountered much wildlife, including black bears, elk, and marmots. “I encountered so many bears that I would come to be completely numb to them,” he laughed. He explained that there are mostly black bears in the Olympics, which are often less aggressive than grizzly bears. He also photographed pikas in the Cascade Mountains. Brown said that he even spotted paw prints belonging to mountain lions, though he never saw one in the flesh.

When he’s not climbing mountains, Brown is often seen, camera in hand, capturing the beautiful landscapes of the Pacific Northwest. He admits that on any given trip, he shoots a minimum of 300 photos. On longer trips, it’s not unusual for him to return with upwards of 1,000 photos. The pandemic has allowed Brown ample time to revisit images and reflect on the memories and places he captured. Through this, he discovered photos he had previously overlooked. 

The 30 Peaks

The path to success is seldom smooth, and Brown learned that there are many unforeseen obstacles even after extensive planning. Bodies of water are typically represented on maps by squiggly blue lines, but one never truly knows whether those might represent a creek, a two-foot water ditch, or a raging river, Brown admitted. The seasons also play a big part in the depth and intensity of water features, with spring bringing increased water flow compared to fall when water tends to evaporate more quickly. “There were several times where I got to a point where I had to cross this body of water and there was no safe way to do it,” said Brown. He would have to turn around and reevaluate his plan, or completely remove a peak from his list and replace it with another one. “That was a benefit of choosing my own peaks—I got to move the pieces around as I thought fit,” he said.

Upon visiting certain peaks in the summer and revisiting them in the colder months, Brown noticed striking differences in appearance and captured them through photos. A mountain slope usually covered in bushes, shrubs, and small trees would appear entirely flat in winter, buried under a thick blanket of snow. The few trees that remained uncovered would take on different shapes, blown by icy gusts and frozen in place. 

Trekking across the snow. (Courtesy of Nate Brown)

Brown carefully handpicked the 30 peaks, making sure they spanned the entirety of the Olympics, but he had to consider many factors to make the expedition achievable. He said that the Olympic Mountains are known for having brittle, crumbly rock composed of ancient seafloor, so the danger of rockfall is always imminent, especially during vertical climbs. Whenever possible, Brown and company would climb side-by-side, so no one would be in front of another. The few times when this wasn’t an option, whoever was behind would hide in a cubby, or hole, while the person in front climbed up, stopped, and gave the all-clear. Communication was very important in those instances; otherwise, said Brown, one might send rocks flying down onto the person below.

A glacier-fed alpine lake in the Olympic backcountry, with McCartney Peak behind it. (Courtesy of Nate Brown)

In early September 2021, Brown concluded his expedition by climbing Mount Steel. As he stood at the summit over 6,000 feet above, the sun rose from behind the distant mountains and thick clouds swirled down below. “I stood eye to eye with each of the peaks I had climbed previously. It felt as though they were all standing in silent unison, giving me this one last moment to forget about everything below. One last morning where for a moment, nothing else existed; just me and the Olympic Mountains I have spent so much time in,” Brown wrote in a Facebook post. He scanned the horizon, naming and thanking each peak for seeing him safely up and down its jagged slopes. After climbing over 160,000 feet and traversing 500 miles, Brown had safely and proudly made it to the finish line. He felt relief and gratitude. Although the adventure ended, Brown would never forget his time in the Olympic Mountains, and the photos he captured during his journey would remain a testament to his accomplishments.

Categories
Camping Lifestyle The Great Outdoors

Beginner’s Guide to Cold Weather Camping

Growing up in Minnesota, outdoor activities never ended despite the cold winters. We just had to adapt to the weather and changing seasons. With the right equipment and know-how, you can camp all year, even during the coldest months!

Entering any new type of outdoor recreation, even as a seasoned camper or backpacker, can be intimidating. Throw in a few life-threatening conditions like extreme cold and snow, and it’s even harder to make that leap.

Cold weather camping doesn’t have to be scary or even really that dangerous! This guide will help you break into cold weather camping with confidence and prepare you to invest in the right equipment before you go.

What is cold weather camping?

If you research cold weather camping, you’ll find varying definitions. As a general range, anything below 50°F (10°C) can be considered cold weather camping. Other experts and winter enthusiasts may express that temperatures should be closer to freezing (32°F/0°C) to fit in that category.

To me, the best distinction between those discrepancies is to classify cold weather camping and winter camping differently. When cold weather camping, temperatures may be low, there may be some moisture, but it’s likely not cold enough for snow.

Freezing temperatures are expected when winter camping, and may include some snow and ice. A lot of this boils down to the climate and area you are camping in. For instance, winter in the Sonoran desert may have cold temperatures but will likely have less snow than winter in the Cascades.

Get to know the area, climate, and weather patterns. Then, you can begin to prepare for the journey ahead.

