Shifting Gear
How much would you pay to experience the outdoors?
Opinion piece by Madison Krueger
Photos courtesy of Madison Krueger
As an outdoor enthusiast and future backpacking guide, I value how nature allows me to escape the talons of capitalism. It doesn’t try to sell you something. It doesn’t want anything from you. You go out in nature to just be.
And yet, I here I am, hiking along a narrow trail off Chuckanut Drive wearing an over-priced wool base layer I was told was the best hiking shirt, a brand-name baseball hat and this season’s latest backpacking pack. How did I allow my love of the outdoors to become this expensive?
I started thinking about the self-proclaimed “dirtbags” of Yosemite Valley in the 1950s and stars of the documentary Valley Uprising. These outdoor pioneers were climbing the valley walls by day and running from park rangers by night. They climbed boulders in tennis shoes and old ropes tied around their waists.
Today, to climb those same boulders, you’ll need a $60 harness, a $65 helmet, $80 climbing shoes, a $20 chalk bag, and you don’t even want to know how much rope costs (I’ll tell you anyway: $200). The founder of the well-known and pricy outdoor company Patagonia, Yvon Chouinard, was one of those dirtbags and often lived off of 50 cents to $1 a day. The origins of outdoor culture were laid-back, simplistic, and, dare I say, anti-consumerist.
But open any outdoor retailer’s website or social media page and you’ll be overwhelmed by the latest equipment with the newest technology, clothing made of the “recommended” materials and, oh, the price tags. For example, on The North Face’s Instagram you’ll find a video of a down sleeping bag called the Hyper Kazoo. It features Thermobaffle technology (I can’t make this up, people), “innovative woven baffle construction,” “increased warmth and durability,” and is “woven from a single piece of fabric with no seams or stitches.” The sleeping bag has a 15 degree warmth rating, weighs just over one pound and costs $360.
You would think sleeping on the ground on the forest floor away from electricity, air conditioning and wi-fi would be cheap. You would think taking a step toward reconnecting with your rugged and primitive being would be an escape from capitalism. I go outside to experience the world untouched by humans, unlittered by our standards and hierarchies. But valuing money and brand names in nature is like focusing on hairstyles at a football game. We’re missing the point.
In an attempt to spend my summer immersed in the outdoors and away from society, I signed up to volunteer as a backpacking guide in the Canadian wilderness and found myself spending a fortune on clothing and equipment. We were told by other guides and staff to splurge on shell layers, shoes and packs. Most of us dished out $350 for an Arc’teryx “Alpha AR” shell jacket because it was recommended by other guides. It’s light, windproof, waterproof, made of durable GORE-TEX® Pro with a helmet-compatible StormHood™ and pit-zips. And, it’s not much thicker than a plastic bag.
That purchase made me wonder: humans have been surviving and enjoying the outdoors without streamlined pit-zips for centuries. So why am I paying hundreds of dollars for brand new technology I’m told I need to enjoy the outdoors?
Well, capitalism strikes again. The outdoor recreation market is a $646 billion industry according to the Outdoor Industry Association. And it’s no surprise when you walk into your local REI and see just how much equipment you need and how expensive each item is. Boots are $200. Tents are $300. A hiking shirt is $75.
I can only imagine how the Yosemite dirtbags would scoff.
Before the days of outdoors as a leisure activity, people survived. Hundreds of years ago, humans dressed themselves in seal and whale intestines and found it was a way to let sweat out without letting moisture in, which is basically how modern GORE-TEX® works today, according to Alaska Native Collections. People used animal fur and eventually created wool garments and insulation out of down.
I’m not saying we should skin some animals and brave the outdoors the old fashioned way. I’m saying we are lying to ourselves if we say we love the outdoors and then overspend on more and more unnecessary Patagonia mid-layers because they look cool. Preaching to myself included, here.
Patagonia, for example, advocates for sustainability and environmental responsibility. They sent a bus around the country to repair old Patagonia clothing and gave 100 percent of profits to grassroots environmental organizations on Black Friday. They’re the same company, though, that sends me daily emails about the new technology and sales I just can’t miss out on before my next adventure. There are enough cotton t-shirts in the world. Paying to self-advertise Patagonia on my chest is not sustainable.
I’m not saying we should compromise our safety. Of course we need to stay safe and warm when experiencing the outdoors. And if the only way to do so is to buy a $300 jacket and a $200 rope, I’ll bite the bullet and go for it.
If you’re a fellow outdoor enthusiast like me and many others who have been sucked into brand-name outdoor experiences, we need to take a step back and remind ourselves we can’t impress Mother Nature with a brand-name baseball cap. We go to nature to remember money and status aren’t what matter there.
We go to just be, not to be seen. Or at least we should.
If retailers are making quality gear and clothing that will last, I’m willing to splurge. But if they’re trying to sell me more of what I don’t need, they’ve lost me. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference, though, especially if you’re not a seasoned outdoors specialist.
If you want to figure out what you really need in the outdoors, do your research and talk to someone more experienced and trustworthy. Then, thrift shop. There is quality gear at Goodwill just waiting to be recycled.
However, I won’t deny the feeling you get when you buy something new. There’s something about getting a carefully packaged box delivered to your doorstep and unraveling a clean item wrapped neatly in plastic.
But we must remind ourselves of the reasons we explore the outdoors and how we can be more responsible, myself included. Outdoor retailers have made enjoying nature a financial burden, making us believe that the outdoors is something that can only be experienced by those who can afford name-brand clothing.
Can someone please ring Mother Nature and tell her we’ve lost our roots?
Somewhere along the line we turned a grassroots culture pioneered by dirtbags living out of the back of their vans to climb boulders into mainstreamed, affluent, middle and upper class excursions. Where Americans went wrong was trying to tame what was always meant to be wild with new and improved products.
We are being sold the lie that we need this expensive, brand-name gear to experience nature. And I’m not buying it.
