Outside Podcast

Most of us, at some point in our lives, will put a goal aside, with every intention of coming back to it later on in life. Maybe it’s that marathon you always thought you should run. Maybe it’s going for that big promotion at work. Or perhaps it’s trying to learn how to play guitar or a new sport or…the list is endless. The point is, we all have dreams, big, small, audacious, or somewhere in between. But, while the goal setting is endless, the follow through is often nonexistent. Unless you’re pianist, composer, and sailor Anne-Marie Keane, who's currently fulfilling a life-long—and long delayed—goal of sailing the globe. In today's episode, she gives a master class in navigation, not just of the seas, but of a life well lived.

On this week's Long Read, with Outside Magazine's Features Editor Fred Drier, we welcome you to fall—specifically, to Oktoberfest. Thanks to the magic of marketing, the German festival where people don lederhosen, drink beer, and sing songs has spawned a new tradition. Masskrugstemmen is the German word for competitive steinholding. You heard that right; it's a competition in with competitors hold beer steins full of beer and ... well, that's about it. In 2025, reporter Martin Fritz Huber traveled to Central Park to check out the Masskrugstemmen National Competition, to soak up the suds and the fun at the event, and then for this story, he took a deep dive into the wacky world of Steinholding.

This past July, host PaddyO checked the box of a bucket list adventure 20 years in the making: boating all 280 miles of the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. And, of course, he couldn’t go without a microphone stuffed into his drybag. PaddyO interviewed a handful of guests, complete strangers to him, and a few dory boat guides tasked with navigating more than 250 rapids over 15 days. Sure, the Grand is known for its beauty and thrills, but there is something else that draws people here. When boaters arrive at the Lee’s Ferry put-in, somehow, the Grand Canyon becomes whatever they need it to be–-a mirror,  a teacher, a therapist, a parent. By the time you hit the Pearce Ferry takeout two weeks later, you’re a different person. Skeptical? Just listen. 

On this week's Long Read, Abby Wise, Brand Director for Outside, takes us into the world of ultra running that has watched in awe as American runner Rachel Entrekin completely dominates the sport's most grueling distances. Known as the Queen of Cocodona for her consecutive wins at the punishing 250 mile race in Arizona, she made history this spring by winning the event outright, beating the entire men's field by over an hour, but her remarkable season was far from over. Just recently, Entrekin made her highly anticipated debut at the legendary UTMB race in Chamonix, France, trading desert heat for the brutal technical climbs of the Alps.  She proved her versatility against a stacked international field, taking an incredible second place in the women's race with a time of 22 hours and 15 minutes. To find out what drives one of endurance sports rising stars, we turned to writer Rebecca Byerly. Rebecca had a front row seat to Rachel's history making performance this year as she was out on the trails pacing another runner at Cocodona. In this in-depth profile, Rebecca explores Rachel's rise to the top, her unique approach to training, and the joy that fuels her through hundreds and hundreds of miles.

When’s the last time you were lost, as in “zero connectivity, a map you don’t understand, and tens of miles between you and shelter” lost? If you’ve ever been in that situation you know it awakens a kind of primal panic. It's not pleasant, but it's an amazing classroom, and it's one that Emily Miller has intentionally led people into for over 15 years. Emily's a gifted rally racer, which means she's used to being lost while at speeds near 100 miles an hour. But as interesting as her racing career is (and listen on for just how interesting it was!), it's the race she founded that's really fascinating. The Rebelle Rally is the longest navigation race in the U.S., and it's only open to women. In the past decade, Emily has trained more than 8,000 women to race it, which mean's she's taught them how to get excruciatingly lost, and then find their way home. Turns out, those skills are pretty translatable to the rest of your life.

Today's Long Read with Outside Magazine Features Editor, Fred Drier, reveals the magnitude and devastating impact of the recent tragedy on Broad Peak, in the Karakoram Range between Pakistan and China. The 26,414-foot mountain is considered one of the challenging in the region, and 10 lives lost make it the deadliest high-alpine avalanche in more than a decade. Outside's Mount Everest correspondent, Ben Ayers, spoke to the people central to the recovery effort, and this is their story.

When Peter Heller moved to the Rocky Mountains, he arrived ready to split his time between paddling rivers and penning stories. What began with a shot-in-the-dark cold call led to a career in adventure journalism. Peter’s award winning body of work saw him on assignment in some of the most dramatic and extreme locales around the globe. And these stories in turn became the foundation for his New York Times bestselling novels, like "The River" and "Burn." Peter’s books are so compelling because of their lyrical depictions of nature and the dramatic circumstances his characters face. And underneath the adventure is a continued examination of manhood and male friendship—a theme that’s been central to his writing since his very first novel, "The Dog Stars," which recently received the full Hollywood treatment from director Ridley Scott, starring Josh Brolin, Jacob Elordi, and Margaret Qualley. Peter sat down with us just after he returned from the film’s London premiere for a conversation filled with wild tales, the ongoing examination of what it means to be a man, and how time outside forms who we are.

Today's Long Read with Outside Magazine Features Editor, Fred Drier, is for anyone who's done battle with snack-hunting seagulls on a beach trip this summer. Writer Andrew Zaleski tells the tale of how one beach community—Ocean City, NJ—got so fed up with the gulls dive bombing its guests, it decided to respond with the big guns: Birds of prey. Come take a walk on the Jersey Shore, with the falconers keeping everyone's pizza safe.

When it comes to the GOATs of outdoorsy heroes, who do you think of first? Chances are it’s not Grand Canyon rafting legend Georgie White, groundbreaking author and Adirondack wilderness guide Anne LaBastille, and backcountry powder-skiing trailblazer Dolores LaChapelle. And author Heather Hansman wants to change that. Her new book, “Fierce Country: The Untold Story of Three Women Who Ignited America’s Love for the Wild” is a triple biography of the trio’s influence on our understanding of wild places and the odds they faced to earn this influence. Heather rectifies the sexism that kept their names out of our history in “Fierce Country,” but never pulls a punch when it comes to the grimy parts of life that made these women complicated heroes. In her research and writing, Heather found deep gratitude for the full and messy lives these women led, and a better understanding of why and how to live a life outside.

Today's Long Read with Outside Magazine Features Editor, is Part 2 of one of the most read articles in Outside's history: the story of the only hiker to eve rdie while seeking the summit of central colorado's most famous 14er. Ted Katauskas, a member of the search team that finally recovered her remains 19 years later, investigates who she was and what we can all learn from her death before our own adventures in the high alpine.

When you watch a movie or TV show in which an actor portrays a skier or biker or climber or…whatever-er, do you believe them? Whether or not they can convincingly descend/ascend a mountain or a wall or a tree is often the difference between success and failure for shows set in the wilderness. Luckily for the brand new USA Network show, “Anna Pigeon”, veteran TV actress and outdoorswoman Tracy Spiridakos takes on the title role. In order to portray Anna’s ruggedness as a Glacier National Park ranger and hardboiled detective solving many-a-crime that happens inside the grounds of the park, Tracy called up two things: her lifelong love affair with nature and the same athleticism she’s used throughout her career to perform her own stunts. Wrestling criminals to the ground and into handcuffs is one thing, but it takes a real dirt lover to pull off horseback riding, hanging off cliffs on the side of a mountain, and sitting on a tree branch chatting with bald eagles. That is the type of acting skill that makes a character both believable and beloved.

Today's Long Read with Outside Magazine Features Editor, Fred Drier, is Part 1 of one of the most read articles in Outside's history: the story of the only hiker ever to die while seeing the summit of central Colorado's most famous 14er. Ted Katauskas, a member of the search team that finally recovered her remains 19 years later, investigates who she was and what we can all learn from her death before our own adventures in the high alpine. Don't miss Part 2, next Saturday.

Surely you know someone who has eaten the most nachos at apres. Maybe you have the fastest Strava segment on your local lunch loop bike ride. But if you’re aiming for a truly impressive outdoorsy goal, you’ll need more than quad strength to pull it off. Take Brad Ryan for example: Brad’s best known as one half of the viral duo “Grandma Joy’s Road Trip.”  Brad and his grandmother, Joy Ryan, visited all 63 U.S. National Parks, making Joy the oldest person to complete the circuit. What began as a way to show his Grandmother her first mountain became a transformative adventure for Brad and Joy to grapple with long-buried familial secrets and harms. All of this is vividly told in Brad’s new book, “Grandma Joy and Me: a Journey of Healing, One National Park at a Time.” Octogenarian camping and road tripping for a record-setting adventure is outlandish. But our nation’s most beautiful outdoor spaces can create the space for  reconciliation, empathy, and healing.

Today's Long Read with Outside Magazine Features Editor Fred Drier, is about an issue you may have seen on social media or in the news: In Japan, bears have been attacking humans at an alarming rate. They attacked more than 100 people in 2025 alone, prompting the Japanese government to send the military to parts of the country to protect towns and villages. We first saw news stories pop up about Japan’s bear attacks in 2022 and 2023, and the stories often honed in on the weirdest elements: How rural communities were building robotic wolves with glowing red eyeballs to scare bears away from crops. Or, how bears had entered a grocery store and mauled an elderly woman.In late 2025 we sent Owen Clarke to the Akita prefecture, which is Ground Zero for Japan’s bear problem, to try and figure out what the heck was going on. How were these bear attacks impacting the community? What were these bears actually like? And what about these rural communities made them so susceptible to bears? Owen came back with answers, and a lot more than that.