Considerations for winter camping

Since temperatures and weather patterns are the main differentiating factors from warm weather camping and winter camping, there are varying considerations when prepping for a trip or buying gear.

Things to think about before you go winter camping:

  • Weather conditions: keep an eye on the weather and consider bringing a GPS device with satellite weather information.
  • Terrain: if there is lots of snow, know how you will cover ground and pitch a tent in the snow, as well as if there is ice, rocks, or glaciers in your path.
  • Getting enough calories and food: eating and drinking enough is vital in winter conditions, and eating nutritious meals can help you stay warm. Plan warm meals for morning and night and pack additional nutritious foods to eat throughout the day.
  • Water sources: remembering to hydrate can be hard when it is cold outside, so schedule breaks that include drinking water. Plan water sources accordingly, knowing they may be frozen and what to do in those situations. Pack a few warm drinks like tea to up your water consumption as well.
  • Cold injury prevention: a first aid kit is a must in the back-country. Familiarize yourself with cold-weather injuries like frostbite, wind-burn, and the signs of hypothermia.
  • Cold weather gear: pack the appropriate sleeping gear, boots, shelters, stoves, etc., for the conditions at hand. For example, not all fuels work at high altitudes or low temperatures. Not all shelters are built for winter conditions. Get to know your gear and invest in equipment that will keep you warm and safe.
  • Dress appropriately: your wardrobe needs to reflect the weather. Invest in proper boots, gaiters, traction devices, and learn to layer your clothing to cut down on the volume and optimize heat retention and warmth when hiking and when you’re in camp.

Many of these considerations overlap with standard backpacking preparation but are applied to a cold-weather setting.

Leave No Trace

Always follow Leave No Trace principles when camping or backpacking. Cold weather camping includes the same general rules, with some modifications.

A few of those modifications include:

  • Only travel on trails when the ground is exposed, otherwise, travel on deep snow as much as possible.
  • Camp on deep snow if possible and only in designated areas.
  • Pack out all waste, especially human waste. When camping on snow, wag bags make this easy to do.
  • When having a fire, use dead and down wood. Never cut or break tree limbs.
  • See all Leave No Trace Winter Recreation ethics and best practices on their website.

What do you need for cold weather camping?

Among the planning considerations for winter camping and backpacking, gear will significantly impact your experience. A part of getting the right equipment for your trip is knowing what to expect in terms of weather and terrain.

One aspect of winter backpacking specifically is that you will be carrying more bulky gear. You need more layers of clothing, more options for traction devices, a thicker and more durable tent made of less meshing, and likely a thicker, warmer sleeping bag. All of this will add weight and bulk to your pack.

So, if that is too daunting as a beginner, I recommend starting with a few car camping expeditions until you can hone in your gear and practice packing and carrying the additional weight.

The main focus areas for cold-weather outdoor gear includes two things:

  • It keeps you warm.
  • It keeps you dry.

That means certain materials, like cotton, that absorb moisture or take a long time to dry must be omitted. Your tent needs to keep you dry and warm, even during storms, and your sleeping bag should ensure warmth and continue to insulate when wet. There are even cold-weather sleeping pads that help you retain more heat.

Cold weather camping gear list

New gear is expensive and can be hard to justify buying if you’re unsure whether you like an activity or not. Consider renting gear from an outfitter that can provide expert knowledge not only of the equipment but of best practices in the back-country and current trail conditions.

Much more can be said about the types of gear you need, but here is an essential list to get you started.

  • Snow Travel (if needed): backpack (65-80L), traction aids, trekking poles (with snow baskets)
  • Optional: skis and skins, snowboard, snowshoes, ice axe, avalanche gear, two-way radio, hand/foot warmers, sled
  • Sleep Gear: 4-season tent, guylines, snow/tent stakes, sleeping bag, sleeping pad
  • Optional: camp pillow, sit pad, sleeping bag liner, foot warmers
  • Camp Kitchen: stove, fuel (liquid or canister with pressure regulator), lighter, cook set, bowl/mug, cutlery, insulated water bottle, biodegradable camp soap, towel/cloth, reusable wet bag
  • Water/Food: water canister (bottles, reservoir, etc.), insulated water canister sleeves, water treatment, extra fuel, meals and snacks, an extra day’s supply of food, bear canister/bag (if needed)
  • Optional: hot beverage mixes
  • Toiletries: toothbrush, toothpaste, hand sanitizer, towel, toilet paper/wipes, wet bag, menstrual/urination products, prescription medicines, extra pair of glasses, sunglasses, sunscreen
  • If needed: wag bag (or portable toilet in a bag)
  • Clothing: long underwear, long-sleeved base layer, insulated mid-layer, puffy jacket (with hood), insulated pants, waterproof jacket, pants, wool socks, winter boots, gaiters, hat, polar buff, gloves/mittens, underwear, extra clothes
  • Navigation: map, compass, GPS, satellite messenger, route information, and watch
  • Emergency Kit: whistle, first-aid kit, emergency shelter, two itineraries (one in car, one with a friend)
  • Repair Kit: tent repair (cord, pole sleeve, etc.), duct tape, tenacious tape, knife/multi-tool, other specialized repair kit items
  • Other: ID, cellphone, credit card/cash, permits (if needed)

What you bring will vary according to the type of camping you’re doing and current conditions.

