The Loudness War

A group of younger hikers, maybe in their mid- to late-twenties (I am now at the age where, despite my relative youth, I am acutely aware of other fully-grown adults who are transparently younger than myself), asked an older gentleman in the parking lot for some beta about the campsite they had penciled in for their first night. It’s a few minutes after six in the evening. Would they be able to make it there before dark? It’s about six miles, right? Is there water there? Did he hike that direction?

They wouldn’t make it there before dark—one could, and probably would, argue that neither did I—but the man’s explanation of his hike amused me. He had hiked ’the full loop’, which full loop I do not know, amounting to some twenty-four miles and a very long day. “It’s a training thing I’m doing.” I don’t know what the guy was training for, but I wish I had asked him. At what point is going for a hike all day, twenty-four miles through a beautiful forest, not the thing itself?

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I am an avid reader of Bedrock & Paradox, the long-running outdoor and quasi-outdoor blog authored by Dave Chenault, for a number of reasons. Chief amongst them are his considerations of outdoor recreation in America; setting aside the abundance of nuance and lack of egocentrism he brings to the topic, it’s simply interesting (and perhaps relieving) to read an “amateur” blog that engages with the outdoors not just as a sports arena but also as a political, economic and cultural phenomena.

Recently, in “The new rules for nature”, he touches on a Thing I’ve been chewing on for a couple of years now:

4. Subtle is sexy

   Here I think a phallocentric metaphor is entirely appropriate: our preferences in scenery and in activities for an Outdoor Trip have become quite the same as wanting big tits and a six pack in our romantic partners. The fantastic may have its birth in reality, but the exceptional should not define everyday reality when imaging so thoroughly disguises both the rarity and the labor inherent in such things.

—Dave Chenault, from bedrockandparadox.com

I am fortunate to live in a place with outstanding access to more than a lifetime’s worth of outdoor recreation and doubly (triply? quin…tuply? a number seems insufficient in its descriptive power here) lucky to enjoy a host of privileges that allow me to easily take advantage of said access.

And yet I find myself dreaming of ranges requiring drives measured in days rather than hours. Which doesn’t exactly violate Dave’s call to find “inspiration in the subtle, ideally closer to home” because wistfully dreaming of mountains unseen seems to lend them the weight they deserve rather than to dilute them by virtue of Too Much Good Stuff. But what could be accomplished locally with that energy? What creative ways of enjoying places close and small could be discovered and exercised if sufficient attention was directed? Fairly rich coming from someone who just drove less than an hour to backpack in gold medal forests, I realize. By most accounts describing the Columbia River Gorge “subtle” is fairly absurd, but I think the point stands, and there are far less glamorous lands around Portland that are ripe for my own personal exploration.

By making the most of what’s at our fingertips as opposed to chasing The Next Big Thing, we can reduce the stress on overburdened lands, nurture a more balanced set of expectations for what experiences outdoor recreation can provide, and practice seeing better instead of seeing more. If life gives you lemons, make lemonade, because lemons are delicious.

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