It’s August, it’s hot, and everyone is dreaming of some beach time. But it’s not just the dog days of summer that pulls us to the ocean. It has a draw on all of us. Today, to celebrate that draw, we’re replaying one of our favorite episodes. Historian Kevin Dawon, a professor at UC Merced, has been surfing for most of his life and spent his career investigating the rich tradition of African aquatic culture. Dawson is credited with resurfacing the first account of surfing in Africa, from 1640—more than 100 years before Captain Cook’s famed account from Hawaii—and his research centers centuries of oceanic accomplishment by Black communities there and in North America that have been ignored or actively erased. Dawson’s experiences in the waters of Africa, the Caribbean, and his native California bear little resemblance to what many people think of when they hear “surfer,” but they’re drenched in a joy that’s recognizable to anyone who has ever played in the waves.

This week's Long Read, with Outside Magazine Features Editor Fred Drier, follows Owen Clark's journey down the Lower Owyhee River in Eastern Oregon. The trip was notable because it occurred during the river's lowest point of the year. Rather than using traditional rafts, the group used pack rafts—inflatable crafts made to navigate even the lowest streams. It turns out, that Clark's tour was a harbinger for what a lot of rafting operations faced in the spring and summer months of 2026, when a historically bad snow year led to challenging river conditions across the west.

If you’re listening to this podcast, you have likely jogged before. Maybe you’ve even run a Turkey Trot or local 5K. Suffice to say, you know that running is a time-consuming, physically exhausting sweaty mess. And yet, more people than ever are lacing up and taking to the trails right now. Which begs the question: Why?! Well, according to Abby Levene, the Managing Editor of the newly revamped Trail Runner, we are all born runners. It doesn’t matter your size, shape, age, lung capacity, or whether or not your quads feel like overinflated balloons any time you move past a walking pace. Trail running is having its own boomlet amidst the explosion of running generally, and Abby thinks she knows why. Listen to her moving depictions of how a run turns into a flow through the woods, and how a community turns exercise into mind meld with the natural world and the question is no longer, “Why does anyone run?” It’s “How quickly can I get out and find a trail?”

This week's Long Read feature story, with Outside Magazine's Features Editor Fred Drier, follows writer Bill Gifford as he explores a European company called Therme, which is turning wellness concepts like hot springs, saunas, and cold plunges into gigantic destinations that look like bewildering mashups of spas, cruise ships, and casinos. They're already popular throughout Europe, and, now, Therme has set it's sites on the U.S. Are we ready?

Steve Kenny has spent nearly three decades rowing boats and has the rippling shoulders and permanent tan to prove it. But under his ZZ Top-length beard, weather-battered Hawaiian shirt, and woman’s skirt he often sports, Steve is a lot more than an ace boatman. He’s a poet with a recently published collection of work—Scribblins: Poetry from Mountains, Deserts, and Rivers—and he had three careers before settling on this one: as a basketball coach, a college professor, and an investment banker. Steve thought he committed to life on the river for the thrill of the white water, but over the years he’s realized the real reason is the way time on the river inspires, invigorates, and even heals his guests. PaddyO talked to Steve in the midst of his own life-affirming trip through the Grand earlier this summer.

It's Saturday, which means it's time for another Long Read, with Outside Magazine's Features Editor, Fred Drier. This week's story is "40 Years, Zero Kills. We Spent a Weekend with Colorado's Least Successful Elk Hunter", by Devon O'Neill. This story profiles a guy named Carl Cochiarella, a dedicated Colorado bow hunter who, despite his best efforts, hasn't ever killed an elk with a bow and arrow. Devin pitched us this idea to write about a regular guy who's wildly passionate about his outdoor sport, yet hasn't had any real success at it, and we immediately knew it was an Outside story. Carl's story is pretty relatable to anyone who's ever raced a bicycle, competed in a marathon, or tried to set a PR and ultimately has come up short. If your favorite way to read is with your ears, we encourage you to join OutsidePlus. It gives you unlimited access to everything in the Outside Network, including more audio stories from Outside, Backpacker, Climbing, Ski, and more. Plus, you get mapping apps like Trailforks, Gaia GPS, and Map MyFitness.

Today, we are taking you back to the Ideas Stage of this year’s Outside Days festival in Denver. Outside’s media GM, Mary-Frances Heck (a James Beard Award winner herself) interviews chef and humanitarian José Andrés. José is an award-winning chef. Maybe you’ve been lucky enough to eat at one of his 40 restaurants around the globe. José doesn’t just cook up tasty vittles in his restaurants though. He’s the founder of World Central Kitchen, a non-profit food relief organization that has served over 500 million meals worldwide. And his calling to serve people around the planet is real, as is his calling to be absolutely hilarious on stage. Did José pour wine into the crowd before tossing ham around the concert hall like a frisbee? Well, you’ll just have to listen to find out.

It's Saturday, which means it's time for another Long Read, with Outside Magazine's Features Editor, Fred Drier. This week on the podcast, we have a story titled The Man Who Held His Breath for 24 Minutes, written by Sean Williams. This story was published in October of 2025. The story focuses on a Croatian freediver named Budimir Sobat and the amazing transformation he went through in order to become one of the world's best athletes at holding his breath underwater. Now, Outside has written about freediving before, most famously in 2020, when author James Nestor wrote the piece Open Your Mouth and You're Dead about the World Freediving Championships. What Sobot is doing is slightly different. Rather than diving hundreds of feet below the surface, he's descending just a few feet below the water. But he's holding his breath there for a really, really long time. Without further ado, the man who held his breath for 24 minutes by Sean Williams.

There are plenty of spooky things out there to make your palms extra sweaty: brown recluse bites, a flat tire in the backcountry, what to do when folks sing “Happy Birthday.” But things like climate change, nuclear war, or any other number of human world enders have a special way of keeping us up at night. In his new show, “Are We Doomed?”, journalist Ben Bradford explores the existential threats facing humanity, everything from the Yellowstone Super Volcano to another Big Bang to AI overlords. Despite the dark cloud subject matter, Ben investigates through the lens of awe and hope, something he learned from his time hiking and camping. It wasn’t until recently that Ben was (mostly unwillingly) dragged into the outdoor life by friends and his much-more-athletic-than-him girlfriend. And after witnessing the Perseids burning up in our atmosphere and comprehending our place in geologic time while staring at desert rock formations, Ben discovered the thing that has kept humanity going and will continue to keep us going despite the capital S scary stuff: Hope.

Check out the new Long Reads, now with a real human voice! Outside Magazine Featured Editor Fred Drier is here to spin a tale about ultrarunning grit, determination, and transcendence ... and we're not even talking about the competitors. You may have heard about the Badwater 135. It's a running race that starts at the depths of Death Valley and goes all the way up to the trailhead at Mount Whitney. It's 135 miles, the runners go across scorching desert terrain and they cover a ton of elevation gain. You can't do the Bad Water 135 all by yourself. You need a crew to drive behind you in a follow car, get your food and drink and sunscreen ready, and also pace you across crucial stretches. This past year, Devin embedded with a crew for a Badwater 135 runner and told a story about what it's like to be in a hot van driving over more than a hundred miles following a person and keeping them going from start to finish. We hope you enjoy it.

Ed O’Brien is a songwriter and guitarist best known for his work with Radiohead, one of the most influential bands of the past three decades. What Ed isn’t known for—at least not until now—is the crushing mental health challenges he faced during the COVID pandemic. That “dark night of the soul,” as he refers to it, was only relieved by a re-ordering of his life around the Welsh countryside, where Ed was able to regain control and perspective thanks to barefoot walks in winter and birdsong. The whole experience is captured in his new album, and the accompanying short film, “Blue Morpho.” Ed joined PaddyO on the Ideas stage at Outside Days to tell us more.

A few months back, we asked you to send us any and all the questions you have on what it takes to create a weekly podcast about the surprising impacts of a life outside. And, dear listener, you sent in some stellar inquiries. Today, angry Care Bear co-producer Micah Abrams is flipping on his mic and turning the tables on host PaddyO. Micah acts as your proxy, asking PaddyO your questions. Ever wonder why he wanted to do an ultramarathon? Or what his favorite post-adventure meal is? Or what HIS hottest outdoor hot take is? You have questions, we have answers.

Even people who are uncomfortable getting in above their waist can be transformed by the ocean. But most of us connect with being on the water, not under it. What lies beneath our oceans is closer to another planet than anything on land, and the intrepid few who feel at home in this alien world are more like astronauts than typical outdoors folk. Filmmaker and diver Pippa Ehrlich is one of these astronauts. Pippa is the co-director of the Oscar-winning documentary “My Octopus Teacher,” which explores the unique relationship between an octopus and a free diver. The film was a natural extension of a life lived largely underwater—scuba and freediving have defined her adult life, and inspired her to explore the human/wildlife connection through other films like the more recent “Pangolin: Kulu’s Journey.” Above water or below it, Pippa’s a keen observer of our outdoor environments, the creatures we share them with, and how all three things intersect in beautiful and surprising ways. And, if you don’t believe, just ask her about the baboon who stole her phone.