 

Categories
Camping Food Lifestyle The Great Outdoors

How to Meal Plan for Backpacking 

A lot of planning and preparation goes into any backpacking trip, and plenty of thought should be put into your food beyond the gear and location logistics. Food is fuel on the trail, and you can only carry so much! That’s why a well-thought-out plan consisting of nutrient-dense, lightweight, and non-perishable foods is a must.  

If you’re not used to planning out your meals for days at a time, like anything, you’ll get better with a bit of practice. Read on for field-tested tips to help guide the way. 

Meal planning and preparation

Before you choose the foods you’re packing, ask yourself a few essential questions:

  • What is the intensity of my trip?
  • How many people are going?
  • How long will I be gone?

How much time do I have available to spend prepping food for my trip?

Identifying these specifics helps you start the meal planning process. Once you know the length of your trip, how many people are going, the intensity level, and how much time you have to spare, then you can start planning out the rest.  

Although I often backpack alone, if I do go with a partner, we create a plan together. I find it easier to plan meals together to cut down on the number of things we need to carry and to save fuel when cooking.  

Before the trip, we often schedule a phone call to discuss food options, likes and dislikes, and when we will do physical prep. Then, we add our ideas into a sharable document like Google Docs or a shared note.   

Here is an actual meal planning document I’ve used for a trip as an example: 

 

Meal Day 1 Day 2 Day 3
Breakfast Oatmeal + coffee Oatmeal + coffee
Lunch Pita with hummus, tomatoes, cucumbers, etc. Tuna wrap Tuna wrap
Snacks Dried mangoes, peanut butter/banana wrap Trail Mix, Date Balls, granola bar+peanut butter Trail Mix, granola bar, dried mangoes
Dinner Burrito Bowls/tacos Tomato Basil Couscous
Other Hot Chocolate/Tea Hot Chocolate/Tea

On this trip, I went with another person, and we planned to eat many of the same things along the way. Underneath this chart on our shared document, we listed what we would need to buy for each meal or snack. That way, our shopping list is also made.  

I always plan an extra day before and after the trek itself. The day before is vital to help you gather your gear and get all of your meals together and packed. 

What type of food to bring 

When planning a trip, no matter the length or number of people involved, simplicity is key. It can be tempting to want to plan for variety, but this can mean you’re buying more and carrying more. For most hikers, the easiest areas to repeat are breakfast, lunch, and snacks. Since supper is often the most calorie-dense and largest meal of the day, it’s the easiest place to add variety.  

The type of food you choose to bring should first and foremost be foods you’ll eat! Don’t choose a snack or a meal option because you think you should eat it while backpacking. For instance, if you don’t like Clif bars, don’t pack Clif bars! Choose foods you enjoy to ensure you will reach your nutritional needs.  

After that, consider these other factors: 

  • Portability: Opt for dehydrated, freeze-dried, or powdered foods. Backpacking food can consist of perishables (like in my example above). However, those are eaten on the first day. The rest of the food should have a long shelf life to ensure it will not spoil as you hike.  
  • Weight: keep in mind you are carrying everything you need! Avoid foods that have heavy packaging (i.e., cans) or contain a high water level. Gathering food from bulk bins, using pre-made meals, and repackaging some items can help you have more control over the weight.  
  • Nutritional value: the main things you’re looking for in backpacking meals are calories (unsaturated fats), carbohydrates/sugars, protein, and antioxidants. Among those focus areas, unsaturated fats and carbohydrates tend to be what your body craves most. Protein is important for recovery, but complex carbs and good fats are needed for sustained energy. Then, sugars help with bursts of energy, while antioxidants boost your immune system function.  
  • Cook time/method: many pre-packaged meals are designed so that all you have to do is add hot water, let it sit, and eat. If you are gathering and prepping meals on your own, then the cooking time may differ and include simmering food on the stove. Try to find foods that only use boiling water, and if it has to be cooked longer, keep it under 20 minutes. Longer than that, and you’ll find yourself carrying a lot of extra fuel.  

Where to get backpacking food:

  • Prepacked meals from online shops or outdoor retailers
  • Bulk food sections in grocery stores
  • Small packaged foods in grocery stores (i.e., power bars, tuna packets, etc.)

Bulk food sections are my favorite place to make backpacking meals. You can often get the exact amount of certain foods like dehydrated refried beans, dehydrated hummus, and they have tons of seeds, nuts, and dried fruits to create your trail mix.  