If you’re a fan of food TV, you’ve probably seen chef and TV host Andrew Zimmern, whose hit show “Bizarre Foods” ran for 13 seasons and had him eating everything from guinea pigs to clotted cow’s blood. Andrew has made a career following the rumble in his belly—and a love of fishing and hunting—on way-out-there adventures in places like Madagascar and Colombia. Before his big break on TV, Andrew was one of the hottest young chefs in New York City. Then drug addiction and alcoholism derailed his career, his outdoor pursuits, and nearly his life itself. When Andrew uprooted to Minnesota to get sober, he learned two things that saved him: You’ve got to ask for help in order to get it and when you don’t believe in anything, go outside to find something. Which, of course, led him to the opinion that possum tastes better than raw cookie dough, and gas station pizza may just be the best post adventure food of all time.

Chances are you have a storage space, garage, car trunk, and slash or cornucopia of plastic bins double stuffed with outdoor gear; anything and everything you need to get outside and get rad. But the most valuable piece of gear is something you can’t buy at your local shop: a sense of humor. Professional struggle runner Erin Azar knows this all too well. Erin is a runner and social media personality better known by her online persona, “Mrs. Space Cadet.” She amassed nearly 2 million followers by posting hilarious, unfiltered videos documenting her triumphs and mostly sweaty, out of breath trials as a burgeoning runner. In 2019, a few months after giving birth to her third child. Erin made a funny video about trying to run to the end of the road and back. It…blew up and she’s been lacing up runners and turning the camera on ever since. But she’s no formulaic, overly manicured, highly produced, and typical running influencer. Erin is just a regular ole person who likes to run and knows it’s a helluva lot more fun and a helluva lot easier to make it a few more miles when she's laughing at herself.

Do you have opinions about our use of automated voices on the Long Reads episodes? Tell us! https://survey.alchemer.com/s3/8881338/11781bd91e29 Every now and then, the writers at Outside discover a story that is set in the outdoors, but is about something much, much larger—sometimes these stories are about universal truths or paradigm-shifting discoveries. And sometimes, they cross into areas that escape our comprehension altogether. Today’s tale is one of those, and, after listening, you’ll never look at a moving leaf in the woods the same way.  Join Frank Bures as he retraces the journey of an anthropologist named Neal Whitehead through the forests and indigenous communities of Guyana. Whitehead begins looking for evidence of the societies that gave rise to the legend of El Dorado, but stumbles instead upon an ancient tradition of witchcraft known as “kanaima.” (kah-knee-muh)    What follows is a story of curiosity turned to obsession, and several brushes with apparently supernatural forces that are anything but benign—and that’s before Bures arrives in Guyana nearly twenty years after Whitehead, after which it just gets weirder. Please enjoy “I Traced an Anthropologist's Deadly Obsession with the Dark World of Kanaima” by Frank Bures … unless you don’t like ghost stories, in which case, maybe sit this one out?

Sandbagging is a right of passage in adventure. When a pal or significant other deliberately undersells the difficulty or intensity of an adventure in order to convince you to join, despite the fact that you’re either new to the sport in question or woefully under-trained slash unprepared for the outing, has a special way of pushing you out of your comfort zone and revealing that we are pretty tough after all. Sandbagging always involves two people: the ass kicker and the ass kick-ee. Unless of course you’re stand up comedian Brooks Wheelan and you enjoy kicking the crap outta your own ass. Brooks is a devoted outdoorsman who has deployed an “all gas, no brakes” attitude when it comes to both adventure and his career. Never been rafting before? No problemo, Brooks will boat the Grand Canyon. Get hired on Saturday Night Live without ever being on TV? Pssh, piece of cake. Turns out there is immense value in getting pushed beyond your limits, even when—or maybe especially when—you’re the one doing the pushing.

Howdy pals. It’s Saturday, which means it’s time for another Long Read podcast from the Outside Archive.  Tragic endings are all too common in the Himalaya, but the 2024 deaths of Anna Gutu and Gina Rzucidlo on the relatively obscure Tibetan mountain Shishapangma resonated beyond the cloistered world of 8,000-meter climbing. The two women died in separate avalanches on the same day, raising troubling questions about how accessible these peaks have become and how the business of guiding has evolved. Outside always covers these incidents with empathy, authority, and exacting attention to detail, and journalist Gloria Liu’s comprehensive reconstruction of both women’s journeys to Shishapangma—as well as her breathless hour-by-hour account of the final day—is no different.  She tells the story of two women who were accomplished and driven but not elite level climbers, who both set out to become the first American woman to climb all 14 of the world’s 8,000-meter peaks. Coincidence found them trying to claim that prize on the same mountain, on the same day; competition had them each making decisions that everyone on the mountain that day would come to regret. This is “Death on Shishapangma”, by Gloria Liu, read by a friendly robot.

We will look for all sorts of things to fuel our adventures: the new electrolyte drink mix, the fancy sport goo, any and every type of futuristic gear. But mostly the best thing to get us outside is already inside of us in the form of a good old fashioned eff this attitude. Allie Bianchi grew up in the gritty Vermont outdoor community. A skier, hiker, mountain biker, no matter the weather or circumstance, Allie was always outside. So even after a life-altering mountain bike crash forced her to relearn everything from a wheelchair, Allie was determined to remain active in her pursuits. But doctors told her that she had to accept a sedentary wheelchair-bound life, needing round the clock assistance. Allie said, “F*ck that! I’m going outside.” She has set her sights on The Driving Range, the nation’s first fully adaptive mountain bike trail network in the US. Located in Bolton, Vermont. With the help of adaptive sports organizations like the Kelly Brush Foundation and Vermont Adaptive, as well as the devoted outdoor community she comes from, Allie is indeed still out there, getting after it.

Howdy pals. It’s Saturday, which means it’s time for another Long Read podcast from the Outside Archive.  We assume, dear listener, that you find Mount Everest interesting. We assume that because, over the decades, many of our most popular articles and podcasts have been about the world’s tallest mountain, and the fascination it inspires in climbers and non-climbers alike. And today’s Long Read podcast is a story that connects the dots between both kinds of people.  Over the last twenty years, climbing Everest has evolved from something only attempted by elite mountaineers to the apex of adventure tourism. And this evolution has had all kinds of interesting impacts on how these climbers train for their attempts. So our Long Reads editor, Fred Drier, went deep into training mode with two very different amateur Everest aspirants, to learn how you train to get to twenty nine thousand feet if you only live at five thousand feet. Or zero thousand feet.  Depending on your personal disposition, this story will either convince you that you have what it takes to climb the world’s tallest mountain, or make you perfectly comfortable in the knowledge that you’re never going to try. Either way, you’re going to be entertained. Please enjoy “Want to Climb Mount Everest? The Training May Leave You Breathless” by Fred Drier, read by a friendly robot.  f your favorite way to read is with your ears, I encourage you to join Outside Plus. It gives you unlimited access to everything in the Outside Network, including more audio stories from Outside, Backpacker, Climbing, SKI, and more. Plus mapping apps like Trailforks, Gaia GPS, and MapMyFitness. And for our podcast listeners, we have a special offer for 25% off. Head to outside.watch/listen to learn more.

Unless you grew up inside a tumbleweed, chances are you remember your outdoorsy firsts. The first time your dad took you hiking, the time your mom helped you reel in your first fish, the first big family camp out or ski trip or the road trip to your first National Park. But there are those special few whose connection to the outdoors predates every single memory, folks like artist Cannupa Hanksa Luger. Cannupa is a sculptor, painter, author, and performer, and his work and worldview is rooted in an understanding he developed as a kid working, playing, and living on his family’s ranch on the Standing Rock Reservation. Cannupa’s art defies genre, but he is always playing with a multidimensional concept of time and memory and uses the natural world to shape his pieces. If that sounds pretty out there, well, it is. But it’s because Cannupa and his art exist in a world where the past and future are always present, and there’s no such thing as “inside” at all.

It’s Saturday, which means it’s time for another Long Read podcast from the Outside Archive.  Today’s story combines two things that you don’t expect to go well together but wind up really working, like peanut butter and cucumbers (try it, seriously). In this case, those two things are cool camp footwear and … international grand larceny? Writer Scott Yorko tells the unlikely story of how Bedrock Sandles—one of those great “if you know, you know” outdoor brands—was pushed to the brink of insolvency when its first shipment of a new clog was hijacked by thieves after arriving at a Los Angeles port.  It’s one part underdog business profile and one part hardboiled detective tale. By the end, you’re both rooting for the scrappy team at Bedrock and feeling significantly less comfortable with how vulnerable our entire economy is to the growing threat posed by these crime rings. And, it’s a great reminder that, no matter how intricate and snarled global supply chains become, there’s always a human being at the other end of every purchase you make. Now, please enjoy “The Great Bedrock Clog Heist”, by Scott Yorko, read by a friendly robot. And remember, if your favorite way to read is with your ears, I encourage you to join Outside Plus. It gives you unlimited access to everything in the Outside Network, including more audio stories, plus mapping apps like Trailforks, Gaia GPS, and MapMyFitness. And for our podcast listeners, we have a special offer for 25% off. Head to outside dot watch slash listen to learn more.

The Outside Days festival Denver is coming up fast, and you should come! If you need further convincing, check out one of our favorite episodes from the vault, which just so happens to feature the frontman for festival headliner Death Cab For Cutie: Ben Gibbard. The singer, songwriter, and guitarist applies the same approach to ultramarathons that he does to touring: just keep moving. Ben got into distance running almost by accident, randomly entering a trail race in Northern California without realizing the trail went uphill, then dowhill…and back uphill. Somehow, he instantly fell in love with the grind of long distance endurance running. Ben has since entered close to 50 races, training hard even when he’s on the road with Death Cab For Cutie. For Ben, running is a way to connect back to the playfulness of childhood and embrace the unknowns that come with pushing your body and soul to the limit. Enjoy the episode and check out Death Cab For Cutie and more at this year’s Outside Days.

Howdy folks. PaddyO here with a special treat: We’re going to be sharing some of our favorite feature stories from Outside Magazine and Outside Online every Saturday. We call these our “Long Reads,” and they’re the kind of eye-opening, sometimes heart-pounding, always inspiring-you-to-go-outside storytelling Outside has done for decades. Think of it as a weekend couch read type thing, but one you can do with your eyes closed. These stories are made possible, first and foremost, by the intrepid reporting and deft phrase-turning of our ace writers. And, second, by wild advances in text-to-audio technology—I bet you won’t even notice that you’re listening to a robot.  If your favorite way to read is with your ears, I encourage you to join Outside Plus. It gives you unlimited access to everything in the Outside Network, including more audio stories from Outside, Backpacker, Climbing, SKI, and more. Plus mapping apps like Trailforks, Gaia GPS, and MapMyFitness. And for our podcast listeners, we have a special offer for 25% off. Head to outside.watch/listen to learn more.

We love our spur of the moment adventuring. Maybe a pal calls us up for a self-inflicted, day-long backcountry sufferfest, maybe we decide on a whim to see how many miles we can push it on a bike ride, maybe we sign up for a Turkey Trot 10k with no training. But there is one woman who has taken that “maybe I’ll get off the couch and just try this hard thing” mindset to the ends of the Earth. Literally. This past January, Monet Izabeth became the first American woman to ski solo and unsupported to the South Pole; 700 miles, 57 days, whiteouts, extreme wind, and minus 40 temps. Monet is no elite athlete. She’s a self proclaimed normal-ish woman who asked, “I wonder if I can do this?” And then went to the ice sheets of Antarctica to find out.

Endurance running is objectively terrible: the immediate quad and lung burn, the myth of runner’s high, the blisters, the chafing—running is brutal. And yet, there are brief moments when running can make you feel strong, capable, and proud. Just ask Anthony Clary. After a college football career, Anthony began running following a terrifying prediabetic diagnosis. But what started as a health scare transformed into a passion. Anthony battled through some of the worst things life can throw at you and found belonging, community, and purpose though running. And then he did something even more remarkable—he figured out how to make sure an entire community of people feel the same thing every time they lace up their shoes.

We use our smartphones in service of our outdoor time all the time. We plan trips, track our runs, hikes, and bike rides. Use compass and mapping apps to better navigate outdoor fun. We take photos and videos of our adventures, archive these precious memories in our Favorites folder. And if that’s all we used our phones for? Well, then we’d be happier and society would function better. Unfortunately, we live in the real world, which science journalist and author Catherine Price has documented rigorously and with depressing clarity in books like “How to Break Up With Your Phone.” Fortunately, she’s given equal thought to alternatives, in books like “The Amazing Generation” and “The Power of Fun.” That second one taught her a lot about the role time outside has to play in helping all of us redefine our relationship with technology and ourselves.

In the runup to the third annual Outside Days festival in Denver, Colorado, at the end of May, we’re revisiting a panel that podcast host PaddyO moderated—or rather tried to moderate—while stand up comic Eeland Stribling, Instagram and TikTok phenomenon Matt Lyons, and the new host of the Warren Miller ski and snowboard film Katie Burrell, riffed on the endless ways we can poke fun at our outdoorsy selves. After all, if you can’t laugh at yourself while sleeping in the dirt, running unreasonable distances, or applying chamois cream for the 57th time during an especially grueling bike ride that is, ahem, “fun” then you probably need a snack.  Take a listen and be sure to check out the full lineup of bands, panels, speakers, and events, and snag your tickets of course, for this year’s Outside Days festival at https://outsidedays.outsideonline.com. See ya in Denver at the end of May!

Hot Take: We should camp for camping’s sake! If you’re anything like me, your camping is often (always?) in service of some greater objective, whether it’s a backpacking trip or mountain you’re climbing or a weekend of mountain biking. But are those objectives actually greater than simply hanging out under the clouds and stars for a few days? Campthropologist’s Rolland Tizuela doesn’t think so. The San Diego-based creator focuses on making camping accessible and approachable for beginners, inspired in part by research he conducted on the culture of hiking and camping while getting a degree in sociocultural anthropology. In Rolland’s view, everything we do at camp—from cooking to tent siting to going to the bathroom—is a fascinating form of community building. It’s a conversation that has me excited to bring little more than a tent and a mellow attitude to my next overnight outdoors.

Every great character has a captivating origin story—the thing that explains not just the how but also the why of who they are. Santa Fe’s Katie Arnold is a great character: a writer, ultra runner, and Zen practitioner who rattles off insights about running, adventure, and the outdoors the way most of us rattle off to do lists. And her origin story is a classic: gal graduates college into a big city job, but a yearning for not just someTHING else but also someWHERE else rewrites her whole script. For Katie, the thing was a yearning for wide open space and where was Santa Fe, a place with the trail access, high alpine beauty, and an adventurous, irreverent community she didn’t realize she needed until she found it. What happened next was nothing short of life changing, and holds lessons for anyone with an itch they can’t quite scratch and yearning for wild places.

Today we are celebrating one year of PaddyO as host of the new interview format of your beloved Outside Podcast. We’ve got some big plans for this next year, and to commemorate the occasion we are revisiting one of our (and your) favorite chats. Enjoy this conversation with standup comedian and snowboarder Scott Losse. And thank you for tuning in! … An interesting thing happened when Scott Losse started poking fun at snowboarders and mountain bikers in his Instagram posts: He went from being sort of known around Seattle as a stand up comedian to blowing up across social media as the guy saying all the things a lot of us think when we’re at the mountain, on the trails, or in the bike park. Losse’s observational humor about the outdoors has transformed his trajectory as a comic; more importantly, it helps ensure our often painfully self-serious social feeds, filled with inspiring-but-totally-unrelatable accomplishments, get a little more silly.

In the mid-90s, the cultural collision of music and sports was everywhere in pop culture. You saw it through the brand new X Games and MTV Sports, in movies like “Point Break” and “Airborne,” and you heard it through what we used to call “alternative rock.” The band Third Eye Blind was a staple of this era, so you’d think that frontman Stephan Jenkins might have followed a similar trajectory to his rock god peers of the era. But you’d be wrong. Stephan, a surfer since childhood, grew up in the Bay Area and his break of choice is San Francisco’s notoriously big, dangerous, and sharky Ocean Beach. And he’s not just out in the water looking for stoke; he's a tireless ocean advocate. For as long as he’s surfed, Stephan has fought for kelp restoration and plastic reduction along the California coastline. He also regularly volunteers with the Jimmy Miller Memorial Foundation, which helps veterans treat PTSD through surfing. This connection endlessly—even subconsciously—influences the music Stephan makes. Turns out, when you spend your life in the water and making music, the two things combine in ways that it takes a lifetime to understand.

You’re on a hike and the faff of daily life won’t stop clanging around your head. Then, all of a sudden, the to-do list instantly evaporates when you notice dappled light dancing on the trail. Calm sweeps over you and you’re filled with a great sense of connection and gratitude. This is the phenomenon of awe and it’s not just an ooey-gooey feeling; it’s a new area of scientific study. Just ask social psychologist Dr. Paul Piff. Through ingenious experiments conducted on the South Shore of Lake Tahoe, Piff and his research team have identified that corner of California as potentially the epicenter of awe. After hiking along its shores and gazing upon its iconic waters, Piff’s Tahoe participants have responded with increased feelings of selflessness, empathy, and happiness. And the good doctor believes that if we can harness the effects of awe we can tackle the greatest societal issues of our time: the loneliness epidemic, digital addiction, and even the intractable polarization of society. This is all investigated in great detail in Outside TV’s new show “ Beyond Awestruck: The Scientific Search For Connection”, out now. And in this chat Dr. Piff outlines how our time outside is far more meaningful than cool views and handfuls of GORP.

Outdoor folks love to push themselves to go farther, faster, higher, etc., and there’s a good reason for it: When you climb a big mountain or finish that half marathon or ski that steep run, it can translate into a confidence that makes hard things in the rest of our lives seem less daunting. But most of us are just as—or maybe more—familiar with the feeling of talking ourselves out of big goals, because they seem too complicated or scary to pull off. When that happens, we’d all do well to listen to skier and artist Chris Benchetler. Chris’s latest film, “Mountains of the Moon”, literally stretched the boundaries of what’s possible in adventure filmmaking. The movie was shot almost entirely at night, often in sub-zero, rugged backcountry terrain where massive lighting installations were built to paint the darkness and capture the athletes in their one-of-a-kind glowing skeleton suits (did we mention all the music is from the Grateful Dead?). It’s astonishing that the film even got made, but Chris has built a career and a life based on a simple principal: don’t avoid doing the hard thing just because it’s hard.