How much food to bring 

Before getting into the number of calories to bring and how much to eat, breaking it down into sections will help you determine the exact amount of each to carry.  

Knowing your body and your needs will also help beyond simple calorie calculations. As you go on more trips, you’ll know your eating habits and how much you need to be eating to fuel the adventure.  

The amount of food you should be eating will also be influenced by your body size, weight, level of intensity of daily activity, your metabolism, and the weather. Since most folks like to have numbers to reference, a good rule of thumb is 1.5-2.5 lbs. of food or 2500-4500 calories per person per day.  

Now, those ranges are broad because so many factors impact your individual dietary needs. For instance, someone hiking four miles on flat terrain may not need to eat as much as someone hiking 12 miles through mountain passes.  

How to pack it  

Pre-made meals, power bars, and other items will come in an easy-to-carry package. Other foods will need to be repackaged, especially when buying from grocery stores or bulk food sections.  

To cut back on packaging, try to utilize the packaging the food comes in, but if that is not an option, repackage items in reusable bags or reusable food wrap. When that is not an option, or it is adding too much weight, you can also use resealable plastic bags.  

For organizational purposes, I prefer to have one large food bag in my pack and one snack bag that is easily accessible. I use individual cloth or mesh bags to organize meals within my larger food bag. In some areas, a bear bag or canister is needed, so store all food in that.  

Keep in mind, what you pack in, you must pack out. So, pack a garbage bag to carry for the duration of your trip and follow Leave No Trace guidelines.  

Camp kitchen checklist 

Need a backpacking camp kitchen or are not sure what to pack?  

Here are our recommended essentials:

  • Stove with Fuel
  • Lighter
  • Camp Cookware
  • Utensils
  • Biodegradable Soap
  • Dish Cloth
  • Water Purification or Filter
  • Water Bladder + Bottles
  • Organizational Bags or Stuff Sacks
  • Location Dependent: Bear Bag or Canister
Categories
Camping Lifestyle The Great Outdoors

Layering for Cold Weather Hiking

(Ted Bryan/Unsplash)

 

One big issue that beginner all-season hikers struggle with during the fall and winter hiking seasons is how to dress appropriately. Part of the problem with not wearing proper clothing while hiking is that it can ruin your experience. After all, if you’re uncomfortable the entire time, why would you want to keep going and make that discomfort a regular part of your life?

Knowing what to wear and how to wear it during each season and for all climates is essential. Especially in the shoulder seasons (spring and fall), when you will experience a wide range of temperatures throughout the day. To avoid carrying unnecessary weight, layering is the best way to stay comfortable and safe during the hike.

Winter hiking will likely require more layers or different types of layers than hiking earlier in the fall. Still, many of the basics will overlap as far as types of materials to wear and how to layer for the best protection. For instance, hiking during the first week of October in the Cascades may require layers that can keep you comfortable in 30-60° F weather, both when you’re moving and stationary. Then, factor in any precipitation, and you could end up carrying a lot of extra clothing if your layering system isn’t quite honed in.

Anytime you are layering, you’re going to balance the right combination of base layers, middle layers, and outer layers. It can take some time to find the right combination for you, and everyone’s comfort level will differ.

Before we jump into the best practices for layering clothing for cold weather hiking, you need to know what types of materials to wear. When choosing hiking clothing for any season, gravitate towards moisture-channeling and quick-drying materials like wool, alpaca fleece, Tencel, and synthetic blends (polyester, spandex, and nylon). Avoid cotton, including denim and cotton blends, due to their inability to dry quickly and how easily they absorb water. The adage “cotton kills” is especially applicable to cold environments where hypothermia is a threat.

In the fall, you’ll want clothing that allows for enough air flow to be comfortable mid-day when it is 50-60° F but will keep you warm in the morning and night at camp. You can still wear breathable layers in the winter, but your main focus is water resistance and heat retention.

To break down the basics of layering, you need to know the purpose of each layer and how to differentiate between them:

Base Layer: to wick sweat and moisture off and away from your skin (also known as the underwear layer)
Middle Layer: to help you retain body heat and insulate or protect from the cold
Outer Layer: to shield you and your other layers from wind, rain, and other elements (also known as the shell layer)

The primary purpose of a base layer is to keep moisture away from your skin and to dry quickly. In colder weather conditions, the base layer will usually be a long underwear style and is intended to keep your skin dry to avoid a drop in body temperature that could lead to you feeling chilly or suffering hypothermia.

Materials like merino wool and silk are natural fibers that have this ability along with natural anti-microbial properties. Polyester and nylon can also be good options, but all fabrics and blends will vary in drying and wicking ability, odor retention, durability, and comfort. For cold weather hiking, wear a base layer on both the top and the bottom.

The mid-layer or insulating layer is what will help you trap body heat. This is especially important when you are not in motion and aren’t producing as much body heat. Both synthetic and natural insulating materials exist, and it is often up to personal preference on which one you choose. In general, the puffier the jacket, the warmer it will be. However, other types of mid-layers like wool sweaters can help as well.

You may need more than one mid-layer, depending on the weather. For instance, say you have a base layer that you plan to wear consistently on your hike. You may also pack a Smartwool sweater to wear on top of that, but you’ll likely still need a puffy jacket for the morning and evenings in camp. The wool sweater and the puffy jacket are both still considered mid-layers, so don’t be afraid to bring more than one insulating layer depending on the forecast.

Since you won’t only be wearing long underwear on the bottom for hiking, having a durable pair of hiking pants to wear over your base layer is important. You can often get away with three-season pants made from a synthetic blend of materials that is quick drying and still breathes for fall hiking. For winter hiking, opting for less breathable thermal moisture-resistant pants will be ideal for  regulating body temperature and keeping moisture out.

Finally, your outer or shell layer is the protection piece to keep the wind, rain, and snow away. Most outer layers will be a rain jacket of some kind that is treated with DWR (durable water repellent). This type of treatment on the jackets or rain pants helps the water bead up and roll off the fabric. Over time and with use, DWR wears off. So, be mindful of when and how to reapply if necessary.

Outer layers can still offer air flow (i.e., rain jackets with vents), and the types of outer layers will vary from softshells, waterproof, water-resistant, and more, depending on climate and intended use.

The shell layer is vital in cold weather hiking, especially if you get caught in a storm of any kind. The outer shell, whether it is a rain/snow jacket or pants, is designed to protect you and your other clothing layers from getting too wet and cold. If too much moisture is allowed to penetrate your inner clothing layers, you will struggle with regulating your body temperature.

Other clothing to consider for cold-weather hikes include:

Gloves
Gaiters
Hat
Buff/Scarf/Dickie
Winter specific socks
Winter/waterproof boots
Micro-spikes

 

Categories
Camping The Great Outdoors

How and Where to Set Up a Tent When Camping

(Scott Goodwill/Unsplash)

There is a lot to learn when you start to get into outdoor recreation like camping and backpacking. No matter the type of camping, there are some things you should know when it comes to setting up your tent.

First things first, you’ll need a tent! So, how do you choose the right tent for your camping needs? If you’re new to camping and have no idea where to start, talk to a friend with camping experience. Better yet, have them take you camping and teach you a thing or two. If you don’t have any connections that can mentor your camping purchases and experiences, look into outfitters. Gear outfitters often have gear to rent and can take you on guided trips. This helps ease anxieties surrounding the new activity and ensures that someone more knowledgeable can help guide you.

If you decide you are ready to buy your own tent, there are a few things to consider before purchasing:

Sleeping capacity
Season of use
Tent style and height
Tent features
Intended use
Durability needs

While all of these things are important to think about when shopping for a tent, identifying the intended use will be a priority. Are you camping with a family? Do you need a three-season tent? Do you bring your dog camping? Are you car camping or backpacking? Start asking and answering these questions to help guide your purchasing decisions.

A three-season tent is sufficient for most beginner campers as you’re more than likely planning to camp during the spring, summer, and fall. These tents will keep you dry in the rain and light snow, provide privacy, shield you from bugs, and have enough ventilation.

The size of the tent will depend on how many people and pets are going camping and whether you have to carry the tent or not. For instance, if you are car camping with you and your dog, a 1-2 person tent should work just fine. However, if you plan to go with you, a partner, and a dog, you may want a 2-3 person tent. If you are backpacking, the tent’s weight comes into account because you have to carry it from campsite to campsite.

Once you’ve chosen a tent you feel fits your needs, practice setting it up. If you bought the tent new, the manufacturer will include instructions on how to set up the tent properly. Follow these instructions. It can be tempting to try and figure it out on your own, but some tents are more complicated than others, and it is easy to miss a step, forget a piece or two, and even damage the tent if you set it up improperly.

If you bought a used tent, are renting, or are borrowing a tent from someone else, you should still practice setting up the tent at home before you go. These tents may not have instructions included, or they’ve been lost over time, so to find out how to properly set up that tent, look on the manufacturer’s website for resources. More often than not, there will be digital instructions to guide you. With used tents especially, the pre-trip practice setup ensures that you have all the correct pieces and that no part of the tent is damaged.

At the campsite, no matter the type of camping, follow Leave No Trace guidelines regarding the best practices for minimizing your impact in that natural area. Best practices for setting up your tent according to LNT include:

Always camp at least 200 feet away from lakes and streams.
Seek out existing campsites, especially in well-traveled areas
Pitch your tent in an area where vegetation is absent and keep campsites small.
In undisturbed or remote areas, minimize the impact by spreading out tents, finding durable surfaces, and changing sites each night.