“Chill”, “mellow”, and “relaxed” are probably not words you think of when you hear about the latest climbing feat from Alex Honnold. ”Terrified” and “mesmerized” likely better describe what it felt like watching live as the ropeless wonder scaled the 1,667-foot Taipei 101 skyscraper. So you might be surprised to learn that Alex recently did something else for the TV camera that was, in fact, pretty chill, mellow, and relaxed. A new show on Outside TV called “Get a Little Out There”, showcases a side of him rarely seen—the one where he’s a husband and a father who just likes to get outdoors and explore everything his adopted home state of Nevada has to offer. It’s fascinating because, while watching Alex enjoy decidedly non-life-threatening adventures like stargazing and mountain biking and hanging out with a donkey in a bar—you know, normal Nevada stuff—he comes across as down to Earth and full of insights and ideas that will resonate with anyone looking for more everyday adventure in their own lives.

Big wall climbing is about as relatable as space travel to the average human. To whit: When Sasha DiGiulian and her partner Elliot Faber attempted the audacious Platinum route, they planned to spend 15 days on the massive wall. Then, 2,600 feet up, a freak winter storm pinned them inside their tiny portaledge tents for nine full days. But just because Sasha has the skill to get herself into that bonkers situation and the focus and pain tolerance to make it out—her and Elliot ultimately completed the climb in 23 (?!) days—doesn’t mean she herself is unrelatable. In fact, in a career racking up one of the most impressive big wall resumes in climbing, Sasha has developed a remarkably simple recipe for success. Fortunately for you, understanding it is a lot easier than hanging off a massive cliff for over a week.

In the 1980s and 90s, Bill Bradley was a video rental mogul. At his peak, he had stores all over Santa Rosa, California, was worth millions of dollars, and was seen as an industry innovator. That's  probably why he was dismissive when a little company called Netflix appeared and proceeded to lay waste to the entire video rental industry. In a whiplash-inducing turn of events, Bill lost everything—his riches, his business, his marriage, and his sense of purpose. Prior to this life explosion, Bill was a casual runner, plodding along in a few marathons and Ironmans. And when he was at his lowest, he dove head first into the world of ultra endurance sports. Since the collapse of his VHS empire in 2005, Bill has taken on the world’s toughest challenges, like the Arrowhead Ultra, the Badwater Ultra, swimming the English channel, and attempts at the world’s tallest peaks. And yes, he has set records along the way. But what is truly remarkable and what turned Bill into Epic Bill, is that he has come short far more often than he has crossed the finish line. Epic Bill believes that his failures have taught him more than any victory ever could. Because how you try at one thing is how you try at everything.

April Vokey turned a gift for fishing into a career as a guide, a TV personality, a podcast host, and the founder of an online community and education platform under the brand name Anchored. This gift set the direction of her life as a teenager, and it helped her after a drunk driver nearly killed her in her 20s. It’s powerful stuff, but possibly less powerful than April’s other gift: the gift of gab. It’s tough to describe the infectiously exciting way that experiences and insights pour out of her, so best to just sit back and enjoy the feeling of being swept away. Needless to say, April’s our first guest who managed to spin a single yarn that included catching the fish of a lifetime, a foiled backcountry skinny dip, a takedown of fishing bro culture, and the intersection of menstruation and adventure. Buckle up folks. You’re about to get the April Vokey experience.

If you’ve ever felt like forces beyond your control have grabbed the wheel of your life’s metaphorical car and are driving like a lunatic, there are no shortage of purported experts who claim to have the solution. Meditation, journaling, throwing away your possessions, saunas, ice baths, saunas then ice baths … it’s overwhelming. So here’s a different tip: ignore all that and take a cue from Brenna Huckaby. Brenna was forced to amputate her right leg above the knee after a devastating cancer diagnosis in her teens. She learned to snowboard as part of her recovery, and two years later she was a World Champion. Brenna has stood on the Paralympic podium three times, but if you’re thinking, “What an inspiration!”, hold that thought. She’ll represent the U.S. for the third time in a row at this winter’s Paralympics in Italy and, unlike the 2022 Games in Beijing, she didn’t even have to sue the International Paralympic Committee for the right to compete. Brenna’s perspective on disabilities and elite sports is hard won, and she wants you to watch this winter’s Games—but not for the reasons you might think. She doesn’t want your pity, but she demands your respect, and if you listen carefully you’ll learn a lot about what it means to take back control of your own life.

There’s no guarantee that your kids will be into the same things you’re into, so Jeremy Jones knows he’s lucky to have two who froth as hard about snowboarding as he does. But what do you do when your kids want to literally follow in your tracks, even though those tracks go down some of the biggest and most technically challenging lines in the history of the sport? Jeremy is a consensus pick for one of the best big mountain riders ever, and just as beloved for his pioneering work as a climate activist as the founder of Protect Our Winters. But it’s possible that his greatest accomplishment is raising a daughter and a son who are flashing the lines that made him famous—and not freaking out while watching them do it.

These days, traditional definitions of masculinity are in tension with the need for a more expansive understanding of how to be a man in the world. This is as true in the outdoors as anywhere, but the natural world also offers unique paths for men, toward emotional liberation, connection, and strength. For today’s episode, we dipped into our archive from last year’s Outside Festival (which is now called Outside Days) for a touching and deeply honest conversation with action sports legend Selema Masekela, artist and author Mike de la Rocha, artist and Apache Skateboards founder Douglas Miles, and cultural strategist and storyteller James Andrews. These four men credit their time outdoors with helping them make sense of complicated, often messy relationships with their parents, siblings, and friends. Listen in to explore how nature and community help a new generation of men redefine strength on their own terms.

Survivalist Max Djenohan sees your ultralight backpacking rig and chuckles. An eight-time contestant and fan favorite on the peak reality TV show “Naked and Afraid,” Max says roughing it with nothing more than a knife and a firestarter is both thrilling and gratifying in ways that belie the somewhat absurdist and lurid motivation for the show itself. In some ways, his run on the show revived his flagging relationship with the outdoors, following time as a professional snowboarder that ended in frustration. But, today, Max is back on snow while evolving the concept of survivalist TV in ways that are more engaging and fascinating than ever—and he doesn’t even have to get naked to do it.

The Olympics is a ridiculous mixture of hit-you-straight-in-the-feels origin stories and Greek god-level athletic prowess. Even in the endless parade of epic performances it inevitably serves up, Jessie Diggins’ will likely stand out. The most decorated American crosscountry skier of all time, Jessie was one of the most thrilling moments in Olympic history when she and teammate Kikkan Randall won the US’s first-ever crosscountry skiing gold in the team sprint at the 2018 Winter Games in Pyeongchang. She heads to the 2026 Winter Games in Cortina, Italy as one of the U.S. team’s most recognizable faces and the only crosscountry skier your parents have ever heard of. It would be unfair to say that she doesn’t feel the pressure of carrying the expectations of a country every time she blasts off the starting line, but her perspective on that pressure might surprise you—it’s one that owes as much to her elite accomplishments as it does to her down-to-earth Midwestern roots.

The comeback is central to the mythology of sports, and when one plays out on the already mythic stage of the Olympics, athletes in relatively obscure sports can become legends. That’s the context in which halfpipe skier Nick Goepper finds himself as the U.S. Ski Team prepares to name its Olympians next week. An unlikely ski phenom from Indiana, who first drew attention in the park of his 400-vertical foot local hill, Nick is a three-time Olympic medalist … in slopestyle. A successful late career pivot to halfpipe would be more than enough to make the 31-year-old a compelling main character of the upcoming Milan Cortina Winter Games, but that’s not why these Games are a comeback. In the 12 years since earning Bronze at the 2014 Games in Sochi, Russia, Nick battled depression, panic attacks, and substance abuse, all of which culminated in a very public arrest for criminal mischief. Nick has been guarded about his mental health journey until now, as he opens up about how you can only chase your dreams if you’re bold enough to face your demons.

Adventuring outside is great for the beauty, the sense of awe, the fitness, but really…we’re all in it for the snacks. And no one chases down the munchies quite like skiers. Maybe you’ve seen a snowy wiggler pull a bratwurst out of a jacket pocket while on a chairlift. Maybe you yourself have devoured a towering plate of loaded tatter tots at apres. There’s just something about scarfing oodles of vittles during and after skiing that is far more satisfying than any other post mountain pursuit grubfest. And while it’s true that charging down a mountain in the cold empties your body’s glycogen stores, skiing and snacking has as much to do with your emotions as it does your legs. Because if you fail to refuel either your belly or your heart, well, there won’t be any pizza-french fry fun in your future. And in this classic episode from our vault, we explore the extremes skiers will go to fuel their powder day dreams.