Other considerations for choosing a tent location include minimizing stressors like wind and rain. Your tent is built to withstand these elements, but that doesn’t mean that it cannot be damaged, especially in serious storms. Look for natural windbreaks like trees, hills, or rocks to protect the tent and avoid camping under trees with dead or broken limbs. The time of year will guide how you orient your tent in accordance with the wind. For instance, during hot summer months, you may orient the door towards the wind for more of a cooling effect. Then in high wind conditions, you should have the side with the strongest pole structure facing the direction the wind is coming from.

When it is raining or rain is forecast, try to find higher, dry ground under tree cover. Higher ground generally means less moisture and less condensation in the tent, and tree cover creates a micro-climate that tends to be warmer and drier. Always avoid camping in low areas where water can channel or collect during a storm, and orient the door away from the wind during rainstorms.

Now that you’ve found the perfect spot to pitch your tent, it’s time to set it up! First, clear the area of any debris that can damage the tent’s floor or make for uncomfortable sleep. These items include things like sticks and rocks. Once this is established, place the footprint down and then roll the tent out on top. If it is exceptionally windy as you set up the tent, have another person help you or stake down the corners to hold it in place and readjust later.

Once you have followed the manufacturer’s instructions for getting the poles into the tent and up, stake the tent. Most stakes will have the best holding power in soils if vertical when pushed into the ground. On surfaces that are hard to push a stake in, use a rock or a mallet to hammer it down. Push the stake in just far enough that it is close to the ground, but enough of the top is exposed to attach a cord over it.

After you’ve staked the tent, decide if you need the rainfly or not. A rainfly may not be necessary for the middle of summer, and having it off will give you a great view of the sky and a much cooler sleeping situation. However, knowing how to attach the rainfly in a pinch is necessary if you go this route. If you need the rainfly, then secure the rainfly wraps first. These typical velcro strips attach the fly to the tent poles to make it a sturdy cohesive piece. Attach the rainfly to the tent corners and then tension the fly evenly.

If bad weather is forecast, it can also help to add guylines to your tent setup. Guylines are generally optional, but they can help keep your tent more secure and protected. If you’re unsure about the severity of the wind, at least add one guyline on the side of the tent the wind is coming from. For a more stable shelter, attach guylines evenly on all sides of the tent.

Check the setup each night before bed to ensure everything is stable and in place, and enjoy the camping experience.

Categories
Features National Parks The Great Outdoors

From Ashes to Beauty

Bull moose crossing a creek in early summer at the Eagle River Nature Center/Chugach State Park, Alaska. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)

Nature has always been at the forefront of photographer Colin Tyler Bogucki’s life. Growing up, he and his family lived in Outing—a small town in “Lake Country” in Northern Minnesota. Surrounded by woodland and lakes, he felt it was the perfect place to grow up. “I was outside all the time and always connected to nature,” he said. Swimming, fishing, and hunting were a few of his passions. In 1991, Tyler attended college, studying psychology. After completing his coursework in 1995, he traveled to Alaska for an internship at a counseling center, where he immediately fell in love with the untamed wilderness.

Journey to Alaska

December Sunrise, Eagle River Nature Center, Alaska. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)

Equipped with a Minolta point-and-shoot film camera, he drove all the way to “the last frontier” in his little Toyota pickup truck. Tyler considers that trip as the greatest journey of his life. Struck by the natural beauty and scenery, he was hit with newfound inspiration. Words flew from his pen onto paper, taking the form of elaborate poems. “And I just had to keep pulling over and writing all these lines that were coming to me as I was driving,” he said. Tyler would go on to spend many days capturing the many wonders of wildlife through pictures and poems. “I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to arrive in Anchorage—I just wanted to keep journeying because it was so inspiring,” he said.

After finishing his internship, Tyler decided to stay as a substance abuse assessment counselor. However, he was far from happy. “It just wasn’t for me,” he said. Outside of work, he would take every opportunity to practice his photography skills. It was not until a few grueling years that he decided to take the plunge and leave his job to work on his art. In 1996, after being gifted his first professional camera for Christmas—a Nikon SLR film camera—Tyler had one of his photos published in the Anchorage Daily News. Even when offered a lucrative career opportunity with the federal probation system in Alaska, Tyler instead chose to follow his heart. “I knew I was walking away from financial stability,” he admitted. “But I could not bring myself to do that work.”

Struggles and Setbacks

Tyler spent the next few years in Minnesota, juggling between bartending and manual labor jobs while honing his photography skills. Finally, in 2007, Tyler moved back to Alaska and found work in a small portrait studio where he learned portrait photography and studio lighting. “I ran that for about five or six years in the little town of Eagle River, which is where I live now,” he said. While Tyler enjoyed the skills and techniques he learned while working at the portrait studio, he primarily sees himself as “a nature and wildlife guy.” After leaving the studio in 2013, he was once again at a crossroads, battling for financial stability. He fought off many moments of regret for not going on to graduate school or seeking what he called a “professional career.” Despite many things seeming hopeless, Tyler was very grateful to be renting a small cabin on two acres of land in the woods of Alaska, located on the end of a road, with a creek running in the back of it. Tyler and his cat, Spike, lived a life that many would only dream of. In the summer, wildflowers and strawberries would grow all around the house. “There was also a deck out back where I could play my guitar and listen to the creek,” he said.