Roman Dial is engaged in a five-decade exploration of Alaska by raft, mountain bike, and foot … but not trail. Over the course of locally legendary adventures like his 800-mile traverse of the Brooks Range and the 628 miles he once hiked with a single backpack’s worth of food and gear, Dial was forced to invent new means of transport, like the pack raft and a form of bushwack mountain biking called “hell biking.” His commitment to physical pursuits in his adopted home state is matched by intellectual traversing during a 30-plus year career as a professor of science and mathematics at Alaska Pacific University. As a teacher, Roman used his remarkable outdoor skills to lead research expeditions into the bush to mentor generations of scientists, all of which is beautifully captured in a new film about his life, “Arctic Alchemy.” After five decades of these sufferfests, Roman has a perspective on life and adventure that will change your attitude the next time you’re cold, wet, and many miles from home.

Even those of us who seek freedom and adventure in the wilderness are hardwired to keep themselves safe. It’s why we, as a species, outlasted the dodo and reached the top of the food chain. But there is a subset of outdoor athletes who seem to have found the genetic safety switch in their mitochondria and turned it off—folks like ski alpinist Christina Lustenberger. Lusti, as her superhuman friends call her, has racked up more first descents on mountains of consequence than arguably any other other woman in the last 10 years. These culminated in the past few years with the 20,000 foot Great Trango Tower in Pakistan, and Mount Robson, Canada’s tallest peak. But it’s in the less expected parts of her life that Lusti proves that she’s not always fearless. When it comes to facing the relationships in her life that aren’t going well, she feels the sharp end of fear that the rest of us might get staring up Robson. And what she does with that fear might surprise you.

When the mountains grab ahold of your heart, they have a way of directing your life, even becoming a keystone of your identity. But what happens when you associate your time adventuring outside with the lowest points in your life? Can you retire from the outdoors? That’s exactly what photographer and mountaineer Cory Richards did. You may have heard Cory’s story: after nearly two decades of first ascents and award winning photos and films, he experienced a mental health crisis during an expedition in Nepal, and quit climbing and photography. Since then, Cory’s been on countless event stages and talk shows and published a memoir, The Color of Everything, all of which has focused on his experiences leading up to that decision. But what about since then? When the mountains, with all their splendor and all their demons, never really leave you, is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Something funky this way comes. All over the world, deep inside dark forests, hunters tip toe in secret for a wildly expensive delicacy: truffles. The aromatic fungi grows underground, tethered to tree roots, and is exceptionally difficult to find—which is why specially trained dogs are needed to sniff them out, and they’re worth their weight in gold. As it turns out, the truffle business is not too dissimilar from the illegal-drug business, filled with shady deals and even shadier characters. Back in 2022, host PaddyO interviewed Outside contributing editor Rowan Jacobsen about his journey into the mob-like underbelly of truffle hunting, from old world European forests to, very unexpectedly, the hills of Appalachia.

If you’ve ever been bucked off your mogul line, stuffed a front bike tire, caught a toe on a rock, or collapsed the leg of a camp chair, you know that to go outside is to have an intense relationship with balance. But recovering physical balance is a lot easier than emotional balance. Just ask climber and balance Jedi Kai Lightner. Kai has been a climbing savant since he scaled a 50-foot flagpole at 6-years-old. He then went on to casually win 10 youth national championship titles, five youth world championship medalist, then evolved from an indoor climbing phenom to an outdoor climbing force. Along the way, Kai had to deal with physical and emotional stress and pressure that outsized his abilities, but climbing provided a cathartic way through it all. In Kai’s view, the physical demands of climbing—having to embrace fear and doubt—provides a kind of balance that can carry us through whatever life throws our way.

Have you ever wondered why you feel a pull to go for that grueling trail run or long bike ride or demanding backcountry ski? We have an innate need for adventure, but why? According to paleoanthropologist and evolutionary biologist Ella Al-Shamahi, it’s in our DNA. Ella’s years of Paleolithic study focuses on the first humans and how they behaved—everything from community building to tool evolution to the world’s first sea crossing, which populated Australia. Her research has helped uncover a bonkers “Lord Of The Rings” era, when our foremothers and fathers existed alongside other human species that she calls things like “Hobbits” and “Dragon Men”…seriously. Ella believes that we have a genetic predisposition for adventure, which explains why homosapiens populated the earth and the Hobbits and Dragon Men did not. More importantly for our purposes, it helps explain why we still love to sleep in the dirt, climb mountains, and seek out the next big adventure.

They say it’s not the fall that gets ya, it’s the landing. Fear of falling, or smacking one’s face onto the cold hard earth, is an innate human emotion. Even for athletes who’ve spent a lifetime climbing mountains, traversing sheer cliffs, balancing on knife-edge ridgelines, this fear never disappears. And that’s why folks who paraglide, speedfly, and skydive are both fascinating and confounding. What do they know that the rest of us don’t? Well, champion wingsuit pilot and quantum physicist, Alexey Galda knows a lot about it. Alexey spends his weekdays in quantum computing at the pharmaceutical giant Moderna. And his weekends are spent jumping out of perfectly good airplanes donning a “squirrel suit” that lets him move horizontally through the sky at speeds exceeding 200 miles an hour. Even if these worlds seem drastically different, they both impact the other and allow Alexey to, ahem, fly through fear.

In 1978, skier and kinetic artist John King, along with two pals, set out on a singular and epic adventure: a backcountry ski tour from Durango, Colorado to the Medicine Bow Range near Fort Collins. Over six weeks, the trio skied 490 miles, climbed 65,000 vertical feet. They finished gaunt and sun cooked, with boots held together by tape. Their route influenced the design of the Colorado Trail and the locations of the 10th Mountain Division hut system, but the journey has never been repeated. It’s not an overstatement to call this one of the most audacious wintertime feats of endurance in the history of skiing—a new documentary called Moving Line captures all of that beautifully. And for John King the true triumph was the artistic merit of the pursuit itself. John believes that his tracks on that trip sketched lines that extend into his present day and beyond toward his future. In John’s estimation, movement is creation, expedition is art, and all of it guides him every step of the way.

Chitchatting is a natural part of any adventure you do with a pal—what else are you gonna do around a campfire or sitting on the tailgate at a trailhead or going for a long walk in the woods? But most of us don’t set out on a journey for the sole purpose of talking with strangers. That’s exactly what writer and standup paddleboarder Dan Rubinstein did. Over 11 weeks, he paddled 1,200 miles from his home in Ottawa to New York City and back, talking to whoever he came upon in the process. He was partially inspired by a fascination with the benefits of so-called “blue space,” which is the aquatic equivalent of green space. But he was also looking to revive a spirit that was flagging under some existential weight. Dan came away from his trip with a better understanding of how time spent on and in water improves your life; more importantly, he came away with a renewed appreciation for his fellow man and woman.

For most of us, mountain biking is a great way to get into the outdoors, get a workout, get an adrenaline rush, and hopefully avoid losing any skin or breaking a collarbone. For the mountain bikers of Red Bull’s annual Rampage contest, mountain biking is a means of defining the limits of human performance and fear tolerance. Every year, these men and women gather on a sprawling ridgeline near Zion National Park in Utah, and proceed to see who can ride the least rideable-looking line down a mountain bigger than your last 5 descents, combined. It is one of the most unbelievable spectacles in the world of action and outdoor sports, and since it’s about to go down this weekend, we asked our friends at the Pinkbike Podcast—who know more about mountain biking than just about anyone on Earth—to give us a little preview of the what, who, and why to watch.

Ruggedness, dependability, and handiness define a lot of outdoor archetypes, from the ski patroller to the river guide to the park ranger. So why would you find all three in a famous actor? Maybe because the actor in question—Nick Offerman—is an avid outdoorsman in his own right. Surely you know Nick from one of his many memorable roles, like Ron Swanson on Parks And Recreation and General Sidney in the latest Mission Impossible. And, when he’s not acting or performing on comedy tours, you can find Nick paddling the Los Angeles River or scrambling up peaks in the nearest National Park. Relying on himself in a pinch informs everything Nick does, from acting to woodworking. And his new book, Little Woodchucks: Offerman Woodshop’s Guide to Tools and Tomfoolery, is Nick’s gospel of do-it-yourselfedness, a starting point to building a tough and resourceful identity. Because eventually, we’re all gonna have to fix a flat tire or build a little shelter in the woods.

Many outdoorsy folks will happily slog for hours toward outdoor fun, despite the fact that any number of adventure derailing smackdowns await us. Gear malfunctions, crummy weather, and bloodied limbs don’t stop us from heading into the unknown. No one puts this optimistic persistence to better use than lifelong surfer and CEO of the Surfrider Foundation, Chad Nelsen. Chad grew up in smog-choked Laguna Beach in the 1970s, when pipes spilled raw sewage into the ocean regularly. He was inspired to pursue environmental science and a PhD combining his love of surfing with sustainability, thus dedicating his life to protecting and preserving the world’s oceans, waves, and beaches. Despite bureaucracy, apathy, and disengagement, Chad pursues environmentalism like a surfer paddling into pounding beach break, confident that the wave of his life is just outside the shore pound.

Wood chopping is objectively awful for all the obvious reasons: blisters, back aches, over-the-counter painkiller expenses. But that’s not what you remember months later, when the fruits of your labor warm you and your loved ones on a cold winter night. See, wood chopping is really an investment—both in terms of that crackling fire, but also your emotional well being.  That is something Nicole Coenen knows all about. The internet’s self proclaimed “lesbian lumberjill” grew up an uncomfortable tomboy in the suburbs of Ontario, and she found both her refuge and her calling in the woods. She’s amassed a huge following from the forest that surrounds her adopted home of British Columbia, and her videos are more than just wholesome, self-effacing clips of her wood chopping skills. They’ve a living journal of a woman who was saved by trees.

Spend time outdoors, and you’ll eventually spend time in brutal, even scary weather. Dangerous winds, flash flood-inducing rain, and vision-erasing whiteouts are sometimes the cost of entry. By the same token, you’re as likely to remember the upsides to those experience—the belly laughter of relief, the rainbows after the rain, the waist deep powder—as the scary parts. Hank Schyma, aka Pecos Hank, built a career out of those upsides by becoming one of the internet’s most beloved storm chasers. For decades, he’s captured astonishing photos and video of tornadoes, gathering new data on how they work and discovering new phenomena. On his wildly popular Youtube channel, his new photo memoir Storm, and in this conversation, we get to see and hear it all—from a significantly safer distance.

Extreme adaptability and versatility can be found throughout the animal kingdom, but may have found their peak expression in Alexi Pappas. As a runner, Pappas was a two-time All-American for Dartmouth who set a national record running for Greece at the 2016 Olympics. As a performer, she was a member of Dartmouth’s gut-busting Dog Day improv group before going on to write, direct, and star in several feature films, including Tracktown, Olympic Dreams, and Not An Artist. The further into her career Pappas gets, the more running influences her art, and her art influences her running—all of which she talks about in a way that makes you understand how she’s risen so high in two fundamentally different worlds.

After Lawlor Coe lost his brother Hunter to tragedy, he did everything he could to avoid his pain. Then he laced up his joggers and began to run. At first, it was to elude his grief. But over time, as he began to log miles and miles, he found that the physical suffering he was enduring out on the trail helped him find his way to peace, and then back to joy. He was no longer running from his sorrow, from his anger, but toward a new sense of purpose. And along with the rest of his family, he found a way to honor Hunter’s life and the characteristics that made him one hell of a brother, son, and friend: by creating a fund that supports groups offering transformative experiences for young people in need of mental health support. And what Lawlor found in his runs and fundraising efforts is that after anger and sorrow is all used up, the only thing left to do is run toward love.

The blissed out, swell chasing surfer with a single-minded focus on the next great ride is a pervasive outdoorsy archetype that’s completely at odds with the lived experience of many surfers. Take historian Kevin Dawon, a professor at UC Merced, for whom surfing serves as his connection to a rich tradition of African aquatic culture. Dawson is credited with resurfacing the first account of surfing in Africa, from 1640—more than 100 years before Captain Cook’s famed account from Hawaii—and his research centers centuries of oceanic accomplishment by Black communities there and in North America that have been ignored or actively erased. Dawson’s experiences in the waters of Africa, the Caribbean, and his native California bear little resemblance to what many people think of when they hear “surfer,” but they’re drenched in a joy that’s recognizable to anyone who has ever played in the waves.

We love our outdoor archetypes, the folk heroes who reject the trappings of the 9 to 5 life and solely focus on the trail, the powder turn, or the frothing whitewater. River guides live a romantic sunburnt existence, ones in which bucket list adventures are their everyday. It’s not just their ability to read water and navigate huge standing waves day after day, but their spiritual connection to the power of the water and landscape they’re paddling through. Folks like professional Grand Canyon guide Cindell Dale. Cindell has been boating “the Big Ditch” since the early 1980s, piloting Ticaboo, her 16 foot dory–a high-sided, v-shaped wooden boat known for its balletic movement and apparent ability to transform a river trip into a religious experience. Cindell was mentored by the female guides who broke through river running’s glass ceiling, a legacy Cindell and her peers continue every summer on the Colorado River. And after countless trips through the heart of one of the world’s most spectacular natural wonders, boy oh boy, does she have stories of the power of paddling through the magical splendor of the Grand Canyon.

We love our stories of human endurance, from Shackleton’s famed expedition to the 11-hour Wimbledon match to days-long ultramarathons. Hell, even the Coney Island Hot Dog eating contest is broadcast on television; that’s just how much we celebrate a person pushing themselves to the brink. But the moments that inspire the most are the ones in which a solo athlete has spent everything physically and mentally, and is forced to find a new gear emotionally. And for Ironman World Champion Chelsea Sodaro, her moment had nothing to do with swimming-biking-running 140 miles. At the same time Chelsea was standing atop triathlon podiums, she was ravaged by postpartum depression, including near-constant anxiety about mass shootings. What is so stirring about Chelsea is not her ability to push herself past the edge of what’s physically possible, but her emotional abilities to handle what happened when that edge pushed back.

In celebration of summertime road trips, this week we’re revisiting an episode from our archives that is one of PaddyO’s favorites. In 2021, two men set out to do something seemingly impossible. And also pretty dumb. Motorcycle gurus and YouTube stars Zack Courts and Ari Henning would squeeze together, buttcrack to belt buckle, onto a minibike—a vehicle roughly the size of a children’s bicycle and powered by an engine that can barely run a lawn mower—and drive 400 miles from a cornfield in Nebraska to a little place called Aspen, Colorado. Sound familiar? It should. That’s right, this is the same iconic road trip that Hollywood stars Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels’ Harry and Lloyd took in the cult classic Farrelly Brothers film Dumb and Dumber. The big difference is that this time it wasn’t a hilarious 3-minute movie montage. This road trip was for real. And it hurt like hell.

Famous Hollywood actors aren’t outdoorsy, right? They’re too busy being…well, famous to enjoy the outdoors and certainly too fancy to listen to a podcast about the surprising impacts of a life outside, aren’t they? Turns out, HBO’s “The Righteous Gemstones” star, Tony Cavalero, is a longtime listener of the Outside Podcast because he’s been obsessed with outdoor adventure since first donning a Boy Scout uniform as a kid. And, Tony’s path crossed with host PaddyO’s decades before either of them decided to move out West to make something of themselves. But Tony and PaddyO have more in common than a “go West, young man” past. Both have felt the crushing weight of active alcoholism and drug addiction. Luckily, they also are both in long term recovery and have a shared joy and gratitude for the rekindling of dormant passions, like adventuring outside and laughing your ass off.

Alex Honnold is the most accomplished and daring rock climber since the invention of the chalk bag. He grabbed global attention for his free solo ascent of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park, immortalized in the Academy Award®-winning documentary Free Solo. This monumental feat solidified his status as a superstar of the climbing community and a guru of staying calm in objectively terrifying situations. But…how? That is exactly what Shelby Stanger, host of REI’s Wild Ideas Worth Living Podcast sponsored by The REI Co-op Mastercard, set to find out on stage at the Outside Festival in Denver, Colorado. Turns out, Alex Honnold can push fear aside in order to achieve his goals, whether that’s climbing a sheer towering wall or advocating for conservation causes.

Throughout professional skier Sierra Schlag’s childhood, her Japanese heritage and cultural practices made her the target of racist bullying. Then, when she traveled to Japan to visit family as a child, and later as an adult, she was referred to as “Nisei”—a person born in North America whose parent(s) immigrated from Japan. She couldn’t make sense of being seen as white in Japan and Japanese in America, but she found an unlikely method of wholeness: skiing. Turns out, catharsis comes in many forms, including with anxiety that ultimately helps us understand where we came from, where we are, and what defines us.

For decades, legendary magician David Blaine has completed record-breaking stunts that defy the impossible: He has held his breath for more than 17 minutes, was buried alive for seven days, frozen alive for three days, fasted for 44 days, caught a bullet fired from a gun in his mouth, and so much more. In his new National Geographic series David Blaine: Do Not Attempt, he travels the planet to learn from extraordinary performers. What drives him to probe our capacity for fear, risk, and pain? There’s nobody better to talk to Blaine about this than Diana Nyad, the first person to swim from Cuba to Florida without the aid of a shark cage, covering 110.86 miles in just under 53 hours. In this riveting conversation recorded at the 2025 Outside Festival, these two icons explore the art of human endurance.

In 2020, David Litt, former senior speech writer to President Obama, moved from Washington DC to the Jersey Shore, and felt the need for a jolt of life amidst the pandemic. So he did what anyone would do: David decided he needed to learn to surf. As a sensible Yale-educated, New York Times best selling author, David knew he needed help. And that’s how he ended up bobbing in the ocean with someone who could not be more dissimilar to him, his tattooed, truck driving, death metal enthusiast, Joe Rogan superfan, brother-in-law, Matt. The sea salt comedy of errors, became the basis of David's brand new book "It's Only Drowning: A true story of learning to surf and the pursuit of common ground." And while it hilariously recounts David’s learning process, the book is also a surprising investigation of the current American culture war, the roles David and his brother-in-law have been cast into, and how, as unlikely as it would seem, a sport like surfing can help bridge the fissures of class and culture.