Tyler playing guitar in Akaroa, New Zealand. (Joshua Dean West)

April 22, 2013—Earth Day—Tyler was awoken to smoke alarms screaming. The cabin was on fire. “And I did everything I could. I had a couple of fire extinguishers and I started in the front,” he told me. “I emptied the extinguishers, I threw snow at it from outside. I couldn’t control it.” At some point, Tyler ran out of the back door but then attempted to go back in for his cat, who had gotten into the basement; however, a blast of smoke and heat nearly knocked him over. This was the point when it dawned on him that he would probably not be able to rescue his beloved friend. “I stood there and yelled and yelled for him,” he said, his voice breaking.

He spent the next few hours in his neighbor’s house, who had called the fire department after waking up early and witnessing the horrific event. Tyler explained that where he was living, there were no official firefighters—only volunteers. “So it was more than an hour before they were there spraying; then a tree came down, power lines came down and blocked their path so they couldn’t get near it because of the live power lines,” he said. As the fire got bigger and bigger, Tyler’s hopes became smaller. “I was at my neighbor’s, watching, thinking okay, they get here soon, maybe the house can be salvaged. Okay, maybe not. Maybe my cat can be saved, maybe not.” By the time the firefighters were done battling the fire and smoke, the cabin had been reduced to rubble. Spike had also passed away due to smoke inhalation. This event left Tyler pondering the reasons for such a catastrophe during a time when he was already experiencing so many setbacks. Today, he realizes that he had to go through this to discover his life’s true purpose.

Double rainbow, Eagle River Valley, Alaska. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)

Rising From the Ashes

Tyler always expressed a deep desire to travel and explore the world. He was often approached by friends asking him to accompany them on their photography travels. He would always decline. In 2012—the year before the house fire—a good friend of his from Montana invited him to explore India with him for two months. “I said, man, I’d love to join you but I can’t. I have this house, I have a cat—I can’t leave for two months,” he explained. A year later, after the house fire, Tyler was reminded of his friend’s offer and realized there was no longer anything stopping him. He had kept important documents in a file cabinet, but most of the contents in it had been destroyed in the fire—except for his passport. Firefighters found the document on top of the snow, completely intact. “I didn’t realize how significant of a sign that was until a few weeks later. I called my friend and said, well, you know, if the invite is still open, I want to join you. I want to go to Asia and India with you.”

A Bengal tiger on the trail of a tigress in Bandhavgarh National Park, India. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)

The pair traveled to Thailand and Cambodia before spending a whole month in India photographing tigers in various national parks. Tyler considers his trip to India as an inspiring, transformational journey that allowed him a means to express himself through his photography like never before. In India, they visited four parks and only managed to spot a tiger in their third park. During this time, he found that many people on social media waited eagerly for new updates on his journey. “People were following my story with anticipation. They would learn on Facebook every day and see what happened next,” he said.

The day they had their first encounter with a tiger, Tyler said that he could almost feel it nearby. “It was like I was hunting again, waiting for something. I just had this feeling in my gut that my cat was there with me and that today was the day.” When attempting to locate tigers, one should try to listen out for any warning calls from other animals. Sure enough, the call from a nearby deer confirmed his instincts. “We drove up the road, and there was this giant male Bengal tiger right in front of the jeep,” he said. The pair of friends were ecstatic by their discovery after all their effort. By the time Tyler sat back down in the jeep, he was trembling, and his eyes were watering. “We went all this way for this reason,” he said. Tyler had brought some of his cat’s ashes to India in a little container that he carried with him inside his camera bag. The day after spotting his first tiger, he returned and left his companion’s remains in a watering hole close to where he had spotted the tiger. That same day, either through fate or a stroke of luck, he had a rare encounter with another big cat, this time a leopard.

Spotted leopard in Bandhavgarh National Park, India. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)

Before the fire, Tyler admitted that he never would have thought about traveling around the world, but “life changes really quickly.” After his trip around Asia, he spent a brief amount of time back home in Minnesota before embarking on yet another extended trip to New Zealand. There, he took part in a program designed to connect willing workers with organic farms around the country, in exchange for food and lodging. “Sometimes it’s just a home with very elaborate gardens and landscaping. Others are actual farms or wineries,” said Tyler. He noted that it was a great way to meet locals and other travelers and that none of this would have been possible if it hadn’t been for the fire.

From Hunter to Photographer

After a summer in Valdez, Tyler decided to move to Eagle River Nature Center in Alaska—close to where he had been living before—in October 2014, as a resident volunteer. He has since been living there as a resident staff member and has acquired the position of Assistant Manager. His backyard now consists of the beautiful Chugach State Park with its abundance of wildlife.

Living in Alaska and observing the wondrous wildlife caused Tyler to view animals through a different lens. Hunting with family used to be one of his favorite pastimes; however, through photographing animals, Tyler developed a new admiration for them, and a softer, more compassionate side of him was awoken. Having the opportunity to express himself through various creative outlets played a great role in this transformation. “I had an English composition writing instructor who really inspired me with poetry. And that was in high school. He had a profound influence on me,” he said. Years later, Tyler sent him copies of his poetry, and the pair stayed in touch for a brief period. After the fire, he was pleased to discover that his little book of poems, which he had worked on during his first drive up to Alaska, had remained intact. “I thought they were gone forever,” he said. “I was just so overwhelmed that I was in tears.”

Some of his first wildlife photographs took place in the late ‘90s in the vast natural plains of Alaska, particularly in Denali National Park. He was just starting to learn about composition and lighting—which were all new to him. A significant turning point for Tyler was when he traveled to Katmai National Park and Preserve in 1999 to photograph bears. “I just had a wonderful time because there was beautiful scenery and just bears all around,” he said. He loved photographing those bears and felt very connected to them. “I just gained a great appreciation and respect for them.” To this day, Tyler considers this experience pivotal in helping him establish his passion for wildlife photography. 

Alaskan brown bear looking for salmon in autumn. Eagle River Nature Center/Chugach State Park, Alaska. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)

Photographing wildlife helped Tyler experience a greater connection to nature than ever before. Through collecting pictures, rather than trophies, he began to appreciate nature for what it truly was. By appreciating smaller aspects of the scenery, smaller animals, and even insects, he has developed a keen interest in animal behavior, and his relationship with wildlife has only increased. “I’ve learned to read their body language, and just developed such a different appreciation for the natural world because it’s no longer just a target.” Now, he simply wishes to capture these brief magical encounters with wildlife through his photos, and share them with the rest of the world. What initially started as a hobby has blossomed into a full-time career, a passion, and a goal. “People appreciate what I do and what I share as it brings them joy, inspiration, and a sense of serenity,” he added. For this reason, exploring, creating, and sharing his photography with the world has become a central focus of Tyler’s life; it is in these moments when he truly feels he is accomplishing what he was born to do.

Male Bengal tiger in Bandhavgarh National Park, India. Recognized by National Geographic editors and placed in the Top 10 out of nearly 12,000 images. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)

Tyler’s work has often been recognized in National Geographic, where he won numerous photography competitions over the years. His image of a male Bengal tiger was selected as one of the winning images in National Geographic’s “My Shot” photo contest, out of a total of 12,000 entries. His Northern Lights photography also captured the attention of the United States Postal Service and was featured in one of their commemorative stamp sheets as part of a collaborative arctic climate research project.

Sharing the Magic of Wildlife

With the successful sales of his photography prints, Tyler managed to travel again. He visited Australia for a few weeks, and then Cuba, where he provided photography tours to keen wildlife enthusiasts. This new endeavor brought Tyler newfound joy and inspiration. Traveling to different parts of the world and photographing wildlife had become his passion, so he and a photographer friend decided on creating Nat Expo Tours. According to their website, their mission is to share the amazing natural wonders of the planet while offering photo tips and techniques to touring participants. Future tours are planned to take place in three exotic locations: Iceland, Cuba, and Namibia.

The tours allowed Tyler to look inward and share his knowledge and appreciation of photography with others. “Seeing them grasp the concepts and start to understand things is a great feeling,” he said. Tyler believes the best feeling for him is when people attend the tours and come away with something that they wouldn’t have otherwise captured. “It’s just wonderful.”

Tyler photographing the Fagradalsfjall Volcano in Iceland. (Courtesy of Colin Tyler Bogucki)

Tyler enjoys exploring different creative media to express his art, with videography being his newest venture. In late 2021, he released a mini-documentary featuring the active Fagradalsfjall Volcano near Reykjavik, Iceland, during one of his photo tours. Tyler looks forward to incorporating this new form of storytelling into his art.

Tyler and his cat, Spike, in front of their cabin in 2007. (Michael Gandolfo)

Constantly on the move, traveling from one location to the next and photographing stunning wildlife while meeting people from all cultures and backgrounds, Tyler has established lasting connections with the world around him. Pursuing a career in wildlife photography has led to each day being different from the last.

Through loss and grief, he has discovered adventure. His travels have taught him more about himself and led him into discovering his true purpose in life, and while he often misses his furry companion, he believes that he was liberated from a life of fear and uncertainty to one full of excitement and creativity. “As long as I’m exploring, creating, and sharing, then I feel like I’m where I need to be,” he said. Today, he proudly displays a tattoo of Spike’s paw print on his right shoulder—a tribute to their everlasting friendship.