Craig Mod may think in binary code, but he does so from the perspective of a visual artist. Mod is…well, a lot of things. He’s a writer, a photographer, and a digital media designer. And he’s likely influenced your life, even if you have never heard his name. Craig worked on massive digital platforms, like Medium and Flipboard, and has spent two decades as a tech start up consultant. But to make sure he can unplug from his computer-centric work, Craig walks. As in many, many, many kilometers-long multi-day walks, mostly on the ancient pilgrimage routes that crisscross his adopted home of Japan. Craig has turned these walks into several fascinating books. In his most recent book, Things Become Other Things, Craig took on a 300-mile trek through Japan’s ancient Kumano Kodō, which transformed into a meditation on his life, the forces that shape us all, and the power of slowly moving through nature in an increasingly distracting digital world.

Three comedians walk into a festival…no, this isn’t a joke set up. This is exactly what happened in Denver, Colorado, at the second Outside Festival. Professional giggle-makers Matt Lyons, Katie Burrell, and Eeland Stribling joined host PaddyO on stage to discuss how the outdoors are really just one big punchline. After all, we spend our hard-earned dough on gear to help us sleep in the dirt, run unreasonable distances, hike in brutal weather, and fall booty over tea kettle into snow. Comedy not only abounds, it also thrives in the outdoors. Whether it’s Matt Lyons’ gear jargon satire, Eland Stribling's fly-fishing observations, or Katie Burrell’s roasting of outdoorsy relationships, these folks are here to remind us: if you can’t laugh at yourself in the outdoors, you’re probably dehydrated.

If your father is like PaddyO’s dad, he probably likes to spin a yarn about his wild youth. Hearing about a father’s daring, scruffy, comedy-of-errors adventures is hilarious, but it also gives you a glimpse into how your old man became a man. And also old. And that winds up being a kind of crystal ball into your own past, present, and future, too. So, in honor of Father’s Day (it’s this week – you better get your dad something), we bring you a pod from the archives: The story of PaddyO’s dad, and what adventure looked like back when the shorts were short, the gear was not waterproof, and there weren’t that many guys from Chicago crawling around the Colorado Rockies.

Griff Wasburn, better known to the world as musical act Goth Babe, had a drive to create since he was a child. He grew up in Tennessee running wild in the woods, skateboarding, and riding bikes on self-built tracks in his backyard. He filmed and scored short films of his adventures, and transformed old cardboard boxes into whatever he dreamt up. At 16 years old, he picked up a guitar and so began Goth Babe. In adulthood, Griff DIY’d truck bed campers, tiny homes, and trailers, drove them all over the country seeking out adventure and space to create. But a brutal surfing accident and its lasting effects on Griff’s brain threatened to derail the expansion and evolution of his music career and creativity. Lucky for Griff, life and creativity cannot stay constrained and contained.

Melissa Arnot Reid’s mountaineering resume is a jaw dropping list of accomplishments; hundreds of summits of the world’s tallest, most dangerous peaks, including becoming the first American woman to summit Everest without supplemental oxygen. Melissa has an uncommon athletic prowess, but what truly fueled her mountain pursuits was a long held and long protected emotional emptiness. In a gut-wrenching new memoir, Enough, Melissa details the childhood abuse that created harmful adult behaviors, like pushing her body to dangerous physical limits and pushing her psyche into abusive relationships. Both her trauma and her mountaineering accomplishments are singular, but everyone can understand the challenge of grappling with your parents and your past.

In and around his home of Bozeman, Montana, Ranga Perera is highly sought after as a fly fishing pal and even more highly sought after as a personal chef. There’s nothing unusual about that combination, until you learn that his family came to the States in 1991 from Sri Lanka after a happy childhood was disrupted by a violent civil war. Less than a year after emigrating, Ranga’s father passed away and the event haunted him until his own brush with death years later. And yet Ranga lives life without a trace of cynicism or resentment, but rather with childlike wonder and excitement. How does he do it? Through fishing and cooking.

Everyone knows it’s important to try new things, but combating that internal voice, which begs us to stay within our comfort zone ain’t easy—even for a professional tryer of new things like Mirna Valerio. Known on the internet as The Mirnavator, Mirna knows what she’s talking about. She took up running in her late 30s, then road marathons, then trail marathons, then ultramarathons. Then she took up cycling. Then mountain biking. And, as she rounds in on 50, Mirna is committed to be coming an expert skier. And every step of the way, Mirna has faced the internal voice, and the external voices of internet trolls who find fault in how she does it and who she is. How Mirna learned to deal with these voices is a lot more interesting than simply silencing them, and it’s a good bit of inspiration for anyone looking to expand their experiences outside.

You probably know Katie Burrell from Instagram, where she’s built a sizeable following by skewering outdoor stereotypes and having World Cup race ski-sharp takes on how relationships live and die on trails of all sorts. But she’s also a seasoned standup comedian who wrote and starred in 2023’s homage to 80s ski comedies, “Weak Layers,” all of which is why you’ll find her at the Outside Festival’s Ideas stage, talking all things funny outdoors. So you’d think talking with her would be a nonstop train of giggles, but Katie takes her craft pretty seriously, as evidenced by her latest leap: starring in the dramatic short film “Bardo”. This kind of range requires a lot of emotional intelligence, and it turns out there’s no better place to develop that than on skis and mountain bikes.

Minnesota is not always top of mind when it comes to outdoor adventure, but it should be. Just ask lifelong “Land of 10,000 Lakes” local Dave Simonett, lead singer of Trampled By Turtles. Dave grew up in Mankato and spent his youth exploring its rolling woods. And when he formed Trampled in Duluth in 2003, something surprising happened. His love of fishing, hiking, skiing, and hunting combined with his musical influences to create a songwriting career based on a deep connection to the outdoors. And today, when Dave isn’t headlining hootenannys like The Outside Festival, he works diligently to protect beloved Minnesotan locales, like the Boundary Waters. Turns out, Minnesota’s woods and water are as integral to Dave’s life and music as a guitar pick.

Ben Ayers has devoted his life to the Himalaya. If that conjures images in your mind of stone-faced mountaineers risking life and limb in pursuit of glory on the world’s highest peaks, you’ve got the wrong guy. Ben knows those guys and gals, but his experiences in these mountains are decidedly more down to Earth. In fact, despite living half the year in Kathmandu for decades, he’s never even tried to climb the world’s most famous peak. And it’s the ideas and insights he’s gathered exploring the region’s lesser known (and safer) mountains, while paying careful attention Everest’s impact on his adopted community, that make Ben such an interesting guy to talk to—that, and the fact that he’ll be reporting for Outside from Everest Base Camp throughout what promises to be one of the most eventful climbing seasons in recent memory.

We all do it, zip as fast as we can around our favorite trails and rides. Maybe it’s because we feel a pull to get to the next thing, want to rush through the hard part to get to the fun part, or only have a brief window in our overbooked day. Whatever the reason, moving fast often results in missing out on the moment. But what would our time outside feel like if we adopted a slow, measured movement? Skier and scientist Ellen Bradly loves answering this question. Inspired by research in the Hoh Rain Forest on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, Ellen adopted a mentality for her adventures that prioritizes a deep attention to the details of her surroundings. And what started as a way to appreciate the beauty around her evolved into an ability to learn and hear things that her Indigenous ancestors were trying to teach her. Sometimes, the best way home isn’t necessarily the fastest one.

Culture is a term that different outdoor communities like to discuss often, but what is culture exactly and how do we make sense of it—how do we define it? To really understand it, you need a person who can wax poetic, you need someone who has dedicated their life to communicating the ineffable to the masses…you know, someone who has held a mic in front of a camera at the world class skiing, snowboarding, and surfing events for decades and who has lived in the gooey buzzing center of our culture since the 1990s. You need a legendary talker like X Games Chief of Sports and Culture, Selema Masekela.

Mikah Meyer is a persistently-filled-with-joy endurance athlete and the first person to visit all 419 National Parks sites in one continuous three year road trip. But before he was making headlines, Mikah was just a kid growing up in Middle America with a secret he thought was a death sentence. When the stories we tell ourselves become our reality, and we drag shame through that reality like an anchor, life can seem too heavy to bear. So how did Mikah Meyer free himself from that burden to live life to the fullest? He went on a river trip with his friends and his mentor.

Mostly, professional athletes are…kind of boring. Not because they’re fundamentally uninteresting. Rather, they’re too polished and are trained to spout canned and cliched nothing burger answers. But not professional snowboarder Kimmy Fasani. Kimmy has a remarkable way of distilling her snowboarding adventures into lessons she uses to navigate challenges in life we all face, like becoming a parent and dealing with loss, And she even manages to draw from her experiences in the mountains to grapple with things we hopefully never face, like Stage 3 cancer. Have you ever yearned to hear a pro athlete say something that’ll be useful in your own life? Just press play.

An interesting thing happened when Scott Losse started poking fun at snowboarders and mountain bikers in his Instagram posts: He went from being sort of known around Seattle as a stand up comedian to blowing up across social media as the guy saying all the things a lot of us think when we’re at the mountain, on the trails, or in the bike park. Losse’s observational humor about the outdoors has transformed his trajectory as a comic; more importantly, it helps ensure our often painfully self-serious social feeds, filled with inspiring-but-totally-unrelatable accomplishments, get a little more silly. The Outside Podcast is made possible by our Outside Plus members. Learn more about all the benefits of membership at outsideonline.com/podplus.